#sorry for microwave quality you know how it is with them

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

RUN JIN!!!

[runninriot]

Damn You, Capitalism!

inspired by and written for @sidekick-hero , hope that helps getting through the day 🖤 because work sucks (i know!) - but eddie sucks harder 😏

1.231 words | cw: contains smut, nsfw, mdni

also on ao3

Steve has been drowning in work lately, it's a nightmare.

Eddie tries his best to support him, to make things as little stressful for him at home as it can possibly be.

He keeps the guitar unplugged when he's working on new music, to keep the noise at a minimum.

Always makes sure there's some meal ready for Steve to grab and microwave when and if he remembers to eat.

He reminds himself to do the dishes as soon as he's done with them because he knows how much Steve hates when the sink is full of dirty plates and forks and mugs.

Eddie even finally figured out how to use their new washing machine - he's not stupid, just lazy, and- why does that damn thing need so many buttons?

So, yeah. He's trying, really, because it breaks his heart every night when Steve comes home from work, looking one moment away from collapsing. Always tired, always moody, just- miserable.

Eddie wishes he could do more. Wishes he could take some of Steve's stress away, help him relax. Ease his mind just for a while.

And- look, he knows what would probably, most definitely help, that's not the thing. The problem is, Steve can barely even stay up long enough to kiss Eddie goodnight as soon as they're in bed. So any attempts of trying to have some one-on-one quality time with his husband aren't really up for debate right now.

Right?

Right.

He'll just have to wait for this massive project to be over and done with.

---

As Eddie crawls into bed shortly after Steve, he finds him quietly snoring, already fast asleep with his face mushed uncomfortably against his pillow.

Even in his sleep, he looks exhausted and it makes Eddie mad how much that job is demanding of Steve.

He pictures himself in front of the corporate building that holds his husband's soul captive, angrily stomping up and down the pavement while waving a sign that reads Damn You, Capitalism! and the thought makes him laugh.

He realises too late that he's been making an awful lot of noise, instantly shuts himself up with a hand over his mouth when Steve stirs awake and looks at him through bleary eyes.

   "Is everything okay?"

Steve sounds knackered (he learned that word from his British co-worker) and Eddie hates himself for ripping him out of his well-deserved sleep.

   "I'm sorry, baby. Everything's good. I didn't mean to wake you up. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead before he turns off the light and lays down next to him, trying to be as still as he can to let Steve drift off peacefully again.

But the damage is already done. Even without looking he can sense that Steve has trouble falling back asleep and it’s confirmed by the heavy sigh Steve lets out.

   "Can you-" His voice flitters quietly through the room, "Can you suck my dick?”

    Oookay, what?

Eddie can’t help but snort at those words.

Steve must be dreaming. Maybe he did fall back asleep after all.

   “I’m being serious, Eds!” Steve sounds almost offended.

He then rolls to the side and even in the dark, Eddie can see his big eyes staring straight at him.

So, not sleeping, then.

   “Babe, are you sure? I’m just asking because- well, we haven’t done anything for weeks and I miss it. God, do I miss it. But you’ve been completely out of it not even 5 minutes ago and-“

What the hell is he even going on about?

His perfect, beautiful husband wants him to suck him off. Why the fuck is he still babbling instead of using his mouth to do exactly that?

   “I just think it’d help me sleep?”

Steve uses that honeysweet voice of his, the one he knows Eddie can never say no to, the one he always uses to get what he wants. And- like, what is Eddie if not a very devoted, very helpful, very loving husband that would quite literally do anything for his man?

---

Steve’s boxers are gone as quickly as the blanket before Eddie makes himself comfortable between his husband’s spread legs.

It’s almost embarrassing how much he’s already drooling just thinking about the perfect weight of Steve’s glorious cock on his tongue but- excuse him for not keeping his excitement in check when he’s literally been suffering from Steve-withdrawal for weeks now!

Still, he tries to take his time, not wanting it to be over too quickly. He can hear in Steve’s pleading moans that he won’t last long, can taste Steve’s desperation in each drop of precum that hits his tongue as he licks the tip.

It’s heaven.

It’s so good Eddie wants to cry.

    Fuck, he missed this. Missed the familiar stretch of his lips when he takes Steve in, the familiar sound of Steve’s husky voice, the scent of freshly showered skin, the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper on his lover’s cock as he swallows him down like he’s starving for it.

His hips can’t seem to keep still, wiggling and rubbing against the sheets where his own cock is searching for friction. But his focus is on Steve, he can take care of himself later. This is just for the beautiful man that is the light of his life – he deserves it. Deserves to be worshipped like the divine creature he is.

   “Ed- Eddie, oh God! Oh fuck!”

Steve’s words spur him on. He finds the perfect rhythm, uses one hand to pump Steve’s cock while his tongue curls around the tip. His other hand strokes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, dragging his nails up and down, knowing too well that it drives Steve just a little insane.

   “Babe, I’m- I- fuck! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close!”

Eddie wouldn’t dream of it.

Not when it makes him so happy to hear and taste and feel his husband slowly falling to pieces. When, with every staggering breath, Steve crawls a little closer to the edge.

Until finally, Eddie is rewarded with a mouthful of Steve’s love; a sweet gift, despite the bitter taste, he swallows with pride, not wasting a single drop of it, taking it all in.

Beneath him, Steve’s trembling through his orgasm, legs shaking and breath uneven. He stops Eddie with a hand in his hair, tugging just lightly to make him look up.

   “Com’ere, baby. Wanna kiss you.”

A little reluctantly, Eddie leaves the perfect place between Steve’s thighs and crawls on top of him to comply.

They kiss slow and soft, no hurry, just their lips finding each other in the dark with gentle pressure.

   “Love you so much, baby,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lips as he feels his movements slow down.

And as he kisses his way from Steve’s mouth to his cheek, to the tip of his nose, his closed lids and his forehead, Steve’s breathing eases into a steady, calm rhythm.

He’s asleep again, hopefully dreaming of beautiful things as he sinks deeper into Eddie’s embrace, lets his husband's warmth envelope him where they’re lying side by side.

Steve deserves it.

Because tomorrow, he has to fight his way through the constricting clutches of capitalism again.

Man, capitalism really sucks.

But, Eddie laughs to himself, he can suck harder.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ chan edition

member: lee chan (dino) x gn! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, bullet points

word count: 714

summary: channie's boyfriend things <333

warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles & insulting in a loving way

author's note: hello! normally this is where i would be oops i'm getting back into writing but i'll be completely honest this time and say that i am completely falling out of love with it and i genuinely haven't opened a wip in so damn long. if i wasn't so far into this series, I definitely would not have finished it....i want to write more but it just might take me a while to find my love for it once again...thanks for still reading though <3 sorry this is so late, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Socially stupid bf <3 

If anyone sees you, they will always know that Chan is close behind 

Is so madly in love with you and doesn’t know how to live without you

Quality Time 

Loves taking you anywhere he goes, including dance practices or shopping 

Dinner dates are his thing - he’ll pull off the roses and candles and everything 

Constant texts when you can’t be together because of work or visiting family 

Such as hey i managed to find that sock that went missing in the laundry last week !! or how long do i put 12 pizza rolls in the microwave for 

Loves just being with you when you take part in your hobbies, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy them himself 

Gets worried that you’ll get angry with him because he’s always with you and knows that you need your alone time once in a while 

Words of Affirmation

Compliments you through jokes or insults type of boyfriend 

You’re all like “I love you,” and he’s like, “You wouldn’t if I was a worm though :(“ and then you roll your eyes because come on, how could someone not love Lee Chan

Always apologizes for things he doesn’t need to apologize for because he doesn’t want to upset you :((( 

I don’t think Chan would be a big fan of pet names, to be honest, but if he was, I think they would just be versions of your name :3 

Melts into a puddle when you compliment him because !!! you are complimenting him !!!! 

Basically he can dish out all the compliments, but the minute you try saying them back, he turns into a literal tomato because he’s embarrassed but also so madly in love 

Physical Touch

I think he is secretly one of the biggest cuddle bugs in svt and nobody can change my mind

When he laughs, he always manages to fall into you some way, whether that be resting his head on your shoulder or crumpling into you

Loves holding hands (especially in public) but not in a possessive way, more of a I constantly want to be around you kind of way 

And of course you love it because it’s Lee Chan and you love everything about him 

On the other hand, there are definitely days that he doesn’t feel confident in himself or that he deserves the love you give him :((( 

You know on those days that you need to show your affection and make the first moves yourself,,,he likes loving you, but sometimes he just needs to be shown that he can be loved too

Acts of Service 

I’m not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this category, because I feel it’s easier for Chan to say things rather than show it

He’s just not sure whether him making tea for you says “i love you” or “sup bro” and wants to make sure he gets the right message across 

Because of this, your relationship took a while to form because both of you cannot take a hint and were so convinced you didn’t like each other 

Absolutely loves helping you with literally everything: doing chores, studying, getting ready in the morning, as long as you are there with him, he doesn’t care and will do anything 

He doesn’t realize that what he does shows how much he loves you, he just thinks its normal to help you, and vice versa 

Sometimes you protest against his help but he’s just a BOY WHO IS IN LOVE let him do what he wants :( 

Gift Giving 

A huuuge fan of gift giving 

Will buy anything that you could ever want or need

Stuffed animals and snacks galore !!!! 

