#//Nothing better than a cup of hot black coffee to start the day

[pegasus-parfait]

//To be honest, I think black coffee without sugar would suit Pikario better than Black Tea. However that picrew didn't have black colored beverages unfortunately.

[risuola]

▶ EARLY MORNINGS AND STOLEN CUPS — nothing better than the first cup of coffee in the morning.

contents: college+roommates!au, smoking implied (like once), teeth rotting fluff — wc. 572

a/n: i can't tell you guys how much i love fluffs with this trio. i like how the dynamics are building and i think you guys enjoy it too (i hope so!) — anyway, very short entry but love medley is all about those after all!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Most days in your little apartment began with the low, monotone whooshing of coffee machine. Harsh rumble of beans being grinded accompany you and Gojo in the bathroom and while you both push through brushing teeth and mandatory eyedrops, Suguru usually was already in the kitchen, brewing the god’s nectar.

You joined the brunette, tempted by the gurgling bubbles and divine aroma mingling with the fresh air and a ghost of herbal, woody scent of whatever Geto was smoking just moments ago. He greeted you with a smile, playing with the rim of an empty cup — his fingers followed the curved ceramic edge and you knew he was as impatient as you were, as eager to dip his mouth into the brown wake-up liquid and feel the first dose of caffeine fill in his system.

And so, he pulled the jug from underneath the working mechanism, hot drops of coffee sizzled as they met the steel drip tray, but the cup was soon filled and before you knew it, Suguru let out a deep sigh of ecstatic relief. First few sips were his — black and bitter — and he made place in the cup for your milk.

You took out some plates — an act of pretending, a distraction for yourself to not eye the precious coffee like an animal would eye its prey.

Then, he gave it to you and your grabby hands enveloped the cup as he reached into the fridge for the carton of milk. As he poured it in, you inhaled the addicting aroma, watching how the dark, nearly black liquid turned into more luscious, creamier nectar in a light brown color and you too sighed deeply when dipping your lips into it.

You felt the heat spreading across your system and you disconnected for a moment, allowing yourself to feel it, to enjoy it while Suguru engaged in the talk with Satoru. The chattering that for a moment turned into background to your experience, soon pulled you in and before you knew it, you were talking too — a routine of babbling before the day fully starts, one that you enjoyed equally as much as late evenings.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and quiet hum filled in your ears. Satoru’s light, fluffy hair tickled the side of your neck as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder — a habit of him, whenever he was still too sleepy to function properly. You put down the cup and reached up to run your fingers through the snowy locks, earning yourself a low purr that vibrated through the bone of your shoulder.

Engulfed in the story about new guitar strings and stolen picks, you absorbed the passion in Suguru’s voice and didn’t realize a sequence of mischief that was happening right under your nose.

And then, Satoru was leaving towards the living room, a cup half-full of your coffee in his hand as he sing-sang something about nail polish and sunglasses. You looked after him and then at the counter, where a bottle of sugary syrup in the flavor of caramel stood proudly — evidence of severe addiction and theft.

You let out a chuckle and Suguru echoed, reaching up the cabinet for another mug. He continued his story as the coffee machine brewed the dark beverage so that both you and him can enjoy it fully.

Yes, Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Unless it’s yours.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams @hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Texting

AN: I was inspired by the artifact for Amy and Sitri’s card, and thought up the silliest thing lmao.

Tw: A lot of swearing from these devils. Also, this is going from what we’ve seen from Day 3 of the Unsightly Guy event. So it may be ooc in the future. Or not. Yeehaw.

✨—————————————————————✨

-3am, Gehenna’s Palace-

Bzzt!

A new message? Sitri glared at his phone as the lit screen illuminated his entire bedroom. Who could be texting him at this ungodly hour?

————————————————

-Hell-Oh Talk: 1 new message-

Amy (Online now)

Status: Ew 2 drinking tea. Can’t b me, I’m manly as fuck.

————————————————

Sitri rolled his eyes at the violent devil’s status. Of course he’d think that, he has no patience to enjoy sophisticated hobbies. He probably couldn’t even pour from a teapot if the instructions were written on the bottom.

He opened the message, expecting to see some pathetic diatribe of how canned coffee is superior and that tea-making yields zero-rizz.

Amy:

Lol, maybe MC would lyk u if u weren’t 2 busy 😭 over their dead gramps. Solomon! Solomonnnnnn… Wot a loser u r! Enjoy ur left hand, buddy! 😂

…

Crunch!

Sitri ground his teeth, pissed off by the message. How dare he! The Descendant of Solomon liked him just fine! Who was he to comment on their relationship, when he hadn’t even met them yet?!

Fingers started typing away with a fury that wasn’t usually displayed by Sitri. He hit send, and decided to head to the tearoom for a cup of black tea to calm down.

-Meanwhile on the outskirts of Gehenna-

Amy smirked at the message he had just sent to Sitri. Sure, he would block his number because that fancy prick had nothing useful to say to him, but sometimes it was fun to unblock him and send an insult just to ruin his day.

Bzzt!

Oh? A reply so soon? Well, whatever it said, Amy was certain that it was complete and utter angelshit.

————————————————

-Hell-Oh! Talk: 1 New Message-

Sitri (Online now)

Status: Only a fucking idiot would use a stick as a weapon. Have some diversity, you caveman

————————————————

Amy scoffed at Sitri’s status. Of course he’d think that! He thinks he’s hot shit just because he trained in many weapons! But nothing bashes in angel skulls better than what he uses! Sometimes simple is better!

He opened the message, ready to read some sad sob story about Solomon.

Sitri:

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch?

I'll have you recall that it was I who graduated top of our class in the Gehenna Military Program, and how I am an esteemed alumni of the Hades Intelligence Student Program, I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Heaven, and I have over 666 confirmed kills.

I am trained in guerilla warfare and I'm the top pistolier in the entire Gehenna Miltary Forces. You are nothing to me but just another measly target.

I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this Hell, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over a simple text? Think again, fucker.

As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Hell and your GPS location is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, you lowly maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life.

You're fucking dead, loser. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands.

Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed and armed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Gehenna Capital Military Force and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the country, you little shit.

If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "funny" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot.

I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. I’ll use your tears to steep my tealeaves in, because nothing will bring me greater satisfaction than to see you snivel and beg for mercy. You're fucking dead, you cowardly bitch.

Amy let out a harsh laugh. Did this dickhead get ahold of some dank shit from Abyssos? The levels of delusion were incredible. His finger hovered over the textbar, before he decided against it.

“I have better things to do than to entertain this butler wannabe. Maybe later.”

-Sometime later, in the Palace of Gehenna-

That damn bastard.

>>Seen 16hrs ago

Sitri grits his teeth in annoyance at the ever increasing hours on the small bar. First that meathead talks shit about him, and now he can’t even form a response?

‘He’s probably masturbating to this, that fucking asshole.’

Sitri shuddered in disgust at the mental image and quickly threw himself into his paperwork as a welcome distraction.

-Gehenna’s Outskirts-

Amy decided to finally reply to Sitri’s lengthy text. He ponders for a second; there are so many things he could say to further fuel this tea-drinking bastard’s aggression. But he opts for something simple that will infuriate him.

-Palace of Gehenna-

Bzzt!

Sitri looks up from his paperwork to see his phone light up. He immediately grabs it and clicks on the notification.

—————————————

-Hell-Oh! Talk: 1 new message-

Amy (Online Now)

Status: Bitches b mad lmao

Sitri chose to ignore the devil’s pathetic status for now. He opened the message.

Amy:

Nice CV, loser. Still get no bitches tho.

Sitri stared blankly at the text, before he closed his phone. What a waste of time.

“I’m not even going to reply to that.”

Little did he know, he would pick up his phone ten minutes later to start typing away.

[crying-fantasies]

Communion

Masterlist

Most of the time you still think back on how you got here, a big and expressive alien for couple, a whole baby, an active military base as your family home.

You still aren't sure which one is the most crazy factor of this whole situation.

Some days are normal, as normal it is to wake up and see your alien metal boyfriend reading a datapad with his glasses on, a cup of steaming energon on servo, baby sleeping like an angel on her little basket inside his cockpit, sucking contently on her pacifier, Buster on his lap, asking for belly rubs.

Your new everyday life, lazy mornings and a smiling special other once he notices you're finally awake as he greets you, holding in his massive digits a mug of coffee, it's true that most humans consume coffee first thing in the morning, but you doubt everyone does it everyday, or that they consume like he thinks you do, pitch black, because he kind of relates it to his daily oil, and the sticky, hot oil is the better one in his own opinion, but you're sure this could give you a very bad result in the end.

But who can say no to that timid, expectant smile of his? One that only shines brighter in joy when you take a big sip out if the mug.

"Tasty?"

With a hardly covered migraine in the working and your taste buds crying for mercy you finally swallow the water with entire coffee beans in it, "delightful".

Thundercracker's little smile is worth it, "great, I've 5 Lt for you, so you can drink to your spark's content", just in cue he takes from his subspace one of his own cubes, just that in place of energon it is filled almost entirely of the black water with coffee beans, which you can see at the base of the cube, "humans are water based, so you must drink as much to be healthy".

You're about to tell him the truth, steading yourself for the fallen wings and have Buster as your intermediary man (dog?) between you and your soon to be moping alien robot boyfriend, but before you can say much than: "Well, TC, you see-"

He wiped his helm to the sky.

"Wait"

"... TC, let me explain-"

"Shh!"

You were surprised, and then felt indignant, "did you just shut me up?"

But there was something wrong, his wings were a little higher than usual and his red optics were frantically searching something that you couldn't, his glasses now in his subspace and one servo over his cockpit, just above Maxima who was still sleeping, oblivious of what was happening.

"Do you hear that?", you did a double take, was he really asking you? The organic whose ears hardly registered a laughable 7% of the things he could? But, in reality, you did notice that he was asking genuinely, like he wasn't sure of it, and a few minutes later you did hear something.

Buster started to bark, "I do", not really sure, as you weren't familiar with that strange sound, but one thing was for sure, it was getting closer, "is it static or something-"

Before you could even finish your words he already had his servo on you and Buster, holding you both like Barbie dolls, Thundercracker's voice was a rare mix of panic and urgency as he told you to "hold Buster and Maxima and don't let go!" as next hing you knew is that you were inside his cockpit with the baby, trying to hold her basket with one arm and a barking Bister the best you could, Maxima's little face was starting to show her anger due to be abruptly awaken.

You tried to talk to him, ask him what was happening, but you couldn't even see right as Thundercracker put both of his servos over his cockpit, over all of you, and you aren't sure if you heard right or not but he sounded annoyed, pissed beyond himself as the giant metal door started to move, slowly, sharp clawed digits forcing open, ah, nothing can be totally peaceful, not in this line of work or in what you came into when he appeared with a baby he said was a gift for you both, or maybe it started when you got him out of the party to that kermes, giving him the worst impression of a human wedding, or, if you're being honest, maybe everything went horribly wrong when you started to talk with him, and that's proven more than once when all you can do is hold Max and Buster to you, scared of what is to come, not even thinking of putting on the seatbelt, or if he even has one, but he beats you to it, putting it around your body fast.

Your heart is pounding, scared, horrified, as the door finally open, and there is-

An exact copy of Thundercracker, but purple, really purple.

And all the commotion in him seems to pass.

They seem to be looking at one another, TC is still keeping you covered, you can barely see the new mech in a gap between his digits, the blood on your head doesn't let you understand what they are saying to one another, but this purple TC seems angry, your arms aren't enough to calm down Max but Buster seems to know this guy, as she is only growling now, lowly, barking only once when the purple one holds Thundercracker's helm without much care with a single servo, making him almost fall due to the force on it, TC doing what he can to make him let go.

This new 'con, now with free vision to you and Max as the only giant you know can't do much than say "stop, stop, stop, you're scaring them", as Maxima's cries start to reach a new level, maybe her newly opened eyes really do recognize TC over other bots, like he always boasted about, the new 'con, with an exasperated expression, just let's go of TC and goes to another corner of the place, which is big enough for both, he seems to be expecting something, it's too late to really understand what is happening as Thundercracker lowers himself, knee on the floor, you almost ask, shouting, what is he doing, but he opens his cockpit and puts his servo open for Buster to get out, telling her "good girl" as he puts her on the floor and goes to smell the newcomer, tilting her head in that adorable way she does as she looks at him, TC servo is once again in front of you now, but all you can do is hold Max to your chest, one hand on the back of her head and the other over her little body, her cries are doing irreparable damage to your eardrums and whatever but you can't stop looking at this new one that just opened the door of your house like it was an old can.

TC seems to understand, "it's okay", you're pressed to his seat, the seatbelt let's go but he needs to nudge you a little bit, "he isn't going to do anything, I swear, he is..." the time he needs to think about to say next makes feel confronted, just like the con in front, "nice".

Oh, he said it like a question at the end, now you really hold the baby.

Maybe it wasn't directed to you, as the mech seems to vent like a bored teenager would sigh, even with a tint of sass, taking seat on the floor and his wings follow him, "this is embarrassing" he growls, his red optics burning over you.

"Uhu, what were you thinking coming like that? you scared them", his digits try to separate one of your hands from Max and hold him instead, and you do, once the imminent danger seems to lower as now the bot seems less about to squish you and more like he is curious, he... looks awfully a lot like TC, but it's not the alt mode, it's the face, the same optics, almost the same olfactory ridge, the same derma that makes their lips-

"It's looking at me"

"This is both ways, remember? Both ways"

You don't exactly get what he means, but hold his digit anyway to help you get out, his open servo in front of you again, now you can see his faceplate, and he looks like a kid that wants candy.

So he wants to hold Max, you do as much, feeling that the only way to survive this is to have her with TC in case things do go badly with whatever is happening, he is better with her, after trial and error he puts her just to the side of his faceplate, holding her near to warm living metal as he does those strange purrs with his engines, getting the baby to calm her crying before her face gets another shade of red, you aren't the only one watching, the intruder seems to see it too, he seems annoyed, but the type that it's curious, his big optics looking at everything in front of him and- wait, is he purring too?

To your horror, he extended his servo to your boyfriend once Max stopped crying, "gimme".

Your horror only deepens when TC, going against what you believed, does give him the baby in her basket, "just be careful, okay?"

It wasn't okay, it definitely wasn't, "wait! WAIT!", call it instinct or whatever, you started to shout like a mad man, shouting "who is this?!" to Thundercracker and "who are you?!" to the purple mech, who only clicks his glossa at you, opening his own cockpit and letting fall unceremoniously an unknown man on one of his leg struts.

Your stress levels reach another peak of absurdity, "and who are you?!"

"What does it mean with who?", the man on the floor says a blasphemy and TC is fast to gasp and hold Max's head to his chest plate, the gears of the purple one seem to work as his optics narrow ominously over you and then your boyfriend, the baby soon with a startled face when she noticed the one in front of her wasn't her dad, "it doesn't know who I'm?"

The surprise on his voice is palpable, and then so is his anger, "It doesn't know who I'm?!"

"Don't talk to them like that!", it took a good time to calm him down again, mostly because Max seemed in the verge of tears again and the man that was brought here with him was about to suffer a concussion.

Oddly enough, he just needed a pack of ice gel and was good to talk, "so you're the one who's dating an alien that everyone was talking about!", he was... something indeed, especially when he noticed what was his current situation, or when he noticed he saw you, maybe, he isn't sure, but you're familiar with that "have I seen you before?" when you saw this very same man a week ago for the information of a case.

Your familiar with this, but it doesn't mean it stings any less, "yes, yes you did, agent Rock 'n roll.

"Nice", apparently there is no more to say, just watch the two mechs talk in vosian if you're not wrong, Buster got near the new stranger and started her own recognizance job, good ol' sniff, "what is this about?"

Thundercracker shows the baby on her basket once again to the new mech, who makes a clicking noise, like some kind of cooing that gets Max's bid brown eyes to open even more, "I was about to ask you the same".

Now you do know about this mech, he said his name is Skywarp and that he is, somehow, Thundercracker's brother.

"You've a brother?", was your immediate question, Buster's ears perked up at your tone.

"It didn't know you have two brothers?", asked back Skywarp.

TC's snarky reminder to his brother to call you for your name went to deaf ears, "you have TWO brothers?"

"You fleshies really are so slow", Skywarp, your apparent brother in law, smirked like he was making fun of you, "think you're the only ones with the concept of a group or a clan" maybe he was referring to a family as he let Max hold one of his digits above her without problem.

"I didn't mean-"

"It's nice that you got your friend here", as ever, Thundercracker tried to make it pleasant.

"Just a passenger, not a friend".

It took a moment, but just to be sure, the said friend asked, "is this... some kind of family reunion? Am I something like a close family friend?" he was looking at Skywarp for confirmation, and when his pretty red optics looked to the other side it was evident, "Awww, I love you too, buddy!"

