#but its like....you fill out 50 and get a response back from five and those are rejections

[claudiadpdl]

fucking hate that i have to do this again but i was recently forced to get a vehicle replacement and the $566 monthly bill is kicking my ass on top of everything else. i need $80 so that i can fill my tank up and buy a few groceries to fill in the gap between now and thursday when i get paid. anything helps and rb'ing this post is just as important, tysm!!

[rcksmith]

Nobody else — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello! May I request number nine from the fluff prompts and number seven from the smut prompts for Five? Maybe where the reader is a super skilled fighter, and the other Hargreeves siblings can’t get over how amazing she is, but that causes Five to become a little jealous?”

“Okayy if you're not tired of Five and smuts yet, can I request 18,70,74 and 84 from smut list with fem reader?”

Fluff prompts:

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

Smut prompts:

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

18. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

70. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

74. “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, bad words, fluff, fight, mention of death, jealousy.

— — — — —

People need each other to find support, comfort and understanding. Thomas Merton said: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone, but with the other. ”

And as cliché as it was, it was the truth. And that is exactly what happened to you.

It was difficult to explain how many years you had already been killing for the commission. Ever since, maybe? You did not remember a time when that work was not part of your life, your routine, your system. But you could feel, vaguely like a hazy dream, that one day the act of breathing was ... light.

Killing without conscience brought many regrets, and the weight of guilt filled your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But you were good at that. God, you were very good. Maybe it was the endless years of training, your quick thinking, or the simple fact that you had a lot more physical stamina than the other agents. But, whatever it was, it helped you move up the board quickly.

Murdering with a gun was easy, quick, clean, and there were already many agents who did that job. For someone like you, so empowered, the commission has relocated you to more… arduous and dangerous missions.

Your job was to kill those whose gunshots could not show up at the necropsy. Someone who needed to die without the body revealing what had happened very well.

Shoot JFK? It wasn't with you.

End Hitler? It wasn't your job.

To kill Socrates with your bare hands and make everyone believe it was poison? This is where you came in.

The difference between the jobs was that you had to do the whole process. And a melee interaction instead of a weapon always brought people who wanted to fight for their lives. And that is why the commission chose you to do that, without any partner.

They elected you because you fought like a super soldier, focused on your goal like a robot, and never came back without success. It didn't matter how many fights you had to fight with your target, how many punches you had to throw and also take, or how many injuries you returned. You always won.

Over time, you learned things in practice, tricks that made it easy, scams that would save you effort. You learned to study each person in seconds, find their weaknesses, and use his own strength against them.

That's when you met Five Hargreeves. And Thomas Merton's quote made sense.

You two were so much similar. Both the best in their fields, wrecked in a sea of ​​personal traumas, buried by a job that got the best of you two. You two felt misunderstood, alone in the vastness of that world. And when you two met... well, were no longer alone.

You two got involved, in all possible ways and ways. Loved each other, adored each other, and completed each other. Life went out of automatic mode, and for the first time in a long time, you two managed to breathe lightly. The food now tasted good, the heat of the sun on the skin was now better, and the world... the world was ruled by the red color of love.

So it became the most obvious and coherent decision to you two get married. Five could no longer imagine a life in which you did not exist, and you did not know how the world could go without him.

“I can't believe we did that!” You laughed, astonished, as you entered the apartment that you and Five shared.

You two had just married, something just for you two and the ceremonialist. You two chose something very intimate, reserved. And now the ring on him left hand looked like the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

Five laughed softly, hands moving up your arms, bringing you closer.

“We did. Wife.”

After that, your two contract with the commission changed. Five would only continue to do that if no one dared to touch a hair of yours, and you swore to The Handler that if someone did something to Five, you would destroy that place brick by brick.

Five saw in you a strong and atrocious ocean, which could swallow whole cities only with the force of its fury. And he liked that. He liked having someone as competent and firm as he was. Five liked to know that if there was a disaster, he would not be the only one who would go after a solution.

You were the type who knew that if you wanted things to happen, you had to do it with your bare hands. And Five loved it, because he felt understood. He carried so many responsibilities on his back that it was relieving to find someone who also felt the same things.

Five knew that, when him found way home, you were going with him. And you went. You two exchanged vows that would be together in joy and sadness, in any situation. And if the situation now said to go to 2019, well, you would.

“It makes me so sick, God!” Five heard you say when you two fell out of that blue portal he created.

He would have laughed if his muscles didn't hurt so much. For someone so trained you got sick of his powers very quickly.

"Five?!” And then the voice of one of the brothers was heard.

And that's how you two ended up there. A week later, in the Hargreeves' living room, with Diego swearing that you wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight.

Five laughed against the margarita's straw, sitting comfortably at the bar, giving up on telling his stupid brother that you had already killed much more dangerous people with your bare hands.

“I do not want to hurt you.” You smiled understandingly, and Klaus laughed.

“I bet 50 bucks that she beats your ass, Diego.” It was only logical that he was going to encourage his brother to fall.

“There is no way you can hurt me.” Diego guaranteed, getting up and starting to push the sofa away, making room for a fight.

“Are you up for it or are you scared?” He played with you, and Five laughter it back there, having a lot of fun.

“This is ridiculous, Diego.” Allison stressed, but it was obvious that she wanted to watch too.

You smirked, getting up from the bar chair next to Five. You didn't want to defeat your husband's brother in that fight, you understood that the circumstances between the two of you were not fair.

You were created to kill, injure and decimate. Body wrestling was your job and it wouldn't be fair to Diego. You knew, from Five, that the Hargreeves were created to be heroes. Saviors of the motherland. Hurt and kill if necessary, but don't make it a goal.

But not with you. Killing was your goal, always. And your weapon was not super powers or pistols, but the body itself.

“Okay.” You laughed and went to the circle that Diego had made “But I don't want to hurt you. The first one to fall to the ground loses.” You were trying to be peaceful.

Diego agreed, giving him a friendly smile before saying:

“But I will use my knives to distract you.”

It was logical that he wouldn't make it cheap and easy, even if it was for himself, you knew that.

So you agreed, took off the suit you were wearing and rolled up the sleeves of your white dress shirt, while the Hargeeves sat in a safe area, away from that makeshift ring.

Diego delivered the first blow, and you just deflected the trunk, taking him by the same arm and twisting it against his back. At that moment, if it was something for real, you would put more strength to break the bone, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you just released Diego with a little push forward.

Diego turned to face you again, the naughty smile on the face of someone who knows his own potential. He was very good, you knew that, but the different upbringing made you a better opponent.

This time, the blow came from below. It was a trip that you jumped while pulling on the fist he used to land another blow in the same second, forcing him to come forward with force while you deflecting once more. Diego staggered forward, steadying himself on the floor once again.

It was all absurdly fast, as if you were a robot. A machine programs for that.

Diego hurled the knife in the wind while attacking with his other fist. You dodged again, but this time you struck back, slamming a blow down the side of your stomach, blocking his attack with your other arm and unleashing a kick in the chest, which made Diego stagger backward.

In a matter of seconds, the knife was at the end of its course. And while Diego was advancing again, the wind that the knife was making hit your hair. But the knife didn't finish course. You stopped the blade with your hand, holding to the object with your palm.

At that moment, you saw Diego's eyes falter. And a surprised gasp by the Hargreeves graces the ambience. Then it was your turn to attack. You threw the knife on the floor, driving the blade into the wooden floor as you went.

There were punches, deflected blows, creeps. The two of you were dancing to an agitated song, which was reaching its climax.

Diego had holding you in him arms, and you turned your body, locked him left arm in your hands while you used the momentum to propel your legs up, past his neck and turning, taking you both to the floor. He fell on his back while you used your own momentum to balance yourself, standing upright.

“YES! YOU OWM ME 50 DOLLARS!" Klaus's voice was heard.

You laughed, and you were about to walk away when Diego dug his left hand into your heel. He pulled you in a single stroke, and it made you fall, your back hitting the ground as he took the lead. Diego put his legs on your hips the first second you fell on the floor, and he used his own strength to keep you there.

You laughed out loud, and so did he.

“This is cheating!” You scolded him, punching him in the chest.

“Whatever, but you had to fall too!”

Diego was a good loser, you recognized that by the intonation of the voice. He was not possessed or reviled because you won, but he wanted it to be an eye for an eye, even if only as a joke.

But as soon as Diego got up off you, holding your hand for you got up too, your eyes went to Five. And you found the green irises burning in an atrocious fire. You frowned, not understanding, but you didn't have time to go over there and ask what happened. Klaus and Luther came to you and Diego.

Klaus charging his brother and Luther asking you how you did that final blow.

“It's for me to use when he pisses me off!” Luther looked directly at his brother in a silent threat “ But he will not get up alive!”

“Fuck you” Diego said before practically shoving 50 dollars in Klaus's face.

“Is easy.” You replied Luther “I'll show you."

But while the brothers were having fun, marveling at you, Five burned in a visseral cholera.

Wasn't it enough for Diego to have literally been on top of you, you had to want to teach that stupid gorilla too ?!

Oh fucking no!

When Diego went to Luther and started explaining with you, him your side, how the scam worked, Five was exploding. Now that stupid men butcher knife would be on your side?! Agreeing and explaining whit you as if it were your husband?!

Wasn't it enough just fucking being on top of you?!

Definitely fuck not!

“Take it easy, buddy.” Klaus appeared beside him “You are looking at them as if you want to kill someone.”

Five just snarled, not bothering to respond, his eyes never leaving you.

“Wait..." Klaus looked better at who Five was staring “Are you jealous of Y/n ?!” He was amazed.

“Shut up!” Five forced himself to swallow a handful of margarita.

“Oh my God!” And he wouldn’t stop “You like her! That must be why you live in a bad mood! You must be in the friend zone! ”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up already ?!” Five looked deathly at his brother “And I'm not in the friend zone with her.”

But Five realized that he gaved too much information to his brother, because now Klaus's face was opening in a shocked smile.

Goddam!

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Klaus was loving the situation.

But, out of the corner of his eye, Five can see Diego holding your arm, showing Luther the place to deliver any stupid blow.

You gotta be fucking kidding!

“No, that girl is my wife!” Five tapped the margarita glass on the counter, teleporting to you and pushing Diego's hand off your arm, replacing his own.

“The show over!” He growled as he left the room, pulling you with him, your feet stumbling a few times before picking up the pace.

“Five!” You said, but he didn't seem to hear.

The image of Diego's legs at your fucking waist, the body sitting on you, the hand on your arm, rewound Five's mind like a curse. He felt his anger inflate, jealousy whispering in the back of his neck like a little devil, making him see the situation bigger than it really was.

You called him again, but for Five, it was like you called his brother's name. And then he exploded in his own fury.

He couldn't wait to go up all those stupid stairs, all those corridors, Five just pulled you against him, disappearing in the blue flash and reappearing in the his room.

“You are crazy?” You pulled the wrist out of his grip.

“I should be asking you that!” He said “Did you see that scene ?!”

“What a scene?” You frowned.

Five focused his eyes on you, in angry energy.

“Diego on top of you, fuck!" He snarled “Luther drooling like a dog on you!”

“Five.” You thought all that was absurd “They are your brothers!”

“You have no idea how much i don’t give a fuck!”

The situation was ridiculous, and you ended up laughing in disbelief and bewilderment.

“We were fighting!” You defended yourself "Nobody was drooling on me!"

“I swear to god tha ...” Five walked over to you, his eyes flooded with rage, his body enveloped in that intense and explosive energy.

You lifted chin to get a better look, your chest stuck to him, Five's breath hitting the top of your nose. That week had been full of emotions and issues to deal with, 24 hours being insufficient to do everything, explain everything. And, well, you and Five didn't have much time alone...

All of this compiled with the fact that your husband possessed the beauty of an angry god,and that excited you so fuck absurdly.

Suddenly, the air in the room became caustic, seething with the expectation of something improper happening, injecting heat into your chest that descended to the middle of your legs.

You sighed softly, and Five immediately noticed the waters where your thoughts were sailing.

“Does it turn you on?” His voice was hoars “See me angry?”

The sigh you gave was your whistleblower, your chest started to rise and fall more breathlessly than usual, your core starting to pulse. You wouldn't be able to say anything even your life would depended it, you drowning in the malicious and hot climate of that room, compiled with the absurd beauty and intensity of the adult in front of you.

God, you needed him!

“Yes, you like.” Five had an arrogant, boastful tone, mocking how sensitive you were.

But his eyes took on a more conscious tone, and he whispered as he said: "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop. ”

Five knew his own limits, his own anger, his own strength. If he touched you now, in most simple, he wouldn't be able to stop. You agreed, hands moving gently up his body, resting on him hips.

“I will not be gentle.” Five wanted to you know again.

He had already fucked you hard, drowned in insatiable desire, marking your skin with slaps, hickeys. Five had already mistreated your mouth, made you scream. But never fucked you in anger. He never took his anger out on you. And now, submerged in jealousy, he knew how much strength he would discharge on you.

“I don't want it to be.” But you gave Five the go-ahead on a needy sigh, your fingers running around his waist.

Five dropped his mouth to your ear, tracing a path across your skin with warm lips, now bringing hands up to your skin, feeling how hot, needy you were.

“You're wet and I haven't even touched you yet.” His words hung over you like a warm warning of what was going to happen, what to expect.

You moaned softly, your body shivering, screaming for you to get more, seeking some friction, some contact. Then, as if Five read you thoughts, his left hand clung fiercely to the back of your neck, curling him fingers in your hair.

He forced you to look at him, watching the rage and the extraordinary lust.

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Five left you brutally, telling you to take off all your clothes, watching all your movements while he got rid of the shirt himself. He left him tie beside the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling you onto him lap as soon as you finally got naked. He fit thigh in the middle of your legs, making you sit on his thigh.

You groaned, the friction in the place you most wanted, the core pulsing against the dark cloth of him pants. You rummaged your hips for more than you wanted, but Five dropped his hand on your ass, releasing a loud, stinging slap. The groan was unable to be controlled, and you buried your face in the curve of him neck, sobbing there.

“You will be grateful for every slap I give you, do you understand?” He snarled, fingers tightening on your flesh, marking your skin.

You agreed, and thanked him when Five slapped your ass harder. This time, he moved him thigh beneath you, brushing your pulsating core, leaving you in an extremely needy state.

“Fi-five!" A sob escaped, followed by another thanks when a slap hit your in ass again.

Five's hands roughly grabbed your waist, holding you firmly in place as he started to rummage in him thigh, making you moan louder every second. That was torture. You pulsed and wet him thigh, your body rigid from wanting more of that friction, the sobs escaping your lips, the muscles contracted.

“Such a needy slut." He snarled in your ear “So desperate for my thigh.”

You groaned at him words, your fingers around him shoulders, squeezing there while Five took you so badly in him thigh. He dropped his mouth to your hot neck, pouring a hickey there before sighing hoarsely:

“The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

It sent electric currents to your swollen core, and moans got even bigger when Five increased the speed of his movements, rubbing your clitoris in those mind-boggling movements. His strong grip, compiled wheezing on his neck, his hoarse voice and the movements of his thigh took you to the limit. And you were pushed into that abyss of the climax.

“So fucking quickly.” Five delighted, in a groan, and stuck his hands on your back, holding you there, turning you in one movement to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress, Five’s warm hands roamed your legs, squeezing thighs and parting them, exposing your wet, red core at the climax. Five groaned loudly, as if seeing you hurt physically, and he took his hands off you to grab the tie next to you.

“Be good and open your mouth for me.” You obeyed, and he wiped the cloth over there, fastening his tie.

You sighed brokenly, your heart beating fast, breasts stiff and sore, your ass burning with slaps, core sensitive to climax.

“I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." Five reflected, him hands roaming your trembling body, squeezing every bit of skin, reveling in how your skin felt at him touch.

Five reveled in the breath you took, enjoying how you looked like a fucking goddess like that. So vulnerable, so needy, so needy.

He was controlling himself until now, pushing you to the limit, making you sensitive, teasing you, making you sensitive to what was coming. Him smile was purely lustful, and Five leaned toward you, roughly sucking the nipple from your breast, nibbling at the needy skin. Then he brought hands up to his pants, opening his belt and zipper, pulling the pieces down far enough for his dick to pop out.

The moan you gave when you felt the hot, luscious member on your thigh was enough to inflate him ego even more. Five turned your body down, pulling your waist up, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget that day.” Then he entered you, rough, strong, badly.

He forced your walls to get used to him size and sank to the bottom of the well, clutching his hands to your hips and pulling you against him dick. You screamed against the tie, pressing your fingers to the pillows, sobbing when Five set a fierce, wild and badly pace, mistreating every inch of you.

One of him hands went to your neck, closing his fingers there and pouring out all the fury and jealousy he felt in the thrusts, going in as deep as he could and pushing your limit. The pornographic sounds of the two of you moaning, the sound of his hip hitting your ass, invaded the room, mixing with the smell of sex, lust and hunger.

You shouted him name when Five left and brutally entered you, making you choke on your own sobs.

“What's it? Are you unaccustomed to my dick?” He tasted it, leaving your neck to slap your ass aggressively “Is it too much for you?”

You sobbed, stopped by the tie, and Five hit you again.

“Do you think someone can fuck you like me?!”

Now him voice was angry and his movements too. Five fucked you like he had spent his whole life in fury at you, waiting patiently for the day when he would discount everything on you. Him hand went to your mouth, pulling tie from there and releasing your toxic moans.

“Answer me, fuck!” One more slap, leaving your ass on fire.

“N-no!” You cried “Nobody ... no-nobody fucks me like you!”

You talks with a more thrust, and Five pushed your chest to the bed, keeping his hand on your back, him moans mixing with your.

Then he reached the peak of anger.

Five came out of you, turned you up and bent your legs, placing your knees on your shoulders. He entered in a brutal way inside you, the new position making him occupy all the minimum vacant spaces. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, your hands tightening on his arms, your heart already racing.

It was too much. Your body begged for more, for the climax, for the lust, for anything fierce that Five could give you. He dropped his mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip instead of kissing you, making you swallow his lines when he said:

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? ”

You desperately denied it. Five could very well come out of you and not let you come, and just that thought made your body tremble and tears flow.

“Plea-Please!” You sobbed “I beg you!”

That did things with Five. He stuck his body to your, him arm going around your waist and fucking you as if that could chase away all his anger. This time he kissed you, sticking his lips to yours as he felt you pulse around him and break up in a hushed scream, trembling at the climax.

Five did not falter, his black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his heart pounding. He cum strongly inside your core, filling you with hot cum. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you, slowly calming down.

The two of you sighed, the room flooding with the smell of sex and desire, your hearts thudding at the same pace. You whimpered in his mouth, and when Five want to leave inside you, you denied it, tightening your legs around him waist.

“N-No.” You moaned softly, "Stay inside, please."

Five drew air through his teeth, him hands gripping the sides of your body, stirring inside you, beginning to feel the lust rising.

He kissed you again, whispering:

“You want to have a child of mine, don't you?" It was an arrogant, provocative voice, and you sighed. “You are such a fucking sensitive little thing.”

Then Five started moving again, and you stayed in that room for much longer.

[thatesqcrush]

The Auction, Pt. 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: discussion of sex work, "being bidded on/purchased" touching of reader - but its consensual, vaginal fingering, language. WC: 2K.

You met with the brains of the organization for a long time. Her name was Cordelia and according to her, you were “a perfect candidate” as she eyed you up and down.

“How does this work? Is this safe? ” You asked, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “How much of a cut do I get? And don't bullshit me.”

“Ah, I’ve always appreciated a woman who gets down to brass tacks.” Cordelia replied. “The cut is 50/50, off the books. We’ll screen your sexual health, of course. While those results are pending, we’ll vet you - make sure you’re of sanity and have no criminal background. This is all done behind closed doors - no one in your immediate life would be the wiser. If that’s all clear, we will arrange the date for the auction. In the meantime, we like to invest in our ladies once they’re cleared - meaning we’ll make arrangements for hair, makeup, clothes, and the like.”

You swallowed hard. “I can assure you, I’m clean. I haven’t had many partners prior.”

Cordelia nodded. “Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”

**

Your test results came and you received a clean bill of health. The next step was to be primped and polished. Naturally you were middle of the road - some days you could be really girly and other days, not. You weren’t tethered to any one style. But it had been awhile since you were ever able to relax, so when you were sent to a spa for a day of treatment, you jumped at the chance.

After, it was onto shopping.

You felt like Vivian from Pretty Woman as salespersons brought you dress after dress while you got your hair and makeup done. The request from Cordelia was ‘sexy, not slutty.’

You settled on a red hot mini dress with a v-neckline and center ruching for added dimension. Finishing the look was a pair of simple heels that showed off your toned gams and a pair of jeweled hoop earrings. You hardly recognized yourself in your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in the store. ‘This is one night; you’re playing a role.’ You told yourself. You figured if you repeated it enough times, you’d believe it.

An unmarked car came to collect you once you were done, driving you straight to the location where the auction was taking place.

You knew there would be other women there from Bonnie. What you didn’t realize was that you’d be going very last. Your nerves were starting to fry and your stomach was twisted in knots. You sipped water through a straw so as to not ruin your lipstick. Finally, there was a rap on the door and Cordelia poked her head in.

“Darling, it’s your time to shine. Now go earn your worth.”

**

You could hear raucous laughter, cheering and applause from behind where you stood. The music pounded and you could feel it in your bones.

Finally, the door opened - it was pitch black on the other side, save a spotlight. You said a quick prayer, even though you weren’t very religious as you stepped into the light.

Once there, the light adjusted to a more dim version and you were able to focus your vision on the crowd before you. Music played quietly in the background before a woman began to speak - someone who sounded very much like Cordelia.

What she says next and what is said after, is all blur. Bids begin to roll in and it’s in that moment you realized you were nothing more than a hooker, using your body as a means to an end. Humiliation flowed through you - you didn’t feel like you - you didn’t feel as good as you thought. Instead your worth was measured in bank rolls.

You scanned the room, men of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds were there, waving their black AmEx cards like they were charging a steak dinner. And that’s how you felt - you were a lamb being slaughtered.

The gavel banged and you heard Cordelia exclaim, “Sold! To Mr. Bryan Kneef for two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

You whipped your head at Cordelia. Had you heard her correctly? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The fact that you got to keep half made your head spin.

“And that concludes tonight’s auction. Winners may come to collect their prizes in the back.”

Cordelia wrapped her arm around your waist and began to whisk you away when you heard someone thank ‘Mr. Kneef for his payment.’ You turned to see who he was and in the dimmed light you saw it was ‘Mr. Mysterious.’

And you damn near passed out.

**

You sat in the room you were originally in. There was one security camera in place and Cordelia advised that winners liked to meet first before any further advances were to come.

Your leg bounced as you drank your water again. You felt as if you were there for hours but realistically it was mere moments.

The door opened and Mr. Mysteri—Kneef walked in. You smiled nervously at him and extended your arm. “Hi. Bryan, right?”

Bryan didn’t reply. Instead he gave you an intense, smoldering look. His cologne wafted over you, warm and woodsy causing your skin to goosebump.

You brought your arm back and clutched your hands behind your back. Bryan took another step towards you, as if he were trying to get a closer look at his purchase.

