#in the low light fic

[canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen]

In The Low Light- Chapter 2

Photo credit and source unknown

Notes: tumblr is fucking testing my patience with this. This will be about the 6th time I’ve tried to make this post, so if the formatting is weird I am going to break something. Quality control by @pastlivesxpastlie (if you get a notification for this I’m sorry, I’m just updating stuff) thank you Professor Wolfie, you’re a saint and a lifesaver. Anywhoozle, this one has me allllll up in my feels. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Tags/warnings/etc: Biker!IV x Fem!OC, disordered eating habits but you have to squint, smoking, aggressive words of affirmation, sweet sugary fluff that’ll make you diabetic

Word count: 2368

Summary: IV takes some time over the week to show Sadie that she can trust him, he drives her home from work, and he asks her on a date.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The following day I found myself replaying the interactions with Mr. Numerals. He was clearly no stranger to dangerous situations and was not to be toyed with. He was about to offer to walk me home or something. Why was he so concerned with my safety? And my biggest question: why was he being so kind to me? He was obviously wanting to get something out of this for himself, but I was lost as to what. He didn’t act like a starving animal drooling over a piece of meat. He said it himself, he may be a criminal, but he isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s just genuinely being nice for the sake of being nice… I’m pulled from my conflicted thoughts by the sound of a customer obnoxiously clearing their throat at the pharmacy counter. I spend entirely too much time explaining to the senior gentleman that he didn’t have any refills left. When he finally leaves with a dramatic huff of frustration and a few colourful metaphors, I tell the pharmacist that I’m going on a smoke break. I take my name tag off, grab my cigarettes and lighter, and head for the front doors.

As I walk along the side of the building, my gaze focuses on the sight of a familiar looking motorcycle, the rider leaning against the seat. He’s wearing the exact same thing as yesterday—helmet on, the visor pulled down. In his hands is a cheap flip phone, and his fingers move deftly across the buttons. I bring my cigarette to my mouth and light it, inhaling deeply before speaking. “I thought I told you not to follow me.” I blow the smoke from my lungs and shiver as a cold breeze blows across the parking lot.

His obstructed face turns towards me and he reaches up to pull off his helmet. Underneath is the same mask as yesterday. “I’m not following you. I swear I had no idea you worked here.” Surprise colours his voice, and his eyes reflect this. I almost believe him.

���Mmhmm…” I walk to the wall of the building and lean against it, taking another drag off my smoke. My eyes catch on his, and I hold his gaze for a few seconds. “I’d tell you I believe you, but I’d be lying.”

He chuckles slightly and breaks eye contact first. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, however I am being honest. I’m here to make a business deal. I didn’t know you worked here.” He brings his eyes back up to mine, and I see no deception in them.

I struggle to find something to say, and before I can, my stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear it, even from several feet away. I wrap my arms around myself as another icy breeze hits my skin.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Before I can answer, he turns to the back of his bike, opens a large compartment, and begins searching through it. He seems to find what he’s looking for and turns, walking closer until he’s in front of me. He holds his hand out, one of those high calorie protein bars in his palm, though it’s a brand I don’t recognize.

“I’ll be fine.” I shake my head no at him. My stomach growls again in protest.

“Please, I insist.” He pushes his hand even closer. “You need to eat.”

I sigh, reaching out and taking the bar from his grasp, a small smile playing at the edges of my mouth. “Thank you.” I rip open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s chocolate and some kind of dried fruit. It’s absolutely delicious. My eyes shut of their own accord as I enjoy the taste. “Oh my god…”

I hear a deep chuckle from him and feel a flush in my cheeks. I open my eyes and find him watching me, his eyes crinkled at the edges from the unseen smile on his face. I pull my eyes away and look at my feet, the warmth in my face burning even hotter now. I take another bite.

I hear a faint buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Unfortunately, I need to cut this short. Enjoy the last few bites, princess.” He gives me a small nod, and turns back to his bike. He picks up his helmet, but turns to look at me before he puts it on. “I like it when you smile. Your whole face lights up. It’s a beautiful sight.” With that he pushes the helmet over his head, settles into the seat, and the engine roars to life. He backs out of the parking spot, and drives away leaving me reeling from his compliment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day happens much the same. Only this time when I walk outside, his helmet is off and in his hands are a to-go cup from the coffee shop across the lot and another protein bar. He hands me both when I get close enough, our fingers brushing for a second before he pulls away.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got peppermint tea with a little bit of honey. And another one of those bars.” His voice is soft, with a touch of uncertainty. His eyes avoid mine, and his fingers twitch.

He’s so charming. This thought flies through my mind, catching me off guard. “Uhm- Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything.” My voice is hushed. “It’s too kind of you.” I step away, moving to stand against the building. A harsh cold wind blows over the parking lot, and I hold the cup close to my chest to absorb the warmth. I shiver hard and my teeth chatter together.

“Actually,” he rummages through the compartment on the back of the bike again, this time pulling out a small throw blanket. “I think I did. I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, and a hot drink.” He shakes out the blanket and walks toward me. He stops directly in front of me, and holds the blanket out with an expectant look in his eyes. “May I?” I hesitate for a second before timidly nodding and pulling away from the cold wall behind me. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders, pulling the corners across my chest and I tuck them under my arms. His fingers land on my shoulders and trace down my arms lightly, and I glance up to find his eyes on me.

A few moments pass before the words tumble out of my mouth. “Why are you being so kind to me? You don’t owe me anything. And besides, you said it yourself: you don’t need to clean up someone else’s mess.” I pause as I flick my gaze between his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

His hands drop from my arms and he lets out a small exasperated laugh; he shakes his head slightly and looks up at the gray sky. “Princess, I don’t want anything from you…it’s what I want for you. And that’s your safety. As for why? Well, I feel obligated to take care of you. Lastly,” he turns his eyes on mine, and I’m captivated by the intensity there. “You are a person deserving of kindness. You are not a mess that needs to be cleaned up. Do not take what I say to a couple of idiots for what I think about you. You would be sorely mistaken.” There’s a stern tone to his voice that makes me feel like a child in trouble. “Am I understood?”

I swallow heavily and nod, my eyes glued to his.

“Words, please, princess.” His eyes are still drilling into mine, and his voice borders on frustration.

“Yes, I understand.” My voice is quiet, and I can breathe again when he finally releases my gaze from his. I study my shoes, and I hear him heave a sigh.

“I should go. Keep the blanket, you need it more than I do. I’ll see you soon.” He puts his helmet on, and starts the engine, quickly pulling out of his spot and driving away. Once again, I’m left standing playing his words over in my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the rest of the week, the pattern repeats. He hands me a hot cup of tea and a protein bar, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders. We talk about nothing special for a few minutes. He never stays for long, five minutes at most. I don’t question his motives, and I accept his offerings without hesitation. He makes kind gestures to me, and we share a few touches here and there that linger for just long enough. He never pushes any further than that.