"Don't make it strange, flesh bag!", his armor trembled with what you could say was disgust or embarrassment, "he had to show the protoform cycles ago! At least to me as I'm in this planet!" the gentle touch on her amazes to everyone except for your boyfriend who seems happy, Max is relaxed as he let's Skywarp search over her, the detail he is going over is one similar to a picky eater or an sculptor, "but no, not even come close because it's so frail and whatever", he seems to think of something that makes him mad, "if we were back in Vos the elders would have beaten you for taking so long to present the new spark, no, they would if they knew how you got an organic one to begin with and-" with a fast movement of his digits he is holding Max upside down, it makes you and agent RnR almost shout, Buster barked, indignant, "what is it? humans put a lot of importance in it, so what is it?"

"A femme, Sky, a tiny femme, don't hold her like that, her tummy will ache"

"The frag is a tummy?"

Somehow, it clicked, but you didn't have the courage to say it out loud, Rock 'n roll, for the other part, didn't have such reservations, "wait, is this the alien equivalent of that ferret showing off it's babies to the owner?"

"Don't you dare compare me with furballs!", not exactly ferrets, but pretty birds.

"Don't shout near her!", her cries were, again, started for all the ruckus, and TC took her away from Skywarp's servos with an angry expression, holding her to his cockpit and wings up to show his discomfort.

So, yeah, birds looking after the baby chick.

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

Sick Day - S.H & E.M

Author's Note: Wrote a short thing, now I wrote a long thing!

Pairing: Steddie x Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff, not edited at all, afab reader, no used of Y/N

For myself and @corrodedcorpses the sexy babes with colds

There was nothing that you hated more than being sick. It started as just a little tickle in the back of your throat that started at work. You knew it was the beginnings of a cold. So you drank hot coffee and tea in the hopes it staved off the growing sickness. Your efforts were futile though. When you had gotten home the scratching hadn't gotten better. Both your boyfriends had noticed as you cleared your throat for the millionth time but neither said anything, just shared a look. Finally, Steve was the first one to say something.

"It's nothing. Just some crud in my throat." You waved him off. He didn't seem convinced.

The three of you piled into bed at the end of the nigh, Eddie calling dibs on being in the middle. You didn't mind. You laid there, back pressed to Eddie's chest as he spooned you through the night.

The next morning though, you woke up alone. When you looked at the time you saw that you slept more than you usually did which meant the boys let you sleep in. At the first swallow of saliva of the day you felt the pain radiate in your throat at the movement and sighed. "Fuck." You croaked, wincing at the sound of your voice like you took a fresh pack of Eddie's Camels and chainsmoked the entire pack in one sitting. You rubbed your hand over your eyes, knowing that the boys were going to just send you straight back to bed the moment they heard you.

Deciding not to be a lump on a log, you pulled yourself out of your shared, large bed and looked for a pair of pants. You grabbed Eddie's red plaid sweatpants, pulling them up to your hips before shuffling out the door. Steve stood at the stove, poking at scrambled eggs. Eddie noticed you first, always the silent and observant one. You moved towards the coffee pot knowing the heat of the caffinated beverage would help soothe the soreness of your throat. Eddie already pulled down a mug. A black mug with Michael Myers's face on it. He poured your coffee and you leaned your body against his as he fixed up your cup of caffeine. When it was ready he picked it up to hand it to you. You gently took the mug, feeling the heat seep through the ceramic. Eddie leaned down for a kiss as he usually did in the mornings but you jerked your head back quickly. Hurt flashed across his eyes at the sight of you pulling away. You reached out, pressing the tips of your fingers to his lips.

"Don't," You croaked gently. At the sound, Eddie's chocolate orbs widened with concern hearing you and Steve stopped what he was doing to look at you.

"Oh, honey. That does not sound good." Steve set own his spatula.

Eddie kissed the tips of your fingers before gently pulling your hand away. "I'll be fine." You reassured them and took a sip of your coffee. You sighed as the heat soothed your throat.

Eddie leaned in, a pout settling over his lips as you jerked back again. "Eddie," You warned softly.

"I'll take your germs. I'm getting kisses. Germy kisses. Sickness be damed." Eddie insisted, taking your face in his hands. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, leaning in to give him the kiss he so wanted. He grinned when you pulled apart, happy to have gotten his morning kiss he craved so much.

You looked at Steve. "Do you damn sickness too?" You asked him.

Steve laughed and leaned in, kissing you too. "I do." He answered and turned back to the stove to get the eggs out of the pan before they burned.

The three of you had breakfast. The boys insisting you have some orange juice with your breakfast for the vitamin c. As soon as you ate you felt the fatigue hit you already. You shuffled towards the bathroom, determined to shower since you felt awful. You spotted Steve changing into outside wear and stopped to watch him change. Steve looked up, chuckling seeing you watch him.

"Enjoying the show?"

"Of course." You smiled, leaning on the door frame of your guys shared bedroom.

"I'm gonna run out and get you some medicine and soup, honey. Eddie'll be with you." Steve leaned down to kiss your cheek before kissing your forehead. After a second you realize he wasn't kissing your forehead but moreso feeling your forehead with his lips. He hummed disapprovingly. "You feel warm." He murmured, arms wrapping around your form.

"'M wanna shower." You mumbled against his chest.

"Shower carefully? Maybe a bath. One that isn't too hot."

You huff and kiss his throat. "I don't want a bath. Shower."

"So shower, sweet girl." Steve answered, knowing you were likely to do as you pleased instead. When you were sick you could be a little stubborn and needy. Neither male minded at all.

"Go. Be quick." You told him, patting his belly affectionately before moving into the shower. You shut the door and started to strip, hearing the door to your apartment open and close. Once you were nude you turned the shower on. Despite usually showering in fairly hot water you made it not too hot, already feeling the warmth Steve had felt through his lips just before. You stepped into the shower and sighed in relief at the feeling. You stood under the spray of the water and heard the bathroom door open thinking nothing of it. Eddie had come into the bathroom as you showered before to pee or sometimes open the shower curtain just to look at your bare body. Especially when you were scrubbing your skin clean. So when the shower curtain opened you didn't think much of it again until you felt Eddie press against your back. You sighed and relaxed against him. You knew as soon as you finished in there you'd be crawling back into bed.

Eddie peppered soft kisses on your shoulder as he moved you both so he could get under the spray. You turned in his arms, loosely wrapping your arms around him to rest against his body. You heard the squirt sound of your near empty bottle of shampoo and then a moment later the scent of your favorite shampoo filled your nose as Eddie lathered it into your hair. He took his time scrubbing your scalp, gently running the shampoo through the ends of your hair before rinsing it out and moving into the conditioner. He took a moment to wash his own hair with the shampoo you got him for his curls before he rinsed out your conditioner and moved on to washing you. Eddie diligently scrubbed your body down to make sure every inch of you was clean with his and Steve's bodywash. Once you were clean he cleaned himself, letting you hold onto him as he did.

"Hey,"

Your eyes fluttered open as you lifted your head from Eddie's chest. Steve was now stepping into the shower. "That was fast." You mumbled as he got himself wet under the shower head.

"Had to get back to my babies." Steve chuckled, kissing your head.

You and Eddie stayed in the shower as Steve cleaned himself up too. Once you were all clean the boys stepped out of the shower. Eddie wrapped a towel around his hips while Steve grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body. You carefully stepped out of the shower and shuffled to the bedroom. You dried yourself off, watching as Steve and Eddie both pulled on comfy clothes signaling they would be staying in with you all day. You finished drying off, smiling as Eddie approached you with one of his shirts. You lifted your arms, letting him pull his Iron Maiden shirt over your form. Steve handed off a pair of your comfy panties to Eddie who knelt down to help you step into them. Next was a pair of Steve's shorts. Once you were all dressed you were ushed back into bed. You got in, settling in the middle of the bed.

Eddie moved to the TV, rifling through your guys collection of VHS tapes you had in the bedroom as Steve went to the kitchen. When Steve returned he had a can of Coke, a bottle you recognized as cold medicine and a spoon in his hands. He sat beside you and set the can aside. Your nose scrunched knowing what was coming as Steve poured the orange liquid into the spoon. "I don't want it." You mumbled like a child and Steve chuckled.

"Well no one wants it but you'll feel better." He answered and held the spoon up to your lips. You sighed and opened your mouth. As soon as the spoon was in your mouth you whined at the taste and swolled it down. A second later the Coke can was presented to you and you chased the awful cold medicine with the sweet soda. This repeated a second time before Steve capped the bottle and gave you a kiss to sweeten the deal.

Eddie joined you a moment later as Steve went to put away the medicine. "Yucky." He murmured as he gave you a kiss, "The torture is over, for now." He smiled and gave you more kisses. You whined and cuddled into Eddie's side. When Steve came back you immediately reached out, grabbing at the air in his direction to indicate what you wanted. Steve chuckled, lifting the blanket and urging you both under it before joing you. You sat sandwiched between your boys as you watched Nightmare on Elm Street together. Nine times out of ten if Eddie was choosing the movie it was going to be a horror movie.

As you watched Rober Englund kill Johnny Depp, you felt the exhaustion pulling at you more. By the time you came back there was a different movie on and you figured you had dozed off longer than you thought as Eddie was gone. You were curled up against Steve, dropping on his chest as he watched the movie on screen. You wiped the corner of your mouth before wiping at his chest.

"Sorry," You mumble and wiggle to sit up a bit.

"Don't be sorry." Steve reassured you, watching as you look over at the clock. "We didn't wanna bother you. Eddie's making you food."

"What's he making?"

"Chicken noodle soup, dandelion."

You nod, wiggling out of bed to go use the bathroom and blow your nose without grossing out your boyfriends. Even though you knew Steve would reassure you it didn't bother him and Eddie would ask if you got any good ones out. When you finished you got back in bed as Eddie came in with a tray. Three steaming bowls sat on the tray along with more sodas and a sleeve of saltine crackers. He got into bed, setting the tray on his lap. Steve carefully took a bowl for himself and set it on the nighstand beside him before taking a soda and some crackers. You picked up a cracker and munched on it as Eddie opened your Coke and his own, too. You took your Coke and sipped it gently. You reached for your bowl, noting it was the one with the most even distribution of chicken, noodles and veggies.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Eddie took the bowl from your hands and set it back on the tray. "It's super hot, baby. Hold on," He gave you another cracker and had you wait a few minutes. Finally, when he deemed it good enough an saw Steve nod in approval in concerns to the temperature of his bowl of soup, Eddie picked up yours. He scooped up a spoonful and blew on it for a bit before touching it with his tongue.

"Eddie," You whined softly. You were hungry. Eddie blew on the spoon a bit more before eating the spoonful. He nodded and handed the bowl over to you.

"Was making sure you wouldn't burn your tongue, babe. I know you hate when you do." Eddie answered, watching you carefully take a spoonful of soup and blow on it.

"You hate it too." You noted to him and Eddie grinned.

"I know and my gorgeous girlfriend always scolds me to let things cool down and blow on it before eating it." He answered, kissing your cheek.

Steve chuckled beside you. "Remember when he burned his tongue bad enough it wasn't right to him for days." He reminded you both and all of you shared a laugh. Eddie had a bad habit when he was really hungry of just shoveling food into his mouth without checking to make sure it's alright first. You had scolded him countless times to be careful especially since he got whiny and pouty when his tongue didn't feel right til it healed.

"Remember when you choked on a baby tomato." Eddie pointed at Steve.

"Hey, that was an accident!" Steve laughed and you giggled.

"Yeah and Wayne smacked you hard enough on the back that you launched it across the room." You reminded him.

"Good thing I found it after." Eddie noted with a grin.

You all finished your dinner together. You gave Steve your best puppy dog eyes as you held up your bowl. "You want another?" Steve asked you and you nodded your head.

"I got it." Eddie answered as he took your bowl and Steve's on the tray back into the kitchen.

Steve grabbed a hair tie, moving to gather your hair and get it off of your neck while Eddie was gone. When Eddie returned he had just your bowl and was blowing on it as he walked back to bed. He gently handed it off with a cautious look before joining you both in bed again. You had switched to watching TV shows as you had your second helping. Steve took the bowl to the sink when you finished and you wiggled down into the blankets. All three of you spent the rest of the day watching TV and cuddling with breaks for more medicine despite your nose scrunches and whines. As the evening took over you curled up to Eddie as he took out his worn copy of The Shining, reading it aloud to you. Steve disappeared to get the night time medicine, spoon feeding that to you while Edie paused his reading. You chased it with some water and Steve climbed back into bed with you both. He spooned you as you cuddled against Eddie's chest, listening to him read the story to you and the rhythum of his beating heart as you dozed off to sleep only able to breathe out of one nostril.

Eddie stopped when Steve tapped his hip. He looked down to see you asleep, mouth open, on his chest. "She's out." Steve whispered, watching Eddie mark his spot in the book and set it aside. Eddie wiggled down to lay down better, chuckling as you whined softly and shifted to get comfortable again. You grabbed at Steve's arm around you before settling back down again on Eddie's chest. "She'll be better soon."

"I hope so." Eddie murmured, "Not that I don't like her being needy. I love it. But I don't like her being miserable."

"I know. Me too." Steve sighed and shifted to lean over you, stealing a kiss from Eddie.

"We are soooo getting sick too." Eddie chuckled, stealing kisses from Steve before he could answer.

Steve scoffed, giving Eddie a deep kiss. "Worth it." He answered with a grin before settling back down with you.

Eddie leaned over to shut off the bedside lamp, laying with his two favorite people until both him and Steve fell asleep with you. They knew in the morning they would be letting you sleep in and be ready with medicine early even if you hated it but prepared for another day resting with you, happily stealing kisses until one of them showed a sign of sickness, too.

Worth it.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Captain John 'Bravo Six' Price Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 500~

TW: None (sfw)

Okay! Here are the promised headcanons!

The brainrot is intense for these boys rn, so the volume of headcanons kinda got outta hand. I didn't wanna slam y'all with the full 800+ words of headcanons that I've made for Price alone, so I decided that I'll post half now and half later.

That said, Thank you all again for the Huge response my poll got, and without further ado onto the The Headcanons!

His preferred drink is Green Tea with a spoonful of honey. He loves getting to sit, relax, and slowly sip his way through a nice hot cup of tea. If he’s in a rush or just needs to wake up he drinks coffee instead.

Takes his coffee with the smallest bit of sugar and no milk. His team argues that three grains of sugar can't make any difference, but Price insists that he doesn't like coffee straight black, he needs that bit of sweetness. The team once tested him by switching out his coffee for an identical cup of straight black coffee. Price's disgusted spluttering showed them that he can indeed easily taste the difference.

Cannot just sit down and do nothing. Always needs to be doing something. This man is a category five putterer. Just goes about absently neatening up, putting things back where they belong, pulling books forward to be level with the edge of the shelf, squaring papers with the corner of the table, wiping down the surfaces, adjusting his kit so it’s settled properly. He’ll do the same to the team as well. Mindlessly untwisting straps, pulling tight buckles, zipping pouches, pulling down the rucked-up hem of Ghost’s mask, straightening Gaz’s cap, correcting a stray hair in Soap’s warhawk.

The absolute worst at remembering names, constantly asking the team what this or that person's name is. Has a little notebook full of reminders that are only useful to him, the privates and FNGs think he's marking down performance notes, but he's just desperately trying to remember that one rookie's name before they leave eyesight. “Price, this just says ‘Michaels - Red Hat’, do you expect him to always wear a red hat?” “No, but I remember the hat, then I remember the face that was wearing the hat, and that face is Michaels'.” “Price, that makes no sense.” “Give that back and get. Have you nothing better to do? Go on, get!”

Paints his nails. He got a voucher for a free spa day as a birthday present one year, it included hot-rock therapy, mud-baths, a massage, and a mani-pedi. He went into it with a ‘fuck it, when in rome’ mentality and just said yes to everything while he was there. They explained that gel-polish is hardier and longer lasting than regular polish, without being super hard to remove like acrylics, so he went with gel-polish. At the time he just got a clear polish, but these days he does it himself and wears whatever colours he wants to. Has his own polishes and his own little uv lamp and everything. He could die on a mission tomorrow, he doesn't have time for your small minded ideas about masculinity. Before he was Captain of the 141, he actually got written up by a superior, not for wearing polish, but for wearing a nail-polish colour that wasn't a colour that's in regulation.

Loves water. Yes in the staying hydrated sense, but mainly in the swimming sense. He grew up with a creek behind his house and he spent every spare moment he could splashing around in it. To this day his favourite place is the beach, or anywhere with a body of water. A swimming pool is a poor replacement in his opinion, but he'll take what he can get.

