#mophead writes

[cigaretteparfum]

[cigaretteparfum-library]

2024.06.04

Stay.

That is the word, I realise, that I hope to hear him say, which he never did: Stay.

I just want to know if the feeling was mutual: if he likes having me around as much as I like being around him.

Truly, what I want is for him to want me.

Stay.

I wish he would say that.

He never says that.

“Shit, it’s raining.”

The pouring came over so suddenly and violently during the day: one moment it was quiet; the next, all of a sudden hard raindrops were hitting the roofs. It came so suddenly, in fact, that he jolted awake on his bed because of it.

I swivel on his desk chair, having stopped the movie that I was watching on his PC, looking at him disoriented and surprised and I say, “It’s raining.”

He sighs. And he drops himself back on the mattress with a grunt, turning to lie on his stomach. I stare at him for a moment before returning to my movie.

The rain continues well into the night, only briefly changing in its intensity as though it was about to stop only to then pour hard again mere minutes later, as though teasing me specifically. I have to go home, but it’s impossible for me in this weather. I voiced my concern about it to him earlier, and with ease he said, “So just sleep over here.”

I blinked. And blinked. He has occupied his desk chair back and I sat on the second, smaller chair next to his. He looked at me with his eyebrows raised and shrugged. “Or you can call for a cab, that works too. Your choice.”

“No fucking way,” I scoffed. “That’s way too expensive.”

He shrugged again. “So, sleep over.”

I didn’t say anything, only took a long drag of my cigarette.

It’s a Friday on my off day, and tomorrow, Saturday, I’ll work on evening shift while he’s taking his weekend off. I’ve been here since some time past midday, and have now spent over six hours hanging out in his place.

He doesn’t care about the length of my stay: never does. But I’ve been trying to be conscious about it and limit my stay to up to 4-5 hours only. Social propriety and common sense, the two things I’ve never really been good at, are what I’m slowly trying to learn after I overstayed my welcome once.

He didn’t say anything then, but I was aware that I was overstaying my welcome. The reason why I didn’t leave when I felt that I had to was because I simply enjoyed being around him too much, and he kept saying that he was fine with it and that I could leave whenever I want. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to be around him. So I shamelessly took his words at face value. But I thought he had already too much of my by the end of my visit. To this day, I still can’t tell how he felt exactly on that day, and any attempts to figure out has only served to make me more confused. He doesn’t really care, he said. But I know that people normally care. I don’t know whether to take his words at face value or not, and I already tend to overthink things, so I stopped trying to figure out and instead beginning to learn some self control.

I want to be around him as much as possible, but this is not about what I want: this is about what’s proper. Hanging out with a friend for three to four hours seem reasonable, five is the max limit and already pushing it; so I cap it off at five.

If it were up to me, however, I’d like to stay with him forever.

But this isn’t about what I want.

He has fallen asleep again and I curl on the thick carpet on the floor right next to him on the mattress. In his sleep he has let his right arm hang over the edge where it comfortably rests on my hand. I savour the skin contact as I watch him sleep, feeling quite tired and sleepy myself but not yet willing to succumb into it. I understand how Steven Tyler felt now when he sang that he didn’t want to close his eyes and missed a thing.

Our time together has been so limited lately and it’s all because I consciously try to limit it; that doesn’t mean that I want to, only that I think I have to. I don’t want him to dislike me; I don’t want to lose my privileges of being near him and have him consider me a friend. It’s agony, in truth: when I want nothing more than to breathe the same air as he does, but afraid that if I were to indulge myself in it too much, his patience would eventually run thin and our friendship strained.

I have truly become a satellite orbiting around him: close enough, but never enough.

I’d settle for this. I’d rather have a little bit of him than none at all.

I think I may be falling in love. That would explain why I’m so agonised when we’re apart, yet tormented still when we’re together: I know that I can’t have him. He’s not into me, and I’m way too green and naive for him.

I love the way he speaks softly, even if it’s sometimes hard for me to hear. I love the way that he smiles. I love that he’s so patient in dealing with me. I love the air around him that brings me calm. I love the way he gets mad at my superiors and bosses. I love that he lets me draw on his skin. I love it when he shows me things. I am forever grateful that he let me into his life.

I actively seek out his company—in fact, I yearn for it. He doesn’t feel the same way, though. He never seems to miss me when I’m not around, even if he’s always welcoming when I say that I want to hang out.

I think about him all the time; I reckon I barely cross his mind.

This is fine—this is not—but I’ll settle for this.

I’ll settle for this.

The hour is approaching ten: my phone notification has been sounding off nonstop with my work group chat when everyone is sending their proof of tidying up and cleaning the area after operational hour.

He’s lying on his side facing me still, and I’m still fighting off the sleepiness that has been trying to take over. His cat is curled behind my leg, asleep also.

I want to kiss him. To touch him. But I keep my hands to myself.

I remember the first night we spent together: we met on a dating app and went out for a date. Afterwards, he invited me to his place. I was fully expecting sex: not because I was already into him—not yet—but because that’s how things usually go for me. But although we made out and cuddled afterwards, we didn’t have sex.

I still think about his lips on mine and his arms wrapped around my back. I don’t reckon he misses my lips as much as I miss his. The feeling has only worsened with time. I force myself to settle with this: I am a friend of his, and that should be good enough. Even if I don’t think friends daydream about kissing and making love to the other.

I think he knows that I’m into him: he’s much smarter than me, with better grasp on social conventions and propriety. And I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, anyway—got me in trouble at work several times because of it. But he lets me make my own decisions, and I think he has actually let me down gently once, when he said that we were just friends. He took the word ‘just’ when he repeated his saying because I tilted my head at him, but I heard it.

I heard it, and I felt it.

He would never be mine, and I would never be his—not in the way that I want, anyway.

I’m already his, even if he doesn’t know it; even if he doesn’t want me. Should he ever call, I’m certain that I’d drop everything and come running. But he never calls. He never needs me. He never actively sought out my company: if I want to come around he’s fine with it; if I don’t, then he’s fine with it as well.

I’m the only one that feels this way.

I’m the only one in love.

It’s such a lonely feeling: being his satellite.

The rain has stopped and he shifts on the mattress, suddenly awakens. He’s always been a light sleeper, but this time he doesn’t go right back to sleep.

He looks at me blinking sleepy on the floor and rolls on the mattress. “If you want to take the bed,” he says.

I yawn. “No, it’s fine—I think I’m going home.”

He knits his eyebrows. “What time is it?”

I shrug. “Definitely past ten, but I don’t know exactly.”

He rises from the mattress and walks over towards his desk where his phone is plugged, charging. “It’s a quarter past eleven.”

“Yeap.” I push myself to sit. “So I should go home, while the rain has stopped.”

He calls my name in disbelief. “It’s late.”

I shrug. “I’ve gone home past midnight after drinking in bars; I should be fine.”

He calls my name again, a little more pressing this time. “Sleep over,” he insists. “It’s already late anyway, and I can see that you’re tired. Stay; sleep over.”

The word that I’ve always wanted to hear him say, but not in circumstances like these: I want him to ask me to stay because he wants me around, not because of the hour. I ask for too much, I know. But— “Seriously, it’s fine. I should’ve gone home hours ago anyway, but it was raining like hella.”

He shakes his head. “All right then,” he says, “suit yourself.”

I grab my jacket off the hanger on his walls and put it on without facing him. I wish he would insist more.

But he always lets me make my own decision, and I’ve already made it: even if it’s not one I’d rather make.

Text me when you get home, he messages me. I see the notification flag but not opening the text. I feel so empty on the ride back home—and cold, but I’d rather think it’s because of the weather instead of anything else.

I want him to ask me to stay, but not because he thinks he ought to. He’s a good friend: a caring one. But I can’t take being cared for by him when I crave for so much more. This is the way that I am: I take, and I take, and I take until there’s nothing left to take, and I’ll take that nothing as well. I already know that that’s how I’ll be, so I try to limit and control myself. But I often work in extremes, so if I can’t have it, because I know I’ll take more than what I’m initially given, then I’ll have none of it. This is what I figure is best for everyone.

I want him to ask me to stay, though. He did, but it wasn’t good enough. I always ask for too much.

[karlachismylife]

Love this blog you will find me rummaging through your writing like a raccoon in a trash can muwah

Oooh raccoon spottings!! Only the juiciest trash for you, fluffy comrade. This blog loves you back! Since I have been reblogging and doing ask replies a lot lately, feel free to use the masterlist, it's more or less full, only some little things get left in the "juju's grumbles" or "juju's replies" tags. But I reblog a lot of amazing creators, authors, writers and artists, so I do recommend scrolling and checking them out too!!!

And here, have some task force 141 discovering a raccoon in their home headcanons. I even went and found @thecutestgrotto 's raccoon dividers because how could I not, really.

Ghost hears rustling and is immediately on high alert. You're not home, and he would've recognized you regardless of how well you try to be sneaky, so this means there's an intruder. And this intruder chose a home with the scariest guard dog of them all.

Simon is stealth itself as he reaches for his tacticle knives. He could've gone for the gun, but that's too much noise and unwanted attention, would be better if no one knew he has it, since it's for emergencies. And for now this doesn't seem like an emergency, because you're not in danger and it seems like whoever broke in is slow, alone and not very confident in what they're doing.

As Simon stalks through the dark hall towards the back door where he heard the noise, he also realizes - that intruder is small. Could it be a kid? Stupid teenager breaking and entering for a bet? Or someone young and troubled to the point of desperately needing any sourse of cash? Or maybe it's a little one that got lost and just stumbled into someone's home in search of help? By the time Ghost actually reaches the now quiet room, he's already thinking he's going to be giving a stern talking, not a beating.

And then he finally turns the lights on, ready to pounce, and sees a dark fat blob frozen under a chair, beady black eyes staring at what poor racoon can only assume to be the apex predator.

"Bloody hell, where did ya come from, ya trash rat?" He's already assessed the room and made sure it was nothing more than the raccoon, so he sheaths the knife and crouches with a grunt, trying to grab the bugger by its scruff and shove him out of the door - it must've been the cat flap that let it inside. The raccoon, however, finally bolts. But not back to where it came from, no; it buries intself under the kitchen counter next. "Come back ya fookin' vermin, this ain't your hose, get the fuck outta here, bloody Zorro!"

When you finally come home, you're met with a sweaty, grumpy Simon with an icepack on his head, furniture moved around and traces of a proper chase scene. And a raccoon squished between the wall and the couch, nervously fidgeting with the mophead that somehow ended up there without a handle attached.

"Did you even try to lure him out with treats?" - "Fat bastart snatched a whole packet of nuts and bolted. Your turn now."

Price is having some fresh air outside, also known as lounging in a garden chair with his cigar, a pint and a nice book, early in the morning. He actually wasn't expecting to wake up this early, but he just recently got from a long deployment, so his sleep is messed up. Knowing he won't be able to fall back sleep, he decided not to disturb your own sleep, put on his big robe and went to catch sunrise beams. It's a little chilly, big droplets decorating all the greens and pinks of the garden - and the rising sun only makes the flowers look even more rosy as the tiny water diamonds sine and sparkle.

