#since one could figure he’d wear his gloves more frequently in general too

[soulsty]

Antarc, Cinnabar, and Phos rushing to deliver presents to their sleeping companions~

Happy Holidays everyone!

[arvandus]

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY!  1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it.  Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught.  Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

 All of the above?

 All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire.  Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name.  The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

 Like his hands.  You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight.  They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand.  They were a thing to be feared and avoided.  But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like?  You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

 Or his lips.  They were always covered by his mask.  You never, ever saw him without it.  You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin.  Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

 It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive.  Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

 You bet that part of him was soft too.

 The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes.  They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes.  But they lacked the warmth of Heaven.  Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

 The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore.  Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.  

 He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own.  That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing.  Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization.  You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates.  No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

 First impressions were everything to Kai.  Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion.  As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again.  You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips.  After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster.  And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

 The message he sent was clear: adapt or die.  When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

 So, you adapted.  As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.  The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

 And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad.  Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him.  But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either.  Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often.  But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it.  And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth.  But it was just a job, right?  You didn’t need warmth.

 So why did you feel so dissatisfied?  Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

 The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

 You craved his attention.  It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care.  To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction.  The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

 As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust.  They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were.  It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.”  You wanted him.  At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse.  After all, this was Overhaul.  Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain.  It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.  

 You began to act different in front of him.  Nothing too obvious, of course.  After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all.  All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

 So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance.  You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes.  Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings.  In the end though, it made no difference.  There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

 Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside.  It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening.  Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone.  No papers remained on his desk.  His gloves and plague mask were gone.  With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

 Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood.  It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints.  You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

 You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution.  No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

 You should have just left it at that.  But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

 That should have been your first clue.

 But your mental alarms never sounded.  Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

 You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right?  Left for the evening.  What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit?  With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

 That should have been your second clue.

 But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment.  You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes.  It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

 Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot.  Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded.  What if those were his fingers?  The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more.  You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it.  Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

 You shouldn’t be doing this.  Not here of all places.  But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations.  After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it.  And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him.  Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

 And dear God, did you need it.  You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties.  Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

 What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He was gone, right?  And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left.  He’d be none the wiser.

 Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get.  You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

 So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in.  A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart.  In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill.  It felt so fucking good.  The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat.  You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

 “Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

 There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

 Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic.  You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

 FUCK. Of course.  You forgot to check outside.  He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

 Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  You hadn’t heard him enter.  How long had he been standing there??

 “I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask.  His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

 Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

 “I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”

 “I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

 “Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

 You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

 “I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

 You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing.  His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

 “Look at you...” he grumbled.  “Disgusting.”

 His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression.  His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

 He was going to kill you.  You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less.  But you weren’t ready for it.  You didn’t want to die.

 You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare.  “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

 “Overhaul.”

 “Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me.  I meant no disrespect.”

 “No disrespect?” he sneered.  “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

 His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him.  You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence.  He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.  

 “Clean it up.”

 With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.  

 You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather.  Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame.  His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you.  It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge.  He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

 Not that you’d try to.  You knew better.

 When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.  

 It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life.  But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I... I was just...” you stammered.

 “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

 You swallowed and set down the trashcan.  He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you.  Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head.  You stopped breathing.

 There was something... electric in the air.  You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps.  His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face.  Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely.  Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released.  After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

 Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes.  The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra.  Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier.  You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

 And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

 A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

 Hope.

 Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in.  “Follow me.”

 Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair.  Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

 “Sit.”

 Confusion.

 “W-What??” you stuttered.

 “I said sit.” He replied.

 You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt.  You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you.  His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

 “Continue.” He stated.

 “What? What do you mean?” you asked.

 His eyes stared at you knowingly.  “You didn’t get to cum, did you?”  You shook your head, stunned at his words.  “Continue.” He repeated.

 “Right here?”

 “Where else?  It was good enough for you earlier.”  His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed.  “Continue.”

 Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction.  So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

 With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access.  Chisaki didn’t look down.  Not right away, at least.  Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent.  With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you.  It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening.  You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.  

 Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to.  You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers.  It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened.  Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat.  Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him.  You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel.  You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him.  Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build.  It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat.  But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least.  You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

 With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal.  Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge.  You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat.   Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

 You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths.  Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum.  You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit.  The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

 You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure.  Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

 You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants.  Was he trying to hide it?  Because he was failing.  Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

 “Again.” He ordered.

 Your eyes bulged.  “Again?”

 He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently.  You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight.  He wanted you to do it again?

 At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired.  But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you.  No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing.  It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare.  Do it again and see what happens.

 Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

 Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb.  Except for your clit.  That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core.  With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips.  It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it.  Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki.  Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

 It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length.  You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly.  It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.  

 You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you.  With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith.  You wanted it.  You wanted to cum so badly.  But you wanted to see him even more.  So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts.  You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered.  With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips.  The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

 It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

 You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down.  You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

 It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum.  Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

 You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

 “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.  

 He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

 “Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

 You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes.  Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter.  He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand.  Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him.  You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask.  Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you.  It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

 It was the push your sensitive body needed.  You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first.  Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure.  With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

 You were given no respite.  As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

 “Again.”

 Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity.  You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation.  It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

 Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out.  “B-But... I can’t....”

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly.  He was smirking at you. Cruelly.  

 “You can, and you will.” He said.  A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings.  “Again.” He repeated.

 Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes.  You stared at the exposed skin in awe.  It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed.  Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine.  Maybe… maybe if you were good…

 You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit.  Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily.  Watching him masturbate to you was delicious.  He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light.  You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger?  Maybe both?

 You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand.  The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to.  It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

 But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

 He continued his strokes, slow and easy.  Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him.  His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need.  It was happening... he was going to cum...

 But he never did.  Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

 Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

 Maybe he was waiting for you.  Or maybe he had his own agenda.  But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

 The hypocrite.

 Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted.  But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.  

 It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation.  The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him.  You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

 “Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged.  Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours.  Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

 Chisaki froze mid-stroke.  “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

 “Please,” You begged.  “Don’t you want to?”

 His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before.  After all, what you were asking was no small order.  You knew how he felt about touch.  No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

 But that was why you begged. And pleaded.  And groveled.  Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

 “Please...” you whined one last time.  “I’ll do anything.  I need you, Kai...”

 Something about you using his given name did something.  His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck.  Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat.  You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie.  He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable.  He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence.  Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

 You waited.

 “Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

 Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you.  Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

 “So fucking filthy.” He breathed.  The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

 He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

 “...And needy.” He added.

 From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch.  But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about.  Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

 “I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself.  His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

 You were pathetic.  But you didn’t care.  You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you.  And if he wanted you to beg?  To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock?  You’d do that too.

 His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning.  A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

 Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first.  So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.”  He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

 You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous.  It made you want to cry.  You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

 But it never came.  And his hand never ventured further.  Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.  Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words.  “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

 Chisaki tsked.  “You’re afraid.  Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

 His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

 Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk.  The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

 Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

 “Kai!” you protested.

 He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered.  “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

 The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before.  Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there.  But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade.  Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

 Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

 He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand.  His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

 He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow.  Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between.  And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast.  His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return.  You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft.  The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

 The temptation was too much.  He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust.  Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles.  With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting.  You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore.  You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

 It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls.  His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face.  It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic.  Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore.  But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

 Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth.  Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

 “Shut up.” He growled.

 You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him.  And it didn’t matter to you either.  You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast.  All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint.  That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

 “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

 His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

 “So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.”  His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

 You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted.  It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock.  Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls.  It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

 The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep.  But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling.  Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up.  Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

 But he never did.  Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock.  You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state.  A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

 But he never did that either.  Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance.  Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes...  His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

 Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth.  It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected.  The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

 Whatever it was, it was short-lived.  He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips.  And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow.  No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

 You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his.  But you were quickly learning you couldn’t.  His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left.  And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?  

 The sun could never be controlled.

 And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

 Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

 “Again.”

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part VI

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

By the time I was finally let into the crime scene the day after making my little forensic discovery, the sun had already come down to kiss the horizon. It had taken a great deal of stubborn persistence, but in the end, I had managed to convince the chief detective to grant me access by proving the effectiveness of my method.

As for the name of this method, I had decided to dub the chemical “luminol” due to its distinguishing chemiluminescence, as well as for the sake of succinctness.

Though the chief himself had taken to this well enough, there was yet another hurdle that I’d had to overcome. The estate’s residents. That process had been a bit more difficult, and delicate. At first, my adoptive family were, naturally, apprehensive to let me do as I wished. But when I gave them my solemn apologies and told them that this might allow me to make up for all I had done to hurt them, their trust in me seemed to have been somewhat restored. And I had no intention of letting them down again.

I had to admit, though, that being here on my own was more than a little bit strange. I’d done each one of my investigations side-by-side with my partner ever since I’d freed him from the psych ward and gotten him in with the force a year ago. Every time he wasn’t there to lend me his insights or hold onto something for me or put a hand on my shoulder if ever I got myself overly worked up was like the pang of being slapped across the face. But each of those times, I would straighten up and remind myself, “I’m doing this for him.”

According to Link, he’d found the key near the foot of the fireplace. And so that would be the first place I’d search.

But before I could begin, the parlour was bathed in harsh, orange light.

The officer charged with supervising me had his finger on the light switch. “Ah, actually, could you keep those off for me?” The man gave me an estranged look, but granted my request all the same. “Oh, and close the blinds for me while you’re at it, will you? Ta!”

Now that the room was dim, I’d more effectively simulated the conditions of my apartment that night.

With no further ado, I made my way toward the mantel. Its polished, stone surface couldn’t possibly have the ability to conceal any amount of blood, one might have thought. In which case, one would have been wrong. And my new formula was going to prove just that.

All it took were a couple of spritzes to cover the entire width of the mantelpiece. I waited. Then after a few seconds, the luminol set in, and I had my results.

On either end of the shelf, there was a statuette. These frog-like figures stood guard here as guardian deities to the Sheikah family, or so I’d been told as a seven-year-old. But now, the truth would be revealed to me that what they protected was not the family but a secret. And on the night of the murder, evidently, they’d failed to do even that much.

On the right-hand figurine’s forehead, there had appeared an array of fluorescent blue spots. They were shaped and positioned like fingerprints—a thumb, index, and middle, gripping the creature by its painted skull—but unlike fingerprints, they were completely filled in. I recalled dusting these statuettes for prints on the second or third day of official inspections, and I’d found nothing. The person who these bloody prints belonged to must have been wearing gloves at the time. The same method they’d used to leave no prints on Link’s revolver.

With caution, I aligned my fingers with the prints and gave the figurine an experimental wiggle. To my surprise, it wasn’t fixed to the mantel as I’d thought, but rather hinged to it. It tilted back, and underneath its feet, a small, round keyhole glowed orange in wait.

This was it. I took the unassumingly sized key from my pocket and dropped it into the hole, whereupon both key and keyhole went from orange to brilliant sky blue. A perfect fit.

I couldn’t believe my eyes with what occurred next.

When the key fell in place, the mantel itself split down the middle. Then the two halves began to shift independently away from one and other. As this was happening, the inner wall of the chimney had broken apart into individual rows of stone brick, which then swung backward into the wall.

The two halves of the mantelpiece, having scraped along all the way to either end of the fireplace, collapsed and folded down against its outer legs with a decisive klock. All of this had transpired in the span of just ten seconds.

Behind what had once existed in my mind as a solid, stone-brick wall, there was now a small, cylindrical hollow, just big enough for one or two people to stand inside. The floor of the hollow, beyond the hearth, bore the symbol of the Sheikahs and glowed with the same blue hue that had the key upon being returned to its home. I looked down and noticed the key in question on the floor, having fallen out when its side of the mantel had lain itself vertically.

When the mechanisms in the mantelpiece began stirring to life again, I realized I was on a time limit. With haste, I retrieved the key, placed it in one of my coat pockets, and entered the tiny room.

For several moments, nothing happened, save for the wall of the fireplace closing back up behind me. During these moments, I wondered, what purpose could this room possibly serve? There were no shelves or drawers or racks that one could use to hang one’s clothes on, and it was far too small to be used as storage.

Then all of a sudden, the floor began to lower, all by itself.

The farther and farther I descended into the depths of the unknown, the harder my heart pounded. Just how deep did this elevator go?

And for that matter, how in the world was it even going? The ceiling above me remained where it was, so pulleys were out of the question—and there were no gears or anything moving the floor downwards, from what I could tell.

My confusion turned to shock when the platform I was on defied gravity itself as it entered the chamber that seemed to be its destination.

“What in the blazes...?” I breathed aloud. I had half a mind to suspect that what I’d just witnessed was the result of paranormal influences. Of course, the Sheikah crest beneath my feet told me there had to be a scientific explanation as to how these endless technological mysteries operated. Auntie Purah was sure to know. Though, come to think of it, had she even been aware of the existence of this secret passage?

I now found myself at the start of some kind of corridor. The sound of my heels touching the floor as I stepped down from the levitating platform echoed in the darkness. The only sources of light came from the pulsing, blue runes lining the baseboards of the cold, polished walls, the similarly pulsing Sheikah insignia adorning the archway that marked the start of the hallway ahead, and the mounted sconces that, rather than fire, contained lightbulbs of the same blue that emitted no heat.

As enthrallingly curious as all this was, none of it was relevant. Right now, I was retracing what were likely the steps of the true killer. All I had was to keep moving forward.

But doing so was going to be far easier said than done. Not only was this place exceedingly dark, so much so that I could only just make out the edges of each wall, but it seemed to go on forever. The twists, turns, ups, and downs were so frequent that after five minutes, I hadn’t the slightest idea which way I was facing. The one bright side to it all was that there was only ever a single path forward to choose from.

But to make things worse, there were traps set up along the complete length of the labyrinth. Things like cameras, pressure plates, and even lasers, all of which were inventions that I and the general public were already familiar with, unlike that impossible “elevator” that I had discovered. One thing was for certain: whoever had carried the corpse of their victim through here had to have known their way around this place. For I was barely even able to get by without unwittingly tripping the alarm.

By the time I was finally nearing the end of my journey, and thoroughly drenched in an anxious sweat, I spotted something lying on the ground where a few stray rays of moonlight were seeping in from the outside.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a letter of sorts. It wasn’t until I examined the back of the envelope that I realized this wasn’t just any letter. It was addressed to none other than Impa Sheikah, and it bore no return address. Not only that, but it was stained with splotches of what appeared to be blood.

The sheets of parchment inside were old and yellowing, and the envelope had what looked to be the remnants of a broken wax seal on the flap. The letter itself was handwritten in the same elegant cursive in which the address had been written, with some kind of nib pen and ink. Aside from murder, whoever had sent this must have had a deep affinity for the old-fashioned.

“My dear friend,” it began.

“It is with great sadness in my heart that I am writing to you. The last time we spoke was far too long ago, but even so, I am afraid this will be one of the last times you shall ever hear from me. You see, I have held off on this for as long as possible, but you have forced my hand. I can no longer allow you to meddle in my affairs as you have been.

“I am certain that you are aware of this by now, but I have been keeping watch over you from the ashes of the afterlife for a number of years. I must say, you have done a fine job of raising my darling Zelda in my stead. She has grown into a fine, young lady thanks to your efforts. Though I admit, I do wonder if she has what it takes to ‘solve the mystery’ of which she has been so steadfast in her pursuit ever since my unfortunate, yet necessary, departure.

“The night grows late, and I find myself carrying on. This letter has strayed far from its original purpose. Allow me to get straight to the heart of the matter. Meet me in the secret garden on the twenty-first before daybreak. Surely I need not tell you what would happen if you were to decline this simple request of mine. You were once my nearest and dearest friend, after all, and to allow malice to fester between friends such as we would be a tragedy, to say the least.

“Please deliver my deepest and most heartfelt affections to the rest of the family.

