#i know we want to see them leave the company and thrive together

[sporeblossom]

thinking about the whole "do you want a deal with the devil/what am i gonna do with a soul anyways"-conversation between tom and greg in all the bells say and like. screaming over how quickly the abuse seeps in and corrupts everyone in this fucking family.

so it works like this: tom takes shit from logan and shiv, so he learns how to take it out on his employees and on greg. the little midwestern boy becomes cruel. but greg is still the unspoiled outsider, who hasn't learned how to hurt others yet. so to tom has to be both cruel and kind to greg. cruel because passing on the abuse is how you survive in this family, and kind, because no matter how much tom closes off his heart, he is still hungering for a smidgen of kindness - and he sees so much of himself in greg, that by being kind to him, he is staving off that hunger in himself just a little. and maybe even using it to convince himself that he's still a good person.

so tom offers to look out for greg, and brings him with him on the gojo deal. they're gonna go to the bottom of the top together! they're gonna get their slice of the pie, together. who has ever looked out for you in this fucking family? the answer is no one, doesn't matter if you're asking greg or tom.

how tragic then, that by showing him this misunderstood kindness, tom is killing greg. he is looping him into the cycle of abuse, and dooming greg to become tom, someone capable of cruelty. how tragic, that the only way greg is able to conceive of this new rise in status, this jump up the ladder, is through the roles of the abusive dynamics.

"can i have...?"

"your own greg? you can have 20"

it's funny, because greg is fucking stupid, but heartbreaking, because his first thought when met with the possibility of a rise in power, is to ask "do i get my own person to abuse?" even through tom's attempts at kindness, it's already too late. tom has already taught greg that the ones who are in power are cruel to the ones who are not, and if you are without power, you take that cruelty, and you hold it, and you wait until the day you have power, so you can pass it on.

even if tom didn't cut greg in on the deal, greg had already taken that lesson to heart. but by bringing greg with him, tom is metaphorically killing the last pathetic smidgens of greg's innocence, and dooming him to become the abuser.

[atlasthegreatest]

A Game of Hearts and Ruins / Lara Croft x Indiana Jones! Male Reader

Which, Lara Croft crosses paths with Y/n Jones, a charming archaeologist and long-time rival, while both pursue the same ancient artifact.

Word count: 4788

The midday sun blazed mercilessly over the dense jungles of Cambodia, where the ancient ruins of a forgotten temple slept beneath layers of tangled vines and centuries of dust. Lara Croft crouched low on the edge of a broken stone pillar, her eyes scanning the scene ahead. She’d heard rumors of rare artifacts hidden within these ruins—legendary relics of power that would be a thrilling addition to her private collection. However, she wasn’t alone in the pursuit.

The soft crunch of a boot on fallen leaves caught her ear. Without looking, she smirked, already knowing who it was.

“Late as usual, Croft,” came a smooth, confident voice behind her.

Lara rose to her feet, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. “If I were late, Jones, you wouldn’t have needed to follow me here.”

Standing a few feet away was Dr. Y/n Jones—a fellow British adventurer and archaeologist with a devil-may-care grin, ruffled hair, and an insufferable twinkle in his eyes. He wore a worn leather jacket over a white shirt and khaki trousers, looking every inch the reckless explorer he was. His belt was loaded with tools, and a coiled whip hung from his hip, further adding to his roguish charm.

Y/n’s grin widened as he tucked his hands casually in his pockets. “Follow you? I was here first, love. Just wanted to see how long it’d take you to catch up.”

Lara tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Jones.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm. “And you’ve always been terrible at admitting when you’ve met your match.”

Lara felt the spark between them, that familiar current of playful rivalry. This wasn’t the first time they’d crossed paths on an expedition—nor the first time their competition had made things complicated. They both thrived on adventure, danger, and the thrill of outwitting each other. It was a game they loved to play, though neither would ever admit just how much they enjoyed the other’s company.

“Still planning to raid the temple alone?” Y/n asked, sauntering closer. “Or do you want to call it a truce and split the prize?”

“Please,” Lara replied, crossing her arms. “I don’t need help. Besides, we both know you’d try to take the lion’s share.”

Y/n grinned. “Of course. It’s what I do best.”

Lara turned on her heel, making her way deeper into the ruins without another word. Y/n followed, as she knew he would. They were drawn together like magnets—constantly orbiting, occasionally colliding, but never fully able to walk away from each other.

Inside the temple, the air grew cooler, filled with the scent of damp stone and ancient decay. The maze of narrow corridors twisted in every direction, and both explorers moved in practiced silence, each determined to outpace the other.

Lara was quick, slipping through narrow gaps and climbing crumbled walls with the grace of a cat. Y/n stayed close, his every move fluid and calculated, as if he were waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.

“Tell me something, Croft,” Y/n said as they entered a massive hall, its ceiling carved with faded murals of long-forgotten gods. “What’s your fascination with these relics? Is it the history, or just the thrill of stealing them before anyone else can?”

Lara shot him a sideways glance. “And what’s yours? Looking to get rich or just eager to impress me?”

Y/n chuckled. “Can’t it be both?”

She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. Y/n’s charm was infuriating, mostly because she found it oddly… endearing. But she wasn’t about to let that distract her. They reached the center of the hall, where a large pedestal stood. On it rested a golden amulet, glimmering in the dim light. Both of them stopped at the same moment, eyes locked on their prize.

“Shall we call it a tie?” Y/n suggested, his voice low and teasing.

“Not a chance.”

In a blur of movement, both lunged for the amulet at the same time. Lara’s fingers brushed the metal, but Y/n’s hand was already there, closing over hers.

“Not so fast,” he whispered, standing far too close.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, their faces inches apart. Lara could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the chase.

“Careful, Jones,” she murmured. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I always do,” he replied, his voice a husky whisper.

For a moment, the tension between them shifted. What had started as playful competition now felt like something far more dangerous? It was as if all the stolen glances, the teasing words, and the shared adventures had been leading to this exact moment.

Then, with a sly grin, Lara twisted her hand free and snatched the amulet. “Better luck next time.”

Y/n blinked, momentarily stunned, then laughed—a deep, genuine sound that echoed through the ancient hall. “You’re impossible, Croft.”

“Thank you,” she said, slipping the amulet into her pouch.

Y/n shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, one of these days, I’ll beat you to it.”

“I doubt that,” Lara shot back, her expression smug but playful.

They made their way out of the temple side by side, their footsteps light and their conversation even lighter. For all the rivalry between them, neither could deny the thrill they felt in each other’s presence—the way their hearts raced not just from the danger, but from the sheer joy of being together.

As they reached the jungle clearing where they’d first crossed paths, Y/n gave her a sidelong glance. “What do you say, Croft? Same time, same place next month?”

Lara smiled, a rare softness in her eyes. “We’ll see. If you can keep up.”

Y/n reached out and brushed a stray leaf from her shoulder, his touch lingering just a second too long. “I always do.”

And with that, they parted ways once again—two souls bound by adventure, rivalry, and something neither of them was quite ready to name. But as they disappeared into the wilderness, each knew the truth: the next time they met, it wouldn’t just be artifacts they were chasing.

————————

Several weeks later, the humid jungles of South America set the stage for their next encounter. Lara had tracked down rumors of a jade mask—an ancient relic tied to a pre-Columbian civilization, said to grant prophetic visions to its wearer. The mask was hidden somewhere deep within a forgotten temple, buried beneath layers of rock and a thick rainforest canopy.

As she approached the vine-choked entrance, a voice echoed through the foliage, smug and familiar.

“You know, Croft, you’re starting to make this too easy.”

Lara turned to find Y/n Jones leaning lazily against a tree, arms crossed, his whip coiled at his side. His grin was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and the sun caught the mischievous glint in his eyes. He had somehow beaten her to the site—again.

“Following me across continents now, Jones?” Lara asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I had an admirer.”

Y/n pushed off the tree and strolled closer, his expression full of playful arrogance. “Who says I was following? Maybe I just know you better than you think.”

Lara gave a scoff, though her lips curled into a slight smile. Their rivalry had become a dance—one they both enjoyed far more than they admitted.

“Then you must know I don’t intend to let you take that mask,” she said, brushing past him toward the temple entrance.

Y/n’s grin widened as he followed at her side. “Tell you what—how about we make things interesting this time? Whoever gets the mask first wins.”

“And what’s the prize?” Lara asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

Y/n leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Winner picks the next adventure. Loser buys the drinks.”

Lara let out a quiet chuckle, her heart skipping a beat despite herself. “Hope you’re ready to part with some cash.”

Y/n’s laugh followed her into the darkness of the temple, a deep, infectious sound that made her chest feel annoyingly warm.

Inside the temple, they fell into their usual rhythm—both racing against each other and the ticking clock of hidden traps. The ruins were riddled with dead ends, collapsing pathways and intricately designed puzzles meant to keep intruders at bay.

Lara slipped through tight spaces with feline grace, while Y/n used his whip to swing over bottomless pits and climb crumbling walls. They traded banter along the way, their words light but carrying the weight of something unspoken.

“You know, Croft, one day your luck is going to run out,” Y/n said, watching her disable a complex trap with practiced ease.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Lara replied, glancing back at him with a playful smirk. “Just skill—and better instincts than yours.”

Y/n chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. “We’ll see about that.”

They reached the heart of the temple at the same time—a grand chamber with towering statues and an altar at the center, upon which rested the jade mask. It gleamed under a shaft of sunlight that cut through the darkness, casting long shadows across the stone floor.

Both adventurers slowed their pace, eyes locked on the artifact. For a moment, neither moved, as if testing the other’s resolve.

“Ladies first?” Y/n offered the smirk on his lips suggesting he was anything but sincere.

Lara scoffed. “Chivalry doesn’t suit you.”

And just like that, they were in motion—both of them darting toward the mask. Y/n’s whip lashed out, aiming to knock the artifact into his hand, but Lara anticipated the move and dodged. With a roll and a leap, she reached the altar first, fingers grazing the jade surface.

But Y/n was faster than she expected. His hand closed over hers—just like before—and they both froze, breathing hard from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Lara looked up, meeting Y/n’s gaze. His face was inches from hers, and for a moment, all the teasing banter, all the playful rivalry, melted away. She felt the steady rhythm of his breath and smelled the faint scent of leather and earth on his jacket.

“You’re predictable, Jones,” she whispered, her voice softer than before.

“And you’re impossible,” he murmured in return, his hand still resting lightly over hers.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity—caught between the thrill of competition and the pull of something deeper. Neither was willing to admit it aloud, but in these stolen moments, the game they played felt less like a rivalry and more like something… inevitable.

Y/n’s lips quirked into a slow, teasing smile. “You always this competitive on dates, Croft?”

“This isn’t a date,” Lara replied, though the amusement in her eyes betrayed her.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

And then, before she could think twice, Lara made her move. She shifted her weight, used Y/n’s balance against him, and twisted free with the jade mask in hand.

“Better luck next time,” she said, throwing him a playful wink as she tucked the mask into her satchel.

Y/n stared after her, half-exasperated, half-impressed. “You’re going to be the death of me, Croft.”

“Maybe,” Lara called over her shoulder, already heading for the exit. “But you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Y/n laughed, shaking his head as he followed her out of the temple. As they emerged into the bright sunlight, the jungle buzzing with life around them, he caught up to her once again.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Since I lost, I suppose the drinks are on me.”

Lara shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth curling into a rare, genuine smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Y/n grinned, something warm and knowing flickering in his eyes. “And next time?”

Lara gave a light shrug, though her heart was already racing at the thought of their next adventure. “Same stakes. Same rules.”

“Good,” Y/n murmured, his voice laced with promise. “Because I have a feeling our best adventures are still ahead.”

And with that, they disappeared into the jungle once more—two rivals bound by danger, drawn together by something far more powerful than either of them could resist.

——————-

Lara and Y/n didn’t part ways for long. Just a few weeks later, they found themselves standing in the shadows of the Atlas Mountains, on the outskirts of a Berber village. Their latest quarry was the Scarab of Anhur, an ancient amulet believed to bring victory in battle. A collector in Marrakesh had offered an obscene sum to acquire it, but neither Lara nor Y/n needed the money. For them, the scarab was just another excuse to outmaneuver each other—and perhaps, neither of them could stay away.

They stood together near the entrance of a remote tomb, surrounded by jagged cliffs and the endless stretch of desert sky. The sun was sinking low, casting long golden beams across the rocky landscape.

“So, what’s the plan this time?” Y/n asked with a grin as he adjusted his whip. “We race to the artifact, you leave me in a pit, and I show up at the bar later like nothing happened?”

Lara smirked, brushing dust off her cargo pants. “That does sound familiar.”

“You wound me, Croft.” Y/n placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I thought we were building trust.”

“Trust?” Lara echoed, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t trust, Y/n—it’s foreplay.”

The words hung between them, thick with implication. Y/n’s smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes darkening with something that wasn’t entirely amusement.

“Careful,” he said, his voice quieter now, “or one of these days, you might get in over your head.”

Lara leaned closer, a dangerous glint in her eye. “I doubt it.”

They stood like that for a moment, caught in the web of tension and teasing that had been growing between them since their first encounter. There was no denying it now—their rivalry was more than just a game. It was a dangerous dance, one that neither of them knew how to stop.

Inside the tomb, the temperature dropped sharply, the cool air heavy with centuries of silence. The walls were adorned with faded carvings of ancient battles, and the narrow corridor stretched deep into the earth. They walked side by side, the sound of their boots echoing in the stillness.