Constantly loses track of time in the shower, his personal water bill is consistently exorbitant. When he doesn't have time to spare he sets a timer, when it beeps at 5 minutes it reminds him he needs to actually start washing up, and when it goes off at 10 minutes he forces himself to get out. When he has the time he sets the timer for 30 minutes.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you have any thoughts on the headcanons or ideas you'd like me expand on or things you wanna squeal about or prompts you want me to write PLEASE hit me up! My ask box is open 24/7 and I'd love to hear from you!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[skkfujoshi]

Remember how I said that the tie in fic was jk-ing….I wasn’t jk-ing as much as I thought….So here’s a sample

A/N This is set two years before the start of BSD

One,two,three,four,five,six…

Close and shake.

And voila!A perfect,painless,fast acting poison to drink when cornered.Kills you in mere seconds.

Best thing Mori’s ever taught him.

Chuuya beheld the small vile,the liquid inside it brown in colour.If he put it in his tea or coffee odds were no one would notice.

Kōyo probably knew.She saw him be mad at Mori hours before his father’s death.

She definitely knew.

Best he take this now before he’s made to bite down on the pavement on his knees.

He chuckled. 

Oh if only Dazai were still in the mafia.Shame really,had the bastard waited,he could’ve had his little double suicide…With Chuuya,granted,but semantics.

 “For the record,you’re my best friend too.”

Chuuya shook his head.

Liar,liar…Screw ‘Zai and his dumb romanticized little suicide schemes.Chuuya’s is much more effective and he’ll be doing it without him.

He nodded to himself,pleased and put a few drops in the black tea he poured himself earlier.

He took the cup in his hands and blew on it as he looked at his father’s scarf discarded on the nearby table.

Well…Chuuya’s scarf now.Before Mori,the old boss’s.A scarf of all things…Innocuous and rather lame,to be honest.Nice colour.Red.He’s always liked red.

Unbidden,a memory came to Chuuya.Early on in his time with Mori,Chuuya had no damn clue what snow was.Understandably so,one of many cons of lab life.

One of the other cons was that you really wanted/needed an open window all of the damn time.

Mori didn’t indulge him on the request during the winter.Obviously.This created spite on Chuuya’s end.So,left alone in their small apartment he opened all the damn windows and sat on the balcony out of spite.

He nearly died.He was probably just about to kick the bucket when Mori came back and warmed him up.He was mad at his father for it at first,convinced that he would’ve been fine even if he wasn’t moved.

Mori didn’t yell at him for being a brat that time.Instead,he closed the windows,bundled Chuuya up in some more blankets and carried him out back onto the balcony,giving him some hot chocolate later.

The scarf Mori wore then was purple.

Different scarf,different time.

A time when Chuuya didn’t question the angle of Mori’s kindnesses ,when he thought basic decency was something extraordinary and worthy of praise.

He knew better now.

No one wants a kid’s death on their hands,the loss of a potential future is just that inherently tragic.Even if you don’t particularly care,you just don’t wanna go through it.

Same reason Dazai stood awake for days at Rūyunosuke’s bedside when he trained the poor kid to exhaustion when Chuuya went on that weeks long mission in Kagoshima.

Chuuya stared at the bottom of the cup.God,that melted him.Melted him right through.

Fuck Dazai…Fuck him all the way to hell.

Did Chuuya really know better now?Was basic decency truly nothing more than a standard for him?

Did he truly not cling like a lifeline to every person who treated him as even slightly more than scum on their shoe?

He rubbed his forehead,frustrated.He really-

“Mr Nakahara!”

Chuuya turned with a sigh and put the teacup down.Mori used to say kids had their own,inherently contradictory internal clock and schedule.If mentoring Akutagawa made him consider that,Yumeno made him an outright believer.

“What is it,Q?”

Pouting ,the child sat himself on Chuuya’s lap and crossed his arms.

“When am I gonna be sent out?” “What?”

He looked at Chuyya as if he were an idiot.

“For a mission!That’s why you took me out,right?” “No…”

He scowled,jumping off 

“Then what’s the point?”he whined,stomping around the room in exasperation 

Chuuya thought on it for a moment.He wished he could say that he didn’t do it to spite Osamu,to spite whatever slimy little drops of Mori’s being hung around here still…But he was never particularly good at lying.

So he just shrugged.This displeased Yumeno a great deal.So much that he tossed a nearby microscope onto the ground.Chuuya merely rubbed his temples.That was gonna be expensive…

“A little tip,Q…Don’t break expensive…”

He was gonna say shit,but then he remembered he was talking to a kid.

“Don’t break expensive stuff.” “Well,what am I suppose to do!?You took away my doll!You had that weird lemon guy take out the razor blades,only for my curse to be basically useless and now you’re just expecting me to do nothing!”

Chuuya considered noting how odd it was that Kaiji was unaffected.But then he remembered the most important thing about Kaiji.He was beyond questioning.

“I’m not asking you to do nothing,Yumeno.You can do a lot.”

“Like?”he asked,brow raised “Well…Like…” “I’m waiting.”

“Whatever it is you kids do nowadays!The point is,you can do more than just work.Look at Rūyunosuke for example,he writes poetry,does-“

“Lame!So lame!And boring too!”

Chuuya’s eye twitched,but he took a deep breath and attempted to compose himself.

“Look,lame or not,it makes him…”

Happy didn’t describe Aku at all,so he changed tact.

“Content.” “And this has to do with me how?” “Do what makes you content!”

The boy pouted again,and stomped on the ground.

“Have you gone senile in your old age!?I can’t do that!” “Why!?” “Cause Dazai’s dead!I can’t play with a corpse!”

Chuuya blinked.Well,technically…You can.Chuuya got off the chair and got down to the boy’s level.

“Is that what you were planning before you found out?” “Duh.” “And what would you have done after that?”

Q’s expression turned quizical and confused.

“What ?” “What would you have done once you got your revenge on Dazai?”

He opened his mouth a few times but quickly his cheeks puffed out in thought,his gaze fixed to the floor all of a sudden.

A few moments passed in silence before Yumeno began again.

“Well…I could..I will…” “Mhh?” “I…”

Suddenly,he was upset again,stomping at the ground and groaning in annoyance.

“Take your time.”Chuuya assured  “I…I don’t know.”he said,surrendering and seating himself on the ground 

Chuuya sat down as well.He considered ruffling his hair but decided to just brush the tips of his fingers against the top of the boys head instead.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Morosely,the boy nodded.

“I felt the same .About my own older brother at that.”

Q’s eyes widened.

“But isn’t he still alive?” “He is.”

The look Yumeno gave him was somewhere between disgusted and shocked.

“Why?!” “Because I realized something.If I made killing him my sole purpose anything else would fail to fulfill me.And murder is a definitive action.”

“Definitive?” “You can’t take it back .” “Ah.”  

This upset the boy even more as he kicked at the ground,frustrated.

“Well then what do I do?!” “Same thing I did.Find something else.I won’t lie to you,it’ll be a pain in the butt.However…You’ll get better.In time.”

He raised his brow,unconvinced.

“What would I get out of it?”

Chuuya figured internal peace was not gonna be a huge selling point to an 11 year old,so instead he said:”When you manage to find that new thing,I’ll give you the doll back.”

“Just…Just like that?”

Chuuya nodded and extended his hand .

“What do you say?”

After a moment of hesitation,Yumeno shook his hand.

“You promise?” “I promise.” “…Thank you,boss.”

He smiled and lifted the boy to his feet,patting his shoulder.

“You’re welcome.Now,come on,go to bed,it’s getting late.”

The boy stuck his tongue out,annoyed and turned heel,stomping away.

Chuuya shook his head,sighing and standing up.Such a child…But that was no surprise,considering he was one.

Child and yet everyone thought that he was better off being locked in a cell like Dazai suggested.

Chuuya tossed the teacup a glance.

If he were to go through with it all…Chuuya was the only one who wanted him out.

If he were to die…No one wants a kid’s death on their hands…

Another memory came to him then.Shortly after Q was thrown in,Dazai was paranoid.He’d go on and on about Q escaping,reeking havoc and Mori ,in his wisdom,put a stop to it,with one sentence.

“Oh.He died.Last night.”

Chuuya stroked his jaw.Who’s to say he couldn’t pull the same thing?

He wrapped the scarf around his neck and walked out.

Boss Chuuya AU Masterpost

Next fic part —>

First overall AU info post

[wolfhowlwitch]

the gods I worship as things and moments and feelings:

The Morrigan: She is the darkness when you step beneath tree cover on an otherwise sunny day; She is a fresh cup of black tea that burns your tongue so slightly; She is the paper cut you don’t know you have- and the sting when you find it while showering; She is bare feet on moss; She is the wind howling at your window, shaking your gutters against your roof; She is a bite of well-made bread, so sharp on the outside that you cut the roof of your mouth, so soft on the inside that the pain subsides; She is scraped knees on concrete; She is the tenderness and intimacy of someone wrapping your wounds; She is the moment when you see something impossible in the corner of your eye; She is the smell of rain and wet grass and storm clouds brewing; She is confidence, all of it- She is the way you feel when you wear your favorite lipstick or shirt or wear nothing at all and admire yourself in the mirror the way that a stranger might admire you from across the bar, or asking for exactly what you need when you need it, getting the raise or the promotion or the loan or the respect because you deserve it and you’ve convinced everyone else of it too, the way you walk when you’re going down the street listening to music and you can feel all eyes on you and you revel in that captivation, the first time you just stop looking at your ex’s social media and you never look again because it no longer serves you and you know you’re better off, the way your thumb hits the “end call” button and you smile to yourself because you get to make your rules and your boundaries and your decisions, waking up and knowing that this is your life and your story and your creation and no one can ever take that away from you so you make a cup of coffee and learn more about yourself than you did yesterday but less than you will learn tomorrow and the next day and the next

Hermes: He is the moment you find the best parking spot; He is the hard-win victory of rolling a natural 20 in DnD, but He is also the humility of rolling a 1; He is the first comforting bite of a convenience store hot dog when you couldn’t afford much else; He is the frantic excitement of running through a field, trying to find what you can no longer see; He is hitting every green light on the way home; He is the joy in adding something new to your collection; He is the mirthful laughter while watching a great comedy with loved ones; He is finding the perfect words to put to paper; He is the frustration of stepping in something wet with socks on, and He is the coziness of putting fresh new socks on; He is the first day you wake up after a nasty cold and you can breathe easy; He is the heartwarming relief when a friend picks you up after a bad day and asks you where you want to go; He is mundane luck, all of it- the time that you get an extra order of fries without having to pay, the job that opened up just when you needed it and they loved you and you start as soon as possible, the penny you find just outside your car door, the milk you forgot about in the fridge but it expires the day after you realized you needed it, the parking meter being broken where you parked and now you couldn’t pay if you wanted to, your favorite show airing on the perfect night of the week for you to sit back and relax and enjoy it, the way you just keep meeting the right people and making friends and discovering joy and finding new talents and falling in love and falling in love with yourself and loving your life even on the hard days because there will always be luck

Hades: He is loud, loud metal blaring over car speakers; He is the wistful memories you have when you look at the urn of a loved one; He is getting your hair just right; He is the needling pain of a new piercing, and He is the radical self-love of making yourself in the image you choose; He is yelling at the characters in a horror film to just pick up a damn weapon already; He is crying and laughing and weeping and smiling at the grave of a friend gone too soon; He is dead flowers hung around the house, the ghosts of their fragrance still lingering; He is eating chocolate chips straight out of the bag; He is the near-silent, darkened city streets lit only by stoplights and neon signs; He is tapping into your inner child and playing air guitar, and He is the callouses on your fingers from actually playing guitar; He is fallen leaves spinning in circles across the parking lot with the wind; He is Halloween decorations kept up all year round; He is the sharpness of the bite your dog meant to be more playful than it was; He is the chill down your spine when you hear an owl late at night, and He is the excitement of hearing the coyotes croon even in the middle of the city; He is mourning, all of it- the memories that throw themselves at the walls of your mind like pebbles at a window, the choked sobs even years later as you wonder who you are without the lost, the moments in which you hear their voice in your head so clear so crisp so loudly you could swear they still sat next to you, the quiet selfish thankfulness that your heart still beats though it beats different now that you know loss, the way you close your eyes while the dirt hits the coffin because this is all just too final, the smile as you run your thumb across the pictures that still hold them even though you no longer can, He is every moment spent thinking about those you lost and all of the regrets and the what ifs and the should haves and the now I know betters

Persephone: She is the refreshment in a cold glass of juice, a glass you drink so readily that droplets pour down your chin and pool on your chest sticky with sweetness; She is the act of putting up paintings in a too-small room, curating the space you have regardless of size; She is the glee in finding September roses, beauty still blooming as the air becomes frigid; She is a bite of fresh fruit, tart and delicious and perfect for the moment; She is the perfume left on the air when you leave, lingering for whoever walks in next- they will know you were there; She is sunshine on the snow, still frozen and always blinding but beautiful in its juxtaposed way; She is the laughter choked through tears at the end of a romantic comedy; She is the smoke wisping away when you blow out the candle; She is pricking your thumb on the thorn of a blackberry bush; She is the delighted squeaking of bats in the trees; She is kisses, all of them- the desperate clinging on a kiss goodbye salty tears finding solace between your lips, the peck on the lips goodnight not chaste but familiar and comfortable and full of love, the grinning through a kiss hello, the kiss on the shoulder of a lover in the shower, the wiping at your grandma’s lipstick on your cheek but smiling nonetheless, the nervous trembling of a first kiss that you’ll laugh at later but in this moment it’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done, the kiss on the head of a child who is learning to tie their shoes and stand their ground and spell their name and be themself and find out just who “themself” is, the kiss you give to your protesting pet while they scramble to escape your arms and the kiss you give when they come running right back for the attention, the teeth dragging against skin in the kiss on the neck- the bruise you leave behind just a mark that you were there and you loved and you felt and you were intertwined with sex and power and divinity and intimacy

[jake-g-lockley]

Coffee Danger (Poe Dameron x gn!reader)

Masterlist | Playlist 

Word Count: 644 words 

Warnings: Nothing, its fluff hehe

Your best friend Poe Dameron probably could not live without coffee. Saying that he was addicted was quite the understatement of the century. Not many people get the chance to see him without coffee because a Poe without coffee is a dangerous Poe. He could sometimes be scarier than a Sith if you had ever crossed paths with him before he had his morning coffee.

From the day you met the Black Leader, you had officially become his personal coffee maker. When the both of you started sharing quarters, Poe found out that you would brew your own coffee. The first time time Poe took a whiff of it, he instantly fell in love with the way you made it. Not only that, a little secret that kept Poe going every day was the fact that he started falling in love with you, with and without your insane coffee making skills. 

You don't mind making Poe coffee early every morning as long as he does not give you a dose of his bad mood. You would quietly brew the coffee about half an hour before he would wake and you would set a hot cup of it on his bedside table, running off to the freshers to get ready for your day. 

Unfortunately for you and the rest of the Resistance, one day came the time when you ran out of your special coffee bean mix. A part of you was glad that you had ran out, because Poe had to be taught a lesson. 

Poe did not take the news lightly. Besides that, the stubborn pilot refused to drink any other coffee or caffeinated drinks that was provided in the cantina, despite your protests and pleas. He also made sure that he made this little problem everyone’s problem. 

You kept your usual demeanour but in reality, it hurt to see him suffer from the effects of the withdrawal and slowly go stir crazy from the lack of caffeine. You felt like you were slowly losing your Poe to something absolutely reversable. 

It didn’t take long for shit to hit the fan. 

 “I’ll literally go anywhere to find those beans.” Poe threatened, stepping into his flight suit. 

You stood blocking the door, not believing how this small issue escalated into something so complicated. 

“Poe, please, you can just drink the coffee here.” You pleaded, shaking your head as he zipped up his flight suit. 

You placed your hands on his chest to stop him from moving. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he is when he is stressed out. His curls were flying everywhere like a mad man and his cheeks had a hint of pink on them, making him almost glow like a little angel.

“Y/N, you don’t understand, I-” Poe started but something snapped in you.

“Oh shut up, you big idiot.” 

You pulled his flight suit, taking him by surprise, smashing your lips to his in a furious kiss. You have had enough of Poe’s coffee rants. 

You just wanted some peace. 

And you also just really wanted to kiss Poe Dameron. 

You kissed Poe until you were suffocated by him. You only pulled away when the lack of oxygen to your brain started making you woozy.  Poe looked at you as he pulled slightly, his soft brown eyes wide with shock.  

“There, do you want that or do you still want your coffee?” you took a leap and teased him about it, frowning at him.

 “That was better than any fucking coffee I've ever had.” Poe breathed, scanning your face. 

A smile erupted in your face, and Poe mirrored it, making your heart melt into mush. He bit his lip and the blush deepened on his cheeks.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, taking your hand.

You nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“Part of me might be addicted to coffee, but part of me is addicted to you making me coffee every morning. I love nothing more than watching you dance around the kitchen every morning, not making a single sound so that I could get that little extra sleep.” Poe bashfully said, looking at you from under his lashes.

You laughed and tucked a stray curl back to its usual spot, tracing every inch of Poe's face with your eyes before kissing his cheek. 