If you have menstrual cycles, he would totally be the type of boyfriend to go to the store and buy whatever products you need and surprise you with a bunch of snacks and treats throughout the week 

You of course also spoil him to the best of your ability and he loves it, but also always feels bad when you spend money on him in any way

Loves matching and customizable gifts !!! He likes to give you things that can make you laugh and remember a specific moment with him because he thinks it’s cute (and you think it’s sappy and adorable)

[flavor-of-the-week-writing]

Coffee and Regret • Lip Gallagher

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Reader

Tags: Angst, reference to past relationship

Notes: References Season 8 Episode 12. Does anyone even still write for this? I don’t know, I just started rewatching Shameless and this poor baby…

- - - - - - -

“So… you slept with her?” You pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tight as you struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness of the overhead kitchen light. Lip sinks down in his chair, his head held in his hands, elbows propped up on the island.

“Yeah.”

“And she told you she loved you?” You shake your head a little, trying to clear some of the fuzziness from your tired mind.

“Yep.” His fingers tighten in the curly locks. The coffee pot began making the familiar and comforting bubbling sound as the sweet scent of caffeine began filling the kitchen.

“And you said it back?”

“Yep.”

“But you don’t?” You grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet, setting them on the counter with a soft ‘clink’.

- - - - - - -

“No. Maybe. I… I don’t know,” Lip sighed, defeat clear on his features. You gave him a sort of crooked half-smile, the kind you only ever gave him when it was obvious he fucked up but you didn’t wanna say it. You yawned as you filled the mugs with coffee, taking in his exhausted expression.

“Huh…”

You slid a cup of coffee over to him, taking a seat on your own stool next to his and taking a long drink of the bitter-sweet liquid.

“Huh?” Lip repeated, mocking the sound. “This is the part where you say something, I don’t know… helpful?”

“I don’t know what to say,” you defended yourself quickly. “Sounds like a mess.”

“Wow.” Lip raises his upper lip in a kind of snarl, his tone becoming sharper. “Thanks for the observation, captain fuckin’ obvious.”

“Hey, don’t be an asshole to me. I told you not to get involved.” You sit back in your chair, the mug held tightly in your palms.

“Yeah, well…” Lip rolls his eyes, the knuckles of his balled up fist hitting softly on the counter as he thinks. “I got involved, anyway.”

“And that’s not my problem. Sierra fucks up your head and you know that.” You regret the statement as soon as you say it, knowing it’s always been a sensitive topic. Lips eyes snap up to you, narrowing slightly.

“It’s not her fault.”

“Look, I’m not blaming her,” you shrug, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m just saying when you’re around her you lose your shit.”

“I didn’t lose my shit!” His tone is harsh, snapping the words in an icy venom. You recoil slightly with a sarcastic scoff.

“Nah, you’re obviously cool, Lip. That’s why you’re in my kitchen at,” you pause to look at the clock on the microwave, “3:42am.”

Lip deflates even further, instantly regretting his tone. He runs his hand harshly across his face.

“I’m sorry, ok?” His voice softens, sad blue eyes avoiding your gaze. “I just… I didn’t know what to do and it was either come here or a bar.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you picked here.” You hesitate for a moment, sighing finally when you decides to just be honest. “You want my opinion?”

Lip nods - barely, but it’s there.

“If you loved her, like… really, truly loved her… you wouldn’t be questioning it.”

Deep down he knows you’re right. Guilt bubbles up in his chest and he has to swallow it down before he starts crying right there.

“I don’t wanna hurt her.” His voice is quiet. Weak, almost. You slide your stool closer to him, trying to offer some sort of comfort in your presence.

“I know you don’t,” you nod softly and place one hand on his back, the other wrapped around his bicep in a form of side-hug. “But not being honest with her is going to hurt more in the long run.”

Silence hangs thick in the air as he contemplates your words.

“I want a fuckin’ drink,” Lip laughs softly, an almost self-deprecating quality to it. He knows it must sound redundant at this point, how many times he’s shown up in your kitchen, confiding in you just how much he wants to drink and forget his problems.

“How about some creamer in your coffee?”

He snorts softly at the suggestion but nods.

“Yeah. Ok.” Lip pushes his mug closer to you, watching the little splashes of creamer and the swirls of the coffee. He sighs deeply, running his hand roughly through his hair. “Shit was never this complicated with you.”

“Yes it was,” you scoff and raise a brow at him. “You have a terrible memory if you think it wasn’t complicated with us.”

[just-another-author-i-guess]

HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × -

OMG HI!!! THIS IS SOOO LONG AGO BUT I FINISHED IT

a/n: I literally made this like a year ago and just procrastinated to post it... so sorry babes :D

Heisenberg x nb!reader boyfriend hcs:

He’s trying to focus more on just being a reliable partner, WHICH HE IS NOT

He’s the type to leave you alone for like d a y s without telling you cause he has an errand from Miranda and then be confused when you’re really worried about him

Before you, he was used to just coming and going as he pleases, he doesn’t really see why that has to change now, I think

But omg,,, he’d bring back like little trinkets or like scrap metal for you or something

Like, don’t be surprised if he straight up brings part of a human back to you cause he thought it was cool

I feel like, he’d be kinda a bad boyfriend though, ngl

Like, he’s really grumpy, and if he’s mad at Miranda he’s just gonna be mad at you too because big boy does not know how to deal his emotions

He’d probably just expect you to stay in the factory at all times too? And if you complain about it, too bad

He’ll be more than willing to entertain you of course *wink wink*

But only AFTER he’s done working

I’m sorry but he’s putting his plans before you always

He’s so emotionally constipated as well? He cares about you of course

He cares a lot about you, but he literally does not know how to say that besides like random comments every now and again

“Hey. You know, I don’t hate having you ‘round here.” And that’s probably the most poetic Karl Heisenberg is able to be

His affection lies in quality time and sharing his plans with you

Every once in a while, small acts of service (Like I said, the trinkets.)

He’s a rough man, yk, he’s definitely the type to annoy and bully you all the time

(Out of love of course)

He’d blow the smoke from one of those cigars he smokes directly into your face just for fun

If you’re shorter than him your head is an armrest

If you’re taller he’ll never stop complaining about it

“Hey sunshine. How’s the weather up there?” And so on

And he’ll always have that smug little grin

He’ll introduce you to the lycans and then get pissed off when they like you more than him

And you tell him it’s because you’re actually nice to them

He’ll get jealous and complain that you’re not as nice to him as you are to them lmfao

I hope for your sake that you can cook,,, cus Karl is definitely not cooking

Even if he tried, I wouldn’t advise you to try eating it

I don’t care, he does NOT wash his hands

He’s kinda stinky and always smells of motor oil and smoke, sometimes a bit like beef jerky strangely enough

If neither of you can cook, you’ll probably just have to go to the duke and get some microwaveable meals if he has any

Does Karl even have a microwave? I’m not sure actually

Anyways I hope you learn to cook then

Okay but I’ve spend so much time just bashing him,, so here’s some nice things about him

He’s oddly cute when he sleeps, yk? 

For such a big, grumpy man, he looks so relaxed and soft

He’ll even let you fall asleep on top of him, he’s very soft idc

And he likes the bit of pressure on top of him I think

He snores, tho ):

He also always wakes up super early to work, and he’s annoyingly chirpy in the morning

It’s all “Rise and shine, sweetheart!” and “Get the hell up, we have work to do!” 

I don’t know, I think he likes being annoying on purpose

But he’s kinda a sweetheart, so it’s okay lol

I mean, he’s definitely very protective

No way he’s going to let you go to Dimitrescu’s house

Even you just going to the market would freak him out honestly

He kinda doubts that you can handle yourself, ngl

No matter how big and strong you are

That’ll never change, he is obsessed with the idea that he’s your protector and he thinks it’s always on him to keep you safe.

He’ll get legitimately really mad if you get hurt, not only at whoever or whatever hurt you, but also at you

Because it stresses him out and you know he feels bad for you

Would probably also feel personally offended if you got sick lol

edit: pookie bear :D

a/n: sry its only a headcannon, but I really like doing them bc they're not so serious yk??? ok anyways, I actually got a whole ass story for him on ao3 if you're interested but I wrote it like 2 years ago when i was 17-18 so its kindaaaaaa.... anyways im gonna edit it before i post it on here as well ):

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Summary:  A curling up using B’s legs as a chair seat

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: smutty but no smut, probably too long and rambly, idiots in love but one of them is emotionally constipated and the other loves them unconditionally

Word Count: 2.0k

Javier grins when he sees you in the kitchen, murmurs some sweet pet name that always makes your face go all hot no matter how much he says it. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Javi, you’re all sweaty,” you protest against him, stirring something on the stove and tapping the wooden spoon against the side of the pan before setting it aside. 

There’s the sizzle and pop of hot oil, to him, it sounds like life. The fume hood fan is on, your forehead is a little dewy with sweat. 

Sometimes he thinks you’re only a mirage, that he’s drunk himself into a coma and he’s being tempted with what he could have had if he was better. You do have a larger-than-life quality around you that he can’t ignore. Light sometimes reflects off you in ways that it shouldn’t, in ways that don’t make sense.

If you are a mirage, he’s not letting you go. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and unashamedly smells you, the raw smell of skin and your shampoo and cilantro. 

