#i also forgot to make my gloves so i have one unfinished glove

[insectichor]

Happy halloween fellow scarecrow enjoyers (my autism won when I was deciding on a costume)

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 22/41

Chapter  22: Unfinished Business

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, unprotected PIV (play safe ya'll)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter  22: Unfinished Business

When you wake up, Austin is not in bed with you. You wrap yourself in your robe and go looking for him. You find a note on the table.

“out walking, didn’t want to wake you, be back soon “

He wrote the time, he only left about 15 min ago.

You check the door and find it locked, you smile.

You make a cup of coffee and decide you might as well dig in. You plait your hair into a braid, put on a work shirt, pants and work boots.

Knowing you were going to demo today, you had already packed away the kitchen non-essentials. It takes less than an hour to clear everything out of the kitchen and push all the living room furniture up against the far wall. You cover it all in a plastic sheet and hang more sheeting over the hallway to the bedrooms to keep the dust down in there. You quickly cut the seams on the offensive wall and strip off the trim. You check twice to make sure the power to all the outlets is off.

Donning your gloves, impact glasses and dust mask, you pick up your 10 pound sledge hammer.

“Time to go to work,” you say to yourself. You take swing after swing, breaking starter holes in the drywall between studs. You actually love this part, working up a sweat and swinging your sledge. The section of the wall is only about 10 feet long. When you get to the end, you lean on the sledge, breathing heavily.

“Damn, that is sexy as hell,” you hear from behind you.

Austin is standing by the front door, holding two coffees and a bakery bag. He is staring at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Oh hey! There you are!” your voice muffled behind your mask.

“I brought you breakfast, I didn’t know we were starting right away,” he says apologetically.

“No worries, I just was eager,” your stomach growls, ”and I totally forgot about breakfast!”

You go out on the balcony to get away from the dust. He brought breakfast wraps and pastries.

“I uh, also thought about how your kitchen will be out of commission for a while and um… thought that maybe you’d like to use mine in the meantime,” he pushes a key across the little bistro table, ”I went and had it made, that’s why I was gone so long.” It has a unicorn printed on it.

“Thank you babe,” you grab the key and hold it to your chest, grinning from ear to ear, “I was gonna just eat cold sandwiches for the next three weeks. This is awesome!” You stand up and throw your arms around him, almost spilling the table over.

“You are so welcome, that’s an open invitation to come over anytime,“ he says with a smile.

When you finish eating, you hand him safety goggles, gloves and a dust mask.

“I hope those are not your favorite clothes, cuz they are gonna get messy,” you nod to his comfy jeans and t-shirt.

“Yeah, these are fine, now what do we do?” he says, muffled behind his mask.

Despite him having zero construction knowledge, you guys get the wall down in less than an hour. He follows directions and listens well. He was excited when he got to use the reciprocating saw. Power tools are sexy.

You keep catching him looking at your ass when you bend over to lift debris into the construction chute you installed off the balcony and into a dumpster below. You keep watching him too, the way his back muscles moved as he swung the sledge was delicious. You are a task master, however, and only allowed 45 minutes for lunch with no fuck breaks, no matter how hot he looks.

By late afternoon, you had all the cabinets out and the carpet and outdated linoleum floor up and out.

You are doing the final sweep with the push broom. You bend over to sweep up the pile and you feel hands on your hips.

“Damn, you are fine Kitten.” he says, running his hands on your round ass. ”I’ve been sneaking peeks at this ass all day”

“Why Mr. Butler, are you trying to seduce me in the middle of work?” you say, faking shock.

“I am, is it working?” he slides his hand over the fabric of your crotch, making you clench and suck in a breath through your teeth.

“It is,” you walk over and tip the dustpan into the chute, “and we are officially done working.” You take your dust mask off, “but I for one, need a shower first,” rubbing the lines from the mask that you know are in your face.

He takes his mask off too, he has identical lines in his face. “I believe we have some unfinished business in the shower.” He says, pulling you close, kissing you.

As his lips press to yours, your hands run over his biceps, reminding you of how they flexed when he was working today. Even though you are tired from the day's labor, you still want him.

“Let’s use my shower, I think it’s bigger. I’ll go get ready, you meet me over there,” he says, kissing your forehead then walking out the door.

You finish up and grab comfy shorts and a t- shirt before heading next door. A neighbor is walking towards you down the hall and watches you walk to Austin's. You wave, they give you a questioning look as you put the key in door.

"Hi, I thoguht you lived in that apartment," they ask.

"Oh yeah, I do, but Austin here is letting me use his shower and kitchen while I'm remodeling mine." You turn the key, yay it worked!

"Oh, yeah I just saw him go in there, was he helping you work too?" they say.

"Um, yeah," you open the door and hear the shower running.

You neighbor looks down at the floor inside the door, and then up at you with a knowing grin.

You look down, Austin's work clothes are piled by the door. You look back at them with a raised eyebrow and a shrug

"Have a good day," you wave at them.

They wave back, "Have fun," they murmur. You close the door with a huge grin on your face.

You strip your clothing off at the front door like he did, not wanting to track construction dust into his apartment.

As you approach the bathroom you hear Austin singing Blue Suede Shoes. When you walk in he stops singing, but you can see him washing his hair in the shower. Even blurred by steam, Austin is one sexy man.

“Come on in,” he opens the door, you step into the large tiled shower. He offers you a can, “Shower beer after a hard days work? Well, it’s cider actually, it was the only thing I had in a can. I figured glass in the shower could be dangerous.”

“Yes please!” you pop the top, clink cans and both take a big swig. It tastes like apples and pears. You look at the can, it’s Kopparberg Pear cider. Yum.

“Here, I already washed,” Austin says as he moves aside and lets you into the stream of water. You down about half the can as the hot water cascades over your body.

Austin’s hands are on your back, thumbs massaging up your spine to your neck. You put your forehead on the cool tile and relax into the feel of his fingers and the water. Once at your neck, he starts taking out your braid. He tilts the shower head away from you to wash your hair, fingertips pressing into your scalp. God it feels good. He rinses and spreads conditioner on your hair.

You smile, thinking of the last time you used conditioner on him. Fuck that was sexy. You take another big drink.

As the conditioner sits, he scrubs the back of your body with a sudsy loofa, even picking up your feet and getting between your toes. You try not to squirm and giggle.

The combination of hot water, empty stomach and 7% alcohol makes you feel tipsy, but in a lovely relaxed way.

Austin rinses the conditioner out of your hair and replaces the showerhead, again pointing away from you. He grabs your hips and pulls you backwards to him. You feel the hardness of his cock against your ass. You set the half empty drink on the ledge next to his almost full one.

You lift both arms and wrap them around his neck, languishing in the feel of his wet naked skin on your back. You feel like some kind of Botticelli painting.

He washes your armpits and down your sides, sudsing up your belly. Soap runs in rivulets down your legs. He drags the loofa across your nipples, making you inhale.

He squeezes soap from the loofa over your front before dropping it to the floor. He starts massaging your breasts in the soap, tweaking your nipples. You can feel the excitement rush from your nipples, dart across your belly and settle behind your pubis.

He slides one hand through the soap on your belly and down to your vulva. The other he slips behind you and down your crack. You step your legs apart a little. His soapy fingers stimulate your asshole as he rubs the surface. Your breath escapes your mouth with an ‘oh’ and you arch back into him, your fingers sketching circles into the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel his cock bounce against you.

Careful not to let any soap get inside you, he rubs his hands up and down on the surface of your crotch, his long fingers meeting in the middle. Your hips move of their own accord, rocking back and forth in his hands. Little sounds of pleasure emanate from your throat.

He grabs the shower head off the holder and rinses away the soap, getting your back side too. He taps your leg with his foot. You step wide, he directs the flow to rinse you off. The hot water streams against you, making you gasp and sigh out an ‘ohh’.

Your fingers curl into a fist, catching his hair. Your other hand slaps down to the side of his thigh, grasping and pulling him tighter into you.

“Mmm, I like hearing your sounds Kitten,” he says low in your ear. Just the sound of him makes you clench, your insides start to saturate.

All soap rinsed away, he puts the shower head back, pointing it to the side. He runs his hands along your wet vulva, pushing his finger between your folds. The other hand on your breast, cupping your nipple in his palm.

He pushes his finger into your wetness making you growl hungrily.

“So wet already,” he murmurs. He trails the wetness up to your clit, tracing circles around it with the pads of his fingers.

Purrs vibrate from your mouth. Your hips start shaking a little and you press your ass back into his cock.

He keeps on teasing your nub as your wordless noises crescendo into verbiage.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out.

“That’s the plan,” he rumbles behind you.

You lean forward, one hand on the tiled wall in front of you. Reaching through your legs you grasp his cock. Rising up on your tip-toes, you rub his tip against the wetness of your pussy. He angles his hips and pushes, sliding into you.

“Awwww yes” he moans behind you at the same time you rasp out a guttural ‘ungh’.

Grabbing your hips, he moves you back and forth on his shaft.

You love the way he fills you, you are vocalizing long drawn out shaky ‘uhh’s’ each time he pushes into you.

You reach up with one hand and grab the shower wand. The water isn’t quite as hot now. You had better make this fast before the hot water runs out entirely.

You click it to the massage setting and push it onto your vulva, aiming the pulsating stream to your clit.

Your legs start shaking, Oh gods, it feels spectacular. Your hips move faster. He pushes you forward so he has room and starts slamming into you, his fingers digging into your hips. He knows how much you like it when he fucks you hard.

You know he likes it too.

Without much warning, your orgasm spikes through you, internal muscles clenching down hard around him. Your scream starts as an ‘oh’ in your mouth, transcends to a high wail in your nose and ends back down in a throaty shuddering ‘uhhh’ as you tremble on his cock. The water starts to go lukewarm.

“Hah, hah, hah, hah,” Austin keeps up his pace, hammering each explosive sound into your wet and clenching pussy. You drop the wand, bracing yourself with both hands.

He freezes deep in you, inhales then snarls with short jerky thrusts as he spasms into you.

You are both breathless as you pull off him, cum running down your leg. You turn around and lay against him. “Thank you Kitten,” he puffs out, holding your wet body close.

“Uh huh, my pleasure, ” you tilt your head up with a languid smile.

He shakes his head, a little laugh puffing out his nose ,“You sound like you work for CHick-fil-A.”

The idea of conservative Chick-fil-a and fucking in the shower strikes you as so funny right now. The endorphins overtake you and you start giggling uncontrollably, hanging off him shaking.

“Is it that funny?” he says smiling and holding on to you.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Now I will never be able to go there and not think of fucking you in the shower everytime they say ‘my pleasure’.” You manage to explain between giggles.

“You are so weird… I love it,” he says laughing only because you are laughing.

“Oh hunny, I’m glad you do, cuz I can only be me,” you smile up at him.

“I just have one question,” he says, kissing your nose, “can it be nap time now?”

You rinse the cum off with the now cold water, shrieking just a little. After drying off you go flop down on his bed. Austin climbs in next to you and puts his arm around you. You curl up on his chest. You both take big contented breaths.

“Sorry about my wet hair,” you mumble.

He is already snoring softly.

[ruksahiroku]

So.. here is an unfinished fic for female MC x Barbatos. Yes, I did borrow a scene from the Mammon 2022 birthday event Yes I know, I delay. My bad, it will totally happen again...

Minors, go away. Don't Interact. DNI. MATURE CONTENT.

Warnings/info: electrostim, masochist MC, Dom Barbatos, hair pulling, light bondage, You/your, MC called slut/whore, blowjob(mc receiving), pain, choking(on cock), tailfucking(barely), electroshock, degredation/humiliation (due to embarrassment, talking with "food" in mouth)

Let me know if I missed anything. I proofread it, then I forgot if I changed errors. Oops.

I guess I could have stuck tags for Levi, Beel, and Mammon, but... they aren't really relevant.

Also, spoilers for the mammon birthday 2022 event, sort of.

Let me know what you think. I'll stick a note at the end too.

"Wh-what the?! It's a trap!" Levi cried as Beel opened the box in front of them.

"I can't move. I'm stuck in the net." Beel remarked as the two of them hung from a tree in the Mythical Beast exhibit.

"How could you fall for that? It was obviously a trap!" Mammon cried, but looked just as shocked as Levi did.

"Maybe it's the treasure disguised as a trap?" You shrug, taking note of the box, stepping closer.

"No way... Nobody's smart enough to pull a stunt like that except... Lucifer.. What do you think? There could be another trap waiting for us.." Mammon took a step closer, looking over your shoulder.

"Um, HELLO?! Mind helping us down from here?!" Levi yelled, struggling in the net, tangling himself further.

"Give us a minute! We're thinkin'!" Mammon grumbled to his brother.

"I wouldn't take too long if I were you.. Do forgive me MC." In an instant, you were ten feet away from Mammon, in Barbatos' strong grasp. One hand held your wrists behind your back, his opposite arm snaking across your shoulders to hold you still against his chest.

"You bastard! What do you plan on doin' with MC?!" Mammon shouted in alarm, turning to face you and your captor.

"If you wish for me to return MC to you, then you'll hand over that box at once." You could hear the dangerous intent in his voice, hidden just beneath his perfect polite tone. You'd be lying if it didn't turn you on.

"So you're after the box after all!" Mammon called, picking up the box.

"What will you choose? MC, or the box?" Barbatos took a step back with you, a slow, measured thing, so as to keep your balance. He moved his hand from your shoulder to your throat, giving a gentle squeeze to elicit a squeak from you. You alone could hear his soft chuckle.

"Tsk..!" Mammon stared between you and the box which may or may not have treasure inside. You almost rolled your eyes at him. Wasn't he the one who said he'd be the one to save you, and if he wasn't how you'd better die waiting?

"Mammon!" You called, causing Barbatos to reflexively pull you against him tighter. "Get that treasure! But you better sa--!" You were cut off by the gloved hand squeezing you tighter. It didn't cut your breathing off completely, but it was enough to make you freeze.

"I apologize MC. Mammon, it seems your choice has been made. I do hope you can find us." He chuckled, and in an instant, your surroundings changed. You were in a clearing, dense forest all around, the moon shining brightly, casting long, deep shadows. Not used to teleporting, your knees buckled. Ever at the ready, Barbatos caught you, releasing his earlier grip, and sweeping you up into his arms.

"I've prepared some tea and sweets for you, in case this was the outcome chosen. Although, I must say.. I believed Mammon would be the one to choose the treasure over you, not you yourself." He spoke softly, politely as ever as he walked to a nearby blanket and set you down.

"Thank you, Barbatos. Although.. I think you know why I chose to let Mammon have the box." Your tone was coquettish, as you pointedly stared at the tea being poured into your cup.

"I'm afraid I do not, MC. Please, explain it to me." He smiled, pulling back the teapot and pouring some for himself. He waited patiently, silently offering you a delicate selection of sweets.

"It's embarrassing every time you make me say it, Barbatos.." You mumbled, picking up a macaron and setting it on the side of your saucer.

"Hmm.. Say what, my dearest MC?" He was teasing you, his voice not wandering from his polite professionalism.

"I.. want you to take me." You blushed, staring at your hands. No matter how many times he teased you the same way, you could never meet his eyes. You weren't ashamed or embarrassed of asking this glorious demonic man to bed. The way he feigned ignorance was what drove you crazy, sent butterflies to the pit of your stomach like a grade-school crush.

"Oh? Take you where?" He chuckled now, staring at you, his eyes glittering dark gems in the moonlight.

"Stop teasing me, Barbatos.." You dared meet his eyes for a second, and he lunged at you, animalistic and graceful. Your moonlight picnic was undisturbed as he reached you and again your surroundings morphed. At the edge of the clearing, you were on your back, Barbatos on top of you, pinning your arms to your sides with his thighs as he straddled your waist. He removed his gloves with his teeth, folding them neatly and placing them on the grass, his form shifting, horns and tail appearing as he leaned down for a gentle kiss.

"Are you sure this is what you want? We both know I can get carried away." He breathes into the crook of your neck, gently nipping at your ear lobe and neck waiting for your reply.

"My safeword is Lilith. Barbatos... Please, ruin me. I need you."

"As you wish." He bit down and sucked on your neck, marking you. One hand moved to your hair, pulling your head to give better access to your neck, the other shredding your shirt with his claws.

Gasping at the cold air, you tried to struggle, only for a jolt of electricity to crackle on your chest.

"Ah!" You immediately still, eyes locking with the demon above you as he straightens up.

"You are mine. And I will ruin you as I see fit. Problem?" He leans down for a kiss, hovering just out of reach, waiting.

"No."

And he kisses you deeply, mixing his tongue with yours as he removes his belt, easily moving your hands over your head and tying them together with it. You're both breathing heavily when the kiss is broken, and he moves off you to remove your bottoms. His tail comes to your lips and as it explores where his tongue has already claimed, you feel a gentle buzzing from it. Unlike a vibrator, it leaves you tingling and numb almost the same way an asleep limb does.