Until Friday that is. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to drive you home today. I don’t like the thought of you walking alone in the cold on such a busy street.” He’s leaning against the wall beside me this time. Today he has his own cup, and when the breeze blows just right, I’m greeted by the aroma of decadent hot chocolate.

I’m halfway through my tea, and swallow the last bite of the bar before I answer. “Sure, on one condition.” He looks at me with an odd combination of disbelief and curiosity. I hold his gaze with my own. “Tell me your name.”

He drops his eyes to the ground and laughs softly. “For now,” He looks back at me, and reaches up to his left shoulder and taps his finger on the numerals. “You can call me four. And yours?”

A small smile washes over my face. “Sadie. It’s nice to meet you IV.”

After a few more minutes of easy banter, he finishes his drink and makes for his bike, pausing and turning back to face me. “What time are you off?”

“I finish at 5:30”

He nods, and gets on his bike. “I’ll see you then.” He puts his helmet on and pulls out of the lot.

When my shift ends, I find myself filled with a strange excitement. I put on my warmer layers, and head outside to the usual spot.

He’s there waiting, an extra helmet under his arm. When I stop in front of him, he stands and flicks his visor up. “Ok, first off, you’ll have to take your hat off. It won’t fit under the helmet.” I take the woolen hat off, and stuff it into my pocket. “Now, you’ll have to tie your hair back. Or it’ll all push into your face and you won’t be able to see anything.” I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and look at him expectantly. “Perfect. This is going to feel a little tight at first, but it’s supposed to fit a bit snug. We don’t want it to come off too easily.” He places the helmet on the top of my head and gently pushes it down. Once fully on, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes holding mine. “How’s that feel?”

“Good. A bit snug, but good.” My eyes flick between his eyes. They’re so pretty. I could look into them for hours. They crinkle at the edges with a hidden smile.

“Good.” He drops a wink at me, and leans back. His deft hands reach for the chin strap, fastening it under my jaw. Lastly he reaches up and pulls my visor down, then his own. “And we are good to go. Ready?”

I nod, “ready.”

He gets on first, and I climb on behind him. He shows me where to rest my feet, and I hesitantly hold onto his sides, suddenly overtaken by shyness. He turns his head towards me. “You’ll want to hold on tight, love. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I can hear the smile in his voice. I slide my arms around his middle and lean further into him. I catch a little of his cologne, and the heady scent leaves me breathless. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my forearm for a moment.

He asks me my address, and I freeze for a moment. Anxious thoughts flit through my mind but I push them down before answering him. The engine roars to life and we pull out of the lot.

The ride is short, much shorter than it would be to walk. When we pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, I feel a little disappointed that it’s over so quickly. We climb off the bike, and he takes off my helmet for me. I can’t stop the wide grin that consumes my face, and my cheeks hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve smiled this much.

He takes his own helmet off, and his eyes have those little crinkles at the edges again, and my fingers twitch with the desire to gently brush over them. He’s so beautiful. “I’d like to take you on a proper date sometime. I hope that’s not too fast.”

My cheeks flush, and my eyes drop to the ground for a second before flicking back to his. “No, that’s not too fast. And I’d love to.” My face still hurts from the smile plastered across it.

He places a hand over his heart, closes his eyes and tilts his head back, while releasing a relieved sigh. His knees bend slightly before straightening again. “You just made me the happiest man alive, princess. How does tomorrow night, 7 pm sound? I’ll pick you up here?” He looks down at me, and his eyes are sparkling.

“That sounds perfect, I’m counting down the seconds.” He nods at this, and I take it as my cue to head inside.

As I go to walk past him, he catches my hand in his. I look at him, surprised by the prolonged presence of his skin on mine. His eyes lock onto mine, and he pulls my hand up to the mouth of his mask, pressing the hard material into my knuckles. I can hear the soft kiss behind his mask. “Goodnight, Sadie.”

My breath shudders a little, and my response comes out as a whisper. “Goodnight, IV.”

[kittysauce]

au where L and Light fall in love during the yotsuba arc ............... i think its a crazy interesting concept

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | april 30, prompt: sky | word count: 1.927 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger secretary james potter part 2 | part 1 AKA word on the street is i Excel in the sheets

“Erh…” he tries after a stretch of silence. “So, how was your day?”

Regulus pins him frozen to place with a look, a sign spelling ‘stupid’ nailed right into his forehead. “You know how my day was. You manage my schedule.”

Damn, tough crowd. “Okay,” James drawls, a little unsure. “But, like, how did it go?”

The place functions as any other hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves just a handful of people throughout the day, most of whom are loyal customers returning every so often for a comfort meal when homesickness becomes a little too much to bear. Even now, there are only a couple of people scattered about, none of which pay any mind to either Regulus or James.

“So, first impressions?” James asks when he takes a seat across from him.

“It’s satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory.” James blinks.

Regulus is quiet. He looks terribly out of place wearing a luxury suit exported from one of the globe’s corners and James can’t help but feel a little guilty. He’s seen Regulus carve into lobster with only a fork and knife but still can’t help but worry about future dry cleaning prices for which he may or may not be responsible.

“Erh…” he tries after a stretch of silence. “So, how was your day?”

Regulus pins him frozen to place with a look, a sign spelling ‘stupid’ nailed right into his forehead. “You know how my day was. You manage my schedule.”

Damn, tough crowd. “Okay,” James drawls, a little unsure. “But, like, how did it go?”

Regulus, perhaps finally acknowledging his poor attempts at small talk to ease the awkwardness, studies him intently for a long, close moment before acquiescing. “Enervating.” Right, because Regulus is the type to unironically use words like enervating. 

“The business deal?” James asks and Regulus nods. “Dude from Jakarta, right?”

“The CEO from the biggest real estate company in Jakarta,” Regulus corrects him. 

Tomato, tomato. “Does this mean you get to leave work at a reasonable hour starting tomorrow?”

“I’ve never had reasonable working hours.”

“Of course, I forgot the very important detail you’re a raging workaholic.”

Regulus’ mouth sets into a firm line as his brows knit together into a censorious frown—his entire face contorting into something that’s one odd remark away from turning downright petulant. “I am not—” He stops. Breathes in. Probably recognizes James is very carefully pulling his tail and for some reason becomes decidedly collegial. “Allow me to rephrase myself. I am meticulous. I prefer finishing tasks before going home and don’t mind when it results in me staying at work a little longer. It’s inevitable as a CEO when timezones don’t work in my favor.” 

Absolute bullshit. “Just last week you kept leaving the office after the cleaning shift already came by to sweep the place clean. I know because they told me.”

“I can’t see how any of this poses as a bother to you.” And there it is, the good ole Regulus Black-esque deflection. 