“Yours faithfully, Hilda”

By the time my eyes had dragged themselves along the sweeping lines of the signature, by hands had started to shake so severely that I nearly couldn’t read what was written there. In fact, not just my hands, but my entire being was trembling out of control. I fell to my knees, the sheets of paper scattering in every direction.

Now I knew the reason why this writing had seemed so familiar. I’d used the very same to confirm the nonexistence of the tooth fairy at age five by writing “her” a note and analyzing “her” reply the next day.

My mother was alive. Not only that, but...

I rose to my feet so quickly, my head started pounding. But I paid no heed to it. All I could think in that moment was how impossible it was.

At the end of this long hallway, there was a small set of stairs leading up to a trapdoor, carved from the same stone-like material that made up the walls of the labyrinth. It was incredibly heavy, but it wasn’t locked. With a bit of effort, I managed to heave it open.

The scene into which I would then emerge would change my life forever.

I found myself in the middle of a section of the estate’s gardens that I had never seen before. Behind me was the garden wall that I was familiar with, but rather than the rest of it being properly walled off, it was lined with dwarf evergreens. Beyond those, however, the thicket of the woods seemed all but impassable.

At the centre of it all, there was a place where the flowers were trampled and wilting. From afar, these flowers appeared a deep red hue. But up close, they were white. Something else had turned them red.

Then it dawned on me—these were carnations. I looked around. The secret garden was fit to burst with carnations.

“I observe the world as I hide in a cage. In my youth, I am weak, but I gain strength with age. I both give life and take it away. When one tries to pluck me, I make them my prey. What am I?”

“A carnation.”

It was all flooding back to me. My mother’s fondness for the species, how she had been born on the streets, the great fire that had devoured City Hall, the uprising of the Yiga...

Everything I had been led to believe was a lie.

The head of the organization was my mother. And Auntie Impa had known it all along.

When I looked up toward the starless sky, it felt as though I were plummeting head first into its insatiable, black abyss. My lungs seized up, and I couldn’t breathe. My very soul, being pulled in two opposite directions, was doomed to be torn apart.

Then the clouds parted, and behind a veil of shadow, the full moon was revealed.

The phantom of a hand belonging to the boy I called Link came to rest upon my shoulder. It was soft and nostalgic, in tandem with the frail light of the moon. I felt my chest brimming over with a courage most profound. At that moment, I harboured not even a wisp of fear for whatever it was that lay ahead of me.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Angel of the Ink Machine, Chapter 1: An Unlikely Encounter.

Alright, this was a long time coming. And by a long time, I mean I have literally had it in mind since Fall. As a result, I’m going to ignore new information from TIOL so that I can do it as I originally planned.

The premise of this AU is simple: Sammy leaves the studio instead of Henry, and as a result, Joey needs a new partner in crime. He finds one in Allison. Power struggles, sacrifices, passion, ecstasy and tragedy ensues.

---

Sammy never even bothered to formally quit the studio, and it fell on Henry to explain to Joey what had probably transpired.

“He told me a few days ago that he wanted to get Mr. Arch’s attention and maybe a job from him. Sorry to say, Joey, but I think he got what he wanted.”

Joey’s face twisted with disbelief and anger and then back to serenity. “No, Sammy loved it here! I’m sure he’ll be back soon- he’s probably just sick. And even if he isn’t, well, we don’t need him anyhow, do we, Henry? So long as we have each other.”

“Hm? Yeah.” Henry didn’t tell Joey that Nathan had made him an offer as well, and that he was beginning to regret not taking it.

After a few days, Joey accepted that Sammy was gone and promoted Jack to the head of the music department. It was better that way, anyhow- Jack wasn’t so demanding, and let Joey have more run of the music room when he wanted it.

For the next decade, things went along as usual. The studio grew, Henry remained Joey’s finest and most hardworking artist, and Joey even began to look into some dark magic that could help him make his vision for the studio a reality. Joey was, however, beginning to feel increasingly alone in his vision. Henry had grown bitter and distant to him over the years, and then quit. It was disappointing, but not a surprise. It left Joey feeling rather empty in the realization of how little he’d lost. The loyal, invaluable partner he’d once had had turned into just another artist years ago.

Joey needed another person who truly understood his vision. Sadly, he didn’t know anyone that could have fit the bill.

And then he found her.

The place he’d found her had been a speakeasy during the prohibition- a hub of all sorts of illegal affairs. Joey had come here for booze and the occasional round of cocaine during the prohibition and had discovered magic that way. Now, the prohibition was over, but criminals still came to peddle their wares, and Joey, a frequent user of magic now, still came to supply himself with books and reagents that couldn’t be found anywhere else. It was a sleazy place- dirty, greasy, full of prostitutes and men who looked like they could rob you. So it didn’t surprise Joey when a woman- mid-twenties, curvaceous, and on the tall side- approached him while he was buying potions. He figured it was just a prostitute trying to find a customer.

“I need three of the generic restorative ones.. And a vial of clean animal blood, and a liter of chloroform, please.”

The woman next to him chuckled. “You know that restorative potions are horrendously marked up, right? And you could get the animal blood... from an animal.”

Looking at the woman for the first time, Joey realized two things. First, the nearly knee-length pink dress and grey leather jacket she was wearing looked far too new and expensive and a bit too modest to be a prostitute’s, and she looked awfully healthy and clean for one. Secondly, he recognized her from somewhere. Still, he wouldn’t let the woman embarrass him. “Well, yes. But I haven’t practiced making my own yet, and I don’t want to test the first few on myself! And I just so happen to have plenty of money for them.”

The woman finally made eye contact with him. Light grey eyes, Joey noted. “Really? So, you been into magic long, Mr…”

“Drew. Joey Drew. And not too long. My specialty is in the demonic, but I’m experimenting with a bit of everything. Trying to figure out what will work with my vision. Yourself? Actually, why don’t we have this conversation somewhere more pleasant.” Joey paid the man for the potions, and the two walked out of the dark alleyway and into the city lights.

“My specialty is potions. I brew my own. I also really like charms.”

Joey’s eyes went wide. “Charms? You criticize me for buying potions, and you buy charms? There’s no way of even knowing if they work!”

“Well, unlike you, I’m not working towards any grand vision. I think charms work. I think they make my life better. And that’s good enough for me. Honestly, some magic users forget that magic is meant to enhance life, not fill some kind of void in it. Heck, I could say the same of some artists.”

“Funny you should mention art. I’m an artist. And my life’s goal is to reflect life in art. It seems we have a similar view on life, don’t we? It’s just that I want to be the one to show it to other people. Say- would you like to see a bit of my vision tonight?”

“Sure!” Allison said with a smile.

Joey took her to his car and held the door open for her.

“Oh. A gentleman. And a rich one, it looks like!”

“Yes. I own one of the greatest animation studios in the world: Joey Drew Studios.”

Allison giggled. “I’m no cartoon expert, but if it’s one of the greatest in the world, then why haven’t I heard of it?”

“Well, it might not be the very best yet, but it will be! Especially once the project I’m about to show you takes off.”

“Great!” Joey could see the excitement in her eyes, and he loved it.

“And what do you do, Ms. Pendle? I feel like we’ve met.”

Allison’s face darkened a little. “Well... I used to be a Broadway performer. I quit. You see, I have an ugly history with cocaine, and some of my coworkers were getting me back into it. I knew I couldn’t stay without it ruining my health... so I didn’t. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, though.”

Joey could remember her now- a backup dancer in one of the plays he’d seen. He committed everything she’d said to memory, knowing it could be useful later on.

Before long, they were at the studio, and Joey showed her to the pedestal room.

“Wow. You got your entire staff to participate in your rituals? That’s amazing.”

“Just a few of them, actually. But yeah, a little power goes a long way when you’re dealing with magic. And this isn’t even half of it. Come. I assume you aren’t a vegetarian witch?”

“Well, I’ve never slaughtered an animal for magic, but I’m up for it so long as it’s not too often. It’s no different than meat, really.”

“Fair enough,” Joey said. Maybe it was stupid to trust this woman that he’d met this same night, but he got a good feeling about her. He just had to share everything with her. The elevator wasn’t romantic enough, so he took her to the ink machine, suspended with chains, and watched the amazement on her face as it lowered until its top was at floor level. Joey stepped onto the machine and pulled Allison along with him. He held her waist as the machine lowered until it hit the floor of the very basement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before climbing down the machine and running to turn on the lights.

Allison’s heart was beating a million miles a minute looking at all the pentagrams on the floor, the supplies on the shelves, and the strange machinery. A small part of her was glad she’d packed a knife in her jacket pocket, especially given the human-sized iron cages. Mostly, though, she felt like she’d died and gone to magic-user heaven. Joey had thought she wouldn’t be scared off by this, and was more than happy to be proven correct.

“This is amazing!” Allison beamed. “What do you use it for?”

“Well… nothing good, yet. I’m trying to create life, but there’s only been failed attempts. Let you show you my best one.” Joey led her to a supply closet that only he had the keys for. The door opened to reveal a metal cage and little else. When Joey clicked on the lights, a mound of black sludge, maybe a foot and a half tall, made itself visible. A cartoonish mouth floated down about where an ear should be, and two black mounds that vaguely looked like pie-cut eyes rested at its base. “I don’t know what to do to improve results,” Joey admitted. “Ultimately, I want to bring my cartoons into the real world. But can you imagine me presenting this old thing on a stage?” Joey laughed. “Wouldn’t exactly have them cheering, now would it?”

“Hmm... well, it’s a long shot, but a while ago while I was traveling, I stayed with a witch for a while and learned the recipe for a special potion. I kind of... stole the recipe from her, so I don’t know all about how it works, but it’s had all kinds of effects on the substances I’ve used it in in the past. I once burned all my hair off by mixing it with shampoo! So, you wanna to see what happens when you mix it with ink?

“Why not?” Joey said. He was sure to hear an earfull from Thomas the next day about some mechanical nonsense, but at that moment, Joey didn’t care.

“Alright,” Allison said, digging out a small vial of clear liquid from her bag. “Where do I put this?”

Joey directed her to the insertion nozzle. Allison put in the substance. Joey gathered some film of Bendy and added it in as well. And then, Joey started up the machine. What came out was an abomination- a strange, humanoid creature made of ink, its spine and joints jutting out at sharp angles from its body. It had Bendy’s horns, his smile, and one of its gloves, but the similarities ended there. It looked around at its surroundings before beginning to wander off.

Allison yelped. “What do we do? I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Joey said in an extremely calm voice. “Just be calm. Find an iron cage big enough and open it for me.”

Allison did as she was told, and Joey calmly approached the beast as it took in its surroundings. “Hey, there, buddy. Come with me. It’s okay.” He offered the beast his hand and led him towards the cage. He and Allison wrestled the creature into the cage and locked it. Joey sighed in relief. “That could have been ugly.”

“Yeah. That was amazing. But I’m sorry for causing it!”

They made eye contact. “Don’t be! That’s the closest I’ve ever come to making a functional toon! I mean, it still needs something... but thank you.” Joey ran his hand over her arm. “Allison. You can sing, right? You sang on Broadway?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been looking for a person who understood me- this side, the artistic side, the lust-for-life side- for years. Would you like to join my studio as a voice actress and help me with this grand project? Help me to do what no magician has done and create sentient life with me?”

“Yes! I’ve been looking for the next adventure since I quit Broadway!”

She hadn’t hesitated. This could only end well.

“Okay. Now, I’ll want you as a partner in crime and voice actress either way, but would you like to go out to dinner on Friday?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, pentagrams and demonic machines were one thing, but dinner? Now you’ve gone too far.” A pause. “I’m joking, Joey. Of course I will.” Dangerous just so happened to be Allison’s type, and she knew she could handle this little adventure if it turned sour.

[blue-angel-wings]

Bishop Drabble - take your times

18+ (because I got a little nasty for a brief moment hehe)

Characters: Bishop Losa x Reader (Y/N), basically all the Mayans briefly but mainly Angel, Coco, Gilly.

Summary: Reader is a single mum and close with the Mayans specifically Bishop, because they crushing on each other. And Emily Galindo being a bitch because I don’t like her 😊.

Warnings: Cursing, horny talks but not full blown smut, slight talk of injuries.

Word count: 3,768 it’s longer because I got carried away 😈

You had known the Mayans since you were little, although your Father wasn’t a patch he always helped them.

As a day job your Father owned a small car dealership and would often frequent Romero scrap and salvage for odd pieces to use on whatever new vehicle he was working on, but behind the calm face of a man who liked cars and bikes, was a trained assassin, murder for hire, hitman, whatever you wanted to call it. So over time your Dad did jobs for the Mayans. Through that they met you and whilst your Mother didn’t really like the Mayans knowing your family she had to admit it was useful always having a group of knights in shiny leather to hand.

Your father had been killed one a run with them when you were sixteen years old, and ever since then the club had take your Fathers place with you and your mother. She worked the bar sometimes and whilst you chose to work elsewhere you always attend the parties, well as much as you could whilst also being a single parent. At the age of eighteen you became a mother to a beautiful baby boy you lovingly named Rio. The guys were shocked but supportive and excited for the new little baby in their lives. The Dad of your son decided that a baby wouldn’t work for him so he ran. Not like you needed him.

Yours and Bishop’s relationship had only just started, you had been on a few dates but you spoke constantly and you may have slept with him on a few occasions, because who could resist a man like that. He had started to find you attractive once you showed up more. For your safety and now Rio’s your Mother kept you away from the guys until you were in your twenties, so when you turned twenty one and could legally drink you knew exactly where you were going to get wasted for the first time. The clubhouse.

Ever since Bishop saw you in a tiny black dress that made your body just look too good he knew we wanted you but stayed back not wanting to look like a perv who only dated girls half his age. He admired you for years, how you raised Rio somewhat alone, how you always helped the club without a complaint, how you deeply cared for the guys and he just couldn’t helped that he fell for you more and more.

But he was done waiting and at Rio’s eighth birthday party, whilst you stood there playing nice with the other parents from the prestigious school you sent Rio to, and whilst wearing jeans that Bishop swore were painted on, he asked you out.

You thanked the heavens he did because you were getting sick of the waiting game.

A few months had passed and although you had been on dates, Bishop was yet to ask you to be his. It was almost like he was still scared that you would reject him. During the day he was almost shy around you not saying much or interacting with you as much as you hoped almost like he feared he would say or do something wrong, but at night he’d have you shaking in ecstasy on a bed drenched with your arousal, whilst whispering the nastiest shit you’d ever heard.

You didn’t think too much about it you knew he loved you deep down he was just struggling to say it, he had no problem showing it through his actions and you saw the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. But saying the words that would make you his girl officially, he just couldn’t manage do that.

At Rio’s birthday he had been gifted a skate board. A small red plank of wood you swore would be the end of your son. And although Angel had also purchased a helmet to go with it, your son seemingly refused to wear it. He constantly rode it without the helmet no matter how much you asked him to, it was like he was allergic.

You had taken the board away once he started to show zero regard for himself and others. Swerving through people on the sidewalk was okay if it was quiet and people moved out the way in time, but once he started heading towards the roads without his helmet you called time on his little Tony Hawk phase.

A few weeks passed before he grew restless and bored without it. He had come looking for you with full safety gear on, helmet, knee pads, elbow pads and little gloves. And you cracked, you gave him back his death board and sent him on his way.

Rio’s school was just out of Santo Padre and about 45 mins away from your home, it was a bit of nuisance being so far from you but your son was smart, too smart. He had eidetic imagery or as some would say photographic memory. He had shown signs when he was little, about 4 or 5, when he was able to recall in perfect detail his toys as if they were still there in front of you. It was terrifying to you but when the doctor explained what it was you were stunned. Due to his abilities you sent him to a school that burned a whole in your pockets each month but was perfect for your little boy. He loved it, he excelled at all subjects aced every test and had a big group of friends that were surprisingly pleasant children.

