#i did not at all set out to copy his coat but it just sort of happened...

[unnonexistence]

went winter coat shopping and. i am destined to be hermann-coded apparently

[gojobbg]

friction | you x crush!nanami pt. 1

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: first!! ever!! story-driven smut!!! im so excited! literally love this man sm and have yet to make any sort of fic on him. ahhh!! let me know if yall like this idea! i'll be releasing mini parts sporadically as my free time allows me to :)

December | Tokyo, Japan

Nanami relied on you, simply because you made it a point to become ever so reliable to him.

Monday through Friday, you would always arrive just a few minutes before him, feigning an earlier arrival with your coat stowed away, and your computer on with work tabs open on the monitor. This morning, like every morning, went exactly within your expectations. You’d know he arrived by the sea of ‘goodmorning, Mr. Nanami’ flooding the office. The firm steps of his Italian oxfords would always remind you to straighten your back and await him with his cup of coffee in hand. 

“Goodmorning, Nanami,” you hum, your words sliding off your tongue like butter. You don’t look at him, as you were busy basking in the privilege of long-dropped formalities. Although Nanami was very strict with work and coworker relationships, he only accepted you speaking to him informally. At least, in regards to his honorifics. 

“‘Mornin’,” Nanami huffs. He takes a seat beside you, stripping away his black peacoat. It was a heavy winter in Japan, so in the ocean of snow and winds were city workers and dwellers, draped in coats or inappropriate attire. You knew it was rude to stare, but you were always entranced from seeing his body in his usual beige suit. A veiny hand presents itself before you. 

You carefully fill his hand with his hot-brewed coffee, “just the way you like it. Your favorite barista was in today, finally. He was out with a cold, and took a few days off sick.” 

Nanami’s free hand frantically moves his mouse, impatiently waiting for his computer to illuminate on. “It’s unfortunate his counterparts cannot mimic his talent. We may have to poach him into our corporate cafe.” 

You begin to draft an email, the lingering warmth from his coffee resting in your hands. “I can draft an email for you if you’d like. You have a meeting with Mr. Takada at 2, so it could be opportune to mention it.” 

His eyes casually flicker over to the calendar pinned on the dividing cubicle wall, between both of your computers. It was organized in neat font thanks to you and your handwriting. Hazel eyes begin to scan the calendar, with Nanami lightly cupping his mouth. “And were you able to postpone the team meeting for today?” 

You nod, never missing a beat, “I’ve long sent the email, and made my rounds earlier today to remind them that we will not be gathering today. I’ve set up an alternative forum that works for everyone's schedule, including ours.” You reach over for a folder you had neatly sitting in your ‘complete’ basket. “I’ve already printed copies for the documents we’ll be going over, and booked conference room 3.” 

“My favorite,” Nanami breathed out between swigs of his bitter coffee. “Did you double check everything?” 

“All documents were revised 3 times for mathematical errors, grammar, and consumability. I’ve also prepared catering to be brought tomorrow, as the meeting would take place at the beginning of everybody's shift.” 

The blonde man stripped off his blazer, revealing his alluring, navy blue shirt. He neatly drapes it over the back of his seat and leans back once again. He crosses his arms over his chest, the bulge of his bicep evident under the fabric of his dress shirt. “Any new updates from Mr. Takada or the team?” You could hear the office quiet down, the sudden silence of keyboard tapping and casual conversation. 

“Mr. Takada has yet to send anything, so that is still pending. The team, however, has made quite the advance in their work. They’ve already predicted our numbers for the end of the year, with our solidified, confirmed numbers already calculated and organized in a shared Excel.” 

Nanami smirks mischievously, “I don’t believe it. How’d you manage to get that out of these loafers?” A few of the staff playfully complain, receiving a small chuckle from Nanami. You felt your cheeks warm up from his hidden dimple coming to the spotlight of his lips. 

They all go back to their work after exchanging light words and laughter. You lean over slightly towards Nanami, not giving him any sort of eye contact. “I let them choose the breakfast we will be catering for the meeting,” you whispered playfully. 

He leans as well, “you truly are a woman of trade, Y/N.” He quickly opens up a few documents on the screen while finishing the final drop of his coffee. His bottom lip glistened with coffee, having him casually drag his tongue to wipe it off. “How about our lunch for today? You and I, that is,” he made sure to clarify. 

You opened your drawer and fished out a menu. It was a menu from a seafood restaurant that opened close to the office. You slid it to him, opening it up to reveal his annotations when he initially looked through it. “I scheduled an order for both of the dishes that you had circled. Both options look delicious, so I figured we could sample from one another's plate.” 

Nanami turns to you, his lips hinting at a smile. He lightly tugs the bottom of his lip with his teeth, sending shots directly at your heart. “What are we drinking?” 

“I couldn’t find your favorite iced tea, but they have this pomegranate drink that I think you’d enjoy greatly,” you hum confidently, “it has yuzu in it.” 

Nanami’s lips finally curve into that saccharine sweet smile. “Why do I even clock in anymore?” Nanami jokes, “I can be on autopilot so long as I have you Y/N. Thank you for being so diligent.” He begins to rise from his chair, causing a few of your fellow coworkers to look over. “I’m off to the kitchen to grab some snacks. Would you like anything from the cafe?” 

You nod, “tell any of the baristas my name, they’ll know. They also have those apple pies you like today, so definitely grab one while they’re still available.” 

With an excited hum, Nanami walks away from you, your eyes glued to how good that blue skirt hugged his torso. Broad shoulders, sharper blades, and muscular. His scent wafted you when he left his seat, the notes of sandalwood and frankincense taking you over. But your thirsting thoughts simply had to be bursted by Yū Haibara. He temporarily took a seat in Nanami’s seat, and turned your chair over to face him. 

“Keep staring and maybe you might actually start drooling,” Haibara humors. Before you, Haibara was Nanami’s only right hand man. He is not as diligent as you are, but he keeps up with Nanami the way others can’t. “I thought you wanted to keep your crush a secret?” 

Before you could respond, your hand immediately cups around Haibara’s mouth. “I’ll punch the drool out of your mouth so we can twin– can you please not say that out loud, in the office?” You grit your teeth after your words, letting your hand fall to reveal a cheeky smile from the obsidian-haired man. 

“That is the most aggressive thing you’ve ever whispered to me,” Haibara whispered back, finally using his head voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t too loud or else you would’ve mauled him. “That’s no way to speak to your manager.”

“If you were my manager, nothing would get done,” you teased, looking back at your computer to analyze some of the numbers Nanami sent you. “Did you need something, or are you just here to mess with me?” 

“Both!” Haibara hums. “I’m not messin with ya, rather I just want to keep my eye out for you. I’ve already told you about how Kento feels about dating. I would hate to see you–” 

“I know, I know,” you quickly shut down, waving your hand in his face. “I’m not trying to act delusional or anything. I already like him, so there’s nothing I can do.” Haibara stays quiet, not wanting to bother you. 

Haibara knows when to draw the line when he teases you. He reveals a paper from who knows where and offers it to you. It was a thank you letter from the Sales Department. “I visited them as soon as I came in today. They thanked you for helping them with a small project and asked to transfer you back.” 

You picked up the letter, your cheeks going warm again. You pucker out your bottom lip and hold the letter to your chest. “I miss my team so much! Ah, it felt so good to work with them again!” Your eyes then flicker at Nanami’s small name tag beside your desk. 

It wasn’t that Nanami was this amazing man, but he was wonderful. When you were transferred from the Sales Department to the Finance Department, you weren’t sure you were going to do well. Especially considering you were transferred specifically to be Nanami’s assistant. But on your first day, you noticed that Nanami joined you in the empty desk beside your own. His office was not big enough to host you and your needs, so he has refused to use his office since then. He told you it was necessary to work with one another, and that sacrifices on his end must be seen in order for work to get done. 

Since then, you have never let him down. 

“But I’d never leave this,” you say, the sentiment in your words striking Haibara. “Their words are kind, but Nanami’s words are heavy. I feel… appreciated by him.” 

Haibara scoffs enviously, crossing his arms over his chest, “wish that was me. Nanami never made me feel appreciated. He didn’t even congratulate me when I was promoted to Head Manager!” 

“And I still won’t,” a deep voice sounded from behind you. Turning around, a smile tickled your lips as Nanami came back. One hand occupied your drink, while the other held a steaming hot apple pie. He delicately places your drink on the corner of your desk before going to Haibara, lightly spinning the chair with a push from his knee. “Off.” 

“Am I nothing to you?” Haibara moans theatrically. “You’re commanding me like a dog on your couch.” 

Nanami assumes his seat after ripping Haibara off of it, “I’d still let a dog sit on my couch. Anyways, what did you need Ms. Y/L/N for?” 

Haibara quickly rushes to your side while playfully sticking his tongue out towards Nanami. “I was passing her a letter from the Sales team. They want to steal her back from us.” 

You quickly elbow his stomach from him not saying the whole truth. 

But it was too late. “Is that right?” Nanami murmurs. He moves his mouse to wake up the computer, immediately getting back to his workflow. “They can try, but it’ll never happen,” Nanami said simply, “I’d never approve it.” 

It was… a compliment? Well, that’s how it felt like to you. It felt like Nanami wanted you all to himself, but only in a work capacity. Despite this being platonic and strictly work related, it still sent waves of emotion to your heart. 

Haibara chuckles, “who knows? Maybe Y/N will go on her own accord.” You look back at Haibara, practically seething at his unthinkable words. Haibara quickly puts his arms over his stomach, protecting himself from another potential blow. 

Nanami quickly removes his hands from his keyboard and looks over at Haibara. His face was distasteful. “Move away from my assistant before you rub your stupid on her. While you’re at it…” Nanami reaches over to his rack of documents and pulls out a very thick folder with a label that reads ‘To Do.’ He eagerly holds it out to Haibara, who reluctantly takes it from him. “These are all the clients we need to look through. Pick out at least 20 that you think would be an asset to the company if we worked with them.” 

Haibara, without another word, drags his feet back to his office. You try to hide your smile as you excitedly pick up your iced drink. Taking a sip, you let out a satisfied sigh. “Thank you for getting me this, Nanami. I hope there wasn’t a line or anything.” 

“None at all,” Nanami hums. “I didn’t realize that you liked your drinks so sweet, Y/N. I could swear you usually get a different drink.” 

Your shoulders hang a bit from his words, but you were still quite upbeat, “it’s been the same since I was transferred to your department.” You made sure not to imbue your words with disappointment as you would hate to make him feel guilty. “It’ll be a year soon since I’ve joined the Finance Department.” You pointed to the day on the calendar, which was marked clearly with an X. 

Nanami looks over at you with a warm smile, “you have been a wonderful addition to the team. I’m glad that Mr. Takada knew what I needed, and recommended you.” 

Unable to contain your happiness from his flattery, you quickly glue yourself to your monitor. You tap away at your keyboard like a maniac, attempting to calm the quick beating of your heart. Your drink, in a way, was tasting a little sweeter than usual after his words. 

[skyahri]

Shock |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Summary: An uninvited guest on Kakashi’s doorstep might be a little trouble, but it's worth it in the end.

Warnings: canon compliant violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is in shock, medical equipment.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

"I'm sorry, I um- I don't know why I'm here."

Out of curiosity, Kakashi cracks his front door open just a bit wider so he can get a better look at you. You're in your anbu attire, blood coating your clothes and splattered on your face. Your hands are shaking and you're shifting on your feet. You look manic- pupils blown and an unreadable expression on your face.

"It's kinda funny that I am, though, right? Knocking on your door in the middle of the night, covered in blood like a lunatic."

He peeks out into the hall, but there's no one else. No secondary footprints or chakra residuals. It's just you, like you said, covered in blood like a lunatic.

"You don't even like me and yet I still came here. I could've gone, well, anywhere else. I probably should've gone home... or the Hokage's office."

In your senseless muttering, you had gotten it right- you should've gone somewhere- anywhere- else. Why come here? While he's never been unnecessarily mean, he'd also never been kind to you, and yet here you are, waking him up at three in the morning, talking his ear off in some sort of haze.

"He'll probably want an update on my mission. He has to send a recovery team for the others, too. I think I need a medic before that, though. I hope he doesn't mind waiting."

He furrows his eyebrows at your rambling. You've always been a talker, but never like this. Never this unorganized and rushed, like your only goal was to fill the silence the night brought-

Wait.

"Recovery team?"

"It's kinda cold out don't you think? Usually, we have a few more weeks until it snows, but I think it's coming sooner this year. I've been trying to knit a blanket between missions, but I don't think I'll finish it before-"

You don't answer. You don't even acknowledge that he's said anything at all. You just keep talking. He's not sure what possessed him to do so (maybe it's his trauma responding to your off handed comment about a recovery team), but against better judgement, Kakashi sets his hand on your back and guides you inside his apartment. He locks the door before sitting you at his dining room table and searching around his cupboards for a cloth. He wets it, rings it out, and turns towards you.

