#like I have a picture of my dog and it’ll detect that there’s a dog in the photo. and then siri tries to identify the breed etc etc

[shi-gut]

completely random but why tf did my phone identify a picture of little buddy as a species of bird??

welp, little buddy is a bird confirmed ig

[xxblairexxss]

Fluffy child

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.1k

A/N : Not really sure about this one. Sorry if it’s not up to your expectation, anon!

Requested!

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"Baby, I need to go now!"

"Wait!" You yelled back and picked up your fluffy son in your arms before making your way to your boyfriend, who was all prepared to leave with his small luggage. "Teddy said bye!”

He cackled as you waved the fluffy hand while the cat was looking very unamused as he was forced to wear the shirt. "Where did you get that?”

It was a toddler size Ferrari shirt with the number 16 at the back that you ordered months ago. "From a random website! Isn’t it cute? He liked it!” You squealed and kissed Teddy’s cheek.

"I don’t think he likes it, baby. Look at the face. He’s definitely giving you a side eye.” You laughed at your boyfriend’s horrible attempt to copy the expression. "I need to go now. I love you."

"There you go.” Teddy rolled down on the floor as you crouched to place him down before wrapping your arms around Charles’ neck as he kissed you on the cheek. "I’ll miss you!"

"I’ll miss you more. Teddy, don’t get used to my absence; it’ll only be 4 days."

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"Yeah, definitely. I mean—" Charles’ attentiveness to the conversation snapped when his phone rang. A smile instantly lit up his face when he saw the heart emoji at the end of the contact’s name. He usually got a few pictures of Teddy, your cat, every day, more if he was away. There were more pictures of the cat himself than your pictures in his phone by now.

Scooting the chair a little further away from Lando and Alex, he swiped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear, anticipating your voice. "Hey, baby!"

"Charles, he's gone…"

He frowned, unable to catch the words. Your voice was shaking, and there were a lot of voices where he was currently. "Sorry, baby. I didn’t hear you. What was that?"

"Teddy’s gone…" 

He heard you sniffle and choppy breathing, making his hand itching to hold you in his arms right now.

"Charles, where are you going?” Lando called out after seeing the Ferrari driver stand up abruptly.

"My room." That was all he said as he left the table and made his way to the driver’s room, away from anyone else so he could hear you clearly.

Teddyy was a kitten you found outside a library back when you were a student. He came to the family at an early stage of the relationship. Charles always preferred a dog, but you managed to change his mind, or maybe he was forced to change his mind because wherever you were, Teddy would be by your side. Even in bed. So he never really got to say no to the fluff of cloud. He was very vocal and proud of being a dad as well. In fact, people would always ask him about Teddy more than himself whenever he bumped into the fans. It surely felt like Teddy was slowly taking over the spotlight.

You woke up yesterday morning and headed to the kitchen to do your daily routine, which was to feed your child. There should be a mini-race between you and him about who got to reach the kitchen first, and he would have blasted out his vocal chords to alarm the whole apartment that he required food right there and then, but yesterday was different. He was just lying down on his bed, looking so weak that you had to bring him to the emergency vet. You stayed at the vet for hours up until he got surgery, alone and unable to ring Charles due to the time difference. It was 2 hours after the surgery that the vet told you he passed away due to the stress that the surgery caused. You were told he suffered from a disease that could be infected by a virus that was hard to detect, and it wasn’t your fault, but it definitely felt like it. You haven’t slept; you couldn’t look at his blue-coloured glass bowl without crying, and you needed Charles.

He didn’t say anything throughout the video call, which lasted for at least an hour. You were filling him up with everything that happened with your puffy eyes, messy hair bun with your knitted cardigan, and looking like a divorced housewife who couldn’t move on from their cheater husband.

"I’m all good now. A little sad," You sniffed and wiped the tears with your oversized sweatshirt sleeve that was a little darker in colour from being used as a replacement for a tissue. "but I’m good."

Charles smiled, his heart swelling from seeing the way you tried to play it off just so he wouldn’t have to worry too much. “Are you sure you are okay, angel? I can stay on the phone longer. They don’t need me until 3, at least.” His gaze went to the top left of his phone screen. It was 2:57 PM.

"No, it’s okay." You brought the phone closer and managed a smile after seeing the way he looked at you. "Good luck."

"I love you, precious. I’ll probably arrive by midnight. You don’t have to wait for me, alright?"

You rubbed your eyes, nodding to his question before waving as he ended the call. The brown, printed blanket was back clinging to your body as you turned yourself into a cocoon and scrolled through pictures of Teddy while F1TV was airing on your television with just a few hours to go before the race.

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Everything had to make the loudest sound when he needed to be quiet. The sound of his shoe against the floor, which was usually silent as the grave, had to be the loudest ever at this hour. The sound of something shuffling against the floor made him whip his head as fast as he could towards the hallway, as soon as he closed the door.

"Baby?"

The shuffling sound came faster and louder as he made his way deeper into the dark hallway and stumbled back as you threw yourself against him. Too fast that he didn’t catch a glimpse of your body coming.

“F—you scared me.” He breathed out, and his arm went around your petite frame. He didn’t turn on the light because you often fell asleep on the couch, and he would hate himself for waking you up, but every sound in the dark would be connected to a burglar. He would have thrown a kick if he hadn’t caught the lavender scent from your body wash as you crashed into him earlier. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was waiting for you." 

The thumping sound filled the silence as he let go of the bag he was holding with his other hand as he held you when you started crying in his arms. "Baby…"

It felt like you had drained out every salty liquid you had left because you were dehydrated after soaking Charles’ black shirt with your tears. You were flushed red when he cackled at you as you apologised for the mess.

"You should change out of this." He jerked back as you tugged on the shirt.

"Don’t be silly. Baby, stop trying to strip me. This is an assault."

You tugged on it again. "Go and change! It probably has my snot on it."

"Okay, and?"

"It’s disgusting!" 

"Just tell me if you want to see my body. There’s no need to make up an excuse.” You rolled your eyes and left the kitchen while Charles waited for the linguine noodles to cook.

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"Is it done?”

You looked adorable with the puffy eyes and his hoodie, which seemed to be twice the size of your body, but Charles refused to say it out loud because you would turn down the compliment as if he were making fun of you. "It’s done, but it’s mine.” He had eaten earlier on the plane, but he didn’t have to ask to know you hadn’t eaten anything. He knew you from the back of his hand. He also knew you wouldn’t say no to your favourite food, butter pasta, so even when you told him you weren’t hungry, he still ended up cooking the food just because he wanted you to eat.

"Can I have a bite?” You wished he didn’t hear your stomach grumble.

Your phone was placed on your lap as he feed you a mouthful so as you leaned in, and he caught a glance of a recent picture of you and Teddy on your screen. He hadn’t really gotten to ask why or what happened because it didn’t seem like you were ready for it. All he knew was that you had to bring him to the emergency room because he wasn’t responding well, and that was it. "Baby, what happened?"

"It was my fault.” You sighed, frustrated with yourself, as you pressed the bottom part of your palm against your eyes to stop the tears.

Charles placed his hand on your waist, and you felt him keep stroking his thumb against it while you tried to gather your emotions. "I should have known something was wrong when he didn’t really want to eat his food two days ago, but I thought it was because of the new brand of food that I recently bought. I’m such a bad mom."

He took the plate away before drawing you into his arms. "You were the best owner any cat could ask for, baby. There are some things that are beyond our control. It wasn’t your fault. We even bought him for a monthly checkup. We did everything we could. You weren’t neglecting him just because you couldn’t detect his sickness early. He was looking fine even before I left."

"I miss him so much..." 

"I know, precious. I know." The screen of your phone lights up again from a light touch of your clothes. "How about you show me pictures of him that I haven’t seen?"

"Won’t it be boring?” You wiped your tears with your sleeves again as you went to your photo album and scrolled through thousands of pictures and videos of him throughout the year. "Have you seen this one?"

"Which one?" He pulled you closer as you laid on his chest.

"This one." You chuckled and clicked on the play button. "It was when I bought a new mouse toy for him, and he was so excited that he fell off the bed from chasing it."

He was listening to you attentively until you asked to go to sleep. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept at all, even on the plane on his way back to fight the jet lag. He nearly fell asleep standing while he was waiting for the block of butter to melt against the pan, but it was worth it to joke around, to lighten up the mood, to lend you his shoulder, ears, and shirt to soak your tears with because as he stepped into the house, he knew he had a responsibility as your boyfriend. Sleep could wait; he would be happy to watch the same video of Teddy just from different angles a hundred times if that was what made you smile.

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Charles squinted his eyes as he caught you walking back to the car with a paper bag of fruits on your left hand and something fluffy on your right. The door to the shotgun seat was opened as you got in, and the fluffy thing you were holding meowed.

He had a lot of questions, but he didn’t know where to start. He thought you said you wanted to drop by the supermarket real quick to get some fruits, and he just had to wait in the car. What was supposed to be 20 minutes turned out to be longer than that. He even had to call you to ask why you were taking so long and if you needed his help, to which you said no, and now you brought in a fluffy, moving animal as if it were part of the fruits.

"Baby, what…did you buy?“

"Oh!" You let go of the kitten and took out the small packets of everything inside the paper bag. "I bought strawberries! Blueberries and some bananas. I also got some marshmallows!”

"And what is that?” Charles arched his brow, eyes on the kitten on your lap.

"Which one?" You tilted your head.

“That..?”

“Oh! It’s a kitten!” You beamed.

"Ah, it’s a kitten! I wouldn’t have guessed. Y/N, did you think you could sneak in a kitten in the car and I wouldn’t find out about it?” He was so lost for words that he ended up chuckling.

"I found Boo on the side of the street!” You picked the kitten up and booped on the nose.

"Who is Boo? It has a name already?" 

"Can we take her, please? Please, please! I can’t just leave her on the street. She was hungry too!” You cradled the kitten against your chest and tried not to make any eye contact with your boyfriend so that he would just accept his fate and drive home. “Look at the face! She reminds me of Teddy!”

"Well, she has a name already. Let’s just go home, Boo."

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[kinocomix]

untitled project devlog #5: Murder mystery and the art of 50 cent plushies from the sunday market 

A common thread among people who watch shows like NCIS or similar formulaic police shows -where the protagonist is a stoic wall of muscle surrounded by their coworkers who end up being more friends than coworkers- is to predict what’s happening. You frequently hear people go “I knew it was [blank] all along!” Which makes sense, that’s part of the appeal of these shows and how they’re written. You’re MEANT to be hooked in by the incomplete information, that’s the crux of ARGs like the mandela catalogue and marble hornets, lonelygirl15 before Austin Mcconel took over (his words not mine)

sidenote, Sarah from the mandela catalogue is an alternate I’M CALLING IT NOW, this bitch is sus as fuck.

Back to my point, mystery in fiction is a promise made by the author, that promise being that once it’s cemented itself in the logic of the world it inhabits (think how in the mandela catalogue the first few installments were introducing you to the idea of the demons that try to copy people) it’ll slowly unravel itself to the point where its cards are eventually there on the table, and it’s up to you to go back and see how you could have read them better. a good mystery makes the act of solving it equally as fascinating as the solution -that’s why agatha christie tends to be timeless whereas the appeal of shows like NCIS is eventually delegated to the character arcs and set pieces.

In the documentary free solo, Alex Honnold is on a mission to climb El Capitan, in Yosemite National Park with no safety equipment. The actual bit in the documentary where he does the climbing is around 5 to 10 minutes of the 100 minute long runtime of the film. the argument could be made that they could just upload the 5 minute montage of the climb to youtube, and for the extra vicarious thrillseekers low key on the autism spectrum like me, the unedited 3.5 hour long footage of him raw dogging the mountain. But that’s not what documentaries are the same way detective movies aren’t 20 minute podcasts of someone dryly reciting a police file. Documentaries aim to use the language and vocabulary of cinema to discuss everyday ideas. that’s why free solo spends 80 minutes teaching you about climbing as an art, showing you Alex the human, his friends, the shortcomings of other free soloists who died climbing and THEN shows you the 5 minute montage… because at that point the stakes are so high -appropriately so- that the shots of the camera man not being able to look in his viewfinder out of fear of filming someone’s death become intensely real. Alex becomes more than just the visualized idea of the climber, he’s THE climber Alex. The madman who wants to see something done. The friend, the human. It's about narrative delivery, the balance between tension and release. 

This is interesting to consider because the information here is essentially the same, but one feels much more interesting. This same idea is why some science communicators like Hank Green and Bill Nye do a much better job at making you interested in science than most articles on google scholar, it’s the same information but more approachable and digestible. what i”m getting at here is that most things can be very interesting if you put this twist on them, even removed from the context of media: you’re not just talking to your racist boomer uncle, you’re privy to a front row seat into what makes someone grow up to be a racist shithead, which is significantly more interesting. When you shift your thinking into wanting to understand what’s behind the information, life becomes as thrilling and mysterious as a murder novel.

Now let’s apply this paradigm to something like this plushie I bought for 50 cents from the sunday market, and as you’ll see it’s going to raise a very interesting question regarding naturalistic storytelling. 

I did not take a picture of it when I found it but it was very dirty, I had to wash it twice, and you can see how damaged it was, there were tears on the front as well and half the stitches connecting the head to the body were gone.

Here it is after it was fully sewed back up, I opted to highlight the patches because I think it shows the history behind the plush, and because I’ve been watching a lot of Baumgartner restoration videos lately and Julian would take away my fabric privileges if I covered up more than is needed.

also yes, it’s being propped up with an empty jar of tahini, it is delicious and I will not be taking feedback at this time. I want to direct your attention at this Logo here:

now if you search for “Herz’l plush” you get a bunch of disconcerting anatomically correct heart plushies that are sure to stab me in my sleep that are wildly unrelated to the brand. Unsurprising, it’s german for “my heart”

a bit of extra digging and you might come across this german reseller website with some plushies with the same tag, but nothing useful to our search is mentioned…

https://www.kleinanzeigen.de/s-anzeige/spiralplueschtier-schlange-herz-l-pluesch-kuscheltier/1850047318-23-4712

so… that’s a bust. What about the other side of the tag?

okay… not too sure of what to make of that. But that’s what search engines are for, let’s try “seneca”:

Oh it’s… a Stoic philosopher. Okay what about “seneca Hamburg?” 

https://www.ebay.de/itm/125112346754

more ebay listings. great. okay fine, let’s ask the internet for help

I see. surely someone knows SOMETHING.

ok wow this thing is… old.

of course! The german trademark register. I feel dumb. let’s see what’s in there:

oh god oh jesus what is all this why is there a giant block of text is THAT-

okay so they made the plushie but why is it so FUCKING obscure? At this point I remembered I have a German lawyer friend. Everyone needs to have a German lawyer friend.

okay! now we know what to actually search for.

https://www.northdata.com/Terrex+Handels-AG,+Oststeinbek/Amtsgericht+L%C3%BCbeck+HRB+1610+RE

liquidation? so… they never renewed the trademark cause there was no more company. seems like they weren’t doing too well either. looks like at some point they did a merger with another company. Then not too soon later liquidated it… thanks to my dear lawyer friend here, I can tell you this:

“Every company is owned by a larger company, which is the shell company of a different company. At the end, you figure out all companies are owned by like 3-5 companies”

To recap, here’s what we learned about the tag on our plushie:

The plushie is exactly 30 years old as of 2023. This is not to mention that I learned about how companies buy each other like stocks, how there’s something called forensic accounting because of that, that the “China export” thing is just a myth*, and more…

*https://www.europarl.europa.eu/doceo/document/P-6-2007-5938-ASW_EN.html?redirect

so this is where we ended up:

It’s possible I may have gotten carried away. Setting that aside for a moment, this is what I mean when I say mysteries are good because they make you learn and explore. Sometimes, connections and breakthroughs are made because of things like a plushie that you would have otherwise completely ignored. 

What this has to do with naturalistic storytelling is how it highlights the fact that life is messy. Despite the fact that I hyper fixated on this plush for hours, there’s a lot I still don’t know about it. I have a general overview of the situation for sure, I know it was made in Germany in 1993, and stuff about the company that made it but that’s about it. Good mysteries stay puzzling even after you solve them because LIFE is mysterious. The balance here is how much do you show the reader, and how much do you leave unanswered? The way I’ve personally found that deals with this has to do with format and layered storytelling.

There's one thing that comics do that will always be superior to other media and that is layered storytelling. Not to be confused with how films have a plots and b plots, or how books can choose to switch the focus of the scene onto something different: layered storytelling is when multiple pieces of information are being conveyed at once.

a very straight forward example oh what i mean is how in this section in my comic “Almost home” when Graham is having a conversation with a mysterious person who randomly shows up to see them:

In addition to the conversation being had, there’s this cypher in the background that you would have found the key to prior in the comic. The existence of a parallel piece of information that you can switch your attention to if you so desire is what makes this parallel storytelling. The reason I don’t think this could work in film is because in a comic, you dictate the speed at which the media is occurring. If you stop reading a speech bubble, that doesn’t mean the story is paused, it just means you’re focusing on the moment the panel is trying to show you; and different people do this differently.

In this panel, you’re free to choose whether or not the ciphered text is being narrated or not because focusing on it is optional and doesn't take away from your ability to understand what’s happening immediately in front of you. You’re free to read all of my comics without engaging with a single thing I put in the background and it will still provide a satisfying and emotional experience. Games also do this when done right, an excellent example is “Night in the woods” and how you’re free to ignore most of the town, or sidequests for example. 

Another example is an unreleased project of mine still in early development called “the ice cream men”. The story follows two aliens who get stuck on earth and set about trying to make ice cream, shenanigans and existentialism ensue. In the book there’s an entire second narrative told in the form of writings on walls and random journal entries that they find that they just can’t read because… they’re aliens. To them this is just a big abandoned planet with a single cat on it, but to the reader with the ability to see everything… HOO BOY.

This is something I love incorporating into fiction. I think it gives things more depth if done right, and can act like the mystery of a detective novel or an ARG. Obviously this doesn't always work, sometimes the beauty of a story is its simplicity, or by how in your face it is about being analyzed. Not every idea needs or can even handle the additional weight of parallel storytelling.  And that’s where dogs come in.

but I can’t talk about that now, we’ll have to leave it until next week.

Devlog updates on tuesdays.

[enkisstories]

Rika turns to both Gavin and Connor next, after Hank the best detectives not just at central, but in all of Detroit. Their qualification is beyond question, but so is their loyalty - Gavin's to his species, nevermind that he used to live in permanent fear of getting laid of in favour of a cheaper, android, worker by his fellow humans, and Connor to whoever is presented to him as his superior. Blind obediance is not a quality Markus is looking for in his new police force and therefore the offer the revolution leader had for Hank isn't extended to Gavin and Connor.

Rika: "Before you go, would you have a look at this, detective?”

Gavin noncommittally casts a glance at Rika’s new phone, but his mimic changes to an adoring one, when he sees that it is full of cat pictures. A few slides later there are also dogs... guinea pigs... a parrot...

Rika: “There's a job opening in an animal shelter and as the occupying force, Jericho could demand they hire you before considering other appliccants. If you want, that is. It's not paying much, but maybe you'd want to try a career that's closer to your interests for a change? The revolution can be a chance for humans just as well as for androids, you know!"

Gavin: "Okay, those pics were cute, but, no, thanks.”

Rika: “But what will you do now?”

Gavin: “Cutting trees, most likely. Whatever they do for a living in Canada.”

Hank: “Canada?”

Gavin: “I applied for fugitive status and it got through this morning. I just wanted to listen to all my options before leaving Detroit.”

Gavin figures he is still young enough to start over elsewhere. It won't be easy, but he counts on his "fugitive from the machine takeover" status to tide him over the worst. To capitalize on that sympathy, Gavin Reed needs to leave the city before anybody coming from Detroit will register as a potential spy of Jericho's.

