#there's not much left over from his very first design but. despite everything. you know

[gwinverarrouz]

The first time I ever drew this character was exactly ten years ago today :'>

This is such a quick doodle, sorry Sylvestre, maybe I ought to muster up something better for your anniversary– but at the same time, it's kinda fitting? I made him up one day where I was very frustrated with my art, because I couldn't get anything to look how I wanted, and I just… decided to draw something for me. And then I wanted to draw him again, and, eh, it's ten years later and I'm still doodling this guy, apparently!

[crusty-chronicles]

is there any chance you could add killua for the airheaded but strong s/o headcanons? If not, then no worries, I just love how you write them!

Yeah, I don't mind but it's gonna be platonic because I'm a little iffy about writing for him romantically. He's just a boy 🥺🥺🥺 This is mostly a crack fic.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Killua (HxH)

Honestly tried to kill you at one point

Oh you're strong huh?

Then proceeds to hit you with everything he's got, only to see that it hardly affected you. (Kinda like the way he first treated Zushi)

After that he's petty, but impressed.

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 You've earned his respect 🥳🥳🥳

You're basically Gon 2.0

And he hates it

Cannot take you two anywhere

"We should break the lock to get in." Gon suggested.

"Are you stupid?" You scoffed.

"What's the point of having a door if you're just gonna break it?"

And Killua is momentarily at peace that at least one of you has some sense. Until you open your mouth again.

"Obviously we should smash open a window."

And Gon is nodding along enthusiastically

"You're right! What would we do without you 🤩"

And Killua is just 😮‍💨.

He is the parent of the group and I will die on this hill

If Gon's the sun, you're a nuke

He's constantly dragging you away from Hisoka

Nope. Not today

Why do you insist on talking to strangers.

No scratch that.

Why do you insist on talking to creepy strangers????

It gives him a massive headache everytime you almost get abducted.

Honestly thought about putting a tracker on you to avoid this happening.

But then he remembers you're practically indestructible so he drops it.

Is afraid Illumi will come for you and hurt you.

He was never allowed to have friends, and after Illumi threatened you and Gon at the Hunter Exam, he's very protective.

But then he remembers something you said after Greed Island.

"The three of us are all gonna become the best of the best. We're gonna get all wrinkly and old together and still kick butt!!! We're gonna stick together no matter what!"

And it temporarily quells the fear of his brother.

It makes him look forward to that outcome and gives him something to fight a little harder for.

When it comes to fighting, he does get a little envious of how you and Gon just rush in without thinking.

And how you always manage to win despite the circumstance.

But he never feels left behind because of it.

Like with Gon, he won't baby you, just call you an idiot and move on.

You fell?

Get up loser.

You can't read?

Find somebody else to translate. Or he'll make you do it and be laughing nonstop while you struggle to pronounce the word "Apple"

"Gon what color's an orange?"

"An orange is the same color as it's name. Just like a lemon."

Please somebody take you two back to first grade.

Killua is begging.

Even though he won't baby you, he'll rush as fast as he can if you're in actual danger.

You got caught by the phantom troupe?

"Are you completely brain dead!?!!? Where are you!?!?"

Now he regrets not putting a tracker on you.

"This nice clown man gave me candy and told me to follow him." You tell him over CALL.

"HISOOKAAAAA!!!!"

He is screaming and panicking.

You trespassed into the mountains his family lives to see him.

"WHY???? DON'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MIKE!?!?"

And when he gets there he sees you rubbing the monstrous canine's tummy. Petting him and calling him a "Good Boy."

Names he has called you out of spite: Idiot, Moron, Dummy, Psycho, Airhead, Ditz, and probably Pea Brain

On the bright side, you are Alluka's favorite person.

"Give me your ribs."

"Oh, are you hungry? Let's see if we can't find you a smokehouse for those ribs."

And it baffles both souls so much that Nanika accepts that as fulfilling her command.

Plus you have endless amounts of energy that works to drain both girls out. Even when they've both already swapped twice.

Killua designates you her official babysitter when he's busy.

You are a complete lunatic and moron, but you're one of the people he trusts the most.

Even if he does complain about you a lot.

MASTERLIST

[cgunderwearstories]

The Underwear Volleyball Game

It was a blistering summer afternoon, the kind of day where the sun feels like it's throwing a tantrum, making everything and everyone melt. The local adult volleyball team, "Spiked Punch," had gathered for their weekly game at the park. The sand was so hot it felt like walking on a griddle, and everyone was already sweating through their clothes before the warm-up was even finished.

"Guys," Greg, the team captain, panted as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, "I don’t know about you, but I’m cooking alive here. What do you say we make this a little more…comfortable?"

The team looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I’m game," said Tony, who was known for his impulsive decisions. "But let’s keep it PG. How about… underwear only?"

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but as they all stood there, feeling the sun beat down on them, the idea started to sound better and better.

"Alright, let's do it," said Mitch, always the first to jump on board with any wild idea. "It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in worse."

Soon, a chorus of agreement followed, and the players began stripping down, leaving only their underwear.

Team "Boxer Brigade," as they now called themselves, consisted of:

Greg, the team captain, who sported a pair of red boxers with little white skulls on them. A tough guy on the court, but apparently a fan of quirky designs.

Tony, always the life of the party, had on bright yellow boxers with smiley faces all over them. They practically glowed in the sunlight, much like his personality.

Mitch, the wildcard, was wearing boxers with little superheroes on them. Every time he jumped, Spider-Man, Batman, and the Hulk seemed to battle it out in mid-air.

Dave, the quiet one of the group, was full of surprises. His boxers were a deep purple with neon green dinosaurs stomping across them. No one saw that coming.

Sam, the prankster, had on boxers covered in cartoon pizza slices, complete with gooey cheese and pepperoni. It wasn’t clear if he loved pizza that much, or just wanted to mess with everyone’s concentration.

Oliver, the team’s tallest player, sported boxers with little surfing penguins riding waves. The contrast of his tall, lanky frame with the tiny penguins was enough to make everyone giggle.

On the other side of the net was Team Tighties, who had an altogether different look:

Ryan, the co-captain, was rocking classic white tighty whities. But not just any tighty whities—his had the words “Captain Underpants” embroidered on the waistband. It was a power move, really.

Mark, the team's gym buff, was in Jockey white bikini briefs, which left very little to the imagination. He flexed unnecessarily often, making sure everyone knew exactly how much time he spent at the gym.

Jake, the strategist, had on what could only be described as “vintage” tighty whities. They were a bit faded, with a slightly stretched-out waistband. He claimed they were his lucky pair from college.

Brad, the jokester, wore white briefs with little hearts on them. "They’re from Valentine’s Day," he explained, but no one asked.

Steve, the guy who always seemed to have everything in order, wore white cotton panties with the days of the week on the back. Today was “Sunday” written in glittery black cursive.

Frank, the quiet but intense player, had on tighty whities with a single, tiny, embroidered teddy bear on the left side. No one dared to ask about the teddy bear.

As they got into position, the spectators gathered around couldn’t help but laugh, but the teams were undeterred.

Despite their new attire, the game began with a fierce serve from Ryan. The ball was flying back and forth across the net, and the sight of grown men diving in colorful boxers and tighty whities was a spectacle to behold. Every time Mitch jumped, his superheros battled it out in epic slow-motion. Oliver’s penguins seemed to surf along with him as he went for spikes. And Ryan’s tighty whities, emblazoned with “Captain Underpants,” gave him an almost heroic flair, or so he liked to think.

The sun was blazing down on the park, and the game had reached a whole new level of intensity. The teams, Boxer Brigade and Team Tighties, were locked in an epic battle, both on the court and—unbeknownst to one side—off of it.

What no one knew was that Tony, the mischievous trickster of the Boxer Brigade, had secretly brought along a volleyball with a strange, mystical marking on it. Tony had picked it up from an old, dusty shop he’d stumbled upon while on vacation in the middle of nowhere. The shopkeeper had warned him that the ball was "enchanted" and would “stir the passions of any who played with it.” Tony, never one to pass up on a good prank, figured that could only mean fun for the game. He didn’t believe in magic, but he did believe in chaos, and that was just as good.

As the match went on, the ball—glowing faintly in the scorching sunlight—moved between the teams with increasing speed and intensity. The heat, exhaustion, and the competitive spirit were all getting to Team Tighties. But something else was starting to take hold too: the curse.

It began subtly. Ryan, the co-captain of Team Tighties, missed a serve by just a hair. Mark, the gym buff, rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he could’ve done it better. Ryan shot him a glare, his tighty whities (emblazoned with “Captain Underpants”) seeming to tighten as his temper flared.

"You think you could do better?" Ryan snapped, his face flushing red as the heat, and something more sinister, started to boil over.

"Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time strutting around in those kiddie undies, you wouldn’t miss!" Mark shot back, flexing his biceps for emphasis.

The rest of Team Tighties watched in stunned silence as their two most level-headed players began to bicker. But soon, the curse’s influence spread like wildfire.

Jake, the strategist with the slightly faded tighty-whities, stepped in to try and cool things down, but Brad, always the jokester, saw an opportunity. With a quick motion, Brad yanked on Jake’s waistband, giving him a classic wedgie that sent Jake stumbling forward.

"Hey, what the hell, man?!" Jake yelled, his hands clawing at his back to free his underwear from the deep wedgie. But before he could retaliate, Steve, ever the organized one, piped up with a sarcastic comment about how Jake probably had his lucky vintage undies on the wrong day of the week.

That was it. The curse had fully taken hold.

Chaos erupted on the court. Ryan and Mark, who had once been the pillars of the team, were now locked in a ridiculous fight, each one trying to pants the other. Mark’s grip was strong from his hours at the gym, and he managed to yank Ryan’s underpants down to his ankles. But before Ryan could respond, Mark found his own waistband in Ryan’s grasp, and in a swift motion, Mark’s bikini briefs were down around his knees.

Brad, meanwhile, had moved on from wedgies to full-on tearing. He grabbed the waistband of Steve’s "Sunday" panties and, with a mighty pull, ripped it clean in half. Steve, horrified at the destruction of his perfectly planned outfit, lunged at Brad and managed to get his hands on Brad’s heart-patterned briefs. A rip echoed across the court as Brad’s underwear met the same fate.

Jake, who had finally freed himself from his wedgie, saw Frank standing calmly on the side, seemingly unaffected. Frank, with his tiny embroidered teddy bear on his tighty whities, had always been the quiet one, the calm one. But the curse didn’t care. Jake rushed at Frank, ready to take him down in the same ridiculous manner that was sweeping across the team.

Frank, caught off guard, tried to dodge, but Jake was quick. He grabbed Frank’s waistband and gave it a solid yank. Frank’s tighty whities stretched, but instead of tearing, they snapped back with a resounding thwack that sent Frank stumbling forward. Jake wasn’t done. Fueled by the curse, he reached out and delivered a wedgie so fierce that Frank let out a yelp of surprise.

The scene on the court was one of absolute chaos. The once-proud Team Tighties was now a mess of torn underwear, bruised egos, and sand-covered bodies. The Boxer Brigade, standing on the other side of the net, watched with a mix of horror and amusement. They hadn’t expected the curse to take things this far.

“Uh… should we stop this?” Greg asked, glancing at Tony, who was still holding the cursed volleyball, now glowing slightly in his hands.

“I didn’t think it would actually work,” Tony admitted, looking genuinely concerned for the first time.

“Well, do something!” Mitch yelled, dodging a rogue piece of torn tighty whities that flew across the net.

Tony, unsure of what to do, quickly muttered, “Uh, I reverse the curse! Take it back! Whatever!” and threw the ball to the ground. The glowing ceased immediately.

As if a switch had been flipped, the members of Team Tighties suddenly stopped in their tracks, blinking as if waking from a dream. They looked around at the destruction—torn underwear hanging off in tatters, sand stuck to sweaty, naked bodies, and a few still mid-wedgie.

Ryan was the first to speak. “What the hell just happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” Mark said, looking down at his ruined tighty whities and then at the remains of Ryan’s. “But I’m pretty sure we just ripped each other’s underwear to shreds.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of the situation set in. Then, as if on cue, everyone burst into laughter. The sight of each other, standing there in what little was left of their underwear, was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“Nice moves there, ‘Captain Underpants,’” Mark said, slapping Ryan on the back, causing him to stumble forward, tripping over his shredded tighty whities.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your gym buddies would’ve fared any better,” Ryan shot back, laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

The rest of the team was in similar states of disarray, apologizing between fits of laughter. Steve, holding the remains of his Sunday briefs, shook his head with a grin. “Guess I’m gonna need a new pair for next week.”

Tony, still holding the now-normal volleyball, sheepishly approached the group. “Uh, guys? About that… I might have brought a cursed volleyball. Sorry about that.”

The looks he got were a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Tony, you’re an idiot,” Jake said, still trying to pull the last of the sand out of his tattered briefs.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots too, for going along with it,” Brad added, giving Tony a playful shove.

In the end, the game was forgotten in favor of recovering their dignity—or what was left of it. They all promised to meet up again next week, but with one condition: normal volleyballs, normal clothes, and definitely no curses.

[hana-no-seiiki]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

YANDERE! ACTOR OC x IDOL! READER x YANDERE! FAN OC

— inspired by oshi no ko & lana del ray’s pretty when you cry. ff: did you know i was gonna have my usernames in social medias be “akumarine” which mixes my two fixations att (oshi no ko & iruma)? no? well now you do!

tw/cw: yandere themes; mentions of seggs and substances but no smut. mentions of non-con. reader is a cold-hearted bastard. substance use. character death. murder. reader gets called pretty (but that’s a gn term so fite me). necrophillia.

this was inspired by uh… one of gen’s stories. let’s say. and mr. devil’s stoner reader.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“I’ll wait for you babe, that’s all I do, babe.”

GENIUSES WERE BORN, NOT CREATED

That was the mindset Kahliel had. Some people were literally and figuratively born different. Only a select few were able to gaze into the intricacies of their craft and tune it to heights others could only imagine.

You were one such genius. It only took one gaze to understand that. You saw the set in ways even he didn’t account. The lighting, the blocking, and the subtle body language, the angles of which you thrived in. He only heard of your amazing work as an idol, how you manage to look entrancing in every shot and moment, how you are able to mesmerize even those that swore they hated you.

But genius, true geniuses also have one other trait Kahliel recognized. It was their heartless nature.

You two met on set years ago as young adults. It was one of his earlier works as the main actor. Not a film, but a musical. Even then he could see the void in your eyes. Your cold demeanor repelled the people around you. He could have never expected that kind of performance from a person who seemed to hate even the regular ground they walked on, much more the stage.

That musical launched him to stardom and led to you two having sex for the first time.

“All those special times I spent with you, my love. They don’t mean shit compared to all your drugsz”

It was embarrassing really. Kahliel had no time and therefore no prior experience on such things. But you just looked so pretty underneath the blue dim lighting of the club the afterparty was held in. A drink, maybe a couple of weed later and you found yourselfs in a dingy motel’s bedroom. Entangled in eachother’s bodies, the scent of sex, sweat and the strongest of all — puke wafting through the air.

He couldn’t believe it. He admired you for quite a bit. Sure you are stoic, standoffish. But there were times you’d defend him from other people on set. You weren’t cruel and unfair.

At least, he thought you were.

Kahliel was proud of his performance as an actor. So, as you left him that night. Without so much as a farewell. He does not cry.

He does not weep.

Even as his heart was shattering.

HE MEETS YOU AGAIN ON MUSIC VIDEO SET. YOUR MUSIC VIDEO’S SET.

And it took him everything not to run up to you. He had not heard about you at all after the musical. Too focused with his own career and distraught by the way you treated him and left, he threw himself into acting, partying, fucking other actors and actresses — heck even randos or fans who’d take his money and shut up about it. It was only by destiny’s design that you two cross paths again.

“[Y/N]?”

“Yes?”

Indifference. The same look you gave him way back then. Like he was just dirt underneath your shoe. You probably don’t even remember that you’ve slept with him once before. Much less the kindness you spared when everyone else looked down at him. The very reason he entrusted his virginity to you.

But then, there was also something else. Your eyes were blood-shot. Your countenance, despite being as heavenly as he remembered, showed signs of deterioration.

You were high.

“No, I just wanted to give you these. As a token of acting together once again.” He said as he presented a large bouquet of spider-lilies, practically blinding you with its reds.

“Thank you. Leave them over there.” You pointed to a corner with a grateful smile.

Later on, he saw you throwing his gift in the trash. Not a hint of emotion on your face.

“But I don’t really mind, I’ve got much more than that.”

Viné was a fan of yours from the very beginning. Under the pseudonym Grapevine, he’d post regular updates. Essentially he stalked you for a living. He had a day job of course. But his true passions lied with watching you on the daily

You’ve gotten sloppy lately. You almost never check your gifts from him. Accepting them eagerly. Not a care in the world if they were bugged or with a tracker.

He used to think that it was terrible how you got into substances. Worried how it’d impact your health and performance on stage and screen. But now, now he reveled in it.