"Aren't you good with your mouth.." Barbatos muttered close to your ear, removing his tail and sitting on your chest. "Don't let me stop you. Continue." His voice was commanding as he looked down at you, his cock barely hovering over your lips.

Eagerly, you leaned forward, tongue out to capture him in your mouth. You sucked on the tip, trying to get more of him in your mouth, but failing. A jolt on your thigh, you gasped out.

"You can do better than that, can't you?" Barbatos cocked his head slightly, his tail running up and down your thigh.

"Ah, please..  I can't reach, let me si- Aah!" Electricity shot through your body as Barbatos' tails shocked you, moving up your inner thigh towards your core.

"Tsk." Barbatos got off you, a distasteful look on his face, but before you could move, he pulled you up to your feet by the hair and toward a tree. Not caring about your whimpers, he shoved your back against the tree and you fell forward to his feet on your stomach.

"Aahh... Barbatos... Please.." You whimpered, struggling to your knees.

"No please, slut. Just take it like I tell you." He pulled you up by the belt restraint, hanging you off a low branch, and shoving his cock in your face. "Open."

You did. His tail stroked your body gently, occasionally sending jolts of electricity through your body, causing you to moan pitifully as you drooled down your front.

"Mmm... who's my good whore..? Fuck.. beg me to shock you while you choke on my cock.." Barbatos' eyes were dark and hungry, never leaving your face, which burned from embarrassment and lust. Slowly you tried to figure out how to form words.

"Pleeeze.. sssck me..." You stopped, embarrassed you couldn't form sentences and tried to back off so your mouth was free. Barbatos wasn't having it, leaning further into you until you were trapped between his cock and the tree.

"I wan' choke... on your cock..." You managed out, garbled and embarrassed. Even though your cheeks burned, you spread your legs wider, waiting for Barbatos' tail to shock you. You needed this man. More than just giving him the control he desperately needs. Your body yearned to please him, to be as one. Your moans were muffled as he pushed his cock as far as it would go down your throat, blocking your breathing, and you could hear a low grunt from him. His tail sent jolts up your thigh, across your labia, and down the other thigh.

You couldn't help it. Running out of air, you wiggled your body as much as you could, trying to make any noise you could.

"Hmm... Does my good slut want to breathe..?" You could see those deep emeralds glint as you nodded your head silently. Slowly, painfully so, he pulled back, allowing you to cough, gag, and gulp down fresh air.

He took a few steps back so he could fully look at you in the moonlight.

"So beautiful.."

Which of you said it wasn't clear, but the gap was closed before more words could be said.

Your body was being covered, head to toe, in love bites and darkened electrical marks where Barbatos' lips and tails passed. You screamed when he zapped your foot, only for you to be muffled by tongue and teeth. Next was you hand, and Barbatos pulled back, you both gasping for air. You were too slow to catch the appendage in your hands, and it slowly trailed down your arm, leaving it numb, as you breath caught and hitched. Catching a sensitive spot on your bicep, you screamed again, only to be silenced by the other tail being shoved down your throat. It tingled, but even as the other tail shocked you in other places, it never ramped up.

His lips went to your ear, kissing and licking, leaving a different tingling trail to your neck. Where he sucked and bit gently. Further down to the collarbone where he sucked harder, following the bones. He didn't stop until you had a bruise necklace, easily hidden by a shirt.

He grunted as he pulled his tail from your mouth, kissing you gently before standing and pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

"My beautiful whore.. Suck. Don't make me punish you now.." His voice was a handsome growl you couldn't resist.

You meant to respond, but as you licked your lips, tasting him, you lost yourself. Taking him as far as you could, you hummed happily.

"Perfect.." Barbatos reached out to release your hands, undoing the belt easily as he set a slow pace for you. One hand went to your hair, while his other braced against the tree.

"Mmphh!" You shrieked around him as his tails shocked both nipples at the same time.

"Do you want more, slut?" He chuckled, his tails brushing gently against your nipples again, making you flinch.

You were silent for a moment, doing your best to look up at him.

"Yeshh peeze" you garbled out, your face burning hot as your eyes lock.

You cry past his cock again as he starts on your nipples, spiraling outwards until your breasts are tingling from the aftershocks, and you're sure there isn't a single spot he missed. His tails twist together as one as they travel down past your navel and around your crotch.

He pulls back and, hearing your whimper, his tails thrust into your sopping hole. The tingling is there, as soft as it was in your mouth and his tails stay buried deep in you, even as you buck your hips, he doesn't move.

"Tell me what you want.." Barbatos pulls himself out of your mouth and bends down to look you in the eye, grabbing your chin to prevent your escape.

A/N ...So, I know I'm a total dick leaving it like this, however I have two different endings in my mind.

One - Mammon comes in, shit goes down, threesome?

Two - Barbatos only, MC gets a happy ending, complete with aftercare, because that's important friends!

Let me know what you want. Or if you don't I'll finish it how I want. (Take that! Lol) okay. Thanks for reading.

[iwasntsupposedtogetinvestedhelp]

Okay so I posted this a little later than I expected BUT here he is! My boy! Extra info under the cut :)

OC template by @unfinished-projects-galore!

....and also @horribletimemanagementskills who was waiting for me to post this LMAO

His Unique Magic used to transform him into a monster running on pure instincts, and leaving him almost dead on his feet from the massive drain on his magic. Nowadays, he has no problem controlling the transformation itself and can at least function better once he transforms back into a human.

His magical abilities are quite powerful, though that’s in part due to all of the training he received as a child. Not that it means much now, as his magic reserves haven’t had a decent chance to recover lately.

He used to be able to recover his magic no problem, and while the constant overuse did originally help him learn to conserve magic, his body gradually forgot how to recover magic organically without the help of potions and the like. He’s been trying to relearn how to do so during his time in Twisted Wonderland, though it’s a slow process - think of it as physical therapy.

The scars on his neck go across the back of his neck, though they’re barely visible from the front. If he were to leave his hair down, you wouldn’t see them at all.

The reason his hair is so long is simply because he never really thinks to cut it. It’s a bit of a way for him to mark time, honestly.

He doesn’t sleep well. Period. He does try, granted, but constant nightmares will indeed wear away at both your ability and willingness to sleep. In case you’re wondering...why yes, his nightmares do indeed have to do with his past :)

He wears gloves to at least cover up the scars on his hands. While he doesn’t mind the one on his face (he thinks it makes him look cool) and the one on his neck isn’t easily visible most of the time, he can’t stand looking at the ones on his hands.

[afterthegreatunknown]

Cuts, Conversations, and Challenge

AO3 Author Note: This has its origins in a tumblr post stating my headcanon of which character was involve in the building of the Queequeg, which just happened to have Widdershins, Kit, Olivia, and Hector as four of the main builders. I planned on writing a fic featuring the four, and it went through changes. It was more of a proper fic with sections at the start, than small ficlets all tied together as it is now. I do like this style though. Had me really thinking how I wanted them interacting with one another. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing it!

Tumblr Addtional Notes: Book-verse, dialogue heavy, conversation heavy, and a minor injury happens but not shown onscreen.

With the buzzer ringing out as loud as it could, everyone knew what do: stop what they’re doing, and end another day of building the still unfinished Queequeg.

Olivia and Kit start packing up the tools, while Hector and Widdershins move flat sheets of scrap metal back to the nooks where they belong. With everyone cleaning up, all doing their own thing, they all also fail to realize something is wibbling-wobbling on a high metal beam.

It's a small egg-shaped item. It’s made of glass, and it’s rather brightly multi-colored.

No one notices the egg until it’s almost too late.

---

“No! No, no, no, no, no! I forgot Gregor’s glass egg!” Hector clutches locks of his hair as he agonizingly looks upward at the beam. “What if it falls? What if!”

Widdershins also looks upward at the beam, and curls a lock of his hair upward. “Just because it looks like it’s about to fall, it doesn’t mean that it will!”

Like a jinx, the delicate looking, wibbling-wobbling egg falls down. The sight of the egg free-falling has Hector panicking. Hector fears what Gregor will do if it breaks.

“I’m doom!”

“Not if I catch it!”

And Widdershins catches the egg with his left hand. Hector calm down enough to give out a sigh of relief, but faints seconds later looking at Widdershins’ right hand.

---

“The more I think over Miranda moving back to the city,” says Olivia, as she takes off her heavy-duty welding gloves, “I suspect it’s her trying to get away from her ‘Madame Lulu’ training.”

Kit unties her hair from its high ponytail, and hums for a bit. “Knowing she’s a bit of a social butterfly, she must be trying to live to the fullest before taking over Caligari Carnival.”

“You make it seems she’ll be isolated from the outside world,” replies Olivia, throwing her gloves on top of the tool cabinet. “Not that that sounds reasonable. Being away from it all.”

“Sounds like you want to take her place.”

“Maybe. The city is a bit much for me at times, and—what happened over there?”

---

“Thank goodness Ike and Josephine were also in the E.R.,” says Kit, as she and Widdershins left Pincus Hospital in her car. “It saved us time going to Gregor’s place to talk to them.”

While keeping her eyes on the road, Kit briefly stares at Widdershins’ right hand, now dress in medical bandages. That hand has Kit feeling slightly infuriated.

“They were also our last hopes,” continues Kit. “We’re officially down to six helping hands.”

“We’ll be short another person anyway by the end of the week,” answers Widdershins.

Kit sighs and shakes her head in disappointment. “I know a store that sells glass figurines. And they sell an identical egg for five hundred dollars. Whatever Gregor said, he lied.”

---

“Stop acting so down in the dumps,” says Olivia, setting down her Vogue magazine onto the table. “You’re behaving no better than the time you dropped one of Miranda’s crystal balls.

“It’s hard not to, Liv,” replies Widdershins glumly, leaning back against the sofa. “For one, both are different situations. Miranda keeping crystal balls in bulk is one thing, but Gregor told Hector the egg was one of a kind.”

“True, but why keep on obsessing over it?” Olivia crosses her arms. “The egg won’t bear any meaning to you, me, or anyone in the future. My advice, Widdershins, is to move forward.”

“That may be difficult, considering my right hand is also in bandages.”

---

“That son of a—GAHHHH!”

Hector doesn’t finish his cursing. He only mimics the motions of strangling someone. “I’m going to get Gregor’s neck when he comes back from Canada big time!”

“Why did you agreed to egg-sit anyway?” asks Kit. “You bringing it along wasn’t a smart choice. I daresay Gregor’s apartment is safer for the egg than the shipyard.”

“You never saw Ike in a china shop before?”

Kit doesn’t answer that. “Hector, understand that Widdershins’ injury was his own doing. He only followed through with his philosophy. What happened to his hand isn’t your fault at all.”

“Maybe so,” replies Hector, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do something about it anyway.”

---

“Oh! Cleansing masks.” Olivia picks up a few packets from the shelf. “This is the same brand Miranda like to use. You think I should buy a few for her?”

“She does like getting surprise gifts,” replies Hector, carrying the basket in his arm.

“Hm…I’ll make it her ‘welcome back to the city’ present!” Olivia smiles as she puts the packets into her basket. She then turns around to Hector, and stares worrying at the items in his basket.

“Are you sure you want to go this route?” asks Olivia. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t do it, or that you can’t do it. It’s just that are you able to?”

“I’m able too if I find the right moment.”

---

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” says Kit, throwing her coffee cup into the nearby trashcan, “What Hector is planning will backfire tremendously.”

Olivia keeps quiet, and then takes a loud sip of her mango and mixed berries smoothie. “On the contrary, I say his plan will succeed. In fact, I say it has already succeed.”

“That’s a bold statement from you. Do you happen to see this with your ‘precognition’ powers?”

Olivia points ahead of them. “No. But it is in our field of vision when looking by the corner.”

Kit quickly turns her head to where Olivia is pointing at.

---

“It occurred to me with your bandaged hand, you won’t be able to wash your hair properly. It’ll get greasy fast,” says Hector, as he continues walking forward towards Widdershins.

Widdershins gives out a nervous laugh as he continues walking backward. “I’ll wear a glove!”

Hector wags a finger and ‘tsk’ as he takes another step closer. Widdershins soon feels his back hitting the wall. Oh, there’s no escape now.

A smile soon forms onto Hector’s lips. He then leans in close, being two inches away from Widdershins’ face. “You could. Or, you’ll do my much better solution.”

Widdershins soon stops laughing. It sounds ominous.

---

Olivia and Kit couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before them: Widdershins getting his hair wash by Hector. As they continue laughing, Hector whistles cheerfully, for Widdershins’ bewildered freak out expression melts away into semi-enjoyment.

“I told you this wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it would be,” says Hector. “I think the next time I suggest something, you ought to give it a chance.”

“To think I get to see you enjoy getting a hair spa wash!” exclaims Olivia giddily. “I wished I bought more cleansing masks while shopping. They would make this picture perfect!”

“While I don’t necessary treat myself to such things,” says Kit, “I can’t help but agree with Olivia. This is a sight to see. You rarely allow people to touch your hair. And in such a matter at that.”

“I don’t like people touching my hair without permission,” answers Widdershins. “That’s all.”

[spicycreativity]

Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)

I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨

Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)

EDEN

It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."

"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."

"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"

"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"

"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.

"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"

"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.

"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."

"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.

"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."

The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"

"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.

"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"

The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."

"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.

"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."

The angel went silent, considering this.

The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.

Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

God (God)

Logan (Patton's overseer)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)

Remus (Janus' overseer)

Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")

Roman (a lover)

Virgil (an Antichrist)

Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)

21 YEARS AGO

In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.

Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.

Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.

When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.

This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.

He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."

He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your

Grace?"

Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"

The worm said, "You should punish him!"

"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.

The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).

It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.

Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.

The irony snuck up on him sometimes.

Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.

He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.

What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.

Remus watched the police lights disappear  with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"

Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's

sarcastic inflection)!

Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"

Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"

The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.

"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."

"So they say," Remus said.

"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"

"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."

"So you did?"

"Of course not."

Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"

"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."

Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.

"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."

"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.

The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.

"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"

BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.

Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.

"Yes, my lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

"Yes, my lord."

AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.

"I understand."

GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"

Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.

It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.

In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.

The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to

modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith. 

Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.

Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.

Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"

"Why?" Logan interrupted 

"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."

"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."

"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.

"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."

"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"

"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."

"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."

"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."

"Y-yes?"

"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."

Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.

"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."

Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.

Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.

At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.

"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."

Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.

"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"

"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'

Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of

his lips.

Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.

"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"

After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist. 

There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.

And Hell had had nothing to do with it.

same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.

silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."

his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"

Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."

Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').

wanna do that."

"Roman!"

people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.