“So, why do you do it?” Y/n asked after a while, breaking the silence. “Chasing after these things. The artifacts, the temples… What’s the endgame, Croft?”

Lara shrugged, her flashlight beam dancing over the walls. “It’s not about the end. It’s about the journey. The discovery.”

“And the thrill of beating me to the prize, I imagine?”Y/n teased, though his gaze softened as he looked at her.

Lara glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “That’s just a bonus.”

They reached a large chamber, the heart of the tomb. At the center, atop a pedestal carved with intricate hieroglyphs, lay the Scarab of Anhur. The golden amulet shimmered faintly, untouched for centuries.

Lara’s pulse quickened.

Y/n, ever-watchful, moved closer. “Shall we flip a coin this time, or are we sticking with ‘winner takes all’?”

Lara shot him a sly grin. “What fun would a coin toss be?”

Without another word, they both moved toward the pedestal—two shadows racing against each other through time.

Y/n was quick, but Lara was quicker. She reached the scarab just as Y/n lunged forward, and once again, their hands collided over the artifact. For a moment, they stood frozen, breathing hard, faces close enough to feel the warmth of the other’s skin.

“Déjà vu,” Y/n whispered, his voice low and rough.

Lara looked up, her eyes locking with his. This time, there was no witty remark, no teasing banter. Just the steady hum of adrenaline and something far more dangerous—something that had been building between them for too long.

And then, before she could stop herself, Lara leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but it was electric. The moment their lips met, the tension that had simmered between them for so long ignited into a blaze. Y/n responded without hesitation, his hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their hearts pounding in unison.

“Well,” Y/n said, his voice husky with surprise, “that was… unexpected.”

Lara’s lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile. “Maybe. But it’s been a long time coming.”

Y/n’s grin returned, softer this time. “No arguments here.”

The scarab glimmered between them, forgotten for the moment. The prize didn’t seem quite as important anymore—not compared to what they had just discovered.

Lara cleared her throat, stepping back but not breaking eye contact. “So… what now?”

Y/n shrugged, his grin turning lazy and affectionate. “We could fight over the scarab. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or,” Y/n said, slipping an arm around her waist, “we could call it a draw. Just this once.”

Lara chuckled, a rare sound that made Y/n’s heart skip a beat. “You’re getting soft, Beckett.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just realized that beating you isn’t the prize I want.”

Lara looked at him, the amusement in her gaze giving way to something deeper. For the first time, the lines between rivalry and affection blurred beyond recognition, and she found she didn’t mind.

“Come on,” she said, tugging his hand lightly. “Let’s get out of here before we both regret this.”

Y/n grinned, following her toward the exit. “Regret? Never.”

As they made their way back through the tomb, side by side, the weight of the scarab in Lara’s satchel felt lighter than it should have. For once, the artifact wasn’t the victory she cared about.

And maybe, just maybe, the adventure they’d found together was only just beginning.

Bonus chapter:

The bonfire crackled warmly in the moonlit desert night, casting flickering shadows over the sand. Lara sat cross-legged on a blanket, sipping whiskey from a battered flask, the glow of the fire soft against her bronzed skin. The day’s adventure—their narrow escape from collapsing ruins—had left them both exhausted but exhilarated. Across from her, Y/n Jones reclined against his rucksack, his leather jacket thrown carelessly aside, hair mussed, and a satisfied grin playing on his lips.

“This almost feels… domestic,” Y/n teased, raising a brow as he accepted the flask from Lara.

Lara gave him a smirk. “If your idea of domestic includes dodging spike traps, solving ancient riddles, and nearly being buried alive, then sure—domestic.”

Y/n chuckled, the sound low and easy, sending a warmth through her chest that had nothing to do with the fire. He tipped the flask to his lips and took a slow drink, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace, but I’d say it’s the perfect evening. After all, I’ve got the stars, good company…” He shot her a playful look. “And the fact that I didn’t lose—entirely—today.”

Lara arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t win either, Jones.”

Y/n leaned closer, close enough for her to smell the whiskey on his breath, that familiar spark lighting between them once again. “Well, if it’s a draw, I say we call it a victory for both of us.”

“Ever the optimist,” Lara said, though there was no bite in her tone.

They lapsed into comfortable silence for a while, the night wrapping around them in a quiet embrace. The stars stretched endlessly overhead, and the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind against the dunes.

For once, Lara wasn’t thinking about ancient artifacts or dangerous tombs. She wasn’t planning her next move or trying to stay one step ahead. For once, she was simply here—sharing the moment with someone who understood the same restless hunger for adventure, the same need to keep moving, always chasing something just out of reach.

“Do you ever think about it?” Y/n asked suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

Lara glanced at him. “Think about what?”

“Stopping,” he said, tilting his head back to gaze at the stars. “Walking away from all of this. The treasure hunts, the danger, the endless competition.”

Lara considered the question, surprised by how serious it sounded coming from him. She’d spent her entire life running toward the next adventure, always searching for the next discovery. But now, sitting here with Y/n, the idea didn’t seem as foreign—or as impossible—as it once had.

“And do what?” she asked softly.

Y/n shrugged, his smile lazy but genuine. “I don’t know. Open a bar in Marrakesh? Start a museum somewhere quiet?” He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes warm and knowing. “Maybe find someone to share it with.”

Lara’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression cool. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

He grinned. “I’m full of surprises.”

She shook her head, amused despite herself. “And if you had to bet on it—how long do you think we’d last in that quiet life?”

Y/n laughed, the sound rich and full of mischief. “A week. Maybe two.”

“Generous,” Lara said with a chuckle.

Y/n leaned back on his elbows, watching her with a gaze that made her feel as though he could see past every wall she’d ever built. “But we’d have fun trying, wouldn’t we?”

Lara smiled—a real smile, not the half-smirks she usually gave. “Yeah, Jones. We would.”

They stayed by the fire long after the flames began to die, sharing stories from old adventures, moments they hadn’t told anyone else. Y/n told her about the time he’d gotten trapped in a Bolivian cave with only a compass and a bottle of rum to his name. Lara recounted a narrow escape from pirates off the coast of Madagascar.

Somewhere along the way, the space between them disappeared.

Lara didn’t remember exactly when Y/n shifted closer, or when she stopped pretending to mind. All she knew was that his hand brushed hers, and for the first time, she didn’t pull away.

The kiss that followed was slow, unhurried—different from the adrenaline-fueled kiss they’d shared in the tomb. This one was deliberate, a promise made under the open sky, without the pressure of stolen moments or looming danger.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/n rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and rough. “I hate to admit it, but I think I might be falling for you, Croft.”

Lara’s heart hammered in her chest, but she met his gaze without flinching. “Then you’d better keep up, Jones.”

Y/n grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

Morning came too soon, and with it, the pull of the next adventure. The fire had burned down to embers, and the cool dawn air nipped at their skin.

Lara rose first, brushing sand from her pants and adjusting her gear. Y/n followed, slinging his pack over his shoulder with an easy grin.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way across the dunes, “where to next?”

Lara glanced at him, her eyes sparkling with that familiar glint of mischief. “There’s a legend about a lost temple in the Himalayas. Supposedly, it holds a relic that grants eternal youth.”

Y/n chuckled. “You think we’ll beat the odds and live forever?”

Lara gave him a playful smirk. “I wouldn’t bet against us.”

And with that, they set off into the rising sun—two explorers, two hearts bound by adventure and something far more precious than any treasure they could ever find.

Because for Lara Croft and Y/n Jones, the real prize wasn’t the artifacts or the glory. It was the journey. And as long as they had each other, the adventure would never end.

———————

A month later, the frigid winds of the Himalayas howled around them as they clung to a cliff face. Far below, jagged rocks peeked through a blanket of snow, promising a swift end to anyone careless enough to misstep. But the danger was nothing new to Lara Croft and Y/n Jones.

“Still think eternal youth is worth it?” Y/n called over the roar of the wind, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his face.

Lara smirked, planting her ice axe into the frozen rock. “You afraid of a little cold, Jones?”

Y/n huffed. “No, just making sure you don’t lose your edge.” He swung his body forward, driving his own axe into the ice next to hers.

They had chased the myth of the Temple of Shambala through ancient maps, local rumors, and narrow escapes from rival treasure hunters. Now, only a few hundred feet separated them from the summit—and the legendary temple said to be hidden beneath the glacier.

Y/n reached the ledge first, pulling himself up with a grunt. He turned and offered Lara a hand. “Come on, Croft. I’d hate to have to rescue you at the last minute.”

Lara raised an eyebrow but took his hand, letting him help her up. “You’ll never let me forget it, will you?”

Y/n grinned, tugging her close for just a moment, their faces inches apart. “Not in a million years.”

The entrance to the temple was hidden beneath layers of thick ice, but Lara had spotted faint carvings—indications of a doorway. Together, they set to work, their ice axes clanging rhythmically against the frozen surface.

When the ancient stone door finally cracked open, a rush of warm, stagnant air escaped from within, a sharp contrast to the biting cold outside.

“After you,” Y/n said with a mock bow, sweeping his arm toward the dark passage.

Lara rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “So much for chivalry being dead.”

The temple was vast, its cavernous halls shimmering with ancient ice that glowed a ghostly blue. Enormous statues of forgotten gods lined the walls, their faces serene as they gazed down on the two explorers. The floor beneath their boots crunched with frost, and the air was heavy with centuries of silence.

“This place is unreal,” Y/n whispered, running a hand along one of the statues.

Lara nodded, captivated by the beauty of it all. But she knew better than to let awe distract her for long. “Keep your eyes open. If the legends are true, there’ll be traps.”

As they ventured deeper into the temple, they found more signs of its ancient purpose—symbols of renewal, carvings of stars and moons, and murals depicting pilgrims drinking from a golden chalice. At the heart of the temple, beneath a dome carved with constellations, they found what they had been seeking.

The Chalice of Shambala sat atop a pedestal, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.

Y/n gave a low whistle. “That’s it?”

Lara approached it cautiously, her eyes scanning the room for any hidden mechanisms. “Be careful. If the myths are right, that thing grants eternal youth—but only if it deems you worthy.”

Y/n raised a skeptical brow. “And what happens if it doesn’t?”

“Let’s not find out,” Lara murmured.

They approached the chalice together, their hands brushing as they reached for it. Neither spoke, but the weight of what they had shared over the past few months hung between them.

Y/n broke the silence first. “You know, Croft… If this thing works, we could keep doing this forever. Adventure after adventure. Just you and me.”

Lara looked at him, her expression softening. “Forever, huh?”

“Think you could stand me that long?” Y/n asked, his grin playful but his gaze sincere.

Lara hesitated, her hand hovering over the chalice. For once, the temptation wasn’t the treasure—it was the thought of what came next. She realized she didn’t want a life without him, whether it lasted fifty years or five centuries.

With a small, mischievous smile, she pulled her hand away. “I think I’d rather grow old with you.”

Y/n blinked, momentarily stunned. Then his grin returned, warmer than the firelight on a desert night. “Well, Croft, that might just be the best treasure I’ve found yet.”

Lara rolled her eyes, though her heart swelled. “Come on, let’s get out of here before this place decides to kill us.”

Y/n grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as they turned toward the exit. “Lead the way, Croft. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

And with that, they left the chalice untouched, their footsteps echoing through the ancient halls as they walked hand in hand toward the next great adventure—one filled not just with danger and discovery, but with each other.

Because in the end, they realized, it wasn’t the promise of eternal youth that mattered. It was the journey—and the person they chose to share it with.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hi! i love your works so much and i have a request ^^ i wanted to ask if you could do a jealous and/or possessive eddie? maybe where steve and eddie are super close to finally admitting they like each other and just need one more push or something, or they're just newly dating. they're both at a gay bar, and steve's been receiving lots of stares and heated gazes from some of the ppl there? maybe a person was brave enough to try but eddie's right beside him watching the entire interaction.

i've come across a fair share amount of jealous/possessive steve in steddie stories and i wanted to see it being eddie for a change. tysm in advance and i can't wait to read the other requests with your amazing writing <3

I LOVE possessive Eddie!!! I really only see it in Kas!Eddie or vampire Eddie situations and I wish it was written more for just regular old human Eddie who just has entirely too much love for Steve to contain his emotions when someone else tries to make a move. I hope you like this little thing (2500 words!) I came up with and the other requests I've been putting out so far! - Mickala ❤️

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Robin convinced them she needed support.

Support Steve’s ass.

She was doing just fine from the moment they stepped in the door of this place.

So fine, in fact, she’d abandoned him and Eddie before they even got their first round of drinks brought to them.

Steve sat at the table with Eddie, awkwardly watching as people kept dancing and drinking and making out in dark corners of the bar.

He tried not to look too much, though. He didn’t want anyone to think he wasn’t comfortable here.

Quite the opposite, actually.

He’d been here a couple of times with just Robin: once before he figured out he was into men, once before he figured out he was into Eddie, and once more before this where he tried very hard to be into Eddie and failed.

But Eddie had insisted on coming when he overheard them talking about it, saying he hadn’t been here since high school and could use a night in a place where he could just be himself.

As if he wasn’t always obnoxiously (and beautifully) himself.

Robin had given Eddie a Look, but nodded in agreement, saying it would be awesome to have both her favorite guys there.

Which rubbed Steve a little wrong because he was her only favorite guy.

But he got over it because now Eddie was his only company, probably for the entire night going off of the way the girl with Robin was staring at her.

Ogling her.

Steve sighed. Eddie sighed.

They looked at each other and laughed.

“She do this to you every time?”

“No, usually we stick together. Must feel brave since you’re here with me.”