Viné already knew where you lived of course. But there were times where you’d move all of sudden or where he wasn’t free to check on you.

Now, his hands trembled in ecstasy as he watched you in your room.

But you were with someone else.

Viné didn’t care for much aside from what you starred in, and even in those songs or films all he could focus on was you.

So who was this man standing in your room as you were drugged out? Pushing you unto your bed with a grin so wide it hurt just to look at it.

Viné stared as this man defiled you. He watched as he saw him squeezed you tight, smothering his filthy lips all over your body.

You . . .

You were betraying him.

How could you do this to him? He supported you all this this time but this is how he gets repaid? A free show to watching his god be with someone else?

He does not watch the rest of the live-show. Utterly disgusted by your behavior and cheating.

He quickly made his way through the mess and trash strewn all over his house and grabbed a dull knife from the kitchen. He sets off into the night.

He had to teach you a lesson.

The two men, despite your arms going limp, continued their actions. Unaware that you had choked on your own vomit a while ago.

A smile was etched on your face, pretty as it always was.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[the-midnight-blooms]

i know it's over | psh

pairing: park seonghwa x reader AU: historical au, war period word count: 3.7k ATEEZ as angst tropes series: Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

masterlist

Trope: Tragic Ending

When the news of the war came, she looked up at her lover who met her gaze- those once kind eyes full of love and adoration now brimming with social responsibility. They said nothing to each other. They didn’t need to, courtesy of the love that bloomed from childhood- spending their time talking their night away so much that everything that was hers was his, everything that was his was hers-if not more. They did not hold a fragment of each other, but their whole entities.

From the moment the country looked to their leaders in anticipation as they spoke of their allies marching to war, everybody knew that at one point their lovers would be pushed in line marching with them. So, they held onto each other longer, savouring every word, every touch, kiss, moment, letter. Anything and everything that reminisced their very presence. The streets had gone quieter at night sometimes you could hear the faint jazz music playing, the flickering candles on the windowsills reflecting the fluid shadows that moved under the cover of the night, ever so gently-music in their feet. Yet, when the ladies at the dress shop had told her of the news, she dropped the dress in her hand and fled from the shop, heart pounding in her chest blood rushing through her veins. Launching up the steps, she stormed through the front door her husband, who was in the kitchen, with creased eyebrows rushed into the living room. She looked up at him and knew.

Knew that he wouldn't have hesitated one bit. That he had already gone and enlisted, he was probably the first man in line at the office. Curse his honour. Curse his patriotism. Curse his integrity. His hands cupped the sides of her cheeks as tears blurred her vision. Seonghwa knew that he didn't have to admit to his crime, that she already knew. That's why she had left from her work in the middle of the day; she never did that in the ten years she worked for them. Even on the day he proposed to her, he relived that day over and over again-the memory of it persisting in his head.

He consulted the old lady, Mrs Noe, the oldest dressmaker in town almost on his knees begging her to give her best dressmaker the day off.

"Why would I do that, boy? Get up you look foolish." she snapped. Hastily, Seonghwa got off his knees following the old lady to the back of the shop. His pleas were getting nowhere, "Especially at the busiest time of the year, it's wedding season boy. All the brides are frantic, unless you want to grab a tape measure and help us- leave." His heart fluttered at the word 'wedding', a blush creeping onto his face as he slumped onto the chair in her cramped office.

"I...I wish to propose to her." He whispered, just loud enough for Mrs Noe to hear him. The scrunched up look on her face had faltered, her lips uplifting into a wide smile. She giggled; the sound had him taken aback. Did she just giggle?

"Oh, you silly boy, why didn't you just start off with that? Of course, I’ll give her the day off. Only on one condition." Seonghwa perked up in his chair, brown eyes wide and attentive. "We design her wedding dress, and she must still work here after marriage." That's actually two. Regardless, Seonghwa did not care. Springing up from his seat, he placed a kiss on Mrs Noe's cheek, who angrily hmphed despite the small smile complacent on her lips. Though the happiness only came from one party. When she arrived at the shop later that day and was informed by Mrs Noe that she wasn't needed tomorrow, hence had the day to herself a wave of sadness enveloped her. A tsunami of customers were making visits to the dressmaker's day after day, waving rolls of cash; and demands for bridal attire while the softness of the summer air lingered, with the sun beaming down at them even as the day travelled towards an end. An uneasy thought settled into her brain thinking that perhaps she was underperforming at her job, what if her manager was beginning to disapprove of her work?

Her solemn mood had continued the next day, even when Seonghwa came to take her to their spot, a large oak tree that overlooked the meadows around fifteen minutes from her home. Though their clasped hands had sent a ripple of comfort flowing through him, he sensed the palpable dejection as she trudged towards the tree. As soon as they sat, the tears had burst from their banks; burying her head in his shoulder as she cried.

“I think I’m going to get sacked.” She wailed through her tears. “Mrs Noe gave me the day off and she never gives me the day off.” He couldn’t hold back his snicker, her head shot up from his shoulder, tears coming to a sudden stop with a look of fury plastered across her features.

“Are you laughing at me?” She inquired; the accusatory tone almost made him coo at her. She looked so cute, with her furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips.

“Shouldn’t you be happy you have time off between the chaos of the shop?” She shook her head profusely.

“No, I’d rather have the job done once and for all and enjoy the quietness of the shop for about two months.” Gently, he tugged at her and she rested her head on his shoulder again, legs outstretched in front of them. “What if she sacks me, Hwa?” A small laugh escaped from his lips, the melody easing the panic in her soul.

“I don’t think so, Jagiya. She loves you too much for that.” She peered up at him beneath her lashes, catching the gentleness in eyes, the bridge of his long nose, the overturn of his soft, plump lips. “Forget about that for now. You’re overthinking.” For a while, they were pressed up against each other- his arm draped around her waist the red velvet ring box protruding in his left pocket.

“Do you ever think of a future with us?” She blurted; her voice carried away by the wind that came to caress them. In that moment he wanted to do nothing more than to kiss her as his fingers reached for his pocket. Surely, she wanted a future for them both too, right?

“Every day. Every moment, every second my heart beats I think about how lonely I feel without you.” Suddenly her head got up from his shoulder, craning to meet his gaze. “How much I find myself unable to do so much as breath, when you’re not there but when you’re next to me I can’t think.”

“Hwa-,” she breathed, she drew closer to him until their foreheads touched.

“Please. Be mine. Be my wife.” He begged, his hands travelled to his pocket, pulling out the ring. This time a sob escaped from her lips once more but one built from gaiety when he broke the burning question, “Will you marry me?” violently she shook her head, yes, slipping the ring onto her finger. Flinging her arms around his neck they held onto each other so tightly then as if they were afraid that they would be torn apart by natural forces forced to live a life of solitude.

It was anger, pride and discontent that was wedging a gap between them. The pride of the selfish leaders that ruled countries, manifesting wars creating weapons to flaunt their strength and brutality. But what was the point of such strength if all it did was kill each other and tear a mother away from her child? A husband away from his wife?

Seonghwa noticed how his wife did not cry during the last few weeks he had before he left for the military. Instead, she had that beautiful smile plastered amongst her lips tending to his every little need. Uncharacteristically, she began to reduce her hours at the shop besides at this point nobody wanted those fancy dresses anymore, not since nobody knew when they’d get the chance to wear them again. Instead, the government had requested the tailors to start designing and sewing as many military uniforms as they could. She spent most of week running beige polyester under the sewing machine, her hands gliding over the fabric but lacking the passion she once had for her work. It pained her that soon her husband would be wearing one of these uniforms. A majority of the time when they were both at home, they were glued to each other’s side: cooking together, cleaning together but often in silence. There was no conversation to be had anymore as she knew that if she opened her mouth, she’d submit him to her vulnerability which was the last thing she wanted to do. Even the day, his gorgeous black locks had been snipped away at the hairdressers, she bit her lip and kissed his cheek. Seonghwa felt his own tears forming as he caught his reflection in the barber’s mirror. He held it together, still. What a pitiful thing for a grown man to want to cry over.

She lay awake later that night, staring blankly at the ceiling as the moonlight streamed in through the slit in the curtains beaming down at his resting body. He looked so ethereal, her hands moving to trace the outline of his structured nose and jawline relishing the way his skin felt smooth to the touch. Would it feel this way after the war?

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, dear? Long day for us tomorrow.” His groggy voice pausing her movements, clutching her hand against his cheeks she shifted closer towards him the warmth radiating of his body comforting her.

“Do you have to go?” her voice quivered, at once betraying her pent-up sobriety.

“You know I have to, my love. My country is very dear to me.”

“Dearer than I?”

“No” he blurted, without thinking. How could she suggest such a thing? The last few weeks he had spent trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d had to leave her- without ever knowing when he was going to return. For the first time, since his enlistment she sobbed. She didn’t care anymore, she just wanted him as selfish as she seemed; she wanted him for eternity. Sinking her head into his chest, his fingers ran through her hair as she clutched onto his shirt as tight as she could. As if that would stop him from leaving, as if that would decapitate his morality and everything he stood for. Their lips found each other in the midst of all their hurt, passion flooding through them. All their love, adoration, affection poured through them that night as they remained within each other’s arms unable and unwilling to let each other go from the comfort of their hold.

A whiff of steam evaporated into the cold winter air that eerie morning, as the station bustled with the intense movement of soldiers moving to the train. With clasped hands, they inched forward, the pummelling of their hearts in sync as he stopped in his tracks turning, no longer a mile but a mere two metres away from the train. His arm wrapped around her waist pulling her towards him, pressing his lips to her forehead, nose then lips- the same systematic order he always kissed her.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” He muttered and she nodded. “Everyday?” she scoffed.

“Maybe not every day, but I’ll write an account of everything I did each day in a week.” She joked, a fond look on both their faces. A comfortable silence held among them, interrupted by the whistling of the train and uproar of the noise by the men running to catch the train before it was too late. “Come back to me, Hwa. As soon as you can, you must come back. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll come back, no matter how broken I am. You own every last part of me, complete or incomplete.” He beckoned, pushing his lips against hers for God knows if it was the last time. The crowd pushed against them, and Seonghwa pulled away, their hands gliding over each other their fingertips touching last as he ambled towards the train. Her body glued to the ground watched the train set off, knowing that even though she couldn’t see him he was watching her through the window, only God knew when they’d meet again.

My love, my life, my heart,

For everyday I’m here, my nights are filled with dreams that I am at home holding you in my arms as that song you love plays. It’s a dream that’s both euphoric and painful for me and I know with each passing day you ponder when I will be home again, I wonder all the same. However, good things come to those who wait. It’s significantly quieter out here at the front and rumour has it that the general says that some soldiers may be able to return home. We listen to the news on the radio every night, as those pesky politicians fill us with promises of the war ending soon. (The war was supposed to end three months ago and we’re still here.) Then there’s that burning question I know you’ll ask. When is soon? I don’t know my love, but we’ll wait all the same.

I hope you’re taking care of yourself; I want both you and my little Park to be as strong as he (or she) can be.

All my love,

Seonghwa

My dearest Seonghwa,

Though I am growing impatient by the day, you’re right: good things do come to those who wait. A customer at Mrs Noe’s last week told us that her husband, who works in defence, suggests that the war will come to a close. Many of the countries are forging alliances now, and the enemy state seems to be losing traction with the leader gone and substantial lack of funding. Hopefully that means good for us! I hope you’re eating well and keeping warm as the nights grow even colder than before. The last thing we need is you falling ill.

Yes, I am eating well, little Park is making sure of that. He has a big appetite much like his father. I miss you more and more. Please come back to me. Come back to us.

Your love.

My heart,

Just two more weeks my love, just two more. It’s been a while since our last letter, I trust it’s little Park exhausting you. That little bugger. I cannot wait to hold him in my arms when I come home. Two more weeks then it’s just the three of us, nothing can tear us apart then. Remember my comrades, San and Mingi I was telling you about? Those arseholes get to leave in about a week and they won’t stop going on about it. How jealous I am, I tried to put in a request to leave early but no can do. There are so many things that I wish to say, but I can’t write them. I have to look at you, even as I close my eyes now the words rush to my head at thought of you but disappear when I reopen them. So let’s wait two more weeks my dear, and hold each other again like we did long ago.

All my love,

Seonghwa

“Comrade Park?” His head snapped up from his book, catching the eyes of his superior. Ditching his book on his bunk, he stood up from his seat standing up as straight as he could. “It’s ok boy, sit back down.” Hesitantly, Seonghwa sat back down, the lieutenant positioning himself next to him. A silence flooded between them; he wondered what the lieutenant had travelled all the way to their camp for. It had to be more than to take a seat on his bed. An anxiety fulfilled him as his mind suggested that there were still a few more things to do at the front.

“We need a few men to volunteer themselves to go up North for about three days. There’s been sightings of a rebel group, a common enemy that both we and our former enemy share.” He paused; a breath hitched in his throat.

“I’m sorry I cannot sir. There’s not long left until I am discharged and I have a wife and child waiting for me back home. I wasn’t there during my child’s birth to begin with. I think I’ve stayed away from home long enough.” he declared; it was true he had enough of this measly war. He did not care if the superiors praised him for his determination on the battlefield and war strategy. His military service proved his capabilities beyond the job in the mundane office he had once worked at.

“I understand, but it’s only three days. There will be no combat, think of it like going on a camping trip-,”

“With all due respect sir, that’s what they had said to us to get us to enlist. It will be fun, a game, a ‘camping trip’, and this has been nothing more than hell on the face of the earth.” He mourned the empty bunk next to him, of Comrade Kang, a college professor who despite his timid appearance had great strength and shared Seonghwa’s capacity for strategy on the field. He lost that man in the front line; he took his last breath in Seonghwa’s arms-the sound of his coarse breath engraved in his memory.

“You’ll get to leave for home early. How long do you have comrade? A week and a half? Say three days more and you’re done. You can kiss this camp goodbye and see me in six months at San’s wedding.” A deep sigh had escaped from Seonghwa’s lips, the notion of leaving the safety of the camp resisted within him for a few moments before he reluctantly agreed. The lieutenant lightly cheered, patting him on the back before turning on his heel.

Three days my dear.

“Sanghoon!” a bellowing voice echoed throughout the home, followed by the eruption of high-pitched giggles. “Get down from there otherwise just you wait until your appa gets home.” Slumped on the sofa beside him, she picked up her child in her arms, ignoring his soft whines as he nestled within her embrace.

Park Sanghoon, she had named him. Meaning benevolent and rank, as when she first saw him-it was if she was looking into the face of her lover. Everything about him was his father, from his eyes and lips to his kindness and maturity. He had been her rock, his laughter lightening the home in moments where she missed Seonghwa so much. He was due to be home soon, counting down the days in her head until she’d see her lover again. Rocking Sanghoon back and forth in her seat, she gently settled him down once his wide brown eyes had fluttered to a close.

The knock on the door had seized her attention, a quick glance at the clock as she pondered who it could be. Swinging the door open to reveal a man, with broad shoulders, high cheekbones and crescent eyes staring down at her- the loitering despair sending a pang of anxiety through her.

“Mrs Park?” A slow, single nod rocked her brain. “I’m Choi San, I fought alongside your husband in the military, perhaps he spoke of me.” A small smile crept on her lips as she recounted the things Seonghwa said about San. How kind he was, initially intimidating due to his perceived strength but on the inside had a heart of gold.

“Ah of course! What’s wrong, San? Why don’t you come in?” Stepping to the side to allow him entrance, San remained fixed outside her porch.

“I’m sorry Mrs Park.” Looking into his tear-filled eyes, a shock of realisation pounded through her. Please no, please no, please no. Let this all be a sick, sick joke. “Seonghwa, he-,” an obnoxious wave of sobbing eructed from her, she sunk to the ground-her whole world immersing beneath her feet dragging her under, but not six feet under with him. Not to the other life with him.

You promised, Park Seonghwa. Anger seething through her, he promised. He said he’d come back to her. She stood by the doorway, endlessly sobbing San bowing his head as he bit onto his lip- refusing to let the tears pour from his own eyes. While the whole street listened in solicitude, the wives had their husbands return home to them- her pain had only transcended few barriers in their hearts.

Their husbands had returned back to them, but Seonghwa had not returned back to her. Taken by his country, the one he sold his soul for.

Come back to me, please.

Sanghoon’s father,

I can no longer sit by the door waiting for your arrival because I know better than to expect you walking through it. I know it’s over. Yet my heart wavers in anticipation as some stupid delusion fulfils me that you’ll come back home, and I’ll run into your open arms. Your broken promises fill me with dread, for what was once “two more weeks” is now an eternity until God returns me to your side. How ruthless can you be to me, to leave me with the responsibility of taking care of your child. One who wholly embodies you. Every day he looks more and more like you, and I think about how much you would adore him if you were here. I couldn’t go to San’s wedding, a cowardice I am for not wanting to watch a love that bloomed over ours being shot stone cold dead. Could you blame me, my dear?