Bird song gets interrupted by snoring really quickly - the peace and serenity of morning garden, everything planted together with you and well taken care of, works on John like a lullaby, and he dozes off peacefully, his cigar snuffed out by a timin breeze, book flat on his chest and his hat slowly sliding down onto his eyes, protecting them from the sunlight. He's sleeping so soundly, even his snores aren't that loud, so the nature just accepts him as a part of the ever-changing landscape for today. Insects landing on him, searching for food and moving on without as much as tickling him. Wet grass sticking to his garden slippers and slowly drying of like that. Little midges getting stuck in his beard, poor thrashing creatures.

There's also someone bigger traversing the morning grounds, returning from the long night of searching for food. Not so stealthy under the sun, a dark shadow trots along the lush rose bushes that provide nice cover still. The hunt must've been not too successful, furry tummy still hungry and big tail dragging defeatedly.

But there's something new in this garden, something that wasn't there the previous day. And it brought something to put on the garden table - where food is often put. That's something worth investigatig, right?

When it turns out the little plate and big glass on the table only have something truly yucky in them (she checked really well), she has no other choice but to look in the chair. Good thing she has some help to recruit.

That's what explains the picture you see, once you wake up and go to look for your husband sleepily, only to find him snoring peacefully with a hat on his face and a whole family of raccoons rummaging through the pockets of his bathrobe and trying to climb up his hairy leg to see what's under the loosely tied belt.

There's raccoon infestation problem in your backyard. Well, it's not a real infestation, you already know that it's just one quite skinny and hungry-looking raccoon coming to rummage through your trash, scattering it around. Even when you stop putting it out, that poor critter keeps coming, bringing dirt onto your porch and sometimes even digging under your plants. You don't want to hurt the animal that's clearly just looking for food, so after some time you just give up and ask Gaz to deal with it.

You married him for his smarts too, you know, he should be able to think of something.

He obviously agrees, gives you a reassuring kiss on your temple and beams with pride just from knowing you think of him being capable to deal with any problem you have, because that's exactly what he's there for, he tells you. And he's confident he can do it, honestly, he has dealt with terrorists and complicated mechanisms, a starving shabby raccoon can't possibly be harder to deal with. You trust that confidence, you trust your husband, so you just leave him to it and forget about the problem.

Weeks pass without any real disturbance - at some point Kyles starts putting the trash outside again, and since it's not getting scattered all over the porch and garden again, you figure he has chased the raccoon away successfully. You would actually like to know how and thank him properly, but since he's still not mentioning it, you decide that he's still testing the results and will come report like a good boy once he's sure that little striped tail won't show up anymore.

You don't even put two and two together when one day, quite early in the morning, Kyle wakes you up with hot kisses behind your ear.

"Hey, angel. Sorry to wake you up, I jus' wanna show ya something. Let me carry you, a'right?" As soon as you stir, still warm and soft, eyes barely able to flutter open, he shushes you and stops you from getting from under the blanket. With a kiss on every eyelid, you get wrapped up in a blanket burrito and curl up in Kyle's arms, sleepy head resting on his shoulder as he carries you over to the door.

He places you on the porch rocking chair carefully, sealing the blanket around our feet so the cool morning air won't bite your toes, and crouches down next to you silently. Still half asleep, you can't even tell whether you wait for long or not, but your eyes try to close back, when suddenly something catches your attention.

It's the slightly more rounded raccoon - still same pattern on his tail, though - trotting directly to your porch with purpose in his stride. You blink, unsure what you're looking at, when that little buddy stops in front of the steps and looks at Kyle, who gives him a nod. Swiftly, the raccoon runs up the stairs and approaches the trash can. carefully, he slides off the lid with its tiny hands, and rummages inside. Just a single wrapper falls out of the whole bunch of things.

Once the raccoon finds some scraps he's been looking for and munches on them, he sniffs around, finds that wrapper and puts it back into the trash can. Then turns back to Kyle, who has a hard time hiding his sly grin as he looks at you, now completely awake and wide-eyes, from the corner of his eyes.

"Nope." Kyle makes an arching gesture with his palm. And the raccoon listens to him, turning to the trash can again and pulling the covering lid back over it. Only then he gets an approving nod from your husband, and just like that, leaves.

There's a moment of silence between you two as you watch that grey shadow disappear under the fence to your neighbours.

"Kyle, did you actually train a raccoon to throw its trash away?.."

You get a feeling when you push your key into the lock and open the door.

It's inexplainable, intuitive, gut feeling that you can't really put a finger on. Something's not right, but it's not the spooky dangerous "not right" like if you found your entrance wide open. No, it's a gnawing suspicion, an anticipation you get, trying to warn you something happened at home while you were away. Same feeling dog owners get when they're not being greeted by eagerly jumping pups because someone has chewed the owner's best pair of shoes up of broke their favourite vase.

Taking into consideration that you're living with John Soap MacTavish, it's either that or he's preparing to prank you.

But no, the TV's on and you hear distinct sounds of snacks being downed by one Scottish specimen, a glass or a bowl clinking from being touched by his clumsy big fingers, so he's not hiding behind the corner to jump at you. The apartment doesn't look trashed too, no hastly wiped blood splatters on the floor, no sight of ambulance or the police at the entrance into the apartment building. Looks like Johnny did't touch his street clothes or shoes either, so he probably didn't run out to throw away evidence like that one time when he forgot he started cooking something with caramel and had to throw away the whole pot.

Everything seems normal. Just your husband being so engolfed by Pocahontas that he doesn't hear you rustling with yout clothes and jiggling keys at the entrance, otherwise he would run out with crumbs of whatever it is he's snacking on in the corners of his mouth and grab you as he always does, spinning you around and looking like his whole life just regained its meaning because you're finally...

Wait. Since when is Johnny a Disney princess fan?

Last time you checked, the only one he approved off was Mulan, even Brave falling under critisism for historical inaccuracies he took too close to heart.

Carefully and sneakily, you tiptoe into the sitting room, going back and forth on whether to spook him as a revenge for the last time or not, but before you can decide, you get noticed.

There's a beat of silence between you, stuck in a creeping pose, Johnny with his hand still in a bowl of little apple slices, and a raccoon. Also sitting with a half-eaten apple slice in front of a slightly mudded water bowl. On the couch. In your living room.

"Soap."

Two pairs of eyes blink at you.

"MacTavish."

He slowly retracts his hand from the bowl and licks his lips, There's apple juice staining his stubble.

"Johnny. What the fuck is a raccoon doing sitting on the couch."

"We're hanging oot."

The raccoon finally moves and shoves the apple slice into its mouth, chewing juicily and reaching its paws in a asking manner. Distracted by that, Soap turns back to the critter and fishes a new slice out of the bowl, which the raccoon immediately snatches from your husband's hand and dips into the water bowl before crunching in the fruit.

"Johnny. Where did you find it."

"They just climbed oanto th' balcony!"

"Johnny, we're living on the 15th floor, how did it-" - "Nae "it", bonnie, 's "they". Ah asked. And their name's Rob Roy."

You fall silent again, watching Johnny hover protectively over the bloody non-binary raccoon. You wouldn't believe the balcony story, but Soap clearly looks like he hasn't left the apartment since you went out.

"It... they probably are someone's pet, Johnny. That ran away. Did you check? Ask around?"

"Ah did." He pouts at you as if he's offended you even doubt his ability to think of such logical solution. "Thay're nae. Jus' chose us, bonnie."

You feel your heard stutter at the implication behind those words and shake your head, pointing at the fiends on your couch.

"No-no-no, John MacTavish, we are not keeping that bloody thing. If it's a wild animal, it doesn't belong in an apartment! We weren't even ready for a cat, what raccoon, Johnny, the fuck you think it will-"

"But thay're cute! Look at 'em, bonnie! Ye wanna throw poor bastart away to starve and freeze tae death?!"

You and Rob Roy make similar pained sounds when Johnny grabs that fat fucker and shoves them into your face. Yeah, the raccoon is cute as hell.

It's Johnny's puppy eyes that do you in, though.

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste, Chapter 2

~ Under Editing ~

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: Enishi Yukishiro was on a mission to execute his piece de la resistance. A plan to avenge his beloved sister. Until you showed up. Will you be a part of his downfall or will you try to save him?

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro × fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and sunshine protector, slow burn, a lot of fluff, comedic relief, teasing

Words: 10k +

A/N: Chapter 2 is finally here! I have been kicking my feet and giggling while writing it. Some technical difficulties led to delays in putting it up but I’m glad it’s finally here. Not really proud of it but I hope you like it! Enjoy lovelies.

Previous Next

Running through the precinct would’ve been much easier if you weren’t literally dragged along. Mophead's grip on your hand stayed as firm as metal shackles ever since you escaped from the meeting hall, leaving casualties behind. It's been a while since I went for that big of a killing spree, you thought, shuddering as soon as the words echoed in your head. Though the shuddering chills coiling up your arms in waves might have been from something entirely different, like mophead's hold on your hand.

His hands were cold as ice, enveloping yours like a big snow blanket. They were a very welcome relief to yours, scorching hot and clammy with the adrenaline still pumping relentlessly through you from the previous battle. His long, slender fingers laced with yours, interlocking in a rushed dance every time your hands swung around in tandem, running together through the corridors.

Taking your eyes off his broad, muscular back that was even more defined up close, you looked down at your hands. For some really peculiar reason they fit together so well. As if they were meant to link and hold onto each other since long before. You anxiously waited for the moment he would finally let go. Would your hand would miss the way it felt in his? Would he reach out again?

Despite your convictions that he would separate from you at any given chance, he didn’t seem to want to let go just yet.

Steering clear of the guards gathering by the entrance, you switched places. You were leading him now, climbing up the staircase two steps at once, heading right to the top floor. At the peak where the railing ended, you stopped, beckoning him behind you to check if it was still empty, before you kept going until you reached beneath the very glass window you climbed through.

There was only one small problem interfering with your plan - about three meters separated you from freedom and you were kind of petite sized. There was no way you could reach the window on your own.

Now what? I never think this shit through.

Mophead let go of your hand abruptly, letting it fall roughly at your side. A whine that you struggled to quiet down made its way up your throat from the loss of contact. Keep it together for Christ’s sake. You don't know this man. For all you know, he might be into hand fetishes. Shaking yourself to basic decency and turning off the hots you got for this annoyingly beautiful creature, you turned back to him.

Looking up at the glass window left ajar, his brows furrowed in thinking before a spark of an idea flashed across his face. All of a sudden, he moved back a little, then started swinging his arms back and forth before he propelled his body upwards, reaching high enough to push the window open. Jumping again, with a little more force in his nimble feet, he effortlessly made it through the opening and landed on the open roof. You stared at him in awe, gobsmacked at the strength he displayed. But then again, he did have the aerial arts kind of physique.

Preparing to finally get out of this shithole and get back to your very comfortable and safe abode, you held your hand up for him to help you through. He looked down at you from his spot above and you swore you felt the air shift around you. In the pale glow of the moon, you saw his eyes turn dark, scorning almost, glazed over with a wicked smirk stretched on his lips. It all came crashing down on you as you came to understand the change in his behaviour and why he didn't hold his hand down for you - he used you.