[ahkaahshi]

lil things that bring them joy + lil things that annoy the crap outta them [hcs]

characters: sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurou, iwaizumi hajime

genre: fluff

warning(s): one suggestive comment. what would my work be without one?

notes: I promise I do work for other characters aside from sakusa on this blog but I can’t contain my desire to write him and I'm not sorry. so here he is. again!

lil things that bring him joy

crawling into a freshly made bed. just loves how crisp the sheets feel n the smell of fresh linens. makes him feel very safe.

getting all his laundry done + his clothes folded. loves putting everything in its designated place all neat and tidy.

coming home to a clean house. if you clean just for him before he comes home from traveling for a game, he’s another step closer to getting on his knee. (it’s only fair considering how many times you’ve probs gotten on yours for him... just sayin)

symmetry and congruence. loves when things line up, whether it’s furniture in the house fitting perfectly in corners/the center of the walls or slices of cake being evenly shaped and cut with precision

having the exact change needed. or, better: when the total comes out to a whole number.

not having the seat next to him on the bus/train/bench taken. if anyone sits next to him when there’s open seats elsewhere, he’s movin 🏃🏻‍♂️  

finding a brand new bottle of hand sanitizer that he forgot he had (#just omi things)

lil things that annoy the crap outta him

the sound of someone chewing with their mouth open! it’s taking all his strength not to stab them with his chopsticks!!

realizing that his water bottle’s empty n there’s no place nearby to refill it. where’s his brita when he needs it??

random messes in the house. clutter is okay, but having stuff just lying around, totally out of place drives him a lil nuts. don’t let the dishes pile up in the sink or else he’s coming for you with the dish gloves and soap!!

people who stand too close to him in line! will glare at them until they step off!

when his clothing gets wet/stained. he’s in the laundry room with that arm and hammer cranking out whatever spilled on him asap

when the clocks in the house aren’t set to the same time. is the type of person who says “it’s 11:28″ instead of rounding up to 11:30.

unfinished conversations. don't leave him on read in the middle of one over text, even if you’re mad; it’ll drive him nuts. if you’re busy, tell him that beforehand and say you will continue the convo when you’re free to give him peace of mind!

lil things that bring him joy

seeing animal couples hangin out together/bein cute/playing. reminds him that love isn’t dead n makes him think of you.

weighted blankets. makes him feel like he’s bein hugged. will only sleep under a weighted blanket when you’re away 🥺

the smell of freshly baked cookies. makes him feel nostalgic.

when the train arrives right when he gets to the platform

when the last line of his problem/formula ends right on the last line of the page. he hates having empty lines at the bottom of a page bc he feels guilty for not using them but he also doesn’t wanna flip back n forth to check his work!!

seeing his friends succeed at something, no matter how small! a supportive king!

listening to you talk about something that makes you so happy that he can see your eyes practically sparkling

lil things that annoy the crap outta him

getting tailgated on the freeway! if the dude driving behind him is so close kuroo can practically see the pimple on his chin in his rearview mirror, he’s getting heated. esp if he’s not even in the fast lane.

when rain wasn’t forecasted and it rains. and he didn’t bring an umbrella. and he steps in a puddle.

getting aggressively barked at by dogs (inuoka?) when he walks down the sidewalk, past people’s houses. he didn’t do anything! leave him alone!

shoes that are just that little bit too small and slightly crush his tootsies but are also too big on him when he tries going up a size

when people bump into him and don’t apologize/acknowledge that it happened. own up to it!

pilling on the inside of his favorite sweaters (pilling is when fibers become separated thru washing and bunch up at the surface, causing those uncomfortable, unsightly, little "pills” on fabric)

getting a pebble/piece of gravel stuck in the bottom of his sneakers that he literally has to pry out bc it doesn’t come out on its own when he does a lil stomp 😤

lil things that bring him joy

lil love notes/texts from you. he loves seeing your handwriting/face at the top of his messages :)

catching a sunset at its most vibrant moment. it’s a simple thing, but it reminds him to slow down and take a breath.

when someone else’s dog strains against its leash bc it wants to visit him for a pet. he will pet!

finding what he needs in his backpack without having to do any digging around. loves being organized!

getting in that really good stretch after a long day of work/class/training. buy a matching foam roller and roll out with him!

bumping into an old friend/teammate/classmate out of the blue.

seeing that his actions, in some way, have positively affected another person, no matter who they are. ex: seeing a mom struggling to handle her kid/s and her groceries breathe out a sigh of relief when he offers to help carry her stuff to her car. brb on my way to buy a ring

lil things that annoy the crap outta him

when the walk sign turns red before he’s even halfway across the street. the pressure he feels to run the rest of the way is intense.

buying a new brand of product to save money and finding out it’s not as good as what he usually gets.

waking up in the morning to find his phone didn’t charge at all. that’s when he knows the day is gonna suck.

not being able to find something that he remembers telling himself to move bc he knew he would forget where it was

burning his mouth on a hot drink and having that scratchy sensation on his tongue for the rest of the day

being called iwa-chan by literally anyone other than oikawa. barely tolerates it from him anyway. is fuming (internally) if oikawa’s fangirls refer to him by that name.

having to make a struggle meal bc he forgot to get groceries n he’s too burnt out to go to the store, or it’s closed

[hermannsthumb]

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is 

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

--

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

--

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

[turtle-ika]

Got tagged in a “WIP game”

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)  I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? Dnd campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!

Good thing i got tagged now and not a few years back when i, somehow, did not have any WIPs and just finished everything i started (can you imagine??). But now it seems i have more WIPs than finished artworks :’’)

This game is not fandom specific so it’s gonna be a wild ride for anyone that asks about them (it was also a pretty wild ride for me since i haven’t seen some for quite some time and forgot about them ha) also now that i think about it, it’s pretty convenient (and strange tbh) that all my file names are in english x’D

art 1. agents 2. beach holiday 3. confession 4. des_tumberstone 5. destiel_soft2 6. fix_comic 7. making-it-up2 8. mixtape 9. SKETCH_7-2 10. sleep-cats 11. spinosaur_prob 12. trap 13. six_fanarts_challange2 14. artistHQ 15. bokuakaWeek2nd_flowers 16. bokuakaWeek_READY_color 17. bokuakaWeek_2nd_process 18. HAIKYUU_ace 19. HAIKYUU_high 20. HAIYKUU_hands 21. hogwarts 22. my-friend_kagehina_animatic 23. onepiece_beach 24. punch_him 25. davidpatcolor 26. fathers_day 27. shredder_fight 28. dumb 29. don_fixing_proba 30. leo_swords2_anim 31. mrs-morrison 32. raph-pets 33. raph-ron 34. studies_leo-swords 35. tmnt-designs 36. tmnt-designs_heights 37. fuck-u-up_mickey 38. lumity 39. mob_pull-up

videos 40. tired-rat-dad 41. donnie 42. slo-dub 43. raph-amv 44. tmnt-raphie 45. glove 46. baxter 47. all in this together-tmnt

now tagging some folks: @ferahntasy , @cradleghost , @hamstermastersamster , @calista-222 , @kyler-rinfa , @fowo , @lemon-wedges and anyone else who wants to expose their WIPs to the outside worlds!

[pur-pled-aw-thor]

The Truth

Sherlock x Reader

Summary: Y/n has been keeping up the truth everyone, but one day the truth will afloat.

Word count: 4.9k (whaaat the-)

Warnings: none

GIF not mine

THIRD POV

Saturdays are meant for having fun or just staying inside your room and rest. But of course Y/n's life isn't like that. Especially she's working with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.

"You know we can just leave this case with Lestrade right?" Y/n asked the tall man in front of her.

"If you would just look up the security footage, then sure we can turn those over and continue this." Sherlock said not even looking at Y/n. John is busy with searching more about it, or trying to update his blog.

After a few, ten, tries Y/n got in the security and downloaded all of the footage from last night and prior the incident.

"It's already downloading, just wait for a few minutes." She stated standing up and went to the kitchen for some tea. But then she heard her phone's notification is blowing up. Sighing in annoyance, she placed down the kettle and got her phone.

-Mr. Blabbermouth

• Why on Earth is my brother on a case again

• Don't tell me you've downloaded something again

• Meet me in British Public Library, 20 minutes.

• Do bring your I.D, we'll be staying for a while.

Y/n read the texts and tried to choose, get rid of him and continue drinking tea, or get rid of him and continue drinking tea.

'Either way my life will still be a mess.' She thought and sighed. Getting her coat and tying her hair up, John looked up from his screen.

"Where are you going?" He asked, causing Sherlock to look also at the y/h/c girl.

"I need to go to my mum's house, she needs help with my sister." She lied, like what she's been doing for a long time.

"Well what about the footage?" Watson asked pointing at the laptop on the couch. "It'll be done in 15 minutes, after that it'll automatically leave the site." She said adjusting the timer and entering her code.

"Okay just take care." Watson said smiling at her. Nodding, she immediately went downstairs and passed by Mrs. Hudson.

"Where are you going?" "To my mum's, Mrs. Hudson!" She exclaimed leaving faster.

Walking down the streets of London, the cold breeze of the morning is never new to Y/n. It made her feel happy that she chose to change her life.

Upon reaching the Library, a car parked by the curb. The person got out and Y/n followed.

She knew this whole place like it was just the alphabet, but more on security and alarms.

She walked through shelves and shelves of books until she reached a corner, her corner. The person is already sitting down flipping the pages of a book.

"I know you did something just to help my brother again, and I would like to know what." He stated, well demanding.

"It would've been better if you were the one to ask him, Mycroft." Y/n said confidently, not feeling any intimidation from the man.

"It's better if he knows about the truth." He said proudly. "Do sit, Y/n. It is your ridiculous corner after all." She removed her coat and hung it on the chair.

"Tell him the truth and I'll visit him." "I would rather let you get hit by a train before the truth leaves my mouth." Y/n said rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"Any truth will be accepted." "I don't have that much of a choice." "The past or the present. You decide." "Neither, Mycroft. You're basically the British Government, so how can you not know anything about what's happening in 221-B Baker Street?!" Y/n almost shouted at the man in front of her. The man snapped the book close, Y/n didn't even flinched.

"Just tell me and we can wrap this up." He said and Y/n sighed. "It's about those random killings that don't make sense." She said rolling her eyes. "It does make sense to Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft stood up from the chair and got his umbrella.

"It's easy for you to tell me the truth but never to Sherlock." He said turning towards the aisle. "One day the truth will afloat, Y/n. Good day." He said walking away from the corner.

Y/n stared at the chair in front of her and tried not to let Mycroft inside her head.

"I made a promise to be careful with my choices and whom to trust. I can't break that." Y/n said to herself, trying to remember what happened 3 years ago.

3 years ago

'I can live by myself and made the right decision, yeah?' Y/n asked herself while the man pulled up on the curb.

'I hope so.' she got out of the cab and the man helped her carry her stuff inside the building. She paid generously and took up the boxes herself.

When she was about to get the last box, she ran into the landlady carrying a tray of tea.

"Oh hello dear! You're already here, you have your keys right? Anything you need?" Y/n smiled at the landlady's kindness.

"No Mrs. Hudson, I was just about to get the last box from downstairs." She said politely and got curious about whose tea is she bringing.

"I'll see you for a while dear, I need to bring this up." Mrs. Hudson said and continued to ascend the stairs.

"You should stop hoarding books, it's gathering up dust." She heard Mrs. Hudson scold at the other flat beside hers.

"Well if you would clean up then they won't, Mrs. Hudson." A man with a deep but smooth voice said.

"I'm your landlady, Sherlock. Not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson exclaimed storming out of the flat and passing by Y/n.

'I'm still wondering how Mrs. Hudson never noticed.' Y/n asked herself while placing the box down and tried to search for the key to her flat.

"It's the silver key with a round head and a line engraved horizontally." She looked around and saw him.

'Sherlock Holmes'

She got the key and it fits in the keyhole. She silently chuckled to herself for being smarted up by him.

But then she realized what Sherlock Holmes would have done for the past 2 minutes she was just standing there.

She immediately went inside and closed the door. She heard about Sherlock Holmes and his talents in being a detective. Most of the policemen don't take him seriously because of his assumptions and ideas that he gives immediately.

But they are left befuddled because he is right all along.

"Great, the plan on living a new life is starting to crumble with him knowing who I am." She said face palming herself.

"As long as I'm not suspicious, he won't notice it." She said standing up and opened up the blinds.

A week

'Oh god no. Please no.' She said trying to feel every pocket and slot she has in her coat, pants and purse.

'I did forget my keys in.' she said kicking the door in frustration. She sat down by the steps and tried to call a locksmith.

A few calls later they all said they can't go to their street because it was filled with snow. They can help her tomorrow morning.

"Why did Mrs. Hudson need to leave today?" She said hugging her coat more to gather up warmth. Next week is already December and snow got here early.

She tried to pull her bonnet down more to cover her ears with her hair, but the draft coming from the upstairs and moving behind her got colder.

"At least my laptop isn't going to freeze overnight, lucky bastard." Y/n said rolling her eyes and huffing.

She heard shuffling from Sherlock Holmes' flat and saw him placing paper on the table. Sherlock saw Y/n and looked at the door to her flat.

He went closer and Y/n smiled in embarrassment, "I forgot my keys inside." She said paying attention to her gloves now.

Sherlock went back inside and started removing books and papers from the couch and placing them on the table or floor.

"You can stay here for a while. Who knows when Mrs. Hudson might return." He said leaning on the door frame.

Y/n stood up and passed by him, trying not to look like she's taking it up for granted. She sat down on the couch and Sherlock prepared tea.

Sherlock can't comprehend why he welcomed her into his flat even though he's only seen her every afternoon to get food and comeback with it.

And what disturbs him, is that he can't read her like everyone else. She's like, an unexplainable being.

Sitting down on his chair, Sherlock tried to think a way to get to know her.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective, because I invented the job. I have an older brother named Mycroft." He said as a starter and she smiled.

"I'm Y/n, I don't have a job right now but I will find one, hopefully. I actually don't have a sibling, just me and my parents." She said chuckling and Sherlock smiled. He heard the tea was ready and he asked her about what she likes.

Handing her a cuppa, she accepted it and Sherlock let her remove her coat so she can get comfortable. Y/n removed her coat, gloves and bonnet and placed them beside her.

They continued chatting, leaving unfinished experiments and paperworks in the kitchen and not noticing Mrs. Hudson got home because the road was already cleared out.

A year ago

"How did you do that?" Sherlock asked Y/n and she almost fell from her seat. "Did what?" "Getting into the security cameras of Baker Street." He said pointing at the screen.

"You won't tell?" She asked and Sherlock nodded. "Obviously I can hack into them, besides cameras are very easy to hack." She said rolling her eyes and Sherlock celebrated about learning what Y/n can do.

"This is amazing! You can help me in cases and everyone can know!" He exclaimed proudly but Y/n said otherwise.

"No one can know! You promised!" She exclaimed and slapping Sherlock's arm jokingly.

"Besides I can only be accessible within 20 meters away from you." She said showing the map to Sherlock, "Well then come with me every day but of course just stand by. Wait till I tell Lestrade!" He said and reassured Y/n that he was an inspector that she can trust.

'I know Lestrade alright.' She thought smirking on her screen while Sherlock tried to find his phone.

A month after that

"Hello Sherlock." Y/n heard a woman entering the lab and she stopped on her tracks when she saw her. "Hello Y/n." She said sadly.

It's been a month since Y/n was silently working with Sherlock. She met Molly in the process, well she was always around wherever Sherlock is.

Especially if he's in the lab.

Y/n's phone got a notification and she looked at the message.

-Lestrade

Someone was on the phone for you.

Y/n

Who was it?

-Lestrade

Private matters they said.

'Private matters they said'

-Mr. Holmes

The car is waiting at the corner.

'Not this again.' She thought reading the message. Either she goes now or let them wait and risk getting fetched by them.

-Y/n

I'll be leaving for a while. Please look out for Sherlock, Lestrade.

-Lestrade

I will.

"Sherlock I'll be going out for a while." She said getting her coat and wearing it. "Can you get me coffee?" "I can get you one." Molly intervened and both of them looked at her.

"The usual Y/n, if it's not a burden." Sherlock said looking again at the microscope.

"Oh umm, I think I'll be gone for an hour, so Molly might help you with that." She said looking at the messages.

-Mr. Holmes

The longer you take, the longer this talk will be.

"It's fine with me, what's your usual?" Molly asked Sherlock and both of them replied.

"Black 2 sugars." They said in unison and Y/n left immediately while trying to run through everything or everyone.

She saw the car and immediately got inside.

"Stop haunting me, Mycroft Holmes." She said keeping her phone away and looking outside the windows.

Today

"It's almost 4 years now since I moved and 2 years since I started working with him." Y/n said laughing at the page she had a note on.

'Before the December morning came, a chance and a person changed the game.'

She closed the book and walked back towards Baker Street. It was almost noon and she knows Sherlock and John is waiting for her to come back.

Entering the flat, she already heard footsteps coming down the stairs and saw Mycroft with John and Sherlock behind him.

"What did you do again Sherlock?" She asked trying not to look like she knows Mycroft.

"I can reassure you miss, he didn't do anything wrong. Good day brother, Dr. Watson." He said leaving.

"Lunch?" She asked the two and they nodded.

They went to a Café and started to eat lunch. Went back to Baker Street and John took a rest for a while. Leaving Y/n and Sherlock continuing to solve the crime.

"It doesn't make sense! He's just killing random people!" Sherlock exclaimed looking at the wall. John is still asleep on his chair, covered with papers.

"Maybe you just need to look at the minor factors they have. Maybe they all have something very important that the killer would want." Y/n said getting through the files about the case. Sherlock stared at the girl in front of him.

'How can you be so smart at the same time be bossy?' he thought returning his gaze at the wall.

They continued their work and John woke up an hour ago. Until it was night time and Mrs. Hudson brought them tea.

"Sherlock, why is there a big toe on your sink?" She asked rather disturbed. Y/n laughed at Sherlock's constant behavior of experimenting with things.

Sherlock's phone rang and it was Mycroft. He sighed and answered the phone.

"What is it Mycroft?" He said dropping the papers he was holding on the table.

"What?! An emergency? Where?" He exclaimed causing the three to look at him. "What's the matter, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked walking nearer.

"We'll be right there." He said dropping the call and got his coat. "What the hell is going on?!" John exclaimed trying to get Sherlock's attention.

"A family is now on ransom and Mycroft thinks it's the killer." Sherlock said wrapping up his scarf and the two wore theirs.

"I don't get it? A family? How are they connecte-" "The father is an official in the government, a close person to the royal family." He said climbing down the stairs with John following.

Y/n got stuck on the doorway and processed what Sherlock just said. She got worried and immediately went down the stairs.

They got a cab and they reached a building. Police and a few government employees were there to plan out.

"Sherlock! In here." They saw Mycroft went inside a vehicle a few feet away the commotion. It was filled with monitors connected to the cameras inside.

"An empty building perfect for a murder isn't it?" Sherlock said rather excited and John nudged him not to be happy.

"Any news from the inside?" "No, the killer won't let anyone in. He's controlling the entrances, except for the cameras which is odd." One of the men said showing the doors.

They stayed there for almost 10 minutes without any movement from the killer. They found him sitting on an antique chair looking at his phone and wearing a ridiculous mask.

The television beside him lit up and the camera couldn't clear out what the television is flashing.