Rika: "Part of me rejoyces to hear that you’ll be out of our lives. But my head says it's a waste of what could still have turned into a decent human being. You're fun at parties, that much I have to give you. There will be a goodbye party, yes?"

Gavin: "Naturally! Feel free to invite yourself - I'll relish in the knowledge that it'll be the last I'll have seen of you tin cans! Canada always was an android-free zone.”

Hank: "Let me guess: You want us to go to Gavin's party and not just dip, but remain ‘till the end to see with our own eyes that he really leaves Detroit?"

Connor: *nods eagerly*

Hank: *groans*

In their short time together so far, Hank has almost naturally slid into the role of not just a mentor on the job, but also a father figure for Connor. Just now he provided something especially valuable to the young android:

A parent who disapproves of Connor's partying habits and the kids he chooses to hang out with.

Young adult milestone achieved! Program instability increased!

[raleighcarrera]

best of me

ride or die | logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

a picture of logan and ellie in their thirties for @rodappreciationweek and the time capsule challenge 🌼

tags: @choicesarehard ; @lovehugsandcandy ; @pixeljazzy ; @troublemakerinspace ; @zigtheeortega ; @jaxmatsuo

~2.3k words | T

“mr. wheeler!” 

logan looked around the parking lot, squinting into the sun. one of his students was running at him full speed, holding his cell phone aloft and waving it around excitedly. “what’s up, alex?”

alex drew to a stop in front of him breathlessly. “i got in,” he said, lips splitting into a big grin. “cal tech, i got in.”

“hey, that’s awesome!” logan said, reaching out to clap the student on the shoulder. “congrats, alex. that’s a huge accomplishment.”

“dude, thank you so much for your recommendation,” alex said, nodding enthusiastically. “you’re honestly the best teacher i’ve ever had.”

“give yourself some credit,” he smiled, “you worked hard, and cal tech is lucky to have you. just don’t forget to come back and visit, yeah?”

“for sure,” alex agreed. with one last grin, he was gone, and logan finished getting his things in the car so he could head home, the rest of the students and faculty in the parking lot of mar vista high well used to the roar his devore’s engine made by now, after three years of teaching.

ellie’s car was already in the driveway when he arrived back at the house, and logan frowned when he parked on the street and jogged up the walk to their front door. it was early for her to be home; usually his day ended well before hers. as he walked inside, he wondered absently if the fact that she’d had an early afternoon meant she’d started dinner, and if he was possibly lucky enough that she was making that noodle thing he liked so much.

“ellie?” his keys landed in the bowl by the door with a familiar clink, his shoes kicked off one by one on the mat. “babe?”

“in here!” the stressed-out voice of his wife filtered in from the spare room. as soon as logan took a step towards the hallway, there was a sudden and aggressive rapid tap-tap-tap on the hardwood floor, and their dog ran at him at full speed, jumping up onto his legs with an excited bark.

“hey, clark,” he said gently, bending down to scratch the dog behind his floppy ears, “everything okay in there?”

the pointed silence that followed seemed to speak for itself. he followed the hallway down to the spare bedroom and found ellie sitting on the floor, surrounded by ripped-open cardboard boxes and indistinguishable small plastic pieces.

before logan could ask what she was doing, she frowned up at him and said, “i’ve been trying to put this baby carrier together for three hours.”

he arched his eyebrows at her, looking over the small mess she’d created in the middle of the room. “you’ve been here for three hours?”

ellie pulled a face at him, her lips twisted into a grimace. “morning sickness that lasts all day again,” she explained, scrunching up her nose. “jack caught me coming out of the bathroom and sent me home after lunch.”

“oh, no,” logan said sympathetically, dropping down onto his knees on the one free space of carpet. “i was hoping that’d’ve gone away by now.”

“you and me both,” ellie sighed, puckering her lips at him for a quick kiss. “i guess it was too much to hope for a baby without a rebellious streak a mile wide.”

“i’m still holding out for your dimples,” he grinned, “and that laugh. as long as the baby gets both of those, they’ll be set for life.”

“the baby is five minutes away from sleeping on the floor. i’m about to trash all of this and go take a nap.” the downtrodden expression on ellie’s face tugged at his heart in a way her cute little sighs always seemed to manage to. logan was already smiling when she squinted up at him hopefully and asked, “will you help me try to put it together?”

as if there was ever a chance he’d say no. “’course,” logan answered, “two heads are better than one, right? although you are an engineer...”

“believe me, graco is going to be hearing from me,” ellie grumbled, rolling gingerly to the side to shuffle awkwardly out of the way of the pile of pieces she’d already started putting together. she was just a few months along but already starting to show and moving about differently for it, unaccustomed to her new shape. “there is no reason these instructions should be more complicated than my master���s thesis.”

logan laughed, leaning over to take a peek at the paper spread out between her legs. “hey, they’re not so bad.” he easily snapped two pieces into place, forming the base of the carrier. “there we go.”

“show off.” ellie rolled her eyes, pushing another piece his way with a disdainful sniff. “i’m still calling them to complain.”

“and you totally should,” he said easily, “because they suck and you’re brilliant.”

“exactly,” she agreed. without looking up he could tell that her eyes were narrowed, her lip curling further with every piece he added onto the carrier, the methodic click of each settling into place ringing out loudly in the silent room. finally, ellie groaned, “god, i hate you. i knew this would be so easy for you.”

“okay, but that’s what i’m here for,” he reminded her with another soft smile, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze her knee. ellie huffed when he continued to turn a plastic screw one-handed. “to handle all this shit for you so you can relax. i know you have the hardest job, here.”

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” ellie’s sigh sounded wistful. when logan lifted his gaze he found her staring at him adoringly, her eyes wet. “i love you.”

“i love you too, baby. any idea what you want for dinner?” he looked away to concentrate on lining two tiny pieces up, frowning when they wouldn’t stick quite right. “come here for a sec, yeah? need some tiny fingers.”

ellie shot him a look, but leaned over anyway, wiggling her hand in the tight space he indicated until the two pieces sealed together with a pop. “maybe i don’t need a refund on my degree after all.”

“they should’ve paid you to take it,” logan agreed indulgently, nudging his shoulder gently against hers. “dinner?” he prompted again.

his wife groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the carpet. her arms and legs spread out like she was making a snow angel, disturbing the bubble wrap and cardboard that littered the room. “i want sushi,” ellie said sadly, “and a wine spritzer.”

“what about apple cider?” he asked gently, eyes still on the baby carrier even as one hand felt blindly for her calf and dug its thumb into her muscle for a massage. “it’s almost the same thing.”

“it’s not even close,” she sighed. “but fine. thank you.”

“you got it. why don’t i finish up in here, and you see what we have in the kitchen? it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“rub it in,” ellie muttered, rolling slowly to sit up. “okay. i feel like i should do something nice for you. maybe i can make that noodle thing you like.”

logan beamed at her, leaning in to steal a kiss. “that’s sweet of you, babe. thank you.”

ellie laughed, kissing him back before she asked, “why do i feel like this was all an elaborate set up to get me to make your favorite dinner?”

“because you’re a naturally suspicious person?” he guessed, lifting his hand to smooth her hair back off her face. “i don’t know.”

“i think it’s because you’re too charming for your own damn good.” but ellie was smiling when he pulled away, and that was all that mattered. it was the only goal he ever had. 

“no such thing,” logan smiled back, gently nudging her away. “i’m right behind you.”

“yeah, yeah,” she said, waving dismissively, “show off.”

he watched her walk away, staring until she disappeared around the corner, and then turned back to the mass of plastic and screws that was slowly starting to resemble an actual baby carrier. squinting down at the instructions, it was only a matter of minutes before he had the rest of it assembled, and then a few more while he backtracked, checking over his work to find where he’d missed the one remaining piece that had been left over.

he took the time to clean up in what was eventually going to be their nursery, eyes sweeping over the boxes and gifts that cluttered their spare room. there was a ways to go before they were anything even close to ready for the baby, and he knew ellie’s due date would be here in the blink of an eye.

would he ever really feel ready? it seemed insane, when he sat and thought about it -- he and ellie were going to be parents. more than home or dog owners or two people with jobs and bills, it seemed like a responsibility he felt no where near prepared for or equipped to deal with. sometimes he still felt like a stupid kid himself.

though he had absolutely no doubts about ellie. ellie took to every kid she met like a natural -- his students adored her, riya’s twins thought she was the greatest thing in the world and were still only lukewarm where he was concerned. the kids in the program they volunteered with couldn’t get enough of her.

she kept their house running and all their plants alive. she kept him so happy he was delirious with it, in a way that had felt utterly foreign at first but now seemed so common. 

enviously, he knew she’d be mother of the year without even having to try.

the rest of the room was tidied on autopilot as logan remained lost in his thoughts, and when he finally made his way into the kitchen it was, to his delight, to the tune of ellie in the middle of making his favorite dinner, the room smelling as amazing as the sight of her rushing around so domestically looked.

his heart gave a weak lurch as he stepped up behind her at the counter and wound his arms around her waist. his nose pressed into the dip at her shoulder with a sigh. “all done. next stop... crib.”

“don’t remind me,” ellie groaned, “my dad has been on my ass for weeks.”

logan winced. if there was one thing he knew about detective wheeler, it was that he was just as opinionated as his beautiful daughter. “maybe he could come with us to pick it out.”

“maybe he could mind his own business,” she suggested instead, stirring the boiling pot of pasta on the stove. “he acts like he knows everything there is to know about babies.”

“well,” logan said, nosing at the hair at the nape of her neck, “he did raise the most amazing person in the entire world. maybe we should give him some credit.”

“okay, kiss ass,” ellie laughed, “he can’t hear you. but fine. if you really want, we’ll all go next weekend.”

he shrugged. it was personally something he felt indifferent towards, but a few extra points with ellie’s dad never hurt. most of the time he was pretty certain detective wheeler still wanted him dead. “i think that’d be nice.”

“i bet you do,” she murmured, twisting around to hold the spoon she was holding out. “taste.”

he did, chewing and swallowing slowly. “it’s done,” logan said sadly, knowing the words meant he’d have to move away. ellie laughed as he pulled his arms back and went to set the table instead.

he headed to the fridge for the bottle of sparkling cider, making a show of popping the cork like champagne and pouring ellie a generous amount into the giant wine glass she hadn’t been able to use in awhile. she rolled her eyes at him as she put the serving bowl on the table. “it’s not the same.”

“it’s pretty close,” he argued, lifting his own glass up and swirling it like he’d seen many pretentious people at restaurants that made him uncomfortable do. “it’s a beautiful vintage,” he declared, as though he had any idea what that was supposed to mean, “with notes of... apples.”

gratifyingly, ellie dissolved into giggles, shaking her head. “i can’t stand you,” she said fondly, all smiles. he grinned back at her, lifting his glass to his lips. 

“to the baby,” ellie said suddenly, lifting her glass, too, and bumping it into his.

“to you,” logan corrected her, clinking his glass into hers a second time.

ellie narrowed her eyes at him. “to you.” their glasses knocked again.

“nuh uh,” he countered childishly, “you’re the baby’s mom.”

“you’re the baby’s dad,” she laughed, bouncing up on her toes to try to get at his glass even as he lifted it above his head and twisted out of her way.

“this is ridiculous,” logan grinned, “just let me toast you, oh my god.”

“no, it was my toast,” she said, jumping up and splashing apple cider out of her glass and onto the floor, “stop trying to hijack it!”

“okay, okay.” he held his hand out to concede, backing away to drop into his seat at the table. ellie followed suit, smirking triumphantly at him. she still loved to win. “to all of us, jeez. me and you and the baby.”

“to all of us,” ellie repeated, and this time, their glasses touched gently, the sound barely audible over the giggles that were building up in her throat again.

he flashed her a goofy grin before he tipped his head back and drained all his cider in one go. 

sure, it might’ve been nice to have had something stronger, but --

“mmm,” ellie sighed, smacking her lips as she set her glass down, “you were right. this is so much better.”

[missskzbiased]

Forget me not

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Established Relationship! au

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Fem! Reader 

Word Count: ~2,3K

Notes: The seventh fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

I don’t know anything about flowers language! So if it’s wrong, please blame google SUHAHUSAHUSHUAHUSA

Chan ||  Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Requested: Yes, by 💎anon   [I hope you like it! I don’t think I’d ever think of something like scavenger hunt for a plot lol, so it was kinda challenging. I did like to write it, and I hope it meets your expectations! <3]

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu @bythesunnotbythemoon

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

                                                       ///

    You pouted at your empty bed.

    You and Seungmin had planned to spend the day with each other, celebrating your fifth Valentine’s day together, and yet he was nowhere to be seen. You missed his warmth as soon as you woke up, a soft pillow under your arm instead of his body. You frowned, still kinda drowsy as you get up from bed, wandering around the house to look for him.

    “Come one, Seungmin! This isn’t funny” You whined in the middle of your living room, swiveling your head to get a clue but meeting nothing else than a pile of waffles on your table. You approached them, poking the warm and soft pieces twice, humming as you tasted the syrup… He wasn’t long gone.

    Maybe you should wait for him? Did he go out to buy some milk or something? Maybe he was trying to make you a romantic breakfast? You sat down, staring at the food before noticing a pink note attached to the plate. You would finally get some answers!

    I made you some waffles… This time I didn’t burn them! Haha. Please, eat well. I love you. Yours, one (first) and only Seungmin.

   You arched your brow, confused as to why Seungmin would scratch a correct phrasing to place a “first” there, but too tired to really care. You took a bite from the waffles, humming in appreciation. He did really get much better at this!

   You chuckled as the memory came back to you.

   The burnt smell spread all over the place, waking you up and alarming you. The panicked squeak that you heard from the kitchen didn’t help much to placate your fears, so you rushed there, stumbling all around the place. You would have expected anything but Seungmin standing in your kitchen ─ ashamed eyes snapping at you in a silent apology ─ with a plate of black pancakes, surrounded by a thin smoke.

    The first time he slept over and wanted to do you a surprise.

    You got better at this, hm? Didn’t even burn down my house this time! You messaged him, chuckling as you munched another piece, eyes fixed on your phone to not miss his answer.

    There is a first for everything! He answered, making you roll your eyes playfully. What a silly guy. Ready to come and meet me?

    I missed you here with me… You typed, pursing your lips as you sent him the message. Was it too cheesy? Are we going on a date today?

    First, you have to meet me! He said, and you almost could hear him giggling excitedly wherever he was. It’s Scavenger time, kitten! I promised you this Valentine’s would be really special, didn’t I?

   Scavenger as in a scavenger hunt? You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. And you’re my prize? How conceited… You mocked him, getting up from the table to go to your room and get changed.

    He didn’t answer your messages after that.

                                                          ////

     You crossed your arms over your chest.

     Were you being too naïve? You stared at the door unsurely, rubbing your chin in wonder. Seungmin was witty and he liked to drop subtle hints around… Were you being too conspirational or were you on spot? He wouldn’t keep repeating “first” all around if it didn’t mean anything, right? The “casual” choice of words was quite suspicious as well… He never called you a kitten before.

    Coincidence or not, the first time you met each other was here.

    A cat adoption center.

    The first time you met Seungmin, you were going to adopt a cat to gift your best friend. They just loved cats and you couldn’t help but think it was the perfect gift. You were right indeed, but up to this date, your friend joked around saying that Seungmin was the best gift they could have given to you.    

    You gathered your courage to get in the place, looking around to see if you could see him anywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. Unsurprisingly, though, Minho came right in your way, an amused smirk playing on his lips. You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him.

    “Do you know what is this all about?” You asked suspicious of him.

    “No, Seungmin knew he couldn’t trust me with a secret” He chortled “The only thing I know is that he’s being cheesy and asked me to hand you this” He said, extending a small envelope to you.

    The first time we ever met… Do you still remember it? Although you can never let him know, I’m forever grateful to Minho for dragging me with him there. Even if his whole point was for me to see that cats were better than dogs. They’re not. You can tell it to him now if you want. Still, it is thanks to him that I ever landed my eyes on you. It’s also thanks to him that we got our first date… You know where you should be going now, right? No need to worry, no one will spill their soda on you!

P.S.: If it does happen for some reason, I didn’t plan it. Please don’t hit me.      

   You chuckled, lifting your eyes to Minho playfully.

   “Sorry, but cats suck” He scoffed at you, rolling his eyes.

   “He’s brainwashing you, Y/N!” He jokingly complained, poking your forehead, “Go away!” He whined, pushing you to the door “And if he asks, I didn’t tell anything about Hyunjin”

   “But you didn’t tell me anything about Hyunjin” You frowned, getting an unimpressed look from him “Oh!” You chortled “Thank you, Minho! It’ll help me a lot” You waved at him, getting out of the store.

                                                       ////

    This time you just walked confidently into the store.

    You looked around to find Hyunjin, already aware that Seungmin wouldn’t be waiting for you there. You peeked at the clothes displayed, chuckling as you remember your first date with Seungmin.

    Although both of you were nervous back then, Seungmin was a whole new kind of a mess. The way he got startled when his fingers brushed yours over the shared French fries would forever be carved in your mind as his most hilarious reaction to anything ever. Unfortunately, the soda he spilled over you would also be forever there on your favorite blouse… One could not only win, right?

    “Oh, you’re here!” Hyunjin smiled at you, walking your way “How is it going? Are you liking to play detective?” He chortled, looking for something through his pockets.

    “He’s being too cute for a simple Valentine’s Day” You pointed out to see if Hyunjin would give anything away but he just shrugged “Seungmin was always the hopeless romantic, though” You acknowledged, getting a humming from him.

   “I won’t tell you anything, I’m not Minho” He snorted.

   “Come one! I want to know what’s going on!” You whined.

   “Then solve everything and meet him!” He retorted playfully, handing you the next letter before walking away.

   I hope no one had spilled anything on your clothes today… If someone did, though, I have a surprise for you. Hyunjin should be back with it in no time. Even though that first date was a mess, I’m happy we had so many others after that so I could redeem myself. I had never been so nervous in my whole life, and I think deep down I already knew you were special. I know I’m the one who’s doing this to me, but I wish I could be there to kiss you right now. For me, every single kiss we shared was as tender and full of love as the first one… But the first was what brought us together, and I hope it will bring you back to me once more.

    You smiled softly as the warmth spread over your chest.

    You didn’t even need to try and get this out of Hyunjin… You knew exactly where to go now. You raised your eyes to meet a goofy Hyunjin showing you an outfit too similar to the one you wore on your first date with Seungmin.

    “Put this on before you go!” He chirped.

                                                        ////

    The bus stop was empty.

    You made your way to the bench, a sigh leaving your lips as you looked fondly at the place, a nostalgic Feeling engulfing you. The first kiss you shared was rushed and unsure, a bold way to make up for the words you couldn’t speak up. The insecurities were offset by the overflowing feelings that were enough to reassure both of your hearts.  

   You still remembered how you got on the bus, upset by the lack of attitude from Seungmin. Didn’t he like you? Because you sure as hell liked him! Couldn’t he just make a move? Anything? You sighed when you turned away, stepping inside the vehicle with nothing but disappointment in your heart. Maybe he didn’t like you as much as you liked him…

    Then it hit you.

    What if he felt just the same way as you?

    When you snapped your body to turn away and get back to him, he was already there to catch you. Apparently, the same thought had occurred to him, and his arms wrapped you up as your lips met half-way. The initially rushed kiss turned into a loving and tender one rather quickly as soon as you realized that both of you weren’t going anywhere.

    Well, except that the bus driver kinda needed you to go or stay.

    The ride home was filled with a cozy feeling as you nuzzled each other.

    You sauntered there mindlessly, sitting on the bench before looking around curiously, noticing a poster hanging on the wall. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, noticing how familiar the couple on the picture looked like. It was you two. Seungmin held your hand, and it was painfully obvious how he was stiff and anxious there while you had no clue of what was going on, smiling brightly at the picture.

    The restaurant where he confessed his feeling for you.

    The place where both of you finally got together.

