#this design is supposed to be like a space suit.. and then i couldn't help but add smth silly so theres a wizard hat

[someawkwardnerd]

oh look a meet the artist :•)

I don't think I've posted one here yet and there are a lot of new ppl here so hello!! <3

[pookietv]

delays | george clarke

the most voted for in my poll! also i love cute meeting fics so :)

the airport was always a liminal space. seeing people getting drunk on seven pound pints in the airport, people with suitcases and business wear waiting impatiently for their plane, and parents with kids waiting in hopes of the family holidays.

you, however, could not be as thrilled to be at the airport. your plane delayed at least three hours due to issues at the other end in greece, when all you were trying to do was join your friends on holiday, after you could only make half the holiday due to work.

your gate was relatively empty, people leaving to get food or have a drink in anticipation of having to wait even longer for the planes arrival. you, on the other hand, had no where to go or nothing to do, so sat mindlessly, music playing on your headphones and looking at the other planes in the taxiways and aprons, almost willing time to move quicker, when someone came and sat pretty close to you.

at first you found it a little strange, that he had sat only one seat apart from you when there was a practically empty gate, until he turned to you with a slight smile, and you saw him say something - which you couldn't quite hear with your headphones loud, so you quickly moved one from the side of your head.

"sorry?" you said softly, indirectly asking him to repeat.

looking at him properly, he was attractive. broad shoulders that were only more accentuated by the tight-ish sky blue top he was wearing, light brown hair and a beard that seemed to suit him almost too well.

"i was just saying i wasn't trying to be weird, just this it the only seat next to a charge port," he laughed slightly, and you nodded a little awkwardly, smiling back.

"yeah, we're probably gonna be stuck here a while," you said with a grimacing smile, and he rolled his eyes in agreement.

"so, are you going anywhere nice?" he asked whilst popping the charger into the socket next to his seat.

you quirked your head a little, "well, we're probably going to the same place, no? i mean, we're at the same gate?" you laughed a little quietly.

"oh, nah, i more meant like, are you going on holiday or something?" he grinned a little.

"oh! yeah, sorry, um, i'm going to meet my friends, they're already on holiday, i'm just joining them late cause i had work, go figure," you smiled back at him, "what about you?"

"oh, i'm pretty much the same - my friends are already on holiday, i'm joining them late." he returned back.

"well, small world... though, i suppose mykonos is kind of a popular place for holidays," you said, a hint of amusement in your voice

a comfortable silence came for a moment as he looked at his phone, now charging, and you couldn't help but watch him for a moment, noticing his eyes were blue now from the light on his phone. but as quickly as he picked it up, he put it back down, and looked at you.

"so, you work?" he said, breaking the silence, "what do you do?"

"well, kind of work, i'm doing a masters, but i have a work placement kind of thing, but i'm doing fashion design," you offered with a small grin, "what about you?"

"oh, well... it's always the most jarring thing to tell people, but i guess i'm a content creator?" he laughed a little, "not that i don't love it, cause obviously i do, but i always feel like it sounds self important or something."

"i don't think it sounds self important," you reassured, "it's quite nice when people love what they do and you can tell, i think at least."

a genuine expression lit up his face, and he nodded a little, "thanks. so, what kind of fashion do you do? not that i know a lot about fashion, but there's like... runway and high-end and streetwear and stuff, right?" he laughed a little awkwardly.

"uhm, i mainly work with avant-garde, which is like.. it's pretty much like very artistic runway, if i had to describe it? a lot of impractical outfits that look visually interesting, basically," i giggled a little as i explained, "but on a personal level, i quite like just making pretty outfits, god knows i have too many clothes."

"i can tell. even in a stuffy airport waiting for a delayed plane, you do make it look good," he complimented, and you could see his eyes lingering on what you were wearing.

you tried your best to sound nonchalant as you felt blush creep on your cheeks.

"i mean, you don't look awful yourself, considering the circumstances," you offered, trying to stay casual, as you watched his eyes flick to your lips for a moment, before a playful smirk tugged at his own.

"so you could make me look cool with this?" he grinned, gesturing down to himself, the plain blue shirt and black shorts. you had to admit, even if it wasn't the height of style in any way, he looked good - effortlessly, it was a 'i've just come back from the gym and i still look good' kind of outfit.

"i mean, don't knock it! in modelling they often say that if you give anyone a nice outfit, they can look good, but only someone who already looks good can look nice in a plain outfit," you quirked an eyebrow up.

"so, what you're saying is i'm drop dead gorgeous?" he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"hey, you're in gym shorts, i wouldn't go that far," you returned, and he grinned. "but you're definitely above average. not that your ego needs boosting anymore,"

"is that a professional opinion?" he asked, leaning towards you slightly, his eyes almost twinkling with amusement.

you scoffed playfully, "it's an honest opinion."

the low hum of the airport was the only noise for a brief moment, and you could almost feel his eyes flickering over your face.

"so, you're pretty, and charming, and stuck alone in an airport waiting to go on holiday with your friends. your boyfriend also waiting for you there?"

you choked slightly on your laughter, his directness taking you aback slightly, "uhm, wow, okay, straight to the point, are we?" you managed to reply, your cheeks burning, "i don't have a boyfriend."

he grinned, "that's useful." he said, almost matter of factly.

"so, no girlfriend for you?" you giggled back, and he rolled his eyes and huffed mockingly.

"well, it's not my fault i'm the loneliest man ever," he laughed slightly, "i mean, clearly i've got good chat, you're sat here, aren't you?"

you guffawed playfully, "hey, who says i'm not just sat here because i have to be?"

"well, what kind of guy would i be to let that opportunity go to waste?" he asked, smirk playing on his lips.

there was something undeniably attractive about his confidence.

"is that so?" you replied in a mock tone.

"absolutely. but i think i may need a name to call you other than 'you'," he said, leaning a little closer.

you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck.

"it's y/n." you said with a slight giggle, "and you?"

"george," he grinned back. "so, any chance you maybe want to waste some of the three hour delay by going for an insanely overpriced airport drink?"

"can't suppose it could hurt, especially since my friends are almost definitely drinking already."

"likewise with my friends. i mean, we can't let them have all the fun and fall behind ourselves, can we?" he grinned.

[softxsuki]

hi!! id like to make an urgent request please :)

tw !! mention of self harm / new sh wounds , mention of a blade

if you’re alright with it, id like to request a (romantic) hawks x gn!reader where hawks walks in on reader relapsing.

ive recently grown more and more stressed and tired lately, like my energy is constantly being drained and no matter how hard i try im not enough to stop it. and i wanna reach out for help cause i know i have friends who care about me but i just cant for some reason—i dont feel the need to ask for help cause i just dont think i deserve it. no matter how many times ill comfort others i was never strong enough to ask for the same comfort, and instead of going to someone and talking about it i turn to my blade.

hawks is a big comfort character of mine and my current hyperfix, and as embarassing as it is—reading comfort fanfics of him is a way of coping with it all. so id gladly appreciate if you could write this for me :) ++ if possible, id love if youd be able to include hawks cleaning reader’s cuts, cleaning them bringd me a sense of comfort and id love to see that in the fic.

but if you’re uncomfy about anything at all, no worries ! you dont have to write this if you dont wanna :) have a lovely day<3

Hawks Comforting Reader After They Self-Harm

please do not read if any kind of mentions of self-harm will do you more harm than good!

Pairing: Hawks x Gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of self harm, blade, blood, scars

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Drabble

Word Count: 750

Summary: In which your BF Hawks catches you self harming and cleans up your fresh cuts

[A/N: Hey hey, so sorry for taking so long to write this, I know it was urgent. I just happened to get sick randomly and couldn't focus to write. But I finally got this done for you! I hope you're still around to read it </3. Hopefully it provides you with some comfort. Always go to others for help before taking matters into your own hands. Even if you feel like you can't, I'm sure the people in your life would love to help you out <3 I'm here too if you ever need anything! Enjoy!]

You look back and forth between the bloody mess in front of you to the panicked face of Keigo who had walked in on you. 

He was supposed to be gone for the whole day, patrolling his designated area until later that evening. Who knew he’d stop by to check in on you, hoping to have lunch together before continuing his patrol duties. Yet, coming home to you hovering over the bathroom sink with blood dripping from your delicate skin was not what he expected at all.

Of course he knew about your history with self-harm and could very clearly see all your past scars on your body, but he never expected to see you actively harm yourself in front of him. 

“Y/N…” He starts cautiously, eyeing the blade in your hands as you shake with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, dropping the blade in the sink and moving your bleeding wrists away from his view, but he quickly closes the space between you.

Gentle hands grab your own and inspect the damage done. He rolls up the sleeves of his hero suit and gets to work on cleaning you up. With a clean towel he dabs the blood away, applying slight pressure to help stop the bleeding a little, whispering an apology whenever you flinch from the pain. 

He’s silent; contemplating how he let it get this far. He was a hero for crying out loud and the one person he wanted to keep safe the most out of everyone else in the world, managed to get harmed while he was away. He was angry and frustrated at himself that he couldn’t prevent the fresh cuts on your arms. All those nights he kissed your scars and whispered sweet promises of love and protection were all for nothing. Why couldn’t he be more useful to you?

“Keigo, I didn’t mea-” you start, but he quickly cuts you off as he finishes applying the bandage wrap to your wrist.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I should have known something was off, I should have paid more attention and been around to help instead of being out. I’m sorry.”

He presses kisses to your bandaged wrist, just wishing that he could have the magical healing power that Recovery Girl’s kisses had. He wished he could kiss all your pain away and face it all himself in your stead. 

“No, no, this is all on me. You’re always there for me, telling me how much you love me and trying your best to encourage me and lift me up, but I always hold back,” you confess, snatching your arms away from him in guilt, “You’re so busy as it is saving everyone. I don’t want to add to your burdens with my own problems as well. I thought I could deal with it all alone, but I failed. I turned back to my blade because it was too much to bear on my own.”

He sighs, and this time brings you into his arms in an embrace, “That’s because we’re not meant to go through these things alone, babe. Even as a hero I don’t do things on my own either. I have a whole agency backing me up along with my other fellow heroes. No one can accomplish anything on their own without hurting themselves. So please let me be there for you to help you as much as you’ve helped me.”

Silent sobs escape your lips as he continues to hold you and speak.

“All those days when you held me after I failed to save someone. All those nights you patched me up after a mission and I stubbornly refused to go to a hospital; let me be there for you for all your tough times as well. Let me be the one to gather you up again and listen to all your worries, don’t fight your battles alone anymore. I promise you’re not a bother to me at all. I want to be there for you. It’s my job,” he reassures you. 

“All right,” you sniffle, finally wrapping your own arms around him, accepting his comfort.

He calls the agency afterwards, letting them know that he can’t come in for the rest of the day and instead spends his time with you. Listening intently to everything that’s been bubbling up in your heart, right by your side, wiping your tears away and giving you his unconditional support and love. He’s definitely making sure you don’t deal with things on your own anymore :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted 3/5/2023

[rogueddie]

continuing Enter Sandman a little as a little celebration for one year 🎉

Steve has always considered himself brave. Especially after fighting interdimensional monsters and helping save the world. The idea that anything could scare him after all of that? Ridiculous.