There’s a leaf of it on your skin and with a chuckle he takes it off and puts it in his mouth, chewing on it lazily for a moment before he bites your neck and makes you protest again, “Ay, Javi!” You push him away, “You’re hot!” 

With a sigh he lets go of you, lets his fingers linger against your waist and trail up the curve of your spine until he reaches the spot he bit. He soothes it over, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t you wanna wash up?” your voice is softer now, his touch telling you something he doesn’t know himself. “Food’ll be ready soon, I made your father’s favourite, so you’d better be quick if you want anything to last for you.” 

He supposes he should go get clean and stay out of your way. 

Javier likes having you to come home to you. He likes that you don’t mind that your…something still lives with his father, that he polishes off glasses of whiskey as if they were tap water. He likes coming home from the fields, his shirt sticking to him with sweat and taking the back door into the kitchen to see you, to be faced with the hazy smell of rice and spices. 

He likes that you usually arrive at Chucho’s place late afternoon with a basket of groceries in your hands that you use to make them dinner. That you keep the fridge well-stocked and the freezer filled with ice cream. 

He likes seeing you in the kitchen he grew up in, the kitchen his own mother used to cook in and had become a graveyard of sorts since her death, the most of the meals his father would make coming out of a can or a microwave. 

Now, you use fresh and colourful produce, fresh meat and fish and cook up a storm each evening, leaving them ample enough for lunch the next day. Now, you leave a bowl of fruit almost overflowing with fresh oranges that you squeeze for them and bring out on the porch as a silent suggestion instead of Javier’s whiskey each night. 

He likes that you sometimes stay the night as well, and you let him take you to his bed and have sex with you although the Texas heat is anything if relentless, no matter that the sun has hidden itself away for the night. 

He’s not blind. He sees the way the town talks about you, hears it himself when he manages to venture that far, sees the lingering glances on his back, the sudden dip in the conversation when he comes in. 

He imagines it’s worse for you. 

They think you’re wasting your time on him. A cook and a maid that doesn’t get paid. 

It’s a harsh assessment of you, but he knows what it looks like from the outside, and he supposes they aren’t wrong about that. 

And he wants to, he’s tried, over and over again to talk some sense into you. At least hint at it in what he hopes is a subliminal way. But you always cotton on to him quick. You’ve grown up with him, of course he’s a tree standing in an open field to you, the words he’s left unsaid lingering under the surface like seam stitching that you run your finger over with a sharp, assessing eye. 

For now, he tries to content himself with what he’s found with you ever since he’s returned from Cali and you showed up at his porch late one evening and Javier pushed you up against the house and kissed you, trailed his hand into your shorts and made you come for the entire darkness to see, as if it were an act of rebellion. You’ve fallen the both of you into a strange pas-de-deux whose music the neither of you know when is going to stop and, for him at least, hopes that it never does. 

Tries to content himself with what he manages to give you and what you’re giving back to him tenfold and trying to ignore that the seagulls of Laredo seem to think he’s getting more out of this than you are. 

He supposes, on a surface level he is. 

But when he comes back in, freed from the clutch of magnifying glass of a sun that hangs high in the sky and sizzles the skin of his neck until it’s a golden brown, and he sees you standing at the stove, sees the meals you cooked up for him and his father in the matching serving dishes, the table set, a pitcher of orange juice in the fridge and portions already set aside for lunch, he finds that you tug at something inside of him that was bleeding long and hard during all his time he spent running and gunning in Colombia. 

He finds that when he’s faced with the thought of losing you, he doesn’t think of the sex or the food or the fruit you patiently wash and peel the stickers off of. A visceral reaction is ripped out of him instead, his lungs tied together, his heart ripped out of his chest and buried, beating, beside his mother’s grave, the ground moving in time with each lub-dup, lub-dup. 

He finds he can actually go back to the canned beans and the whiskey and his father’s disapproving glare. As long as you stayed in his life and let him take you sometimes to go and see late-night showings of old black-and-white movies at the cinema where it’s just you two and Javier’s free to kiss you as much as he likes. 

All Javier wants to know, that this is your choice. He’s not sure he’ll ever come to truly understand why you do it, but he’s depraved and starving enough to keep you so long as you want to stay yourself. 

His hair already dried, his stomach full, he finds himself lost in thought again, sitting on the porch where this had all started in the first place. 

You were wearing a dress tonight. Some light, airy thing, made out of cotton. Javier thinks you look gorgeous in it, but he always thinks that of everything you wear and you’ve stopped believing him when he tells it to you so now he has to spend each one carefully, pick and choose in hopes of making you see what he sees. 

He wants to selfishly ask you to have sex with him today. He misses the way your skin springs and folds against his touch, the humidity that lies wet on it and makes it easier to grip at your body. 

He wants to lick off the sweat that will grow on your chest, to bite down into your harsh skin just before he draws blood so he can revel in the life of you. 

He decides he’ll only ask it of you if you ask it of him first. 

The front door creaks open and shut, the soft pad of your footsteps follow. 

You run your hand down the side of his head and lift your chin to meet your eyes. Javier thinks you’re about to say something soul-altering from the darkness that lays in your gaze but you only say, “Scooch.” 

With a few short adjustments, you’re in his lap now, your knees to your chest, his arms wrapped around you. When you press your head against his chest and underneath his chin, your hair rubs against his skin. 

There’s his father’s chair that you could have taken instead, but he’s happy you chose his body. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says quietly. If he squints, he thinks he can see the words hang in front of him like moths, see them fly over to the light above the door and flutter nervously around it.

“Don’t mention it.” 

His hands drift over your body, trail over your thighs and chest and rest at your waist. He tilts your head so he can press his mouth against your neck and kiss your skin. He wants to inhale you like a cigarette. There’s a strange desire that sits in his lower belly that spreads over to his chest and arms. 

“You look really pretty in this dress.” 

From the way you stiffen and relax again it’s clear you don’t believe him and want to call him on his supposed lies. “Thanks.” 

He keeps touching you, running up the side of your waist and cupping your jaw. Javier wants to bite you again but he’s not sure if you’d like that, not after what he did in the kitchen. He holds back a groan as he thinks of you in his bed, of the sheen of sex and lust that will lay on your skin after he’s done with you. 

With a hard press of his eyelids, he pushes the thoughts away from him. 

“They’re showing Casablanca this week.” 

He thinks of you in the low light of the cinema, funny little accents coming in from the screen. He thinks of the glow of your eyes and soft plush of your lips against his own. He’s already decided he’s going to buy you an overpriced bag of popcorn and an even bigger bag of cotton candy that you’ll snack on on the car ride back and feed him some too. 

“Let’s go.” Maybe he’ll press his fingers against your core and make you come, make you stifle your whimpers against his neck. But he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable for the ride back and thinks better of it. 

You sit up in his lap and look at him with a soft gaze he doesn’t know what to make of. Your finger finds a path down his lips and you keep your eyes in his like rain and puddles. 

Then you’re kissing him. They’re fireflies of kisses, and patter against his lips, never sitting still long enough to satiate him. You’re riling him up purposefully. 

“Will you fuck me tonight?” Your voice is smoky, the fog weighted and heavier than normal cigarette smoke. 

His fingers brush against your temple and he marvels at the sight of his skin against yours, “Would you like me to fuck you?” You could ask for a mountain and Javier would bring it to you rock-by-rock at your feet. 

“Mmhm,” you hum. It curls around his neck like a snake, “Real good. Hard and deep.” 

Sometimes, he thinks maybe this is all just good sex for you. But sometimes, all the time, there’s something that’s pressed into your skin and eyes that protests against that thought insistently, “I can do that.” 

You smile happily and nudge your nose down the column of his neck, “And will you eat me out? Do that thing with your tongue I like so much?” 

His hands drift down to your ass, and he holds onto it possessively. Inside, he hears his father step away to his room, his good night spilling out from the open window. “Yeah, baby, I can do that too.” 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

[ikrivi]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 - yuji itadori ☆‎‎‎‎  © vnsux

🌲 as christmas time creeps up, you and yuji decide to spend some quality time together writing up letters to santa. 0.59k [ prompt list ] [ day two ] [ day four ]

🌲 cw. childish themes, reader is gn, no pronouns used, reader calls yuji an idiot, mentions of a lethal amount of melatonin (don't take more than 10mgs guys)

with a long, dramatic, and very very loud sigh, you turn your head from the window to yuji. you were absolutely utterly bored, and this little brat was napping. it took every fiber of your being not to wake him up, because, wow, he looked so silly, you could totally use it against him. but also because he deserved it. 

it was hard to stay mad at him. but you couldn’t take this any longer.

“yuuuuuuuuujiiiiiiiiii,” you call, even louder than you sighed. still sleeping? you furrow your eyebrows. this kid was a deep sleeper. “yuji! itadori! wake up!” but he didn’t even stir. what the hell was he dreaming about?

so you resort to violence, shaking him as hard as you can, not even bothering to be gentle. megumi hits him over the head all the time, he’s grown practically immune. his eyes only squish together and he rolls over. 