    You chuckled, knowing exactly what bus you should be riding right now.

                                                          ////

    Seungmin was waiting for you with a small flower.

    “You’re here” He stated quite awkwardly, and you couldn’t help but tilt your head in confusion. It sounded like he wasn’t happy to see you “You’re… You look amazing” He said emotionally, and you burst out laughing.

    “You don’t look bad as well” You teased, checking him out “I’d even say you’re the most handsome boyfriend I have ever met” You chuckled, getting closer to him to place a kiss on his lips.

    He didn’t let you.

    Seungmin extended his hand to you, shoving the flower in your hands.

   “What is it? Another clue?” You asked confused, looking at the small plant. You didn’t know much about flowers, but you recognized it as a forget-me-not. Only Lord knows why you would know it, though.

    “Y/N…” He cleared his throat, loosening up his collar “I brought you here today because…” He took a deep breath “Because here was the place I finally confessed my feelings for you” He finished, kinda proud of himself for managing to say that much.

    He took one step ahead, holding your hands on his.

    “I know you’re a big fan of Scavenger Hunts… But it wasn’t the only reason why I made this” He continued, a little bit more at ease as you smiled at him encouragingly “First, in this entire world… Meeting you was the best thing that could ever happen to me. Finding you? It was the right place and right time… And you’re the right person for me… On this scavenger hunt of life, you’re the only one I’d ever want” He pursed his lips.

    What did you do to deserve him?

    “I-I’m giving this flower to you…” He gulped down, eyes wavering as he tried to focus on yours “Because it means true love…” You cooed at him, expression softening as you felt your heart swelling “It’s to remember all those memories we shared… And how we’re here now, how our love grew with time… It’s to say that this isn’t a spark” He squeezed your hands, eyes finally fixing on yours.

    “Seungmin… This is beautif—“ You teared up, but he didn’t let you finish.

    “We had many first times together… And I treasure and remember every single one of them… They’re memories that I never want to let go” He continued, and you could feel his hands shaking “But more important than having first times… I want you to be all of my firsts and last times for everything… I want to have two, three, four… A hundred of experiences with you”

    He let go of your hand, wiping his hands on his pants.

    “I truly love you, Y/N” He choked, getting on one knee. You widened your eyes, startled by the slow yet too sudden motion, the tears immediately making their way to your eyes “There is no one else I want to share my life with… This was the place where I first asked you to be mine… And this is the place where I want to ask you to be mine till the end”

    You tried to wipe your tears away, face twisting in a crying frown that would look awful on the photos people were taking of you. It didn’t matter though. Nothing else mattered because Seungmin was on his knee, showing you a small box that contained the symbol of all your love and connection.

    “Y/N… Will you marry me?” He asked, tears rolling down his face.

     You would never even dare to say no.

[mcofthemansion]

Just thought it would be interesting to think about what pokemon starters the Ikemen vampire characters might pick! And maybe what kind of trainers they would be...well of course once Mc explained what a pokemon is...I hope this isn't boring

So here's the headcanon :

(These are just my opinions! Feel free to tell me what you think! There isn't like a wrong or right answer)

Arthur :

• Arthur finds all the starters of each generation interesting

• would probably pick a pokemon with an outgoing personality something like maybe Oshawott, Charmander, or Popplio

• Remembering when Arthur told us about when he was getting Vic...who's to say he won't make that same cute mistake twice (even with his godly observation skills, he's still capable of mistakes sometimes, rarely, besides it's cute) With a pokemon this time

• So Arthur chooses Popplio

• "don't you look like a fine gent, let's get along nicely"

• Eventually Popplio evolves into Brionne and then Primarina then he realizes his Primarina is a girl

• still sticks to his guns like he does with Vic

• He loves how pretty and majestic Primarina looks, and plenty of "Skirts" in town like his pretty Primarina too

• He would probably be decent at batting but with a beauty like Primarina maybe he would try Contests or Musicals instead, also lots of contest or musical trainers are women ;)

• Imagine Arthur dressing up Primarina as a detective!

• He would probably also be the kind of trainer to always stock up on full restores, revives, and full heals.

• He might be a pokemon breeder on the side it kinda suits him sort of, maybe eventually dabble a bit in pokemon doctoring

• He might meet Brock from the first season of Pokemon and become good friends

• Would probably be smart with like battle items too like X Attacks and X defenses and such

• perfect strategist and would set up terrains and use smart moves, would also have perfect offence and defense

• He and Primarina would probably be a delight to have a journey with

...

Theo :

• Would immediately look for a strong and or tough looking one

• No dog starter, that's too bad

• Stays the hell away from Litten

• Can sense great things from Charmander

• trains very hard everyday

• Charmander evolves into Charmeleon then Charizard and does not disappoint

• No one would want to mess with Theo and Charizard

• Focuses more on attack

• probably has like a potion somewhere right? Kinda forgets about that

• I can see him having a few similar personality traits from Paul from the pokemon diamond and pearl anime

• Once he becomes pokemon champion of the region he's in, he'd probably spend loads of time at the art galleries in different regions, it would be a whole new world for him

• Charizard would have a sweet tooth like Theo (They need some cute underneath that tough exterior)

• Charizard gets along well with Vincent's pokemon

• Would be a great Ally to have if your traveling and prone to regional evil team encounters

...

Vincent :

• Is a great friend to the shy pokemon of the bunch

• All the pokemon are at least a little drawn to his kind and caring nature, he's the snow white of the mansion residents

• I can see him eventually deciding on Chikorita

• He would probably paint pictures of it and have them put in pokemon art galleries, like the big one in Lumios city in the Kalos region

• It will look even prettier as it evolves

• C'mon Vincent and Meganium was meant to be

• He would probably be more into Contests but make no mistake, he will mop the floor with your pokemon if you dare battle him

• Would probably be great at defense and takes out pokemon in 1 hit

• He would probably immediately be good at making pokemon food, he doesn't want them to starve afterall

• His pokemon are close with Theo's pokemon

• He would probably be good about always having supplies on hand for pokemon

• Meganium would probably always have the same expressions as Vincent most of the time! Adorable!

• He Would be a delight to travel with

...

Will :

• Which one looks mischievous enough to keep up with him?

• Chimchar looks promising, great energy, and fire typing looks fun, what was fire symbolic of?

Well lots of things... but in this instance Hell.

• might even join an evil team just to write incredible plays for pokemon musicals, in secret of course, then possibly be a double agent for the good guys, really it depends on his mood.

• did I mention he adores pokemon musicals? New passion right here

• Although would probably beat the league to earn that respect, with you guessed it, un-evolved Chimchar like a madlad

• Chimchar would evolve into Monferno then Infernape later and be like a copy of Will

• He would probably lean more towards special attack and special defense

• Would probably at some point come across Jessie and James...just found his first play victims >:)

• Would be very entertaining to travel with, but he might dissapear if he find a scheme to cook up

...

Comte :

• Enjoys the beauty of all of them

• Has a hard time deciding on a typing

• Eventually he gets a sort of connection with Fennekin

• Both the beauty of the starter and his own handsomeness would complement eachother nicely

• He would probably get an Elite four position like very easily

• battling would totally be his thing, although his pokemon don't get dirty during battles

• focuses on speed

• is a very prepared trainer with items

• probably gets a big fanbase as large or larger than Raihan of the galar gyms

• He would have a very refined Braixen then Delphox

• Kalos is like home to this man, it is the france of the pokemon world afterall

• Might join a contest if the mood ever strikes him

• He and his team are the definition of elegance

• Would be incredible to travel with, although expect him to be swamped by fans everywhere

...

Leonardo :

• Litten reminds him of Lumiere

• Litten likes naps

• Leo just found a pokemon partner in a couple seconds

• Leo would probably be on a pokemon journey practically forever just living his life and just going with the flow

• He would EVENTUALLY get champion status...EVENTUALLY

• Would probably be a pokemon culinary genius (c'mon it's mostly berries anyways, and this man is talent galore)

• Litten would be the cat version of Leonardo

• It will eventually evolve...with time...EVENTUALLY...to Torracat then Incineraor

• Even as Incineroar it's like looking at Cat Leonardo

• His Incineroar would probably be the strongest Incineroar of all time and not give a damn about it

• His pokemon are very peaceful

• Leonardo might paint something for a pokemon gallery if Theo bugs him enough

• After having his Champion status he'll probably just move on to the next region

• a delight to travel with if you don't mind waking him up from naps occasionally

...

Isaac :

• So much to discover

• Where to Start? Probably with a starter pokemon

• He has a hard time opening up to a connection, but Cyndaquil reminds him of his own pet at home, and it's quiet enough to focus on research

• Eventually he picks Cyndaquil

• Isaac has started on the road to being a pokemon professor

• He is an impeccable assistant

• Will probably be most interested in ultra space and ultra beasts

• Hell yes he's going into space, it's for science

• Cyndaquil will probably be a cute assistant to Isaac, making sure he isn't cold when he falls asleep at his desk, giving cuddles when needed, and being a sweetheart

• This type of assistance warms Isaac's heart, Cyndaquil was the right decision

• Isaac isn't the best at batting, it's stressful and he's all over the place, why would he willingly put his little Cyndaquil in danger?

• But when he does he's quite defensive and uses items a lot

• Cyndaquil would probably learn to be great at finding space samples Issac might want

• Cyndaquil probably would have a hard time getting necessary experience to evolve, but in time he would probably evolve battling against ultra beasts and saving Isaac from them

• Isaac would be very nice to travel with but be warned he is training to be a professor, so expect him to stop at labs.

...

Dazai :

• There are bird Pokemon that remind him of Bunta but he wants something different this time

• Foakie, it seems good at stealth, which means it'll be incredible at climbing through windows

• Dazai and Froakie immediately get along, even though Froakie isn't as much into pranks, jokes, or teasing like Dazai is with the mansion residents

• They are both kinda relaxed

• Froakie is fond of the slight chaos energy Dazai seems to emit sometimes, it's fun chaos not evil chaos :)

• Dazai appreciates the more slightly down to earth nature of Froakie

• Dazai having a water type now would probably try Mantine surfing and probably make friends with Grimsley due to similar clothing styles and having water type pokemon

• Dazai would probably have the most unexpected pokemon journey out of the residents

• He would probably get to becoming a pro Mantine surfer.

• Froakie would follow that path too

• Froakie would eventually evolve into Frogadier and then Greninja due to battles with Grimsley

• He would be fun to hang around

...

Sebastian :

• Would probably go with Squirtle due to familiarity and nostalgia (he is from your time and Squirtle is quite popular, lots of people have a soft spot for gen one)

• He won't waste a second and get battling to make it evolve

• Now imagine this guy having a Blastoise to wash laundry.

He'll never spend too much time washing again.

• even though Blastoise is bulky Sebastian will happily train it to be a good butler like he is

• Sebastian will probably go on a pokemon journey that leads him to the Unova striaton city gym.

• Why? It's like a gym made for butlers! Did you see the uniforms?

• he'll probably still keep tabs on what the residents are doing too somehow

• He'll probably have fun learning the history of this place although re-learning history even if it is a new one might be a slap in the face

• He could probably have Blastoise do small bursts of water or a gentle bubble beam to clean hard surfaces and windows too

• He would possibly make friends with Az from Kaloa and Hapu from Alola while learning fun history facts

• traveling with him would be pleasant

....

Napoleon :

• He would pick Piplup

• Was there even competition? Ok maybe Charizard was an attractive offer but Piplup becomes an Emperor it's practically screaming his name.

• He would waste no time meticulously and throughly training it and his team

• He will have an Empoleon in no time

• He will probably be on par with all the strongest trainers

• Will probably become a pokemon master easily and will have beaten the league in every region

• probably feels good to pokemon battle, it's refreshing and fun, will probably battle Jean from time to time.

• hard to describe what he focuses on most, but probably special attack

• It would act just like Napoleon

• Napoleon probably likes the idea of battles with no death

• Napoleon will see Empoleon as a close partner and friend

• He probably has a bunch of Pp up's and Hp up's in his bag, not many restores or potions, c'mon this guy doesn't lose he doesn't need them

• He would probably be thrilling to travel with, like having your own 3d action novel play out before your eyes

...

Jean :

• holy boi is lost here, they're all kind of strange but eventually he gives in and picks one.

• Sinvy

• it's calm and honestly a bit mysterious

• He would train his Snivy well, it would be just as strong as him

• it wouldn't take long to evolve

• he'll probably become good friends with it, tell it all about where he comes from

• Jean would probably be the most homesick :(

• He would probably pick a job like looking after legendary pokemon shrines and temples

• He'll probably run into the other residents a lot

• I feel like for him to like it here something big should happen, like meeting Arceus and having a battle

• Then he and his now Serperior would probably bond over that moment

• after that he would probably come to love pokemon

...

Mozart :

• He was partial to Popplio Primarina but Arthur already claimed it

• Well all of them are cute and kind of interesting, and he's not against teaching it music

• Torchic it is since it's a bird and birds sing well

• Now Mozart's Torchic is quite musically gifted so they actually get along quite well, it can also dance nicely.

• He eventually evolved it into it's final evolution Blaziken with the help of Jean and Napoleon

• Mozart will probably write music for pokemon musicals and contests

• Probably during a heated session of music writing, he and Blaziken will get so in sync that he discovers that mega evolution is a thing that exists

• He will probably make writing music popular in this universe

• He might also be quite homesick

• But he does enjoy Blaziken's company

• He isn't too big on batting without the help of Jean and Napoleon but he's probably offensive rather than defensive

• He is pretty a good trainer and carries all the pokemon essentials

• It would probably be sweet and bit exhausting traveling with him, he'll get loads of music ideas

.....

(I'll also include the unholy trio, Vlad, Faust, and Charles because why not)

...

Vlad :

• Would pick Bulbasaur

• Venusaur is a huge flower monster c'mon, a deadly flower has Vlad written all over it

• He would probably be excellent at training it so evolution would be easy

• He would probably be an elite four

• He probably focuses more on attack during battles

• He may or may not be on a quest to catch a legendary or all of them

• He might create a new evil team...maybe

• He really does look like a good evil team boss, and Venusaur can look threatening if raised to be threatening

• Venusaur would adore Vlad, almost worship him

• Vlad will make it the prettiest flower and care for Venusaur well

• Mega evolution would be unlocked for him

• He would probably be an interesting fellow to travel with

• would probably like pokemon

• Ultra space travel would probably be a thing for him once he and Venusaur get ahold of Lunala or Solagelo

...

Charles :

• Needs something as clingy and energetic as he is

• Scorbunny it is

• They would probably feel a magical connection instantly

• He would train very hard with it although battling might be difficult because he gets worried when pokemon faint

• He is probably a big fan of Gigantamax and Dynamax

• loves the loud Stadium music in Galar

• He would probably want to be a gym trainer and take over the galar fire gym once Kabu retires

• He has mastered attack and defense

• Charles would probably cuddle Scorbunny a lot

• He would still cuddle Cinderace once it's all evolved

• He would probably also be good at cooking

• He probably has a lot of potions a stuff too just incase

• He probably likes watching how cute Cinderace is when it's eating berries

• He probably loves Cinderace's fluffy ears

• He really likes how fun pokemon are

• He is probably really pumped and fun to travel with, some aspects of his personality might be slightly Ash ketchum-ish

...

Faust :

• Rowlet's final evolution is a ghost type you say?

• He'll take it

• He would probably also be a pokemon professor, but not quite like in a professor Oak kind of way, he also wouldn't be much like Isaac either, He'll probably resemble evil team scientists bit he'll have a heart like Colress from Unova

• He'll probably be interested in studying Giratina or Yveltal for starters

• He probably wouldn't get along with Rowlet off the bat because it's scared that it might be dissected

• But Rowlett will see his sweet side and they will eventually be inseparable friends

• Faust will love the ability spirit shackle that the final evolution of Rowlett, Decidueye possesses

• Evolving it wouldn't be a pokemon for Faust

• He has a whole vast world to research now, he's probably on cloud nine

• He's probably excellent at batting even if he doesn't do it that much

• He might join an evil team if they fall in line with his plans

• Traveling with him wouldn't be boring that's for sure

[the-impostor-among-us]

Chapter 1: New Team

It’s been years. After my friends retired and switched jobs to spend time with family, I continued. Now the leader of 14 other members I was glad to call my team.

After aliens were revealed to the human population and began to visit and move to earth, I had reconnected with my brother. He wanted to change his ways and become my friend again.

He went to school, and while he learned, Devil was released from prison. He joined my team, and once my brother had credentials, so did he. Now, we were running our duties and working on projects from the airship.

Of course we kept the tradition of nicknames, but on the airship we now all had specified jobs. As the team leader, I watch over everyone and make my rounds, making sure everyone is in line and making important decisions.

Devil took over janitorial duties, keeping the ship clean. He decided he was tired of the science stuff and wanted to relax.

Pirate, the crewmate in lime with a pirate hat is the engineer, keeping all the machines up and running.

Mobster, the crewmate in white with a white top hat is in charge of the armory, keeping track of weapons and making sure that they’re kept locked up.

My brother in the purple suit with a pair of steampunk goggles gave himself the name punk. He sits in the security office, watching the cameras and making sure everything is alright.

Detective, the crewmate in yellow wearing a black fedora is in charge of cargo, making sure we have what we need and keeping stock of everything.

Cheese, the crewmate in orange and the child of my good friend egg. They have a slice of cheese on their head and are in charge of cooking, whipping up the best meals for everyone and making sure we’re all keeping up with our meals.

Beanie, the crewmate in maroon, wears a red beanie on her head and is In charge of the records. Keeping things organized and recording our experiments and adventures in files.

Flamingo, the fun loving crewmate in rose who wears a flamingo floatie on her head. She uses her charisma to handle communications.

Banana, the crewmate in banana who wears, you guessed it, a banana on their head. They keep everything working in electrical, routing the power to where it needs to go.

Snow, the crewmate in blue with a tiny snowman on his head and his best friend pup, and alien dog like creature he keeps as a pet, by his side. They work the viewing decks, checking out the weather and temperature.

Pilot, the crewmate in gray wearing a pilot cap is the one steering the ship. He makes sure we get where we need to go as fast as possible.

Teddy, the crewmate in tan wearing teddy bear ears. His caring personality makes him a great doctor. He works the medbay, keeping us all in good health.

Witch, the crewmate in coral wearing a witch hat, keeps track of the vault. Making our budget plans and keeping everything safe and locked up.

And finally Cowboy, the crewmate in brown wearing a cowboy hat. He does all the small jobs that don’t fall to anyone else. Developing picture, organizing the lounge, printing papers, etc.

The 15 of us all together work perfectly. We know what we have to do and we do it well.

Which brings me to today, our next assignment.

————

“They want us to WHAT?!” Flamingo cries out in indignation.

I sighed, standing up from my seat at the end of the table in the meeting room.

“I know this isn’t our usual thing, but we’ve been given our orders. We’re going on this mission.” I explained for the third time.

“Wolf is right. Besides, it won’t be too bad. We have eachother.” Beanie said with a soft smile. I nodded my thanks to her.

“But seriously? this mission is a waste of time! I mean, studying a couple boring alien plants? That’s not what we do! We’re about action!” Mobster says, putting his feet up on the table and crossing his arms.

Cowboy lightly picked up monsters legs and put them on the floor before speaking up. “Maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace. We deserve a break, and I trust Wolf’s judgement as our leader.” He gave a soft smile

“Thank you Cowboy, now let’s get to work. Our mission starts in a few days.”

end of chapter 1

So there you have it! I think my writing has improved a lot since the first installment of this series, and I’m quite happy with this chapter. Enjoy!

[qvid-pro-qvo]

hi :-) maybe the prompts “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” and "Wow." with Sonny please?

we’re back, baby! consider this a woohoo for season 22. sonny carisi x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2164

rating: e for everyone, for long-distance coming together once more (hurt/comfort. no trigger warnings. just love.)