But, standing in front of a mirror, he feels terrified. He's so anxious that he's sure that he's going to puke.

"You look great," Robin says, coming up behind him.

She's wearing a baby blue dress with a blazer on top, matching his three-piece suit. Not only is her outfit tailored, it's custom made- some big designer that owed Eddie a favor.

"I don't feel great," Steve mumbles. He tugs at the hem of his blazer. "We should have gone for traditional black. This is too much. What if Eddie-"

"Eddie is the one who insisted on color!" Robin reminds him, gently smacking his arm. "He said it's supposed to be a day for both of you, right? Or do you not trust him anymore?"

"Of course I trust him! But I want... I need this to work."

"It will. You look great, everything is ready, it's exactly how both of you want. It's going to be perfect." She grabs his shoulders, gently shaking him. "I will make sure it's perfect- if that means dragging you out by your ear then, damn it, I will."

Steve laughs, gently batting her off him. "Alright, alright, I get it!"

"Do you? Because we don't have long left, we need to get a move on!"

"Yeah, alright," he raises an eyebrow at her, nudging her. "Well, come on then, we don't have all day!"

She throws his hands up, pretending to be annoyed- it's ruined by how her face immediately softens, curling an arm around his. "Come on loverboy, the alter won't wait forever."

The yard is just as beautiful as Steve hoped it would be. El had taken over the organization, insisting that Steve and Eddie can't see it before the big day (the same way she insisted they couldn't see each other the night before).

Steve knew she would do an amazing job, but he's still blown away.

The new place the Byers got is bigger than their previous home in Hawkins- the back yard isn't much bigger though. They had managed to make it work, even with such little space.

Eddie stands at their little make-shift alter, Jeff nudging him when Steve steps out.

He looks beautiful. His suit is a dark blue, near black- but with the sun behind him, illuminating him, it's the perfect shade. His hair is half up in messy braids- Maxs work.

"You ready?" Steves mom asks. She looks awkward, most likely stressed with how harsh Steves father had reacted, but she's there. She's trying.

"Yeah," Steve says. His eyes are glued to Eddie.

"Come on," she laughs, tugging his arm out of Robins grip. "Go ahead, Robbie. I've got him."

Robin gives her a two finger salute.

The music starts up, a second before El skips up beside Robin. She hand her one of the baskets she has, full of white petals.

It's surreal, walking up the aisle. He's surprised that it's not being on this end that's throwing him off- he's been more than happy to be the one to walk up the aisle, and actually doing so isn't changing that.

No, it's that he's actually getting married. He's finally getting his happy ending and it's to someone he loves. To someone who loves him.

He feels like he's underwater, stuck in a dream- he's relieved that they agreed with El about doing the 'usual' vows, not a personal version or speech, when he finds himself repeating the vows Hopper on autopilot.

Robin gives his hand a squeeze when she gives him one of the rings.

"I love you," he can't help but whisper. It's worth it, to see Eddies smile get so big and bright.

"I love you too," he whispers back, as he slides Steves ring on.

Hopper clears his throat, giving them both pointed looks- something that has the crowd tittering. He lifts the little notebook, continuing to read out the vows.

He pauses, at the last line, looking up and grabbing Steves shoulder. His voice is a little choked when he continues; "is it my privelage to pronounce you husband and husband." He jerks his head towards Eddie. "Kiss your man."

Steve manages to hold his laughter in, just long enough to kiss Eddie. Luckily, Eddie also bursts into laughter when they pull apart.

Dustins cheering is the loudest.

Eddie pulls him close to his side with a hand on his waist, their friends swarming them with love and congratulations. He leans close, so Steve can hear him over the noise; "is it everything you dreamed of?"

"Better."

[demonslayedher]

What domestic skills do you think the Kamados would have had, being a multigenerational rural family with an incentive toward forest management?

(Winter washi paper making? Hide tanning? Wild Vegetable foraging? )

What kinds of useful tools and home things could they reasonably make themselves, vs buying?

I wish I was better versed in rural life skills to be able to answer this better. This is going to rely on my scattered and various but ultimately shallow experience, a touch of research, and looking back at canon for clues.

With starting at canon for my basis, we know that the Kamado family isn't rich. This is a point that has come up between Tanjiro & Nezuko, that the reality of their situation doesn't allow for frivolous purchases like nice new kimono, however, they're not in such abject poverty that they can't afford toys like Hanako's puzzle box or treats like Nezuko's favorite konpeito candy. They would likely focus on needs before treats, and that makes me think that if it is more efficient to buy something rather than produce themselves, they will. In order to make their work effective, it probably helps if they have goods tools in the first place, so I'm assuming that items like the kitchen knives and Tanjiro's axe--items that work better when made by someone skilled in their production--were purchased. The cart Tanjiro uses to transport charcoal is also an item which takes a lot of technical skill to produce. Even if multiple family members working together could have built and maintained the charcoal kiln, the wheels and axle might had been best left to an expert's labor.

My second consideration is whether or not they'd have had the items necessary for production; as these can be big and costly, and may be better suited for places that will get more industrious use out of them. For example, we know that Nezuko is skilled enough in sewing to be able to sell her work for some side profit, however, due to the lack of a loom in their house's design, I doubt she produces the fabric herself (I'm sure she could if she had a loom, though). Regarding the paper question, places selling washi for profit would need bigger work spaces than the Kamado family seems to have for that, but if they had the mulberry plants and labor to dedicate to stripping and treating the bark, I don't see why they couldn't be able to make small batches of small sheets of paper. The question is whether or not it would be worth it, what with a town nearby that has a reasonably active looking economy--there are two story buildings down multiple streets and even Saburo's lights run on electricity at his distance from the heart of town. It would probably had been more labor and cost effective to buy paper than to produce it themselves. Speaking of Saburo, Director Sonozaki's requests for the design of his house be that you could get the feeling that he lives by himself and that during the winter, he earns money for his daily necessities by making umbrellas. There are a good handful of Japanese-style umbrellas in his home, as well as a couple paper lantern, both of which are crafts which require a lot of know-how. My sense is that it made sense in the area around the Kamado home to have your craft or two you specialized it, and to make enough profit from that to benefit from others' specializations, as opposed to be entirely self-sufficient. The Kamado family maintains their quality of life by being good at making charcoal, not necessarily good at all things. Something I wondered about but couldn't find enough evidence on either way was whether or not they'd be able to make pottery in the charcoal kiln. I suppose they could, but whether or not it would be worth it would depend on the quality of the clay available to them if they could afford not to keep the charcoal kiln running for charcoal, their primary livelihood. Again, might make more sense to purchase these household items. A good jar is more useful than a wonky one.

That all aside, even if they don't specialize or have the tools for everything, I'm willing to bet the Kamado family knows the basics of a lot of skills and trades, and there's something they can't build from scratch, they know how to repair it. By this, I'm assuming basic carpentry for furniture, basic building techniques for repairing holes and cracks in the walls, being able to adjust the cart if something is off about the wheel, fixing clothes (as Nezuko clearly does), sharping knives and axes, patching up holes in things that should be able to carry water.

However, like you said, they were involved in forest management, and this is probably where a lot of their skills are rooted. Sure, they can buy good quality knives and dishes from town, but they can't afford to go to town everyday to eat. That's probably where they focus a lot of their skills which aren't oriented toward charcoal production--and a lot of charcoal production is forest management in the first place.

This means that in addition to foraging, like they do on multiple occasions Tanjiro's train dream, and catching fish like Tanjiro & Inosuke usually do for breakfast every morning in the second fanbook epilogue, they also likely collect fallen leaves and household waste to make fertilizer to raise a vegetable garden. It seems to me that with the size of the daikon we see Yuichiro cutting, the Tokito woodsman family probably also lived like this; perhaps even more self-reliant than the Kamado family. Speaking of daikon, dream!Takeo asked Tanjiro for more of his takuan, which is a pickled daikon. I'm betting that the small jars above the cooking hearth were basic cooking ingredients bought in town, like oil and vinegar, but some of the bigger jars on the ground were probably for things like pickling vegetables and otherwise preserving food.

Besides getting food sourced from their immediate surroundings, they could probably make tools out of what was also in their immediate surroundings--especially bamboo! This is a fast growing source of flexible wood that you can make all kinds of daily items out of, including and especially baskets. These might be for washing and drying fruits and vegetables, collecting mountain sprouts, or as Tanjiro showed us with his quick crafting skills, making something light-proof you can carry your demon sister around in. I'm willing to bet that he and his siblings all started very young on bamboo weaving, and weren't all that old before they started carving bamboo into whatever they needed.

Another item they were clearly skilled with was working with straw. The fact that they have a kayabuki style abode--that is, a thatched roof cottage--knowing roof repair was probably one of their most used home repair skills. We Tanjuro weaving straw sandals as he gives advice to Tanjiro, straw rain coats, and straw boots for Tanjiro to use in snow. Straw was also a material they could recycle once it would no longer stand up to other household purposes. We see a lot of uses of plant material like this, but not as much evidence of animal material use, nor a place to hang hides for tanning, so it's my feeling that they personally might not have had this skill. Would they eat wild game if given the chance, though? Even if its not their main source of sustenance like it might be for a more self-sustaining hunter, I would not be surprised if they grew up eating deer, boars, and rabbits. Although beef was already popular and this time due to Western influence, I doubt they'd have been able to afford this. Eggs were also considered a luxury item in this time period. In other time periods and cultures, we might had expected to see the Kamado family raising chickens, but not for these circumstances.

In general, I think that compared to modern Reiwa era kids or even kids already used to the conveniences of the Taisho era city, the Kamado children were all much more skilled at starting and tending fires and at using knives for building and maintaining tools. They probably feel as comfortable carving something as they do writing something. That said, people may have different specializations and interests, like we see that Urokodaki was especially drawn to wood work, including harder woods (like the "kirikumo" cedar for Nezuko's box, which does not exist in real life), and he liked using wood for artistic purposes too. I'm willing to bet his carpentry and carpentry repair skills far exceed that of the Kamados. And then we've got Aoi! She's a very talented jack-of-all-trades, but it may be that she's a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. While Urokodaki was able to to coat the box very thoroughly with "iwa-urushi" ("boulder lacquer" which likewise does not exist in real life). Aoi make have only known very basic lacquer skills, and ultimately, she was only doing repairs. With the Butterfly Mansion being a more modern, upscale build, and what with the wide availability of Kakushi, I feel she would be able to do things like basic plumbing fixes and furniture adjustment, but she probably devotes more skill to keeping the hospital actively running and can employ outside help for bigger jobs.

This got a way from just talking about the Kamados, but I hope it provides some framework for thinking about whether or not any given material might be in their skill set!

[jayahult]

Eight

Eight crew-members. This ship is supposed to run with eight crew-members.

