#SCREAMS INTO A FUCKING POTATO BAG

[partyinthemysterymachine]

I AM THE FUNNIEST FUCKING PERSON IN EXISTENCE

LISTEN I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT MY OWN TIME ZONE: I POSTED GOOMT CH69 ON 6/9

I DID IT IDC IT IS STLL 6/9 IN THE WESTERN STATES AND I AM FUNNY

AS 

F U C K

so WITNESS ME

[gremlingottoosilly]

high af reader legitimately thinking slasher konig is a huge ass bear as he murders her friends

"oh damn..that's large ass bear"

konig covered in blood and guts : ".."

Slasher!Konig who actually thinks it was a compliment. Come on, this guy never heard a nice word in his life - this, combined with his fucked up views on love and affection, makes him think that your screams of terror are actually affectionate moans, and your pleads for mercy are just indicating your arousal. So, when you really think he is a bear for a hot minute, and you yell it to the people in your group...yep, everything checks out - you're madly in love. You're showering him in compliments. You adore him. Only when he rips off your friend's arm with nothing but a huge ass knife - and you're pretty sure that bears do not use knives, even the big ones - you realize it's a man. A really big, scary man. Covered in blood and guts, leaning closer to you with the most crazed look in his eyes, his bloody hands reaching to grab your... "Danke, Schatzen. Didn't know you could be so adorable" He grabs you by the scruff of your neck, like a kitten. Flips you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, so your nose presses right into something that feels like a pile of guts clinging to his uniform, and you'd throw up right on his boots, but a firm hand on your butt makes you freeze. Dead in your tracks. This guy is definitely not a bear, but can rival one in the sheer size - you hate to admit it, but you're almost impressed at just how fucking big he is. Too big. You don't want to admit it, of course, but the guy of his size shouldn't be this fucking big. Konig thinks it was all flirt. He finally found himself a perfect pretty wife who actually prefers her husband to be bloody and covered in guts, and that calling him a bear is sort off a weird nickname. He doesn't really care - he adores this too fucking much.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 16

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 16:

Jason carefully kept his writing legible as he wrote down the heating instructions. Considering Ghost seemed to be living off granola bars he was not taking any chances. 

There were signs Ghost had returned a few times. The bag and calibrator was gone of course, and the sandwiches were disappearing. It wasn’t good enough. Ghost needed more than sandwiches, it was better than living solely on granola bars, but it was not enough. He needed something more energy dense - hence the meat and vegetable stew and the mashed potatoes he’d made, packed in portions for easy reheating. But he had to make sure it was easy, he didn’t want to risk it being too bothersome and him not eating any. 

Slowly, deliberately he put the pen down so he didn’t break it and laid his hands down flat on the kitchen island. Jason was in control, not the pits. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds… 

…seven… eight…

Carefully he pushed the voice away that insisted he just lay a trap instead of all this tip-toeing around. It would be all too easy, Tim had found out how to short-circuit his powers. It hadn’t lasted more than an hour or two, but really there was no reason they couldn’t just attach some sort of device to him and repeat the small EMP charge every hour - it would be easy.

It would be horrible.

It was not how Jason wanted to go about it. Fucking Pits. Fucking intrusive thoughts. He hung his head taking deep breaths. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind, was that too much to ask?

A half-choked gasp sounded behind him and he spun around wide-eyed. There, across the living room section of the open plan apartment was Ghost halfway through the far wall. His eyes were wide and looked as shocked as Jason felt. 

Jason didn’t dare breathe as he slowly raised his empty hands. One wrong move and he could ruin everything. He swallowed dryly and ever so slowly he stepped to the side around the kitchen island and backwards, away from Ghost, deeper into the kitchen, cornering himself, leaving all exits free - even if Ghost didn’t technically need any. Ghost followed his movements warily only moving his head, his body completely frozen, still only halfway through the wall. 

Jason’s back hit the cupboards. It was as far as he could remove himself. It was all he could do. The ball was in Ghost’s court. 

Please don’t run.

Jason didn’t think he could handle that one more time. 

Oo o oO

Danny kept his eyes locked on the currently helmet-less not ghost. His heart rabbited in his chest and his whole body felt coiled like a spring, torn between running or going forward. He was terrified, but he also yearned-

Danny had become complacent. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he cursed himself for it now. He’d just moved thoughtlessly through the wall and his ghost sense had only had time to warn him when his eyes could do just as well. The barely there mist had fizzled uselessly out of his mouth when he gasped. 

Helmet moved carefully away from Danny, as far away as he could in the kitchen. His hands were raised as if in surrender. He looked as harmless as a six foot tank could, which to be fair, it wasn’t the size of the man, that scared Danny. No, it was the fact that his entire body screamed trap. Danny was not keen on a repeat of his powers being gone, and the risk, the knowledge of it, it threatened to tear apart his painstakingly assembled composure. 

Red Helmet might have taken him away from the other vigilantes, but he was still one of them. Danny just could not let himself trust him and it hurt, deeper than his still fucked up ribs. It hurt just to keep his core in a chokehold to stop it from calling to him. Never mind the near irresistable longing; Danny wanted so badly to go to him. 

Danny couldn’t let himself. 

Yet it was Helmet, not Danny, cornered right now. Caught in the act of something at the kitchen island. There was a small piece of paper on the island and Danny was curious. 

And there were also still so many unanswered questions. How could he hear Danny but not respond? What was that thing about the anger he’d mentioned? Why had he given Danny back his backpack and the spectral calibrator? The calibrator in particular, because that one strictly speaking didn’t belong to Danny. Why was he stocking up food in an apartment he clearly didn’t live in? For Danny?

All were questions he couldn’t get answers to by running away. 

Danny just had to keep his instincts on a tight leash. 

Watching warily for any sudden movements, Danny slowly phased the rest of the way into the apartment. His beat up sneakers barely made a sound as he touched down on the wooden floors, but still Danny flinched. 

Their eyes met and both held their breath.

Helmet looked away first. In fact he pointedly looked anywhere but at Danny now, seemed very intent on studying the counter now picking at non-existent dirt. 

Somehow him not looking made it easier to walk closer and he carefully did. There was a whole kitchen island between them - that had to be enough for Danny’s paranoia. 

He now stood where Helmet had stood when he came through the wall, he could pick up the paper. 

It was heating instructions - for him.

His resolve crumbled and the paper crinkled as he clutched it like his life depended on it. Such a little detail. Not just the food left here, but instructions. When was the last time anyone had cared like this?

“Why-” His voice broke and tears prickled at his eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked from Danny to the note in his hand, seemed to mentally discard something, before admitting quietly, “I know what starving is like.” 

Danny balked. “I eat.”

“I took a backpack full of protein bars off you.”

Danny grimaced. Just eating the sandwiches left for him here had been a vast improvement. So what if he didn’t eat well, he ate enough to survive. The fact that Danny could cling to existence through force of will was something he didn’t want to examine - his human half was still alive that had to be what mattered. 

“So this anger thing,” Danny forcefully changed the subject like a bull bursting into a China shop, “tell me about it.”

Helmet tensed and that in turn made Danny tense. He might have overstepped. The moment was long and drawn out as Danny waited for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, Helmet let out a long sigh and forcefully relaxed his body. It didn’t put Danny entirely at ease, but it helped.

“There’s not much to tell,” he faked at nonchalance but there was something tightly leashed in his voice. 

Danny didn’t buy it for one second. “Try again.”

There was a grimace and it looked almost like there was some sort of internal fight going on, until eventually he spoke. 

“I got exposed to some nasty shit, ever since then I’ve had anger issues. I only realized once they were gone how pervasive they were.”

He looked away.

“I have hurt people - killed people - I thought they deserved it, but I’m not so sure anymore, not for all of them.” And there was pain there, in his voice, in his face, this was a hard thing to admit, not just to himself, but out loud to someone else. 

Danny’s heart ached for him. The silence stretched between them and Danny prompted gently, hesitantly, because he didn’t understand this part himself: “And I make it better?”

“For about two days, give or take.” There was an affected casualness in the tone, but Danny noticed the way his hands clenched into tight fists. It had been about two weeks since Danny had last been in a room with the man. Two weeks since Danny had had any physical contact. He harshly clamped down the projection of longing before it could escape his grasp. 

It was, Danny realized, no wonder that Helmet had chased him so vehemently. He could not only hear Danny’s call for him, but he had something of his own he struggled with. Something that Danny could apparently do something about, or rather his core song, if Danny was putting the pieces together right.  

But Helmet wasn’t chasing now. It must have been two torturous weeks.

“You have found a way to nullify my powers, why not just use that?”

Helmet’s jaw clenched. “It’s not exactly nice.”

“Didn’t stop you two weeks ago.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” He snarled taking a step forward eyes glowing ectoplasmic green.

Danny took a step back at once cautious and intrigued. Not a ghost, but definitely something. 

It looked like it took great effort, but he stepped back, plastered himself back against the cupboard and his eyes were blue again. Softly, he whispered “I only ever wanted answers.”

He wanted help. Danny’s breath caught. He was asking Danny for help, even if it wasn’t in those specific words. Danny looked down at the handwritten note in his hand. Helmet hadn’t planned for meeting today. He’d been just as shocked as Danny. He’d written him instructions with no guarantee Danny would ever help him, despite struggling with this anger. 

Danny did not owe him anything, Danny was not beholden to anyone in this dimension, but he was asking for help.

Danny hesitantly stepped around the counter. 

Mentally he countered each argument for why this was stupid. 

He took a step forward. There was no trap. Danny chose to believe him when he said he didn’t want to use whatever device that had been on him. 