Every week, I take Sanghoon to our spot by the meadows but it seems to be inhibited by a young couple. He snatches the book from her hands and lifts it above his head knowing that she won’t be able to reach. He is so much like you and she, like me. I just hope the war doesn’t snatch him away from her. There is no war now, there will be no war now. I’m angry at you, but no amount of anger will bring you back to hear my scolding. How cruel of you to leave me. So, count the days now, until I return to your side since you couldn’t return to mine. Now you must suffer and wait for me, while I live out the rest of my days in my cold and empty heart.

Your lover, your dearest.

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

AN:/ my first fic! I also wrote this during a terrible cold, and published before the yunho fic I had lined up. (I also have exams coming up but we'll ignore that for now-blame my creative inspiration for coming at the wrong time), please leave feedback if you can!

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite: Blitzø

ft Loona doodles :) Alright first off sorry this took so long i got a job lol

A large part of his character is the fact that he used to be a clown, so I took a bit of two face in this design and accentuated the scarring on the left side of his face. I decided to give him the circular cheek bits to allude to the clown as well as ruffling his collar under the clothes. He’s the most complex design of the IMP so far, aside from Loona’s multiple spots, so i tried to keep the colors simple but distinct from M&M. I took the spikes and put them on his clothes – as in he puts on thorns to keep people away. I think a pink tone suits his more lusty character. 

Now as for his character... I'll be honest I struggled with him for a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure where I wanted his character to go or how serious this rewrite would take the drama Viv wants to write. I adore writing deep characters, so I suppose I’m going to have to take The Office’s approach of being a comedy with moving parts. There are overarching plot lines in this version, that being Moxxie’s mafia ties coming back to haunt him, Blitzo’s past coming back to fuck him over in the form of everything about him, and Millie’s insecurities fucking her over when it counts. Maybe the series underlying theme is how running from your problems doesn’t work. Idk, because I also like the whole monster of the week type assassin gigs they do. I’ll make it work. 

So now, introducing the new and improved Blitzø! 

Blitzø is a mixed imp, his father being from Greed and his mother being from Lust. As such he’s a very poor mix of bad traits. He’s hypersexual (to the point of disturbing others), greedy as fuck (as he underpays Millie and Moxxie), is greatly attached to and possessive of those he likes (hence his smothering of Loona and stalking of M&M), and tends to think with his dick in most situations which get him into quite a few pickles (hehe pickle) 

Alright, so personality wise he is just about the same. He shits on others, is generally an ass and not very shy about it, but one thing I want to change is his delivery. This Blitzø is much more jovial about what he’s doing, putting on an act of being very charming and playful, even when he insults people. Ex, the line in the pilot when he mentions Moxxie crushing his dreams would include a very childish pout and a chuckle after. He plays the things he says off as jokes so it gives him an air of... idk like you don’t know when he’s ever being serious. 

He grew up in a circus in Greed along with his twin sister Barbie Wire (side note if Blitzo was my og creation he would have a pun/type name like Barbie does. Too tired to come up with one now, but mainly just because Barbie Wire is a much more creative name than fucking Blitzo) and his mother, who was dying day by day. His father was the ring leader and used his children as props to make money. Blitzo was a double act with Barbie Wire where they would do tricks on trained horses before Barbie started wanting to do trapeze and Blitzo was paired with Fizz instead to do acrobatics and tell jokes. 

Now since we don’t know what the fuck happened in Blitzo’s past (despite being on fucking season 2) I’m going to leave this bit open ended until Viv plays her cards then rewrite it into my story.  

So overall I’m not tweaking too much with Blitzo. Maybe instead of being a woobie who is like oh woe is me I suck he is just an overt asshole who sort of wants to be better but that’s too much work.  

His relationship with Stolas is a can of worms and I fucking hate worms. Alright, so we’re scrapping the childhood buddies thing, and going full force into what we all were shown in the pilot – this powerful demon is banging Blitzo in exchange for the Grimoire. Now real quick, why doesn’t Blitzo use Asmodean crystals? In this I'm making it so only lust demons can bond with crystals (bonding meaning only that demon can use them) and unbound crystals can’t leave Lust. So Blitzo would have to go to Lust and buy one, which is expensive as fuck and he was too broke at the time he struck the deal with Stolas. He’s planning on ditching Stolas as soon as he has enough cash to buy a crystal for IMP to use. 

So Stolas and Blitzo are both using each other, neither of them are like “omg I think he likes me”. Stolas wants sex to fuel his imp fetish and Blitzo wants the book. Blitzo has every intention of cutting this off as soon as he gets the crystal, and in his mind is only really indulging some rich brat demon. The issue comes when Blitzo finds himself actually liking Stolas – he likes the owl’s stupid spiels about literature and space and herbs, he likes that Stolas tells him helpful things with no prompting (like how certain herbs can treat injuries and things like that), and he finds himself liking Stolas’s company. Which is a big problem if he wants to cut the demon off, so he starts trying to get that in gear. This is also while being constantly reminded how unlovable he is and how he ruins everything he touches, but he’s conflicted because Stolas has started to treat him kindly and refer to him like an acquaintance rather than a sex toy. 

Any I'm tired af, going to bed. 

Oh, but before I go I just want to say that now that I’ve finished the IMP gang, I’m taking a minor break from reworking Helluva and will be posting some RWBY redesigns I’ve made because I fucking hate RWBY but at the same time it’s like my childhood. I’ll tag anything Rwby I'm doing as Rwby Rework if you’re interested, but don’t worry I’ll continue to do more viv/helluva/hazbin later this month! 

Thanks for reading <3

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 13

Masterlist

Warnings: Stalker vibes, confrontations, anxiety.

Photo by shaazjung on Instagram

"There's something you haven't explained to me." Billy says suddenly.

You pause, from sending your messages, looking across at him from your spot in the passenger seat.

You raise your eyebrows expectantly.

"Why do you think hackers- or people trying to breach security in general- would underestimate the level of sophistication of the system?"

You take a deep breath, lean back.

"Because," You say with a tired sigh, "When they search up the company structure, they'll see me as a consultant."

"You?"

"Female." You clarify.

"You really think that people will make that assumption?"

"Why not? It's been happening for most of my life anyway, I'm just weaponising it now."

He's silent for a long moment.

"I'm sorry that you have to go through that."

"It's fine," You sing, "It means I get to design a system that looks dumb but ruins some fucker's life."

He smiles fondly, glancing over at you.

"Come over to my place next week, I'll do the cooking this time."

You hum, prolonging your response so that it seems like you take some time to decide.

In reality, saying no was never an option.

"Sure, I'd like that."

You don't notice the way his shoulders drop subtly, relaxing, just moments after.

.

It's not as difficult to leave your place alone as it was before.

Sure, for those first few weeks after the robbery, you'd only gone to and from work with Billy and occasionally, one of your friends would accompany you to the supermarket.

Today, when Amy calls to find out of you're still on for later, you pause, and tell her that maybe you're going to try to go by yourself today.

She's quiet for a moment, and you can almost hear her thinking.

"Okay, but please call if you feel even a little bit unsure?" You can hear the worry in her voice, you know that she's thinking about the first time she accompanied you, and you hid in the bathroom for ten minutes cause you thought you were being followed.

"I will, Amy, thank you."

Truthfully, you could never shake the feeling that you were being watched.

It went with you everywhere, like a shadow that just kept coming back no matter how much light you shined on it.

You tried to take deep breaths, and reassure yourself that everything was okay. It was the best you could do.

Billy was the only person that made you feel completely safe, his knowledge and background meant that you could very much trust whenever he said you weren't being followed.

But now? Alone like this, you try not to look over your shoulder too many times when examining apples, or not to freeze up when someone got too close to you.

Overall, at the cashier, you find yourself a little glad that you're able to at least get this far despite anything that may happen later.

It's a step in the right direction for your self-empowerment, a reminder that time can sometimes help repair the damage caused by traumatic events.

You're piling your groceries into the trunk of your car when you hear someone say your name.

Freezing in fear is a normal response for you, but once again, you do your best to breathe through it, and turn.

"Andrew? Hello," you greet.

Your former boss gives you a sharp smile and approaches. You take your time, assessing him as a possible threat.

He looks a bit sallow, the underneath of his eyes are a little grey, possibly with lack of sleep, a shadow of a beard sprouting on the base of his face.

He looks a bit unkempt, his hands in his pockets and you make sure to casually put your trolley between him and you for safety.

"You look like you're doing great." He says, taking in your piles of items, and then carefully looking at you.

You watch his eyes trail down your body and your head lights up with warning signs.

You smile politely, nodding your head.

"I'm fine, I hope you are too." You offer lightly, trying to finish packing your car as quickly as possible.

"Well, when you left, the everyone was counting on Anvil to accept our offer. When he declined, the board decided I wasn't good enough at my job."

You swallow. Is that was this was? A guilt trip?

"I'm sorry to hear that." You state calmly.

He takes a shaky step forward, and you stand your ground looking right at him. You think if he tried something, the shopping cart would come in handy in keeping him away from you.

"It's odd though, I keep playing my last meeting with Russo over and over in my head, and do you know what stood out to me?"

You don't respond.

"What stood out," he continues, "Is that Russo only wanted you."

So this was an accusation.

"Now why would he want someone like you, if you weren't fucking him?"

You press your teeth together angrily.

"Fuck. You." You grit out.

He blinks, having never seen you this angry before. You continue before he has the chance to speak.

"You think I wanted to leave? I left because you kept treating me like shit. Over and over again, and now you think you can come here and accuse me of this? No wonder you got fired when I left, because you couldn't keep taking credit for my work."

"You little bitch." He says taking another step forward until his body is right against the shopping cart. He grips the metal side of it, leaning forward even more in an attempt to get into your space.

"I vouched for you so many times. I'm the reason you got this job in the first place. You were nobody, nothing, until I decided to give you a chance. I've been watching you for a week now, trying to get you alone to talk to you, and you've been hooked to William Russo like dirt under his boot, and you want to tell me you aren't fucking him?"

You feel the fear of realization sink under your skin. Your stomach turns, making you nauseated.

"You've been following me?" You ask, in a much smaller voice than you want to.

He frowns, pushes away from the trolley and turns his back to you for a moment.

"Don't flatter yourself, I only wanted to talk."

He grits out.

You don't say anything, just watching his figure, trying to figure out how to get away from him.

You close your trunk, he watches you return your cart to the little docking station nearby.

"I'm sorry for the way things turned out." You say to him finally, trying to ease the tension.

He studies you for a long moment.

"You can fix this. Bring Russo back to us, they'll take you back, you can vouch for me like I once vouched for you."

"I'm not going to do that."

He grunts angrily, taking steps to approach you.

You back away, but he just keeps coming, he's almost in your personal space when suddenly a hand claps down on his shoulder.

The parking lot security guard looks very stern as he pulls Andrew a safe distance away from you.

"Is this man bothering you?" The security inquires in your direction.

You gulp, thinking that if you said 'yes,' you'd be forced to stand around here for longer.

"A bit, but I just want to leave." You finally say.

The guard nods, standing as a wall between Andrew and you, and you take the out, sliding into your car as fast as you can and reversing out of your park.

You don't look back.

.

'I don't suppose you could spare a moment to come over?' You send in his direction.

You swallow, turning your phone over in your hands, deep in thought.

You phone vibrates, you glance down.

'Be there in 5.'

"It's open." You say, when you hear a knock on the door.

He comes through slowly, no harsh sounds ever present when he's around.

"I know this building is safe, but you really should check before you let people in. What if that wasn't me?"

You don't answer, just staring at him as he locks the door behind him.

You sigh, your feet tucked under you as you lounge on your couch, your third glass of wine cupped securely in your hands.

You look up when he says your name.

You study him the same way he studies you. His hair is wet from a recent shower, but he's dressed comfortably this time, in black sweatpants and a soft green hoodie. He looks so comfortable, and the words 'boyfriend material' spring to mind, your mouth twitches, deep in thought, thinking about what he would say if you said that to him.

"Are you alright?" He asks after studying you.

You nod, taking another long sip of wine. He looks behind you, probably noting the abundance of unpacked groceries on your kitchen counter. You'd brought most of them up, only really worrying about the frozen and refrigerated items before you'd stopped, in favour of the sweet white you were now holding.

"Sometimes, I really hate the field I chose."

Billy looks at you for a moment, trying to read into you, but you know he doesn't have all the information.

"Why?" He asks, stepping forward and dropping into the spot beside you easily.

You rest your cheek on the back of the couch, looking up at him.

"It would be easier. I could have picked the culinary arts instead of this and no one would question if I was sleeping with my boss everytime I did something good."

"Someone accused you of that?" Billy asks evenly, doesn't take his eyes off of you.

You sigh, nodding, swirling your wine around in your little cup- not using a piece of glassware out of fear that you may break it.

"Andrew," You say softly to Billy, despair heavy in the farthes reaches of your mind.

"He followed me, confronted me, accused me, and then tried to bargain with me to come back."

You sigh, sniffling for a brief moment, fighting the pressure behind your eyes as tears pool.

You blink quickly to stop them from falling.

"He told me that I would be nothing without him. And all the way home I kept thinking that if I'd just picked something else, anything else, I might be a little bit happier."

A teardrop splashes into your wine, you wipe at it quickly.

He lets out a slow breath and you glance up at him in surprise, half realising that he's still here, watching you.

His dark eyes are tender, studying you in great detail before lifting a hand and crooking two fingers at you.

"Come here." Is all he says.

You breathe out a rush of air, knocking back the last two moutfuls of wine in your cup before setting the item on the little table in front of you.

You move slowly, giving him a chance to change his mind, leaning into him, and slowly resting your head into the crook of his neck.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer until you're half seated in his lap.

There's just a rightness to being in his arms that finally breaks the dam inside of you. You let out a little sob, and his arms tighten around you as your body begins to shake as you cry.

"Sorry," you hiccup, "I- I'm sorry."

He shushes you softly, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

You feel small in his arms, a fragile thing made to be picked up and cared for and he very sensation makes you cry harder because it feels good, and you find yourself unable to gather the strength to think about pulling away from him. His scent is around you, his body pressed so tightly to yours that there's no gap between you.

There's a small abstract moment in your head, that you're able to identify a wholeness that wasn't there before.

You shiver, looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks, noting the feeling that you'd never realised you were missing something until he took you into his arms.

His thumbs wipe at your fresh tears, pushing them back, forcing them away.

You press your head back against his chest, shudders out a sigh as his arms go right back around you.

"There's so much I want to say," Billy starts, "I don't even know where too begin."

You sniffle.

"You don't have to." You murmur, hoping that he doesn't feel obligated to comfort you with his words.

You feel your head begin to swim as your third glass of wine begins to catch up to you.

"When I started Anvil, I had nothing." He says, his voice smooth and deep in your ear.

"There was me, and an idea, and I made a lot of questionable deals in order to get my company started."

You hear him swallow.

"There was one man, he believed that because he gave me a chance when no one else would, that he owned me. He treated me like his own personal dog, and for a couple of years, all I did was whatever he asked."

You listen intently, melting into him as he begins to rub circles into your lower back.

"It took me a while- longer than I'd care to admit- to understand that just because he helped me, it didn't mean I owed him everything. Sure, his generosity was appreciated, but it was my work that took Anvil off the ground, and seeing how far it's come, how far it has yet to go, and how much good it does makes it worthwhile for me."

He takes a moment to catch his breath.

"What I'm saying is, that you don't owe anyone a damn thing. Your successes are your own, because you did them." He makes a little sound of amusement at the back of his throat before continuing, "You're the secret ingredient."

You sniffle, smiling at his words.

"Andrew thinks he gave you these opportunities out of the goodness of his heart, but that's bullshit. You showed him who you were, and he picked you because he thought you were good at your job."

"And you?" You ask, desperate to hear it, "Why did you pick me?"

He makes a tiny huff of amusement.

"Because I love my company," You feel his face press into your hair, "And I wanted to give it the best chance, which is you."

You sigh, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, breathing in that amazing spiced scent, before relaxing fully, turning to a boneless mass in his arms.

"Thank you." You finally say to him.

He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat, you feel the vibration against your cheek.

He doesn't let go, and you have to motivation to pull away.

You're so at ease that you can't help closing your eyes, falling asleep in his arms without a second thought.

.

He holds you for a long while, a stupid smile on his face as he breathes in your strawberry scent.

When he's sure he won't wake you, he slips a hand under your knees, and stands with you in his arms.

You make a little sound, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck.

Billy takes his time, walking you to your bedroom, pulling the covers back and placing you down.

You don't let go of him, clinging like a koala, his eyes widen as you almost pull all of his body weight on top of yourself, he catches his weight on his arms before he crushes you.

He tries to pull away but you're not having it, maneuvering him in your sleep, until he's on his back, and your body is cradled against his, your head on his chest.

He lets out a breath of amusement, raising the hand that isn't pinned under you to stroke you hair.

He hears you hum in bliss and he smiles.

He wants to worship you so badly, kiss every inch of your skin, and then twice over for good measure.

He can't help it, pressing his thumb over the pout of your lips, his heart flipping when you draw even closer to him.