“Now, don’t you dare get addicted to this Commander Dameron.” You punched him square in the chest.

“Oh don’t mind if I do.” He chuckled as he leaned in for another kiss.

Tagging: @ahookedheroespureheart @mintpurplemnm @brekkers-desigirl

[ihni]

Patience

Written for @billyhargrovebingo, square A1; "A price I'm willing to pay".

Rated: G, Words: 1994

(On AO3)

~~~

Flo ran out of patience twenty years ago.

For eighteen of those years, she’s been working for Hawkins’ Police Department. People have come and gone during her time here, but she has remained, through thick and thin.

Besides Flo, Jim is the one who has been here the longest, with his five years. Calvin came in a year later, and Phil only started two years ago when his family moved to Hawkins from Montana.

This means that Flo has been here longer than the three of them combined, which gives her seniority. Sure, on paper they all outrank her, but in reality, she is the one who keeps things running around here and they wouldn’t dare cross her. They all know that Flo has no patience for bullshit.

Not anymore. Not since she threw her abusive piece of shit husband out on his ass twenty years ago, got a job, and managed to raise their three teenage sons by herself despite what everyone said about her behind her back.

Everything at the department runs smoothly, because Flo is in charge of it. The boys know better than to encroach on her territory, and have learned to ask her for the things they need rather than try to find them themselves and risk messing with her system. They’re fast learners, that way. Or maybe her glare is just that terrifying.

“I don’t think they’re afraid of you,” Harold said over breakfast one day when she mentioned it. “They’re simply showing you the respect you deserve, honey.”

Flo huffed and rolled her eyes at that, but Harold had only smiled serenely at her and put another sugar cube in his coffee.

Harold is, perhaps, the only person for which Flo will make an effort to be patient. They met years ago, but didn’t get together until all her sons were already grown up and had moved out, far from Hawkins. And even then, it was two years before Flo let him into her life fully.

All the patience that Flo lacks, Harold has in abundance. Enough to cover the both of them, he usually jokes.

She is thankful for him. He’s a good man. Not everyone is lucky enough to find themselves a good man – she knows that by experience.

Flo has a lot of experience. Which is why her eyes narrow when she walks into the station one morning to find a young man in handcuffs seated at Phil’s desk while Phil is rummaging around in the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.

The young man glances up as she passes him – he’s got a black eye with a swollen eyelid, and splotchy bruising on his jaw – but looks down again before she can meet his eye. Frowning, she walks up to Phil and clears her throat. To his credit, he only jumps a little and immediately backs away from the filing cabinet.

“I wasn’t ...” he starts, “I just needed an empty file.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks at him over the rim of her glasses as he gives a helpless little shrug. Without a word, she walks over to another cabinet where she keeps the empty files. He takes the one she hands him with a low “Thanks, Flo”, and walks back to his desk to deal with his young perp.

Flo listens in as she prepares for the day; brings in the morning paper, starts the coffee machine, goes through the agenda for the day, looks over the unintelligible scribbles that Phil – who had the night shift – calls notes. While she works, she listens to Phil as he talks to the kid – a Mr. William Hargrove, apparently.

It’s quiet in the station in the morning, and Flo hasn’t turned the radio on yet. She may be old, but there is nothing wrong with her ears and it’s not like the other two occupants in the room are talking in low voices. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. She’s the one who types out the reports.

The more she hears, the deeper her frown gets. When Jim finally shows up around nine, Flo intercepts him before Phil can catch his attention. She hands him a cup of hot coffee and pointedly doesn’t comment on the pastry crumbs in his moustache that show that he visited the bakery on his way to work.

“Jim, a word?” And Jim knows better than to cross her this early in the morning, so he accepts the coffee, nods, and gestures for her to lead the way into his office.

“That young man in there,” Flo says as soon as the door is closed behind them and points with her thumb over her shoulder. “Phil picked him up at the gas station outside of town around daybreak. He was slinking around the parking lot, and Phil caught him at the back door, holding a brick. Looking like he was trying to break in.”

“Okay?” Jim says, taking a sip of his coffee. He’ll be able to read this in Phil’s report later, so he’s probably wondering why Flo is telling him this.

She huffs. “The kid is beat up, Jim. He says he got in a fight but no one has made any calls about a fight tonight. There are no marks on his hands. He’s been sitting hunched-over since he got here. And you know what they sell at the gas station, besides gas and snacks?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

Luckily for her, and everyone else in town, their Chief is no fool. And he, too, has some experience with these things. His eyes clear in realization. “Pain pills. Basic first aid stuff.” She nods, satisfied that she doesn’t have to spell it out for him. “Who is he? I don’t recognize him.”

“New in town, apparently,” Flo says. “Name of Hargrove. The family moved in from California a week or so ago.”

Jim hums, and Flo knows that he’ll take what she has said into consideration when he inevitably talks to the boy, after he’s sent Phil home to get some sleep. It’s enough. She’s done what she can.

Or so she thinks, until she walks out of Jim’s office and sees that Phil is leading the young man towards the holding cells. The kid looks beaten down. Exhausted.

“Oh just leave the kid here,” Flo says and watches as both of them stop and turn towards her.

“Protocol states –“ Phil starts, but Flo huffs and waves it away.

“Since when do you care about protocol? Jim will want to speak to him soon anyway. I’ll look after him. You go home, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Phil knows better than to argue. Fast learners, the lot of them. He goes to exchange a few words with Jim before going off his shift, and leaves Flo and the kid alone. She gestures at the chair in front of Phil’s desk, the one he was sitting in before, and the kid sinks back into it. Flo knows she’s not imagining the wince as he’s sitting down. It’s gone in a flash, but it was definitely there.

She turns her back on him, only in part to give him a chance to compose himself. A minute or so later, she walks back to him and places a mug of coffee, a glass of water and two white pills on the desk in front of him.

He looks up at her, surprised. “What’s this?”

Inpatient, she gestures at the items. “What does it look like, kid?”

“I don’t need –“

She’s not about to get into a discussion with him, so she cuts him off. “I’m not forcing you to take them. Take them or don’t. Up to you.”

She turns her back again and leaves him to his own devices. She has her own work to do, after all, the phones won’t answer themselves and Mr. Thompson usually calls first thing in the morning to rant about whatever the neighbor’s kids got up to last night.

When she passes the kid next, the pills are gone and the water glass is empty. She’s glad to see it, even if she doesn’t say anything. The boy is holding the coffee cup with his handcuffed hands and taking small sips, grimacing at the bitterness of it. Flo probably should have offered him milk or sugar, but everyone at the station drinks their coffee black so it didn’t cross her mind.

She meant what she said, though. The kid can drink it, or not. His choice. She’s not his keeper.

She putters around the station while Jim speaks to the kid in his office. Talks a bit with Gail who is passing by with her dachshund, and waters the few spider plants that she has placed on the south-facing windowsills.

The kid emerges from the office uncuffed, with Jim following behind him.

“I’m driving Billy here back to his car,” Jim says, pulling on his jacket. “I’ll be right back. Hold the fort, will you?”

It’s a rhetorical question. He knows that she will.

She spends the time while he’s out typing out Phil’s near-illegible notes for the kid’s file, and adds a couple of details she heard them talk about that Phil forgot to write down. She’s done this for decades, she knows what details are important. She’s just finishing up when Jim comes back, this time alone.

He sinks into Calvin’s empty chair, which is the one closest to Flo’s desk. None of them speak for a moment, then Jim sighs. “I think you’re right.”

“I know,” Flo says, and hands him the boy’s newly typed-up file. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s not really anything I can …” He trails off when she levels him with an unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that, Flo. I am the Chief of Police, I have to follow the law. I can’t do anything if he’s not talking. And he’s not talking.”

She purses her lips. “They live over on Cherry, you know.”

He frowns, suspicious. “So?”

“I have a friend who lives on Cherry. Ruth. I haven’t visited her in a while.”

Jim groans. “No, Flo. I’ll keep an eye on the family, okay? You don’t have to get involved again –“

“Who said anything about getting involved? I just think it’s about time I visited my good friend Ruth. We haven’t talked in ages. Maybe she has some new gossip for me. About her new neighbors.”

Running his hand down his face, Jim groans again. “Please, Flo.”

“It’s a small town. It’s important to get to know your new neighbors, after all. As a representative for the Police Department, perhaps I should go and say hello.”

“You’re killing me,” he says under his breath, standing up with a grunt. “I’ll make some calls to an old colleague in California. Happy?”

She levels him with a look and raises her eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She does, and they both know it. She’s also not going to let it go. They both know that, too.

“This is gonna blow up in my face somehow, I know it.”

As Chief of Police his hands are tied in a way that hers aren’t. Going through the right channels is just too slow-moving for her. She doesn’t have that kind of patience.

So she shrugs. “That’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Of course it is,” he mutters. “Because you won’t be the one paying it.”

“Excuse me?” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Who does all the paperwork around here?”

He inclines his head as if to say ‘fair’, and then adds, “Fine. You win. But if you happen to go and say hello, please take Harold with you. At least he has a sense of tact.”

She glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. Harold will want to come with her, anyway, when she tells him about the boy.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The Babysitter- Day 3

Summary: Jason tries to train you, you try not to push his buttons for a change.

Theif!Reader x The Red Hood

Words: 2.8k

Day 2

Warnings: 18+, Fluff, pining, tension clad training, swearing.

"Get up, trouble maker," his fist raps on your door, "we've got places to be."

“Get fucked,” you mumble, putting the pillow over your head and rolling back into the sheets.

“You swearing at me?” he hits the door again, “Don’t you remember what I said about that?”

“Yes.” you moan, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

“Are you getting up?”

“I’m up. I'm getting dressed. Give a girl a second.”

“Put on something comfortable.”

“Can do, Mr bossy boots,” you poke your tongue out at the door, searching through your drawers for your favourite pair of pink leggings and that cute black crop Harley gave you. “Shit, where are my sneakers?” you start crawling under the bed looking for them.

“You’re taking too long,” you hear his voice echo from down the hall. “Hurry up.” “Yeah, well,” storming out of your room, “You said to put on something comfy and all I could find were my pumps, which are not comfy and my sneakers seemed to have vanished into thin air. I also wanted like one second to maybe, too I dunno, put my hair up and not look like a trash panda first thing in the morning. But here we are." You sigh dramatically, "I look like shit, my hair is a wasp's nest and I still don't have any- Ugh!” you look down at the green pair of shoes now resting in your hands, “You found my sneakers! Thanks'' you beam, sitting right down on the ground and slipping them on.

When you look back up at Jason he stares at you like you've grown a second head, “I know my hair is a mess, you told me to hurry. What do ya want from me?”

“No, nothing. Here,” he says, handing you a coffee, “Found these to go cups,” shit, did you actually listen to him? He tries to pinpoint what he said, maybe he’ll be able to replicate it? Hopefully, because fuck, he never expected to get a thank you this early or to even have you listen to him long enough to do what he asked.

“So, what's the plan? You're going to take me out the back and shoot me for being the most annoying client ever? Maybe take me out for breakfast, wine and dine me?" You shrug, your hands flying around as you talk, "Throw me into a fighting pit and see if I don't die? Lots and lots of options for you.”

“You’ll see when we get there." Jason says as he picks up his duffle bag, "And if you’re good, I’ve got a gift for you.”

“Good? But that's so subjective,” you sip on your coffee, “Good could mean a number of things to numerous different types of people. Your version of good is definitely very different from mine, so how will I even know if I'm being good?”

“You want rules?”

“No, but some guidelines would be nice. Do I need to bring anything else?”

“Nothing else. How about we start with, don’t steal.”

“Boring." You roll your eyes at him, "how about I don’t get caught stealing.”

“Don’t steal from me then. How's that?”

“Fair. anything else? Oh Mr big boss man?”

“No more swearing at me,”

“You really don't like it do you?”

“I do not and since I'm stuck with you for a week, I’d like you to respect it.”

“Fine, I won’t swear AT you. Maybe just around you.”

“That's the best I'm going to get isn't it?”

”Better deal than anyone else has ever had.”

“Lets go then. It's not far from here,”

“What isn't?” he ignores you, opening the door to your apartment and silently waiting for you to follow.

“We’ve got a ten minute walk ahead of us. How about you guess where we're going and I'll tell you if you get close.” Jason offers, thinking that maybe if he can make a game of your talking he can keep you on track. Maybe keep those distracting thoughts and wandering eyes from things in people's pockets if he finds something to occupy you while you walk. To his great shock you smile at him, almost delighted at the idea. An idea he came up with and fuck its almost as hot as that fierce smirk you gave him yesterday.

“Perfect.”

Xx

“I was so close,” you say, pushing your arms together in excitement, “I nearly guessed gym,”

“But ya didn't. For some reason you keep thinking I own a castle. Do I give off vampire vibes or something?”

“Maybe, vampires are supposed to be pretty to lure in prey,” you press your back into the gym door and it swings open, “and you're ok looking I guess.”

“Really?” he stalks in infront of you, “You said I was pretty the other day. What's changed?”

“Nothing, you're still pretty. Now I just know how mean you are.”

“Mean? You haven't seen mean.”

“Ooo big threats from the macho man.” you shake your hands in front of you as you walk backwards. “I'm shaking in my sneakers.”

“Not yet. But you didn't notice,”

“What?” you stare at him before realising how quiet the gym is and take a look around, “Where the fuck is everyone?”

“You scared now?”

“Not really. You're big, but I'm faster,” you take off running around the gym, trying your best to get away and when you turn he hasn't even moved. “Knew you couldn't catch me and gave up already?”

“No, you can make all the trouble you want over there. I’ll be over here when you're ready. We’ve got all day and if you get hungry there's snacks in the break room.”

He what? Fine. well. You have been entertaining yourself for years. Surely you can do it for a whole day. You grab the rope dangling from the ceiling and start to climb. Climbing for some reason always clears your mind. Maybe it was because if you didn't focus on where your feet are or your hands, you would literally fall and break your neck.

When you reach the top you peer down and see him with his hands bound, punching hard into the bag. His shirt is off and you can see the large muscles of his back flex with every single swipe. “Whoops'' you laugh, almost losing your grip. Now, how does Harley do it? You think, twisting your leg through the rope releasing one hand and falling down to grip it with the other. Wow. this is easy, think to yourself. Before your hand slips and you're crashing into the ground. "Oh, closer than I thought." You say rubbing the sore spot on the back of your head.

He glances back, catching your eye, but turns right back around and continues to hit the bag. Fucking woman, he thinks to himself, as he unleashes his frustration on the punching bag, "she's more of a danger to herself than than anyone else. Doesn't fucking listen, except apparetnly, when she fucking wants too. We're only on the third day and she's already making my skin crawl. "He slams a fist into the bag, "even giving her space doesn't seem to be calming her down any. And there she goes climbing shit again, like she's fuckin Grayson."

Though, he admits to himself, it may have a little to do with his own frustrations. He can't help but watch you. Those tight ass pink leggings carrying you into the break room, your ass on full display as you, is that a hop or skip? Either way, it's fucking cute. Cute? Fuck, he hits the bag again, this time blowing it off the chain and sending it flying.

Maybe he needs a break too. Wiping his face with the towel he trudges on over to the break room. Not expecting to find you balancing on a chair as you reach for the top shelf. "What are you doing?"

"People always hide the best snacks here," you say, because you're right.

"Let me." He says grabbing the chair and pushing you out of the way, letting out a little laugh as you struggle not to fall from it. He grabs the box of cookies from the very back of the shelf, "here."

"Thanks," you smile, snatching the cookies from him and sitting your ass on the table.

"Water?" He asks, did you just say it again? What the fuck is with you today? Maybe you hit your head too hard on the ground, or someone knocked you with a sense hammer while you were asleep.

"Please, I'm so thirsty," you ogle him when he turns to the fridge. Smiling at him in the way you’ve seen Harley do to Ivy when she wants something. Noticing that manners seem to be getting you things and he promised to give you a gift if you were good, so maybe the gift will be a batarang. But it feels weird when he looks at you like that, like you want to make him angry again. To see just how far you can push him before he snaps. Those eyes though, what is he looking at? What is he seeing? And like what is up with him?