That thought kept echoing in my head as I stared out the window towards the inky black, pulling away from the fray. I couldn't look behind me. Allison was behind me. She was behind me. I checked the damage control display again, as if it would make things better. We were running on one of six thrusters remaining. The ECM was spasming, shooting out false signals, eight on our tail, sixteen, one, twenty-five. I hit the switch to try to purge the system. I didn't even want to think that he had an active fusion reactor sitting towards the tail of the ship. I couldn't bring myself to check it again. Levi had patched the leak, the poor bastard. I checked the life-support. The missile had torn open the side of the ship like can-opener. A large portion of the oxygen had gone with our cramped quarters; the carbon recyclers were several miles behind us, alongside our emergency oxygen kits. I punched an approximation of our status into the computer. Levi thumped his foot behind me. We had about twenty hours before we'd all suffocate.

I sighed, and looked back at Allison. She was dead. I had no idea how she got this far. She must have been just getting through the locks when she was exposed to the vacuum. Our suits were designed for helping with rapid decompression, but there was only so much that they could do. Her face was red with blood, her eyes desperate and sad and trapped that way forever. Levi was alive for now. He was near to the reactor. He saw it nearly breach. Fusion reactors don't melt down, not like the old fission systems were prone to, but a leak on a functioning reactor core could and would release massive amounts of radiation. His face was ruddy and sad. He couldn't meet my eyes. He was the oldest among us, twenty-seven.

The radio crackled to life, startling me. I kicked the other chair as I turned around and Allison floated against the chair that I had crudely locked her into, and her dead mouth lolled open as if to speak what was said over the channel:

"Attention, attention, all vessels - retreat has been ordered. Repeat - retreat has been ordered. Repeat -"

I checked the TMCS, and the fuel reserves. Technically we weren't dead in space, but we were as close to it as we could get. We wouldn't make it back to carrier in time for the retreat. That meant capture, or re-entry. By everything I'd heard being taken prisoner by the RTs would make you wish you were dead. We weren't built for re-entry. Even if we got a stable trajectory that wouldn't kill us by lithobraking, there was the problem of shutting down the reactor in time to minimize damage to ourselves and the local environment. The local comms opened up as well.

"Is anyone alive up there?"

It was Silvia. Still alive. She was in the engine room when the breach happened, which means that she'd be cut off from the rest of us.

"We're alive!" I said frantically, "It's Juno and Levi. Seems like we're the only other survivors. Listen, do you have an EVA suit near you? I need you at the bridge. Allison is dead. Levi is-"

I glanced at him.

"He's injured. He's going to need medical attention, but first we need to burn and re-enter Calvin-22-"

"Are you insane?"

"I've already weighed the options, Silvia. We're going to either die in orbit, in aerobrake, in lithobrake or we'll be executed by tribunal by some RTs, or we can take our best chance."

"You are insane," she said, "Thruster three looks like it could still function if I make a quick fix. I'm going to try that and head to you."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, ma'am."

The comm crackled again, and went silent, and I slumped in the chair, confused. It was only a few moments later that I realized that since Allison was dead, I was the highest-ranking person on the ship left. Levi waited for a moment.

"So, how do you feel about the promotion?"

"What?"

"I- nevermind," he said, "Thought it'd make you laugh. Ma'am, you entered the numbers wrong."

"Hm?"

He reached over to the life support panel, and tapped the backspace lightly before entering three instead of eight. I hadn't even noticed my mistake.

[spades4cards]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧

I was calmly working in my office before y/n slammed the door open. I cocked a brow at her out-of-character behavior, but whatever she had to say blocked out her embarrassment until she was a vessel of panic that made my amusement fade.

"What is so urgent that requires you to slam the doors of my office?" I asked as I looked at her up and down.

Her suit was supposed to be professional, but there was nothing professional about how the clothes clung to her curves or the indecent images running through my mind.

"I apologize, sir, but this is urgent. Sentinel has duped Scylla, and they'll announce it by the end of April. We have to do something before-"

"Don't worry. I... I'll figure something out," I said as I ran my fingers through my hair.

Y/n stared at me, and I knew we both realized the same thing. There was a traitor at Harper Security. And I swear to god when I track them down... it's gonna be one hell of a shit show. Scylla being duplicated and on the market before Harper Security was going to be a big chomp in our reputation, and I could not afford that, especially after Sentinel had already taken some of our investors. I fucking hate losing. So I wasn't going to do it.

"Arrange meetings. We're getting Scylla on the market before the end of April," I demanded, my mind already whirling with business strategies and how the fuck we were supposed to get such a high-tech device on the market in less than half a year.

"Yes, sir," y/n replied, looking at me with a touch of concern before she scurried off to arrange the meetings for Scylla's launch.

God, how the fuck did I get myself in such deep shit. I had checked everyone going in and out of The Mirage, even residents had excessive files on them. It had to be someone who was in my close work circle. But who?

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

I did it. I was the one who leaked Scylla. It was wrong, so fucking wrong and guilt gnawed at my insides; eating me from the inside out until I was just a bloody, ugly heap of remorse. I needed the money, but now that I did it it weighed so heavily upon me I was crushed by its weight and swept along its currents, drowning in the ocean I created for myself. I hated walking into his office, telling him everything as if I wasn't the cause. I loathed every single fucking word- no, lie- that came from my hideous mouth. And Christian looked so worried that I just wanted to admit the truth, and beg for his forgiveness like my life depended on it. He gave me such cheap rent, paid for my groceries, and this is how I repay him. I was a monster. An ugly, repulsive monster that didn't deserve the boss she had.

I arranged his meetings, not putting in the effort to hide how shitty I was feeling before going on lunch break. I ordered from the same cafe as last time, but as I was ordering I couldn't help but realize that Christian hadn't eaten anything all day.

"Um, actually, do you mind making those two almond croissants and just adding one black coffee? Sorry," I apologetically ordered before paying.

I gave the cashier my card, realizing I was paying for Christian's food with the same money I got from stealing his design. Guilt spread throughout my veins like a lethal poison, suffocating me until my heart had no more space to pump. A familiar burn formed at the back of my eyes, spreading to my throat and constricting it. For a second, my vision blurred, but I quickly blinked my tears back. This is what I did for myself. I am not going to wallow in self-pity.

"Miss, you're holding up the line," the cashier told me, her lips pursed as she took in my flushed cheeks.

I quickly apologized before scurrying off. After I picked up my order, I made my way back to the office.

"Your lunch and coffee," I said as I handed Christian the brown paper bag, which he observed it as if he were an uninterested scientist observing a specimen.

"Pastries for lunch. Hmm."

My cheeks turned brick red at his comment. Why didn't I get him something like a sandwich or salad? Or maybe-

"Y/n," he said, his dark, velvety voice dragging me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, sir?" God, why did that term suddenly feel weird?

"Look at me," he only continued when I met my gaze with his, "Thank you."

A shit-ton of butterflies erupted in my stomach before being dragged back into their cage as quickly as they came. Nope, no way was I going to get butterflies over my boss. Over my dead body.

"No problem," I said, sounding more breathless than intended.

To be continued...

[kirider]

VVV obligatory read more bc it's long VVV

💡

First toku oc! They were based on the Transteam suits (bc Stalk's suit is still one of my favorites) but I'm trying to redesign them to be more generic. They don't have a plot yet and probably won't have one ever, I do have a characterization for them but they're mainly just a lil guy hanging around for fun. Their animal is a sea angel, they work mainly as support or distraction, and are terrible at close range combat. They're the only one with half a name, "Bright", bc their suit can light up and one of their main gadgets is floating sea angel robots that can light up spaces or work as flashbangs

💻

Ex-aid oc, bc I started the series and loved the concept too much that I had to. They're mainly mainly a videogame modder and dataminer, if they had to be inserted in the plot they would help Kiriya with his investigation via internet before his death (just by investigating the game data that Kiriya sent them, without knowing the full picture), and coming to investigate in person and getting involved directly after they didn't hear from Kiriya for a while. Their gashat is inspired by collectatons (so less combat focus, but they have access to a special inventory/pocket dimension ), and detective games/point and click for the level up. Their gashat also would either come from a cancelled game or something, that they patched together from various datamines

🐕🦎🦚

DGP trio, I needed background character for a fic, ended up getting attached and now they have a personality and are part of the plot. Their game is set in 2010, Geats is also there bc when I started the story I still thought we were going with immortal Ace. The Dog is the obligatory rival for Ace and work in an restaurant, his theme is mainly based on Laelaps, bc of dog and fox; the Lizard is a sweetheart and I love her, lizard helmet bc I thought the logo looked cool; the Peacock is an athlete (in my defense I made her before Lobo i couldn't have known lol) and never turns down a challenge, peacock helmet bc this was a ooo crossover and I wanted one of the riders to have one of Ankh's animals for absolutely no reason cmon I had to :P

🩰

...she only exists bc I like Sieg and I was sad after he left the first time, I wanted to give him a friend in the past. She's a dance student bc of the Swan Lake theme Sieg has, I've also been calling her Odette but it's very much a placeholder name. I have different headcanons for Sieg after seeing the other episodes/movies he's in, so I haven't been using her much.

🐈‍⬛

Other character that exists only for plot reasons, I have no excuse lol. He's for a Den-O × Revice hypothetical crossover bc of various headcanons I have for Imajins and Inner Demons. That's it that's all. His design is very much still a placeholder, the only concrete thing about him for now is that he's based on a black cat, i tried to give him a punk-ish outfit (ripped striped sweater, ripped black pants, boots) but I don't think it shows, especially in a chibi. Scarf is supposed to have the colors of the imajins on the lines

✧Kamen Rider Arcana✧

Fanseries that me and @margarita-is-the-answer are playing around with, theme is tarots, stars and destiny. The main four are Arcana/the Fool, fluffy sunshine boy; Emperor, veteran rider and victim of the "I have to be the strongest rider" arc; Magician, local SillyMan with secondary motives; and Hanged Man, designated redemption arc haver. The weapons are very much still not defined, pls ignore them.

🌺Flower Sentai Something /j🌺

I'm kidding they haven't a name yet, I've been calling them flower sentai but it's clearly only a placeholder. Flower themed group as if you couldn't tell, they were a group project but I ended up adopting all of them. Don't have a plot yet, just that the theme of the enemies would be based on fairies and other folklore tales. The main base is a flower shop/greenhouse owned by Red's family; Orange is a fae creature (she turns into a cat) and the one that handed them the transforming devices; White is the sixth ranger and they're not allowed near the plants, they will kill every plant they touch. The others have a general characterization but not much yet. There's no Blue bc there's no braincells in this team (don't let the slight blue tint know White trick you they don't know what they're doing either). There's a Violet Dark Ranger who's plot is connected to Orange but I haven't designed her yet.

[29/07/2023]

I got one (1) comment asking for my ocs so woe, lil' guys be upon you (blame Si /j)

I was just trying to count them, I didn't realize how many I have. It's not even all of them, skipped the ones that don't have a design yet (I have at least two more sentais, and a bunch of villain monsters bc of story reasons). That has to be too many.