The Mayans clubhouse was only twenty minutes away from Rio’s school. And when work had started to get busier, you couldn’t pick him up from school anymore. You generally finished worked at the boutique in town at 4:30 an hour after Rio had finished school, you hadn’t given him a key to the house out of fear he would lose it, so you suggested he’d ride his board to the clubhouse and then once you were done you would pick him up. It worked out great, the guys loved having him there and you got to see Bishop more.

The guys were just chilling at the club, the younger ones were playing poker and smoking whilst the elders were in templo.

‘What the fuck prospect!?’ Slamming his cards on the table in a frenzy, Coco practically threw his money at the chuckling Ezekiel who in return shook his head at the snipers antics.

‘Not a prospect anymore bro, imma patch now.’ He said smugly, pointing lazily at the patch on his kutte.

‘Keep taking my money and I will change that real quick.’ Coco was pissed, he owed Ez about $300 from just this afternoon alone.

At the front porch Angel and Gilly were working the yard when they heard the slight rattling of small wheels of the stones, lifting their heads just in time to see the arrival of Rio on his board. They had to admit when they purchased the board for him they were worried he’d be crap at it and give up, but we wasn’t. The guys sometimes rode behind him on their bikes just to watch his skate. It was mesmerising.

Happily finishing up their work, Angel nudged Gilly towards the clubhouse to tell the others of your son’s arrival.

‘Hey, Rio’s here.’ The larger man bellowed into the space causing the other Mayans to stop what they were doing and follow him out.

Outside Angel had Rio swinging from his neck, when Rio was around the Mayans he deliberately acted younger to get more attention, the guys didn’t do anything to stop him they enjoyed him acting all silly and somewhat babyish, it stopped the sad truth of him getting older right before their eyes from rising to the surface.

‘Hey little guy, how was the ride in?’ El presidente asked the boy whilst messing with his hair, that he spent hours getting perfect for school.

Bishop was closest to Rio, well joint with Angel. Rio saw Bishop as a father figure, much to your delight, and Angel as a brother figure.

‘It was okay, some car was following me really closely and honking at me.’ He pouted whilst spinning the wheels on his board.

The men perked up at the sound of somebody pestering the young boy.

‘ I don’t know why though, mama says I can ride in the road if I stay to the side out of the way with my helmet on.’ Rio didn’t seem to be upset, more worried he was defying your rules of riding his skateboard.

‘Well, what did the car look like?’ Creeper asked whilst blowing the smoke from his cigarette behind him, being mindful of the small child in front of him.

‘A black Lexus RX Hybrid, black tinted windows, driver was a middle aged male, bald, tattoos up his arms.....’ the boy rambled on, his memory working overtime. The guys stopped him mid way through not wanting him to worry himself with the stranger who was bothering him. They assured him he did nothing wrong and took him into clubhouse.

None of the other guys recognised description of the car or driver, but Ez did. He knew who was sat in the back of the vehicle, whilst they texted him and continued to call upon him every waking second of the day. He heard the sound of a car coming to a halt at the front of the scrap yard, he knew this was the car that was following Rio plus he saw the man Rio had described in great detail. He glanced at his phone to check if his suspicions were true. His screen was flooded with notifications of texts and calls, and some social media notifications, all from the same person.

Emily Galindo.

She had been contacting Ez, at first he didn’t mind the contact from his ex, he selfishly used to want the relationship to rekindle with the married woman, but now with Gabby in his life he didn’t, he wanted her gone. She nodded to his trailer, with a pleading look is her eyes he succumbed to her request, checked nobody was around and headed to his trailer.

‘Do you have any Capri-Suns i’m kinda thirsty?’ Rio asked, cheekily checking behind the bar for something to eat hoping one of guys would fulfil his request. Bishop smirked reached into the fridge round the corner and retrieved two orange Capri-Sun pouches and grasped the bag of Doritos they kept on top of the fridge for him to munch on as well.

‘How’s school going mate?’ Bishop genuinely enjoyed talking with Rio because he reminded him of you, he much like yourself, was so passionate even over the little things.

Bishop played with Rio’s discarded school tie, folding it neatly knowing you hated ironing it.

‘It was alright, we learning about dinosaurs in science which is cool cos I really like Jurassic park and I’m gonna ask mama later if we can watch it.’ Rio exclaimed loudly waving his hands around wildly. He continues to tell Bishop about school, avoiding telling him about the masses of homework that was set knowing the older man would tell him to do it and wouldn’t drop it until it was done. The conversation was interrupted by Angel who had just got finished on a call.

‘Hey Rio, your Mum just called saying she got caught up at work and won’t be picking up til 5.’ The oldest Reyes told the child who was seemingly unbothered by the change of plans, but the news had Bishop frowning, why didn’t you call him, you knew he didn’t have Templo today so he would have his phone on him?

‘Okay, can I go practice my kick flips out front?’ He asked the president.

‘Yeah sure, take one of guys to watch you incase you fall, and remember to map out where your skating with the cones.’

‘Yeah I think I can remember that.’ He teased the older man, by referencing his condition.

The guys had bought these little orange cones for him to use when he was skating in the yard so he didn’t get in the way of them working.

Bishop lightly shoved him in the direction of the door with a shake of his head, he needed to call you, the jealously he felt when you called Angel instead of him was growing unbearable. Was it Angel stretching out your tight little pussy each night? Was it Angel that had you screaming with his head between your legs? Was it Angel that you called Daddy? Was it Angel that had you making the most delicious moans?

No it wasn’t, it was Bishop.

So why weren’t you calling him?

It was 5:30 when you pulled up to the scrap yard to retrieve your child. You surveyed the grounds looking for Rio once you had parked. But when you were greeted with the noise of laughter, you opted to follow that. Turning off your car you headed to the front porch where a groaning Coco was laying on the floor clutching his arm. You walked over not too worried seeming as the sniper had sustained worse injuries than a scrape on the arm.

‘You okay there Coco baby?’

You squatted beside the man and glanced as the injury on his arm, there wasn’t more that’s a slight graze on his elbow however from he noises he was now making you’d think he’d been shot.

‘No! This piece of sh-‘ you clapped a hand over this mouth before he could finish once you realised that the giggling you heard earlier came from your son, who sat comfortably in Gilly’s lap at the bench a few feet away. Standing up, leaving Coco to get on with it, you walked over to your son to kiss his forehead.

‘You okay baby? School was good?’

‘Yeah it was good we are doing dinosaurs in science so I was wondering if I can watch Jurassic park tonight to learn more about T-rex’s, please? ‘ he pleaded with both hands clasped together.

‘Of course baby.’ You went to say more but you saw Bishop on the step, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

You knew why though, in an attempt to push Bishop to ask you to his girl you messed with him a little by deliberately calling Angel instead of him to inform the guys of the change of plans. Normally you wouldn’t mess with the man who so clearly had control of the reigns in the relationship but you were sick of waiting, you wanted him and he wanted you, the hickies on your breasts and inner thighs confirming that.

You kissed Rio’s head and Gilly’s, once he jokingly pointed to his forehead, and headed towards Bishop. He turned without a word and heard towards the clubhouse, the guys waited a few minutes before following suit, not wanting to miss the potential start of your long awaited romance. Rio was left alone to skate outside after he said he wanted to practice a little more, Angel was happy to leave him out there alone knowing he could ride perfectly fine.

Bishop sat on a couch in the far corner and when you went to sit next to him he grasped your wrist and manoeuvred you onto his lap, well this is a good start you thought.

‘How was work?’ He asked whilst sneaking a peek at your cleavage that you pushed up slightly before you left work.

‘It was good, busy which is good. A little tired and my feet hurt.’ You answered, slightly wriggling your feet. Bishop caught on quickly, removing you shoes and and starting to rub your feet slightly, causing a slight moan to slip from your lips.

‘Y/N I want to ask you something.’

Here it comes, you acted calm almost ignorant to what he was saying but inside you were screaming.

‘I really like you and I love spending time with you, you make me feel like a little kid with his first crush. You’re my first thought in the morning and last thought at night. I wanna be with you always and forever, so i was won—‘

‘Hey!’

Bishop’s monologue was cut short by a small voice you recognised to be your son’s. Every head in the clubhouse turn so quickly you feared they all get whiplash.

Grabbing your shoes and placing them haphazardly on your feet you all but sprinted to the front porch, where the now female voice could be heard.

Running out you saw your son sat on the floor fighting back tears and Emily Galindo standing over him slightly. She obviously was leaving Ez’s trailer, because that’s what married women do, they meet with their ex’s in trailers behind their husband’s back.

‘Hey baby you okay, are you injured?’

You rushed to your sons side as well as Bishop, who carefully picks up Rio’s skate board that was currently sporting a large crack in the middle of the wood.

‘No, I’m okay mama.’ He whispered growing embarrassed at the crowd around him, his bottom lip started to tremble telling you that tears where only moments away. Bishop started brushing the hair off of Rio’s face to calm the young boy, he too knew Rio hated crying in front of crowds.

‘What happened sweetheart?’ You spoke quietly not wanting to blow up too much in front of your son, you’d had a long day at work and you didn’t have time for a confrontation today. You wanted this sorted so you can go back to Bishop and then go home.

‘He wasn’t watching where he was going!’ The blonde woman spoke, the venom in her voice unnecessary in this situation.

‘I wasn’t fucking talking to you!’ Apparently you did have time today. All heads snapped to you and Gilly managed to scoop Rio into his arms before you whipped yourself in front of the culprit of your son’s upset.

‘So that warrants you to push him!? A small, eight year old child!? Did you not see the cones hun? They are bright fucking orange, maybe if you lifted your head of your ex’s dick for a moment you would see my son skating out here.’ The guys were loving it, watching with smirks on their faces.

‘Somebody should’ve been watching him.’

‘Hah okay sweetheart.’ You scoffed, you worked in retail you could handle opportunists like Emily Galindo.

‘I’m hardly gonna take parenting advice from you, am I? Mrs Galindo.’ You emphasised her name in the hopes she’d remember her marriage and start acting like a wife.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well you’re hardly mother of the year, not after your practically gave your son away to a terrorist.’ You weren’t backing down, gasps were heard throughout the yard, the hang-arounds emerging in the hopes of a fight.

‘Thats not fair, they were armed and I was terrified.’ She tried to reason with you, who would try to rationalise their son’s kidnapping?

‘See that’s the difference between you and me, Emily, see they would have to pry my son from my cold, dead hands.’

‘They were shooting people right in front of me!’

‘I’d let them shoot every motherfucking bitch in this town before they ever laid a hand on my child!’

You screamed in her face, women like Emily didn’t deserve the love or attention they received.

‘I just hope his four nannies that actually raise him coped alright during that time.’ That was it, the final straw. She raised her hand but you never cowered, she went to slap you but al she could do is try. You got there first taking the board from Bishop’s hands and slapping her in the stomach, so it’s not as obvious as a face injury, you didn’t fancy having the cartel on your ass.

She doubled over in pain and screamed, clutching her ribs. You didn’t hear a crack but you knew it mustn’t of ickled.

‘Ez take the whore back to her car, tell the driver the pain is due to her period that’s just started, and it’s nothing to worry about.’

Ez nodded and quickly moved Emily from the scene, not daring to speak a word incase he got the same treatment.

You spun around and thanked heavens that Gilly had taken Rio inside, although you knew the Mayan would be pissed that he missed the altercation.

‘Damn Mamas you got some claws!’ Taza was the first to break the silence, beaming at you and your display of violence. You pulled into his embrace and chuckled.

‘Yeah it was kinda hot seeing you all angry’

Of course Coco was the one to turn it into a dirty joke. All the guys gathered round you and starting joking about you joining UFC.

But one man was quiet, too quiet. Bishop was yet to move a muscle let alone say anything, you worried it was too much and that your outburst made him change his mind.

The guys followed your eyes to the president behind them.

‘Let’s go inside and check on Rio, yeah guys?’

Riz encouraged the guys to move, catching on that you needed a moment alone with their president.

‘Bishop I’m so sorry about that, I just freaked when I saw Rio on the floor, I know this probably fucks things up with Galindo. And I get it if you take back what you said inside, it’s just I—‘ you were stopped short by a pair of lips on yours, you took a few seconds or realise they were Bishop’s, you moved your lips in sync with his and after what felt like a lifetime you pulled away for air.

‘I guess I gotta make you mine to watch over you now. Can’t have to terrorising the streets with the this can I?’ He joked whilst holding up Rio’s now fully snapped board

‘You still wanna be with me after that?’

‘Yeah I do because I’m in love with you.’

You melted right there on the spot, you laughed a little at your previous panic.

He leant in close to whisper in your ear

‘Plus Coco was right, it was fucking hot.’

You groaned and palmed his chest playfully. You finally had it, a perfect little family, it was about time. You went back to kissing Bishop and at this moment nothing could go wrong.

‘Hey, my board! What the hell Mom!’

Taglist: @mayans-sauce @one-shot-plus-size

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas: {{ December 24 }}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69340716 Christmas Eve is a lot more pleasurable this year.

Rating increased to Explicit for smut this chapter. If you would like to skip it, end the chapter at the grilled cheese.

Entire chapter under the cut.

When Joey rolled over to look at his cellphone, he was startled to see it was almost 10:30 am.  How did he sleep in, until mid-morning, on Christmas Eve?  It was impossible that the kids hadn’t awoken with the dawn, and absolutely impossible that they didn’t need some form of attention by now.

Maybe they’ve been kidnapped, Joey wondered to himself.  That would be just his luck���the second Kaiba’s back, loved ones get kidnapped.

He looked out the French doors that lead to the master bedroom’s balcony.  It wasn’t a bad view at all, and the snow was wafting down.  It was soft, fluffy, powdery stuff, already accumulating on the handrail of the deck.  Joey considered fighting the temptation to wander out, but decided to just take a peek outside.

He was instantly rewarded with the sight of Alexis braining Atticus with a snowball.

They were dressed warmly, if a bit mismatching.  From the bright red glove on one of Atticus’ hands, and the black mitten on the other, someone wasn’t able to find the right counterpart in time.

That someone was looming a bit off to the side, like he always did.  Kaiba was crouching in the snow too, busy at work making something.  Joey couldn’t tell at this distance, and it would be pretty harsh of him to join in the snowball fight.  Joey knew from experience that Kaiba didn’t half-ass snowball fights and had killer aim.

Joey had only managed to keep up because he thought shoving snow down the back of Kaiba’s shirt was the funniest thing in the world.  The full body shiver and searing rage it inspired were unparalleled.

Instead, today it looked more like he was on hand to intervene if Alexis got too invested and owned her older brother too hard.  And like he was doing something of his own, playing with the snow.

Was Seto Kaia building a snow man? Joey squinted, but the white snow was too bright and the packed snow was too indistinguishable from the freshly fallen drifts for him to actually be able to tell.

Joey felt some snowflakes collecting in his own fluffy hair, and with a shake of his head decided he could do a better job spectating from downstairs.

A latte was sitting on the kitchen counter.  The foam had somewhat disintegrated, melting back into the coffee and milk mixture.  At first, Joey assumed Kaiba had just left it behind for himself when he had been probably unceremoniously dragged into the falling snow by their little miscreants.

But upon close inspection, the foam had a sort of heart pattern on the top, made from pouring the steamed milk just so.  Latte art had been an interest of Kaiba’s for about a day several years back—he had been convinced that he could replicate the delicate pouring in a robotic attachment added to the espresso machine, which could be repurposed to replace certain precision work in the Duel Disk manufacturing line.  In the process, he had gotten very good at making them by hand as well.

Could the mug actually be for Joey?  It didn’t look like Kaiba had sipped from it.

Kaiba was probably just showing off to the kids, Joey thought to himself.  Even so, it melted his heart in his chest just a little bit.  Even if it wasn’t for him, Joey was going to taste it.  It was on Joey’s counter now, right?

The milk foam was soft against his lips, sweet little bubbles popping on his tongue as he sipped, and the coffee was still warm.  He could feel the heat of it course down his throat.

He took another long drink of it, and it really was that good.  If Kaiba had a love language, Joey pondered midway through another gulp, it probably would be fancy coffee.