How can he pull himself away from you now? What kind of strength would that take?

Billy thinks about what would happen if he stayed right here beside you, if you wake up in the morning and find him here, you'd probably be so at ease.

He wanted that, he would probably kiss you at some point.

He can feel his heart racing as he thinks about it, kissing you breathless, giving you rounds of uninhibited pleasure, hearing you beg for him as if he would ever deny you.

But what about after?

He swallows, worried about after.

He wouldn't be able to keep himself away from you. Once, would never be enough.

He'd have to have you, over and over and over, never wanting to hide your relationship.

But that would make rumors true, it would invalidate your successes because you were sleeping with your boss.

The breath that escapes him is so pained that it takes him a second to take another.

He'd never forgive himself if he ruined your reputation that way.

He sighs, tracing the back of his hand over your cheeks and listening to the way you sigh.

He knew what you wanted, your body made it crystal clear everytime he was around you, calling out for him, and if he were a weaker man, he'd oblige.

His relationship with control was strained on a good day. The military had helped him focus his anger, train his rage and his bloodlust, but nothing had trained him to control his desire.

As Billy looked at you, sleeping in his arms, he felt his control grinding down with each breath you took.

It was only a matter of time.

.

Alone.

Again.

You sit up, taking a sad breath.

How did he always manage to slip away from you? Why?

What would it take to wake up next to him?

A question that goes unanswered.

In your kitchen, you're stunned to find that all your groceries have been packed away, only a few items in unfamiliar places. A warm feeling in your chest, you almost want to text him and thank him, except that you remember the last time you did that he left you on read. You decide to tell him in person when he's taking you to work.

You get dressed for work like usual, but when you're halfway ready, you pause, thinking about Dani's words from a few days ago.

In an effort to torment him, you shed your fancy work shirt and grab one of the work appropriate dresses in your closet.

It's sky blue, with half sleeves and matching belt. You're not sure if it will even catch his eye, but you decide to try anyway.

Except that when you step out of your aparment building, it's not Billy waiting for you.

You've seen Sergei around before, but you blink in surprise when he nods his head at you, and pulls open the back door of the car he's standing in front of.

Your heart plummets.

He'd sent someone else to pick you up.

You smile at Sergei, asking him for a moment before you pull your phone from your pocket and dial his number.

"Russo." Is what he says when he answers.

"Hey," You greet lightly, trying to be quick, "Did you send someone else to take me to work?"

He's silent for a moment.

"Yes, I-"

"Okay thank you," you interrupt, not interested in hearing what he had to say, "Just checking to make sure. Bye."

You end the call, staring at your phone for a second before shaking your head.

You turn to Sergei, giving him a smile and a word of thanks as you slide into the back seat of the car.

"Do you have any music preferences?" He asks kindly, and you wonder briefly if that was even in the scope of his job.

"Anything is good with me." You respond, crossing your arms and looking out the window angrily as he begins to drive.

You have many hindsight realisations on your way to work, that you really could have driven yourself. The only reason you were okay with Billy taking you is because he was going in the same direction anyway.

This just seemed like way too much time and effort to get you to work.

You try to make excuses for Billy, like maybe something urgent happened at work, or something personal, you didn't really know every aspect of his life now did you?

But you knew in the back of your head, that this was something he always does. He gets close, gives you blissful peace, and then pulls away, ignores you for a few days.

Frankly, you've hit your boiling point, and by the time you get to work, you're fuming.

You drop your things on your desk, and you give your coworker a big smile when she compliments your dress.

You'd worn it for him. Pathetic.

You make it up to his office, smiling at Katerina, his secretary, asking her if he's available and waiting for a yes before you knock on his door and enter when he says.

He doesn't even look up at you.

Taking notes at his desk, and there's just so much anger inside of you that you're not really thinking straight.

"Is there something you need?" He asks flatly, still not sparing you a single glance.

So he knows it's me, you think, and yet somehow he refuses to look up.

It cuts like betrayal.

"I can drive myself to work from now on, thank you."

He pauses, finally, looking up at you.

You watch him swallow.

"I insist, really, it's safer this way." He says.

"But inefficient," you counter, "To have Sergei go out of his way no doubt, when I have a perfectly good car."

He looks like he wants to argue, but can't form the right words.

He stands, eyebrows drawn, coming to stand in front of you.

It's probably a bad idea on his part, given your warped headspace, your eyes drop to his lips for a brief moment, before going back up to his dark eyes when he speaks.

"Very well, if you insist on driving, it's your choice."

You nod sharply, your throat closing up in despair. Was this the end of your friendship?

"Good." You say, no emotion in your tone, "One more thing."

"Yes?" He asks.

You swallow, grabbing the knot of his tie and pulling him down a little, while simultaneously rising onto your toes.

You don't give it a second thought, pressing your mouth to his.

It's like fireworks going off in your head, sparks spilling over and scattering into the farthest reaches of your mind.

You let out a little sigh of bliss into his mouth before releasing your grip on his tie.

You pull back from his mouth, taking a deep breath to apologise when suddenly his hands are on your hips. You feel the way his fingers twitch, as if he's fighting something bigger than you.

You gasp as he pulls you closer, body pressed tightly to his and you look up into his eyes.

He angles his head down, and his mouth is on yours once more.

He returns the kiss this time, with eager hums and steady pressure. It's greater than any other kiss you've ever experienced.

Your chest feels warm, your stomach flips, sizzling sparks work their way over your skin.

Your hands grip his shoulders, snaking their way up behind his neck.

He groans, hot breath into your parted mouth and you accept the sound greedily, more desperate for him than ever before.

He turns you, presses you up against his desk, braces his arms on either side of you for a moment before his hand cups the back of your neck securely.

It's all consuming, the way his mouth moves this way and that, the friction of his beard on your chin the taste of his mouth threatening to undo you.

His blunted fingers pressing tight into your skin, his hands wander your body, reaching for your knee, raising it to wrap around his hip. Your clothed center just barely brushes a hint of stiffness at the front of his pants and all you're thinking in various levels of enthusiasm is 'yes.'

The loud pitch of his ringing phone startles you. You shove him away quickly in surprise, gasping as you slide from your spot between him and his desk.

Your body is hot, cunt throbbing, skin hypersensitive and aching for his hands.

You suck in a big breath, smoothing your hair over in a panicked frenzy and running your hands down your dress.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Had you really just did that? Kissed him when you'd come in here to tell him off?

You try to take another measured breath but Billy seems to have taken all the air in the room with just one touch of his lips.

.

"Russo." Billy says, leaning over the desk, putting his phone on loudspeaker.

"Apologies for interrupting, but Miss Meachum is here and demanding to meet."

Billy huffs, of course he'd be interrupted by a Meachum. The entire family never understood boundaries.

He looks over at you, facing the windows, taking deep breaths and looking more and more flustered by the second.

"Tell her I'll be with her shortly." He says, hanging up right after.

He studies you, the ripe scent of your arousal filling the air. The panther tears at him, to sit you on his desk and follow through with exactly what he was about to do.

When he resists, the beast plants images of you writhing in pleasure as he licks your strawberry sweet cunt. His cock is half-hard, growing more erect with each second his mind replays what it was like to finally have your soft lips on his.

He swallows, opens his mouth to speak.

You beat him to it.

"I'll drive myself to work from now on." You utter harshly.

He watches in disbelief, mouth parted, as you head to the door, opening it and stepping out without so much as a glance at him.

It's all he needs to realize how much he's fucked up.

.

.

.

A/N: sorry 😞

[ashroomy]

Can't stop thinking about fnv ocs so I'm gonna ramble about them alllll

Jasper: He's my courier who's yes man aligned. He tries to be extremely upbeat and cheerful (think, useless ray of sunshine). He always tries to see the best in people's which means he's very good at getting scammed. If someone were to overcharge him for some medicine he would go "aw must have taken them so much time and effort to produce, and they're offering it to me, worth every cap :)" He also will see actual horrors unfolding and still try to see the good in a person. Like in Nipton seeing Vulpes. Whilst horrified at the crimes, he looks at him and goes "oh :( what made you this way. You can be better. I'm sorry they made you like this" despite the fact that the whole town is actively on fire. He believes in peace and diplomacy but can be a huge pushover. However he is extremely good at bandaging wounds. If he didn't get shot in the head and demand answers, he'd be a doctor.

August: My legion frumentarii who hates the legion! He got taken by the legion when his village was invaded. He's not violent by nature. But he knew that being peaceful would lead to his death. He did what he could to survive and discovered his knack for spying. Allowing him to become a frumentarii, he was pleased, hoping he wouldn't have to kill anymore. He was extremely devastated when he found out this wasn't always the case. A skilled actor. He uses this to his advantage, if he had his way, he would be performing on stage in many shows. Has a habit of taking notes on everything he sees. This has a tendency to wind up the other people around him.

Noah: Originally a joke character between me and a friend who became his own decently serious character. He works for the NCR designing propaganda for them. He likes being left alone and drawing hunched over. Has a strange relationship with the legion, as he knows he should despise them, but he has friends and family who are surviving in there. So he believes there must still be good people in there somewhere, despite the atrocities. In his propaganda, he will draw people who loosely resemble those who got taken by the legion so that on the off chance those people see the posters, they know he's still thinking of them.

Claire: Noah's older sister and dedicated NCR soldier. She takes extreme pride in serving the NCR and is passionate about following all orders to a T. She attacks most tasks with a frightening zeal and many are pleased she's on their side. Unlike her brother, she holds nothing but disgust for the legion for taking her family and friends, and vows to crush the legion to prevent anyone else going through the same fate as her loved ones. Every time there is a potential chance for a NCR and Legion clash. She is the first to volunteer to step in.

Ferox: My horrible horrible centurion, he holds the legion in high regards and vehemently believes in their ideals. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, he has little in the way of friends in the legion due to his offputting and intimidating air. He doesn't mind. As he believes that he is the most loyal person in the legion and everyone else is below him, he refuses to talk to anyone he believes is "lesser" than him. His violent nature and arrogance make him highly detested and feared in and out of the legion. From the same village as August, he fought hard to survive, but came to appreciate the legion over time, losing sight of how he even got there in the first place. Claire later defeats him. (Which is good because I hate him and he's only a character so I can practice writing awful people)

[katamaridamacyonline]

tell me all of your ace attorney headcanons

to make it easier, maybe for maya fey specifically! I feel like you probably have a lot of thoughts on her

HI sorry for ignoring this ask for 12 days im gonna do it now (very very long post like holy shit how did i even type this much)

okay so for maya i have. a lot of hcs. basic stuff first she it trans (she/her), lesbian, poly, fat, and mixed black+japanese. actually there's a bit more to the fat headcanon cause i think she gains weight as she gets older, sort of as a "weight gain to represent healing" type of thing. i think around aa1 timeframe she's closer to her canon design but as she reaches more into adulthood she gains weight over time and is happier that way (part of this is because gaining weight is usually a good thing for transfems on estrogen)

okay anyways here's the part where i rant about trans maya stuff. actually i should probably talk about trans mia first cause theyre both trans in my hc and her transition actually plays an important part in maya's experience. basically mia was the first trans kurain spirit medium, before her it wasnt known that a trans woman could be a medium, but that all changed after mia realized she was a girl. for a while (months? years? not sure) mia thought that she would never be able to channel and just accepted the fact that she could be a woman but she wouldnt be able to channel, but eventually eh found that her realization of being a girl actually awakened significant spiritual power within her.

so anyways, onto maya, similar to mia she realized she was a girl when she was young, some time after misty left but while mia was still around. when mia came out, misty was very accepting in letting her transition, but with them under morgan's care they were both worried things wouldnt go as well. fortunately, mia would not let anything stop her sister from transitioning. i'm not completely sure if i think morgan would try to stop maya from transitioning or not (like yeah she's evil but idk if i see her as transphobic lol???) but if she did try to stop her mia would fight back no matter what.

anyways, maya transitions, but unfortunately things end up harder for her than mia, as maya isn't able to channel spirits. while she shows some signs of having spiritual powers, she's not anywhere close to as powerful as mia or any of the cis mediums in the family. this is deeply painful for maya and becomes a horrible source of dysphoria. how she sees it, if she can't channel spirits, she'll never really be a woman. in reality, this dysphoria is entirely false, plenty of cis women in the fey clan don't have spiritual powers (even morgan!). mia comforts her by telling her this, that she will always be a girl even if she can't channel spirits. this helps maya a lot, but it still isn't enough to fully rid her of her irrational dysphoria. it's all very hard for her, and i think morgan would definitely make everything worse for her, likely reminding her of her inability to channel for no reason other than to hurt her and make her feel inferior. but mia's positive influence helps her make it through everything, even if she does struggle a lot.

anyways, aa1 happens, and she's finally preformed her first channeling. but there's still a ton of doubt in her mind. despite now knowing she CAN channel, she's still struggling with this same dysphoria. probably thinking along the lines of. 'the only was i can channel is if i'm an urgent situation. If i was a real woman, i could channel at any moment, but i can't. I'm still just a man and nothing more." this all culminates with her inferiority complex in Turnabout Goodbyes. I actually really like reading into Maya's struggle in turnabout goodbyes as a representation of dysphoria, because the way she's hurt by not being able to channel mia is heartbreaking. hell, she literally says some genuinely suicidal things after the taser scene.

ultimately, I think maya finally begins to move past this dysphoria not because she learns to channel better, but because she finally, fully accepts mia's words to her, and i think Phoenix is really the person to finally help her out of it. sometime after turnabout goodbyes, maya opens up to phoenix about how hard this all is to her. tells him about how hard it is to feel like her womanhood is entirely dependent on a skill she struggles to grasp. phoenix would choose this as the time to finally come out to her that he too is trans, and would try his best to comfort maya, telling her how he's always seen her as a girl, how she should never doubt who she is just because she's not as skilled as her sister or mother. i think phoenix would feel some sense of guilt at this point, as he would feel like he played a part in maya's dysphoria since he was always hoping maya could channel mia again. with this, he would feel very motivated to help her through everything, both because of this guilt and just because he's now very committed to protecting maya. this of course wouldn't immediately fix everything for maya, but phoenix's continued support as they spend their days together would end up pushing her into learning to finally accept everything. over time, she's finally able to accept that no matter how strong or weak her spiritual abilities are, she'll always be a girl no matter what. of course, eventually she does become a very successful medium, but that takes much more time, and gradually freeing herself from her painful dysphoria helps her make it there.

okay wow i typed a lot what the fuck i was gonna write some stuff about other characters but this post is so long uhhhhhh apollo athena juniper trucy ema katherine sebastian adrian jinxie penny and a bunch of other ones i forgot to mention are trans women lol

[choochooboss]

Introducing your station master & Magma event host!

Since there's already a lot of passengers visiting this station and I haven't spared much time to get to know my fellow submas fans over Tumbrl yet, an introduction would be in place!

I'm Jun, nice to meet you! *offers a hand for for a shake* I am a devoted submas artist & a monthly Magma event host! I go by ChooChooBoss everywhere (Twitter/Bsky/Twitch/Ko-Fi)!

This will be a long post! I will write a short intro as well which you can just skim through but here is a more in depth view how I got into submas, my other interests and life in general, in case you'd wish to know more about your conductor on this silly train!

How did I get into submas in the first place?

PLA. I met this certain mysterious & cool fellow time traveler and got curious! After the cave scene I went to read his Wiki, found out about Emmet, and... yeah. The emotional impact blasted me right out of a miserable cycle I was going through back then and set my soul on fire!! A month later I set up my first art account on Twitter, and the rest is history. They've become my greatest source of strength and inspiration and I enjoy drawing them every single day!

I love both twins very much! I tend to vibe with Ingo a little more than Emmet, but I draw Emmet more. People say I remind of butler Ingo the most, hehe. I certainly don't mind because I'm a big fan of butlermas!! In fact I got into submas & started playing Pokémon Masters EX in April 2022, a week before butler Ingo banner rolled in, so they truly got a special place in my heart ahah! (pssst draw more butlermas for me pls pls pls-)

However I don't draw warden Ingo as much as I would like to. I still get pretty emotional over his fate ahah, I can't draw him without a single tear! This sweet & kind man leading a good life and being an inspiration to others has been torn from literally everything he had for seemingly no reason apart from his name, clothes and the muscle memory and even those are barely intact. It seems like a miracle he's still standing and breathing after put through everything judging by the wear and tear on his uniform and body. Despite all that he carries a positive attitude, assists everyone in need, and does his best to help people and pokémon understand each other, unconditionally... Oh, my face is wet again...

My other interests besides submas?

Monster Hunter! Zelda! Genshin Impact! Super Mario! Trine! Crash Team Racing! And many many more! My favourite genres are platformers, kart racers, and action games, with a side of rhythm games. I'm a big fan of co-op games! I also watch my sis play JRPGs!

Monster Hunter is the dearest to me out of all. I've been hunting for well over a decade starting from MHFU. The games have charmed me with their incredibly satisfying combat system, world building, creature design, great attention to detail, character customisation and the games being nearly fully co-op!!