Emotes next to them are the tags I use for them, since none of yet have a name yet (I am bad at naming rip me o|-( )

Mini ramblings about them in the reblog (for organization reasons)

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Lee Jaehyun (Hyunjae) - Intoxicated [Requested]

Request: dom Hyunjae + overstimulation

badboy! ceo! Hyunjae x PA! fem! reader

Warnings: petnames, dirty talk, slight degradation, a lot of grinding lol, some choking, Hyunjae is a narcissist here

Finally finished this one for @jaepocket ! Thanks for requesting, I hope you like it 💕hope you don't mind that I made Hyunjae an asshole lol

Work parties have taken a toll on your boss, and as the best personal assistant in the world, you help him home.

You kept a watchful eye over your boss throughout the Christmas party. Year-end parties were lined up back-to-back for the most influential entrepreneur under 30 in Seoul. Jaehyun was being extra charming tonight, wooing men and women alike with his dazzling smile, charisma, and powerful aura. He knew he was untouchable, and it showed in his walk. Long legs that could rival any model, perfectly coiffed light brown hair, and a designer tailored suit hugging him in all the right places, showing off his broad shoulders. He glances over to you, and shoots you a wry smile from across the room. No one else might have noticed, despite the fact that everyone who spoke to him couldn't take their eyes off him, but a subtle flush dusted his cheeks and there was a slight glassiness in his eyes that alerted you. Jaehyun has definitely had too much to drink. You stride over to him, and he politely excuses himself from the flock of older women giggling and sidling up to him, and meets you halfway on the dance floor.

He walks to you with a slight wobble, and reaches out to steady himself... by grabbing your hips. "Hey you," he grins, thumbs softly rubbing your waist through the thin material of your dress. You resist the shiver that runs down your spine, the warmth emanating from his hands a welcome sensation since the place was freezing. A mansion full of people and it was still cold? The hosts hadn't bothered to turn the heaters on. That's probably how the rich stay rich, you supposed. It definitely didn't help that you were wearing a skin-tight cocktail dress, with a little slit up the thigh. "Sir, I think you've had enough to drink tonight," you murmur, gently tucking a lock of golden hair back into place. Jaehyun grimaced. He had a glass of wine with every group that approached him that night, and he wasn't feeling too well now, considering everyone wanted to meet with the Lee Jaehyun™, one of Seoul's most prominent and eligible bachelors.

"Let's get you home then, sir, you really need some rest. Or rather, your liver does," you sigh, offering your arm for him to hold on to so he doesn't fall flat on his face in public, possibly ruining his reputation. He lets out a hearty laugh, and intertwines his arm with yours, trying to maintain a power walk out of the place, nodding at other party-goers that greet him in passing. He gratefully gulps the fresh air outside as you wait for his chauffeur to pull up in his stupidly expensive limousine, helping him to clamber gracefully into the backseat once it arrives. You're about to shut the door to book a ride home for yourself when he tugs on your arm, a blazing fire in his eyes as he looks up at you, and you know he wants you to come home with him tonight.

You glance around quickly, making sure no one is watching you get into the car with him, but really, who would question a PA ensuring that her drunken boss gets home safely? You quietly slip into the plush leather seats, leaving a space between you two just in case he feels stuffy or nauseous. Jaehyun roughly loosens his tie, and you can't help but stare at his large, veiny hands. Before you can snap out of it, he catches your eye and smirks, using those very hands to yank you closer, almost sitting on his lap. You yelp in surprise, your hands flying up to his broad shoulders. He smashes his lips onto yours, messy with tongue and teeth and a moan escapes you when you taste the sweet alcohol on his tongue. His warm hands roam all over your body, deftly pulling up the hem of your short dress so he can run his hands up your thighs and grope your plump behind. "Been staring at your ass all night, who said you could wear a dress like this?" he growls against your lips, squeezing the flesh tightly to prove his point.

You weakly push him away, and he stares at you, offended that you don't seem to want him, when you're usually so pliant and obedient for him. "I don't think we should do this, sir, you're not thinking straight," you stutter. Jaehyun barks out a laugh, startling you. "Am I? I'm not drunk, kitten, I only spoke and acted like that so we could get out of that damned party. And maybe I'm not thinking straight, because all I've been thinking about the whole time is ripping that fucking dress off your body, you fucking minx," he snarls, grabbing you again and manhandling you to straddle his lap, sounding completely clear and level-headed. He had everyone fooled; even you, and a crushing disappointment engulfs your heart.

You don't get to feel sorry for yourself though, because Jaehyun is pulling you close, grinding the obvious bulge in his slacks against your clothed pussy as he makes out with you again. You let him run his hands all over you, feeling his lips trail down the side of your lips and down your neck, smudging your lipstick everywhere. Jaehyun doesn't care, clearly, he just wants to make a mess out of you, and you gladly let him, both of you so absorbed in each other that you didn't feel the car roll to a stop. You hadn't even noticed the opaque partition had been pulled up until you heard the electronic buzz of it being lowered, and the indifferent voice of the chauffeur came through. "We've arrived at your destination, sir and miss."

Without so much as a thank you, Jaehyun flings the door open and tugs you into the building's lobby. He owns the whole building obviously, but he lives in the penthouse suite, swiping his keycard to unlock his private elevator. He wastes no time attaching his lips to the back of your neck as he presses you up against the walls of the elevator, grinding on your ass the whole way up. He leaves you panting when the doors open, and he goes to punch in his keycode. The lock beeps, and Jaehyun snarls when he's halfway through the door and you're still lagging behind, knees too wobbly to walk properly thanks to his earlier ministrations. "What are you waiting for kitten?" You shake your head, embarrassed that sloppy make-outs and grinding like lovesick teenagers is enough to make your head spin.

Jaehyun strides towards the bedroom, stripping his expensive clothes as he went, but instead of making a right turn to the master bedroom as he usually does, he makes a left to the guest bedroom. You don't have time to ponder, because he's pulling you in and shoving you onto the bed, dark eyes staring you down as he fumbles with his belt. The intensity of his gaze makes you tremble. Is it from fear, excitement, or a morbid combination of both? He finally gets all his clothes off, and his hard cock is swinging heavily with every step he takes towards the bed. He prowls, like a predator, and you're too petrified to even strip or prepare yourself, but apparently that didn't matter to him.

"You still on the pill?" Jaehyun demands, and you nod feverishly. "Good." And with that he rips your lacy panties off in one fluid motion, and hikes your dress up to bunch up around your waist. You hear the material rip, but before you could bemoan the hefty price tag, Jaehyun slides his throbbing cock inside you, making you arch your back as you moan loudly at the intrusion. He gives you barely any time to adjust, knowing how much you like taking it raw, and starts thrusting harshly. You can't help but moan loudly, almost going cross-eyed from the mixture of pain and pleasure. You clamp a hand over your mouth when a particularly shrill moan slips from your lips, but Jaehyun tugs it away, wanting to hear how good he makes you feel. It's nothing more than an ego boost for him, but you comply.

Jaehyun gets sick of missionary fairly quickly. He does enjoy seeing your pretty face contort with pleasure, and watch your makeup run. But he likes fucking you from the back even more, loves the way you get on all fours for him, loves the way your ass jiggles when he spanks you, and loves how your legs give way when he's done making you see stars. He pulls out for a moment, flipping you over onto your hands and knees easily, ignoring the surprised gasp you make when he shoves his cock back into you. He picks up the pace, hitting your g-spot dead-on with this new angle. He wraps a hand around your throat, the expensive gold bands adorning his fingers pressing delightfully into your windpipe. He squeezes lightly as he slams into your core, and you scream, climaxing without warning.

The sudden clench around Jaehyun's dick has him swearing lowly. "Did I say you could cum, kitten? You know you have to ask for permission," he grunts, fucking you through your orgasm, maintaining his relentless pace. Your head is foggy, and you try to apologize, but every sharp thrust Jaehyun makes cuts your words off. He doesn't let up, using you to chase his own climax, slightly aggravated by yours. He presses down the middle of your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the sheets so you're not holding yourself up with your hands anymore. You're grateful, because you can barely support yourself anymore, and you need a break. Except he doesn't give you one, hoisting you up by the hips to pummel even faster and harder into you, and your upper half is practically dragging along the sheets with every snap of his hips.

The delightfully torturous graze of silk sheets against your raw nipples, and the rough pads of Jaehyun's fingers relentlessly abusing your swollen clit sends you teteering close to the edge again. You can't cum, no, you won't cum until he tells you to. You want to be good for him, even though you're so close to climax again that it hurts. You hold out, gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white, when a particularly hard press against your clit and a low growl of "Cum for me now, kitten" sends you screaming once more, vision turning white as your searing-hot orgasm rips through your body.

You barely register Jaehyun's groan as he continues grinding into your g-spot, your pussy clenching almost painfully tightly around him, milking his cock dry as he blows his load deep into your warmth. You collapse forward onto the bed, trembling from exhaustion, chest heaving desperately to replenish your lungs with oxygen. Your whole body is sore and you know it's probably going to be worse tomorrow, and dark fingerprints are going to decorate your skin too. Above you, Jaehyun is still holding your hips up, pulling out of you with a grunt, cock hanging limply as he pants harshly. He watches idly as his cum drips out of your abused cunt, trickling down your legs, and drops your legs unceremoniously.

He stretches his legs, and gathers his sweat-drenched, possibly cum-stained designer clothing off the floor as he walks towards the door. "Clean yourself up, you know where everything is. I need you in the office early tomorrow morning." Jaehyun utters without so much as a glance back at your naked body, and the door shuts behind him with a loud click that echoes through the suddenly cold room. You hear him humming to himself and drawing a bath, and you shut your eyes, trying to suppress a sob at how horrible you feel, both physically and emotionally. Sex with Jaehyun was always hot, rough and mind-blowing, but recently you realize you always felt empty afterwards. Because he'll immediately turn cold once he's gotten his fix, leaving you to clean up after yourself and sometimes even make you hail a cab to go home afterwards. At least tonight he let you stay over, even though it's in the cum-stained bed in the guest room, without any post-coital care.

As you lay there, fresh hot tears stream down your cheeks, and you wonder if all the alcohol in the world could wash away the pain you felt of being used as Jaehyun's personal fucktoy; manipulating you into catering to his every whim and then carelessly throwing you aside once he's done.

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[nokingsonlyfooles]

This darn brain of mine keeps coming up with fun new deficits and I suddenly realize I've been compensating for yet another thing solely because it was expected of me! ...And, before anyone out there in internet land tags me with "overcoming disability!!" I better add that it's not good that I do this because it keeps me from getting help, and I don't do it for happy reasons. I don't think it's possible to get a person to stress themself out this much, constantly, and only blame themself for not being good enough, for a happy reason. Don't try it!

But, I think the lack of ability to imagine a specific object probably dings the drawing ability more than the writing. I need a model or reference, and it's darn near impossible for me to rotate or even reposition it in my mind, so I bring in the art tools and cut and distort until I get the thing like I want it, and then I draw or trace from there. I can give you specific words! Lots! And it occurs to me that I lean on dialogue and prefer a text medium because it's way easier for me to do words with my brain. I might be producing a cinematic feel because my dialogue-heavy action reads like a script!