Danny took another step forward, and step after step until he was right in front of him. Danny didn’t look up to see whatever expression may be on his face, it was easier like this standing face to chest. And it was a nice chest, wearing a red henley worn soft and fuzzy through countless washes. It was easy to take the last step into his space and lean his forehead forward to rest against him. 

It was harder to let go of the tight ball he’d pulled his emotions into. 

“Can I?” Helmet asked, arms hovering slightly away from him. 

“Yeah,” Danny replied hoarsely, and then arms settled around him hesitantly, warm, human - not tight or trapping him, it was considerate but not what Danny needed. A wounded sound left his chest and he pressed closer. He clenched his eyes shut but still tears ran wet tracks down his cheeks as he finally gave in - let go. 

His core was a cacophony of grief warring with happiness. Melancholy and joy twisting and churning neither one really winning. Danny was so tired and worn he couldn’t focus on what he should feel. All this and maybe he couldn’t even help him? 

If he couldn’t get the happiness going what use was he?

But then the arms tightened around him and it was a proper hug. He was being held. There was a hand in his hair tugging him into the crook of Helmet’s neck, as he bent slightly over to surround him. Danny’s forehead against the crook of his neck, skin again skin. A warm body. A fast heartbeat in his ears. 

He was not alone. 

His core thrummed with the knowledge. 

Danny lost time. 

It was terrifying. It could have five minutes or an hour that they stood there for all Danny knew. He had been so lost in the warmth of human contact and the content song of his core. 

A shiver of fear went up his spine and he tensed.

Last time he had fallen asleep. That, he could at least understand. He’d been extremely exhausted after everything that happened. But this was different. Danny didn’t even know if he would have noticed Helmet moving him - he hadn’t; they still stood in the exact same spot. 

He made to draw away and for one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Danny thought Helmet wouldn’t let him go. But that was uncharitable, he had to give Helmet time to even realize what he was doing. Just cause Danny’s brain was running a mile a minute, and a second seemed like an eternity, didn’t mean it was to anyone else - and Helmet did let him slide out of his arms. Danny looked up, eyes just a bit wide. He was trying to stay calm, he was. He didn’t know how to interpret Helmet’s expression. His eyes met Danny’s, his brows were doing something, his mouth was a line downturned at the corners. His arms were raised, drawn back just slightly after Danny slipped away.

Danny took another step back.

Helmet didn’t move. Danny realized suddenly what the expression was; he looked sad.

Danny’s core pulsed painfully, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to go back to that embrace, he wanted to stay and forget everything else. 

It was all he could do not to run, because those feelings were terrifying in and of themselves. He turned and he carefully walked to the far wall. He stopped there, clenched his trembling hands. His eyes trailed an uneven line on the white wallpaper. 

This wasn’t just about him.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, loud enough he was sure Helmet could hear him. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and he threw himself through the wall. His heart raced in his chest all the way back to his lair. 

It went against every cautious bone in his body to reveal he’d be somewhere at a specific time, even such a vague promise as the day after tomorrow. It was as much as he could get himself to do.

It wasn’t just about him. 

-

Alright and that's probably it for the rapid updates, this part mostly needed edits to fit better with what actually ended up happening in the earlier parts and I hadn't written the ending, I wasn't sure I'd get the time today, but I did so, tadaa!

Things are going better! It's not all misery anymore.

Danny wasn't quite this terrified early in the story, but then he felt relatively safe in his ability to get out of situations. Having his powers knocked out, really brought up a boatload of trauma. It's just also really making him out of sorts to be that at odds with his core.

I hope it makes sense.

[onyourhyuck]

Sore Loser <3 | Lee Haechan (M)

Prologue: “At least I don’t fuck every girl I meet.” + “At least I don’t get cheated on.”

Summary: Your boyfriend and you are both sore losers.

Warning: Mature themes. Crack. Relationship goals. Slightly suggestive and smutty.

Note: I AM BACK!! Sorry it took a while but I’m very busy with school and I finished my stuff :)) expect slow updates but I’m returning now.

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“Just admit it I’m better at Valorant and you suck absolute ass.” You tell your boyfriend sitting across your bed where you are laying down watching him play Valorant on the computer.

You’re in his bedroom hanging out, essentially you guys were going to play together but the last time you both ended up arguing for hours about losing the round and blaming it on each other. You take your games very seriously and so does Haechan. He doesn’t like losing.

Might be because he’s just a sore loser or perhaps he loves seeing you lose and throw a tantrum over it. Maybe it’s both. Who knows, Haechan’s a weird species of men and you don’t even know why you’re wasting your time arguing with the boy sometimes.

But even though you guys argue there are your moments where you both are very sweet together. You guys understand each other quite well but often you like to annoy the hell out of each other.

Haechan bites his bottom lip as he failed to win the round. He turns around to face you with a deadly look in his eyes as if he was ready to blame you. “You distracted me again!”

You open your mouth defensively. “Do not blame me for your shitty skills. You took that L so badly.”

He rolls his eyes slightly annoyed as he stands up and walks over to the bed edge, scowling, grabbing a potato chip and nomming it down from your chips bag.

“Y’know at least I don’t have daddy issues.” He shrugs confidently sitting down, eating more. Your mouth drops as your eyes go on a squint glare.

“Yeah? Well at least my dad actually gives me attention and loves me.”

Your words shook haechan at his core as his eyes roll over to you. He stops eating and sits up slightly before replying back with equal damage. “At least I don’t cry over the slightest thing.”

“At least I don’t fuck every girl I meet.”

“At least I don’t get cheated on.”

The way you let out a gasp as he did not hold back his words biting down on every syllable which means he meant everything he said to you. “You’re a dick.” You tell him.

He smirks. “You love it.”

You didn’t reply but bite down your bottom lip angrily.

“At least I never made out with Mark’s sister!”

Haechan’s face went beyond red and he side glances around his bedroom hopefully hoping his roommate Mark did not hear them speaking.

“I- YOU KNOW DAMN WELL IT WAS LATE AND I WAS DRUNK.”

you scoff. “Like that excuses you kissing your best friend’s little sister…”

He frowns at you. “At least I didn’t vomit on jaemin’s lap when he was driving.”

You shiver at the flashback at the time when you were very drunk and Jaemin, your best friend, took you home by giving you a ride in his new Porsche car and instantly on the way you threw up on his lap and a little bit of his new car getting dirty.

You grunt. “At least I don’t crave attention 24/7 like an absolute child.”

Haechan rolls over to the side slowly crawling to you as he spoke, so many things at once now, completely off guarding you, without any hesitation, Haechan starts to expose everything about you so freely without discharging how you would feel.

He begins. “Oh yeah I’m the baby? Well at least I don’t act like a complete bitch randomly when i need attention. At least I don’t beg to be touched. At least I don’t get wet easily. At least I’m not the most horny person on the planet. At least I don’t scream out my name loud when I’m giving you the best fuck of your life. At least I’m not the one trembling and whimpering—“

“It’s… it’s my turn! Hey!”

You stutter crawling back away from Haechan as he keeps coming closer to cut you off and trap you down on the bed as he was on top of you pinning your wrists down on the pillows laid behind you to support your back and body, staring down at your eyes with a devious flint and a loud smirk that screamed he won and you lost. Like expected. He was so condescending, but you low-key liked him having this effect on you.

He didn’t care if it was your turn or not. He knew you were finished.

You softly let out looking away from Haechan’s face. “I don’t want to play anymore.” You’d huff out and he laughs a little leaning in to poke your cheeks. “You’re such a sore loser, Y/n.”

“Shut up” you tell him softly looking away.

He raised his eyes. “Did I go too hard on you with my words hm?”

You didn’t reply for a while until you decided to change your mind. “I don’t cry over the slightest thing by the way…”

He starts to laugh as he realised the only thing that upset you was that statement out of all the things he possibly said. You were so unpredictable.

“Okay you don’t. We even now?”

“Yes go away.”

He grins leaning in to whisper in your ears. “I’m not done yet.” As he feeds over your shirt to feet your chest grabbing the bra and unclipping it. Your eyes widen as your cheeks grow red. “Hyuck— what are you doing?”

He looks up at you humming. “I’m proving your statement right. I fuck every girl I meet.” He told jokingly and you couldn’t help but smile unconsciously as he took off his shirt leaning down to kiss you passionately.

“God dammit you’re such a sore loser, hyuck…”

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@onyourhyuck please do not copy or translate my work thank you <33 Reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3.

MORE NCT SMUT FICS.

[mikareo]

⌗ SNOWDROP ₊ ˖ ་. nagi seishiro x fem reader (5.4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ it's the end of the world and he's possibly the most unprepared person alive…perhaps he can rely on the pretty girl with perfect aim who just so happened to save his life at the very last second. he’s never been in love but maybe this love could last…so long as the both of you stay alive.

contains; resident evil inspired, badass agent!reader, helpless civilian!nagi, zombie apocalypse, guns, knives, blood, gore, swearing, angst, fluffy flirting, love at first sight, major character death, reo cameo!!!!, cannibalism (zombies) author's note; this fic destroyed my sanity, but i hope u like it! there are parts that are so unserious asjkl just trust me that it's a good read and pt2 is gonna be fucking crazy

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ videogame au milestone collab masterlist !

This can’t be happening. There’s no way this is actually fucking happening right now. 

He’s sprinting at full speed, his laces are barely tied, and the smoke in the air is surely clogging his lungs into a blackened pulp of nothingness. To be quite frank, Nagi would rather have those poisoned lungs than discover whatever the hell happened to his neighbors down the hall…because damn they look like they’re in some rough shape. With their sunken eyes, flaking skin, and very obvious urge to suddenly turn to cannibalism, that’s not really his vibe…but that’s a falling telephone pole! Holy shit that’s a falling telephone pole coming straight his way in 3…2…1. JUMP!