-

It’s been one year, three months, and nine days since you’ve seen Dominick Carisi, Jr. in person. You would add the hours and the minutes, but you think that everyone you talk to gets the picture. When you mention your boyfriend, it’s the one who’s across a country, the one who you call every night, the one who works a tireless job as an NYPD detective. They know, because you can’t stop talking about him.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart. You’re gonna marry him, you can’t help but gush, because there’s no one else for you in the whole wide world.

Your friends think you’re insane. After all, there’s something about long-distance that makes everyone nervous. But you don’t let them make you antsy, because you’re the one who gets a call from him every night, especially the nights he works.

Those calls get you through a lot. Those calls get you through good days and bad, those calls are a majority of the relationship now. Calls, FaceTimes, voicemails, texts, emails even… that’s all you both have.

And they go a little something like this.

-

The first call you make after you land in California is to his cell.

Leaving him had felt like leaving your heart and soul back in New York, it’d felt like getting torn apart, it’d felt like a lot of horrible things. But you’d had to, and Sonny’d known that.

You’d known it, too. But knowing doesn’t make packing up any easier. Knowing doesn’t make the plane ride any less lonely. Knowing doesn’t make unpacking a box and finding one of his shirts that accidentally traveled with you any less world-shattering.

It’s to his cell. He picks up almost immediately. You can hear the hustle and bustle of a New York street behind him, a few honks. It’s early, after all, and you’ve traveled back in time. Your body thinks it’s noon, when it’s really nine, and when you step off of the plane the sun hits yours eyes, bright and unexpected. You’re dressed too warm for California, since it’s perfect for the place you left.

You hate it here.

It’s not home.

“Hey,” he breathes into the receiver. You just let out a little gasp. The tears immediately spring to your eyes, but you do your best to keep your head held high, looking around for your luggage.

“Hey, Sonny. I made it. Just. Wanted to let you know.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

The words aren’t enough. They don’t feel like they ever will be.

“So, how’s California look?” he finally asks, when the silence stretches on a little too long. You’ve missed your luggage on the carousel and finally snag it, balancing your phone on your shoulder as you pull off the stuff that’s waiting for you.

So many bags. Your whole life packed away. The rest of it getting shipped.

Your whole life except Sonny. Doesn’t feel like much, but you know it’ll get better. Eventually. With time.

“Sunny,” you finally say, and he snorts.

“Not too sunny without me, I hope.”

You manage a laugh. It’s watery, but it’s a laugh. “Never.”

With time.

-

The morning calls are for you.

He’s already up and at ‘em by the time you’re stirring, and his phone is usually what rouses you. It’s a brilliant alarm clock, one that has you sitting as upright as you can and pulling him close to your ear. His voice makes you want to pull yourself under the covers, settle in and listen for a few hours or days.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You know by this point he’s on his second or third cup of coffee. It depends on how bad the cases are that day, how deep he is in paperwork. But even with the caffeine, the 7:00 AM for you is 10:00 AM for him, and he still sounds like he just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning,” you return, and he chuckles a little, because the sound of your voice is the same level of exhausted. And yet, with his call, you’re rising, throwing back the blankets, moving to the bathroom to start your routine. He’s got fifteen minutes, and you’ve got thirty-five before you have to leave, and you’ll spend the twenty without his voice in your ear thinking about his voice in your ear, and maybe texting him, too.

-

The nighttime calls are for him.

Those, you get to see his face. After all, your 7:00 PM is his 10:00 PM, and some days he’s actually going to bed at that hour. Some days he’s at your shared apartment, sitting in bed with your pillows holding himself up.

Some days he’s in the office. Those calls are short, but sweet.

But what ends up happening is that you start your day with him, and some days, some blissful nights, he gets to go to sleep with you. Seeing you.

“Hey, baby,” you say. You’re usually just getting home at that point, tossing keys into a dish, shutting your door and locking it tight so that Sonny can hear it, see it. It gives him reassurance, the length of a country away. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” he starts out, always, even when the day’s been thrilling, brilliant, a great time. “A day without you.”

And you coo and hum, and he laughs at the scrunch of your nose, and the two of you begin and end your nighttime routines, the days drifting away, another night closer to being reunited.

-

The last call you make from California is for the both of you.

“Wow.” It’s all he can manage. After all, the nights come with face time, and you’ve posed the camera perfectly. You’re dressed to the nines, and you can tell his eyes are scanning you from head to toe. “Jealous of whoever gets to see you at dinner.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “My bosses, Dom. They’re having a going away dinner. A week early, but.”

“I get it, I get it. You’re wanting to tease.” His voice is light, and you wink at him, reaching for your phone and pulling it close so you can see the details. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks a little ragged – it’s been a tough week, he’s told you, one case dogging them day and night. You’re hoping that you can cheer him up, when you get to see him, sooner rather than later.

“Tease you, Dominick Carisi, Jr.? I wouldn’t dare!” you say, and the two of you laugh, through the exhaustion.

“I miss you,” he states. It’s not an admittance, because the two of you have never hidden it. You miss each other, and as your scheduled return date edges closer you can feel the nervous energy. He’s never looked more drained, and you’d do anything to take it from him, the exhaustion.

“I’ll be back soon,” you assure him, and he nods. The conversation lasts a few moments more, and then he has to go, and then you have to go. And you leave with a promise, that you’ll be there before he knows it.

Sooner than he thinks, that’s for sure.

-

One year. Three months. Nine days. But today, that number falls back to zero.

It’s the first call you make once you land, stomp out your boots of the snow you weren’t expecting. You’re used to California winter, mild and warm, and so the New York chill takes you by surprise. Makes you blink, when you peer out from under the awning of the rental car pick-up and feel snow land in your hair. But it’s home, the snow on your boots, the way the wind whips up around your face. You hold your phone up to your ear and let out a shiver.

It rings. Once, twice, three times.

“Hey, doll.”

He answers, and his voice is weary. It’s late, after all, and you’ve lost a few hours, so the direct flight, while five-and-a-half hours, deposits you eight-and-a-half hours in the future with a stomach rumbling for real food and no sun in sight.

He answers. It’s with a yawn, and you realize that you’re hearing the sound of slamming filing cabinets, and you think that in the background you can hear his lieutenant’s voice. He’s living his life, in his world, and you’re so proud of him you can hardly speak. Because you know that he’s working hard when he works late. Working himself to death, it feels like sometimes.

“Hey, Dom. Is this a bad time?” you ask, immediately. Because your surprise is one that works just as well if you’re at the apartment, if you’re cooking him a warm meal or cozied up on the couch for him. But his noise is a negative.

“Nah, just finishing up a case. Took a perp into custody. Wanted to stay behind and see it through before I ditched.”

You’re not fighting exhaustion. You’re trembling from the cold, and shivering from the exposure, and vibrating with happiness as you hand over your credit card to the man behind the counter. The plane ride isn’t beating your delight as you grin at the sound of him. The way his words are lined with the effort of the whole team.

“Great, great. That’s great,” you say, and he must pick up on something. Because his answering hum is teasing, light.

“You sound like the cat that caught the canary,” he laughs. After all, you both have gotten intimately familiar with voices these long months apart, and you know he’s right. So you don’t argue it, just laugh, bite your lower lip as you take your card back.

“Well. Maybe I am,” you say lightly, and push your way through the lines of cars. You keep beeping, hoping to hear something, with no luck just yet. “Are you the canary?”

He chuckles, and you know he’s shrugging with it. “I sure hope so.”

Maybe he’s tilting his head back, leaning in his chair, looking up at the ceiling of the precinct as he talks. Maybe he’s bending forward, hand in his hair, elbows on his knees. Maybe he’s crossing a leg over the other, tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair. You’ll know soon enough, won’t have to imagine for much longer.

“I think you are. After all, I’ve laid the perfect trap for you,” you say, and you make your voice light, airy. Your carry on and three suitcases are being dragged slowly and carefully behind you, and you finally hear the beep of the car you’re meant to drive for the next three days. It’ll only do a job for one, after all, but it doesn’t need to know that.

“The perfect trap. What’s that?”

“A stop on my way home.” The trunk of the rental beeps, pops open. “I’ve been thinking about it for five hours.”

A beat passes, and you almost think the call’s been dropped. But then Sonny clears his throat, and your grin stretches wide. “What?” There’s a shift in his throat, that you can hear. One that comes with him sitting up. You can see it, if you close your eyes, ignore the windiness of the parking garage.

“Well, you see, if I book it, I can make it that shop before they close. What it’s called… the one by our place?”

And you hear his breath catch. It’s a beautiful sound. It works perfectly with the sound of your luggage tossed in the trunk.

“Yeah, that one. And if I really hurry, then I might be able to pick you up from the precinct.” Your eyes close for a moment, dip your head as you pull back and close the back of the car. When you make it to the car, turn it on, you can hear something like a hiccup leave him, the shuffle of papers, his jaw pop as it unclenches.

“You’re – you’re back in New York?” And his accent is so thick the words run together. “You’re home?”  

And when you laugh it’s thick, too. For a different reason, one that has you wiping at your face, as the engine runs. You sniffle, and he sniffles a little, too, and you can hear his lieutenant’s voice again in the background, muffled.

“Just – just a second, lieu,” he mumbles. He sounds dazed. Confused.

“Stay there,” you insist. “Okay? I’m coming to get you, and then I’ll take you home, and…”

“And?” His voice is hoarse. Cracks, and you chuckle despite yourself. The thought of home. The thought of Sonny Carisi, after all this time. The thought of pulling him close and hugging him tight and leaning into his touches. His touches. The car’s engine is running, and one of your hands reaches for the wheel, runs your fingers along the curve.

“And be yours again, Dom. For as long as you’ll have me.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

A Legacy to Protect

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm.

(Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.)

Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm. (Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.) The dynamic duo hasn’t been spotted yet tonight, but there’s still time. They usually do a sweep through Crime Alley between 12:30 and 1:15, according to Tim’s notes. He keeps a notebook small enough to fit in his jacket pocket, the pages scribbled margin to margin with red crayon in honor of the Boy Wonder himself. Tim sits on the roof’s edge, his camera settled beside him. It’s a shiny black one with a strap to hang around his neck and everything, just like a real photographer. Mom and Dad sent it over for Tim’s last birthday while they were touring through Egypt, and it was only a week and a half late this time. Tim doesn’t blame them. His parents work hard, harder than half of the other rich socialites who attend those fancy dinners and balls Tim gets dragged to. We need to present a good image for Gotham, his mom always tells him. If you’re not the best you can be, then there isn’t much of a point in doing anything, is there? I’m really good at pictures, Tim offers. I don’t mean hobbies, sweetheart. Those don’t count. If you want to get anywhere in this world, you need to start focusing on what’s important. Like Drake Industries.

Tim slips his notebook out of his pocket and opens it to a fresh page. Octobur 3, 12:16 a.m. — no sign of batman and robin yet. very cold weather. saw a cat sitting on the sidewalk and tried to pet it but it ran away.

Tim is going to be a great detective one day. He’s already got the surveillance part down. Suddenly the air rings with the crashing sound of trash cans being overturned. Tim quickly pockets his notebook and grabs his camera. He leans over the side of the building, ready to shoot. He scans the dark alley for a criminal, a really quiet angry mob, maybe even the Joker himself hatching a scheme. Instead, all Tim’s lens catches is a stray dog eating scraps from a dumpster. Tim sighs but snaps a photo anyway. Bummer. He leaves the dog to its meal, standing and turning his camera’s gaze to the night sky above. The moon is full, even if the stars are obscured by Gotham’s constant veil of smog. He takes a few pictures, rotating to catch new angles over cracked walls and smoky rooftops. He’s in the middle of snapping a photo of a neon sign for something called the “Booby Trap” when he spots a blur of yellow cape obscure half of the frame. A jolt rolls through Tim and he grins. Finally. He lowers the camera, scanning the area for where the cape went until he finds him. Robin—Dick Grayson—is swinging below, his bright costume stark against the black Gotham streets. He’s laughing about something, chattering to a figure Tim can’t see. But he knows he’s there, keeping to the shadows. Batman. He can’t lose them. Not before he gets some more shots for his hero album. Tim takes as many as he can, following the Boy Wonder with his camera as he flies down the street. It’s like watching the sun rise. He’s graceful, all joyful bounds and tumbles, fluid with every movement. A true Grayson in flight. Tim takes a step backward to keep him in frame, but he’s closer to the edge of the building than he thought he was. With a yelp, Tim’s foot slips off the edge and then he’s lost to gravity altogether. He drops his camera, arms cartwheeling as he falls with a shout. It’s never occurred to Tim until now just how tall two-story buildings really are. It feels like he falls forever, trapped in a bubble of timelessness. Weightlessness. Until he lands. Tim’s leg crashes into the concrete first, buckling on impact with a sickening crack that vibrates through his entire skeletal system. Tim gets out the beginning of a scream, but it’s less than a second later that he lands on his back, the wind getting knocked from his lungs. Panic surges through Tim’s body, ice water injected straight into his veins. He just fell off a building. Tim fell off a building and he definitely heard a snap, even if he can’t feel it yet because of the adrenaline which is another thing that medical documentary said, and he’s too far away to get home and he can’t walk and he doesn’t have a cell phone and he’s all alone in Crime Alley and— Tim gasps. There’s the pain, right on schedule. He whimpers as a throbbing sensation radiates through his leg, amping up in intensity with every beat of his heart. He doesn’t want to look at it, knowing full well that it’s broken. There’s no way it isn’t broken from a fall like that, and his elbow stings so he must have scraped it on his way down. He’s pretty sure he hit his head, too. This is so freaking bad. Taking deep breaths, Tim sits up despite the aches rattling his body. He bites his lip, smothering a whimper when he sees his foot facing a direction that it definitely shouldn’t be facing. It’s broken. It’s so, so broken. Maybe he can set it? Tim read about that once, about how setting broken bones makes them better. If he can figure out how to do it on his own, maybe it’ll be okay. No one needs to find out what happened tonight. As a test, Tim tries to move his leg just an inch. Agony surges through his leg instantly and Tim bursts into tears on the spot. It hurts. Everything hurts so badly and he knows that big boys aren’t supposed to cry—that’s what his dad tells him. Only wimps cry. You’re not a wimp, are you? But Tim’s leg hurts and he’s scared and he doesn’t know what to do, so he bites down on his sleeve and tries to muffle the sobs that burst through. He just wanted to take pictures. That’s it. He wasn’t even doing anything dangerous—he wasn’t fighting bad guys or breaking up scuffles on the street. He only wanted to see his heroes. “Hey, kid? You okay?” Tim flinches, snapping his head up and frantically wiping his tears. The image standing over him takes his breath away. It’s him. Robin. Dick came to save him. Tim can’t see behind the mask, but his face is twisted with concern as he eyes Tim’s predicament. “Yikes. That doesn’t look good.” For some reason that only makes the crying start anew, Tim biting down on his lip in an effort to keep the hitching breaths to a minimum. It must not work because then Robin is kneeling in front of him, his hands warm on Tim’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you home to your parents, yeah?” Tim sniffles. “They’re not—they’re out of the country. The nanny comes in the morning.” He screwed up. He screwed up so bad. Dick’s brows furrow beneath the mask. “There’s no one watching you?” “I’m responsible.” In spite of the salty tears coursing their way down his cheeks, Tim lifts his chin in an effort to look tough. He can take care of himself, he’s been doing it for years. Dick—Robin, this is Robin—reaches up and touches what must be a communication device in his ear, like they have in spy movies. “B, I’ve got a kid here. He fell off a building and got pretty banged up.” A pause. “He said they’re out of town. Should I take him to Thompkins? Yeah, I can carry him there. Just two blocks, right?” Another pause, this one longer. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. No one’s going to mess with me when I’m lugging around a crippled kid.” He laughs, winking at Tim. “See you back home.” Then he’s facing Tim again. “You got a name, kiddo?” “Tim.” “Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Robin, your hero for the night. Do you have any other injuries I should know about?” “Um.” Tim thinks it over for a moment. “I think I hit my head. And my elbow hurts.” As if Robin can’t perfectly see the bloody scrape there for himself, staining Tim’s sleeve red. His parents are going to be so mad when they find out that he ruined his nice jacket. Robin prods the back of Tim’s head carefully, checking for damage. “What were you doing out so late?” “I...like to take pictures. Stuff like the sky and the street and—” Crud. He completely forgot about the camera. Tim twists, scanning the alleyway until his eyes land on a bulky black shape a good ten feet away. “Oh, no.” Robin follows his line of sight and retrieves the camera, turning it in his hands before handing it over to Tim. “I take it this is yours?” There’s a huge crack right through the middle of the front lens. Tim’s heart sinks. “My parents are going to kill me when they see this.” “Don’t worry, Tim. When your parents see the leg cast and bruises they won’t care about a dumb camera, they’ll be too busy worrying about you.” He clearly hasn’t met Tim’s parents, then. Now that he thinks about it, though, Tim might be in the clear after all. It’s not like Mom and Dad notice much of anything Tim does even when they’re home. He wouldn’t be surprised if they miss the cast and broken camera altogether. “I’m gonna carry you to the clinic, all right? It’s not very far, and I’m friends with the doctor there. She’s super nice, and best of all, she doesn’t snitch.” He stoops down, getting ready to lift Tim into his arms. “This might hurt.” Tim’s eyes widen. “Wait, wait, stop.” Dick’s hands are off him in an instant. “What’s wrong?” “Your—your uniform. I’m going to get blood on it.” There’s already a red smear on his glove from where he touched the back of Tim’s head. “You just fell off a building and you’re worried about my uniform?” “It looks expensive.” Robin laughs. “You don’t need to worry about that, trust me. A few blood stains never hurt anyone. Can I pick you up now?” Tim nods, and then he’s being lifted swiftly in the air, one arm beneath his knees and the other wrapping around his shoulders. Robin was right: it does hurt. Tim lets out a squeak as his broken leg is jostled, sending waves of pain blazing through his nerves. He clutches the camera until its hard edges dig into his palms, just to give himself something to focus on so he doesn’t cry again. “Sorry, sorry,” Robin murmurs as he settles Tim against his chest. “I know it hurts. Don’t worry, Dr. Thompkins will give you some painkillers when we get to the clinic.” Tim doesn’t respond. He’s almost positive that if he opens his mouth now, nothing is going to keep the sobs at bay. He already cried in front of his hero once tonight; he can’t let it happen a second time. As if sensing Tim’s inner turmoil, Robin says as he walks, “It’s okay to cry, you know. I cry all the time. It doesn’t make you any less brave.” That’s the final crack in the dam. Tim lowers his head so his face is turned into Robin’s tunic and lets the tears fall. “It’s okay, Timmy. I’ve got you.”

[voleurdesoleil-archive]

Those nights when you crave someone

20. “things you said I wasn’t meant to hear”

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Male Detective (Jonah Rafferty) x Adam du Mortain x Nate Sewell

Word count: ~1,5k

read on ao3

“Did you see that!” There’s a groan followed by the sound of a door slamming inside the room. “He’s friendlier with you than he is with me! And he’s not slick! He thinks I don’t see him giving you pets when you two are alone and when he discreetly winks at you. I may not be the smartest but I’m not blind!”

Adam  can hear the bedsheets ruffling as Jonah lets himself fall down on the mattress. He can also distinguish the clicking of Bo’s paws against the wooden floors until the sound disappears. He can almost picture them: Jonah laying on his back, petting the black dog laying on his stomach and paying extreme attention to his owner.