"I found some really pretty yarn in Suna last year. Forest green and dandelion yellow and the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. The woman who makes it gave me a pattern for an Afghan, said it's perfect for winter."

He wipes the cloth across your face, folding it over a few times to get as much blood as possible (why was there so much?) before returning to the sink to rinse it out and start again. He notices how you continue to stare straight ahead, completely unbothered by anything he's doing. Your words never falter, not even when he takes a firm hold of your face to make his task easier.

"I have four chakra natures... never really picked up lightning if I'm being honest. Did you know that? Nevermind, you're Kakashi, of course, you know that."

He tosses the rag into the sink and slowly moves to undo your weapon holster. It's light, and a quick peak in the pocket confirms that there's nothing left in there. He sets it aside, not really caring about the red puddle it's creating on the floor. He removes your gloves and kneels to untie your shoes.

"I copied that mudslide you use, by the way. It's crazy... changes the entire course of a battle in a split second. I'd say I hope you won't mind, but I know you will. You always mind when it comes to me."

He had you stand up and ushered you towards his bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the water to make sure it was warm. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and tapped your side, hoping that somewhere in your spaced out mind you'd get the hint and undress yourself. Lucky for him, you did, but not without falter.

"Your apartment's nice by the way. Very clean and organized and looks like someone actually lives here. All I have is a bed and a dresser. I don't have much time to appreciate anything else."

The motion was less than graceful. You used one hand to slip the tight fabric over your head and down your left arm, which stayed at your side despite the obstacle it caused. You expertly unclipped your bra and let it fall forward off your shoulders and to the ground, and had your pants and underwear there a second after. He doesn't stare, partially because he's already seen you naked before in the locker room from time to time, and partially because even in his perverted mind, he knows it's not the time.

"When I retire one day like you, I want my apartment to be just as homey. I'll be able to enjoy it since I'll be home longer than a day at a time."

He isn't too sure what to make of the current situation. He's pushing you under the showerhead, absently listening to you drone on, but all he can think about is how off-putting the whole thing is. You'd been in ops for a long time- long enough to not warrant a reaction like this after just any mission. Despite any sort of way he may have felt about you in the past, you've never been one to be affected by the carnage, a quality he's always appreciative of in his teammates. So what the Hell happened?

"My fifteenth anbu anniversary is coming up in December. Owl said he'd throw me a party, but I guess that's not happening anymore."

Your eyes fall from the wall in front of you to the drain on the ground. The water is muddy- the blood, sweat, and tears acquired from a month-long mission being washed away like nothing.

"I don't think I even like parties. I've never had one, which is why he offered in the first place. He wanted to celebrate my birthday, but I wouldn't tell him when it was. Drove him crazy."

Why is he even doing this? He must be losing it, honestly. Standing behind you, washing your hair as his clothes get completely soaked. This isn't something he's ever done, and even now, it's something he could never imagine doing for anyone else. You used to annoy the shit out of him, following him around in your youth and trying to be overly friendly when he clearly wasn't interested. If sixteen-year-old him had seen him in this moment, he'd surely have a fit.

"It's June 2nd, by the way. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I don't even know why I told you. It's fine. You probably won't remember and even if you do, you aren't much of a gossip."

When the bulk of the debris is cleared away, he finally gets a good look at what's causing you to favor one arm. A gash curves around your shoulder blade and wraps around your torso, going all the way down to your pubic bone. It's deep and jagged, most likely from a dull kunai.

"I bet I'll get a few days off after this. Gai has been pestering me for a while now to try that new cold soba place. I think I'll go. He'll probably ask you to go, which would be nice, especially if Kurenai and Asuma come."

He hands you a soapy washcloth and watches as you diligently clean your hands. It's interesting, the way you scrub under your fingernails and between your fingers. It's probably muscle memory from years of trying to get the image of blood off your hands. He thinks, for only a moment, that maybe you aren't so different from him, you just put up a different front.

"I can't wait to have a nice meal. I'm so fucking sick of the MREs. It's a dumb thing to care about, but I think it's the smaller stuff that matters in this line of work."

He dries your hair before handing you the towel, leaving you to finish it off so he can grab you some clothes, changing his own while he's in there. Just sweats and a tee, and a pair of briefs if you'll take them. He hands you the bottoms first, withholding the top until he can get a better look at the wound.

"We were gone an extra week. My neighbor's gonna lecture me for sure this time. She always worries that I won't come back."

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he should outsource your injury. Honestly, even with immediate medical ninjutsu, this severe of an injury, not to mention how old it seems to be, is sure to leave a pretty nasty scar. Jostling you around to get across the village to the hospital may do more harm than good at this point in time.

"She's got three kids. All super loud, but they're really sweet. They think I'm the coolest person in the world, always saying they wanna be like me when they grow up. God, I hope they realize they should want more."

He grabs the first aid kit from the closet in the restroom and pulls up a chair next to his bed. He pushes you face down onto the mattress, your words becoming slightly muffled by his pillow. He's only ever stitched himself, and even then it was just a few here and there, not a hundred.

Your skin is soft compared to his rough hands. You seem like the kind of person to take care of yourself whenever possible, so he supposes it's not too surprising. He almost feels bad, being an accomplice to the desecration of your otherwise flawless body, but there's nothing to be done. All he can do is try and be as precise and delicate as possible and hope the wound heals nicely.

"Kumo is really nice this time of year. They don't have a lot of greenery but their flowers bloom around this time, just before the first snow falls- AH!"

It was like someone woke you up with a bucket of ice water to the face. You flinch hard when he sticks the needle through your skin. The area is tender, obviously, and the not-so-gentle tug of your flesh is enough to knock you out of your shock.

"Ah, there she is."

In the onslaught of your panic, you don't register, well, anything. You start to get up and the fact that you're half naked on his bed goes over your head. Before you can even prop yourself up onto your elbows, he's pushing your body down, large hands taking up the majority of your uninjured back.

"Relax. You're gonna fuck up the clotting if you keep squirming like that."

You lower yourself, but can't seem to loosen up at all. The blood loss and adrenaline crash are making your head spin. You feel sick and disoriented, and can't seem to to get a grip.

"Seriously, relax. Can't do what I need to if you keep freaking out."

You try to focus on his hands. They're rough from years of training, calloused, and strong as any other man would be, but the way he rubs his thumb back and forth over your spine is soft and doting. Years of unfamiliarity and pushback have left you hardly knowing him at all, but even you can tell this is his way of saying he's calm, and you should be too. Kakashi is a reasonable man, and it's safe to lower your guard around him.

When your breathing evens, he continues with the sutures as if it were nothing, emitting the same energy someone would put towards sudoku. Without the cushion of shock and adrenaline, you can feel how serious the wound really is. You push the unsettling feeling of the cool air against your exposed muscle to the back of your brain, preferring to instead lean into the warmth of his comforter. It has a more natural, woodsy, type of scent, similar to the shampoo he'd washed your hair with.

Kakashi is completely immersed in his work. He still has a ways to go, but he's rather pleased with his progress. Even spacing and perfectly taught, Rin would surely be proud.

"You're different."

He's caught off guard when you speak. If he's being honest, he assumed you'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

"Retirement has mellowed me out."

You don't respond and he doesn't bother to continue the conversation. The silence is comfortable. You hadn't talked to him in over a year, and even before that you were never on friendly terms, but the warmth in the air would lead an outsider to believe you were close.

It isn't long before he's offering you a hand and guiding you into a sitting position. He tugs a black shirt over your head and you pull your arms through, wincing at the stretch of your stitches. Your eyes go to the smear of red on your stomach, and subsequently the bedding. You absentmindedly thumb over the stain on his dark blue duvet cover.

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back down so I can finish the front."

You're too tired to argue with him, so you comply. He's leaning over you now that the injured side isn't directly facing him. His arms are warm against your skin and you have a better view of his face. Of course, he's still wearing that stupid mask, but you can easily make out the contours of his nose and lips. He's entirely focused, eyebrows pulled together and eyes fixed in front of him.

You hiss when he gets to the indent of your hip, knicking the bone. Your hand reaches to stop his, carelessly ignoring the fact that there's a needle sticking out of your skin. He looks up at you- your eyes are squeezed shut and your breathing is heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"'s fine. Just need a second."

He sets the needle driver down and splays his now free hand against your midriff. He's concerned for your comfort, a quality he wasn't aware he had, but that he apparently holds for you. He isn't even sure what he's doing with all of these subtle touches and acts of affection. Yesterday, you were just an annoying girl from his past, not too unlike Gai, and now he's finding himself losing his aloofness in favor of a more intimate moment.

Your hand eventually slides down his, gripping the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle sign that you're ready, before you fold your arms above your head.

He squeezes your side and resumes his previous position. He's more careful this time, not that he wasn't before. He's done within ten minutes, finishing it off with some dressings and tugging down your his shirt. He tugs the blanket out from under you and goes to grab the spare. It's a quick swap, the dirty one getting tossed in the general vicinity of his washer and the clean one is lazily thrown over you.

He starts to say something, but shuts his mouth when he notices you sleeping. You finally look peaceful. Your lips are chapped, your hair's a mess, and you're paler than usual, but peaceful nonetheless.

He sways his head side to side to side as he contemplates his next move. He could certainly just wait it out and situate himself on the couch with a book until you woke up. Or, he could do what Kurenai would call 'the chivalrous thing to do' and continue to care for you.

With a sigh, he summons Pakkun, who appears in a puff of smoke.

"You think you can keep an eye on her while I take care of some business?"

"You got it boss."

- - - - -

Your eyes felt heavy. It took more willpower than you'd care to admit to force them open, and even more to lift your hands to rub the sleep away. The soreness that spread across your shoulder and hip quickly reminded you where you were and what had happened.

You sat up and swung your feet over the side of Kakashi’s bed, planting them on the floor and setting your face in your hands. You hear footsteps, but don't bother to look up. Your head is swimming, your stomach is in knots, and your body is fighting to not collapse.

"Dinner is almost ready if you're up to it."

"I have to give my report before I can even think of anything else-"

"No need. It's already been handled."

You lift your head to give him a confused look, and that's when you see it. He's a bit uneasy, shuffling awkwardly until he's leaning against the door frame. He won't meet your gaze and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Handled?"

"I informed Lord Third of your return. He said not to bother with your full report until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

You turned your gaze back to the floor and sighed in relief, but the feeling didn't last as you began a rather fast paced descent into madness. You mulled over all the events of the day and couldn't help but think of all the things you should've done differently. You should've taken first watch. You should've forced an opening to send someone, or even a summoning, to get back up. You should've said no when the others wanted to camp for the night and insisted on moving forward.

But you didn't, and now the people you spent nearly every day of the past three years with paid the price, slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

While you had never been one to grow unnecessarily fond of your teammates in the past, you couldn't deny the personal affection you'd acquired for your team over the years. It was stupid to get so attached to people who signed up for a job that damn near guarantees death, but you couldn't help it. Not when Sato was convinced that the person responsible for his meal rations had it out for him by giving him all the worst options. Not when Kaito was complaining about another failed date that he definitely ruined by being, well, himself. Not when Yue always made the time to nicely braid your hair after an impromptu bath in the lake.

Especially not when they all went out of their way to ensure you that you were valued and loved.

Kakashi can't see your face, but he doesn't need to. The slight tremble of your frame and the shakiness of your breath tell him all he needs to know. Despite how uncharacteristically nice and patient he's been today, he's still not used to actually caring for people outside of just making sure they don't die. So he does the only thing he can think of and sets his heavy, uncoordinated dog paw of a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, much like he'd do for his ninken.

"Relax."

You can't help but snicker at the action. It's awkward, so much so that you can feel it radiating through his skin. Unlike him, though, you are very well versed in this area. You rub your hands down your face, drying any tears that may have fallen, and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his firm stomach. He tenses but doesn't make any effort to move. Eventually, you feel his rigid hold on your head loosen, his fingers grazing across your scalp and then running through your hair.

"You suck at comforting people, you know?"

"It worked in the end, didn't it?"

You can't argue with him, not after he had so easily shut down your rapid spiral. Instead, you choose to focus on the moment and can't help but notice how intimate it feels. You're no stranger to physical affection, oftentimes using it to get out of difficult or uncomfortable questions, but never before has it felt like this. It could be that you're wearing his clothes and smell like his soap, or maybe it's the way one of his hands is cupped around the back of your head and pressing you further into his abdomen, but this feeling is definitely different from anything you've experienced up until this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Kakashi is having similar thoughts. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, trying to push away his avoidant instincts. This past year has given him the opportunity to rewire his brain to be less... guarded, and he's hardly done anything with the newfound sense of freedom. Sure, he's managed to salvage his friendships, but even that much was due to other people's persistence, and not his own doing.