Whew, that was a close one. Good thing he’s tall!

The shift in humanity didn’t exactly happen overnight. It was actually just twenty minutes ago when his peace was so rudely interrupted. There he was, snuggled up in his gaming chair with a fresh bag of Cool Ranch Doritos opened and ready to meet his belly, when he finally beat the last level of his new favorite game; only to discover that those screams of terror and fear…yea those weren’t coming from his PC and his living room window is now a pile of ash. Nagi doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much red and yellow in his life, all of it becoming one big blur of flames that he somehow jumped through and landed on the street below— thankfully he lives on the ground floor, otherwise his body would join his couch in a pile of broken limbs. Damn, this is all such a hassle.

No one would be able to guess what it was that caused this chaos…okay, actually it’s not too out of this world; just a commercial jet falling from the sky with a monstrous thing (??) crawling out of the window onto the streets of Tokyo, whilst an oddly green gas dilutes the air.

Yeah, not too crazy— but just crazy enough to make even Nagi Seishiro, laziest man on earth, leave the comfort of his homely apartment to find his neighborhood in complete and utter chaos. He even saw his delivery man devouring the convenience store owner that always gives him an extra bonus off his nightly midnight snack. Man, he loved that guy. That’s a sight that’ll make him shudder for years to come; assuming he can stay alive for the next however many hours and days this newfound apocalypse is going to take.

Nagi thinks it’s been nearly an hour since he started running and he didn’t even know he had this much stamina in him. Maybe he’s secretly a superhuman or another one of the monsters the city has been consumed by— or perhaps his adrenaline rush is nearly infinite since he’s never utilized it in his entire life. He’s not sure of the logistics. He failed high school biology…and chemistry…and physics. There’s a reason why he turned to gaming and shied away from college. This thrill and rush isn’t meant for him. He’s a couch potato that wants to do nothing but rot and enjoy the satisfying ding Twitch gives him whenever he receives a new sub. His generation needs instant gratification…and right now? Well, he’s in desperate need of some water. 

Hesitantly, Nagi rounds into the glass doors of the nearest and safest looking building he happens to see— which is luckily a convenience store similar to the one near his apartment. He’s more than surprised when the automatic doors open in a pinch and he’s able to enter with no difficulty. The store is somehow in little disarray, with its grocery items on the shelves in their rightful spots and few sparse bags of chips laying on the tile floor. However, what is in disarray is the pharmacy section. There are drugstore pills scattered everywhere. He can’t even tell what kind of medications were being scavenged in a clear panic for medical amenities, and highly doubts that whoever was searching for supplies was able to get any with the state the back of the store is in. The font on the labels is so small that Nagi, the man who stares at a screen all day, can’t decipher what they say; and he’s assuming that whoever was in here is long dead and gone. But then again…

…he’s never been the kind of guy who’s always right.

“I come in peace!” His voice is two octaves higher than it normally is. If this were a choir audition, he’d absolutely ace it. “I swear I just came for some water! Please don’t kill me, zombie, please!”

Both of his eyes are shut whilst he awaits his inevitable demise, assuming that the unknown presence in the room likely has an appetite for human organs. There were so many things he wanted to do with his life…like ride a hot air balloon? Actually, that would be really hot if he were that close to the sun. Surf in the Caribbean? Ew, he could get bit by a crab. Get a girlfriend? He can’t complain about that one, that would be very very nice. 

Oh no, he’s already getting eaten…he can practically hear her imaginary laughter already.

“Really? Those are your last words?”

Zombies can talk?

Nagi fearfully inches one eye open to see the most gorgeous person he thinks he’s seen in his entire life. Sure, you look a little disheveled— with your soaked hair and dirt-crusted skin— but to him, you look like something out of his imagination. The female protagonist that he could only dream about campaigning with in a first-person-shooter game, and would later search for a worthy poster to stick on his wall. If love at first sight is real, then this is definitely it. The only issue? Your barrel is pointing straight at his face.

“You’re going to shoot me?” He exclaims, scrambling to back up but ultimately tripping on his own laces and landing on his ass. “Ah shit, that hurts.”

Elegantly, you rush to his side. “You have injuries?” With eyes scanning over every inch of his body, there’s genuine concern dripping from your tongue like honey. Your voice is like a melody, oh man. Nagi thinks he’s a goner— not because he could be eaten by zombies, but because he feels like he’d jump in front of a moving bus to protect you. Pfft, and some protection he’s doing, embarrassing himself like this…

“Nope, nothing’s hurt…” he mumbles, sitting up with an attempted nonchalant look on his face. “...only my ego.”

A small smile reveals itself before him and your eyes crinkle as you let out a little laugh, and instantly he’s almost more obsessed with you. It’s as if you’re some higher being that he was blessed to see on his final day on earth, with golden rays radiating from your skin and big irises that he could drown in. Perhaps if it weren’t the end of the world, the two of you could’ve walked to this store together— holding hands and speaking softly about your shared interests and passions— and he could make you laugh a million times and more…now that he’s really thinking about it, you’re the first girl he’s made laugh probably ever and he really wishes there wasn’t a menacing zombie apocalypse getting in the way of his beautiful fantasy. 

“I’m assuming you’re alone?” You stand up, looking down at him. 

Alone as in single or…

“You don’t have any family that you escaped with?”

…okay not alone as in single. Got it.

“It’s just me,” Nagi stands to his feet and is loving your shocked reaction to his towering height. “My family’s overseas right now, so I think they’re alright. I mean, I hope they’re alright. I don’t have any service to reach them, right now. My phone is down.”

You nod, reaching in your bag for something he can’t quite see. What he can see, though, is the massive shotgun strapped to your back and three large cartridges hanging from your belt— somehow you’re able to carry all that and four grenades, two handguns, and six rolls of bandages in that pack of yours, which you lay out for him so lovingly on the floor. 

“Take what you need.” Oh hell, what has he gotten himself into?

As he backs up cautiously, realization dawns upon your face. “You’ve never done this before have you?” 

“Is living through a zombie apocalypse a common experience?” His mouth is agape. “Yeah, sorry…can’t say this isn’t the first time for me.”

A sigh slips from your lips and you gather your things, packing everything into your bag except for a standard handgun. Nagi can feel his heartbeat picking up as you take three steps closer to him. One. Two. Three. He wishes you’d chosen to take a fourth— that way you’d be nose to nose, he’d get to see your beauty up close, and then memorize the curves and features of your face— which he’d surely never forget as he’d think about them morning, night, and day. He’d love to fantasize about you for hours but you have other plans, dropping said standard handgun into his palms. 

“Just aim for the head, okay?” 

Um. No. Not okay. 

“I don’t really shoot real guns…” he rambles, attempting to get rid of the deadly weapon you’ve so casually given him. “I’m more of a lover, y’know? Talk things out instead of shooting things in between their eyes? I like digital zombies! Yeah, those guys are chill…love ‘em so much…please take this away from me.”

You shake your head, already on your way out of the door. “Nope, you’re coming with me.”

“Why?” If this were a video game, there’d be a massive exclamation point flashing above his head, along with a grave that he could crawl into instead of joining you on this suicide mission. Being six feet under sounds pretty nice right about now…but he’s sure that the look you’re giving him is more deadly than any threat outside. “I don’t think I’m going to be much help to you.”

“Nagi, is it?” You clarify, to which he nods. “There are only two choices right now, and I know we just met but I’d rather you live than die. You’re tall. Your height is going to give you a range advantage when we’re out there, and I can already tell that you have great spatial awareness…not many people would’ve noticed me in the shadows. You know this area far better than I do, and sure, you’ve never held a gun before, but you’ve got to fight to live.”

As your voice continues in a soft-spoken tone, he’s mesmerized. “I want you to live, and I’m going to make sure you do.”

He can feel himself nodding along to your words— his heart getting lighter by the second, perhaps out of adrenaline but he’s going to believe it’s love. He needs something to look forward to when this is all over, if this is ever over, and that something is the image of you and him on a date. With you looking stunning in your favorite outfit and him hopefully looking better than he does right now…clear skies with the cicadas shushing themselves so he doesn’t miss a single thing you say…enough money in his bank account to cover anything and everything you wish for…and the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers that he can find. What are your favorite flowers?

“Can I ask you something before I say yes?” Nagi’s voice is sweet, seemingly comforting you as your shoulders drop from their automated offensive stance. You look a little curious, likely assuming that he’s going to ask you some tips on how to shoot a gun— which he probably should if he’s being honest with himself, but that’s an issue that isn’t as important as his current curiosity. “Do you have a favorite flower?” 

With teeth shining at him, he’s blinded by the overwhelming beauty you send his way and for the second time, he makes you laugh. 

“My favorite flower? You’re so strange.” Overcome with a fit of giggles, he thinks that this is your first time laughing at something a man said as well. “Why do you need to know that? Are you asking me out or something?”

“I am.” He states bluntly and your cheeks flush red. 

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you and each second is more excruciating than the last. With a heavy clock ticking in his ear, telling him that he’s made a fool of himself as the hand inches more and more to the left; he’s counting down his probable rejection as he’s just shot his shot in the middle of the end of the world. What a stupid decision. He knows his timing could be better— could be a lot better actually— and there’s a part of him that regrets even attempting…but none of that matters, because you’re smiling.

Maybe he makes you just as nervous as you make him…

“Okay Nagi,” you grin and adjust the shotgun strap across your chest. “If we both survive this, I promise I’ll go out with you…but I have some high expectations. I want the most expensive flower arrangement money can buy.” 

“And what kind of flowers are you wishing for, gorgeous?” His voice is a sexy whisper, and Nagi didn’t even know he could be so seductive.