Other things I do:

Pokémon is practically the only turn-based game I enjoy, mainly because of the characters and collection aspect. However!! I adore Pokémon Colosseum (the first pkmn game I ever played!) and it's double battle focus, so The Indigo Disc has been a delight after the long starvation for double battles, coming up with different combinations makes the battles much more fun to me!!... I sound like Emmet here do I ahahah! We also share the fact we are both left-handed!

Shuffle dancing, daily pull-ups, and expanding my ever growing VGM collection! I also enjoy traveling and taking photos to keep as a diary! I've played piano in a music school for 9 years, and I can also play kalimba. I've done casual boxing, gymnastics, horse riding and medieval swordfighting. I used to read comics/manga and watch movies and anime but nowadays I barely do that, I just rather use that time for drawing instead of just sitting and watching, unless I have company!

I share the apartment with my anxious brother and our two sweet female cats, Laku (11, stubborn and cuddly) and Kalevi (21, demanding and full of love) in a city center. My parents are both entrepreneurs and run a farm in the countryside & I have 4 siblings with me as the middle kid!

Where can you meet me?

I am a game artist by profession, with 4 yrs of studies and roughly 7 years of EXP in the field doing game art, UI design, character/prop design, in mobile games as well as PC titles, 2D and 3D. At the moment I am looking for work; I keep up the motivation and learn new skills by running my art accounts while looking for new opportunities.

I hail from the land of darkness, snow, salmiakki, metalheads and renownly reserved people, Finland! (UTC+2)

Despite having my roots here I am pretty much the opposite of a typical Finn in almost every sense ahah! I'm a small guy who's not afraid talking to strangers and laughs a lot. And I dislike coffee for the contrary, it's very popular amongst finns.

With the inspiration from submas I've finally stepped into the world of cosplay so you can usually meet this small and excitable Ingo in the biggest local conventions, Desucon and Tracon! Come say hi!

About my social battery:

I'm both social and socially anxious ahah! I love making new friends and talking to all sorts of people and writing comments, and gathering together with my mutuals to do cool stuff together! However my social battery is very small... I often struggle with my AD(H)D and anxiety issues, so my replies can be extremely slow. I'm easily overwhelmed when life gets busy and I deal with it by withdrawing to minimise the the stimuli and then sorting my stuff out one by one. This is a frustrating shortcoming, but I'm working hard to find a balance I can maintain without getting exhausted. Please be patient with me! If you don't hear from me in a while, please don't take it personally! In fact, it makes me really happy if you contact me, for any purpose!

Which pronouns do I go with?

I go by they/them! I am also aroace, so if I appear to show any sort of romantic interest, it's definitely not that. I love meeting new people and am quite interested in people in general so I'm excited to get to know you better, but the thing is... I have been confusing people on several occassions for saying things that could be taken as flirting. I am terribly sorry for that, that's just the way I show how I care!

I don't really identify myself by any specific gender either, but rather by my roles or interests (Magma host, submas fan, game artist etc.). Submas encouraged me to enjoy dressing formally even if I'm just sitting at home, because I love formal clothing in general and wearing them makes me feel confident and stand taller! I usually wear collar shirts and black or white slacks.

More about my AD(H)D:

I don't have an official diagnosis but deal with the same problems as AD(H)D people do; poor work memory, dissociation, hyperfocus (drawing and people), sleep deprivation, impulsiveness (juggling too many things and going with the wind), getting sensory/information overloads, and feeling like I don't fit in. I figured it out after I finished school & lost my job for that I am unable to handle big tasks without anyone giving me directions. It has taken a while but I've figured out things that help me manage my daily life as well as have a medication that mainly boosts my capability to get things started which is another great struggle ahah.

How do I manage to keep myself on track?

I use a Pomodoro timer to keep up a good flow and remember to take breaks! This is what I use the most:

I should set it up on my tablet as well. I think it's really cool to see how many hours I have actually put into drawing! Last year I clocked in well over 3k hours, ahaha!

How to catch me?

Right now I have great difficulty managing replies, but usually you can reach me by DMs! I check Discord and Twitter the most often! However I must ask you to respect my current DNI status. It means I am really overwhelmed so I wish nobody comes asking for my attention until it has been lifted, unless it's really necessary. I really love talking to you all but I also have to accept and deal with my own limits strictly like this or it won't work out.

What am I working on at the moment?

Besides the holiday set I have several short comics under works as well as one big comic (100+ pages!). That one is my personal greatest goal! I started working on it in June 2022 and I have currently 40+ pages sketched and 60+ thumbnailed.

I was afraid of starting any comic projects before submas, but the sheer excitement over them carried me over that personal wall ahah!

The story's beginning and end are looking good and somewhat functional but there's still a lot to work to do and holes to fill in the middle before I dare to start fleshing out the pages. I have little experience in writing or comic making so I hope you forgive if some things don't make sense or the dialogue is a little on the nose so to say ahah!

The story will be packed with action with the overall tone being on the darker side, but it sure won't be lacking in humor! The project's main goal is to make it a celebration of all things submas & to prove to myself I can handle a big scale project despite my shortcomings!

This train has reached the terminal!

Thank you for riding my silly submas train!! I adore reading all your tags and comments! They brighten up my day & fuel my passion even more!! I hope to bring many more fun things for you to look forward to!! See you again soon!

ALL ABOARD!!

[futbol16]

Only You  • Geyse da Silva Ferreira

Request:  so a part 2 to the geyse fic maybe??

Part 1 You and Her

Word count: 1,9k

Her thoughts are all jumbled up as she sits in her cubby and ties her cleats. She’s still replaying the memories from a week ago when she stayed at yours. She remembers how you’d pull her close every few seconds, how you made her taste the dish so many times before it was even done. You were so worried it wouldn’t turn out good even though you’ve made this same dish countless times for her and her siblings. 

But Geyse knew it would be perfect, everything you did was perfect. You were perfect.

A thump next to her breaks her out of her thoughts and she looks up at you curiously as a large smile forms on your lips. 

“Olá, meu amigo!" the reality of your relationship- or rather the lack of it- slaps her in the face but she still blushes as you bump shoulders with her. She mumbles out a quiet hi knowing by the smile on your face that you were waiting to start on your story of the day.

“Last Friday, Pina and I went out to this cool restaurant by the beach. I swear it was so cool! They had these like little fish in their-” the world quietens around Geyse as she hears the first words. 

She totally forgot about your plans with the short Spaniard. She almost even forgot that she had to worry about her.

Her face morphs into an unreadable expression as you continue your story about the fantastic date you had and in this moment Geyse can’t even stop to smile at the way you flail your arms around as you animatedly over-explain everything.

Her thoughts make it impossible for her to focus on anything.

 “- and she got me this bracelet too! Look!” 

You shove your arm under her nose and she stares at the blue patterned bracelet. It was made out of a yarn-like material and Geyse had to admit the design looked beautiful. 

“That’s very nice Y/N” she gives you a small smile before turning back to her left boot which is still untied and you stare at her in confusion. However, you shrug it off. It wasn’t unusual for Geyse to not want to talk a lot, as her best friend you understood that the most.

Eventually the team is herded out of the changing room and onto the field and instantly a pair of arms find their way around your waist. 

The Brazilian tries hard to ignore the sweet giggles coming from the two of you, but still her eyes glaze over with a jealous fire and she turns away with her jaw set tight. She almost fears she’ll break her own teeth with how hard she’s clenching her jaw and that almost happens when the coach pairs her up with the one teammate she dislikes the most.

She almost hates the way Claudia is still all smiles as she approaches her, how enthusiastic she is despite Geyse’s obvious distaste towards the girl. 

“Hola” the Spainard’s is spoken softly, Geyse’s less so as she grumbles back.

“Hola”

Training seems much longer than usual and the two remain paired up. Somewhere during, Geyse had come to the realization that maybe Pina wasn’t as bad as she thought. Truth be told, she knew the girl meant no harm but her feelings towards you overshadowed what she considered reality.

When training is over she decides she might just try to tolerate your relationship with the brunette. That is until Claudia hands her the medicine ball and her eyes dart to the accessory on the girl’s wrist, the same bracelet you were wearing.

She scoffs aloud as she realizes the two of you got matching bracelets, whether that was a platonic act or something more, Geyse still feels hurt.

She wasn’t going to let you know that though, she wouldn’t let anyone know. She pretends she doesn’t see Lucy’s eyes on her as the older woman watches her with a frown from her place next to you - you who was already striking up a conversation with Claudia. 

You immediately notice the shift in Geyse’s mood. Your best friend is more distant and you’re convinced she’s avoiding you. At first you left her alone, maybe all she needed was space. But after the fourth day you decide this can’t go on any longer and you approach her - more like you sit down next to her on your usual spot in the locker room.

It sort of forces her to not march out on you, she wouldn’t do that with so many of your teammates present.

“Geyse, Geyse, hey.” in your own manner you nudge her with your elbow but she only pushes your arm away. A deep frown appears on your face after that. “Geyse, meu amigo. Talk to me, what’s wrong?” 

Still, nothing. This time Geyse’s shoulders drop at the name you just called her and she heavily exhales through her nose. You sigh at her reluctance to even look your way and your eyes slightly water at her hostile behavior. 

You hated when people got mad at you and you didn’t know the reason why, especially if it was your Geyse. You hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“Please don’t push me away” it’s a plea, a barely audible plea that leaves your mouth in a hoarse voice as you recall the last time something like this happened between the two of you. Similar to now, you didn’t know what caused your best friend’s sudden cold behavior towards you. 

Of course Geyse knew, it was when the two of you were 20 and 22, when you had your first serious relationship. Geyse instantly knew the girl was no good for you, you deserved so much better and she was convinced she would have treated you much better. She didn’t tell you that of course.

Your defeated sigh brings her back to the present and with one last glance at the girl next to you, you silently pull your shirt over your head and exit the locker room. Geyse watches as you do so and as the door closes softly her eyes connect with someone's. Claudia stares at her with a disappointed look and the Brazilian can barely hold back on rolling her eyes at the girl.

You were known for your resilience, which is why it does not come as a surprise to Geyse when you approach her yet again the next day after training.

This time you catch her before she can follow the rest and you block her way from walking off the field. She makes the mistake of letting herself gaze into your eyes and she knows she won’t be able to stand her ground. Not with the way you were looking at her. 

And so she lets herself be dragged under the shade, she even lets you pull her down onto the grass and with the familiarity of the actions she doesn’t think before she lays her head back onto your stomach. A slight smile pulls at your lips. 

“What happened?” It is obvious what you're talking about yet the girl resting against you decides to act oblivious.

“Hm? What do you mean?” you lightly scoff at her and she visibly winces at the sound, turning her head towards you. 

“Não aja de forma estúpida” you tell her in an almost strict manner and she nods in agreement, your gaze on her not allowing her to say no. You always made sure she was comfortable to tell you about her worries. It seemed like even when Geyse feared she might lose you while doing so, she still couldn't not tell you.

“I just- I don’t know. It got me a bit jealous or whatever” she shrugs in thought, though not breaking eye contact with you as she tells you honestly.

“I didn’t really expect it I guess- and I get it. You know, feelings are hard, they are. But it’s fine, I just want you to be happy and if it’s Claudia that makes you happy…” once again she trails off, this time focusing on the soft touches from you as you trace her braids. Your movements suddenly come to a halt and she opens her eyes in confusion.

“What?” your voice is laced with the same confusion her stare holds, your mouth slightly agape.

“You and Pina, guess you guys are kind of cute” Lie, she thought you’d be much cuter with her arm around your waist, with her lips on your cheek, with you laughing at her jokes. Not Claudia.

Realization dawns on you and you don’t hide the slight uptick of your lips. There’s a beat of silence that passes by and your smile only widens until a giggle escapes your mouth. Geyse smacks her forehead at your antics.

“Tell me what’s funny now”

“Nothing- nothing” you giggle through it until your soft eyes settle on hers and you watch as she melts under your gaze, a slight pink tint to her cheeks.

“It’s just that I never thought you’d be jealous. Like I wasn’t expecting that to be the reason why you were avoiding me”

“I wasn’t avoiding-” her words grow quiet at the look on your face and she cocks her head to the side bashfully. “- and I wasn’t jealous! Why would I be jealous?” your hand resumes its actions as you mess with her hair, a giddy feeling in your stomach. Complete contrast to the panic Geyse is feeling.

“Geyse, it’s not a bad thing”

“It’s not?” she eyes you in bewilderment and you nonchalantly shrug at her as you prop yourself up on your elbows to have a clearer look at her. 

“No, not really. Because-” the spell you have on her is insane as you reach for her and your hand settles on her jaw. She’s shy, it’s extremely obvious as she leans into your hold but she lets you tug her up and slowly, very slowly she leans closer to you.

“What are you doing?” she whispers nervously as you bring her face closer to you and her hand lands on the grass below the two of you as she holds herself up. The confident look from before is long gone from your face as you lay your true feelings out in front of who you’ve called your best friend for the past 6 years. 

Still, you carefully stroke the curve of her jaw line and the girl in front of you gasps in a way you’ve never heard. Geyse’s eyes jump from your eyes to your lips and they stay there.

“I’m doing what I should have done when I was 16” with that you connect your lips in a tender kiss, Geyse’s hand cradling your own face. The two of you melt into each other as Geyse deepens the kiss and knits her eyebrows together, trying to savor the feeling of being so close to you. Of becoming one with you. She’s waited so long for this and she wasn’t going to let you go now. 

The two of you pull away for air but you don’t go far as Geyse dips her head to catch your lips in another passionate kiss as she gently pushes you back on the grass. You’ve never seen this bold side of her, in the six years you’ve known Geyse, she was never the confident one. Yet, in this moment she has single handedly reversed the roles and you become putty in her hands.

The large smiles that break out across your faces force you to separate and Geyse exhales in delight while you press another quick kiss to her cheek.

“I told you there was nothing between me and Pina” 

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch6

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]

ao3 version

warnings: gore. this is *very* gory!!!! please keep that in mind before reading.

Every time you think about the opera last night, you get a profound and deep feeling of embarrassment. You completely ruined Hannibal’s night—you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to be friends anymore. You can’t help but send him another apology text, to which he responds with a reassurance that you did not ruin his night. You still don’t believe him.

For the next few days, you manage to strategically avoid Dr. Lecter. You busy yourself with work, and you even guest lecture the newest class of FBI recruits a few times. Once your schedule is considerably full, it’s easy to let that humiliating night slip to the back of your mind. You don’t have an appointment with Hannibal for a few more days anyway. Surprisingly, as much as Jack may claim that you need the support, he doesn’t enlist Hannibal’s help during your assignments. You get the feeling that Jack and Hannibal have a barely intact working relationship—one with animosity and irritation lying hidden underneath. Regardless, you don’t see Hannibal for a few days and instead keep yourself occupied with work.

The Ripper is still lying dormant. He hasn’t killed in quite some time now and, as you divulged in one of your sessions with Hannibal, it’s making you anxious and restless. You want to be prepared for the next time he strikes. Even Jack is going a bit stir-crazy, you’ve noticed. He’s desperate for leads on the Ripper. You, on the other hand, are currently occupying a strange middle ground. Ever since you first realized that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, you’ve been internally battling between revealing his identity and staying quiet. Hannibal is rather good at covering his tracks, so you haven’t been faced with any incontrovertible evidence. You catch yourself othering the Ripper in your mind—separating him from Hannibal despite knowing they’re one and the same. The recognition disturbs you.

As you walk into work early one particular morning, you’re unable to shake the feeling of wrongness itching at your skin. This feeling can certainly be associated with the fact that you slept past your first alarm and tripped on thin air back at home, but you think it’s actually related to work. There’s a different aura in the building today—people are rushing about with hurried panic. There’s no sense of tranquility or composure anywhere in sight. You can’t help but take on some of the anxiety you’re observing, especially when you notice that there are several people gathered around your office. They all stop talking the moment you approach, which only worries you even more. Eventually, you summon the courage to push the office door open.

Immediately, you’re hit with the pungent yet horribly familiar smell of blood. You cover your nose for a moment as you’re hit with far too much sensory input all at once. The fluorescent lighting burns into your vision, forcing you to squint as you take in the rest of your office. Everything looks the same as you left it. You’re about to ask why everyone’s huddled around the space when your gaze settles on the chair behind your desk. It’s turned to face the wall, but you can still see the edge of a person’s head over it. Who’s sitting in your chair? Dread coiling in your chest, you place a hand on the back of the chair and swivel it back around.

Your next breath promptly dies in your chest, as your eyes fall on a corpse. Franklyn Froideveaux stares back at you with hollowed eye sockets. He’s wearing a three-piece suit—unsettlingly similar to the one he wore at the opera—and his mouth is wide open. The longer you look at his corpse, the more unsettled you become. His eyes are gouged out, leaving bloodied tears slipping down his cheeks. His chest was brutally torn open, in a manner that brings attention to his heart—which has been flayed apart and stapled to the back of his chest cavity like a pinned butterfly. The stapler that usually sits on your desk is missing. You taste bile in your mouth.