You laid out your plan to get him out of this prison, knowing what would become of him if he stayed the night. Knowing what the commander's men could do to him and where he would end up. Feeling like it was relatively your fault for him ending up in here. All of this only for him to play teammate, use you and discard you.

I've seen this movie somewhere before. It doesn't end well.

“Thank you for your services. I will now be taking my leave,” he says, stretching up to send a mock bow of courtesy your way.

“Motherfuc—,” you didn’t even get to finish as he just turned around and left, leaving you dumbfounded.

You couldn’t believe this shit. You risked your life to right a wrong you thought was of your own cause. For someone you didn’t even know. Just for him to use you this shamelessly.

You made so many bad decisions today. All you wanted to do was help. But as always it backfired on you. Classic helper case - don't do it unless it benefits you. Too late now.

Your short moment of self-loathing turned to full blown hatred towards the grey-haired man. He wasn’t worth your time, your resources, your anger. But he personally made himself a honorary entry at the very top of your hitlist.

If I ever see him again, I won’t hesitate to fucking kill him.

Armed guards made haste to reach the top floor. Alarm bells rang again in your mind, much louder than earlier tonight, to warn you that you had to find a way out and fast. But before you could even think of what to do shots were fired your way.

On the first cock of the gun, you instantly ducked down and looked for cover, scrambling to the floor on all fours. There was a wooden table right next to you that looked sturdy enough to act as a temporary shield so you grabbed its wooden legs and threw it over on the side, moving behind it in hopes it would protect you.

Shots struck in the table top behind you, ringing in your ears endlessly. The guards did not let their cover down and by the sounds of it, more of them joined the frontline.

This was a heavily armed precinct. There had to be leftover guns somewhere. Looking around in a frenzy for anything you could use for defence, you noticed a patch of dark red rapidly forming on your right arm, soaking the material of your sleeve. The newest hole gracing your dress, besides the ones that put organza ruffles through the ends of the dress back at the docks, belonged to a bullet that actually grazed you, just a few inches off puncturing your bicep in a nice gaping hole. Fucking great.

More bullets thundered through your ears, having a battle with your heartbeat to see which one would drown your hearing faster. The moment some of the bullets started piercing through the wooden table, you panicked. You wouldn’t make it out if you stayed there for too long. The wood would splinter and splinter until it would get blown to mere chips of wood.

The strong smell of gunpowder floated right into your lungs, making it harder to breathe in properly. Your eyes flew frantically all over the place for a way out. But there was none - except if you counted jumping off the railing right into the main entrance of the precinct, possibly breaking a few bones - or dying right here, churned by bullets. At that chilling possibility, you felt a familiar feeling creep up on you. Fear. A thrill you haven't experienced in a long time.

The same fear you felt the day you lost your whole world.

“Stay here, Miyu,” your mother's voice grew rough as she pulled you in a haste towards the corner of your room.

“Mom, what's happening?” you asked, starting to feel unease grip you.

Before she could answer, loud shots were fired downstairs in your living room. She brought you in her arms and hugged you closer to her until the blaring gunfire stopped all of a sudden. It was quiet. Way too quiet for the ruckus that ensued mere moments ago.

You were just sitting on the couch on your mother's lap, her gentle hands carding through your long hair, braiding it down in your overnight plaits before she took you to bed. Your father sat perched on the armchair opposite you, browsed the day's newspaper with a tired frown. They've both been working the day away in the atelier, crowded with tons of customers. That left you in the care of the maids for most of the day.

It was all peaceful and quiet, your mother's gentle humming the only thing that could be heard. Until the bloodcurdling scream of a maid coming from the entrance of the house. Your father straightened up from the armchair, newspaper dropping to the floor in heaps. He shot your mother a frightened look before moving his eyes down at you with a grim smile. You didn't see it but you could tell your mother nodded before she hauled you up in her arms the best she could, running breathlessly up the stairs to reach your room at the far end of the hallway.

Pushing you out of her fierce, bone-crushing embrace, she ushered you towards the tall wooden wardrobe in the corner, opening the hidden compartment within it. You were small enough to fit inside. Small enough to hide from whatever had your parents spooked. Small enough to raise her hopes high that you would be safe.

Her delicate hands sat on your shoulders, squeezing you with the weight of something she refused to tell you. But the doom in her pained eyes told you something was horribly wrong and the urgency in her voice only confirmed it.

“Promise me you won’t come out unless it’s me or your father coming in,” she said as she urged you inside. You only nodded in response. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise. Only if you do too," you said, determined to show her your bravery. She smiled at that, promising the same to you too, though the uncertainty of that promise being fulfilled painted her face in a multitude of shades of worry.

You finally stepped inside the compartment. She took one more hopeful look at you then closed the door, leaning a hand against the flowery painted wood. Lifting your own you placed it on the door, mimicking her.

“Everything will be okay.”

You were confused as to why she was saying that as her eyes were glazed over with sadness. She got up and headed towards the door to your room, halting her steps on the threshold. Before she stepped out of your room she turned to you once more.

“I love you, Miyu.”

She flashed you her biggest smile, as well as you could see it through the small rectangular cracks of the wood.

“Be safe, my little light.”

That was the last time you saw her. The last time you saw your father. The last you saw of anyone you knew on the mansion grounds.

No one came back for you.

Hours later, when you came out of hiding, you went to look for your parents. Creeping slowly from behind your bedroom door, you were met with a strong metallic smell. You took the stairs down, tip-toeing around drops of red liquid that turned into puddles the further you descended. The closer you got to the living room, the scent took up more and more space in your lungs, almost suffocating to breathe in, much like the massacre your eyes were met with.

The bloody scene before you was your nightmares’ favorite. It made sure it painted it for you every night ever since. Or every time you were scared shitless. Like now.

Shaking your head hard to pull yourself back to reality, you tried to figure a way out. This wasn't the time to freak the fuck out. But being unarmed, slightly injured and with your dress turned to a mere cloth, barely hanging on your shoulders, you were absolutely terrified. There was no way you could make it out of here without a fucking miracle. But you learned long ago you were far from being God's favourite, not even in the hundreds lined up before Him. A miracle was a pipe dream.

At least it wasn’t all in vain, you thought. Even if you hated that guy's guts after the stunt he pulled, you were glad Mophead was out of harms way. To know you tried to help a person before you kicked the bucket was enough for you.

If you were to die tonight you wouldn’t really have any regrets. Except the fact that there was so much food you haven’t tried and so many places you haven’t seen yet and by all gods existing your dumplings still waited for you back home. It dawned on you that you didn’t want to die. Especially here of all places.

You sensed the guards closing in on you from behind. Your time ran out. There was no miracle coming. No knight in shining armor putting his life in danger for you. This was it. This was where your life ended.

Preparing to get torn to shreds by the guards or manhandled to a cell to be shipped somewhere preposterously evil for people, you shut your eyes tight and hugged yourself in a comforting manner, rocking back and forth.

At least I’ll get to see them again.

Maybe I can make peace with death for once.

Maybe it'll take me this time.

You waited for the bullets to rain down on you. For strong calloused hands to haul you up and carry you away to your end. For anything brutal, cruel and unsettling to happen. But none of those attacks you expected came. As a matter of fact all firing stopped. All rueful shouting stopped. It was way too quiet.

Confused and thinking you died before you felt it, you opened your eyes to find that you were curled in a ball, back propped against the table, still in the precinct. You were still alive and breathing.

Something was weird. On a whim, you turned to peek over the table only for the inhale of breath you just took to celebrate living to get stuck in your lungs at the sight.

The guards shooting at you just a few moments ago were now laying limp on the floor, in heaps of heaps of bodies, littered from the front of the level to halfway in the room. They weren't dead. Probably just knocked out. By who- In the middle of the sprawled mess of guards stood a white mop of hair, doused in the celestial moonlight shining through the glass ceiling.

An angel - your godsent miracle.

Except he wasn’t an angel.

He was a demon sent to torment you specifically straight from the pits of hell.

A guard on the ground lifted his gun to shoot him, almost subservient to your murderous look pointed at him, but Mophead reacted quickly and kicked it away just in time, ending it by shoving his foot in the guard’s face. His back heaved with the breaths he took, stretching broader and wider with each one. Turning around with a huff, he locked eyes with you for the second time tonight, gaze more softer as he took in your state - the sleeves of your dress were ripped, barely connecting to the seams anymore, oddly matching the messy ruffles at the bottom and the way your leather corset sat crooked on your torso. The moment his eyes laid there, you moved it back in place.

Still trembling in fear as you rose up from your hiding spot, your eyes made their way to his, fear gripping every inch of your being morphing back to anger - the slay your enemies in battle and laugh maniacally type.

He left you here all alone to survive on what and with what? Wits and talent? Magic weapons? Wrath? The wrath kind of survival was far behind you.

Glaring at him with a look full of utter hatred, you furiously walked towards the staircase. Just before you reached it, he caught your uninjured arm swiftly, pulling lightly on it to make you turn and look at him. There came his touch again. Much warmer and intense this time. But you weren’t going to give in so easily. That was of course until his hold on your wrist got a little tighter and your eyes snapped to him on impulse.

He looked down at you with an expression you couldn’t really pinpoint. Specks of guilt and something akin to worry swimmed in his eyes. He looked like he himself couldn't decipher what he was feeling. But that look, heavy with burden and a familiar load told you someone else close to him was witness to it before. Someone who probably wasn't walking among us anymore.

That was his problem. You tugged on your arm, willing him to let go.

“Let me go,” you gritted through your teeth, patience running thinner by the second.

“If you go through there, you’ll get yourself killed," he grunted out, voice low and lethal, much like his show of power back there.

Ah, he speaks. Charming. Not.

This scoundrel played and used you and now you were just supposed to forget all about it because he decided to come back and save you as a last minute act of good faith? He doesn't get to play coy and worried. You were no damsel in distress.

But why was he so two-faced? And why was he still holding onto your arm? God damn it. I was probably right about the hand holding fetish.

“Funny you say that as if you didn’t just leave me here to get killed a few minutes ago, after I saved your ass,” you sourly spat out, making sure to spell out the differences between your help plan and his.

That affirmation didn't phase him. But the hand that was holding your arm did let go, instead raising to meet his tangled hair in a frustrated sweep.

He wasn’t put in this kind of a position before. Usually, he couldn’t care less about the people fighting by his side because it always felt better not to. That was just how he was programmed. Go to battle with whoever was willing but not on his conscience because that thing wasn't even working properly and was better left broken and shut off completely.

But he couldn’t just ignore the fact that a total stranger just decided to risk their life for him. That revelation made something snap deep inside of him. Something that wasn’t supposed to crack free just yet - a shred of disgusting humanity. Something he let go of a long time ago.

A few minutes prior

He was on a one-man mission. He didn’t need you, his useless crew, the commander in chief, or anyone else to get in his way. Leaving you here was nothing personal. It was just easy. There was no point for him to stick around any longer.

Turning around from your small form on the ground, he exhaled a breath of relief in the cool air of the night, glancing out at the city. He was out of that shithole and nothing else mattered. Only that his mission was fucked and he had a setback in his plan that he had to take care of. He wanted to get his plan back on track as soon as possible. But as he reached the edge of the precinct roof, ready to take off into the quiet of the night like he was never there, he heard the gunfire. Gravity was suddenly pulling at his feet like iron. He couldn’t move. His instincts weren't letting him.