Maybe, just maybe, there's something specific about you. This entire experience has been ridiculously natural. You look like you belong in his apartment, in his clothes. Talking to you doesn't feel forced and there's not that weight he usually associates with social interaction. It's almost like you belong-

"Kakashi?"

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He shifts his gaze down to see you peering up at him. He gives a slight hum to acknowledge you.

"Weren't you cooking?"

Cursing himself under his breath, he pulls back, his hands sliding out of your hair and along the underside of your jaw. He quickly makes his way back into the kitchen, shutting off the stove and removing the pan from the burner. You follow after him and sit at his table. It's funny, really, the way he haphazardly moves around the kitchen like he's never touched a pan before. You shouldn't laugh at him, not after he's been so good to you, and especially because you probably wouldn't fare much better.

He set a plate in front of you and your face instantly lights up. You clap your hands together and thank him profusely for the food. It's quiet for a while. You're enjoying your first real meal in weeks and he's giving you the space to do so.

It's hard to ignore the looks he keeps sending your way. You avoid looking directly at him to preserve the bits of his face that his cupped hand doesn't cover, but you can still feel the holes burning into your skull. You know what he wants, and to be honest, you're surprised. It seems Kurenai was right with that off-handed comment a few months ago- Kakashi had become rather nosey in recent times. Or, maybe, he's always been keen to information, but due to his particular place in the ranks, he's never had to ask for it before.

Growing more uncomfortable under his gaze and sensing he won't be the one to break the ice, you take the initiative.

"Why'd you let me in?"

"I'm trying to be more receptive to people's efforts at friendship."

You nod. You were once on the receiving end of his less-than-amicable approach, and you were glad he was actually allowing people in after everything that happened in his youth.

"Why come here?"

You sigh, nervously running your hands up and down your thighs. Honestly, you hadn't been very present-minded when you knocked on his door last night. The journey back to the village was hard to recall. Even the few hours you spent awake with Kakashi earlier were blurry.

Every other time you've needed someone in the past, you've turned to Kurenai. It was easy to unwind around her. You didn't have to think about anything, just letting her force feed you snacks from a variety of vendors and drag you around to different shops.

That's not always enough, though, and even if you pretend it is, there's always a part of you that seeks out something more. Apparently, last night you had sought out that something.

"Sometimes... it's nice to be around people who understand,"

Kakashi nods. He's been on the receiving end of said behavior, and he knows exactly how exhausting it can be.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurenai and Gai are great, but... they ask so many questions. There's a big difference between regular Shinobi work and ANBU, especially with what I do, and it's just, I don't know. I just don't usually want to talk about the details."

"I get it."

Even though Kakashi is obviously curious, he doesn't pry. He really does get it. Constantly being asked if you're okay, if you wanna talk about it, being offered a shoulder to cry on- it's kind, but it gets old after a while. Especially when you're just trying to spend the limited free time you have as a person and not just an off duty shinobi.

"Can I ask you personal questions? Or are you gonna get all angsty on me?"

"Angsty? I'm not angsty,"

One pointed look from you is all it takes for him to cave.

"Yeah, yeah, just ask your damn questions."

"How's retirement?"

It's kind of complicated. He should be training genin right now, but he sank that ship before it even left the dock. Poor kids didn't even make it a day before they were right back in the academy. Or wait, could you mean personally? That's probably at least a little complicated, too. There's been a lot of change for him this past year, but that doesn't really mean much compared to others when you're practically crawling at the ripe age of twenty-four.

"I'm only asking how you've been doing, Kakashi, there's no need to fret."

He must've taken too long to answer. That's why you're filling in the blanks for him. He should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. Your teasing tone is enough to subdue any negative connotations your interruption may have offered. Honestly, he's more so just confused as to how you knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... I have a lot of free time."

Man, you really do have to walk him through everything, huh?

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugs and mulls over it for a moment.

"I'm used to being busy. It's just difficult to get used to. I imagine you'll have an even harder time adjusting once you retire."

"Why's that?"

"You've spent nearly your entire life in ANBU. The cool down from that is gonna be hard after it's been ingrained so deeply."

He's right about that. You'd joined at just seven years old, hadn't even been a genin a year.

"Do personal questions go both ways?"

"I don't see why not."

"Why'd they recruit you so early?"

Damn, he really went right for it. You swallowed hard. Your fingers drummed lightly on the pair of pants he'd lent you.

"It was the only way Lord Third could keep me out of root."

Oh God. Root. Kakashi knew all about Danzo and his followers, courtesy of Tenzo, of course. That place was disgusting and cruel. It was a wonder why it hadn't been shut down already.

"I'm not very smart, so I didn't stick out in the academy, but once I got onto the field and found my calling... let's just say Danzo had taken an interest in me."

Oh, Kakashi knows exactly what you're talking about. It's true. You couldn't do a henge or substitution jutsu to save you're life, but you made up for it tenfold. It's only fitting that the person dubbed 'Calamity' in bingo books be a force of nature, right? You had an abundance of chakra and raw strength that only Tsunade could parallel. All the jutsu you knew were hard hitters- mudslides, tornadoes, tsunamis- anything massive that didn't require a lot of concentration, you could pull off.

"It's fine, though. My fighting style isn't exactly useful on standard missions. Too much collateral damage."

You manage a laugh. It's a little awkward, but genuine nonetheless. Most people get a bit stiff when talking about your unorthodox recruitment, but you don't hold the same sentiment. You'd lucked out with an amazing team right off the bat. They were all men in their late teens and early twenties, eager to take you in as their little sister and raise you into a fine shinobi.

"Why’d you get recruited?"

"Me? Minato-sensei had some personal tasks for me."

"Oh yeah? Is that your mysterious way of saying you were solely recruited for baby duty?"

Now that had taken him aback.

"How did you-"

You, apparently, knew the couple very well. How that fact got past Kakashi all this time is beyond him. You told him about the first time you met Kushina- how she cried because the chest plate on your uniform was too big for little seven-year-old you. You told him about how Minato tried desperately to free you from ANBU during his reign, but couldn't find any loopholes that'd keep you away from Danzo. How they'd sometimes run into you on the street and offer to take you to dinner.

Kakashi shared his own stories of his sensei and his wife, which, in extension, got him to talk about Rin and Obito. Before either of you knew it, it'd been several hours. The last rays of sunshine had disappeared in the midst of your discussion some time ago. The pain of your injuries had dulled and were pushed to the back of your mind, buried in the new found connection.

He hadn't felt that stress-free in decades. There was no pressure when he was talking to you, even when it came to the people he lost. You were just... talking. No prying, no judging, no eggshells- just talking.

It was easy to admit that Kakashi was different from the others. The conversation had revived memories you hadn't even realized existed. This is what was lacking in all of your other encounters- depth. Screw mission details and gossip. These were the kinds of things you wanted to spend your time mulling over.

"Kakashi?"

"Hm?

You smiled at him and he swears his heart might be failing him. It's so soft and genuine, the kind of smile that soul mates share with one another.

"Thank you... for everything."

He doesn't respond. Actually, no more words are spoken between you two as you ready yourself to leave his apartment. There's a peaceful silence as you gather your belongings and head to the door.

When you're finally standing on his welcome mat, you decide that it's now or never with him. Maybe you're being a bit bold, but the Copy Nin is exclusively difficult to connect with and you aren't about to take any chances.

"When Gai inevitably invited you out to dinner-"

"I'll go."

That was surprisingly easy.

Another one of those beautiful smiles lights up your face at his response. He knows that whatever is going to come of this is sure to be troublesome, but he can't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

And just like that you're walking away.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[fatuismooches]

Can be read as a continuation of this. Fragile reader's journey to understand all the segments continues as this time they set their eyes on none other than Webttore, who is referred to as 02 in this fic. I miss Webby, everyone. Overall, just lots of fluff.

After a few centuries-long coma, when you woke up, the hardest thing to process wasn’t that fact. It wasn’t the fact your lover, who now went by “Dottore” instead of “Zandik” was now a powerful Harbinger. It wasn’t the fact you had to deal with this illness for who knows how long (actually, this was quite hard to process, but you tried your best not to dwell on it.) Rather, it was the fact that Dottore now had copies of himself running around. And if you were to properly adjust to your new life, you absolutely had to make room for them. But that was easier said than done.

They were all Zandik, but at the same time, they felt like strangers to you. They were familiarly enigmatic as you had remembered the original one, but you weren’t sure if you were good enough to puzzle each of them out all over again… However, pursuing Zandik as a student meant that you certainly were a persistent soul, so you would try!

You had already found company in another segment, 24 to be exact. At first, you were unsurprisingly intimidated by him, with his imposing nature and stern voice. However, with a bit of courage, you were able to get to know him a bit more, outside of what you saw of him while he was working. It was a lovely experience, if you put aside how his words made your heart race, and his touch made your body ache for him.

Regardless, now that you had 24 down, it was time to broaden your horizons. It was time to put your newly found confidence to the test once again - which meant it was time for you to woo and get wooed by another one of Dottore’s segments. Which segment was it this time, one may ask? Well, it was none other than the one who donned that white and black mask, with a pink bowtie where that color too lurked in the insides of his coat, with a nature as equally as striking as his red eyes.

02 was his name. Once again, a very intriguing man. He was nothing like Prime or 24, making you quite interested in him. You still remember the few times you met him, it was nothing like the poised elegance 24 carried. He was rough and more outwardly eccentric, yet it was equally as alluring. You wanted to know more. And learn more you shall.

Unfortunately, you did not see much of him in the main lab, as he preferred to stay in his own one far more. So you would need to make the trip there. In fact, you were so prepared that you had walked to the area of his lab numerous times and came back so you wouldn’t get lost this time. However, in all honesty, you had no idea what you were even going to say or do, but you just hoped the situation would flow as smoothly as it did with 24. 

As you got closer to the doors of 02’s lab, your pace slowed and your heartbeat quicked as you realized the door was slightly ajar. This was a good chance to simply… observe the segment. Even though you previously had confidence, the idea of knocking on 02’s door made you anxious still. Carefully, you tip-toed and peeked into the room, biting your lip in anticipation.

It was a very large space, really spacious actually, and yet so much of it was filled with many things. There were numerous desks and tables that had a variety of parts and stacks of papers, not to mention there weren’t just Ruin Machines and the sort either. You could see some dissembled robots that you swore had glowing eyes. Strange. But interesting. Not to mention the size of some of them - you really don’t remember Ruin Guards being so large four hundred years ago… could perhaps these be ones 02 created himself? You were fascinated. Of course, you were no stranger to Zandik’s fascination with Khaenri’ahn machines. You often accompanied him on his unauthorized expeditions to examine them further back in the Akademiya.

Speaking of, 02 himself was standing in front of them, the height and size difference being laughable. His coat had been thrown over a chair, and he was simply wearing a vest with a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up with his gloves still on. Very attractive, you had to admit, but that was beside the point. You could see he was mumbling to himself, impatiently tapping the table next to him that had various tools on it, when his expression abruptly changed. A smile appeared on his face as he began to laugh and then mumble under his breath more excitedly. Perhaps he had a breakthrough? You wished to know what went through his mind.

Eagerly, you leaned forward to try and hear more but simultaneously forgot the situation you were in right now - pretty much spying on him. Unfortunately, you did not account for the uncomfortably loud groaning that came from the door when you only slightly pushed on it.

Oops. Why did these things always happen to you? There was truly no backing out now, from the way 02’s laughter immediately stopped as his red eyes glanced behind him, an irritated frown in place of his previous smile.

“Who-” 02 turned around to face the intruder who would be so stupid as to interrupt him, but his expression changed once again when he realized this was no ordinary intruder, it was you. “It is you. You are here.” There was not a grin or a frown on the segment’s face, rather, he seemed surprised yet intrigued at the same time. You sweated as he began to walk towards you.

“Yes, yes, it is me, [Name]. I am here,” you smiled, as you were forced to step out from behind your protection of the lab’s door. “I wanted to… visit you! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, so you know, just wanted to check up on you and all,” you said with a rather awkward chuckle. Why did you always seem to have a loss of words during the beginning while talking to these men? 02 continued to look at you unmovingly with those lovely eyes of his. You cleared your throat as you took a few steps further into the room.

“Anyway, I must say that I am quite captivated by this… research of yours. I have never seen such a variety of machines before,” you stated genuinely, another smile etching its way onto your lips. It was then you realized that 02 had gotten closer to you, practically standing side by side merely looking at you, as if silently beckoning you to continue. That stare of his… it was quite cute.

“That one for example,” you pointed to the one the segment was previously preoccupied with, “it’s far larger than any machine I remember from back then. Is it-”

“RG-271.” You blinked at 02’s interruption. “That machine’s name,” he clarified. “Experiment RG-271.”

“I-I see. Is there any particular reason that- oh!” 

“Come.” Once again, before you could finish, the segment grabbed your arm and began to pull you to where he once stood with glee that could not be mistaken. You tried to ignore the slight heat creeping up your neck.