Joey took the mug out with him, the warmth of the mug soothing in his hands as he wandered to the backyard.  The chill in the air hit him in the face, instantly, and he wished he was wearing more than night clothes, his bathrobe, and slippers.

The family hadn’t really moved since he’d seen them from the master bedroom balcony.

Watching Seto play was always a source of fascination.  Sure, it had been infuriating back in the day.  The seriousness and anger he took to Duel Monsters, even when it wasn’t him dueling, was unpleasant at the time.  But over the years, it had become endearing and intriguing.  Sometimes, early on, Joey would even sit near Kaiba, during Yugi’s duels especially, just to hear the commentary.  Kaiba was thoughtful and smart as hell, and his take on the game was as insightful as it was overly intense.

When Kaiba played other games, it was even more fun.  Before they had met, Joey had never fathomed that someone could be completely engrossed in Operation!, or bring complete vitriol to Connect Four.  Discovering that Guess Who could be played through carefully crafted insults to each figure’s appearance was delightful.

It had been one of the things Joey had kind of been looking forward to seeing in Kaiba when they had kids.

But… things don’t always pan out the way you want them to.

Joey took another sip from the coffee—Kaiba had put some sugar in it too, to Joey’s surprise.  It had to be for him.  Just that thought lit a spark in his chest that warmed him in a way that his bathrobe and flannel pajamas couldn’t.

Joey refocused on Kaiba, trying to discern exactly what the other man was doing in the snow.  He was almost on his knees in the snow, and using his black-gloved hands to shape something.  The packed snow was rather elegantly shaped, and even if it had been years since he had seen one in person, those white scales were incredibly iconic.

“Ay, Kaiba, is that?!”

With a finishing touch of black pebble eyes on the modestly-sized snow-dragon, Kaiba turned to face him dead-on.

Kaiba’s smirk was almost as haughty as it had been when he was a teen.  He stood proudly in his winter coat, hands on his hips before the three-foot snow-dragon and pointed back at Joey with a flourish.  “Attack with white lightning!”

Like magic, the kids turned on Joey.  Snowballs were launched in his general direction and the kids made what Joey assumed were supposed to be dragon noises.

Joey was fortunate—the deck was pretty far from where they were playing, and the snowballs exploded harmlessly on the bannister or the porch in front of him.  Alexis’s little screech was especially precious, even if her throw wasn’t.

Joey laughed so naturally that he didn’t realize he was doing it.  When he composed himself again, he dramatically raised one hand, and pointed back.  “I play my trap card,” Joey shouted into the fray, revolving enough to point at the kitchen behind him.  “I’m making pancakes!”

Indeed, the promise of pancakes was more powerful than the lure of pretending to be dragons, and the kids cheered as they headed in.

Kaiba trailed the kids, looking oddly contemplative.  Joey was about to leave and make good on his promise, but he was struck by the way Seto had his lips pressed together.  He really looked like he was trying not to say something.

Joey gave him an expectant look, the space to say whatever it was that he was thinking.

“I never knew it could be this way.”

Joey tilted his head, blond hair flopping to the side.  “What do you mean?”

Kaiba walked closer, within a few inches of Joey.  With his thumb, Kaiba brushed a few snowflakes from the shorter man’s cheek.  “I… didn’t realize that life could be this free.”  And without any other comment or discussion, Kaiba composed himself and brushed past Joey.  Leaving Joey with his now-chilly latte and distant thoughts.  

…

Time slipped by quickly, the sands of the holiday magic hourglass rushing down as the finale approached.

The family had a holographic call with Mokuba and Yui, who expressed again how grateful they were to have the kids at their wedding.  If Mokuba was surprised to see Joey and Kaiba alongside each other, not fighting, he didn’t show it.  

After three years away from the high technology, Joey kind of saw the appeal of the holograms with fresh eyes.  It was pretty neat to see Mokuba again, in three dimensions, glowing just a little in his living room.  While Mokuba was patiently listening to Atticus explain how they were playing dragons this morning, Joey was just taking it in.

Then they sat down for another round of Christmas movies—this time all the classics.  First was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which Kaiba insisted had an overly mature message, that being unique is respected only when someone else can profit off of it.  Then was Frosty the Snowman, which Kaiba objected to on the grounds that it sent mixed messages about mortality.  “It is like watching ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’ if you actually had to watch the dog—”

“Kaiba, it’s fine, he’s a snowman.”  Joey interrupted.

“He’s clearly sentient.  He’s aware of his surroundings.  Do you think he cannot feel his body melt—”

“Next movie!” Joey announced, clicking away.  

Kaiba completely left the room for Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, which was a pity, given how much of the runtime was dedicated to business decisions.

Kaiba only returned later, to poke his head around the corner and say that he had finished making dinner.

Joey wasn’t sure what to expect from Kaiba for a holiday dinner.  Frankly, the times he had seen Kaiba cook were few and far between—he had helped out yesterday, but otherwise it was something of an informed ability.  Kaiba said he could cook, but Joey supposed the proof would be in the literal pudding.

When they were dating, Kaiba was usually working and they would get take out or go out to dinner far more frequently than doing dinner at home.  Joey couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the expectation of family meals had appeared—maybe after Atticus was born?  Whenever it had happened, the family chef had appeared like magic.

Joey realized that maybe Kaiba had no idea what Joey’s cooking was like outside of this week either.  That was a disturbing thought.  How long could you spend with someone without ever learning what their cooking tasted like.

Joey was in for a pleasant surprise.  It certainly wasn’t fancy, but tomato soup from a can—garnished with a basil leaf—and a decent stack of not-burnt grilled cheese sandwiches were waiting.  With the snow falling gently outside, and the reflection of a few twinkling Christmas lights draped around the kitchen, it was a very pleasant scene.

It felt like too much to demand, but Joey bit into a perfectly buttery sandwich—crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside—and thought maybe he would like it if Kaiba cooked every night.

…

Finally, the kids were instructed that they needed to have an early bed time, as part of the last ditch efforts to convince Santa that they were good kids.

With certain designated cookies set out and carrots left for the reindeer, the kids were headed to bed.

“So… we didn’t wrap the presents last night,” Joey announced.  Kaiba nodded, and they grimly turned toward the master bedroom to contemplate their fate.

The present pile was absolutely not representative of what Joey had purchased on his singular trip to the mall.  At some point, quite deviously, Kaiba must have procured another thirty presents, through some assistant or something—Joey really could account for most of the time, and had them hidden in Joey’s secret present hiding place (unsurprisingly the master bedroom’s closet).

As a result, even with the two of them working to wrap presents, it had been almost three hours and they were still at it.  Kaiba was frustratingly slow: he was both meticulous about straight edges and perfect tape amounts, and just slightly terrible at wrapping.  It was brutally obvious he had never had to do it before, so even though the theory was easy for him, his long fingers struggled slightly with execution.  It made the process even slower because Joey kept getting distracted, watching Kaiba’s long fingers fiddle with the paper and the tape.

“We can take a five minute break, we’ve been pretty busy this week,” Joey announced, stepping away from the supplies covered desk and flopping back on the bed.

Seto walked over and sat on the edge of pensively before curling into the fluffy duvet.  “It’s true.  Whatever doesn’t get wrapped can be saved for birthday presents.”

Joey graced him with a skeptical look.

“What?! You said you wanted it to be lower key,” Kaiba snapped back, offended.  Kaiba looked down at his hands, tape resting on his pinky as he tried to get the fold just so on a small packet that was obviously a Duel Monsters cards booster pack.

The bags that were omnipresent under Kaiba’s eyes were etched just a little deeper than before.  “A five minute break… sounds wise.”

Joey flopped backward onto the bed, avoiding the wrapping paper.  Kaiba relaxed backwards as well.

Five minutes passed, and then another five.  The bed was really soft and cozy.  Joey knew it was much more comfortable than the guest room bed, and Kaiba was burrowing in somewhat.

The other man really did look peaceful, brown hair falling into his glasses, eyes finally closed and relaxed.

Two hours later, a quick glance at the bedside clock warned Joey that it was almost eleven at night.  The lights had been extinguished, but the curtains hadn’t been drawn, leaving the room with a hazy glow from the bright snowscape and moon beyond the French doors.

Joey had dozed off on the bed and like magnets, Seto had ended up so close to him.  Joey really hadn’t expected to wake up to the other man clinging to him for dear life, but it felt so nice.  A pleasant weight, holding him, making him feel treasured.  God only knew where his glasses had ended up.

Seto’s breath ghosted across Joey’s collarbone.  “I missed you.”  It was soft, sleep addled, and entirely sincere.  His breaths were deep and warm, as if he was taking in everything about the situation that he could, inhaling the sleepy cozy scent of his partner, the soft detergent smell the dryer had left on Joey’s pajamas, the pine scented holiday candle that had been inadvertently left to burn for the last two hours.

Cuddling again felt so magical, after so long.  Joey’s hand caught in Seto’s hair, soft brown strands running across his rougher fingers.  His nails scraped lightly across Seto’s scalp, and Seto practically purred.  It was enough to make the heat rise in Joey’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Seto admitted to Joey.  Seto looked up from where he was snuggled into Joey’s chest, eyes softer than Joey remembered them.

“Then don’t,” Joey answered, pulling Seto up so that their faces were perfectly aligned.

Staring into Kaiba’s eyes was always like this.  It hit so deep, struck Joey right on the inside of his sternum.  Something in the blue depths broke his heart every single time.

And Joey pulled him into a kiss.  Seto’s mouth tasted the way that it always had.  With his large hands grabbing at Joey’s back, clutching at the fabric, it felt the same way that it did before.  When Seto deepened the kiss, when his tongue plunged into his mouth, nothing had changed.

But Seto pulled away, marking that Joey hadn’t truly time traveled.  “I… are you sure you want to do this?  I’m leaving tomorrow, Jounouchi.”  Seto was so serious.  The flush in his cheeks was just painted onto his ex-husband, the rest of his face was schooled into a business-like countenance.  It almost made Joey forget the familiar hand on his hip, thumb stroking over his side.

Joey smiled, but he could feel the pinpricks behind his own eyes.  “Then you better not ruin tonight, huh?”

Kaiba smirked, falling back into his role.  “As you should well know,” Kaiba dived into Joey’s neck, sucking and biting something fierce, “I always rise to a challenge.”

Kaiba’s hand drifted up, grasping for Joey’s shirt and tearing it off.  “If I remember correctly,” Kaiba continued, crawling down his body and quickly arriving at his cock, “and I always do,” Kaiba’s eyes flashed up to meet Joey’s, devious and dirty be fore pulling down Joey’s pajama pants, exposing his dick to the tense air of their bedroom, “I have some reliable methods for ensuring this is worth your time.”

“You talk too—” Joey attempted to complain, but Kaiba’s mouth on his hardening penis cut him off.  A shock of lust zapped through is body, reaching the ache in his chest.

As Seto sucked gently—cheeks hollow and eyes closed in focus, Joey felt the lust course through him.  But also a sense of comfort, of safety, and of loss. Each jolt of pleasure also triggered something cruel and bittersweet.

Joey tried to hold off, knowing that the sooner he came, the sooner it would end.  The fantasy of having his husband back, adoring him in the most intimate way, would be over, even as the pangs of pleasure rippled through him.

But it was hard.  Kaiba was an obsessive man, and when pleasuring Joey was his focus, he was meticulous in mastering its intricacies.  One of Kaiba’s hands was caressing his inner thigh, alternating worshipful touches and soft, stinging scratches that dragged needy whines from Joey’s lips.

Just when Joey was certain he wouldn’t be able to hold on for any longer, the pressure building inside, threatening to spill out, Kaiba disengaged.  A bit of pre-cum mixed with spit bridged between his plush lips and Joey’s rock hard cock.  The light glinted off of the dew on Kaiba’s mouth, and accentuated the way that his lips were trembling.

Kaiba slid up, rolling over far enough to reach the top drawer of the night stand.  And, just as if no time had passed, a bottle of lube was waiting for him.  Joey’s eyes lingered on the way Kaiba poured it along his hands, leaving them glistening in the reflection of the moonlight off of the freshly fallen snow.

Kaiba removed his own sweatpants, and Joey’s eyes could see how devastatingly hard Kaiba was.  The full body shiver that ran through him just touching himself in order to lube his own cock.  And when he looked back over at Joey, the determination in his eyes was so intense, it was almost scary.

Kaiba crawled over, hands framing Joey’s head, heat radiating off of his body in hot waves, cocks threatening to touch.  “I want you so bad, Jounouchi,” he whispered, voice husky from sucking him off.

“Then take me, Kaiba. You never had a problem taking what you want before,” Joey issued the challenge with a hint more menace than he had realized was there.

And the restraint was lifted.  Joey hadn’t really realized there ever was any restraint, but with Kaiba’s fingers plunged into his tight opening, searching and quickly finding the familiar magic spot, maybe his partner had been holding back.

With only so many desperate thrusts of his fingers, Kaiba withdrew them.  Joey almost moaned at the loss, wanting to tell his partner there was no rush.  That they had enough time for everything, make love like they used to—languid and peaceful, wasteful of time.

Any complaints were silenced as he felt Kaiba’s thick cock enter him.  Joey was lost in the sensations, swimming in the lust. The only things he could keep track of were the thrusts, the feeling of Seto’s hips and thighs rhythmically moving against his own.  The white hot pulse of Kaiba coming inside of him, and that perfect moment, when he felt full and complete.  Finally coming himself, untouched, semen spilling over his own stomach.

Even though it was sticky, and would soon be uncomfortable, he hated when Kaiba withdrew.  His heart ached when he handed him a damp towel from the in suite, and when Kaiba gathered his pajamas, prepared to walk to the guest room.

Joey had to go back in his memory all the way to their earliest days to remember Kaiba getting up immediately after sex.  Once their relationship was, well, a relationship and not a duel to see who could keep the connection more casual, Kaiba loved to be close afterwards.  Even if he didn’t necessarily snuggle, he was usually present, sharing small smiles and holding Joey until he fell asleep.

“Don’t.”

Kaiba froze.  And then he looked back, more surprised than he should have been.

The look on his face sent Joey to the early days of their courtship, when Kaiba would wear that same expression as he gathered up arm-belts as he bailed from Joey’s shit apartment back in Domino.

But that they had shared this exact bedroom for six years.  

Joey hadn’t even changed up the pictures on the walls—shamefully enough, a wedding photo still sat on the dresser.  Their trapped smiling faces judging the messy entanglement that their romance had become.

“Don’t leave me,” Joey choked out.  Don’t leave me again went unspoken. He didn’t have that bad of a time saying how he felt, but Kaiba always tested the limits, made him want to withdraw into himself.  It took some kind of bravery to be open with his feelings now, and it swelled in his chest.  “I want you to stay the night, here.”

Kaiba nodded slowly, and dressed in his pajamas.  He sat down on the bed carefully, cautious, like he hadn’t slept there a thousand times before.  It almost seemed like he didn’t trust the mattress not to turn to dust beneath him.

And then he laid in bed like a corpse in a coffin, careful to bind his arms to his waist.

With a deep sigh, Joey said, “Ah come on. We just fucked, Kaiba.  You can uh… you can touch me, if you wanna.”

Kaiba looked over.  In the darkness, the glow of the moon-touched snow glinted in his eyes, sparking something mysterious.  “We… did.”  He looked a little bit like a cryptid, something not quite of this world, trapped in a reality he couldn’t totally understand.

“I don’t regret it,” Joey said, though his voice betrayed a bit of his uncertainty.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hn.” Kaiba scoffed.

“Yeah, I shoulda seen that one coming,” Joey said, leaning back against his pillow.  It was somehow entirely foreign to have another man in his bed, and yet also familiar.  Like Kaiba had never been there before, but also like he had never left.

The warmth was almost that of a phantom sensation—almost close enough to touch, just far enough away to feel like a figment of his imagination.