"This is the Y/l/n Family, if you still want to see them alive. You know who you are, give me what's so precious to your family." The killer said laughing under his mask.

"That is the live stream, we can see them here on camera 16, inside a room tied up. The same as the television is showing." The men said but they noticed something blinking at the middle of the chairs the family is sitting.

"And there's now a bomb planted. Call the bomb disposal team!" They tried to contact people from the outside to find a way inside faster.

Because there's a bomb on the middle of the room, and it wasn't making the job easy.

"I just need to talk to youuu~" The guy sang and laughed like a psychopath. He stood up and started dancing.

"Sherlock, anything?" John asked the man scanning around the monitors and starts to get frustrated. "Are you sure all of the exits are closed?!" He exclaimed and they nodded showing every camera angle of the exits.

Y/n opened up her laptop and plugged in a USB. Mycroft noticed and he looked at her telling no. But her eyes said it was the only way.

After transferring files from the USB, she took out her phone and connected it to the laptop. Before finishing up and shutting her laptop, she typed something on the notes.

'Might be the best time to say it then.'

She closed her laptop, stood up next to Mycroft and handed him her phone. He was confused on why she gave him her phone.

"He'll think I might call the police if I brought my phone with me." "Well you're already with the police." They whispered at each other. Y/n started to leave the vehicle and Sherlock noticed.

"Where are you going Y/n?" "Outside, I need to speak with them. I'll be back." She said hopping out of the vehicle and closing it.

Grabbing the chain that she got from the inside and locking it, she made sure they'll be safe. In case the killer notices her trap.

Sherlock's POV

Y/n left a few minutes ago and she still hasn't returned. The Y/l/n family is still inside and the killer kept repeating the phrase.

"I just want to talk to youuuu"

"Why can't anyone enter!" I said frustrated and ruffled my hair. Trying to think a way inside. "Vents?" "What's that, Sherlock?" "The vents! Is there any vents?!" The men showed me and there weren't any vents big enough for a human to fit in.

"Great." I said and they returned the monitors back to the cameras we were monitoring.

"Aha! I knew you'd come my dear!" We heard the man say and he pressed a button on his phone causing the doors to open.

Third POV

The doors opened on the main entrance, Sherlock and the others were glued to the screens.

Y/n entered with no hesitation and the doors closed once she was in. "Y/n?!" Sherlock exclaimed and went towards the door. It wouldn't budge and John started helping him.

"Did she locked this after she left?" John asked Sherlock and he nodded. They went back to the monitors and she was standing at a safe distance from the killer.

"Isn't this nice, Y/n? You and me seeing together again and talking." He said followed by a laughter that echoed through the whole hall.

"It's nicer if you didn't do any of those killings." She said standing there feeling the gaze of the camera towards them.

"I thought I would get your attention." He stood up immediately that surprised Y/n and made her back away. "And it did!" He said laughing like a maniac now.

"See this red button on my phone?" He asked and Y/n nodded. "Well, It's connected to the bomb. Just give me what I want and I can forget about pressing this." He said placing the phone on the table and handing out his hand.

Y/n looked at him seeing any tricks with this. Her eyes lingers on the screen and she saw her family, tied up inside the room and starting to panic.

The killer saw this and laughed, knowing this is going to be fun. "Need inspiration? I'll give you one." He said getting his phone and pressing a button that made her family look behind the camera.

"Say 'hi', they've missed you so much." He circled around her and she started to take the risk.

"No, Y/n don't do it!" Mycroft yelled at the monitors that made Sherlock look at his brother. "Getting attached?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head in disapproval.

"He knew Y/n all along. Don't you brother?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft nodded. "Before she lived in Baker Street." He said earning a laugh from Sherlock.

"So is there anything I should know about more?" He asked Mycroft and he nodded. "A lot." He stated not removing his eyes on the screen.

They continued watching the scene and Y/n is starting to take something out her pocket.

"If you have tricks on your sleeves, you know what will happen." He stated reclining and looking at her.

She raised up her chin and took out a phone. But it was a different phone, different from her day to day phone. She looked at it and handed it over to him.

"Why does she have another phone?" John asked the two Holmes, Mycroft looked at Dr. Watson and pointed at Y/n's laptop.

"How do you think she has access with every security and anything the government controls?" "That's a government phone controlling the security, data, archives and information about the whole United Kingdom." Sherlock intervened looking at his phone trying to call Lestrade to get them out of the van.

"Thank you for giving this Y/n." He said looking at the phone checking any tricks. He gave back the phone and showed her the lock screen. "Open it." Y/n swiped up the phone and unlocked it with the pattern.

Mycroft seeing the lock, he got confused. Sherlock noticed it and asked him. "Government phones don't unlock with patterns and pins. They rely on fingerprint and facial unlock." He said getting the phone Y/n gave him.

He turned it on and swiped up the lock screen. "Just like that?" Watson asked and Mycroft nodded. "She switched the phones." He said in disbelief and laughed. He grabbed the radio and started giving commands to get ready at the entrances.

"Thank you for unlocking it." He said standing up and circling her again. "You know your parents are very disappointed but relieved that they won't get blown up." He said laughing maniacally going through files.

"But I must say, they, especially Sherlock Holmes, still don't know the last thing you're hiding." He said pointing at the camera and opening his arms.

Y/n turned around and looked at the camera. "I don't know what he's talking about." "OH! That's a good one. Tell me more jokes!" He exclaimed laughing, Y/n is on the verge of punching him.

"You're a psycho." She said making the guy stop in front of her and smiled. "Well I thought you loved psychos, hence liking one of us." He said leaning towards Y/n and raising his eyebrows.

Y/n noticed the camera moving and pointing at the door and back at her. She sighed and bowed her head.

"I'm right, am I? You looove psychopaths!" He said and Y/n shook her head.

"Sherlock Holmes isn't a psychopath, he is a high functioning sociopath." She raised her head smirking at him, "And the only consulting detective with that title." She punched him through his mask that caused him so much pain and police started to enter the room.

They started to surround the guy and picked him up. They handcuffed him and gave back Y/n's phone.

"Before you take and lock him away-" she said getting near the guy, "I never knew you'd take it this far, Kevin." Taking of the mask, 3 men entered the room and going behind Y/n to back her up.

"B-but how did they entered the room! I have the controls over the entrances!" Kevin said and Y/n smirked. She waved her hand and the police took him away, yelling about how she did it.

The 3 men behind her looked at her proudly. She looked behind them and saw her family getting untied and the bomb was inside a case now.

Her family looked behind the camera and smiled. Mycroft handed her the phone back and took off the case to place it back on her phone. The television turned off and they heard people assisting her family.

"I know you two have a lot of questions, but I can summarize everything." Y/n said looking at them and sitting down on the chair.

"I made a deal with my family to live a normal life in exchange to continue hiding who I am.

Growing up behind doors was never easy because you can't make friends or learn social skills. Only few close family friends and the Royal Family knows who I am.

My brother and two sisters can live a normal life because they attended private schools which only rich people can attend. But I can't have that because I'm the first ever child of them and it would be a great plan to kidnap me right? In exchange for files.

But when I attended college, It was a private school and people don't care who you are anymore, and that's where I met Kevin.

He was nice and sweet just like how I thought all of the world's population is. But I was wrong.

Then that's when we broke up. A few years just living inside the house again not going out.

Then almost 4 years ago, me and my family agreed for me to leave and live somewhere and make sure that I'm safe.

And I am safe, especially having Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson as my neighbors and friends.

Having meetings with Mr. Blabbermouth, a.k.a Mycroft Holmes.

And having this phone with me that helps my family to know where I am."

She finished up but the three men are still confused. She understood why and she chuckled. Looking at the camera, the men followed her gaze and she stopped at the sign beside the chair.

"He was sitting near this sign and the phone's reflection is seen on the camera. I tried to make out his layout of the controls with the doors and placed all of it in folders."

She explained and opened the phone, "With every click of a folder, a door opens." She clicked one and they heard a door opening upstairs.

"I forgot to mention, I also studied with hackers and security when I was in college and living with my parents. That's how I learned it."

She said keeping the phone in her pocket. John smiled at her and looked at the two men. "And what was about the whole Sherlock Holmes thing?" He asked and Y/n sighed. "That was nothing." She said standing up and walking pass by them.

They exited the building and stood near Lestrade's car. He was assisting the family and talking with them.

"My name on your contacts is 'Mr. Blabbermouth'?" Mycroft asked and Y/n laughed.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sociopath and Mr. Oblivious aren't left out." She said walking away and nearing her family.

"Mom, Dad." She said hugging them almost crushing them. "I'll leave you lot to talk for a while." Lestrade said smiling at the scene before him.

"I knew you had a way, but I never thought you can pull that off!" Y/n's father exclaimed patted her back.

"She's a Y/l/n, she can do anything." She heard her brother and she ruffled his hair. "But of course, don't forget to introduce us your boyfriend." One of her sister said and she rolled her eyes.

"You can go back to them, we'll be okay." Her mother said but Y/n shook her head.

"I don't think I can leave you guys again." "As long as you can be safe and keep that safe, we'll be safe too." Her father said and her sibling nodded.

"Just remember to visit us on Christmas Day, okay?" Her younger sister said and she nodded. Tears brimming her eyes and she sniffles while trying not to burst out.

"I will always visit you lot." She said hugging them all, causing her to be surrounded by blankets that covered up her family.

Standing up, she waved good bye and walked back towards the car.

"Shall we leave?" Lestrade asked getting his keys. "Yes, let's go." Sherlock said opening the door for Y/n and she entered.

Their ride was quiet until they reached the apartment. "See you three tomorrow? Well if we have a new case for you three." Lestrade said and Sherlock nodded, getting inside first and leaving the door open.

"Yeah, see you Lestrade." Y/n said waving and entering the building.

John got to sleep immediately when he entered the flat, leaving Y/n and Sherlock.

"Well, erm, I guess I should be go-" she was cut off by Sherlock's mumbling. "I'm sorry, what was that?" "That's why I couldn't analyze you. You are unreadable and amazing at it." He said still staring at the fireplace.

"Yes, because of being able to hide from people, I'm never showy with anything." She said standing up and nearing the door.

"Good night Sherlock." She said turning towards her flat. "And yes, I like you. For almost 3 years now." She said never turning to look at him, and entered her flat.

She should've turned, because she never saw the smile Sherlock had hearing it from her. He leaned on his knees ruffling his hair. He continued smiling and sighed.

"Likewise, Y/n. Likewise." He said leaning back on his seat and stared at the ceiling.

[chilling-seavey]

OH MY GOSH OKAY SINCE WE'RE DOING THE CHRISTMAS WRITING PARTY CAN U WRITE ONE FOR PASSCHENDAELE WHERE IT'S THE FIRST CHRISTMAS AFTER THE WAR OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT? OR OR OR THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE

Love the idea of the Christmas Truce and I forgot I actually had this one planned since the beginning! For those of you who don’t know, The Christmas Truce of 1914 was a true event that happened, where British and German soldiers left their trenches on Christmas Day and celebrated together in peace. 

Get your tissues ready.

Also thank you to @janav21 for helping me with some German translations xx

T/W Mentions of war violence, death, the honest truth the deep down all humans are good, and the first seeds of what would later stem into PTSD

December 24, 1914

“Post for you, Lance Corporal Seavey.”

Through the darkness of the night, Christian raised his head from the side of the trench to look up at the man standing in front of him and holding out a brown paper wrapped package. With shivering hands in gloves that didn’t do much to keep in the heat, Christian reached up to take it from him, the men sharing stiff nods as thanks and acknowledgment before the man continued down the lines.

It was a particularly cold night and the ground was frozen with fresh fallen snow, stained red in places from battles and brown in places from upturned soil made from shells but the light flurries that fell through the silent night made it feel somewhat peaceful. Christian pulled at the string and opened his package, the first thing on the top being an old family photograph of his parents and his younger brother and younger sister and him from years earlier when they were small. He smiled warmly at the memory, missing them more than ever on Christmas Eve. Normally they would be sitting by their Christmas tree and singing carols and drinking warm mugs of tea around the fire but instead, he was sat all alone in frozen stiff soil trenches in the middle of Belgium. The next item was a letter tucked on top of a small bar of chocolate. Christian smiled at the gift and unwrapped the corner of it to take a bite.

The crack of the cold coca from his teeth seemed to nearly echo through the barren wasteland the British army found themselves in, but Christian smiled bashfully to himself as he let the sweet flavour melt in his mouth. As he ate his treat, he unfolded his letter from his mother to read her near weekly correspondence.

My Darling Christian,

Christmas is not the same without you. Anna and Daniel and I decorated the tree together last week and there was no one to put the star on top. Daniel took your job instead but he had to stand on a chair and nearly toppled right off! You would have had such a laugh with us. I couldn’t resist a year without at least giving you something small so I hope this chocolate bar suffices – we are not allowed to send anything larger. I hope next Christmas I will see you home again as I miss you terribly. The world over here seems so much darker without you around, my sunshine, but I am sure you are bringing your bright spirits wherever you go. Please write me and let me know how Christmas is celebrated in Belgium (although I know you are most likely already writing an essay for me!). Your weekly letters make me miss you more but they let me know that you are well and safe.

I love you, my sweet angel. Happy Christmas.

Mum xx

Christian sniffled and folded the letter to tuck it back into his inside breast pocket along with the photograph of his family. With one more bite of chocolate, he folded it back up and tucked it in his pack before letting his eyes close and his head rest back against the wall of the trench, light snowflakes falling against his face that took a while to melt with the chill that coated his pale skin. He would reply to his mother later as it was getting late, and the usual waiting game was sending Christian into a restful state.

It wasn’t long before a noise could be heard in the distance and a few of the British men quickly snapped to attention to see what was happening out in the darkness of No Mans Land. Christian sat up too, locking in on the soft tune that was drifting through the nighttime air. The words were incomprehensible but the tune was more than familiar.

“What the bloody hell is that?” one of the men whispered.

“It…It’s Silent Night, sir.” Christian answered quietly.

The higher ups turned to the Lance Corporal as if forgetting the young man could even speak. A small group had gathered in their section of the trenches, all the men bundled up in their jackets and gloves as they listened to the German soldiers singing Christmas carols from a few many yards away.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!

Alles schläft, einsam wacht

Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar.

Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh.

The British soldiers stood in silence as they listened, a few humming quietly to themselves as if afraid to make their presence aware to the enemy. Finally, one of the newer men sang first, his curly hair falling from under his cap and his glasses slightly fogged up from his warm breath through the cold night, joining right in along side the Germans,

Silent night, holy night!

Shepherds quake at the sight!

A few more men joined in, Christian included,

Glories stream from heaven afar;

Heavenly hosts sing Al-le-lu-ia!

And soon everyone was singing together in harmony,

Christ the Savior is born! / Christ, der Retter ist da!

Christ the Savior is born! / Christ, der Retter ist da!

By the final verse, both sides of the front lines were singing loudly together, their voices carrying across the vast expanse of fields and raising high into the night sky. Half in English and half in German, they sang in one choir,

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht! / Silent night, holy night

Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht / Son of God, oh, love's pure light

Lieb aus deinem göttlichen Mund, / Radiant beams from Thy holy face

Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund, / With the dawn of redeeming grace

Christ, in deiner Geburt, / Jesus, Lord at Thy birth

Christ, in deiner Geburt. / Jesus, Lord at Thy birth

When the song concluded, silence fell once again over the battlefields, the snow falling steadily around them. Christian smiled a little to himself at the momentary peace and tucked in for the night with his family photograph held right against his heart.

December 25, 1914

As the sun rose on Christmas morning, the British soldiers wished each other ‘Happy Christmas’ as they started their usual breakfasts or morning duties. It wasn’t long before one of the higher ups was ordering a rise to arms and Christian snatched up his rifle with the rest of the men to get into position.

“There’s a man over there.” the soldier said, peering through the viewfinder out across No Mans Land. “He’s holding his hands up in their trenches.”

The British cocked their rifles.

“Don’t fire!”

“He’s unarmed.”

Christian peeked up over the edge of the parapet and someone grabbed his shoulder to pull him back down to safety. He shrugged him off and leaned back up again, watching the German man walk shakily and slowly out of his trench and onto the fresh fallen snow of the battlefield, hands raised and any weaponry missing.

Christian was a man who had too much trust in people – at least up to the end of 1914 – and he didn’t think twice before dropping his rifle to the floor of the trench as well as his pack of grenades and bullets and stood up on the fire step with his own hands raised.

“Lace Corporal Seavey, what the hell are you doing?” his Lieutenant snapped.

“Must be a trap! You’re gonna get bloody well blown up!” another added from farther down.

But Christian climbed carefully out of the safety of the trench, his heart hammering in his chest as he touched the crisp white snow of the Belgian field and shakily got to his feet to face the enemy. A few more German men climbed out of their trenches followed by a few British and soon the two sides were meeting in the middle. It was silent except for the chilly winter wind that whistled across the land and the crunching of snow under military boots. Christian fell to a stop in front of the young man opposite him, the German’s face looking just as hesitant as Christian’s himself. He had the nicest grey eyes Christian had ever seen and he offered out his hand with a nervous smile tugging at his lips. Christian looked down at his outstretched hand before taking his handshake.