“Take off your clothes.” Bryan requested quietly. You opened your mouth to say something but the look in response along with a perfectly arched brow caused you to snap your mouth shut. “I want to see what I bought.”

You reached around, undoing the zipper - thankful it was along the side and not along your back.

You slid the dress off, strap by strap. You hadn’t worn a bra - just a nude thong which wasn’t even fancy - simple and basic, meant more for avoiding lines than anything else. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it. You moved to kick off your heels when Bryan interrupted you.

“Leave them on.”

You nodded and stood up, anxiously awaiting the next move.

Bryan removed his jacket and folded it neatly, hanging it over a chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his muscular forearms with thick, meaty veins.

You looked up and saw the small security camera and realized this private show wasn’t so private. The sound of a finger snap brought you back to the present and you whipped your head towards Bryan. Your heart began to race and you wondered if you should just bolt. You tried to mentally measure the distance between you and the door.

Bryan approached you. His gaze softened, as if he were sorry for what he was about to say. “I’m going to touch you now. At any point if you want me to stop, I will. Consent is very important to me.”

“It is to me too.” You replied, meeting his gaze. After a beat, you continued. “You can touch me.”

His warm touch began rather innocently, along your arm up to along your shoulder. As he walked around you, he kept touching and feeling. His hand got to your ass and he let out a deep rumble as he squeezed the fat of your flesh.

Bryan walked around you. When he came around to the front of you, he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling the weight against his palm. You did your best to remain stoic, ignoring the bolt of pleasure that had shot down to your core. That changed when he firmly twisted your nipple, as you let out a moan as he did so. That earned another arched brow from him, as if taking mental notes.

He rounded you again, and you felt him close the small gap that remained. You felt his cock, hard, pressed against the small of your back. His fingers gently traced your arm and then brought it up, so it was around his neck. He ran his hand back down along your side, and you trembled under his touch. You were certain your heart was beating outside of your chest. When he got to the side of your ribs, he splayed out his hand, so his palm was against you. Slowly, his hand made way down to the apex of your legs.

“Open.” He rumbled in your ear quietly and you followed his instructions. Your breath hitched as his hand cupped your mound. Bryan’s fingers then moved to stroke you softly, teasing your clit and then moving back to stroke your folds. Your pussy grew wet, your breath became more labored as he continued his ministrations. You bit your bottom lip as he slowly but surely worked you to orgasm. Just when you thought you weren’t going to be able to take anymore, Bryan sunk a thick finger inside your soaked pussy. Your pussy clenched around his finger tightly and you let out a wrecked moan in response.

“You’re so wet and we haven’t even started.” Bryan murmured. His beard against your cheek added another layer of sensation. There was no resistance when Bryan sunk another thick finger and began to pump them in and out of you. The sound of wet filled the room and your legs felt wobbly as you gripped around Bryan’s neck harder. Your other hand found his free hand and you brought it up to your breast, encouraging him.

“I’m so close.” You panted. “Oh fuck!”

“Come for me like a good girl.” Bryan growled as he rubbed your clit with the fat pad of his thumb. He used his other hand to pinch your nipple again and you arched against him, coming so hard that you drew his fingers further in.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Bryan praised. “Oh sweetheart we’re going to have so much fun.” He slid his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss.

Bryan spun you around to face him. You were a mess as you watched him admire his wet fingers in the light. Bryan brought them to you and you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them of your juices and then imitating as to what you could do with your mouth.

Bryan gave you a salacious smile as he withdrew his fingers. He traced them along your cheek, leaving a wet trail to your mouth where he rubbed your bottom lip.

“I definitely got my money’s worth with you.” Bryan replied. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll have arrangements made so we can have even more fun.”

You watched as he walked away, grabbing his suit jacket and exiting without so much as a second glance. You stayed frozen in place for another five minutes or so, until you realized you could redress and go home.

The car ride home left you with more questions than answers and more horny than ever. Your battery operated boyfriend ran through its battery as you replayed the evening over and over as you were too wired to sleep from the earlier events.

Eventually you did, with Bryan’s name still on your lips.

TBC.

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@storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

[defdaily]

Arena Homme+ Magazine September 2021 issue featuring JAY B: Nature, Dreams and Music

Translated by defdaily.

That day, JAY B’s world was filled with grass that came up to his knees, sunset that briefly peeked through the dark clouds, and ghosts of the silent campsite. Insects flew about in the intimate conversation of creation, dreams, and the future. An interview with JAY B amidst the passing seasons.

So you are working on an album?

The album is almost finished. I couldn’t release it at the beginning of the year, so I’m releasing it now in the second half of the year. I’m thinking of preparing things early on for next time so [we] are preparing for the production of another album.

There was a big change this year, you moved from JYP Entertainment to H1GHR MUSIC, right? What did you expect before becoming a part of H1GHR MUSIC?

At first I was worried. and was concerned over what to do if I couldn’t adapt. My goal for this year was to adapt to the agency and its artists, but everyone has made me feel comfortable. I thought I would have to do a lot of adjusting to the new agency staff, but I was surprised by how understanding they were of the system I had experienced. The way there has been no problem in our communication has far exceeded my expectations. Things are flowing smoothly.

It must feel like a fresh start. You must be looking forward to getting to do what you couldn’t do previously, but on the other side you must also have hopes to learn more. Is there anyone that could provide you with blunt advice?

I’m not the demanding type. And I have never strongly demanded anything from the company either. But that doesn’t mean I accept anything the company makes and provides me. The difference is that my opinion is reflected in my work more than before. If I was going to lead everything at work, there would have been no need to join an agency. Joining the agency means communicating with their staff. I also think we should listen to other people's opinions a lot. And you have to give feedback too, of course. I am working well with the company. Be it a push or advice as help, I learnt a lot from my previous company. Since I have learnt a lot from there, I should trust myself a little more now. I try to relay what I know and learn about things I’m not knowledgeable of. I rely on Jay Bum hyung a lot. I contact him right away when there’s something I don’t know, and we have a lot of conversations.

Is it important that an artist is stubborn? Do you feel the need to emphasise your own music and personality?

Artists have different personalities, just as people have different preferences. I don't want to diss an artist who is stubborn, nor do I want to tell anyone who isn’t stubborn that they are not an artist. I acknowledge everyone. I, personally, want to express the way I live. I like making music. An artist should be clear about what they want to do. Whether it be to become a star, or to express themselves through music or to earn money, it has to be clear.

What is your clear stance as an artist?

Whether it’s fiction or reality, I want to make stories. I’m the type that wants to tell a story. It was like that too in my GOT7 days. I believe one should create and establish their own path in life. I think that's fun. It's hard, but it's worth it. It adds more meaning to my job and I think it becomes more valuable. If I didn't do it myself, I would feel less attached to it.

There’s nothing more fun than one’s own work. Showing your work and waiting for the response must also be thrilling.

Exactly. I love hearing that my music is good. I’m very shy so I cannot express it very well but I’m very thankful and proud too. And it reassures me that I’m not going down the wrong path.

It does feel like all the hard times disappear when you hear good feedback. But feedback isn’t always good. There are even people who avoid them because of fear of criticism.

To be honest, when it comes to unpleasant feedback, it kind of makes me feel… “ouch!” But I accept it because it is still an evaluation. It also gives me a boost. It’s fun.

You are a solo artist now. Do you feel a burden or pressure?

I don’t feel pressured, but I do feel the burden. I joined H1GHR MUSIC and I feel a sense of belonging. I gain something from this company, but I think this company should gain something from me, too. I have worries about things like whether I’ll be able to benefit the company or not. I feel slightly uneasy about possibly not meeting expectations too.

You feel a sense of responsibility.

There's always a reason and a purpose to start anything. Everyone starts music because they like it, and if they start, there must be music they want to make. So if there is criticism, one would feel down, but if the final product is good, the people that worked on it would feel good. That’s what I hope for.

You uploaded a bunch of your Def. songs onto your YouTube channel. There was quite a lot. Are you the prolific type?

I used to be but… I guess I’m still the type to make many songs. (Laughs). But compared to back then, my production has decreased a lot. My stamina can’t keep up. (Laughs). I used to be able to start and finish working on a song at dawn and when I felt like I could do more, I made more. Nowadays, even when I’m working on only one song, not only is it hard for my body, but I also feel drained so I can’t make many songs.

Isn’t it really fast to make even one song at dawn?

Ah, that’s true. I used to work like that three or four times a week, but now I work once or twice a week. Come to think of it, I don't think I'm the prolific type anymore.

Being able to make a lot of things means you have a lot of ideas.

Having run out of ideas is also a reason for having less work done. There are five mixtapes I’ve uploaded onto YouTube with four to five tracks each. At the time, I not only worked on those but music for GOT7 too. After hustling so hard, I feel like I’ve run out of material. I look around wondering where to find inspiration. When I finish making the melody and want to write lyrics, I feel lost.

In order to be prepared for those situations, creators keep a collection of material. How do you collect resources?

I often read or use my imagination. These days, I often put myself in others’ shoes. When watching a movie, one would empathize with the protagonist. It’s only natural since the plot revolves around them. But I would pay attention to the supporting roles or passerbys in the background and think about the story from their point of view. I would think about what I would do if I heard those words and if I were in that situation. I also pay close attention to any words that might be a good source of inspiration. In the past I would focus on how the plot developed, but now I look at the words that the author uses repeatedly. When I think of any useful words or ideas, I jot them down.

Observing the supporting roles instead of the central narrative is such a novel idea.

I suddenly thought of it while watching a movie at home. The protagonist had said some harsh and rude words to a supporting role. It was something like “Get out of my way.” I thought “How would it have felt to be the one moving out of their way? What would they feel?” These were the thoughts I had.

Has anyone told you that you have a unique perspective?

I’ve often heard that my personality is very unique.

People can say they don’t like something despite others saying they like it. That could come off as unique and fresh ideas come from an uncommon perspective too.

I think it’s 50/50. There are times when something might not feel like much for me while others like it, and times when everyone else seems quite indifferent while I like it. A song I recently liked the idea of is “Smile, Wait for the Flash” by Giriboy where he used the ‘kacha’ shutter sound as gunfire. Using ‘kacha’ like a gunfire as a metaphor for wrapping up your feelings after a breakup was a refreshing idea. It was great.

Do you also often use your instincts?

I try hard to. I don’t naturally use my instincts, but I try to look at things through a different lens. I tend to have random thoughts, and I had one today during the shoot too. This is a camping site, but there was no one camping. So I imagined how it would look when full of people moving about. Also during the shoot, there was a long blade of grass under my feet on a field of grass. I should have avoided it but I accidentally stepped on it. I felt sorry for the grass that got stepped on and out of instinct I said “sorry…”

Seems like you have keen sensibility.

I wish I could be sensible. I’m too cautious to say that I am sensible, though.

I think you would be considered a sensible person because you make music. But I noticed that the comments are disabled for Def.’s mixtapes on YouTube.

The songs that I make under “Def.” are 100% music that I personally wanted to make. I didn’t want to receive feedback, so I disabled the comments. If I release an album under “Def.” in the future, I probably won't be able to disable the comments. I don’t know. The reason I have disabled the comments is because I don’t want to see any praise nor criticism. I don’t look at the comments for my SoundCloud tracks either. Because they’re very personal projects, I’m worried I could be swayed by it so I don’t look at it on purpose. I don’t want to be swayed by anything when it comes to my personal projects. I guess that’s my way of being stubborn.

So it sounds like you’re saying the songs that are made under the name Def. are like a part of you. I can feel your sincerity towards your music.

I would pretend to be indifferent to evaluations, but I’m really scared of receiving negative comments. Not the criticism but I’m scared to look at comments that decide something as ‘not good.’ If they say that it’s not their style, then it’s just personal preference. There may not be songs that match their preference within my discography. But it’s difficult for me to hear people say ‘this is not good, bad, or meh.’ After all, those songs came from me and are like my children.

I remember many tracks with gentle melodies and discovered JAY B’s delicate side. Is this surprising to hear?

This is the first time I’ve been called delicate. I do have several sensitive/vibey songs. I want to try something like a pop, hip-hop, or smug and cocky vibe but I’m not good at that. I don’t think it’s my personality.

What is considered a good melody to you?

Something that feels good at the first listen. My music taste has been so diverse recently that even when I talk to my friends about music, the songs that we all like are different. It’s hard to reach a consensus. In the creator’s perspective, even if something doesn’t sound good to others but it does to the creator, I consider that to be a good melody. I used to stress over how to write a good melody, how to sing it, and if the company would like it. As I move on step by step, I found a standard where at least the melody should sound good enough to me to not abandon the song since everyone has different preferences.

Personal preferences are important but it must be an important job to cater to the general public too. No, I mean, a difficult job.

That’s right. I think I still lack the ability to create melodies that the general public would like. I will have to learn step by step. One thing I feel is that there must be a part that sticks. I can’t exactly describe what type of melody it would be, but to set a minimum standard, it would be ‘a melody that I’m satisfied with. If it’s one that I’m not satisfied with but the public likes, I should follow that.

Do you tend to use many tracks when making music? There’s lot of songs these days that use dozens of layers of tracks.

We used a lot of harmonies with GOT7. Because there were so many harmonies, there was a crazy number of tracks too. These days, I try to be minimal and reduce harmonies. I don’t layer many tracks. I usually have the main track with a few harmonies and some adlibs.

K-Pop in particular mixes many genres and harmonies to create complex music. They are very flashy. What do you think of this phenomenon as someone who prefers to be minimal?

I see it as a good thing, because it means that the general public’s preference is expanding to a variety. It’s rather better. Of course, the basics are also important and I do feel the necessity to study them but we also need to agree with change. We should accept change. Who knows, I might grow old to be someone that can’t accept change and wonder, ‘what kind of music is this?’ But I feel that now is a time to open our eyes to change. When I find that a song is difficult to listen to, I will purposely listen to it repeatedly.

It’s been 10 years since you’ve debuted. How much have you changed over these 10 years?

In the past I was ambitious and had high expectations, but now I am more relaxed. With age, I think my sensitive side is becoming more and more dull. When I let go of some desires, I get to be accepting of more things. The scope of my activities also seems to have widened. I used to have a stubborn side to me in the past. Now I’m like ‘don’t expect too much, don’t anticipate too much,’ just do my job diligently!

There are many artists that use other creative hobbies to ease the burdens of their main job. What do you do to cope with your fuel for creativity?

My hobby is photography so I take many photos. I also learned how to draw at one point but nowadays, I don’t have time to draw since I’m busy. I also make records of things often. I write down my thoughts, even useless things. I also use an audio recorder to record my mood, thoughts, and things I’m currently doing. I also write letters to my future self. Things like ‘this is why I’m struggling, this is what would be good for me now but how it would be for my future self?’ Wondering what I will be thinking about and what I would look like. I write letters to myself about stuff like that. I put them in envelopes according to the year and on the envelope I write down the year the letter was written.

So It’s like an archive of your time. Writing, journaling, letters, photos, music, it’s interesting. A very organised way of saving your thoughts to not lose them. Having said that, is there anyone else you would like to show your records to besides your future self?

Ah! I can’t show this to people. They’ll cringe. (Laughs) It’s sort of embarrassing. I can show the photos to everyone but I want to keep voice messages to myself. I hope that when I am older, I can look at them as I laugh and reminisce about my life. They’re records for myself.

Do you also record everyday life in any way?

I record when I find it interesting the way I thought about something. Even looking at my journal from last year or the year before, my thoughts were different from now. I find it intriguing to see the way people can change like this. I think I tend to have many thoughts, so I record them every day.

From the position of a creator, I guess journaling can be seen as an activity to collect one’s senses and emotions to use them as material for inspiration.

That’s right. My brain isn’t good enough for me to remember everything. There are situations when I recall a memory and decide I could write this down.

What was the most fun thing you did lately?

It’s a bit dangerous, but it was when I rode around on my motorcycle with my friend. There was suddenly a heavy downpour. Since I needed to go home, I rode the motorcycle in the rain. I was completely soaked when I got home. The journey home was super difficult, but I was fortunate enough to not have suffered any injuries. It was a completely new experience so it was very fun. I don’t want to experience it again but it felt like an adventure.

Wearing the Burberry 2021 F/W collection in the pictorial today must also be a new experience. Slightly different from the refined and classic Burberry, the collection shows a lot of change. What were your usual thoughts on Burberry?

I thought of it as a clean and straightforward style. Ever since some time, I noticed their young and bold changes. Although today’s outfits contained many new attempts and changes, I felt that their style was still well refined. I felt that Burberry used their own unique perspective to cleanly interpret nature’s elements. Wearing the outfits, I felt like they had a lot of fun ideas.

Which outfit left the biggest impression on you?

Choosing just one is very difficult. There was one that gave off the feel of a medieval knight, and made me feel like a monarch. I’ve heard that in medieval times, people would also wear bearskin from hunting. I think that has some influence on the Burberry outfits that I wore today. Every time I put on an outfit, I always felt like a medieval knight or king. The fur on the clothes had a strong animalistic feel to it. The scenery, weather, and concept were all very harmonious with each other.

Going back to the topic of music, you said that you like to tell stories. Do you also create a universe with music?

Yes, I create a universe for each album. This album creates this universe, while that album creates another. The albums won’t connect to create one universe, though. Each album is its own world, nothing more. I can’t make them magnificently connect into a grand universe. I like to put my story into each album.

Can you use a keyword to describe the universe of the album you are about to release?

It would be “SOMO:FUME.” This is the first album that I made after joining H1GHR MUSIC. This album consists of my energy, feelings, and thoughts, so it contains the meaning of my hopes for people to consume (somo in Korean) this product and and my wishes for my emotions to smear on to you like perfume, which is why I combined [somo] with the [English word] perfume, and named [the album] SOMO:FUME.

In which direction will JAY B’s music flow from now onwards?

I’ve pondered about directionality for a long time, but I couldn’t come up with an answer. The important part is to participate enough for me to not have regrets and be careful. I may disappoint myself if I have too many expectations for the future. I need to work diligently to not be disappointed when I look back; so that in the future, I can see that I worked hard.

Translated by defdaily.

Please support JAY B’s 1st EP album [SOMO:FUME] coming out on August 26 at 6PM KST. jayb1stsoloep.carrd.co

[only-johnny-deppp]

“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...” 

 Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!

Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK. This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine. Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.

For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview:  Enjoy.

***

“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”

Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”

I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.

“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”

In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.

We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.

PS. For those who are not familiar with British words: * Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains. * London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.

Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.

“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”

Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.

This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.

In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?”  Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.

It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.

The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.

“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”

Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.

“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”

You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.

Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”

“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”

The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.

Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.

“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”

Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.

“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”

I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.

~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 5

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost

Ichiro arrived right on time at 5:45 in the morning, buzzing your door just as you had gotten dressed after a quick shower. Steam wafted out of the bathroom as you rushed to the door to greet him and show him where the luggage was. Without anything to say, he promptly picked up one of the large hard case suitcases and you followed suit, going after him into the elevator. When your bodyguard loaded both of your cases into the trunk of his car and then opened the door for you to get into the car, you quickly said, "I need to double check everything in there is fine. I'll be back in a minute."

After reassuring Ichiro that you would be ok by yourself, you dashed back inside to survey your apartment, checking each room to make sure you hadn't left anything important behind. The kitchen and living room were clean, check. When you got to your bedroom, you paused, seeing one of your acoustic guitars sitting in the corner. Should you bring it? Were you actually going to write music? When you had announced your hiatus officially, you had stated that it was to gain inspiration for new music... but then that wouldn't really be a break, would it? You gnawed on your lip, remembering what Kuroo had asked of you the night before: "Take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break." 

You scowled, cursing Kuroo and his knowledge of your work habits. But, a voice inside you reasoned, it wouldn't be work if you were writing just for fun... You thought back to those moments in your childhood home, in your room, writing songs and uploading them to YouTube and SoundCloud without thinking that anything would come of it; back before you felt any pressure to perform. Back to when you wrote lyrics that weren’t very sophisticated, but earnest and heartfelt all the same… back to when you had your muse to sit beside you every step of the songwriting process.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you ran to the corner of your room and snatched the guitar, put it in its case, and then snapped it shut with finality.

If Ichiro was confused about you carrying down another piece of luggage, he said nothing, only staring ahead and driving when you were buckled. "Onigiri Miya," you reminded him, then settled into your seat. The ride there wasn't too far from your apartment; you had rented out the space because of its convenience, so anywhere you usually wanted to go to was within a reasonable distance. You watched the traffic with disinterest and spotted restaurants with dim lighting inside, most likely already prepping for the day ahead of them. The world kept moving on ahead, regardless of whether or not you liked it.

When you arrived at Onigiri Miya, Osamu was already out back in the van, probably waiting impatiently. You checked the clock in the car and clicked your tongue. You weren’t even late.

When you stepped out of the car, Osamu opened his door and got out too. You smiled widely. “Samu!” You rushed forward and gave him a strong hug, which he somewhat reciprocated. He wasn’t as big on physical touch as his brother.

Osamu only rolled his eyes though, patting your back as you told him he looked great. “You do, too. Want me to help with your bags?”

You led him to the trunk of your ride, where Ichiro was already opening it and carrying one of your suitcases. Osamu hefted the other one up, and you trailed behind with the guitar case. After securing everything in the back of the van, you turned to your bodyguard.

You smiled, a genuine smile, and then repeated what you’d already told him over text. “Well, Ichiro-san, I don’t know the next time I’ll see you. I’ll make sure to text you in advance if I plan on going to more public areas.” He said nothing, so you continued. “Thank you very much for all you’ve done for me, and I look forward to seeing you again in the future!” You gave him a bow, which he reciprocated stiffly before quickly getting back into his own car and driving off.

You sighed, then looked to Osamu. He quirked an eyebrow. “Ready?” You nodded determinedly, getting into the passenger seat of the van and buckling, him doing the same.

“Alrighty, then,” he cracked a grin. “Time for a road trip.”

After a while of scrolling through your social media accounts you sat back and stretched. Then you flopped back into your seat and looked over to Osamu. “Samu,” you whined in the most obnoxious voice possible, “do you have any food? I’m so hungry.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, jerking a thumb towards the back of the van. “Ya really think I wouldn’t bring food for the trip?”

Immediately, you turned around and began looking behind your seat for food. Sure enough, there was an insulated bag with onigiri. You gasped, bringing the bag into your lap with stars in your eyes. “You brought some?”

You ignored whatever his response was, instead unwrapping one and biting into it. “Mmm,” you moaned, chewing slowly. The nori was still crisp and the rice was fluffy yet still sticky. You closed your eyes to focus on the food. He must have made them right before you got there for them to be this fresh.

“I’m guessing you didn’t eat breakfast, then,” Osamu said, eyes staring ahead at the road.

Your grip on the rice ball tightened before you quickly realized what you were doing. Your apartment didn’t really have much left to eat after you’d finished up the gyoza last night, and even if you’d had food, you weren’t sure if you would’ve been able to keep it down. Butterflies had filled your stomach as you had tried to go to sleep, and they hadn’t really disappeared yet. “No,” you shook your head. “I woke up early in the morning and was tired.”

Osamu hummed and then didn’t say anything else. After another long beat of silence you squirmed in your seat, a little on edge. “Mind if I play some music?” He shook his head at your question and so you took over the AUX, playing some songs that had been stuck in the back of your mind lately. After the music started, any awkwardness immediately dissipated as you sang along and Osamu tapped his thumb on the wheel to the beat of whatever was playing. At one point you had even pointed out his cute habit to which he had denied before doing the same thing twenty minutes later. Giggling, you just looked out the window and didn’t comment on it that time.