“Awww, she trusts me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was probably more truth to that than he cared to admit.

Robin was often afraid to leave him alone, but she never hesitated if Eddie was with him.

He felt people staring at him, but he ignored it. He wasn’t here to find anyone and it would be silly to even try knowing that Eddie was right there.

But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to have people checking him out. He used to thrive on it in high school, feeling seen by anyone was better than being seen by no one.

Then, he hated it. He wanted to be invisible and he wanted everyone to focus on anyone and anything else in the room. He got his wish most of the time.

Until Eddie.

Eddie always included him in everything, pointing out when he was being quiet or moody, asking him questions to involve him in conversations, making sure he understood what Dustin was saying which was a challenge often.

He would touch his arm when he passed by him on the way to grab a drink from the kitchen or let their thighs touch on the couch on movie nights.

He let him come over after work on the nights he was too riled up, needing to let out some of his energy with a walk, but being too scared to do it alone.

So Eddie saw him, and made others see him, and he didn’t always love it, but he accepted it.

Tonight felt different, though.

All these eyes on him meant that people found him attractive, maybe wanted to dance with him or bring him home. If Eddie weren’t here, he’d maybe give it a shot with someone, try to find a way out of this hole he dug himself into with the first guy he’d admitted to himself he had feelings for.

But he also felt Eddie’s eyes on him, practically burning a hole through the side of his face every time he looked out at the crowd.

He felt heat crawling up his neck, to his cheeks.

Having all of Eddie’s attention was a lot for anyone, but especially Steve, who frequently thought about what it would be like to have Eddie’s attention on him in bed, or in the shower, or on the couch, or the pool, or-

“Did you want another drink?”

Steve looked down at the drink in his hand. He’d barely finished half of it, so he didn’t really know why Eddie was asking unless he just needed an excuse to get up.

“Um. No thanks. Probably should just have one anyway.”

“Sure.”

Eddie got up with his empty glass and started walking towards the bar.

Almost as soon as Eddie was gone, a taller man in a suit was taking his place at the table.

“Well, hi there, honey. Never seen you here before. First time?”

The guy was older, mid-thirties at least, and probably not the type of guy Steve would want to experiment with. But he was flirting, and he was kind of cute.

Steve could let himself enjoy a little casual flirting, right? It wouldn’t have to lead to anything.

“No, but I don’t come often.”

Steve rested his arms on the table, head in his hand. He grinned at the man, that Harrington charm practically beaming off of him.

“You could come tonight if you wanted to join me in the back.”

That was smooth. Sleazy, but smooth.

Steve didn’t drop his grin, but he shook his head.

“I don’t think I’m interested in just hooking up in the bathroom. Maybe you could buy me a drink?”

He had no intention of drinking another drink, but he figured this guy would lose interest if he showed he was more needy.

He was wrong.

The guy practically tripped over his feet to stand up from the booth.

“What would you like?”

“Oh. Uh.”

“He’s good, man. How about you go buy a drink for someone interested?”

Eddie came out of nowhere. Seriously, Steve had just seen him at the bar a few seconds before he spoke.

“Is this your boyfriend or something?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly as Eddie stood taller, more intimidating.

“Does it matter? I’m asking you nicely to go.”

“I don’t think it’s up to you. I asked him.”

Eddie looked like he wanted to punch the guy, and Steve could admit to himself silently that he wanted to see it.

But he didn’t quite understand why Eddie was reacting like this; He’d assumed Eddie would want to try to hook up with someone while he was here and wouldn’t want to spend all his time with Steve.

“Steve? Do you wanna get a drink with this guy?”

No, he didn’t. He hadn’t even before Eddie came back. But a part of him had to wonder if maybe Eddie’s reaction was just to protect Steve from an older guy.

“I actually have to drive us back home so I probably shouldn’t have another drink. Thanks though.”

The guy mumbled something before turning and leaving, shaking his head as he walked to the bar.

Eddie slid into the booth next to him instead of across from him, letting most of their sides touch.

Steve couldn’t help the way his body naturally curled into Eddie’s, the comfort and safety of his body drawing Steve in without effort.

It should have ended there. Steve should have just let himself stay rested against Eddie’s side until Robin was done.

He did for a minute, but then his brain decided it needed explanations.

“What was wrong with that guy buying me a drink?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, his body tense against Steve’s.

“I just don’t think he was the right kind of person to be buying you a drink. You deserve better than that.”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Eddie didn’t know the guy, he could’ve been really nice. Other than the propositioning as his first line, he seemed like he was willing to do whatever Steve wanted to get more time with him.

“Who is the right kind of person then?”

“Someone younger. Maybe someone who doesn’t wear a damn suit to a gay bar. This is a casual place, there’s no need to flaunt your super important job. Plus, he could see your drink was still half full, he should’ve known you didn’t want one.”

“You offered me a drink before you got up.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m not trying to get you drunk to sleep with me.”

Yeah, and wasn’t that a shame?

Steve dropped it. It wasn’t worth arguing with Eddie and he didn’t want to ruin any of the fun they could have.

“Should we dance?”

Eddie pulled away and looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You want to dance with me?”

“Why not? We’ve been abandoned by Robin and the music isn’t bad.”

The music wasn’t bad to Steve. Eddie, however, was suffering through it as it was, and that was without having to dance to it.

“Pleeeeease?” Steve pouted at Eddie, eyes wide.

“You can’t make that face. It’s not fair.”

Steve kept making the face because being fair wasn’t something he cared about.

Eddie stood up, holding his hand out towards Steve to help him stand from the table.

Steve took it, ignoring the way he wanted to collapse against Eddie the second he stood up.

They made it to the dance floor, where a surprising amount of people were dancing in pairs and small groups, enjoying the fact that they could safely here.

Just when Steve turned to Eddie, the music changed to Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears.

Steve tried not to take it as a sign.

Eddie suddenly looked even more nervous, like he’d planned on maybe getting away with just jumping around to the music and now he couldn’t.

Just when Steve was going to give him an out, another guy, this one younger, but not as nice looking, wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder.

“How ‘bout we dance, sugar?”

The guy was drunk.

Steve wasn’t interested in ruining his favorite song by dancing with this drunk guy.

“He’s busy,” Eddie said firmly.

The guy backed up a bit, but still had his hand against Steve’s arm, resting there with enough of a grip to keep him upright.

“Sorry, you got somethin’ against me dancin’ with him?”

“Yeah, that’s why I just said he’s busy.”

Eddie pushed the guy’s hand off of Steve’s arm and put his own around Steve’s waist, pulling him against his side with no room for air or argument.

Steve tried to catch his breath, his heart skipping a beat and his lungs exhaling instead of inhaling.

“Maybe you should let him say if he’s busy or not.”

Steve was missing his favorite song to argue with a guy he wasn’t interested in when he could be dancing with Eddie.

Unacceptable.

“I’m dancing with him. Find someone else.”

The guy rolled his eyes and walked away.

Eddie turned and adjusted his arms so they rested on Steve’s hips.

Steve didn’t know what to do.

“Have you never slow danced before, King Steve?”

“Uh. Just once.”

“Oh? Let me help you then.”

Eddie took his hands in his own and gently placed them around his neck, pulling himself closer to Steve when his hands found his hips again.

“This okay?”

“Yeah.”

Steve wasn’t sure how this was happening, how this was real.

He just knew he didn’t want it to end.

He rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder, letting himself enjoy what would probably be his only chance at dancing with Eddie for the rest of his life.

“Why do you keep sending people away?”

Why was Steve determined to ruin tonight with his stupid fucking questions?

“What do you mean?”

“It just seems like you don’t wanna share.”

Eddie didn’t respond.

Steve looked up at him, but his face was hard to read in the darkness of the bar.

“Eds?”

“I don’t.” Eddie cleared his throat. “I don’t wanna share you. I like having you all to myself. Sorry if I’ve ruined your night.”

He started to pull away and Steve panicked. He couldn’t say that and then leave.

“What do you mean? You haven’t ruined anything. I wanted to spend it with you, anyways.”

Eddie was searching his eyes, looking for any sign of a lie.

“Steve, I-” The song changed, but it was another slow song. They kept slowly rocking and staring at each other. “I have to tell you something. You’re probably gonna hate me and wanna leave me here in Indy.”

Steve gulped. Could he possibly have feelings for Steve?

“I uh. I sent them away because I was jealous.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with it all the time! Sometimes I hide in the bathroom during movie nights so I can scream into the towels. Do you know how ridiculous that is? I’ve even been caught by Max before and she promised not to say anything if I gave her $20.”

“Oh.”

Oh? What the hell Steve, say something else.

“So, I get it if you hate me. I mean, I don’t know how this happened and I have no right to send potential dates away because I want to keep you to myself.”

Steve leaned up and placed a kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“I’m glad you got jealous.”

Eddie was blushing now.

“What?”

“If you hadn’t been jealous, you probably wouldn’t have told me all this, would you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“You know what helps with jealousy?”

Eddie looked down at him, more confused than ever.

Steve didn’t wait for him to respond.

“Making out in the bathroom of a gay bar.”

Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as he registered what Steve was saying.

“You wanna do that? With me?”

“Well, I certainly don’t wanna do it with anyone else. And you won’t let me do it with anyone else. So maybe we should do it together.”

Eddie grabbed his wrist and wordlessly led them to the bathroom in the back of the bar.

It wasn’t empty, but the single stall was available and Eddie made it pretty clear what their intentions were when he dragged Steve right into it, closing and locking the door only a second before his hot lips were on Steve’s.

It was better than what Steve could have possibly imagined, but still not enough.

Now that he knew Eddie wanted him, he wanted everything Eddie could give him.

And Eddie seemed to want to give it all to him.

His lips were almost too much, but Steve couldn’t get enough.

They weren’t even in a bathroom anymore, floating high above the clouds with happiness and contentment.

Until a knock on the stall door nearly made Steve give himself another concussion.

“Dingus One and Dingus Two! Super happy for you both, but it’s time to go.”

“Shit.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s nearly one in the morning and we agreed to leave by midnight. I got distracted by boobies.”

“Don’t we all,” Steve said, as Eddie let out a loud laugh.

They opened the stall door and Robin sighed.

“Fix your hair. I’ll be at the car.”

Steve looked in the mirror as she left the bathroom, smirking at Eddie’s reflection behind him in a similar state of disarray.

“Okay?”

“So okay.”

“You owe me a dance.”

“What? Why? We danced!”

“But it got interrupted. And I wanna dance with you.”

Eddie sighed, but smiled fondly at Steve.

“I’ll dance with you whenever you want, sweetheart.”

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Sundae

Epilogue: And A Cherry On Top

(A Sun Dog Story)

3 months had passed. The found family had grown ever closer, never leaving each other's side. Wherever the Dog crawled, his crew would follow suit.

Ever since the 4 of them had come together, there had been a noticable change within the forest. The once barren woods were now brimming with life, and while nature would take its course, as it always does, coexistance between all creatures was somewhat of a possibility.

To the wildlife, the Dog was like an angel, sent to save those who had been preyed upon or abandoned. They no longer had to fear the men with guns, for the Dog would always come after them.

The town of Spielzeit had noticed this change, and many locals saw it as a blessing. Throughout those 3 months, many within the town had reported seeing many strange and bizarre creatures, most of whom frightened the town, even being blamed for strings of disappearances, the accusations of which were true.

The townsfolk believed the same would be true for their wildlife. It had been in a decline for some time, mainly due to illegal hunting. Yet, the wildlife thrived, and hunters have since been dwindling. And when they kept spotting a giant, orange dog in the woods, they assumed correctly that it was the reason. They eventually christened it:

The Sun Dog

It was night time. Dogday and the Sundae crew had set up camp. It was a busy day, Dogday had helped Ranger Angelo with an injured bear cub. It had been attacked by a small group of the Fae, bite marks had been covered all around it. It was lucky it survived.

He was the only one awake. He sat by the fire, humming a tune he heard a while back on a radio. It was a calm night, clear skies, crickets chirping. It was as picturesque as you could imagine.

The smell of lavender filled the air.

"Oh, hiya, Catnap! Finally awake from your nap, huh?"

NO. No. This wasn't some "friendly reunion", it couldn't be, as much as that voice wanted it to be. That thing killed his friends, it very nearly killed him. Whatever it wanted, it wouldn't be anything good.

"...I see you managed to escape as well. I applaud you. In all honesty, I hoped you would."

"What do you want? To finish me off properly? To finally catch your prey?"

"Oh, no. Nothing of the sort, heretic. I came to give you a warning."

"Oh, so now you care about my safety? I thought heretics were meant to suffer?"

"That's what I thought. But no just God would prolong the torture of one whose will is as great as yours. You earned your freedom, dog."

"....good to hear....so what are you here for?"

"You know full well that if I am here, so is he. And he doesn't take kindly to anyone who encroaches upon his territory. We have already given all of you what you want. Freedom. And all we ask now is to leave us be."

"...you just want to be left alone?"

"Yes. Leave us alone. Or there will be consequences."

"Understood. But I'd like to make a request, even if it isn't heard."

"Yes?"

"Don't hurt them. Or else."

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, the only sound being the crickets and wolves. And like smoke, the Cat disappeared.

The Dog layed down, staring at the stars, the three animals he called a family right beside him. And even then, the only company he had was himself. And while that night may have grown darker, he knew that a brighter morning was just around the corner.

(Story: Sundae. COMPLETE. Up Next: Purpureo Sub Caelo)

"Hey."

"Hi!"

"...I'm sorry."