And then, somewhat suddenly, Joey felt the familiar hands of his ex-husband wrap around his arm.  Just like that, Kaiba crept back into his space, foreheads almost touching, straight brown hair entangling in unruly blond strands.  Joey could feel each exhale of Kaiba’s against his cheek.  They were soft and rhythmic, pantomiming sleep.

Joey was surprised when he didn’t tense up at the contact.  When they both melted into the shared cozy warmth under the quilt.  When his own breathing turned more evenly paced.

He was falling asleep in that most literal sense, the experience of complete relaxation where one sinks through the mattress and into the dream world.

Somewhere in that sinking, the purgatory between sleeping and wakefulness, Joey could have sworn he heard Kaiba whisper “I still love you” in his gravelly tone.

But it could have been just a dream.

[janeykath318]

Darcy and the Prince (Shieldshock)

“I’m going to be so happy when this is over and we can all get on with our lives,” grumbled Darcy, as she helped her friend into her very beautiful white wedding dress, fit for the princess Jane was about to become. Jane had met the Asgardian Prince Thor while visiting the country on a science quest (as Darcy referred to her research trips) and the two had, against all odds, fallen head over heels in love and became engaged a year later. Despite the meddlings, of Thor’s troublemaking brother Loki, they’d made it to the wedding day and Darcy was playing bridesmaid and generally trying to keep Jane from going full bridezilla. 

“Hmm, maybe you’ll be singing a different tune once you’ve met some of Thor’s friends,” Jane suggested, as she was buttoned up. “He knows a lot of attractive, single, people.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and grimaced as she worked on the last few buttons. 

“Ugh. NO, JANE. I do not need that drama in my life right now. I’m gonna finish my masters, then go globe-trotting and enjoy being single and free. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Sometimes I want to wring Ian’s neck for what he did to you,” Jane said vehemently. Darcy’s last boyfriend had turned out to be an utter cheating scum and she’d ended up with a broken heart, hence her general annoyance with men. 

“Thor and I got our revenge,” Darcy said, smiling at the memory. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust again. Don’t be sad, Janie. I’m super happy to have you and Thor and Eric as buddies. Now, let’s get finished so we can get you down that aisle!”

Before she knew it, Darcy was preceding Jane down the aisle and trying not to start bawling. She was a shameless wedding weeper and knew it would be even worse this time since it was her best friend getting married. 

As she blinked rapidly, she took a glance up front where a beaming Thor was standing, along with several other very striking, very well dressed men. She caught the eye of a gorgeous blonde decked out in full prince uniform and he smiled at her, which did funny things to her insides and it took all her self control to not stare at him through the whole ceremony. 

Of course, by the time the happy couple kissed and was announced as husband and wife, Darcy could barely see through her tears and just hoped she’d grabbed the right man’s arm to walk her back down the aisle. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled to her unknown escort. “I always weep an embarrassing amount at weddings and these dresses NEVER have pockets to stash tissues in.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” a very pleasant voice answered. “I admit, I shed some tears as well. Luckily, I always carry a back up handkerchief. Here.”

A soft cloth was pressed into her hand, and Darcy gratefully accepted it, finally managing to wipe the tears away. Vision cleared, she was able to see her helpful person and let out a gasp as she saw it was the gorgeous blonde princey dude. Up close, it was clear she’d grabbed the arm of Prince Steven, one of the most swooned over royalties to ever grace the papers. 

“Wow, thanks, your highness,” she said breathlessly. “I’m afraid this thing is ruined. It looks like my waterproof mascara is not actually waterproof.”

She held up the handkerchief, which was now smeared with black streaks. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Prince Steven said, pretty blue eyes crinkling in a smile. “Like I said, I’ve got extra.”

“You’re the best,” Darcy blurted, then turned red. “Ohmm….. I’m gonna go repair the damages before they start the pictures. Will you let Jane and Thor know where I’ve gone? It should only take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” the Prince said kindly. “And please, call me Steve.”

Darcy ventured to look back at him, and saw nothing but genuine friendliness in his kind eyes. She fell a bit in love right there.

“Nice to meet you…...Steve,” she managed, a tad shyly. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

“Lewis?” he asked, recognition appearing in his expression.

“The very same,” she confirmed. “I take it Thor’s mentioned me?” 

“He sure has,” Steve answered. “He calls you his lightning sister and is frequently expounding on your wit, brains, and beauty. I’d have to agree with him. You are stunning.”

Darcy felt herself blush like a tomato. 

“You’re one to talk, Prince GQ,” she sassed, to cover up her internal freak out over his compliment. “Be right back!” 

With that she picked up her skirts and swished off to the restroom, leaving Steve looking after her with great amusement and interest. Darcy Lewis was a very strikingly lovely woman and the blue dress she was wearing greatly flattered her figure and emphasized her bright blue eyes. Thor had tried to set him up with her before, but Steve had stubbornly refused. Now that he’d met her, He thought he’d been an idiot. 

“Are you well, Darcy?” Thor inquired, when she had rejoined the others.

“Yeah. My mascara betrayed me and made me start looking like one of those goth rock stars,” she told him. “That’s the Last time I use THAT brand. Congratulations, by the way.”

She offered up hugs to the happy couple, before they were whisked away for pictures with the official royal photographer. 

Spotting Steve, she casually strolled over and watched a bit as he talked to a group of individuals, who must have been his friends, because he looked so much more relaxed and was laughing and smiling in a very jovial manner. He kept his public persona very buttoned up and stiff, so seeing him like this was utterly fascinating and Darcy was becoming more and more attracted every minute. She chatted with Bruce Banner for a little bit, then helped Jane manage her train in between shots. 

They were so cute together, it was almost sickening. Thor looked at Jane like she was his whole universe and Jane looked at Thor like he was the only man in existence. 

“I want to look at someone the way she looks at him,” Darcy murmured, half to herself, half to the blue and gold clad figure who had joined her. 

“Me too,” Steve agreed, sounding very wistful. 

“Shouldn’t be that hard for you, dude,” she pointed out. 

He chuckled ruefully, blushing a bit.

“I’ve discovered there’s a big difference between starstruck lust, and real love and I haven’t seemed to find the latter yet. Most of them aren’t interested in getting to know the real me at all.”

“That’s sad,” Darcy told him. “You seem like you’d be very interesting, once you get past the whole princely trappings and regal persona. Tell me, Steve, what makes you tick?”

Steve turned to look at her, and she felt like the blue eyes were piercing through her, searching for something. Whatever he saw, it must have eased his mind, because he took a deep breath and started talking.

“For one thing, I’m very passionate about using my position to do as much good as I can, not be just some stuffed shirt figurehead,” he told her. “I’m also very fond of the arts and am in the process of starting an art school for underprivileged kids. I’m hoping they’ll let me teach, because I love to draw and paint.”

“That’s awesome,” Darcy said warmly, giving him an approving nod.

“I also love dogs and help out at the shelters whenever I can.” He continued. “They’re so much more pleasant than dealing with parliament.” 

Darcy laughed at the distaste in his voice, but never got a chance to say anything else, because duty called. They shared a few looks across the room, and Steve shamelessly winked at her once when she pretended to strike a diva pose. 

They didn’t get close enough to actually talk again until the reception, when he sauntered up to Darcy as she was giggling at a ridiculous archery joke Clint had made. 

“Excuse me. Darcy, would you care for a dance?” He asked, holding out a white-gloved hand.

“Y-you’re asking me?” Darcy squeaked. 

“I don’t see any other Darcys around here, unless one of you has something to tell me,” Steve said dryly, squinting at Clint, Natasha, and Bruce, all of whom knew him. 

“Nope, not it,” Clint said, shaking his head.

“She’d love to,” Nastasha answered, giving Darcy a nudge forward.

“Yeah, I would, “ Darcy managed, taking the offered hand nervously.  Steve’s hand closed around hers and she felt a tingle up her spine.

She was in a dreamy daze as the prince expertly guided her around the floor. It was clear his princely education had included good dance technique and he was absolutely courtly about it. 

“Now, Darcy, it’s your turn to tell me what makes YOU tick,” he said after a few minutes of silently gazing at her. 

“Well, I live fueled by coffee and sarcasm, I majored in political science, and I’m not afraid to use my taser on creeps and jerks,” she told him proudly. “Also, I may have a thing for tall blonde princes.”

“Is that so?” He asked, a dangerously flirty tone in his voice.

“Yup,” she admitted. “Which is a little inconvenient seeing as how I’ve sworn off men.”

“That is too bad,” Steve agreed. “Any chance of possibly changing your mind?” 

“I’ll certainly let you try,” she told him, struggling to keep her mind from its fantasies about his magnificent broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Good,” Steve said, with another one of his stunning smiles. (If he kept doing that, there was no way she would be able to hold out long.)

“You look like you’re already planning your persuasive tactics,” she told him.

“Well, they don’t call me The Prince With A Plan for nothing,” Steve said, twirling Darcy around dramatically. Yeah, she was in SO much trouble. 

[halspur]

Disaster gay Shiro sparring with Keith, who figures out why Shiro is so flustered and teases him about it?

sparring sheith is classic vintage and chic all in one god we are so powerful. also rip kinkade i loved u

remember when i said i’d keep these under 1k? funny times

rated: t | words: 2.4k | post s7

The Garrison training room was painfully unaltered since Keith’s expulsion – orange and gray trim with rolled mats stacked against the wall, and except for the slight wear to some of the punching bags strewn up in the corner – the pleather edges peeled off in chips – even the smell of rubber and antiseptic was the same.

He was sure James would claim half the equipment’s wear be his own, though Keith seemed to be running into Ryan more frequently than anyone else during his free time – both of them exchanging a small nod before rotating around the gym in mutual silence.

Keith easily considered it a friendship.

Admittedly, he did miss the castleship’s gladiator bot – it was difficult to find a suitable obstacle to use his bayard against for practice, and he wasn’t about to coerce another pilot into sparring with him.

He almost texted Hunk, asking if he had some free time, when he heard the door slide open.

Like always, there was only one person he really wanted to see enter the room.Even in a white tank and Garrison-issued sweatpants, Keith had to bite his lip as he met the pair of polished gray eyes walking towards him. “Hey,” said Shiro, grinning. “They cleared me for recreation hours.”

Keith was stretching, and saw Ryan glance over briefly before going back to his weights, earphones in.

“That’s great, Shiro.”

Shiro grinned wider, his head tilting. Since his prosthetic had been attached, and after his fight with Sendak, Sam agreed with the medics that Shiro needed at least a week of rest before he could safely use his arm again, restricting his schedule to council meetings and brief publicity shoots, along with physical checkups every morning and afternoon.

I’m so bored. Shiro text him once, presumably in the middle of an exam.

Keith was eating lunch with Pidge, and held back a smile. It’s for your own good, you know.

Yeah, Keith could see the smirk on Shiro’s face. You saved my ass, I guess I should take care of it. See you at the next mission debriefing?

Keith’s palm itched. He missed alone time with Shiro more than anything, but he wasn’t selfish enough to complain. He’d take what he could get. Save me a seat.

You don’t have to ask :)

Keith felt himself pale as he stepped into the boardroom with Pidge – they’re the last ones there, and Shiro gestures to the seat beside him.

As he’s lowering himself into the chair, he notices something on the tabletop – a single place card laid in front of him.

K. Kogane

“They put you beside me,” Shiro’s voice was in his ear, low enough that Iverson didn’t look up from his notes. Keith kept his eyes trained on Shiro’s new arm, pinching the edges of Keith’s name card. “I guess they already knew.”

Keith tried not to think about the heavy hand Shiro had placed on Keith’s shoulder during the meeting – needlessly praising his flying abilities and special qualifications to lead the mission to the point that James coughed loudly, earning a kick from Nadia.

Keith may be the leader of Voltron, but it only took a touch from Shiro to knock him out of commission.

He was giving him that same look now, and Keith felt too self-conscious to continue doing calf stretches, instead standing to awkwardly accept a pat on the back as Shiro passed him, going for the stack of mats against the wall.

“Want to help test out this upgrade? Allura and Pidge just programmed it.”Shiro kicked the bundle until it unfolded, a large mat meant for tumbling.

Keith tried to ignore the jump in his pulse, shrugging. “Sure. But I should be able to use my bayard, to be fair.”

Considering it, Shiro gave a nod to the door, crossing his arms. “I’ll wait.”

“No need,” Keith felt overly smug as the handle formed in his fingers, feeling a swell in his stomach as Shiro’s eyebrows raised.

He quickly looked down, and Keith swore he saw a dusting of pink across his nose before Shiro began adjusting the straps on his gloved hand. His voice was velvet. “You never stop finding ways to impress me, Keith.”

Keith blanked.

You know that look Lance and Allura get when they look at each other? Hunk had said to him once while they were walking through the Garrison’s garages. The puppy eyes and soft smiles?

I guess so. Keith had replied, but he was mostly focused on locating where their assigned cruiser was, testing the locks on several vehicles.

That obviously wasn’t the answer Hunk wanted. Yeah, well, I bet you’ve seen that look before.

He thought Hunk was insane – he’d never had someone like him before, let alone give him the sappy treatment the princess and Lance reserved for each other.

But it was almost like reading a dictionary when Shiro met his eyes again, cheeks warm, with Hunk’s words echoing in his mind.

Shaking it off, Keith took his stance on the edge of the mat. “I learned from the best.”

That made Shiro laugh. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Shiro leaped first – a quick dive that had Keith rolling in a tuck already, his bayard forming a sword as he stood. His knee popped, and he almost cursed himself for being too embarrassed to do a couple lunges in front of Shiro.

The next rounds were calculated, mixed techniques of old Garrison maneuvers with varied motions earned from the field.

Neither of them really wanted to think about how they got those skills – if anything, they wanted this simple leisure to remain at the same value as it always had: two friends, brawling for sport.

You’re the first emo jock I’ve ever met. Lance had said, phrasing it as a half-compliment.

Keith almost forgot how easy it was to spar with Shiro, how mindless and instinctual the movements came to him. They could feel each other’s breath as they clashed, locked, and rebounded, the room echoing every step for them.He lived for the hint of a smile on Shiro’s face, searching earnestly for a thread of weakness he could shock him with.

But it was more difficult to keep up with his new arm than Keith would like to admit, even with Shiro being generous and only using it within a realistic range of attack.

He managed to push Keith on his back, his head spacing for a moment before he dodged a chest blow.

Man, I miss Allura. Keith remembered Lance laying on a sofa this past week, forlornly sharing a bag of chips with Hunk. Keith sat across from them with Romelle, who was watching a movie on Pidge’s laptop, both their legs propped up on the table.

She’s working, Lance. Hunk said between crunches, rolling his eyes. Geez, you don’t see Keith complaining about Shiro having a busy schedule.

Why would I? Keith growled, feet hitting the floor, and he immediately sensed the defensive tone that had Lance snorting.

Whatever. At least I don’t have it as bad as him, Lance jerked a thumb at Keith, and Hunk shook his head. At least I’m self-aware.

Was he not?

Keith knew he loved Shiro – knew it as well as he trusted him right now, both of them hurtling deadly blows at each other with extreme caution in mind.

He also knew he’d never push it, never ask for Shiro to be anything more than family to him. It wouldn’t be fair – especially now that Keith had his mother, the Blade, and friends.

He didn’t want him to be alone, not ever again.

Correct me if I’m wrong, Allura said at breakfast, which had begun to be one of her favorite phrases on Earth, but shouldn’t Keith and Shiro be living together?

Both Pidge and Lance had sputtered on their drinks, and Keith felt the onset of a headache.

I mean, Allura quickly amended, seeing Keith’s reaction, the rest of the paladins are living with their families, and I thought you two –

It’s different. Keith said flatly, and left it at that. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t. He just wanted to eat his eggs and leave.

It was different. When Keith was a cadet, his biggest daydream was to have Shiro move into his dad’s old shack with him, both of them flying as copilots for the rest of their lives.