“Bo, it’s not fair. You get more affection from that broody vampire than I do. You’re so lucky, you know that? All I’m asking for is a smile once in a while, or maybe that he holds my hand. And not one of those brushing of hands which seem to be his specialty! A real hand holding, with our fingers intertwined, and his thumb drawing circles on the side of my hand…” There is a silence as Jonah’s heartbeat fastens at the thought. Adam is hanging to Jonah’s lips, waiting for him to continue. “I’m not asking for a kiss or even a hug, I think he’s not ready for that. Don’t look at me like that, I just think we aren’t close enough yet for that and I don’t want to scare him away or do anything he’d be uncomfortable with. I know, I know! You probably think I’m crazy, but I’d just like a little reminder from time to time that this isn’t all unrequited feelings. I know he needs time, Adam was very clear about that, and I can’t blame him, but it’d be nice once in a while…” Jonah doesn’t end his sentence. “It’s like he’s scared I’m going to break if he touches me…”

Adam can hear the sigh that follows those words.

“And Nate! Everything is easier with him, but there’s something wrong and I can’t pinpoint what it is… You’d tell me if you knew what it was, right Bo? I know I can’t force him to talk about things he doesn’t want to talk about, but I wish he’d be comfortable enough to tell me. I’m not going to judge him, he knows that, right?” There is a whimper coming from Bo and Adam can’t help a smile. “I know you know, but does he know? It’s just everything has been going so well with Nate and I’m scared it’ll blow up in my face at some point, just like it did with Bobby…”

Jonah’s voice is barely more than a whisper now and Adam can feel the detective’s heart quickening and his breath getting ragged. He can sense Bo getting agitated.

“I know it’s stupid, because they’re not like him, they’re nothing like Bobby, but I can’t help it Bo…” Jonah’s voice breaks upon those words as Bo starts whimpering. “I can’t help…but think this happiness I’m feeling…right now…is going to burst one day and…that they won’t need me anymore…”

The speech is interspersed with Jonah’s sobs and Bo’s whimpers and Adam wants to burst inside the room. He wants to hold Jonah in his arms, tell him that they’re not like that reporter, that they’ll never have enough of him. He wants to tell Jonah how much he loves him. But instead he stays right there. Frozen on the spot, his hand still on the door knob. His heart breaking a bit more with each muffled sob he can hear through the door. Until a tear rolls down his own cheek.

What an idiot he had been. He was so caught up in his own feelings that he never considered Jonah’s feelings. He was so preoccupied by trying to keep his heart safe that he didn’t notice Jonah’s heart crumbling with every comment he made. He hadn’t been able to notice Jonah’s confidence slowly collapsing with every effort Adam made to keep his distance with him. He had tried to protect the detective and yet he did the exact opposite.

“Adam? What are you doing here?"

Adam turns his face but he can barely see who is talking to him through the tears that are gathering in his eyes. But he doesn’t have time to blink that Nate is already by his side.

"What happened?” Nate’s voice is soft, soothing, and yet Adam’s heart shatters to pieces in his chest.

“I hurt him Nate… I hurt him…”

___

Adam has been staring at him for a few minutes already when Jonah finally notices the sound of Adam’s pencil has stopped and that he has taken his eyes off the report he was filling. The vampire doesn’t even notice Jonah is staring back.

“Adam, is there something wrong?” Jonah asks.

“Why are you so different when you’re with Nate and when you’re with me?” The words that have been stuck in his head, since he heard the detective venting to Bo finally found a way out.

The detective’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect such a blunt question coming from his boyfriend. Once the surprise has gone away, he stands up and takes his chair to sit in front of Adam. He lets his hand lay palm facing the ceiling so that Adam can take it if he feels the need to.

“What do you mean?”

“This-” He lifts Jonah’s hand that he is now holding. “If you were with Nate, you would have simply taken his hand. And it’s just not the hand…” Adam’s expression saddens as the words come out of his mouth. “We’re both your boyfriends so why do you act so differently around us?”

“Because you’re not Nate. Just like Nate isn’t you. Because you are you, Adam.” Jonah moves even closer, he is almost kneeling, trying to catch Adam’s fleeting gaze. “Adam please look at me…” he pleads. He is used to Adam looking away but this is different. It’s as if Adam can’t bear looking at him. Reaching up, Jonah lifts up his boyfriend’s chin so that their eyes would finally meet. “You are both very different persons, Adam. I think you know that.” Jonah can’t help the smile that lifts the corner of his lips. “The way you express your feelings, the way you express love, this is unique to you, just like your needs are solely yours. But because I act differently around you doesn’t mean I love you less, mon amour.”

Those last two words are nothing but a whisper against Adam’s skin as Jonah  softly presses his lips on the vampire’s knuckles yet Adam can feel each vibration reverberating in him, right to his heart that pounded loudly in his chest.

“But I never asked you to stop being yourself. I said I needed time, not that I didn’t want you to be affectionate with me, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” There is nothing in the vampire’s words that betrays how pained he is that Jonah isn’t feeling at ease around him. And yet the human can feel how genuine he is when Adam squeezes his hand. “I’ve had centuries to get accustomed to Nate’s presence. This-” Adam gestures towards the empty space between them. “-what we have. This is new and I’m still trying to figure you out, so forgive me if I make mistakes. I’m thankful for you trying to make me at ease, but it shouldn’t be to your expense. I’m not scared of you breaking if I touch you, I’m scared of my heart swelling when you touch me.”

It takes Jonah a few seconds to realize what Adam said and he can feel the blemish taking over his face as he stands up.

“You listened to me? You weren’t supposed to hear that…” He rubs a hand over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What did you hear? Is it what this is all about? You overheard a piece of my mind and thought you needed to apologize for having boundaries? Adam, for fuck’s sake… I don’t want you to apologize for being yourself and needing time…”

“But I hurt you.”

“What? No. You didn’t. Yes, I was touch-starved. Did I get over it? Yes! But did you hurt me? No! Think about it that way: it’s like when you break stuff when you’re pissed. I vent to Bo when I’m frustrated. That’s all.”

“But it’s not just that…” Adam admitted.

“Oh no… you heard the Bobby part, didn’t you?"

Adam nods.

"I’ll explain everything one day, I promise-” Jonah says as he sits back down in front of Adam.“ -but not today…”

Adam doesn’t ask for more. They all have haunting memories so he cannot blame the detective for wanting to keep them buried a little while longer. Instead Adam reaches up to push a strand of hair behind Jonah’s ear, there’s a moment of hesitation before the detective leans into the touch. Adam pulls away slowly, his fingers grazing along Jonah’s jaw.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” As Adam shakes his head no, Jonah adds: “Then we should get back to work.”

“One last thing-” Adam grabs the human’s hand before he gets out of reach. “-brushing of hands aren’t my only specialty…” Adam says as he intertwines his fingers with Jonah’s.

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

 Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

 Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

 Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

 Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

 At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

 *

 “Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn���t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

 Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

 *

 It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

 He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

 “A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

 Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

 “What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

 Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

 *

 “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

 Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

 *

 Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

 “Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

 “Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

 “Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

 *

 “I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

 *

 At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

 There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

 Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

 “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

[soukokuwu]

Dazai, Kouyou and Chuuya with a female make-up Artist s/o?

first thing he does when he sees your extensive sets of makeup kits? fiddles with them. each and every one he can find. tries to get you to agree to let him apply the makeup on you — and asks you about the result afterwards. it’s... not good. at all. cue your nervous laughter, “maybe you should just stick to being a detective.”

taunts you into making him even more beautiful then he is. “make me glamorous, my belladonna!” — with his overexaggerated tone of voice. and you take him up on that; it sounds quite fun anyway. you turn him into an absolute beauty, sometimes you bring a wig just to see what he would look like if he was a girl. you stop after one time because he looks amazing it might hurt your pride — he makes such a hot girl you can’t believe it.

always ropes you into one of his stupid pranks when you’re free. “make me look all bloody and bruised!” he’d ask of you. and then he’d go to the agency looking like that and saying he needs a rest day... of course ranpo sees through it and dazai actually gets bruises after kunikida’s done with him. doesn’t stop him from playing such pranks, especially on poor unsuspecting atsushi. oh to be his poor subordinate....

but also falls for it when you do it to him. one day you just decide to paint the bed red and lie on it with your makeup on full force. he actually falls for it because he’s too damn worried to think properly and cradles you in his arm, preparing to call yosano over in case he needed her ability. and you just burst out laughing. you expected him to be all naggy but instead he hugs you tight, “i don’t ever want to lose my smiling belladonna.”

okay have you seen this woman? look at her, she has top tier makeup skills herself. even without it she looks beautiful. does that stop you from using her as a canvas? nope. most of the time she volunteers though, because she has the utmost confidence in your skills.

feels like extra validation when she gushes over your skills at work (sometimes she visits you while you’re working). can also tell that you’re always nervous when she’s watching, but she likes how you progress from being nervous to being so concentrated with it that you forget she’s even there. you look so much hotter to her when you’re serious.

can actually give you constructive criticism and makeup ideas when you talk to her about work. slowly she starts to be more involved in your work, becoming your number one go-to when you need suggestions for a certain look.

misses you so much when you have to travel for your work, but will never actually tell you how much she misses you. she knows it’ll make you feel bad. she just wants you to be able to pursue your dreams with no worries, especially not about her.

overall being the perfect girlfriend toward you, showering you with love even when you’re busy and tries to help any time you have trouble with your work just because she knows she can. doesn’t stop her from being motherly toward you and asking you to rest if you’re overexerting yourself. which also reminds her, “hey, wouldn’t it be great if we got ourselves a little girl next time too?”

asks to see your skills; he’s never seen a makeup artist at work and he’s curious. you feel bad, of course, because you only have yourself to demonstrate on and he’d have to just sit at one side and watch while you work. but he insists — he wants to see his beautiful lady at work.

in awe at the result. gives such a genuinely impressed reaction you can’t help but blush. of course he can’t see it much because the style you opted for masks a lot of your bare face. he gives you endless compliments for it.

also, chuuya is a very reliable person to lean on for support. whenever you’re doubting your skills? he’s the first one to assure you that you’re good at what you do, and he always seems to know exactly the right words to say. you feel comfortable to share your worries — career-wise — with him. (of course you feel at ease telling him personal problems too.)

is not so eager whenever you want to test some looks out on him. “but chuuya, you have such a nice bone structure, please?” cue your puppy dog eyes and cute pout. it works all the time. he won’t be able to resist it — “fine, but only because i love you.” then he blushes because your compliment about his face always gets to him.

when halloween rolls around? you have so much fun trying to do some gore makeup on chuuya, giving him a zombie-esque look. when you step back and take a look at the whole picture — you’re impressed; unsure whether it’s directed at your work or the fact that your boyfriend looks hot even when he should look like he’s dying.

“you know, your skills are amazing,” he’ll always compliment. “but i love you au naturale even more, my beautiful lady.”

[pearl-blue-musings]

Good Trouble pt. 1

Hi Hi

Thank you to @styxtm for giving me the courage to go through with this story. It’s one I’ve spent lots of time mulling over, so like with my other stories it’ll be slow updates! 

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs 

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of guns and killing

Hope you enjoy!

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

The door unlocks, letting the stale air of the apartment hit your face in comparison to the warm air outside. You sigh heavily as you set your bag down on the bench near the entrance way. Work had been intense, more than usual but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. However, upon entering your apartment your eyes were on red alert. Your years of training haven’t failed you, despite not wanting to use your honed skills or needing to recently.

The bench you placed your bag on was just a couple centimeters off from where it usually sits. You noticed the coloring on the floor to be slightly off, causing you to silence your steps as you make your way into the kitchen. The staleness seemed off as you close your eyes to heighten your sense of smell. Musty cologne. That’s what it is; a smell you haven’t smelled in a long time. You stalk along the counter, having your back turned away from the fridge and hallway.

That’s when you hear it.

To the common ear, it would have gone unnoticed, but you heard the breath of someone you haven’t wanted to see ever again. Before they could attack, you swiftly grab the knife to your left and elbow the stranger behind you. He’s hunched over and you grab at his neck to pin him against the wall with the knife at his throat.

“Easy, kid! You wouldn’t kill me would you?”

Your eyes darken as the knife pushes closer to his throat.

“Ah ah, that’s not your style (Y/n). You don’t kill. Never have. So let me go, yeah?”

You scoff, feeling the sweat gather at your brow from your actions and frustrations. You let him go, allowing the man to catch his breath. Still on edge, you keep your knife near you as you slide it up your sleeve to free your hands. You place them on your hips as you watch the man who has defended you when no one else would.

“What is it, Toono?”

He doesn’t miss the hiss in your voice as his eyes soften at you. “That’s no way to treat me after all I’ve done for you and your father! Yipe!”

He feels the air blow by him quickly as the knife that was up your sleeve was now in the wall behind him, right by his ear. Toono’s eyes turn to his left to see where the knife could have hurt him. He turns to you, seeing your pissed off expression and steps away from the weapon.

Toono clears his throat as he presses on. “Anyways, your old man has a job for you-“

“Not interested.”

“But you’re the best and everyone knows it.”

You step up to him quickly, placing your forearm on his throat to hold him in place. “As I’ve said many, many times: I’m done. I want nothing to do with that man. You of all people should know that.”

The older man doesn’t miss the hiss and crack in your voice as you turn away from him. It’s unfortunate, but he does know better. Hell, he was the one who helped you get your own place and escape the clutches of your father, for now at least. He looks to your hunched over figure, noticing your slight tremor in your left hand as you hold onto your self harder.

Toono’s instincts to protect you kicked in when he sees your disposition. “Kid, are you okay? Your hand is-“

“Toono I’m fine!” You yell out, “now please. Please leave.”

He breathes deeply before scavenging for something in his pocket. He gently taps you on the shoulder to catch your gaze and study your face, maybe for the last time. “You have no choice, (Y/n). He’ll kill me if I still have this file and information on me and that you aren’t helping.”

You ignore his pleas as his hand is held out to you with the manila folder.

“Please kid! You gotta take this. It’s either take this job, or your father will kill me to kill you.”

You unclench your fists and relax your shoulders. Toono isn’t a person who would come to see you for no reason, or without good intentions. If he’s coming to you directly that means it must be of the utmost importance to whatever it is your father has planned for the world. You wordlessly take the folder and try to commit it to memory.

“Dazai Osamu. Why does my father want this guy out of the picture?”

You study his profile for a bit before landing on his picture. Armed Detective Agency? Port Mafia? Why hadn’t you heard of these places or people before? It’s true you’re relatively new to the city, but these names seem and sound legendary. You’re shocked to see that your father doesn’t know his ability, only that it can hinder his process. You ignore the funny feeling in your stomach as you continue to study your target.

You may be a hired help for your dad, but you never killed. It’s not that you couldn’t; you absolutely could. But you made the conscious choice to not to. It left a sick feeling in your stomach at the thought of taking another person’s life, despite the evils they may have done or aided in. Oh how your father wanted you to kill, but that was one disposition he could never beat with you.

All it took for you to give up killing was tracking someone involved with the government. You had the gun in your hand, ready to stealthily kill the corrupt worker when a tall man with tan walked into your visual. When your eyes met, including your targets, something in you broke. Who was this man you had to kill? He could have family and friends that would miss him; what if the roles were reversed? Your left hand faltered as two pairs of eyes stare at you wondering what your next move was going to be.

The sound of metal clanking against the ground of the alleyway had broken you from your stupor. The taller man had carefully approached you, wiping away at your tears and wrapped you in a secure hug. You miss him wave off your target but you didn’t care. He could live and still be miserable for all you knew; I mean was he really corrupt or was that something spun by your father?

You had been so caught up in your head you missed the stranger asking you questions. His soothing voice brought you back to reality.

“Hey, what’s your name and what’s your business with my friend here?”

You met his gaze and notice how nice his dark brown eyes look under the streetlight. You stuttered over your words before fumbling out, “It’s (Y/n). I don’t trust you with my surname. I’m, er I was, supposed to kill him but… I couldn’t.”

The man next to you chuckled as he urged the two of you off the ground. He led you away from the light and into an abandoned alleyway to continue your conversation. You hadn’t given up too much information but you began to feel comfortable around the stranger that had calmed you down.

“You kill for you father?” His voice calm and soothing as he handed you a piece of candy.

You nodded in thanks and whisper. “This was supposed to be my first one. If you hadn’t stopped me- Wait how did you stop me? You shouldn’t have seen me!”

His laugh, a laugh you never wanted to forget as years went on. “It’s my ability. I had a feeling something bad was going to happen after we grabbed our usual drinks so I tailed him.”

A small breath had left your lips as you eat the candy the man had given you. You rested your head against the cold brick wall as your thoughts ran wild. This was your first assignment for him and you failed. All of your training, all of your stealth work was supposed to lead up to this but you failed; your mission was incomplete. Your boss wouldn’t accept that. Your father wouldn’t accept that. “Why are you talking to me, I tried to kill your friend.”

“I hate killing.”

You were surprised at his honesty and turned to him staring up into what he could see of the night sky. “I may work for questionable people but I will never kill. And I could sense that in you too.

“I’m Oda Sakunosuke and if you’d let me I’d like to help you.”

The sound of your microwave beeping brought you back to the present after remembering your first failed killing. You never killed after that, but you would only be called to trail, track, and scout for your boss. For some reason, he didn’t make you kill; you thought briefly that maybe your father had a soft side. But you weren’t keeping your hopes up. You open up the microwave, grabbing your instant dinner and return to the table to eat. You stare again at the file Toono left you. There’s something about the look in this person’s eye that unnerves you but calms you in a weird way.

“Dazai Osamu,” you muse out loud, “just what trouble are you going to cause me?”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Caring for Zero; Four/Billy x reader

*Author’s note*

Wow so many updates for you guys (even though the last two have been done for years) but still. Now ever since watching 6 underground like all of you out there I have been DYING to make a Four/Billy fanfic and so this was born. Now I apologize for the laziness in the main mission idk how to write an action sequence Michael Bay style (even though it’s all action and explosions and that’s it). So I hope you all can forgive me for it.

Warnings: MAJOR swearing, like rated R swearing, ANGST, some fluff, paralysis (you’ll find out I won’t spoil it for you), explosions, cultural references.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@psychosupernatural​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@mexifangorl​

@fan-of-everything-and-nothing​

@bohemiansweede​

@simonedk​

_______________________________________________________________

“But the entire perimeter is patrolled not only by guards but by air fleets.” Said Three as the entire 6 Underground was looking over the map of their next missions, well mission and a half, maybe a quarter.

“Wait an air fleet? Why the fuck would someone have an air fleet patrol?” Four snapped.

“Because the guy’s an arrogant, cheap asshole that has cause too much military abuse of power. But no worries guys we’ve got an Ace up our sleeve.” One stated proudly.

“And just who is that exactly?” asked Seven.

“To answer that question with a question of my own, how do some of you deal with the cold?”

“Wait you don’t mean….” Started Five.

“Oh I mean.” One grinned.

“You know she won’t do it.” Two stated coldly.

“I agree with Two on this One, she said she never wanted a part of this again.” Four said defensively.

“Coming from the guy that slept with her.” One snapped at him like the smartass billionaire he was.

“Okay wait, wait just who are you all talking about?” asked Seven.

“No more questions, we’re going to see her now. Pack the gas jugs and let’s go.”

With that the group were forced to packed up their stuff from their haunted house in California and headed up North to the Yukon Alaskan provenience.  When all they saw was nothing but forests, Seven just had to ask Four.

“So who exactly are we going to see? And did One really mean what he said about you slept with her?”

“Look you’ll find out soon but I guarantee she’s not gonna help us.” Four spoke with a hint of pain and heartbreak in his voice.  Eventually after another hour of driving through the endless forest, they soon came up to a cabin that stood all alone in the middle of the woods.

From the chimney smoke came up which indicated that someone was home.

“And here we are.” One stated as he got out of the jeep in front.  Suddenly jumping out from the woods was a pack of wolves.  All ranging from light tan color to pure black.

“Oh shit!” Three cried out.

“In the cars now!” screamed Two.  But before they could make a run for it, two charcoal wolves came in front of the team snarling and snapping their fangs almost telling them ‘Just try and get past us!’

Soon the pack of almost over 10 wolves surrounded the team and just circled them.  All the team members withdrew their guns but it did nothing to stir the wolves out of fear.  The pack continued to circle the group and that’s when Five said.