“I’m just worried. That is all.”

Regulus’ nose twitches and he looks away, a clear indication that he no longer wants to be a willing participant in the conversation. When Regulus becomes like this, James has learned to leave it be.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the food to arrive. James can stop pretending to take in the beautiful sight of the night sky, cracked asphalt, and the flickering colors of traffic signs when the plate is placed on the center of the table, carrying an assortment of different meat cuts and a modest side salad that will probably be Regulus’ for the taking.

Using the table etiquette of a properly groomed aristocrat, Regulus carefully selects some vegetables to put on his plate and a modest serving of rice. He skillfully carves out some pieces around the skewer.

“Seriously,” James deadpans. “Go on, Your Royal Highness, you can use your hands for this.”

Regulus almost bridles at the mere suggestion.

“Seriously, there’s no shame in it. Here, let me do it for you”

Regulus watches as James grabs one of the skewers and uses his fork to tear chunks off, dropping a generous portion of roasted vegetables and meat on Regulus’ plate. “You want some of this flatbread?”

Regulus shakes his head and James shrugs. He swiftly mouths off a dollop of sauce on his thumb, which earns him one of Regulus’ notorious James-exclusive grimaces.

Right, table manners.

They get to eating and James is once again reminded of how much of a slow eater Regulus is. It’s like he counts his chews, jaw working diligently with the faint scrapes of his cutlery against the plate. That and he works even as he eats, almost on auto-pilot with how he takes out his phone to open Outlook.

“Using your phone at the table is rude manners,” James teases.

“I got an e-mail.”

“Of course.” He nods. “Nothing workaholic about that, no.”

“It’s an important e-mail.”

“You know I read something about how it’s also important to spend time with your employees.”  He waves around a piece of the flatbread as if to emphasize the point. “Get to know them better and all.”

“I know plenty about you,” Regulus answers as he types away.

“That so?”

Regulus looks at him, entirely indifferent as the phone is placed face-down on the table. “James Potter. Twenty-three years old. Finished your master’s degree at Oxford, with flying colors might I add. You took a gap year to travel, working all sorts of jobs to pay for your accommodation. Currently, you live near Camden and spend most of your spare time enjoying hobbies or going to the pub with your friends. You have a Joe and the Juice stamp card.”

James tries not to physically reel back. “That…” He starts, absolutely nonplussed. Someone come pick his fucking jaw off the table, it’s dropped off its hinges. “You know what Joe and the Juice is?” Impossible, all things considered. Regulus is in a tax bracket where chain restaurants might seem like fanciful inventions, the kind of places mentioned only in tales where fine dining is unheard of. There's a brief curiosity about whether this is the equivalent of discovering that Toy Story's Pizza Planet is a real place that actually serves food.

“I've come to understand that it's a venue offering juice among a broad array of meals and beverages, yes.”

Still, that’s doesn’t explain… “How do you even know all of that? I hardly even know anything about you other than that you recently turned thirty and were homeschooled for this position.” And that he’s quite fond of the occasional handful of candied macadamias when feeling particularly indulgent. James keeps a packet of it in his bag.

Regulus’ throat bobs. “I do thorough research on the people I employ”

That’s not more than thorough research at this point, far beyond the usual background checks done on new personnel. “Uh-uh. Or you stalk my Instagram during your free time.”

Regulus promptly chokes on his food. His fork falls onto the plate with a loud clatter. James nearly knocks his knee against the table as he too scrambles for the pitcher to pour him water, almost knocking over his can of Sprite in the process.

“Easy, I was just kidding.” He has half the mind to stand up and start patting him on his back to dislodge whatever molecular-sized cucumber wedged itself in his airpipe. “I doubt Mr. Black Enterprises even uses Instagram.”

Regulus looks up startled. Definitely not from the lack of air.

Oh.

Ohohohoh.

“Oh my god.” James’ face splits into a distinguished, shit-eating grin. “You do.” 

“What?” It’s barely a wheeze with the way Regulus has been caught. His grip is deadly around the fork, something that should warn James to be wary.

“Instagram,” James repeats, trying his hardest not to gloat when Regulus shivers. “You use it? The Regulus Black uses Instagram? I thought you would be a member of some upper-echelon-exclusive platform instead of mingling with us.”

The worry swiftly dissipates, giving way to confusion, and then settles into something far more at ease. Although James enjoys those fleeting moments where he gets Regulus riled up, he much prefers seeing him relaxed. “Oh—I—Yes. Occasionally,” he stammers, swallowing and reaching for a napkin to dap at his mouth with. “Barty convinced me,” he hastily adds. “It’s a very private account. I’m hardly active on it.”

Sinking into his seat, James pats around for his own phone. “You should follow me.”

“Shu?”

“On Instagram. You should follow me. If you want, of course.”

The tips of Regulus’ ears turn a delicious pink as he returns his attention to his plate. “I’ll think about it.”

After some more idle talk and eating, they decide to head out before Barty ultimately decides it’s past working hours and he’s not dropping Regulus off at home—some palatial penthouse tucked away in one of London's secluded enclaves where the affluent reside, enjoying a life of extravagance as they remain shielded from the public gaze.

Nonetheless, the cherished designated driver will have to linger a bit longer, as both James and Regulus pull out their cards at the cash register. Being a very wise man, Hakeem registers the amount into the terminal and swiftly turns away, well aware that nothing good ever comes from getting involved.

James dismissively waves his hand. “You can put away your card, it’s on me.”

Of course, Regulus isn’t compliant in the slightest. “I made you feel obligated to stay longer than you intended, so it's only right that I pay.”

“I’m the one who invited you, come now.”

“And I’m the one responsible for making you miss out on dinner.”

“Nah. I told you, it was my fault. Seriously, I want to—”

He attempts to move closer, but Regulus also edges forward. Despite being shorter, Regulus exudes an air of authority that instinctively compels James to widen the gap between them and not bump into him. “And I insist.”

But luckily, James is taller and his arms are longer. “Gotta be quicker than that then.”

He extends his arm, shooting right past Regulus’ and taps his card against the terminal, smiling smugly when Regulus scowls up at him, not in the least impressed by his playing dirty. James’ lips part, a jab resting right on the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of ‘They don’t teach you this at fancy pants school?’ only for a chime to disrupt his train of thought.

Card declined.

“Low funds, Yakup,” Hakeem announces without looking over his shoulder like James isn’t sinking to his knees in embarrassment already. 

“You got paid four days ago,” Regulus murmurs at his side.

“Rent and utilities were due yesterday.” It nearly comes out in a whine.

“I doubt your rent takes up your whole salary.”

“I also had to pay off my credit card,” James grits out, fumbling through his wallet looking for some cash. In an alternative universe where they’re starred in some cartoon show, the poor faux leather division coughs up dust motes.