[fariadraws]

A casual conversation with myself !

Past me: Hey, wake up! It's 5:30 am! We have classes at the university. If you don't hurry, we'll miss the bus!

Present me: 5:30 am? Impossible! I need more sleep.

Past me: We can't sleep now. Get up!

Present me: Maybe you can't, but I sure can!

Past me: I'm still a part of you, right?

Present me: I don't know. Why do you work so hard? What's the meaning of it all? No matter how hard you try, you'll end up with nothing. Poor luck awaits you. Even the people you help will forget you. They'll all move on, leaving you alone. You'll cry every day and sink deeper into an endless abyss of dejection.

Past me: I don't care. I don't expect people to help me back when I help them. I don't work hard to gain anything; I work hard to learn. I can't control luck, but I can control my actions, and that's what I'm doing right now. It's okay if they leave me—I love my own company. It's okay to cry; I haven't cried in a long time, so I think some tears are overdue to lighten my heart. I'm sure that what I lose will eventually be replaced by better things.

Present me: You're so optimistic. I don't know what happened to us. My memories constantly haunt me. I feel trapped, like I can never escape. I think I've become selfish, and it's killing me.

Past me: Being aware of your self-respect isn't selfish. I love how you've become self-aware and wiser. I love how you're able to see your flaws—not everyone can. I'm proud of how much you've grown and how far you've come. Great job! Trust me, I'm thriving to become you!

Present me: Thank you, younger me. I have one piece of advice for you: please don't be too hard on yourself. Show yourself a little mercy. Do what makes you happy—you won't regret it, I promise!

Past me: I can't change what has already happened. But you have the present—you have complete control over us. If anyone can make a difference, it's you. I just want you to know that I'm proud of you. I want you to write our story, not let anyone else do it. Maybe you think I'm better or happier than you, but remember, I'm a part of you. I've evolved into you. I'm nobody but you. I'll always hold your best memories—I'm here to remind you of who you are.

Present me: You seem wiser than me! But as you said, you are me, and I believe you. Let's move forward together!

[girl4music]

You know what I really love about ‘Slayers: A Buffyverse Story’? The fact everyone in it aside from Laya Deleon Hayes are returning to their characters and roles because they really miss playing them.

Like I’m maybe being a bit presumptuous with this because it’s a small company but I can’t imagine the pay is very good. But I don’t think it’s about pay for any of them. They’re doing this because they truly want to. They miss their characters enough to want to.

Especially James Marsters. I swear that guy just does not quit with being involved in absolutely everything to do with the Buffyverse when it comes to the fandom and fan service. He is honestly there for everything. It’s a bit mad actually but I love him for it.

As I said before. You won’t see the big names joining because they’re all about the money and that’s their right. There’s nothing wrong with that of course. But I do have a lot of love and respect for this rag tag lot that has been put together to do this project primarily because they want to. Because they’re passionate.

INTERVIEWER: “Why and why now?”

AMBER BENSON: “I think the world has gone kind of bananas recently and, (and I say recently - I mean the last 5 years) I think we need more stories of powerful women on both sides of the dark and the light. And I think it’s really important that we, that we sort of - we show women doing powerful things. Taking control of their own destinies and making the world a better place. And I think that sometimes you just need to leave your cruddy, like cruddy day and live in this world with us. And I think that’s the best you can do with entertainment. You can take people and give them a wonderful experience where they feel magic and power and they just want to live there with us.”

I also love what Christopher Golden said about Druscilla’s goal in this story is that she just wants to make the world a better place from her perspective of it. You know - giving all vampires this paradise where they can all thrive in the sun together as a society. That’s kind of lovely in seeing it from her perspective. And yeah - it’s totally something both Spike and Dru would do. Not try to destroy the world but “save” it.

[kookiecrush]

Jokers living up to their names and doing it in an alternate reality as usual. 😂 I'm sorry, but it's so pathetic to come to a Taekooker blog after Jimin makes a birthday post to brag about Jikook thriving and Taekook "giving" us nothing in the time of solo era/2023 when there have been more significant Taekook moments than any single year since I started following their story in 2016. We've seen Jikook together four times when we know they were filming company content, and Weverse/TikTok interactions...and that's pretty much it. Taekook is Thriving™, so I can see why they'd want to swap narratives. Multiple confirmed hang outs before leaving on trips and after arriving back in SK (including when Tae was only back for a couple of days in between schedules), Paradise Hotel, Busan beach late night, bowling (multiple times confirmed), attending a musical, the Dream premiere, arriving late to Yoongi's concert together and leaving together, wearing the matching sweetheart shirts on the same day despite Tae being in SK and Jungkook being in LA at the time which is one of the most insane boyfriend things they've ever done, Tae sneaking into Inkigayo to support Jungkook's first solo performance there, Jungkook proudly wearing the Wooga ring which tells us he has officially been folded into Tae's closest social circle in a significant way and of course his closest friends have been outspokenly supporting his bf's hit song including Bogum and one of Tae's best friends from high school. This is just what I could think of off the top of my head, my mind has actually been blown by how much has happened in the last year. Everything makes sense given what I believe to be the nature of their relationship, I just feel incredibly blessed. Never expecting anything, but always grateful for what they share. That's where I'm at. I've actually never been more sure of them. I don't give a single f about who posts what on social media, I never have. They can call each other. Taekook literally live within walking distance of each other. They can hang out whenever they want without anyone knowing, and I'm sure they do. Being boyfriends and all. I just think people in the fandom in general are unaware of a lot of what Taekook do because I remember seeing posts after the Dream premiere from ARMYs saying "I feel like it's been years since I've seen them!" And some people very intentionally try to avoid seeing what they're up to together. It's cool. You just look like an idiot when you come to a Taekooker blog and say nonsense like what that anon sent. 😂

They love to come and brag on taekook blogs, and it really is pathetic. Any little j*kook interaction is seen as another chance for them to get "one up" on us, which is very immature. It's not a competition 🙄

You're right. There have been PLENTY of pretty significant taekook moments this year, but j*kookers are blind to them as usual. Even with all the taekook going on, j*kookers still claim it's a "dead ship."

To be fair, as I said before, we don't always know when the members hang out with each other, so j*kook could quite possibly have hung out together more than what we already know, but certain comments from them, and the fact that they haven't known each others schedules or what the other has been doing recently makes that seem more unlikely. And j*kook filming company content is not a "romantic outing," despite how much they want it to be 🤷‍♀️

I think taekook makes them feel insecure at times, which is why they try to diminish their interactions. There's no denying at this point that taekook are incredibly close (romantic or not) and that they spend a whole lot of time together. If j*kookers are really as unbothered by this as they say they are, why are they always so desperate to rub any little j*kook moment in our faces the second it happens?

You listing all those taekook moments really made me realise just how much taekook content there has been in the past 8-9 months! They really are thriving. Taekook don't have to DO anything for me to keep believing in them, but they keep showing us in little, subtle ways where their priorities lie. "Never expecting anything, but always grateful for what they share" is such a great way to put it. I don't expect anything from them. I'm not entitled to their private life or relationship, I just enjoy observing their love from afar.

I think a lot of the fandom is very unaware of the extent of taekook's bond and their interactions. We look for and notice things about them that they never would. They don't pay attention to noises in the background of their lives or them wearing the same t-shirt on the same day. Most of what makes us believe in taekook isn't common knowledge amongst army because if you're not looking for it, you won't see it. They're not exactly flaunting their relationship. I do feel like they leave us a few clues every now and then, though 😉

[suiseisyojo]

to belong in a magician's hat.

「sakasaki natsume x akiyama reine // natsurei + platonic wataru」 ↳ commission for @kunehori ! wc: 1,592 a/n: thank you sooo much for commissioning me! kohaku and i thank you dearly♡

They say a single rabbit is a lonely rabbit—that they’re social creatures who thrive in having company. But for Reine, who has always been on her own, she found herself occluding the radiance she didn’t know she had by hiding in the shadows and small, makeshift burrows away from others.

How long has she been doing this?

“Are the lights not fixed yet?” Natsume’s mellifluous words caressed Reine’s ears as he leaned over her petite frame, golden eyes probing the way her fingers moved punctiliously across the control panel.

Shaking her head in disappointment, Reine’s vexation towards herself bypassed the way the tips of her ears brightened up from the propinquity between her and Natsume. “I can’t seem to figure out the timing between the third set and the chorus⋯ No matter how many times I adjust it, it’s always off somehow⋯”

The noise of the booth’s door creaking open resonated within the compact space, galvanizing the pair into leering over at Anzu who had just timorously stepped inside, her voice meek yet filled with benignity as she asked, “Do you two need some help?”

“Ah, Kitten♪” Natsume’s eyes appeared to twinkle as soon as Anzu padded in, those elusive and charming sparkles making Reine’s heart ache. “Little bunny and I are trying to rearrange the lights for Switch’s upcoming Live.”

“I don’t mind taking a look at it,” Anzu proffered her expertise, glancing between Reine and Natsume as they made way for her to examine the panel, “Switch always has elaborate light shows during their performances. It can be pretty tricky.”

The way Natsume and Anzu talked to each other⋯ it was cordial, familiar.

“Thank you; you’re already familiar with how we like them to be. And I want the lights to be perfect, because 「I want my special someone to look at me and fall for me」,” Natsume sent a wink towards Anzu as he beamed.

Reine didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all; and yet, she still wanted to see that twinkle in Natsume’s eyes forever.

“Um⋯ I-I’ll leave you two to it here,” Reine stammered out before she could even make sense of the entanglement of harrow and pain twisting in the pit of her stomach, “I should go check on Sora-kun⋯!”

And before Natsume or Anzu could even bid her goodbye, Reine rushed from the booth—all while ignoring the pair of eyes that followed her figure.

✧.

In the palm of her hands, Reine gaped at the stars scintillating there—wanting to stop them from slipping through her fingers, yet slowly cleaving her hands apart in order to fulfill their true potential.

Ever since she bound herself to a personal contract, Reine had been making subtle (or at least in her eyes) efforts to garner opportunities for Natsume and Anzu to be alone together; or to have them think of the other.

Unfortunately, each attempt, no matter how little, exacerbated the queasiness coating the seams of Reine’s body.

Why did she have to feel so sick all the time? So tired? So exhausted in a way that only leaves her feeling worse?

Asleep in the sunshine, with her silhouette still standing, Reine was incognizant to the boisterous and spirited presence approaching from behind her.

“Ta-da!☆” Copious doves went flying around Reine as Wataru popped up next to her head, cheek almost pressing against hers. He only ascertained she was startled awake when she relinquished a panicked squeak. “Oya? You were asleep, Usagi-chan?”

“Y-Yeah⋯” Reine heaved an anxious exhale as a yawn soon followed, her glossy lips parting cutely.

“No wonder my birdies were reluctant to pop out! My apologies,” Wataru expressed his contrite with a sigh of his own, his hands promptly gripping her waist as he guided her to the nearby benches, “Still, it’s dangerous to sleep in the middle of the walkways!”

That’s when Reine realized her location outside Yumenosaki, small body being nestled down by the ever-eccentric senpai. Even she knew she never would’ve done that normally—falling asleep in the open? Without hiding?—and she had no choice but to blame it on the pulsating pain searing her core.

Was she allowed to feel jealous when she’s the one trying to pair two people up? When she’s the one stabbing herself over and over again?

“I know, I’m sorry,” Reine apologized to Wataru, albeit she could tell her own tone was disheartened and gloomy when she hadn’t meant to sound so execrable.

“You seem trouble, Usagi-chan,” Wataru observed smoothly as he sat himself down beside her, silvery locks descending over his shoulders as his head tilted towards her, “I’m a pretty good listener; I’ll hear what’s plaguing your heart with sadness♪”

Wataru talked even funnier than Natsume, but Reine supposed that’s because he is the one who taught Natsume a lot of his magical tricks. Could she even trust Wataru with her own feelings like this? They hadn’t really interacted much before⋯

“I-I’m not sad,” Reine corrected, strained voice and half-lidded gaze betraying her want to stay calm-and-collected, “I’m disappointed all my efforts aren’t being seen.”

“Your efforts? You aren’t talking about your work as a producer, are you?” Wataru hummed, his shrewdness once again bursting forth like confetti from a true magic show.

“No⋯ I’m talking about Natsume-kun and Anzu-chan,” Reine elucidated, trembling fingers playing with the hem of her skirt as she gathered her hands in her lap, “I’ve been trying to help them get closer, but it just hasn’t been working.”

Reine wanted them to hurry up and realize their feelings so that she can start to stitch together her broken heart; start to pick up the shattered pieces and heal. Because she was in love with Natsume.

“Oh, Usagi-chan, you’re trying to play cupid?” Wataru suspired with sympathy in his words, reaching his hand forward to tilt her head up with his fingers, “It’s not working because you’re pulling the arrow from your own body.”

Perplexity suffused through the aperture leading to her thoughts, and Reine couldn’t fathom the unorthodox articulation. “What do you mean, Wataru-senpai?”

“You’re trying to make the vestiges reach somewhere they were never supposed to be,” Wataru further said, only magnifying her confusion as his finger pokes over her chest, “the magic you’re looking for is already long gone.”

Wataru was definitely an even weirder wizard than Natsume.

✧.

Reine couldn’t understand what Wataru was talking about, the equivocations behind his remarks feeling more akin to a curse than a spell, and she continued to be left alone with her thoughts as she rested her head upon an abundance of towels whilst curling herself into a ball.

Images of Natsume’s enthralling visage coruscated in her head as her eyes fluttered shut, the way he looked at Anzu—the way they talked and laughed together. It hurt.