You can’t disengage the criminal profiling part of your brain as you assess the scene. It’s clear that Franklyn did not die peacefully. His hands are cut off, left as bloodied stumps that seem to be endlessly oozing blood onto the carpet below. This killer toyed with him before his death, subjecting him to intense pain before finally, mercifully, letting him die.

Suddenly, there’s someone standing next to you. Jack Crawford occupies the space at your side, a pinched expression on his face. You would almost say that he looks concerned, but you dismiss the notion. Hell, you’re constantly wearing Jack thin—questioning his authority and snapping back at him. Surely the worried expression on his face only has to do with the implications of a corpse being discovered in one of the offices of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“I haven’t been here since yesterday evening,” you feel the need to maintain. Jack puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you nearly flinch at the sudden touch. You’re profoundly disturbed. Mere days ago, Franklyn was vibrant and full of life. Now, he’s mutilated and nearly drowning in his own blood.

“The Ripper has returned,” Jack remarks, breaking you out of your thoughts. You nod in agreement. It should be easier to discern a motive, given what you know about the Ripper and his true identity. Unfortunately, he is incredibly hard to figure out. You can’t quite rationalize why he would kill Franklyn. There’s one answer that seems to be staring you right in the face, but it just doesn’t make sense. Against your will, your mind conjures up the memory of that night with Hannibal. The look on his face when he found the marks on your shoulder was nothing short of pure maleficence. Even now, there’s an image of Hannibal conjured in your mind’s eye—a malicious smirk on his face as Franklyn’s blood splatters across his skin. You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself.

Jack must notice your rather fragile mental state, because he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly.  “I’m still going to need you to analyze this, Agent.” His hand slips from your shoulder. You nod, having expected as much. Jack clears everyone out of the room and closes the door, leaving you alone in the room. You inhale slowly, before closing your eyes and trying to get more information.

You’re standing over Franklyn Froideveaux with a smirk on your face. The man is tied and bound to the office chair you placed him in. He had been letting out pitiful whimpers, which makes you grateful that you had the foresight to gag him and drug him.

The mere sight of Franklyn is enough to make your stomach turn. He’s repulsive. You clench your fists at your sides, unable to hide your disgust and anger. Franklyn crossed the line. You were content to let him exist at the brink until his misstep. You stare down at him, contemplating your next move.

You decide to start by untying his arms. His limbs are limp, allowing you to easily manipulate them. You place both of his hands on the wooden desk and cut them off. As his blood muddies the carpet, you cut into his chest to look at the organs. You won’t take many organs—Franklyn Froideveaux is far from a quality specimen. You stare at the heart for a few moments, before flaying it apart and stapling it to the back of his chest cavity. For a moment, you step back and admire your work. There’s still something missing. You stare at Franklyn’s untouched face and are suddenly filled with an uncontrollable rage. You dig your nails into his eyeballs, relishing the sickening sensation that rushes through your fingers. For a moment, you’re faced with resistance, but it doesn’t take long for his optic nerves to fall into your hands. You hold them in a tight grip, an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction running along your skin. This is your design.

Wait.

There’s something else. Something… more. You can’t get a grasp on it. You try to push yourself to imagine what else the killer was feeling. Disgust. Contempt. Rage. Irritation. But there’s something missing. Your head begins to pound incessantly and you come back to yourself, bringing a hand to your aching temple. Your mind is reeling as you try to dissect what you just saw.

Meanwhile, outside your office door…

“What’s the matter, boss?” Beverly asks, punching the man’s shoulder playfully. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.” Indeed, Jack Crawford looks rather stressed. He’s staring at your closed office door with a disturbed look on his face. Jack turns to look at Beverly and she has to hide a gasp at the dark expression on his face.

“You didn’t notice?” Beverly shakes her head. Jack takes a deep breath and puts a hand on his temple. His next words are spoken with immense apprehension. “The Ripper is… in love.”

“With…?” Beverly breaks off, looking over to the closed office door where you’re visualizing the crime scene. Jack follows her gaze, his lips falling into a flat line. Beverly suddenly understands what he’s trying to say and she really wishes she didn’t.

“That seems to be the case.” Jack nods.

“Should we say anything?” Beverly questions. She thinks this is something you may need to know but, at the same time, it could cause you a lot of unnecessary stress. Jack frowns.

“No.” He responds.

“Really?” Beverly asks, unable to ignore her boss’s uncharacteristic behavior. “Wow, it almost sounds like you’re worried.” There’s a beat of silence. Beverly’s eyes widen. “Holy shit, you actually are.”

“Of course I am,” Jack says confidently. “I can’t lose my best agent to the Chesapeake Ripper, not now.” Beverly isn’t sure that’s the true reason for his concern, but she decides to remain silent. She is about to speak when she hears someone take a deep breath. She freezes. Jack looks at her with a confused expression. Beverly remains silent for a few moments, listening for any other disruption. She eventually concludes that she imagined the noise. “Sorry, I thought I heard someone.” Jack nods and the two of them make their way to your office.

Behind the adjacent wall, Hannibal Lecter stands incredibly still. He waits a few moments before mimicking the pair’s steps and entering the office.

You hardly notice when everyone filters back into the room. You must not be hiding your stress very well, because Hannibal’s curious gaze is burning into the side of your face. You’re not quite sure why he’s here, but you have far more important things to worry about. You grit your teeth and turn your attention back to the body, trying to see if there are any more things you can glean from it. As you look at the corpse, you unconsciously bring your hand to your collarbone. You can still feel Franklyn’s bruising grip, sense his dangerous insistence and poisonous envy. The thought makes your stomach turn.

“Something wrong, Agent?” Jack’s voice breaks you from your reverie. You swallow hard and turn around, suddenly feeling as if the room is getting warmer. Everyone is staring at you expectantly, and you realize that you’d been staring off into space for an immeasurable amount of time.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you reply.  Jack looks like he doesn’t believe you, but he evidently abandons any further argument. You suddenly need some air; you can’t shake the feeling that Franklyn’s blood is on your hands. You walk absentmindedly yet robotically to the multi-stall, gender-neutral bathroom located on the other end of the building. There’s hardly anyone in this wing of the building right now, thankfully. You’re sure you can’t deal with any more wary, suspicious glares.

You’re washing your hands when someone enters the bathroom. You intend to ignore the new presence, but they hover at the edge of your vision for several moments and eventually, your curiosity gets the best of you. You glance to the right, only to find Brian Zeller staring at you.

“Zeller,” you remark cautiously. Zeller and you are far from close and you can’t recall a time when he willingly went out of his way to talk to you. The two of you exchange friendly nods on a good day; otherwise, you rarely interact with him. There’s a strange expression on Zeller’s face right now, though, which sets the dusty alarms in your head off. To your knowledge, he never frequents this wing of the building.

“Agent.” There’s nothing but wariness in his voice. Zeller moves to wash his hands at the sink furthest away from you, which you would find a little humorous in a different situation. The investigator is clearly not comfortable with you. You have an inkling that Brian is jealous of Jack’s “fondness” for you—as you heard him whispering to Price one time. However, you don’t think that jealousy and envy are enough to warrant this kind of wary, almost fearful behavior from him.

For a long moment, there is nothing but silence. Then, inexplicably, Zeller turns to face you and takes a few steps forward. You’re still standing several feet away from each other at this point, even despite his attempts to break the distance between you a little. You try to ignore him and go about staring down at the sink, but eventually, his staring gets annoying. You turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow, indicating that he should speak if he has something to say. You’re expecting anything from an insult to idle workroom gossip. Zeller seems intent on surpassing your expectations, however.

“You killed Franklyn Froideveaux.” You stare at him, convinced that you didn’t hear him correctly. The expression on Zeller’s face doesn’t falter from misguided determination. You clench your fists and try to pretend that you aren't offended. Sure, Zeller and you aren’t close, but you thought you were amicable enough to prevent any outright hostility.

“I didn’t kill him,” you argue, despite knowing that he won’t believe you. If Zeller is deluded enough to think you committed murder, your words won’t do anything to dissuade him. You think back to Jack’s concern for you, the way he immediately trusted you. “You heard Jack.”

“Even Jack can be wrong, sometimes,” Zeller says. Your eyebrows furrow and you stare at him in disbelief. Is that how it is?  It seems that your coworker is ready to accuse you of murder if only to taint your reputation. You shake your head in disbelief. You’ve given up on trying to change his mind. Even so, you still feel the need to bring up one key discrepancy.

“Do you really think I would kill someone and leave the body in my office?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “That would just make me look more guilty.” Zeller clearly hadn’t thought about that, because his eyes are blown wide and he looks surprised. You really do wonder how he was hired in the first place, if he can’t make such simple analytical conclusions.

“I won’t pretend to know your reasons,” Zeller remarks as he dries his hands. “Just know that you won’t get away with it.” He has a vendetta against you, evidently. You don’t bother to say anything else—he isn’t worth the effort. Zeller nods in satisfaction and walks away. You stare after his retreating figure in disbelief.

You spend the rest of the day in a convoluted haze. Jack lets you go home early, if only because you’re entirely useless in the field. You just can’t focus—all your thoughts are focused on the last interaction you had with Franklyn. Could you have saved him then? Is his death your fault? Heart racing in your chest, you grab your phone and call the absolute last person you should be calling.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Lecter?” You ask once he answers the phone. “Hello. Yeah, I was wondering if we could have another session soon…”

next chapter

[stxrvel]

birthday love present

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: some bad words, age gap (steve's his canon age), reader has a lip piercing.

note: hi guys! this is my first time writing on the steve side. ive been trying to write this one for a long time and the inspiration finally came in today and i think im proud of this one so i hope you guys like it too! this oneshot is from a request i had some time ago that said:

Imagine being Tony Starks daughter and having a massive 21st birthday party at the tower. Despite her younger age either bucky or Steve is in love with her and they end up kissing at the party. Tony sees this and absolutely FREAKS!! Calling Steve/bucky (...) some shit cause he’s technically like 100 and it’s her 21st birthday. Mama pepper wouldn’t be super upset and calms him down and it ends in fluff of course lol

you can read some other works at my masterlist! also, if anyone has a request feel free to send it to me as a message or an ask!

The Tower had been filled with color that night. The pastel pink reigned in the decoration that your parents had put together and you couldn't have been more delighted, it was everything you had dreamed of. The music was perfect, you sang and moved to the rhythm of your favorite songs; all the people around you enjoyed as much as you did that huge birthday party. The food was sensational, there was a whole table full of all your favorite dishes that seemed endless.

Of course the best of all was the bar. Natasha tended it with finesse and mischief, she was the best of the bunch making cocktails. And she only winked at you every time you came back to the bar for another shot as if you hadn't just walked by two minutes earlier.

You had lost sight of your parents a while ago, but you were having an amazing time with your friends singing at the top of your lungs and dancing until your heels burned. You didn't want to take any breaks, you wanted to enjoy every moment of that party to the limit.

Every once in a while you would run into some of your father's friends and say hello. The whole Avengers group had attended that party, although you had asked your mother not to invite them because it would be weird, even though you saw them as a family. She obviously didn't care and so at that moment you were stuck in a bay surrounded by testosterone, with a Norse god telling a weird story to the whole assembled group. There was a pile of bottles and cans on the floor that you couldn't help but grimace at.

“Everything okay?” You heard next to you.

Steve Rogers was to your left, leaning a little closer to you so you could hear him over the loud music. His short blond hair was messy enough that you could tell he was having a good time too, and his light eyes were exalted, as if he had just come running up to where you were. But you didn't know if you could answer him with him so close.

Your history with Steve was… kind of complicated.

Tony Stark was your father, so consequently you used to spend quite a bit of time at the Tower and you knew all the team members as if they were your own family, even though you'd only met them a little over a year ago.

Steve was captivating from the first moment. Maybe it was that lopsided smile that took over his face every time you greeted him or said goodbye, or the way he would throw his head back when he laughed at something you said, even if you didn't think you were very funny, or the way he was always so considerate and cautious when he addressed you.

You didn't know exactly how it happened, or maybe you did, but there came a time when you simply wanted to go to the Tower just to see him. Tony would gladly take you along, completely unaware of your reasons, hoping to spend quality time with you and show you the latest inventions he had designed. But you were always waiting for the moment when he would show up.

And that was perhaps a serious problem. Because he was your father's best friend, or something like that, or because he was exaggeratedly older than you even though he spent 80% of his life inside that plane on the ice and basically time stood still for him. But for whatever the reason, you never told anyone, not any of your friends or your mother who was your confidant, there was even a time when you fought those feelings because you knew no one around you would understand, not even your parents. And you didn't think you could bear their disappointed looks.

Carrying that secret inside your chest used to not be difficult, you considered that you were very good at hiding those feelings and those longing looks. However, you had never put that statement to the test while drunk.

“I'm fine,” you slurred the words and frowned at how terrible that had sounded. You cleared your throat to speak again, but Steve was quicker.

“It seemed to me like you weren't enjoying Thor's amazing stories.”

“Ah,” you laughed slyly, moving your hair off your shoulders and turned to look again at the group of people gathered at the front listening to the other blond's words. “No, it's very entertaining. Not at all like the stories he has told before.”

Steve sketched a smile and through all the noise you could barely hear his laughter. It was only at that moment that it bothered you terribly that the music was so loud.

But his blue eyes rested on yours again and the words and thoughts evaporated in your head. A rational thought ran through your head telling you that maybe you couldn't disguise the lamb's eyes much with alcohol in your veins, but you very responsibly decided not to pay attention.

“You look good,” the blond shook his head looking at you down to your toes and you felt your ears heat up. “Finally 21.”

You didn't lose sight of the way Steve's eyes moved to read the band across your body, the one that Pepper, your mother, had put on you before you arrived at the huge party on this floor of the Tower. You felt a shiver run down your back and you straightened up unconsciously.

“My mother gave it to me,” you commented, trying to shake off the tension you felt in your shoulders from the intense look he was giving you. Or maybe you were just feeling it like that.

“I figured as much. Tony just took care of the money then.”

“Actually,” you moved a little closer to Steve to talk about the music, as he leaned next to you too and you felt shivers run through your body, “my mother told me he chose the color of the decor and the food.”

Too close to be true, you saw him nod at your words and his hair almost brush your cheek as he pulled away so he could see you. You felt your stomach do a flip and for a moment you thought you were going to throw up. Anxious, you fiddled with the piercing you had in your lower lip.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

You shook your head embarrassingly fast in a nod.

Steve moved to walk towards one of the two exits the bay had, which led directly to the bar Natasha was still tending. You followed closely behind him, with a bubbling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

He had dressed in a basic white shirt and a royal blue jacket that brought out his eyes beautifully. You remembered well that you had once told him that that blue looked great on him, and that in general dark colors really brought out his eyes. You didn't want to think that's why he had chosen that jacket, but…

Steve leaned over the bar where Natasha had already approached to greet you two and smiled before speaking.

“A shot of strong coffee for the lady here,” the man gestured to you.

You stood there for a few seconds staring at his perfect smile before realizing what he had said. Natasha barely nodded before heading over to the coffee machine Tony had set up in the corner of the bar.

You frowned at Steve, your hand moving to bump against his arm in a playful action.

“I'm not drunk!”

“You're very red,” he replied, after letting out a laugh that you could hear more clearly as you were further away from the speakers. His head moved to where Natasha was standing and you took a moment to see his arm resting on the bar, where the sleeve of the jacket was tucked up and clinging like a second skin. “I don't think it's a good idea for you to arrive dizzy like this for the pie game.”

“I'm just fine, Steve,” you slurred the words again and mentally cursed your lousy alcohol tolerance. You hadn't even had that much to drink, the party had only started about two hours ago. What did he want? For you to sit around drinking orange juice until you split the cake? No, how boring. “I'm lucid enough to break pieces of cake for everyone at this party.”

Natasha arrived with a ceramic mug and set it down in front of you on the bar. You would have preferred to leave it there, but maybe it wouldn't do you too much harm to take it?

“It's better not to take any chances anyway,” the redhead leaned her arms on the bar and gave you a smile.

“Argh,” you frowned at both of them and grabbed the mug to take a long sip. “Neither of you trust me.”

“Well, I can only say that one of us would blindly trust you with our lives, and I already have a person for that,” Natasha commented very nonchalantly as you continued sipping your coffee, and you barely noticed the look she shared with Steve before she walked off to the other end of the bar.

“What was she talking about?” you asked Steve once you let go of the cup.

The blond shrugged in man. “She sometimes just says cryptic things and goes off like that. I'm used to it.”

You nodded agreeing with his words. You were already feeling the effect of the coffee and were starting to see a little clearer. Well, maybe you were a little drunk. And maybe you needed a little more coffee.

-

Steve very kindly made you another coffee and you sat down right in front of him to watch the whole process as if you had never seen anyone make coffee in your life.

When you finished it, you let out a sound of approval drawing a smile from him.

“This was much better than Natasha's.”

“No one makes coffee better than she does.”