"Catch," Jason throws a bottle of water at you and you catch it spinning it around on your palm before taking a sip.

"Just what I need,"

"Drink up because if you're done playing around it's time to train."

"That mean I've been good?"

"Yes. Now get out on the mat."

“But my gift?” you make eyes at him, holding out your hand, like where the fuck is my gift.

“I didn’t bring it with me. You’ll have to wait.”

“I can have it though?”

“You can. Now what did I say?’

“You don’t have my gift?”

“No. Get on the fucking mat.”

"OOo, was that a swear? Bad bad man,” you laugh at how serious his expression is, “What happens when I get on the mat? Is it easier to kill me?"

"Yes.” he ignores your comment, clenching his fists at his side, “But you want to learn how to disarm someone. So, go."

“Ok and you're definitely not going to kill me?”

“I don't get paid if you're dead.”

“Did they not already pay you? That's dumb, you should've gotten paid upfront. They're more likely to swindle you if you don't get it all at once.”

“And who told you that?”

“One of the 2 faced guys, he was nice. I don't remember his name, maybe Luke? Leo?” You say as you make your way out into the gym and towards the matted area, “it was definitely an L or maybe a J.”

“Does it matter?”

“Spose not, bats caught him last week. Guys rotting in arkham.” you shake your arms out and crack your neck, “So how do I do this?”

"Stand like," he moves you, his huge hands on your shoulders making your tummy do flips, his strong legs kicking your knees apart and almost sending them crumbling down.

"I feel like a doll," you swat him away, while trying to push the heat in your chest away too, "stop doing that, just tell me how to do it."

"I'm trying, if you would just-" he runs his hands down his face. He picks up a stray foam roller, "take this from me."

"Really? Not even going to give me a tip?"

"Be fast."

"Right, so helpful."

"Well you didn't want me moving you around, so do it yourself."

You try just jumping forward, but he moves so fast, easily jumping out of the way. You go to the side and he darts away. After four tries of this you sigh, "fine. If it's going to help just show me."

"Ask nicer."

"Please, will you help me?” you roll your eyes at his predictability.

“Without the attitude.”

“Please, Mr man handling macho man.”

"Good girl," you feel a shiver run down your spine as the words leave his lips and he stands in front of you with his fingertips on the edge of your skin.

"No man handling, ok?"

"Yes, just listen. Keep your legs apart, your arms loose- yeah like that. Now I'm going to stand still and I want you to reach over it, grab my hand and run yours down until you feel the roller and then pull back. You got it?"

"I think so," you step forward, reaching your arm out.

"Keep your feet even."

"Like that?"

"Yeah, but more on the ground. The tip toes will throw you off."

"What?" You say, not even realizing you were doing it. Not noticing him moving before the roller pushes into your tummy and you're on your ass, "hey! Rude!"

"See what I mean?"

"Point taken. No tip toes." You take his hand as he helps you to your feet.

"Try again," he steps back unto his previous potion, "flat feet."

"Yeah, so I just," you focus too hard on your feet and trip into him, "shi- I mean shoot. Sorry."

"Go again," he pushes you back up, “maybe just try it from here," his hand on yours guiding you along his arm, "this too much manhandling?"

"No, it's," your eyes locked on where your hand is touching his sculpted forearm, "down like this?"

“Yes, now grab a hold-" your fingers wrap around the foam roller but you can't seem to get it from his hand. You peer up only to see him staring back down at you "-take it," he whispers in a voice so soft you think your insides might melt out your ass.

"You're holding it too tight," you complain, yanking on it, "that's not fair."

"You think people are going to let you take whatever you want from them?" he smirks down at you, his eyes daring you to prove him wrong.

"No," you slide your hand down to hold over where he's gripping the roller, "but that's never stopped me before," you jump, swinging your legs over, using him as a balustrade as you flip over to sit on his arms, bouncing your ass to try and get him to let go.

"And you were being so good," he chuckles, dropping the roller and you onto the mat. "Shame," he looks down on you stepping away, fuck you were so close he could smell the candy scented shampoo in your hair, and feel your perky little ass on his arms. It was all he could do not to spin you around and kiss you. "I was going to show you how to aim properly once you got it out of my hand."

"No, no. I want a rematch. Give me another go," you pause, wanting to get him close, just one more time today, "please?"

"1 more."

"Yeah, just one, come on. Please? I think I've got the hang of it now. Please."

"Ok, but I'm not going easy on you like last time."

"Ready?"

"Always."

You leap at him, faking out to the left and zapping back to the right before your hand is on the foam roller. You know he's stronger than you, so you bend your legs gripping tight to it as you bounce up, flipping but instead of going up and over, you plummet face first into the mat, "what the fuck?" You mumble into the plastic.

"That was a good tactic," he leans down onto your ear. "It might've worked if I hadn't seen it coming," his hand reaches down to you, "But you've got the hang of it. Tomorrow we can work on your aim.".

"My aim is fine,"

"Is it? because you've yet to hit me."

'Maybe I'm doing it on purpose," you mumble, turning away.

"What was that?"

"What? You think you're all that, Macho man? Fine, show me, you got any guns I can play with anyway?"

"Not here."

"Where we going?" You say, following him as he heads towards the front door.

"Back to your apartment."

"But guns.." you whine, rolling your eyes behind him.

"We can do that tomorrow. Right now I need some decent food and some quiet."

"Quiet? Well Honey, you’ve come to the wrong woman."

“We will see.”

Xx

“Nearly got it,” You smile to yourself as your tools pick at the lock on your window. “Just a few more, yes!” You throw your hand over your mouth hoping he didn't hear you.

“Macho man thinks he can boss me around and keep me locked in my own apartment. Idiot. Pretty fuckign idiot.” Fuck, what is wrong with you? Here's your escape and you find yourself looking at your door, wondering what he's doing right now.

Didn't take as long as I expected, he stares down at the notification on his phone as he lays back in your spare room. “I’m so impressed, little trouble maker,” he whispers, glancing at your closed door across the hall, “managed to get it unlocked in 3 days. Now the real test begins.”

Day 4

Taglist:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko

[tracingpatternswrites]

I'm so excited to finally start sharing my Nano project with you. Today I hit 50k so I thought I would celebrate by posting the first chapter. I hope that you'll want to tag along on this ride. The story will be updated weekly.

The Patchwork of Us | Wolfstar | E

Title: The Patchwork of Us Pairing: Sirius/Remus Rating: E Summary: Remus had never wanted to be a father, and when Tonks told him she was pregnant he walked away. Sirius didn't have a child of his own, but he considered Teddy to be his son in all but blood and when Tonks fell ill, he never hesitated to open his home to them to help her with the boy. When Tonks passes away, Remus is faced with a choice: step up and be a father or stay out of Teddy’s life.

However, reappearing in Teddy's life is not easy. Sirius has trouble forgiving Remus for walking out on Teddy, and Remus thinks Sirius is a stuck-up, posh, know-it-all who believes he is better than everyone else. Now they’re supposed to co-parent a child while also navigating their own complicated feelings about the situation, and each other.

Read the whole thing on AO3.

A little teaser below the cut:

Remus turned his collar up against the wind as he stepped out of the station and onto Church Road. Arriving at Richmond Station always made him a bit disoriented, there were always too many people bustling around and he had to push his way through the crowd and towards the opposite entrance to where everyone else was going.

There was a vicious wind today, a damp sort of coldness in the air and heavy grey skies as if it could start raining any moment (which it probably could, this was London in October after all). It was early, too early, and Remus shivered as he set off at a brisk pace, clutching a once-hot cup of coffee in his hand. He fiddled around against the wind a little before he managed to light a cigarette, his nerves settling slightly at the first drag.

He walked the now-familiar route towards his destination, a nervous sort of flutter in his chest. He wondered how long those nerves were going to be there for, if he would ever just get used to this. It didn’t feel like he ever would.

Too soon he turned onto the right street, unable not to pull a face at the sight of the giant houses lining the streets as he flicked away his cigarette butt. He felt misplaced in his too-thin jacket and cheap clothes. Not that anything he wore was ever dirty or torn, but in this neighbourhood he was simply wrong .

Everything about him was wrong; the fact that his boots were worn down, his coat second-hand, the scarf around his neck hand-knitted, his hair too long and not in a stylish way but more a haven’t-been-to-the-barber-in-a-while way. His limp was wrong. At least it was a good day and he had chosen to leave his cane at home, despite the walk, just because he hated how awkward people got around him when he used it.

He made his way up the driveway to the correct house, his fingers brushing over the giant door knocker in the shape of a dog, which looked more like a wolf, before he used it to knock.

It took unusually long before the door swung open, and to Remus' surprise he found himself standing face to face with none other than Sirius Black. Usually, the other man kept out of the way in the mornings, but apparently not this time.

Sirius somehow didn’t seem out of place in this posh street, even though Remus thought he should with his long hair and tattoos and his motorbike. He didn’t though, Sirius Black looked as if he was born to live on a street like this, in a house like this, and Remus figured he probably was.

“We’re running a bit late,” he grouched, barely even acknowledging Remus with a look before he turned around to make his way further into the house. “You better come in.”

Remus hovered a little awkwardly in the doorway before he did as he was told, pulling the heavy door closed behind him as he followed Sirius inside.

If Remus felt out of place on the street outside, it was nothing compared to how he felt inside Sirius’ house. It was massive, ridiculously large considering it was only two people living there. Remus knew nothing about art or decorating but he had a feeling most of the stuff on the walls, and the furniture, were expensive.

Sirius led him through the initial hallway, further along into the large kitchen at the back of the house. Even though Remus disliked almost everything else about this house, he did love the kitchen. It was light and airy, modern, and the wall facing the back garden was almost completely made out of glass with doors that easily slid open during the summer.

Remus would love to cook in here one day, all the appliances were state of the art and the surfaces shiny and spacious. It was a far cry from his own tiny kitchen in his tiny flat. Remus had picked up cooking a couple of years ago, and he frequently dreamed about moving to something bigger, somewhere he could really test his wings.

“Here,” Sirius said, shoving a mug into Remus’ hands as soon as he entered the kitchen. “You better sit down and wait.”

Continue on AO3.

[realmermaid333]

Wyler Prompt: Smitten Tyler trying to cope with Wednesday in the cat outfit

this ended up being like ever so slightly nsfw-- which i guess was to be expected with this prompt lolz. Nothing happens, just spicy thoughts ;)

It was the day of the Poe Cup, a once a year boat racing competition at Nevermore Academy. Tyler stood in the gleaming, sunlit grass with the rest of the crowd, waiting for the participants to get in their boats. Normies didn’t usually attend the Poe Cup, they weren’t forbidden from doing so, but most avoided interacting with outcasts if they could. But Tyler wasn’t truly a normie himself, and really, he was just there for Wednesday. 

She’d mentioned that her roommate, Enid, wanted her to join their team, The Black Cats. She wasn’t sure if she was going to do it, but Tyler, who outside of work and school had too much time on his hands, decided to attend anyway. 

Wednesday wasn’t with the rest of her group, who were already standing by their boat. Tyler started to think maybe she decided not to join. He was a little disappointed he wasn’t going to be able to see her– that was until the tent to his right opened and The Black Cats gasped in excitement. 

He turned to see Wednesday wearing her team costume, it was a skin-tight, black bodysuit with shiny leather parts. There was white thread where the seams were, a feline face embroidered on the shoulder, and a pair of cat ears on her head. He barely noticed the design of the costume until he saw it on her, and now he couldn’t help but take in every detail of it. There was a leather strap around her waist that hugged it like a corset, the elastic material of the suit clinged to the curves of her body. 

Tyler, who was feeling a little hot and bothered, realized he’d been staring for too long and quickly looked away. He didn’t want her to notice and feel uncomfortable. When he looked back, he made eye contact with her. He couldn’t read her that well yet— her facial expressions were hardly noticeable— but he was getting better at gauging how she was feeling. She looked, perhaps a little shocked that he showed up, she eyed him with intrigue as usual. Tyler didn’t feel uncomfortable under Wednesday’s intense gaze like other people did, in some odd way, it made him feel seen.  

He gave her a little wave before she was dragged to the boat by her teammates. As she walked away, he noticed the way the suit highlighted her frame— the line of her shoulders, her arms swaying by her side as she walked swiftly with confidence, the curve of her hips— he imagined what they’d feel like in his hands. What would it feel like to kiss her? To have their bodies pressed together? 

“Oh my god, Tyler you need to calm down.”— he thought to himself, trying his best to brush off the tingling sensations he was feeling. 

A part of him felt bad for having such sexual thoughts, he didn’t want to be disrespectful or anything, he’d just never seen Wednesday in anything other than her Nevermore uniform. Tyler thought she was beautiful from the first moment he laid his eyes on her, but he didn’t realize just how attracted to her he was until now.

Principal Weems gave her speech, fired her starter pistol, then the boats took off across the lake. Tyler thought the competition was rather violent, one boat had an axe on it that swung at Wednesday and her team, “They allow that!?” — he internally exclaimed

After about ten minutes of watching the water for returning boats and hearing people bet on who’d win, The Black Cats were the first ones to make it to shore. Wednesday and Enid ran up the deck and past the finish line with their cat adorned flag, Tyler and the rest of the audience applauded excitedly. His heart skipped a beat when Wednesday turned and stepped towards him. 

She looked him up and down suspiciously, “What brought you to the Poe cup?” 

He shrugged, “Just thought I’d show up, I had nothing else going on today.”

She nodded and stared with her lovely, coffee colored eyes. He got lost in them for a second, but quickly jolted himself out of his lovestruck daze. 

“I should get going. I hope to see you around in the Weathervane,” he smiled. 

“Perhaps I’ll see you on Outreach Day,” she said. 

A giddy Enid dragged Wednesday away and towards the school as the crowd dispersed, a large portion of it following them close behind. Tyler smiled to himself as he parted ways with the crowd, knowing he’d likely see Wednesday again soon.

[thelarriefics]

FIRST DATE FIC REC: Below are fics that feature first dates. 

📖 Take A Chance On Me by @peachypetalhazz (39k)

When Harry receives two tickets to see one of his favourite bands, he'd expected that his best mate would accompany him. However, it is soon learned that the intentions behind this so-called gift were far more wondrous than he initially thought.

📖 under your bed in new york. by @the28thofseptemberr (33k)

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

📖 A Hungry Heart by @jacaranda-bloom (27k)

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson.

But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

Or the one where the Bake Off tent has never been so hot, and it’s got nothing to do with what’s in the ovens.

📖 You be Stunning, Baby, I'll be Stunned by @crinkle-eyed-boo (14k)

Harry and Louis go on their first date.

📖 Butterflies and Delight by @sunshineandthemoonlight  (13k)

The one where Louis is new to Grindr, Harry loves wearing fun, quirky outfits, and Ziam are always around to convince Louis to take a chance at life. Featuring Harry’s terrible jokes, Louis as a single parent, and glittery drawings of swamp monsters.

📖 In a sky full of stars, be my Northern lights by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (13k)

It's one of those nights there's nothing on the telly that Louis absently scrolls through Tinder. After swiping left on a bunch of profiles he comes face to face with a picture that stops him in his tracks. The picture is..almost sweet. It’s a boy with brown curly hair, wearing a very low cut yellow blouse, paired with a black jacket. He’s got a smile on his face and his tongue sticking out, but it’s not in any way lewd or suggestive. He just looks like he’s having a good time, and something about the innocence of it has him swiping right rather than left.

📖 Crystal Ball on the Table by @becomeawendybird (12k)

Harry Styles is just an ordinary witch from an old-fashioned Boston family trying to survive in her regular job as the fiction manager at a local bookstore and café. Her magic isn't exactly something she advertises when looking for potential new girlfriends, so when Louis Tomlinson arrives in her life like a breath of fresh air, she tries her best to hide how strongly her magic is reacting to Louis' presence.

📖 You come in waves (we crash and we roll) by @rainbowsandlovehl (11k)

Three times Louis makes a fool of himself in front of Harry and one time he doesn't.

📖 Just the Start by @littleroverlouis (9k)

Louis is a fifty-two year old divorcé who has fallen into rut. He never anticipated a forced day of self care, and a chance meeting with a charming salon owner would shake him out of his comfort zone.

📖 We Might'a Took the Long Way by @evilovesyou (8k)

The story of a perfect first date, a mind-blowing first kiss, an interfering lawsuit, a lopsided bowl, flutes of champagne, a little bit of heartbreak, a fated tiktok, and lots and lots of art.

📖 I Roll 'til I Change My Luck by @larry-hiatus (8k)

Dating is hard enough when you're gay. When Louis reveals to his Tinder matches that he uses a wheelchair and has a service dog, things tend to get even more complicated. Too bad the guys on dating apps aren't as sweet and understanding as his best friend Harry...