Natsume was the one who pulled her from burying herself completely, who’s dazzling smile and spells saved her time and time again. And here she was again, trying to conceal herself after all the protests she’s lived through.

Squeezing her eyes shut with more force, as if her negative thoughts impelled her to do so, Reine bawled as the door to her nesting spot was ripped open.

“Found you~♪ You were in here, little bunny,” it was Natsume’s countenance that enveloped her vision as her blue irises blinked rapidly, lashes flitting, “You sure love this broom closet.”

“H-How⋯?” Reine faltered in her words as his appearance before her obfuscated her mind, nearly causing her to blank out, “No, what are you doing⋯ Were you looking for me?”

Crouching down onto his knees, Natsume bowed himself down to her diminutive height as she remained laying on the closet flooring; cleaning towels and rags cushioning her body. “Why did you run away earlier?” he questioned, squinting his eyes to evince an iota of tetchiness.

“Run away?” Reine swallowed thickly, perceiving that faint annoyance in Natsume and wanting to cringe away from it. She knew what he was alluding to, yet she was too bewildered to properly talk with him.

“As if you have any business with Noeri-senpai. You’re so obvious,” Natsume in spite of the festering defeatism felt his lips curving into a unbridled half-grin, “You always have the same excuse when leaving. Are you trying to be subtle?”

“What.”

This conversation was happening too fast for Reine to unravel and register—and yet, Natsume continued.

“So, tell me⋯ what are you doing here instead of by my side?” Natsume asked softly, the melodic power his voice retains gripping her as another frown overturns his mouth. “I have fun playing with Kitten, but I miss you too much to enjoy myself to the fullest.”

They say rabbits can die of loneliness.

Dewy tears coalesced in Reine’s eyes as she fixated on Natsume, the pain that’s been besetting her spilling over in the form of a choked sob, “I’m trying to help you find happiness.”

The stress of losing a beloved companion or partner can be all too much to bear.

“Haah, I already found my happiness,” Natsume reassured her, bringing his hand forward, “I found it in this closet a long time ago.”

It’s time to stop hiding—the brightness she yearned to belong to her is right in front of her. Sliding her hand into Natsume’s, Reine felt herself being pulled from the darkness once again.

Not able to squander another moment, Natsume pressed Reine’s body up against his and brought his lips to her cheeks; kissing away each and every glistening tear.

It’s been inside her all along.

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Wednesday

(Because I got the brain rot and need others to suffer with me)

Thanks to Kate I've been consumed by another au old man ship from ffxiv so you all must bear witness to the small piece I have for them wherein Demos does not share the same soul as Sib. Tagging a few peeps: @belorage @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @unholymilf @strafethesesinners @heroofpenamstan @corvosattano @jackiesarch @confidentandgood @shallow-gravy @deputyash and anyone else that wants to use me as an excuse to post wip stuff!

Shadowbringers spoilers

It’s a daze as Elidibus stumbles on the dirt road towards Eulmore. Body growing heavy as his vision darkens and can feel the shift in pressure as the void opens before him. So sudden and he’s powerless to stop it now that it’s started. Elidibus had felt this way only once before….he thinks? A distant memory pulls at him and brings him high from the ground. Half lidded eyes see the form of a brown haired man until he closes them and opens them once more.

He’s greeted by a smile that lights up ice blue eyes framed by ebony hair and round round brown glasses. He wears robes of old and more detailed than the shades left by the late Emet-Selch. The man turns to face him more and it’s when he starts to say something that the realization slams into Elidibus. He blinks once more, gasping sharply when the image is gone and he’s left facing the Warrior of Light’s right hand, Demos. With violet eyes framed by longer brown hair and a scar that slices his face, yet avoids the small scattering of freckles on his cheeks. His clothes are garments of the present matching many of the Crystarium and suit him far better than any of the attire Elidibus had seen over the years.

The two men look at one another briefly, a frown starting to pull at Demos’ lips. “How did-?” Elidibus stammers, “Was it you who called me here?”

Demos shakes his head, readying to speak when he winces in pain and Elidibus can feel the ringing in his mind. Can feel the way Demos’ gift grasps for any shadow of a memory in the darkened archive of his mind, He will find nothing of import. A rare moment though where Elidibus can wade through his memories in turn. It’s easy to grab the sliver of something that pairs so easily with one of the many torn pages. 

“I do not care what you are during the day….the moon is full and you are your true self….”

Elidibus laces their fingers together, smiling softly at the soft glow the moonlight gives to his lover’s eyes. “And I shall always be….for this is always my favorite moment….”

The memory fades leaving Elidibus to look down biting his tongue that he can’t seem to know why that was a memory that would come from Demos. “Did you learn anything new, Demos? I doubt there is much left that would surprise you.”

“You finding me here is a bit of a surprise.” Demos steps closer, hand starting to reach out, “I didn’t call for you Elidibus, but that still doesn’t mean I’d find your company unwanted.” Elidibus stays rooted, listening to Demos’ footsteps as he makes his way closer, “That promise you made all that time ago, about making sure that the star stayed upon its true course.”

“My duty, yes. What of it?”

“How did you ever decide what the true course was?” 

Elidibus looks up with a furrowed brow, “We have discussed this before. Do you not remember? In great detail, if I recall.” Demos shakes his head, “Very well. Choices and sacrifices must be made so that the star and all life within it are to thrive and be made better.” Demos holds his chin with a hum, “Did that answer your question?”

“If life is currently thriving and there are people all over that strive to make it better, then shouldn’t that mean the star is currently on its proper course?”

“The world as it stands is incapable of making change that will allow it to thrive. As Elidibus I shall see that the years of hard selfless labor of my fallen brethren will not be for naught.”

“And what of us?” Elidibus looks down, fists clenching, “What will become of us if you guide the star as you are now?” Demos becomes inches from the Emissary, his hand slowly reaching up to cup his cheek, “Tell me, Elidibus, does being with me mean you stand with your brothers….or against?”

His face is guided to look up into pleading violet eyes, all the while he searches for an answer to give, an answer that was spoken in another time perhaps? He stands still, sifting and wading through faded pages knowing there was an answer that passed through parted lips. He swallows, briefly closing his eyes, “Demos, I-.”

Elidibus’ eyes go wide as lips engulf his own and an arm tightens around his waist. The instinct to push him away fades as lips part and tongues entwine, a soft moan emanating from him as his eyes close and arms embrace the one kissing him. Memories he thought long gone pour out and fill his senses with a deep laughter among music that only became his favorite after they spent their first night together, the scent of cardamom and chamomile, ice blue eyes shining behind square spectacles, soft pale skin that his fingers dance over in the moonlight, office, and bedsheets, with the distinct warm flavor of winter caramel given to him by someone with a name he’d dare not utter since that fateful day. Demos’ hand slides up the back of his neck and in an instant he’s no longer in the body of a hero from the present, but once more in his original form. With long silver white hair that fingers could easily get lost in unlike what he has now, a feeling that lets free images of an office lined with bookshelves and a ornate wooden desk in the center with fresh varnish that was easy to feel when he was made to use it to remain standing as the surprise kiss made him dizzy. The first of many it turned out….

The cold tear that rolls down his cheek as the memory starts to end with a faint ringing in his ears is the only thing solidifying his truth, his fear….his grief. As Demos pulls away with shaky breaths Elidibus matches that fading memory as he breathes out, “Conner….”

[sanniedaysmarsnights]

Dark and Twisted Threads of Fate | Series 5 - Mafia!ATEEZ x reader Part 8

Masterlist

First chapter

Previous chapter (chapter 7)

A/N: Omg I was so stuck on this bit for ages but thanks to @haet-sal I finally managed to make my way through!! Boy let me tell you are we up for some feels after this. Good luck reading <3 <3

Tagging: @baekmond @whyme11 @atiny-99 @twilightwei @lovelyaegyo @hongjoongs-rightpinky @nervousbasementtimemachine @jjangsaebyuk @diyanamira @soytrash

Word count: About 2,5K :)

Warnings: Brief non-con (not to reader), some murder and torture, a nice bucket of trauma, stockholm syndrome and then some fluff. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK- THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION; I DO NOT CONDONE *ANY* OF IT

Anyway, enjoy!

Life continued on as always, the seasons shifting gradually towards autumn. The trees on the estate gradually turned their leaves to orange in preparation to let them fall. The cooling temperatures didn't seem to have any effect on the proceedings of ATEEZ, the mansion always buzzing like a bees nest. You had always wondered if Hongjoong was truly so busy that he would rarely make an appearance in his own living quarters, or if he was simply avoiding you. But as hopeful you were to see more of him after the recent events, that didn't change either.

Hongjoong's absence made you question things. It was one thing to confide in his most trusted members, but to put your faith into the lead man himself like that? What were you thinking?

You told yourself that they must have once been very much like yourself, backed into a corner with little choice but to lash out. But now they so clearly thrived, even basked in the gore and glory. Another sting in your gut. Perhaps it was not so much that they might have been like you, but that you were starting to become like them instead. 'They must have a good motivation behind what they do.' you told yourself.

You had learned a lesson about snooping around the house, but these days you were becoming so bored you decided to look for company of the boys in the interrogation basement. It wasn't a big deal. You had joined the boys down there several times before to either watch them interrogate somebody, San looked incredibly sexy when he revelled in some torture here and there to get the information out of the enemy, and had even tried your own hand at some hands on interrogating before. Your hands were getting used to being covered in blood too, you realised.

You had tried your hardest to cling to denial, pretending that this situation had somehow been different. But different how? Hongjoong was an even bigger, more powerful mafioso than those little street rats who had bothered you in the past. Why would you decide to trust a man who you knew damn well must have dozens of gallons of blood on his hands, and that was not even counting all the indirect kills he must be responsible for. You knew damn well what kind of people you were living with, after all. Were you becoming one of them? Numb to the pain of others, numb to the sting of guilt in the back of your conscience? You knew very well how addicted you were to the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of power. How beautiful the world could seem when you pushed your body to its limits, executing a perfect kill. Rather than asking yourself what you were becoming, perhaps you should ask yourself what you already became. You didn't want to know.

Nobody would declare you sane if they ever found out you felt safe in their company, Hongjoong's company. People knew Hongjoong as the manic and irrational, terrifying boss of ATEEZ. They didn't back down from the toughest challenges, and pulled off tactics nobody could predict. Everyone thought Hongjoong was simply the power at the top of the organisation and that Seonghwa was the one to come up with all of these plans by himself, but you had learned that it was very much a two man job. Together, they ruled the most powerful partition of the underworld for almost a decade now. And you were living right under their roof.

But then suddenly all of that safety and respect you had for Hongjoong was gone.

It took you a while to mentally process exactly what had gone on in that basement.

Walking in on Hongjoong fucking one of their hostages down the throat harshly. You stand in the door opening, frozen in place, petrified by the monstrous exhibit before you.

Even when his neck turns you are unable to shy away and hide yourself. You knew you should be afraid, fear what this monster might do to you for finding out, for seeing forbidden things.

You felt disgusted, stomach twisting at the visions of when you had pleased him. You had been pleasing a ruthless monster. You had always had your rational suspicions that, being leaders of a widely feared gang, they had committed heinous crimes. But to you what you saw in front of you, was the worst crime of them all. You had known all too well what it was like to be the victim of such savagery.

It had felt like hours had passed as you felt Hongjoong stare into your soul, not a trace of malignancy in his eyes. His gaze was only briefly broken as sweat that was dripping from his hair which was plastered to his forehead, forced him to blink the foreign fluids from his eyes. The sole thing that presented that, in actuality, only a split second had passed, was Hongjoong's breathing. It was rapid and laboured. Two, three breaths you had counted now.

Then, a smile graced Hongjoong's lips. You couldn't tell if it ever reached his eyes as he had finally turned his gaze back to his victim. With one swift- seemingly almost too trained and effortless- motion he retracted his hips from where his hilt had still been deeply burrowed in the man's face, and snapped his neck. The eerily loud 'crack' that reverberated across the thick stone walls was revolting.

 "Now now, don't be afraid sweetheart. They had it well and truly coming." Your mind stuttered.  "They?" you had barely whispered the question, still processing Hongjoong's words. Then, as you finally unfroze enough to look around, you saw that the floor was littered with several other corpses. Two males and three females, you counted. The brick in your throat was so painful it prevented you from breathing. You desperately tried to swallow the brick- tried to swallow the whole scenario. Without realising it you had begun taking several steps backwards. You had no idea where you were going or what you were going to do, but you simply had to get out of there.

You were almost sent to the floor when your back collided with a strong chest, its arms quickly coming up to catch you.

 "Careful now," you heard the gruff voice from behind you speak, Yunho. You were not quite certain if you should be thankful for his presence or frightened. But your dazed mind had no answer, it was too busy fighting to stay conscious in the first place. A part of you believed that this was all just a bad nightmare, finally relaxing into Yunho's arms as they wrapped around your body snugly.

You don't remember much after that point. Yunho had picked you up in a bridal style and walked you out of their basement, through their mansion. This room had woken up in was probably somewhere in their home. You did not recall seeing it before, but then again their house was so enormous you doubted you could find every little room in it even after a year. Old mansions like this were also bound to have secret rooms- or basements.

Dread coiled back into your stomach as you recalled what you saw in the basement that night. It couldn't have been real. Right?

You were being kept captive in that room for a long time, as they visited you regularly. They had explained what you saw and that they could now no longer let you go. You knew too much. Most of them seemed so sad, they really did not want to harm you. They hated seeing you like this, feeling physically pained by the sight of them. Eventually your eyes didn't even seem to recognise them anymore.