He heard the shouting around the precinct, the rumbling cocking of guns, the rushed steps around the building from outside and inside. You were left defenseless at the mercy of the dozens of guards.

Just like his sister was that horrible winter day that he wanted so badly to forget. To mend the pain. To bring her back. He couldn't bring her back. But he could save you.

Reality knocked into him and he stumbled, things becoming clearer in his head. You were nothing more than a stranger. But you laid your life on the line for him for some unknown reason.

He couldn’t let you die.

Not if he had the power to help it and by all fucks he did.

Mumbling a quick curse under his breath, he rotated on his heels and started running at full speed, dropping back down in the precinct swiftly and quietly like a leaf on the wind. Looking for you, he caught sight of your body tucked in the corner behind a table, taking cover. You looked scared out of your mind and it was all his fault.

Tomoe would fuck me up if she was here, he thought.

Shaking the eerie presence of his sister, he geared up for mayhem.

The guards stopped firing to reload their guns. He took the opportunity to disarm them. His thought process went haywire as he ruthlessly broke bones with his bare hands, weathering through them like a storm picking up speed.

The only thought pounding through his head as he dove through the armada of men, rendering each one more unconscious and immobile than the previous, was that he had to protect you at all costs.

The mad look on your face and the way your eye twitched told him you weren’t the happiest to see him. Indeed, you felt like plunging your hands down his throat and pulling his balls through just to see him in some serious gut-wrenching pain a little to even the score.

“Look, the only way out is through the roof. You.. saved me…," he pinched his eyes shut with a huff, like the very words he just spoke were an admission that was yet to be shoved down his throat and accepted. "And I saved you," he continued, voice climbing up higher to a much more calm and leveled space. "You could say we’re even now,” he concluded, flashing you a smirk.

Incredulous little shit. He could smirk right now? After all this shit?

You barked out a laugh and simply refused to perceive him. He still acted like he owned the world after everything?

No matter what happens, you can’t just leave people behind. What was worse was that he did it willingly. Like you were just a gun to serve its purpose until you ran out of bullets then be discarded. Normal people don't do that. Dictators and the mafia lords do that. You can’t just jump over it, call it an even deed and shrug it under the carpet so easily.

But you just might. For the sake of it, it would be better if you both forgot about tonight and moved on with your lives like you never crossed paths. Pretend it was all a big mistake and forget any of this ever happened like it was a blip sucked into the void.

You've had enough of everything relating to him. Tonight was more than you bargained for and it took its toll on you more than you liked to admit it. The sweet treats awaiting you and some sleep were the only things able to fix your mood at this point.

Ignoring his coyness, since that was the only thing you could call that previous exchange, you went to the space under the window and pulled over a nearby table. The height of it should be enough to help you reach up. The graze on your arm pulsed, reminding you it needed immediate attention before it got infected, so you hopped on the table right away.

Just as you were about to reach up and pull yourself through, Mophead jumped up ahead of you again. You scoffed, cursing him under your breath. He was just going to leave again.

Godspeed Mophead. Great show to end it all though.

Tapping your heeled boots heavily against the table to test its sturdiness, you were satisfied enough and got ready to jump up. Turning your gaze above, you were met with a hand. His hand. He crouched down and offered you his hand, palm open wide, dropping it as low as it took for you to reach and grab a hold on it. He didn't leave.

You stared blankly at his hand. It’s been an exhausting day to say the least. A lot was weighing on your mind. You genuinely just wanted to get back to your place and send today to oblivion.

But above all else, you didn’t want to blindly trust this man again.

What if he just drops me mid-air or something? Why is he suddenly so keen to help me?

He sensed the inner battle you were having in your head. Hell, if he was in your position he wouldn’t trust himself either. So he tried to ease the tension in the air with another remark, though it came out way worse than it sounded in his head.

“Are you coming today or would you like to redecorate your dress with more bullet holes?”

You grimaced. You couldn’t believe you were attracted to... that. You hated yourself a little for it. But then again. Taste was a weird little thing when you barely get any action as a paid assassin. That is, if you counted strangling someone with your hands or the strength of your thighs.

You shot him a look in warning to not do anything stupid to which he just raised his eyebrows, dropping his hand a little lower.

What was one more mistake tonight?

With a long sigh, your shoulders dropped in defeat and you grabbed onto his hand, letting him pull you up. His big palm closed around yours and with one tug you were going up. He did it so effortlessly, without a sign of struggle, like you weighed nothing. His other hand snaked around your waist for more support as he pulled you through on the roof, raising to his full height.

As he set you down beside the window panel, you caught a different look in his eyes, less icy and more playful, coupled with that irritating smirk ever-present on his face. Does he ever smile normally? Despite the player attitude emanating off him like it was his only charm of goodwill, he was holding onto you so delicately, as if you would break the moment he let go. The way he was unconsciously rubbing circles into your sides almost made you forget why you were mad at him in the first place. This closeness made your previous feelings of hate disappear completely, replaced by something different. Curiosity.

There was something about him that pulled you in like the sea pulls the tide back to her, completely locked in his arms but entirely free to go at no additional cost. You searched his eyes, trying to find meaning behind this strange feeling, unaware that he was doing the same.

Shouting ensued down in the precinct, echoing out to you. Shaking your head, you pushed on his chest and separated from him, walking to the edge of the building. Without looking back at him, you took off landing in an alley.

He sat there stunned.

Without much thinking, he decided to follow you, taking off right behind you.

You had to take the long way back in order to avoid the troops patrolling around the city. Your wanted poster might not have been drawn yet, but considering Mophead was still on your tail, keeping close by just a few steps behind you, you were better off being careful than careless.

At first, you thought he was heading in the same way as you or at least partially. After passing a few trick corners that were definitely not in your way, you caught up to the fact that he was following you.

Getting quite annoyed with him, you slowed down and let him get closer until you felt him right behind you. Spinning around on your heels, you took hold of the collar of his kimono and pushed him roughly against the brick wall of the alley.

He was a little taken aback by your outburst. The way your eyes blazed with a spark of anger small enough to crush to a bare kindle, but big enough to entice to a consuming bonfire with just the wrong word or reaction. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

“Why are you following me?”

“I kind of need a place to stay until it breaks for day at least.”

“And you thought I would offer you a sparkly invite to my place after the shit you pulled back there?”

“I guess I deserve that.”

Fixing him with a sharp glare, you let go of him and backed away, waiting for him to speak of a valid reason on why you should lend your place for the remainder of the night. Sharing bunks with traitors wasn't really your thing.

Before he could answer, you picked up on chatter close by. The patrol guards. Well, shit hits the fan quite a lot tonight.

Mophead heard them too and reacted before you could - he promptly backed you up against the other wall in the alley, pinning you to it. Taking advantage of the shadows masking your faces, he leaned so close to you that you could feel his breath fan your lips. Your own got stuck in your throat and your heartbeat quickened, rapping against your chest at a ginormous speed. It didn’t help that his broad arms circled around you the same way a viper would constrict around the body of its victim, squeezing tight just in the right spots to send you reeling into hypnosis before it ruthlessly killed you. His hold on you felt just the same.

His right hand came to rest on your lower back, pulling your body closer to his, while his left supported his body, plastered on the wall by your head. An angle so lethal that the slightest dip of his head would land his lips right on top of yours.

You prayed to all existing gods that he wouldn’t be able to see the effect this surprise proximity attack had on you - heartbeat pulsing, rushing, beating loud enough to drown the world out, cheeks flushing the darkest shade of red, breathing coming out in low, quick pants. Wherever he touched, your skin tingled, tensed, contracted.

If he noticed any of that, it would just make you look like the biggest fool in the world after you tried so hard to stand your ground.

Metal clanged and jingled, signalling the two guards were getting closer. The minute they turned into the alley, he dipped his head impossibly close to your neck, his lips brushing the open skin on the side of your neck just briefly. Abort ship, abort ship. You sucked in a breath, unable to keep from squirming in his hold as a means to find your bearings before you lost them. A few locks of his gray hair tickled the side of your face and his scent imbued your nostrils, ending you right then and there. Yep, bearings totally lost.

On first inhale, that scent got you dizzy, like the very first hit of opium smoke would affect a beginner. Your hands flew to his arms to station you upright, not trusting your legs to do that for you. On the second whiff, you got a longer, deeper inhale of it, instantly calming down, relaxing every stressed inch of your body.

He smelled like a combination of musky wood and jasmine. Sweet and manly. The mix was so addicting that a single whiff of it made your knees weak. The more you breathed that scent in, it completely overpowered you. Your mind screamed at you to be rational and get it together while your instincts wanted you to pull him closer and wedge your nose in the crook of his neck instead.

After the troops passed by and the coast was clear, he slowly lifted his head from your neck, but not without taking his sweet time there. He too was entranced in your rosy vanilla aroma. The familiarity and softness of it swelled his memories, just like your eyes did all night. But he still couldn’t figure out who you were or why his mind worked overtime to scavenge all corners in hopes of finding you tucked away somewhere.

Feeling your back muscles tense under his small, secure touch, he came to learn that he wasn’t the only one being affected. He pulled away from you with an amused tilt of his lips. That pulled you right back to normal away from the haze of him.

“Why do you keep smirking? Are you constipated or something?”

“What?! No?!”

You giggled seeing the outraged look on his face. He’s so funny and he doesn’t even realise it. Or maybe you officially lost it. You didn't know.

The sound of your giggle made something grow in his chest. Warmth. He shook it off as soon as he felt it, distrustful of the unnatural way his chest contracted to it. That was weird, he thought, fully pulling himself away from you.

“Okay," you spoke out of nowhere.

“Okay, what?”

“You can stay over tonight. But as soon as the sun rises you’re out of my sight,” you said with a strict tone.

Not one minute past sunrise. Ass crack of dawn and this would all become a memory in the wind.

“You know, anyone would rave at the opportunity to host me,” he states cockily.

Would they now? What was he? The princess of the people or something?

“Don’t push it, Mophead.”

At that remark, his confident grin fell, replaced by complete outrage.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

You took off into the city, with him right behind, running to catch up to you. Unknowingly, a smile made its way on your face.

The empty streets of Shanghai didn't feel so lonely tonight.

You had interesting company to unravel until dawn. Might as well take your time.

Opening the door to your humble home with a creak, you took off your shoes and walked inside, dropping your set of keys on the desk. The room was partly illuminated by the light filtering in from the outside, bright enough for you to see in the small space.

Leaving Mophead by the door to make himself comfortable, you got a change of clothes and went behind the divider in the corner of the room. Your clothes reeked and they weren't exactly wearable anymore. The moonlight shining through the window cast a shadow of your silhouette on the other side of the thin decorated paper as you moved about.

He discarded his shoes by the door, taking in your small abode. A tiny futon was folded neatly in the corner, big enough to fit your form. Scanning over the lightly cracked window on the opposite side of the room, he thought it added an air of vintage to the place, beside the fact that it was abandoned. Your scent was present in the room but it wasn’t that strong, meaning you haven’t been in these parts for a long time. That and the fact that your belongings seem to consist of one bag tucked under the desk only cemented that presumption.