“what…” you gawk, your jaw on the floor. there was no way. “did you take 3000 milligrams of melatonin? how are you still sleeping?” you didn’t even know what to do at this point. you looked back out the window, at the endless barrage of snow out your window, and scrunch up your nose. 

but suddenly, an idea rumbles in your brain when you realize it was december. christmas! you knew yuji believed in santa still. you thought it was a little childish, and megumi and nobara clowned him for it, but you also thought it was so cute. 

you rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out two sheets of paper and some markers. you felt so dumb, but this was sure to wake him up.

“yuji! we’re making christmas lists! wake up!” and sure enough, he opened his eyes, instantly shooting up. hah. worked like a charm. if he had a tail, it would be wagging. 

“huh? christmas lists?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “yeah, sleepy head. a letter to santa. do you know what you want?” you placed the paper on the table beckoning him over.

“ ‘course i do. been thinkin’ ‘bout it all year!” he replied enthusiastically, clumsily making his way over to you, running his hands through his hair. 

you gave him a once-over. “how do you sleep through all that.” she raised an eyebrow, pulling a seat out to start writing. he shrugged, immediately getting to it, not even bothering to sit. in only four seconds, he already had a list of at least eight things. his handwriting was messy and he wrote them down so quickly you couldn’t keep up.

“there’s no way santa can read that, yu, write neater!” you command, but he ignores you. then he flips to the back side of the paper and starts writing a letter.

“dear santa,” he narrates, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “i hope i did good this year. i tried to make everyone happy, and i really really want…” he trailed off, still writing. you tried to peek, but he shooed you away. when he seemed to finish, he tossed the pencil to the side and folded the paper in half as best he could. then he gave it to you and glared.

“you better not read that, y/n!” and you chuckle nervously. “yes sir.” you affirm.

but when he was out of sight, you read it anyway. through messy handwriting and multiple misspelled words, you read: “i really really want to get a fat turtle for y/n.” you look at the paper with a wonky smile. 

he was such a loser. and you loved him.

🌲 author's note. look at him. such a microwavable chihuahua... sorry these r getting shorter n shorter im gonna get some more done. i had three to post today though since im behind so be on the lookout for day four!! not sure where the fat turtle came from but yk hope you enjoyed <3

[host-hubliminal]

TEST_LOG_RECORDS. SELECT FROM THE FOLLOWING TEST LOGS. ||PAGE 4 OF 20.|| TEST1: v18.07 TEST1: v18.08 TEST1: v18.09 TEST1: v18.10 TEST1.12: v20.17 TEST1.12: v20.18 TEST1.9: v5.01 > TEST2: v1.05 TEST2.5: v0.1 <<=[BACK]--[NEXT]=>> ———————————— TEST2: v1.05 SELECTED. TYPE [C] TO CONFIRM or [D] TO DENY SELECTION. > C WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH THIS SELECTION? [Data_Summary] > Full_Record_Transcription [Delete_Test_Record] ———————————— PLAYING_TEST_RECORD_TRANSCRIPTION. START_TEST2: v1.05 Loading…………… ———————————— Chatroom 5C, Wing 8: Instance 12 Dated: January 28th, 2024 [Addendum; Names have been shortened and/or changed to keep identities hidden.] ML has opened the chatroom. ML added XG to the chat. ML added TT to the chat. ML added PhL to the chat. ML added UY to the chat. XG: ML, You do know that you don’t have to add me in every single chat every time you make a new chatroom, right? ML: hush! I don’t want a repeat of the wire incident. XG: Fine. I will observe then, I guess. You all really need to get another person for security besides just me you know. UY: I haven’t had a single applicant of quality come in for weeks besides you, XG. XG: I would say otherwise but you run the place. TT: can we please get on with the test? if they’re down for any longer than 15 minutes we might not be able to revive them at all, and they’re crucial for further testing. ———————————— STARTING>>System_H-RA. System_H-RA-STARTED! STARTING>>System_RS. INPUT_TARGET_ID_TO-CONTINUE: … TARGET_ID: Host-1.1 System_RS-STARTED! RESPAWN-COMMENCING……… - - - - - Unfamiliar audio detected in AREA_C43_RSAR. Recording engaged. Recorded audio transcription from Host Respawn Anchor; [Hum of Host Respawn Anchor] [Incoming Teleportation sound muffled from being inside Anchor.] Host 1.1: [Unintelligible] HELLO? Hellooo? [Sounds of Host 1.1 banging on metal.] - - - - - ———————————— PhL: thank god… UY: Good. The technology Dr.[REDACTED] has been improved in quality. Yet we have yet to receive the actual notification that the Host Respawn Function has actually succeeded. PhL: I-I mean- it still works- just because the bells and whistles aren’t- TT: PhL, don’t. PhL: o-okay, XG: No, PhL has a point. This didn’t result in a splatter on the wall. In fact, I don’t think it even microwaved them in the slightest. TT: could you be any less graphic? XG: They were a plate of noodles! TT: he was a person for pete’s sake! Does that mean ANYTHING to you? XG: In my defense, it was kind of funny. TT: … TT: whatever, let’s just. get on with it ———————————— - - - - - [Metal door to Host Respawn Anchor opens. Host 1.1’s footsteps can be heard as they step out.] [Intercom buzzes on.] ML: Welcome! Sorry for that grizzly bit there, we just needed you to test out our Respawn System for you guys. Host 1.1: WAIT SO YOU SAW THAT- THAT THING?? AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO DO ANYTHING?? ML: Buddy, it is your fault that you upset the fauna naturally found within Liminal Space. Host 1.1: YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL US ANYTHING ELSE WAS IN HERE! YOU TOLD US JACK! Where- how do I find that other guy again? ML: Host 1.2? Uhhhhh I think he’s still on the same level as you- try heading east? Host 1.1: Thanks. I guess. ML: You’re welcome! - - - - - TEST2: v1.05_CONCLUDED. RECORDING ENDED.

[proceduralpassion]

Torments

(gif by me, excuse the terrible quality lol)

A/N: I wrote this the night of 10x11 and it's been sitting, collecting unedited cob webs ever since. I finally spruced it up and made it presentable, so here ya go! Kev deserves someone to hold him and tell it's all gonna be okay 🥺

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Wife!Reader

WC: ~1k

Warning(s): angsty af, discussions of dysfunctional familial relationships

The house was quiet when he walked in. There was light coming from upstairs but he leaned his back against the front door and stood in the darkness. The mute shadows that surrounded him mirrored the hollow feeling in his chest. There were unfinished emotions resting in his spirit and he sighed a heavy breath, wondering if he should unleash them from his depths or stuff them back down, much like he did with a lot of his torments.

It was already late when he left the precinct, so late that he knew that he missed dinner, but his mind was already set on stopping by his building to make sure there was an adequate unit for his father. He’d call and hire someone in the morning to clean it up and put some furniture in it, but he couldn’t bear to go to sleep tonight without verifying that his father would have somewhere safe to go, once he got out of the halfway house. 

He’s not sure how long he stood there, with his head against the door, but it lifts upright when he hears footsteps descending the stairs.

“Kev?” Your voice eked out carefully.

“Yeah, it’s me, baby.”

He met you at the last step and you both wrapped your arms around each other tightly. You feel that his weight is heavier tonight and know that today wasn’t a good day. Instead of acknowledging it, you guide him into the kitchen, “I left your food in the microwave, let me heat it up.”

He follows you silently, his head still leaned on your shoulder as he walks behind you with his hands on your hips. You lean into his embrace as the timer counts down until the egg rolls and fried rice are ready. Still, no words are spoken. You say nothing as his arms wrap tighter around you. 

This is how it went with the two of you. He was a proud man and it wasn’t always easy for him to spill his emotions out to you. You were dogged in your pursuit for the truth, in your mission to heal his afflictions the way he always did for you, without question. There was a silent compromise in the way that neither of you spoke. Time was a pact, the equalizer that told him that you wouldn’t push and that he wouldn’t suppress.

You two sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, ankles linking against each other under the table. 

Always touching, the two of you.

He offered his plate to share, but you only took one bite out of an egg roll before shifting the dish back in front of him. Your ring shines against the glint of the light above and your eyes can’t help but jump to his. Like you did all the thousands of other times you saw that golden piece of metal surrounding his finger, you smile and your heart flutters. He catches the simper and his shoulders shake in a hushed chuckle.

“I’m sorry, that ring will always be the sexiest thing you will ever wear,” you always say.

“Even sexier than the chain?” 

“Damn. Can’t forget about the chain.”

You two don’t actually say the words aloud like you usually do, but the back and forth is wordlessly exchanged through your eyes. A language that only two people in the universe will ever be fluent in. 

When he finishes his plate, you go to grab it, but he swipes it away before you can and rises to head to the dishwasher. He loads the plate and fork and then detours to the fridge to grab something out of it.

He hands you your half-eaten dark chocolate bar and sits. You offer it, he leans over to only one bite out of it before pushing it back into your hand. And so, now you’re the one who eats quietly because you know that your husband is ready to talk, but still needs a moment to gather his thoughts.

You finish your chocolate, enjoying the crunch of almond in the last morsel and Kevin reaches for your hand.

“I got him a place to stay in the building.”

You nodded, not saying anything, allowing him the space to release whatever he's holding. 

“I don’t know… I’m just still so… angry. I’m happy he’s out. He’s safe. But he had all this time to reach out. To make amends. And the best he can come up with for an excuse is his pride?”