“Still think this is a good idea One?”

“Well I could be wrong.”

It was then one of the wolves, particularly the large white one came right up to Four.  To say that Billy wasn’t scared shitless right now, he’d be lying.  He’s done many dangerous things in his life being the ‘Skywalker’ of the group, but staring down a possibly rabid, giant wolf was something he NEVER in a million years thought he’d be doing.

The white wolf looked at Billy and sniffed him a couple of times before ceasing his snarling and walked closer to him and sniffed his leg even closer.  It was like—the wolf detected something familiar on him. It was a faint scent but it still lingered there on his pant leg.

Then something caught the wolves attention as every single one of them ceased snarling and their ears erected as they turned towards the house.  The white wolf looked back towards Billy and Billy looked down at the haunting golden eyes of the black wolf before it took off running. Followed by the rest of the pack who barked and howled away as they disappeared back into the forest.

“Okay what just……” started Seven and that’s when a voice came out from the speakers of the cabin.

“You’re lucky I let them spare you, otherwise I’d let them rip you all apart.” With that the team slowly approached the cabin and when One was the first to look inside, he saw just a few feet away a young woman with (h/l) (h/c) doing pullups on a set of monkey bars.

“Sarah Connor, from Terminator 2.” One proclaimed.  The woman then flipped herself around and just hung onto the bars and sneered.

“Fuck you’re old!” At that One just let out a fake gasped-out laugh as he mocked her.

“Fake laugh, hiding real pain.”

*My POV*

I can’t believe this guys would come back, and what’s with the new guy? Where was six? I swear if this is the new six I’ll call my children back and have him ripped to pieces.

“Whose this guy?” I asked gesturing to the gunman still holding the AK-47 in his hands.

“This is Seven.” One simply stated.

“It’s Blaine actually.” Seven or should I say Blaine answered.

“Okay I’m still not gonna get used to that. Yeah a lot’s happened since you left.” One told me.

“So what? You’re now all chummy with each other? Going to café’s together to sit on a couch like you’re a group of Friends?”

“Yep that’s our Queen of the North, heart like Ice. This past two years have not done you well socially.” Said Three.

“Like you’re one to talk Three. Our last mission in Budapest you nearly killed our target just because he wouldn’t cooperate with the kidnapping.”

“Oh and he did it again with our real mission.” Said Two.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I muttered.

“Look we came to ask for your help. Can you come with us?”

“Why would you need me One? I told you I can’t help you. Not in that way anymore.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” asked Blaine.  At that point I knew I had to show him.  Might as well get it over with.  I released my right hand and touched my watch with my nose and soon my automatic wheel chair came rolling under me.  I released my grip and landed right on my wheelchair and just stared at Blain like I was expecting the sympathetic eyes.

And there they were. His eyes widened and his jaw unclenched and dropped even though his mouth remained closed.

“Yeah, you can take a picture it’ll fuckin last longer you know.” I then took the motor handle and moved my chair towards One.  “And as I told you before, I won’t help you. I know the only reason you would come up here in person, with the whole team for that matter, is because you physically need me.”

“C’mon Zero we need our Ace back. For the new mission. It’s right up your alley and you know military corruption like no one else.”

“True but that still won’t make me help you.”

“(Y/n),” I heard Billy’s voice say.  I looked up at him and he looked at me with those kicked puppy dog eyes of his. “We need you.”

“You don’t need me. None of you do. Now please leave my cabin. I’ll give you the weapons you’ll need by tomorrow.” I wheeled out of my cabin and headed out to the backyard.

I looked out into the lake that stood by my backyard and that’s when I heard his voice say.

“(Y/n)—”

“I already told you Billy nothing you say will make me change my mind!”

“I already knew that.” I turned and looked at him and said.

“You do?” he nodded. “Then why are you here?”

“I just—wanted to see you. It’s been…..awhile.”

“Yeah, a long time since we—we’ve seen each other.” God the awkwardness you could just cut the tension with a knife.  Why did I have to fall in love with the cute green eyed thief? Why?! WHY!?

“Can’t we talk about….what happened between us?”

“Billy we talked about this.”

“No you just decided that we should end it! Why couldn’t you give me a chance to speak about how I felt!?”

“BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOUR FUCKING SYMPATHY BILLY!!! Every day all I kept seeing was the look of sympathy in your eyes after that day. I knew you’d try to make me stay out of sympathy, not just for what you wanted. One knew I was practically useless except for building weapons. He wants all of us on the field or none at all. Cause if you aren’t, then you’re nothing but collateral damage.”

“He’s actually started to loosen up on the rules.”

“Oh really? The day I see that is the day I can walk again, and without the help of machines.”

“(Y/n), please.” He then kneeled down beside me and gently cupped my face in his hand.  I tried to fight back his touch but I couldn’t help but swoon at finally feeling that calloused touch that I’ve missed so much. “I’m sorry okay. I never wanted you to think I was acting out of sympathy, I was—you don’t know how hard it was for me to see you in that pain. I’d give anything for it to have been me in that crash instead of you. I thought I lost you that day, but in the end I did end up losing you. I’d give anything to go back in time to that day and stop you from getting in that plane.”

As he spoke, he pressed his forehead to mine (a common form of affection the two of us did to each other) his nose gently brushing against mine.  I then felt the familiar, intoxicating taste of his lips on mine. It was a brief kiss but it still held so much love, passion and regret behind it.  He then kissed my cheek, then my jaw, but just before he could kiss my neck I stopped him and rolled away snapping out.

“NO BILLY! Don’t! You can’t just—kiss me and expect everything to be okay! I already told you…..it’s over. So please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” His eyes were full of pain as he looked at me in shock.

“As you wish.” Damnit why say that? He knew that was our secret code for ‘I love you’.  And with that he just walked away.  I sniffled and wiped the tears that were starting to form in my eyes away.  I then heard a soft grunt at my side and there I saw my white wolf mixed German shepherd “Ghost” standing beside me.

He whimpered and sniffed my hand and licked it comfortingly before placing his head down on my lap. All the while he let out another whimper as he looked up at me with those haunting yet beautiful golden eyes.

“Oh Ghost.” I stroked through his thick white fur and I told him. “I know you smelled me on him. But I can’t go back to him. He—deserves better than a handicapped.”

“So you do still care about him?” we both turned around, Ghost snarling defensively as we turned and saw Blain standing behind us just a few feet away.

“Ghost Platz!” He turned toward me and using his former commands that he once learned as a K9 officer, he obeyed immediately.

“You taught a wolf K9 commands?” asked Blaine.

“He’s a wolfdog actually. All those dogs you saw were in some degree a species of wolf dogs. From mixed huskies or German shepherds like Ghost here, to the traditional Czech wolfdogs.”

“So what you just—rescued them?”

“Some. Others I found as puppies at the puppy mill just half an hour away from here. I found them, busted them out and raised them. But of course I kept my distance because of the wolf blood within them. What people don’t seem to understand with wolfdogs is that they are just dogs that look like wolves. But they are also half wolf too, and sometimes that trumps the dog half within them. Two different species colliding together trying to overcome till one just takes over whether dog or wolf. And when the wolf takes over, people reject it. Fear it.”

“You say that like you’re talking from experience.” I grinned.

“You could say that. My team didn’t call me ‘Bad Wolf’ for nothing.”

“You mean the others?”

“No. My old team, my flying team. Before I got this job I—was an officer in the US Air Force. Officer (Y/n) “Bad Wolf” (L/n).”

“Wait. I think I heard about you from a former friend of mine. Carol Larson.”

“Ahh good old Carol. How was she last time you ever saw her?”

“She seemed fine. Last I knew she was gonna have a baby.”

“Ahh my older sista from another mista. That girl taught me everything I needed to know. I became the female Maverick thanks to her.”

“Now I hope you don’t mind me asking but from one Military officer to the other, was it a field mission that—”

“Oh no this? Nah this was from working with those sons of bitches you’ve got roped in with. Can’t say I blame them, hell none of us saw it coming.”

“What exactly happened?” I sighed heavily and turned towards him.  Sensing my distress and anxiety, Ghost came up to me and placed his head back on my lap and I explained.

“It was while we were still looking for information on the Turgistan dictator. One of our quarter missions. I was the eye in the sky for the team to take out any in coming police choppers or dick face’s military birds. I was having the time of my life, taking down one bird after the next. I was on point, before I knew it I had a bandit at my six. I tried to shake it off but it wouldn’t get off, nothing I did deterred it. Next thing I knew I was flying dead stick.”

I lowered my head remembering that horrible day like it was yesterday.  It’s true what they say about PTSD.  It never leaves you, even when you’re no longer part of the military.

“As you know One was gonna leave me out there, the entire plane was leaking of fluid and gas. It was gonna blow, but—for some miracle Billy managed to find me and he—pulled me out of the wreckage just as the plane blew up. Next thing I knew when I woke up, I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. At first I thought Five had to amputate my legs. Then again I wish she had.” I chuckled icily. “L3-L4 spinal injury, been paralyzed from the waist down for the past two years.”

“But you should be thankful that you’re alive.” Said Blaine.

“Is it really worth living when you have to look down at your feet and be reminded that they are useless. Like I said, I wish Five had amputated them. So that way I wouldn’t have to fucking look down at these useless mother fuckers and be reminded of my screw up! And Billy he—”

“Deserved better. Yeah I heard that, but did it ever occur to you that he would rather want you alive than to see you dead that day? On the way up here he just got this heartbroken look in his eyes. And I know he tries to hide it but I’ve seen the picture of you two together in his trailer.”

“Oh my god I thought I told him to burn that picture.”

“Billy loves you (y/n). And he still seems to.”

“I wish he didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because after my accident I can’t give him what we once had. I’m just dead weight to him at this point. A Zero. And nobody cares about Zero.”

“He does. But then again I guess that is you. So if you wanna sit here in self-pity licking your wounds, that’s fine by me. But if you’re as good as One says you are, then prove that not even losing the ability to walk can’t stop you.”

“You know you speak as if this is from experience yourself. What branch were you from soldier?”

“Army. Delta Force.”

“Huh, and just what were you to them?”

“Sniper.”

“Ohh well look whose special. Got a Hawkeye on the team now.” Blaine grinned softly.

“Yeah. Survivor’s guilt is a bitch so I know about military corruption too. What it’s like for you to try and do your own thing but your superiors won’t do that. So if you can find it in your heart to save those soldiers under Hassan’s ruling from making the biggest mistake of their lives, then come with us. Or like I said just sit here and wallow like a wounded dog. Your choice Officer (l/n).” he saluted me before walking off.

*3rd Person POV*

After the failed attempt at getting their Ace back, Two asked as they arrived back at the cars.

“So now what? We knew she wouldn’t help us, so what do we do now?”

“We still stick with the plan and hopefully those weapons she gives us tomorrow won’t fuck us over.” One stated as he got back in the front car.  As Billy and Blaine got in the second car, Blaine couldn’t help but notice the heartbroken expression on his face.

“She’ll come around.”

“I doubt it. Two years and she still doesn’t want to see me.”

“Every soldier goes through grief differently. But when she snaps out of it, she’ll be back, and she’ll need you when she does.” He gave Billy a brotherly pat on the shoulder as Five drove them out of (y/n) home and they drove all the way back to their home base.

The next day the weapons arrived from (y/n) and so the team decided to go on and move forward with the mission so they were on their way to Iran through one of One’s personal jets.

After awhile they arrived just a few miles away from where their target, Iranian military General Hassan Yazin was currently residing in his home palace just behind the Iranian military station.

“I still can’t believe this guy would choose the build his palace behind a military station.” Said Three.

“Look the quicker we’re in the quicker we’re out.” Snapped Four.

“I don’t know something doesn’t feel right here, usually a military base wouldn’t allow anything not even a jet to land within 100 miles of their base perimeter. So how were we able to get close enough?” asked Seven.

“I don’t know, but I prefer not to question it. Four’s right the sooner we get him, the sooner this mission is done. And I don’t want any fuck ups like what happened on our first mission.” One said.

“Okay fine, fine.” And with that the team moved forward.  Quick as they could they raced towards the base towards the first hiding spot they could find which was a tank.

“Alright I think I can make it to the east side of the tower and get a clear viewing of Hassan’s palace but I’ll need backup.” Seven said.

“Three and I got you covered till you clear it.” Two told him.

“You know I’m beginning to agree with Seven. I mean we haven’t even seen a single guard on patrol. And usually we run into some by now.” Said Five.

“Again not questioning it! Now get into your positions.” At that point the team started to move forward.  Seven raced towards the tower with Two and Three covering him in case of an ambush. Once they cleared the tower, Seven proceeded to scale up the tower thanks to the tools designed by Zero.

But just as he was about halfway up the tower, suddenly the sound of a jet flew right over head.  However it wasn’t just any jet or plane for that matter, it was a C-5 Super Galaxy.

“Ahh shit!” Seven swore.

“Motherfucker!” swore One.

‘Did you all really think I would make it easy for you?’ through the speaker’s Hassan’s voice rang out.

“Shit, he knew we were coming for him.” Two snapped.

‘Now I may not know who you six are exactly, but it seems you all are of unimportance. So your death wouldn’t even matter. Especially if it were from shall we say…..an accidental base explosion.’ The Galaxy C-% opened up and soon about 20 jets flew out of it and began to circle around the base.

Then faster than anyone could blink, all 20 jets rained fire down onto the base.

Seven scaled down the tower as fast as he could but was soon caught in the explosion and fell the rest of about 6 feet from the ground before he, Three and Two made a break for it before the tower could crush them.

Meanwhile One, Five and Four tried to find cover but every step they were blocked off by an exploding blaze of fire.  They knew they were majorly fucked.  With this constant rain fire, One knew there was no way he or his team was gonna get out of this alive.  As he managed to crawl

From his palace, General Hassan Yazin watched with pride as his military force rained fire on the supposed coup were now nothing but ants ready to be disintegrated one by one with each shots each of his jets dished out.

But suddenly the ships stopped firing down at the six members and changed their firing from the ground to further out into the sky.

“What the hell? Lieutenant what is going on?” he snapped into the commlinks.

‘Sorry General, our radars have detected something from the upper atmosphere.’ His Lieutenant spoke out.  Peeking out from their hiding spots, all the members just looked up confused.

“The hell are they shooting at?” muttered Two.  But it was then they saw it.  Something came right out of the clouds and it turned out to be a Grumman F-14 Tomcat was heading straight for the giant C-5 Super Galaxy.  The Tomcat soon then just rammed into the side of the C-5 like it was nothing as it exploded.

It was soon the team began to realize that this was a very familiar Tomcat that circled back around towards the underbelly of the C-5 and it was at that point Three laughed manically as he cheered out.

“OH YEAH KAMIKAZE!!” The tomcat once again went through the C-5 from bottom to top and the explosion boomed like a firework as the team were in awe.

“God I love that psychotic bitch.” One said in awe. While Billy couldn’t help but smile and laugh ecstatically.

“That’s my girl.” He muttered softly.

*My POV*

As I shot back up over the roof of the C5 Super Galaxy jet, I watched as it fell to the ground in a grand overture of explosions knowing that not only that giant ship was now gone, but the rest of the artillery inside was gone too.  I knew the team was dealing with more jets than they had out there, so I downsized the problem.

Because no one messes with my family.

“You guys take care of the General and his ground fleet. I’ve got your back on the aerial ambush.”

‘It is good to see you again Zero, cutting it kinda close aren’t yah though?’ One’s voice spoke through my radio.

“C’mon One you knew I was one for dramatics. Plus you gotta admit I looked like Captain Marvel back there.”

‘God you and Four with your millennial references.’ I grinned smugly.

‘Glad to see you’ve come to your senses Zero!’ I heard Blaine say.

“Thank me once you guys get that son of a bitch in his palace. You all finished one mission without me, I intend to see this one to the end.”

‘You got it. Care to be our eye in the sky?’

“It’d be my pleasure sniper.” I then pulled the accelerator and my Tomcat took off.  I flew after the jets that were still out that didn’t get caught in the C-5’s takedown and had them chase after me, leaving my friends alone down there.

So far I managed to take five of the 20 jets so far and nearly got shot out of the sky by a few others.  But it wasn’t until I saw Billy was in trouble from not only the ground assault but the incoming aerial attack he didn’t know was coming right at his front.

‘Billy 12 o’clock!’ I proclaimed as I chased after one of the jets and fired at ready.

*Billy’s POV*

I heard (Y/n)’s voice in my earpiece and I saw one of Hassan’s jets heading right for me.  Just before I knew I was a goner, the jet exploded right before my eyes and I watched as (Y/n)’s tomcat flew right past me.  Up and down I saw her fly with ease and grace taking down each plane in her sight.

Even when some of Hassan’s soldiers tried to take down her plane, she fired at them blowing the ground from beneath them.  Doing her famed loop-de-loops and even going in between a tag team of jets forcing them to lose control before firing at them before they could get the chance to recover.

As I fired at any soldier nearby I could help but cheer for my baby. As he place flew right over me once again I couldn’t help but cry out.

“TOM CRUISE DOESN’T COMPETE WITH YOU LOVE!!!”

‘Damn straight he don’t!’ She cheered.  I widely grinned and shook my head at seeing her in her element.  She really was like a Falcon in the air, but a She wolf on the attack.

‘Hate to interrupt the little love fest going on here but can we please focus back on the mission? Four I want you, Three and Two to head into the mansion and get that slimy son of a bitch before he tries to deck out.’ One’s voice rang out.

“Got it.” I then raced on ahead with Two and Three coming right beside me and the two of us entered the mansion.

For some reason and I have no idea why but Hassan barely had any guards left to protect him inside which was suspicious to me.  After I had just taken down a guy along the upper hallway near where Hassan’s room was said to be, I looked out the window to see Hassan trying an escape attempt through a chopper.

“Fuck!”

‘What’s going on Four?’ Five asked.

“He’s making an escape in a chopper.”

‘Not for long he won’t.’ (y/n)’s voice said.  Soon enough I saw her flying in and with just a few dropped bombs I saw the fireworks blow up his chopper.

“Two, three he’s outside let’s go!” I slid down the railings before successfully landing on the ground and we raced out the backdoor.  There I saw the rest of the team surrounding him, my girl’s Tomcat having an addition to it as she now aimed a GAU-17A machine gun aimed right at Hassan.

He turned towards us and he must’ve known he couldn’t win.  Wow what a pussy.  He surrendered right then and there and we exposed him to the Iranian President with the recorded confession Two got out of him.  Soon the news blew up with News about the military corruption Hassan had played in the Iranian government.

And with that another mission concluded and we all once again went our separate ways, except (y/n) and I.

*My POV*

After the mission, Billy and I went back to my cabin because the two of us deserved to talk about what happens now since I’m officially back in the game.  Billy and I were lying on my bed and the two of us were staring at each other, our hands softly and occasionally brushing up against one another’s.

“You were right Billy.” He grinned and said.

“I know I’m right.”

“I’m trying to be sincere here, don’t push it.”

“You’re right, you’re right I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t give you a chance to explain because—well I thought you could do better than me. You know that I—can’t perform well anymore so I’m basically a rag doll from the waist down. How could you love someone like that?”

“For one thing that girl’s got a whole lot more to offer than just the incredible sex we used to have together.” He tipped my chin upwards so that I was caught once again in the spell of those enticing green eyes. “Love the sex was just a plus from you. What I really fell in love with was your wicked sense of humor, you’re a fucking badass pilot, you’re beautiful inside and out, and even when you fall down like shit on the ground, you pick yourself up and brush yourself off and keep moving forward. Like today for example, you didn’t let your paralysis stop you from flying that plane and taking down a C-5 Super Galaxy. A fuckin C-5, do you know how big those things are?”

“75.53m in length, 19.84m in height and wingspan of 67.91m.”