“Seriously? How much do you make?

“Might I remind you that you pay me.”

The way Regulus clutches onto his credit card, unlimited of course, one might think the poor thing is about to fold in half. James might as well, to be honest. “Move.”

“No.” His pride’s already been hurt. “Hakeem, can I pay in installments?”

“Only if you take young Khadija out on a date.”

James considers it for a moment, but Regulus the comment only makes Regulus seethe further, “Potter, if you don’t move I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

That’s enough to convince James. He steps away, all kicked puppy-like, and watches how Regulus’ payment gets processed far quicker. “Next time’s on me.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, even as the apples of his cheeks dust pink. “Come, I’m tired and want to go home.”

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: He wades in it now, eyes still open, fixed on the speckled ceiling, begging himself not to crave bomb blasts and artillery fire in his childhood bedroom. Although…there might be something beautiful about it all, Johnny supposes, those noises in the thick. The gasps in between discharge that say: I’m here, I’m a part of this song too. After a near-fatal injury, John MacTavish finds himself back in his hometown in Scotland. Fresh off an untimely discharge, he's forced to cope with disability, his dysfunctional family, and the lingering knowledge that there are some things he's just not ready to leave behind... After a near-fatal injury, John MacTavish finds himself back in his hometown in Scotland. Fresh off an untimely discharge, he's forced to cope with disability, his dysfunctional family, and the lingering knowledge that there are some things he's just not ready to leave behind...

Author: headlocket

Note from submitter: 1) It's a LONG fic and that's intimidating, but it's worth every minute of your time, I promise you. This is a love letter to these characters. You will cry in both ways. It feels great. 2) The sequel is equally as good. Absolute heart-melting fluff.

[edenfire]

💗🏥 Shuake Week- Day 6 - Wound Tending 🏥💗

I've always really liked the idea of goro waking up after the engine room with a bullet wound in the chest. he miraculously survives, and akira has to take him in and tend to him, while hiding him from shido's men😳💦

(also yes, goro is wearing akira's pj pants😌💞)

[jamiesfootball]

@whydoilikevillains14113

Waaaaauuuugh, thank you for this! It's so lovely when people ask for stuff, especially stuff that I haven't posted about in a while! Gives me the warm and fuzzies, that does

I didn't have a snippet to share that was really ready ready, so I made one! Then it got big.

From the longer version of this post, where Jamie stays with the team in Amsterdam, and after the pillow fight decides to share with them what happened the first time he was there.

No content warnings apply to this snippet in particular, but it does discuss some of what Jamie has just shared with his teammates

"I'm sorry," Jamie blurted, unsure of what else he could possibly add to- not excuse it, no, but to rescue some of the image of himself in Sam's eyes. The shadow of Sam hovering over him felt heavy with the potential of he didn't know what. He wished he could shrink, seep into the hotel carpet until he spilled out the other side, underground somewhere below the basement where only the bones and the rot would welcome him. He squeezed his eyes shut; forced himself to open them again. Blinked wetly at the shadows and the broken light spilled across the ceiling. "I know you don't- approve of that sort of stuff-" The angel that was Sam's shadow bristled, and Jamie swore he saw white feathers dance from his shoulders.

"Of course I do not approve-," hissed Sam, only for his words to come to a sharp stop. Jamie couldn't see what was happening on his face, but he could hear the air shift as something churned over in Sam's head, some great gears stirring through the muddied waters. With awful softness, he said, "Jamie. Are you under the impression that I am upset because you visited a sex worker?"

His ears burned. Stupid reaction, that, but hearing Sam put it so bluntly made a fresh wave of shame curl in his chest.

He shouldn't have said anything. He should've left it in the dark, under the waters with that skinny kid and his naively stupid heart and the footprints that stopped at the edge of the bridge.

"I dunno," he shrugged helplessly. His teeth ground together like stone, and if he twisted his fingers any tighter he might accidentally spark into flames. "You seemed pretty against it earlier when we were voting."

Sam shook his head, dislodging more feathers from the sky. "No, no, that's not-"

"That isn't a sex work problem," Jan interrupted. It was the first he'd spoken since Jamie started talking, and he'd never heard him sound so angry before. "That's illegal."

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[jadecantcreate]

am i the only person who tends to think of pain in pitch?

as in, pain can be “high pitch” or “low pitch” — if its sharp, like a paper cut or heartburn or aching, its high pitch; if its like a stubbed toe or sore muscles or a headache, its low pitch

high pitch pain is when you hiss, low pitch pain is when you groan, etc etc

i dont know if this makes sense to anyone else?????

(because everytime im writing fanfiction i have to hold myself back from describing it that way — and im not even sure i could fully, effectively communicate that w/o breaking immersion — but me saying “sharp pain” has become. a problem. probably. i really need alternatives)

[dea-thynote]

Death note au (dimension travel) where ryuk never got interested in the human world therefore there is no kira. And lawlight had this coworkers to frenemies (and possibly lovers) tension that their coworkers just loaths. After they worked on a case (that seemed to work on the supernatural and drove both of them insane trying to get evidence on) and finally caught the criminal which light apprehended. The criminal curses light to become the worst criminal there is and of course, Light ignores it and goes home to sleep. Only, maybe he shouldn't have because now he keeps waking up in various places (or universe?) Where he has to keep saving L from dying because of him. But in doing so, he also dies either from a heart attack or gets executed to death by L. His only way out would be to either find the criminal from the universe that cursed him, or become 'kira' a mass murderer that is apparently him.

They finally caught him. A criminal that has been going around for months that either commits the most complicated murder or petty crimes, without leaving a trace! Which shouldn't be possible, for months both L and light tried to catch that guy but he somehow gets away! That at one point, while L and light were arguing how, L just throws the theory of supernatural and denies it by saying 'we can figure it out once we catch him'. And they do catch him. Light apprehended the guy before he does what ever he was going to do. The guys glare was venomous. And while being dragged to the police car with his hands behind him, he glares at light and curses him to become the worst criminal the world has ever seen.

Light ignores this and just sighs tiredly. He comes back to the head quarters and makes his way to L, who has been waiting for him with a blank face. 'He's mad' light thought and slows his steps. L congratulates him for catching the guy but also mentions how reckless it was for light-kun to work alone and go against the plan. Light immediately defends himself saying he was getting away and he had to do it. L stares at him and says that he doesn't need to put himself in danger like that, especially when the criminal is unpredictable. Light scoffs.

"Careful L, you sound like you care about me."

"I do."

That made light speechless.

"Afterall, Light-kun is my first friend."

"... oh"

Light excuses himself, mentions how he was tired and rushes out. L stares back to his monitor and plays back recordings of the criminal.

Light makes it to his home and settles down. He forgot about the mentioned curse and just thinks about his conversation with L. To him, L was both admirable and an asshole. Light finds himself fascinated whenever L speaks about his theories and findings, only for the moment to shatter everytime L tries to single him out.