You jokingly roll your eyes at the pet name and toss him one of your inactive grenades, which he catches with ease, urging him to follow you into the chaos— but not before you give him the answer he so desperately desires.

“Snowdrops.”

There are two things that Nagi has realized in the past thirty minutes. 

1.) He’s a lot more athletic than he thought he was. 

Running for a half an hour straight is something that he never imagined himself doing— especially considering that he’s never stepped one foot into a gym in his entire life. What he originally thought to be clumsiness, turns out to be raw strength untouched. You were right to assume that his lengthy limbs would do him some justice in the fight for his life, and he’s thankful for his towering height as he’s blocked falling debris from smacking you atop the head nearly five times now; though, he did miss a flying sneaker that happened to nail you straight in the nose. He’s trying his best, give him a break. 

2.) You might be a figment of his imagination. 

Sure, this idea is likely false as he definitely felt your weight when you were sent flying from a stray hand grenade and landed on top of him, but you just seem so perfect. Getting to know you has been a dream come to life— though making conversation while running for his life isn’t the easiest feat, he’s managing. Some of the things you’ve told him do seem to be made up, though. For instance, you were the culprit behind the plane crash and while he’d love to picture a sunsetting sky with the two of you floating in the breeze, you’re not going to be piloting that jet. However, he has to give you a break because he’s never flown anything other than pixelated aircrafts, especially aircrafts that contain a deadly monster oozing toxic gas that turns people into zombies. Yeah, he couldn’t quite believe that either.

“On your left!” The sound of your voice snaps him back into focus and he realizes there are four zombified citizens barreling your way. “I could use some help here!”

You definitely don’t need his help. For God’s sake you have a shotgun the size of your leg that’s already mowed down three of them and Nagi’s just barely getting used to the sound of the bang. So far he’s pretty much been useless if not for letting you know what’s coming up in the distance, and also being the absolute last resort solution— which is rare, but oh shit it’s happening right now! You’re out of shells! How exactly does he fire this thing again?

Shakily, he attempts to point his handgun in the direction of the lone zombie bounding towards you. “Deep breaths, Nagi! Focus and aim!” Your words of encouragement are appreciated, but ultimately useless as he desperately starts stray shooting. 

“Fucking aim!” You’re losing your patience for him so fast, to which he tries his best to calm down and breathe.

In and out.

His heart rate begins to slow.

Breathe and concentrate. 

His eyes become unclouded by his anxiety, and his vision clears. 

Lock on.

He has a mark on the target. 

With his pistol’s aim assist shining against the zombie’s forehead, he confidently fires a single bullet. It soars through the air, squealing in its flight, and he lets out a sigh of relief…a sigh that he exhaled far too early.

Aw shit, he missed. 

You grunt, bracing yourself against his bullet that ricochets off of the nearby telephone pole and grazes your right arm. He has a clear view of the scarlet blood dripping down your elbow and onto the pavement, and his heart feels heavy. He’s so fucking useless that he’s injuring you. Nagi doesn’t think it’s even possible to be worse at flirting than him; he can’t imagine that there are many guys who are accidentally shooting the girl they like, yet here he is. 

Thankfully, you being the badass agent you are, you’ve managed to reload your eleven shells of ammo in the time it took for him to fire one bullet— and you easily dissolve the zombie to bits and pieces. 

“Your aim can use a little work.” You snort, brushing your fingers against the small wound.

He rips the sleeve of his t-shirt off and attempts to wrap it around your arm. This is what you’re supposed to do, right? The only training he’s had in the medical field is from that one surgeon simulator game he played in middle school, and to be completely honest, it was a pretty good game! However, he’s definitely doing something wrong because you place your hand over his and show him how to properly treat an open wound. Normally, Nagi would be embarrassed that he’s failing so miserably right now— but honestly, the only thing on his mind is how this is the first time you’ve held his hand. He can’t tell if there are butterflies in his stomach or if the smell of blood is triggering vomit. Hopefully the former.

It’s no surprise that your perceptive self notices his focus on your intertwined hands, to which you take the lead and insist on pushing forward. “As romantic as this is, we should find some shelter before we get eaten in the midst of making out.” 

Oh?

“You want to make out with me?” 

Oof that slap hurt. His priorities clearly don’t align with yours.

“Okay, okay.” Nagi holds his hands up in surrender before you can smack his chest for a second time, and he’s finally able to notice your surroundings. Since when was the Mikage Buildingright behind you? Hm…the imminent fear of death must have distracted him. “My best friend’s family owns this tower here. I promise it’s safe.”

Your gaze narrows at the wall of glass windows that are seemingly spotless. There isn’t a single crack, faulty line, or zombie-sized hole that’s visible to the naked eye and he feels a little swell of pride for Reo’s family. Yeah, that’s right! My best friend’s parent’s architects are great at making buildings! It finally seems like he’s had his first good idea of the night, and Nagi couldn’t be more proud. Progress is progress (even if he shot you in the process)! 

“It looks good.” You nod in approval and begin cautiously making your way towards the doors.

While following closely behind, he watches your back and ensures that there’s no one on your trail; which isn’t difficult in the slightest. Most of the civilians have died by now and you’ve already cleared every undead in the area…without his help. He doesn’t know how he managed to be so lucky that he ended up with you, but he’s grateful for every second— and now that you’re finally in his familiar territory, he can finally show you what he’s worth. 

“There’s an elevator up these steps.” Nagi leads you up the grand staircase, remembering how he lazily trotted down it yesterday after Reo tried, once again, to convince him to join his football club. “I think it’ll work, I know they have emergency systems and everything.”

“I don’t know, Nagi…” your voice trails off, something amiss about it. “I just have a weird feeling about this place.”

“I promise Reo’s family’s going to take care of us, they’re the best.” He deflects your concerns, trusting that his friend will pull through and have some crazy solution to save the world. There’s never been a time where he couldn't count on Reo and as soon as you reach the top of these steps, you’ll agree. The text he sent out asking for help is almost delivered, just a few more seconds and that blue line will slide all the way to the right and Reo will be right down the elevator as soon as possible. 3…2…1…sent! There! You’ll both be saved!

But if Reo’s on the top floor in his room…why did his ringtone ding just meters away?

There’s a corpse laying in front of the elevator doors, mangled and bruised. How did Nagi not notice it before? Was he too distracted thinking of his closest and only friend he’s ever had? No way. The security team must have destroyed all of the zombies in the building already, he’s sure Reo and the others are fine— but why does that body look so familiar?

No.

It can’t be him. 

Three steps away. 

There’s got to be some kind of mistake here. A prank right?

Two steps away. 

He can’t be dead. His best friend can’t be dead!

One. 

“No…” With his voice trembling, he stands over his best friend’s body. Reo’s violet hair is drenched in blood, seemingly resembling the color of a plum rather than the typical lavender hue. If it were a normal day, Nagi would laugh at the awful color— telling his partner in crime that the shade didn’t suit him in the slightest and Reo would laugh in annoyance, aiming a ball straight for the taller boy’s head…but this isn’t a normal day. This is the end of the world; and that beautiful lavender flower that Nagi associated with his teammate is wilting. It’s dying. It’s dead along with the heartbeat within it. Reo is dead. 

“Nagi. I need you to step back slowly.” He spins to see you with your barrel aimed at Reo’s corpse, but he can’t seem to move. It’s almost as if he’s been stunned, frozen in place with frostbite cementing his legs to the granite floors, and mouth encased in ice. He’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even open his mouth to give you a warning that there’s something moving behind you. Why can’t he speak? He needs to tell you! However, right when his teeth quiet their jitter, you’re tackled to the ground with a loud pummel. 

Immediately, gunshots ring out in the grand hall. You’re firing in every direction in an attempt to blast off your opponent, but this zombie is particularly agile and you don’t have much room to move with your large shotgun…looking back in retrospect, giving Nagi your only handgun wasn’t the greatest idea.

“C’mon!” Repeatedly, you call out to him, but he remains paralyzed in fear. “Stop being useless!”

He watches as you struggle to wrestle off the infected woman, grunting and groaning with every punch you deal to its face. The skin on her cheeks is almost a greyish shade, discolored and decaying with a potent smell that burns his nostrils. It’s hard to tell who’s who under the blanket of shadows she’s trapped you under, but occasionally he catches a glimpse of golden eyes that tell him the zombie is still alive. 

Somehow, with your almost supernatural raw strength, you’re able to hook your thighs around the zombie’s neck— pinning it down to the pearly floors and trapping it beneath your weight. It claws and cries out, desperately trying to escape your grasp, and Nagi almost feels bad for it. Just a few hours ago, this woman had a life. A real life that she likely looked forward to living every day; and now she’s nothing but a brainless carnivore with cannibalistic intentions. She could’ve been a mother. There could be a little boy out there missing her and waiting for her to come home, tell him that he’s safe, and that everything is going to be alright. When was the last time Nagi talked to his own mother? Why does he deserve to live and this woman doesn’t? Why is he so special that he was saved, while the rest of Tokyo was left to rot? 

It isn’t fair. 

None of it is fair.

He doesn’t deserve to live. He doesn’t deserve to be here. 

He’s taken his life for granted from the moment he learned to walk. Why should you be wasting your time trying to get him to safety when he’s nothing more than absolutely useless? He needs to help.

He needs to be brave…

…but he misses his chance once more. 