His eyes landed on your moving shape behind the divider. He watched your outline dance around the material decked in white and blue cranes and other traditional motives. Each move you made, from the swift throw of your damaged dress over the top to putting on a new blouse, made him feel as if he was watching his own personal puppet show in the light of the moon and the night.

He’d seen women stripped bare before, but this felt different. Your body was fully protected by the paper screen and you still managed to have an impact on him. He wasn’t the type to let his gaze linger on someone for too long. But you stole almost all of his attention tonight. Almost a blink too much.

He moved his eyes away in a plea for his brain to stop cooking up nonsense. He settled on going back to scanning the room, reaching the small desk on the other side.

Just as he landed eyes on a bag with what looked like food, his stomach growled lowly in hunger. You heard it just as you rounded the divider and snickered to yourself. Maybe sharing the little baozi dumplings you had with him wouldn't be so bad.

You moved towards the bag, tearing open the paper. The miniature pastries were idly waiting for your return and though cold they still looked appetizing enough to your stomach.

“Are you hungry by any chance?” you asked him sheepishly.

“No,” he replied firmly as he took a seat on the floor, folding his arms over his chest.

His stomach seemed to have a mind of its own as it disagreed with its owner. It made sure to growl a bit louder this time, as he tightened his arms over it to silence it.

“Here,” you offered him one of the bigger dumplings as you mirrored his position on the floor.

“I’m good.”

“Just take it,” you pushed, extending the dumpling once more, growing tired of his ‘I don’t need your help’ antics. It wasn't so bad to just accept things. Especially food. Delicious one at that.

“I said I’m —,” you cut him off by shoving the soft dough in his mouth.

"You're welcome," you grinned, grabbing one for yourself.

His cheeks puffed up, not moving in the slightest to munch the delicacy or spit it out. He looked nothing short of adorable as he stared daggers at you. Slowly, he gave in as the dough broke into pieces when you shoved it in his mouth. The savory flavor of marinated chicken met his taste buds. He tried to hide the moan of satisfaction that crawled up his throat as he munched on the dough, but the way his features relaxed gave him away.

Shaking your head at his childish behaviour, you continued sorting through the dumplings, preparing a few more assortments.

Pushing two smaller ones his way you saw him hesitate again. But he eventually picks them up and takes a cautious bite out of each one. One of them had egg custard filling and the other was with red bean paste. He definitely couldn’t hide his reaction this time as he sighed softly in content.

“This one tastes like the ones my sister used to make,” he spoke in a hushed tone as he chomped down on the egg custard one, eyes darting to the rest of the dumpling, sitting safely in the palm of his hand.

He suddenly got transported to a time where she was still around, happily rolling the dumpling dough on the counter in their kitchen back in Edo. A time where it was just the two of them against the world. He hasn’t really told anyone else about her before. Here he was, sharing pieces of himself with a stranger.

The way the words came out, like a cherished memory made its way back to him, had you soften. You were surprised by his openness. You could tell that it wasn’t that easy for him to open up. You had to trust people to do that... which meant that he trusted you in some sense.

He didn’t know why he suddenly disclosed such personal information to you. It was weird. How he felt so comfortable with you in such a short amount of time. But it felt good being in someone’s genuine company in a while. You offered up your place for the night, your food though it wasn't a lot, and your kindness to him. You even put your life on the line. Compelled gratitude or sheer idiocy of it all, one thing was for certain - that he owed you.

“Thank you. For the baozi,” he paused, his eyes trailed back to you, “and for helping me out there tonight.”

You almost choked on the dough you were eating. Not necessarily the words themselves took you by surprise, but the sincerity he delivered them with. It was far from the apology you expected after he acted all high and mighty that he didn't need saving. But you were happy with the words of gratitude he offered.

“You’re welcome,” you said, turning back to munching.

From the short time you’ve been honorary teammates, you gathered that the man in front of you was a wild mix of hot and cold. Both mysterious and really insufferable at the same time. But like everyone, he had his moments where the rough edges didn't cut as icy.

The moon struggled to get her light inside your cramped room, curious to inquire about the personal exchanges between the two of you. She had to remain content with the little light that she managed to glare through, as the both of you sat in a comfortable silence.

“Enishi Yukishiro.”

You looked up at him. You don't just go around throwing your name in these parts especially. Not when the hunt liked to chase anyone. Not when the authorities could imprison you. Being a nobody, a simple passerby, saved your life.

But he just gave you his name, meaning that on some level and by some fucked up confidence, he placed his trust in you.

Should I give him mine too?

He looked expectantly at you, waiting for you to return the gesture. Could you trust him?

You were both strangers to each other. But he was to be gone from your life as soon as the first rays of the morning sun shone lifted on the horizon.

It wasn’t like him knowing your name could do you any harm.

Right?

I hope he won't make me regret this.

“Miyu Hikari," you replied, speaking your full name for the first time in years.

You spent the night talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

He opened up a little more about his sister. You could tell she meant a lot to him from the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips and how he caught a liking to the egg custard dumplings, which you picked up out of the mix and gave to him.

He didn’t tell you what happened to her but that he was on some sort of mission to avenge her. When you wanted to ask more about what he meant by it he shifted the conversation to you.

“Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

About me?

It's been a while since anyone really wanted to know about yourself. So long that you had to pause to gather your thoughts in order.

“Well, I’m originally from Yokohama. My parents used to be tailors for the rich people coming down from Edo,” you said, remembering the pride that came with the Hikari name.

“What are you doing all the way here?”

You weren’t sure what to tell him.

‘Oh, I'm just hunting down the mafia that took my parents’ wasn’t exactly an adequate response to playing twenty-one questions.

“I’m just doing some… jobs.”

Okay, that didn’t answer it either.

He wasn’t that dense and could tell you weren’t comfortable elaborating, so he didn’t press any further. You felt thankful for that.

It was weird to say the least. You both talked without actually mentioning anything too important and kind of not really saying anything at the same time. Getting to know each other without passing the deeper threshold of things.

Timid rays of sunshine peeked in through the cracked window, silently making their way in the room. You didn’t even notice the time went by so fast. The night was over in a blink.

I guess it’s true what they say about good company making time stand still.

“Well," he piped up, getting up from the floor to dust his pants. "I should get going."

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Not just for coming back for you. For killing that loneliness creeping up on you every night. You hoped the feeling was mutual at least a little.

“No. Thank you,” he said as he gazed at you with that soft look again. A look that would melt you if a smile was there too.

He slipped on his shoes as you got up to see him out. Waving at him, he bid you a wordless nod and headed down the stairs, rushing out before it got too bright outside. To get in and out of the building, you had to go into the jewelry shop. It was a hassle but at least you were protected from possible intruders this way.

Closing the door behind him, you leaned you back against it, feeling like you were left in a daze. It’s been a long night and you could feel the after effects taking a toll on you. You would love to just lay down and sleep for the rest of the day. But your thoughts wandered back to the man you just bid goodbye to.

You still couldn’t remember where you've seen him before and it kind of drove you up the wall. Those eyes specifically. Dark and filled with so much sadness and pain.

Why am I so stuck on him?

Crazy thing to be thought all things considering - that he was a ruthless thug and he nearly got you killed - but you wished you got more time with him. Maybe you could find out more about his past and you would eventually remember him at some point. Figure out why his presence was so familiar but not.

In some twisted way, the gods heard you because just when you moved away from the door, someone barged in nearly taking the door down. Turning around with your heart in your throat, you were met with a breathless Enishi, eyes pinched closed, leaning his back on the door. You let out a breath of relief.

“Enishi? Did you forget something? What are you -”

“Grab your things,” he directed sternly.

“What?”

“The guards are here. They were just circling the shop as I reached downstairs. They found us.”

We’re so fucked. Royally, utterly, disgracefully, by all means fucked.

This was bad. Disastrous. You’ve literally been in this hideout for just a little over a month. It was so hard to find a place to stay because your jobs weren’t exactly consistent in location. But this one was a really good one in terms of access to the whole city. Undetected, under the radar access to everything. All of it compromised now.

Fuck's sake.

Saving the freaking out for later, when you were hopefully still alive and safe, you grabbed the bag and started stuffing whatever you found at hand inside, along with your guns and the rest of your hidden ammunition in the bag, moving to quickly get your boots on.

“Is there another way out besides the front door?” asked Enishi, surveying the room for an escape route.

You paused after lacing your boots. The front door was an escape route... A shitty one at that. However-

Your eyes darted to the window in a flash. Without thinking too hard, you grabbed a cloth you found laying around, bundled up your fist in it and swung back to punch the already fractured window hard. The glass cracked, breaking completely and fell on the other side.

“I guess that works too,” he said, shock and amusement present in his voice. He sauntered over to the window and studied the distance to the ground. It was about four meters but it looked... doable. Even if it wasn't, it was your only shot.

Not wasting any more time, he got up on the ledge and jumped through the window first, landing narrowly on the ground in the small alley behind the shop. You threw your bag over and got up too. But as you were about to jump too you froze, just now noticing the free fall to the ground. The distance was way too big, huge, and there was a possibility you could crack your skull if you weren’t careful.

“I, uhm," your voice wavered unsure. "I think I’ll stay here,” you laughed nervously.

This wasn’t like the precinct building. That was a normal two meter jump anyone and their mother could execute. This... this was double the distance. A drop to a hard surface with absolutely nothing to cushion your fall. Except if you counted Enishi’s big mop of hair.

You didn’t need to do the math to know that if you missed the landing that was it. Life ended there. Falling and splitting your body into pieces everywhere.

He sensed your fear as you were slowly pulling yourself back inside and called your name.

“Come on, it’s not that big of a jump,” he tried to convince you, pointing at nothing in particular to make a point.

“Not that big? My brother in Christ, it is HUGE! I'm not a praying mantis able to float to the ground like you did.”

“I’ll catch you,” he tried to reassure you that he had it handled, but the nausea crawling up your throat by the second said something different.

“From four meters above ground? What if you don’t and you drop me? What if I break my neck? What if I break your neck?”

His patience was wearing thin. If he wasn’t practically indebted to you for taking in him and even feeding him, he would’ve left ages ago. But he came back to get you out of harms way because he had a weird feeling knowing that danger was headed for you. He almost left again. Almost. Until his chest squeezed in discomfort just like the night before, with every single step he took, and he hated it.

“I promise to try to catch you. Now get your ass down here.”

You looked at him and tried to get some courage. Your ghost would have a lot of fun haunting him if he failed to catch you and that somewhat comforted you. Or not. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, you closed your eyes, trying to inhale and exhale slower. This was not the time to hyperventilate.

I can do this. I'll be fine. If not, it's his fault. Yep, that works. Okay.

Whirling around to face the room, your back to the world behind, you threw one last look at the hideout and let go of the window sill. At first, you couldn't really tell you were falling. You felt light as a feather. Up until you felt your blood pounding through your ears, blaring and erratic, rattling your whole being. Then you realized you were free falling and the adrenaline in your body kicked in and you started freaking out. You tried to scream only to swallow it right back.

The only thing you could do was watch as you got further away from the window and closer to the ground. You squeezed your eyes and brought your arms to your chest, preparing for impact. An impact that never came.