This is probably intersecting with the impaired 3D vision mapping. Like, my weird eye keeps my brain from parsing an apple in space correctly. Last year, I thought it was only that. I keep finding more and more reasons for the insane way I produce illustrations too!

I'm not sure about ability to focus on a task yet. The anxiety and stomach ache really made that hard on Saturday. I've only done two doses on the "beginner" schedule, which I'm free to mix up to suit my needs when I have a better idea of my needs. I will say it's different. But it's been different-different every day and at every point in the schedule. I'm liking how it is today, it feels less noisy. I've got less anxiety about starting tasks and focusing on them, there's that. A few days ago, I had a moment when I realized that I stopped hearing the music I had on when I started writing, and only noticed it again when I stopped writing to think. But I think that might've been that I was hearing it differently somehow and I'm not used to it.

I do know the people who didn't like microdosing cited anxiety as a side effect they couldn't handle. I'm not sure how that works long-term because one does develop a tolerance for psychedelics and they hit you differently. They stop making you high, which is great! I don't want to be high. A microdose isn't enough to get you high in the first place, or shouldn't be, but the directions do still warn me about tolerances and regular breaks, so I know that's still a thing. What I've got to figure out is how to manage my tolerance effectively.

Also, there's chocolate and niacin and all kinds of things people take with a microdose to help their bodies process the mushroom. Some of them are included in my little pre-measured capsules, but eating chocolate, a snack, or a full meal is something I can change.

I can probably work something out for the stomach ache. With me, as well as with the folks in the studies, the anxiety will make or break me. If it gets too bad, I'll probably quit trying to adjust and see if I can get a regular prescription. It might not be an option. This seemed easier! So far it is, but it's weird. I did not expect to get smacked with the knowledge that my imagination is atypical and it works more typically with support.

I don't even know what unlimited specific apples are for. Like how do I use this new ability? What was I supposed to be doing that I haven't been doing? I can't give you unlimited specific faces, so this isn't any good for, like, character design.

Hey, if anyone with a more normal brain trips over this - y'all have the ability to imagine lots of faces, or even just all the faces of everyone you know? Like, not just, "This is my partner because I say so" actual details one might draw on a piece of paper? Let me know if that's something to shoot for! I'm gonna try that next time when I'm closer to my dose!

How D'ya Like THEM Apples?

So, trying the decriminalized mushrooms in tiny doses for the ADHD (because, in my particular situation, going to a doctor for this might be hazardous to my health in general). The first time I took them before bed, with chocolate, and that upset my stomach a little so I decided to take them with breakfast like they suggested in the instructions (not really a breakfast person). Not an improvement, they upset my stomach more and made me anxious all day yesterday. Can't know if I'm getting used to them or I need to figure out the best way to take them.

Still slightly anxious today, but able to roll with it.

So, here's the deal. A while back, the spouse and I discussed what the prompt "imagine an apple" gets you, in your brain. He can imagine an apple at will. I found out, I can't. I need context. What's it for? Do you want my culture's Platonic ideal of "apple" or are you going to the store and you need to know what's a good one to buy? Do I need to get taste and texture involved here or is it more like set dressing? With some context, I can kinda get you an apple, but it's indistinct.

And I thought, "Ahaaa! That's that 'imagination deficit' they want to see to diagnose the autism. That's what that is! I can't cough up unlimited specific apples without specific contexts for each one, and even then it's not so good!"

But, after that first microdose, while heading off to sleep, I thought to myself, to pass the time, "Hey, wonder if I can imagine an apple any better?" And, uh, I COULD? Unlimited specific apples, no context. I mentioned that to the spouse, and he said, "Can you still do it now?" And, yes. Yes I can. +/-36 hours away from the second tiny dose of mushroom, and I can give you unlimited specific apples, if you need me to imagine that for some reason.

And... It kinda feels nonsensical that I couldn't do that before? Yeah, apples. There's lots. Just pick one. But I know I couldn't. Not even for the sake of a person who would be satisfied with any imaginary apple. Like, I could imagine the shittiest apple and that would be fine, it would be a judgment free zone! But I remember I couldn't do it. I needed a better prompt.

That thing with the apples is not something I've heard about for ADHD, but I did just barely get an internet diagnosis on that (thanks, @kithpendragon), and I only ordered the stuff because my THC vendor has it. I need the THC to keep from waking up from the edge of sleep with a gasp and heart palpitations, fearing to be harmed. If you spend $200 and stock up, they send you more THC as a surprise! That's a good deal! I like not having panic attacks! For months at a time! I'm not liking the stomach ache and anxiety from the mushrooms, but this thing with the apples makes me feel functional and cool. I don't wanna lose that!

I'm kinda concerned I'm gonna end up doing a real Flowers for Algernon here if I can't tolerate the mushrooms, or they go illegal again because politics. Like, I'm not sure how well the brain differences will play with my creativity and productivity. I need to draw things and go shopping and make dinner, ya know? Lots of different stuff. I seem to be able to do laundry and write a long-ass Tumblr post, but I need long-term data on that. In any case, five days a week is the maximum recommended dose and I gotta take breaks or I'll build up a tolerance.

I may end up looking forward to my meds like that one Tumblrite in my feed the other day, even if they make my stomach hurt! Or I may end up trading one kind of imagination for another and going back and forth indefinitely. I'd prefer the former, but I gotta wait and see.😅

[al-the-remix]

How about 40 and 14?? Any penguins rare pair!

Jason Zucker/Jeff Carter -- Bodyguard AU + Almost Kiss (+ Mob Fic)

Jason leaned further over the top rail of the pool table than was strictly necessary to make his shot, exaggerating his look of dismay when his rebound slowed to a stop a mere centimetre from the pocket he’d been aiming for. 

The grad students he was currently hustling snickered amongst themselves. Jason looked back over his shoulder, chancing a wink at Carter where he skulked in a booth facing the pool tables. He looked like a nark, dressed in his heavy black overcoat and nursing a beer alone like he had nowhere better to be. He clearly hadn’t bothered to read Jason’s text with his suggested dress code. 

Jason tipped the bill of his black baseball cap at him. There were few occasions where Carter ever out dressed him. Jason had retired his own preferred uniform of designer suits and Italian leather shoes for a grey t-shirt and ripped jeans. 

Even in the dim light of the bar, Jason could make out the roll of his eyes. 

Now that just wouldn’t do.

He crossed the space between them, planting his ass on the edge of Carter’s table, his calf dangling down between his spread knees. Jason could tell the other man was coiled tighter than a spring, ready to be launched off in any direction creating destruction and chaos along the way. 

“You need to relax,” he said, curling his fingers around Carter’s warm beer bottle and taking a swig, letting it linger despite the sour taste. He could feel Carter’s eyes on the bob and stretch of his throat. 

Carter was still watching him when he set the drink down; eyes more grey than blue and intense under the deep shelf of his brow. Jason let his eyes follow the uneven ridge of his nose to the flat, unimpressed line of his mouth. Jason had always found his cupid's bow surprisingly delicate. He supposed it was the one soft edge that couldn’t be beaten out of him. 

“Are you done with your little show?”

Jason let his smile turn sly. “So you noticed?”

Carter let out a sigh. “I’m serious. It looks like Torrio is wrapping up his business--”

“I know,” Jason cut in and Carter nodded, no talkback this time. He knew that despite his antics Jason did actually take his job seriously.

“Make it quick then.”

“I always do,“ Jason said with another indulgent wink. He even thought he heard Carter laugh under his breath. 

Baby steps.

Jason turned his loss into a victory in under ten, showing off for Carter, specifically, and not being subtle about it at all. He happily pocketed his winnings from his baffled opponents. Yeah, so they probably needed it more, but he was teaching them a valuable life lesson. 

Carter tossed him his jacket when he was finished and they made their way out through the kitchens into the alley, providing a perfect view of Torrio’s car.  

In the alley, Rust had the hood of his sedan popped and was fucking with the mechanisms to make it look like he was busy. Jason didn't let his attention linger on him. Rust had moved their van over so it was now occupying the parking space beside Torrio's

Jason walked confidently up the sleek looking Mercedes and lounged back against its side. No alarm, score.

Carter boxed him into the side of the car and Jason couldn't help but grin, feeling giddy. This was his favourite part, it made spending hours pulling at Carter's pigtails worth the wait.

He slid his hands under the bulk of Carter's jacket, seeking out heat. He didn't shy away from groping a little when he slid his cold, thin-gloved hands up under Carter's t-shirt.

"Fuck off," Carter gritted from between clenched teeth. He didn’t pull away.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your date," Jason tsked, pleased when Carter didn't resist being tugged closer. "You're supposed to be keeping me warm."

"I wouldn't have to if you dressed properly," Carter muttered, but he reached up, turning Jasons' cap backwards.

The stark glow of the street lights made Carter's features look even more hooded. His unruly blond hair looked like it had been combed away from his face with nothing but his fingers.

Jason leaned in, running his nose delicately up the side of Carter's neck, sighing softly.  He brushed his lips against the rough skin right in front of his ear. "You know you don't have to play hard to get, right? You've already got my full attention.” Carter grunted, one hand landing lightly on Jason’s hip, thumb hooked inside the belt loop. Jason rubbed his lips a little more purposefully against his jaw. “If we weren’t on the job I’d let you fuck me in that alleyway till I ached.”

"God,” Carter breathed out as if he’d been sucker punched, “do you ever shut up?"

Jason grinned against his skin. "Only if you make me."

Carter leaned further into him and Jason felt it then, the hard press of him up against his stomach. He pulled Carter’s hips harder against his own so there was no mistaking it, grinding just a little to hear Carter grunt. “I knew you liked my mouth,” he whispered, gleeful. 

Carter turned his head just enough for their eyes to meet, for his crooked nose to nudge softly into the dip of Jason’s cheek. He could feel the other man’s breath sail softly over his mouth and wetted his bottom lip, so, so ready for it. 

Thee heard the distant commotion coming from the entrance, then a loud, agitated voice directed at them. 

“Fuck,” Jason muttered, bracing himself against Carter. "Here we go." 

The play always went the same and thugs always fell for it. He and Jeff would distract the muscle while Rust came up from behind and snagged whoever it was they’d been sent to grab. 

Carter happened to the first man that lunged at him like a freight train. Jason dodged the swipe from his own meat head, dancing around him and pulling his gun. Distantly he was aware of the third bodyguard covering Torrio and Rust who would be making his move right about now. 

Jason shot his guy in the foot, slowing him down so that Carter could take him and finish him off too. Brawling in the tight space between the parked cars made it hard to line up a shot, but it worked well for cover if you did in fact know you were about to be in the middle of a shoot out.  

“Zucker,” Carter called, “behind you!”

Jason turned just fast enough to see a fourth guy coming at him from around the van and pistol whipped him. He cringed to the side, one hand coming up reflexively to cradle his fucked up face, leaving his side exposed. Jason took the opportunity to knee him in the gut. Hard enough to keel the man over.  

Jason did shoot him then, once in the chest, the silencer on his gun muffling the echo.