His voice still creaked with emotion, much like before, when he let his dad have it at the precinct. He thinks about Jordan and Vinessa and even at his most frustrated, he couldn’t bear to think of not showing up for them whenever they needed. It may not have been fair to him, raising two kids when he was barely an adult himself, but he still couldn’t even fathom letting them down in any way. So how could the man that sired three children allow anything to hold him back from rushing back to them, from picking up the pieces of a long broken family? 

Your second hand reaches around to wrap around his and you lean closer to him, allowing your foreheads to rest on each other’s.

“I feel like I can’t even be too mad at him. Because I don’t know what he went through. What he had to get through to survive all those years on the inside… Maybe he wouldn’t have made it if he was too weighed down by thoughts of us.”

You speak for the first time.

“You just hate that it was you and the kids that were weighing him down.”

With glassiness in his eyes, he nods. 

You rise from your seat and rest in his lap, nestling his head against your chest, caressing the back of his neck. He heaves a deep breath and bundles closer into you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

You hold him tight as his shoulders shake, allowing him to find solace in your embrace. A safe haven so he can mourn for the time lost. And forgive for what wasn’t his fault.

As always, like and reblog if you enjoyed. Thanks for the love 💖

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @ginghampearlsnsweettea @jackburtonsays @justahopelessssromantic

[nightswithkookmin]

"We gotta throw artists in Jail for making these diabolical songs"

Cool. No. It's cool. I'm not mad. I just want you to be thrown into the adjoining cells with them just for being brazenly dumb. You shouldn't wear your ignorance and artistic ineptitude on your sleeve so bravely. Like I'm actually embarrassed for you.

If you know nothing about something JUST SHUT UP.

You're gonna sit there and dissect a highly artistic piece like this with your untrained ears and your 1.5 gigabyte brain capacity. Cool.

Explain Mozart to me then bitch. Bet Beethoven makes your head spin. Can't take you out to a fancy restaurant cos your tongue stuck under their boots huh. Bootlicker. Why don't you lick these clean

And for heavens sakes

Leave 👏🏾the👏🏾 review 👏🏾to 👏🏾the👏🏾 experts👏🏾

Hmm? How about we do that instead?

What credentials do you have?

WHAT QUALIFIES YOU TO DETERMINE THE QUALITY OF A MUSICAL PIECE OF THIS NATURE WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL A WHISTLE FROM A FART. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

Just because you own a free channel on a free platform don't suddenly make you the academy. Get over yourself and please THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. You're just spewing out gibberish and you sound dumb as fuck.

Untrain your ears. Stop eating up microwaved over the counter music and I promise you you will develop a richer taste and palate for music. I PROMISE YOU.

IF ALL YOU KNOW IS JIMIN'S ANGELIC VOICE AND ALL YOU EXPECT FROM HIM IS YET ANOTHER FILTER OR PROMISE EVERY SINGLE TIME HE RELEASES A NEW SONG GET A NEW HOBBY. YOU ARE DONE. WORN OUT AND STRESSED.

HE IS AN ARTIST NOT A PARROT

HE MAKES ART WITH HIS VOICE FOR A LIVING

AND HE'S NOT IN FOR A QUICK MONEY GRAB EITHER.

But you can't tell cos you're used to being USED AND MILKED BY TALENTLESS FAVES.

I can see how this level of artistry can be intimidating for some people especially the inexperienced members of the audience.

The Light is always too bright for those in the shadows.

Yall been comfortable listening to crap but don't worry Park Jimin is going to change that. He is baptizing yall by fire and raising the standard for what good music actually is. HE IS MAKING MUSIC GREAT AGAIN.

The era of cheap repetitive music vomited out for easy money in KPOP IS OVER. TALENT IS TAKING OVER.

YOU MIGHT NEED A DEGREE TO UNDERSTAND KPOP FROM NOW ON. SORRY NOT SORRY.

Catch up with him. Ain't nobody got time to baby sit your slow ass. You dumb mcdummy.

Music is Poetry and Poetry appreciation is a skill in and of itself.

Hone that skill at least bitch

[satansapostle6]

X

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Part Three

Part Four: HR Violations

Never in a million years did Josh Futturman imagine that he’d have someone to flirt and exchange witty banter with at work, let alone that it would be Dr. Johansson. He knew he wasn’t delusional, because even Ray was starting to pick up on it.

It all started in one of the break rooms, when Josh was asked to unclog a toilet in the bathroom nearby. Ray had been minding his business and heating up his lunch in the microwave, when Josh came into the room to wash up after finishing the job. Coincidentally, Brynne Johansson also entered the room, in need of a cup of coffee, as well as to just shamelessly mess with Josh.

It was becoming a fun little game for her, saying and doing all the right things to get Josh all hot and bothered at work. Ray gave Brynne a polite smile as she entered the room, eating his ramen in peace.

“Dr. Johansson,” he greeted her.

She just smiled back as she walked toward the coffee machine, intentionally taking a while to examine it before making her move.

“Josh, do you think you could take a look at this for me?” she asked. “I can’t seem to get it to work.”

This was obviously a lie. Ray shot his friend a curious look.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Josh obliged, glancing nervously at Ray.

He stood beside Brynne, half pretending to take a look at the coffee machine, half genuinely wondering if there was something wrong.

“It doesn’t seem to be heating up,” she said as she fiddled aimlessly with the filter.

“Oh, I see what you’re saying,” Josh lied. playing along as best as he could.

“Yeah… Do you know how to fix it?”

“I think so… I think if you just… flip this, it’ll start heating up again,” he improvised completely. “There. Try it again?”

Brynne turned on the coffee machine like normal, brewing a fresh pot.

“Oh, great, it’s working again,” she bullshitted. “Thanks, Josh, you know I like it hot.”

Josh nearly choked on pure oxygen as she gave him a casual workplace smile, as if nothing had happened, walking out of the break room with a hot cup of coffee as her heels tapped against the floor. Josh’s eyes widened as he turned to Ray, who was equally in shock. He couldn’t deny, Brynne was the first person to ever make him feel like he had something to brag about.

“What the hell?!” he demanded.

“Right?!” Josh exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to telling you!”

“Sorry, man, you really gotta see it to believe it,” Ray laughed.

“What do I do?!” Josh panicked. “She’s really hot, and I think she’s flirting with me—”

“Alright, now that I’ve actually seen it happen, it’s not a ‘think’ anymore, it’s a ‘know’,” Ray assured him.

“So, what do I do?” he asked hopelessly.

“I don’t know that there’s anything you can do,” Ray admitted, “Just… See if it goes anywhere, I guess.”

“Okay,” Josh breathed, trying to calm himself down, “Okay…”

“Man, that woman is wild.”

*****

“Hey, Elias,” Josh smiled on his way to the elevator as he saw Dr. Kronish walking through the hall.

“Good afternoon, Josh,” the man said pleasantly. “How are you today?”

“Living the dream,” Josh said humorously, fully aware that he was a janitor.

At least now he was able to go home. Upon entering his parents’ house, Josh found that his parents were both in the living room, enjoying their ‘quality time’ together.

“Joshy!” his mother exclaimed happily.

“Welcome home, buddy boo!” his father beamed.

Josh swallowed his embarrassment despite the three of them currently being alone, saying hello to them as he entered the house.

“How was work today?” his father asked him.

“Uh, pretty good,” Josh intentionally left out any specifics or details.

“What did you do today?” his mother inquired. “Come sit with us, I wanna hear all about it.”

Josh grimaced uncomfortably, not even sure what to say as he tentatively sat down with his parents, who has both been reading.

“Uh, the usual, just… cleaning up shits, and mopping floors,” he offered flatly.

Both of his parents chuckled as they listened to him.

“How’s Ray doing?” Gabe Futturman asked kindly.

“Uh, he’s good,” Josh responded, “Yeah, he’s pretty good…”

“Did you talk to anyone else today?” Diane Futturman asked.

Josh felt this was more of an interrogation than a conversation.

“Uh, I saw Dr. Kronish earlier. In the hall,” he said boringly.

“Oh, that’s nice,” his father remarked.

“Ooh, what about that Dr. Johansson you’ve always told us about?” his mother chimed in. “Talk to her at all?”

Josh could’ve sworn his entire face went pale.

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, we talk sometimes, in passing…”

“Really?!” his mother gasped.

“You never told us you talked to her!” his father exclaimed.

Josh frowned, just then realizing how pathetic the entire conversation made him sound.

“Uh, yeah… Her name’s Brynne. We talk sometimes,” he thought, “Occasionally…”

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Diane squealed. “You should ask her out! Oh, that would be perfect!”

“Mom, I’m… I’m not asking her out,” Josh frowned.

“But why not?” she questioned. “You know everything about her!”

“Yeah! You know everything she likes, and you know how to make her smile,” his father told him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not asking her out,” he pointed out.

“What do you mean, Joshy?” Gabe asked regretfully.

“I mean… She’s a scientist. The head of the research department,” he reminded himself. “Women like that don’t tend to go out with janitors.”

“But what if he’s a sweet, handsome, funny janitor like our Joshy?” she reasoned optimistically.

Josh just sighed, finding the topic more depressing than anything else.

*****

Although Josh got butterflies in his stomach like a teenage girl every time he saw Brynne at work, a part of him also felt sad and rejected every time he saw her, even if she hadn’t even done so yet. As much as he was in awe of how she flirted with him from time to time, he also knew that, more likely than not, he was probably just a source of entertainment for her.