Letting out a wailing scream, you muster up enough energy to crush the woman’s head between your thighs, and Nagi is splattered with blood and guts. He doesn’t know how you’re so strong— it’s almost eerie in a way— but he’s more concerned with the state of your well-being. The look of exhaustion in your eyes acts as a glaring sun against his icy posture, and his feet are thawed from the floor, rushing towards you in mere seconds. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kneels on the ground before you and cups your face closely, “Hey— hey, don’t close your eyes. I’m right here. Please stay awake.” Nagi doesn’t think his voice has ever been so gentle nor has he ever felt this kind of worry for a girl before. Sure, he hasn’t known you for long, but he knows he can’t go on without you. You’re a team and a team sticks together. You can’t die right here! He’s not going to allow that!— but before he can lift you up like the knight in shining armour he wishes he could be, there’s a faint rustling behind him…a familiar rustling. Nagi knows that sound. He knows those movements. He’s heard them a million times and he’d be able to recognize them even in the midst of Shibuya Crossing in the busy hours. 

Where did Reo’s body go?

Perhaps it dissolved or maybe it was kicked aside in the midst of your fight. 

That has to be it, right? Where else could he be?

Nagi’s confusion is understandable. He’s thinking rationally given the circumstances and his heartbeat is somewhat steady. The mass of his body hovers over yours in a protective stance, like a dragon guarding a princess, and for once he appears to be confident. However, that confidence has been set aflame. He can feel his blood racing, burning through his veins in fear and distress, and he wishes he could simply rip his vitals from his skin to destroy the wretched emotions. The sight before him is something out of a horror movie…a horror movie where Nagi is the main character. 

“Oh fuck.” 

Reo leaps out of the shadows before Nagi can even react. 

There’s a blur of hands and feet, hitting and kicking at each other, and the snow haired boy never knew he was this agile. Reo is clearly doing his best to hit Nagi’s vital arteries; to which he’s blocking each attack with his forearms. This is chaos. He doesn't even have a second to think for himself and consider the possibility of blasting Reo’s head off with his handgun. He can’t do that…this is his best friend! 

As Nagi’s leg lines up to knock him off his feet, Reo lunges down and grabs a hold of it. In a panic, he attempts to shake his friend off— wiggling his leg up and down whilst reaching for his combat knife in his back pocket— and slices the skin in between Reo’s forearm and bicep…which is ultimately ineffective. Oh, shit he just got angrier! Growling, zombie-fied Reo clasps his hands around Nagi’s waist, lifting him off the ground with ease and throwing him into the elevator doors. The sound of his body slamming against the metal slab rings out, echoing in the grand foyer and deafening Nagi’s left ear. His breathing is heavy and he feels like he can’t get a single ounce of air in his lungs. Everything seems to be blurry, foggy with mist covering his irises as he attempts to see what’s right in front of him. 

A carnivorous Reo…

…and an unconscious you.

It’s clear to him what’s going on. There are two outcomes to this horrific situation and whatever decision Nagi makes is going to impact the rest of his life. 

1.) Let you go and join the afterlife with his best friend. 

2.) Save you and never see his best friend again. 

His heart is at war within himself. One side fighting for Reo, the boy he’s known for so long. The boy he’s laughed and cried with. The boy who knows everything about him. The boy who believed in him when no one else did…until you came along. 

Just the thought of seeing your lifeless eyes, bloodied body, and severed limbs flips a switch inside him— and Nagi finally comes to realize what’s happening. This isn’t Reo. This shell of a man with a monstrous hunger isn’t his best friend. Reo is a ghost now. He doesn’t exist anymore and now his body is being possessed by the undead, or whatever zombies are. He can miss his friend all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that the thing creeping towards you is nothing but a stranger who knows all of Nagi’s secrets. 

It’s time for him to fight to live. 

As he swiftly stands and tackles Reo to the floor, a wave of memories flash before Nagi’s eyes. 

The moment he first heard Reo’s voice. It was light and friendly. He had used a tone that Nagi hadn’t ever heard before, and although he had no interest in playing soccer, he still wanted to impress the popular boy— not because he wanted a higher status or a girlfriend, but because he knew this stranger needed a friend…and he really needed a friend, too. 

His palms grip Reo’s throat, ripping him off of your body.

The first time Reo laughed at something he said. It wasn’t intended to be funny, but the plum-haired boy couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and Nagi found himself laughing as well. Sitting in the school courtyard, side-by-side with crumbling onigiri falling from their mouths, there’s no doubt that they looked like two elementary schoolers finding humor in something obscurely immature— but despite that, it’s one of his fondest memories. 

Reo struggles against Nagi’s weight, pinned to the floor with nowhere to run.

When he’d first shown him his concerningly large collection of video games, Reo hadn’t batted an eye. In fact, the very next day, Nagi received a friend request from him. Which seemed like a small act at the time, until he found out that Reo had gone to the tech store and purchased an entire PC set up just so he could be the Player 2 to Nagi’s Player 1. They were partners in both the real and virtual world— an unstoppable pair that won more tournaments as time went on— and Nagi will never clean out his xbox inventory filled with their trophies. 

His finger grazes the trigger.

This is it. 

No more memories.

It’s time to say goodbye.

In movies, when the protagonist has to kill their loved one, a single tear rolls down their cheek. 

For Nagi, his face drowns in his cries. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s gone.

“I love you.”

Reo’s body dissolves into ash…

…then dust…

…then nothing. 

“I’m so sorry.”

PART TWO COMING IN THE NEAR FUTURE (i’m a slow writer pls forgive me)

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[minhosimthings]

I love how we as a community agree that Sunghoon would be the best degrader in all of Enhypen. For example-

If you were out at the grocery store, just minding your own buisness, looking for potatoes while your husband stalks off looking for Tiramisu, and a man comes up to you. Twenty something, fairly handsome and complements you on the butterfly clips in your hair, not knowing that Sunghoon was right behind you. You, being a human being who can take complements, thanked him meekly and blushed, while Sunghoon grabbed onto your waist, startling you, and saying very loudly that he prefers the tiramisu that his WIFE makes (with a lot of emphasis on the wife).

Courtesy to his silence throughout the car ride, you knew what was coming at home. Your suspicions were confirmed, when you reached home, opened the door and immediately got slammed into the wall by Sunghoon, who dropped his bags onto the floor and kissed you harshly, moving his tongue around yours.

"You wanna fuck that man huh babe? Want this pussy to be someone else's like a cumslut?" He taunted you, removing your bra with ease and squeezing your tits so tightly, while you could feel the bulge in his pants rub against your naked thighs. Of course you two couldn't do it against the front door, lest the neighbours hear (although Sunghoon occasionally said that the neighbours would be blessed to hear your moans), so Sunghoon took you to the kitchen, setting you down on the table roughly and basically ripping off your panties. "Oh would you look at this?" He would chuckle, one hand still on your right tit, squeezing it from time to time, "Already so wet for me? Oh you are a slut aren't you?"

He would basically attack your pussy with his fingers, moving it around at the speed of a maniac, while you would beg him to stop, wanting his dick to be inside of you. "Aww, does my slut want her daddy's cock inside of her? You'll have to earn it baby." He would go down to your legs and spread them further, while you would let out the occasional whimpers at seeing his sweaty arms and that expression he makes when he's angry. He would put his tongue into your pussy without warning, making you scream out his name in pain. "No fuck- Daddy!" He would take in your moans and screams, basking in the glory that he was making you want his cock more and more.

"Get on your knees." He would say after coming up from between your legs. "Now." He would add in a dangerous undergone, making you get on the floor more faster than you've ever had. "Now suck my cock like the dumb whore you are." You complied to his orders, quickly trying to give him pleasure. "Tch tch." He would burst out, not even after a minute had gone by, "You can't even suck properly can you? Do you not want to give your daddy what he wants? Huh slut? Answer me." He tugged on your hair again, making you moan out. Hair pulling kink go brr. "Daddy- want your- cock. Please." You would whimper, feeling his hands wrap around your left tit again.

"Stupid fucking slut aren't you? I bet you're thinking of that guy. Say it slut." He would press down on your thigh, "Are you thinking about him?" "N-No Sunghoon!", Was the only thing you could scream at that point, when he pushed his dick into you, taking you by surprise as slithers of pleasure went into you. Sunghoon kept tugging on your hair, forcing you to look at him, while thrusting his hips deeper and deeper. "You're mine. You're all mine. No one else's, you understand that?" He would growl out, gritting his teeth, while the only sound you could make was a weak whimper. "Ah fuck Sunghoon! Im gonna cum fuck!" You screamed out, making him moan out as you felt warm liquid fill your hole, giving you pleasure greater than anything in this world.

"Sorry princess." Sunghoon later apologized, while sitting on the couch. "I shouldn't have gone that harsh on you." You smiled warmly at his words and wrapped yourself more comfortably around him, immediately forgiving him, saying that the bath he had ran you and the doordash he had ordered was enough for you. It wouldn't be until later than Sunghoon found out about your degradation kink and from there on, your name was permanently forgotten and replaced by 'Sunghoon's dumb cumslut'.

[soft-mafia]

Meeting Shanks Headcanons [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fluffy crack, Buggy screaming

a/n: ok enough with my shenanigans, here’s some real Buggy content from me since I’ve been slacking and shit posting.

I’m a firm believer that Buggy would not want Shanks to meet his girlfriend bc he’s convinced he’d take her from him.

It would start off as just a regular morning, Buggy waking up all groggy, stomping up to the deck while scratching his lower back.

He goes up to Cabaji and asks him where Y/n is, usually she’s laying in bed sleeping next to him— she’d always wake up later.

Y/n was a heavy sleeper and no matter how many times Buggy tried to wake her up she wouldn’t budge so he eventually just let her be. But today she wasn’t there.

“Oh yeah, she’s talking to your pal Shanks over there.” The pirate chief of staff said, nodding his head over to Y/n. “Hm?” Buggy grunted lightly as he looked over, “Alright.” At first Cabaji’s words didn’t process in his mind, but before he took a step, he had to double take; his eyes suddenly widened when he saw the red head in particular.