You hadn’t really given the segments the time of day yet, still clinging to Prime Dottore and being nervous around the clones, so to have you here so closely, of your own volition too, was an unexpected yet extremely welcomed course of events for 02. Oh, he knew you would never disappoint him, and of course, the segment was going to reap the rewards of this situation. 

“As I was saying, did you make some of these machines yourself?” 02 presented you with a wide grin, and you could see his pointy teeth on full display.

“Indeed I have. Simply experimenting on the old ones gets boring at times, and I too wish to surpass this ancient technology.” Before you could respond, he suddenly began to dig in a rather overcrowded box of many parts, some of which you recognized and some you didn’t. The collection of Chaos Oculus and Cores brought back fond memories, but these ones seem a bit different from usual. Enhanced by the segment, perhaps?

Regardless, before long he had gathered numerous ones and you had quickly realized that he was really going to explain to you in-depth about every part of this machine. Of course, you had no protest to this. For one, you were interested, and 02 looked so happy to go on and on about his research. Did he have no one else to tell this to? Actually, you don’t know why you asked that, of course he didn’t. (Thankfully, he had a stool for you to sit on, for your poor legs wouldn’t be able to hold you for the length of time he would talk.)

However, his animatedness quickly came and went as he then clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Though, I had yet to make them work. Unfortunately, they cannot move around as authentic machines can,” 02 said in disappointment. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I would not worry too much. You are smart enough to figure it out in due time.” The praise naturally left your lips because, well, you wholeheartedly believed it. 02 seemed to enjoy your compliment. It was amusing how you could read his feelings so easily despite that mask of his. Although you wondered if he was like this right now solely because of you.

“I shall.” You gently smiled at him again as he began to tidy up the mess he just made (although the end result certainly wasn’t anything to applaud.) But 02 wasn’t going to let you go yet.

“Would you like to see one in action?”

“You mean, see a Ruin Guard… move? In here? But isn’t that dangerous?” You were having flashbacks to the time you had to fend off a few because Zandik had decided to be a bit too eager in his research. 02 looked to be unconcerned at your worry.

“Worry not. I have control over them.” He took pride in your glittering admiring eyes, pulling you off your seat and leading you over to the other side of his lab. 02 then began to inspect the line of Ruin Guards against the wall, before then snapping his fingers.

“RG-134. Perfect.” You watched as he then began to tinker with it, not really knowing what was going on, but content to watch. But there was not much to watch as he finished quickly, and suddenly the machine stirred to life, the familiar blinking of yellow light signaling its awakening. Instinctively, you took a few steps back, heart racing from the machine that now loomed over you, but 02 pulled you closer.

“Do not be afraid. It will hinder you. Is this not a great opportunity?” You swallowed nervously, but you trusted him anyway. You took some careful steps toward the Ruin Guard, and it paid you no mind as you began to feel the machinery on the pads of your fingers.

“Huh… it really is docile. How did-” Your words were mostly drowned out by the creaking of the Ruin Guard’s leg lowering so that its hand was leveled with your body. You looked at 02 for help, but he motioned for you to go on.

“You want me to get on it? It’s going to be too high up!”

“Do you think I will let it drop you?” 02 seemed amused at your predicament. You pouted - it did seem really cool to have a ride on a Ruin Guard’s hand, but you were still a bit scared, so you placed your hand out.

“Come with me, then.” The segment’s eyes widened, probably not expecting your request, but he agreed with uncharacteristic silence. Thankfully, the machine’s palm was big enough to fit both of you, but your shoulder still brushed with 02’s. And then with some more creaks, you two were suddenly lifted into the air. You couldn’t help but quickly grab his arm as you watched the floor get more and more distant, but 02 seemed as if this didn’t bother him at all.

“Relax. You of all people should know how to enjoy this.” His words weren’t exactly comforting but they still served to help calm yourself. He was right - once you got rid of your fear, it was… super cool.

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you for this,” you giggled, as the machine slowly stomped around, careful to avoid any obstacles. 02 ignored how captivating you looked right now and looked away from the sight.

“I could also show you my Ruin Drakes if-” Before he could finish, the segment felt something soft brush against his cheek. Your lips to be exact, and before he could say or do anything, it ended.

“That does sound lovely, but…” you tried to stifle a yawn, “I am rather tired. I think I need a nap…” That stare you had gotten used to was back on you again, but you ignored it in order to quell your embarrassment. (You did not go for his lips because you were a bit shy to do that so early on, but also because that silly mask of his covered nearly half of his mouth. Good thing you were sitting on the side where his cheek was exposed…)

“I see. Then I suppose I will be seeing more of you, then?” For now, he had to resist the urge to sink his teeth into you after that little stunt of yours. Only for now, however.

“I would like that.”

“Excellent.” Soon enough, you were back on the ground again, but you did not want to return to your room.

“02, can I sleep here?”

“Here?” He cocked his head to the side. “I will not stop you, however, I cannot promise you it will be quiet.” You laughed at his response. It was different from 24’s strict one.

“Not to worry. I believe I will fall asleep anyway,” you hummed as you made yourself cozy on a rather uncomfortable couch (that was already very out of place here). “Mhm… good night, 02.” You did not receive any response, but you were happy.

… But then you remembered something.

“Wait! Wait, I forgot the most important question of all!” 02 turned back with a questioning look.

“Yes?” You passionately placed your hand on your chest as you then spoke.

“You need to show me those flying pointy beaming things of yours. I have never seen a weapon quite like it.”

“...”

From the day he came into this world as 02, to the day you named him to live and die as Beta, he will love you.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

*

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

*

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

*

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him.  “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @12yeahiminluvwu

@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[acewritesfics]

Back Together | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Platonic!Female Reader

Request: From anon for last years Valentines celebration. THIS IS A REPOST FROM @/DLMLUFICS.

Prompts: flowers and chocolates, surprise and past lovers reunited. 

Warnings: None. Just fluff. Slight angst, I guess.

Word Count: 961

Jay Halstead Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

“I can’t believe you talked me into coming out tonight,” Y/N groans as she sits across from her favorite Halstead brother. “Does Jay know you’re spending Valentine’s with his former flame?”  

Being at Molly’s with her ex-boyfriend’s brother was not how she envisioned spending the night of Valentine’s Day. Being the only single one among her close-knit friend group meant that they were all out playing happy couples with their partners while she sat in a bar that looked like a cherub had thrown up all over the inside of it. Her original plan was to sit in her apartment, put on a horror movie and binge eat the snacks she bought yesterday.  

But then her grandpa had been admitted to Chicago Med after having had a nasty fall and being his emergency contact, the hospital called her. Will just so happened to be his doctor and after getting her grandpa all fixed up and ready to go home, he’d asked if she wanted to get a drink with him later, on a completely platonic level, of course. She agreed saying it would be her way of thanking him for taking care of her grandpa.   

“He doesn’t need to know,” Will says with a smirk. “We were friends before you dated him. I miss you.”  

“I miss you too, William,” she smiles taking a sip of her beer.   

“Don’t call me William,” he playfully glares at her.   

She goes to say something when she sees another familiar face walk through the door to Molly’s, her smile fading instantly. Just as he notices her and starts making his way over, she turns her attention back to Will and glares at him. “I’m going to murder you.”  

“But then Jay would have to arrest you,” he says unaffected by her empty threat.   

“We’re never talking again after tonight,” she tells him.  

“I’ll call you tomorrow to see how your night went,” he tells her as he stands up and pulls his coat back on.   

“Where are you going?” she asks, her eyes widening in fear of being left alone with Jay. She hadn’t spoken to him since they ended their relationship 6 months ago. 

“You two need to talk and sort things out,” Will says as Jay reaches their table. “Good luck,” he adds patting Jay on the shoulder as he leaves Molly’s. 

“Did you set this up?” she asks Jay, turning on him. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone in the bar, she grabs her coat and walks out of the bar, with Jay following quickly behind her. 

“Y/N wait!” he calls to her as he catches up with her. “Will set this up to help me out, okay?” 

“You two just completely ambushed me,” she stops turning on her heel to face him. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this!” he admits. “I told him I was thinking about dating again but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and wanting to be with you again. He told me that I just needed to do it and that he knew someone he could set me up with. I didn’t know it was going to be you.” 

“You thought you were meeting someone else,” she asks feeling her heart drop a little. 

“I did, but I’m glad it’s you,” he tells her. “If I didn’t see you through the window, I wouldn’t have walked inside Molly’s. I couldn’t go through with the blind date.” 

"Why?” she questions, her heart fluttering back into her chest. 

“Because I still love you,” he admits aloud for the first time since their breakup. “You are not easy to get over.” 

“I could say the same about you,” she says thinking of her failed dates because she always found herself comparing them to Jay. They never came close to making her feel the way he did. “So where do we go from here?” 

“I was thinking we could go get something to eat, talk it out and see where it leads us,” he suggests. 

“I want to try something first,” she tells him. 

“Okay,” he says hesitantly unsure of what she could have in mind but relaxes when she steps closer to him and pulls him into a kiss. 

Giving into their feelings they still have for each other, Jay brings her closer and Y/N’s arms wrap around his neck, her hands making their way into his hair. 

“I still love you,” Jay says softly after breaking the kiss to catch their breath. “I never stopped.” 

“I never stopped loving you too,” she smiles. 

Jay kisses her once more before slinging his arm over her shoulder. Y/N leans into his side as they walk to his truck. He opens the passenger's side door for her. She goes to get into the seat when she sees a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a box of chocolates there. 

“Oh Jay, flowers and chocolates?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he tells her. 

“I’m sure your blind date would have loved them,” she smiles. 

“Does she like them?” he asks her, reminding her that she is his blind date. 

“I love them,” she says picking them up off the seat. “Instead of going to get something to eat, would you want to head to my apartment, order a pizza,” she holds up the box of chocolates, “and maybe share these for dessert?” 

“I would love too,” he agrees. 

“Good,” she says standing on her tip toes and presses a kiss to his cheek before climbing into the passenger's seat. 

Jay closes the door and walks around to the driver's side and gets in. Starting his vehicle, he begins the drive to Y/N’s apartment and takes her hand into his, kissing the back of it. 

TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @cs-please - @alexxavicry - @nicole-19s-world - @mimiteller712 - @qutequeersstuff

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirty-four

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Tom hardly ever experienced the sort of things he read about in books from wizards out on adventures or in the midst of danger — pulse racing, nerves alight, body hot and cold at once. But he’d already felt it twice tonight: once with her behind the stage, and now as the auction was coming to a close.

“To complete tonight’s lot,” she announced, “we have a copy of the Delomelanicon by Aristide Torchia. Printed in Venice, in 1666. In excellent condition, as you can see, it contains masterfully done illustrations attributed to Torchia.”

A murmur ran through the crowd like a wave of shivers, the very texture of it wavering beneath the wind of her words. Tom could not help but smirk at the sight, at the raw atmosphere that she had summoned all on her own — aided admittedly by the presence at her side, in a stony jaundiced light, of a book reputed to have been written by the devil.

“We start at one hundred million Lira.”

The first bid came right away.

“Signor Luce with a hundred and five.”

Silence for a while, then…

“Mr. Malfoy with a hundred and twenty. Signora Portas, a hundred thirty. Luce, hundred fifty. Hundred fifty-five, Malfoy.”

Tom had to smile. He doubted the old wizard was any more honest than he was and intended to pay with real currency. It was true, the Lira was still highly depreciated compared to the Pound and by extension to Galleons, but that was still a prohibitively high sum and it was bound to go higher. Tom stepped further backstage while the bidding went on and took two little bottles from his coat pocket.

Mr. Malfoy had hardly bid on anything that night and had not won a thing, but he would win this. Everything was set, from the speed of her reactions to the way she handled the crowd, and how she modulated her voice to go from encouraging and soft to harsh and intimidating. He had trained her himself just as he had seen Ambrogio do, and with the Delomelanicon being kept for last, the highest and most daring bidders were sure to have exhausted their funds. Only the obsessives remained, and none could outbid Malfoy.

II

He found Donatien waiting by the entrance to the auction hall. By then, the bidding was over. The boy was supposed to collect Mr. Malfoy’s prize and bring it to him because of course the old man would not be lowered to doing something on his own. Donatien was waiting in line with all the other successful bidders and smiled when he saw Tom approach.

“Bonsoir, Tom.”

“Donatien. A happy night for your master, I see.”

“Very happy,” he laughed, “yes.”

“I suppose that after this, you are due to leave Italy?”

“Monsieur has not shared it with me, but he did not mention any other business after this.”

“Quite sad…”

“Why is that?” he asked, somewhat intrigued, as they both took one step forward with the queue.

“I just hoped we would have more time to get to know one another,” Tom said with a wistful sigh. “You know, since it’s rare to meet another foreigner these days. At least one who isn’t an American… Someone who is more…”

“More similar, no?” the boy provided, a wondrous glow lighting up his pretty face.