'Afterall, Light-kun is my first friend."

Light shakes his head and dismisses thought. 'Yeah right'. He lays down and closes his eyes. Yeah, he just needs to rest, no need to think about L, considering that man is a manipulative liar.

But then he wakes up. Disoriented and catches himself before he falls down (falls down? Why is he standing?) He hears the sound of rushing rain and immediately becomes confused. 'Where is he?' He looks around, it seems to be a rooftop and in front of him was, L. Huh? What was he doing there? L is looking up. There's a sense of melancholy around the place that causes lights heart to stutter. And looking at L's expression his heart might've as well paused. The benefit of working with L for years had been that light was confident that he could easily read L's expression and posture and know what he's thinking. He's never seen L like this. Like he has already lost. Like he had given up, and waiting to his death. Light feels a sinking worry grow to his heart and calls out to him, asking him what he was doing there? When it became evident that L couldn't hear him, he walks to him, using his hand as a cover though it doesn't seem to stop the rain from going to his face.

Light asks him again and L mentions hearing a bell. The bell has been ringing non stop lately, can he hear it? Light shakes his head, and says he doesn't. Really? He wonders whether it was a church, maybe a wedding or perhaps... L pauses. Light is getting frustrated (he ignores the feeling of anxiousness or worry) and asks L what he's getting at, he should cut it out and they should go inside (because this isn't- this isn't a look that should be on L. This is not like him). L looks down and apologizes, and light's anxiousness grows even more evident in his face. "Nothing I say makes any sense anyway"

Light doesn't like it. He doesn't like the downcast expression plastered on L's face. His heart is slowly sinking down, and he fixes his expression into an amused one. If there's one thing light yagami knows, it's to frustrate L just as much as he frustrates him. So he agrees, and remarks how if he takes anything L says seriously there would not end his trouble. The words that would've been genuine at any other time feels like Ash to his tongue. He silently pleads, any expression on L's face would've been better than the one he is wearing right now. L stares at him,

"Tell me light, from the moment you were born. Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?"

Light's heart skips a beat. L's face looks determined and accusing that it frustrates and confuses light even more. He couldn't take this anymore and is just confused why L is acting like this (like he's a criminal that should be arrested). And he couldn't take it anymore. He sighs angrily, and ruffles his head. A frustrated expression morphs to his face and he glares at L.

"What are you talking about L? Are you still mad about the case? I did what I had to do! I just-" light looks down, not catching the confused stare L gives him and stubbornly mutters

"I'm... sorry okay? I'll listen to you this time alright? Just-" don't make that face. Don't make that expression.

He doesnt continue and let's the silence fill the conversation. Before he hears a sneeze, which he drags L back to the building.

They both dry themselves off with a towel. Now that light is sitting down on the stairs, he thinks more about his situation right now. And realizes some things. He doesn't recognize this place and that what he's wearing right now is different from when he slept at his place. Those thoughts were interrupted by L apologising again, and crouching to his feet, towel in hand. L offers to dry his feet off, which light begrudgingly agrees to. Again, L looks like he's showing weakness which light resents.

"It'll be lonely, wouldn't it?"

Light resents him even more. And before L could say anything else, Light grips on his collar, until they are close to each other and seethes. He yells at L, what's wrong with him. Why is he acting like this? He couldn't control his expression before it morphs into worry and anxiousness. "You know you can talk to me about it right?" L stares at him. His face hardens, and light could see that he doesn't believe him even for a second.

'Just... why? What happened?'

His expression pleads for L to answer. To say anything. But L just stares at him, before his expression goes back to it again.

Light silently follows him. He would never admit it, but he's worried okay? This guy literally just told him he was his 'first' friend yesterday, and now he's acting weird. (And also it becomes apparent to him that this might not be a dream, to his frustration, and since he doesn't know where to go he mostly follows to not get lost).

They're at the monitor room and the task force greets them, some looking at a space warily. Light couldn't help but feel at awe with how different this place was and although he recognizes some people in there He's confused why there's only a few officers here. And soon, L announces his plan on testing the death note (death note?). The officers and his father were protesting which L dismisses. And then an alarm rings, L looks up at one of the monitors worryingly, as the data deletion happens. The officers panics and looks for the 'shinigami' which confuses light to also look around and looks back at L.

His eyes widen as L froze in shock, dropping the spoon from his hand before swaying and collapses. Light, catching his frozen expression, rushes and jumps to catch him before his body hit the floor. Light felt his heart stop as he looks at L, He's not dying-- is he? Light's face finally cracks as his face morphs to what he's feeling. From anxious, to horror, to worry. He tries to shake L, to stay with them, and shuffles for his phone. He can't find it, where is it!? He looks to the task force and shouts for them to call for help- an ambulance- fucking ANYTHING!

He doesnt get to see L's expression, his confusion and his sorrow. Even at the very end he didn't get the confirmation that light is kira. How cruel.

Light decided that he wants to get revenge. When they ask him to become the next L, he says yes. After all, he can't let who killed L know he's dead and also to proceed testing the death note. Light shut down every or any protest against the idea. This might not be his universe, but he would make sure that this criminal faces his deserved justice. After countless of sleepless nights (with all the data deleted he has to start from scratch. But it doesn't matter, he's confident in his skills) he gathers any and every information about kira from news articles, to his methods, to the theories. (He ignores the sinking feeling that the ideals of kira seems to align with his morals). And before he knows it, 13 days had passed after the prisoners used the death note.

They did not die.

And after the rule were discovered to be fake. Light and misa were arrested and before he knows it, he's already about to be executed. With his and misa's name and face plastered on every news media, even if they escaped or proven to be innocent. They would be damned by the public. He thinks about L in his last moments, and tries to process what is happening.

'It'll be lonely, wouldn't it?'

He sees a familiar figure at his execution. That man is--

He wakes up again. A phantom feeling of the pain he felt from the execution. And face to face with L pointing a gun to his direction.

[canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen]

In The Low Light - Chapter 1

Photo by Adam Rossi

Masterlist

Notes: alright you lovely peeps. Here it is. Chapter 1 of my very first fan fiction. If you love it, let me know, if you don’t, well I don’t know. Proofread and continuity check by the lovely @thewayyoulay (if you get a notif for this, sorry. I’m just updating stuff) thank you friend, for your time. The two men that corner the main character are not II and III, they will be introduced later on as themselves. If you want to be added to a taglist, let me know.

Summary: we meet our main character as she’s walking home from work. She gets stopped and cornered by some unsavoury individuals, but before anything terrible can happen, in steps an unlikely saviour.