After about an hour of songs, Osamu finally spoke again. “You can go back to sleep, if you want. Ya look tired.”

You looked over at him and then nodded, curling into yourself, rubbing your wearied eyes. Sleeping would be a good opportunity since you hadn’t gotten much last night. You leaned against the seatbelt and window and closed your eyes, ignoring the bumps in the road which made your head hit the glass each time. Before you knew it, you were asleep. 

After a little less than five hours, you woke up to Osamu driving, now playing the radio instead. You looked outside. Gone were the skyscrapers and bright lights; in their place were rows and rows of empty fields, all blurring past you. "Are we in Hyōgo yet?" you asked, turning back to him.

Osamu gave you a quick glance and then switched his gaze back on the road. It was just the Onigiri Miya van on the stretch, the rest of what you could see of the roadway completely devoid of another vehicle. "Yeah," he replied. "We have about an hour left. I was gonna stop at the next place to stretch, though." He looked over at you again. "Is that alright with you?"

You nodded and then dug out another rice ball from the thermal bag, munching on it as you stared out the windshield. The nori wasn’t crispy anymore but at least the filling was still yummy.  "So we're going to stop somewhere first. What's the plan after that?"

Osamu adjusted his grip on the wheel, driving with only one arm. "I was thinking that we could stop by your house, unload your luggage, maybe clean up your space since no one's been there for a while, and then go to do my business in Hyōgo." He paused, then added, "With Kita."

Your heart raced. It was your first day back and you were already going to have to face Kita. You could just stay home, a voice nagged at you. No, you thought, your face filled with grim determination. You could do it.

Almost as if sensing your internal strife, Osamu said, "Y'know, Y/N, I think Captain is just as nervous, if not, more." He continued staring ahead, not looking at you. Now he started tapping his thumb against the wheel again.

But you, your head snapped to look at him. "Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

Osmau nodded, smiling. "He's barely said a peep in the group chat he's in with me. Although now that I think about it, that's usually how he is." He chuckled. "Unless he's getting in between me and Tsumu."

You sighed, sitting back. Why had you expected Kita to hold anger towards you? Because you chose a career over him? Because you chose success over two of you, the voice in the back of your mind whispered. You ignored it, crossing your arms. You felt bad for thinking he would be anything less than how he always was in your mind (he was always Mr. Perfect), but it also made you feel better knowing he was scared too. No, not scared. Nervous, Osamu had said. Oh, god, how were the two of you going to act when you saw each other?

"Hey, Y/N." You turned to Osamu just as he pulled into the driveway of probably the only gas station within a 50 mile radius. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You'll figure it out."

As you followed him out of the van to stretch out your legs, you could only hope that you would figure it out. Preferably before you had to see Kita.

You had, in fact, not figured it all out by the time you and Osamu reached your childhood home. Instead of thinking about your lack of a solution, you resorted to reaching under the dingy welcome mat and pulled out a plastic bag with a key inside. “Still here,” you said cheerfully, showing the dirty bag off to your friend.

Osamu rolled his eyes and waited as you fumbled with the key to the house and then eventually opened the door.

You peered into the dark corridor and slipped off your shoes before stepping onto the hardwood floor. “I called the electricity and water guy,” you muttered, dragging one of the suitcases behind you. You paused and then grabbed the handle, which extended, then let the suitcase’s wheels do the work for you. “Everything should be functional by the end of the day.” When you got to the end of the foyer, you gasped. “What…?”

The inside of the house was, contrary to your belief, not at all covered in a thick layer of dust like you’d expected. Instead, it looked almost exactly the same as when you had moved out from there.

Osamu trailed behind you, taking his cap off and scratching the back of his head. “To be honest, I forgot that this was happening. Everyone here didn’t want to see your house collect dust and fall apart, so they..." He motioned around him, your eyes following.

The tatami mats in the living room and your parents' bedroom were clearly cared for, otherwise there would’ve been the overwhelming scent of dust or mold. You could imagine the diligence it would’ve taken to clean them so regularly. And the furniture— you ran a finger along the top of the kotatsu and then looked at it; nothing. You’d have to move the kotatsu into storage since it wouldn’t make much sense to have it out right now; you only used it in the winter...

You drank in the rest of the house, mentally planning where to place things and what to rearrange to your own liking. "I'll get the other case you brought," Osamu muttered, sidestepping around you to reach the doorway. You barely noticed him leave as you crept to your own childhood bedroom, sliding open the shōji screen door.

…Huh. It didn't look any different from what you last remembered. You walked inside. You had your western-styled bed, which still had the furniture sliders under the legs to protect the tatami mats; the bookshelves along the wall with your favorite books and shōjo manga... You paused at the string of fairy lights strung above your dresser. Clipped onto them were photos from high school: you and Osamu proudly holding a double-tiered cake you'd made in home economics, you and a few of the other Inarizaki boys fooling around after practice, you with your parents in front of the school in your third year. You laughed to yourself while looking at them, recalling the moments in which the pictures were taken; back when Samu's hair was grey and Tsumu didn't know what toner was, back when your only responsibilities were as Y/N the assistant manager and co-class representative of 3-A.

You stared at the end of the string lights, where there was a picture missing. You knew what was supposed to be there, in that gap. You were unsure of where it had gone though, so you searched your entire bedroom, taking out all of the books in your shelves and turning them upside down, removing all of the drawers in your dresser and peeking inside the base. You scoured your belongings for a sign of where that photo could have been, but to no avail. 

"You looking for something?" Osamu pushed off of the doorway he'd been leaning on and peered over your shoulder. "I can try to help ya find it."

You shook your head, smiling. "No, it's okay. I lost something but it's not that important." You stood up and dusted yourself off, brushing your hands together. "We have some free time now that I don't have to clean up around here. What should we do?"

Osamu nodded, thinking to himself. "Well, we could go reacquaint you with your neighbors… or we could get to the farm early. It’s,” he checked his phone, “around 3 right now so we would have a couple hours to check out the entire farm. It’s big, so having too much time on our hands wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Uh…” You bit your lip and stared expectantly at Osamu. You make the decision.

He lifted an eyebrow incredulously, then said, “Alright, farm it is.”

You dropped your phone into your lap in disappointment, tempted to just throw it out of the window of Osamu’s van. Kuroo really is kind of useless, huh, you thought, staring out of the window glumly.

The sound of the tires hitting gravel road caught your attention and you looked out the front windshield. You sucked in a breath. You were here. At Kita’s farm. Or rather, you thought, Kita’s house. You had parked in the driveway of his home which overlooked all the fields. They were still somewhat of a muddy brownish color from how far away you were.

“Ready?” Osamu tried to look grim, knowing of your inner turmoil, but his glittering eyes said otherwise.

You exhaled and then nodded. “Yes.”

The two of you didn’t end up getting very far along the fields before Osamu ran into someone he knew, probably someone else working on the rice fields under Kita based on the way he was dressed. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and, somehow, long sleeved shirts and pants. Osamu smiled, greeting the man, “Koji.”

His recipient smiled too. “Osamu. How’s business in Tokyo? Still thinking of opening another shop in Osaka?” Koji motioned for him to follow him down the path in between the rice paddies, and he did, already lost in a conversation. You watched as another group of workers came towards the duo, and you heard laughing and cheering as Osamu talked to them.

Well, damn. Osamu had left you behind. You looked around and then checked your phone. You still had basically two hours to kill. “Ugh…” Should you just wait in the van for Osamu? What if Kita saw the van pulled up and approached it, though? You did NOT want to be alone with him, just the two of you. Plus it would be hot waiting in there. You pulled at the front of your t-shirt. At least there was a slight breeze every once in a while when you were outside.

Am I really going to do this? You looked up at the sky and shielded your eyes from the sun. It was already beating down on your shoulders and back. Sighing, you started in the opposite direction of where Osamu and the workers had gone. There seemed to be a lot of property, you thought, admiring the view. Although the rice paddies were still muddy, the view you had from this side of the farmhouse was stunning. In the distance were lines of trees so dense, and mountains even further away, just a faint silhouette smoothed against the sky. You imagined what it would look like when the rice was ready to be harvested, all green and heavy with the fruits of labor. 

A few days ago you’d thought absentmindedly that life had been kind to you, Kuroo, and Kenma. But now, looking around the serene landscape and close-knit community of workers, filled with a fresh green newness brought from only the spring, you wondered: maybe the years had been kind of Kita, too. 

Behind you, you heard dull rustling, and you turned automatically. You froze, stunned. Your mouth moved and formed words before you could even comprehend what it was you were saying.

“Kita?”

a/n: ohhh my goodness i had the worst experience with a karen yesterday and i never thought i would have to deal with one for some reason…. fuck you amy and i hope i never have to see your bitchass face again 

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen​, @duhsies, @succulentmom, @kenmaslov3r​​​, @introvertatitsfinest

some ~fun facts~ 

- ichiro the bodyguard/driver may or may not have shed a tear or two after y/n left. (i told you he was a big softie)

- he wanted to give you a hug goodbye but wasn’t sure if that would be overstepping 😔

- imagine samu loading the van with your luggage and pushing off the doorframe after previously leaning on it with his muscly arms and glorious tiddies… BEEFY SAMU SUPREMACY 🧎‍♂️

- one of osamu’s guilty pleasures is pop music 😭

- one of y/n’s fav things to do on social media is just go through atsumu’s public profiles and read the thirst comments 😭😭

[fishoutofcamelot]

Want to Write a Fic Where Merlin Gets Sentenced to the Pyre, But You Also Want to Be Accurate? Here’s a Handy Guide to Burning Alive!

*note that i am not an expert, just a writer with too much time on their hands. if someone more knowledgeable has something to add, please feel free to correct me!! <3*

Painful! Burn injuries are disproportionately more painful than other type of injury. As far as I can tell, science isn’t yet clear on why. Some say it is “at the peak of what humans can tolerate”

In It For the Long Haul. Suffering a substantial burn can lead to Stress-Induced Analgesia. SIA is a phenomenon in which the body represses its pain response/blocks pain receptors. However, this results in the pain that had built up being released over the course of hours, days, or even weeks after the fact. As a related stress response, you may develop stomach ulcers 

YIKES. Death by fire is considered by many to be one of the most painful ways to die (the foremost being scaphism - long story short, bees in a canoe)

Potential Cause of Death: Smoke Inhalation. The carbon monoxide in the air released by the fire might kill you first. You can expect people in a burning building to die from this due to the sheer amount of fire, but people who burned at the stake were not likely to die from smoke inhalation unless there were several others being burned along with them

Potential Cause of Death: Shock. Another common way that people die from fire is through shock. The pain is so brutal that your body enters ‘primal shock’, essentially lowering your blood pressure and rendering your organs functionless

Potential Cause of Death: Blood Loss. If monoxide and shock don’t kill you, blood loss will! Burns that severe can cause your capillaries to get inflamed and then start leaking everywhere, leading to eventual blood loss 

Potential Cause of Death: Aspyhixiation. Or, you’ll die from simple ol’ asphyxiation. The smoke and fire and whatnot prevents you from getting the air you need, and you suffocate to death. Yay!

Potential Cause of Death: Heat Stroke. If all else fails, rely back on heatstroke as a cause of death

Potential Cause of Death: Thermal Decomposition. Fire has this super ~fun~ effect where the sheer heat causes vital internal organs and tissues to decompose. The chemical bonds in your bodily tissue begin to fall apart due to a series of chain reactions caused by the fire. If you’re unlucky enough to have survived long enough to experience this while conscious, you’ll get to watch yourself decompose before your very own eyes. Dinner AND a show!

Potential Cause of Death: Pulmonary Edema. An edema is caused when the surrounding capillaries and soft tissues of your lungs are damaged by the hot air and begin to leak, filling up your lungs with fluid. So not only are you burning alive, but you’re also drowning too!

You Start Leaking. Fun fact! Fire peels away your skin! After about five minutes, the outer dermis/layer of skin begins to shrink and split open, causing fat and other bodily fluids to spill out. And boil. Don’t forget that your bodily fluids are boiling right now. Hopefully you’re already dead by this point, otherwise you’re gonna have a bad time. 

In Shock? Which Kind of Shock? There are actually 5 types of ‘shock’ your body can undergo - and as luck would have it, death by fire can cause 4 of them. Neurogenic Shock - the pain of the fire is so severe that your central nervous system just shuts itself off (very similar to the aforementioned SIA). Hypovolemic Shock - caused by blood loss or fluid loss

Thirsty? Even if you don’t die, being burned can substantially dehydrate you.

You’re A Candle In the Wind. In the right condition your body can burn for up to seven hours, due to the fat in your body sustaining the flames like wax on a candle

The Big Shrink. Heat can cause your body and muscles to “shrink” or contract, sometimes in rather substantial ways. If a body is heated on just one side, it will end up bending towards the corresponding side as that’s where all the muscle contraction has occurred. If the contraction is severe enough, it can even cause bones to crack and shatter, or in some cases “explode”

No Bones About It. Bones, when exposed to heat, can crack, shrink, and shatter. If the scalp has burned away, small pieces of bone will flake away from the skull and up to the outer surface of the head. Bones will often look blackened and charred, even porous. 

Loss of Sensation. If you are unfortunate enough to have died early on in the process, you’ll experience a loss of physical sensation. This is similar yet also very different to the aforementioned SIA. That is, your nerve endings will have burned off and rendered you incapable of feeling. Of course, unless you’re immortal (*cough* Merlin), you’ll probably die before you realize that you can’t feel it

What Remains. Cremating a body down to full ashes is very difficult actually, and there will almost always be bone fragments or some kind of skeletal remains after the fact. It would take roughly 2-4 cubic meters of wood to cremate someone in medieval times, but even then medieval times didn’t really have the industrial means to burn them away to total ash

Cook Until Done. So how long would it take for a deep, serious burn to afflict an adult human? Well, roughly: 5 minutes at 122°F, 1 minute at 127°F, and so on. Note, however, that a pyre would take a while to reach this extreme heat (although some pyres can reach over a thousand degrees Fahrenheit in the right circumstances)

What Are the Odds? If 80% of your body is burning and you’re under 40, you have about a 50/50 chance of survival. Those chances get lower the older you are. 

I have a bunch of other fun death-by-fire facts (and don’t even get me STARTED on rigor mortis), but most of that has to do with like the forensic investigation side of it. 

[paperpocalypse]

the knife.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 18. Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room. Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader Word Count: 1,602 words Warnings: Violence, mild swearing

His nose is bleeding. Goddammit.

Five rolls his shoulders, scowling as blood trickles down the back of his throat. The thing that looks like Diego grins at him.

“Too slow, Number Five,” it taunts, brandishing a knife.

He sneers in response. “Not this time.”

Not wasting another second, Five blinks behind the uniformed copy and plunges the knife into its carotid. Both instantly crumble into dust.

“Five!”

Luther’s shout comes from the other side of the room. Turning his head, Five scoffs at what he sees – of course the rest of the Diegos would try to attack Number One all at once – and after quickly swiping at his nosebleed with his thumb, he blinks past a tangle of flying tentacles.

This particular kind of joint exercise is relatively new. A few weeks ago, you had finally pushed your upper limit to four copies of seven people at once, which to his dad meant that you could now make copies of everyone (excluding Vanya) for joint training sessions. To distinguish them from the real ones, you have the copies appear in uniforms and masks.

Five thinks that it’s a good idea – with clones, everyone can identify their own and everyone else’s weaknesses. And he enjoys the challenge, as they are usually few and far between.

(He just reminds himself that the copies aren’t actually you and his siblings.)

Making his way to where Luther is, Five grabs one of the copies attacking his brother and twists its head. “Have you even tried fighting any of the others?” he asks, blinking out of reach when a copy of Klaus runs at him.

Luther seizes the arms that two other clones had wrapped around his neck. “You think –” the boy hoists the copies up and over himself, slamming them into the ground – “Diego’s stupid clones would let me?”

“Like your clones are any better, jackass!” Diego’s retort cuts through the ruckus a few feet away, and Five watches as his other brother throws knives into the eyes of two Luther copies. “All I’ve been seeing is your stupid face!”

“Then shut up and get rid of them!”

Luther punches yet another approaching copy into the wall, now arguing with Diego. Five makes eye contact with you, and the two of you roll your eyes.

Suddenly, the lights blink red. Dad’s voice pierces through the speaker.

“Ten more minutes. Number Eight, make four more copies of Numbers Three, Five, and Six. If they are not all eliminated within the allotted time, free time on Saturday will be cut in half.”

“What?! Why?” Klaus complains, hiding behind Allison as she punches one of her copies in the throat.

“Klaus, stop slacking!”

Twelve more copies. They can take it. More of Ben’s tentacles will be a pain, but Allison’s been good so far at keeping some of his clones sated, and Ben can occupy the others until they can be taken down. He and Diego can attack Allison’s copies from behind and incapacitate them before they can speak. As for his own …

… Well, he and you can get rid of them in due time.

Five blinks to where you’re fighting off the remainder of your copies, expression pinched in concentration as more clones take form around you – some of them are what Dad had ordered, but others are from your own clones; he can tell because the latter are weaker, almost shadow-like. These are the ones that he kills, jumping from copy to copy until the air is thick with dust.

“Show-off,” you jibe as soon as he pushes out of his last jump. Allison’s, Ben’s, and his clones are already finding their targets, and Five spins around to strike one of his own when it blinks behind him.

“I’m not,” he shoots back. “Those were the weakest ones.”

You raise an eyebrow, pushing your last uniformed copy down so you can knee its face. “Oh, sorry, I forgot.” Your grin is bright and wild – adrenaline-filled, even now, and you duck to avoid one of the tentacles that swings past. “This is a total snooze-fest for the mighty Five.”

“Did I say that?”

“You thought it,” you retort in between hits. “And I – oof – take offense to that, y’know. My copies aren’t good enough for you?”

He blocks a poorly-aimed kick, then blinks to the left so Ben’s tentacles can pick the copy up. “Not unless they’re me.”

“Geez, your ego’s bigger than Mount Everest.”

Progress is steady, and eventually, there are only four copies left to kill. Blinking onto a Ben-clone’s shoulders, Five doesn’t look as he grabs its chin and jerks it around, ignoring the fleshy crack that occurs beneath the copy’s skin before it collapses. Now there’s three.

“Five minutes,” warns Dad’s voice from the speakers.

“I’ll take down one of your copies,” you tell Five after getting rid of the last copy of Allison, uncovering your ears. Sweat beads on your brow as you conjure a few more of your own copies. The process takes somewhat longer than usual – you’re getting tired, he thinks as he takes in a breath. (As is everyone else; even Five is finding it harder to do his spatial jumps). “Bet I’ll beat it before you beat yours.”

A smirk crawls onto his lips. “I’ll take that bet.” Energized by your challenge, Five fixates on the copy that Klaus is trying to tackle, blinking behind it. “Hey, asshole!”

He pushes himself during those last five minutes. Scrapes a hole through space one after the other, blinking from point A to point R to point Q, grazing his opponent and narrowly dodging blows himself. Five doesn’t let any of his other siblings get a shot in. He can beat you fair and square.

Occasionally, in that rare split second before his copy catches up, he glances at you and your army of selves, if only to make sure that you haven’t caught his other copy yet. Even though you’re not nearly as quick as his blinks, you’ve been gifted with abnormally sharp reflexes, which means that all of your copies have them too (though at a slightly lower level than the original). He’s relying on the fact that you’re tired enough for him to get ahead.

His copy blinks. Five follows him.

Immediately after stepping out, he gets yanked back by Allison. Something sharp and steely slices through the air, nicking his ear, and the other Five promptly disappears.

Goddammit –

Allison pushes him away from herself. “Watch where you’re throwing, Diego!” she yells.

“I friggin’ hit it, what … else do you want?!”

More than a little pissed, Five glares at Number Two, who is already readying another knife and making his way to where you’re fighting his last copy. “To stay out of the way –”

Blue light flashes behind Diego right as he brushes past you. Five’s eyes widen as the other boy tenses, drawing his hand back to throw his knife a moment too late.

Then – "Move!"

In a blur of green, you snatch the knife out of Diego’s hand and thrust it into the copy’s chest, dragging the blade down to its stomach. It crumbles in seconds. Five hears the clang of the knife it had been holding as it falls to the floor.

The room is silent for a moment, save for the labored breathing of seven teenagers, and then the lights flash red.

“Time is up.” Dad’s voice is sharp and brisk. “Fifteen minutes have been deducted from your free time. Get changed for lunch.”

You’re breathing hard, hands braced on your knees. The rest of your copies – including his last one – fall apart, fading away once they’re nothing more than dust. Diego stares down at you, and even though the two of you are a few yards away, Five can see the conflicting feelings of anger and surprise on his brother’s face. For once, he doesn’t blame him. What you did was …

… good.

Allison clears her throat beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

“What,” he says.

“You’re staring.”

Five frowns, already annoyed at her tone. “At what?”

“You-know-who. It’s so obvious.”

He grunts. A thousand-watt smirk crosses his sister’s lips, and she leans back as Five crosses his arms tightly. (Diego is already stalking away.)

“And that’s a yes,” she says. “You two are so cute.”

Five wants nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off her face. But he doesn’t, and Allison knows that. With one last meaningful look, the girl skips away to – predictably – talk to you.

He wasn't staring.

Given that you’re already occupied, Five concludes that he’ll have to talk to you about the technicalities of the contest after lunch. Something in the back of his mind tells him that he doesn’t want to be a part of whatever Allison’s telling you, anyway.

Ben approaches him as Five observes you for a few moments longer.

“You know you’re staring, right?”

“I’m not.”

At that moment, you look away from Allison and meet his eyes. A soft grin graces your face. Automatically, he finds himself returning it, somewhat. Maybe.

Then Ben coughs meaningfully, and you turn back to Allison, and Five immediately schools his expression into one of decided apathy. “Hurry up,” he mutters to his brother, making his way toward the exit.

Unperturbed, Ben keeps stride with him, taking off his track jacket. “I was the one waiting for you.”

Five just clicks his tongue in reply. An unfamiliar and unwanted warmness makes its way to his face, and he pushes the door open without looking back, heading toward the stairs.

Siblings are annoying.

[panicinart]

Avrage day (Brahms x reader)

It's almost 3 am while writing this and I crave for soft Brahms story, pure fluff and I also didn't prove read it for any errors or something similar

The clock hits 6 am and the alarm started to pull you out of your wonderful dream by it's awful screeching noises. With a groan you toss and turned a bit until you admit defeat, with a heavy sigh you pull yourself out of the comfortable and warm bed into the cold called your room. Normally it would have been at least a bit warm but Brahms somehow managed to damage the heater while crawpe through the wall.

You stretch your back and arms while slowing walking up to Brahmses room. The door squeaked a bit, you're eyes look at the still sleeping form of Brahms slightly snoring a bit. You always checked on him every morning if everyone is alright, with a soft smile you close the door and began to fish out your clothes for the day.

Your still tired body clumsily dragged you into the bathroom to make yourself fresh the morning sunlight already shining into the room.

As you finished to wash and clothed yourself the birds started to sing and it was soon time to wake up Brahms.