📖 I want your midnights by @guccistrawberries (7k)

or It all starts with a harmless round of the name game

��� As Time Goes By by @1diamondinthesun (6k)

Wow. Louis needed to get a grip. They hadn’t even opened the wine yet, and Louis was already fantasizing about cuddling Harry.

📖 We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood (5k)

Or, the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.

📖 sweaty palms and racing hearts by @onlythebravest (1k)

A short story of two shy, nervous and blushing boys on a date at the cinema.

[epic-potato-crisp]

The Monday Incident

A very belated Secret Santa Gift for @kaseytransboi-blog (hope this is your Tumblr!)- so belated it is from 2022. So incredibly sorry about that! 🙈 I wanted you to still receive this gift, even if it means arriving in time for Ajin Secret Santa 2023. You wanted "Generally Wholesome" so It's a little One Shot featuring the Ajin Cast in the Brooklyn 99 universe - I hope you will (still) enjoy! <3

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LINK:

The Monday Incident - epic_potato_crisp - 亜人 - 三浦追儺 & 桜井画門 | Ajin - Miura Tsuina & Sakurai Gamon (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

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Detective Nagai had a terrible day. A day that had started with a diffuse ache in his abdomen and his heart palpitating at a mile an hour when he woke up an hour before his alarm from a nightmare he could not remember.

Seeing as it was pointless to go back to sleep, he cursed himself and the entire squad out, a plethora of creative insults he would, most likely, never voice out loud.  Then he went to brew a cup of coffee. He would have loved to say it immediately jolted him out of his stupor and into an active, motivated, pre-case solving state, but of course it didn’t. Rest assured, he was mercifully saved the one benefit of caffeine that he was betting on. The only change he experienced was a familiar burn in his throat, his reflux’s friendly way of reminding him that it was planning on becoming a permanent resident.

What a bother. Kei had always hated the concept of roommates.

He didn’t own a car, neither did he drive- not, as some might assume, because of not passing the ridiculously simple theoretical exam (He had, with a stellar score of 110% , the bonus resulting from giving himself extra credit for a formatting and spelling error he noticed). No, he simply chose not to, because frankly, the idea of riding into oncoming traffic on four shaky wheels with nothing but steel-aluminium walls that dented at the lightest scratch and a sorry excuse for an airbag keeping him from certain death, did not seem very appealing.

(And perhaps also, because the look his driving instructor had given him after his most recent attempt at the practical exam had etched himself in his soul forever. Sure, Kei might have avoided the head-on collision with the HAYAKAWA CIGARETTES truck, but the terror in the man’s eyes and the scathing indictment that followed made him wonder if actually getting mowed over by 4 tons of vehicle would have been the better alternative.) Ah well, now he would never know.

Thankfully, there were other people in his squad. Some compensated for their mediocre cognitive ability with a surprisingly solid physical skill set. One example was Nakano Kou, the overly-energetic detective who had declared himself Kei’s best friend two weeks after the latter had joined. It had been an unanimous decision Kei had interestingly never been consulted on. But he could live with that, he supposed.  Nakano could be incredibly annoying, but he did give Kei rides to work, which was appreciated.Especially , on a day as frosty as this one, where Kei would have rather stabbed himself than get up an hour earlier to spend his precious pre-work time scratching ice off car windows. Nakano, thankfully, seemed to have no such problem.

He was even punctual when he pulled up to Kei’s apartment that morning, dressed in his signature yellow parka.

“Good morning!“ he cheered loudly, turning down the Black Eyed Peas‘ “I GOT A FEELIN“ that was blaring in the background at Kei’s raised eyebrow. Orange strands as unkempt as ever, one hand on the steering wheel, he held out a cup emblazoned with yet another caffeine franchise that people with lack of a spine might pledge addiction to.

 “Kei”, the cup read.

He grinned as Kei got into the car, strapping on his seatbelt: “You gotta call shotgun, Nagai.”

“I’m not saying that every single time.” Kei sighed, “And I don’t want coffee.”

“That’s hot chocolate.”

Kei narrowed his eyes: “Without caffeine?”

“Yes, yes! Without!” Nakano said, lifting his left hand in an idiotic gesture of sincerity.

“Careful.” Kei snapped, not wanting his idiotic attempts at being genuine to endanger them in the morning traffic.

“Dude, chill, I’m still parking.” Nakano said, conveniently ignoring how Kei had told him to never call him dude  under any circumstances in their first week working together. He revved the engine to life and then, placing a hand on the back firmly of Kei’s headrest and turning to look behind himself, maneuvered them backwards and then out of their parking spot. The close proximity of his teammate’s fingers to his neck and the self-assured, almost cocky way with which his colleague steered them back into traffic did nothing for him, Kei reminded himself, gripping tightly around the cardboard wrapper. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and chased away a flicker of regret when Nakano’s hand dropped from its place on the headrest, fingers curling back around the steering wheel.

“You know, a “thank you, how was your weekend” wouldn’t kill you.” his colleague said, side-eying the stiff way he stiffly occupied the passenger seat.

“Just drive.” Kei grumbled, managing to avoid the eye-contact he was afraid would sell him out.

“Screw yourself, seriously.” Nakano said, fondness tinged with annoyance, as he shifted into third gear. Thus started their morning bickering- the only way, Kei realized, to properly wake him up.

They managed to get to work a good fifteen minutes before their morning meeting at 8 am. Which was good, because arriving any later than the designated time would be a surefire way to draw the wrath of their captain.

“Good morning, Sarge!” Nakano cheerfully greeted Sergeant Hirasawa, who was already sat at his desk, two yoghurt cups stacked in front of him.

“Good morning, detective Nakano.” Hirasawa replied. Age was not lost on the seargant, who combed back his hair in an effort to mask the balding patch, tucking his glasses behind his ears.  Calloused hands spoke of many years in the service, but in the seargeant’s case, he had followed an unconventional career path, having spent his years before training in the Academy as a bodyguard of sorts. “Well, hired gun is more like it.” the Sarge had shared during one evening during a post-working gathering a pub. Manabe, one of the four guys that had been employed about the same time as the Seargeant and who seemed to have known him for even longer, chuckled dryly at that.  Kei hadn’t bothered asking what the vague job description meant, he could put two and two together. Unlike Nakano, who had stared at Hirasawa with a quizzical look. Before the words “What’s a hired gun” could leave his mouth, Kei had grabbed him by the back of his parka and dragged him to the bar.

“The next rounds of drinks are on you.” he said sullenly, as his colleague complained loudly about the rough treatment. There must have been something in Kei’s eyes however, as Nakano dropped the topic pretty much immediately. When he came back carrying an armful of beers, their table cheered,  detective Suzumura and detective Kuroki slapping him on the back appreciatively. Nakano preened under the attention and was engrossed in a lively conversation within minutes.

Kei nipped at his rum-filled beverage, grimacing at the bitter taste and cursing out the bartender for clearly misjudging his soda to alcohol ratio preference. But just as he was about to call it an early night, Sergeant Hirasawa slid on the stool next to him. “So, I’ve heard some impressive things about you, Detective Nagai.”

“Which would be?” Kei asked, skeptically. The Sergeant laughed at his open mistrust. Well, someone tells me you are planning to become a captain of a squad yourself someday. Your stellar scores graduating from the Academy and your track record of solved cases also speak for themselves.”

Kei did his best to not feel too flattered under the praise. “That is, if I make it that far. I’ll have to pass the Sergeant’s exam first.. It would be a fool’s error to rest simply because of previous success I had.” He took a sip, and forced himself not to avoid the Sergeant’s gaze, which seemed downright friendly and empathic. Sometimes, he had to remind himself not everyone he ever worked with had ill-intent.  But then again, he had to keep an eye open for the possibility.

“I still have a long road ahead of me.” He concluded a conversation that he felt was becoming too personal for a work acquaintance.

“Spoken as a true contender for the position of Captain would.” Seargeant Hirasawa said, and Kei attempted not to startle too much when he amicably slapped his back, and in a tone, that sounded too genuine to be false said,  “I’m rooting for you, Detective Nagai.”

Well, at least, someone was rooting for him. Kei felt as though he was not having the same luck with the new Captain that had been assigned to their district.

Captain Tosaki Yuu  was not one for humor, or slacking, or any other form entertainment that would have made the arduous work days in the precinct more bearable. Kei would have been fine with that. Instead, it was Detective Nakano’s morale that took a major hit when their new commanding officer introduced himself and how he planned to run the precinct. However, it took him only a few weeks to win even the sour-faced captain over in that strangely charming way of his. This didn’t necessarily mean that Detective Nakano didn’t still make a fool of himself- he did- or that the Captain had never yelled at him for his tardiness or unserious attitude – he had – but it did meant that even tall,  pale, consistently stressed Captain Tosaki begrudgingly accepted the cheerful detective as vital member of his squad.

Which caused Kei even more of a headache because he himself wasn’t having any of that luck.

He had tried every strategy from mute respect to blank sincerity to disinterest to word-by-word conduct of corporate advancement guidelines but he kept clashing with the Captain more often than he had probably should. Conflict with superiors was not a favorable strategy, that was what he’d learned in the Academy. Sometimes, he laid awake at night, ruminating on the possibility that it could be a death sentence for his career that had not even properly begun. It was simply that he, Detective Nagai, had his own way of doing things which had served him well over years in service, and was only the slightest bit aggrieved at the fact of being presented with a new Captain that seemed to micromanage his every move.

If he was available to speak with at all.

As Nakano settled into his desk, finishing his coffee and chatting with the Seargeant, Kei flicked his eyes over to the Captain’s office. At the desk right in front sat Naomi, his personal secretary, who spent 1/3 of her time relegating calls, another third being mean and the final third playing Flappy Bird on her phone.

“Sorry, Captain’s not available right now.” she warbled into the speaker, examining her sapphire acrylics with genuine interest, just as Captain Tosaki came into view behind her.

“Who’s that?” the Captain asked sharply, flanked as usual by his right-hand Sergeant Shimomura, who stood stoically next to him.

To Naomi’s credit, she was used to his unannounced entrances and didn’t as much as startle, left alone appear guilty being caught blatantly avoiding her job.

She swiveled around in her desk chair, blowing maroon strands out of her eyes, perfectly manicured fingers held over the mouthpiece.

“Oh, just Ogura from Forensics.” she said, batting her eyelashes and dragging out the “a” with an annoyed sigh, “I told him I don’t get paid to deal with this before 9 am. Do you want him to call you back later?”

“That is exactly what you are getting paid to do.” Tosaki said monotonously, “But yes.” He grimaced, “Let him call back later.”

The fact that there was no love lost between the Captain and the leading physician of the Forensics Department, who liked hassle him at every turn, was not a secret for the crew. Naomi smirked, delighted at having her expectations met and withdrew her fingers from the mouthpiece, “He’s busy right now.” she faux-sweetly announced, “Try again during our office hours.” She slammed the phone down before Ogura’s distant voice on the other hand could as much as bring forward another jab.

Now that the matter was dealt with, Captain Tosaki moved onto the next target to air his morning frustration out on.

“Detective Nakano, Detective Nagai.” he barked.

“Sir, Yes Sir!” Nakano immediately jumped to attention, almost spilling his drink in the process.

Kei rolled his eyes.

“What is it, Captain?” he asked, feigning politeness.

“What are you standing there for?” Tosaki said, irritatedly, “Get settled in the meeting room. I’d like to start on time for once.”

Nakano cheerily shouted his affirmation, as the Captain strode off. Sergeant Shimomura remained behind, noting something on her clipboard.

“Good morning, Detective Nagai. Detective Nakano.” she greeted them properly, obsidian eyes calmly meeting their gaze.

“Good morning, Seargeant!” Nakano exclaimed, grinning back at her, not even attempting to hide his delight as having received her full attention, “How was your weekend? Did you do something fun?”

This was a one-sided love affair at best, Kei was certain, but that didn’t stop Nakano from being hopelessly infatuated with the Sergeant the moment he had stepped foot into the precinct. It’s good that he himself never had to deal with this type of ridiculous experiences, he thought, quenching the faintest annoyance that bubbled within him whenever he realized Nakano did have a habit of being very flirt-friendly with a lot of his female colleagues. Shimomura faintly returned his smile.

“It was fairly uneventful.” she said, in that reserved, cryptical way of hers, “I hope yours was enjoyable, as well.” The open-ended question was a rookie mistake.

As Nakano launched into an overly-detailed recitation of his weekend which included a paintball tournament and a barbecue (where on earth did he take the energy, Kei could not imagine), he observed the Seargeant more closely.

Fairly uneventful could mean anything when it came to Sergeant Shimomura. The last time she had used that description, she had single-handedly led a drug bust that had carried on into the early hours of Sunday morning. She was only few years older than Kei. He was also fairly certain they’d both trained at the same academy, although he had no proof of that. Upon joining their precinct, Tosaki had immediately recruited her as his second-in-command, which came to no surprise. Shimomura was not only loyal to the core, but also greatly skilled both in detective work and martial combat. She also did not seem fazed by the fact that she often got mistaken as Tosaki’s secretary. Whenever that happened, the Captain made sure to correct the mistake immediately, referring to her as his “highly talented Sergeant” and, and redirecting whoever misspoke to see Naomi if they wanted to speak with his “highly talented secretary.” (It was a blessing that he always made a show of loudly announcing these corrections, so Naomi at least had a few seconds to save her level on Wintry Workshop and pull up an Excel Table on her computer so as not to undermine his statement.)

Apart from this, he had not a single clue about the Seargeant’s backstory, interests or even exact whereabouts. Which was fairly unusual for a  department as…sociable as theirs. This was the most polite way Kei had of putting it.

“I know exactly three things about you.” Kei had pointed out one evening, as stacks of paperwork were dragging them long past the end of their shift, “And one of them is that you don’t let anyone know where you live.”

“That is already one thing more than you were supposed to know, Detective Nagai.” the Seargeant had said, the corners of her lips tilting up ever so slightly, “Not even my relatives have the information.”

He had left it at that. He had once seen her body-slam the leader of human trafficking ring that towered two heads above her after the man had attempted to pull a gun on her. It really wasn’t worth the risk.

“So in conclusion.”  Detective Nakano said, gesturing towards the projector, “I’m really certain this is the man we’re looking for. Here he is, on his way of committing crime.”

With a dramatical flourish, he moved onto the next slide of his presentation.

The grainy photo, taken from a security camera inside the Forge headquarters, showed an elderly gentleman wearing a baseball cap and a knit cardigan. His eyes were unfocused, almost closed, giving the impression of him having just woken up from a nap.

Kuroki and Manabe erupted in laughter.

“No way.” Kuroki said.

“He’s on his way alright, but to the next retirement home.” Manabe scoffed.

Kuroki cackled at that and held out his hand for a fist bump, which Manabe returned.

“Alright, let’s give Detective Nakano a chance to present his case.” Seargeant Hirasawa spoke up patiently, ever the mediator, “Detective, what proof do you have?”

“Oh, uh- proof.” Detective Nakano said, scratching his head, “Well…”

Kei looked over at the Captain, who was observing Nakano from his seat at the front of the  meeting room with a stony expression. Never a good sign.

“Well, the evidence speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” Nakano said, shrugging helplessly, “He’s in this footage, he was on the previous footage…I’m sure if I contact the Cyber Crimes division they could retrace the IT address that the perps used to hack into the Forge database, and that would probably lead back to—”

“We do not operate on the basis of probably, Detective.”  The icy tone in the Captain’s voice made even Nakano cringe.

Tosaki got to his feet. He swiftly moved towards Nakano, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Zoom in, Detective.” He ordered. And Nakano did.

Kuroki whistled at the sight. ““Man, let’s hope he meakes it to the retirement home at all.”  he said.

As much as it pained Kei to admit it, he was right. Upon closer inspection, the suspect appeared even older, properly geriatric. Fragile. If Nakano had meet him outside of work, he would have likely asked if he needed assistance crossing the streets. And then helped him cross said street. Nakano was friendly like that.

“Are you telling me.” Tosaki said, each word laced with scathing disbelief, “That this is the man you believe to be behind the string of seven flawlessly executed robberies, most recently at the Forge headquarters, a company that prides itself on their bulletproof security system?”

“I’m not sure he even knows what Windows is.” someone muttered in the background. Probably Kuroki. Kei shot an unnerved look in his direction. If someone was to harangue Nakano for his mediocre presentation abilities, it was to be him.

“He could- could have allies!” Nakano defended himself, now gesturing wildly, “Like, most of them big time dudes do.”