“You do! You should make coffee more often. In fact, you could start a coffee shop.”

Steve smiled broadly and you rejoiced at the butterflies in your stomach.

“I think I'm going to stick to being an Avenger for now. But maybe I can make you coffee every time you come over.”

Your eyes sparkled at the prospect. “I'd come by every day, Steve.”

“I'm counting on that.”

“Maybe you'd get tired of seeing me so often,” you twisted your lips into an expression of mock regret, lowering your gaze and wiggling your index finger over the rim of the empty cup. The black remains of the coffee made an odd figure that painted the white ceramic background.

“I don't think that's possible,” Steve muttered, and if it hadn't been for him coming over the bar and the music not being so loud you wouldn't have heard him. “I like having you around.”

“Really?” you raised your head, your facade fading.

“Sure. You're like the life of the party. Everything's better when you're around.”

Hearts flew around you as you saw the smile he was giving you. Just for you. You felt like fireworks were about to explode all around you and the anticipation of having him closer gnawed at your insides. Your fingers tingled and your heart was pounding.

You just had to get a little closer and…

“… and where's the birthday girl?”

You broke off suddenly.

Now you felt like your heart would pound out of your chest, but from fear.

You turned around as Steve rounded the bar to leave, and found your father walking toward you with his arms outstretched. Beside him, your mother was smiling tenderly at you.

“Come, honey, it's time to sing happy birthday.”

You stood in front of the cake, a bunch of smiling faces in front of you. The lights began to change color and dimmed. The atmosphere was a little more closed in, but it was perfect. You watched as the people in front of you sang happily, celebrating another year of your life, a whole year of experiences and changes that you had accepted with patience and love. There was nothing more at that moment that you could ask for to make it perfect. You had all the people you loved around you and delicious food, what more did you need?

The song ended and you blew out the candles. Your wish was a secret even to you.

The cake was passed around and you even had repeat servings. It was delicious.

But the party didn't stop there. After the cake the music continued and the drinks kept coming. You decided not to drink any more for the moment, at least while the food went down a bit because you had also stolen a few bites from the table full of your favorite dishes when you thought everyone was distracted.

Your parents hugged you at least five times since then and had reminded you how proud they were of you, all you had accomplished and the woman you had become. You couldn't have been happier.

Sometime during the night you slipped off to the bathroom. You arranged your hair that was quite messy from all the dancing before you left.

At the end of the hallway, reaching the stairs to go down to the party, you found Steve and Clint watching from above. They both greeted you as soon as you arrived. You noticed how, poorly disguised, Clint pushed Steve closer to you.

The blond cleared his throat as he walked over to where you were.

“How've you been doing so far?”

“It's been amazing! It's the best birthday party I've ever had,” you commented to him with a huge smile.

You heard Clint cackle sonorously and Steve in front of you rolled his eyes. But he smiled at you when their eyes met.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

You stood static for a moment, before replying, “Yeah, sure.”

Steve calmly led you back down the hallway you had traveled from the bathroom and they stopped at a safe distance.

You stood there for a few seconds, in somewhat awkward silence. Steve seemed to be thinking deeply about whatever it was he wanted to tell you, and his hesitation did nothing to help calm the anxiety that was beginning to course through you from the tips of your hands to the way your stomach sank.

Already your palms had begun to sweat when Steve finally spoke.

“I wanted to talk to you about something that… I don't know how you're going to take.”

You passed saliva despite the lump you felt in your throat. you didn't know what to expect from his attitude, because he looked too nervous and almost worried, you could say scared. you didn't want to expect the worst, so you waited for him to continue.

“What happens is that I… I wanted to tell you that… I don't expect you to take it the wrong way or reciprocate, I mean, you can say no…”

Steve was silent once again, avoiding your gaze. Your head was racing a mile a minute and it filled you with nerves to think that maybe he was going to say what you wanted him to say, what you wanted to hear and what you wanted to tell him too. But how… perfect would that be? You had imagined it so many times, but what was the likelihood that it would actually happen?

“I love it when you laugh,” Steve spoke, pulling you out of your head. His determined eyes looked anywhere. You felt a warmth blossom in your chest and you were sure your eyes must have looked like two crystal balls because of how bright they must have been. “And when you have that giant smile on your face that could light up an entire city. And I love when you tell me what you do in the day so animatedly that you don't even realize you're moving your hands too much. I also love when you dance like you're the only person on the dance floor because you sparkle. And I love how your eyes look in sunlight or moonlight, how they shine so bright I feel like I could orbit around them…. I just- I…”

“I like you too, Steve,” you interrupted him, noticing his frown.

His head moved quickly to stop looking anywhere but at you, and you could finally meet his beautiful blue eyes. His chest was heaving, almost as much as yours as you realized what had just happened. For a moment you thought that, if that was all you could do, just look at each other, you might stay right where you were for a long time. His warm, welcoming eyes roamed over your face and more than nerves and anxiety you felt very excited, so much so that you could run through a field of flowers. A smile was making its way on your face and he promptly followed you.

When it seemed that his nervousness had left him, you felt his hand brush yours. You took it without a second's hesitation.

“You do?” he asked, his voice cautious but full of excitement.

“Yes!” you replied, your smile widening. You squeezed his hand and pulled it closer to your body.

Before you gave him time to process what was happening, you crashed your lips against his.

The fireworks exploded.

You felt him tense as you rested your hands on his shoulders, but it was a matter of seconds before he let go.

His lips assaulted your mouth, delicate but passionate. It was everything you wanted and so much more. A love so fierce it could sweep away everything in its path. Your lips welcomed his, hoping this would not be the last time, and his hands clung to your hips with a promise to never let go. It was soft, desperate, tender, wild, all at the same time. Steve seemed to want to take his time savoring that moment, but at the same time he wanted to take it all at once and leave you breathless.

His body moved until you bumped against the wall and his hands squeezed your skin. The sensation was new, welcome and maddening. Now that you had tasted him you didn't think you could ever stop. His sweet scent flooded all over you with your hands tangled in the strands of his hair. His hand on the back of your neck pressed you against his lips and you felt infinitely close, but you still wanted more.

You felt like you were going to explode into a thousand pieces when you…

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?”

Steve turned away from you before Tony finished speaking.

You turned to see your parents in the hallway and Clint off to the side of them, an apologetic grimace on his face.

“Dad-”

“Get away from her. NOW.”

“Tony,” your mother put her hand on Tony's shoulder, who was looking at Steve as if he wanted to fly him out of the Tower.

Your heart was pounding wildly, a sour feeling making its way into your chest.

“I'm sorry, Steve. I turned the volume down and got distracted for a moment and they just appeared out of nowhere,” Clint tried to approach, but Tony's deadly stare drew him back a few steps.

“DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS? AND YOU LET THEM?”

In the midst of all that flurry, you turned to look at Steve. His face was nothing compared to the happiness he had radiated a few minutes ago and it contracted your heart. You moved closer to him, alerting him a little as he continued to watch Tony's argument with Clint and Pepper trying to calm them both down.

You took his hand without taking your gaze from his and when he turned to look at you you didn't like the fear you saw in his eyes.

“LET HER GO!”

“Tony, that's enough,” Pepper grabbed his arm preventing him from getting too close to the two of you.

“Are you out of your mind? You're like a hundred years older than her!”

“Dad, stop, you don't know-”

“She's my daughter, Steve!”

“I know, Tony, and I'm sorry, but-” he paused, his hand squeezing yours in support. “I can't apologize for that. I love her. I swear there's nothing stronger than that, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for her either. I know it's hard for you, but I've been holding this in for so long and it's because of you, because I knew you'd react like this and I can't go on like this.”

Your father held his gaze on Steve, his eyes a blaze of burning anger and for a moment you feared he wouldn't relent. But Tony moved letting out a snort and walked over to where Pepper stood. She put her arms around him and murmured some things to him that you couldn't hear.

You turned to see Steve, who already had his gaze on yours. It was electrifying. You didn't think that he would ever really look at you in that loving and caring way as he was doing at that moment. You felt at peace for the first time, without having to pretend around him or around anyone else. You could finally show all that you had inside instead of holding it in.

He gave you a small smile, but enough to give you the strength to argue with your father if necessary.

Tony sighed audibly and you both turned to look at him. Your father passed his gaze over both of you, as if hoping to find some response. You squeezed Steve's hand in preparation for anything.

“Just…” Tony clicked his tongue. “Do you think you'll be okay with him?”

The question surprised you, and even more so his warm look, but you nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

Your father shook his head, thinking to himself, before looking back at Steve.

“This… is going to take a good while, Rogers,” he pointed at him with his index finger, accusingly. “You better not screw this up.”

Your mother smiled at you, still wrapping her arms around Tony, her fingers massaging his tense muscles. You heard Steve's positive response and your father looked at you again.

“Fine,” he nodded. “Fine, whatever. Don't ever do that around me again,” he dismissed them by waving his hand and started to walk away down the hallway. “I can't believe it, Pepper, since when?”

“Actually, love, I'm surprised you barely noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve walked over to Clint and put an arm around his shoulders. The latter grimaced shaking his head.

“That's the last time I'm counting on you, Barton,” Steve patted his shoulder amicably before walking away again.

His gaze met yours and he extended his hand toward you.

“I already apologized, Rogers, what else do you want?”

You took Steve's hand and pulled him in the direction of the stairs with a huge smile, not waiting for him to respond to Clint, and squeezed his hand when you could see the party still going on downstairs.

“So we're really doing this,” you heard him murmur, and you turned to give him a resounding kiss on the cheek. His lips curved.

“We're really doing this.”

You didn't know what the future held, but you were more than willing to face it head on. You walked down the stairs moving your clasped hands back and forth, feeling the happiest you could have been in a long time, more complete and loved than ever, and you knew the smile on Steve's face said the same as yours.

You hoped that wasn't the last time you would hold his hand that tight.

[columbo-of-narnia]

You've probably been asked this before, but if you could insert your husbands into each other's shows (Tanner into HSMTMTS and Josh into Cobra Kai), how would you design their characters? What would they be like? What would their purpose in the narrative be?

And most importantly, would they finally get to snog men on screen?

I have never been asked this, BUT I have thought of it! First, let's do Josh in Cobra Kai. This is just part 1. I am gonna add Tanner to HSMTMTS next

His character would be named Briar Thorne and start out as one of Sam's friends. They grew up together, Briar's dad is a lawyer who grew up in poverty, so he does everything he can to provide for his son. Despite this, Briar isn't spoiled and rather understands his privilege and tries to give back to those who don't have as much.

He is very kind and sweet and absolutely hates unnecessary violence.

His narrative reason for being is to add some realism to the show because holy fuck does Cobra Kai not do that itself.

He first meets Robby mid season 1 when Robby first starts hanging around the LaRusso house and he is almost instantly Smitten. Nothing really happens romantically with them until season 3. Really he is a side character one season 1 and 2. He slowly becomes someone Robby can consider a friend and becomes more Robbus friend than sam's (He and she had been drifting apart for a while)

Briar avoids the out of tournament Karate fights but does show up to support Robby and actually goes to the locker room to check on Robby after Hawk cheats and hurts him. That shows Robby that Briar actually cares for him.

When Briar finds out that Shannon just left Robby without food or money. He immediately offers him a place to stay and Robby is thankful but declines because he is living with the LaRussos. Briar leaves the offer open and suddenly after that he is hanging out with Sam more at her place. He knows it's shitty but he wants to spend time with Robby more. He does have a crush but doesn't pursue it because obviously Robby is Dating sam

At the end of season 2 he is there for the Brawl and witnesses Miguel attacking Robby and Robby defending himself by Kicking Miguel over the edge.

Now this is where things change. Robby does still run away. However, Briar is very Vocal to everyone that it was self defense. He even posts videos online showing Robby trying to stop the fight and how Miguel antagonized and kept being aggressive towards Robby up until the point where Miguel fell.

When Robby is caught, Immediately Briar is there with his dad. Robby doesn't go to juvie for Assault but rather running from the police. His stay is still awful but now he had Briar as a Visitor daily.

There is also a lawsuit against the DAs office because they initially tried repressing the videos taken showing how Robby was just defending himself.

When Robby gets out he goes and Lives with Briar instead of staying at Cobra Kai. He doesn't even join the Dojo until Sam comes to see him at the skate park because she tries to just brush everything under the rug and act like she hadn't gone on the news and said "I don't know why robby did it". That's when he joins Cobra kai.

He isn't tricked or conned into it. He is using them. He wants to get back at his dad, at Daniel, at Sam and everyone who turned on him.

He still trains Kenny and forms a bond with him but it's more genuine. Because Robby had someone believe in him (Briar) he hasn't fully gone to the dark side and thus he is able to build a stronger bond with Kenny and teach him the importance of Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai. How Kenny can use both and not be consumed by either.

Robby initially struggled with his feelings for Briar when he first got out of Juvie. He still had Johnny's voice in his head telling him 'no way my son can be gay. Be a man robby'. It took some time and Briar never pushed, but Robby soon realized he liked Briar back and they began dating.

And Briar actually became good friends with Tory once he got to know her and She learned that he wasn't stuck up or judgemental like she thought. They became very close to the point where his dad was willing to help Tory with any legal Issues her Aunt may cause.

Robby goes to prom With Briar, who sets Tory up with a nice guy. They have a lot of fun until the after party where Sam confronts Briar for dating Robby.

She is upset that he is dating her ex and that he took his side. How she feels betrayed that he dropped her and has been ignoring her. That he is friends with the go who tormented and attacked her relentlessly.

He points out that she dropped Robby when he needed her. How she Betrayed Robby. How she showed up to prom with the man who started all this (Briar does not like miguel). He tells her she is acting immature and that the world doesn't revolve around her. He can date who he wants and be friends with who he wants. Because Tory never would have been aggressive if sam had not been judgmental.

Sam slaps Briar and that's when Tory and Robby come over and tell Sam to back off and Sam is horrified she slapped one of her oldest friends. She tries to apologize but Tory stands in the way and tells her to leave before they make her. Miguell comes over and that's when the after prom fight happens.

When it ends Briar and Robby leave and end up cuddling in the car Tetry lent Robby. They didn't have sex but instead spent the night just talking, Kissing and being together. Robby promises that after the All Valley, he was done with Cobra Kai and all of it. T

I've already written too much, and this is just half of my ideas for Joshua in Cobra Kai because I was trying to keep season 1-3 mostly the same with season 4 changing drastically and season 5 being completely rewritten and season 6 possibly not existing.

[malfunctioningemi]

Sk8 the Infinity & how Reki Kyan is written to be human

SO 👏 if you kept reading past the opening line welcome back to some more thoughts I have had about Sk8. In the show, I think Reki is the most humanly written character in the show. This is due to his personality, but more-so his actions and internal dialogue. 

We open the show with narration from Reki explaining skating and what he loves about it, before seeing him lose the beef with Shadow, and be forced to watch as his board burns. We see straight away that, for all his passions, Reki is punished and given consequences for being too over-indulgent and confident in winning. He loves skating, but it can hurt sometimes. 

One of my favourite scenes with Reki, is him in school before Langa. It’s short, but he is sat doodling away new skateboarding designs and parts. The second someone shows interest and asks what he is doing, he eagerly asks if they want to talk about it, to which he is immediately rejected for his eagerness. His passions being met with disinterest.

Then we have Reki meeting Langa. He doesn’t pay him much attention in class, but when meeting him outside of Cherry’s studio, we get to see Reki’s goofy side come out more. Asking him if he was interested in skating, if he’d want to learn. Then getting shot down once again for his eagerness, only to end up with Langa as a co-worker instead thanks to Oka. As Reki teaches Langa to skate, we het to see Reki shine in his knowledge. he never gives up, even if something seems impossible. He slowly encourages and pushes Langa until he can finally nail that first trick, having fun the whole time and making their friendship all the brighter. It is honest and genuine, even if a little battered and bruised sometimes.

Skipping forward a bit, we see how Reki reacts to other skaters like Miya. Up until this point, we know that Reki is an average skater compared to most, and Miya being the child prodigy, shows Reki up and makes him land face in dirt more than once. There is jealousy of his skill, but also a playful rivalry. Miya is just a kid, similar in age to Rekis younger sister, so he can’t hold a grudge against him for too long. He quickly jumps in to defend Miyas honor, showing that despite everything, he is his friend above any rivalry or squabbles. 

SO. When Reki races against Adam, we see a side of Reki we don’t see much. He is dejected. He tries to joke and laugh, but anyone can see that he is bitter about losing. The people he is surrounded by are spectacular, and he is just regular. He wants to get better, but for now he needs to recover. 

I love the beach episode SO MUCH and for one reason I don’t see people mention often is the scene between Joe and Reki. Reki confides in Joe, and Joe does what he can to comfort him. It’s a rare heart-to-heart we don’t get much of in the show, but when we do it tends to be between the two. They are very similar in my eyes, Joe seeing himself in Reki, and wanting him to not make the same mistakes he did. Reki admits that he doesn't want to fall behind, and while he has the drive, it doesn’t mean he has the skill to.