With the rest of the 15 minutes you quickly walked down to the kitchen and made the table ready for breakfast. Bread, butter, cheese, ham, orange juice, you counted to yourself if everything was there, with a nod you tuned on the stove to boil some eggs.

With that you happily walked up to Brahmses room and softly knocking on the door.

"Brahsm, it's time to wake up"

You sayd in a warm and soft tone.

The only response you got was a disgruntled grumble and the man you're taking care of turning his back on you. With a huff's you shoved the curtains aside and heard from behind how Brahms groand in agony as the warm sun shined on his face.

"It's time to wake up"

You sayd in a more demanding tone,

"Five more minutes..."

Brahms sayd in return, you put your hands on your hips and huffed with slight annoyance. He always says five more minutes, and out of those dives became 10 then 20 then 45 and then a hour, and after that he got mad that you woke him up so late.

You shaked your head and pulled the blanket off of Brahms who put a bit of a fight with it.

"You need to make yourself ready now, I already started to boil the eggs and if I wait any longer there is going to be a mess."

He only pouted a bit when he heard that sentence and slowly started to dramatically drag himself out of bed. With a smile you patted his and and got him some fresh clothes out of the drawer.

When all was done you got Brahmses hand and convoy him to the kitchen, since he still made his body heavier then it was and walked around like a puppet who's strings almost fall off of it.

But all that behavior quickly stopped when he sat at the table and got his breakfast.

You quickly were finished with yours and started to clean the dishes while Brahms lazily munched on his last sandwich.

"After you are brush your teeth and come back to play the piano, okay?"

He nodded while swallowing the last bite and quickly walked away.

Into the room with the pino you already picked out the piece he is learning at the moment and clipped it on the board. It didn't took long until the tall and lanky man joined you and took a seat.

The man was an incredibly talented player, his nibble and skilled fingers played the music with ease. No matter how many times you hear him play it impresses you each and every time. Actually when you think about it, he is generally a really talented man. He is amazing at playing the piano, his painting skills are remarkable and even if you don't hear him sing a lot his deep growly adult voice is just so wonderful to hear. He also learns quick, every new info Brahms get he will absorb it like a sponge. To bad that instead of using his talent for someone good and productive he rather use it to play a few pranks on you or cause mischief if he feels like it.

The time fly by fast, piano lessons were over and Brahms was finishing his school lession outstandingly well. So as a treat for working so well you told him you would read him 3 chapters more of his favorite novel. With small giddy jumps he walked up to you embracing your much smaller form in a tight hug. The cold and slightly cracked porcelain nose nuzzled its between your shoulder while your soft hands caressed his head softly.

You both placed yourself on the newly bought couch listening to the music Brahms choice for today. But it was clear that he was occupied with something else. The tall man snuggled tighter to your form and fought your fingers into yours, playing with them. He was way to caught up with your presence that he completely blacked out the music. Every now and then his big hand gave yours a small playful squeeze or his face burying its into the crook of your neck.

The little actions make you giggle slightly and your warm smile grew a bit wider when he asked if you could give him a kiss on the forehead. Normally you tell him kisses are only for goodnights but you let it slide just this once.

Brahms flaild his legs in excitment, small giggles escaping his mouth as you shower his face with kisses.

At noon it was Brahmses playtime. You already made yours comfortable on the floor watching the man gathering all his favorite toys out of the giant plastic box. His arms filled with all the goodies and his eyes sparkling with excitement he stumbled to your way on his knee's.

But he never was satisfied with one thing. Often times he asked you to bring out his painting utensils or clay to make small figure and since you finally brought modern electronics into the house he sometimes asked to play mario kart with you.

As time flew by faster then you liked, you told Brahms to bring back the toys into the box while you went off to make lunch. With a disappointed grunt he picked up his dolls and legos.

While you prepared today's lunch you heard how Brahms was shuffling around you curiously watching you. He sometimes in between the stares asked you what your doing right now or if he could help. Even though Brahms is still a spoiled man, he learns to appreciating the moments were you both cook together. He may not be the best at it but him trying his best was good end for you and it also warmed your heart when you watch him trying to cut the perfect slice just for you.

At 1 pm dinner was ready and the table ready.

"Thank you for cooking"

Sayd Brahms with a mouth full of food, you gave him a smile and thanked him back for helping. Too bad you won't get the same help when you need to clean the dishes.

As you both place the dirty dishes into the sink and put the rest of the meal into a container. The lanky man quickly hide back into the wall to do god knows what. You never know what exactly he does there, sometimes you hear him crawl betwen the tight spaces or he gives you a vague answer when you ask. But what you know is that he needs is time alone and even if you're dying of curiosity you respect his privacy and don't want to invade it. So you dry the last plate and start to clean the house.

When the old grandfather clock striked 4:50 pm you were surprised that you didn't heard anything from Brahms, infact you didn't even hear hims shuffle inside the walls. You knew that the worst case scenario is him falling asleep between the walls but because it is so out of character for the man you still worried slightly. When you stuffed that bit of dirty clothes into the washer and your eyes staring at the clock that was now showing 6:00 pm you decide to call out his name.

And you called, and called, and called, but there was no answer the dumb side of your brain told you that Brahms slipped and bit his head on som6hard and is now hirting on the floor. But as your anxiety grew more and more it quickly got shut down as it came when you felt two strong arms hugging you from behind and the comfortable warmth of the wall gremlin.

"I hope I did not worry you too much"

A child voice sayd, before you could answer you got silenced rather fast when the man held something close to your face. It was a necklace, it looked like it was made by hand, here and there were a few rough and sloppy edges but you definitely could recognize that someone more skillful made it.

"Is-is this form me?"

With big eyes you looked at Brahms who nodded shyly

"It's a thanks for taking care of me"

He carefully placed it around your neck and hocked the ends together. You almost jumped out of your socks out of joy and gratification. Your arms embraced Brahms in a big hug softly swaying each others body from left to right and giving him small kisses. His soft snorts and giggles only spurt you even more on in drowning him in your affection.

As the clock hit 7:00 you both were already finished with dinner and making yourselfs ready for the night. But it was still a bit to early so you took the liberty to snuggle yourself next to Brahms playing with his brown locks as you listen to him whisper small words of affection towards you.

The older man shifted a bit and pulled the book from the night table to you,

"Can you please read the story for me now? You promised to give me 3 extra chapters and if you don't start now if will be to late!"

His child voice pointed out you gave him a last kiss on the forehead and took the book.

As you spoke out the sentences you didn't noticed hof Brahms slowly but surely feel asleep only his almost not noticeable snores alerted you to his sleeper form. You wanted to wiggle out of the bed but the man had a death grip on you, so instead you lays the book aside and turned off the lights also softly falling into dream land awaiting the next day.

[writingwithacupoftea]

A Sister’s Worry

Summary: The deterioration of Tommy’s mind has become too unbearable for Y/N Shelby to watch any longer. He is the ghost of the man that he once was, even after the war. She decides that the time has come for her to intervene...

Word Count: 1407

A/N: It’s 23:50 here in the UK, and I seriously needed to pour out some emotions and get some shit out of my system. So this unedited garbage was produced, but I thought I’d share it anyway. It’s quite different to my other work, but I hope you still like it.

This was not the way that Y/N Shelby expected to end her day, sobbing her heart out in her bedroom, alone.

It had all been going perfectly up until that point – she had been out riding her horse, Moonstone (affectionately called Moony), all day, around the estate at Arrow House, where she lived with Tommy. She had basked in the September sun, making the most of it while it lasted, and enjoyed having a momentary escape from the pressure of the family and their many businesses. It allowed her to be free, just for a few hours, of her worries about Tommy.

Y/N had been troubled by Tommy's ever deteriorating state of mind for a while now. His work, now more than ever, had become his life. It was consuming him entirely, and there had been a couple of times where Y/N had barely recognised her beloved brother because of it.

He had snapped at her countless times over the last few months, something that he had never done when she was younger. He barely listened to a word that she said anymore, as soon as he realised that what she was telling him wasn't related to the business, anyway. He was always working when Y/N finally trudged up to bed each night, giving up on her hopes that he would come and join her, and was already at his desk again when she awoke the next morning.

Y/N had been thrilled when Tommy had asked her to move in with him, Grace and Charlie when he first bought Arrow House. She had idolised her brother when she was younger, which her Aunt Polly had always despaired at (Pol said that she was already too much like Tommy for her own good, and that being around him so much wouldn't help matters), and he had adored her with every fibre of his being. Y/N had been overwhelmed when he'd asked her to become part of his new family, as well as being part of his old one.

Now, though, Y/N felt more alone than ever.

Whilst on her ride, Y/N had resolved to speak to Tommy about her concerns for him when she returned, knowing that it was better to face the beast itself than to keep her demons caged inside of her.

So, Y/N had baked some of his favourite shortbread and popped a plate of it on a tea tray for the two of them. The twist was, however, that under the tea cosy was a bottle of whiskey. She had carried it up to his office, knocked lightly and entered.

"Hello, Tom."

No response. He didn't even look up from his work.

Swallowing nervously, Y/N continued. "I...erm... I baked some of those shortbread that you like! Thought I'd bring you some up."

"Just leave them there." Tommy gestured to the top of a pile of papers, still not taking his eyes off the documents in front of him.

"Oh." Hurt flashed in Y/N's eyes. "Oh, I thought maybe you could take a break and we could have a chat. We've barely spoken in the past few -"

"I don't have time for a fucking chat at the moment, Y/N. I've got things to be getting on with. How about you pop back later, eh?"  

She received a brief glance from her brother, but something in Y/N's heart hardened at his words. "That's what you told me to do last time, and yet you dismissed me the second, third and fourth time that I tried to see you. I know better this time than to 'pop back later'. I won't let you turn me away like that again."

"I'm a busy man, Y/N." Tommy stared at Y/N intently. "I take it that there's something in particular you wanted to say to me in this chat?"

Her mind told Y/N to run for the hills, to stay well away from topics like Tommy's wellbeing when he was in such a foul mood. But the pounding of her heart in her chest told her that she was in far too deep this time to try and backtrack.

Y/N hadn't realised how long she had been silent for until Tommy spoke again. "Go on, then. Say your piece." He lit another cigarette and leant back in his chair.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, Y/N began. "I'm worried about you, Tom. You never rest, you barely see your son...you're not alive anymore, Tommy. I can see that you're spiralling downwards, but you're not letting anyone get close enough to you to stop you. I know you have ambition and I know that you'll stop at nothing to see it through properly, to move us onto the next business deal to keep our company's reputation and income on the up. You do it all for this family - to keep us warm and well-respected, so that we don't have to live like we used to. And I respect and admire you so much for that.

"But this is all nothing without you, Tommy, and you know it. It's all for nothing, as well, if you're not there to see the effects of it. And if you keep going like you are now, you're going to be dead in five years' time, because you're a wreck. I love you too much to let you just slip away, down through the cracks, while the rest of us get on with the luxurious lives that you created for us. There is not one single fucking thing on this earth that will stop me from trying to help you, no matter how much you try and refuse it. So, you'd better start getting used to it."

Tommy stubbed out the cigarette on his ash tray and picked up his pen once more. "Is that everything?" His voice had no trace of emotion in it.

That was the final straw for Y/N. "Fuck you, Tommy Shelby," she seethed quietly.

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"I said fuck you. Did you even register a single word that I said?"

"I don't need a child looking after me. Now, I have some urgent work that needs - "

"I AM NOT A CHILD, THOMAS!" Y/N had done nothing to try and stop the tidal wave of emotion from escaping her. "I know that you try and lock out everything that you feel, but you can't do it any longer. You're carrying all this weight on your shoulders and before you even notice it, it'll become too heavy. It'll break your back and then you may never walk again. You're the one being a silly child for refusing the help that you clearly so desperately need!"

"Get out of my office." Tommy's voice chilled Y/N to the bone.  

A lump formed in her throat, and tears began to form in her eyes. "Fine. I'll go. But don't you think that I'm giving up. I love you, Tommy, and you're not going to destroy yourself on my watch. I won't let you  - because, selfishly, I need you. I wish that I didn't, because you're such a prick, but I do." Y/N opened the door and looked back at her brother, her voice full of bitterness. "Don't let me keep you from your work any longer."

As soon as Y/N's bedroom door had closed, the tears came. Roaring sobs that racked her entire body. The happiness that had filled her mind a few hours previously had vanished without a trace, a stabbing hurt left in its place.

When Y/N discovered that she had no tears left in her to cry, she crawled into bed like a wounded animal, feeling helpless and defeated, preparing herself for the sleepless night that she saw coming.

All that she asked for was Tommy to be safe, happy and well. It wasn't much, but that was what her heart desired. Y/N knew that there was no bringing John back, so she was going to everything that she could to keep Tommy alive.

Y/N knew that Tommy would be the death of her, for, despite his many flaws, she was determined to get him out of the darkness and into the light. Tommy had done it for her before...it was simply time for her to return the favour.

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. vii

→ one | two | three | four | five | six

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part seven / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 4,732

☾vii. part vii: start of something new

Waking up in a warm, quiet room 199 floors from the ground at Heaven’s Arena, Sayomi sat up in her bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

She had slept more soundly than she had in a while, between Meteor City and the watching eyes of the Mafia. 

But maybe it was the faint, earthy scent that Kite had left behind, or perhaps it was the fact that Sayomi was now free to live on her own in one of the most populated cities in the world. She decided it was the latter this time around.

A good night’s sleep had proved to resolve the conflicting thoughts in her head, as Sayomi settled that Kite was a good friend, and would never be anything more.

In this way, she was able to accept the reality that there had never been anything more than friendly interactions between them, and it would stay that way.

In all honesty, she needed a teacher if she was going to make a life out of fighting at Heaven’s Arena. And judging by the immense aura Kite had surrounding him even while he was resting, she knew he outclassed her in nen abilities.

As of now her nen acted as her last line of defense, still being rather inconsistent and hard to control. Though she had improved a great deal with her independent training in Meteor City, she still had a lot to learn about the potentials of her abilities. 

Stretching out her limbs and rising from bed, Sayomi got ready for the day ahead of her.

☾vii.

Kite and his student were waiting for Sayomi on the 60th floor, as Stick Dinner had his 60s match later today.

The three would train in the gym on this floor as they waited for Stick’s match to come around. It was rather empty because the 60th floor was merely a transitioning floor where contestants would come and go.

Kite started his two students off with a basic nen introduction, explaining the four major principles: Ten, Zetsu, Ren, and Hatsu. 

Sayomi had already learned all about nen and its history back when she was around 4 years old alongside Illumi. Kite was aware of this as well but needed to explain the basics to Stick.

A long lecture and one Water Divination Test later, and Stick was now educated of his nen abilities and excited to learn more.

They had now moved onto attempting to recognize Stick’s hatsu, which would become his own personal nen ability. 

Sayomi’s own hatsu was already established, being her hypnotic spell and corpse control. And because she had only truly used it while fighting for her life in Meteor City, she still had significant difficulties with using her power.

Kite was also aware of Sayomi’s hatsu from the days he’d used to visit Kukuroo Mountain. He remembered Sayomi demonstrating her power on weak intruders and aggressive animals, their deceased corpses moving like puppets at her command.

Though he’d never say it out loud, it was quite terrifying.

For this exact reason, Kite had apologetically said Sayomi should wait until she was free to use nen in the 200s battles to train her hatsu. It was just too dangerous to practice for the purpose of training.

Therefore, instead of practicing her hatsu like Stick, Sayomi was put to work training her ren. She would have to maintain it for an hour today, and Kite mentioned she would eventually progress to longer durations of time.

Sayomi’s ren was intense, she had to stay 10 feet away from anyone else to make sure she didn’t affect them. Her body was surrounded in a malicious, deep purple shroud of energy, contrasting with Kite’s pure white aura.

☾vii.

Half an hour had passed with Kite’s training, said man working with Stick to strengthen his hatsu while Sayomi stood concentrated on maintaining her ren.

As of now, she was still fine, just rather bored with the method of training.

She opted to watch the on-going fights on the monitor above her instead of staring at the wall in front of her. However, this proved to be even worse, as the contestants she watched were all terribly amateur. 

Sighing when she saw a contestant trip over his own feet on the monitor, she had caught Kite’s attention. “Not tired yet?”

Sayomi looked to Kite with a guilt-ridden expression. “Ah, not yet, but that’s not why I… nevermind. Sorry!”

Kite let out a rather short laugh at her frantic apology, walking just outside her ren aura to stand in front of her.

“No need to apologize. This exercise is meant to be a drag, it trains not only strengthening your nen, but also patience and putting mind over body. Looks like…  you have about 20 minutes left, keep it up!”

Sayomi smiled weakly at Kite’s attempt at encouragement. He was a blunt person by nature so to anyone else his words probably came across as sarcastic, but Sayomi recognized his sincerity. 

She thanked him with a short smile.

Around the 50 minute mark, Sayomi was finally breaking out a sweat, her arms and legs had actually been burning for a while now, but she’d been holding in any signs of weakness.

She was getting a little dizzy now, putting more force into her legs in order to stay upright and not swaying along with the room in front of her.

“Annnd time. Sayomi your hour’s up.”

Sayomi’s ren faded as she fell back to lean against the wall for support. 

Damn, I must be out of shape or something. 

Kite stepped over to where Sayomi stood trying to catch her breath. “Not as easy as you thought?”

She looked up with a sneer. “I’m just getting started, gimme a week and I’ll pass you up.”

Kite’s eyes were now filled with amusement. Having sent Stick off to standby for his match, he took a seat in front of Sayomi, motioning for her to do the same.

Sayomi sat cross-legged with her head resting against the wall, her eyes closed as she attempted to regenerate her aura.

“What’s your record anyway?”

Kite looked across at the exhausted girl. “About a day.”

“A DAY?!” Sayomi’s eyes flew open at Kite’s response, clearly having underestimated her instructor.

He only nodded in return, wishing to change the subject off of himself. “If I may ask... what exactly is the eldest daughter of the Zoldyck family doing at a place like Heaven’s Arena?”

There was the question. She was surprised he hadn’t asked her earlier.

To lie or not to lie… 

“My parents sent me here as a test of strength. I’m not allowed back until I reach the very top.” Sayomi lied through her teeth, not wanting to tell Kite about her banishment.

That should convince him.

“The very top? Ah, so they wish for you to become a floor master. I see... well with the right training, you can surely get to that point perhaps within a few years?” Kite looked at Sayomi expectantly.

A few years? What the hell even is a ‘floor master’? 

With a measly lie, Sayomi had screwed herself over. She had originally intended in making a few million jenny by cruising through the 100s and getting her own room. But with this whole floor master thing, she could already sense that her future at Heaven’s Arena would become much more complex.

The title does sound pretty cool though… maybe I’ll just go along with the flow for now.

“Right! Haha… they want me to become a floor master. So you think you’ll be able to help me get there?”

Kite looked deep in thought. Did I say something wrong? 

Meeting Sayomi’s eyes once again, he spoke. “On second thought Sayomi… I’ve made a promise to train Stick Dinner, and with the danger of your nen abilities, I don’t think I can do you any good as an instructor.”

She was about to take back her words and say becoming a floor master was unnecessary, but he cut her off.

“However, I just realized something that I should’ve thought of before. I’m not sure how you’d get along, but there is someone with more experience than me at Heaven’s Arena.”

Sayomi looked up, interested in his proposal.

Noticing her apparent interest, Kite continued, “I happen to owe him a favor as well, because I’ve been staying in his room on the 200th floor with Stick. He’s… a rather interesting person, and he finds enjoyment in fighting powerful individuals. But nevermind his personality, I think you would benefit greatly from his experience both with nen and Heaven’s Arena, more than I could ever do for you.”

Kite examined Sayomi’s expression, it seemed to be a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity.

“I’m not proposing you make a decision right away, as he’ll actually be absent for some time… but I recommend you consider it as a possibility.”

In her mind, Sayomi was unsure of what to think about this mysterious acquaintance of Kite, but in her heart and soul, there was an undeniable hunger for more power and more recognition. If she were to become a floor master, her name would surely spread throughout Yorknew City and perhaps even reach her parents. 

“When will he return?”

Kite smiled at her sign of interest in his offer. He knew she would be able to handle his colleague’s eccentric personality, and from there she would only have room to grow even stronger.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. He’s a very spontaneous man, and the last time I saw him he mentioned traveling around the world to find his next rival.”

Sayomi thought about her current options. 

“I understand… training my nen would most likely require the death of victims, which you would never allow, but without improving my nen I would seemingly get destroyed in the 200s matches. Right?”

Kite took a moment to consider her words. “Yes, more or less.”

Sayomi nodded in return. “So then supposedly… this acquaintance of yours would be willing to train my nen even if it would mean others will die?”

“Precisely.” Kite grimaced at her blunt deduction of his words.

Sayomi threw her arms back, resting her hands behind her head. “Well alright then! Until this friend of yours gets back I guess I’ll just see how far I can get without using my nen.”

“Acquaintance. But yes, I suppose fighting without your nen until he gets back would be a good use of time.” 

☾vii.

Sayomi and Kite headed to the stands of the arena after wrapping up their conversation. Kite’s student was up for the next match, leaving the two childhood friends to watch amongst the crowd.

Stick’s match went smoothly, he had outsmarted his opponent by anticipating each of his attacks, and in the end all he had left was to tire him out enough to land the finishing blow.

He was now qualified to continue on to the 70s, while Sayomi’s fight would be the next day.

☾vii.

Kite stood leaning against the back wall of the 60th floor arena, his eyes focused on the light-footed girl currently playing around with her opponent in the ring. 

He felt almost a sense of pride, watching the little Zoldyck girl who had used to be too shy as to even raise her voice, now dancing around in the illuminated arena full of confidence.

She was taking her time with the unworthy opponent who stood across from her. Under normal circumstances, Kite would have been infuriated with Sayomi’s disrespectful actions, but this time it was much different.

Her opponent had spent the final minutes before their match catcalling and spilling other obscene words towards Sayomi. Kite had moved to step in between the two contestants, ready to punch the man’s teeth in, but Sayomi had given him a look so full of malice he knew to hold back.

She was waiting to absolutely ruin her opponent in the ring.

So when he saw Sayomi taking her sweet time and making a fool out of the man who’d previously disrespected her, Kite only smirked in satisfaction from a distance.

Sayomi you’ve been through a lot, haven’t you… all this anger and hatred coursing through your aura. 

In the arena, Sayomi brought a swift heel down on her opponent's hand. An attack that was worth no points but only for the purpose of causing pain.

Pain… who hurt you Sayomi? What ever happened to the girl who’d cried when she accidentally swatted a butterfly?

Kite experienced a flurry of conflicting emotions as he watched Sayomi torture and eventually knock down her opponent. 

He was worried about her emotional health, knowing for sure now that she had experienced something so tragic and crucial it’d turned her pure aura a 180 degree turn into bloodlust and malice.

However, he was glad to know one thing was for sure. 

She would definitely survive and benefit from his unstable colleague’s training, for now he realized they were so similar it was almost as if they were the same person. 

Or perhaps two halves of a whole.

☾vii.

1 year later

It was the weekend and Sayomi was currently on an off day in between fights.

In the year that had passed with her progressing through Heaven’s Arena, Sayomi was now a single fight away from the 200s.