Word count: 1643

Warnings: flashbacks to MC’s SA, heavy language, skipping meals due to stress.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The slush splashes under my boots as I walk down the sidewalk of the busy street. The late autumn air bites through the thick layers of downy fluff in my brown knee length jacket. I shiver against the cold seeping down into my bones, and adjust my scarf and my woollen hat. The rain patters against my umbrella, the soft sounds blending with the constant hum of vehicles rushing past me. The air is filled with a mixture of exhaust fumes and something fried from the restaurants nearby. My stomach rolls with the thought of food. Seven more blocks, and I’m home. Then it’s cheap ramen, a glass of wine, and a hot shower. Maybe I’ll watch another episode of that show I just started. My thoughts are interrupted by the cheers and jeers of two men on the sidewalk a few yards ahead of me, the sound of their voices bouncing off the walls of the overpass above them. Two motorcycles are parked on the side of the road beside them. Dread begins to build in my chest as I slow my approach.

I begin to mentally list off anything I have that could be used as a weapon when the two men turn their attention on me. They both have a slight build, they’re quite scrawny really, one of them is very tall, well over six feet, and the other comes to just above his shoulder. Both of them tower over me. They’re both wearing dark gray leather jackets with a handful of strange symbols and glyphs on them. Covering the bottom half of their faces are black fabric masks.

The taller one speaks first, his voice dripping with condescension. “Hey, mama, you wanna come home with me? You’d make a great addition to my bedroom.” His companion joins in with a disgusting, predatory laugh. My heart hammers in my chest and my ears ring with the flood of adrenaline. My hands start to shake, and the handle of my umbrella slips on the sweat in my palms. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. Painful images and memories from years ago flash through my mind, and my breath catches in my chest.

“N-No, I’m not interested.” I try to say this with even a sliver of conviction, but by their reactions, I can tell they see through it. I attempt to walk around them, but the shorter one blocks my path, and the two of them push in closer to me until my back is against the wall. “I said I’m not interested. Now get away from me, or I-I’ll call the cops.” I hold my umbrella in front of me to keep a barrier between me and my assailants.

The short one opens his mouth to say something but before he gets a single word out, he’s cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Gentlemen, I believe the lady said she isn’t interested. I think it would be a good idea to leave her be.” The voice is smooth, collected but with a certain subtle edge of authority that made it clear that challenging it would be a very poor decision.

A peculiar look of fear dances across the faces of the two men, and they back away from me, their eyes glued to their feet. They stand with their hands behind their back, and their heads ducked, looking remarkably like two school children in trouble with the principal. The principal in this case being a third man, a little less than six foot tall, wearing the same jacket though his is covered with the same weird symbols, hardly any space left bare. On his feet are heavy leather riding boots, his legs adorned with dark gray denim jeans. His jacket hangs open, showing a black pullover hoodie; poking out of his sleeves are his hands, covered with the thin black leather of his gloves. A patch on his left shoulder displays the Roman numeral IV. He’s still wearing his helmet, the visor still down, obscuring his face. He’s quite attractive, even if he does scare the shit out of me. The thought races through my mind before I can stop it. “First week on the job and this is how you act? You best believe that The Boss will be hearing about this. This isn’t the kind of shit we do around here. We don’t need this added to our reputation, do we gentlemen? Besides, I don’t get paid enough to clean up your fucking mess.” He spits the last sentence at the two figures in front of him. As he speaks, he steps closer to the others until he is directly in front of them. “Now can one of you explain to me why you’re still here?”

The shorter man answers him in a hushed tone, his voice full of shame. “You haven’t dismissed us yet, sir.” He keeps his eyes on the ground.

What I think is a brief chuckle emanates from the man aptly labeled IV. “Excellent observation. Before I dismiss you, I want to see you apologize to the young lady for scaring her.” He turns his body towards me, his hand held out in a beckoning gesture. I keep my back pressed firmly against the concrete behind me, and lift my umbrella higher in front of me. The two other men mumble out apologies, the words desperately lacking any meaning. Mr. Roman numerals notices this, clearly displeased with the lack of effort. “You can do better than that, you rats!” The subtle edge that was in his voice is now razor sharp, and cuts through the air, the two men flinching at the harsh tone.

“W-we’re sorry, ma’am, for acting out of line. It was very rude and inconsiderate of us.” The taller man speaks up first, his voice slightly shaking. His eyes flick up to mine for only a second, but the remorse I see is genuine.

The shorter man speaks next, “We acted like wild animals, and it was wrong. We’re very very sorry.” His eyes stay on his feet, and his voice is laced with equal parts fear and guilt.

The third man seems pleased with these apologies, and turns his attention back to me. “Do you accept?” I can feel his gaze burning into me through the dark tinted visor of his helmet.

I hesitate, glancing between the three men standing before me. The two are still standing there, hands behind their backs, eyes on the ground. The third man, Roman numerals himself, is waiting for an answer. I just want this strange moment to be over. I slowly nod my head yes, and swallow heavily.

“I need to hear you say it, love.” His voice has a softness to it now, a stark contrast to earlier.

I clear my throat and say, “Yes, I accept.” The strength in my voice surprises even me.

“Wonderful.” He turns back to the other two. “Before I let you two leave, if I ever see you two doing anything like this again, you’ll have to answer to me. And I don’t think you want that.” His voice is dripping with the promise of danger. He pauses for a few moments. “Now, I’m sick of seeing your faces. Go.” At his command, the two men turn and hurriedly walk to their bikes and speed off down the street. It’s at this point that I notice a third motorcycle parked, Mr. Numeral’s I assume. He releases a loud sigh, and turns back to me, his hands raising slowly.

My arm jerks the umbrella up higher, fear crashing through my body again. “St-stay away from me.” I hate how much my voice shakes, matched only by the tremors in my hands. “I’m not afraid to use this thing.” This comes out as a half strangled sob. I need to breathe. I force my lungs to work.

He freezes in place, before lowering his hands and holding them out in front of him, palms open towards me as if calming a spooked animal. He speaks with a soft tone. “Easy, princess. I’m not going to hurt you. I may be a criminal, but I’m not a monster.” He takes two steps back, creating more space between us. The vice grip on my chest loosens a little. “I just want to take my helmet off.” He raises his hands back up, and slowly pulls off his helmet, revealing a strange ornate mask covering his whole face. Most of the mask is black, with gold patches and tendrils adorning the rest of it. Over the forehead and around the eyes is a white lined pattern that I don’t recognize. His hair is covered by a backwards facing flat brim cap. The only feature that is visible are his eyes, and they’re a piercing brilliant blue. They cut through to my soul when they land on mine. “I don’t think you should be walking alone in this area. Can I—”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t fucking follow me.” I raise my umbrella back over my head and turn on my heels, continuing to walk in the direction of my home. Before I could get out of earshot, I heard him call out after me. I wasn’t going to. The rest of my walk home was reduced to a blur, as my mind floods with images of 6 years ago, and they bleed into the fresh memories from today. Tears pour down my cheeks at the memories of unwelcomed hands on my skin, staking claim on something that was not theirs.