The big times dudes, right. Whenever Kei doubted his own capabilities as a detective – which happened more frequently than he would like to admit – it was moments as this one that reassured him that perhaps a future command wasn’t this far out of reach, if this was the competition he was to contend with.

“He has a caretaker, at most, that- “

“Enough.” the Captain snapped. He massaged his temples.

He turned towards his right-hand, the only other detective’s – except, in some instances, Hirasawa’s- opinion he regularly took into consideration. “Sergeant Shimomura, what do you think?”

The room grew quiet, as everyone’s attention focused on the Seargeant sitting in the second row. Nakano seemed to be holding his breath. Shimomura was silent for several moments. When she then spoke, there was the faintest trace of sympathy in her otherwise emotionless tone.

“As much as I appreciate your case work so far, Detective, I believe you at this point that you are lacking the necessary evidence to make an accusation, let alone an arrest.”

She concluded by clicking her pen shut. Upon this judgement, Nakano visibly deflated. Shimomura had likely been his last and most important pillar of hope.

Tosaki nodded. “I agree.”

“Listen, guys.” Nakano called out, a tinge of desperation creeping into his voice, “You know I have a really good intuition.”

That he had, Kei had to admit. Despite his own record of solved cases, Nakano wasn’t lagging too far behind. Or at all. There had been one too many times where they had made a competition, with a humiliating punishment for that month’s loser in terms of numbers. Though even those didn’t seem to faze him. He had worn the pink, glitter-adorned “Boss Babe ” shirt with pride to the precinct the day after Nagai had bested him one glorious August evening. Kei would have called sick before he sat one foot through the doors in this get-up. He imagined his little sister calling him a misogynist and scowled at the idea.

“And it is because of said intuition”- wow, what a big word for you, Detective, Kei thought drlyly, “That I am so very certain.”  Nakano continued, his voice becoming more steadfast and louder in his determination, “This is the culprit!” He pointed back towards the screen, the image woefully undermining the earthshattering point he was trying to make, “this is the guy we have been chasing for months, who has been making our lives hell since he robbed that gaming store a year ago.”

“That’s a hell of a nice deal on those retro consoles.” Ogura had whistled through his teeth when Kei had shown him the recipes of the robbery after the doctor’s persistent badgering, “Wish I had a Pacman game at home.”

“So, if you believe me, I can say that it’s him with like” Nakano frowned, running the numbers in his head: “85% certainty! That’s how certain I am!”

Kei was about to throw in his own comment on the situation when the Captain shut down the projector, much to Nakano’s gasping dismay and feeble protests.

“85% are not enough, Detective.” he said coldly and turned towards the room

, “Meeting dismissed.”

Kei tried to spend the rest of the day in a productive state, in an effort to be able to go home at the designated time that was almost never kept. Nakano, who had not quite bounced back from their morning meeting, unintentionally made every effort to thwart this plan.

“I just don’t get why my case work wasn’t enough.” he whined, for the second time that afternoon, head placed on Kei’s desk, where the later was filing, or rather, attempting to file a report.

“And I don’t get why you continue to ignore my work space, but here we are.” Kei said monotonously.

“Come on, dude, we’re basically desk mates.” Nakano argued, which was a very convenient stretching of the truth.

The fact that he had to roll past four other desks on his way to Kei’s – courtesy of Tosaki, who had placed them apart in his first week in order to improve work flow - was no deterrent for Detective Nakano. He enjoyed making the way into a race of sorts, often timing how long it took him to get from one desk to the other. His record of five seconds was still unbeaten.

“I pulled so much overtime for this, it’s like the Captain didn’t even properly read my report-“

Kei saved his document, and sighed, deciding to spare a few seconds of his valuable time for his colleague.

“I’m certain he did. It’s just not that simple.” He said, “Seargeant Shimomura has been on the same track for months. If she’s finding it to be a challenge, why did you think it would be an easy solve for you?”

This seemed to resonate with Nakano. “Well.” he said, appearing thoughtful of suddenly, “Guess you have a point. Still sucks, though.”

Kei hummed affirmatively, leaving his colleague alone with his own thoughts, which was thankfully a peaceful situation. He chanced a glance at the large office clock. If he kept working at his previous speed, and if Seargeant Hirasawa didn’t magically appear with another apartment break-in for him to process, then perhaps- today he would actually be able to leave-

“Detective Nakano, Detective Nagai.” Captain Tosaki barked from his office door, “A word. Now.”

Kei did not even attempt to suppress his groan.

“Well, suppose we should go, right?” Nakano said, squaring his shoulders and throwing him a questioning sort of look to which Kei could only respond in kind. No, he too had no idea what could possibly be going on.

“Oopsie.” Naomi said, a grimacing-type of smile clear with Schadenfreude, as they walked past her desk, “The Captain is still in kind of a bad mood. The fact that Doc Ogura just called back a few seconds ago didn’t help with that at all.”

Kei saw that she at least had the decency to pause her Candy Crush game for that short, albeit pointless conversation.

“Great.” he replied sarcastically, “Thank you for the info.”

“No worries.” Naomi chirped, “Let me know if there’s anything going on, yeah? The office has been so quiet these past few days.” She leant forward and lowered the register of her voice: “I could use some juicy info.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Miss Naomi!” Kou called out enthusiastically, as Kei, unnerved, dragged him to Captain’s office.

Captain Tosaki wasn’t alone. Sergeant Shimomura stood on his right side, giving them the hint of a smile as they entered.

“Close the door properly and pull down the blinds.” Captain Tosaki instructed promptly “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with both of you.”

Kei had not expected this turn of events. He took a moment to recollect himself, while Nakano already jumped into action with an enthusiastic “Yes, Sir!” and carried out the tasks.

“Sit down.” the Sergeant said, gesturing to the seats in front of the desk.

They both did. Anticipation had Kei sliding to the edge of his chair, toes poised on the carpeted floor. Nakano seemed equally as nervous, but in stark contrast, as far as Kei could tell, carried himself with less with dread, even with a hint of excitement.

“So.” Tosaki said, after a few beats of uncomfortable silence, “I have called you here to inform you that I – or, rather, we both-“ he glanced at the Sergeant, “Would like to revise our statement on Detective Nakano’s casework.”

Something lurched in Kei’s chest.

“Revise?” Kou said, in a puzzled tone, because of course he did.

“Retract.” Sergeant Shimomura interjected, “We have reviewed your work and believe that you are on the right path, Detective.”

“All evidence considered, we believe you have identified the correct culprit. Responsible for the burglaries of several stores, the Forge headquarters and beyond.”  Tosaki continued with a sigh, “Your intuition, unfortunately, was correct.”

Kei could see the wheels turning in Nakano’s head.

“Heck yeah!” his colleague shouted, pumping his fist in elation, which earned him an insistent Shush from his unamused superiors.

“Sorry.” Nakano .said sheepishly, scratching his head. “I’m just glad I got it right. It’s good when your work pays off.”

The Captain sighed again.

“Why unfortunately?” Kei spoke up, raising an eyebrow at the odd turn of phrasing, “How is a progress in a case not beneficial?”

The Captain and the Sergeant exchanged another one of their trademark looks.

“Well.” Sergeant Shimomura said, hesitating, “The matter appears to be larger than we originally anticipated.”

“That being a rather euphemistic understatement.” Tosaki said, producing a file from his drawers and slapping it down in front of them, “Our culprit, Samuel T. Owen, is not only responsible for the string of robberies.”  

CLASSIFIED, red letters read.

“We also believe him to be the leader of an anarchist uprising with ties to the black market, specifically organ trafficking.”

Fuck, was the first thought to enter Kei’s mind, More overtime. He was exhausted as it was. He ignored the sliver of interest he felt at the promise of a case far more thrilling than he had ever worked one, even dreamed of working when he chose his career path. Nakano, on the other hand,  made an odd, high-pitched noise next to him, which Kei correctly identified as a suppressed whimper of excitement.

“Heck yeah.” his colleague whispered in awe, fist clenched,  beaming like Christmas had come early.

“So we have asked you here to promote you to primary investigators on this case that must be carried out with utmost-“ Tosaki paused, eyeing Nakano scrutinizingly, “disrection. No- one is to be informed the nature of this investigation, or any new developments, apart from Sergeant Shimomura and myself. At least, for the foreseeable future. Understood?”

“Yes Sir!” the Detective replied, an excited almost-yell that made the Sergeant shush him again.

The Captain massaged his forehead. “You both, including you, Detective Nagai.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kei responded, dully.

“I hope you do not disappoint us with your work on the SATO case.” The Captain concluded.

“Sato?” Nakano asked, frowning.

“It’s the acronym we have chosen.” Sergeant Shimomura explained, “Samuel T. Owen is the name of our suspected culprit. Or in other words-“ she paused for effect,  “SATO.”

Even if Kei had had more time to prepare, he would not have been able to quell Nakano’s shout of excitement this time. It would have been hard too, with excitement and anticipation thrumming in his own veins.

“Heck yeah!”

------

Rest in Peace Andre Braugher (01.07.1962- 11.12.2023) - your incredible portrayal of Captain Raymond Holt will be missed. You will always be the Captain of our Hearts!

[artyandink]

the girl that kindness forgot | 4

I CAN’T CONTROL WHAT’S PASSED ME BY

Quote of the chapter: “UNO reverse.”

…

I opened the door to my dining room, spotting my relatives at the table. A wide grin split my face, sitting down next to Turstin, who ruffled my hair. 

“How was your sleep, dear?” My mother, Marianne, asked me from across the table. Every detail of hers was the same, from the little glint of happiness in her silver eyes, the quirky curve of her nose to the small dimple she had on her left cheek when she smiled. It was all the same. Her mother was always regarded as beautiful, with her long, silky black hair and large silver eyes, but she was also kind. Kinder than almost any human being I knew.

“I slept really well, Mum.” I replied while our butler, Alfred, served me my breakfast. “You have no idea.” 

“Then you’ll be able to train well with Turstin, eh?” My father, Alistair, added with a chuckle. His blue eyes glinted and his brown hair was brushed neatly, tinged with streaks of blonde. He was the CEO of SP3CTR, a well-respected man who was regarded as influential by many. He was serious in business, but at home he was the man that made me smile. Apart from Turstin. 

“Alistair!” Mum gasped. “She just woke up.” 

“I know, Marianne, I’m just joking. You know I believe in equal work and play.” He soothed. 

“Could I interest you in your usual, Miss Hernandez?” Alfred asked, holding a mug of my favourite coffee.

“Of course, Alfred, that would be lovely.” I thanked him before he left, turning back to my mum and dad, who were excited. 

“I’ve been hearing about this Anthony Lockwood boy from Turstin. Tell me, is he a keeper?” Mum pumped her eyebrows twice, smirking. I punched Turstin’s shoulder, gasping. 

“You didn’t.” 

“I did.” He teased. “Come on, I had to.” 

“You didn’t have to, and mum, dad, he’s no one. Just a co-student. Nothing really important.” 

“Is he hot?” Dad asked, pretending like he was stroking a non-existent beard. 

“He’s stubborn-“ 

“Hot?” 

“- kind -“ 

“Hot?” 

“- smart -“

”Hot?” We blinked at each other, until the whole table started laughing. 

“Yeah, he’s hot. Really hot. We just work together, it’s nothing spec-“ 

“ARTEMIS!” My mother gasped, dropping her glass and standing up. My father did too, fumbling for his rapier, and that’s when I realised.

A spirit was reflected in my cup, and it was holding Satan’s dagger to my throat.

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I flew up to a sitting position, clutching my forehead. It was slightly damp, sweat beading at the top in delicate little teardrops. 

“Bloody hell…” I fumbled for my phone, checking it. 

5:56. 

I didn’t know what I just saw. It resembled the day Turstin and I lost our family to a ghost lock. I didn’t remember what exactly happened. I remembered the void-like eyes of whatever came that day, feeling weak and the next thing I knew, I was in DEPRAC on life support, told that I somehow survived the touch of a ghost and launched headfirst into managing SP3CTR a few weeks after. 

Even better? 

I almost died again in that few weeks timespan and the cause was blamed on me by none other than Anthony… John… Lockwood. 

I yanked on some black tracksuit bottoms, pulling on a tank top over it and tying my hair up, picking up my earphones and jogging lightly down the stairs to try and not wake George and Lucy up. 

But who do I meet on the landing? 

Anthony bloody Lockwood, fresh from a shower, shirtless and rubbing his hair with a towel. I’m telling y’all, there was one thing that was almost as hot as seeing me in my crop tops. 

Anthony Lockwood shirtless. 

Puberty really was on his side; he had toned muscles from training to be an agent, and he didn’t have any acne. The lines of his Adonis-style muscles were evidently visible, so I inwardly resisted- 

Snap out of it, Hernandez. 

Seems like he was having the same thoughts as I was, raking his eyes down my figure with a very well-disguised smirk. He rubbed his hair, masking it successfully and looking me up and down with a look that borderlines disgust. “What are you doing up so early?” 

“Going on my daily run. What are you doing up?” 

“Getting ready for a shower, who’s asking?” 

“Who’s asking on your end?” I retorted wittily. 

“I asked first.” He sneered, stepping forward in a manner meant to be threatening, but I didn’t budge. 

“Since when have I ever given a damn?” I jeered, stepping forward as well. Right by now, we were almost nose to nose, brown trying to throw blue off with equally piercing stares. “You should know better than anyone, Lockwood, that I have never given a damn about who’s first in line. Why stop now?” 

“You’re insufferable.” He spat, jaw set in that familiar way whenever he was furious about something. I loved it, making him angry. It always has that insatiable satisfaction.

“UNO reverse.” I pulled an UNO reverse card from my tracksuit bottoms pocket, holding it up triumphantly. What? I always had one handy in each of my articles of clothing which contain pockets. And if they didn’t have any pockets? 

I never had to worry about that situation. 

“It’s like you’re made to ruin my life. I can’t believe I even asked you to be here. What was I thinking?” He muttered as he tried to walk away, but stopped in his tracks when he heard me, turning around again.

“Because you need me to help you. And you may think that I’m ruining your life, Lockwood, but no.” I gave him a venomous stare, one so poisonous he showed fear for a second. “You ruined mine long ago. And you are so lucky that I haven’t come back for revenge, because I would tear your life apart bit by bit until you’re left in the mud, scrabbling around for even the tiniest case to keep you standing.” A grin split on my face, all my vengeance coming out in this one moment. “And you would beg me for mercy, but I wouldn’t give it to you. After all…” I lowered my voice a little, “I know you did this. I know this is your fault, and you should take the fall for it. Shame that people like you don’t own up to their own mistakes. Life would be so much easier if you did.” I put my earphones in, blasting music and jogging out the front door. As ‘River’ by Bishop Briggs pounded against my ears, I contemplated that day. The day everyone left me and everything fell apart. 

“YOU PUT OUR LIVES IN DANGER, AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO BLAME IT ON ME!” 

“I WOULDN’T FALSELY ACCUSE YOU! WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?!” 

Clearly, I’d misjudged his character. I reflected back and hatred rose up inside me. How could I be so naive? So hopelessly ignorant, so ignorant that I missed the parts where he revealed his true colours. The moments where he showed his cards but I turned a blind eye. All because he meant so much to me. Anthony Lockwood only cared about himself, making him famous, splashing his name on the front page of the newspaper. It never was about his friends, was it? He hadto have the spotlight.

I still remembered how he was so kind, so helpful. Until he became the best alongside me and that became his whole personality. 

I didn’t even know where I was going, where my feet were taking me, until I stopped at the place my father was buried. He died shortly after being ghost locked, but my mother was still alive. I stared at his tombstone, a tear falling from my eye as I sank to my knees. 

HERE LIES ALISTAIR HERNANDEZ

FATHER, SON, BROTHER AND SAVIOUR 

“LIFE IS AN OBSTACLE, BUT HOW YOU OVERCOME IT IS UP TO YOU.”

He said that to me on the day I started cracking from the pressure of doing all my grades. From that day, I was never afraid to tackle a problem. It was advice I took to heart. 

“I’m so sorry, Dad.” I wept, tears falling thick and fast. A hand laid on my shoulder, warming it. 

“You don’t have to be. None of this is your fault.” I turned to see my father’s spirit beside me, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. 

“Dad?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” He hugged me, the warmth from his pure spirit radiating off him. 

“But h-how?” 

“You survived the Ghost Touch. It imbued you with powers that allow you to summon us from the spirit realm. The extent of your powers I’m still unaware of, but that doesn’t matter. You’re doing beautifully, and that’s all that matters.” His twinkly grin made me feel calmer, as if everything was going to be ok after all.

"What about Lockwood?"

"Admittedly, I'm quite angry at that boy, but give him time and he will come round to the truth. We all do eventually. I have to go, darling, and remember, we're always protecting you." He disappeared off, leaving me to kneel on the mud. 

I wanted my old life back, but I knew I could never have it.

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"You were out for a while." Lockwood coughed when I came back. 

"Runs don't last for 30 seconds." I retorted, going upstairs.