Admiring the view from Kite’s old room on the 199th floor, she smiled to herself. 200s at last.

The truth was that Sayomi had a room of her own now, being well into the 100s. However she’d already been so accustomed to using Kite’s room that she’d convinced him into switching rooms with her.

Now that all three of them had rooms of their own, the borrowed room on the 200th floor was empty once again, waiting for the return of its owner.

Sayomi had just finished combat training with Kite and Stick, still unable to use her nen because of the possible consequences. 

As she gazed longer out the window in front of her, she started to see her reflection cast in the clear glass, and soon it was all she saw.

Who am I?

Staring back at her, the reflection she saw in the window was much different than she’d expected. Her violet eyes were dull, emotionless, and the passion that had once lit up her soul was now gone, replaced with a worn out ghost of who she used to be.

This was all it took to make Sayomi forget about all she had done to make it to where she was now. This, being her reminiscent thoughts about the family that had ditched her.

She may have declared to herself millions of times that she was indeed her own person now, but the lingering desire to be loved once again forced her start over every single time.

She needed someone to rely on, though she’d never admit it. It was her constant overthinking that she would only become a burden to those who cared about her that stopped her from seeking support in others. Her family had left her insecure and broken, desperate for someone else’s attention.

Let’s see… If Illumi and I are turning 19 this year, that means… Killua will be 9. 

9 years old, huh… 

I wonder if he still looks like me? God, if I were with him I think I’d spend every last jenny just to see that smile one more time.

...I hope you’re hanging in there Killua. 

Just wait a little bit longer, and I promise I’ll come save you.

Forgive me I just need more time to be able to face everyone again.

☾vii.

Watching the sunset over Yorknew City from his new room on the 199th floor, Kite was currently typing back a response to a rather unclear message he’d received from his traveling colleague.

No matter how many times he’d read it, he just couldn’t decipher the exact reason or message behind the text he had received. 

Staring at it with a skeptical expression, he read it once more:

Isn’t it quite amusing how fate plays out sometimes? 

I’ve arrived in the city and can’t wait to meet this student of yours, as it seems I’ve already partially met her without even realizing it. 

I can’t wait to start training with her. ♥️

Kite let out an exasperated sigh.

What does he mean by ‘I’ve already partially met her’? I swear he’s always so ambiguous with his words. 

Damn, what an exhausting guy.

☾vii.

Today was the day of Sayomi’s fight that would determine whether she’d advance into the 200s. That meant it was also the last day Sayomi would fight without her nen and weapons.

However, her day was about to get much more eventful than a promotion into the 200s. 

Kite’s acquaintance had arrived in the city the other day, and after a short visit to a friend, he would make it back to Heaven’s Arena later today to meet his new student.

Kite had no knowledge about this part, as all he was told was that he had arrived in the city.

Back in the 199th floor arena, Sayomi had arrived early, taking her time to stretch and enjoy the time left before her final fistfight.

Kite stood alongside Sayomi in the mostly empty waiting room, it would be his last day with his childhood friend, at least without an excuse to spend time with her.

Once she was in the 200s, Kite wouldn’t be able to do much for her, as he had his own student to manage.

He stared sympathetically at the little Zoldyck girl from his childhood. She had grown into a relentless fighter, leaving no time to enjoy living her life during her prime years.

All he could now was hope that his assumptions about his colleague were right, in that he would not only provide Sayomi with the right training, but also fun and other things kids of her age should be doing.

Sayomi finished her preparations well before the scheduled time of the fight, leaving the two with time to talk and reminisce about the old days.  

They’d also talked briefly about Sayomi’s new instructor. Kite explained how he’d finally arrived in the city the other day, coming back from seeking out the most powerful assassins and hunters to challenge in fights to the death.

Sayomi was delighted at this, getting a feeling that this mysterious instructor would put up a solid fight against her while they trained. “You said he was on the 200th floor, right? Has he not been able to defeat a floormaster yet?”

Kite raised his eyebrows at her question. “Ah… no, not yet. But I believe that’s because he’s constantly sidetracked with trying to find his ‘perfect rival’.” 

Sayomi bit the inside of her cheek, confused. “Hmm but if he’s back now… does that mean he found someone worthy on his trip?”

Kite nodded at this. “Yes, I believe so. It’s either he’s satisfied with the amount of people he’s massacred, or he’s found a formidable opponent he knows he can come back and fight at a later time.”

“I see… he sounds… rather interesting.” Sayomi was actually a bit excited, it’d been a while since she was to face someone of such a high reputation.

Beside her, Kite had taken notice of the slight change in Sayomi’s aura. It seems I predicted correctly, she’ll get along just fine.

☾vii.

“Our next fight decides who moves on to the 200th floor. We have Ichihiro versus Sayomi! At this time, choose your side and place your bets!”

Under the spotlights, Sayomi stood with her hands resting behind her head. Her eyes remained closed, she seemed to be taking the last minutes to relax.

“The bets are in! Looks like today’s match is in favor of Sayomi Zoldyck!”

Ichihiro let out a scoff, mocking his opponent who, in his eyes, seemed overconfident to the point where she didn’t even need to look at him. “Are you nice and relaxed over there, girl? I’ll tell you now you’re gonna regret facing me.”

Sayomi disregarded her opponent's words. In reality, she was worried, and anyone who could see her aura could notice this as well. 

Kite turned his head at Sayomi’s restlessness. What is she so tense for?

Sayomi tightened her grip around her other hand. Inside her head, she tried to calm the exhilaration that stemmed as a result of her final match without weapons. She couldn’t wait to finally stand on the 200th floor.

In other words, Sayomi wasn’t afraid, or intimidated by her opponent. She was worried for him.

God damn… if I don’t calm down I might accidentally kill the guy. 

The adrenaline rushing through her was threatening to spike over, which would cause her to lose control and flip her assassin switch on.

Relax, Sayomi.

“Fighters ready? Following the 100s rules there will be no time limit and fighters will fight until a TKO by 10 points or a KO.”

Sayomi opened her eyes, moving to stand upright as she stared at her opponent.

“The winner will move onto the 200th floor. Fight!”

Ichihiro held back from making the first move. He had reviewed Sayomi’s last fight and seen her strategy of using her opponent’s force against them. 

Sayomi raised an eyebrow at his lack of movement.

Not gonna move, huh? So you think you’re smart.

She took off with steps faster than the average eye could see.

I guess I’ll just have to come to you then.

With a flexible left leg, Sayomi lifted her heel above her opponent's head, slamming it straight into the side of the unexpecting man’s face with a roundhouse kick.

Ichihiro stumbled to the side gasping, spitting out blood from his now split gums.

He raised his head ready to curse out the teen, but all he saw was white.

Sayomi had met the man’s face with a solid left foot, sending him backwards onto the ground with a cry of pain.

Ichihiro was clutching his bloody face now, unable to recover in time for yet another left swing kick, this time to the side.

From far back against the wall, Kite watched with a surprised expression on his face.

She’s holding back quite a bit. Only using her left leg…

A few more solid kicks to the ribs and Sayomi halted her movements as if on command. Turning to the baffled referee, she asked, “TKO by 10 points right?”

“Ah, r-right.” 

Shaking out of his apparent shock at the one-sidedness of the match, the referee raised a flag. “Winner by TKO. Sayomi Zoldyck!”

The crowd cheered as they could now collect their money from the bets they’d made.

With a small wave to Kite at the back of the stands, Sayomi exited the arena with light steps.

She was proud of herself for restraining her bloodlust.

☾vii.

That night Sayomi treated Stick and Kite to dinner on Heaven’s Arena’s 200th floor diner. 

It was a congratulatory dinner, as Sayomi would now be moving on to training her nen, but it was also one of sentimental feelings. The group of three had become close friends within the year they’d spent together training at Heaven’s Arena.

So although no one addressed the fact that the group of three was to become a group of two after today, everyone shared a bit of the sorrow in their hearts as the evening soon came to an end.

The three parted ways around 9, Kite wishing the best to Sayomi on the 200th floor. It wasn’t like they’d never see each other again, they were only a floor apart after all.

However, without the excuse of training or a coincidental passing by, the childhood friends knew that they most likely wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. 

☾vii.

Sayomi let out a heavy sigh as she walked alone down the hallway of doors to her room.

Releasing her hair from its taught ponytail, Sayomi ran a lazy hand down her face. 

Can a day get any longer? All I wanna do now is take a nice, warm shower… and then sleep in till noon.

Arriving in front of her door at last, Sayomi reached into her pockets for her room key. Sliding the key into the lock, she frowned when she found the door to be unlocked.

Strange… I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten to lock the door before. Maybe because I was too excited?

Sayomi shrugged, speculating she’d probably forgotten to lock the door out of the rush to get ready in the morning.

Swinging the door open without another thought, Sayomi moved to take a step further into her room when a cold chill ran down her spine.

What… is… this devilish aura?

She was on full alert now, awakening her own aura to try and ward off her intruder.

In the darkness of her room, she could make out a faint silhouette surrounded by the deep purple, murderous aura she’d felt earlier.

“Who… are you? What are you doing in my room?” Though she’d sworn her voice was steady, there was a hint of uncertainty as the intruder’s aura became more intense.

The intruder turned to face Sayomi in the darkness. “Hm? Ah, you’ve finally returned… I’ve been most awaiting your presence, Sayomi Zoldyck.”

The man took exaggeratingly slow steps towards her, and Sayomi noticed he walked almost completely on his toes. Almost like he was walking across a tightrope.

She squinted through the darkness, perplexed at the stranger knowing her name. Her mind screamed at her to fight, run, do something, but her feet remained frozen in place as the man’s figure slowly illuminated with the dim lights of the hallway.

The man was considerably tall, though he was also wearing heels, an interesting feat. His brilliant red hair was styled as if he’d been caught in a windstorm, framing an all too pale face with distinct face paint decorating either cheek: a star on the left and a teardrop on the right.

In a way, he was handsome.

This crossed Sayomi’s mind as well, however she’d mentally slapped herself as she was brought back into the reality of the situation. 

“How do you know my name?” Sayomi was on guard, ready to either attack or run on a moment’s notice.

The man only laughed, his pale lips turning upwards in a wide smile as he looked Sayomi over from head to toe.

“Oh darling, you mean you haven’t caught on to the situation yet?”

A step closer and the man’s full frame was now in front of Sayomi to see in all his glory. Broad shoulders, chiseled, toned biceps, a tiny waist, and proportions to die for.

Get a grip, he just broke into your room.

In her flustered state, both from confusion and the rather attractive man towering over her, Sayomi suddenly felt as though she’d forgotten how to speak.

Her mouth opened and closed without sound, concentrated entirely on the man in front of her.

Sayomi’s frazzled state seemed to add on to man’s already overflowing confidence as he let out another brief laugh before crossing his arms. 

“It seems as though Kite has yet to tell you anything about my arrival.” He frowned before continuing, “Well, I suppose you’ll find out all about me in no time, I’m your new trainer after all.”

Sayomi eyes widened at his words. Of course, Kite said he was arriving soon, I totally forgot!

“Ah… well in that case… nice to meet you?”

Her new trainer smirked at her hesitation. “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to be so visually appealing, darling. It seems Kite decided to keep your beauty from me for as long as he could, that sly bastard.”

Sayomi felt her face heat up in a mad blush. No one had ever called her such things, as she was accustomed to words like vicious or murderous. 

Sayomi failed to get the words out of her mouth once again, effectively fazed by the man’s comments.

Said man ran a slender hand through his hair, laughing once again at his undeniable effect on the young assassin.

Reaching out ever so slowly, he grazed his knuckles over the left side of Sayomi’s face, who in turn became even further flustered at the sudden skinship. 

“You, my dear, are going to be quite the pleasure to work with.”

☾vii.

a/n: guess who? 

taglist open:))

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 5

2200 words, part five of a nine part fanfiction (it ain’t over til it’s over, babes)

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

Since their conversation that night, Dynamene had been in high spirits. Poseidon seemed so much more tangible, so much closer, now that he had allowed her a glimpse into his mind. She found herself yearning for one more moment with the two of them alone. There was so much more she wanted to know about him. She wanted to hear his thoughts on everything. It was a curiosity stronger than anything else she'd felt.

She spent the following days in a dreamy haze, humming her way through chores and afternoons on the beach with her sisters. It seemed like any moment her thoughts were allowed to wander they travelled back to that night with the black ocean and crystalline sky, and those dark eyes that had held her within for the first time in a thousand years.

"Dynamene," called one of her sisters. Dynamene started from where she had been tracing her fingers absently through the warm sand, lost in her dreamy reverie.

"Yes?" She asked, gathering her wits about her.

"You've been sitting there day-dreaming the whole afternoon," Thoe complained. "I thought you were going to help me wash these shells out. I want to make them into bracelets."

"Oh, right," Dynamene blushed, getting to her feet clumsily. "I'm sorry, I'm coming."

From higher up on the beach, closer to the rocky cliffsides, Ianeira watched her sisters converse. She sighed and shook her head at Dynamene's absent-mindedness. "She's completely out of it."

"Spying, are we?" An unexpected voice came from Ianeira's side. Ianeira smiled wryly as she turned to the speaker

"Bold words coming from you," she quipped at Eione, who had come to lean against the rock next to her. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, to be honest," Eione shook the water from her strawberry locks. "Just looking at the view. Guess the difference is that you seem to have an ulterior motive. What troubles you?"

"Dynamene has been... rather out-of-sorts lately," Ianeira answered, turning her gaze back to the Nereids on the beach. "I'm worried about her."

"She's just being a young girl, isn't she, though?" Eione asked, following Ianeira's gaze to Dynamene. "We all went through that phase. Some worse than others." She gave a nostalgic sigh.

"Yes, and we all cringe at it when we've come out on the other end," Ianeira replied. "But her case is... different, and not for the better. I just don't want Dynamene to fall into any trouble."

Eione stared at her sister for a few moments before grinning. "This involves Lord Poseidon, doesn't it?"

It was Ianeira's turn to stare at her sister. "Did Actaea tell you?"

"Did Actaea what? No, silly. I heard your conversation at breakfast last week." Eione tapped her ears. "You all always underestimate these ears of mine. Nothing escapes my hearing, even when I'm not trying."

Ianeira sighed in frustration and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I guess it can't be helped, then. Just don't tell any of the others. I don't want anyone else to worry."

"It's too late for that, sister. Everyone already knows," Eione stated matter-of-factly.

Ianeira froze. "Everyone, you say?"

"Oh, Ianeira, look at her!" Eione cried, sweeping her arm down towards the beach. "She's only been acting this way after her birthday meeting with Poseidon! He gave her that bracelet, and she hardly ever takes it off! She spies on him when she sees him pass in the halls! She smiles at him! Do any else of us smile at him?!"

Ianeira bit her lip. "I know. I just don't know how to discourage it..."

"There's no use in that, dear sister," Eione sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "She's completely fallen for him." She looked down towards the beach with a resigned expression.

Ianeira stared at Dynamene in fear. "I am afraid for her."

"You have very right to be. Poseidon really is a sea serpent in a man's skin. If any of the other Olympians asked for our heads on a platter, he'd say, 'whose, and how soon?'" Eione shook her head. "But we can't rein in Dynamene's feelings anymore than we can stop the sunlight. Her feelings are her own."

"I know," murmured Ianeira. "But I have an idea." She briskly turned away. "Swipe Actaea and bring her up to the palace. We need to talk."

"Aye," Eione sighed, running her hand through her frazzled tresses. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ianeira. Too much meddling will only make things worse." She stared back at their youngest sister, hastily sorting shells with Thoe, completely unaware of her elder siblings' exchange. After all, the heart wants most that which it cannot have.

An hour later, Dynamene was following Thoe through the palace, arms laden with sacks of seashells. "Do you really need this much, Thoe?" She whined, shifting the weight in her arms.

"Of course. I'm going to make two for everyone so there's no complaints. I figure that equals out to about 40 shells per sister. Of course, a few will break in the process, so make that closer to 45. Then, multiplying that by every sister, of which there are 49... oh, I shouldn't forget one for Nerites..."

Dynamene groaned silently as she listened to Thoe ramble on, but then a subtle shift in the air nearby caused her to halt. It was a sensation she'd been in-tuned to ever since that night on the beach; the ever-so faint sound of Poseidon's heartbeat.

She quickly set the sacks down, and Thoe turned to look at her in bewilderment. "What - where are you going?" She cried as Dynamene took off down the hall.

"Just the bathroom, I'll be right back!" Dynamene called, her voice distracted. She hadn't had the chance to talk to him since then; she couldn't let herself miss this opportunity.

He was headed out the main doors to go to the ocean. Dynamene sprinted at first to catch up before skidding to a halt just out of sight. Her heart pounded with indecision. Should she make her presence known? Then again, he must already know that she was close by.

"Dynamene," Poseidon said with his back still turned. She jumped before shyly stepping forward from behind the pillar.

"Lord Poseidon," she said quietly.

"Hadn't we already spoken about spying?" he asked, turning partially to look at her.

"I'm not spying, my lord. Just observing," she replied boldly, twisting her hands.

"Hm." He turned away and continued through the open doors out onto the deck. Dynamene remained where she stood, bashfully looking at her hands.

"Weren't you following me?" He called without breaking his stride. She gave a gasp of happy surprise before taking his cue to resume following him, this time close to his side.

""I haven't seen you since last week," she said quietly. "You must be very busy, per usual."

"Movement of tectonic plates in the western Indian Ocean was causing unwanted activity," he said matter-of-factly. "I decided to check in on it myself, seeing as no one else is qualified to do so."

"Ah, yes," Dynamene bumbled. "Tectonic plates. I forget that they call you the Earth-shaker as well."

Poseidon's gaze flitted to the side for a moment. Was he annoyed, or... amused?

"So you'll be spending more time there for the foreseeable future, I take it?" She asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"It shouldn't take more than a week. Fixing the problem requires a delicate balance, but nothing I haven't handled many times in the past."

"Mm," Dynamene responded, not sure what to say. It wasn't like she had a deep understanding of his work, but she did know what tectonic plates were, and that their movement was capable of causing disaster. Perhaps it was a bigger deal than he was letting on. "Please don't strain yourself," she whispered. She knew he might take the statement as a slight, but she was earnest in her sentiment.

His eyes shifted to her face. "You concern yourself with my well-being?"

That wasn't the response she'd expected. Her face flushed an even deeper red. "I mean no disrespect, my lord."

"It is not possible for me to strain myself. I am a god. The ocean and its movements are my purpose. Concern yourself no longer." Poseidon's words weren't those of anger, but of fact.

"Of course," she murmured. "I have faith in you and your abilities. You are the god of the seas."

By now they had arrived down to the beach. They had come a good distance from the palace, and Dynamene realized they were headed towards a small cove just a little further off. She wondered what his purpose was in going there.

Once they were in the cove, still and serene aside from the splashing of sapphire waves, Poseidon halted. Dynamene waited as he took in the horizon, seemingly scanning for something.

"Come closer," he said, kneeling at the foot of the waves. She stepped forward and knelt beside him, their arms nearly brushing. He took her hand in his and held it into the cool water. Dynamene stared, trying not to come undone from the unexpected contact.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, and she did. Just like before, a surge of energy flowed from him to her. Her eyes darted underneath her eyelids, searching the imagery that filled her mind. There was a vast darkness - the seafloor, perhaps? - then a glint of something orange. Those must be underwater volcanoes. A sudden loud boom, almost deafening despite the fact that she wasn't really hearing it, sounded, making her body jolt and her eyes fly open.

"Those are the plates shifting," he explained. "That's the sound they make as they run against each other. That sound has been repeating for several days. The sea life around it is getting agitated." His gaze rose back to the horizon. "I must return to the fault soon and break up the edges that are making that hideous noise. Only then will the area return to peace."

Dynamene realized that he was still holding onto her hand, and her heart skipped a beat. This time, his grasp was rather gentle, as if he were afraid she'd break if he used too much strength. She was getting up the courage to squeeze his more tightly when, to her disappointment, he pulled away.

They stood, and Dynamene followed his gaze out to the ocean, fascinated. "It's amazing that you can sense all that," she whispered, eyes wide. "I'm a sea-nymph, but I had no idea... It's incredible."

"It is a sense that can improve through practice. Continue using it and you'll be able to pick up on more." Poseidon began to retrace their steps back to the palace. "I needed to check up on the situation anyways. Things are getting worse; I must return as soon as possible."

Dynamene's face fell at the mention of him leaving once more. "I see." She tagged along behind him at a larger distance this time. "Say..." She swallowed hard. "Could... Could you maybe take me along there someday? The deep-sea vents and the strange fish... It all looked so fascinating."

He paused and turned back to her once more. She stared up at him earnestly, seeing her own reflection in his eyes. His eyes trailed down to her wrist, where the bracelet sat faithfully in its place of honor on her wrist. Dynamene followed his gaze, confused.

"You're wearing the bracelet," he said quietly.

Dynamene blushed. "Of course. It is... beloved to me." Her fingers lingered gently on the glistening beads.

"You weren't wearing this beloved gift when we spoke on the beach," he replied.

Dynamene's skin prickled in embarrassment. I wasn't wearing it because I was upset with you. "I wasn't sure if I should wear something so fine to the water." Why are you bringing this up now? Did me not wearing it bother you?

Poseidon stepped closer to her, and she stopped breathing. She knew he heard her heart racing, but she wasn't ashamed anymore. It wasn't like she could hide it anyways. At least she could hear his now as well, just as steady and rhythmic as before.

"I will give you another," he said, his words rather quiet. "It's dull to wear just one bracelet. A pair is more suitable."

Dynamene's eyes widened. Her thoughts momentarily shut-down in the face of his offer.  "I will gladly wear both," she answered after she'd drawn a breath. "I promise."

"I know," he said simply.

She was unable to hold back a wide smile of joy. The one bracelet for her birthday had been more than enough, and now she was going to receive a second? She knew the gesture was not meaningless... But what, exactly, did it mean?

His expression was less rigid as he took in her smile. Then he continued to walk once more. "I cannot waste any more time. I have an audience to hear before I return to the Indian Ocean."

Dynamene's eyebrows rose. He heard audiences at most thrice a year, so this was unexpected news. "An audience? I hope it's not anything - or anyone - bad."

"No," he responded simply. "The audience is your sisters."

Dynamene halted, her expression filled with shock. An audience with my sisters... about what? I wasn't told anything.

Deeply concerned, she ran to catch up to him.

---

Author’s Notes: This chapter took a little longer once again. Like before, I ended up rewriting part of it, but that’s fine. I once again ended up closer to my vision by doing so. I wanted to have it up last night, but a headache kept me from finishing it.

Dynamene is a bold girl sometimes, isn’t she? But now that she knows Poseidon won’t kill her, she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. not about dying anyways

Okay, but was he going to kill her in part 4? He was prepared to, depending on what she said. He brought his trident for a reason.

But he could’ve killed her for listening in either way, so why didn’t he?

Because, deep down, he does have a soft spot for the Nereids. They’re ocean spirits, and they’ve made up his court for a thousand years; that’s as close as it gets for him. Killing one Nereid means pissing off the rest of the family, and that’s a hassle to deal with. Also... her feelings for him are interesting to him, and not something he’s dealt with from anyone else before. At least, no one he knows. Perhaps he’s selfish and doesn’t want to lose that.