“My name is Christian.” he spoke slowly.

“My…name…is Heinrich.” the man replied.

“Pleased to meet you, Heinrich.” Christian said.

“Freut mich, dich kennenzulernen.”

The enemies seemed to group up and well wishes of Merry Christmas is English and German moulded as one and chatter rose across the Belgian fields. Handshakes were shared and photographs were taken and tensions felt like they had vanished. Christian pulled out his unfinished chocolate bar and offered a piece to his new friend.

Heinrich grinned and nodded, taking a small square with icy hands and a warm, “Danke.”

They ate together for a moment in calm silence, both a little shy but their bashful smiles were mirrored with near relief.

“Wie alt bist du??”

“Sorry?” Christian looked over at him.

“Uhm…” Heinrich thought for a moment before pointing to his watch and then gesturing up. “Years? You?”

“Oh. I am twenty-four.” Christian answered, showing the numbers with his fingers. “You?”

“Dreiundzwanzig.” Heinrich did the same, showing a two and then a three with his hand.

They shared smiles, cheeks a rosy red in the winter air and the tip of Christian’s nose was turning pink too. He offered Heinrich another piece of chocolate before taking out his photograph from his pocket and stepping closer to show him.

“This is my family.” Christian told him with pride and he pointed to each of his family members, “Father-”

“Vater.”

Christian glanced up at his new friend and nodded in agreement, “Yes. My Vater.” He continued on, “My Mother-”

“Mutter.”

“Sister and brother.”

“Schwester und bruder.”

“Yes. Anna and Daniel.”

“Anna?” Heinrich questioned, looking at Christian with wide shining eyes.

“Yes. My sister.”

Heinrich reached into his own jacket pocket and rummaged around a moment before pulling out his own photograph and held it out to show Christian, the blonde woman sitting graciously in the frame.

“Anneliese. Meine frau.”

“Frau? Wife.” Christian said. “Anna.”

“Yes, my…Anna.”

The young men shared excited grins and another piece of chocolate as a few men around them started singing more carols. Food rations were shared and a few drinks were poured and German and British men were arm in arm and singing loudly together. Heinrich and Christian stuck together, joining in for a few photographs taken by their officers and the group shared a good laugh when one of the German generals slipped on a path of ice and fell on his behind.

Soon, with the heat of the excitement and festivities, jackets were being tossed back into designated trenches and someone brought out a soccer ball, earning cheers from both sides. Small teams were divided up – British against Germans of course – and they played together most of the day, using jackets and canteens as makeshift goal posts as the watching soldiers stood in lines around their little made field. Christian pulled an impressive dive to catch the ball before he was scored on and loud excited cheers erupted from both sides at the move. Heinrich pulled him up from the snowy ground with an offered hand and Christian thanked him with a smile as he brushed himself off.

By the time the sun was starting to set, everyone was taken by surprise; the day had gone by so fast. Newly formed friendship groups said their goodbyes and Christian and Heinrich shared a friendly embrace as well.

“Happy Christmas.”

“Fröhe Weihnachten.” Heinrich held out a ration of cigarettes towards him with a friendly smile. “For…the schokolade.”

Christian didn’t smoke but the gesture was beautiful and he took the small pack within their final handshake, “Thank you.”

“Hope…you see…your Anna soon.” Heinrich spoke slowly through his broken English.

“You too.” Christian said as they dropped hands.

They shared one final nod, as if trying to piece together the incredible goings on of that day and the fact that they had just wholeheartedly trusted the enemy. Both sides were bordering on treason after spending such a day together but they returned to their trenches without another word or a single shot fired. Christian got himself settled with the sun setting and leaving the trenches in darkness, feeling more at peace than he had in a while. He was too tired to write to his mother that night, fading into a sleep stemmed from exhaustion from the day’s unique festivities. Even still, everyone was wondering what the next day would hold and if the truce was a turning point for the beginning of the end of the war.

With daybreak came another attempt of peace, and Christian found himself beaming with excitement as Heinrich and a few German men were making their way over the battlefield again after breakfast. Christian was stood beside the British Lieutenant-Colonel as they had their rifles at the ready out of habit but Christian didn’t even have his finger on the trigger.

One of the German officers who was walking over spoke first from the halfway mark between their front lines, “You still got the armistice?”

Christian started to stand up to join them but the ringing of a single shot rang through the barren fields before he could move. He watched as Heinrich fell backwards, shot right through the head until his blood was staining the fresh white snow and his grey eyes staring lifeless into the sky. The cold face of the British Lieutenant-Colonel was unphased as they were propelled into another battle by that single shot.

Another battle where they were forced to kill those they just celebrated with a mere day before, with whom each side shared stories and photographs and treats. Now, both sides were forced back into the usual way of the war under orders of their stern officers who claimed the only way to win was to gain their ground. Christian sat alone that night, a blank parchment on one knee, the pack of German cigarettes on his other, and the vision of Heinrich’s lifeless eyes in his mind. He sat there for nearly an hour trying to figure out what to say to his mother, only getting as far as her name scribbled shakily in the top left corner.

Christian didn’t smoke but that night he pulled one of the cigarettes from the German ration and borrowed a light from another soldier and he let himself sit against the side of the trench and mourn the loss of a friend. He felt guilty and shameful and disgusted with himself and with the war and with the concept of even being there at all, how each time he pulled the trigger he was killing one of his momentary friends. Good men who were friends and brothers and sons and husbands.

Christian couldn’t get himself to return a letter to his mother. He no longer felt like his mother’s angel that she called him so often. And he never would be again.

[elecman108]

Man, I forgot to post 90% of my art here for the past while. I’m gonna do an art dump in this post under the cut. Enjoy the bonk emoji if you don’t click the read more, and man am I dumb and forgetful lmao.

Includes: OCs getting names, a Sonic impression, a D&D map, homosexual energies, a sheep floating in the astral sea, a birthday drawing I already posted, Hex Maniac Ender, D&D Characters, D&D Characters as Miis in Miitopia, Little Hater Axel, local Demon in the consciousness of my D&D character yelling at him, illegal plants, a necromancer being cute, an actual event that happened in a D&D game two days ago, and Mermay drawing.

That’s everything in here as a TL;DR, I guess. Enjoy your day!

I’m gonna try and sort of have them in chronological order, oldest first, but I may end up putting them in the wrong order. If I do... Whoops, I guess?

[04/14/21] - This isn’t really new art, but I started to work on giving the four OCs of mine without a full name full names... I have not finished this bit, though. So Hunter and Akira have full names, and Warlock and Assassin only have temporary names. This may end up like Seven where I put in their names as a temporary name (7th OC I’d made at that time) and it just kind of... sticks. Lmao.

[04/20/21] - Alone on a Friday Night? God, you’re pathetic. I didn’t colour this one because it was a half-attempt at a meme image I still like it, though, so I might end up colouring it. It’s gonna appear again whenever I do my “unfinished drawings art dump” at some point probably in... June? I know I said I’d post them last month but forget it, lmao, it’ll happen eventually.

[04/20/21] - A D&D Map! This was to help me visualize the layout of my D&D character’s ship he used to be on. Also for my DM if they ever put us aboard the ship. The little fella in the corner is just there to vibe. This map is made of free to use assets from This Website, so while I’m gonna say DONT USE MY MAP WITHOUT PERMISSION, feel free to make your own!

[04/26/21] - Lesbian Day of Visibility drawing of yours truly, the disapointment! That’s... really all I have to say about this, honestly. It was just for that one day and that was it, lmao. I mean, I accidentally lined it in dark pink, so.. .That’s different, I guess?

[04/30/21] - Do Astral Seas dream of Ensorcled Sheep? Does the City know what Sheepleb is going to do? What crimes he may commit? Who knows! This was fan art of Critical Role ep. 134 if I remember correctly, right at the end when they jumped into the portal into the astral sea and Caleb was a sheep. Using my knowledge of the German language, I knew the word for “shit”, and had to use it.

[05/07/21] - This was already posted, but it’s going in here to dilinuate that it was drawn at this point. Also, aside from playing Miitopia, this is all I have to show for myself until the 12th.

[05/12/21] - Hex Maniac Ender challenges you to a Pokemon Battle! WIll you win against my team? My sis, who loves fairy types, pointed out to me that there’s a fairy girl and hex maniac duo, so I’d be the hex maniac. I spent... Over a week drawing this, because I basically had to redraw the Hex Maniac art from scratch in a higher quality size, and then draw myself over it. So... You can excuse the low-effort background for once. It was basically this, and then my birthday doodle from May 1st to May 12th, and then I took a break to draw up several D&D characters quickly for fullbody references.

[05/12/21] - Remember this art I made several months ago? I finally added my other two completed characters! I have three more named but without character sheet D&D characters, so for now this is just Kara, Axel, Golden Shadow, Kau, Cecillia, and Miri. Kress, Tempest, and Melia will have to wait until I make character sheets for them to be posted, and... For when I probably make more D&D characters. I have at least 9 additional, incomplete character ideas floating around, so... I’m never gonna be done this art, huh?

[05/12/21] - Speaking of D&D characters, did you know I’ve been making them as Miis in Miitopia? So here is their finished full body art next to their Miitopia self! Some of them look a little off (Golden Shadow, Cecillia) because of limitations of the editor and shading issues, some of them look a little off (Kau, Kress) because this is a human face canvas that I’m using to make a non-human face, and some of them (Melia, Axel) look REALLY GOOD. Common traits among my D&D characters include green eyes and tall. You wanna know why? Because I am tall and... despite having red eyes, I do have green eyes under the coloured contacts.

[05/15/21] - More D&D stuff! This is based around my D&D group’s current Rime of the Frostmaiden campaign where our Goliath Fighter, Nioh, ends up getting a little bit of hate for being cocky, and our little (well over 6′) hater, Axel, is just a man full of irritation. These are the tallest two characters of the group at the moment. Someone send help. Nioh belongs to one of the other D&D players, Axel (and his stupid additude) belongs to me.

[05/15/21] - This is what me playing D&D feels like. Me, the demon entity trapped inside the head of my D&D character, yelling at them to do things while the dice decide that they’re gonna get bopped a hundred times by a yeti and somehow still survive. This is also a reference to our first or second game where I just ran off like sixty feet to one side of the battle map to fight a Crag Cat and was just in Gay Baby Jail until like two turns later when I could run back to the others. I also drew him not in his winter gear even though this is a bit from when we were atop Kelvin’s Carin in an icy cave, so maybe that’s why he’s at low HP.

[05/15/21] - Melia has good gardening tips, such as Use A Mars Mii Trap To Hide A Body Because They Are Endangered And It Is Illegal To Dig Them Up. I love her a lot, because she’s the youngest of four, all four sisters based around the different seasons. She’s based around Autumn, so she’s all orange and yellow and brown and is so cute. Also she’s Chaotic Neutral, as if she didn’t need to be mildly more threatening.

[05/15/21] - Cecillia is my Tiefling gal who lived in a very northern town plagued by cold weather and snow, and Axel is my Pirate guy who spent most of his time further south on the high seas and warmer weather. So, naturally... I’ll use the guy more acclimatized to the hotter weather in the campaign where we spend 99% of it in the snow. She uses Tarot Cards as her spell focus, and I decided to sneak my other D&D characters onto her Tarot cards so naturally, Axel is The Hanged Man, given his backstory and personality. She’s a very cheerful and friendly Tiefling Necromancer of the Hexblade, so she’d for sure take care of those around her to ensure their success. Especially if they’re on her Tarot Cards, and their spirit comes to her aid when she asks for them.

[05/16/21] - Content Warning; Ryma thinks too much into local stupid moron’s lack of knowing how to answer a question and thinks too much into the reputation of Pirates. Poor Axel, man doesn’t know how to socialize with people who aren’t pirates and is used to being hostile towards everyone, so when he’s asked a question that his answer to is “uhh... no?”, he panics and ends up making a mistake that leads him to think that Ryma can read his mind. Ryma belongs to another of the D&D players. I guess me drawing all those spicy Cow Costumed OCs earlier just brought me to drawing Axel being a bottom in this, huh?

[05/16/21] - It’s Mermay, which means more OC drawings! Here’s Theo after drinking some potion that turned him into a mermaid, and Seven, tiredly, collecting his stupid boyfriend so that Lailah can fix the fact he’s turned into a mermaid. Mer!Theo is based around his sword’s colours of indigo-purple with red accents, which looks a little weird since Theo is the Blue one of the group, but... it looks cool, I guess. Seven’s just the same outfit as always, just no gloves this time.

--

And that’s it for the art dump! This was, frankly, MASSIVE. I’ll try and remember to upload both on Twitter and Tumblr at the same time, but... Ah... I have been drawing a fair bit. Just mostly sketches and linework that I haven’t finished and may not actually finish. If they’re not completed, I’ll dump them all into something at the end of the month or whatever. Maybe you’ll get the old sketch of the Axel face in panel 3 because in the sketch phase it was an Ahegao face, in the clean sketch it was a lip bite, and in the linework and final it’s just horny face. lmao.

Top ten things I have to remember for drawing: AXEL HAS A SCAR AND GREEN EYES. I remember his eye colour now, but if you look at his fullbody ref, he’s got brown eyes. And, naturally, I keep forgetting to put in his scar. He has more, but most of them are located in areas covered by his clothes. So if I ever draw him shirtless I guess I’ll have to place them somewhere.

Also maybe finish the reference sheets I have left to finish so I can post more of them, since I have two “Pets” completed (Roko and Mona’s nameless pet), but I have to do up Hunter, Warlock, Assassin, Akira, Myuut, and Stella. I’m betting when I do complete two more, it’ll be Hunter and Akira. Those two are the most fun to draw, at least.

[illumynare]

Destiny Fic: though lovers be lost (love is not)

Summary: In another world, Shun Li did not survive the Transmission Crisis.

Pairings: Ikora Rey/Shun Li.

Notes: Also available on AO3.

“Hawthorne,” Ikora says to the woman circling her and the other Vanguards. “It’s one thing for us to put our lives on the line, but this doesn’t have to be your fight. You’re not . . .”

As we once were, she thinks, staring at this woman who has saved so many people the Vanguard could not, yet is only fragile flesh and bone. Only ever mortal, never offered the chance of a second life.

She thinks, We were made to protect you.

“A Guardian?” Hawthorne demands, her head held high and proud without doubt, sniper rifle slung over her shoulder as confidently as any Guardian’s weapon. “You think you’ve cornered the market on sacrifice? You forget that we’ve had to survive without the Light all our lives.”

Ikora meets her gaze and the challenge therein.

“No,” says she says. “I don’t.”

#

The first time that Ikora Rey met Shun Li, she wondered if she might have to kill him.

She didn’t know him, then. She was undercover in the Last City on behalf of Osiris—or rather, the orders that Osiris surely would have given, if he were not too consumed by his theories of the Vex—tracking down a black market where certain unscrupulous Guardians sold forbidden artifacts.

Shun was also undercover, hunting the same criminals on behalf of Owl Sector. But Ikora didn’t know that when they arrived at the same door. She only knew that he was using almost identical forged credentials. For a few seconds, she wondered what kind of criminal he was, and if she would have to dispose of him.

Then Shun—who knew her, despite her disguise, from watching a thousand Crucible matches—smiled at the doorkeeper and lied, saying that the confusion in the paperwork was simply due to them being newly married.

In time, Ikora would come to know many of Shun’s faults, but she would always have to give him this: he never hesitated.

#

Io is silent.

The whole solar system is silent to Ikora now. As Warlock Vanguard, Ikora was constantly aware of the thoughts of other Warlocks, the flow of Light between all Guardians. She felt, endlessly, the song of the Traveler and the whispers of the Void.

Ghaul ended that.

Crippled, broken, diminished—her Ghost unable to do more than whisper—Ikora fled to Io, hoping for . . . wisdom, perhaps. Answers.

Hope.

What she finds is dark skies and silence, the absence of the Light. What she finds is guilt.

Because, stripped of the Traveler’s power, with only one life left to lose . . . Ikora is afraid. She is terribly, terribly afraid of dying her final death.

She wonders if she always has been.

#

It took only a few muttered words for Shun and Ikora to realize they were on the same mission. But completing that mission took much longer.

One night turned into a week, and one week turned into three. They successfully bought eight fragments of Ahamkara bones, but it was always through a dealer. The Guardian (or Guardians) who supplied them did not appear.

In the meantime, Ikora and Shun—in their false identities—became familiar to the black market. They noticed people trying to follow them after they left, to see where they lived.

The logical answer was to make the deception complete. Shun rented the apartment; Ikora could not spend all her time there, given her duties as a Warlock, but she was present as often as she could be. Her cover demanded it. Shun cooked for her, and played an arcophone in the evenings.