You eventually forgot why they were visiting you, or who they were. It became too much for Wooyoung to continue to visit you, to see you falling apart until so little was left over. It was eventually Yeosang who convinced him to return, telling him about how his absence would only make you suffer more. And he really didn't want that. They all hoped that if they continued to keep you company, one day you would remember their names.

After that, Wooyoung made it a point to visit you every week, and eventually every day when he could. He would bring board and card games among other entertaining things to do and would do his best to cheer you up. But he could tell that you were not the person that they had known before. It was merely an empty shell that you had left behind.

Eventually you could feel his pain. You were not sure why he was always there to spend time with you or why he was so sad, but it hurt to see him like this. It tortured you to such an extent that you begun acting happier for him too, no matter how exhausting. You played along with his little games, and when the spring came he even got to take you out for some walks in the courtyard outside of your windows.

Months must have passed by then, and you knew that even when you got to go out, there was not a single way to leave. For whatever reason you were kept here, you were not going to find a way out.

In their sick, twisted ways they cared for you, and slowly you began to care for them too, living in your doll house. Especially San, Yunho, Wooyoung and Yeosang had a special place inside your heart. You also cared for Mingi, but as he was very busy you got to see him significantly less. Seonghwa mostly just came on visits to share the fancy teas that he brought from outside, along with tasty and exotic treats. Occasionally he would also gift you jewellery, insisting that you should wear it for him sometime. The thing that set him apart from the others, was how his smile seemed genuine, gentle.

He was often distant, but some part of his care towards you, touched you. You knew that he was trying to be respectful of your space, not wanting you to feel a captive of your own 'home' as they called it. Eventually you had to admit that you were even looking forward to Seonghwa's visits. You knew that his care for you was heartfelt, and he had a unique gentleness to him.

One time you fell ill, and despite Yeosang monitoring, and taking care of your health, Seonghwa had refused to leave your side for almost two entire weeks. Every day he would be called away for a couple of hours to address his most pressing duties, but you always awoke to the sight of him either sitting reading reports, or slumped over sleeping by your bedside.

You gently caressed the side of Seonghwa's cheek, admiring how soft and defenceless the grown man could look when he was asleep. A pang of regret bubbled from your insides, wishing you wouldn't worry him so. You could see how the crease lines had started to deepen in his forehead ever since you had fallen ill, and you knew how exhausted he must be.

You decided to both thank the man and reprieve him, in your own way, once you were feeling a little better. You didn't dare to be upfront with it, unfamiliar with who these men really were, but deep inside you felt like the kindness they had shown you without fail, deserved to be repaid in some way.

The closer you grew to them, the more you felt as if you had already known them before, as if from a previous lifetime. You felt deep down how much you could trust them, knowing that they would never dare let any harm befall you. You wondered if that was why they kept you in here. They all adamantly respected your space and privacy, never making any moves on you. In a way that even saddened you. You began to feel that perhaps they were the ones upholding the barriers to a more personal connection, rather than you. It seemed as if some of them were too afraid to be too close to you. The thought was gnawing at you, but perhaps it was just the confinement playing tricks on your mind. Maybe you were really nothing more than a duty to them.

The guilt was a strange feeling. The sensation first pained you whenever they visited you, in turn dejecting your visitors. Then when you overheard Yeosang whispering to Yunho about how concerned they were for your wellbeing, fearing that you were falling back into a depression as when they had first confined you, that you changed your mind. Even if you were guilty, burdening them further was only going to make matters worse for everyone.

You ought to repay them for their kindness, not make them suffer for it.

From that day, the boys began to notice a change in you. Slowly, you had begun opening yourself more to them again. Most of them had reacted with shock and disbelief when you had let your fingers gently, by so called accident, graze against theirs. It was as if they were holding their breaths, squaring themselves for the blow that your fright would bring them, but that moment never came. Instead they wondered if their eyes had betrayed them, or if you had actually blushed softly after it.

Seonghwa had been rather taken aback when you had taken the initiative in a spur of a moment, insisting on pouring the tea for him. Since he was the expert on tea, he had always been the one to serve you. It was an oddly endearing sensation to him, though he tried his best not to make any assumptions. After all, it might just have been an insignificant gesture in your mind. Shortly after though, his hopes promptly grew further.

He had been admiring how you had laughed softly "I am sorry I cannot pour the tea as properly and elegantly as you do Seonghwa" your eyes met his, and your compliment made his heart flutter. You wondered if you had caught the man off guard, if that was even possible for men like him, before Seonghwa finally smiled and replied.

 "Don't worry about that my dove, having you pouring tea for me like this already does me a great honour." Your heart fluttered unexpectedly at his new pet name for you, as you had to admit you kind of liked it.

 "Then perhaps," You hesitated, suddenly feeling shy under his heady gaze "would you teach me art of tea?"

 "I would love nothing more." Seonghwa was captivated by you, he realised, in a different way than ever before. You, neither he, were sure what he was truly talking about, the tea or you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, nothing makes me happier than to interact with you guys, so please don’t hesitate to pop anything into the comments! Lots of love <3 Reblogs are very berry welcome too~ <3

Masterlist

Next chapter (part 9)

[yzeltia]

Year of the OTP - January

January: Snow & Historical "AU" Characters: U'rahn Nuhn & @driftward 's Nyx Blackmoon Rating: T for Timey Wimey Notes: All future entries are gonna follow the same format; however, will be parodies of existing media and I'm very excited. Thanks to Driftward for their Blorbo and line editing for Nyx and mechanical passes!

The wind howled as it blustered about the cabin, causing the fireplace to give a little whistle. Nose pressed to the window U'rahn sighed, letting his breath fog the pane.

"Is something wrong, Rahn," Nyx asked from behind.

"Well, I kinda wanted to go night sledding, but the weather doesn't look like it's going to cooperate."

"Did you consult a skywatcher before you made plans to come out here?"

U'rahn blinked then rubbed the back of his head, "No…I guess I should have."

"Agreed."

"Well, it's still a really nice cabin to hang out in. I'm glad we could borrow it for a night. We can just hang out by the fire and drink some cocoa."

"Would you like me to prepare your Hero Cocoa?"

U'rahn blushed and shook his head, "I can do that…you should just relax by the fire. Hey! I know! I'll tell you one of the stories my mom used to tell me as a boy. The Origin of Miqo'te!"

"I am familiar with the origins of Miqo'te. But if you mean that as a storytale, I have not heard it," the women responded, moving by the fire to stand stiffly at attention as she watched U'rahn start to heat milk.

"Right! It started something along the lines of…Upon an Era, long ago, all the Miqo'te lived as one…"

"Our food stores are running low. We're not going to last much longer if we don't figure out a better system of hunting," a golden-haired Miqo'te sighed.

"Agreed," his beautiful mate agreed, painting half her face in a traditional manner, "We are-"

"Rahn. The tradition of hunting paint did not come about until the Keeper tribes were well established."

"Really? Well…maybe I'm misremembering. The point is she was very beautiful and an adept huntress…Anyroad, at odds they started to debate…"

"Jua, I appreciate your insight; however, the best prey moves at night when the moon goddess shines her love down for us as we move shrouded by darkness. The day is far too bright and wears our people down fast."

"Nyx….I mean Mwezi! My beautiful wife. The sun goddess, for which all things thrive under her life giving love, brings us the best bounty for our people. The dark of night leaves our people prone to unseen be dangers that would be revealed in the day."

"You are incorrect."

"Then, let us make a contest of itd! You lead a team of hunters, and so shall I. Over one day we will see who's hunts yield the most."

"Acknowledged."

And so with a kiss, Jua and Mwezi parted company to organize their respective hunting parties. Here too they differed, Jua asked their people to choose among themselves who their best hunters were, and nominate them to come forward. Mwezi chose her companions herself, taking along only huntresses she'd seen prove themselves in battle before her own eyes.

"I am unsure of the veracity of this story, Rahn."

U'rahn looked back, tail swishing as he fiddled with some chocolate in a small bowl. "It's just a storytale! Things are probably a bit off from what really happened. I'm also doing it from memory," he explained away.

"Understood. Continue."

"Right, so Mwezi was the first to hunt."

"The huntresses of the night party hunted close together through the night, ensuring one another stayed safe from any predators that might have chanced upon them. Their hunt took them all night, but by daybreak, they'd found their prize.

Meanwhile, at home, Jua waited for Mwezi to return. His heart ached while she was away, and as the sky went from black to blue he agonized over her return, worried the worst even though in his heart of hearts she was the superior hunter. He waited by the door, thinking only of her and how happy he'd be to see whatever she brought back, even if it meant she'd prove him wrong. His heart drummed within his chest thinking of-"

"Rahn, I am unfamiliar with this story, but I do not understand what Jua's affections have to do with their contest."

U'rahn tilted his head tugging at a bag of large marshmallows before pulling too hard and sending them flying all over the counter. "I'm just…setting the stage a little. Basically, he loves her a bunch and that's important. Anyroad…"

"Daybreak soon came and Jua departed with the elected tribes folk into the light of day. Not needing to worry about hidden predators-"

"There are many species that have evolved to camouflage themselves in the day."

U'rahn stared at his girlfriend for a moment, only getting a stare back of course. Fluttering his ears, he returned to his confection.

The group split managed to find many prizes, and by day's end had a rather large haul. Upon their arrival, Jua and the huntresses were all waking, and soon met the day party at the villager's center. 

"Husband, you've returned," Mwezi greeted, watching as his party brought in their caravan of creatures, some felled, others kept alive for their potential as livestock.

"I have! I bring you twenty-six beasts that might serve for meals and or the longevity of the tribe! Behold the sun goddess's bounty," Jua cheered, gesturing to the creatures behind him.

"That is a menagerie of prey, husband," his wife stated plainly, staring quietly at what was brought in. "We will now present our hunt."

Behind her, the huntresses pulled in a giant buck, larger than their biggest dwelling. Pulling the beast to the tribe center, she nodded to Jua and said, "This one buck will provide meat for an entire moon, its bones will be used as tools for a generation, and the leathers we take will clothe us for just as long. It is the moon goddess that has provided for us."

The entire tribe cheered at the haul. Both husband and wife embraced but then parted.

"It seems both our paths were prosperous this day…but we are not normally so fortunate. Perhaps it was our pride and determination."

"We are a large people. The ecosystem would falter if we hunted with this amount of success every day. I've concluded that our hunting styles and leadership were not to blame. We are too much for this land to take care of. I propose, for a time, we divide ourselves to the north and south to let the land recover."

"How would we ever divide our people though, my beautiful wife?"

"I will take those who hunt by the moon to the north where the days are short. And you, Jua, will take those who hunt by the sun to the south where the days persist."

Jua frowned, "I would be apart from you my love. "

"It is necessary for our tribe to live on."

Jua sighed then held his wife tight, knowing she was right. And so the tribes split, wandering far from one another. Though Jua made sure to visit his beloved Mwezi in the North, when they passed, the two new tribes found little reason to come together. And so, the Keepers and Seekers came to live on separately from one another, evolving from the lovers' small sacrifice of time into healthy tribes that scattered the world over—the end.

U'rahn smiled as he brought over a tray of cocoa and crackers, sitting down by the fire, Nyx lowering herself beside him.

"A good story, yeah?"

"Allagan records indicate the Keepers became night hunters due evolutionary attributes in their eyes allowing them to perceive more light in the darkness, marked by their pupils' dialated appearance.  The Seekers have narrow pupils, allowing them to see greater detail in their surroundings as they don't have to adjust for the intensity of the light around them. To survive, it was necessary to form bonds with those who had similar biological advantages for hunting. I do not believe your story was true, Rahn."

U'rahn frowned a bit and shook his head, "Well, it probably isn't. It's just a storytale…or a umm…"

"Fable. As a story, I can appreciate it. Thank you for sharing it with me."

The Nuhn lit up a bit then scooted closer to his girlfriend, as she looked down at her cocoa. Atop, two marshmallows floated, one with cinnamon sprinkled on top and a crudely drawn cat face, the other dipped half way in dark chocolate with two mismatched eyes. "You have made these gelatin cubes into our likeness."

"Well, I figured I'd make something special…y'know, for us. Our own version of Herrro chocolate."

"Understood. Thank you, Rahn."

"A good experrrience?"

"Yes, Rahn."

Drinking his cocoa deep, he let out a happy purr then leaned against her as he tangled their tails together. Fluttering his ears, he sighed happily then began to doze, Nyx quickly taking his mug before it could spill over into their laps. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and once Nyx had finished her drink she nudged U'rahn awake, leading him sleepily upstairs to rest properly together for the night.

[tidecorals]

❤️‍🩹 (mending heart) + 🧪 (test tube) for logan, ☀️ (sun) + 🌙 (crescent moon) for alejandro

how strongly do you experience your emotions? does it depend on who you’re interacting with and/or the context of the situation?

"honestly, i experience my emotions pretty intensely, but it’s like i’ve got this filter that decides when and where they come out. i know, it's funny. . . the idea of me having any kind of filter. but if i’m by myself or with people I really trust, like my closest friends, it’s easier to just feel things as they come. i can be super passionate, really happy, or even just angry without holding back. but when i’m around people i don’t know well or in situations where i feel like i need to keep it together, i tend to dial it back. it’s not that i’m being fake or anything— i just have this instinct to protect myself a little, you know? i feel what i feel in my own time, on my own terms.

context definitely matters, too. if something catches me off guard or hits close to home, i might react more strongly than i expected, even if i’m trying to stay cool. but if it’s a situation where i know i need to be level-headed, i can usually keep my emotions in check until i’m somewhere safe to let them out. sometimes it's not that easy. it’s a balancing act, for sure. i feel things deeply, but i’ve learned how to navigate when to show it and when to keep it tucked away. that said, when i do let those emotions out, it’s because i trust the people i’m with or the moment just calls for it. so yeah, it depends, but when i feel, i feel hard."

if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then?