Maybe there’s more to it, but that’s what he tells himself.

[anthonyjlockwood]

17 OF THE 50 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU FOR LALEXIE PLEASEEEE

em, my fellow luke angst lover, my lalexie brain rot-causer, my beloved <3

here is your prompt on ao3. tw for discussions of luke wanting to cross over. please read responsibly💜

Luke’s song book has been through a lot over the years.

It’s had tears soaked into its pages. It’s had crumbs stuck in between its binding. It’s had dozens of songs written on it in fast, messy handwriting, thousands of words based on Luke’s inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams.

It’s survived years worth of scribbles, cross-outs, rips and tears; even hugs and kisses, when Luke’s written something he’s sure will be a hit someday.

It’s survived death, some time in a dark room, and a tumbling trip back to Earth twenty five years in the future.

And now, the boy who’s been writing in it for all that time, whose soul is attached to it in ways most people wouldn’t even understand, is using its pages for something else.

Something no one would have ever expected.

A list.

Ways I Can Cross Over.

He thought that maybe, Unsaid Emily would’ve been it. There was a small part of him that had expected to just vanish into thin air the second Julie handed his parents that sheet of notebook paper.

His notebook is almost empty now. Luke thinks that that’s fitting; he’s spent most of his soul onto the pages. He’s a ghost. He’s got nothing more to give. Maybe it’s even a sign -- a sign that he’s not going to need to write music for much longer. The notebook is running out of space. It’s running out of time, just like he is.

He wonders if he could even use a new songbook. It wouldn’t be a part of him, the way his old one was. It would be empty; a blank slate for him to start a new journey in. A whole new marathon to run just as he’s crossing the finish line of the last one.

And… he doesn’t want to.

He’s tired of running. Running from his parents. Running from Caleb. From things that he broke, from things that were threatening to break him. From things that were hurting his friends.

Luke’s always been one for impulsive decisions.

So after he makes his list, he dog-ears the page and gives himself a time limit.

He has until the pages run out in his notebook to figure out what his unfinished business is… and finish it.

~

The problem is, Luke’s life on Earth wasn’t that long. He’s had seventeen years to start things, and practically no time at all to finish them. The possibilities of what his unfinished business actually is are endless. There was that music festival the guys had wanted to play at the end of summer ‘95. Countless world tours they wanted to go on. He wanted to sign an autograph for Dave Grohl, shake hands with Mick Jagger. He wanted to drink chocolate from the world’s largest chocolate waterfall in Alaska.

So few of these things he could actually do, now that he was dead.

Even fewer of them he could do without the guys. If his unfinished business really had to be just for him, maybe the band stuff wouldn’t be enough.

He never finished high school. He never learned how to play the bass -- he’s always wanted to; after all, Reggie could play the guitar, so Luke should know how to play his instrument, too.

And the only other thing he could think of that was absolutely, one hundred percent his business to finish… was his relationship with his mother.

Julie bringing “Unsaid Emily” over to his old house had been something. It filled the hole in his chest just enough that he could pretend it wasn’t there. Having his mom finally see how he felt about her, how much he regretted leaving, was like putting an ice pack on a burn. It eased the pain for the moment, had him thinking maybe that would be enough, that it would heal properly. But the ice pack’s melted, now; it’s gone back to room temperature, and his heart is still screaming.

Luke wonders what else he would have to do to get rid of the guilt.

He knows -- he hopes -- that the guilt won’t follow him to the afterlife. Because it’s really the only thing about this ghost-limbo that he wants to escape from. He doesn’t mind the invisibility, or the intangibility, because those things have never really prevented him from playing music. Music, though, he’ll miss, but Luke thinks it’s a small price to pay. After all, Alex and Reggie should’ve had their whole lives to play music. And even if Luke crosses over, they still can. He’s the one who caused their untimely deaths in the first place.

And he can never undo that, but… something he’s realized as all of them have adjusted to being ghosts is that he’s not really needed.

Sunset Curve could go on as a trio. Julie would still have her found family in Alex and Reggie and Willie. Reggie would have his friends that remained, as well as Ray and Carlos to fill in any gaps.

And Alex and Willie would have each other.

~

For Willie, the whole concept of “unfinished business” is just… not really on his radar. He’s pretty content in his afterlife. He is, as the kids say, vibing. He’s moving along, singing a song. He was never in any rush to figure out what his unfinished business was, and he was especially never in any rush to cross over, to fade out of existence entirely and into the unknown.

He also never really understood why other ghosts would want to do that. Until he met Alex and the others, and realized that sometimes, urgency forces your hand. Outside circumstances throw you out of your comfort zone, force you to do things you never would’ve considered before.

But also, since meeting Alex, the tiny part of his soul that’s always been curious about what his unfinished business was -- curious about crossing over, about what’s on the other side -- has pretty much shriveled away to nothing. Alex gives a whole new meaning to Willie’s life -- to his afterlife, really -- but the drummer makes him feel alive again in a way that he hasn’t felt in decades. Long before he’d forgotten the age-old saying, look both ways before you cross the street.

Willie wouldn’t call himself the most observant person on Earth. Sometimes, he can be a little oblivious. He can be blinded to the truth, only see what he wants to see -- he can deny what’s right in front of him. Give people the benefit of the doubt who don’t deserve it, like he’s done with Caleb so many times before.

He tries not to stress about things. Tries to just be. Live -- or do whatever he’s doing as a ghost, honestly -- with no regrets, no looking back. He doesn’t worry about consequences. But at the same time, he’s also scared of disappointing people. Scared of how he’s coming across to other people. He needs to make sure he’s not messing up too too badly, because he wants the people he loves to love him back -- he wants them to want him to stick around.

So he pays attention. He misses stuff sometimes, sure… but Willie’s mission in his afterlife is simple. Chill out, do whatever he wants to do -- it’s not like he can get caught; he’s invisible. Just don’t get on Caleb Covington’s bad side.

Love whoever he still can, and be loved back.

Willie loves Alex. He’s loved him since the museum. He’s needed him since he ran into him on the street with his skateboard. But lately, Willie’s started to realize that he might also love Luke. Not any more or less than he loves Alex, which is a confusing problem in itself. And not really in a different way than Alex, either. His heart does somersaults when he’s around Luke now, too.

He might need him in different ways than Alex, though. Alex calms him down, grounds him when his head’s in the clouds or he’s too distracted by other things. He brings him back, makes him aware of what’s most important in the moment. He makes him laugh. Makes him think. Makes him stop and appreciate everything around him, instead of just whipping through his afterlife with no concerns. Alex makes him care.

But Luke… With Luke, it feels like he’s stuck upside-down at the top of a roller coaster, but there’s no one else he’d rather be stuck with. He feels more dangerous with Luke, willing to do things that he’s too scared to drag Alex into. He feels like there’s no limits. In one of Luke’s songs, he wrote face first, full charge, and that’s the exact energy he brings when he’s around Willie -- when he’s around anyone, really. He’s passionate, and driven, and so unafraid. Willie doesn’t have to be as careful around Luke.

And they’re both super protective of Alex.

Willie needs Alex for the slow rollercoaster ride to the top of the hill, and he needs Luke for laughter, for thrill, for excitement. For the thrilling, twisty way back down.

Willie’s not sure that anything feels complete without Alex and Luke.

So, since they’re both a part of Willie in ways that he can’t even really explain, Willie watches. He pays attention to both of them, taking in everything about them in quiet, soft, subtle ways.

That’s how he starts to notice that something’s off with Luke.

~

A week goes by, the pages in Luke’s notebook are dwindling, and he still has no idea what his unfinished business is.

It’s frustrating, having to narrow his entire life down to one possible milestone he’s never gotten to achieve. There are far too many. And the nagging voice in the back of Luke’s head -- the one telling him that Alex and Reggie have just as many milestones -- isn’t helping matters at all.

Luke just wants all this to be over. He deserves it -- he’s not sure whether he deserves the questionable peace crossing over would bring; everyone always says death is peaceful, anyway. But he definitely deserves the “no longer existing” part. And Alex and Reggie do deserve it. They deserve everything that life -- or afterlife, really -- can still offer them. Luke’s tired of holding them back. It feels like nothing’s ever good enough -- like he’s wearing shoes made out of lead, or something, trying to walk across a desert, and he’s got a time limit to get there. And Alex and Reggie are chained to him -- stuck in the same predicament, because they just had to follow him to that hot dog stand. He’s tired of getting them into these messes. First death; and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, into the Hollywood Ghost Club with Caleb Covington, all because he just couldn’t let his grudge against Bobby -- Trevor Wilson -- die.

He’s still writing music, but his lyrics aren’t as powerful anymore. They’re not as confident, not as inspiring. And he writes with Julie, but he thinks Julie can tell that his spark has dimmed.

He hopes that she thinks he’s just going through writer’s block, or something. Something fixable.

He’s been working on his list for the past week, too. He thinks he’s got his unfinished business pretty much narrowed down; there’s three things on his list he wants to try. School. Bass. Emily.

He needs Reggie’s help with the bass one, so he’s been putting it off. And Emily…

Luke has tried to steer clear of his old house since Julie gave his parents the song. Because… the fact that it didn’t help, that it didn’t ease the ache in his heart in exactly the way Julie hoped that it would, made Luke feel guilty. And he doesn’t really want to see if the song made a difference for his parents. Because what if it didn’t?

What if they’re like Luke, just wishing for more? More interaction that they can never have -- an actual conversation about the regrets that he touched on in the song? A physical hug, the weight of their arms around each other, a look of real, actual understanding in their eyes that Luke’s never thought he would actually see.

And the thing is… if his parents are Luke’s unfinished business, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?

The prospect of being chained to the Earth forever because of something he’d screwed up beyond repair when he was alive has his stomach churning, almost as badly as it was when he’d eaten that hot dog.

The easiest one for Luke to focus on is school -- which, if someone had said to him twenty-five years ago that school would be at the top of his priority list, he’d have laughed in their face -- and the easiest way for him to do it is through Julie.

Julie’s sufficiently banned him from actually showing up at her school, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do other things. Like homework and studying. So Luke’s plan is this: he’ll study with Julie, maybe convince her to let him do a couple of her homework assignments. And if she aces her next math test because of the work they’ve done together, Luke’ll consider it a win.

It’s the best option he has. It’s not like he can sit in a classroom anymore, or take his own tests.

He sneaks up on her one afternoon as she’s sitting in her bedroom, chewing on a pencil, face scrunched in confusion.

“Hey, Jules. Whatcha doin?”

At the sound of his voice, Julie looks up at him and her confusion transforms into a smile. “Hey, Luke! Just homework.”

“Need any help?” He shuffles a little closer to the bed, mindful of Julie’s distaste for having the boys in her room.

Julie’s face flips back to confusion like a lightswitch. “You… want to help me with my homework?”

“Yeah!” Luke huffs out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… was curious, I guess. About what you’re learning in school.”

“Why?”

“You know, I never finished high school!” Luke says. “I’ve kind of always wondered what it would’ve been like if I had. Y’know, walking across a stage in that dumb cap and gown. Um -- accomplishing something. Being able to finish something important!”

He’s saying too much -- he knows by the way Julie’s expression shifts, confusion into curiosity into concern.

“Hey, wait,” she says, placing her pencil down and closing her textbook. “Are you okay? Is there something you want to talk about, Luke?”

“What? No! I’m fine!”

He hates the way his voice comes out, rough and high-pitched and decidedly not fine. Julie looks like she’s about to argue, so he opens his dumb, not-fine, impulsive mouth once again. “Seriously, Jules. I’m good. Gotta go meet the boys now, see ya!”

He poofs away, but he can still see Julie’s worried stare still fixed on him behind his eyelids.

~

“Don’t you think he’s been acting kinda strange?”

Willie is sitting in the garage, Reggie on the couch to his right and Alex behind him, braiding his hair like he does when he gets nervous.

And he’s trying to console Alex, to tell him to relax, that they’ll make sure Luke is fine -- only the confidence that Willie’s normally so famous for is dwindling.

Alex is worried about Luke, and Willie would love to reassure him, except that Willie thinks that Alex has a point. Luke has been acting strange lately; way too over the top during rehearsals, more trips to see his mom than usual -- trips that he thinks they don’t know about -- plus, he’s been reading books.

Julie’s school books, which he takes out of her room sometimes and stashes up on top of the loft. Books that Alex found there earlier that day, when he was looking for his drumsticks. Books that Alex had asked Willie about… and they’d both determined that it was Luke who had brought them up there, because Reggie wouldn’t hide the fact that he was teaching himself Trigonometry, and Luke’s been acting really weird as it is.

“You said he’s doing math?” Reggie asks, eyes wide. Willie figures Reggie must know just as well as he does -- if not better -- what Luke doing math could mean: that he’s not acting like himself.

“Yes!” Willie flails, waving his arms wildly -- to make a point -- and knocking into his boyfriend, who flinches back, tugging on Willie’s hair in the process.

“Ow!”

“Well you didn’t have to jump like that!” Alex hisses back. “Stop moving. I’m trying to stress-braid.”

“Sorry, Alex,” Willie sighs, straightening himself on the sofa. Sometimes, Alex just needs to stress-braid his hair. It gives him something to do with his hands; it’s a way for him to occupy his mind -- to focus on things other than the anxiety. And Willie’s usually all too happy to provide that service (what feels better than having your hair braided, especially by a boy you love?)

“Do you think he’s okay?” Alex mumbles, fingers once again fumbling through Willie’s hair in his unpracticed, clumsy way.

“Why don’t you guys just talk to him?” Reggie asks. “D’you have any idea what could be wrong?”

“No,” Willie huffs. “He’s just been acting so weird. I know it’s something. He’s doing stuff that he’s never cared about before -- like math. But also just… the stuff he normally loves, music. He’s… acting like it’s gonna be taken away from him, or something. Haven’t you noticed how hard he’s pushing you guys in band practice?”

“He’s acting like… like we’re running out of time,” Alex realizes. “But why?”

Just then, the boy in question poofs into the garage -- like he was rushing to get there; his landing’s not clean, and he stumbles around for a moment before catching himself on one of the microphone stands. He straightens up and sees that he has an audience.

“Hey -- hey, guys,” he stammers. “What’s up? We gonna practice?”

His eyes fix on Reggie, then, and he perks up. “Oh! Reg! I’ve been meaning to ask you -- can you teach me how to play the bass?”

“Can I--” Reggie stops, stares at Luke for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

Alex, though, right in front of Willie behind the sofa, looks like he’s already figured it out. He blinks at Luke. “You want to learn how to play bass?”

“I always have,” Luke shrugs. Alex studies him, and Luke twitches under his gaze.

“I just thought it would be cool, ya know, to know all our instruments. So can you teach me, Reg?”

“Um -- I --” Reggie’s eyes dart between Alex, Willie, and Luke, probably trying to figure out what the right thing to say is. Willie doesn’t know, exactly, but he knows one thing for sure: there’s no way Luke’s sudden interest in learning the bass is a coincidence.

Alex seems to be on the same page, but unlike Willie, he’s more inclined to take charge, to do something about it. “Reg, can we talk to Luke alone for a minute?”

“Yes,” Reggie lets out a sigh of relief and poofs away, leaving Willie and Alex to deal with… whatever this is. Willie still isn’t totally sure.

He’s once again enormously grateful for Alex, and the fact that his boyfriend has a pretty good handle on what’s going on in the world seventy-five percent of the time. Because it shocks Willie just as much as it does Luke when Alex says, “Why are you trying to cross over?”

What?

Willie hasn’t put the pieces together nearly as well as Alex has -- in fact, he feels like they’ve been working on entirely different puzzles. Why would Luke be trying to cross over? Why would he want to leave all the guys, and Julie, behind forever?

He wouldn’t. It doesn’t make sense.

Except the second the words leave Alex’s mouth, Luke freezes, eyes wide like he’s been tossed into the path of an oncoming train, shoes welded to its tracks.

And Willie starts to think that maybe his boyfriend wasn’t so far off the mark, after all.

~

“There are people who love you, you know.”

Luke blinks up at Alex, still frozen, still thrown for a loop, still… not understanding how Alex figured him out.

“How do you think we’d feel if you crossed over?” Alex continues, his intense gaze still fixed on Luke, Luke squirming uncomfortably underneath it. “Without us? Is that… is that something you want?”

Alex’s voice finally cracks, betraying the emotion underneath it, and it’s almost too much for Luke to take. His wild eyes dart around the studio, looking for something -- anything -- to focus on, to take him out of the moment… and he finds the string lights, hung across the walls and the ceilings. He starts counting the bulbs, reciting the numbers in his head. He only makes it to seven before Willie’s voice breaks his concentration.

“Luke?”

“How… how did you know that’s what I was trying to do?” Luke mumbles.

“Well… the math’s what clued me in,” Willie lets out a half-hearted laugh as Alex takes slow steps around the sofa and sits down.

“Come here,” he calls out to Luke -- and although every bone in Luke’s body is screaming run, get out, get far, far away from this conversation… he finds himself joining them, sitting down in the spot on the couch they’ve made in between them.

“We just want you to know there are people who love you,” Willie says. “People -- people who need you, Luke. You can’t leave us, okay? You can’t cross over. Not without us.”

“But you -- you guys and Reggie and Julie -- you don’t need me.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asks. “Of course we--”

“You and Reg would still be alive if it weren’t for me,” Luke growls. “So don’t say you need me. All I do is mess everything up. You guys, our careers, my parents…”

“Hang on, Luke,” Alex reaches a hand out, momentarily caught off guard. Luke doesn’t see why; it’s not like what he said was that complicated. He’s messed up. He breaks things. He ruined his parents’ lives by running away. He almost ruined Julie’s life, by getting involved with Caleb. And -- and Alex and Reggie…

“None of that’s your fault,” Alex says with conviction.

“Alex--”

“No!” Alex gets up, suddenly, and starts to pace around the room, fingers digging through his hair. “You have to know that. We don’t blame you for any of that!”

“Luke, Alex is right,” Willie reaches a hand out, cautiously, and takes one of Luke’s. When Luke doesn’t pull away, Willie pulls him even closer, into his chest, and starts gently running his fingers through Luke’s hair.

Luke sinks into Willie’s chest, eyes following Alex’s nervous pacing -- he’s biting his lip, and his hands are shaking slightly. Luke hadn’t realized that it might be hard on Alex, too, dealing with Luke’s current mental spiral.

He pulls away from Willie, ignoring the other boy’s whine of protest, and sits up to face Alex. “Hey, Alex,” he calls out quietly. “Come back and sit down. I’m-- I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me. Just… take deep breaths, okay?”

“Are you seriously trying to calm me down right now?” Alex snaps. A flash of hurt crosses Luke’s face -- one that he must not be quick enough to hide, because Alex’s own face softens at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Luke… I--”

“Just come back here and hold me, please,” Luke croaks.

Luke… doesn’t cry much, if he can help it. He hates tears, both his own and other people’s, and generally tries to avoid them at all costs. But… the look on Alex’s face, the tone of his voice -- his scared, anxious, desperate voice as he snapped at Luke for trying to calm him down -- has the dam breaking, finally, and the tears are bursting out of Luke’s eyes and running down his face before he even knows what’s happening, running down and soaking into the collar of his flannel shirt.

At the sight of Luke’s tears, Alex startles, and makes a beeline for his side. Luke is thrown into a group hug, Alex and Willie on either side of him.

And he just lets himself cry.

~

It takes a while, but finally Luke calms down a bit.

He stays on the couch, sandwiched in between two of his favorite people on the planet. Willie’s hands are still running gently through his hair; Alex’s thumb is rubbing small circles on his wrist.

His tears have finally stopped, but there’s this annoying, puffy ache in his head and behind his eyes that feels like it’s going to linger for a while.

It’s quiet, and the quiet allows Luke to think about everything that’s happened that day -- after weeks of his stupid, ill-advised mission to complete his unfinished business, he’s been found out.

And he found out that people -- Alex and Willie, who are love and sunshine and light and everything beautiful about the world personified -- would actually miss him if he was gone. That people care, that they don’t blame him for the stuff that he’s been blaming himself for for months.

It’s… a lot to wrap his head around, and even though the tears have stopped, the uncertainty and anxiety and desire to not be a burden is still swirling around in his head, leaving him silent and still as he sits there in between Alex and Willie, his head now resting on Willie’s shoulder.

He knows that those feelings, like the ache he feels in his heart and his head, will probably be around a while.

“I’m sorry for making you worry ‘bout me,” he mumbles, burrowing his face even deeper into Willie’s loose-fitting sweatshirt. Willie’s arms wrap around him and hold him there, and Luke takes in a deep, slow breath, inhaling Willie’s musky scent, shutting his eyes in the first moment of contentment he’s felt in weeks.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Alex whispers. “None of it’s your fault. There are people who love you. We…”

He stops, and Luke turns his head as much as Willie’s grip will allow to try to see why. He’s able to just peek at Alex out of the corner of his eye, and he sees that the other boy’s frowning. Like he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. Like he’s nervous.

“Alex?” Luke struggles out of Willie’s grip, and reluctantly, the other boy lets him go. He shuffles to the other side of the sofa, closer to Alex, and the drummer opens his arms for Luke willingly.

Being in Alex’s arms is different than being in Willie’s, too. Alex is sturdier; less teddy-bear like than Willie is, but comforting and warm and inviting all the same. Alex’s arms feel like home just as much as Willie’s do, and Luke melts into the hug instantly, like an ice cream cone on the hot pavement in July. Alex’s hand runs up and down Luke’s back and Luke shivers, eyes threatening to slip closed despite his need to hear Alex’s answer.

“Willie and I love you, Luke,” Alex says softly. There’s no more uncertainty -- a hint of nervousness, but Luke doesn’t doubt what Alex is saying for a second. There’s a conviction in his tone -- a confidence -- that Alex only really uses when talking about people he loves. This… defensiveness, this love, this conviction.

“We don’t have to figure everything out now,” Alex continues -- probably realizing Luke’s been through enough that day. Luke appreciates that, actually. There’s only one answer he would ever give to Alex and Willie -- only one thing his heart’s ever wanted; Luke can see it now, now that the sound of his heartbeat is pulsing in his ears, now that he feels like he’s both standing on the edge of a mountain, about to take a leap of faith into the crisp winter air below -- and at the same time, on solid ground, in no danger of falling, of stumbling, of getting hurt. He feels safe and exhilarated all at the same time, and this feeling is both familiar and completely new, more amplified than it usually is. Not what he’s used to.

But Luke feels like he’s ready to take the leap now. He still feels guilty, still isn’t actually sure whether his friends -- his family -- would be better off without him. But Alex and Willie have never steered him wrong before.

When he’s sitting in between them, their arms around him and their warm, soft hands running through his hair… Luke feels like maybe he can get through anything.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Sweet As Sin - Part One

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy. 

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read Part Two here!

After reaching a certain point in life, people generally come to the realization that the old adage of “when it rains, it pours” is true. At least, that was what you were thinking as you walked to your car, cheeks still burning with shame from what had just transpired in the grocery store.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined. Do you have any other methods of payment?”