“Precisely,” Tom smiled. “I’m surprised, then, that he is so quick to dismiss you.”

“Dismiss?”

“Your employment.”

“Ah, well… This was our arrangement, you see. From the beginning.”

They took another step forward with the others and Tom looked around cautiously to make sure no one was eavesdropping — not that it was difficult with people standing close together. He leaned closer to Donatien and whispered.

“And you had no… other reasons for visiting Italy?”

“The views, of course,” he said with a quiet laugh.

Tom smiled knowingly. He could remember clearly the discussion with the other French boy, Clement, when they met on the train. How many Donatiens were there in Italy on business with a wealthy older gentleman?

“You are fortunate though,” said Tom quietly as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “To get the book, I mean.”

“How so?”

“There was another young man after it long before the auction,” said Tom, pretending to strain his memory. “Came sometime in the summer, I believe…”

“It must be very popular.”

“No,” smiled Tom, “it is not.”

They moved another step again and it seemed as if the line was never going to end.

“Come to think of it, I believe he was French as well,” said Tom.

The friendly shine vanished from Donatien’s eyes, replaced by a shadow of suspicion. His elegant brows arched to form little wrinkles on his golden forehead. He looked Tom up and down then fixed his gaze on his dark eyes as if he could divine the truth from them.

“You must have a good memory.”

“Oh, this boy was quite memorable,” he chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets suggestively. “Brown hair, blue eyes, lovely smile quite soft and sublime —”

“You are a poet, Tom,” he chuckled.

“You know what, now that you mention it, I believe so was he! He said something about a poetry book…”

Donatien tilted his head. “And what was the name of your paramour?”

“Hmm? Oh — I, well, I never,” Tom said with an awkward laugh and a quick look around them. “I’m already taken, of course.”

The boy smiled faintly, not believing a word.

“But I believe his name was… Claude? No, Clement.”

The young man nodded, feigning interest with a cock of his soft brows. “Funny, you know, I went to school with a Clement.”

“Is that so? Did he like books too?”

“He devoured them.”

“I’m sure he did,” Tom grinned. “What became of your Clement?”

“Oh, I lost touch with him some time ago,” he said, to which Tom nodded thoughtfully. “And what became of yours?”

“He vanished,” said Tom, leaning in to whisper once again. “Quite mysteriously… For some reason, the Baron didn’t like him asking about that book. I believe it’s cursed.”

“Well, good thing it’s going to Mr. Malfoy, then.”

Tom chuckled. He didn’t believe that for a second, and as he looked into Donatien’s eyes he could see the duplicity there. He almost felt sorry for him… The boy had no idea what was to come should he try to rob Mr. Malfoy. For a moment, Tom was tempted to let him go and give Mr. Malfoy the pleasure… But he had a job to do.

“It has been good to know you,” he smiled. “Even with Ambrogio skulking about…”

Donatien nodded, and something in his posture seemed frozen at the mention. “It is sad, yes, that we could not know each other better. Especially because we are here under such similar… circumstances.”

“Quite,” said Tom wryly. “I see we understand each other very well.”

“Perhaps even better than we imagined.”

“Could I then… Oh, I can not ask it of you,” he sighed, finishing it off with an awkward chuckle like the ones he’d heard her make when she was playing coy. It worked as well on Donatien as it did on him.

“Tom,” he said, stepping a little closer to lay a hand on his shoulder and whisper, “you can ask me anything.”

“It’s just that I had so much more to say to you, and now… you’re so close to leaving…”

“I am still here.”

“But the queue…”

“Nevermind, nevermind. I can always return.”

“So, if I were to ask to speak to you in private…”

Donatien smiled a little too eagerly, and for a moment he seemed to Tom like any one of those old witches that Burke sent him off to.

“You could ask,” he said with a cocked brow.

“Perfect.”

They abandoned the line, confusing the people around them but leaving before anyone could think twice about it. Tom led Donatien through the more unused corridors, hand placed on his lower back. They walked faster and faster and, upon looking into one another’s eyes, a giddy smile took over both of them like two imps on an adventure. The sounds of other people grew more distant and the glow of the sparse lightbulbs shined just for them. They could pretend they were lost, that they were free, that their future was completely open. With a twinkle in his eye, Tom led the boy into a room that was out of sight and sound from the old auction hall. It was an area he had scarcely seen before during his early explorations, but he knew it to be deep enough inside the tunnels that sounds hardly carried far. It had rarely been disturbed judging by the amount of dust and cobwebs — even Oso hadn’t ventured here.

“In here,” he said, holding the door for Donatien.

The boy stepped through backwards and Tom followed, closing the door behind them. After a moment in the darkness his hand reached for the wall and he turned on the sole lightbulb in the room.

“So,” he started, “Malfoy won’t mind waiting for a little longer?”

“No, he is upstairs, waiting on the comfortable sofa in the room with the big maps,” said Donatien.

He turned around and looked at where they were, his nose curling at the state of it. It was perhaps less charming than what he had expected but he moved through the space gracefully with still an air of playfulness about him.

“I see,” said Tom.

“He does not like these subterranean places.”

“Yes, well, I don’t much like them either.”

“What do you like?” the boy asked with a sultry glance over his shoulder.

“Intellectually stimulating conversation.”

Donatien laughed. He grinned delightfully as he kept walking, Tom following his every move. With the upturned furniture and the bare lightbulb illuminating a stone storage space the place was rather offputting but the boy seemed to mind none of it. He walked now for Tom’s pleasure, his fetching figure clasped tight by his suit and straining in all the right places. Tom couldn’t help but wonder if he’d played the coquette for Ambrogio too.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Donatien asked, speaking in such a girlish way that it set Tom’s teeth on edge.

“About our positions,” he said calmly, “relative to each other.”

Donatien stopped his aimless pacing and turned to face him, soft plumes of dust rising from his little pirouette.

“Which positions would that be?” he grinned. Casting his eyes down Tom’s body, he stepped even closer. With a smile that curled his lips gently at the edges, he placed his coltish hand upon Tom’s waist. “Do you have a preference?”

“As it happens, I do.”

Tom’s turn of tone from flirty to deathly cool did nothing to disturb Donatien. On the contrary, his hand went lower, smoothing down the straight line of his hip, then curling down toward his loins. Tom swallowed the knot in his throat.

“You know, I think you do not mind the position either way,” Donatien purred, closing his hand around Tom’s length, soft and still sensitive from earlier. He gasped mutely at the touch of it. “You seem quite ready for… anything to happen to you. Although I must say,” he chuckled, “what you have, I would be more than happy to take.”

“Oh you will take it, that’s for certain.”

III

Donatien was the last to pick up the book. She had begun to fear she’d done something wrong when he never showed up. Perhaps she was supposed to go to him or find Mr. Malfoy, but she was so tired and sleepy by that point that she could hardly sit upright. All the other guests had begun, slowly, to leave. But then he turned up. Donatien came from around the corner into the glum antechamber with a spring in his step and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy to see him.

“Ah, there you are,” she laughed, her voice weak and hoarse by now.

“Est-ce que vous m’attendiez?” he asked. His voice too sounded a little low and tired.

“Oui. Vous êtes le dernier,” she smiled, then turned around for the book and the readied receipt.

Everything was ready. She placed the book inside its box and wrapped it in red velvet as Donatien looked on. The packaging was held together with a black ribbon tied up in a bow like the world’s most malevolent Christmas gift. She had decided together with Tom that it was an apt presentation for the Delomelanicon. A part of her was sad to be giving it away, knowing how much Tom wanted it… But perhaps it was for the best. It was a notoriously evil book and she should have been relieved to part with it.

As she did her best to tie up a pretty bow she felt someone approaching from behind — a cold presence, and the same clipped steps she’d heard so many times before. She turned with a bright smile expecting to find that Tom had joined them, but it was just Donatien.

“Yes, well, here you are. A-and payment, of course. If you have it. But you must have it, right?”

The closeness made her blush and stutter. She’d never seen him look at her like that before… Donatien had given her a few sweet smiles and polite glances, but now he dragged his gaze across her, undressed her with his eyes — or seemed as if he already knew what she looked like naked. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out an envelope. She opened her hand for it, but he merely placed it on the table by her side. His eyes, as she looked up into them, seemed harder than before, more confident and playful… There was a hint of stubble on his chin, so faint she almost didn’t see it, and so different from Tom’s pale skin. Her eyes were fixed on his full lips when with his arm still braced behind her he leaned down.

“N-no!” she said quickly, her hands moving to push against his chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

Donatien chuckled lowly, a far too confident sound for someone who’d just been rejected, but he paid her no mind and placed his hands on hers, trapping her against him as he leaned a little lower still. His mouth hovered above her own, parted in the promise of a kiss. She giggled, feeling so spoilt for choice as her thoughts shifted from him to Tom. And Donatien’s hands were warm, so warm, and soft like kitten paws, not hard and cold like his. It was a different thing entirely, to look up into bright blue eyes with golden speckles in them. His warm hand closed around the nape of her neck, holding her head tilted in just the right position for a kiss.

“I can’t,” she whispered, “Je suis désolée.”

His pretty face came closer until his lips hovered over hers and with a playful smile, he shook his head. She could smell his scent… It seemed so familiar but there was something musty too, like an abandoned cellar. His lips were pink and smiling, his eyes amused, and however much she wanted to taste all of him, she couldn’t do it.

“I don’t belong to you,” she said.

Donatien clenched his pretty, perfect teeth behind a wider smile and kissed her anyway. She moaned into his mouth, mumbling weak protestations, but when she closed her eyes it was as if Tom was there with her again. His arms caged her against the desk and then he slid a knee between her legs. His silky locks brushed against her forehead, much softer than Tom’s, and the warmth of his body encased her. She pushed against his chest, smiling in spite of herself at the soft flesh underneath, how more defined the muscles than the sleek body she was used to. With a sudden motion, he spread her legs a little wider and her skirt was raised by his insistent knee. She gasped and their kiss deepened when he tried to lift her to the desk. Panic flashed through her body when she realised how close she was to betraying Tom — and, on a more personal level, of her dirty little secret being found out once he pulled her panties down. She could still feel his cum there, dripping slowly out of her as the night went on.

“No!” she said again, pulling away from him.

His lips chased hers, following her quick escape and landing on her cheek, her jaw, her neck, tongue coming out to lave at the little dip between her clavicles. He lapped the sweat and dust from there, the lewd and rhythmic motion a naked promise of more. She shivered at the feeling.

“You French boys are impossible,” she mumbled, trying to sound angry but managing to lose grip of a giggle that was bubbling in her throat.

Donatien mumbled something but his kisses slowed down to little pecks laid on the tops of her breasts. His arms closed around her waist, pressing her to him in an almost innocent embrace. She could feel his whole body against hers — wider, stronger, soft and so inviting… He had the same clothes on from earlier but they were all ruffled now perhaps from him brushing against her. She placed a gentle hand over his nape, letting his warmth sink into her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If things were different, I… I’d like to, but I — I can’t.”

She’d almost confessed to him but stopped herself at the last second. Why was it so hard for her to tell, even a stranger, that she was in love with Tom?

“Pourquoi pas?”

She pulled away from him and as she looked into his eyes again she felt herself begin to shake. He was so close… She’d spend forever in those blue eyes if she could.

“Well, that’s none of your business, is it?” she whispered, blushing at his closeness.

Donatien noticed her reaction and couldn’t help but grin a little smugly. His head tilted and he dipped again.

“Ah, ah! No. Your business... is getting this book.”

He sighed but didn’t seem too hurt by her rejection. His hot palm at the back of her neck slid around to grip her jaw and gently brushed a thumb across her cheek. For a moment he looked into her eyes with something like regret, or maybe longing, but before she could say anything more to him he pulled away from her. Donatien reached behind her again and picked up the envelope with the payment, handing it to her.

“I, erm… Well, goodbye. Thank you.”

“Hmm. Au revoir,” he muttered.

His deep and silky voice sounded so different when he stood so close… She let her eyes roam his soft features one last time. There was something so sweet about his countenance, and so seductive too, sensual in the way that writhing snakes are. Perhaps that was why it felt so good to kiss him. They may have looked like opposites, but at least in that small sense, he reminded her of Tom.

“Erm, have you seen Mr. Riddle?” she asked.

“What?”

“Mr. Riddle. Tom… I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“Ah, erm, n-non.”

“Oh. Alright…”

“Ahem. Pardonnez-moi,” mumbled Donatien. He held the package tightly to his side and looked at her with the guilty expression of a child caught doing something naughty. Perhaps he knew about the two of them… Her heart froze at the thought. But he just smiled politely and, as if nothing untoward had just happened between them, took her hand and kissed it, and before she could say anything he turned quickly on his heels and left.

She braced herself against the desk and breathed for what felt like the first time in ten minutes. The soft swish of his jacket haunted her from down the hall and she could still taste those lips, feel that tongue on her, and oh the knowledge burned inside her that they just kissed. Tom would never know. Should never know. But as Donatien’s steps grew distant she couldn’t help the feeling that she could hear Tom walking through those corridors as well.