There was no way Dr. Brynne Johansson, the tall, sexy powerhouse, wanted to go out with, or even hook up with, the janitor. There was just no way. His whole life, Josh always had to be realistic when it came to girls; if there was one thing he learned from middle school, it was that you never wanted to be the nerd who asked out the popular girl. And Brynne Johansson was definitely the popular girl at Kronish Labs.

Everyone looked at her like she was an angel walking amongst humans; male, female, gay, straight… It didn’t matter. There was something just unifying about her perfection. Josh was even ready to completely give up on the idea of actually having any sort of shot with Brynne outside of their usual banter, until one afternoon when they both happened to be alone in the elevator together.

Josh tried his best not to blush as she stood beside him, absentmindedly looking at her watch. She was wearing a stunning cream-colored dress that complimented her hair, and he couldn’t help but notice. He also noticed her perfume, which he could only describe as smelling like some sort of love spell.

“Hey, Josh,” Brynne turned to him.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“You smell nice,” she said softly.

His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he realized he’d decided to try out a new cologne to see if she’d like it. Apparently, she did.

“Tha—Thank you,” he nodded, still caught off guard.

“Mhmm.”

She smiled as she got off on her floor as the elevator stopped. Josh waited for the metal doors to close completely before celebrating.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, extremely proud of himself. “Whoo!”

It was safe to say, his confidence was back. He wasn’t sure what this meant, exactly, but he was willing to find out.

-

Part Five

Part Six

[brocksfaber]

Do you have any thoughts about Kirill and Hartzy and the dog like qualities of that. Hartzy/dog as a symbol of qualities of loyalty and unconditional love. And the teams need to fight for Kirill and and

"and and" and i need you to picture this: my brain on a platter spinning in the microwave. when i woke up to this ask i genuinely sat up and stared at the wall for 3 minutes straight.

you know how dogs are constantly in the new for dying for their owners ? willingly putting themselves into horribly compromising positions so that their masters have a chance to get out of said situation safely ?

when i tell you that i truly believe ryan hartman would go through the most harrowing and life ruining things just to make certain his kirill wouldn't have to endure anything like that. ryan hartman would stare down the barrel of a gun unflinchingly if only to make sure his kirill was out of shooting range. ryan fucking hartman would be the most willing victim of a time loop if only to ensure the safety and security of his kirill for the rest of their sorry existence.

don't even get me started on brock "only if it's kirill" faber. the team has proven time and time again that kirill is their boy. they would bleed out on the ice for kirill, they would and have offered their bodies up for kirill. just so that their golden boy can continue shining. their kirill. each and every one of them would be more than happy to become a sacrificial lamb if it meant kirill would be safe.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Ive been going through a minor depressive episode and I fully lost my appetite and any interest in eating, as a result I’ve not been eating enough for several weeks if not longer, but getting worse the past few weeks. As a result I’ve lost a bit of weight. I know I need to eat so I’m making myself eat every day and I’m trying to get out of it, but it’s hard because now that I’ve lost a little weight I like my body so much more and it’s hard to shake the thought that if I keep going I don’t have to gain weight. I know not to follow these thoughts because even eating barely enough takes a toll on your body (I’ve been there) but it’s hard. I don’t know I feel like I’ve been liking my body so much more and I’m gonna have to gain weight and hate it again. I guess I’m just wondering if there’s anything I can tell myself to feel better other than just “you have to eat”

Hmm. I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with depression and have lost pleasure in food. That's a really tough thing to work through.

I wonder if you could try to take the focus off your body for a bit? Maybe try thinking of it more in terms of mental health. So instead of thinking "I need to gain weight" or even trying to stop yourself from thinking "I kinda want to lose more weight" just think about what your body and mind need to feel better.

So like...maybe try to find pleasure in food and eating. I know that's really hard right now, but something you could try could be doing things each day to live purposefully while you eat. Take a nice walk and get yourself an ice cream, and be out in the community just noticing things and trying to enjoy the taste of your ice cream and the feeling of just moving your body and having a lil walk. Or sitting out in the sun eating a nice cold bowl of fruit. Prepping yourself some easy comfort food can help, something that doesn't take high effort to make and is enjoyable to consume. These can be things like a PBJ sandwich, mac and cheese, a bowl of pasta, microwave soup. Depression can make it hard to really get yourself together and prepare a high-quality meal, so it's okay to rely on the easy stuff if it helps you get a little food in. When you do this and eat it, don't think "I'm doing this to gain weight." Eat what you're able while thinking "I'm doing this to nourish my body. My body deserves care even when I don't feel so good."

If there are times when you are so absofuckinglutely depressed that you cannot manage to organize and throw together a PBJ, it's okay to just eat whatever snack food you can manage that's immediately available. This is not ideal but it is better for your body than starving. If you must do this, tell yourself "I'm doing this to support my body. My body deserves better than starving. I deserve better than to deal with the long-term health problems of starvation." It's all in how you talk to yourself, even in the worst moments. If you are prone to this level of depression, it's okay to keep these snack foods available just to support your ability to get something into your body, anything at all. It's okay to accommodate yourself while you're struggling. You're allowed to love yourself that much even at your worst.

When you have a little bit of energy, meal-prepping in bulk might be able to help you, but if you're not at the stage where you can put that level of effort into your food right now, that's okay - it's just a suggestion. Do what you can.

But really it's about taking the moment to try and enjoy things even when your depression is trying really hard to take that enjoyment from you. So sitting down with some food and a comfort show and taking some time to really enjoy it, taking a walk and getting yourself a treat while you're out, going with somebody to a preferred restaurant and trying to enjoy what's on the menu - these are all things that depression will try to take away from you because it's hard to enjoy them the way you would when you're not depressed. It's important to try to fight to keep those moments of small personal joy in your life if you can.

In addition to that, try doing this in areas that are not related to eating, too! Take 5-10 minutes to try and engage in a non-scrolling hobby, even if that 5-10 minutes is all you can manage. Take a few minutes to message with a friend or family member. Do a mental health practice such as meditation or journaling. While doing these things, tell yourself that you're doing them to nourish your body and soul because you deserve to be well.

Depression wants you to get worse. Depression wants you to be listless and disconnected from your hobbies. Depression wants you to be immobilized. Depression wants you to feel ambivalent about or even negatively about your body, and about your mind and soul. Depression wants you to be so frustrated with the lack of pleasure in your hobbies that you just stop trying to engage them altogether. Depression wants you to feel too tired to have a proper conversation with the people you care about, so you become isolated. Depression wants you to engage in self-harmful behaviors and feel worse about yourself. These are all things that will make depression stronger, so where you are able to fight them, it's important to try. So try and think, "how can I engage myself to feel better and feel like I'm worth fighting for?"

Best of luck, anon.

[splendentmoon]

Incorrect Quotes /3/

Third part!!!

YAY!!

Enjoy!✨

---------------------------------

-Reactions of the team when they say 'I love you'-

MK: Thank you family!

Spindrax: oh no

Yin: Feels fake but okay

Jin: -A nervous mess-

Red Son: Can I get a refund?

---------------------------------

Jin: Plan G time.

Spindrax: You don't mean plan B?

Jin: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip plan C due to technical problems.

Yin: What about plan D?

Jin: Plan D was that desperate attempt to disguise himself half an hour ago.

MK: What about plan E?

Jin: Red Son dies in plan E.

Red Son: what?!

Spindrax: I like plan E.

Red Son: excuse me, WHAT?!

---------------------------------

-Everyone is standing around the broken coffee pot-

Yin: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just want to know.

Everybody:

MK: ...I did. I broke it.

Yin: No. No, you didn't. Jin?

Jin: Don't look at me. Look at Red.

Red Son: What?! I didn't break it.

Jin: Hey, that's weird. How did you know it was broken?

Red Son: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Jin: Suspicious.

Red Son: No, it's not!

Jin: I don't know if it matters, probably not, but Spindrax was the last to use it.

Spindrax: Liar! I don't even drink that shit!

Jin: seriously? So what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Spindrax: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everybody knows it, Red Son!

MK: Okay, let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Yin.

Yin: No! Who broke it?

Everybody:

Red Son: Yin... Jin has been blaming everyone, it's obvious who it was.

Jin: SERIOUSLY?!

-everyone starts arguing-

MK, being interviewed: I tore it up. I burned my hand, so I punched him.

MK: I predict that within 10 minutes they'll be at each other's throats with war paint on their faces and a pig's head on a stick.

MK: .........the good thing is that they are not going to blame me......on the other hand..........they will destroy the house.....

---------------------------------

DBK, entering his house: Hello, people who do not live here.

MK: Hello.

Yin: Hello.

Jin: Hello.

Spindrax: Hello.

Red Son: I gave them the key to my house just for emergencies!

Spindrax: We're out of candy.

---------------------------------

Red Son: *Posts a very low quality image in the group chat*

Spindrax: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I would have 15 cents.

Red Son: If I had a dollar for every ounce of anger I felt in my body after reading this, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to shoot you

Yin: Actually I did the math, Spindrax would have $225, not $0.15.

Spindrax: oh

Jin: If I had a dollar, I would buy a can of soda :)

MK: while you're there, could you buy me an orange juice please?