The words echoed in your ears as you drove home; of course you didn’t have another method of payment. You hadn’t ever since your job laid you off. You’d been living off of unemployment for a few months now, barely able to afford rent and living off a diet consisting mostly of ramen noodles. What’s more, you’d just had to get your car fixed after someone t-boned you at the intersection across from your house. So now, you didn’t even have any more savings to fall back on. It was even worse than when you’d been in college; back then, there had at least been a goal in mind. Just graduate, you’d told yourself, and then you’ll find a job.

Well, you’d graduated a year ago, and now you were back to where you’d started – broke and desperate.

You slammed the door shut when you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes off before throwing yourself onto the sofa. You lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling as your stomach growled at you.

“Yeah, I’m hungry, too,” you told it. Looks like it was noodles in broth for dinner again, tonight.

Anxiety was constantly clawing at your chest these days, especially now that you were too broke to afford your medication. Later on that evening, you stood over your stove while typing ‘how to make money fast’ into Google. It was a cheap shot, one that you didn’t foresee getting you anywhere, but it was at least something to take your mind off of things while you waited for the water on the stove to heat up.

That was when you saw the add. ‘Finding Arrangements – Where beautiful, successful people find mutually beneficial relationships’ – basically, a website for Sugar Daddies looking for a pretty set of tits to spend money on. You huffed a laugh and scrolled past it, only to return to it a few seconds later.

You chewed on your lip, pondering the link sitting right there on the screen, so engrossed in your thoughts that you jolted when the water started boiling over, sizzling onto the stovetop beneath it. With a curse, you turned down the heat and added the noodles, stirring them in with the seasoning packet as you thought it over. It wouldn’t hurt to check, right? Just a quick glance wouldn’t hurt; if you signed up and didn’t like any of the people you matched with, you could just delete your profile and pretend it never happened.

Your thoughts lingered on the idea as you sat on the couch, still hungry after finishing your meager meal. You’d brought the link up on your laptop, and now you were staring at the site’s homepage. To the right, there was a link to sign up, and to the left, there was a picture of a man in a business suit surrounded by three beautiful women. You gulped, starting to psych yourself out as you stared at the image. But then you closed your eyes and thought about the number in your bank account, and it was enough to motivate you to start typing.

You filled out your personal information and clicked the link the website sent to your email, confirming your new membership. When it came to choose a profile photo, you chose one of yourself from your graduation day. You were standing in your college’s auditorium, wearing a dress made out of gold fabric that was covered with thick black lace; it was your favorite picture of yourself, and you hoped that the dress wasn’t too revealing. It had a high neckline, but it had only come down to about mid-thigh.

You filled out the ‘About Me’ section and then paused when you came to the next question – What are you looking for in a relationship? You thought for a moment, biting your lip and turning over your words before starting to type again.

This is my first time trying out a relationship like this, you wrote. So I would like to find someone who I can trust to guide me through it. In return, I would like to be able to give my (you cringed as you typed the next two words) Sugar Daddy a fulfilling, comfortable relationship in return.

After reviewing your profile, you uploaded it, forcing yourself to sit back from your laptop and breathe. It was out there now; people would see it. Wealthy, presumably powerful people would see it. You closed your computer and hurried to put a movie on, choosing one of your old favorites; it had helped you when you were feeling anxious before.

By the time you finished the movie, you’d mostly calmed down, controlling your nerves until they were just a dull ache in your chest. Before you stood up and went to bed, you checked your phone, eyes bulging when you saw that you already had five replies to your profile.

You opened your notifications, scrolling through the different profiles. Four of them were from men with one of them being from a woman. Your nose wrinkled up when you saw that one of the men were in his 70s, and you quickly deleted his message without even reading it. The next one was in his early 50s, and his profile picture was of him standing in front of a car that looked like it cost more than the entirety of your college tuition. You didn’t delete his message, but you definitely felt dismayed as you skimmed through the rest of them.

You paused, though, when you saw the last one. His profile said that he was 38, making him the youngest of those that had replied to you. His username was Captain_Grant, and his profile only showed his silhouette outlined against a setting sun. The only thing you could see about his features were his defined, slightly-crooked nose and the shadow of a beard against his jawline, but you were more interested in seeing the message he’d sent you.

Good evening, miss. I hope you’re having a nice day. I saw on your profile that you liked to read?

You furrowed your eyebrows, laughing a little. The other ones had pretty much sent you the same thing – “hi”. One of them had had the courtesy of adding a smiley face afterwards, but the fact that this guy had actually taken the time to read your profile made him stand out amongst the rest.

Good evening, you typed back. I do love to read; right now I’m in the middle of a great book.

His reply came only about a minute after you sent your response.

What’s it called?

You typed out the title of the book. After another minute, Captain sent you a picture. You held your breath as you opened the attachment, praying that it wasn’t a dick pic, and you were pleasantly surprised to see a photo of a bookshelf. The book you’d mentioned was resting on it along with a few others by the same author.

I’m a fan of theirs, too, as you can see.

You grinned and got up, taking a quick photo of your own bookshelf and sending it to him. You’d bought it from IKEA years ago, and its thin shelves had started to sag under the weight of all of your books, but you loved it anyways.

You have quite the collection, miss.

You chuckled at how polite he was and sent him a message that he call you by your first name.

‘Miss’ just seems so formal, don’t you think?

I was going more for polite, but I see what you mean. Well, then, you should call me Steve. ‘Captain’ isn’t really formal so much as it’s just weird. …I’ve been told I’m not good at picking out profile names.

You giggled at that; Steve seemed like a dork. But a cute one.

I think your profile name is great, for the record, but I’ll stick with Steve. What made you join this website, Steve?

It took him a few minutes to respond, and you worried for a second that you’d asked something too personal. But as you got ready for bed, you saw that he’d finally responded.

I’m an old fashioned kinda guy, and in the past I’ve been told that I’m a bit too…overbearing in a relationship. But I’ve always believed that a man should take care of the woman he’s with. So a friend of mine suggested this site, and I figured I would try it out. You’re the first girl who I liked enough to send a message to, though.

You smiled at that, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

What made me different from the rest?

All the other girls on here only talked about what they wanted to get out of a relationship in their profiles. You were the only one who mentioned what she wanted to give.

You felt as if butterflies were flying around your stomach, and your thumbs started typing of their own accord.

Do you think we could meet sometime? Maybe grab a cup of coffee?

I would love to, doll. I’m out of the country right now, but I get back in a week. How about we meet up then? Your profile said you live in Brooklyn; is that right?

It sure is; I’ve lived here ever since I finished college.

You’re a girl after my own heart; I grew up in Brooklyn. There’s a bagel shop that also serves coffee that I highly recommend. We could meet there if you’re up for it.

You didn’t even think before you answered him back.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

________

Over the next three days, you and Steve messaged each other as much as possible. He was so easy to talk to; you’d almost forgotten about the financial element of your relationship. During the day, when he was busy with work, you found yourself missing him. Right around the evening, you would start jumping for your phone any time it buzzed, and your heart would sink with disappointment when it wasn’t Steve.

You were on such a high from meeting Steve that you’d forgotten all about the things that were causing you anxiety. That was, until your landlord sent you an email talking about how rent was going to be raised an extra $50 each month. The news had washed over you like a bucket of iced water, sending you into the worst panic attack you’d had since college.

You’d spent the next few hours either pacing across your living room or crying in bed, curled up as that same feeling of helplessness that had haunted you for the past few months settled over you heavily. You hadn’t even realized that your phone was buzzing. At least, not until the fifth or sixth buzz. Wiping away your tears, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened it up, seeing several missed messages from Steve.

Hey, doll, just got done with work for the day.

How was your day?

You ok, doll? You’re usually around by now.

Are you ok?

I’m sorry for hovering, I’m just worried about you.

You there?

You felt guilt settle over you as you began to type with trembling fingers.

I’m so sorry, Steve. I just had a really rough day; I didn’t even realize that my phone was going off.

His reply was instantaneous.

God, you scared me, doll. Are you alright? What happened?

My landlord raised the rent by an entire $50. Rent is due by the end of the week, and I have no idea how to come up with the money.

You sniffled and waited for him to reply, and when he did you felt you felt your tears subside for a brief moment.

Is that all? That’s why I’m here, hon. Do you have a PayPal?

Steve… Are you sure? This is so much.

You could almost hear his laughter in his next reply.

Doll, I promise that $50 is NOT a lot to me. Besides, that’s part of this whole thing, isn’t it? Me taking care of you?

But I haven’t done anything for you in return…

He waited a few more minutes before responding.

Well… What if you did something for me tonight? Would that make you feel better?

Your felt your heart start to beat faster at his words, wondering what he would have you do.

What do you have in mind? you replied, trying to keep your words neutral.

Give me your phone number and let me call you?

Your breath puffed out at such a simple response, and you sent him your number without a second thought.

A few seconds later, your phone began to came, and unknown number appearing on your screen. You took a deep breath, feeling your heartrate skyrocket once more; you’d only known him for a few days, and yet a simple phone call from him was enough to make you feel breathless.

You fumbled with your phone, accepting the call and hesitantly raising it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll. It’s Steve. Although… Well, that was probably obvious, right?”

Your laugh sounded more like a hiccup, and you cringed at the sound, trying to blink away the tears that were still trying to escape.

“Hi, Steve,” was all you could sigh. “It’s…really good to hear your voice.”

And it really was; it was somehow even better than you’d imagined it – not terribly deep, but warm, so warm that you wish you could curl up and get him to read bedtime stories to you.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, a touch of worry working its way into his voice.

“Oh, um… Yeah,” you sighed. “This whole rent thing has really got me anxious.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “Can you give me your email address?”

You gave it to him, hearing the typing of a keyboard in the background.

“Thanks, doll. Just give me a minute, ok? I’m still trying to get better with my typing skills.”

You chuckled, picturing him typing with his two pointer fingers, but you still didn’t understand what he was asking you to give him a minute with.

“What are you doing, Steve?” you asked.

“Just wait; I’m almost done.”

After a few more seconds of typing, you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it away to see that it was an email from PayPal. Your eyes went wide as you opened it, audibly gasping when you saw the message waiting for you when you opened your account. You have $250 waiting to be accepted.

“Steve!” You heard his laugh from the other line, and for a second you were caught off guard; you immediately loved the sound more than you’d loved any other laugh you’d ever encountered.

“This is too much!” you cried out. “I only needed $50! Steve, I’m no mathematician, but you gave me two hundred more than that!”

Steve only laughed again.

“I won’t apologize for taking care of my girl,” he said, making your cheeks heat up at the term of endearment. “You deserve it; you’ve had a rough day. Go out and get a massage, or buy something nice for yourself. Do something that’ll relieve some stress.”

Your eyes went half-lidded for a second at the thought of a massage; you couldn’t remember the last massage you’d gotten. But no; you needed to be smart with your money.

“Well… Thank you, Steve,” you sighed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Every penny is worth getting to hear your voice,” he murmured. “It’s even prettier than I imagined it.”

“Steve…no…”

“No?”

“You gotta stop saying such nice things. It’s bad enough through text; actually hearing you say them is gonna make me spontaneously combust.”

Steve’s laughed rumbled across the receiver once more.

“Well try your best not to. At least not until we meet face-to-face.”

“Tell me about it. I still don’t know what you look like.”

You could tell by his voice that Steve was smiling when he spoke next.

“What do you imagine I look like?”

You grinned and stretched out in bed, your anxiety from before completely melting away.

“Well… You’re probably tall,” you started. “No… You’re definitely tall. I can tell.”

“Really? What gave it away?”

“You just seem like a tall person.” He chuckled at that, but you kept going on. “I could tell from your profile picture that you have a beard, and I bet you keep it trimmed all nice and neat. And… I’m going to guess that you have brown hair.”

“Well, I’ll be back in three days. There’s only one way for you to find out if you’re right.”

“I know. Still planning on the bagel shop at 9 am sharp, right? On Sunday?”

“Absolutely, doll. It’s a date.”

_______

The next day, you were able to pay your rent early, much to your landlord’s delight. After that, you decided that you would treat yourself to some actual groceries. Having a full shopping cart was a novelty to you; usually, you would load up with a basket containing ramen, maybe some chicken, some eggs, and whatever toiletries you needed. But today, you actually put together a meal plan and a list before going shopping.

Later on that day, you were grinning ear to ear as you put your purchases away in your tiny kitchen. There were green things in your fridge again! And they weren’t mold!

You were cooking a late breakfast for yourself when your phone rang, and you let out an excited squeak when you saw who it was.

“Steve!”

“Wow; someone sounds happy today.”

“I just got back from the grocery store,” you told him. “Thanks to a very wonderful, generous person, I was able to get food! Like, fancy food!”

“Fancy food, huh? What kind of fancy food?”

“Um… Well, I got stuff for salads! And I’m going to make a casserole for dinner. And I have some pasta, some beef, some taco stuff-“

“…Baby, that doesn’t really sound like fancy food. It sounds like regular groceries.”

“Well, it’s fancy compared to what I usually eat,” you pointed out.

“And what is that?”

“…Um…Ramen, mostly. Not that I mind! It’s better than nothing. I’ve got really creative with ramen recipes; it’s a skill I learned in college.”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh.

“That’s gonna have to change,” he asserted. “From now on, I’ll take you grocery shopping once a week, and I want you to get food with actual nutrients in it. Understood?”

You grinned as you flipped the omelet in the pan.

“Only if you let me cook for you sometime,” you bargained. You felt your cheeks heat up when he let out a groan.

“God, I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal,” he sighed. “I wish I could come back sooner.”

“You can make it for two more days,” you said. “I believe in you.”

“Well, I’m glad someone does.”

The two of you talked until your breakfast was ready, and for the rest of the day you worked on applying for jobs. You kept the news on your tv at a low volume, but later on, while you were cooking your casserole, you heard something about Moscow that made you perk up; Steve had mentioned that he was in Moscow on his business trip.

You hurried to pull the casserole out of the oven and place it on a cooling rack before jogging into the living room and turning up the volume.

“….in Moscow today. It is reported that the small terrorist organization was eliminated by Captain America, Natasha Romanoff, and a group of American agents with them. Luckily, the attempted bombing was stopped before there could be any casualties.”

You watched as the footage cut to Captain America standing in front of a group of reporters, decked out in his uniform with his signature shield strapped to his back. He shifted on his feet, looking out over the room before starting to speak.

“I’m relieved to inform you that the terrorist threat has been eliminated,” he began, and you frowned at how familiar his voice sounded. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that it was Steve talking to you, your Steve, but you knew the idea was ridiculous. You smiled at the thought; you’d have to ask him later on if anybody else had noticed the similarity.

“The group was small and disorganized, and we believe that they acted independently of any larger organization,” he continued. “Our men and woman, however, are keeping a close eye on any and all other suspicious activity in this and the surrounding countries. For now, we advise you to rest easy, and-“

You muted the tv once more, heading into the kitchen to grab a plate of food. You sat down on your couch and pulled your phone out, dialing Steve’s number. You frowned when you reached his answering machine, but you left a message anyways.

“Hi, Steve! I just saw something on the news about a terrorist group in Moscow… I guess I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay. Just shoot me a text or give me a call when you’re able to. I’ll talk to you soon!”

After that, you ate your food, reveling in having something on your stomach other than the same old noodles. It was while you were wrapping your casserole to put in in the fridge that Steve called you back, and you rushed to answer the phone.

“Hello!”

“Hi, doll,” Steve sighed.

“You sound so tired.”

“Yeah… I guess I am. It was, uh… A rough day at work. But the good news is that I get to come home a day early. Think we could move our date to tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? You can get here all the way from Moscow tonight?”

“Sure can. I’m on the plane right now.”

“Wow. Talk about company benefits…” Steve chuckled, and you smiled fondly as you closed the fridge. “I worried about you when I heard about the terrorists. Is everything ok? No one you knew got hurt, did they?”

“Nah, we’re fine, doll. But you’re sweet to ask.”

“Well, I saw Captain America talking on the news about it and just wanted to make sure. Hey, have you ever noticed that you sound a lot like him?”

“Uh… You think I sound like Captain America?” Steve seemed flustered, and you grinned as you walked back to your couch.

“Yeah; you guys have practically the same voice,” you grinned. “Crazy coincidence, right? You sound like him; you have the same first name… And did you know that he’s grown a beard since-“

“Hey, doll? The plane is experiencing some turbulence. Would it be ok if I let you go?”

“Oh. Yeah! Sure thing, Steve. But we’re still planning on tomorrow morning?”

“You betcha. I’ll see you at 9, and I’ll text you the address.”

“See you soon!”

With that, he hung up, and a few minutes later you received the text with the address. You sent him back a smiley face before getting ready for bed; you would need to get up early to get ready for your date.

It took you a while to fall asleep that night; your mind wouldn’t shut off. Over and over again, it would play possible scenarios of how meeting Steve might go – about what he would look like, what you two would talk about. Eventually, though, you were able to fall into a peaceful slumber, and even your dreams seemed happy that night.

______

You surveyed yourself in the mirror, looking for any imperfections that needed to be sorted out before you left. You’d somehow wrangled your hair into a nice-looking style, although you were pretty sure you’d killed half of the remaining ozone layer with how much hair spray you’d had to use to keep it that way. You were wearing a red set of leggings with an oversized, cream-colored sweater overtop it; despite the fact that the clothes were old, they still looked good, and you hated the fact that you didn’t have better shoes to complete the ensemble. You pulled on your black high-top Converse, deciding that they were the best looking pair of shoes you had, and you checked yourself out in the mirror one more time before walking out the door.

The bagel shop was only fifteen minutes away from where you lived, but the drive seemed to last for fifteen seconds and fifteen eternities all at once. You tried in vain to calm the frantic beating of your heart, but it was still pounding by the time you pulled up in front of the restaurant. You took a short moment to calm yourself, letting out a deep breath before getting out of your car.

You tried to walk with confidence as you walked into the bagel shop, inhaling the scent of baked bread, cinnamon, and coffee that lay heavy in the air. The walls inside were painted a bright, sky blue, and black-and-white sketches were hanging on the walls. The entire wall behind the display case had been turned into a chalkboard, and the various menu items were written across it in neat cursive font. One of your favorite songs from the 60’s was playing over the radio, and you smiled; you already knew that this place would become one of your regular hang outs.

At the moment, though, your eyes were scanning the shop for Steve. All you knew about him was that he had a beard; that is, if he hadn’t shaved it since taking his profile picture. There were only a few people dotted around the room, and most of them were with someone else. In fact, there were only two people there who were sitting alone. One of them was sitting at a nearby table, and he was a man who looked to be in his late 50’s; you hoped to God that he wasn’t Steve.

The only other person there was sitting at a table in the far corner, and he had his back to you. His hair was blonde and slicked back neatly, and his shoulders were incredibly broad. Letting out a sigh, you started walking towards him, wringing your hands as you grew nearer.

“Steve?” you finally asked when you were close, and you saw him straighten up.

When he turned around to face you, though, your eyes grew wide and your lips parted in surprise. There had to be some mistake; this couldn’t be him.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “I’m here to meet, um…”

Captain America, or rather, Steve gave you a soft, sheepish smile, and he stood up to face you.

“Hey, doll,” he sighed.

“…I can explain.”

[ratingtheframe]

Films you need to watch if you want to fit in at film school.

By now, you’re probably knee deep in your filmmaking course at film school or university and if you want to keep up with the film discussions in between classes, then here’s a list of exemplary films to watch (and flex on) whilst at school. 

It’s never a fun moment when you’re sat in a group of other film buffs and everyone but you have seen one particular film. Not only that, but they continue to bang on about it, and in those 12 minutes you’re left wishing gosh, I wish I had watched that now.

I know the feeling and to make sure you don’t get caught out again, this list of films not only covers your filmmaker wannabe basics, but also a few swarve anomalies that you can throw into the discussion like a true culture vulture. 

Pulp Fiction (1994)

I shouldn’t be saying this but if you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction and you made it to film school, just leave. Hand in your student ID at reception and walk out the door, watch Pulp Fiction and come back to the next day. If you haven’t seen the 90s cult classic directed by Quentin Tarantino, it’s likely you’ve had at least one person disgusted by your lack of engagement for the film. But why is it such a necessity amongst the filmmakers of today? Well after a highly successful debut of Reservoir Dogs at Cannes Films Festival in 1992, Tarantino created another world of filmmaking. What he brought to the industry was a perspective and whole landscape that had never been seen before and the release of Pulp Fiction in 1994, certainly proved that Tarantino wasn’t a one trick pony. With a stellar cast, most of which were in their early days, and an outstanding storyline, Pulp Fiction is any filmmaker's paradise. And seriously, you can’t keep avoiding it. 

Fight Club (1999)

Keeping it in the 90s, is David Fincher’s Fight Club, another revolutionary film from the king of psychological thrillers. If the name David Fincher doesn’t mean anything to you, it probably should, seeing as his films have grossed over $2.1 billion at the box office globally and earnt him 30 Academy Award nominations. Story, script and cast align perfectly in all of Fincher’s films, with Fight Club being no exception. Based on the 1996 novel by Chuck Palahnuik, Fight Club follows two men (Brad Pitt and Edward Norton, enough said) who initiate in an organised fight club. Sounds pretty straight forward until you get to the end and realise Fincher has been messing with all of us the entire time. In terms of early filmmaking and story structure, Fight Club is an excellent cult classic to sink your teeth into.  

Psycho (1960)

Another name to be aware of, Alfred Hitchcock laid down the foundation for thrillers for generations to come. For it’s time, Psycho was revolutionary as it broke the strict censorship and threat barriers created in the world of filmmaking in the 60s. There are some iconic scenes in Psycho, along with an unnerving score and a whopping $39.2 million profit in the box office. Hitchcock also took a gamble killing off the star of the film, Janet Leigh, 45 minutes into the film. However, Psycho just goes to show that risks can also pay off. 

La Haine (1995) “The Hate”

There’s a reason why some of the most revolutionary films can be found in the 90s. The 90s was the year of filmmaking that gave two fingers to the world and most of its stories belonged to the misfits and outcasts of society. Films were violent, punchy and led by young protagonists, raking in teenage audiences and voices. La Haine is a prime and clear cut example of the injustice between races and class in Paris, winning a Best Director award at Cannes in 1995. The film was so thought provoking and hard hitting, that the Prime Minister of France at the time forced his cabinet ministers to watch it. I’m sorry, if La Haine is good enough for the Prime Minister of France, it’s good enough for anyone. 

Any Bong Joon Ho Film 

With the success of Parasite still looming over Hollywood, Bong Joon Ho has to be the industry’s biggest underdog. Before the 2020 Oscars, most weren’t even aware of the director’s work or how gratifying he is as a storyteller. Each film is meticulously executed, with a hard hitting political message sewn beneath the surface of the overall film. Bong Joon Ho was quoted saying that this technique isn’t intentional and the breadth of the films he makes is found once they’re completed. From Okja that explores animal cruelty to Snowpiercer which explores class division, Bong Joon Ho has a way with imbedding societal issues into his films in a stylstic and structured way that should have any filmmaker filled with envy. He’s a strong voice for Asian cinema who’s had a sharp impact on western cinema without feeling the need to have all his films in the english language. 