[theorphicangel]

number three.

The creak of the bedroom door is heard through the low tone of lofi music in the background, the warm glow of your study lamp casts over your pile of books all disarranged across your desk. You don’t even have to swivel in your chair to know who it is, you knew right when he left a soft knock before coming in. You know how much he values respecting your privacy.

The marble pen in your hand continues to scribble away notes from your lectures this morning, copying them up in a neat manner.

“Do you ever take a break?”

You hear him take a few steps forward, already knowing the disapproving look on his face. You’ve been cooped up in your room for a couple of hours, working away at your endless list of assignments.

You hum softly, half-listening to him. “I took a twenty minute break earlier.”

“I mean a proper break.” Levi now stands directly behind your desk chair, his eyes bore into your back. “Like actually leaving your room?”

You ignore him absentmindedly and it isn’t untilLevi places his hand on top of the page that you’re currently writing on that you pay attention

“Have you even eaten yet?”

Just from your hesitation he knows the answer and this time you can’t confound him out of it.

“No.” you mumble.

Levi cups his ear in pure sarcasm, “What was that?”

“No.” you say a little louder, your shoulders slumped.

His hand is now outstretched. You stare at it dumbfoundedly, “What?”

“C’mon.”

“Where?” you ask, “Because I should really be–”

“Take out.”

You pause in the middle of your sentence. Of course he would know the right words to make you shut up. It is Friday night…and you did work extra hard today…

Letting out a sigh, you grab his hand in total surrender. “Just this once.”

“Sure, whatever.” Levi says, grabbing your coat off the hook for you, knowing all too well that this isn’t the first nor will it be the last.

Slipping on your shoes, he grabs the car keys ready to lead you out.

Before you slip through the front door you pause suddenly. Levi’s expression turns to concern, “Did you forget something?”

“No.” You begin, looking down at your feet, “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this,” you say, looking up at him. “For distracting me, I needed it.”

“It’s not a problem.” He shrugs absentmindedly although the way that his cheeks burn makes you think that he begs to differ.

“I’m glad.” You say, and before heading out the door, you lean towards him, offering a quick peck on his cheek. “Thank you, levi.”

His entire state shuts down, you leave him holding the front door, entirely frozen by your action. His whole body flares up, as if you’ve set him on fire.

You kissed him.

Sort of.

He stands silently, letting the seconds pass by him, wishing that he could turn back the clock just to figure out what just happened.

A part of him yearns for you, wishing that he held you back for a second before you slipped away so that he could…

So that you could kiss him. Properly. Just so that his lips are able to meet yours. His heartbeat races just at the thought.

Finally moving from his spot, he figures that he shouldn’t have to worry. After all, he has the entire journey to make it up to you.

Reblogs are much appreciated ! :)

[sanerontheinside]

Look, Goncharov is an excellent movie. It has the sense of inevitability about it, of ever-encroaching tragedy. Its execution of both the suspense and the despair, the mounting fear of what you knew was coming all along—it’s staggering, the perfection of it.

But at the same time, this isn’t a Scorsese, not truly. It’s a Matteo JWHJ 0715. It is, in some ways, a little hamfisted in its execution, and I would argue the American audience is not wrong to analyze it in terms of very American themes. They are! Hollywood movies set the tone for much around the world, from fashion to storytelling in a media as globalized as film.

And as I’ve said, I do love this movie. I love it even for its anachronistic quirks—many of them deliberate and thought-through stylistic choices. I think the fact that goncharov’s primary activities are moving drugs and guns are one of these stylistic departures. Guns and drugs are easy to understand; goncharov is the bad guy, the antihero we’re meant to sympathize with. Certainly, he makes for a rather charming and impressive bastard.

But I think the movie, this particular script rather misses out on the poignancy of the alternative: that goncharov likely wasn’t dealing drugs and weapons, at least not at the beginning. Truth is, you could make an unimaginable amount of money just by smuggling ordinary European goods across the Iron Curtain.

Painfully ordinary. Shoes and coats and and dresses and suits, like all those pretty things that Katya wears. Turntables. Jeans! Plain old dishware. Sure, maybe eventually goncharov didn’t have much of a choice and got into the hard stuff

(this would actually serve the narrative—Goncharov stepping clear over his own lines in the sand, over and over again until he no longer recognizes who he is—perfection)

(anyway)

but you see, the Soviet Union didn’t have a whole variety in production, nor even necessarily great quality of it. There was no (legal) access to imported goods. I’ve already seen mention of the bootleg copy of the film that became a cult classic in the USSR itself (and probably inspired generations of bratva in years to come 🙄) but I wonder if it simply didn’t occur to anyone to consider that the Soviet bloc had largely isolated itself after WWII, and with a struggling economy, with creakily functioning infrastructure, did its best to achieve the impossible and pull itself ‘up by its bootstraps’.

So just think about it: almost every item that Katya owns is like those pretty gowns and crystal shoes in old fairytales; the moment she steps out of this magical realm—the moment the scales fall from her eyes—all of it will begin to melt away into nothing. She would never have had anything like it, were she not married to Goncharov. And he gave her the keys to this magical kingdom, didn’t he? Her Prince, who in the end is not a prince at all, not a fairytale. The illusion, the glamour falls away from him as well.

And then there is Sofia. Sofia, for whom all these clothes and shoes and jewels are very real. All right, sure—Sofia’s backstory tells us she lucked into this world, and in some sense it is also a sort of fairytale space for her. But the thing is, Katya’s grasp on it is far more tenuous. Sofia is nowhere near as richly dressed as Katya, but when everything goes to pot Sofia will still have something of her own, hard-won with sacrifice.

Katya will not. And how unfair is that: Katya is her own woman, she survives her husband’s world and makes her own way, only to be left with nothing if the worst should happen.

[braveclementine]

Day 15~ 9:00 A.M.

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book.

Copyright: My OCs are Coach Yonce, Emma, Ila, Tempus, and Itty Bitty. I own these characters. I do not condone any copying of this.

There were about twenty of us left. More boys than girl, but that was expected as there were more boys than girls to start with.

Itty, Jaguar, and I were standing with each other, as we were all lined up in a sort of line formation. I knew that Sebastian was somewhere behind me. Ila was off to the side, her eyes crossed over her chest. Her nose was crooked, her eyes dark under the circles, her face bruised, but she was standing and alive.

The lady stood in front of us, her black hair pulled back into a bun. She was wearing a black and white outfit, complete with a trench coat and she had her hands in her pockets. I was sure there was yet another plot twist and I was ready for anything.

"Congratulations." She said with a huge smile. "You've survived, you get to go home."

My eyes darted up high in the places I couldn't see well. I knew shadows were moving up there, and I wasn't sure what they were doing.

I shifted closer to put a hand on Itty's shoulder, ready to throw her behind me the minute they started shooting or to throw myself on top of her whatever would happen.

The other kids seemed excited. Some of them were crying, tears tracks down their cheeks. Some of them ripped off props from their backs, celebrating. I stayed still. So did Itty and Ila, though Jaguar was smiling widely.

I let out a shaky breath, waiting. I knew I wasn't paranoid. I knew something else was going to happen.

Suddenly, I heard two doors burst open at the end of the hallway, and when everyones heads went spinning in that direction, that was when the gunfire started. I felt something tear through my shoulder.

I immediately pulled Itty down, with one arm and as I went down, I kicked my leg out, knocking Jaguar off her feet. I wish I could have reached Otter, but she was already hitting the floor, her arms over her head like that would help.

I could smell the blood now and I turned my head slightly to see that blood was pooling out of bodies which had landed in every direction as the other kids had tried to scatter.

I could hear sounds of fighting, but when I looked up, I was met with a great shock.

For a moment, I thought I must still be dreaming, because the sight in front of me was something as bizarre as one of my dreams.

The people 'punching' the bad guys in the face were. . . the Avengers?

I blinked again. What in the world? Yes, they were the Avengers. But in the way that everyone on the movie set must see them. Robert Downey Jr. with all sorts of dots on his body and clothes, his hands out as though he was shooting blasters. And Chris Evans had a shield in his hand, though it didn't return to him.

I suddenly spun my head to where Sebastian, my guard, was standing. He was looking at me, a sheepish smile on his face.

I couldn't look at him anymore. It wasn't just a random guy named Sebastian. It was Sebastian Stan.

Soldier.

Soldat.

The green arm because that was the green screen for his metal arm.

Bucky Barnes.

I hadn't watched the Captain America movies yet. I had only seen Stan with the short hair, not the long hair. And how was I to expect that a famous movie actor was helping kill children?

'We didn't know it was real.'

They thought it was a movie. They still thought it was a movie, obviously. They would never have risked these famous actors and actresses lives if they thought it was real.

'She thinks of you as the main character.'

Because I was, unknowingly, the main character.

'Not everything is as it seems.'

Of course. The way he avoided talking about the after this place. Because there was no after, not for me and him. He had a girlfriend or probably even a wife outside of the movies. I had been played.

All of these kids. . . I knew they were dead. I had helped kill them, I had felt the affects myself. I was missing my left pinky for crying out loud.

"AND CUT!" Someone shouted.

Everyone stopped moving on the set and the famous actors who played the main Avengers were relaxing, turning to talk to each other. The dead kids were quickly being dragged off set, the blood being washed away through a drain with a large bucket of water. I felt the water touch my clothes.

I met eyes with Itty, then Jaguar, then Ila. We had started with one hundred and twenty kids. Itty, Jaguar, and I were the only ones left out of that. Ila was just an extra.

Itty and I had the same look. So did Jaguar, Otter was a bit slower on the uptake but I wasn't sure she really knew who most of the actors in front of us were. She wasn't a big Marvel fan.

"Its' fake." Itty and Jaguar whispered at the same time.

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed my upper arm, jerking me up on my feet.

"Oi." Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes, walking forwards.

I kicked the man in the knee as hard as I could, furious. I yanked the gun out of his belt. It was a pistol, a light weight in my hands, but heavy at the same time.

"Alright, that's enough, we're not in scene." The lady said, walking forwards, towards me. She was smirking. I lifted the gun in both hands, pointing it at her head. The other Actors turned to see what was going on.

"What are you doing? We're off scene right now?" Evans asked.

"Chris, shut up." Sebastian warned. "Y/N-"

"No." I snapped at him. "You do not get to say my name. Not after all of that."

"You won't shoot me." The lady smirked, reaching into her trench coat.

I didn't give her a chance.

I pulled the trigger.

She was still smiling as she hit the floor. One of the actresses screamed.

Sebastian started towards me and I turned the gun on him. Tears streamed down my face. "Stay the hell away from me."

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, looking distraught.

"What?" I asked coldly. "It was still all fake to you, wasn't it? Was my finger not real enough? Was the knee not real enough? This was all a fucking movie to all of you? Children died! I almost died! And you fucking played with my feelings!"

Sebastian just shook his head, turning to the other actors. "We were lied to. Where are the Russo brothers?"

"We're right here Sebastian." The two directors came through a door, pausing at the sight in hand. The dead lady on the floor- I still never knew her name. Me and the other three, my gun pointed at Sebastian's head.

The taller one sighed, looking at the body. "Well that's a pity. We'll have to get our money the hard way now."

"You knew." Sebastian stated angrily. "You knew what was happening here."

"Of course, we helped set it up. The realistic aspects of it were quite favorable and we didn't even have to hire any actors and actresses for it."

"Because we would all be dead." I spat, turning my gun towards him. He didn't even flinch.

"Wait." Downey said, crossing his arms, "What are we talking about?"

"Children died." Sebastian spat at them. "You let children be kidnapped and killed for a movie!? Are you insane?"

I looked over at Jaguar, Itty, and Ila and mouthed, 'Start moving.'

They started to slowly back away from the entire group. In this room, there was an exit door. Maybe we'd all die when we exited it, but then I'd be away from this crap.

"Y/N-" Sebastian said but I shook my head.

"You don't get to call me that." I spat.

"Where do you think you're going?" The shorter Russo brother asked.

"Away from here." I snarled, turning the gun on him instead. I knew I was outnumbered, but my top priority was getting the other three out.

"You'll die out there."

"Well at least I won't be with any of you monsters." I said. "Do us a favor and stay the hell away from us."

The other three broke into a run towards the exit doors, opening it and bright sunlight streamed through the the door.

I took one more look at Sebastian.

I remembered every moment where I thought he was saving me. He had to have known about everything ahead of time, that's why everything had perfect timing. Every time I thought I was confiding in someone, every time that I kissed him, it wasn't real.

None of it was real to him.

"It was real to me." I whispered. I threw the gun down so it clattered near his feet. "Fuck you Stan."

I turned and followed the others into the bright sunlight.