It was . . . not unpleasant. Ikora had never had any patience for the civilians who groveled at her feet, but Shun was refreshingly free of such reverence. He was no part, either, of the increasingly fractured Tower: the suspicions about Osiris, the whispers against the Speaker, the worship of both. Sometimes he could be infuriatingly glib, but he had a glittering, eager curiosity almost worthy of a Warlock.

Ikora began to look forward to the time she spent with him, haggling in the black market, betting in illegal games, working out their next move in the investigation. The pressure of his hand clasped about hers ceased to be troublesome and became a comfort.

Then came the fragrant, candle-lit midsummer night when they finally were finally allowed to enter the secret courtyard. When they saw a Guardian—his Ghost bobbing dumbly, hopelessly by his shoulder—hold up Ahamkara bones and offer them to the highest bidder.

Ikora drew a gentle breath and reached inside her coat to cock Invective.

Shun cocked his head, grinned, and grasped his knives.

They both fought in the melee that followed. Shun would have expected no less of Ikora, and she would have demanded no less of him. In the end, the rogue Guardian’s brains were splattered against the wall, his Ghost was in Ikora’s palm, and all the details of what transpired where in Shun Li’s report.

They did not return home at once afterwards—not to the Tower, or Owl Sector, or even their false home. Instead they wandered the City, punch-drunk with adrenaline and success and glory. At two in the morning, they were giggling over ramen together; she called him simply “Shun,” and he called her “Korrie.”

Very, very late that night—or absurdly early that morning—they stumbled into their rented apartment together. They grasped, briefly, at each other’s elbows. Lips found lips, and for one moment as they kissed, the only Light that mattered was what crackled between their bodies.

Then they fell into bed and slept curled around each other, as innocent as kittens.

When they woke, they both remembered their duties, and they didn’t speak of what had passed in the night. At least, not exactly. But after they had both made their reports to the Vanguard and been commended, after they were standing together in the Tower courtyard and were the closest thing to a simple Shun and Ikora that could be imagined in daylight—

Then, beneath the shade of a potted tree, Shun turned to Ikora.

“You know,” he said, “there’s an old City law. If two people call themselves married for at least a month, it’s legal.”

The look he slanted at her was bold and hesitant at once. And Ikora, for one moment, imagined responding in kind.

But she was the Traveler’s chosen, destined to live forever, or else to die in horrifying agony when the Darkness overcame her. Shun was simply, helplessly mortal, no matter how much he had aided and comforted her these past few weeks.

Ikora told him as much. And in the end, he accepted her decree.

#

“It’s time I rejoined my fireteam,” says Ikora to the Guardian, gazing up at the dark-and-glowing skies of Io as she readies herself to die.

She has died a hundred deaths at least, maybe more. All those lives, spent so easily—and for what? For her to cower in the shadows, now that she has only one life remaining to lose?

No. Ikora will fight Ghaul, and she will likely die, but as she stares past Io’s horizon, she knows: she will not be defeated again.

(Not like when she was defeated by the Transmission Crisis, not like she was defeated when—)

#

The last time that Ikora saw Shun, he was wrapped inside the clumsy, padded bulk of an isolation rig as he brought her records containing the dark side of Clovis Bray. The rig was nothing like the simple helmet and gloves that Guardians wore even in hard vacuum. Ikora could see only his eyes through the face-plate, and they were . . . tired.

The last time she heard him was through the comms, as he spoke to her from the hospital.

“Restricted leave?” she asked numbly. “What did you do?”

He sighed. “Forgot to put on part of the isolation rig. Too tired. I can't remember yesterday at all. Ramos will take over the duties of Liaison to the Vanguard. You treat her nice, okay? She's nervous.”

Ikora remembered his hand on her shoulder. His mouth against hers. The thousand words that had never seemed quite right to say.

“You,” she said, “rest well.”

She could almost see the smile in his voice as he said, “I will.”

#

“There will be no coming back,” says Ikora to her fireteam, to all her doubts and fears.

“It’s worth it,” says Cayde-6, fearless as ever.

C’mon, Korrie, Shun whispers in her memories, and in her heart, Ikora agrees.

#

The people of the City spoke as if death were only sleeping; they said that their dead “rested in peace.” But Ikora knew it was not so. She had died, and found only dark loneliness. She had lived, and found the ones she cared for gone.

She remembered, over and over, her fatal conversation with Acting Liaison Ramos:

The Hidden, the Witches, and our research corps may have had a breakthrough, using the information that Berriole has unearthed. We think we can neutralize this mite. The only problem is, we might kill Shun in the process.

Are you waiting for permission?

It seemed respectful to ask.

Do it, and the Traveler's Light shine on you.

But the Traveler’s Light, perhaps, was only for Guardians. The experimental treatment cobbled together so quickly and desperately . . . did not work for anyone still human. The Guardians infected with the Mite were set free. But Shun, cold in his coffin, paid the price.

Ikora, standing in a Tower that now felt strangely empty, tithed on that price over and over.

#

Ghaul has been dead for months, the Traveller and the Guardians restored for that much time as well. Ikora has found a courage that she didn’t fully own before, and it straightens her spine as she stands at her place in the Tower.

Sometimes she remembers Shun Li. Sometimes she mourns him, and wishes he could have been more to her. But Ikora is a Warlock, both the question and the answer. Whatever remains unfinished in her, she will find a way to complete.

At last there comes a day—the air is sweet and lazy with summer—when Ikora stands in the Tower, hands clasped behind her back, and almost does not mourn. Almost, she is at peace.

Five new Guardians have already been raised since Ghaul’s defeat, so Ikora no longer fears that the power of the Traveler is somehow spent. When she hears that a newly-raised Warlock has come to the Tower, she nods and says calmly, “Show him in.”

She will help this new Warlock. It’s her duty and her joy, for which she once abandoned Shun, and she still hasn’t lost that prize.

But when Ikora turns to him, her breath stops in her throat. Because the ragged cloak of a newly-raised Warlock is familiar, and so is the plain shell of the Ghost at his side, but the Guardian himself—

It’s Shun.

Ikora has never believed that the Light and the Traveler have any kindly purpose in whom they raise as Guardians, but maybe now she does.

Maybe it’s time for her to stop being surprised by what mere mortals can do.

“So I hear I’m a . . . ‘Guardian’?” he says, and there’s so much missing from his curious gaze that doesn’t recognize her, but there’s so much she loves and knows still there. “Don’t remember my name, though.”

“I do,” says Ikora, and crosses the little courtyard to him, takes his hands. “Your name is Shun.”

[cherryrogers]

bittersweet {3}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: swearing, things get a bit saucy oop, mostly fluff.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals — you thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but darker affairs had only yet to come to light.

a/n: so i was gonna completely leave this until i finished FFY, but this chapter has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages and it was bugging me lmao,,, but after this part things are gonna get interesting :)) please enjoy, and any feedback is appreciated!

Series Masterlist

There was something different about Bucky after his match, Steve noticed it slowly but surely. Usually, the guy would get a high for a couple of days after his win, and then he’d be too focused on training for the next match to even crack a smile.

However, it’d been two weeks since his match. Two weeks since he won, and Steve was beginning to get suspicious at how long Bucky’s high had been strung out.

The blond eyed his friend questioningly from the mat on the gym floor across from his, watching as he’d complete a set of bicep curls, take a sip of water, smirk as he checked his phone, tapped away at the screen, and repeated that exact routine again. Training wasn’t a game to Bucky — nothing could ever normally cause him a distraction, but there was something that kept drawing him to his phone, and Steve was curious to know what.

That’s when something popped into Steve’s mind; something he’d completely forgotten about.

“Hey, Buck. I forgot to ask last week — how was your date after the match?”

Of course it was the date, right? His friend must’ve really taken a liking to the girl he went out with.

Bucky kept his gaze locked in front of him, pulling the heavy weights towards and away from his chest. “Good.”

“Just good?” Steve pressed, laying against the mat and beginning a set of sit-ups. “You haven’t stopped checkin’ your phone since you got in here.”

The boxer knew his date was better than good, but he wasn’t sure how much he should tell Steve. He was his best friend, Bucky was supposed to tell him everything about the date - he didn’t waste any time persuading Steve to tell him about Peggy when they first started dating.

“I like her, Steve,” He stated. “When we went out after the match, it didn’t feel like a first date with her -- it felt like I’d known her forever.”

It was true. Bucky had been out with his fair share of women, and not once had he felt so comfortable around someone so fast than with you.

“That’s good, Buck,” Steve nodded, smiling genuinely at his best friend. “I’m glad things are goin’ well. It’s about time you found a girl who can put up with your ass.”

Bucky let out a laugh at the joke, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Of course he felt bad about persuing you, especially while Steve was completely unaware of it. If he thought you were just another pretty girl, he probably wouldn’t have dragged you into the locker room on the first day you’d met him. But you weren’t just another pretty girl; you were the pretty girl. The pretty girl whose eyes twinkled when you laughed and whose smile could light up a whole boxing stadium.

Maybe you and him were doomed from the start, and you were just waiting for Steve to inevitably find out and disown the both of you. But Bucky didn’t want to think like that. He wouldn’t know where you and him were heading if he didn’t at least try. Bucky wanted to give whatever you and him had a shot, what was so wrong about that?

After finishing his final set, Bucky placed the weights back on the rack, grinning to himself as he saw his phone screen light up again. He’d just asked you if you were free any time soon. It was hard to meet up without Steve knowing, as you assumed he’d get suspicious if the both of you were constantly going out at the same time.

How about you come over to mine later today? I get off work at 5?

Bucky’s breath hitched. He hadn’t been to your apartment before, obviously since you’d only been talking for nearly three weeks, but still.

Sure, sounds good.

Awesome! See you then, James.

See you later, gorgeous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile on your face for so long, Buck.” The blond in front of him joked, earning himself the middle finger from Bucky.

The teasing grin was soon wiped from Steve’s mouth when a figure approached the weight rack, grabbing two weights and placing himself on a mat next to him and Bucky.

Feeling Steve’s eyes piercing into his skull, the man sighed heavily. “Are you gonna be mad at me forever, Steve?”

Lifting himself up from the blue mat, the blond only hardened his look. “What do you think, Quill?”

Picking up his water bottle, Steve mumbled something about ‘going to take a shower’ before heading to the exit of the gym.

“Jesus, what’d you do to piss him off?” Bucky took a seat on the nearest bench before taking a large gulp of his water.

Peter shook his head and chuckled, beginning his own set of bicep curls. “I go to college with his sister, (Y/N), and he found out that I made out with her at a party last year.”

Luckily, Peter was too focused on the strain in his muscles to notice how Bucky’s hand clenched around his water bottle. That wasn’t an image he needed in his mind.

“I mean, I didn’t even know she was his sister. Honestly, even if I did, I probably would’ve still-”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” The boxer warned, causing Peter to furrow his brows. “Just cause Steve ain’t here, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for talking about his sister like that.”

Bucky would’ve said that even if you and him weren’t secretly a thing, but he didn’t exactly like that fact the Peter was talking about the girl he liked like that either.

Peter sighed. “Damn, you and Rogers seriously need to chill out. It was once when we were both wasted — doesn’t mean I can’t still be friends with her.”

“Well, it’s your funeral if he catches you near her again.”

Bucky always knew how protective Steve was of you. Even after leaving high school, he still thought of you as his baby sister who needed to be hidden from the outside world. Of course, Steve was aware of when you’d sneak around with boys and out to parties when you were sixteen — he didn’t think you were a little girl who knew nothing about the world around her. But if there was any way he could protect you from getting your heart broken, he’d go to lengths to make sure you didn’t get hurt.

That included keeping you away from dumb, party-animal college boys like Peter Quill. And perhaps that also included older, charming, cocky boxers like Bucky Barnes.

Not that he was ever planning on breaking your heart.

While there was a small part of his mind that thought Steve maybe wouldn’t kill him if he found out about him and you, Bucky soon came to the conclusion that Peter’s funeral wouldn’t be the only one happening if the boxer wasn’t careful.

And that was something Bucky was really hoping to avoid.

* * *

A pleasant smile graced your lips as your eyes landed on the clock on the far side of the room. 4:55pm.

Bucky would be showing up at your place in just over an hour, and you were excited.

Things had been going good between the two of you. You texted back and forth most days, met him after his training sessions at the gym, let him pick you up from college despite trying to tell him you were perfectly capable of getting the bus back. It was still pretty casual, but not in ‘friends with benefits’ way, more in a ‘we like each other and we make out a lot but we’re not anything serious yet’ way.

Steve also hadn’t caught on that you were seeing anyone yet, and you wanted to keep it that way. While everything was well with you and Bucky, you didn’t want your brother to freak out about something which might not even last. Even if he didn’t know it was Bucky you were seeing, he’d definitely be eager to find out. He was still your stupidly protective big brother — he’d only want the reassurance that you were being treated right, which you couldn’t blame him for. You’d never had a proper boyfriend before, but you’d surely had your fair share of experiences with shitty guys who were far from what Steve approved of for you.

Bucky was different, though. If he wasn’t his best friend, you’d actually be confident in thinking that Steve would approve of him. Maybe one day. Maybe he’d be able to understand.

“Is there a reason that you’re grinning from ear to ear?” Your boss stepped out of his office, raising his brow at you.

“That’s for me to know, Sam, and for you to not know.” You pushed yourself away from the desk, standing from your chair.

The man scoffed, crossing his inked arms over his chest. “Hm, alright. Turn over the sign on your way out, will you?”

“Will do, boss.”

“You got someone pickin’ you up? It’s startin’ to get dark out pretty early this time of year.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that you’d just get the bus like always, but the ringing of the bell at the door and a sudden voice breaking the silence interrupted you.

“She sure does.” The redhead that had just entered responded for you, walking up to your desk and leaning her elbows on the light wood. Your brows knitted together in surprise.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You asked her, picking up your handbag from under the desk and slinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Picking you up?” She answered, as if you were supposed to be aware that she was going to show up randomly. “You’re having your boyfriend over tonight, right? It’ll take too long for you to get home on the bus, and I know for a fact that your apartment needs cleaned up. Plus, you’ll wanna get ready, paint your nails, put on a little makeup—”

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” You confirmed, more to Sam than to Natasha, who only liked to tease. “Second of all, you know me way too well, it’s kinda freaky. And thirdly, thanks for saying all of that in front of Sam, because now I’m never gonna hear the end of it from him.”

Sam scoffed. “I’m a grown ass man, (Y/N). I’m not gonna tease you about havin’ a special someone in your life... but you should get outta here. Wouldn’t wanna keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Making your way around the desk to your friend, you rolled your eyes at your childish boss. Who allowed him to have his own business? “You know, if you weren’t the one giving me my rent money every month, I’d be calling you a pretty mean name for that comment right now.”

“Alright, alright,” The man held up his hands in defence. “But seriously, I’m closing up once you leave, so you should hurry it up.”

With a playful glare, you motioned for Natasha to follow you out of the shop, making sure to turn over the sign on the door. “Thanks, Sam. I’m feeling really appreciated as an employee right now.”

“I’m glad; see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Unfortunately so, Samuel.”

Natasha chuckled once the door clicked shut, walking you over to her car. “I really think you have the most laid back boss in New York. If I told Fury I wanted to call him a mean name, I’d only get a death stare and probably an extra pile of work to do.”

You smiled at the girl’s words. Sam and you had known each other for years, way before he opened up his tattoo shop. Him and Steve used to be friends in high school, but sort of drifted apart when Steve got more into boxing and Sam wanted to focus on his shop. He had told your brother about opening up the shop a year prior, and how he was looking for someone to work at the desk, and as a freshman in college who was in desperate need of cash, you thought you’d be perfect for the job. Since then, you worked there whenever you weren’t in class on weekdays.

Of course, he was your boss, but you didn’t see him as some big, scary authority figure. He was Sam, the dude that used to play video games with your brother in the basement for hours on end. In a way, he was like your second older brother. Not that you needed another big brother, Steve had the protectiveness and stubbornness of about three brothers combined.

“So,” Natasha smirked, climbing into the car at the same time as you. “You have to tell me more about this dude, (Y/N). Did you say he was a boxer? As in a boxer at your brother’s gym?”

Nodding reluctantly, you tugged your seatbelt over your body. You weren’t sure whether it was a good idea to tell Natasha that it was in fact your brother’s best friend you were having over that night. She was friends with Steve, not as close to him as she was to you, but you were sure she’d think it was a bad idea for you to be hiding this from him.

Maybe it’d better to keep Bucky a secret for now.

“Yes, he goes to the gym. Steve knows him, he just doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing him.”

“(Y/N)...” The woman shook her head, beginning to pull the car out of the parking space. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hide this from Steve?”

“I’m not hiding anything, Nat. It’s only been just under a month since we started seeing each other. He doesn’t need to know anything yet.”

Natasha eyed you cautiously. It didn’t seem right to her that you were completely against telling your brother about the new guy you’d been seeing. Sure, he was protective, but he wasn’t an utter asshole. You and Steve were all each other had for a while; it just seemed odd that you weren’t yet planning on telling him anything, even if the guy went to his gym.