The 400 Blows (1960) “Les Quatre Cents Coups”

Whether you’re at school, in a lecture or amongst friends GUARANTEED the 400 Blows is going to worm its way into conversation at some point. The film was part of The French New Wave movement of the last 50s that created the foundation for French Cinema for films to come. The French New Wave was a significant movement that sought out to reject traditional ways of filmmaking and introduced new, more experimental ways of telling stories on screen. Francois Truffat won Best Director at the 1959 Cannes Film Festival for his directorial debut about a young boy struggling through Paris between his teachers at school and parents at home. The film shone a light on the misunderstood youth of the late 50s and early 60s, setting off a whole co-ord of films within the same genre later on. 

Moonlight (2016) 

Barry Jenkins became the underdog of 2017, with his beautiful and captivating story Moonlight, following a young boy through early adolescence and adulthood. The film is impeccably shot with rich colours and seamless shots. Moonlight won big time at the 2017 Academy Awards, winning Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor and Best Original Screenplay. The film certainly set the world of filmmaking on fire and carved out space for more black filmmakers to enter into the industry. 

Hereditary (2018)

It’s easy to forget that this film was released 2 years ago as it has had some groundbreaking reception since then. Hereditary, directed by Ari Aster, sets a bar and tone within horror films that has never been touched on before. Before him, your average horrors came from low budget gimmicky films where the lead actress would be running around in her underwear by the end of the film. Hereditary keeps everyone in their clothes (for the most part) and viewers on the edge of their seats for the entirety of the film. What stands at the forefront of this film is the slow pace and artistically beautiful frames that Ari Aster has meticulously curated to create a work of art. It’s everything you wanted in a horror film but could never really ask for, due to the over saturation of the horror films on the market and predictable jump scares that come with them. I found that the jump scares in Hereditary were put in the most unpredictable places, leaving me and most people visibly shaken and disturbed. 

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) 

Probably the first PG film on this list, Wes Anderson’s most iconic film The Grand Budapest Hotel, is a production designer’s paradise. Not only that, it features an insanely good cast with the likes of Jeff Goldblum, Ralph Fiennes, Bill Murray, Saoirse Ronan, Adrien Brody, Tilda Swinton, Willem Dafoe, Harvey Keitel, Jude Law and Edward Norton starring in the film. Wes Anderson’s mind is like a fairy tale book; he has the ability to create other worlds filled with bright colours and characters that EVERY ACTOR are dying to be. The Grand Budapest is probably Anderson’s most ambitious film to date and features some production design techniques that are beyond real.

Amélie (2001) 

Amélie is your basic starter pack in French Cinema. Seeing as every charity shop has at least one copy of Amélie for sale, you have zero excuse for not having seen it yet. Even if French Cinema isn’t your thing, it’s very likely the entirety of French Cinema will be a topic of interest within your filmmaking course and Amélie is a fine place to start. The film ties the story, soundtrack and visuals perfectly and for any indie filmmaker, it’s a good example of taking a simple story but executing it in a complex way. In terms of box office, Amélie scored pretty well, with a humble budget of $10 million and making over $173 million globally. It was also nominated for five Academy Awards in 2002 and remains as one of the best and most iconic films to come out of France.

Good Time (2017)

With a humble budget of $2 million, Good Time made double in the box office and had a Hollywood star at its forefront. In fact Good Time skyrocketed Robert Pattinson’s career and since it’s release, Pattinson has gone on to be part of some amazing projects. Seeing Pattinson in such a gritty role in Good Time, was highly refreshing and totally suited him in every way. New York based filmmakers, Josh and Benny Safdie co directed and wrote the crime thriller after having an impressive response from their previous film, Heaven Knows What. They recently completed Uncut Gems for Netflix starring Adam Sandler, which continued the crime thriller neon lights aesthetic that's come with their two previous films. Good Time is jaw droppingly good, and for those wanting to go into lighting, it is a must watch. The deeper the story goes, the more you feel the urge to gasp as Robert Pattinson feeds us with an unrecognisable performance. 

8 ½ (1963)

We are getting into sophisticated territory here with Fredrico Fellini’s 8 ½ . For those Scorsese and Tarantino fans out there, Fellini is your filmmaking bread and butter as both filmmakers have admitted to being heavily inspired by the Italian’s cinematic masterpieces. Fellini had the ability to tie reality with fantasy in a personal way, depicting a lot of his own life within his films. 8 ½ is no expectation, as it details the making of the actual film in the film and the rocky relationship he had with his wife, who starred in a few of his films. Fellini is named as one of the best filmmakers of all time, for his experimental style and off the wall filmmaking techniques. No one can or could do what Fellini did and there’s yet to be anyone who measures up to him. 

Get Out (2017)

You like Get Out, I like Get Out, we ALL like Get Out. The film was the first of its kind in many ways and resonated with an audience that hadn’t yet been found. Jordan Peele wrote and directed the film, which grossed 100 times more than the film’s budget at the box office. This film is the epitome of less is more, taking a somewhat simple idea and heightening the possibilities of it. Jordan Peele became world renowned for it, along with British actor Daniel Kaluuya for his performance that earned him a Best Actor nomination at the 2018 Academy Awards. Get Out stands as a film that did what no one else has done before and for that, it deserves all the praise it gets. 

All Celine Sciamma films

It’s likely the first time you heard of French filmmaker Celine Sciamma was from her groundbreaking, break through film Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Premiering at Cannes 2019, the film earned the Queer Palm d’Or and Best Screenplay Award. The film is simple, gorgeously shot and significantly deep in its telling. Not only will Portrait of a Lady on fire set you on fire, but all of Sciamma’s films sit on a level of filmmaking that is praise worthy. Her past films, Waterlilies and Girlhood explore coming of age stories amongst women and are executed in a highly personal and understanding way. She is the queen of female indie filmmakers and certainly one of the best french filmmakers in the industry to date. 

I, Daniel Blake (2016)

It can be hard to remove the gimmicks and big names from the stories being sold on screen and get straight to the heart of a film. Ken Loach has brought an incomparable style of filmmaking to the table that sets him apart from almost every filmmaker out there. It's easy to compare a Tarantino film to a David Fincher one, however, throw Ken Loach into the mix there's just about zero relation to either filmmaker or their styles. I, Daniel Blake won Outstanding British Film of the Year in 2017 BAFTAs and the Palm d’Or at the 2016 Cannes Film Festival. It’s no wonder why the Cannes Film Festival ate this film up seeing as the realism and grittiness of I, Daniel Blake gave a voice to a large part of society that is heavily ignored. This film leaves you nodding in agreement at the reality of the way things are even if that reality is incredibly hard to bear. 

The Meyerowitz Stories (2017)

For those budding screenwriters out there, the work of Noah Baumbach is necessary in understanding three dimensional characters and the dialogue that comes with them. The Meyerowitz Stories stands from Baumbach’s other films, seeing as the screenplay and actual film are completely the same. On reading the screenplay of this film, I found not one single word of dialogue was forgotten about or changed, which is a pretty incredible achievement for any filmmaker. It certainly showed the actors (Dustin Hoffman, Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, Emma Thompson, Adam Driver) had a lot of respect for the words on the page and each one of their performances sought to lift them off it. Baumbach’s writing style is beautifully accurate to real speech; there’s interruptions, over layered conversations and a great deal of tangents. The dialogue is like music and is only elevated by the well rounded cast.

The Master (2012)

Filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson has this hypnotic way of arresting his audiences to invest in his films for two and a half hours, then drop them at the last second. You don’t know why you’re watching or feel so absorbed in the worlds he creates, however it’s as if something over takes your attention, forcing you to carry on watching till the end. The Master is no different with a prolific cast and slow burnt pace to it. It's hard to explain what it is about this film that makes it so great. The cast made up of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Joaquin Phoenix, Amy Adams and Jesse Plemons bring a top level performance and it feels like they’re always sitting on a secret. Every moment, every word, every shot is unmissable and the entirety of the film sets a bar of filmmaking that is flawless. Paul Thomas Anderson is a master (pardon the pun) of arresting his audiences and is someone to follow if you wish to do the same with your own films. For budding cinematographers, all of PTA’s films are worth a watch. 

12 years a slave (2013) 

Probably the best film out there that depicts slavery, 12 years a slave is a heart wrenching and moving film directed by Steve McQueen. The sensitivity and authenticity Steve McQueen brings to his films is A class, as he does an outstanding job of really transporting his audiences to a time before. There are many scenes in 12 years a slave that can be considered some of the best ever made. The cast is in-sane with the likes of Chiwetel Ejiofor, Lupita Nyong’o, Benedict Cumberbatch, Michael Fassbender, Paul Dano, Sarah Paulson, Brad Pitt and even a young Storm Reid and Kelvin Harrison Junior, all joined within this story. Films with such casts are rare and it’s unquestionable why the film was nominated for Nine Academy Awards, winning three back in 2014.

The Social Network (2010)

Even though I wasn’t a fan of The Social Network, I can still appreciate the musicality behind the work of Aaron Sorkin and the screenplay he wrote for this. The collaboration between David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin on this film is something the world certainly needed, as two highly skilled masters of film came together and served us a huge slice of their talent. The Social Network is 100% the screenwriter’s film, and one to watch when trying to analyse successful dialogue within films.

 Babel (2006)

Those who are into the episodic film, you are advised to look into the work of Alejandro G. Iñárritu. A name you might not be too familiar with, but you only need to have seen Birdman or The Revenant to appreciate his talents as a director and unique voice. Babel struck me as a poignant and INCREDIBLY structured film, with a satisfying 360 to it, as all the stories connect to one another in a distinct way. It’s so clear that a lot of time was put into writing such a screenplay and the production itself is to be noted, for scenes are filmed in Morocco, Tokyo, California and Mexico. That takes a LOT of money, time, effort and people, however if was certainly worth it as Babel is hands down one of the best films you’ll ever see.

The films of Xavier Dolan. 

Xavier Dolan is Cannes Film Festival’s godson. The man has attended every festival for the past 10 years and each time, when in competition, he brings a personal and hard hitting perspective within his films. I have seen all but one of these films, and I suggest you do too. Xavier Dolan’s directorial debut I Hate My Mother scooped him numerous awards at the Cannes Film Festival and was made when Dolan was only 20. From then, he went on to direct several french/canadian films that won him the Jury Prize, Un Certain Regard and Queer Palm at Cannes. He’s a filmmaker who puts so much passion and devotion into his work, which is seen through the incredible acting, story and dialogue shown within his films. Two must see films of his would be Mommy and Laurence Anyways, especially for the acting. Xavier Dolan also directed the music video for Adele’s Hello music video which is one of the most watched music videos of all time, with 2.7 Billion views on YouTube.

You Were Never Really Here (2017)

Lynne Ramsay’s 2017 film starring Joaquin Phoenix is everything and more that you want from a thriller. It’s probably one of the best thrillers out there on the market and is highly underrated. Lynne Ramsay’s previous spellbinding feature We Need To Talk About Kevin sent pulses racing through the industry, giving Ramsay the recognition she deserves and even earning her a Palm d’Or nomination at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival. As a female filmmaker, Lynne Ramsay is one to watch for she has a knack at creating her own original slow burning, deep stories and directing them in a seamless way. 

The films of Christopher Nolan

Christopher Nolan’s 11th film recently hit cinemas and no one knows what the hell is going on in it. However, there are plenty of other Christopher Nolan films that don’t melt your brain or send the guy next to you at the cinema cursing throughout the film in frustration at not understanding the film. The Dark Knight is said to have one the best performances in cinema history, with the late Heath Ledger taking on the role of the Joker. Not only that, but the likes of Gary Oldman, Michael Caine, Anne Hathaway and Christian Bale are also featured alongside Ledger, creating an untouchable cast. Dunkirk also deserves an honourable mention as one of Nolan’s films, seeing as I couldn’t breathe throughout the entire film. The second Dunkirk begins, the tension builds and you’re kept in a constant state of panic for the characters on screen. As far as war films go, Dunkirk is up there and it’s cinematic qualities were recognised at the 2018 Academy Awards, picking up three awards. What we can take from Christopher Nolan and his ability to execute stories on screen is that he spends a great deal on his screenplays before production. Tenet took FIVE YEARS to write (and probably another five to understand) certainly showing his devotion and dedication to his ideas as a filmmaker.

Honorouble mentions (that u should definitely check out)

Taxi Driver (1976) A Clockwork Orange (1971) Call me by your name (2017) Her. (2017) Do the right thing (1989)

Obviously there are 100s of other films worth watching that aren’t on this list, however if you were to watch all films mentioned on this list, you’d certainly get a different perspective on the possibilities of filmmaking and the stories they tell. 

[scarletbluebird13]

Hi! Could I request some general MK fluff headcanons?

*Screams into the void* Nonnie, I’m so very sorry this took a   v e r y   long time for me to do for you -- I hope you can forgive me. So, without further adieu, here’s your request - I sincerely hope it’s to your liking and my apologies if the wait was most certainly not worth it. To you and the other people who requested: I’m so sorry for the long wait and if I made you feel ignored. Thank you so much for your patience, I really do appreciate it. <3

PSA: I’d gotten this request *quite* a while ago and had begun working on it that week. At the time, Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night” had not been released. I’d begun working on this December 4, 2020. To this day (March 14, 2021) I’ve yet to read Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night.” (i’m well aware I’m a horrible writer and mk fan - sue me) 

for what it was worth, it was worth all the while

Kazuomi: 

It’s just another wednesday night

Except it’s not

Kazuomi being - well, Kazuomi - decided to take you on a trip 

It was, like everything else he does, spontaneous

All you did to get swept up in this madness was become someone important to him

If you hadn’t walked into his office when you had, he was going to personally go to your apartment and drag you out of there

So really, you saved him the trip 

When he told you he was taking you on a trip, you were confused 

“When?” 

“Now” 

You not having a suitcase packed or anything wasn’t an issue

Kazuomi had a bunch of stuff in the closet for you 

Of course, it wouldn’t be kazuomi if a little bet was involved

You really wanted to know where you were going

But he refused to say

SO the second the words “How about a bet?” fell from your lips,

Never one to stray from wagers, he stopped what he was doing, and smirking a bit, looked slightly over his shoulder, waiting for you to continue

“I get to ask you three - and only three - questions about where it is we’re headed. You have to answer truthfully, and I can’t outright ask you where it is we’re going. After I’ve asked the questions, I get one shot at guessing where we’re going. If I win, you have to watch a Tom Cruise movie with me and you’ve got to actually pay attention to the movie.”

“What if you lose?”

“Choose your prize.”

“Oho, I get to choose?”

“I’m going to regret this later, but yes, you can choose.”

“I want to see a picture of you when you were little - the most recent one you have on your phone.”

You grumbled, but agreed. 

Aaaand, of course, Lady Luck was on Kazuomi’s side again (although, when is she not?)

So you had to start digging through your phone looking for a picture. 

That bastard had the biggest smirk on his face

He teased you the whole flight, wondering what kind of picture he’d get to see

Finally, after what seemed like 50 hours (more like 12 hours, to be exact), the private plane landed

Well, you’d never guessed here, of all the other places Kazuomi could’ve taken you. 

You were in Mexico. 

Kazuomi’d taken you to the country his adoptive father would bring him to on vacations. 

Your heart felt a twinge of pain, but mostly, you melted at the fact that Kazuomi’d want to bring you somewhere so close to his past - to him. 

The rest of the day (since the time and flight did a number on the both of you) you’d headed to a hotel together, opting to get some rest before exploring

But Kazuomi woke you up 

It was dark out, and you were still a bit tired

But he had that boyish look in his eye 

And you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep then - not when he got excited like this 

Not that you’d ever tell him, but you thought this boyish side to him was adorable 

He got you out of bed, and asked you to follow him 

“Not like I could go back to sleep anyway” was your response

“I want to show you something”

He led you to the rooftop,

Mexico City’s lights glistening below the both of you

The rich smell (and sounds) of street vendors selling elotes and carne asada to passersby filled your senses

Curiously, you looked down and admired the world beneath your feet

“Lay down”

You turned around and found Kazuomi laying on his back, eyes looking to the celestial world above you rather than the glittering one below 

Following his lead, you let yourself down beside him, still wondering why Mexico of all places, and why bring you here -- and why did he wake you up

He wrapped one arm around you, and as if reading your mind, said

“I didn’t have a lot growing up. Everyday, before I met my adoptive father, I was on the streets - not knowing if I’d live to see the next day. But then one day, that changed. I was adopted, and lived out a grand life with him. I never again had to worry about living to the next day - which, before my time on the streets, was something I took for granted.”

“I’m lucky to have someone by my side - you. I get to bring you to these places - the ones where I visited on holidays. During a time when I was safe again - where it wasn’t me against the world or the elements.”

“I mean, yeah, it was bad - but there was some semblance of hope.” 

“In my mind, back then, the world I knew was cruel and dark. Hateful. Corrupt. Sinister. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless. The days were hard, but the nights were harder. Then again, the nights weren’t so bad. That’s because when I thought all the world was bleak, I’d lay down, get ready to sleep - but when I did, I always saw the stars. They’re always in clusters. Never alone. They shine, and give off so much light - they’re beautiful.”

“When I thought all the world was bleak, the stars proved me wrong. They’re proof that even when things get bad, when everything seems dark, there’s a glimmer of home somewhere out there. And I want to believe that because they’re always in clusters they’re never really alone - and we’re never really alone.”

“I wanted to bring you here because you’re that important to me. You’re worth my secrets - knowing my every mystery. So I wanted to show you this. The stars. The things that restore my wonder, awe, and hope when I thought there was nothing. They’re what made me want to build resorts for people, so they’d never feel that depth of loneliness that I’ve felt.”

He looks over at you, a sense of sadness hanging there, in his eyes, nearly snuffing out the boyish look you’d seen in him not five minutes before. 

“That’s enough of me, now, show me that picture of you.” He says, a smirk tugging at his lips, attempting to erase the melancholic grip around his heart. 

Thankful you brought your phone with you, you pulled it out, showing Kazuomi a picture of you when you were about five.

You’re wearing a dress, covered in mud, and crying. 

Kazuomi’s smirk dissolved into a laugh, trying not hard enough to hold back a laugh following his snort 

You explain that you were playing in the park when you’d slipped on a patch of mud, somehow scraping your knee in the process

He couldn’t hold back anymore

The image of a cherubic, muddy, crying version of the strong, capable woman before him made him forget where he was 

Although on any other day you’d hate the fact he was laughing at you, you were okay with it.

For a long time, Kazuomi’s smile was barely a ‘smile’

For so long he’d been in pain, and he’d been burying it. 

Now though - he had you.

He chose to bring you to a place close to his heart - after he’d been saved.

He opened up to you and told you a story about the stars up above that helped him get through it. 

And you made him laugh 

As you lay there, looking at him, laughing, you decided to engrave this moment in your mind. 

You promised yourself then; 

When things got hard for him again, you’d be there. Ready to help him through whatever may stand in his way. 

Yuzuru:

Blankets of white covered everything in sight

Christmas lights decorated the streets 

every woman envied you - you were beautiful, smart, had wit, but most of all;

You were the only one who captivated Yuzuru

The only one he made those eyes at - 

You were the only one who held his heart

And he made sure you knew that

Every winter, when the snow coated everything, he’d take you to a winter festival in the heart of Tokyo

Ice and snow sculptures alike littered the area, food stands selling warm food stood at attention beside the gaming booths. 

Children chase each other, their mothers following close behind badgering their children to wear the scarves and hats they’d left behind.

Seated beside Yuzuru on a bench, you watch two children playing together: a boy and a girl.

He’s running in circles away from her, and she roars as she chases him. 

Thinking the scene adorable, you chuckle a bit as you rest your head in the palm of your hand, your elbow digging into your thigh. 

Suddenly, a welcome warmth makes its presence known on your otherwise numb free hand. 

“They’re cute.”

“Yeah.” you say, enchanted by the children

“What do you think about becoming a mother?” 

Surprised at the sudden question, you face him, seeing he’s completely serious - then again, Yuzuru’s not one who’d say something like that in a joking manner.

“It’s something I’d want, but with my line of work, it’s dangerous - not only for me, but for the kid.” 

You say, turning back to look at the children innocently playing - not a care in the world. 

“That makes sense - but you are open to becoming a mother, aren’t you? It is something you want?”

“Yeah, I’m still open to it - what’s with all the questions, by the way?” 

“I thought it was an important discussion. Especially if we’re to get married one day.”

The way he nonchalantly said that almost made you think you’d merely imagined that last bit

“Afterall,” he continues

“You are the only woman I’d want to be the mother of my children.” 

A promise of the future, made to you. 

Did he know how flustered that made you? 

Probably. Probably not.

Did he know if he’d chosen to have this conversation at a party with all those shabby women gathered around him they’d be seething?

Absolutely not. 

He’s a bit oblivious that way.

And yes, the jealousy can get suffocating, but it makes you happy to think that Yuzu’s already thinking this far ahead - for the both of you.

The man who’s known solitude all of his life, fantasizes of a future with you - of a life with no more solitude. A life where you’re together (yes, maybe Victoria’ll be the third wheel - but she’s okay. Afterall, it still brings a smile to your face when you think back on her interrupting you two that night - when Yuzuru’s temperature steadily increased--). 

Kei:

You two had a small little date planned for the day 

What seemed to be a simple date at his place, drinking tea

Turned into one of the more peaceful days in both your lives. 

Before either of you knew it, he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder. 

Probably because he’d just returned from having to do some work at the embassy and prior to that - deal with something that’d come up back in London.

How long had it been since he’d properly slept?

Despite him being weary and tired, he’d kept his promise to go on a date with you when he returned. 

Kei’s heart’s been scarred and broken far too many times, so for this angel with tattered wings to sleep next to you

Made you smile 

He may not know how to properly express himself 

But for you? 

He’d do just about anything 

You looked at his sleeping face for just a bit longer, doing everything you could to spread this moment out longer. 

Just a bit more

Memorize his scent mixed with the smell of the tea 

Feel his soft warmth against your skin - a blanket of fortitude against the cold

Commit the sound of his breathing and the pulses of his heart to memory

Remember the way his eyelashes slightly quiver against his porcelain cheeks

Remember this moment, for the both of you 

Because honestly, you could be sent on a mission tomorrow, he could leave for London this afternoon, and you two’d never have this moment of isolated serenity again. 

Well, for a while, anyway.

Wanting to protect the resting devious angel at your shoulder, you couldn’t help but slide into a comforting rest yourself.

And there you two remain, the perfect picture of devotion and protection. Serenity and grace. How long would this illusion last? This fragile moment frozen in glass and tainted by the amber hues of the setting sun? 

Probably not long, but for what it was worth, it was worth all the while.

Boss:

A rare day off for the both of you.

It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing that’d only happen well -- only once.

He’d taken you to the observatory

Just a day of walking around, looking at different constellations and sitting in that one dark room looking up at the ceiling where millions upon millions of tiny little stars gleamed

You were breath taken by the sight, and never would’ve looked away 

Except

Boss caressed your cheek with his long fingers, all the warmth and gentle care in the world seeming to be at the tips, gliding across your cheek

You look over at him 

“I love the way you look at the stars”

Embarrassed, your cheeks turning a bright rosy pink, visible even under the artificial cover of night, you cover it up with a quick quip, turning your head to the side.

“Well that’s the way you look at soy sauce.” 

Nonetheless, he chuckles and holds your head close 

Chin resting atop your head and hand running down your back, he whispers - quiet enough you almost can’t hear him;

“Always so quick to get flustered ...But that’s okay. As long as I’m the only one capable of flustering you, just as you are me.”