⬅️➡️

[phantasmaltrain]

split tracks chapter two time !! i’m definitely trying to work out an update schedule and so far with my up and down motivation biweekly seems stable enough :]

check it out on ao3 if you prefer that!

or read below the cut!

general summary :

emmet goes home early; both in hopes of solving his headache, and solving the mystery behind the day’s happenings.

word count :

1,712.

he did, inevitably, check out early at the end of his break, as much as he hated the sentiment. nobody on staff seemed to dare ask why; both of the subway bosses hardly took off time, so any point in which they did take breaks for themselves was not to be questioned.

fumbling for his house keys, emmet slowly unlocked the front door, closing it behind him. hanging his coat and hat on the rack next to it, the man trudged himself straight to his room, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace.

putting away all his work things, he also made sure all the latches on his team’s pokeballs were open, so they could come and go as they pleased while he was fixated on what he needed to do, despite the still mounding headache.

quickly getting himself in an outfit more comfortable for around the house leisure, ( or as close to leisure as he could get, ) he picked up his laptop case from his nightstand, which was fondly covered in all sorts of gear station and bug-type stickers, before settling in a cross-legged position on his bed, the notes and fabric scraps carefully held in one hand.

archeops was one of the first to come trodding over out of intrigue, hoisting himself up onto the bed with his feathery claws and sticking his snout underneath emmet’s arm while staring up with wide, curious eyes.

emmet could not help but snort at that, briefly acknowledging the fossil pokemon with a scratch under the chin and a tilt of his head.

“ thank you for checking on me, archeops. i am doing something important right now. i ask you to keep your cab settled. ”

seeing as archeops’ response was to wriggle into a more comfortable position, still resting his head in place, emmet was quite sure the message got across.

opening his laptop with a hum, he unfolded the paper scraps, checking them both over a second time.

‘space-time distortions.’

so he had mixed up the name earlier. not too big of a sweat.

quickly entering the phrase into the search bar, idle hands made their way to scrolling, silver eyes skimming across the screen as emmet silently hoped something, just something , would shed more light on the subject than what paper scraps could.

clicking open one of the links, emmet leaned forward, squinting faintly at the screen. clearly copying the man’s behavior, archeops outstretched his neck, his snout resting on the corner of the keyboard.

something about “ultra wormholes,” now. how they were similar to.. whatever had torn up his and ingo’s offices.

..if this stranger just wanted to give him a worse migraine, goal achieved. at this point, even staring at the laptop screen had begun to hurt, firing off little pops and sparks behind his eyes. emmet pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep inhale, holding said breath, before letting out a sigh.

clicking on the screen reader with a scowl, emmet set the laptop on his nightstand, rolling over on his side and listening begrudgingly as a monotone voice began to drone the article out loud.

archeops snuggled his way up against emmet with a concerned chitter, and the silver-haired man simply responded with a hum.

“ ultra wormholes have been a recorded phenomenon in alola for centuries and still occur in modern time, unlike its ancient sinnohan counterpart, space-time distortions. distinct holes in space that lead to other dimensions entirely; through intensive research, it has been observed how pokemon manage to traverse them with ease, but have proven to have detrimental effects on the human body. ”

emmet could not help but tense at that, lips pressed shut in a thin line. even if it was a robotic, disembodied voice emitting from his laptop, and not something that could comprehend the bubbling stress and anticipation sitting in the back of his throat, there was still a silent indicator of a “ hurry up, ” practically spilling off the man in waves.

“ in recent influxes, people who have reportedly fallen through these aforementioned wormholes have suffered severe bouts of amnesia; that, at least, seems to have stayed universal between the two variants. in older times, it was rumored that one of ancient sinnoh’s wardens, and even the hero of hisui herself, had fallen from these spatial rifts, never to return to their home time. “

so if either of them had fallen in; emmet thought, with a mounding sort of dread in his throat, they would’ve been plunged to dragons knows where with no recollection. great to know. chills practically rolled down his spine as he shuffled to shut off the laptop; he had heard enough for now, and he was feeling no better

arm falling slack over the side of the bed, the silver-haired man lay still there for a few moments, eventually hoisting the stray limb back onto the bed and under the covers.

archeops had made himself cozy curled up on top of the blanket at emmet’s side, chittering and crooning with an occasional parroted “ safety checks! safety checks! “ in an attempt in echoing ingo’s voice.

oh.

right.

he had checked out early.

which meant he would be home alone for the next few hours.

drawing in an inhale, emmet buried his face in the pillow, with a long, exasperated sigh.

..it wouldn’t kill him to take a nap.

unfortunately for emmet, he apparently wasn’t allowed to have nice things anymore.

for one, his so-called ‘nap’ went on way longer than he would’ve preferred; there was no light coming through his bedroom window. considering the light switch was off as well, it was safe to say either ingo or one of his pokemon had shut it off.

two. his entire top half was freezing. and soaked. and there was a small weight on his chest; not a joltik, he would’ve been electrocuted by now. considering the tiny bits of something solid he was able to pick out in the dark, clinging to his hair, skin, shirt; it was snow.

another heap of half-melted snow.

balling his hands into fists, he shoved off the covers, grabbing whatever was rested on him with a loud string of half-coherent expressions of annoyance, storming across the room and flicking the switch on.

yep. more snow.

well, at least whatever distortion thing this time didn’t tear up his room.

now pausing to look at the object rather harshly grasped in his hand, he seemed to fumble with the thing for a few moments, squinting.

it resembled a pokeball, sure, but it seemed more…worn. old. weathered.

it was definitely empty; flicking open the latch, ( not a button, oddly enough, ) emmet was, in fact, able to confirm the thing was vacant. it didn’t have the same plastic and metal hand feel, though. the reddish half seemed slightly more weighted, as if carved from stone or rock, while what would’ve been the white half seemed almost wooden, indicated by texture, coloration, marbling; everything.

it was fascinating, quickly derailing his thoughts to examine such a thing in his hands, yet oh-so frustrating once his train of thought returned to the station. right. his bed was still soaked. so was he.

checking the time on his xtransciever, which was charging on his dresser, it read roughly 8:30.

alright. his head didn’t feel like there was a firework show setting off inside it anymore, so maybe it would be a good idea to report this whole…distortion situation to someone.

according to that article, there was a branch of the interpol that could handle that. the station in nimbasa wasn’t too far away; he considered it walking distance.

quickly changing out of his cold, drenched pajama shirt and bottoms into something more presentable, emmet grabbed his casual coat, pocketing the odd pokeball as well as archeops’ while walking and fitting his arms into the sleeves at the same time, leaving his room and making his way down the stairs.

the feathered pokemon in question, who had hopped his way to his little bed after the distortion had decided to drop a heap of snow into the room, quickly followed, returning to his pokeball once he had caught up with emmet.

( seeing as the kitchen light was on, ingo was likely in there, presumably having his evening tea. the tv was running in the background; some documentary, if he tuned in hard enough. ingo wasn’t much of a documentary person unless it was intriguing; he simply enjoyed the background noise. )

emmet never understood how he enjoyed that stuff.

the tea, that is.

ingo always liked his drinks sweet, so emmet only wrinkled his nose in contempt when he noticed the cup in his hurry down the stairs.

( the silver-haired man looked up from his mug, leaning against the counter with a hum. resting the cup down, he took a few steps in approach, raising a brow. )

“ emmet? where are you going at this hour? it is not exactly late, but i was told by cameron earlier that you were not feeling well, and you were asleep by the time i got home to ask how you were doing. ”

“ i am emmet. i am filing a report to interpol. i will be back in the next hour. i am verrry much fine. ”

emmet’s hand rested on the door handle, briefly, before quickly making his ‘escape’, leaving ingo very little room to question why.

( ingo was not stupid. the other’s rushed departure and lack of clarification was plenty of a clue. emmet did not lie often; he knew he hated doing such a thing, but withholding things masked behind vague words was something he apparently wasn’t opposed to. )

( plus, he had explained nothing about what had happened that morning. asking to check his office, slamming the door shut, and walking out like a hurricane had shredded through the room with bits of glass and debris digging into his skin like nails. )

( emmet was a bad liar, but he was worse at making what he was doing seem insignificant. grabbing his coat, keys, xtransciever, and chandelure’s pokeball, ingo turned to follow; in his pajamas and a trench coat, sure, but clearly not intent on being left in the dark. both literally and figuratively; it was dark outside. )

[suvidrache]

Christmas Time

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 509 | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist

It was nearing the Christmas season, the Halloween decorations had been taken down, and the Christmas decorations were put up. It wasn't December yet, but you loved the season. You wanted everything up and ready to go before Christmas time. You wanted it all to be perfect, and it was.

Ignis didn't really celebrate Christmas. They didn't have it. They had a Starlight Celebration. A celebration that started years ago during a war. Many children had become orphaned, and the knights decided to protect the children. They concealed them under their coats, as these actions were forbidden. The orphans never forgot their kindness and decided to dress up and hand out gifts. Since then, the tradition has continued on. It was the closest they had to a Christmas.

After explaining to Ignis what Christmas was, he understood. He didn't mind celebrating with you, and he was very interested in what you said about it. He enjoyed the moments that he had with you.

Together, you both sat on the couch watching some sort of movie. You had never seen it before, and Ignis had lost count of how many times he had seen it. He didn't mind watching it again.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and he looked at you. He wanted to say something, but at the same time, he didn't want to disturb your sleep. He waited a while before he finally thought of what he wanted to say, but before he could, you sat up.

"Hey, do you want to take things further?" You asked as your eyes met his. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you looked away.

Ignis hesitated for a moment. He wasn't expecting such a sudden question. He would answer. He just needed some time to process the question.

He adjusted his glasses when he replied, "Yes, I would."

You both leaned in, and your lips met. He reached out and placed a hand gently on your cheek. You began to unbutton his shirt, and he pulled back to remove it the rest of the way. You removed your shirt while he stood up to remove his belt, pants, and underwear.

You were both fully naked when he moved in between your legs. He set his glasses on the table and slowly began to lick your length/clit. You let out a moan, and you placed a hand on the back of his head. He continued to lick you while he palmed his hardened length. He moved up and slid himself inside of you. His hands grasped your hips, and he waited until you were comfortable with his size. He slowly pulled back and thrust forwards. You let out a moan, and he did it again. He began to pick up speed. His thrusts became faster and harder, just as you liked it. You both moaned as he continued. Your hands grasped his wrists as he pounded into you. It wasn't long before you came, and he continued, letting you ride out your orgasm. Soon, he came as well.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @eli-chris, @phantomheiko, @imagineherbrightskies / Join my tag list here!

[noxfolium]

Things Children See

It would be only a few days after Overseer’s announcement that phase two had begun. And Annia and Bianca were at the window of the apartment, watching some drones at work. Finally, Bianca turns and looks at Misah’to. “Where did Overseer go?”

Misah’to looked up from the sock he was darning. “What? What do you mean?”

Bianca glanced at her older sister, before turning and walking over to Misah’to. “Overseer doesn’t talk to us anymore. Twelves kinda does through the drones. But... it’s like he’s broken now. Why isn’t the Overseer here to fix him? Is he okay? Is that why Mister Arym’s gone too? He’s looking for Overseer? Is that why everyone’s sad? Why Norhi’s always cleaning everything now?”

Misah’to sighed and set aside the sock. “I... Something happened with Overseer, yes. It’s complicated and it is why lots of people are sad. Twelves isn’t broken. He’s just... doing the job the Overseer was doing before. And it’s hard. I want you two to remember to be polite. Say please and thank you and all of that. Okay?”

Annia came over from the window. “And Mister Arym’s looking for Overseer?”

Misah’to frowned a bit more. “I don’t know if he’s doing that or not. But you know he considered the Overseer his friend. And all this upset him very much. So, we need to be patient and wait for him to come home. But when he does come home, don’t ask too many questions, okay? It will probably hurt too much to talk about. And it’s probably a conversation for people who understand what happened.”

Bianca fidgeted and then said, “I bet I know how to get him to come home! Whenever Papa worked too much, Mama would go clean out his desk! And one of the maids would call him in a panic and he’d come home! So, if we go clean out Mister Arym’s place, he’ll come home.”

Annia nodded. “Papa always got super mad about it. But I bet that would work! We can have Miss Vicky call him, once we get started!”

Misah’to winced and then quickly reached to take the girls’ hands in his. “When you’re older, I’m going to explain to you why your mother probably shouldn’t have done that. But, I can’t allow you to go to Mister Arym’s home without him there. So, no cleaning his place. If you want to clean something, I’m sure Norhi would love the company right now.”

Bianca pouted. “But how do we know if Mister Arym’s okay?”

Misah’to sighed faintly and pulled the girls into a hug. “Norhi’s already exchanged a couple letters with him. So, we know he’s out there. And he’s a competent sort. He’ll be home soon enough.”

Annia fidgeted. “But how did Norhi get him a letter? The postal service is gone.”