He didn’t see any flaw in that line of thinking until years later. You didn’t want to live with your brother forever, didn’t want to share every aspect of your life with him.

Sometimes, Shiro said, still recovering in Black – the night before Pidge had offered up a space in the Green Lion for him – they were sitting, propped up against the healing pod on the floor. His voice was raspy, and Keith knew he was still groggy from the sedation. I daydream about saving you, so we’d be even. Isn’t that cruel?

What Keith wanted most was to touch him, play off a caress to his head as medical concern. Instead, he dug his nails into his palm. Shiro, you saved me first. I can’t repay you for that.

He knew Shiro didn’t see it that way. He knew no amount of arguing would change that, but he was content with Shiro sighing – whether emotionally or physically exhausted – and laying his head on Keith’s shoulder.

He was stupid enough to zone out for so long, letting Shiro catch the front of his shoulder, sending him tumbling backwards. Shiro followed, loosely trapping Keith in a brace.

A complaint rose up to Keith’s mouth – stop going easy on me, Shiro – until he noticed the same flush across Shiro’s cheekbones, too deep-set to be from exertion.

Keith felt his eyes widen involuntarily.

He noticed Shiro’s stare lagging – his eyes took the long way to Keith’s face, working up his chest and neck - flicking briefly to his mouth - before finally meeting his pupils.

Oh.

Oh.

Did Shiro have it worse than him?

Keith wanted to laugh – sharp, bitter. He wanted to ask Hunk How did you know.

Instead, Keith wiggled loosely, elbowing lightly at Shiro’s side, wedging his legs apart with his knee, pulling a fraction of a groan out of Shiro.

He would have teased him more if he didn’t love him.

So Shiro’s nerves left him with room to spare – Keith immediately felt a way out of his grip, sliding out of his arms with minimal blocking, and was able to escape another pin by kicking out his legs, forcing Shiro to jump back or get hit in the shins.

“Fuck your long legs,” Shiro grunted, though it came out in an exhale as he blinked sweat from his eye.

Keith grinned, swallowing. “Can’t pin me anymore?”

The flare in Shiro’s eyes as he charged Keith was worth the taunt – the next time he managed to pin Keith, it was in a standing headlock, Keith twisting enough that Shiro couldn’t get a proper grip through his flails without pressing them together.

And he wouldn’t do that, Keith quickly learned.

Another escape had each of them circling, dying for a breath. Keith’s eyes passively jumped to the space behind Shiro, where he saw the blur of Ryan leaving through the door – not sparing even a glance in their direction.

Part of Keith wished he could apologize for whatever this was, and that he was a witness to it.

Shiro noticed his gaze, the distraction, and gave a swipe at his sternum. “Focus, Keith.”

It was too late – Keith felt Shiro’s new arm strike his wrist, and in shock, watched his bayard skitter across the floor. Before Keith could concentrate on summoning it again, Shiro was attempting to pin his entire torso, and he had to roll, making Shiro stumble.

Without planning an attack, Keith threw himself onto Shiro’s back as he tried to stand, forcing both of them onto the mat with a thud.

Shiro groaned as Keith scrambled for purchase on Shiro’s back, thanking luck that he managed to get Shiro’s prosthetic underneath him, wedged.

He bent over Shiro’s shoulder to look at his face, Keith’s smirk digging into his cheek as he watched Shiro’s blush soak into his skin, a shade of red prettier than it should be.

“Give up?”

“I could flip your legs with mine,” Shiro managed, though his voice was muddled, eyes now trained on some point on the wall in front of him, avoiding looking up at Keith’s voice. They were both panting, sweating enough that their skin was sticking uncomfortably, though Keith oddly didn’t mind.

Without commenting, Keith calmly shifted his hold - drawing up one of his legs to brace next to Shiro’s hip while he laid his other knee across the backs of Shiro’s thighs.

“How about now?”

It took Shiro a moment to gather himself, speaking in a mumble. Keith could tell from the vein on his neck that he was clenching his jaw hard enough to crack a molar, but he chose not to taunt him about it. “I could free my arm.”

Keith lowered himself against Shiro’s back, forcing his cheek into the floor. “That’s cheating, commander.”

Shiro snapped, his hair falling in his eyes. “I’m not the one playing dirty.”

Keith didn’t expect the clarity in Shiro’s voice, nor the blatant accusation.

It was twisted flirting, and Keith felt his nerves fray at the thought of it.

Slowly, Keith leaned down to speak into Shiro’s ear, watching him shut his eyes against Keith’s voice. “You can just tell me when you’re not feeling up for it, Shiro,” Keith shifted above him, making Shiro bite his bottom lip. “I won’t hold it against you if you can’t give it your all.”

“Keith –” Shiro started, but his breath was pushed out of him as Keith jumped off his back, retrieving his bayard from the ground.

He crossed his arms as Shiro gave him a confused look. “Come on. We could keep this up for hours, or we could go talk about it in Black.”

Shiro sat up, dazed, hair curled, and tank askew. But as Keith reached for his arm to pull him up, he broke into a smile, laughing, and buried his face in his hands.

“Was it that obvious?”

—–

They’re walking out of the showers into the hallway together - hair still dripping onto Keith’s shoulders - when Shiro speaks, clearing his throat.

“Hey, thanks for not teasing me too much.”

They both jump as their hands skirt each other in passing, both too shy to acknowledge it further than a blush. Keith smiled to himself – it was fine, they had a long time to work up to holding hands.

Noticing Nadia pass with Ina in tow, he almost waved, before he watched the former bend to whisper something in the latter’s ear, who’s eyes widened at the sight of Shiro and Keith, matching wet towels still draped over their arms.

“Actually,” Keith sighed, “I have a feeling everyone else will do that for us.”

[fantroll-purgatory]

I think I might have submitted this troll a really long time ago, so this is a re-do I suppose.

Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Alternia

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Hemati Aurata or Hemati Grotei

‘Hemati’ comes from hematite, the reddish-blackish main ore of iron that’s known for having a rusty red streak. This is in reference to both his blood color (rust) as well as his interesting in blacksmithing and sculpting out of iron.

‘Aurata’ is the species name of a moth of the genus Pyrausta. ‘Grotei’ is another species, I wasn’t sure which one would fit better. Slightly based off how moths are famously attracted to flames. Hemati’s lusus is a Pyrausta, which is a Greek mythical dragon that is basically a small winged insect with the head of a dragon. They die if they are taken away from fire and tie in with Hemati’s associated element of fire.

This is a really clever and suiting name! I prefer Aurata, I think, for the wing coloration of the Aurata Moth. Hemati Aurata.

Age: 8 sweeps (~17 years old)

I’m unsure exactly how old a troll is before they’re taken off-planet, but I’m assuming it’s close to human adult age (18 years). I wanted him to be slightly younger than mature age but older than the canon trolls.

We don’t know for sure, but I definitely subscribe to the headcanon that it’s around 18 or more.

Strife Specibus: pickaxekind or hammerkind

He can probably have both, since there’s a functional reason for them!

Fetch Modus: Minecraft modus? I’m unsure what sort of name to give it but it would be funny for him to have his modus match the Minecraft inventory. Maybe he could be able to “craft” things like you can in Minecraft’s inventory, bypassing the need for alchemy at the price of a limited grid to work with as well as a lot of wasted items, as the craft grid isn’t very efficient.\

Maybe Furnace Modus? Leaving items in allows them to ‘smelt’ into a more refined or better form, but doesn’t allow Direct alchemization within the menu. But you have to keep the items in until they’re finished being refined, which can take a really long time depending on the item.

Blood color: Burgundy/Rust

Symbol and meaning: Argo, the Zenith

Self explanatory. Hemati lives in a mountain/inactive volcano and his emotion often have to reach a peak before they explode out of control.

Trolltag: fabrileEbullition

This is kind of a joke about how he does his art. He is a skilled craftsman but gets angry easily and goes through fits of rage and frustration that aggravates his pyrokinesis. This often results in his metal sculptures melting through the sudden spurts of flame. Although he would personally consider the “ebullition” part to be ‘bursts of emotion’ that inspire his art, it’s more suited to his ill-temper. The name also abbreviates to FE, which is the symbol for the chemical element of iron.

Do you mean ferbrile? Or was fabrile a portmanteau of fabrication and ferbrile? Either way I like it a lot! 

Quirk: He usually speaks in a grumble in Order tO suppress His Feelings, but uses prOper punctuatiOn in Order tO remain pOlite but prOperly capitalizes tHe names Of OtHers. He capitalizes tHe f in ‘Fe’, all O’s and all H’s as tHey are used in tHe cHemical cOmpOund Of rust, wHicH empHasizes His blOOd cOlOr. !!TYPES IN ALL CAPS AND IGNoRES PUNCTUATIoN WhEN EMoTIoNAL To RANT!! !!DRoPS ThE PoLITE BULLShIT!! !!No LoNGER fEARS RUDENESS AND TRIES To DoWNPLAY hIS SPoT oN ThE hEMoSPECTRUM!!

Normal speaking = all lowercase except Fe, O, H and names capitalized, proper punctuation

Emotional speaking = !! at start and end of sentences, all caps, no other punctuation, lowercases Fe, O and H

Good, clever, and effective.

Special Abilities (if any): Aside from general telekinetics (which he isn’t great at), Hemati possesses strong pyrokinetic powers. He is not totally in touch with his powers and they tend to flare out of control depending on his emotional state. He is NOT immune to fire but can manipulate fire to avoid coming into contact with him, having something akin to a closeknit barrier separating his skin from the flames. This is done instinctively, so it allows him to not be as careful when he’s smithing, although he still wears gloves as he can’t protect himself from the heat of objects he touches.

I like that a lot. A Literal Hothead.

Lusus: A tiny Pyrausta who is constantly on fire (as described above). He is quite fond of his lusus although he is unable actually touch it. It feeds off metal so Hemati reserves some scraps for it to munch on although it sometimes indulges in his art. Hemati can hardly stay mad at the little bugger so it gets away with it. It acts kind of like a cat and spends its time napping or being a cute annoyance. It 'helps’ Hemati out by breathing fire every now and then, which is why half the things in his hive are scorched. It also can serve as a lantern when he goes mining or a portable furnace for smelting, if it doesn’t eat the metal first.

Cute… It’s especially great because of the fact that there’s a moth genus named after the Pyrausta. Does it have moth eyes, too? I love the idea of this creature… cute and helpful but mildly inconvenient.

Personality: Hot-headed but tries his best. Hemati is quick to anger but honestly is quick to get lost in any emotion and can get carried away. He’s an intense fellow and might be hard for most people to handle. His greatest passion is art and fashion, and takes great pleasure in making all sorts of gear, clothing and accessories, as well as his strange sculptures. His art isn’t exactly pretty and look like someone threw some metal bits together and then went a little crazy with a blowtorch. Despite this, he is immensely proud of his creations and doesn’t take criticism well. Maybe YOU don’t get it. His enthusiasm can be very infectious and he gets others excited easily. He might railroad them during a conversation, but is quick to talk up someone who is being overly modest. He’s also quick to point out flaws or call out bullshit, although he often has to keep this to himself to avoid being culled. 

He is a lowblood and such luxuries are not permitted for him, he often gives what he makes to his friends and keeps his hive relatively sparse, surrounding himself with the unfinished scrap. He dresses pretty modestly. His giving nature is ultimately selfish because he can’t indulge in his own creations and wants someone to appreciate them. Despite his interests, he tries to adhere to the hemospectrum the best he can. He knows that what he loves is wrong and that he will eventually be forced into a life of servitude, so he is often burdened by pessimism, frustration and self deprecation. He tries to keep his hive neat but due to his outbursts it frequently flip flops between extremely organized and terribly messy.

He was extremely close with his former moirail, a very patient but stressed out oliveblood, but he began developing flushed feelings for them which were not reciprocated. He fell HARD for them, so although their moirallegiance was highly beneficial to them both, he would rather have them be matesprits. So he broke things off with them. His tantrums were more manageable in the past with their help but he has gotten more out of control now that they split, although they do sometimes regress into pale flirting with one another. He tends to be clingy in his relationships and doesn’t really get the idea of “personal space” but cares very deeply for who he falls for. Hemati is just very selfish but also very devoted, but can easily become jealous. He is especially not fond of his ex-moirail’s red crush, a quiet ceruleanblood. He forcibly pulled them into the ashen quadrant, with his ex-moirail moderating, to keep them from staying flushed. He’s a jerk like that.

Honestly I love this level of character development. He has a lot of neat traits, and has lots of interesting character flaws that make him a very fascinating character. Someone who is liable to explode and who does not consider others as much as he should… I love his creativity and his uniqueness, too. I don’t really have anything to add here! 

Interests: Smithing, mining, smelting, salvaging, sculpting, art, fashion

His hive is located within a mountain (an inactive volcano), so he often goes mining for ore veins to fuel his craft or might dig around the suburbs for scrap metal for his artistic endeavors. He provides jewelry and outfits for his black crush, a pushy violetblood, but also made himself and his ex-moirail matching bracelets. He still wears his bracelet although his moirail stopped wearing theirs.

Ooh. So is he actually interested in fashion or is he interested in jewelry-making, because you mention that he dresses pretty simply… Is it that he’d LIKE to dress fancy but doesn’t have access to the resources he needs? Or is it that he’s interested in the creation of accessories but doesn’t care much for wearing them himself?

Title: Prince (?) of Space

I’ve struggled to figure out exactly what class Hemati fits the most, but I definitely want him to be a Space player. I considered Knight as he quite literally protects himself with space, like through his psychic barrier against fire. He also forges weapons and armor that can be used for self defense. Page was also a possibility as he has growing potential to utilize his psychic powers effectively and is currently unskilled with them. Prince is also a possibility as he creates through his destructive outbursts and has the Princely struggles of self loathing and self absorption.

Firstly, I think Space is a beautiful assignment for him because of how well it contrasts his character and how much it can teach him. Space is a lot of patience- we see this with Jade’s need to be patient on the meteor and all the waiting she’s forced to do, and Kanaya’s need for patience with the breeding of the frog, and Calliope’s need for patience in executing her plan. So it would be an aspect that would require him to work on himself and learn to appreciate the journey and not the goal, and would teach him to simmer down and pick his fights, and would require him to learn to rebuild beautiful things instead of making a mess of them out of stubbornness… 

If I were to pick a title, I might actually… pick Maid of Space? If you don’t mind breaking a canon rule. Because of his need to actively create this space for himself, to encourage this kind of movement of growth, as well as the literal creation of space he makes for himself… The inverse is Bard of Time, which would require the passive destruction of time and through time, implying his destructive nature that he needs to keep in check. 

You could probably also do Heir of Space? To imply a need for him to be capable of flexibility and change and to passively create a change in this for everyone. Inverse is Mage of Time, so he’d have to understand his own future and desire to fight… 

Land: Land of Scrap and Frogs (LoSaF)

Hemati likes to reinvent by taking discarded bits of metal (scrap) and turning it into something new. I imagine that it would be a planet covered in heaps of scrap metal, piled as high as the eye can see. It would likely be hard to traverse due to all the sharp and pointy bits. Stoking the Forge would melt the metal so that it can be reshaped into a more usable form.

Maybe Land of Debris and Frogs (LoDaF). It could still be scrapcovered, but I think putting scrap Right in the name might be a little too obvious. It could also imply some kind of destruction, like as though the planet’s endured ruin before and needs to be rebuilt, playing into his space theme. He could need to utilize the scrapped metal to build a Frog Pen where he can raise healthy baby frogs.

Dream Planet: Prospit

Dreamers are a little hard for me to understand. Hemati tries to stay true to the status quo but harbors desires that don’t exactly fit the mold. However, he doesn’t really fight for what he believes in and mostly tries to enjoy himself while he can. He tends to trust people at face value and although he tries to suppress his own feelings, he isn’t very good at it. Nor is he good at hiding his intentions.

I think this is VERY fitting for prospit, almost a picture-perfect prospit dreamer, really. Good pick!