As the episodes pass and Langa QUICKLY improves, he gets left behind like he expected. He hates it, he doesn’t want to just be ‘the one that hangs around the GOOD skaters’ he wants people to know his name and acknowledge his skills. 

The turning point for Reki’s character is when Langa goes against his promise. Reki is a man of his word, and expects everyone else to keep the same ideals. Once a promise is made, you shouldn’t break it. Knowing Reki was the one to teach Langa everything, seeing him exceed his own skills, and then not keep his promise made Reki break. To him, that was him being left behind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach the same stars that Langa could. As much as this era of the show hurts, Reki is written so realistically. He knows that he shOULDN’T be so upset about this, seeing and supporting his friends improvement used to bring him joy, but now he was left behind without so much as a thank you, he can’t help but close off and run away. How I see it, Reki has the ideals of Someone who wants others to put the same energy into their friendship as he does, and when that doesn't happen, he gets crushed.

Reki at his lowest is when he gets beaten up by his old skating friends, and Oka finds Reki wallowing in self pity. He feels as though he deserved to be beaten up for feeling this way, that his feelings are selfish and he should just be happy. Oka’s advice that sometimes people are just cut out to watch and cheer them on gives Reki the energy to go and watch a race, but even with cheering Langa on, he doesn’t WANT to watch. He wants to be there, skating alongside his friends and having FUN! What fun is there in just sitting there? 

The small scene between Reki and Tadashi has always been interesting regarding Reki’s character. In the depths of his moping, it takes someone who (as he sees it) completely missing the point of skating to knock him out of it. He loves skating, he loves skating with langa, it’s all meant to be FUN! saying it aloud to someone else seemed to be the wakeup call he needed, even if tears were shed.

Once Reki and Langa finally makeup, with Reki having had more time to think things over, we can finally see Reki be given the acknowledgement from Langa that he IS amazing. And of course, Reki blushes. As much as he wants to be recognized for what he can do, being bombarded by compliments makes him nervous and a little embarrassed, and as I read it, feel like all his moping was useless if Langa thought that about him the entire time. It’s sweet and a genuine moment between the two. 

NOW. this post is already really long but I absolutely adore how the skating between him and Adam is done the second time. Reki knows what to expect this time, and just has to endure it until the time comes for him to shine. He might not be the best skater, but he knows everything about the boards themselves, and gets to show off his knowledge once the rain comes. Seeing him win and get that big hug from everyone once it’s over feels like a reunion that I didn’t know I needed. For once everyone is on Reki’s side and supporting him vocally and physically.

As we reach the end of the show, we get to see Reki watch Langa skate almost to his death before their reunion and Langas victory. I think Langas leap of a hug into Reki is the culmination of 12 episodes of friendship- ups and downs all culminating in a fun and loving embrace. A thank you for showing Langa how fun living in Okinawa could turn out to be.

Their duo skate at the end is, as I see it, the start of something new, and the end of Reki’s arc. He has learnt so much, and ended up with a best friend and a newfound love for skating alongside people who truly cherish him. Reki is NOT a perfect person. He gets jealous, and pouts when he gets teased, and makes awful jokes and does some goofy things that sometimes puts him in weird positions, but he is a character who just wants to have FUN as hard as that can seem sometimes.

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Two Years, Five Months, and Three Days

I have arrived with the next part of the bruise childhood friends au, only *checks notes* two months late. This is the last part before the grand finale where Jay and Cole will get together. It’s set just after the ending of 'Cause daddy doesn't love me, mommy is a god'. Warning for swearing, cross posted on ao3.

~

“This is the Monastery?” Jay asked. He shifted his duffel bag to the other shoulder and looked over at Wu, who nodded. 

“It is the Monastery of Spinjitsu. This is where you will train,” he said.

“It’s so… big,” Jay said. How could such a large building be hiding up in the mountains, unnoticed by anyone? It seemed impossible, despite the evidence standing right in front of him.

“It was designed to house multiple generations of people at a time. There were nearly twenty living together at one point.”

“And now?”

Wu hummed. “Three, including you and me.”

“Sensei, there’s only two of us.”

“Three. I have another student. He’s about your age, actually,” Wu said. 

“Another student? You didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t? Well, no time like the present to meet him, then.” Wu pushed the doors open and entered, Jay following closely. 

The Monastery was beautiful, Jay thought. Everything about it was bright and shiny. It didn’t seem very much like a home, though. While intricate and very complex, it was cold and impersonal as well. For something meant to house multiple families, it didn’t look lived in. 

“So, where’s this other student?” Jay asked. 

“Ah, he’s around here somewhere. Probably in his room. You’ll come across him eventually.”

“Okay.”

Wu looked at Jay critically. “You must be tired from your journey,” he said. “Take any one of the empty rooms and rest. You can start training some other day.”

Jay was too tired to argue. Any excitement at being able to be a real life superhero had drained out hours ago, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion. He took the first room on the left, thankful when it wasn’t occupied, and threw his bags on the floor. He’d unpack tomorrow, probably. And if not then, then definitely by the end of the week. 

The room was rather plain. Off-white painted walls, a wooden door and window frame, simple furniture and bed. It gave the impression of a model room in some house showing. 

Jay lay down on the bed, arms folded over his stomach. He should explore this place, figure out the layout. He’d need to know where the bathroom was, at the very least. But he also didn’t want to get up, not when he’d just gotten comfortable. Ugh. Sighing, Jay peeled himself off the floor and went down the hall, opening and closing doors as he passed.

On the fifth door he opened, he found what must have been the other student’s room. The walls were an eggshell white, much like Jay’s, but it was decorated. He could see a calendar, among other things, lining the walls. The bed was neatly made with a black comforter and pillows.

Jay closed the door. It wasn’t polite to be snooping in some stranger’s room, especially if said stranger was going to be his roommate-slash-vigilante-partner. First impressions had to be good, after all. He continued down the hall to find that it split into two. This entire building was practically a maze. And it seemed to be bigger on the inside. How did that even work?

“Ehhh, screw it,” Jay sighed. He picked the hall on the right, because ‘the right is always right,’ or something like that, and promptly got lost. 

“This place is a freaking maze,” he groaned. “I’m gonna get lost and die from dehydration and hunger.”

“It’s not nearly that bad,” a voice said quietly. Jay spun around, nearly knocking the newcomer in the stomach, and locked eyes with a ghost. 

Well, not a literal ghost, but close enough, for Cole Hence-Brookstone himself was standing in front of him. The same Cole who’d mysteriously disappeared two years ago. The same Cole who Jay had presumed dead.

Jay choked. “Cole?” His voice had an unfortunate resemblance to a cat coughing up a hairball.

Cole looked just as shocked as Jay felt. “Jay? What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jay growled. He hadn’t seen Cole in years — not since they were eleven, back when Cole got sent to boarding school. They hadn’t kept contact, for whatever reason, and the last Jay had heard from him was a short letter. It had come out of nowhere, after nearly a year of radio silence, in which Cole’d said he was ‘leaving’ and didn’t know if he’d be back. 

“Sensei Wu is training me,” Cole lifted his chin. “I’m guessing you’re his new student.”

“Got it in one,” Jay said. He glared at Cole a little more, as if doing that would make him explain the past few years.

“Look, Jay, I know that our last conversation was awkward, but—“

“Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” Jay shook his head. “You left, Cole. Just a shitty letter and nothing else. What is there to talk about?”

Cole looked down at the floor and picked at his nails. Vaguely, Jay could remember Cole having that habit even when they were kids. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Cole said quietly. 

“Mission failed, then. A big fat zero-out-of-ten.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Jay said.

Cole nodded. He took a step past Jay. “See you during training then, or something.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay,” Cole left, leaving Jay standing alone in the blank hallway. 

~

Cole had fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly that he could never recover. How could Jay of all people be in the Monastery, with him, training to fight the forces of darkness? The universe was playing a cosmic joke on him. 

Cole had missed Jay, of course he had. Jay was his first and only friend. He’d thought he was doing the right thing when he sent that letter to Jay, saying sorry for everything. He had never been a good friend to Jay, and he’d thought that Jay would be better off without him.

He probably had been, really. 

But now they had no choice but to work together. Sensei Wu had explained that himself, said that he couldn’t just choose just anyone to be trained; it had to be specific people with the potential. And Jay must have the potential, since he was here in this building, his room only three doors down from Cole’s.

Cole hit the punching bag a little harder, nearly snapping the chain off. In any other case, he’d be sulking in his room, but Wu had drilled into his head that training was too important to miss. So he was standing in the training room, hoping to the First Master that Jay didn’t come in. 

That was unlikely, though, Cole mused. They’d both avoided each other like the plague for the past two weeks. Wu hadn’t picked up on the awkwardness between them, at least not yet, but it was only a matter of time. Then he’d force them to work out their problems and be civil. The only times Cole even saw Jay was at dinner, during which they never talked.

He wished they would talk, though. It was suffocating to have his former best friend right there and not be getting along. Cole deserved it, he supposed, but he missed when they were kids. When they’d just talk and play games together, not a care in the world.

Cole hit the punching bag again. His knuckles were starting to hurt, sore and bleeding. Little droplets of red ran down his fingers. He must have been punching harder than he’d thought.

Wu would kill him if he didn’t take care of his injuries. Cole made his way to the sink, running his hands under the water until it ran clear. Then he put ointment on the wounds.

His hands were still visibly hurt. He could hear his mom chiding him, a voice in his head telling him to take better care of himself. “You need to be careful, Pumpkin,” she used to say. “I won’t always be around to help you.”

And she hadn’t, because Mom had died when Cole was just barely eleven. It still hurt to think of. Cole blinked back the tears — he refused to cry. Crying was something that got you beaten up and made fun of.

A cough and the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then a freckled face with reddish hair was in his vision, patting Cole on the shoulder. 

“You okay, Cole?” Jay asked awkwardly. He was taller, now, Cole thought. Probably a good few inches taller than Cole.

“I— yeah,” Cole said. 

“Um, okay, then,” Jay mumbled. He looked down at his feet. “See you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” Cole nodded. He watched Jay exit, then turned back to the mirror. His eyes weren’t too red and puffy, thankfully. Small mercies. 

Why had Jay even bothered talking to Cole? He’d made it pretty clear that they weren’t friends. Did it mean he didn’t hate Cole? Was he trying to say that he didn’t quite forgive Cole, but was willing to be civil? Or maybe it was just because anyone would have done that, made sure another person was okay.

Why did people have to be so complicated? Stupid emotions and relationships. It must be the last option, Cole decided. They weren’t friends, no, but maybe they were acquaintances. He could work with that. Just two people who happened to be coworkers. That was more than acceptable.

~

Jay buried his face in his pillow and wondered if the world would make sense after banging his head on the headboard a few more times. It didn’t. 

Jason Edward Gordon, you are the most socially awkward person on this side of Ninjago, he told himself. “You okay?” He’d asked Cole. Who even said that? It was very clear Cole had not been okay. 

Jay groaned and tried to organise his thoughts. First thought, he was terrible at comforting people. He’d just left without even giving Cole a tissue. Second thought, he apparently did not hate Cole, no matter how much he wanted to. Third thought, his life was a mess and he was officially an idiot.

Hmmm. Not very organised at all. Jay hated emotions.

Should he go talk to Cole? He probably should. But the awkwardness alone would kill him. Jay resisted the urge to scream and just never come out of his room again.

Jay buried his face in the pillows again.

~

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least. Jay and Cole sat on opposite sides of the table and avoided talking. Wu served rice and some kind of fish, miraculously oblivious to the tension in the air.

“You two should start sparring tomorrow,” Wu said cheerfully. “I’m sure that Cole can teach you, Jay.”

“I— yeah,” Cole muttered. “Sure.”

“Sounds great,” Jay mumbled.

“I have to go collect the next member of your team soon, so you’re going to be alone for the next week or so. Dark forces are rising and we need as much help as we can get,” Wu continued.

“But Jay’s barely even started proper training,” Cole said.

“You can teach him, as I said earlier. You’re more than capable.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure I can’t learn from you, Sensei?” Jay laughed, perhaps a bit maniacally. He must have sounded like a crazy person.

“You will. Once I return with your teammate.”

“Ah.”

“There’s food in the freezer. Only Jay is allowed to reheat it.”

Cole made a face. “Why can’t I?”

“Because you set water on fire and I don’t want the Monastery burning down.”

Cole went back to his food, muttering about how he was perfectly able to cook. Jay doubted that, memories of burnt cookies and undercooked chicken in his mind.

“I’ll be going by tomorrow morning. Don’t leave the Monastery under any conditions,” Wu stood. “I have to rest for the night. You boys finish dinner on your own.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Cole got up immediately after Wu left, collecting his plates and heading for the sink. He didn’t look at Jay, just washed the dishes and left. So Jay ended up sitting alone while he finished his dinner, poking at the vegetables and wondering why Sensei didn’t believe in seasoning. And also wondering how he was going to get through the next week, all alone with Cole.

There was no way he was going to survive the week.

~

Cole got up at exactly six in the morning, brushed his teeth, and made himself cereal for breakfast. Then he went to the training grounds and went through the obstacle course again.

Jay didn’t pull himself out of bed until nine — Sensei would have killed him for that. Cole chose not to say anything, though, just watched him go through the forms Wu had taught. 

Your arms are too stiff,” Cole said quietly. He gestured to Jay’s position. “You need to relax a bit more.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” Jay flushed.

“That’s better,” Cole nodded. “You’re, um, doing good.”

“Thanks.”

Cole stood near Jay fur a few more minutes, making sure that he was doing the exercises properly, until Jay coughed and cleared his throat. “You can go do your own thing. I’m doing fine on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Cole mumbled. Was he blushing? He was probably blushing.

“Thanks, though.”

Cole went back to the obstacle course. He’d talk to Jay later, hopefully.

~

Lunch was a silent affair, both Cole and Jay picking at last night’s leftovers. They didn’t bother talking — Jay went to the microwave and heated the food up, then they ate. Cole was just thankful that Jay wasn’t glaring at him anymore. Awkward silence was much better than anger.

“Wonder when Sensei will be back?” Cole asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Soon, hopefully. I don’t think we could survive without him.”

“Yeah, probably not. I mean, I still can’t cook. He won’t even let me in the kitchen!”

Jay actually laughed at that. “I can’t either! The housekeeper wouldn’t let me!”

“Not even to make like, microwave soup or something?”

“Bold of you to assume we had microwave meals. Dad — Cliff is still the crunchy all-natural granola mom he’s always been.”

“Can’t be worse than cafeteria food,” Cole joked. He didn’t mention Jay calling his father by his first name. They’d always had a complicated relationship. 

“I don’t know, I’d rather have chicken nuggets than quinoa and plain lettuce.”

“Yeah, quinoa is pretty gross.”

“No mention on the plain lettuce?”

“Salads exist, Jay.”

“But— but those have like, dressing and croutons and stuff!”

“You’ve seen what they serve at certain restaurants,” Cole said.

Jay shuddered at the memory. “We agreed to never speak of that.”

“We did, didn’t we.”

The mood returned to the stifling awkwardness and discomfort that it had earlier. Cole stared down at his food and sighed. Jay shuffled and picked at his rice. Neither of them looked at each other. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you, before? I don’t really know why I did that,” Jay mumbled.

“I should be saying sorry, Jay,” Cole said. “I left you. Just sent a letter and pretended like you didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, but I should have talked to you. Reached out myself, instead of waiting.”

“I did want to, you know. Keep being friends. I just figured you’d be better off with someone else,” Cole admitted. “That’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You were my first and only friend. I wouldn’t have wanted someone else.”

“I ignored you, and after that I thought there was no way of making up. So I left and hoped that that would solve my problems.”

“You just needed to ask to talk again,” Jay said. “I was never angry in the first place.”

“You weren’t?”

“No. I told you that last time we saw each other, before the whole ninja gig.”

“Maybe I just don’t listen well.”

“You idiot,” Jay smacked Cole on the hand.

“First Master, when did we end up being so awkward around each other? We used to be so close,” Cole laughed bitterly.

“Probably when your dad shipped you off to the other side of the continent,” Jay said dryly.

Cole scoffed. “Pretty sure it was earlier than that.”

“Well, somewhere around that time.”

“You’re not mad, anymore?”

“Nah. If I was mad, I’d be screaming and flipping the table.”

“It’s solid wood. Doubtful that it could even be shifted, much less flipped.”

“I still think I could,” Jay joked. “Just one swift kick and it goes toppling over.”

Cole laughed. “Other way around, Jay.”

“The table’s going to kick me?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I want to spar,” Jay declared. He hopped off the chair and dragged Cole towards the door. “You’re going to teach me all the cool ninja moves you’ve been learning.”

“I could beat you within ten seconds.”

“Then prove it, rocks-for-brains,” Jay taunted. “Loser has to wash the dishes.”

“You’re going to smell like dish soap for days.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then come on!” They walked out the doors to the training yard, hand in hand.

~

“Wu totally left early so that we’d make up, didn’t he.”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”