Misah’to chuckled and leaned back. “Ah... Well... She used an Eorzean service. There are these folk called Moogles. They’re small, fluffy, magical, and can fly. She got one to go find Mister Arym.”

Annia perked. “Can we write Mister Arym a letter too?”

Bianca grinned suddenly. “The Belisars have a kitchen not on a ship now! Think they’d help us bake cookies to send Mister Arym?”

Annia bounced in place. “Norhi’s got good cookie recipes! We can ask for one!”

Misah’to sighed slowly and mumbled, “You’re determined to do something, aren’t you?”

Annia and Bianca both nod firmly. “Yes!” “Please!”

Misah’to shook his head. “Get your coats and shoes. Let’s go talk to Norhi. She’ll know if her moogle friend can help you.”

The girls cheered and turned to get ready to go out. One enthusiastic vs befuddled conversation later, the girls had a written copy of a cookie recipe that Norhi had. Time to ask for help baking!

[tehuti88-art]

3/15/24: Join me in an attempt to revisit a childhood world I've put away for decades, even longer than the Trench Rats (which I'll still be developing, don't worry). I'm not sure how far, if at all, I'll get with it, but recent events have me longing to share.

Firstly, the Toyhou.se folder that helps set the scene, I'll link but will copy the info here as well:

"The Animals" was a favored childhood "storyline" of mine. Whereas other children played with their friends, I was lonely and isolated outside of school, and so spent much of my time playing with stuffed toy animals, and little toy plastic animals. The former group is informally known as the Bed Toys; the latter are known simply as The Animals.

The Animals were very loosely based on/inspired by The Smurfs, which I watched religiously. The animal characters were miniature creatures who lived in the Animal Village deep in the forest (Mrs. Cow lived in a tree toy of mine, the Kenner Tree Tots Family Treehouse), and were always being threatened for some unknown reason by Bad Guy and his minions, Merganser, Black Rabbit, and a woman whose name I no longer recall (I call her simply "Woman" for now). (Fun fact, I only just now remembered Black Rabbit, who was a ripoff of January Q. Irontail from Here Comes Peter Cottontail.) Over time, probably well after I'd stopped playing with the toys, I attempted coming up with an explantion for their existence, and concluded that they were some sort of friendly brownies (small household beings from Scottish folklore, though my Animals weren't specifically Scottish).

My play with The Animals ended some time after I lost Turtle, one of the main characters, for the final time (he had a habit of going missing yet showing up again). Multiple cleanings of my messy room never resulted in me finding him. For a long time, for some odd reason, I had an intuition that he'd ended up in our basement, in a specific area directly under my room, where an unused kiddie pool full of my junk long ago was. Over the years the basement which I used to play in flooded repeatedly, had a sewer leak, was taken over by spiders and pests (a frog lived down there for years), and then my dad did his woodwork down there so sawdust coated everything. When he recently died, I crept down to the basement for my first look at it in years. It wasn't as bad as I'd suspected, but was still in poor shape. The area with the kiddie pool was now full of wood and junk and inaccessible. Relatives arrived to clear everything out. I hoped they would retrieve a few relics of toys and belongings of mine that my dad stored improperly down there years ago, some of which I'd rescued but some of which were lost, yet there was almost nothing left to be found. In an old preserves room/root cellar I'd never explored before (and had recurring dreams that it led into hidden tunnels, crypts, or even to an outdoors land), I did find one thing: the remaining part of the old Kenner Tree Tots Family Treehouse.

I got my first look at the cleared-out basement. It had never been that empty in my memory (over forty years). The entire area beneath my room was now cleaned out. I peered into the far corner where my imagination had repeatedly told me Turtle would be found. Alas, he was not there. He's still gone. Two interesting details emerged, however. Firstly that the heating vent to my room had come loose. Secondly that there were spaces visible around a cinderblock in the wall directly under the corner of my room; I could see daylight through them.

What if Turtle fell down my heating vent long ago, and did indeed end up in the basement corner below my room, like my imagination kept telling me?

What if he escaped through the cracks around the cinderblock?

What if he's still out there...?

Not long before my dad's death, I started digging into my genealogy. I'm largely German through my dad's side so far, though other branches are sadly lost for now. I traced my surname back through the Pennsylvania Dutch to 1500s Hessen. With the clearing-out of the basement, and learning at last that Turtle is not down there, The Animals popped back into my head. I'd bought replicas of these toys online previously and found that my set was incomplete or else others had been lost over time. I'm feeling a nostalgic urge to resurrect the childhood story that brought me so much comfort in my loneliness long ago. While I do have Scottish ancestry through my mother (I found my gateway ancestor through the Dutch and Scottish), maybe The Animals are not actually brownies. Maybe they're German household spirits known as kobolds. And maybe their "forest village" isn't quite in the forest at all, just that the toy treehouse convinced them it was. Maybe the treehouse is evocative of something else much older and more mystical. Maybe The Animals' existence isn't quite what they always thought it was. Maybe Turtle didn't go missing, maybe he went in search of the truth...?

I'm not sure of all the details yet but here are my budding efforts at taking another peek at this childhood story almost lost to time. Everything is very rough, tentative, and open to change.

I miss my dad.

I had a little spare time to doodle. Here is Kitten, the main character alongside Turtle. Kitten was a good toy, never got lost. Was always left behind when Turtle went missing. He's probably still somewhere around (I collected most of my little toy animals in a bin and stashed them away, I think, maybe upstairs, which needs work like the basement...I fear lots of pest damage). Still loyally awaiting his best friend's return. I'll share some more info about him on Toyhou.se soon. As I drew him from memory (I'd intended to reference duplicates of the toys I've since purchased), some details are subject to change, and it's just a rough sketch for now as this whole world is still quite fluid.

I drew also Turtle. He'll be next in his own entry. There are others to come, should I get to them. I'm unsure yet.

Let's see where this may go.

[Rough Kitten Sketch 2024 [‎Friday, ‎March ‎15, ‎2024, ‏‎5:01:15 PM]]

[fan-burns]

Robots 2

Chapter 2: Ratchet’s POV 

“Oh my Cog, I can’t believe it worked!”

In my hands was a copy of the Robot Times from yesterday. It was a pain in the aft to get, but I’m glad that I did. The headline read:

“Revolutionary Ratchet?

Two years ago, the murderous Ratchet disappeared from public eye, but was he really all that bad? 

Turn to page 12 to find out!”

I don’t believe it, the old coot actually did it. He mind controlled everyone that works for the paper!

As I stood there stunned, a distorted voice sounded from behind me. “And you said it vas just a myth!”

I turned to face the rust bucket responsible for this. Doctor Veyizmir. Anyone who knew him would sprint at the mere sound of his grisly voice. Like the rest of his body, his voice had deteriorated over the years. It has a nasty habit of switching from American to German as he spoke, making him all the more unnerving and unhinged. He’s been trying to fix it for as long as I remember, but to no avail.

I’m still amazed that he’s even alive, considering how old he is. He was an outmode long before they were officially a thing, and he was well past his warranty. Yet somehow, by some demonic intervention on his part, he still lives. 

He looked like he came straight out of a Hollywood horror movie, he was crippled, old, and fat. He even had the glasses and thick gray eyebrows to boot. His body was stained brown with rust and Cog knows whatever chemicals he’s been playing with. Whatever paint job he had on completely vanished, and was replaced with a thin coat of dust. His face wasn’t any better, as his mouth had been so corroded that it began to form a sort of “beak” shape. His teeth had long since rotted away, making him all the more unpleasant to look at. 

Despite his round body, he was only being held up by his thin, frail limbs, and has to carry a cane with him less he risk falling over. The cane in question was held by a set of thin hands, which were easily mistaken for spiders when they moved around. His pointer fingers were, well, they were needles. Most likely filled with some metal corroding acid that he created, or some liquid that could turn you into a rusted statue in a matter of seconds.

He was…creative like that. To highlight this fact, there was a lightbulb sat upon his head that lit up whenever he had one of these creative ideas. Over the years, some of the wires connected to it began to sprout from his forehead, causing a slight electric shock every now and again whenever it tried to light up. 

I feel like I can’t go a single day without seeing it try to light up at least once, and everytime it does, I can’t help but feel sorry for his next “Pet Project”. 

As he stepped out of the shadows, I could hear his joints creak and groan under his own weight. As he opened his beak, small streams of smoke had escaped from him as he struggled to speak in his jumbled accents.

“As I’ve said before, zis is zee future of us all…Under normal conditions, zis Electromagnetic pulse can only briefly inconfenience us vith zee occasional blackout or, at zee worst, damaged equipment. Howefer, vith my expertise, ve are capable of many, many things. Of course, such technologies have never existed up until zis point, and have only served as a tale to tell to children at night…until I had a go at it!”

I didn’t want to know how he was able to bring fiction into reality, but at the same time I was morbidly interested.

“Soooooooo…what did you do? How did you do it?”

His beak turned into that signature evil grin of his, the last sight of many of his little experiments. 

“Oh, you give me hope for zee youth!” Spoke the twisted figure. “At least someone is interested in vat I do! It vas quite easy, actually, much easier zan I expected! Back in zee old days, I used to make smaller signals using metal rods and lightning from ze sky! zey could only cause a simple power outage, but it was quite ze feat! Course...zat led to a fire in the town I was residing in, and I had to flee.”

“I thought you had to flee town because you killed a bunch of bots?”

“Well…that too. But zat’s beside zee point…What I’m trying to say is zat I can go bigger. I can weaponize an EMP signal, the nightmare of all robots! Think of it, sonny. zee whole world looking to you for advice, for your orders, for your command!”

There’s the other thing about Doctor V. His theatrics and comparisons with wild, starving animals and bots.

“It’s tantalizing, isn’t it?” He went on, “All zat power in one place, it makes you want to crawl out of zis cage and into ze palace banquet!”

As he went on, he stepped closer to me, tapping his cane on the ground to emphasize the point. 

“You’d be unstoppable…and anyone vho gets in your vay vill only find themselves devoured by your pover and zeir ovn lust for you! A lust of vhich, you vill inflict upon zem vith your voice and authority alone…You’ll be irresistible to many, loved by ze majority, and obeyed by all! How could you possibly not vant something like zat?!”

The Doctor was a master at tempting you, too. He’ll promise you something you can’t resist, and he’ll damage you beyond repair intentionally or unintentionally. Then he’ll drag whatever’s left of you to his workshop and claim you as his next “Pet Project”. He’s like a wicked genie in a bottle cranked to eleven. It’s the one reason why I’ve been avoiding him everytime I come down here to see my mother. But now that she’s gone, and I’m basically living here now, I’m forced to talk to him. 

But the more I listened to him, the more I found myself agreeing with him. I have wanted to get back at that little blue brat and his coffee pot pet for a while…and this could be my ticket back to the top. But if I’m going to go along with Dr. V’s plan, I have to play it safe, I can’t get too greedy. For all I know, this could be some conspiracy against me.

“You have a point, but how are we-”

“Simple…ve’ll keep altering the cell tovers in zee city as ve’ve been doing. Vhile ve’re doing that, I’ll create a generator inside ze Shop. Once zat’s finished, I’ll forge vhat I call a “Conduit”, zat vill use that generator’s power to control ze masses.”

“Wait, why can’t you just skip the generator and just make the Conduit the generator? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Doctor V. gave me one of his infamous side glares, “Because, boy, zis main generator contains ze real pover. A generator squeezed in one place can only cover so much ground, and von’t be able to reach zee entire city. Zee Conduit vill be able to spread zee signals to areas vhere zee EMP cannot fully reach. Vith a smaller, more portable signal on zee side vill ensure zat no one can resist! Ve can’t have a rebellion in our empire, now do vee?”

What he was suggesting ws horrifying, but brilliant…I’m slowly starting to see why mom kept him around. To an extent at least.

“But how are you going to build this thing?! Where are you going to-”

He interrupted again by waving his needle finger at me and made a “Tsk Tsk Tsk” with his beak. “You just focus on zat little boyfriend of yours and let me handle ze rest…How is he, by the vay? I haven't seen him in a vhile.”

“He’s not my-”

He shrugged his eyebrow at me.

“I mean…he’s fine. Last I heard he’s scored a job at Bigweld’s. We’re keeping communication low just in case. If he’s really in a position of power, we can’t afford to have him lose it!”

“I see…Vell zen, I best get started.”

Before he could disappear back to the shadows, I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

He looked surprised that I asked, as if he was genuinely taken aback that I was interested in this plan of his. Delighted, He turned to me and gave me an answer. 

“Vell, based on how well zee tests have gone so far, I’ll give it…four years, at least.”

“FOUR YEARS?!”

“You can’t rush art!” His voice croaked. “At least it isn’t a decade! It’ll go by in a flash, you’ll see.”

And just like that, he vanished into the shadows. Down into the abyss of the shop, far from the heat of the smelters and embracing the cold. 

“This better work, doctor.”

This had better work.