I wish I had either art skills or spriting skills to make Hemati but I trust you guys to do him justice. I hope I was able to flesh out what kind of person he is!

You fleshed him out wonderfully! And I will try to do him justice. Here we go!:

Horns: I made them reflect his symbol. I also put the friendship bracelet on there. I know that we don’t see rusts wear anything on their horns and that horn accessories are exceedingly common, but I figure it’s such an important element to his character that it should be featured somewhere prominent and that will always be on screen. I also feel like it wouldn’t wear it on his hands- there’s too much of a risk for it to get melted or distorted by the furnace. So horn it is. 

Hair: I made it look like a really messy fire! Fun times. 

Eyes: Angry spikey eyebrows and some grumpy eyes, loosely based off Karkat’s. 

Mouth: Very frowny, with nubby rustblood teeth. 

Outfit: Really simple dark apron with his symbol on it and some steel-toed boots. The boot base was taken from fan-troll. 

Thank you for sharing him!

-CD

[dawnquafam]

"Immortality sucks.” - Peter Quill

So, like I said, in honor of my Spidey death post getting 12k notes, I decided to murder someone else. Except I decided to murder everyone. I have this headcanon that Star-Lord can get his powers back if he gets his hands on the seed Ego planted on Earth, which would once again make him immortal. So here he is, outliving everyone he loves. It’s about 1,600 words, give or take a few (and it took hours... I didn’t mean to let it get this big), so I’m putting it under a cut (with potential IW/Avengers 4 spoilers below), and if you’re on mobile trying to scroll past and the cut doesn’t work... I’m sorry.

Peter knows what he’s signing up for when he agrees to regain his Celestial powers. Part of the way he coped with losing them was to remind himself that, after a while, immortality would suck. After maybe a century, tops, he would lose everyone he had to protect. But now it’s necessary, otherwise he’ll lose everyone to Thanos within a day.

He knows, yes, but it doesn’t really hit him until the post-immortality deaths start, right there in that battle.

First is Captain America. As a kid, before everything went wrong, Peter had had some of his trading cards. Cap had been a symbol of the happy part of his childhood. And then Peter watched him get struck down, killed taking a hit for Bucky. That single moment, the brutal crunch of his bones that echoed through the comms, would haunt Peter forever. Literally.

Next to fall is Tony. Peter vaguely remembers overhearing his family ranting about his family’s weapons business, but the Tony Peter met was like the friend of his dreams. The man was pure sass, enjoyed Peter’s music like none of the Guardians really had, and even promised to upgrade the Zune to something more durable and with more memory without compromising the precious object itself, when Thanos was dealt with.

He didn’t make it that long. Without hesitation, he threw himself in front of the other Peter, and his final words to the kid sounded happier than Peter had ever seen him, even as the boy sobbed and screamed over his body. That moment, too, would haunt him till the end of time.

Third was Natasha. One moment, the battle was coming to a close, and she was joking with Clint. Then a stray energy blast hit her in the back and she was sprawled on the ground, her last laugh etched into her expression. That was how Peter always thought he’d go out – mid-battle and laughing. Looking at that expression, it was in that moment that Peter finally realized he would never die.

Thankfully, the battle took no one else. The funerals were rough, but the other Guardians willingly accompanied him to all three. Gamora held him close, knowing that his new curse hurt him. Even Drax and Rocket got a little touchy-feely around him – maybe there was something in his expression as he hovered at the back of the crowd, seeing Rhodey and Bucky and Clint and the others crying and knowing he would be that man far too often, far too soon.

A few years passed peacefully. The Guardians made frequent trips to Earth after the war, all the while growing closer to Earth’s heroes and the Asgardians. Peter reunited with his grandparents a couple days after, his Guardians at his side, and the odd family spent all day exchanging stories and eating wonderful food. The Guardians made sure to get Peter back to Earth for every holiday, every birthday. Then they passed, his grandfather from cancer and his grandmother from old age, and Peter was left the only person in the universe who remembered his mom.

Rocket’s short lifespan came to a close next. He went in his sleep, and the others discovered via Groot’s early morning wails. With trembling hands, Peter packed his ashes into a firework, and they blasted him into space. They huddled around their heartbroken tree to watch the pyrotechnics that Rocket would’ve loved.

Peter made sure to befriend any kids his friends had. Soon, he was known as the beloved but eccentric Uncle Peter to the Bartons, the Starks (Pepper discovered she was pregnant with twins shortly after Tony’s funeral), Thor’s kids, Loki and Val’s kids, and the Langs. Peter didn’t call him uncle because they enjoyed cheesy name-twin nicknames like Peter 1.0 and Peter 2.0. When their parents started passing, they turned to him for comfort, and he turned to them. After that first generation stopped wondering why he wasn’t growing old and dying like their parents, no one really questioned his presence – he was just there, a constant visitor throughout the decades.

He and Gamora never had biological kids of their own – between Thanos’s alterations and their different physiologies, they couldn’t. They mostly just went around adopting lost souls and helping them find their places in the galaxy. While she still lived, he didn’t mind. But when she passed, taking the entirety of her species with her, Peter broke. He screamed and cried and raged that it wasn’t fair. He had given so much to the universe, and all it did was take his soulmate from him. He missed her smiles, the way she made him feel just by being beside him, curling up with her every night. He missed her in a way he had never thought possible, because it hurt so much.

Drax was gone at that point, dying with a smile on his face at the thought of reuniting with his wife and daughter. Nebula, too, was gone, finally free of all her torment. Groot and Mantis had settled on a planet, with Groot needing more and more sunlight in his old age. Somehow, drunk out of his mind, Peter flew the Milano to them, and they took care of him for a while. Mantis had to wear gloves to touch him, so powerful was his grief. But, not too long later, old age claimed Mantis and Groot, too. When he awoke one day to find Groot curled up in a patch of sunlight, unmoving, Peter fell to his knees and cried. All of his friends, all of the people he had become immortal to protect, were dead.

He was alone.

As he sobbed in the grass, a small shuttle landed nearby. It didn’t look too different from the quinjets of old, but it was more streamlined and painted with fine lines of gold. Out of it stepped Loki. It was then Peter noticed the tablet beside Groot, still stuck on the “Your call has been disconnected” screen. Carefully, Loki approached the grieving immortal. Somehow, he convinced Peter to pack his things and board the shuttle while he laid the tree to rest. After that, Loki flew him back to Asgard, which was still stationed on Earth, still unable to find a suitable, uninhabited planet to settle on. Bucky lived there, too, but outside of him, Loki, and Thor, battle, illness, accidents, and old age had claimed all the other originals. Even Peter was dead – his grandson now bore the moniker Spider-Man. Bucky didn’t survive much longer after Peter’s arrival.

If Peter had expected the Asgardians to be gentle with him, he was wrong. Thor and Loki, already intimately familiar with the concept of outliving their friends and loved ones, gave him a lecture and put him to work. Peter resented them for it – didn’t he deserve to mourn?

But their tactic worked. The work distracted him, and regularly hanging around with the brothers and their families reminded them that he wasn’t alone. The originals’ descendants visited Asgard often, too, and their questions helped Peter retain his memories of his mortal friends. Peter found hope again for the first time since Gamora’s death, and he even figured out a new purpose in life. Working with Thor and Loki, he found a suitable patch of empty space at reasonable traveling distance to Earth, and he started building a planet. Unlike Ego’s planet, this one would be full of life, home to the Asgardians and any other refugees who needed it.

It took a couple thousand years, and it felt really weird, having this mental connection to a planet full of people and animals, but he enjoyed it. He didn’t stop visiting Earth, giving advice to every new generation, but everything that he needed was on his planet. He even built an ever-growing museum as a tribute to the heroes he’d lost. When he wasn’t busy taking care of planet business, he led tours there. Gamora, Rocket, Steve, Tony, Yondu, and all the others would never be forgotten.

He settled into a routine, but even Asgardians weren’t immortal. Valkyrie was the first to go. Thor followed her gratefully, having already outlived his half-human children. Their deaths hurt, the companionship of thousands of years lost, but Loki’s was the worst. Peter and Loki had spent a lot of time saving lives and getting into trouble together, and losing your best friend of four thousand years was just as bad as losing your soulmate of a century – worse, in some ways.

But this time, Peter didn’t go on a rampage. After four thousand years, loss was an old friend. More importantly, his weird connection to this planet was a constant reminder that Star-Lord was forever loved and needed. And Peter Quill was a fixture in the life of many families, even as their bloodlines grew more and more distant from the friends who started them. Their features faded, their last names disappeared, some families died out entirely, and even Peter stopped trying to make connections to the originals, but he helped them out anyway.

Everyone Peter knew and cared about grew and died, over and over and over. The thousands of years stretched into tens of thousands and then hundreds of thousands and then millions. The universe changed around him. Sometimes, Peter thought he would go insane. He could ease his pain by having immortal children of his own, but he wouldn’t wish this life on anyone. Being immortal was harder than he had ever imagined, but in every life he saved, he found happiness, and knew he was doing exactly what all of his long-dead friends would want him to.

For them, he lived happily. Even though it was forever the hardest thing he ever had to do.

[infantjesusschool]

10 Proven Classroom Management Tips for Preschool Teachers

Picture a bustling study hall scene with energized kids continuing. The instructor, prepared to refocus and proceed onward to the following action stands up and calls out, "1-2-3 minimal red school building!" and the youngsters gradually get on the sign, calm down and trust that the educator will talk.

Possibly you can recall your preschool in ambernath west utilizing this expression or a comparable way to deal with calm down the homeroom and stand out enough to be noticed. At that point, you presumably didn't understand you were reacting to a dependable homeroom executives strategy it just appeared as though a game you played with the educator. Yet, since you're investigating a youth schooling (ECE) profession, homeroom the executives take on an entirely different significance.

It's not in every case simple keeping a day on target when working with kids who are simply sorting out the essentials of how to mingle and acclimate to a homeroom setting. So how can ECE instructors deal with assistance to keep things running easily? We asked preschool instructors and ECE specialists for their best homeroom executives' tips and procedures.

Hoping to keep a deliberate preschool study hall? Think about difficult the accompanying:

1. Coordinate your room deliberately

A nursery in ambernath can be very tumultuous, so how you sort it out is significant in that it can help guarantee that compelling learning is going on any place youngsters are positioned. There are sure tips and deceives that you can just gain for a fact, as indicated by Barbara Harvey, ECE proficient and nurturing instructor.

She's figured out how to isolate uproarious territories of the study hall from the calm ones. For instance, the squares and different exercises ought to be on the contrary side of the room from the understanding community.

"There ought to be obviously differentiated zones in the room like perusing, break, play, food, and rules encompassing those territories," says Adam Cole, co-chief at Grant Park Academy. On the off chance that the 'limits' of each space are clear, it encourages the connections in the room, Cole says. "Troublesome circumstances happen less regularly and can be settled all the more rapidly."

2. Exude solace and consolation

There is an actual climate in every study hall, yet maybe on a considerably more significant note, there's the air you make by your tone and disposition. Youngsters are frequently insightful of demeanor towards them. "Educators ought to be warm and minding toward kids who are acting vexed," says Stephanie Leclair of Tiny Hoppers.

Leclair says that attempting to comfort the youngster and promise them that they are in good company merits attempting when an understudy is disturbed. "Each youngster is extraordinary, yet for certain kids, all they truly require is a warm embrace to quiet down." If you make yourself open to your understudies at the top 10 schools in ambernath, they could possibly impart why they are disturbed and assist you with settling the issue.

3. Give them instruments to communicate their emotions

Little ones don't generally have the foggiest idea of how to deal with their feelings or impart their emotions. At the point when a kid gets vexed, responding to an inquiry like 'what's up?' can be troublesome. Yet, Cole says youngsters don't really have to convey why they are vexed on the off chance that they can communicate their feelings inventively.

Cole urges educators at schools in the ambernath west to offer kids choices of melody, craftsmanship, development in a peaceful space set apart from the gathering. "At that point, they ought to be permitted to deal with their sentiments either by holding up in the 'protected' place until they can partake or by having their emotions and being with the gathering at any rate. Educators can offer delicate help if understudies don't have a clue how to deal with their sentiments, to proceed with the progression of the day."

4. Make an arrangement for advances

There will be a few times for the duration of the day when kids are changing from one action or territory of the space to another. It's essential to have an arrangement for these advances.

Harvey recommends utilizing a commencement as a feature of your arrangement so kids are prepared to proceed onward when the opportunity arrives. Reporting that you're going to commencement from 10 to one preceding proceeding onward at kindergarten schools in ambernath to the following movement will help youngsters feel arranged for the progress.

Float time can be hard for youngsters, so having a strong arrangement without any holes is unquestionably an absolute necessity as indicated by Cole. "It isn't so much that instructors can't ad-lib or be redirected, just that there ought to never be the point at which the educator doesn't have a possibility for something to do."

5. Follow the children every now and then

Talking about being redirected, Cole says there are times to set the arrangement aside when you can advise it would be gainful for your understudies.

"Once I found that every one of my understudies had deserted my circle and had gotten keen on playing under the table. So I got under the table with them. That is the place where we proceeded with class."

Regardless of whether it's instructing under a table, moving leisure time around, or zeroing in on something the children are especially intrigued by that day, being adaptable and coordinating their regular advantages can make the day seriously fascinating and energizing for them.

6. Use youngster cordial marks

Keeping your room coordinated shouldn't altogether fall on your shoulders. Enable your understudies to get after themselves and assume liability for their own wrecks.

Harvey utilizes marked plastic receptacles to put together homeroom supplies and toys. She marks the receptacles with photos of each item and names the rack where the canister is put away with a similar picture. She says this not just assists youngsters with taking care of things appropriately and shows obligation, yet additionally helps sharpen their coordinating abilities.

7. Allude to the daily schedule

Consistency is significant for everybody, except particularly for kids. On the off chance that your preschoolers know their everyday practice, they start to have a natural feeling of responsibility to follow it. In any event, something as straightforward as composing the day's timetable on the load up or creating pictures to address exercises can assist youngsters with foreseeing the everyday practice and feel greater.

8. Establish incorporated learning conditions

"A formatively suitable climate for a little child or preschooler adopts an all-encompassing strategy," says Elizabeth Malson, leader of the Amsler Institute. Malson says committing spaces to hear-able, visual, and social/passionate improvement territories will help babies make associations between their encounters and their general surroundings.

"Zero in on making a space that is helpful for a youngster's visual, hear-able and passionate turn of events," Malson says. At the point when youngsters develop, they need uphold taking all things together of these regions. Interesting to the little child's feeling of interest is an extraordinary methodology, Malson says.

Incorporated learning conditions have singular learning places or stations which permit youngsters to securely investigate and play, Malson clarifies. "At this age, it's essential to continue to learn focuses basically so kids are not overpowered." For instance, little children can appreciate a proficiency corner with a comfortable seat and a couple of books.

"Sand and water tables are mainstream just as a square or building focus," Malson says. "Day by day practice and open-air play is significant and visiting a recreation center is a kind of learning focus too. Babies additionally appreciate spruce up and make stations."

9. Equilibrium 'dynamic' and 'latent' exercises

Certain exercises will get your understudies' siphoned up and thrilled with energy, and others will help them smooth and quiet down. Harvey suggests finding equilibrium and exchanging between the two. Attempting to keep kids quiet when they are rising over with energy will be definitely less beneficial than giving them an action to let out some pent-up frustration.

The way wherein you arrange your exercises can have the entirety of the effect in keeping your children connected with and staying away from emergencies.

10. Tackle progressing issues with inventiveness

Most little ones will have irritable days. In any case, you may begin to see themes in your study hall that address a continuous battle for explicit understudies. That is the point at which it's an ideal opportunity to make a stride back and break down the circumstance. Leclair reviews when she showed an understudy who especially didn't appreciate tactile exercises.

"It was made after our exercise plans testing as we, by and large, had a few untidy exercises to do a day. How could we deal with make things more charming for this kid? Could we concoct a type of answer for him?"