As scary as it was, it all ended fairly quickly. The wind replaced the roaring beating in your ears, whooshing lightly around you. You weren't dead. That much you concluded from the strong hold around you. The more you calmed down, the more you felt conscious of the muscular arms holding you safely above ground. At the smell of his scent, still as fresh as last night, you relaxed completely.

Enishi caught you. He did right by his promise.

Opening your eyes, you noticed your face was just a few inches away from his. Breathless, you searched his face finding nothing but worry from his furrowed brows to his piercing gaze. The longer you stared the less air your lungs took in.

His eyes turned dark, consuming the blue hue on the edge of his pupils the more he looked down at you in his arms. You were safe. Shaking, but safe from anything that could hurt you.

If he didn’t stop this staring contest he would be in serious trouble.

The sound of hurried steps and yelling above snapped both of you back to the real world. Placing you back on the floor, you quickly dusted your clothes, fixing your blouse. You ran to your bag that got separated from you mid-air and chucked it over your shoulder. Then you both took off into town. You ran as fast as your feet could take you, following close behind him.

After wandering around for a while, you spotted a large carriage with apples, hauled by two horses. A man that looked like a farmer just sat down to start it. Enishi noticed it too and rushed over to the man while you caught your breath, leaning over on a wall. In no time, Enishi was back with surprisingly good news judging by the hopeful grin he gave you.

“He’s gonna give us a ride,” he said.

A ride? To where?

Ah, that doesn't really matter right now. Anywhere else but in this damn city would be great.

“Alright," you agreed.

You hopped on the back of the carriage, setting your bag next to you. Enishi joined you on the other side before bidding the farmer to take off.

The carriage left the inner Shanghai city walls, heading towards the countryside. You passed woods, lakes and the hills climbed higher the more distance you put between you and danger. Puffing a long breath out, you leaned your back against some bags filled with apples. The events of the last day were catching up to you faster than you could recall. You couldn’t deny the fact that your body needed rest, close to begging for it. You were safe now. Nothing was going to hurt you. Dropping your head back with eyes closed, you let the swaying of the carriage lull you to sleep.

After making some small talk with the farmer, Enishi noticed you dozed off. He shuffled in next to you, careful not to wake you, falling back against the sacks of fruit in the same position. He turned his head slightly to look at you. You looked so peaceful while you slept. Without a worry in the world.

Seeing you in the light of day did something to him. Something irreparable. The more he gazed down at your lashes, your soft, silky hair, the more bewitched he felt. Your chest rose up with small breaths while his struggled to carry air inside. He couldn't make sense of it at all.

The wind blew and a stray lock of hair fell over your eyes, sprawling to cover both of them. Your nose twitched, probably tickled by the soft ends hanging on the bridge of your nose. He felt compelled to sweep it away. Letting his calloused hand ghost over your cheek, he reached and plucked it between his fingers, tucking the strand gingerly behind your ear. He had to control himself from stroking your soft cheeks that sat puffed up as you slept. That urge was not normal to him at all.

Turning his head away from you, he fixed his gaze to the road disappearing behind the carriage. Then he closed his eyes for a while too.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been asleep until a hand shook your shoulder gently. Stirring awake, you opened your eyes to an early autumn sunset.

“We’re almost there," he says from your right.

When did he move so close?

You nodded in acknowledgment. Patting your cheeks to wake up, you leaned forward and stretched your arms above your head to relieve the ache in your muscles a little. He looked at you from behind, unable to help the trace of a smile playing on his lips. You looked so small and adorable as you just woke up.

The sunset colors blended into wild orange and vivid reds as you admired them with a small smile. The aura around you felt calm for the first time in forever. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the beautiful sunset before you or the man sitting next to you that ensured your safety. It didn’t really matter. You would love to feel like this everyday.

Safety was a luxury you didn't have. A right that was taken from you before you could protest for it. The smallest bit of it meant the world to you. Even if it came from a stranger.

The carriage came to a halt in front of a big mansion, sheltered between dense camphor trees and a grey stone wall running wider than your eyes could see. The both of you hopped off and thanked the farmer.

Enishi took off through the gate like it was his own. You followed in his steps. Walking further inside, you passed a path of greenery until you reached a fountain. The lower level held the basin. The water in it was a dirty brown, still as a lake, seemingly sitting unused in more than a while could encapsulate. The upper held a sculpted angel you recognized to be cupid, all carved in pale grey stone.

Stolen by the visuals, you forgot about Enishi. You rushed after him to catch up as a lot of questions swarmed around in your mind. Most of them surrounded his job, that he didn't tell you too much about. Or his life. What kind of life he led?

Any way you turned it, there was no way he was the owner of this place. That was

As you got closer to the front door you noticed three men waiting by, coming closer to greet him. They looked like they busied their time counting money and beating up people who inconvenienced them in the slightest. You glanced down at their swords with a nervous gulp. Maybe they even sharpened their blades for fun.

“Welcome back, boss,” said one of them.

He was smaller in stature, wearing what looked like an expensive fur coat. Western clothes. He eyed you suspiciously through the monocle on his right eye, then turned back to Enishi.

Enishi spared him a mindless nod and walked inside the mansion. Stepping right behind, you couldn’t help but marvel at the architecture of the place. If the exterior was beautiful, the inside was ethereal. All kinds of color schemes climbed the walls, from red and gold to the most beautiful sage green you’ve ever seen. The space was even decorated with antiquities and traditional Chinese art. Furniture carved from the most alluring shades of wood. Paintings of all kinds of landscapes, vases, sculptures.

This wasn't a mansion. This was a whole palace.

The aesthetics of the place charmed you, distracting you from the elephant in the room. Upon remembering your confusion, you snapped out of the trance induced by the scenic interior.

Wait.

Hold the fuck up.

What did monocle guy mean by ‘boss’?

Just as you turned to the center of the room you entered after Enishi, you spotted a desk littered with guns, from small pistols to hunting rifles. The walls going around the room were ticked with swords of both Chinese and Japanese making. Maps marked with all kinds of locations were haphazardly discarded on every table.

Studying everything around you at full speed, from the arms to the burly men gathering inside one by one, you came to a conclusion that made the hairs on your arms raise with chills.

Spinning around to find Enishi looking right back at you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“You... You’re the boss of the Shanghai mafia?”

Next

Thank you for reading! As always comments and reblogs are welcome! Hope you enjoyed :)

[boozuru]

haiii thank you for translating ghostic!!! i love fine!!! i just wanna say it bothers me that in your translation tori calls wataru "mophead" when he actually calls wataru "long hair" or "long locks". "mophead" has a totally different feeling that doesnt suit wataru, "mophead" implies a moplike look, a scraggly, disheveled mop of hair. think tsumugi, with his shoulder length mop of hair multiple characters hate the look of. (for the record i love tsumugi)

watarus hair is not tangled nor messy, but very long and very well taken care of so he isnt a mophead, hes simply long hair/locks

haiii right back! thanks for enjoying ghostic!

i hear you, but in all honesty i don't think i will change it... i wanted to keep the spirit of tori trying to get a rise out of wataru/basically insulting him whenever he calls wataru ロン毛, and long hair wasn't really cutting it for me so i localised it as mophead to capture that hair-based insult feel! translating for me isn't just about a 1:1 word to word thing but also about trying to capture the characters' personalities from their tones. can mophead be thought of as a stylistic choice in this case? maybe... i understand the intent of your ask though and i'll consider more carefully in the future when i should just write it down as long hair or as something else.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 170

“Blue hydrangeas need acid to grow”

While not quite an accurate statement about how blue hydrangeas work, it reads better than saying blue hydrangeas require soil that has a pH of 5.2-5.5 to grow. And the above sentence just sounds kind of trippy. In fact, I had been tempted while writing it to put ‘acid’ in green since traditionally that is the colour we associate with acid.

But instead, I put the first line in pink, the second line in purple and the last line in blue, because of how growing blue hydrangeas work. In fact the hydrangea stickers gives a hint to the nature of how this fun quirk of the plant works.

The advice section of The Gardener’s Supply Company explains this well. The blue (and pink) hydrangeas we’re all familiar with are specifically the mopheads and lacecap hydrangeas. And they have an interesting chemical quirk where the colour of the bloom is dependent on the acidity of the soil. As stated before, a pH of 5.2-5.5 will yield blue blooms, and according to the website pink blooms happen at 6.0-6.2 pH. And while it’s not said outright, I suspect that going between those two pH will probably yield blue-purple or blue-pink blooms.

Now you might have to look around because if you look up this sort of thing, sites tend to give different pH, but I’ve linked the page I was pulling it from, but that’s the general gist of how the flowers work.

In more crafting news, I have discovered that the stickers I used (which was one of those stickers in tape format), don’t really stick very well. They’re not popping off the page on purpose, they’re doing that because they don’t stick very well. I hope that doesn’t mean this is going to be an issue with other sticker tapes, but it’s something to keep in mind.

Also I’m still having issues writing well with these new brush pens, I still like the plain black brush pen I own to write with.

[dabis-devil]

Can I request Shiggy being gently cuddled for the first time by his s/o as they try to get him to fall asleep?

Sweet Dreams.

This is honestly so cuTe, my pleasure to write this 😓 shiggy deserves more love I sweeeear!! The first time I wrote this out, it didn't save and I was punching air like tf

Shigaraki

It had been a long day for Tomura Shigaraki.

His plan had fallen through the cracks, resulting in every member of the league returning empty handed.

You watched firsthand as the smallest hint of disappointment hit his face.

Your heart ached for your dear boyfriend, and how he must've felt.

Not that he would give you clear insight to those feelings, ever.

Dabi wasn't making anything better for that matter

Don't get me wrong, I love that emo bitch but he doesn't know when to shut his mouth-

Once returned to headquarters (abandoned building from s4) Shigaraki went directly into his room.

You followed after him, duh

There he sat on his springy mattress, viciously scratching at his flesh whilst scribbling miscellaneous thoughts into a journal. He was making a new plan.

He was exhausted, you could see from the deadness present within his pupils, or the bags weighing under his eyes.

If you thought he cared enough for his own sleep- you fool

You came up behind shigaraki, squishing your way onto his bed. Your arms loosely hung around his neck, your soft lips pressing kisses against his agitated skin.

“ it's okay baby, it was just one plan. ” you spoke melodically, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Shigaraki met you with no answer, just blank stares into his messy journal.

Your arms made their way under his, holding onto his chest. You pulled him close to you, and slowly slummed until you laid horizontally, him not doing much to stop you.

Shigaraki = little spoon

He's never been cuddled like this, poor touch starved baby :(

He was kinda thinking like: ‘ Disgusting. Do it again. ’

“ I'm sorry we didn't make it. ” Tomura pressed.

“ you did amazing shiggy, that's all that matters. ” you assured, humming a happy tone quietly.

You fiddled with his cloudy blue hair between his fingers.

His eyes fluttered shut within minutes, your heartbeat similar to a nursery rhyme.

You held Shigaraki in your arms until you fell asleep as well.

His hand traveled to yours and linked (he was wearing gloves, we cool)

Expect for him to just come up and wrap his arms around you A LOT more

This is his way of saying without saying: ‘ I want cuddles, so gimme. ’

[sudahpindahan]

6k word count on a new fanfic wooooo!!!