“SHANKS?!” Buggy screamed, all of his parts becoming detached at one time, his floating hands then grabbed Cabaji by the shoulders and began shaking him violently, “HOW DID HE GET ON THE SHIP?! AND WHO THE HELL LET HIM NEAR Y/N?!”

The acrobat felt like he was getting whiplash with the captain shaking him around so much, “He said he was your friend!!”

“WHAT?!” Buggy growled, his parts popped back into place again as he glared back in the direction of Shanks. They were talking.. he couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but that damn Shanks was making Y/n laugh. Buggy began to panic.

“Hard to believe that out of the both of us it’s Buggy who managed to bag a girl.” Shanks laughed, “Are you sure you’re not being held hostage?” He joked, making Y/n laugh some more. “Oh no! Buggy is so sweet, you have no idea!” She giggled, “I was actually the one that came up to him first and he- Buggy? AHHH!!” Y/n screamed as Buggy quickly threw a potato sack over her, completely engulfing her in it before throwing it over his shoulder.

He growled and stuck a finger into Shank’s chest, his torso detaching so he could look down at him, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TALKING TO MY GIRL?! You’re trying to steal her from me aren’t you?! Just like you stole my chances at becoming the richest man in the world!!!”

Shanks just laughed at Buggy’s accusations, “Still haven’t changed one bit, huh? Y/n’s a real looker, you’re a lucky guy I’ll tell you that!” Shanks grinned and playfully slapped Buggy on the shoulder.

Y/n was thrashing around in the potato sack, screaming and cursing, “BUGGY WHAT THE FUCK?! ARE YOU CRAZY?! LET ME OUT, IT FUCKING STINKS IN HERE!!”

Buggy snarled at Shanks, “Don’t play that game with me, I know what you’re trying to do!! Don’t think for a second I’ll let you anywhere near Y/n!!”

Y/n finally found a way to bust out of the sack, she then growled and grabbed Buggy’s floating torso, turning it to face her so she could yell in his face, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!” She yelled. “WHY THE HELL WERE YOU TALKING TO SHANKS?!” Buggy growled back at her.

“AM I NOT ALLOWED TO TALK TO PEOPLE ANYMORE?! You’re acting like I sucked his dick or something!!” Y/n shouted.

“OH SO YOU WANNA SUCK HIS DICK NOW?!”

“THATS NOT WHAT I SAID, BUGGY, AND YOU KNOW IT!!” Y/n and Buggy’s foreheads were pressed together as they bickered at each other.

Shanks just ran a hand through his hair and snickered, “C’mon Buggy, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.. Why don’t we have a few drinks and we can catch up?”

Y/n and Shanks agree on the drinks, but Buggy is still grumbling and wary of Shanks’ intentions with his girl.

However, once Buggy is drunk enough, he loosens up, sitting on his throne with Y/n on his lap, Shanks sitting in a chair across from them with a table loaded with food right in the middle.

The two men reminisce about their adventures from the past(Buggy obviously exaggerating some parts to impress Y/n, insert Shanks butting in to correct Buggy and embarrass him.)

As it gets late, Buggy drunkenly let Shanks rest on the ship until morning.

However, as soon as Buggy got over his hangover and found Shanks still on the Big Top(no memory of him letting Shanks stay here), he immediately kicked him off and told him to never come back.

“And stay away from my girl while you’re at it!!!”

[st0rmyskies]

I spent the day sweating my ass off at a smaller hometown theme park, so here's a list of how the boys enjoy their day trip to a fun park.

Twilight - He’ll go on any ride with anyone no matter how fast or scary, nor how slow or mundane. Although the teacups and other rides that spin you a lot tend to make him dizzy, and he's not a big fan of the haunted house. But our big soft-hearted country boy is partial to the antique carousel and needs to go on it just once. Come on, guys, anybody…? (Spoiler: They all go on it with him.)

Wild - It’s a wonder he’s going to survive any of the rides because this boy is all about the food. Funnel cake? Candy floss?? Potato pancakes??? Fudge????? Dippin’ Dots!!????!?!? He has his hands full of treats while they’re waiting in every line, and on any ride he can sneak them on to successfully, too. His favorite ride is the music-coaster-thing, and he’ll sing along at the top of his voice to every damn song.

Champion - Not too thrilled by rides, but he will go on them to be a sport. Except those rides with a sheer drop, tower-of-terror style. NO fucking thanks. Where he really slays, though, are the shooting games, with special bonus points if one of the other boys challenges him to a round. You bet your ass Champion is casually lugging around a stuffed Wolfie half the size of his body for most of the day.

Legend - He’ll get on some of the coasters and the crazier rides, but not all of them. He’s not a big fan of screaming his head off all day long, gives him a headache. He gets uppity with the fortune telling machine giving him the same negative reading over and over again no matter how many quarters he jams in the damn thing. And his fortune ends up coming true, too: he gets banned from the bumper cars after a vulgar road-rage incident.

Hyrule - Goes on one, maybe two coasters, and promptly pukes. He’s then the designated Bag Handler for the rest of the day. Which actually works out well, all up until the mid-afternoon when he wanders off to find himself some coffee and promptly gets lost, necessitating a rather embarrassing announcement over the PA system.

Warriors - He stressed out about his outfit for two weeks beforehand and STILL managed to choose the wrong thing to wear. Yes, those linen pants with the front crease are supposed to be breezy, Wars, but they’re meant for something like a wedding, not a fucking amusement park. He gets cranky when he’s too fucking hot and his hair is damp against the back of his neck. Eventually, one of the other boys — probably Legend or Sky — has to shoo him away from the group for a bit. When they turn up 20 minutes later Wars has an icy drink, a pair of novelty swim trunks from the souvenir shop, a headband for his hair, and a brand new “fuck it, we ball” attitude.

Sky - Loves all the roller coasters, LOVES THEM, and gets sad if he doesn’t get to sit in the front seat on every single one. He wants to go on the biggest, tallest, fastest, most OSHA-violating coaster no less than three times, and he’ll hop off of it just to turn around and get right back in line. Least likely to remember to hydrate and reapply sunscreen. You know he’s passed the fuck out that entire drive home. 

Four - He quite enjoys observing the inner workings of the mechanics that go along with the rides, then makes ominous comments about the engineering to his seat-mate as they’re being hauled up the incline for that first drop of a coaster. He also spends an inordinate amount of time in the air conditioned arcade winning as many tickets as he can to obtain some silly prize like an obscure toy from the 80’s or something similar. May not be tall enough to ride every ride.

Wind - Water rides are his JAM. His hair and clothes and shoes are soaked through well before halfway through their day, and he gets the cutest waves in his hair because of it. Although he also smells like chlorine all day, then. Also has way too much ice cream and cold treats during the day, so he’s nursing a hell of a stomach ache on the drive home.

Time - Bet you thought he wouldn’t be in attendance or would wait in the car or some shit, didn’t you? Time allows the boys to cajole him onto every coaster, every water ride, the carousel, into the haunted house, you name it. He’ll sit in the first row of the rides that take your photo, too, and he just. Deadpans it. Zero facial reaction, no screaming on coasters, ALL day. Flawless commitment to the bit. He does secretly enjoy all of this; Time didn’t get to do this sort of stuff when he was their age, so better late than never.

[magnoliasandarson]

hoax

Tim was doing his absolute damnedest to project calmness, but he was losing his mind. Two feet away, munching on some cheesy fries, was the Red Hood—the prodigal son, the dead golden boy, his childhood hero, his Robin. The insane man who once beat him half to death, now the guy who occasionally dropped by the cave with a frankly worrying number of bullet holes. 

He’d been patrolling for an hour or so when he noticed the lack of gunshots, screams, explosions, etc., and tracked Hood to the gargoyle Dick took him to once when he was feeling sentimental. It was strange finding him without his signature explosive bucket on, with a bag of Batburger in his lap.

Tim didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something. Jason apologized for his actions weeks ago and explained that the pit had taken no dead Robins and turned it into all Robins must die, but there was still a weight between them. A clear line that said do not cross; luckily enough, Tim lived to cross those lines, “Takin’ a day off from murder and mayhem?”

Jason twisted his head to look over, his scowl somehow threatening, even with a fry hanging out of his mouth. He finished chewing, looking menacing the whole time, “Fucks it to ya, bird boy?”

Tim plopped down on the ledge; if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve already. He stared out at Gotham, at the empty streets and windows glowing with warmth and light. For once, the city was quiet, “Just making conversation, Hood.”

“What made you think I wanted to talk?” Jason’s tone was harsh, but it was about a five on the Jason-rage-meter, and Tim didn’t get fidgety till a seven. 

Tim kicked his feet out, idly drumming his fingers on the cement ledge, “Maybe I wanted to talk.” And in a weird way, it was true. This was Jason freakin’ Todd; the boy wonder that made Batman laugh. He oddly wanted to know everything. 

Jason sighed like he was accosted by young, costumed teens all the time, and, to be fair, he was. Stephanie had taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours with waffles, and she had only been shot at twice, “Fine, traffic light. Whatcha wanna talk about.”

“Y’know, you wore the suit, too. ‘Least mine has pants.” Tim spoke, then immediately hunched away. Robin was a sore spot for Jason- Tim was stupid to bring it up. 

For some reason, Jason didn’t immediately pull a gun; he just cocked his head and laughed quietly. Tim straightened back up and tried to muster up a glare, but that just made Jason’s little laughs louder, “Ooh- baby bird’s got jokes,” he rolled his shoulders and offered a thing of fries from the bag, “want some fries, Tiny?”