Despite wanting to question you further, the redhead decided to stop for the time being, giving you the pleasure of a stress-free car ride back to your apartment. When you were ready, she was sure you’d tell her more about your mysterious new man.

After dropping you off outside your building, you blew an appreciative kiss to your friend before essentially skipping into the lobby, thinking about how you’d finally be able to see Bucky again properly after the quick meet-ups and short phone calls you’d dealt with all week.

While you and him weren’t serious yet, you always got a warm feeling when you knew you were going to see him. Being around him was just nice, to put it simply. Nice was good.

Since you weren’t going out, you decided to keep your look natural for the night. A light layer of makeup topped off with your signature cherry lip-gloss was applied to your face after you took a quick shower, and soon enough, you were ready to see your man.

Well, he wasn’t technically your man, but the thought of him taking other girls into the locker room at the boxing gym and making out with them wasn’t so appealing to you.

The apartment wasn’t a complete mess, yet you still practically zoomed around the place picking up odd items of clothes and putting away textbooks you’d left in the kitchen. After spending so much of your free time with Bucky, it was becoming to difficult to find time to just sit down and study. Between him hanging out with Steve at the gym and you hanging out with Steve on the weekends and you trying to find the time between work and classes to hang out with Bucky without Steve getting suspicious? You really needed to make a timetable or something.

When a sudden knock sounded against the front door, you felt your heart pang with excitement, and after rushing to open the front door and seeing Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, your heart completely melted.

As always, he looked like a three course meal. Screw that, a five course meal. Hair neatly tucked behind his ears, dark jeans covering his toned thighs, a boyish smirk sat on his lips. A large bouquet of classic red roses were enclasped in his hand, and your eyes were immediately drawn towards them.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He greeted you, his eyes wondering up and down your figure. Not in a way that made you uncomfortable, but like he was taking in your appearance, which he was. How could he not when you always looked so pretty?

“Hi, James,” You smiled, eyes flicking between his face and the roses in his hand. “That’s a lot of roses you’ve got there.”

The man let out a laugh. “I hope you like ‘em, cause they’re all yours.”

You took the flowers from his grasp slowly, tracing your eyes over every petal on every rose, trying to ignore the way your stomach was doing flips at the gesture. You leaned up, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, James. They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” Bucky winked as you pulled away, and you were sure that your face was probably as hot as the cinnamon-scented tea lights you’d lit around the place.

A flattered smile set on your lips. “Did you come up with that line on the way here?”

“Came up with it just now, actually.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Does that mean I’m allowed inside now?”

“I guess so.” You chuckled, stepping aside so Bucky could walk through the doorway. As you closed the door behind him, his eyes wandered around the area.

It was a pretty small place; the only rooms being your bedroom, the bathroom and the conjoined kitchen and living room. It’s not like you needed anything bigger, though. Not when the majority of your time in the apartment was spent watching Netflix and writing assignments way too close to their deadlines. Natasha stayed over every now and then, making herself at home on the couch or sleeping next to you in your bed if you’d had a night in with a bit too much alcohol. Bucky was the first guy you’d ever taken to your apartment, though. You didn’t like the idea of bringing guys you’d likely never see again into a place you thought of as your safe space, but Bucky wasn’t one of those guys.

“So, you live here by yourself?” He asked, his head turning to you as you placed the bouquet of roses gently on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I moved here a little while after graduating high school. It’s a lot closer to campus than where I used to live with Steve,” You explained, opening the fridge and picking out a cool bottle of red wine before grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. “Do you want a drink?”

Bucky made his way over to where you were stood at the kitchen counter, already pouring out the wine before he could answer the question. The man thanked you as you slid a glass across the counter to him, bringing the drink to his lips for a small sip. “God, I don’t think I can even remember the last time I had a drink.”

“Seriously?” You raised your brow, tapping your nails against your own glass.

“I spend more time in that damn gym than at my own house,” Bucky let out a laugh, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of hearing. “Doesn’t leave a lot of time to sit down and have a drink. I’ve never been much of a drinker, anyway. It’s nice every once in a while, though — with the right company.”

A smirk had unsurprisingly made its way back into his lips, and you shook your head at him. “And what company is that? Women you’ve made out with at the gym?”

He scoffed. “I’ve told you, (Y/N); you’re the only girl that’s ever happened with.”

“It’s okay, James,” You mirrored his teasing expression. “I believe you, and I’m honoured, truly. I mean, being the only girl that James Barnes has made out with in the sweaty guy’s locker room...”

“You say that as if it wasn’t the best makeout of your life.”

“Best makeout of my life?” You almost choked on your wine. Well, that wasn’t exactly untrue. That man was one good kisser, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of hearing that from you. “I don’t know about that one.”

“Well, I can’t imagine your one with Peter Quill was any better.” Though he murmured the words into his glass, Bucky could tell you’d heard him by the way your eyes widened in surprise.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the defeated expression on your face. “Oh, god. How do you even know about that?”

“Gossip travels fast at the gym, babydoll.” He shrugged with a smug grin, earning himself an eye roll from you.

“And why are a group of grown men at the gym discussing my personal life? Aren’t you guys meant to be, I don’t know, working out?” You asked playfully, pushing yourself away from the counter and making your way over to the couch, Bucky following you without a second thought.

You plopped yourself in the corner of your couch, crossing your legs underneath you as Bucky sat on the other side, placing his glass on the glass coffee table. “It’s your brother that’s makin’ a big deal out of the whole thing. Can’t even be in the same room as Quill without shooting daggers at the guy.”

“I didn’t think he’d be that pissed off about it,” You shook your head with a chuckle. “Peter’s harmless, everyone knows that. I know that Steve’s only protective because he cares, but losing his shit over Peter Quill? Come on.”

Bucky let a laugh slip through his lips. “I can’t imagine how he’s acted with your actual boyfriends, never mind just a guy you’ve made out with.”

Your gaze dropped to you skirt at the man’s statement, fingers playing with the hem of the material. “Well, I guess I’m lucky that I’ve never had one.”

Nervously flicking your eyes up to the man in front of you, your brows furrowed at his surprised expression. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“Is that weird to you?”

“No, not weird,” Bucky shook his head, shuffling a little closer to you on the couch so that your knees were touching. “Just surprising, since you’re, well... you.”

Your quirked a brow, a smirk forming on your glossy lips, indicating for Bucky to carry on talking.

Catching onto what you were hinting at, Bucky rolled his eyes, but gave you what you wanted. “Well, you’re smart, beautiful, good at carnival games...”

“Ah, yes,” You chuckled. “The quality that makes or breaks a woman. I mean, I am pretty good at carnival games.”

“Not as good as me, though,” He winked, earning himself a playful glare and a nudge to the knee. “But seriously, has no guy ever been lucky enough to call you theirs?”

The phrasing of the question brought heat to your cheeks, but you tried your best to act nonchalant. “I’ve went out with guys from time to time, but never been with them long enough to be, well, dating them. They’ve all been frat boys, though. Each one of them as immature and self-centred as the other. I made a vow to myself after the last one that I’d stop going for college guys. And well... I met you.”

A satisfied grin formed on Bucky’s lips as one of his hands picked up yours, causing your heart rate to pick up. “I’ll admit, you did get pretty lucky with that one.”

“Never mind; I take that back. You’re probably more self-centred than the frat boys,” You squeezed the hand holding yours, as Bucky shot you another eye roll. “I can’t lie, though. I was kinda surprised that you weren’t already spoken for when we met.”

“Like I said, I’m at the gym training more than anywhere else. I don’t have a lot of time on my hands to go out and meet people.”

“Well,” You took your bottom lip between your teeth, untucking your legs from under yourself and shuffling forward to lay them over the boxer’s lap. “That’s where you met me, James. Who said you couldn’t meet a girl at the gym?”

One of his hands went to your exposed calf, gently running his fingers along the soft skin there. “I guess luck was just really on my side that day, gorgeous.”

A quiet hum sounded from your mouth as you leaned in, unable to resist his perfect lips any longer. Both of your arms snakes around his neck as you felt him immediately kiss back, the bittersweet taste of wine evident on his tongue. The hand on your calf was slowly trailing up to reach your thigh as the other gripped your waist tightly. His touch was scarily addictive; every time your lips met his, it was like electricity shooting through your veins, the adrenaline making you only crave more of him.

You forced yourself to pull away for a couple of seconds, allowing you to kneel on the couch before swinging a leg over his clothed thighs to straddle him. His hands instinctively fell to your waist again, pulling your body to press against his as gentle kisses dotted along your jaw. A whimper fell from your swollen lips as Bucky’s mouth latched onto a sensitive spot on your neck, sucking a deep purple mark onto the skin before softly kissing the delicate area.

There was a gentle tug on the hem of your top, making you pull back slightly. Bucky’s voice was deeper than before as he spoke. “You wanna take this off, beautiful?”

Fuck it, you thought to yourself, reaching for the bottom of the cotton and pulling it up and off your body. The boxer’s eyes ran across your exposed chest, your lacy pink bra not leaving much to the imagination. He continued his line of kisses from the crook of your neck across your collarbone, savouring the taste of your skin and your moans of pleasure as he left another pretty mark on your body.

It was just so easy with Bucky. You could laugh with him and talk to him about anything without difficulty, and that would easily flow into a heated makeout session with you straddling his lap or being pressed against the wall. Nothing felt forced or unnatural, everything was just how the two of you wanted it to be. That had been the first time you’d taken your shirt off in front of him, and you’d never gone further than making out in the three weeks you’d been seeing each other. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go any further, because boy, did the thought alone make heat rush to your face. It just didn’t feel like the right time yet, which was fine. As long as everything stayed swell between you and Bucky, you’d happily wait until that time eventually came.

The two of you stayed like that for twenty minutes, hungrily locking lips and running your hands over each other’s bodies until you were both panting for breath. It was you who suggested stopping for the time being, and Bucky agreed, knowing that continuing would only make the two of you crave more, which you weren’t yet ready to carry out. After finding your discarded top from the floor and pulling it back over your torso, you positioned yourself again so that your legs were thrown over his thighs, head resting on his shoulder as his hand fell to your hip. You turned the television on, some old movie playing quietly in the background as you started up another conversation with Bucky about God knows what for another hour or so, only getting up to refill your glasses wine before quickly sitting comfortably against Bucky again and falling right back into conversation.

Laughter occasionally filled the room when Bucky uttered a sarcastic comment, and when you replied with just as much sarcasm as him. The conversation remained completely uninterrupted, until your eyes caught a glimpse of the dark sky scattered with stars through the window. As much as you wanted to stay curled up against Bucky forever, the boxer had training to do early the next morning, and he didn’t want to risk a questioning from Steve if he showed up late to the gym.

After reluctantly swinging your legs off the edge of the couch and downing the remainder of wine in your glass, you were soon seeing Bucky out of your apartment.

He stood in your doorway just as he had done when he’d first arrived, and it amazed you how quickly the night had flown by. It seemed like only minutes prior that the man was handing you a gorgeous bouquet of roses and asking if he was allowed inside.

There was a different look in his eyes, though. The nerves that were evident in his slightly widened eyes were long gone, replaced by a fond, affectionate glint that made your heart swell as he looked down at you.

“Thanks for tonight, babydoll,” Bucky smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair begin your ear, exposing the dark mark he’d left on your neck and letting his eyes linger on it for a few short moments. “We should do this more often.”

“Make out and drink wine? That’s something I could get used to,” You rested your hands on his chest, biting back the grin that threatened to spread from ear to ear. You leaned up to press a final kiss to his cheek, but were satisfied to feel Bucky’s lips on yours instead when he lightly tilted your chin to the side.

The kiss was long, neither of you wanting to be the one to pull away. You just couldn’t get enough of him; his touch, his lips, his sweet pet names and teasing comments. How the hell someone so perfect happened to walk into your life, you weren’t sure.

If Bucky was a stranger to Steve, he might’ve been the only guy that you weren’t afraid of your brother not approving of. Sure, he’d get the stupid lecture and the cold shoulder in the beginning, but you were positive that he’d think that Bucky was good for you. Things unfortunately were that simple, though. Because Bucky was Steve’s best friend, and the two of you were sneaking around behind his back. It bothered you, and it bothered Bucky too. However, things were still relatively new, even when you felt like Bucky was a guy you never wanted to let slip through your fingers, your brother wouldn’t be able to understand that just yet.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from the longing kiss and gently shoved at Bucky’s chest. “If we stand here any longer, there’s no way you’re gonna be up for training tomorrow. Get yourself home, James.”

The boxer sighed, trailing his fingers down your arm to your hand, giving it a final squeeze before stepping out into the hallway. “Drop by the gym some time soon?”

You crinkled your brows. “I would, but what about Ste-”

“Steve doesn’t train on Thursdays.” Bucky reassured you quickly, making a smile crawl onto your lips.

“Thursdays... I’ll see what I can do.” You didn’t have classes on Thursdays, and you only worked the morning shift at the tattoo shop that day, so you knew you’d have time to see Bucky at the gym — you just liked to see the stupid grin on the boxer’s face when you teased him. “Now, seriously; go home. And be safe.”

“I’m always safe, (Y/N).” He affirmed with one last wink before he finally began to walk away from your apartment, and you slowly shut the front door, leaning your back against it once you heard the click of the lock.

Fuck, he was just so perfect. Everything was perfect with him, and if everything stayed that way, then maybe breaking the news to Steve wouldn’t be so far from perfect too.

However, it was probably foolish of you to get so wrapped up in how smooth things with Bucky were going. It was unfortunately never going to last, the ease of it all.

Unknowingly to you, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Series Taglist:

@littledarlinhavefaithinme

[thafost]

The Overboard AU I’ve been struggling to write!

I’m putting out the first bit for now. Unfinished as of now.

I’m a terrible writer so... but this is mostly based on the classic episode “Strictly Business” but instead of all that silly, Oh I’m Macgyver~ business... why not just say hey, that dude’s my boyfriend? Let me take him home? But also, Modern Macgyver means Murdoc has a child. So... Overboard it is.

Macgyver’s disappearance has been weighing heavily on his friends. It had been a long week of investigating what happened after his car crashed, but the leads have dried up. While Matty checks in with the overnight agents in charge, a phone call comes in on the line normally reserved for Macgyver or other field agents. Matty connects, hoping to see Macgyver’s face, but feels disappointment at the actual respondent. “You.”

“Me.” Murdoc says. “Before you go any further, I am sending you my location. Please, please come get Macgyver. He’s completely fine... just amnesiac.”

“What’s the catch, Murdoc?”

“I’d like to not be arrested? Cassian and I will be relocating while you come pick up the boy scout.”

“So why give him back now?” As Matty asks this, Murdoc looks flustered, and he turns away from the camera for a moment.

“This might come as a bit of a shock, but Cassian might have told Macgyver that he’s my special friend.”

 “Alright Kiddo, we need to get out of here.” He tells Cassian in the back seat. Accelerating he heads towards his intended destination wondering about how long it will take to get there when he hears his son pipe up.

“What about your friend?” Murdoc’s clench up on the steering wheel, and the gloves slide a little as his fingers dig in. Of course his son would remember Macgyver from saving him from their little trip to South America.

“There’ll be an ambulance soon, Cassian. He should be fine.” Murdoc knows that’s not going to stop his son’s line of questioning.

“Dad, he could be hurt.” Murdoc groans at how his son’s words play at his heart strings. This was after all, someone who considers Murdoc a nuisance, or maybe even a nemesis. “We should go back and check on him dad.” Murdoc knew this would not be the end of it, and he should at least make sure the accident hadn’t started a fire. Slowing his car down, Murdoc pulls a u-turn to position himself closer to the accident. As they approach the accident, Macgyver has already freed himself and is standing at the side of the road.

“See, he’s fine.” Murdoc says before feeling unsettled as Macgyver begins to wave his arms at them. He rolls down his window, and he gets the surprise of a lifetime as Macgyver starts talking.

“Hey, you’ve got to help me. My car is wrecked and I think I hit my head.”

“Oh Angus, have you forgotten me? I’m hurt.” Angus gives Murdoc a long and thorough look through the open window. After looking for oncoming traffic, he crosses to Murdoc’s window, and Murdoc spots a bright cut over his eyebrow and cheekbone. “You have, haven’t you?”

“Who are you?” asks Macgyver. As Murdoc considers his options, Cassian pipes up.

“This is my dad, Murdoc, and I think he’s your boyfriend.” Murdoc chokes on his saliva for a moment, as Murdoc tries to figure out how his son drew this conclusion. It’s not accurate to his relationship, but he lets his son continue. “He says you’re his special friend, and that you go on adventures together.” Well, that is accurate, Murdoc thinks.

“Special friend?” Matty asks.

“Boyfrienddddd....” Murdoc whispers while turning flush. Matty laughs.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I thought he’d remember sooner, or want to talk to you lot, much earlier. But here we are, and he’s...” Murdoc trails off in the video call, and Matty sees him gaze off camera. “Anyway, he decided he wanted to come with us.”