[mxthtea]

Hii I absolutely love ur Einstein stories !! I'm not sure if your request are open or close at the moment but if it is, then please let me know !

Can I request a jealous einstein? Maybe reader is being flirted at or being too friendly to tesla or smth

That's all :]]

i actually used capitalization in a fic tell me if u like it over the lowercase plsplspsl

i also want to preface this by, i don't really like writing jealousy fics. so this one might be a little awkward to read

[req are closed.]

lieserl albert einstein x gn!reader warnings: jealousy, lieserl gets a lil protective, grammar + spelling mistakes, lowercase writing, tell me if i forgot any. description:

If you asked the Lieserl Albert Einstein if she was a jealous person, she'd disagree in a heartbeat. Jealous? Over what? There was nothing in her life to be jealous about. Just maybe she'd get a little jealous if say… a stray cat walked over to someone else instead of her if she was offering food to one. But there were barely any chances and it's not like it'd affect her day or anything.

But if you asked her in this moment if this was what jealousy felt like, she'd say yes even faster.

word count: 633

If you asked the Lieserl Albert Einstein if she was a jealous person, she'd disagree in a heartbeat. Jealous? Over what? There was nothing in her life to be jealous about. Just maybe she'd get a little jealous if say… a stray cat walked over to someone else instead of her if she was offering food to one. But there were barely any chances and it's not like it'd affect her day or anything.

But if you asked her in this moment if this was what jealousy felt like, she'd say yes even faster.

Now of course Einstein was happy you got along with her colleagues. I mean, her colleagues were also your colleagues so you kinda had to get along with them to get through the day.There were many "group projects" that were within Anti-Entropy. No need to be outright friends but at least tolerating each other would be the bare minimum.

Yet there was a bubbling feeling in Einstein's chest that made her feel… strange. If this was the burning feeling of jealousy then why did it have to feel like this?

And why was she feeling it. You were just talking with Tesla! It's like Einstein was bothered by you ever talking to Tesla, or anyone for that matter. Maybe she was on edge, maybe it was a bad day (not really), or maybe she'd never know the reason.

The blue-haired scientist stood up from her seat and walked to where you and Tesla were talking. She stood next to you, not actually listening to the conversation at hand. All she knew is that it's been going on for a long time.

You smiled at her when she took your hand in hers. Einstein wasn't favorable to PDA much and this one, if not the only, time where it was an exception.

"Eh? Mophead you look different today. Angrier? Or did you do something with your hair?" The other scientist put tapped a finger against her chin absentmindedly before her mind came to the conclusion.

"Ah- I see! Well then, since we sorted everything out now, I'll take my leave," Tesla winked before walking to the door, picking up a stack of papers on the table by it.

"Thank the gods… I didn't want to restart on that entire project."

"Which project?"

"Oh just a small one that took too long to finish. Turns out one of my group members lost his part of it," you sighed with a defeated look, "I have better things to do then restart something so minimal but Tesla insisted she help pick up the small bit of slack."

Oh that-

"I see," Einstein nodded.

"Ya know Lieserl… Tesla's right. You are acting a little weird."

Heat crawled up Einstein's neck as she averted her eyes. It was very rare to see Einstein ever look bashful and you thought it was cute.

You giggled and squeezed her hand, "it was just a small conversation, did you get jealous."

"Perhaps I did," Einstein sighed, "I apologize. It feels unbecoming of me to feel such strange emotions over a small interaction."

"It's alright Lieserl. People get jealous sometimes, not like it's somethin' special. Besides, I'll love you forever."

You kissed Einstein's forehead and she swore her face was even more red at this point.

"Ahem- yes. I… love you too," her voice got a little quieter at the last part. Afraid that the people across the entire hall could hear her saying I love you.

"Well, we should get back to work, hm?"

Einstein nodded. You walked to each other's separate desks and sat down to work.

Only to find that Einstein had recieved an email a few seconds ago.

From… you?

From: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

To: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

You do look cute when you're jealous though, Lieserl

<3

[yandere-daze]

Horrortober Day 16

And with a bit of delay, here we have day 16! I really didn´t want to skip this one because I had planned to write for Natsume here, another favorite of mine ^^

I´m going to try and catch up on the days I have missed but they probably won´t be posted on the actually correct dates anymore because I very much doubt I can catch up in a single day

For this one I believe I should mention that I´m not at all versed in things like magic, spells and witchcraft so I apologize if this is very innacurate to the real thing! I just thought it would make for a good story! I´m trying to get into tarot reading but since I´m just a beginner I used different websites to help find meanings for different cards. This took quite a while for me to write because I kept getting distracted while reading thorugh different card meanings kfnsnf

Prompt and challenge by @pastelbirb and @yandere-sins!

Link to my Horrortober masterlist here!

Day 16: Spell --> “It’s like you put a spell on me.” 

tw yandere, tw obssession

The shuffling of cards was the only thing to be heard in the depths of a single hidden away room at the back of Yumenosaki. There was no light source except for the small candle standing on the floor, just big enough to illuminate anything close by and nothing more. There was a young man sitting cross-legged right there in the corner as his hands once again started picking up the cards laid out in front of him and with an annoyed scowl on his face he frantically shuffled them again for the umpteenth time this evening. If the cards would just align with what he wanted to see from them then he could have stopped doing so a long time ago but as they refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, he just kept going.

On this evening, Natsume felt especially unhinged, more so than usual. For the longest time he had been enamored with you and your adorable expressions. From the very first moment he had seen you he knew that you two were meant to be together. He felt it in his very soul, there was an instant connection between you two, one he refused to ever give up on.

And he knew that you must feel the same from the way you would always blush so cutely when he tried flirting with you or called you loving nicknames. Hah, nothing could beat your embarrassed expression when he calls you his little kitten! He keeps thinking about it when he tries to fall asleep, you´re in his every waking thought, no matter what he does.

“It´s LIKE you put A spell on ME”, he mumbled to himself as images of your smiling face kept entering his mind. And then a particular recent memory came back to him that made him scowl intensely and his hands twitched as his shuffling grew more frantic. The very thought of what happened today made his blood boil.

The worst thing that could have happened, happened. That stupid mophead Tsumugi actually had the nerve to ask you out on a date and you being way too kind to refuse anyone even agreed to go with him! At that moment Natsume had really wanted to rip Tsumugi´s head off, how dare he think he deserves even a fraction of your attention? How dare he try and take you away from him? Natsume had always had an inkling that his unit mate might harbor feelings for you but he never imagined he would actually gather up the courage to ask you out. He had always been so pathetic and weak, the idea seemed ludicrous to him which is why he had never tried to discourage him from doing so. Now he really wished he did. Natsume was certain nothing would actually come out of the date, you were destined to be with him after all, but just picturing you and Tsumugi together in a romantic setting made him so unbelievably mad.

He felt like he needed to reassure himself of your eternal love so he went to his secret room in the school to ask the stars for confirmation. With tarot cards in hand, he was fully prepared for them to just tell him what he already knew, so why wasn´t it working out how he had envisioned it? In the countless of hours of reshuffling and redrawing his trusted tarot cards, Natsume had seen the Five of Pentacles one too many times now so that every time the card popped up again, he grew more and more desperate. This just couldn´t be true, loneliness and abandonment, rejection? No there must be some kind of mistake! So he kept reshuffling the cards, hoping for the outcome he wished. But no matter how often he tried, the stars refused to confirm what he already knew.

The longer he sat there in the confines of this room, the more restless and frustrated he became. Then a thought crossed his mind. If fate decided to be stubborn with him then he could also just take a look if there was even a chance of success of a relationship between you and Tsumugi. Maybe this was just a fluke and there was nothing for him to worry about, there would be no blossoming feelings between the both of you! He wouldn´t allow it in the first place.

So, with renewed vigor Natsume posed a different question to his cards. “Is there ANY chance of a RELATIONSHIP between y/n and TSUMUGI?” Then he concentrated his energy on the deck of cards laying in front of him and repeated the question a few times in his head before dutifully shuffling the tarot cards again. When he finally felt satisfied and his fingers grew itchy to finally have his answer, three cards fell out of the deck in his hand on their own. Knowing that this must be a sign from above he laid them down in a straight line in front of him and with bated breath, he flipped all of them upright.

With widened eyes, Natsume almost felt his heart stop as his eyes gazed at the now visible three cards in front of him, before he felt it beating faster than ever before. His eyes started twitching in anger and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to rip the three cards apart that were mocking him so very clearly, he wanted to forget this ever happened.

The Sun, The Lovers and The Fool all laid out in front of him in upright position, all of them major arcana which meant they had profound meaning.

This really couldn´t be happening now, his mind was swirling as he repeated some of the keywords related to the cards he just drew. Success, positivity, happiness, supportive relationship, balance, union, a new relationship.

He let out an unamused, dry laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. He had been obsessed with you for o long, did everything to make you view him in a positive light for a chance at a relationship. And now that stupid mophead just decided to come along and steal you away from him just like that? It wasn´t fair! He punched the ground in frustration as he grit his teeth.

“Just WHAT is my ROLE in all OF this?!”, Natsume screamed out in frustration and wildly threw his arms around, utterly enraged and furious. While doing so, he accidentally knocked over the deck of cards he had shuffled beforehand that had still been sitting on the ground in front if him. Disgruntled he leaned down to reorganize the cards back into a neat pile, silently cursing to himself while doing so. Just then he noticed that under all the thrown around cards, there was a single up-face card sitting at the top of the whole mess. Picking it up to study it closer in the candlelight, he soon came to realize that the card he was now holding was in fact The Devil in upright position.  

It was another card of the major arcana, symbolizing addiction, obsession and a lack of regard to a partner´s feelings. Speechless for a second, Natsume then let out another long and loud laugh, finding it all very funny in a twisted sense, was this the universe answering his earlier question? Mulling over it a bit more, a wide grin stretched over his face.

Yes, he could work with that. He knew how utterly obsessed he was with you so there was really no chance he would let you go anytime soon. He would just need to help fate to get back on the right track again, won´t he?

A plan quickly formulating in his plan, Natsume got back up on his feet to take a look at the many vials sitting atop the shelf next to his cauldron.

Now where was that rat poison he had stored away somewhere around here?

[cigaretteparfum]

maybe i should just restart I Isekai'd Myself. rewrite the whole thing from scratch. :/

[cigaretteparfum-library]

hey everyone! I Isekai'd Myself part 02 is almost finished, just need to do a bit of a proofread before i decide it's ready to publish. i might hold back on posting it for a while though, just until i write a few more parts because i want to get on a somewhat regular publishing schedule, but to do that i'll have to get a better grasp on how long each parts need to take to be written. i don't think that there's been that many readers mostly because i suck at tagging (lol), but just in case -- the story isn't abandoned, i just chose a poor timing in starting to post them because end of the year is always Something. also i think instead of making the story into an EXO harem as i originally imagined, it may just be a Reader/Kyungsoo/Yixing throuple, though it's also not concretely decided yet.

anyway, that's all i want to say. happy belated new year and i hope you'll all be well! ^_^

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

Can you write about Seele learning about the birds and the bees (as in someone has to tell her about it)? I just realized that she got stuck in the Sea of Quant at 12 and didn’t come out until years later…

Tesla and Einstein each sat on a different table, but the intent of the blackboard behind them was clear: this was a classroom.