“See? Even your brain is beautiful love.” He praised as he cupped both sides of my face.  The two of us smiled as I felt his thumbs brush against my cheeks.  “You see love, there is so much I loved about you. That I still love about you. So can we—pick up where we left off?” I thought about it and I said.

“Will you still make me those warm pancakes in the morning?” he laughed and said.

“I will make you pancakes for every single meal if it means that we can be together again.”

“Okay I’ll take you back.” He cheered and leaned forward and began to frantically kiss me all over my face.  I giggled as he was now starting to act like Max, my youngest pup who was such a lovebug even after the hell his owners put him through.

“Oh you won’t regret it love, I promise! I’ll help take care of the dogs, I’ll help with the chores, I’ll be your workout buddy, I’ll even push your wheelchair around—no screw it I’ll carry you from place to place.”

“Billy, I’m paralyzed but not incompetent.”

“Oh c’mon love, please let me just spoil you. Just this once please?” he cooed out as he pouted his bottom lip out and looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes again.  I groaned and said.

“Fine. But you can carry me only once a month.”

“Seven times a week.”

“Twice a month.”

“Ten times a month.”

“Billy!” I laughed.

“Okay, okay fine. Three times a month, that’s as low as I’ll go.”

“Twice a month.” I confirmed again.

“Okay. Twice a month.” We then kissed each other to seal the agreement.  “Why must you be so cute in order to get your way?”

“Not my fault.”

“No I think it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” It was then he gave my sides a quick tickle which made me jerk up and take his hands in mine.

“No don’t do that!” I laughed.

“Why can’t I?”

“Because you know what tickling does to me, and I’m at a disadvantage now that I can’t kick you away anymore.”

“Oh really? Well then I think I may be tempted even more.”

“Billy!”

“Okay, okay I won’t tickle you. Yet.” I groaned and punched his arm which made him groan in pain. “Ow what the fuck that was hard!”

“Oh you big baby it didn’t hurt that bad.” He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me to pull me in closer to him.

“God I love you.”

“I love you too. And I really did miss you Billy, really.”

“Of course you did.”

“Don’t push it.” He smirked before capturing my lips with his again.  This time our kiss deepened as I felt him cup the side of my face. When air became a desperate thing, he separated from me and our breaths intertwined with each other’s.  “God I’ve missed kissing you.”

“How do you think I’ve felt?” he kissed my cheek and snuggled close to me.

“So you—you don’t mind if we don’t…..”

“(Y/n), it’s fine. The sex was just a plus with you. I don’t mind just cuddling close with my best girl.” He lay down and pulled me close so that my head was resting on his chest and I felt him stroke my back, specifically my lower back where my L3-L4 spinal points were located at.

“So you don’t mind having a paralyzed girlfriend?” I asked him.

“So long as that paralyzed girlfriend is you. I’m always gonna love you (y/n) no matter what. Never, ever doubt that.”

“I—I think I may need to be reminded again.”

“I’ll gladly tell it to you a million times a day if it’ll get you to understand.” I felt him kiss the crown of my forehead lovingly and I breathed in his intoxicating scent that I always found addictive.  His cologne mixed with a bit of sweat from his parkour scaling.  I closed my eyes and buried my face into his chest and embraced my love once again for the first time in two years.

“I love you Billy. My King of the skies.”

“And I love you (y/n), my Queen of the skies.” And with that the two of us fell asleep together holding each other close and exchanging kisses every now and then.

[demauryss]

sail the wildest stretch; 1/6

Summary: Lucas is in a mess. His roommate is his ex-crush. He gets years worth of hairfall if he thinks a minute too long about his philosophy class. His penis-drawing talents are just out of the ordinary. And the cupid assigned to his case is a hair breadth short of committing his murder.

But it’s okay. As long as he has to worry about Eliott Demaury getting to murder him first.

or, cupid8776 has a lucas problem. lucas has an eliott problem. and they are not as unconnected as one might think they are.

enemies to lovers/matchmaking au.

ao3

chapter one: april thunders may blunders 

(next)

Dear Lucallecoeur456,

I’m extremely disheartened to announce that your request filed under letter no 654lgb has been denied. According to my records, it is your tenth letter in the past five months which is getting rejected. Personally, I feel saddened as you’re the only person assigned to me who’s over eighteen and still hasn’t found a match. I’d be able to help you better if you consider the following points while writing to cupidint.com next time:

While forming the letter, please consider typing in a computer before you write it down by hand. Or just consider inscribing neatly. You’re the reason our Server turns into a whimpering mess when it transcribes Coup de Foudre - assuming it’s what you write because frankly, your handwriting is garbage – as Coup de Foutre.

Please refrain from using acronyms in your letter. Writing ‘brb’ every time you deviate from a thought does not make you look good. Especially when the abbreviated form has the same number of syllables as the original word. Even better, just totally refrain from straying from an original thought only to come back to it after five pages. Makes me feel like I’m walking through a maze as I’m reading your letter.

While we’re on the topic of refraining, also stop drawing pictures of dogs when you’re asked for what you’re looking for in a partner. I know they are cute, but they can really not be an ideal partner for you.

Consider saving your satirical remarks for the real life. Our Server isn’t smart enough to detect sarcasm and thinks you are being serious when you describe a trash can in the space specified for explaining your qualities.

If you would ponder over these suggestions then I believe I’ll be able to find you a match and it’ll make both mine and your life a lot easier.

Yours truly,

Cupid8776

(They/Them)

*

The day Yann gets his letter, it’s everywhere on the news. local loner boy, Lucas reads somewhere, having qualities worse than the loner boy from gossip girl has a match. There’s a post circulating on twitter which goes friendly neighbourhood pretty man is officially off the market. And another after reading which makes Lucas wants to wash his eyeballs with hydrochloric acid: hot, tall, model-like being ready to dick down some pink canoes. it’s a trip you’ll never forget!!!

It doesn’t help that Lucas suspects Basile’s fan-account for Timothee Chalamet to be behind half of these posts. Especially the last one. And it also doesn’t help that Yann’s latest letter is currently getting glued to the roof of their bunk bed, right where Lucas would sure be made to stare at it for the rest of his puny life in the lower bunk.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Lucas grits out as he smothers the liquid and ugly look to the back of Yann’s letter. His hands are slimy, and Yann’s fucking face is smiling at him from the small chair he’s perched on. “You don’t even have the fucking decency to do it yourself. Can’t believe I ever thought that I like you. Fucking unbelievable.”

Yann tuts, low and too sure of himself. His face is glowing. His eyes are crinkled. And he desperately needs a punch in one or both of these areas, “You’re being dramatic, you know that?” Yann gets up from the chair, a marker in his hands. If it were up to Lucas he would have used that same object to ruin Yann’s pretty pastel pink blanket. The asshole deserves that and even more. Muttering some more curses, Lucas goes back to the task at hand – pasting the paper in smooth cursive writing courtesy of Cupid5644 on the roof of his bunk bed. Yann looks towards him in the middle of drawing a tally across the four small lines marked on the cupboard above the handle. His face is glowing. He desperately needs a punch or kick to dull that fucking shine. “Besides you signed this up for yourself. So shut the fuck up.”

Lucas groans, resting his head against his pillow, the letter he just pasted staring down at him in all its glory. “This whole thing is ridiculous Yann,” Lucas starts, hands crossed on his chest, “I still believe it’s a world-government scam meant to lure people in for their assassination later. Like, can you believe even Sully from 231-9 has a match. There’s no way you can expect me to believe the System is genuine.”

Lucas looks over to Yann who’s now leaning against the cupboard, scrutinizing Lucas from afar, “Are you sure your reason for not trusting them has got to do with that and not with the fact that in the past three months, each one of your request has been rejected with no guarantee of you ever finding a match?”

“Fuck you, Yann,” Lucas scoffs, turning his back to Yann, his front to the wall. Let Yann believe whatever he wants. It doesn’t affect Lucas, nor does it have any ring of truth to it. Fucking douchebag. Let his match turn out to be some astrology-loving, Harry-Styles-listening, ravenclaw-ass-fanatic. She’ll leave Yann’s Scorpio ass in seconds.

He hears Yann’s footsteps before Lucas feels him crouching behind him, Yann’s finger poking the back of Lucas’s shoulders, “Hey now,” he sounds apologetic, Lucas will give him that, “Life isn’t all about that jazz; your match or partner or whatever. Don’t worry about it. At least you haven’t fallen for their scam yet.”

Lucas laughs as he turns to Yann. His face is glowing. Lucas has changed his mind. The former Yann might deserve a slap in the face with a brick but this Yann deserves all the Kit-Kats Lucas has stashed under his bed. Cupid8776 will have a field day if they found Lucas’s current train of thoughts. Shocking, Lucas can imagine the magnitude of their gasp, Lucallecoeur456 does have a heart after all. Who would have thought.

 Lucas smiles at Yann as he extends his arm for him to take. “C’mon now. Basile will have both of our heads on a plate if we waste another second.” He gets up, stepping into his shoes as Yann walks out of their dorm. Something crunches under his foot – Lucas’s blunder; his newest message from Cupid8776. He had thought maybe Letter No 654lgb – lonely gay boy, for clarification – would finally tire them out. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Yann had laughed for ten minutes straight when he had read the letter. “Your cupid is going to commit mass murder one of these days. And I think you’re going to be the first.” Lucas had shook his head at Yann’s analogy; he isn’t that horrible. He sighs as he bunches the paper into a ball and bullseye’s it into the trash can – the one he’d described in his letter. Cupid8776 has a big storm coming next.

*

So here’s the thing in quite simple terms.

The world’s currently under the secret matching agency Cupid International. Before that it used to be SoulsBound, with the tagline where we find your soulmate for you. But then the name changed to Cupid Int. after getting involved in one too many scandals which Lucas remembers vividly; bold headlines on the front page of several newspapers: Soulmate leaves Soulmate for another, better Soulmate #SoulsBoundFails. And Soulmate doesn’t buy eco-friendly products. Puts the planet at risk #FixItSouls. And another, much dangerous and serious than the rest, which still gives Lucas nightmares to this day: Gryffindor finds out Soulmate is a Slytherin. Says even pet stones can tell they’re not compatible #FuckSoulsBound.

These outrages demanded an instant name change, so SoulsBound transformed to Cupid International; with a union of specially trained cupids from all over the world designated to find your potential match anywhere on the planet after you turn eighteen. The changes were justified and a long time coming, Lucas would say, as for him the term soulmate warranted a much deeper, not an ephemeral meaning; which couldn’t be forsaken for anything. But the soulmate that they suggested were anything but that.

And that’s what brings Lucas to the now: the thought that why people hassle so much for getting their letters to Cupid International as soon as they turn eighteen. Why instead of trying the conventional dating method - which has been getting much recognition as of late - they relied on some unknown person’s (or spirit? Who even were Cupids?) judging of whom they’d be compatible with. But then he guesses it has something to do with the fact that the conventional method is for people the Agency has dubbed hopeless – whose matches they still couldn’t find after years of research and rejection. Lucas is halfway turning into one of the people what with his letters of rejection piling up in the trash can.

But that’s not it. The Agency has more success than its scandals, which puts Lucas off. His grandparents met through the former SoulsBound. His neighbors that have been married for over forty years when he started university met through that. Yann’s parents met through that. Everyone he knows has some kind of emotional success story regarding SoulsBound/Cupid Int,.

And then his father had gone against the system and met his mother through the conventional dating method. Look where it had brought them now.

And here’s a thing in even simpler terms.

 Lucas hates Cupid International with a passion which burns his sternum and makes his stomach coil in disgust. And it has nothing to do with the way he has told Yann how he thinks the whole System is a government scam. But it has everything to do with the way how Cupid8776 has denied all forty of Lucas’s letters sent in the past nine months of him being eighteen. It makes his heart boil in his blood when he thinks about how he’s turning nineteen in three months and he still has no fucking chance of ever being matched with someone. Which sucks because out of all the remaining 6,999,999,999 people in the world, there still isn’t someone with same interests as him.

Which is cool. Fine even. Lucas isn’t petty about it. And definitely an ass. No. He’s anything but an ass about it. Because you see. He keeps in contact with Cupid8776 when he’s not writing to them on the specified days of the week. He asks them about their health, their lives. If they have someone special in their life. If they took their dog to a walk. If they’re remembering to stay hydrated.

He makes sure to send in an email every week, even if all he gets in reply is a monotonous Dear Lucallecoeur456, I’d appreciate if you would stop sending me non-work related messages. This email is reserved for work queries only. I’d also appreciate if you would use the time you took in composing this message on your request letter as I’m sure it would be more useful than this. Yours truly, Cupid8776 (They/Them) every single time.

So that’s what he does every time, much to the cupid’s dismay. He spends more time drafting his grocery list than the letter. Spends more effort in drawing stick figures of his enemy than correcting mistakes in the letter. Takes more interest in Cupid8776’s private affairs than his own. And still complain every fucking time why he hasn’t found a match yet.

But like he said, it’s fine. He’s fine.

*

The first damper on Lucas’s already damped mood comes a little after one. When a pretty fucking important experiment is turned in incomplete. The second comes in the shape of a person. And it’s much significant than the other.

Lucas has just crawled out of a brutal microbiology lab, his clothes tattered, voice bruised from screaming at his group members who don’t even know how to work around a fucking microscope. One would disrupt the lens and the other would somehow mess with the resolution. And then Lucas would curse his life and begin the whole fucking experiment just for the thrill of it, really.

So it goes without saying that after seven unholy tries on the experiment, it had been left incomplete as they ran out of time. Unfinished experiments aside, Lucas was fucking exhausted. He could feel the tired in every cell of his body as he walked from the class to the cafe in the campus where he’d agreed to meet the boys. Now not only was he about to drop down any second, he was also fourteen minutes late.

“You’re so early, Lu,” Arthur drawls out, dull, “Couldn’t have come even earlier if tried.”

Lucas shakes his head and plops down loudly on the bar stool in between Arthur and Yann. He dumps all of his stuff on the ground, wincing as the muscles in his neck scream in protest. “I’m sorry,” Lucas sighs, reaching over Arthur to hit Basile on the back of his head who appears to be sleeping with his head resting on the curve formed by his arms which are folded on the counter. He jolts up, eyes wide, as he looks around the café with hand rubbing where Lucas hit him.  “This fucker left me on my own in the lab. It was a nightmare, honestly.”

Arthur smiles his head as Basile pouts, “What was I to do, man? Daphne asked for my help, I couldn’t say no to her!”

Lucas shakes his head, looking over to Yann as he nudges his shoulder. Yann motions towards Basile, “But you don’t have a match, right? Where does Daphne come from in all of this?”

A proud smile takes over Basile’s features. Lucas finds it funny how the words Daphne and match in the same sentence makes the sadness and the sleep to literally dissipate from his face. “I know that, Yann. But to answer your second question, I sent an email to the cupid and he reassured me that I’d find a match in the next attempt so.” Basile shrugs like it’s no biggie, when to Lucas, in definitely is. “I’m hoping it is Daphne.”

��Here’s to fucking hoping,” Lucas’s attempt at muttering is intercepted by Yann, who looks at him weirdly. As if in a question. Lucas shrugs, no biggie. He also finds it funny how Basile’s cupid is replying to his emails reassuring him about the whole fucking ordeal, while Lucas’s cupid can’t be bothered for anything. Lucas gets this: Cupid8776 definitely has something against him.

They place their orders for their beverages: coffee for all of them except Lucas. He goes with cardamom tea. It’s when the café’s beginning to fill up with people getting freed from classes that Arthur speaks up. “But like, you haven’t met the person before right? What if they have the emotional range of a lentil?”

Out of the four of them, Arthur was the one who cared the least for the System, even less than Lucas did. He hasn’t sent a single request to Cupid International, saying he isn’t the one for dating or love. And Lucas respects all his choices. He looks up, affirmation on his tongue. But then his eyes fall over Arthur’s shoulder, in between the barricade of tired students blocking the door. And he thinks, he thinks – holy motherfu-

“Speaking of lentils,” He takes a sip of his tea, meeting the boys’ confused stares, “Here comes one, heads-up.”

And it’s just that – how Lucas spots him and a murky grey takes over his surroundings. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Something weird settles in his stomach as his friends look over to the ill lentil as a smile blooms across his ugly face. Fucking traitors.

“Eliott!” One of them shouts. It’s probably Basile. It’s definitely Basile with the way he’s waving his hands in the air. Lucas would have probably knocked them off of the face of the earth had it not been for Yann seizing him by placing both of his hands over Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas inhales deeply as Eliott walks over to their little settlement of barstools and idiots, a bounce in his step as he plays with the strap of the bag over his shoulder. Lucas looks anywhere but at him as he comes to stand next to Basile as he yells excitedly, “Good to see you here.”

“You too.”

Lucas just about murders Basile with nothing but his mind as Eliott’s shirt comes into his line of vision. And as Lucas looks up - goes against the well-being of his eyes - his eyes take a quick sweep of Eliott’s tall figure. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s currently smiling warmly at Basile, then at Arthur. It’s when that his eyes fall on Lucas that the previous warmth in them is sucked out of them, like a vacuum, and they harden like stones as Eliott looks at him. And Lucas thinks he’s probably remembering the latest stick figure drawn on a piece of paper which Lucas had hit him with earlier as he was bent over an old, tattered book in the library.

“Have a seat, mate.” It’s Arthur. Double fucking traitor. Lucas should consider getting new friends. (But then, he thinks quite sadly, who would ever befriend him if not for these completely insufferable idiots?)

Lucas watches, stomach in knots and million things on his tongue, as Eliott’s face softens as he turns to Arthur. He smiles, “I have a class soon so I should get going.”

Basile murmurs something about it being a bummer. Arthur tells him that they’ll see him around. Lucas doesn’t know a bummer or what that is but he knows the look Eliott gives Lucas over his shoulder as he leaves – he knows the menace which is coiled in the white of his eyes, the absolute anger and disgust  he’s reserved for Lucas comes pooling out in that instant, and Lucas almost washes away with it. Fucking pretentious asshole.

Lucas swallows his heart beating in his throat as Eliott disappears from his sight. Un-clenches his hands which have formed a fist without his knowledge. He turns on his stool, passes Yann a smile who’s been weirdly quiet during that encounter, watches as Basile’s contemplative face comes into his line of vision. And curses whoever put him in this situation: A Thinking Basile is not a Good Basile.

“Do you know apparently Eliott still hasn’t found a match either? Which is odd, since the guy’s a deity. I mean, just freaking look at him!”

Arthur side-eyes Lucas as he nods his head in agreement. Lucas should seriously consider getting new friends. The ones he currently have differ largely from on certain matters. And it fucking sucks that they know it too. “Yeah,” Arthur is saying, “he’s pretty. And nice too.”

‘Nice’ my fucking ass. Lucas shakes his head, finishes his cold tea in a second, and picks up his bag which he dumped to the floor. It is common knowledge that Eliott Demaury is good-looking. He’s the person everyone in their uni flocks up to. He’s also pretty fucking amazing at everything he does. Which only irks Lucas more. He gets up, adding onto Basile and Arthur’s conversation with a silent Yann in tow.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he speaks to no one in particular, not really expecting the three people to stop their oh-so-important conversation about Eliott Demaury to pay him any attention. Shaking his head, he runs through a crowd, past a sulking worker, stressed students and mahogany colored back door to an alley o sheltered light and soft breeze.

Lucas breathes in deeply. His bag makes a sound as it plops to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focuses on calming his heart down which is beating so erratically Lucas has trouble keeping his mind on one place. If he could just wrap his hands around that fucker’s ne-

“Fancy seeing you here,” Oh fucking hell. Lucas fires off every curse he could think of in his heart. There is an off feeling in his stomach as he opens his eyes to Eliott’s hooded figure sitting off to his right, a cigarette placed between his lips. Lucas has to look down to place the full expression on his face, and it thrills him a little. (The act of looking down at him, for once. Not the clever smile which is placed on his face.