Tim groaned; why did everyone make short jokes about him? He snatched the fries sharply in protest, “You were short too-”

“Yeah, then I took a dip in poison snot,” Jason cut him off, “Ya wanna do that too, short stack?”

Tim immediately jammed some fries in his mouth- he was incurably dumb. He’d managed to bring up Robin and the Lazarus Pit with Jason. He should hang up the cape, “You got any advice? As a former short king?” Honestly, he wished Jason would just shoot him now. There was something wrong with his brain on a fundamental level. He’d been hanging out with Bart and Kon way too much.

Jason tilted his head like he was buffering and inhaled deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm himself through sheer force of will, “Whatcha wanna know?”

Tim chewed his mouthful of potato slowly; he hadn’t thought this far ahead. What did he want to know from Jason? He could ask about crime-lording, but Jason would probably snitch to Dick, and then Bruce would lecture him for at least an hour. Oddly enough, there was only one safe topic he could ask about, and it would still likely result in him leaving with lead in his body that was not there before, “You got any, uhm, Robin-ly advice?” Lightning should strike him down.

Jason didn’t kill him, which was a plus; just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, which was objectively hilarious, but Tim would die if he laughed, so he just ate another fry, “Robin was a different kid,” he blew out smoke rings like the cool guys in movies, and if Tim wasn’t acutely afraid of lung cancer, he’d be tempted to try, “Dickwing use’ta say, “Robin is magic, you have to be brave for the magic to work.” I used to believe that shit.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Another cool ring of cigarette smoke floated out through the sky, “I stopped believin’ when I dug my way outta my grave.”

Noted. Tim cleared his throat; this was not a conversation he was equipped for, “Oh.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah- oh,” he took another deep drag of his cigarette, making Tim’s chest twinge, “The thing is- Robin will make you believe you can be- make you think you can be a better person.”

“Then why aren’t you better?” The words left his mouth without Tim’s consent, and his whole body tensed to jump, his fingers finding his grapple gun at his waist. 

Jason gave a wry smile and stubbed his spent cigarette on the gargoyle to his right, “Because Robin isn’t magic.”

[daydreamgoddess14]

Heatwave

Full Masterlist

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Syd, Carmy and a heatwave which threatens to tip things over the edge...