He turned to see how the guys were faring. Rust, ever efficient, had a thick canvas bag over Torrio’s head and his wrists bound tight in a pair of zip ties. The guard that had been with him was dead in the middle of the parking lot, the poor sucker likely hadn’t even heard Rust coming.   

Carter was standing over the other two bodyguards, his grin was a bloody slash across his face. Jason had never wanted to kiss him more. 

“Fuck,” he said, toeing his one lousy kill in the side. “I guess I’m buying dinner again.”

“I’m in the mood for Cuban tonight,” Carter said, neatly wiping down his gun and replacing it in its holster beneath his coat. 

Rust was already working around them, shoving Torrio into the back of the van. He had no appreciation for a little post mark flirting. 

“It’s time to go,“ Rust said not un-impatiently as he jogged back towards his sedan. Always in such a rush. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Good work,” he said, smacking Carter’s ass before rounding the car, not giving Carter enough time to get a word in. “I’m driving.”

When Carter got into the passenger seat Jason could see that he was smiling, just a little, to himself. 

The fun had only just begun.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Pull

Summary: Alternative Universe. Vampire Henry. Henry, Crown Prince of the Vampires is avoiding his responsibilities because of his mother's fate. When Henry finds his mate, the circumstances are eerily similar to his mother's. Rather than risking his mate's life, Henry chooses to run, but can he run from his fate?

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: mention of death, mention of abortion (although it didn't happen), and swearing

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter Two

Rowena POV

"David, I can't wear this!" I complained on the phone. I held up the dress again. "It's just too much, too revealing."

It was a simple white silk floor-length skirt, but the top of the dress was two long vertical pieces of silk, barely wide enough to cover my breasts, which crossed at the back before wrapping around my waist and tied in a bow on my lower back. There was no way I could wear a bra. It would only take a slight wrong move, and there would be an embarrassing nipple slip.

"Yes, you can," my brother said. "Lawrence had it made for you to wear as a gift. He wants to meet you and make a good impression." Lawrence was David's partner, they had been together for over a year, but I was yet to met him. Lawrence and David seemed to travel together an awful lot, so it had been challenging to find time for us to get together.

"Have you seen it?" I asked.

"Of course," David replied. I was surprised. David was my older brother and had always been a little protective of me, especially since our parents died when I was 15 and he was 20. Maybe he had finally let that go considering I was now 26.

"You know I'd never wear something like that. It's gorgeous, but it's too revealing for me."

"Rowena, it's Halloween. It's an excuse for excess." I rolled my eyes. For David, being a day that ended in 'y' was an excuse for excess.

"Why does your boyfriend want to see me in this?" It just seemed over the top for a party. I gathered that Lawrence was wealthy, but still, it's just a Halloween party.

"Because he wants you to fit in. Honestly, you'll stick out less wearing that than anything else. Besides, no one knows you there, and you'll have a mask. Just pretend you're someone else."

I grumbled. "What time did Lawrence say the stylist was coming?"

Although I couldn't see him, I could hear David's victorious smile through the phone. "At six pm. The driver will be there at eight."

"That seems late, David," I said. "I won't arrive until nearly nine."

"I know, but that is Lawrence's style."

"Promise you won't leave me alone." I wasn't afraid of being alone at parties usually but by the sounds of this one, the dress and the fact that I was having my hair and makeup done professionally made it feel like a big deal.

"Lawrence and I will take good care of you," David promised.

I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Feeling only a little more confident after the phone call, I jumped in the shower, washed my hair, and shaved my legs for the first time in weeks. I put on a robe and slippers and went up to the main house to see Charlie since I had half an hour to kill before the stylist arrived.

Charlie was staying there tonight with Alice while I went out. He had his own room and often slept there now that he was getting older and wanted space from me. Charlie and I mostly ate our meals up at the house and just kept basics in our two-bedroom flat above the old stables.

Charlie and Alice were sitting together at the dining table, playing with a random assortment of lego pieces. "Hey, Mum. I made this for you." Charlie handed me a flower made from the blocks. He was such a sweetheart of a boy.

"Awww, thanks, Babybear. I love it." I kissed the top of his head and sat with them.

"I thought you had to get ready for tonight," Alice asked.

"I have an hour," I replied.

"You're still going, aren't you?" Alice asked. She seemed more eager for me to go than I was. Alice was Charlie's paternal grandmother. Charlie's dad, Alex, had been my boyfriend when I was 17. Despite being on the pill, I fell pregnant, and Alex tried to pressure me into an abortion and refused to be a part of his life. Alice had been horrified by the way Alex had treated me. In an unexpected turn of events, she had stepped in to help raise Charlie. Charlie rarely saw Alex, but Alice saw that we both wanted nothing. The woman was a saint.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"It'll be good for you," Alice said, squeezing my hand.

"I know." I sighed.

"Charlie, go get Nanny a glass of water, please. My throat is feeling dry," Alice said. She had something to say to me outside of Charlie's ears. Being a kind and helpful kid, Charlie immediately got up and went to get her one. He made me so proud.

As soon as he left the room, Alice said, "Rowena, don't feel guilty getting out there again."

"How can you say that?" I asked. I had tried dating a few times over the years. It always ended disastrously. Always my fault too. I had developed severe commitment issues.

"Charlie is my grandson, and I want his mother to be happy. Not lonely and depressed. It would be best if you had a life beyond Charlie. I've been telling you that for years."

Charlie came back with a book, and Alice read to him. As mothers often are, I was struck by how handsome my little boy was. His blonde sun-bleached hair and deep brown eyes were framed by a face that had lost nearly all of its childhood fat. At nine years old, he was almost as tall as me already, and he would probably take after his father in that regard. In fact, his eyes were the only thing that came from my side of the family as they were the same colour as David's and my Dad's. Charlie looked so much like his father, sometimes it hurts to look at him.

Kissing him again, on the cheek this time, I said goodbye to Charlie, told him to be a good boy for Nanny and went back to our flat above the garage.

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

I arrived at Lawrence's house not long after the sun had set. House was probably too humble a word to describe it. It was a borderline castle. I had thought Alice's family was wealthy, but this was another level. It was like something out of the Great Gatsby.

The car drove around the circular driveway and pulled up near the front door. A valet opened the car door, and he escorted me into the house, where he told my name to a butler who asked me to follow him.

Looking around the room, I was grateful to David for insisting I wear the dress. Everybody was dressed like it was a Hollywood awards show, and I mean everybody. Not to mention they all looked like actors or models. I had never in my life been around so many beautiful people. And I don't mean just beautiful because they were thin. There were people of all shapes and sizes, but everyone moved with grace and ethereal ease. They seemed so other.

This was crazy. Who the hell was my brother mixed up with? This whole night must have cost a fortune. Beyond a fortune! All for a Halloween party?

I was led from room to room, the house full of beautiful creatures. More than that, the house was decorated in a way that would put Versailles to shame. The decadence of the furnishings was lush and rich. Every piece seemed to be a precious antique but shone like it was brand new. Gold leaf decorated the cornices, and priceless framed artworks, tapestries and mirrors filled every wall. Even the wooden floor was an intricate parquetry design that appears to have taken years to lay.

At first, I thought I imagined it, but I noticed that everybody stared at me as I moved through each room. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Did I look so different from everyone else? I supposed I did, but the eyes following me made me thankful for the mask.

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been, I was taken to a large hall and presented. Yes, presented. What the fuck?

My escort stopped outside the room and spoke to a man standing just inside the door. The man rapped his cane on the floor three times and thundered, "Rowena, sister of David, Inamorato of Duke Lawrence." An eerie silence fell as every face turned to me. Some even bowed their heads. What on earth was going on?

"Rowena!" David was at my side, clutching my hands to his chest. "I've missed you so." He leaned over and kissed both my cheeks. Everybody in the room seemed to return to normal, and sounds of chatter resumed. David was wearing a mask and wore an elegant dark grey suit. He looked so different. David has always been handsome, but he looked so unlike his usual self, and I couldn't pinpoint the difference. I didn't even have the words to describe the change. I know it had been months since we had seen each other, but it wasn't that he had lost weight or gained muscle. What I could see of his face was inconsistent with my memories of him. Then I saw his eyes.

"David, what the..." David cut me off and embraced me. His smell was mouth-watering, and I wondered what cologne he was wearing. He had never smelt like that before.

"Come, meet Lawrence!" David exclaimed, gripping my hand tightly. Maybe he had put on muscle because he was stronger than I remembered.

David lead me further into the room. I followed, but my head was spinning. Why did everything look so beautiful but feel so... unreal?

"Lawrence, my love, this is Rowena," David said.

The man who sat before me took my breath away. I had no word to describe him other than impressive. He wasn't tall or large, but he seemed to take up all the space in the room as if by looking at him, your eyes couldn't see anything else. His skin was like a midnight sky lit up by the moon, which seemed to reflect the light as it was so smooth, flawless and radiant. His hair bounced with large curls, and although it was dark too, it seemed to shine with its own light.

As Lawrence stood, his movements were so polished they almost had a serpentine grace. His white lace mask framed his eyes, black with a red rim around the pupil, just like David's. Lawrence came towards me, and I was captivated, struck immobile by the force of his presence. Then all of a sudden, the fear left me as though it was never there. I sucked in air, not realising I hadn't taken a breath since I laid eyes on him.

Lawrence grasped my hands to his chest, just like my brother had. "Oh David, she is lovely, isn't she?" He lifted my hands to his lips and kissed both of them before lifting my arms wide and inspecting me. "She does look luscious in this dress. I do have excellent taste, do I not?"

I looked to David, who was beaming proudly like he had passed a test by bringing me here and meeting Lawrence's approval. Stunned, I looked again at David's smile. Something was wrong with it.

Lawrence was still talking, "You were right that she would be a hard one to crack. She seems to see many things others don't. Including you, by the way." David laughed at Lawrence's observation.

I tried to speak, to ask again what was going on, but nothing came out. I kept trying to breathe but I felt suffocated. The more I tried, the less air seemed to come in.

David grabbed my shoulders and caught my gaze. His voice was solid and musical, and the force of his words almost made me fall. "Rowena, it's alright. You can breathe." And all at once, I could.

"This dress is too tight." I managed to say.

"Nonsense," Lawrence said dismissively, "it's perfect. He is going to love it."

"He?" I questioned.

Lawrence sighed and glanced at David. They looked at each other for a few moments, then David took me by the arm and led me to a cluster of sofas. "Come, sister, sit with me and let's catch up."

Even the way he spoke seemed to change. It can't have been that long since I'd seen him. I thought back and realised I hadn't seen him in about two years. We occasionally spoke on the phone, but years had passed since I had physically seen him.

Lawrence left us mingled around the room, which I saw now was a ballroom. Some people danced, some drank wine, and others socialised. Something was wrong with all of it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

David started to talk to me, asked me about little Charlie. I went to get my phone to show him some pictures and realised I must have left my bag in the limo. Before I could tell David that, he said, "never mind, the driver works for Lawrence. He has it. You can get it before you leave."

How did he know where I had left my phone? This was too much. "David, what's going on? There's something wrong here. This place is... off."