”I’m aware of that!” I heard him yell in response, making me snort in disapproval. I changed into my next business outfit, pinning back my hair and swiping some blush across my cheek and applying some gloss to make a natural makeup look. I jogged downstairs to find Lockwood blinking at me in disapproval. 

“You take your sweet time.” 

“I only took 5 minutes.” 

“Exactly, too long.” 

“And you took 1 hour to get to my office.” I snapped, sitting down and taking breakfast. 

“She has you served, Lockwood.” George shrugged. 

“You stay out of it!” Lockwood growled, eyes aflame. 

“Ooh, he’s getting angry.” Lucy smirked, clearly enjoying it. However, our anger was punctured by a knock on the door. 

“I’ll get it.” Lockwood grumbled before opening the door. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in, then.” My head whipped around to see Turstin, taking his jacket off and hanging it carefully; it was manners we’d retained from living in a mansion. 

“Turstin!” I gasped, hugging him around his middle. Lucy and George stood up, accompanying me to the hall. 

“Turstin, you’ve grown up.” George grinned. 

“You’re… taller.” Lockwood sniffed. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Turstin nodded, letting go of me and inclining his head towards Lucy. “Who’s this lovely lady?” 

“Lucy.” She blushed, “Lucy Carlyle.” I raised an eyebrow as I saw Turstin wink at her, making her look like a tomato. Oh my, I know what’s happening here. You seventeen year old son of a gun- 

“Nice to meet you, Lucy Carlyle.” Turstin flirted, adding a little extra on her name. George pretended to vomit in the corner while Lockwood just generally looked disdainful. 

Nothing new, I see. 

“What are you doing here, Turstin?” Lockwood asked, looking the taller boy up and down. 

“Very hospitable, I see.” Turstin chuckled. “I was called here due to a disturbance that happened last night. Went by the name of Annabel Ward.”

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“Artemis!” I woke up suddenly, almost about to slap the person who did it, but found it was Lucy, who looked scared. I shook my head, sitting up. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Annabel Ward’s ghost is here, she almost touched me.” I snapped out of my laggy state, grabbing my rapier from the side of my bed and standing up, disregarding the fact that I went to bed in a sports bra and sleep shorts because the house was way too stuffy. 

“I thought we contained her source!” 

“I don’t think we did.” I shot out of bed, grabbing my spare flare holster from my bedside drawer and slinging it over my shoulders, tightening it.

“Alright, wake up Lockwood and George, I’ll locate Annabel.” We went our separate ways, me to Lucy’s bedroom and Lucy to Lockwood. I opened the door, finding the pale figure of Annabel. 

“Hey, Annabel. I’m Artemis, and I know you won’t be able to talk to me but-“ 

“I can talk to you.” She gasped, floating forward and morphing into that young woman. “I know your father. I met him. He told me how determined you are to help people.” 

“That’s right. I know you’ve been murdered, Annabel. I just need a name.” I stepped forward, my rapier in a standby position. 

“I’ve been warned not to say. He’s so terrifying, and his voice chilled me to my core. He forced us to do what he wants. I need your help, Artemis. I can’t do this alone.” Annabel sounded desperate, transparent tears forming in her eyes. 

“Of course, I’ll help you.” I smiled, nodding. But a flare was thrown across the room, hitting Annabel, and as I whipped around I found that Lockwood threw it. 

“What are you doing, Hernandez?! You’re face to face with a Type 2!” He tackled me as Annabel shrieked and dove for us, angered. “Lucy, if you have an idea what her source is, you need to tell us now!” 

“I’m starting to have an idea of what it is.” Lucy stammered, just as I dove out of the way. 

“We’re not under pressure or anything, take your sweet time.” George snivelled. Then something clicked in my head. I’d taken a look at Annabel before and after the silver net was put on it. One thing was there before and gone after. 

“The ring, Lucy, where is it?” I asked, chucking a flare nimbly. 

“I-It was in my hand when I was asleep, maybe it’s in the bed?” She fretted. “I don’t know!” 

“Alright boys, you hold her off, I’ll go with Lucy.” I pulled Lucy with me, searching her bed. 

“I’m so sorry, Artemis.” 

“No problem-“ I saw the ring, “Found it!” I reached in my pocket, finding a small necklace made of silver glass, an emergency container for small sources, and clamped it inside. 

“OH, BLOODY- thank god.”

I panted, turning to Lucy. She looked terrified, so I hugged her. “I talked to her, Luce. She needs our help and we’re the only ones who understood.” 

“We can’t do it alone.” 

“Exactly.” 

‘Sup?’ 

“Yeah, Turstin, can you drop by tomorrow?” 

‘What’s the problem?’ 

“I told you about Annabel Ward’s ghost, yes? Well, she came back just now. And we had a conversation. Don’t mention it to the boys when you get here, it’s just… we need to help her. She’s a victim of brutal murder.” 

‘Yeah, I get you. I’ll come after your run is over, yeah?’ 

“Cool.” I cut the call, turning to Lucy. “We’re not doing this alone.” 

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“This is it? Her source?” Turstin asked, examining the ring inside the silver box. 

“Yeah. We don’t know where it came from, but it has a significant meaning in her life, maybe a lover.” George shrugged.

”That seems about right, 5 stars to you, George.” 

“Why are we even letting him examine this?” Lockwood asked, annoyed. 

“Turstin is one of the best at SP3CTR, he’s had special training to examine this stuff.” 

“Why don’t we just get DEPRAC then?” He sulked. 

“DEPRAC is nothing next to SP3CTR. Only reasons why SP3CTR isn’t the leading company for agent control are 1: my father didn’t want SP3CTR to become a law enforcing company and 2: DEPRAC takes loans from SP3CTR instead of swapping the companies because of the fact that people don’t want things to change.” I smiled in a way that I knew would annoy Lockwood, looking back at Turstin. “Continue.” 

“We need someone to connect with this. Figure out what really happened.” Turstin looked at Lucy pointedly, sparking anxiety in Lockwood, who jumped in immediately. 

“No. It’s too dangerous.” He refused. 

“Do you have another option?” I retorted. 

“Yeah. You could do it.” 

“I mean, I could do it, I think I can.” Lucy shrugged. 

“No, let’s hear what Lockwood has to say.” I dismissed, glaring at him and standing up at the same time as he did. 

“If you’re so determined to do it, let’s see what you can do.” He walked closer to me, teeth gritted.

“You’ll be surprised.” I smirked, taking another step closer so we were nose to nose again.

“Highly unlikely.” 

“How about this?” Turstin piped up, eager to disperse the tension. “Lucy will try first and if she can’t connect to Annabel then we’ll move onto Artemis. We all good with that plan?” 

“Yeah, good. Very good.” George quickly agreed, Lucy nodding frantically. 

“Don’t talk to me like that again. You’re part of my company.” Lockwood murmured. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I… don’t… work… for… you.” I shoved his chest, winking. Turstin flapped his shirt, breathing out harshly, while George and Lucy giggled loudly. 

“Alright, Lucy, are you ready?” Turstin handed her the ring, which she held in her fingers. Lucy closed her eyes, and a moment later, hissed and dropped the ring. 

“I-I had a connection for a moment but something pushed me out.” She stammered, so I put my hand out. 

“Let me try.” My fingers closed around the ring, and I instantly saw through Annabel’s eyes. I couldn’t recognise the man in front of me due to his face being blurred, but the rest of the room was clear. A sweet operatic song was playing in the background, my Annabel’s hand extending.

“There’s a song playing in the room.” I informed, eyebrows furrowing a little. 

“Dance with me.” 

“I’m not in the mood.” 

“She loves it.” I felt a smile break out on my face, But I focused more on the scene. 

“But it’s our song, come on.”

”It’s their song.” 

“Who’s they? Annabel and…” I held a finger up, silencing Lockwood. 

“She’s so happy.” I felt her joy, love and affection; it filled my veins and made my nerves tingle. I’d never felt emotion like it. “She loves him.” 

“Go on. I’ll watch.”

”If you insist.” My line of vision started moving, feeling so free. As if I was unchained. 

“She’s dancing to the song. He’s watching her.”

Suddenly, the mood changed. It was very swift, as if it was a blank slate in the middle of time. “Are you honest?” 

“My Lord…” 

“Have you told him where to go?” 

“No…”

“He wants her, but it’s just…” I could feel panic and pressure building up, looking into a vintage mirror on the wall and finding myself, dressed in a flowing black dress, the white streaks in my hair glowing. I even looked so innocent. It reminded me of the time I went on my first study date with Lockwood. God, I was so naive. 

“I said I’d give…” I felt a large impact on the side of my head, and for a split second, I saw that my hair was red. A gasp escaped from my mouth as I fell to the ground both in the memory and in real life, chairs scraping from around me.

”What is it?” I heard Lockwood beside me, another familiar stature my brother. 

“I did nothing…” 

“You’re lying to me.” 

“He’s- he’s angry.” I gasped, breathing heavily and desperately. I was drowning in a sea of grief, tears and pain. Annabel was treated cruelly in this one moment, and I felt everything she did. It was horrible. I felt alone. Isolated. No one there to hear my screams for help. 

“I swear. Let me go!” 

“Jealous.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“I swear, let me go.” 

“She’s afraid.” And so was I. 

“You know this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” My hands clasped his, but we’re brutally thrown off. 

“Don’t call me your love! You toyed with what isn’t yours. You are mine, Annabel, and it isn’t your place to commit such atrocities!” 

“I’m yours, I admit, but please believe me, My Lord! You know me, I have been faithful to you only.” 

“Lies! You’re lying to me, Annabel!”

“I’m not.”

”It’s all right.” 

“I swear.” The line between memory and reality blurred together until I could see Lockwood in the man’s place, standing in front of me and genuinely looking concerned. I felt a small bit of hope. That somewhere he’d have it in him to forgive me. Right? I love him and he loves me. This will all be over soon. 

“He loves me.” I looked straight into his chocolate eyes, smiling hopefully. My love. “You love me, don’t you?” I held his arm lovingly, my hand tentatively reaching up to cup his cheek. “You gave me the ring. You’d never… he’d never hurt me.” 

"This needs to stop." Lockwood finally decided, but Turstin stopped him. 

"She's my sister, but we're almost there." 

Lockwood stared, mesmerised, as my hand gently caressed his cheek, a warm, comforting smile gracing my lips. “You’d never hurt me, right? You’re my love. Do you love me too?” My thumb lightly stroked his bottom lip, and he let out a sharp sigh, hand flying up to remove mine without using any force. Something closed around my throat, fully pulling me back into the memory to find that the man was strangling me, hands clamped around my throat in a fit of rage, jealousy and spite. I fought to stay alive, coughing and wheezing out pleas to let me go. 

“I-I can’t breathe…” I choked, the life draining out of me as my desperate actions to pry his fingers from my throat became weaker, losing my breath and my vision blurring and fully blacking out. 

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“So, you’re interested in chess too?” Lockwood asked, his head resting on his hand. 

“How could you tell?” I asked, intrigued, playing with the hem of my white dress. 

“I saw you in your dorm with Turstin. You were playing chess.” He smiled, flicking through his book absent-mindedly.

”Yeah, I do. It’s so…” 

“Interesting?” We both grinned, laughing. 

“Exactly.” 

“Isn’t interesting to Kipps. He called us nerds.” 

“Since when have I given a damn about what Kipps thinks?” We exchanged an affectionate look, and Lockwood’s fingers brushed mine. 

“There’s no one really like you, Artemis.” I was about to drop a compliment, but my eyes widened when I saw the same skull-like ghost, rapidly approaching with Satan’s dagger.

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“Artemis!” I opened my eyes, sitting up with a jerk and feeling my throat, but I found no bruises or cuts. Turstin was in front of me, Lucy and George on either side of… my bed.  

I was in my room. 

Lockwood was at the door, looking emotional, as far as I could tell- 

HEADACHE. BIG PIERCING HEADACHE.

“What happened?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead before pinching the bridge of my eyebrows. 

“You were so immersed in Annabel’s memory that you simulated her death. Aka you blacked out.” George explained matter-of-factly. 

“We were really worried.” Lucy added. “It seemed really intense.” 

“Nah, it was just a new experience. I’d never tried putting myself in the victim’s memory before.” I reassured, “Wait. Annabel.” 

“Yeah?” Lockwood asked, finally interested. 

“She was strangled to death.” 

“The ring stays in the basement until we take it to the furnaces.” Lockwood ordered, pointedly looking at me for some reason. Everyone had a problem with it, of course.

“What? Why would we stop when we’ve come this far?” George protested. This was a sudden shutdown. There’s something going on.

“No more pet projects. There’s bills to pay.” Bingo. 

“Uh, what bills?” Lockwood took out a letter and handed it to George, who was outraged. 

“£60,000?!” 

“What?” Lucy gasped, taking the letter. I snatched it myself, reading it.

“In two weeks? DEPRAC must be blooming mad.” I added. “You’ll never get together that kind of money.” I looked up with a disapproving stare, eyebrows raised. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“Because it’s my name on the door.” He replied. 

“Of course. You’re at it again. Acting as if the world’s problems rest on your shoulders alone.” 

“Because right now, this problem is my responsibility.” 

“We’re here to help, at least.” 

“How about a loan? This place must be worth a fortune.” Lucy pitched quickly.

“This place is all that’s left of my parents.” Lockwood explained solemnly to her. 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” While everyone was devising plans, I crept upstairs and dialled a number, holding it to my ear. 

“This is Artemis Hernandez. I need to speak to Inspector Barnes.” 

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“Yeah, cheers, mate.” I cut the call, just in time for Turstin to arrive at the aisle I was in at the library. 

“They’re on a roll downstairs. If you don’t wanna be left out, you should come down now.” He nudged, shrugging. 

“Do you have a thing for Lucy?” I asked abruptly, putting my phone in my pocket. 

“M-Maybe. She’s cute-“ 

“She’s got a thing for you, so get the PDA over and done with.” I started travelling downstairs with him, silently, which was a change. 

“Who were you on the phone with?” 

“Laila. More business stuff.” 

“Do you ever take a break?” We paused at the landing of the stairs, the first floor one flight below. “I get it, you’re the CEO of a huge company, but even CEOs need a break, right?” 

I sighed, looking up at my brother. “I don’t feel like I can take a break. It’s like I have to be checking in, making sure everything is ok or something definitely will go wrong. I don’t know how to ditch the habit, I really don’t.” 

“I get it, mum and dad did a real number on you. But you’re perfectly capable of leaving something for a bit just to have a rest.” 

“I’ll try.” I soothed, “But we have an investigation to get back to.” I went down to the first floor, where everyone was working, “How are you philistines, sans George, doing?”

”Perfectly fine without you.” Lockwood commented, but got a smack from Lucy. “What? We were doing great until she cursed everyone with her presence.” 

“Well, here’s some info. I did some digging and Annabel played Ophelia in Hamlet. Explains why you were taking a fully-clothed bath, Lucy.” I explained nonchalantly, sitting down. 

“Oh, and the daisies! Ophelia drowned herself with daisies because of how Hamlet treated her! Ophelia and Hamlet. Annabel and her abusive lover.” 

“But Annabel didn’t kill herself.” Lockwood contradicted. 

I clicked my tongue in disapproval, shaking my head. “Oh, Lockwood. Poor, unobservant Lockwood. The part she played and her life started mirroring one another.” 

“Which means that whoever played Hamlet did it.” Lockwood took a quick second of research, “Here. Hugo Blake.” 

“That’s our guy.” I smirked, winking. 

“My sister is the BEST!” Turstin whooped. 

“Nice one, Lockwood. Not bad for a philistine.” George praised, cautiously feeding Lockwood’s ego.

"Thank you, George, for actually praising the right person." Lockwood smirked. 

“Well done, Tony.” Quill Kipps was approaching us, clapping. “Actually doing research before a job this time.” 

“Oh, shut up, Kipps, you know no one likes you here.” I spat, standing up at the same time as Lockwood. 

“Artemis Hernandez. The great CEO of SP3CTR. Never imagined that you’d hang around Anthony Lockwood after what happened two years ago.” He turned to Lockwood, “Is it Anthony? Or is it Andrew now?” 

“Keep it down, Kipps.” Lucy snapped. “This is a gallery, not a braying gallery for bellends.” 

“This must be the new assistant.” He smirked. 

“Colleague. And you’re Quill Kipps. I’ve read about you. Haven’t you got the highest mortality rate of any team leader?” That’s my girl. 

“I’m the top supervisor at the country’s top agency.” Kipps boasted, but Turstin came up behind him. 

“I’m pretty sure that I’m the top supervisor. Made legal even at seventeen, a real bite in the butt, eh?” Turstin winked, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. 

“And to boot, I get the best jobs because of how good I am."

"False advertising. You're no better at ghost hunting than a dung beetle." I sneered, which made Kipp's draw his rapier, and like dominoes, so did we. 

"Wrong move." Lockwood tutted. "We can take on any of your beefcakes. Hernandez, wanna show them how it's done?" 

"Gladly." I started to address Kipps, "You'll need a ladder."

"What?" 

I quickly and elegantly flicked my rapier around and up, lodging his in the ceiling. "I warned you." We turned around, meaning to leave. 

"You'll leave him eventually." I turned around, vaguely interested. "Everyone does in the end." 

Lucy grabbed my arm, scoffing at Kipps. "You really can't bloody walk away and accept defeat, can you? Come on, Artemis." We walked away, but it got me thinking. 

Everyone does leave Lockwood in the end.

Even...

Me.

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"Hey, Lockwood?" George asked as he was cleaning the table. "What did you say to Arty when she was investigating Annabel?" 

"I didn't say anything." 

"No, you whispered something. I know you did."

"That was gibberish, I was just overwhelmed by the situation." Lockwood brushed off the comment, trying to busy himself in something else. "You know, the great Artemis Hernandez was clutching onto me desperately... it's quite an intense situation-" 

"I know you, Lockwood, so I can tell when you have a secret. So tell me the truth, what did you whisper when she said 'you're my love'?" 

"I said 'always'."

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