As I slam my door closed behind me and slide the bolt home, all traces of my appetite have vanished. I walk to my small bathroom in the dark, and stand under the shower until the water turns ice cold.

[jamiesfootball]

🌧️ from the jamie telling sam and jan what happened in Amsterdam fic. thank you!!

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

It spills out of him. First like a faucet, but then like a river. An unending ceaseless flow, the glaciers melting and thawing, and cold ice turning into puddles with only the thinnest veneer of glass on top waiting to be cracked. The wheel spins in his chest, offloading water by the bucketful, but no matter how much he talks, how hurriedly he tries to push the words out, the buckets keep filling back up. The wheel spins, paddles dipping deep under the surface, but each bucket is just as heavy as the last. When he reaches the finale, he creaks to a halt. He waits balanced at the teetering top, uncertain of how much longer he can bear the weight before the wheel gives out and sends him plunging down into the dark again. Colin, who Jamie could’ve sworn was asleep five minutes ago, is the first voice to crack the silence. “You’re joking, right?”

[cinderswrites]

P R E T T Y :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

10518 / 30000 words. 35% done!

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

"Pretty" is a story about feeling unseen, losing motivation, and wanting to let your real self be shown to the world.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

WC: 1,958 :: CW: feelings of low self-esteem, possible dysphoria

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

“God, can you believe that guy was all over me?”

The door to the hotel room opened as Link stepped through with one of his friends and co-workers, Anna. Their laughter echoed in the large suite as the both of them dumped their belongings onto one of the tables and sat on the couch. As they both settled in, pulling their phones out and checking their influencer accounts, Link looked up and studied her face for a moment.

“He didn’t like… touch you inappropriately, right?” he asked.

Anna looked up and shook her head, “No, he wasn’t handsy at least.”

That made him feel better. While Anna was a model just like him, she was more of the ‘girl next door’, Plain Jane type. He felt awful for even thinking that, but she was beautiful in that way. Meanwhile, he was considered the very definition of ‘pretty boy’, with his blond hair and baby blue eyes and perfect skin.

He stretched out and sank into the couch, letting the silence settle between them. They always shared a room when they were going to be shooting in the same city. It was a way to keep themselves safe, and also not to get too lonely while away from their respective hometowns. One of his tattooed hands reached up to brush through his golden locks as he checked his messages.

He had thousands of DMs from creepy men wanting to get to know him. They were all purely based on the pictures he posted, and the music he shared. That same disjointed feeling settled into him.

wow ur hot let’s hook up

hey baby

why don’t you come to my flat?

such a pretty face deserves to be-

He didn’t finish reading that particular message. By now, his blocked section in his settings held almost the same number of followers he had, which were approaching a million. Even without his influencer status, people tended to recognize him because he had modeled for several large and popular clothing store brands. His face was in every city.

He only became more popular when he started modeling for makeup brands. He was always used as a testament to how well a foundation could provide coverage, given his heavily tattooed body. Link reached up to fiddle with one of his Dahlia piercings, sighing.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Anna glanced at him over her phone.

“Nothing, just… god, I am so tired of all these jerks in my DMs trying to hit on me,” he frowned.

“Any good ones?” she snickered softly.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, just the usual. ‘You’re hot’, ‘let’s hook up’, ‘I know what that pretty face can be used for’.”

Anna faked a gag, “How do you handle it?” she asked.

“Block,” he snorted. “Instantly. Then just move on from it, I guess.”

“Yeah, but it’s gotta be eating away at you,” she said this in a thoughtless way, her eyes returning to her own phone. “I don’t even get nearly as many messages as you.”

Link clenched his jaw a bit. While he liked rooming with Anna, she… had a tendency to be catty like that. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood to sit in the shared space with her anymore, “I’m gonna shower and probably head down to the lounge. See what’s up.”

“Cool. Call me if you need help or something. I’ll be up for a few hours yet,” she waved him off.

Link walked to his room and closed the door, leaning against it. He tossed his phone on the dresser and headed to his bathroom, turning on the water in the large walk-in shower. Steam filled the room as he slowly undressed. He looked at himself in the mirror, leaning in close to examine his face.

Still perfect.

S t i l l p r e t t y.

With a scowl, he turned away and walked into the shower, wincing at first for how hot the water was, but then he relaxed. Twenty minutes later, he was out and putting on a new set of clothes. A pair of well-fitted dark blue jeans, a black mesh shirt, and a teal plaid flannel buttoned up halfway. He dug through his little bag of jewelry, pulling out a silver chain to wear around his neck. He also put on some rings; they helped if he had to defend himself from any ‘touchers’.

He walked back to the bathroom and combed out his hair, leaving it to air dry. Once he was finished, he put his boots back on, grabbed the switchblade he always carried, and made sure he had his phone and wallet. He left the hotel suite and headed down to the lounge where there was a bar and people to mingle with if he was so inclined.

It was busy, of course. It was Friday night at an expensive resort hotel after all. He waded through throngs of bodies pressing close to each other, the sound of music thumping against his sensitive eardrums. He located the bar and moved to an emptier side of it, sitting on the stool and leaning forward with his arms on the bar top.

It didn’t take long before the bartender came around, asking him what he’d like to drink. “Whiskey and ginger ale,” he said. He was feeling a little more down than usual tonight.

As the bartender moved away to make his drink, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw notifications for several new DMs. His full lips pursed together before he scoffed quietly and shoved the device back into his pocket. He wasn’t in the mood.

Once his drink was in front of him, he wrapped his slender hands around the glass, looking at the amber liquid inside. He took a slow drink, feeling the burn and fizz from the carbonation slide down his throat. His eyes were downcast as he tried not to focus on that disjointed feeling again.

Feeling like the whole world only saw him as eye candy. Someone spoiled with good looks and money to do whatever he wanted with. Someone who had no personality aside from pretty.

When all of it was far from the truth. So far he sometimes wondered what it would be like to reveal everything to the public. How he had been left on his father’s doorstep as a newborn and never knew his mother.

How his father had trained him in the art of combat using knives of different shapes and sizes. Crafting him into the perfect little killer he wanted him to be.

And how, after all that training, his father had abandoned him as well at fourteen. Leaving Lincoln Hayes to struggle to survive and to channel that training in order to get what he wanted and take care of himself.

He scoffed again, shaking his head, and took a larger drink this time.

“Oof, bad night, love?”

The familiar voice made him sit up straight and turn around with wide eyes. Behind him was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair that curled down around his neck. He had a hint of stubble on his face and kind brown eyes. “Ray,” he blinked. “What are you doing here?”