I suddenly felt bewildered, like I couldn't concentrate on anything. I felt a curious pull towards the back of the hall. I stood and looked back and started to walk towards the doors. It was like I was trapped in a gravitational pull towards... something. Without warning, a spontaneous feeling of arousal hit me, and my body was on fire. I let out an audible moan. I felt a desperate call come from between my legs to ease the rapidly growing craving. And not just by anyone, by Him. Wait, who was Him?

David held my arm and tried to lead me back, but I wouldn't allow it. I struggled for him to let me go. David was about to say something when another announcement was made, "The Crown Prince, Henry, Son of Alfred, King of all Sanguisuge."

I looked first to David to question what on earth that meant when I caught sight of the Prince.

It's Him.

I felt like I was falling, plummeting to the ground. The floor rushed to meet me, and my vision went dark.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

@henryobsessed

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.3 Heavenly Bonds

Summary:

Bold of you to assume my friends and I won't smite you.

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

Kagami blasted another group of demons with a bolt of lightning. Zooming higher into the air she saw Adrien's wall of green flames blocking off the exit into the lower valley. Where the mortals' village lay exposed.

Adrien himself was a speck in the distance. Only her dragon eyes could pick him out. With a sweep of her tail she sent a gust of wind towards two demon archers. Making them tumble off the cliff they aimed from.

A growl escaped Kagami's throat. Where were the protectors? Surely a horde of this size would warrant-

Suddenly, a glowing green hexagon appeared directly in Kagami's path. Forcing her to turn sharply. In the next instant a red fireball crashed against the other side of it.

"Hey there, goddess! Long time no see!"

Blinking in surprise, Kagami saw a god standing on a smaller hexagon than the one that had protected her. He wore green, shell-like armor and carried a shield. Short, dark brown hair contrasted the golden glow of his eyes.

"You're late," Kagami scolded Nino.

"I got held up!"

Setting a stance like a javelin thrower Nino formed another hexagon and launched it into the trees below. There was a demonic yelp and then a new tree popped out of the canopy.

"Well, that takes care of that fire-breathing jerk." Nino dusted his hands. "So ungodly."

"There are significant enemy forces," Kagami pointed out. "I suggest you summon backup."

A teasing smile spread across Nino's face. "Oh? The great Kagami calling for reinforcements?"

Not for the first time Kagami was grateful dragons couldn't blush. She was nine tenths sure he was thinking about all the times she rushed in without a plan. "We could always let Adrien handle it."

A dreamy look clouded Nino's features. "Mm, I haven't seen my god let loose since he punched that demon king in the face last millennium..." Shaking his head, Nino slapped both cheeks lightly. "N-nope! This mountain range is supposed to stay a mountain range for the next hundred thousand years. There is no crater scheduled anytime soon!"

"Then you better hurry up!" Kagami called over her shoulder as she zeroed in on another batch of demons.

"Goddess is still so impatient." Nino shook his head fondly as he pulled out a bright red strand of hair. "Monkey King, I summon you. Lend me your aid!"

Nino blew it in Kagami's direction, glowing as it went.

Deciding that she didn't want to start a forest fire with her lightning -she didn't have control over flames like Adrien did- Kagami shifted. Instead of her usual kimono she wore armor of a different style than that of Marinette and Nino.

Concentrating, Kagami pulled out her sword. A tsurugi forged from her mother's own fang, instilled with Tomoe's unyielding nature. With a single swing there was nothing left of her target but ash and the smell of lightning.

"You get to be a monkey! And you get to be a monkey!"

The god jumped from one opponent's head to another. Whacking them with his ruyi jingu bang, which was indeed turning them into monkeys. He wore only pants and a golden circlet as a crown. Brown fur accented his muscular body in contrast to the fiery hair atop his head.

"Kagami!" Kim exclaimed, just noticing she was there. His tail wrapped around the sword arm of his current mount and made it punch its owner repeatedly in the face. "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Heard you got in trouble with the council! Ha ha! Nice!"

"Kim," she greeted. Kagami didn't know if he was praising or teasing her, likely both. Such was the friendship of a trickster deity. "Didn't you mess with one of Alix's prophecies again?"

"Yeah! It was great!" Kim leapt straight into the air just as his mount's allies reached him. Weapons clashing in the space he just vacated. Swinging his staff in a circle as he fell Kim turned all of them into monkeys at once. "She was so mad!"

Flipping through the air, Kim got a gleam in his eye. "Say. How 'bout we pick up where we left off?"

Casually dusting the demon sneaking up behind her Kagami felt a grin forming. "Whoever gets the most enemies wins?"

"You know it!"

Quickly dispatching the remaining demons in their immediate area they split up. Kim calling a cloud to carry him and Kagami shifting back into her dragon form.

Scanning for more enemies, Kagami did a double take as she saw a fire-breathing dragon with leathery wings chasing a horde of demons. Her ears twitched as they detected the faint tones of a flute. So, it's her is it?

Locating the source of the music was child's play. Kagami silently shifted behind the goddess as she was preoccupied with her illusion.

Nine tails denoted the fox's age. She wore an orange coat of fur which Kagami knew was actually the goddess's own fur. Dark hair flowed down her back, the ends fading to the same shade as her tails. A flute half as tall as its owner shaped her spell.

"Really, Alya?" Kagami demanded. "A western dragon?"

Alya jerked in surprise. "My gods, Kagami! Don't scare me like that! Oh, hells." She hurriedly played a tune so her illusory dragon wouldn't disappear.

"You could've chosen anything else but no. You had to choose a western dragon." The nerve, the betrayal!

"Aw, c'mon goddess. Y'know dragons are terrifying!"

"Flattery will not appease the storm of my anger!"

Rolling her eyes Alya placed her arm on Kagami's shoulders. "Listen, I know you don't like the drakes-"

"Selfish, smug little horders think their nonsense riddles are so clever. Most of them cannot even speak!" Like her mother always said: An eastern dragon's wisdom was divine! You'd be lucky if a western dragon didn't eat you after waking up from a centuries long food coma.

"Right, right. But in my defense they're perfect for instilling panic into large groups." Alya waved at the fleeing demons to illustrate her point.

"... Your technique does appear to be effective," Kagami admitted reluctantly.

Sensing an opening Alya pounced on it. "Besides, you're always saying how we should never give less than our best. I'm just using my talents to their fullest."

Kagami knew Alya was appealing to her sense of pride. As a fox, Alya knew how to be sneaky. In more ways than one. Still... "I suppose I cannot fault you for that."

Nine tails twitching in excitement ruined Alya's air of nonchalance. "Goddess, I knew you'd see it my way!"

"No doubt." Kagami pointed toward an outcrop of stone. "Direct the enemy there."

Alya grinned. "You got it, goddess."

Working together they cleared the area and joined the others. Kagami was only mildly surprised to see Nino had summoned Marinette. She was, after all, a fellow war goddess.

"No fair!" Kim cried out, absently bashing his opponent. "You had help!"

"There's plenty for everyone, Kim!" Marinette's yo-yo cut like a razor. Demons bursting into pink sparkles whenever they got too close.

"You go, goddess!" Alya struck enemies with her flute, turning them into foxtails.

Nino mostly sent shields to block fireballs and arrows. Expertly directing his hexagons. But he was also distracted by a certain god.

Adrien moved with feline grace. A longsword wreathed in shadows cutting down every demon in his path. Instead of his usual robes he wore black armor with glowing green designs on it. Two cat-like eyes stared from his breastplate in imitation of the ones in his head. A sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

In short he was gorgeous. And she wasn't the only one to think so.

"Stupid deity of destruction," Nino muttered. "Why's the god gotta be so beautiful?"

Kagami nodded appreciatively. "Half the time he's using that innocent face to get what he wants. The other half he doesn't even realize how attractive he is."

"I know!"

"You think that's bad?" Alya shoved a demon onto Kagami's sword. "My goddess has literally weaponized cuteness!"

Pausing, both Kagami and Nino looked at each other. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility for a creation goddess.

Placing a circular barrier around them, Nino voiced their thoughts. "Uh, babe? She hasn't actually-"

"No, I was exaggerating!" Alya played a short tune that blinded their opponents with bright light. "But Marinette keeps her hair down all the time now!"

There was a collective chorus of sympathy.

"It suits her."

"I noticed, yeah."

"Was thinking about it this morning."

The other three stared at Kim.

"What? Marinette gives the best hair advice." Kim ran a hand through his fiery red hair. "This doesn't just happen."

"He's right you know." Adrien spun his weapon in a circle, clearing the ground around him, before tossing his hair. Golden locks falling perfectly back in place. He grinned and Kagami was sure his face glowed like a sun god. "Marinette does give the best hair advice."

Then he charged back into the fray. Green flames spread from his feet, burning nothing but the demons and their weapons. The unrestrained joy of a destroyer performing his sacred duty radiated from Adrien in waves.

"... I'm gonna kill him," Nino declared.

"Babe, no."

"My best friend is trying to kill me, Alya! Ever since I admitted he was aesthetically appealing! It only makes sense that I get to him before he finishes me off!"

Alya placed both hands on Nino's shoulders. "First of all? That's an exaggeration. Second, you know he just wants to be appreciated. Destroyers get the short straw when it comes to the mortals' worship."

Nino sighed. "I know, I know."

"Plus, like, if he wanted you dead not even Marinette would be able to stop him," Kim pointed out.

Again, the other three stared at him.

"What!? What'd I say!?"

"Let's just get back to the battle," Alya suggested, ignoring Kim.

"What? Oh, yeah, nope. Battle's over," Marinette informed them, suddenly appearing in their path.

"Come again?" Kagami scanned the valley and sure enough there wasn't a demon in sight.

"Aw, it's over already?" Kim slumped his shoulders before straightening suddenly. A grin forming. "Guess that means I won."

"Don't be absurd. I obviously got more than you," Kagami corrected.

"Yeah, god," Nino agreed, serving as unofficial referee like he usually did. "Kagami totally trounced you."

"Pfft, okay, sure. But I'll get the next one!" With that eloquent rebuttal Kim cupped his hands next to his mouth and hollered. "Alright, you wannabes! Where you at! It's time to go!"

A monkey screeched what Kagami assumed to be obscenities from the safety of the forest.

"Do you wanna be weeds? 'Cause you can definitely still be weeds!" Kim strode purposefully to collect his new subjects.

"Foxtail is not a weed!" Alya yelled after him

Leaning in, Kagami whispered. "Isn't it a weed, though?"

Mimicking her stance, Nino answered. "I think that's besides the point."

"What're we whispering about?" Adrien asked.

"Adrien!" Nino glomped him. Prompting the pair of them to fall over.

A laugh escaping with Adrien's breath. "Nino!"

"Are you trying to murder me? Because it feels like you're trying to murder me!"

Adrien patted his best friend's head. "There, there."

They continued in that vein a while longer. Kagami wasn't sure friendship was a strong enough word for what Adrien felt for Nino. Then again, the others insisted there was nothing more important to Adrien than his friends. Hmm.