Jin: sorry, I only have one dollar

MK: :(

Yin: Hey, I just realized my friend is right, Spindrax would have $22,500 because it's a dollar per pixel, not a penny

Jin: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and a juice

Yin: You can buy anything you want with $22,500

Red Son: Yes, and they want soda and juice

Yin: Apply juice to what

Red Son: Directly in the forehead

Spindrax : Great talk everyone.

---------------------------------

MK: The dumbest scar stories, come on!

Spindrax: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Yin: I once dropped a hair dryer on my leg and burned it.

Jin: I have a piece of graphite in my leg from accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in first grade.

Red Son: I was getting a cup of noodles out of the microwave and my hand fell off and I got burned really bad.

MK: ....

MK: I have so many scars both physical and emotional...

---------------------------------

MK: We have to distract these guys.

Spindrax: Leave it to me.

Spindrax: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. discuss!

Yin, Jin and Red Son: -Immediately start arguing-

MK, looking in horror: Oh, this. I don't like this I don't like this at all.

---------------------------------

-The squad is at Red Son's house-

Spindrax: Ohhhh, everyone has their own oven?

Red Son: ...N-No...

Red Son (laughing): How many ovens do you think I have?

Spindrax (pointing to his kitchen): Three, I thought!

Yin: I see a-

Red Son (pointing at a device): This is a microwave.

Spindrax: Oh, well, I-

Red Son: Hey, wait, wait, actually- wait- -plays with the microwave buttons-

Red Son (Amazed): It Has a Bake Setting!

Jin: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

MK: Shall we do "rock, paper, scissors" to see who picks first?

Red Son: Now I just found out I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to "rock, paper, scissors" anything!

Red Son: I'm someone who has four ovens...

Red Son (stronger and too happy): I'm someone... who has FOUR OVENS...

Red Son: I didn't know it was so rich in ovens...

Jin (pointing to another appliance): Also the toaster oven!

Red Son:

Spindrax: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four-Five ovens!

Red Son:

Red Son (fucking ECSTASY): I'M SOMEONE WHO HAS FIVE OVENS

---------------------------------

Yin: Red Son can't see well without wearing his glasses!

Red Son: Yin, look, I wore the glasses for many years. My eyes are much better now. Look.

Red Son: *points to MK* MK.

Red Son: *points to Jin* Jin.

Red Son: *points to Spindrax* Sasquatch.

---------------------------------

Red Son: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a brain cell.

Yin, MK, Spindrax and Jin: ALL HAIL to the guardian of the sacred brain cell!

---------------------------------

-the squad is at a dinner in a restaurant, but someone has been murdered-

Red Son: You're acting pretty nonchalant about someone whose life is on the line. Who's to say you're not the killer?

Spindrax: It's a murder, not a tax audit. I'll be fine.

Yin: What about MK? Nobody ever suspects MK!

MK: Well, what about Jin? They have a weapon!

Jin: Red Son has a knife.

Red Son: Yeah, for fun, not for murder! -stabs Yin in the arm-

---------------------------------

Yin: Who the hell broke the toaster?

Spindrax: It was Red Son.

MK: It was Red Son.

Jin: Red Son broke it.

Red Son:

Red Son: ... SONS OF- PROMISED IT

---------------------------------

-When MK disappears for an hour-

MK: Did you forget that I only went to buy juice? Did they really drop everything and come here for me? How did they get here so fast?

Jin: Various traffic violations.

Yin: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Red Son: Approximately thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Spindrax: Also, that's not our car.

---------------------------------

[16magnolias]

9, 20, 40 for Lucía 😊

Thanks for the asks

9 Do you have a faceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC?

I confess I am terrible with actors and actresses and don't really know enough of any of them to try and match them up with OCs. Based on a quick google search and the soft quality of voice I imagine Lucía to have, maybe Salma Hayek or Sarah Ramírez for  Lucía's voice. I'm sorry I don't have a good answer for you 😥

20 If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do?

If Lucía were to come to our world - which mainly means 2023/modern times - she'd probably walk around in shock for a good day or two before even being coherent enough to ask questions, and then she'd be in absolute awe and wonder at modern technology - stovetops and electric ovens and microwaves and smartphones and music streaming and video calls and oh, what she wouldn't give to have a recording of her mother 😭

...and then would come the questions about how and how it works and eventually she would make it to the history questions and....keeping this light but Lucía would weep at a lot of it. Weep with sorrow for all that's been lost and weep with bittersweet gratitude at how hard people have worked to help and heal and save.

And after going through the 5 stages of grief and coming to grips with all that's happened in the world, she would explore more of it and learn - you can PUBLISH things DIGITALLY?!?!  Thousands and thousands of books available at your fingertips, and you can just - read them? And write them? There are sites where people write stories about things they love and expand on the stories they already know and love and share them and people talk about them and she can talk to people all over the world about her favorite books?!?! For real life?!

...I feel like Lucía would write fanfiction and she'd be darn good at it but she'd also be extremely shy about interacting with anyone online.

40 Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?

Oooh fun!

Who she's going with: Bruno

Where she's going: San Cristobál, to see a double feature playing 2 Colombian films: Antonia Santos, a 1944 drama about María Antonia Santos Plata, a peasant, Colombian rebel leader, and heroine; and Bambucos y Corazones, a 1945 musical comedy. (Based solely on limited google research.)

What she's wearing: Her green dress (the simple, off-the-shoulder olive green one with yellow-gold accents along the edges of the ruffles, waist, and hem) and a pair of comfortable alpargatas. Her hair is braided and wound into a bun at the back of her head and she's probably wearing her only pair of earrings - simple gold studs.

[owlsandwich]

The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 13

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

This chapter is affectionately known by me as "Roy eats pizza".

The novelty of being left to his own devices in the safe house had worn off surprisingly quickly. Roy flicked through the television channels, but apparently none of the programmes had changed in the last ten minutes. He supposed he should be grateful that there even was a television; the place seemed barely used, and Oliver didn’t seem the type to lounge around watching box sets. The lack of a games console hadn’t shocked him in the slightest.

Roy grabbed a slice of last night’s pizza from the box on the table, jolting it with a heating spell before taking a bite. He didn’t remember seeing a microwave in the kitchen when hunting for coffee that—morning — he’d finally found a pot of instant, a month out of date, behind around eight varieties of loose-leaf tea — and anyway, he didn’t feel like getting up off the couch. 

Switching off the television, Roy picked up the book he’d retrieved from the second bedroom; the only volume he’d been able to find that wasn’t a damn textbook. Before he could get much beyond the first paragraph, there came the sound of a slamming door and footsteps in the stairwell.

He was no longer alone.

With a burst of vigour he didn’t know he possessed, he chucked the book onto the coffee table and flung himself down behind the sofa.

“What the hell happened here?” 

The voice was familiar, and Roy poked his head out. As he thought, it was the man who had been here before; Matthew, if he remembered correctly. Dark eyes matched the straight black hair that fell around his sharp features, and though Matthew’s build was slim, Roy easily sensed the powerful magic he exuded. To his relief, Oliver also stood in the doorway behind him.

“Hey! You actually came back,” Roy said, standing up. Matthew glared at him immediately, but Oliver was scanning the apartment, having gone rather pale.

“W—what…?” Oliver stammered weakly. Under other circumstances, Roy would have enjoyed being the one to shake his cool composure, but Matthew’s frown was ruining the moment. “What happened here? How did you make such a mess? And what are you wearing?!”

Oliver had finally turned to him and Roy remembered the grey dressing gown he was still sporting over his clothes. 

“Ah, hope you don’t mind. I found this in the bedroom.” Roy jerked a thumb towards the door beside the kitchen. “Ended up just crashing on the couch again.” As on the first night, he had avoided using his designated bedroom, even after Oliver’s insistence. Somehow, it made the experience easier. 

“I can see that...” Oliver still hadn’t moved, seemingly transfixed by the room.

“I couldn’t get the wine out of the collar, though, sorry.” Roy rubbed guiltily at a red splatter blemishing the fluffy material. “I thought you’d have spelled it stain proof. Everything else in your wardrobe is.”

“You spilled wine on my— What do you mean ‘everything else in my wardrobe’?” Oliver did not look happy. “What else have you opened?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Roy shrugged off the dressing gown, missing its warmth as soon as he did so. Oliver took it from him wordlessly. “You didn’t exactly tell me when you’d be back. I got bored. Nathaniel’s a hilarious name for a fake ID, by the way,” Roy snorted. “Unless that’s your actual name. Erm, in which case… cool name, mate.” 

Making fun of the people protecting him from Felix Marek might not be the best idea, and, given the quality of the paperwork he had found in that spell-locked draw, Oliver and Matthew were clearly very professional when going about any illegal activities. 

Oliver shook his head slowly. “That drawer was magic locked. How did you—”

“Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t actually looking for secret documents and I put them all back. I was looking for money.” This explanation, he realised, probably wasn’t helping his case. “Since, you know, I’m only here because I’m helping you guys out, and I don’t have any cash on me. I found some, by the way. In the third drawer. That’s how I got the pizza.”

“Wait, you got pizza delivered? To a safe house?” Matthew had been silent until now, listening to Roy’s explanation with an expression of vague disbelief. 

Roy rolled his eyes. “You told me not to leave! Anyway, I paid in cash. I’m not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me...” Matthew mumbled, sitting down in the armchair furthest from where Roy stood. “How did you even know the address?”