"Today, we're going to catch you up on some fun facts, because it has occurred to us recently, young lady—"

"—when I saw you kabedon your girlfriend against a wall—"

"Mophead..! Ahem. It has occurred to us that, due to your extended stay in the Sea of Quanta, you haven't been taught much about your body, relationships, and consent. Correct?"

Seele meekly nodded. In the back of her mind, Seele was also lazily paying attention, snark at the tip of her tongue but curious enough not to speak yet.

“So, this is what this is about,” Tesla continued confusingly. “Sexual education. We’ll keep it short and give you some resources to read but there’s some things that are best explained in person.” Her cheeks were a little pink, but she seemed serious.

“First things first. What is sexual activity?”

Keep reading

Scarlateen is a good, inclusive website for sexual education, I recommend it

Some useful links if you find the navigation confusing:

Definition of sex

Consent resources

Vagina havers diagram

Equivalent diagram for penis havers

Sexual anatomy and pleasure

[pauking5]

Pauuuu! I almost dropped my phone when my notifs showed that you updated! I missed your writing so much and our moppy mophead (and you). I’m glad you took your time to pace yourself. You are already a great writer yourself, but I swear you get even better every update. 😭

I wish I can stop by many times to scream and bother you in your page, but unfortunately i’m not doing so great mentally and have no energy even saying ‘hi’ to the people I meet in person :(. I’m doing the best I can to get back tho!

Wishing you the best days ahead and more creative juices! I’m always here waiting for your updates (fics or life updates in general). Sending sunshine to you.

—🌻

SUNFLOWER ANON YOU'RE BACK AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

i was out yesterday but when i saw the ask come through i stopped functioning normally jsjsjk.

i am so happy to hear from you, though i wish it was under better circumstances for you. i truly hope that things will go easier on you. if you ever need a listening ear to vent or such (available for anyone who reads this), my dms or asks are all always open. (i may not be really active on here but i do lurk like a forest gremlin).

don't force yourself to be here and take each day at a time. there's times i feel like that too but just let yourself feel it and ride the wave. in all, i really appreciate you being here a lot 🫠

on another note, i missed writing our fav mophead too. he's like a breath of fresh air when i need a break from life. i had a bit of a fight with the last addicting taste chapter since he refused to help and speak to me (which meant a month's hectic pause), but we got there in the end jsjsjs. it's been a lot of trial and error, so i won't say i'm necessarily that good of a writer, but i try my best and it makes my day to hear the effort paid off. i think i myself have matured a little as i'm writing the story and it makes me feel so accomplished sometimes, even tho it's just a little tiny story i cooked up in my head.

i would say way more but you already know my door is always open for you. thank you for the sunshine. i received it so well and it was so needed. so in return, i am sending some sunshine and a nice summer breeze your way to take away all your worries at least just for a while ❤️

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Floral arrangement date would soo cute for sambucky if you felt inspired! Ty!

Thank you so much for the prompt, @omg-just-peachy, very good choice!

Date 5 of 28: Floral Arrangement Class

| - 4 - | - Prompt - | - 6 - |

"I think you're doing this wrong," said Sam, watching Bucky shove a glory blue mophead hydrangea in the middle of the arrrangement like it was an antenna.

"No, I'm not," said Bucky, "I'm keeping in mind the things we're supposed to be thinking about: portion, scrutiny, flail, bananas, mutiny, beat, and Evanescence."

Sam could see Bucky trying to hide a grin.

"Bucky. You know it's proportion, unity, scale, balance, harmony, rhythm, and emphasis," said Sam, moving the hydrangea to the side, "I know you do."

Bucky snorted, giving Sam a peck on the cheek.

"I was paying attention, don't worry," said Bucky, adding a few more hydrangeas, a few daybreaker roses, a few flame calla lilies, "We're going to make something awesome, don't worry."

"We better," said Sam, glancing over at Sarah and Rhodey and how the teacher of the class was complimenting their work, Sam quickly adding sprigs of lavender and a few artichoke flowers, "Sarah and Rhodey are destroying us right now."

"No, they're not," said Bucky, huffy as he delicately placed flamingo pineapple pink mums, "We're amazing. I don't care if the teacher calls their work 'perfection' and Sarah 'a flower savant' and Rhodey 'a natural in arrangements', I love our piece. Because we made it and it looks gorgeous."

Sam smiled from Bucky to their flower arrangement, warmth blooming in his chest.

"Yeah," said Sam, adding touches of gyps to the arrangement, "I love it too. And you. I. Love you."

"I know," said Bucky leaning in for a kiss, "Me too."

"Stop being gross and look at our flower arrangement," Sarah called out from the other side of the greenhouse classroom, her and Rhodey lifting their arrangement up in triumph, and Sam had to begrudgingly admit that the arrangement looked... like it could be on that Full Bloom show, what the fuck, "The teacher cried. She's still crying right now, you can see her outside failing to hide behind a rose bush."

"Actually, that might be because of the divorce," said Rhodey, stage whispering as he added, "Messy divorce. But I like to think it's because Sarah and I totally blew her mind."

"It's not a competition, Sarah," said Bucky, even though they both knew it was totally a competition, "We're just here to learn about the beautiful art of floral arrangement."

"Yeah," said Sam, knowing full well that he and Bucky have lost, "We're here for purely romantic reasons. You two just tagged along because Bucky heard there were two more spots left."

"Say what you want, you still lost," said Rhodey, shrugging.

"Ours won in our hearts," said Bucky, Sam shoving Bucky lightly at that comment, Sarah and Rhodey groaning, "What? It's true."

"Such a sap," said Sarah.

"I'm his sap," said Bucky, wrapping his arms around Sam, Sam leaning into it despite himself.

And sure, maybe Sam and Bucky's floral arrangement wasn't perfection. But Sam loved it all the same. Because he and Bucky made it, and that made it a million times better than any other arrangement.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Want to choose a date for Sam and Bucky to go on during this special February Daily SamBucky Fluff Diary event? Check out the prompts here and send me an ask! I’ll write you a drabble as one of my Daily SamBucky Fluff Diaries!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Nowhere near as exciting as your ex-agent Dabi and Mafia family Tomura idea, but what about a bakery AU starring:

Kurogiri, as the owner who hires people shunned and maligned for their quirks to give them a sense of belonging and worth

Tenko, as the anxious, angry young man forced by his dad to find a job or be kicked out onto the street

Touya, as the lead baker with mysterious burn scars who teaches Tenko the trade while teasing/challenging him constantly

Toga, as the energetic pastry chef who loves her crushes, blood, and the art of food in that order

Spinner, as the barista who no longer hides his mutation quirk and is fiercely protective of his friends

Magne, as the manager who's more like a big sister to the staff than their supervisor

Twice, as the prep cook with a sad past but hopes for the future

Mustard, as the high school student working the counter part time and always coming up with "experiments" when no one's watching him

Atsuhiro Sako, as the supply salesman with a flair for the dramatic

Plus, Moonfish, Muscular, UA kids/teachers, and others appearing as customers

Basically, Tenko applies for a job as an assistant baker because 1. It's at night so he won't have to deal with people, 2. It doesn't require any previous experience, and 3. His dad threatened to kick him out of the house if he doesn't "stop wasting his life on video games and either get a job or go to school". He nervously shows up for the interview and is surprised at how kind both Kurogiri and Magne are to him despite his awkwardness, scars/skin, and his quirk. In this AU, people with quirks considered "potentially villainous" are closely monitored and treated as if they're destined to become criminals (a lot like the reactions to Shinsō's quirk). His father often brings up how Tenko accidentally killed the family dog when his quirk activated for the first time at the age of four or five. Years of mental and emotional abuse like this reinforces the idea that his son must have been born bad and any attempts at striving for something will end in failure.

To Tenko's pleasant surprise he gets hired. His first night on the job starts with Kurogiri teaching him how to mix dough and put it through a machine that turns it into bagels. (BTW, I work as a baker at a bagel shop, which is how this silly idea came about.) Tenko tells himself it's just like playing a video game, and quickly starts getting the hang of things.

Then he meets Touya, who's supposed to teach him the actual baking process. Tenko's immediately annoyed by Touya's attitude and teasing ("You Decay any of this equipment and it's coming out of your paycheck, mophead"). He throws himself into the task, determined to shut Touya up. And secretly, Touya's impressed by his show of determination and tackling something new. He hopes to himself that Tenko lasts unlike other people who fell by the wayside.

And Tenko does stay, getting to know the others who've come to form a sort of family at the bakery. He becomes close with Himiko and Shuichi in particular, empathizing with the isolation they endured and the harsh demands Toga's own parents put on her. These new friendships make putting up with Touya every night worth it.

Then Tenko overhears an angry phone conversation and realizes Touya's not all smooth confidence and devil may care attitude. That his home life may be just as messy and painful as his. Bit by bit, Tenko learns more about his coworker and opens up in turn, each seeing they have quite a bit in common. Rivalry turns to friendship (though it still has a healthy streak of competition). Over time, however, things between them start to shift yet again. The usual jokes ("Aw, did you burn your fingers? Want me to kiss them and make it better?") cause awkward silences and flustered backpedaling. The number of accidental hand touches and bumping into each other increases ten fold. Eventually, it gets to a point where they can't deny romantic feelings snuck up on them when they weren't looking.

Like I said, not exciting or action-packed. Most of the conflict would be about the characters dealing with unhealthy family relationships, overcoming the terrible things they were taught to believe about themselves, and society's crappy treatment of them, I think. And they'd fight both by sticking together and supporting one another rather than being forced to become villains. It'll take on a clearer shape as it's written.

Thanks for letting me ramble! I just wanted to share so maybe my mind will settle down and let me work on this.

LISTEN FIRST ANON, NEVER— AND I WANT TO MAKE THIS VERY CLEAR— UNDERESTIMATE YOUR ABILITY TO MAKE ME SCREAM LIKE A MAD MAN HAVING THE BEST DAY OF HIS LIFE.

Anon, please you need to write this. We all have different ideas, different approaches, different portrayals and points of view. THAT'S NOT BAD. In fact, that's the opposite of bad. That's why we get a great range of fanfics, that's why we can enjoy new things and cry with new genres or enjoy new content.

And I absolute adore whenever people bring their knowledge about something into an au. I could have never come with anything so well written or so complex because I have never worked in a bakery, but you have! You have the ingredients, you have the tools, and look at what lovely au you have created!

I'm obsessed with this. I'm obsessed with the softness of this. This is like a butterfly kiss on your cheek on a summer afternoon while you watch a lake reflect the sky.

I want to know more about this. I want you to tell me more about your fanfic ideas and even if you want, I can help you write this, but please, let others enjoy this as much as I enjoy it. Because it's so so so so good.

A lot of villains fans are looking for this type of comfort. Damn, it is a dream to see a bakery filled with people who are getting better and finally having a chance in life, becoming a family, finding love, fighting their abusers in their own ways.

You even gave them the specific jobs. I'm— 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 this is so well thought. Really, please write this. Please.