"there’s no way i’d go out without making sure the people i love know how much they mean to me. i’d want to resolve any lingering issues or misunderstandings, especially with my family. we don’t always see eye to eye, and there’s been some tension over the years— mostly because of my choices and how i’ve lived my life. but at the end of the day, they’re still my family, and i wouldn’t want to leave anything unsaid. i’d need to have those conversations, clear the air, and make sure they know that i love them, even if we’ve had our differences. i'd need to know how they really feel about me, and if they can accept me for who i am, and if not. . . at least i'd have closure.

i’d want to spend my last day doing the things that make me happiest. i’d gather my closest friends, have a bonfire at the beach, laugh until it hurts, and just soak in the moment. i guess i’d want to leave this world with no regrets— knowing that i made peace where it was needed, and that i spent my last hours truly living and knowing they meant something."

would you describe yourself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or are you somewhere in between? how come?

"i’d say i’m somewhere in between, leaning a bit more toward extrovert, but with a strong appreciation for my own space. i genuinely enjoy being around people— hosting dinners at pearl’s, attending events at the yacht club, or just engaging in good conversation with interesting company. there’s something invigorating about the energy of a lively room, the exchange of ideas, and the shared laughter that comes with it. it’s a big part of why i love what i do; connecting with others, sharing stories, and creating memorable experiences is what drives me. but at the same time, i value my privacy and the moments of solitude that come with it. running a business, especially one as demanding as a restaurant, requires a lot of social energy, and there are times when i need to step back, retreat to my own space, and recharge. i’m very particular about how i spend my time and who i spend it with— quality over quantity, always. so, while i thrive in social settings, i’m equally content with quiet moments, a good book, or simply enjoying the calm of my apartment in coral cove.

i suppose you could say i’m a bit of a paradox in that way— drawn to the vibrancy of social life but grounded by the need for introspection and solitude. it’s all about balance, and i think i’ve found mine somewhere between the two."

what would you say is your current biggest dream and/or career aspiration and why?

"my biggest dream right now is to expand pearl’s beyond just a beloved spot in palmview. i want to take what we’ve built here— the ambiance, the quality, the sense of community— and replicate it in other places, maybe even internationally. imagine pearl’s by the sea in the south of France, or where it all started for me. it’s not just about the business growth; it’s about sharing the experience and culture of pearl’s with a wider audience, creating new memories and connections in different parts of the world. but more than just the expansion, i aspire to mentor and bring up the next generation of chefs. i’ve always been one to take risks on new talent, and i’d love to create a platform where these up-and-coming chefs can showcase their creativity and passion. seeing others succeed and knowing i had a hand in their journey— that’s incredibly fulfilling for me.

and, of course, on a more personal note, my dream is to eventually balance this ambition with the kind of family life i’ve always wanted. there’s something deeply meaningful about creating a legacy, not just through my work, but with a family of my own. it’s not something that’s fully in my grasp yet, but i believe that with time, both these dreams can coexist. that’s the ultimate aspiration for me."

[kanisema-blog]

Uncaptured Moments: Lian and Jepoy's Love Story

Lian stood at the edge of the bustling city park, her camera poised and ready to capture the fleeting moments of everyday life. She had always found solace in the art of photography, a way to freeze time and hold memories close. As she adjusted the lens, her eyes caught sight of a tall, impeccably dressed man in the distance. He seemed out of place among the joggers and families. Intrigued, she snapped a few candid shots before he turned and their eyes met.

"Excuse me," the man said, approaching her with a mix of curiosity and confidence. "Do you always take pictures of strangers without permission?"

Lian blushed, lowering her camera. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. You just looked... interesting."

He chuckled softly. "Interesting, huh? That's a new one. I'm Jepoy, by the way."

"Lian," she replied, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Over the next few weeks, Lian and Jepoy's paths crossed more frequently. He revealed that he was the CEO of a thriving tech company, a position that left him little time for personal pursuits. Yet, there was something about Lian's free spirit and passion for photography that drew him in. They often met at the park, each encounter filled with laughter and shared stories.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they found themselves sitting on a park bench, the city lights beginning to twinkle around them.

"Do you ever feel like you're missing out on something?" Lian asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jepoy sighed, his gaze fixed on the skyline. "All the time. My life is so structured, so controlled. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just... let go."

Lian smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Maybe I can help with that. How about a spontaneous adventure?"

"A spontaneous adventure?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"You'll see," she said, standing up and offering her hand. "Trust me."

Jepoy hesitated for a moment before taking her hand. They spent the night exploring the city, from hidden cafes to vibrant street performances. It was a side of life Jepoy had long forgotten, and with Lian by his side, he felt a sense of freedom he hadn't known in years.

Their bond deepened with each passing day, but as their relationship grew, so did the challenges. Jepoy's demanding job often pulled him away, leaving Lian to navigate the complexities of their love alone. One night, after a particularly grueling week, Jepoy found Lian waiting for him outside his office.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice steady but tinged with sadness.

"I know," he replied, leading her to a quiet corner. "I'm sorry, Lian. I never wanted my work to come between us."

"It's not just about the work, Jepoy. It's about finding a balance, about making time for each other. I love you, but I can't keep feeling like I'm second to your job."

He took her hands in his, his eyes filled with determination. "You're not second, Lian. You're my everything. I promise I'll do better. We'll find a way to make this work."

Tears welled up in Lian's eyes as she nodded. "I believe you, Jepoy. Just don't make me regret it."

In that moment, they both knew that love was not just about grand gestures and stolen moments, but about commitment and understanding. Together, they faced the challenges head-on, determined to build a life where their hearts could intertwine freely, unmanacled by the constraints of the world around them.

[fuckinyeehawblog]

Tomorrow I will turn 24, and for the first time in my life I will be waking up alone on my birthday.

I thought that by this age I would have it all together, but I’m in a 2 bed flat that I am going to lose (my ex left me with the bills) because I cannot afford it. This is my home and I wanted to stay here, but I could not find a flatmate, and I am not entitled to universal credit because I earn ‘too much’ (for non UKs, universal credit is money from the government).

I’m a little confused; I put my blood, sweat and tears into my job and back into society, and I cannot afford my home. I was advised I should do a houseshare, or buy a studio, but my problem is this: why am I suffering alone every day, working towards something that I don’t want? I could afford a houseshare if I wanted to, but the issue is I don’t want to (I’m aware that sounds ungrateful, but I’m bored of pretending), I have done it before and I hated every second and hated wasting money on it.

Now no matter what, I have to sell multiple possessions so I may move somewhere smaller. Ordinarily, selling possessions is not an issue for me, but I moved here in September 2022 and used the total of the small inheritance my grandmother left me to pay for all my furniture. Now I cannot keep it, it’ll be like selling the only part of my grandmother I have left.

All whilst I struggle with the above, my ex continues to cause problems. She wanted to leave because her family lived two towns away, and she was homesick. I didn’t try and stop her because I just wanted her to be happy. She assured me that this didn’t mean we were breaking up, but my brother found her on tinder just a week later. I had no closure. Just since then, she has closed our gas and electric account, and stolen £400 in credit, she cancelled the Wi-Fi, despite not paying for it, and every day she acts as though I have done something wrong, and it hurts to know that she simply just didn’t love me the same, and seems to thrive on my tears and emotional turmoil.

Unfortunately, the bottom line is, I think of suicide more and more every day. I had a workplace injury in 2019 which has left me with severe PTSD, and the illnesses that come with it. Every day since then I have had difficulty in my day to day life, but I am a persistent man, and have struggled every day trying to better myself. In 2021, I thought I had met the love of my life, and I was briefly very happy. I moved in with her, but to my surprise, it didn’t last. Since the day she left, all my terrible memories have rushed back, my injury is still here, my bills are too much, and I miss the company of others (I fell out with a handful of friends in my old houseshare, as people usually do), and now I live completely alone, my family and friends have their own lives.

Despite the way I feel, I don’t think I will kill myself. As I’ve grown older, I have become more empathetic, and I’ve grown to love my family and friends more. I know that these are people that truly love me, and I cannot stand the thought of how they would feel after my death. I picture my dad sobbing into his computer at work, alone, I picture my mum crying herself to sleep every night, I picture my two brothers sharing a drink in silence opposite an empty chair. I know that I would not be there to see it, but I cannot bring myself to take the leap knowing what follows for my loved ones.

Despite my state of mind, I treasure so many good memories, and I don’t want to lose them through death. I pray one day I can land on my feet, but it hurts so so much, and I don’t know what to do.

Happy birthday Muzza

[pallastronomy]

SLAMS MY PAPERS ON THE DESK. I tried to doublecheck a lot of this but it still does have a few holes in it so could I be wrong? Am I reading into things too much? Both very possible. But still. Autism under the cut.

Obviously Starira diversified weapon designs a LOT with the new cast but Frontier embodies that more than any other group I feel; new state-of-the-art tech is their defining point when you contrast them against the other new schools. Not a single conventional sword in the roster. Good for them.

Aruru is obviously the most egregious example of this. In the context of revues where removing cloaks requires getting in close with some kind of sharp edge, ranged weapons are an inherent disadvantage, especially if you’re forced on the defensive. Arrows you can make work, sure, but bullets? In a typical 1v1 revue you are not tearing somebody’s cloak off with that, especially not the more elaborate ones e.g. Siegfeld or Rinmeikan (at least not without genuinely injuring them, which is its own fun bag of potential implications that I’ll leave to simmer)

But that’s the thing. We don’t actually start seeing one-on-one revues until Arcana Arcadia. It’s all of Frontier fighting as a collective (And keep in mind, even together, they still lose the revue to Seisho), and then the whole group coming together to deal with the Korosu. Every other stage girl from Frontier has at least some manner of sharpened point or blade on their weapons to be used for removing cloaks, so it isn’t something Aruru has to do directly. She’s in her element here; she thrives on stage in the company of her family, working together with them, therefore the others covering that weakness for her makes perfect sense.

Enter Arcana Arcadia, which completely throws that familiar element out the window.

So how do Aruru and her weapons function in the context of a legitimate revue, when she’s forced to finally fight on her own?

They don’t.

That’s the point.

Even before Aruru gives them the first serious push they need to move forward, the others know and have already accepted what they’re getting into by committing to the path of a stage girl. They’ve always been capable of forging ahead on their own, even if it means inevitable partings or competition down the line, and their weapons have the hallmarks of that in sporting some variety of cutting edge.

Aruru is the exception to this

Whether or not it’s intentional, it’s extremely telling.

Aruru Otsuki and her weapons alike are the illusion of brilliance, the moon reflecting light from the sun. Something that appears both self-reliant and brilliant at a glance when you don’t think to question it deeper beyond ‘Why the fuck does that stage girl have MULTIPLE GUNS’, yet they both completely crumble under scrutiny without support. Her weapons are telling enough of abundant potential for brilliance if channeled into her growth as an individual stage girl; hell, she’s the only one from Frontier to be considered a stage girl at all at the start of Chapter 10. But moving forward by herself, for herself, isn’t what she wants from being on stage. Aruru doesn’t want to participate in the revues on her own or compete with the others for the lead role. She doesn’t want to be apart from her family. She doesn’t want to confront her own emptiness and lack of identity made manifest in the very place she sought out to escape it.

Still, there’s only so far she can go, only so many rules of the stage she can change on the fly, before facing that situation is inevitable.

I don’t have anything to say for this point that isn’t blatantly in the text. Please read Arcana Arcadia. Please. Please.

If the Starira weapons were designed with the intent of reflecting the stage girls they belong to like Seisho’s, I firmly believe that Aruru’s development in Arcana Arcadia would be enough to warrant some kind of change to her weapon in a similar vein to Hikari in episode 8, were it not for the amount of work and subsequent issues implementing that into the game itself would cause. I don’t know exact details of how it would work or what would change, but there’s absolutely enough development to prompt it. Out of all the development in ALL OF STARIRA for everyone across the board, Aruru is the only character who gets an ‘I am reborn’ sequence. Ever. (Which I don’t think people talk about enough, by the way) I think that alone speaks for itself as to the magnitude of growth she undergoes.

Also I don’t have a fancy segway into this but there’s something to be said about the actual mechanism of firing a gun involving high pressure explosions when Revue Frontier is Aruru Otsuki herself being put under high pressure and exploding. Honestly I think she should have exploded more considering the amount of buildup but. That’s a thought for another day.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk I enjoy being mentally unwell over Frontier School of Arts a lot. Goodnight everybody. Watch Revue Starlight, read Arcana Arcadia, listen to Yami o Terasumono, and tune in next time to Pallastronomy for ‘Wall of text about my thoughts on Aruru Otsuki as potentially having BPD’ if I ever get around to writing it

I love the symbolism of the weapons in the revue starlight! They say so much about the characters and their attitude towards performing and the revues.

You can understand a character in an entirely new light!