“I saw it on the way in.” Roy shrugged. The street name and number on the door had been easy enough to remember. He wasn’t sure if knowing the phone number of the takeaway by heart too was something to be proud or ashamed of. 

“It just feels softer without the protective spells,” Oliver muttered to himself, running a hand over his stained dressing gown dejectedly. 

Roy hopped back onto the couch and reached for his coffee mug, then realised he’d grabbed the one with wine dregs and put it back down. 

“Maybe we should talk about why we’re here?” Matthew directed his words at Oliver, who seemed to shake himself out of his daze.

“Yes... apologies. You’re right.” Folding the dressing gown, Oliver hung it over the back of a dining chair and settled at the far end of the sofa.

Matthew leaned forward in the armchair, clasping his hands in front of him. “Roy, isn’t it? We need to know if you can get into the palace.”

Roy’s eyes went wide. “Hey, look, I’m not getting involved in anything there. I’ve got enough people after me as it is!” Felix Marek was bad enough; if these guys were planning some sort of palace heist then they’d have Morgan after them. Roy doubted Oliver’s promise of protection would hold up under those circumstances, no matter how competent the guy seemed. He folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t help you, anyway. Marek is one thing, but what makes you think I could break into the palace?”

“You recognised the lock installed at Felix Marek’s home and called it a palace lock,” Oliver explained. “We might be wrong, but we concluded that you would only know the palace used that type of spell if you had encountered it there.”

Yeah, he could see how they had figured that. Damn his stupid mouth. “Well, even so. I can’t help you. Sorry, mate.”

“Please. This is important,” Matthew interjected. He was rubbing his hands together, leaning so far forward that Roy thought he might fall from the chair. “If you know a way in, you need to tell me.”

“Makes a change, hearing a ‘please’ from you,” Roy shot back. He hadn’t so quickly forgotten the interrogation he had been subjected to at their last encounter.

“Listen, I’m sorry for how I behaved last time. I really do need your help.” The desperation in Matthew’s voice was palpable. “It’s— The Palace has my son. I need to get him and his friend out.” He tilted his head down into his open palms, as though the words were too much to face.

So that was why Matthew had changed his tune, though picturing him as a father was jarring. Whatever his son had done, it must have been bad. Despite his own feelings about Morgan, Roy hadn’t ever heard of the Palace kidnapping people for no reason.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Oliver said, taking over. “He isn’t a criminal, he’s only eighteen—”

“Eighteen’s old enough to be a criminal, trust me.”

“He’s not.” Oliver’s voice was firm. “I can’t go into detail, but he’s in terrible danger there, through no fault of his own. I understand I’ve asked a lot of you already, but all we need is knowledge. Is there a way in?”

“Look, I feel for you, I really do.” Roy wasn’t lying; this discussion was shaking him more than he wanted to admit. “I don’t know how to get into the palace. Genuinely. I haven’t been there in years.”

“The lock, though? How did you know?” Matthew said, raising his head.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and took a heavy breath. Light was seeping through the thin blinds over the window. Another bright summer morning, just like the day he’d heard the news. 

“My mum. She taught me.” 

They didn’t have a right to the story, but Roy found himself continuing anyway, words stiff after a lifetime of being unsaid.

“Look, she... She worked in the palace, alright? When she’d come home, she’d set little locks for me as challenges. It was a game we’d play.”

The memory was still raw, choking him as it came out. She had been so proud when he’d first cracked one. The mischievous smile they’d shared, like co-conspirators. Perhaps that’s why he’d always had a taste for being in places he shouldn’t. 

“Where did she work?” Oliver asked gently.

“I dunno. For the Royal Family, and she was there when... well, you know.”

“She died in the attack,” Oliver said. It wasn’t a question, but Roy nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Matthew looked like he genuinely meant it, and Roy was unexpectedly touched. 

“Eh, it was nothing to do with you.” He shrugged again, but Matthew seemed to flinch as he spoke.

Oliver gave a deep sigh. “Alright. Well, unfortunately, that means we need an alternative plan.”

Traffic hummed past outside, muffled behind the closed windows. Roy had been truthful when he said he didn’t want to get tied up in any more criminal activity. The palace, though. To be where she had been. There wasn’t anywhere else Roy could think of that was so out of his reach, and yet so close to his heart.

“You know,” Roy said, breaking the silence, “there’s that garden party tomorrow. If it was me, I’d try and get hold of a ticket. Well, if it was really me, I’d swap shifts with a mate and get on the delivery crew, but I’m guessing that isn’t really an option for you.”

The delivery company he worked for had managed to get the contract for the anniversary events. He’d wanted nothing to do with the damn party when they were assigning jobs, but now he was starting to see things in a different light. In his experience, forcing your way into a building was the less efficient method. Roy had done it at Marek’s out of necessity, but he always preferred being let in through the front door.

“The anniversary,” Matthew muttered, looking at Oliver. “I can’t believe it, but I’d forgotten… it’s tomorrow.”

He unfolded himself from the chair and crossed over to the dining table. Roy craned his head back as far as he could without having to move from the couch, but stopped when he saw that Matthew was merely pacing the length of the room silently. 

Oliver was drumming his fingers against his leg. “Finding a ticket will be no simple task,” he stated. “Even if you were able to procure one, I’m sure there’ll be a guest list, too.” He turned to Matthew. “I’ll locate a list of the attendees. Perhaps seeing it will offer up a viable option.”

Roy couldn’t suppress the smirk that formed as Oliver spoke. “You don’t need a list, mate. I know exactly who’s got a ticket, but you’re not gonna like it.” Behind him, he heard Matthew stop moving. “Don’t you guys know Marek goes to the party every year?”

“Felix Marek,” Matthew said flatly. “What is your obsession with him, anyway? Why do you know that?”

“I’m not obsessed!” Roy whirled around, kneeling up on the sofa to challenge the accusation. “The bastard made a ton of money, alright? After the takeover. You worked for him; didn’t you wonder how he got so rich? Or did you just not care?” Roy scowled at Matthew, who didn’t look away.

“Tell me,” he growled, and Roy sank back down.

“They say he got a big payout for his ‘contributions’.” Roy made air quotes with his fingers. “He used to work in weapon design back in Vailberg, up until he got into business with Aiden Heliodor. He knows how they did it. I know it. Why do you think I broke in there? I was looking for answers.”

For a moment, Matthew didn’t move, an unreadable expression flashing across his face. When he spoke again his tone was softer. “So say we get the ticket from Felix Marek. What’s to stop him just telling the Palace that it’s gone missing?”

“I dunno.” Roy flopped back down next to Oliver, who jerked away from his touch.

“Matthew,” Oliver said thoughtfully. “The lock you were asked to install at Felix Marek’s property... Perhaps it isn’t thieves that are his primary concern.” He threw a glance in Roy’s direction. “The people who attacked us didn’t seem like they were supposed to draw attention. I don’t think Felix Marek wants anyone to know he had the wand in the first place. I don’t think he wants the weapon traced back to him.”

“So what? You’re suggesting we threaten to turn him in if he doesn’t get us into the party?”

“I’m just saying it could be leverage. We have a wand. Felix doesn’t know about our relationship with Morgan Heliodor; he has no reason to believe we wouldn’t take him down with us, so to speak, should he try to hand us in.”

Matthew ran a hand through his hair and Oliver shifted his seat.

“I mean, I don’t like it either — it’s dangerous,” he conceded. “I’m just suggesting it as an option.”

Roy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re not seriously going to go to the man trying to kill us all and ask him to take you to a party?”

Oliver steepled his fingers. “Felix Marek doesn’t know me. I should be able to arrange a meeting—”

“No,” Matthew said sharply, interrupting Oliver’s rationalisation. “Marek and I have business to settle. I don’t appreciate being attacked in the street, especially when they drag my friend into it, too. When I’m done with him, we aren’t going to need leverage.”

“Erm... but if attacking Marek directly was always an option, why the hell have we been hiding from him?” It seemed a bit unfair that Roy had been stuck hiding in a safe house if they could have just threatened Marek and forced him to back off this whole time.

“Things have changed.” Matthew didn’t seem like he was going to provide further explanation. The expression on his face, however, was enough for Roy to decide that he wouldn’t want to be Felix Marek right now. 

Oliver had reassumed his tapping, his expression sombre. “If you convince him to get you in, you’ll be alone.”

“I know,” Matthew replied. 

A conversation that Roy wasn’t privy to seemed like it was taking place beyond Matthew’s simple reply. He shuddered nonetheless.

Matthew was planning to break into the palace solo, right under Morgan’s nose, with only his enemy for company and at the most important official event of the year. Roy didn’t feel like he was being the stupid one this time.

“You promised you’d get Marek off my back, right?” The two men looked up at Roy as he spoke, but he continued before they could comment. He really hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. “I’m not saying I’m going to risk my neck for you, but Oliver sounds like he’s got it right to me. You’d be an idiot going in there alone. I’ll swap a shift; there’s always someone who doesn’t want to work those hours. Just make sure I never have to hear from Marek again. Or Morgan, for that matter.” 

Roy half expected them to tell him no, that he’d only get in the way. To be honest, they would probably be right.

Instead, Matthew extended a hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Roy clasped it in his own, Matthew’s fingers cold to the touch.