Once the gods stood back up, letting Adrien greet Alya properly. (Why platonic kisses? Just why?) Kagami guided Nino a little ways from everyone else.

"What did I do? I swear it was an accident!"

"What? Nino, I am not mad!"

"Oh, thank creation!" Nino placed a hand on his chest as he let out the breath he'd been holding.

Kagami raised an eyebrow. "Did you really think I was upset?"

"Well, geez, what's a god to think when you put on your None-Shall-Stand-Before-Me face?"

"There's a face?"

"Yes, there's a face!" Nino squeaked in disbelief. "It shows up whenever you get an idea and won't let anyone talk you out of it!"

Kagami pressed her lips together in an effort to mask her amusement.

From Nino's deadpan look she wasn't very successful. "Out with it then, goddess. I get enough embarrassment from Adrien and Alya."

Right! "I was wondering if the relationship between you and Adrien is in any way romantically inclined."

Nino coughed. "What now?"

"I want to confess my love to Adrien," Kagami simplified, giving Nino an annoyed look. "Do you have dibs?"

Blinking several times as his mind shifted gears a grin started forming on Nino's face. "Oh, yes!"

"You have romantic feelings for him?"

"I mean no! I mean-" Nino took a deep breath. "Adrien is just the platonic love of my life- Wait, no, that's not it. There are no coupley feelings between Adrien and me!"

Kagami's lips quirked upwards. "I can see why Alya enjoys your company."

"You can keep teasing me or you can go confess to Adrien!"

"An excellent point." Turning on her heel Kagami strode toward the gaggle of gods. Eyes set on a certain destructive cat.

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

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late! @kagamiappreciationweek2020

... I feel like I should point out that I never promised a "Plot" or anything. I promised shenanigans and shenanigans only. Any "Plot" that manages to sneak in is purely coincidental.

Tumblr: Making your own slang in fantasy settings has to be done well, otherwise it comes across weird.

Me: You make a good point! *proceeds to do it anyway*

[dragon-kazansky]

A rose in shadows - Chapter two

Chapter 2- John's getting married in the morning

John enters the flat after giving Gladstone a nice walk. He lets the dog off his leash once the door is closed behind him and he stand to his feet, tucking the leash away.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

There is no response.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson?"

Still nothing. He goes up stairs and knocks on the door with his cane.

"Holmes? You in there?"

It's silent. He opens the door and lets out an amused laugh as he sees the whole room is surrounded in plants. This is of course Sherlock's doing.

"Your hedge needs trimming." John jokes.

Watson pushes some leaves to the side with his cane and enters the room. There are plants in every direction. He cannot see anything at all.

"Where am I?" He hears an airy whisper through the trees.

"I don't care where you are, as long as you're ready." John comes to an opening and some turkey's gobble to his right. He looks at them.

"I'm waiting." Sherlock's whisper breaks out.

John turns to the window and sees Sherlock looking out the window, or at least, it's supposed to seem like he is. Even John can see it's a dummy in Holmes' clothes.

"I'm not going to play this game. Remember, I have to catch the last-" A dart hits him in the shoulder. John looks over his shoulder to see it, then raises his eyes over to the animals gathering on the opposite of the room. There is a goat with the turkey's now. "-train."

"Oh, that's you dead I'm afraid." Sherlock says.

"You win." John sits down with a newspaper, sounding as unenthusiastic as possible. A parrot flies across the room. John scans the trees for any sign of the mad man. "I lose. Game over."

Sherlock shoots another gun which pierces through the newspaper that John was holding up.

"Still don't see me."

John folds the paper down and looks ahead.

Sherlock laughs and moves away from the wall. He is wearing a full body suit that blends in with the pillar and bookshelf across from where John is sitting. He was very well hidden. He removes the mask when he stands in front of Watson.

John doesn't look impressed.

"I'm not going out with you dressed like that."

"Would you prefer I joined you in the fashion faux pas of wearing fine military dress with that heinous handmade scarf... clearly one of your fiance's early efforts?"

"Oh, how I've missed you, Holmes."

"Have you? Why?" Sherlock leans in close to him. "I've barely noticed your absence. Then again I'm knee-deep in research and I have Y/N for company." He turns his back to John as he looks around the room. "I'm extracting fluids from the adrenal glands of sheep and designing my own urban camouflage. All the while verging on a decisive breakthrough in the single most important case of my career, perhaps of all time." Sherlock leans in again.

The leaves by the door rustle.

"Mrs. Hudson, Y/N, how are you both?"

You follow the landlady into room.

"Oh. Oh, I'm so pleased to see you, Doctor." Mrs Hudson says. "Thank you for inviting me tomorrow."

"And thank you for looking after Gladstone." John stands up to greet you both.

"It's good to see you, John." You step over and smile at him. He returns the favour. You don't miss how Sherlock rolls his eyes beside you both.

"Dear, dear... sickly sweet nanny, might I have a word?" Sherlock takes a step toward Mrs. Hudson. He pulls the cloth which was on the tray Mrs. Hudson was carrying. It reveals mice trapped under a clear case. "Yummy. Fess the snake, woman."

"You feed it."

"Touchy, touchy." He takes the tray from her and backs away slowly.

"Doctor, you must get him to a sanatorium." She pleads with John. You chuckle quietly as you remove the dart from his shoulder. "He's been on a diet of coffee, tobacco, and coca leaves." Mrs. Hudson explains. "He never sleeps." You nod at Watson as he looks at you. "I hear multiple voices as if he's rehearsing a play."

"Leave him to me." John chuckles.

"Don't you have a goat that needs worming?" Sherlock asks, popping up behind Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, how kind of you to remind me." Sarcasm drips from every word. "So much to look forward to. What would I do without you?" She turns and leaves. "Good luck with your patient, Doctor." She calls over her shoulder.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asks.

You look Sherlock dead in the eye.

"He's getting married tomorrow."

John stares at Sherlock.

"Oh! Embrace me." Sherlock pulls him in to an awkward hug, he pulls out the dart which was still in John's back. "Watson's getting married."

"You've lost a few pounds, Holmes."

Sherlock steps back. "Yes, you've picked them up, noshing on Mary's muffins, no doubt." John chuckles. "Pour us a brandy. The stag party has begun!"

"I'll leave you two to it then, shall I?" You chuckle and gather your coat which has been draped round the back of a chair.

"It was good to see you, Y/N." John smiles and kisses your hand before letting you turn to the door.

"Yes, you too. Do try to keep out of trouble Sherlock, and John, don't drink too much." You smile at the boys. Sherlock barely spares a glance your way and John nods at you before looking at his best friend with a furrowed gaze. You leave them be.

 Sherlock disappears behind the curtains that had been drawn closed, closing off the other side of the room.

"It is our last adventure, Watson. I intend to make the most of it."

John opened the curtains and found himself face to face with something completely different from the rest of the room.

Diagrams, maps, photos, newspaper clippings and other notes handwritten by Sherlock himself, were all pinned up on the wall leaving no space at all. Red string was pinned up across each piece, connecting everything one way or another. This is Sherlock's investigation on Moriarty.

"I see you've made good use of my old office." John comments.

"Do you like my spider's web?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"That's what Y/N called it, I just stick to her ideas." Sherlock peeked out from behind the screen he had gone to get changed behind. "Follow that strand."

John follows it.

"Question: What do a scandal involving an Indian cotton tycoon, the overdose of a Chinese opium trader, bombings in Strasbourg and Vienna, and the death of a steel magnate in America all have in common?"

John follows the strands to see they all point to a photo of a man.

"Well, according to your diorama, Professor James Moriarty."

"Indeed."

"Mathematical genius. Celebrated author and lecturer."

"Boxing champion at Cambridge, where he made friends with out current Prime Minister." Sherlock states.

"Do you have any evidence to substantiate your claim?" John asks.

Sherlock chuckles as he steps out from behind the screen. He grabs a strand and follows it down to the wall near him where an article is pinned to the wall.

"This."

John steps over and looks at it. Beside the column was a photo of a man, above read 'DR. HOFFSMANSTAHL'S FATAL HEART ATTACK.'

"Now do you see?" Sherlock asked.

"Dr. Hoffmanstahl's death?"

"Yes. I've heard you speak of him, extolling his virtues." Sherlock says.

"Hoffmanstahl was at the forefront of medical innovations, a true pioneer."

"Just the other day, I averted an explosion that was intended for him."

"Says he died of a heart attack." John looks at the paper.

"Has all my instruction been for naught?" Sherlock looks at John disappointed. If it was you he was talking to, you would have understood right away what he was getting at. In fact you had been. "You still read the official statement and believe it." It's a game, dear man, a shadowy game." Sherlock poured a drink. "We're playing cat and mouse, the professor and I. Cloak and dagger."

"I thought it was spider and fly?" John looked at him and then down at the bottle Sherlock had put down. Formaldehyde.

"I'm not a fly, I'm a cat."

"Not a mouse, but a dagger. You're drinking embalming fluid."

"Yes.  Care for a drop?" Sherlock exhales slowly after drinking from his glass.

"You do seem..."

"Excited?"

"...Manic..."

"I am."

"...Verging on..."

"Ecstatic?"

"...Psychotic. I should've brought you a sedative."

"I'll give mt life to see his demise." Sherlock said. "He must be stopped before his evil machinations come to a crescendo."

"What about Y/N?" John asks.

"What about Y/N?" Sherlock bites back.

"I couldn't help but notice how.... lonely she looked when she left. I thought things were going well for you both?"

"Aren't they?"

"I don't know, Holmes." John furrowed his gaze at his friend and then sighed. "Ans how will he do all this?" It was clear Sherlock wasn't in the mood to talk about you, perhaps you would talk to him later.

"Don't be a dingy bird. Bad people do bad things because they can." Sherlock was more interested in talking about Moriarty right now. "No one, not the victims, the police, the governments, not anyone..."

"Except the great Sherlock Holmes..."

"Correct."

"...On this diet, will work it all out."

"Right."

"Or thereabouts."

"Thereabouts, not quite there."

"Here's to your good health." John raised a glass, filled with alcohol. Sherlock raised what was left of his choice of drink. "Dingy bird."

Gladstone whimpered and them dropped to the floor.

"What have you done to Gladstone now?" John goes over to his beloved dog.

"Ricinus communis. The fruit is highly toxic."

"He's barely breathing."

"What an excellent opportunity. This may be just the thing." Sherlock kneels down beside John and stabs Gladstone with a needle. The dog whines. "Sorry, do you mind terribly if I try my adrenal extract?"

"How many times are you going to kill my dog, Holmes?"

Gladstone barks as he gets up quickly off the floor and scurries off.

"Took off like a monkey from a box. I may need one of those in a few hours."

"Consider it a wedding gift." Sherlock handed over the small roll the extract had been kept in.

John made his way downstairs.

"Watson, might we use an alternative exit?" Sherlock asked. John turned on his heel and faced Sherlock who had dressed after him.

"Is there something different about you?"

"I'm under observation." Sherlock was wearing a long beard and had a pipe in his mouth, his coat was old and scruffy.

"As you should be."

"You drive."

Both men left through a different door.

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