Leclair says one of her kindred educators proposed gloves. "Sufficiently sure, the following day we drew out a major receptacle of goop. We inquired as to whether he'd prefer to have a go at wearing gloves before contacting the goop. He thought it was a lovely cool thought, put them on, and delved his hands directly in. Voila! The issue addressed."

[ascensionstories-blog]

Menace #45: The Flower Shop

There were many flower shops in New Monmouth City, but none quite so dear to Courtney as Martha’s. Just off of South Street, Martha’s Flower Emporium stood relatively firmly as a soft, pastel pink exterior. The doors were made of firm plastic (Courtney would say they were made of glass), and the roof — once shiny and golden — now showed signs of wear and tear through holes and dark spots. Still, Courtney had nothing but fond memories of Martha's; it was her mother’s flower shop of choice, and so Courtney had spent many days sitting in the lobby, surrounded by more types of flowers than she could name, while her mother shopped. It was a place that rung with a sort of cheap nostalgia: she could not remember a single fun experience she had had in the building. Instead, she felt the hours of time that had passed, along with the simple warmth of being a kid, and this was enough to get her back through the doors of Martha’s Flower Emporium.

“Hey, Pink!” Max called to her immediately as she stepped in. She quickly checked herself for any pink on her clothing, having forgotten about the damned flower boy. Every time she’d walk in, he’d call her “pink,” ever since they were both little kids. She ignored him mostly, but, having been away for so long, she felt some fondness for the nosy boy who pestered her so insistently as a child. She was unsure she was wearing pink the first day they met, but every day since then that she’d been forced to come to the flower shop, she would intentionally not wear pink. Still, Max was undeterred. She noted that her sleeveless top (not her idea, trust her) was a soft shade of lavender atop a black skirt and shoes. She silently praised herself for not wearing pink instinctually before turning to the boy.

“Hi, Max, still tending to the flowers, I see,” Courtney said, intending to sting him in some way with the remark, but realizing that what she said could easily be misinterpreted as a pleasant greeting. He smiled and nodded in response. The lobby of the shop was the most magnificent part, Courtney believed, lined with rows of different flowers in similar pots with their seeds in front of them in small packets for scale. The flowers were arranged by color, not species; frequently Courtney would watch Martha go through the rows to pick out a perfect assortment to decorate a lawn or porch. She had always been impressed, and still was as she looked across the lobby now. Her eyes caught on the the roses, as they always did account her middle name, and she smiled as she turned her focus back to Max. “I was wondering if I might speak to Martha?”

“You might and you might not,” Max answered, hiding a smile. “She’s home sick this week, left me to run the place. Is it something I could help you with?” He grinned at her, and she hated that. The two were friends, sure, as much as anyone is friends with the children of their parents’ friends. They knew enough to ask about each other whenever they were forced to meet, and had laughed together once or twice amongst all the teasing, but that was about it. Courtney looked at Max intently; her focus was elsewhere, otherwise the sight would have bothered her more. Does he know? Courtney asked herself. She shrugged and figured that a try would not hurt.

“I’m looking for some special flowers, one’s generally reserved for more inclined guests?” She asked the same way her mother always had, and bit the inside of her cheek afterwards. She was unsure why.

“Oh, you’re here for magic stuff then?” Max replied, unfazed. Not much got to Max, Courtney knew, despite the occasional bruises she’d notice they shared on her occasional visit. “Sure, no problem. We can go to the back now, if you like. There doesn’t seem to be any other business going on.” Courtney nodded as she followed the boy — dressed in green overalls and a black shirt of all things — into the backroom. The backroom was off limits for kids, her mother told her. Nothing important was going on back there anyway, she insisted. The lobby was far more interesting, she assured. Boy, was Mom a liar! Courtney thought as she entered the room.

The first idea that ran through her head was that the room reminded her of a volcano. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the back corner where large red-and-orange roses grew along the wall, curved in a way that almost looked like the red was flowing, dripping down from flower to flower in vibrant, neon colors. These were supported and accented by a series of charcoal-gray  which made the colorful asters which made the vibrant shades of red and orange pop out more, almost as though they were back lit. Leading down from this explosion of ferocious color, she noticed deep, blue irises spurting from the ground, revealing a small path through the room. The blue, upon further inspection, was not one consistent shade throughout rather, a bright blue rim traced the top and edges. The overhead lights were off, Courtney realized, which meant that the flowers were actually glowing. Across the room she noticed so many more vibrant and unnatural shades: green daisies, pink freesias, black carnations, and so many more. The room looked marvelous. She felt like she was standing in a painting.

“What are you looking for, Pink?” Max asked her.

“I… I don’t know,” Courtney admitted. “I was hoping to learn more about magic, and I figured Ma’s friend Martha could help me work through some things — but I never imagined something like this existed. Magic flowers?”

“It’s an old technique,” Max told her, “but it’s not very hard. Most people who know about it call it ‘sewing,’” Max explained. “I think it sounds a bit too much like ‘sowing,’ especially when applied to agricultural situations, but, hey, I don’t get to pick.” He smiled and laughed at what he said.

“How is that different from any other magic?” Courtney asked as she reached out and brushed one of the irises with her hand. It felt unnaturally cold to the touch, and she quickly brought her hand back as she continued to walk through the garden.

“Well, most people just blend.” Courtney stopped to look at him.

“Blend?”

“You really don't know anything, do you?”

“I had a bad teacher,” Courtney defended, blushing furiously and slowly grabbing her left arm with her right. “I’m not dumb or anything.”

“No, of course not,” Max teased, but, seeing the look on his face, pulled back. “Well, most people who use magic tend to utilize magic that comes to them naturally — ever wonder how the magic is ‘naturally’ assigned? It’s based on something like a color grade; some people burn brightly one color,” he lazily gestured to the roses, magnificent against the wall, “but others have more unique, natural inclinations,” he pointed to the irises lining the walkway and the green daisies, which had intricate patterns dancing across their petals. “My family has maintained some of the greatest magical gardens in the world for hundreds of years based on a few simple tricks that let us see the color itself, apart from the magic.”

“Can you teach me?” Courtney asked. It was Max’s turn to look askance.

“I don’t think Ma would like that,” Max told her.

“You said it was simple,” she reminded him. “And our families are close, Max, it’s not a huge deal. I just need to know — it could be life or death.” She felt as though she was exaggerating slightly, but she didn’t care. She figured that would hook him. He seemed to be hiding something, though, as far as Courtney could tell. Something beyond the usual hiding they did.

“I guess I could… we don’t have to tell her, I guess,” Max justified. “You sure it’s life or death?” Courtney nodded. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice then… plus, I guess it gives us an excuse to spend time together again,” Max said, smiling at her. “Excuse me?” She asked, eyeing the boy.

“It’s just nice to see you, Pink,” he said. “We dejected-magicians have gotta stick together, right?”

“Oh, good, for a second there I thought you were flirting,” she said, flatly. He ran a gloved hand through his messy, brown hair and smiled at her awkwardly.

“If I was?”

“Then I’d let you know I’m not interested," she said, (again) flatly. “Now, colors.”

“Colors, right,” his eyes clicked back into focus as he started talking. “It’s real simple, and once you see it, you won’t be able to unsee it. I just have to show you the stem of one of the flowers,” he took her over to the red, pulsing flowers. He plucked one from the wall. “A rose for the lady?”

“Not interested,” she repeated, (once more) flatly. “The stem?” She asked.

“Look,” he brought the stem close to her eyes. “What do you see?”

“A plain, old green stem,” she commented.

“Look closer.”

“Is that — I see some, er, rings? I guess, rings. Of bright red and some mustardy yellow color. Is that it?”

“You got it, Pink,” he congratulated, setting the rose back in place.

“So how is this supposed to help me?”

“When you see magic now, just look at the stem of it. The source of it, underneath the pizazz  You’ll probably see something similar. That’s the color. Once you see it, you can try playing around with it. Most people can blend without knowing the colors; blending is quick, easy. It’s basically a fifty-fifty color split. In contrast, when you sew, you're choosing a base color and developing it before intertwining it with another color. Sometimes it makes the magic stronger, sometimes something completely different happens. I have to close up shop soon, would you like a flower, on the house, and, maybe, a walk home?”

“No thanks,” Courtney said, offering a hug and teasingly planting a kiss on his cheek before leaving. As she walked out of the store she called back, “Thank you!” and then wiped her lips as she kept moving away from the store. Walking back down South Street in her heels and sleeveless shirt, having kissed Max on the cheek, she felt very much like her mother. She felt squirmy. Why do boys have to hit on me? The child in her thought to herself. You're beautiful, dear, her mother’s voice snuck into her head. Shut up, she thought at herself. Now he’s gonna keep flirting, Courtney realized. Great. She frowned as she continued down the street, wondering about sewing and blending and all of the weird magical terminology that she had learned. If I have to kiss another boy again, Courtney thought, the kiss staying with her and returning over and over again as something she’d seen her mother do a thousand times, I’ll just deem the whole project not worth it.

She rushed home to change into something more comfortable as the sun began to set.

[anime-matchmaker-blog]

Hey! Could I get a match-up please? (Danganronpa and Mob Psycho 100, if it's not too much work for you ;v;) I'm a short INTP/INFP girl(5' orz) and have dark brown eyes and black hair. I'm really bad at small talk or holding a conversation generally and I keep blabbering stupid stuff (like "Do you like sprinkles? I love sprinkles."). I'm also super lazy and unathletic and have like zero stamina OTL. I'm always daydreaming and get confused quite easily. [1/3]

I also get sick super easily which is really annoying and frustrating ;;A;;!! I’m a sucker for cute and romantic things love wearing skirts and dresses

My ideal first date would be in a café talking about our interests and just enjoying each others company

It’s definitely not a bother or too much work, anon! ^^ Thanks for the request and I hope you’ll like your matches!

Your matches are…:

Mob Psycho 100 - Hanazawa Teruki

Teru was that kid who was virtually unapproachable in the beginning. Once he got a change over, he seemed like someone who may be nice, but you decide to keep your distance from him anyway. When you get caught in a bad situation, Teru comes to diffuse it, using his experience as a thug to pull you away from the tension. You thank him and as you’re about to pull away, he recognizes you from his class. You two end up walking home in awkward silence, neither of you unsure how to start a conversation. Your awkward bursts help guide the topics that arise and you end up talking to him about subjects like literature to shopping to ice cream. He isn’t as bad as a guy you thought he would be.

A day off leads you two to a popular ice cream parlor in town. This gives you the opportunity to witness Teru’s atrocious fashion sense yourself and after some ice cream, you take him to the mall to buy him new clothes. During the colder seasons, you make him a scarf and a pair of gloves since he neglected to buy those himself. Teru feels guilty for being unable to repay you and he hopes you accept payment in the form of affection. His interactions with the other girls grow less frequent and more sincere as he spends more time with you, realizing he can be himself when around you. This freedom allows him to be more affectionate and intimate for the person he truly loves.

In your downtime, the two of you can be seen out in the streets, walking around, people-watching, or sitting at a cafe and chatting for hours. Other times, you’ll be at one another’s houses enjoying each other’s company, watching movies or anime, or helping each other do homework. Teru loves it when you randomly give him a hug and he tries to do the same to you whenever possible. He also enjoys teasing you for your sense of direction and claims that you can never go anywhere without him since he can’t bear the thought of you getting lost somewhere.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the school to label you two as an official, honest couple. There are always girls who approach you to try to scare you off, but Teru shuts them down quickly. His former followers help keep the peace among the jealous crowd while rooting for your happiness. Teru used to play around due to his popularity, but now that he’s found someone to love, he can only hope you’ll forgive him for his past actions and help him become someone he strives to be.

HagakureYasuhiro (Danganronpa): With his cheery and laidbackpersonality, it won’t be difficult at all to befriend Hiro, even with your moreintroverted nature. The two of you will get along pretty well, actually, thoughHiro might come off as intimidating at first due to his height and appearance.The fact that you’re not good at holding conversations isn’t much of a problem,at least not to Hiro, since he can get rather ridiculous himself when it comesto conversing. If you don’t shy away and actually listen to him, he’ll bereally happy about that. He wouldn’t mind the things you tend to blabbereither. Though he might be confused at first, he’ll likely roll along with you,much to the confusion of everyone else around you two. Hopefully you believehis fortune-telling is not the same as the occult, or you can prepare yourself tolistening to him explain why they’re not similar in the slightest. However, ifyou do believe that, Hiro would be genuinely happy about that. He doesn’t havemany friends (or any, if not counting Makoto and crew) so having someone thatwon’t mind his eccentricity would be a highlight in his life.

Hiro isn’t the most athletic person around either, and wouldmost likely enjoy just chilling around somewhere with you. He’d be interestedin seeing the pieces of artwork you’ve created, thinking it’s pretty cool ofyou. He isn’t as artistic of course and will praise your skills since in hiseyes, your creations look amazing. It’d catch Hiro off-guard if you were togive him something you’ve knit, especially if you let him know that you like todo that for your family and friends. As much as Hiro enjoys hanging out withyou and talking about a random assortment of topics, he didn’t think your friendshiphad gotten that deep, not that he’s complaining. Your hugs would also be asource of surprise for Hiro and the first time it happens, he’ll stiffen at thecontact, not expecting something like this. He’s never had many friends afterall, so receiving such affection is a bit foreign for him but after a few moretimes of this happening, he can say that he loves your hugs and will startreciprocating them. Your declarations of love will be processed in the sameway, though the first time he’ll be more shocked than surprised and getextremely flustered. Of course, after learning that you mean as a friend, he’llcalm down a bit more but he’ll still be quite nervous around you for a whileafterwards.

Hiro can be rather slow in the head so when he finds himselfnot feeling quite as happy as he normally feels when he hears you saying youlove him, he likely won’t be able to figure out that he has feelings for you. Hecan’t tell you this since he’s afraidof hurting your feelings so he’ll likely turn to Makoto, who’ll help him learnthat he likes you as more than a friend. Telling you this is the scary part,since what if you don’t feel the same?? He’ll try doing some fortune-telling tosee the outcome, and when it comes out positive, he decides to take the plunge.As endearing as you becoming easily confused can be, he really hopes you’ll beable to understand what he means and not take it to meaning that he loves youas a friend.

If you do accept his confession and feel the same way abouthim, Hiro would feel ecstatic but also become very flustered at the same time.What does he do now? Before he can actually think of anything, he’ll justoutright asks you what you’d like to do on a date and at hearing what yourideal first date would be, takes you out for exactly that, after asking Hinafor good café recommendations. Hiro might be a bit more awkward since this is adate, not a regular outing with you.While nothing has changed, at the same time, everything’s changed. He’s yourboyfriend now! He’ll try to act more like a gentleman but he really isn’t thatgreat at it. Hiro always thinks you’re adorable but especially today, he’llthink you’re simply gorgeous. Your clothing choices accentuates your cutenessand Hiro really can’t help but stare. He’ll attempt to do romantic things foryou but he totally lacks knowledge in that department and once again, will turnto his friends for help though both Makoto and Hina aren’t knowledgeable aboutthat either. He’ll bring you flowers sometimes and chocolates another, and evenoffer to tell you your fortune for free!

Because Hiro never really had friends, he treats those hecares for with great sincerity and that doubles for you. Your tendency to easilyget sick, as much as it frustrates you, would have Hiro worrying a lot for you.He’ll want to take care of you to the best of his ability and he’s alwaysfretting about if you have the medicine you need and if you’re getting enoughrest. Like you, Hiro can be easily scared too, especially if the topic ofghosts comes up. The perfect combination would then be the two of you in thedark, talking about ghosts. He’d try to comfort you and find the light to turnback on, or another light source so you’d be able to sleep, but once the topicof ghosts comes up, he’ll be freaking out rather badly and hurried change thetopic. This would be a rather interesting experience for you both to go throughat least, but Hiro would then adamantly tell you to never bring this up again.