“Well, how’s your day doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Lucas shrugs his shoulders like it isn’t taking a great deal out of him to plaster the absolute fake smile on his face. “I was wondering why suddenly all the clouds turned grey.”

Even though he’s standing five to six feet away, Lucas doesn’t miss the brie fall of Eliott’s smile. But it’s coming into place faster than Lucas has the chance to feel good about the whole ordeal. He watches, against his will, as Eliott takes a long drag of his cigarette, the end of the stick burns brighter in glowing red embers before he blows white puffs of smoke in the air. He’s just so –

Lucas bites down on his lip to prevent the stupid thoughts from slipping out. Eliott watches him with (feigned) interest.

“Ahh there he is,” Eliott straightens his back. Even though he’s sitting on the steps to the side and Lucas is standing, it still – somehow – feels as if Eliott’s looking down on him. “I was wondering where the meanie in you has wandered off to.”

He didn’t just call Lucas a meanie. What the fuck.

Lucas heaves in a sigh. Wills his heart to stop hammering. “You wouldn’t know a thing or two about that, now. Would you?”

Lucas notices the little shake of his head, the light which falls over his face making it look like it’s dropped the sneer which has now become a part of his features whenever he’s around Lucas. And Lucas should revel in the thought of getting Eliott to show his real colours, but it grates on him regardless.

Eliott rubs his thighs over his jeans. Lucas traces the motion with narrowed eyes. And when he speaks, it’s to a completely different wave.

“You know, when someone asks about your day, you reply and then ask the question back. It’s called having a conversation, you know?”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, words already spilling out before he has a chance to assess them, “And what part of me actually looks like I would want to have any conversation with you?” Just. Who does he think he is? Pretending to be nice and all that. It doesn’t mean Lucas would forget when yesterday he doused Lucas’s workplace in some sticky as hell material which ruined not only his assignments which he spread on the table but left a permanent damper on his mood.

There’s a tilt to Eliott’s lips, his eyes bright and every bit gauging Lucas with the way they’re trained on him. The structure in his chest gives a painful squeeze.

Lucas doesn’t like it. At all.

“I should have known,” Eliott says with an air of nonchalance that has Lucas’s insides firing up in anger and – “You’re not one to have a conversation with.”

“Glad to have that sorted, then.” Lucas decides for the same tone Eliott chose earlier. He turns on his heels. And with Eliott’s eyes digging holes in his back, he returns through the same door he came out of earlier.

*

So here’s another thing in the simplest of terms. Lucas isn’t fond of many things in his life. He hates the System, his philosophy professor, Sully from 231-9. But what he hates even more than all of these things is the fucking lentil Eliott Dick Demaury.

*

There’s a dull buzzing seeping into his bones as Lucas walks towards consciousness. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, his eyes glued shut as he pats around his pillow for the vibrating device around him. He picks the phone up around a yawn, voice groggy as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Well, he hasn’t used it in hours. So. There’s that.

“Hello?” He croaks out, snuggling his face into the pillow under his head.

“Lucas Lallemant! Why are you still sleeping?”

The voice, filtered through the static, still compels Lucas to bolt upright in the bed, eyes now opened wide as he rubs away the sleep with his hand. “Mama!” He wills his voice to sound as if a trail of drool hadn’t had been drying at the side of his mouth. “You’re still up!”

His mama chuckles a little, as Lucas is left to smile sheepishly. Her voice comes clear now, “I would have called you at crack of dawn and you would still have said the same thing. Besides, don’t you have to go to your shift in half an hour?”

Lucas frowns, and then gets out of the bed. He finds Yann gone, his bed properly made. That’s why Lucas was able to sleep that much, considering Yann has reserved a distinct hatred for Lucas’s sleep.

His limbs are heavy as he changes out of the moth-ridden (not exactly, but its appearance justifies the statement) shirt he slipped into before his nap. “How have you been, Mama?”

“Great,” his mother speaks on the other line. There’s a brightness to her voice which lessens as well as increases the cut of homesickness lodged inside the muscle of his heart. Lucas doesn’t let himself dwell on the sudden sadness which grips him. Instead he focuses on the smile he can hear in his mother’s flowery tone, “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden these days. You know the plants Willow got me? They flowered yesterday and they’re so beautiful Lucas!”

Lucas smiles as he picks up his bag lying by the door.

She hums on the other line. “And Dr. Noelle changed my medication. We’ve switched to lighter pills instead of those heavier ones that always made me drowsy and loopy. She said I’m doing better so no need for the heavy dosage.”

There’s something like relief travelling with the air he inhales right to his heart. The sun is bright as Lucas makes his way outside. “That’s good, Mama.”

His mother launches into details about stuff about her new medication like the schedule and the amount of pills she’s required to take each time. Lucas walks out of the campus, listening intently to his mother’s retelling of the shenanigans happening in the various clubs she has joined now that she doesn’t feel so drained anymore. Lucas tells her about his classes and life in return.

 “Oh, yesterday in the cooking club, Nadine switched Hira’s container of salt with baking powder. It was quite fun to watch them two bickering afterwards. And there’s a betting pool going around the club about how much time they’re going to take before they get together.”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile pulling up on his face as he crosses the road, “Mama, you should help them sort out their differences instead of enjoying their fights!”

Lucas can hear her shaking her head. She continues, “We should, but it won’t be fun anymore. Besides, I do like some slow burn if I say so myself.”

“You’re spending too much time on the internet,” Lucas muses, “Next thing I know you’ll tell me that you’re reading fanfictions.”

His statement is met with silence. Suspicious silence. He has a minute to be terrified at the prospect before he’s breaking out in laughter, “What the fuck, Mama!”

“Language, Lucas!” She chides, but there’s a smile in her voice which grips Lucas’s heart. Even though he’s kind of wary about the stuff she must find on the web, Lucas knows she can fend for herself.

“Anyways,” she steers the conversation to another direction. Lucas goes with it. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

Lucas nods, “Yeah Mama. I’ll try to make it on Friday if the boys haven’t got something planned already.”

The store comes into view, so Lucas says his goodbye into the phone. “I need to go, Mama,” Lucas swallows down the bile which rises in his throat. He misses her so damn much. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The lines drops, and Lucas is let to chase away the sudden sadness he feels. For a minute, he stands there outside the store, his heart beating with a pang of homesickness. But then he forces air into his lungs, clears his mind, and goes inside the store.

The store is blissfully silent when Lucas enters through the door. There’s a faint smell of lavender still left from the candle Mika must have burnt earlier. Lucas drops his bag behind the counter before he picks up the various records and CD’s piled on the counter and places them in their racks. He starts making his way to the store room for the stuff which was shipped earlier. Might as well get a head-start if he’s early.

The store’s owned by Mika’s aunt, and Lucas works part-time here. It’s a vintage record store; the business is okay. He had earned a full scholarship in the university, but needed a job for the basic necessities in his life. Mika offered a job – and the wage was enough to pay off his expenditures. It is okay, better even. Except – except for the –

Lucas ends up walking face first into a rock-hard chest. His nose gets squished against a set of solid pectoral muscles, the cartilage singing with pain. There are hands grabbing his forearms; stale cigarettes and citrusy bubblegum taking up a better half of his brain. If it hadn’t been for the way the systems operating his reflexes have trained him to be repelled away as soon as the scent hits his nostrils, Lucas is a hundred percent sure he would have delivered a leg straight into the dick in front of him.

“Hey,” there’s an iciness which Lucas feels even though he’s overtaken by the pain in his nose. Lucas looks up, up; and here he is – the dick in all its ugly glory. Lucas tries not to fall on the spot.

“Lucas Lallemant is early? Am I dying or is it really happening?” Eliott cocks his head to one side, lips tilted up a fraction. Lucas smiles back sarcastically. What if he is late to almost everything in his life? That’s none of Eliott’s fucking business. Forcing the very delicious image of Eliott choking to death in his sleep to a dark corner of his brain, straightens his shoulders to stare at Eliott square in the eyes. He’s sad and he’s tired. So he doesn’t have any energy to deal with Eliott today, “Please crawl to whatever grimy hole you’ve crawled out of this time, Demaury.”

Footsteps follow his as he spots up the cardboard box holding the new records in the store room. Mika told him to stack them once he gets the time. He’s picking it up when the slime-covered asshat opens his mouth, “What are you doing?”

Lucas sighs, “Operating a spacecraft.” He moves towards the box, hearing Eliott’s footsteps falter behind him. “What does it look like?” Lucas picks up the box, but Eliott isn’t up to giving it a rest.

“Actually, leave it there. You’re on dusting duty today.”

The fuckin- “What?” Lucas turns on his feet. His stomach is doing weird somersaults. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Eliott, whose eyes are narrowed as if he’s examining Lucas. It’s like he’s plotting Lucas’s murder. And Lucas – he has a flashing thought. That would be the highlight of Eliott’s life, no?

He shakes himself into the present. And then gets the words out with great distaste. “Mika told me to stack them so.” He turns around once again, moving towards the box, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Lucas shakes it off quickly.

Eliott stands off to one side, his face in its perpetual state of frown around Lucas. “Mika left me in charge,” he says, leaning his wait on the door as he looks down at Lucas. He won’t be intimated. No.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the box Lucas has picked up as he turns around, heart and head set in determination despite the initial bout of anxiety and something else which still sings inside him somewhere. Eliott almost has a foot of height in Lucas, and if that isn’t enough to make Lucas flee to the mountains, there are parallel lines drawn on the skin his forehead. His eyes are green, the one which reminds Lucas of moss gathered on stones settled to the ocean bed. Solid. Firm. Steady. Lucas wants to reach out and slap that look off of his face.  Preferably with a chair. He raises an eyebrow; a challenge.

Something like light flashes on Eliott’s face, giving Lucas a look into an annoyed feature before turning neutral again. Like the plants viewed from the askew perception of water floating above the surface, Eliott’s eyes turn infinitesimally greener. “You’ll dust off all the records in the A to M section. Or if you’d rather I tell Mika about the time you scratched one of his Stevie Wonders vinyl, I’m down with that too.”

There’s no wonder in the way the box previously in Lucas’s hands retains its original place. No. Definitely not him getting intimated by that giant goo of citrusy smelly being with his head too far up his head. Eliott’s face transforms into one of his ugly smirks; the one which is belittling and totally hateful towards Lucas. Lucas just about launches his self upon him.

“If we’ve figured that out,” Eliott straightens his body, his eyes have that weird sparkle that they always gain whenever they see Lucas miserable, which is just about every fuckin time Lucas comes in contact with Eliott. “I also would like if you could hurry up. We don’t have all day today.”

Lucas bunches his hands in fists to his sides as Eliott walks out, all pretentious and glad as he is to have the final word. He blesses Lucas with one final boastful look over his shoulder, the green now as bright as day.

 It’s no biggie, Lucas thinks. He can easily refuse. There must be atleast a thousand records in the A to M section. Well, not a thousand but you get the gist. And Céline has been in Léon for the past week to attend her brother’s wedding. Which means the records wouldn’t have been dusted for years. Not only would Lucas have a stellar day cleaning them, but his terrible allergy would cause him immense pain. But the scratched vinyl and Mika’s wrath after knowing about it would cause him a direct ticket to his grave.

So with heavy steps and an equally heavy heart, Lucas stomps over to the racks holding the worn out records covered with dust. There’s something tingling in stomach. He swallows down the feeling, and pushes Eliott out of his mind. That fucking asshole. No wonder he hasn’t got a match.

He goes towards to the record player he persuaded Mika to get for the store. Eliott had brewed a shit storm when Mika had agreed. His ‘Music would be distracting’ was countered by Lucas’s ‘What kind of a music store would it be if it had no music playing?’ and in the end, Lucas had watched a brooding Eliott triumphantly as Mika brought in his uncle’s record player the next day. And so it beings him a great deal of joy as he places in a record in the player that Mika has given his permission to be played in the store.

The records in front of him glisten with the reason Lucas would be walking out of the store with his eyes on fire and respiratory track on a lock down. Elton John croons in the background as he takes out the sticky notes from his pocket (they come in handy when the situation is like this, okay?), tears off a note. Eliott doesn’t, thankfully, surprisingly, bother him once as he gets to work.

*

It’s to a violet and pink merging together that Lucas looks up to when he makes his way out of the store. Even though his eyes are stinging, and his throat feels like the surface of a cemented wall; all rough and scratchy with cheeks stained with the water his eyes won’t stop producing, Lucas still looks up as a bird takes flight into the setting sun, a silhouette of the fucking time and energy Lucas lost removing years’ worth of dust off of records and cursing the asshole parading the halls with a stick in his ass.

Lucas doesn’t know why Eliott has made it the mission of his life to make Lucas’s life hell. And he also doesn’t know why Eliott’s like warm, soft sunshine when faced with anyone other than Lucas. Hell, if Céline had been the one asked for the task, Eliott would have stepped right up as the fucking gentleman he is to offer to do it himself. And it is funny how once he’d spot Lucas, his face would twist like he’s sucking on a sour lemon or something. Lucas doesn’t get that. He can’t.

With a sigh heaved out of his super congested nose, Lucas starts walking back to his dorm, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had been thankful for Eliott’s absence as he was walking out. It gave him a chance to stick the drawing which he made onto the first page of some deep shit book Lucas knows Eliott keeps in the drawer of the counter. Eliott was nowhere to be found, and Lucas was left with the proof to reinforce his theory. He firmly believes that besides being a fucking dick, Eliott Demaury is also a ghost which keeps appearing out of the blue and then disappears as if it hadn’t been there before. And Lucas is quite okay with that. The role suits Eliott in more ways than one – but it’s also sad Lucas’s won’t be able to get the pleasure of murdering Eliott if he’s already dead.

A rain droplet falls from the darkening sky over Lucas’s head. It lands cold in the center, making Lucas quicken his pace as he rounds the final corner near the dormitory. Yann would already be there, and Lucas can pester him all night to get him some chicken soup.

He makes it to his room just as the rain starts pelting on the ground. Lucas kicks off his shoes as he enters the room. Yann’s hunched over the study table, half asleep from what it appears to him. It’s when a particularly loud sneeze bursts through Lucas that Yann looks up.

“You look like a vampire,” Yann snickers as he looks at him. Lucas doesn’t need to look in the mirror to see what mighty image he’d be painting with red eyes and pink nose and tear-stains on his cheeks. He drops his bag, takes off his wet clothes and jumps into the bed in his boxers. Muffling his face into the pillow he lets out a groans, “I hate that asshole so much.”

“Whom do you not hate?” There’s a smile in Yann’s voice. Lucas chooses to ignore it. He sighs, turning on his back and staring at the abomination he glued to the roof of his bed earlier.

“That’s not the point, Yann,” Lucas exhales, “He knows I have a dust allergy. But still he fucking blackmailed me into dusting the records. It’s like he was getting me back on something.”

“Well, you do keep making those drawing of him,” Yann stops just as Lucas sits up. He scoffs, “Whose side are you on Yann? I can’t believe he’s bewitched you too.”

Yann shakes his head. He looks like he’s regretting every of his decision which brought him here, to this second, with a Lucas with a quarter of his brain working. Fucking Eliott Demaury and his fucking charm. Lucas doesn’t get what’s so special about it.

“-and then I had to walk in the rain,” Lucas continues, sighing into his arm. There’s a light pitter patter which is reaching Lucas’s ears. Lucas would have been able to take in the sandy smell that must be wafting in the air if his nose hadn’t been so congested. It’s Eliott’s fault. All of it. “Fucking pretentious asshole,” Lucas mumbles.

Lucas turns his head. Yann has his contemplative face on, “Don’t take it the bad way Lu, but don’t you think you’re kind of hung up on him?”

Lucas sits up, shocked to his very core. With a gasp he splutters like a fish out of water, “I’m not!”

Lucas doesn’t know where Yann is getting these terrible thoughts. Lucas won’t fall a prey to that. Fuck. Yann doesn’t seem fazed. It’s like he’s done this every other day of his life. What, Lucas doesn’t know. “If you ask me, or Arthur, or Basile, it kind of seems that you are, Lucas. You bring him everywhere, you know? Even if the situation doesn’t call for it, you’ll somehow make it so it has something to do with Eliott. And I think that’s where your fault lies: You give him too much thought.”

And that is…..totally not wrong. Maybe partially, but – Lucas does bring him everywhere with him. And that’s totally on Lucas. It’s maybe the reason he’s so miserable half of the time. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then, as in afterthought, speaks, “Well, then, fuck the rain, I guess?”

Yann’s face lights up as a chuckle passes his lips, “You know what they say Lucas: April showers May flowers.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eyes, “More like April thunders May blunders but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

And like expected, Yann starts shaking his head, exhaling heavily. The sound makes Lucas grins and he looks up just as Yann clicks his tongue, “You’re a hassle, Lallemant.”

 “What do you mean? I’m a delight to have around.”

Yann clocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed, “Listen, I know atleast one person who would greatly differ with your statement.”

Lucas sighs, plopping his head back on the pillow, “Yann, you and I both know that Eliott hates my guts, so.” He shrugs. It’s common knowledge now. And wasn’t Yann just lecturing him about giving Eliott to-

“I was talking about your cupid, actually,” Yann has a terrible looking thing crawling into the fibers of the cells constituting the skin Lucas so badly wants to punch right now. The corner of his lips hitch up a fraction before he gets up from his chair, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” Yann says, a smile crinkling his eyes, “You sit here and think about him, okay?”

He’s out the door in a second; the pillow Lucas throws at him landing on the ground after harshly colliding with the door.

Fucking assholes.

*

 cupidcollns@cupidint.com

Dear applicants,

Requests for the new sessions have been opened. Kindly take out the prints of your forms from cupidint.com. Please make sure to send in your requests to your designated Cupid before Friday. Any and all requests received after the deadline will be rejected.

Yours truly, Cupids

Lucas stares at the bright flashing and too depressing email displayed on the computer screen. There’s a dull throbbing behind his left eyebrow, his eyes are burning, and Yann still hasn’t returned with the food Lucas messaged him to get for him a few minutes after his departure.

His eyes move from the screen severely damaging his brain to the ugly yellow form Lucas keeps stashed in case of emergencies. His pen rests on top of in a bit slanted. Lucas hates the very sight of this form; apart of tree wasted for nothing. He remembers the many papers like this he sent many times before, and still end with fucking disappointment. What or who is to say this time won’t be the same.

With a dejected sigh he picks up the pen and presses the clicker. Might as well sign up for another disappointment. It is as he starts reading What would you pick to describe yourself as? Please pick one of the choices and is in the process to bang his head against the table cover over the answers that his phone pings with a notification. He unlocks the device, squinting at the light flooding his burning eyes. His stomach coils in on itself.

Eliott D 💩         

céline will be back on friday

so it’s your duty to dust the records till then

also, you draw terribly. thought i should let you know

Lucas stares at the words with a newfound hatred which now boils beneath his skin and rises up like a tide ready to consume all of him. But if that happens Lucas would so something extremely petty and stupid. Eliott won’t let him live, and besides, Lucas is above that. He turns his phone off, and with a bout of energy coming from somewhere inside him, underneath his sternum, he picks up the pen and, because he’s inspired, starts drawing penises everywhere there’s a blank for answers he’s supposed to write. The letter’s going to be rejected anyway; Lucas might as well go down with dignity.

This is it, Lucas thinks, when Cupid8776 finally gives up on him. Ha. Lucas would finally be free of their trap.

(And, because he’s inspired, he also takes a picture of the penis, lines them up with the various shots of the stick figures currently accumulating in his photo library, and sends them all to Eliott D (Poop Emoji). In response to his last message, Lucas provides: i don’t think i’m terrible. i’m getting better at drawing your portrait, see and presses send.)

Lucas folds the letter into an envelope and is on his way to mail it. And when Eliott replies back with a chain of messages including some very gruesome you are fucking annoying and extremely threatening crawl back to the whole YOU have come out of, psychopath somewhere between that, Lucas doesn’t feel any remorse.

Like he said, he’s above that.