“Were we going somewhere together?” Angus asks.

“You were following us.” Murdoc states. Technically true. “I’m headed to a new job out of state. I think you were upset that I was leaving.” Escaping a prison.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Cassian asks. “At least into the next city. I’ll let you ride up front with my dad.”

Angus joins them in the car. “You call me Murdoc, but my first name is Dennis. Your name is Angus Macgyver.” Murdoc sees some recognition in Macgyver’s eyes. “Let's get you to a doctor, boy scout.” Angus looks disapproving of this nickname. “Oh good, you seem to have some sense of yourself.” Murdoc once again pulls a u-turn to head in their intended route.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah kiddo?”

“I’d be really happy if Macgyver came to live with us. He was so nice in Columbia. You know, with Mommy.” Murdoc feels his hands clench the steering wheel tightly as he navigates the mountainous hills.

“Well, that’s up to Mr. Macgyver.” Murdoc clenches his teeth, just knowing what’s coming next.

“I mean, as long as the doctors say I can, sure.”

“I was hoping the doctors would want to run a CT scan or I could leave him for observation, but no luck. We were on our way. Then I stopped for the night, but... you didn’t come for us.” Murdoc explains over the video call. 

The next city’s doctors rubber stamp Macgyver as good to go. They note that spending time with close friends and loved ones can help jar memories loose, but warned not to overdo memory lane.

With nothing but open road ahead of them, Murdoc rents a hotel room for the three of them. “Let’s get you to bed before our long drive.”

“Sounds good Dennis.” The hotel room is very dated, thanks to the small town nature. Murdoc sets up his side of the room, realizing shortly that Macgyver needs toiletries as well as additional clothes.

“Alright, you two put on a movie or something. I’m going to get some supplies and dinner.” Murdoc noted concern in Cassian’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Macgyver will keep you safe. But he needs pajamas.” Cassian smiles, turns on the television and thinks nothing of it. “Call me if you need anything.”

Murdoc returns with clothing relatively close to Macgyver’s size. He also brings burgers and milkshakes. It’s an easy way to make his son happy, and Murdoc’s glad that it works. Macgyver seems happy with his new assortment of flannel shirts, nerd shirts, pajamas, and toothbrush. As they eat, Murdoc tries to piece together the movie on the small television set. It’s utterly terrible but Cassian and Macgyver seem to be enjoying it. Murdoc pulls the chair in the room over between the two beds to watch the television. The music swells as the heroes triumph, and the lead characters turn to each other and kiss. Unexpectedly, Cassian does not seem to mind. “Hey bud, when did you move past the girls and kissing are icky phase?”

“After I got to see you, Mommy, and Macgyver on that trip. Macgyver worked so hard to get me. Mom just left.” Cassian said. 

“Mommy had to go on a business trip kiddo.”

“Dad, I’m not a little kid. I know what you and mom do. I know what Macgyver does. I know Mom’s going to be gone forever.” Cassian didn’t seem to be as sad as Murdoc thinks he should be.

“Cassian, I’d still keep an eye out for Mom. She’s always a surprise if nothing else.” Murdoc spared a slight glance to see Macgyver’s expression, but he was not looking towards Murdoc and his son, but towards the window. Outside appears to have police lights. “Shi---, Macgyver you’re fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. The cops probably aren’t here for us.”

“Why would they be here for us?” Macgyver asks.

“We forgot to tell his friends he’s okay!” Cassian says with sudden clarity.

“Oh. Right. We’ll call in the morning. Time for bed sport.” Cassian frowns, but heads off to get ready for bed. Macgyver is at the window peeking through the curtains. “What are they up to out there?”

“Busting some dude and a pretty lady.” The wheels turn in Murdoc’s head a little faster than Macgyver’s bruised one. He’s clicked on the sketchy hotel and pretty lady as Macgyver closes the blinds and says “Oh.” Murdoc stands up and puts the chair back in the corner of the room. Macgyver moves away from the window and towards the things Murdoc bought for him. He pulls out the pajamas and turns to Murdoc. “Am I a night showerer, or a morning showerer?” Murdoc’s at a bit of a loss.

“Nighttime I think. We’re not cohabitating so your guess is as good as mine.” Macgyver frowns, and gets his things ready for a shower. Cassian returns, ready for bed, and Macgyver goes to use the bathroom. “Do you need a bedtime story?” Cassian laughs.

“Not really dad.” Cassian climbs into one of the beds. “What are you going to do when we get there?”

“That will depend on Macgyver and if he starts to remember. I don’t think we can keep him forever.” The water for the shower comes on, so Murdoc flips to the news stations for a quick check to see if he’s been blown. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be a manhunt in progress for any of the three of them, likely because Phoenix didn’t want anyone trying to stop Murdoc thmself. As Macgyver returns, Murdoc turns off the tv and presses a quick kiss to Cassian’s forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Night Cassian.”

“Hey dad, instead of a bedtime story, can I have a you and Macgyver story?”

“Cassian’s going to be pissed when he figures out what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Matty asks.

“He really does think Macgyver’s my boyfriend, and I’m not entirely sure why. Also he likes this school. And my non murder job.”

“Your what?”

“My job that’s completely murder free. It’d be legal, except I’m using a false identity. While I’m really good at the murder, I wanted something more stable for my son.” Murdoc shugs, and Matty’s mildly impressed. “It just felt like a good move for now, after removing myself from that prison.”

“Sure, we’ll fight over that later. Why do you think Macgyver stayed?”

“Anything specific?” Murdoc asks.

“How did you first meet?” Cassian asks.

“Well, I was working at a museum. Angus was also at the museum working, and sparks flew.” He looks to see Macgyver blush slightly.

“Sparks flew? For real?” Cassian asks.

“Oh, he definitely made sure of that. Then he couldn’t stop following me.” Cassian frowns. “He made me rockets from wine bottles later. He’s quite fun at parties. But as things go, Macgyver definitely came out ahead that time. Only one of us got his job done, but I definitely found something I hadn’t before.”

“What?” Asks Macgyver this time.

“Love. Just kidding,” Murdoc sees Macgyver roll his eyes. “ I found someone interesting, and new. People tend to bore me. Not you kiddo, and definitely not Handsome.”

“We had some early roadbumps. Things that had you known we were together, probably would have signalled our location.”

“Like what, what’d we miss?” asks Matty.

“Did the gas station attendant not report the attempted robbery?”

At the first sign of needing gas, Murdoc feels a little worry in the back of his mind that this will be when Phoenix storms in and takes him back. He puts the thought away, and gives Macgyver and Cassian a twenty to spend on snacks. Murdoc stands pumping gas by himself, looking for operatives, and wary of everything going on. After his tank is full, he moves his car to the station parking and heads in to see what’s taking them so long.

As he opens the front door, Murdoc sees the issue. As the cashier moves at a leisurely pace, a man in front of the cashier holds a firearm in such a way that implies a robbery, but also that he’s not skilled at using firearms. Macgyver and Cassian appear aware of the situation but standing far enough away that Murdoc feels comfortable stepping into the store. “Greetings, it seems like this is your first rodeo.” The gunman immediately swings his gaze and weapon towards Murdoc. “Well that’s just unkind, I was going to give you some professional tips, man to man.” Murdoc gestures, and lets his weight rest from foot to foot. “But you’re holding up my roadtrip, and I’ve got places to be, people to see.” Murdoc winks at Macgyver in the back of the store. The gunman starts to swivel, and Murdoc quickly disarms him. “So, if you could call the authorities and turn in this weapon for me, that’d be great.” He tells the clerk placing the gun on the counter. “Safety’s on, so you should be okay placing that somewhere out of reach. And you mister, shame on you for being so bad at this.” Murdoc still has one hand on the man, who tries to swing a punch. Blocking the punch, Murdoc returns the favor and lands a good one against his head. He settles down and Murdoc releases him. “Boy scout, come pay for your snacks, and lets get going.”

There’s a look of disbelief on Macgyver’s face, and then he and Cassian come forward with their snacks. Cassian even grabbed Murdoc’s favorite roadtrip beverage. “Do you call me boy scout a lot?” Macgyver asks, placing everything on the counter. Murdoc thinks for a moment.

“Somewhat I’d say. Did that kick something loose?” Murdoc asks as the cashier rings in everything. Macgyver shakes his head.

“Not really a memory, but a feeling.” Murdoc feels something warm bloom low in his gut. “I’m not sure what kind of a feeling, but it felt familiar.” Macgyver pays for everything, and they’re on their way again. 

“I’m glad your body remembers me at least, if not your brain.” Murdoc says as they’re on the highway. “Your guts didn’t forget what we have.”

“I guess not, Dennis.” Macgyver says, and he leans a bit and pats Murdoc’s knee warmly. Murdoc tries not to focus on the hand on his leg, but it feels so right, but also so impossibly warm. After a moment Macgyver returns his hand back to resting on his own leg, and Murdoc definitely feels a loss that he will ignore for the rest of his life.

“The one foiled by some creepy dude in leather gloves was you?” Murdoc notes a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“Yes. He was holding the line up, and I sent the boys in to get snacks. Very rude.”

[onceuponanaromantic]

🍵 let the world know of our angst 🍵

 Aha.

Welcome everyone to:

TUA JAPANESE MYTHOLOGY AU  by @a-blue-hoodie and me!

In this AU, we have *drumroll please*

DIEGO

- A protective Tengu who mainly takes care of the Patches

- He Fucked UpTM once and Eudora ended up being killed

- It’s his greatest failure and he’s vowed to do better

- He’s friends with Klaus! And Ben!

KLAUS

- Our favourite ghost seeing boy is a shinigami!

- Everything he touches dies and when his situation gets particularly bad and he’s feeling emotional, he emits a Cloud of Death which causes everything in a certain radius around him to die

- He HATES it and he wishes he wasn’t a shinigami

- Boi’s like immortal and he’s constantly shunned by everyone

- He mostly hangs around Ben and Vanya (who is dead)

- He’s been friends with Ben for a long time, and at some points they haven’t interacted with humans for a Really Long Time which leads to... hilarity.

- Spoiler alert: he kills Ben by accident

BEN

- Bean boy’s a kitsune!

- He’s got like 6 tails when he meets Klaus

- Spoiler alert: He dies

- That’s not the angst part, oh no, we have WORST hoho

- Ben’s been captured by an onmyogi and basically forced to kill and tortured all the way since he has 2 tails to the time he had 5 tails

- He only escapes because the last time he was told to kill, it was a small boy named Dave. Who realises what happens so he fakes death and binds Ben to him to protect Ben all the way until Klaus turns up to investigate

- See all these dead souls that Ben kills? They did NOT die easy or happily. So there’s a huge influx of these souls so Klaus is like ok we need to check this out

- The only thing that gets Ben through is the knowledge that it can’t be forever. It can’t be because Five told him that his ghost will only have 6 tails so he knows he’ll die at some point. 

- Then Ben meets Klaus and like he’s so thankful like ‘oh are you here for me finally?’ and Klaus is like ‘No????’ and Ben ends up befriending Klaus knowing he’s going to end up dead.

- His power’s exponential not linear like most other Kitsune so by the time he was 6 tails he had like 9 tail power

- Basically he’s crazy powerful which is part of the reason why Five just told him

- After his death, which was caused by Klaus, he’s actually kind of relieved like ‘IM FINALLY DEAD HAH YOU CAN’T DO SHIT TO ME NOW’ and like he’s the least emotionally affected by his own death. Klaus is sobbing and grieving and he just

- returns. Completely nonchalantly.

- He retains his powers after death too.

FIVE

- Teleporting tenko kitsune that’s the boy

- Idiot was supposed to ascend to heaven but... he forgot and missed his window

- He was doing research and got distracted. (NO ONE BELIEVES IT WHEN HE TELLS THEM THAT)

- So now he’s forever stuck in a child’s body

- He can teleport and see into the future

- First time he met ben he was like ‘oh your ghost is going to have 6 tails’ and Ben was like ????

- He’s been around so long he genuinely doesn’t understand why people are upset by the idea of death and themselves/the people close to them dying

- got his name because he met Delores when he had 5 tails and she didn’t know what a kitsune was so she just called him 5

- Then delores dies and he wasn’t bothered enough to find a new name so yeah

- He’s like insensitive as fuck but also really wise

VANYA

- Resident Violinist is now a natural disaster causing onryo

- she was really scared of her powers and timid and very much a walkover when she was alive

- then Leonard tried to use her as a Nice Guy and manipulate her into causing a natural disaster around and she Finds Out about what he tried to do and she went ‘oh FUCK THIS’

- Leonard ends up killing her, but her ghost is full of anger and having none of it

- and proceeds to enlist Klaus’ help and kills Leonard

- that’s the first time Klaus is really ok with taking his gloves off and like trying to kill because really Leonard was an asshole and he did just try to destroy an entire country because he wanted power. (also Leonard reminds him of the onmyogi who controlled Ben for centuries)

- After he kills Leonard, Klaus thinks Vanya’s unfinished businessTM should be done but like she’s just. I’m Still Angry I’m Staying.

- And Klaus is like uh. Sure I guess. And so she hangs around him and somehow she retains her powers as a ghost?

- She’s Really Sassy and sometimes Klaus will be like ‘Would it kill you to be a little nicer?’ and she looks at him deadpan and goes ‘yes’

- She’s also constantly salty and has full control of her abilities because ‘really. I’m dead what’s the worst that can happen’

BONUS:

DAVE:

- Hachiman/the actual Prince

- He was supposed to become the emperor but went like nahhhh

- He’s actually like a minor god of war and worshipped by the samurai but like he doesn’t brag about that

- As a child he saved Ben until he met Klaus and like ‘Oh ok shinigami ok I can trust him’

-When he’s older he’ll remember he did Something about a Kitsune and a Shinigami but he doesn’t know it’s ben and klaus

- hilariously he ends up dating Klaus

- He meets Klaus at a ball and like some cinderella bullshit happens and like Klaus doesn’t recognise him because he’s been away from civilisation for so long

- Hilarity ensues because Klaus introduces him to Diego who DOES recognise him and Dave shushes Diego like SHHHH DONT TELL HIM HE DOESN’T KNOW

- Poor longsuffering Diego tbh. He tries to Hint at Klaus but Klaus does NOT get it

- ‘Oh no the prince is way out of my league I’m sure he’s nice and all but I’ve already got Dave’ ‘I’m sure the prince would be lucky to have you.’ ‘Aww thanks Dave’ *Diego sobbing*

- Oh yeah he gets killed.

- Klaus’ shinigami powers don’t work on him but Klaus doesn’t know that. Dave can’t be killed by magical means but like normal physical means work

- He dies in a horrific fashion

AND THAT’S ALL

Some key scenes:

- Klaus often walks about with Ben and later Vanya by his side making comments. Especially after Ben’s death. They’re really good friends

- POOR DIEGO TRIES SO HARD TO HINT AND LIKE EVEN EUDORA GETS IT BUT NO KLAUS NEVER FIGURES OUT FOR A LONG TIME THAT HIS BOYFRIEND IS AN ACTUAL GOD HE JUST THINKS DIEGO’S BEING A BI DISASTER

- ‘how’ ‘idk man but Ben didn’t know either? anyway don’t tell him’ ‘UGH’

- Ben’s death comes about because like Klaus is trying to snatch Ben away from someone who’s trying to control him so he’s trying to kill the onmyogi after Ben so gloves off but his gloves are still off when he touches Ben’s hoshi no tama, aka his actual soul. Usually his powers don’t work on Ben but like it’s his soul so Ben feels something weird and goes ‘well shit’ and dies

- Ben’s had a hard life really like he was kidnapped by someone who took note of his prodigious and unnaturally powerful magic when he was just 2 tails and forced to kill. When he kills, his power grows but it also hurts Ben a LOT. And he hates it and it’s torture but he’s literally forced to.

- The only thing he can cling on to is Five’s declaration that his ghost will have 6 tails so it won’t be forever it’ll end at some point and that’s how he endures being tortured for several centuries :)

- He’s so grateful to see Klaus because he really thinks that it’s the end for him thank god. and he’s so happy and klaus is like no? i’m not here to kill you i’m literally trying to prevent your death and ben is disappointed

- Eudora’s death is a really sore spot for Diego because like he was off chasing some robbers and vigilante-ing becos Eudora told him there were some robbers threatening people and he was like WELL LET ME HELP. And he does manage to catch them but that means that he uses some magic.

- So when the Patches are in danger, he protects them, but Eudora realises her friend is in danger and runs back in for them and Diego doesn’t have enough magic to shield her too and that’s how she ends up dying.

- See vigilante work is NOT part of tengu’s job so Diego effectively failed terribly at doing his job

- No one blames Diego, least of all Eudora, but like he failed. He failed in his job as a Tengu he’s a failure of a protective spirit he had only one job in his life he had to do 1 (One) thing and he couldn’t do it.