The man chuckled and walked forward to take a seat next to him, intentionally brushing his shoulder against the blond’s. “In town on business,” he said simply. “I know you like this chain of hotels, so I thought I’d stop by, see if you were here.”

“Oh…” Link turned back to looking down at the glass in his hands.

Ray was an affluent businessman who owned a chain of niche boutiques meant for the wealthy. They’d met when Ray hired Link for a modeling gig and became close during and after the shoot. They weren’t exactly a couple, but they weren’t… not a couple, either. It confused Link, but he didn’t want to trouble the older man with labels and questions.

He didn’t want to be that person.

Ray’s arm wrapped around Link, his hand rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades where he knew Link carried a lot of his stress. “Talk to me, love,” he said in that gentle but rumbling tone of his. “What’s going on?”

“I just… I don’t know. I’m wondering if modeling is even worth it anymore,” he admitted quietly.

“Why do you feel that way?” his friend—lover?—asked.

Link took another drink of his whiskey, thinking about it. “I feel like anyone who meets me just sees the ‘model’ and not ‘me’,” he stated, “and it… I don’t know. I sound like a child, but it hurts my feelings, you know? I’m not just a model…”

“You’re so much more than that,” Ray finished for him. He pulled the younger man against his side in a half-embrace, brushing his fingers through those soft golden tresses. “It’s not my place to say whether or not you should continue your work, but if you’re not finding joy in it anymore… then maybe it’s time for you to take a step back and re-evaluate what you want from yourself and out of life.”

He took in Ray’s words, his head resting against his shoulder, grateful for the comfort and attention he was giving him. If there was anyone in the world that he missed most when he was traveling to modeling jobs, it was Ray. The older man was always there for him when he was around, and not just in a physical way.

“… Thanks,” he murmured, “you always just show up and know what to say.”

“It helps when you always post about what city you’ll be working in,” Ray chuckled again, and the sound made Link close his eyes and wish he could wrap himself up in it.

“Stalker,” he mumbled.

Ray continued stroking his hair, a soft look on his face with a hint of amusement. “Only for you, love,” he murmured, turning to kiss the top of his head sweetly. “Would you like to come up to my room? Spend tonight with me.”

Link pulled away and looked at him, studying his face for a few seconds. “Are you just going to leave again in the morning like last time?” he knew he sounded like a spoiled brat, but he couldn’t help the way he wanted Ray to stay. Even if it was only temporary.

Ray moved his hand to pinch his cheek playfully, “Are you missing me that much?”

“Sugar, I miss you the moment you start walking away,” Link pouted, turning his face away.

“Hm,” Ray hummed, dropping his hand. He tilted his head, looking over Link’s sour expression. “Why don’t you leave with me? Accompany me on some business trips. Take a little break from all this. While you’re away, you can think more about what you want to do.”

Link looked at him in shock, his blue eyes widening. “Y-you mean that? Y-you want me… with you?” his tone was almost whisper-soft.

Ray smiled at him, nodded. “Guess I’ve been missing you just as much, love,” he reached for Link’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Link had to bite the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling. He looked away as his eyes became watery and gave a little nod, “… Yeah. I would love to join you.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll collect your things from your room in the morning,” Ray got off the stool and gently pulled Link to his feet. “Come on, let’s get comfortable and watch a movie or something. Just relax tonight, okay?”

Link stepped closer, hugging Ray around the waist and nuzzling his face into his shoulder. The man always knew just what he needed. “Okay.”

[nightrae13]

ATTENTION TO ALL ADRIZOE/CHATSPERIA shippers, I found the best fic of them.

Honeybee by CoolCat

After feeling left aside by Ladybug, Chat is surprised to have a new partner for patrols. Lots of talking ensues, and a newfound companionship is born. AKA the Chat Noir/Vesperia fic the fandom low-key knows they need but wont admit to it.

many adjectives could be used from Paris' press to describe Chat: brave, funny, flirty, a Casanova, screw-up, dumb. However, she noticed that all of them failed to mention this sweet dorkyness and unwavering hopeful eyes that he was showing right now, and she suddenly understood why Ladybug wanted him around even with his flaws. It was endearing, really, and she suddenly felt way more at ease at being there with him.

This fan art is also on Instagram, and I'll highly appreciate it if you support me there too :)

[altruistic-meme]

idk what it says about my current mental state that i am writing so much hurt/comfort right now.

[charmac]

no pressure but just so you know i miss “all these nights are a blur” every day of my life. i hope you decide to update some day :)

Thank you!! I will definitely update it some day and I have been slowly working on the next chapter I've just been insanely busy with real life and currently I'm a little brainrotted by a certain piece of fanart that I'm writing a short fic based on and then I will update All These Nights and then the Sugar fic.. I promise I promise.. it's all coming...

[canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen]

In The Low Light Masterlist

Banner credit

Playlist for vibes <- not in proper chronological order yet

Song inspo for Sadie and IV's dynamic

Mood Board

Chapters

• 1 • 2 •

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

About the fic:

Things that you WILL find in this fic:

• Fem!OC main character. 

• MC is a SA survivor, and in one of the later chapters she will go into brief detail about the attack. There’s also some flashbacks to it in earlier chapters, but they’re not detailed.

• IV will be unmasked later on, and named (both physical description and name are fake). I know his actual name and such. unfortunately. I’m choosing details that are deliberately misleading and incorrect.

• vague descriptions of gun violence later on.

• they are part of a biker gang. Not Hells angels. A fictional one. I probably won’t even name it.

• a metric shit ton of fluff later on. Like seriously it’ll be so sweet it’ll rot your teeth.

• also I’m making them Canadian (like me), cause I don’t know British culture enough to write a whole story in it. 

Things you WILL NOT find in this fic:

• rape/non-con, domestic violence, or anything of the sort. This is not a “dark romance” get that shit out of here.

• any real or accurate information pertaining to the identities of the boys.

Background info:

Main characters name is Sadie Norton, she’s 29 and lives in Edmonton, Alberta where she works in a pharmacy. She used to live in Toronto, where she worked as a nurse. She moved to Edmonton after she was assaulted when she was walking home from work.

IV, I’m making him 31 in this. He’s the fourth in command of a city wide biker gang (can you guess who the other three are?). He’s lived in Edmonton his whole life and grew up extremely impoverished and in the rough part of town. He met Vess (aka The Boss), II (The Watchdog), and III (The Snake) when they were all in their late teens. They have been building their business slowly since then. IV refuses to tell Sadie really anything about his “day job” because “the less you know the better.”

IV is very soft with Sadie, and he becomes increasingly soft as the story goes on. Is their love enough for him to make the choice to leave the gang? Read to find out.

PS: II’s and III’s nicknames are not set in stone. I made them up on the spot while writing this.

PPS: the two men that corner Sadie in the first chapter are NOT II and III. They will be introduced later on as themselves.