Aruru Otsuki what the FUC-

[huntingingoodwill]

wild women don't get the blues (t.s.)

masterlist

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

request: i also wanted to see if you could possibly write up some something I’ve been thinking about since I've been rewatching the series and I’m currently on S2 when an idea suddenly struck me for a juicy angsty piece. it’s during the scene in which Tommy and Grace reunite and in which she asks him “Tommy, do you have someone?” in my mind i pictured possibly the reader x tommy x grace with inevitable infidelity, anger, hurt and some guilt? you can decide the ending and everyone’s fate.

a/n: anon i love you for giving me the opportunity to write a juicy argument secondly i worry you may not see this because i am bad at requests and you sent this two months ago i'm sorry!! but thank you for the sweet ask you sent :) i'd love it if you could drop me an ask if you do end up seeing this. either way i hope you enjoy <3 (p.s. thank you @sunsetmourners for helping me pick a title. i still hate you. ily.)

“You need better locks.” Smoke spilled from your lips as you spoke, obscuring your face in a silvery cloud. You were barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows. 

Tommy looked down at the door to his office. The broken lock swung on its hinge pathetically.

You sat in his desk chair, eyeing him as he walked into the room. He flipped on the light. Instantly, the room was bathed in the lamps’ golden warmth. 

“Why’re you here, then?” He asked off-handedly, as if you hadn’t just shown up to his office, unannounced, in the middle of the night. 

“I was thirsty.” You said drily. “Be a darling and get me a drink, won’t you?”  

A few moments in his office, and you were already treating him like your secretary. 

He smirked, moving to pour you a glass of whiskey. 

He held the glass out before quickly moving it out of your reach. Your eyebrows furrowed, and he couldn’t help but smile at the pout that formed on your lips. "Not until you tell me why you’ve really come.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you stood to lean against his desk. “We have business to discuss.”

Still, he withheld. “How’d you know I’d be here?” 

You chuckled as he stepped toward you, the amber liquor sloshing temptingly in the glass. “I got lucky.” You shrugged. "I have to leave tonight, so I thought there’d be no harm trying. Anyway, when are you not here? I’ve been in Birmingham long enough to tell you’re a slave to your work. Like I am. That’s why we’ll work together perfectly.” You grinned, snatching the drink out of his hand. You tilted it toward him in a toast, watching him over the rim of the glass as you took a sip.

You had sauntered into Small Heath a week ago, demanding a meeting with the Shelbys. They weren’t at all what you had imagined when Alfie recommended them as “the men who’ll help you get the job done”. You were disappointed in how idle they looked in the snug of the Garrison, smoking, drinking and reading the paper. You’d give them something to do. 

Their ears perked up when they found out who you were. Your family had a thriving business back in London. Someone less modest would’ve called it an empire.

But there was always more money to be made. 

You were working with the richest men and women in London, convincing them to invest in your family’s company, all while secretly draining their funds right under their noses. The Shelbys would help you move the money, exporting goods and making the cash seem legitimate. It was risky. But if it went to plan, you’d all be in the green.

Ever since you and Tommy had met each other, you’d piqued each other’s interests. He felt a draw to you, an unexplainable twinge triggering in his heart whenever you walked into the room.

He felt it now as he stood before you.

“I was waiting here a while, Tommy.” You mumbled, lazily dragging a finger down his arm. “You should be thankful.” You joked, smile playing at your lips. “I’m not used to being kept waiting.” 

Tommy moved even closer, cornering you between him and the table. 

“Poor thing. D’you miss me?” 

“Don’t make me laugh.” You grinned. “I’m just awfully impatient, is all.” 

He took the glass from you, draining it before putting it on the table. He took your cigarette from between your fingers, tossing it in his ashtray, before wrapping his arms around your waist, closing the distance between you two. 

You plucked the cap off his head, turning it over in your hand curiously. 

“Stop it. You’ll cut someone.” He spoke.

You smiled sweetly, holding the cap beneath his chin, razor glinting as you aimed it at his throat.

“What, don’t you trust me?” You giggled. 

You tossed the hat away, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was quick to reach up, folding his hand around yours as you ran a thumb across his cheekbone. 

“‘Course I trust you.” He mumbled as he leaned in, kissing you.

Your hand travelled to the nape of his neck, sliding up to his shock of dark hair, fingers entangling in the locks as he kissed you fervently, and you responded in kind.

Then, all too soon, you dug your manicured fingers into his hair, pulling his head back.

Your hand slid down his chest, stopping at his watch fob. You checked the time.

“I must be going now, Tommy.” 

He held you close, adamant.

“I expect to see you in London.” You ran your hands up and down his arms affectionately before reaching behind your back, grabbing them and pushing them back to his sides.

“You expect?” He raised an eyebrow as he leaned back. 

“I expect.” You spoke resolutely as you moved away from him, fixing your hair as you picked up your purse. You hoped, more than anything. You wanted to see him again. “I’ll be meeting Clive Macmillan.” You didn’t even notice how Tommy flinched at the name. “He’s a banker. He’ll be helping with the books. It’d help if you met him.”

“If you want me to meet him, he can come to Birmingham.” Headstrong as ever. 

You clicked your tongue. “Don’t be stubborn, Tommy. He won’t come all the way to your office just to see you.”

“Did you?” 

You turned to face him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Did I what?” 

“Come all the way to my office, just to see me. You could’ve called, left a message with Lizzie… but you came here, hoping I’d show up before you had to leave.”

You felt your face heat up, praying he wouldn’t notice the tinge of red colouring your cheeks. You scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He gave you a knowing smile.  

It was completely true.

“Don’t be cocky, Shelby. It’s not a good look on you.” You glanced back at him. “Goodnight.”

Just like that, you were gone. 

Tommy looked back down in his ashtray. Amongst the pile of his cigarette butts and dark ash laid one half-smoken cigarette, the end stained red with your lipstick. 

-

“Tommy.” 

Receiver held to his ear, Tommy sat completely still in an opulent suite in your family’s London hotel.  The only indicator that time hadn’t completely frozen was the ash that fell gently from the end of his smoldering cigarette, paused on its journey to his lips.

“Tommy? Are you there?” The tinny voice filtered through the phone. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Yes, Grace?” 

He hadn’t expected to hear from her again. He had welcomed their reunion a month prior, but he saw the awful look of guilt written on her face as she got dressed after. She was thinking of her husband, of course. Clive Macmillan had seemed so inconsequential to the both of them moments before. Tommy had thought the look in her eyes said it all. He thought she’d never want to see him again. He thought it was over. 

“I heard you’re in London. I want to see you. Tonight.” Grace said.

Instantly, he thought of you.

He had arrived earlier that afternoon.  

Even in the cavernous lobby, surrounded by crowds of tourists and the luxurious interior, you had caught his eye immediately.

Of course, he had noticed the subtle smile playing on your lips from across the room as your gaze met his, and your surreptitious nod toward a quiet corridor.

“I knew you’d come, stubborn as you are.” You had chuckled as you joined him. The both of you had leaned against the wall opposite to one another, watching each other. It was not in both your natures to admit it, and it had only been a couple of days, but you had missed each other. 

“Thanks for coming, Tommy. Your men won’t have to hold up your end of the bargain for a good while yet but…”  You were happy to see him. Sunlight flooded through the windows, falling across your face, soft in a look of genuine happiness. The rare look behind your cold exterior was a thing of beauty to him. 

“‘Course I’d come.” He said. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to hold yours. Slowly, your hand lifted to meet his. “Let me take you out after we meet that banker of yours. I’m only here a night. We’ll make the most of it.” 

“Promise?” You laughed. 

“Promise.” He responded. 

You nodded, smiling softly. Your unassuming, sweet expression had made his lips quirk up at the corners. 

Both your hands had shot quickly back to your sides as one of your staff members came looking for you. He watched as you took on your air of professionalism. He missed your smile. 

Your wrist had brushed his as you walked away from him, and you shot him a look over your shoulder as you were being led away. 

Now, sitting in his hotel room, that look was burned into his memory. 

He watched time tick away on the clock on the wall. Closer and closer to when you and Grace were expecting him. 

He had to make a choice. 

-

The shrill doorbell rang. Tommy steeled himself as he reached for the doorknob. He swung the door open. 

Grace stood on the other side, fidgeting in a fine dress. Clive took care of her. Her eyes flashed up and down the street, nervously.

Even when looking at her, the thought of you haunted him, a feeling of overwhelming guilt surging through him. He remembered your smile. 

He turned, so he wouldn’t have to see her. It just made him wish he’d chosen differently. He busied himself with fixing her a drink, ignoring the feeling of Grace’s eyes burning into his back. 

“You had to talk to me, Grace?” He said, mind wandering to the thought of you, alone, wondering where he went. “I’ve a meeting, so we’ve not much time-“ He was lying. He was already late to the meeting with Clive, but maybe if he’d hurried, he could still make it in time to meet you. To make things right. 

“Tommy.” She interrupted him, the excuses dissipating in his throat.

He turned to look at her, and she pushed away the drink he offered, beads of condensation already forming on the cool glass. She shook her head. 

She reached for his hands, gripping them as the light from the fireplace cast orange hues across their faces. 

“I’m pregnant.” She whispered. 

Tommy’s heart quickened as she led his tremoring hand toward her stomach.

“I want the child to be with its father.”

He remained silent.

“But I need to know if you’re in this with me, Tommy. I want us to do this, together. But I won’t leave the child without a father if you say no.” 

He turned to look at the flame, crackling and dancing in the fireplace. He thought of how the light shone on your face that morning, and thinking of you made a twinge of both affection and of deep remorse surface in his heart. 

“I need to know.” Grace implored, knuckles tightening around his hands. “Do you have someone, Tommy?” 

He closed his eyes, and thought of you. 

He had to make a choice. 

Then, he kissed her. 

That night, as Grace and Tommy lay next to each other, he made a promise he wouldn’t break. He’d need a week to make the arrangements. Then, they’d be off to New York. Together. 

You drifted in and out of his dreams, that night. Sometimes he even thought it was you lying next to him. 

-

He opened the door to be met with a slap to the face.

He stared you down, more shocked by your presence than by the burn of his cheek from the impact.

“Is the lady of the house in?” Your jaw was tight as you asked the question, but your tone was so off-handed it was as if you hadn’t just shown up outside his and Grace’s New York hotel room after not having any contact with him since he left London almost two weeks ago.

He shook his head. 

“Good.” You punctuated the word with another slap, this time whacking him across the face with your purse. “Move aside. I need a drink.” 

You pushed past him, busying yourself at the bar cart, back turned to him. 

“(Y/N), if this is about the meeting-“ He began, guilt and regret shooting through him as he watched you. 

You froze, as if his voice repulsed you. 

“No, Thomas. It’s not about the meeting.” Your voice was dangerously calm, almost saccharine.

Slowly, you picked up an exquisite crystal glass, holding it to the light. There was a trace of Grace’s lipstick on the rim, neglected by the cleaning staff. “I think it was good you didn’t come.”

Casually, as if it were nothing at all, you tossed the glass over your shoulder. It shattered on impact, glass spraying across the floor. “You would have been dead weight, anyway.” 

You picked up another glass, turning it in your hands. Too much dust. “You see, where my problem lies is that you’ve fucked with my business. You’ve fucked with my family.” His stomach turned.

One more thrown over your shoulder, and the glass crashed against the floor, the shards glinting in the light. 

“But you were probably too involved in your attempts to get the clap to think about something as silly as that, weren’t you?” 

Your fingers ran over the rest of the glasses, none of them satisfactory.  With one sweep of your hand, you sent them clattering to the floor, the noise of shattering glass exploding all around the two of you. 

“Congratulations on the engagement, by the way.” You spoke, picking up a bottle of liquor by its neck. “A beautiful woman from Poughkeepsie… and oh! With a baby, already on the way! How utterly quaint!” You brought the bottle down upon the cart, the liquid splashing onto the floor as the bottle burst. The neck of the bottle still in your hand, you gestured with it, the sharp, jagged edge shimmering in the sunlight. 

“Does her husband know?” Your voice dropped, the sarcastic words dripping of venom. “Did you kill him?” 

“What?” Tommy recoiled. 

You tossed the neck of the bottle aside, crushing glass beneath your feet as you walked toward him. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. When they found him in his suite in my hotel, the coroner said it looked like suicide. But I wouldn’t be so quick to trust their word for it, knowing the types of traitorous bastards his wife associated with. Did you kill him, Thomas? Was it easy? A matter of convenience, to get him out of the way so you could keep his wife’s bed warm?” Your incessant questioning made the room suffocating with tension. 

“Oh.” You paused. “But you wouldn’t, would you? You’re too much of a coward.” You hissed. “Perhaps you got one of your little men to do it-“

“Oh, come on, (Y/N)-“ 

“Do you realise what you’ve done?" You snapped. "Not only did his death give me another mess to clean, more dirty laundry to cover up, but if the coppers come sniffing around the circumstances of Clive’s suicide and uncover the stolen funds linked to me, who's ass do you think is going to be on the line?!" Your voice crested, ripe with pure rage. "My entire family’s business could crumble, and you sacrificed it all for…for…”  

For her. Tommy thought. He felt a sickening guilt shoot through him, the shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. 

“All you had to do was listen to me.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “What do I have to do to make people fucking listen to me?” You grumbled under your breath as you marched toward the door. 

“Where you going?” He called out. 

“To fix your mess-“ 

“Leave it. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it right, for us-“ 

“Us!” You laughed incredulously. “What ‘us’? There is no us.” You spat. 

You made it to the door, swinging around to look at him once more. “Don’t bother trying to make it right, because you can’t. Don’t fight for my honour. There was a time I would’ve fought for yours, but now I’m not so sure you have any.” 

You left him alone, standing amongst a pile of glittering, shattered glass. Ashamed.