it's hot as balls basically everywhere I think atm? Anyway, it's hot in the UK so this popped into my head.

~~~~~

If you can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen. 

If you can't stand the heat… Get. Out. Of. The. Kitchen. 

Get. Out. Of. The. Kitchen.

Sydney was at least 96.8% certain that she was going to die in this kitchen today. Which, coincidentally, was the temperature outside. Inside, it was a cool 104°F at least . She didn't dare look at the room thermometer Marcus had brought in with him for fear that she'd crawl into the walk-in in tears and never come out. They'd put a rule on breakdowns in the walk-in. Only 2 allowed per week, and Richie had bagged both of them already thanks to Tiffany's engagement party. She was bracing herself for the pomme puree and the steam, bicep work out, and overall exertion it would inflict on her, when she felt a cool hand sweep under her braids and leave a damp washcloth behind. She couldn't stop the low moan that tumbled from her mouth, or the breathy,

"Fuck me."

"Too damn hot." 

"It wasn't an offer, Carmen." She tutted, rolling her eyes. 

"Obviously not if you're full naming me, Sydney." He teased. 

"Behind," she called, lugging the steaming pan of potatoes over to the sink. He followed with a strainer and took over. 

"Here let me," steam billowed up between them, obscuring her favorite view of his arms. She had a running total of how many times he stepped in to lift something she or Tina would have struggled with. She wondered vaguely whether he was the one doing it on purpose. The helping, the little quips, the overall being better . The tension had been simmering gently beneath them since the day after the soft open, probably before that if she really cared to admit it. He'd called them all in, apologized until there wasn't a dry eye in the house, and made it clear he'd spend as long as necessary making amends to each and every one of them. 

 

She'd walked out. 

 

He'd followed her out back and stood perfectly still while she shouted, screamed and cussed him out. Words that she'd probably never said aloud before were hurled at him with ease, and he took it all. She shouted until she was hoarse and exhausted, eyes streaming with tears and head pounding like his fists on the metal door the night before. When she paused to catch her breath, he'd moved into her space and put his hands on her shoulders. All out of words, she hit out physically, and he took it as she rained fairly useless and ineffectual punches onto his chest. If she'd had a right hook like Richie, he probably would have been far less accepting. Eventually, she succumbed to silence, and still, he stood there. He'd wrapped those damn arms around her even as she still fought against him, pushing her hands on him to try and move backwards. She gave way to indifference, arms limp at her sides until he'd whispered a heartbroken beg for forgiveness into her ear, and her resolve crumbled like dry bread dough. She accepted the apology but made it abundantly clear that forgiveness would have to be earned. He became more present and dedicated than she'd ever seen. Their working relationship, firstly, had blossomed because of it, easily followed by their friendship and now… well. If suggestive banter or innocent touches were Olympic team events, they were gold medalists. 

 

"Get some air, Syd." He suggested as the steam died away. He looked as bad as she felt, hair damp, and what looked like a permanent sheen of sweat coated his skin. 

"Is it any cooler out there?"

"No, but there's air?" She nodded and took the offer. They'd carved out a few meters of shade by snagging one of the old tablecloths on some rusty hooks and had moved a couple chairs out of the sun. 

"Too damn hot." She repeated his words back to him as he approached, taking the seat next to her. 

"Yeah. What're you thinking?"

"Really?" She opened one eye to look at him, "what's the coldest I can get the shower to go later." 

"Not cold enough."

"Heard, Chef. You?"

"What's the maximum fine for a health code violation." She looked confused, "naked cooking." Came the explanation. 

"Ok, one - gross, and two - last time I did it, I burned myself, so it's a no from me."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where'd you burn yourself?" He asked, turning the already considerable temperature up on their conversation once more. 

"Uhuh, you'll never know."

"Never? We'll see." She shook her head. She normally enjoyed the push and pull, the raising stakes of who gives in first and changes the subject when it gets too much. But this heatwave had been going on for days, and the combined heat is just too much. She's too damn hot to keep up a witty repartee and try to make him blush. Plus the heat only makes her think more of their sweat slicked bodies together. She found herself wondering more and more often how long they'd keep this up. What would be the thing that brought about change? Did it just disappear again as gradually as it arrived? Was it a simple one and done fuck it out of their system? Or did they carry on in this perpetual state of winding each other up and then, as she did now frequently (so, so frequently), bring herself back down. If she could do it without spontaneously combusting, she'd wonder if he also had to do that as often as she did. As if on command, an image of him with his hand on his cock pops into her brain before she can stop it, and she has to grit her teeth and press her thighs together to stop from making a sound. 

"It's too fucking hot." She grimaced and headed back inside before she could accidentally make eye contact and have him read her mind. 

 

The next day was just as bad. The sun was gone, but a sweaty, muggy heat remained and that was somehow worse. There was no breeze at all, no air, everything was hazy. They'd sent everyone home who didn’t need to be there, preferring to survive the evening on the bare minimum number of staff rather than have a packed out kitchen or front of house. Fak hovered, mumbling something about stressed pipework and expansion but Syd ignored him and refilled hers and Carmy's iced waters, hands brushing together as he eagerly took it from her. 

"Isn't there, like, a point where you can drink too much water and get ill?" She asked, downing half her cup in one go and leaving condensation drips to travel down her chin and neck. 

"Fuck knows. We need to 86 half the menu tonight."

"Heard, Chef. Already gone through it with Richie." She handed him the revised menu for the evening. 

"No swordfish?"

"Do you want to stand and sear it on the hotplate all night?" 

"Definitely not."

"I thought not. I swear it's so hot in here I think I could turn my back into a hotplate." She shook her head and mumbled, "fry a fucking egg on my ass." He laughed so hard he nearly threw his water across the room. 

"We should try that." He suggested once he'd recovered and received a glare in response. 

"I need air." She took her cup and refilled it again on the way out. In the tiny not-really-a-corridor between the pot wash and outside she heard a gurgling rumble near ground level. "The fuck?" She looked down to see a drip of water escaping from the pipe. "Fak?" There was no response initially, "yo, Neil, get your ass out here?" It happened just as Carmy comes to the door to ask what's wrong. The pipe groans and creaks, "hey, can you get Fak, I think there's -" water everywhere. Everywhere . It sprayed out from the pipe in a forceful gush and got her right in the face. "Holy fucking shit!" To his credit, Carmy shut the door behind him and grabbed at the coats on the hooks in front of them. Syd pulled off her apron and dropped to the floor, using it to press against the pipe to stem the flow of water while Carmy used the coats on the gap at the bottom of the door so it didn’t get into the kitchen. They were both soaked to the bone and the water just kept coming. 

"Fak, where the fuck are you?" Carmy shouted over the sound of the water, Syd tried to hold the gap in the pipe but it only made the water gush harder at odd angles. Finally, finally , Neil appeared by the back door, "shut the fucking water off, Fak!" He had to go round to the front and into the kitchen the long way to get to the stop tap. Syd let go of the pipe as soon as the water slowed to a trickle, and sat back on the wet floor with her back against the wall, trying to catch her breath, 

"Fuck. That was," there were no words, "... that was crazy. At least it was clean water." She lifted the edge of her soaked t-shirt to wipe her face. He wasn’t talking and she had no idea why - he wasn’t calling out for Fak or cursing the heat, the pipes, the pool of water they were literally sitting in. She looked up to see what was wrong and he just stared back at her. “What? What’s wrong - did you get hurt?” She moved forward on her knees quickly, half crawling towards him when Fak opened the kitchen door.

“I knew it, I knew the pipes wouldn’t take the heat,” he sighed, taking in the sight of both of them sitting in an inch of water and looking, presumably, like drowned vermin. “Woah, wet t-shirt competition!” He covered his eyes and turned away. Syd looked to find that her plain white t-shirt had clung to her body like a second skin, her non-padded black bra and dark pebbled nipples completely visible.

“Shit,” her arms covered her modesty but the damage was done. Fak left quickly, mumbling something about repairs before they opened and Syd stood as quickly as she could without moving her arms. Carmy cleared his throat,

“Sorry, that was really fucking inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think… didn’t realize. It’s fine. Should have left my apron on.”

“Yeah. You’re dripping,” he started to say,

“Excuse me?” Her eyes were like saucers, her voice was barely a squeak,

“You’re uhh, you’re dripping. You should change? You wanna uhh… you should use the office? I’ll start clearing up, Manny will be here in a few, and then I’ll get changed. You got spare clothes?”

“Yeah, yeah I think I’ve got some stuff to get by with.”

“Let me know if you need a shirt, think I’ve got a couple.”

“Thanks,” She hesitated, his shirt was also plastered to his skin, the faint outlines of more tattoos just visible through the transparent fabric. She swallowed and looked back up to eye level and he moved aside to let her through. She waded to the lockers and office without a backwards glance. The second the door was closed behind her, she was able to let out a shaking breath. Fuuuck. Assessing the damage, she peeled off her t-shirt and bra, and slid her Dickies down her legs. There wasn’t a single dry item of clothing that she could put back on so all she had was a clean cami crop top and another pair of Dickies. No underwear, no bra. Not even socks. She was just about dressed again when there was a faint knock on the door,

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d pulled her braids back into a high bun and reused her damp scarf to hold it up off her neck, the cami left her arms and shoulders exposed but she has her custom jacket hanging up to put on later to cover herself. The crop top left a line of her stomach uncovered. She wasn’t sure it had ever been seen in public before, and certainly not by Carmy. Learning from previous mistakes, she covered her breasts by crossing her arms - no bra meant she may as well still be wearing a soaked t-shirt for all the dignity it provided.

“You good?”

“Fine, not ideal but, y’know,” she shrugged. “Hey do you have any spare socks?”

“Yeah, think so. Shit, even your socks?”

“Literally every item of clothing I was wearing is just… fucking soaked.” The statement lingered in the air,

“You should hang them somewhere outside, let everything dry out.”

“Gonna do it now. Need some help with the clear up?”

“Nah, Manny’s got it and Fak’s repairing the pipe.”

“Will we have water for service?”

“He tells me so. We’ll see, it’s Fak.” She hummed in agreement and turned her back on him to grab her wet clothes from the floor. He stepped behind her and she felt a featherlight touch on her tattoo. “You have a tattoo?” He stated, tracing the outline and causing goosebumps to pick up across her shoulders and back. She tried to speak, but the words weren't forming. His other hand went to the bare skin on her back, knuckles grazing the dip of her spine. “You’ve cooled down.” She nodded, it’s all she can do. He was so close, she could feel the cool damp from his t-shirt and it was still so oppressively hot in the kitchen that she just wanted to lean back into him. Her breath was already ragged and he’d hardly laid a finger on her. The knuckles on her back turned to fingertips on her bare waist with the faintest, almost imperceptible grip. She felt his lips ghost over the back of her neck and then a tiny kiss directly on her tattoo. It felt like all of the heat from outside and from the kitchen had all pooled in her stomach. He held her a little tighter and her body flooded with longing, a sigh escaping from her mouth. The clothes dropped to the floor with a wet slap, and she turned in his arms. There was so little space between them, it was blindingly obvious that she didn’t have a bra on. “Fuck, Syd,” he rasped, his hand coming up to cup her breast over her t-shirt, the pad of his thumb skimmed her nipple. She arched into him, her hand was already bunching his t-shirt in her fist as he nudged her nose with his, their breath mingling. His eyes were locked on hers, waiting for her agreement,

“What the fuck happened, Fak! I thought you said the pipes would be good?” Richie’s voice boomed through the kitchen just as she’d leaned into him, and they sprang apart instantly.

“Yeah Richie, when it’s not plus 100, dude! Everything falls apart in that kinda heat.” Syd grabbed her clothes again and was out of the door before Carmy could say a word. She shoved her bare feet into her work crocs and darted outside, stepping over the rags thrown down to soak up some of the water. Manny had moved the coats they’d originally put down and hung them outside. Communal outerwear which had been there since spring turned to summer and people came to work in a coat but didn’t leave with one. She made a mental note to take them to get cleaned before anyone would need them again. 

“Any damage?” She asked Fak on her way past.

“Only the pipe, you guys managed to keep all the water to the pot wash. Nothing in the kitchen.”

“Great. We good for service?”

“Well see.”

“We gotta be, Fak.” She told him firmly.

“You got it Syd.” Outside, she flung her clothes over the back of one of the chairs and dragged a hand over her face. Everything falls apart in that kinda heat. She heard Fak’s words over and over. 

“Yo, you good?” Carmy asked as he stepped out and did the same thing with his clothes as she had. Of course the only sign of the mishap inside for him was his wet hair, while she looked like she’d gotten dressed in the dark and forgotten most of her clothes. 

“Yeah. Gotta get on with prep, we’re behind.”

“Heard, Chef. I’ll be right there.” He grabbed her wrist as she passed him and asked the question again without saying a word. She nodded and threw him a small smile.

“Later,” she assured him. “We’re all good, Chef.” She confirmed and headed inside.

 

It was a quiet night, for which Syd was eternally grateful. Just one full cover and turnaround on tables, the latest seated at 7.30pm and out by 9.30pm. The quiet night however, left plenty of room and time in the kitchen. Fewer people around had seemingly given Carmy a free pass to make his presence known around Syd. Any normal night and she’d barely have time to look at him other than when answering him. She’d suggested that she take the expo while he manned hers and Tina’s stations with Connor on his own and Daniela’s. 

“You sure?” He asked as she tied her apron,

“Yeah, I’m faster.” 

“No you’re not,” he scoffed.

“Yes, I am.”

“Not. What’s the real reason?” He asked quietly, looking around to see that they were as alone as they could be in the open kitchen.

“No reason.”

“Bullshit.” 

“You want the truth?” She asked.

“I do, say more please?”

“I need to not have your voice, like, talking me through it all fucking night. Ok?” He looked a little hurt and she realized how her comment had sounded, replaying it in her mind, “fuck, I didn’t mean…” she stepped closer and dropped her voice so that only he could hear her. “It can be distracting and I don’t need that distraction with half the kitchen staff out. Ok?” She’d moved over to the expo and started setting up while he was still processing her comment. 

“Distracting?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Shut up. We’re not talking about this, I said what I said and that’s it,” she waved her hand as if to brush the comment away and out of the conversation, “done.”

“We’re coming back to this conversation.”

“We’ll see about that. 10 minutes to open, Chefs. We good?”

“Yes, Chef.” came the slightly reduced chorus back. 

“Excellent, let’s get it done and get out of this furnace.” They moved quickly through the tables, Syd’s constant stream of information and requests flowed through the kitchen with ease. Hands were exactly where they needed to be, nothing needed to be refired and despite the heat, the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Despite his voice not being as much of a distraction, he still found other ways. Small touches to her back as he passed behind her, brushes of her hand when he brought her plates and every time he caught her eye she was sure she could burst into flames.

“More hands please and thank you.” She called out as Carmy brought three plates forward along with a refilled cup of iced water, “thank you, Chef.” She murmured, stealing a glance at him.

“Y’welcome, Chef.”

“Chefs, stay hydrated please, and do not sweat into my plates.” She reminded them.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Carm, you good?”

“Yes, Chef. Just trying not to be a distraction.” He smirked. 

“If only that were possible.” She retorted,

“Maybe some pointers?” She fought the grin pulling at the corner of her mouth but ignored him,

“Connor, your station done?”

“Sure is, Chef.” 

“Gorgeous, thank you.” The young chef beamed at her. 

“Ok, last table are ready for desserts and then we’re done, lizards.” Richie confirmed, Connor left his stations to cover the final desserts over on Marcus’ empty section while Syd went through the night's tickets and Carmy started clearing up. 

“So back to my being a distraction -” he started, she continued counting while he continued talking, “can we get into that, please?”

“Right now?” She carried on counting,

“I mean, later works for me?” he saw her hands falter on her count, she paused to remember where she was up to and then carried on,

“Yep, sounds good, I’ll cook.” She finished and clipped the tickets together, adding a sticky note to the top with the totals as Connor brought the final desserts over,

“Hands please, Richie,” she called out, wiping the plates. 

“No smudges.” She and Carmy both told him as he collected them. “Outside?” She asked, reaching for her nearly empty cup. “Connor, we’ll be back in 5. Take a break if you want.” She collected Carmy’s cup on the way past and refilled both of them. Outside, the heat was still fierce even in the twilight. “How is it no fucking cooler yet?”

“Better than in there.” He slumped into one of the chairs and lit a cigarette. “Good service.”

“Not bad, considering. Heat’s supposed to break tonight.” She muttered, looking up at the sky.

“Maybe it will.” He replies, looking at her.

“Maybe. I’ll go finish clean up.” She leaves him with the sun nearly fully set behind him. Connor, bless him, had nearly finished the basic clean down. Leftovers boxed up and labeled ready to go in the lowboys, surfaces cleaned and sanitized and the floors swept. It’s about all she’s willing to do tonight, if the heat breaks she’d be there early in the morning anyway to go through everything properly. She thanked Connor and sent him on his way, hearing him say goodbye to Carmy as they crossed paths in the pot wash. 

“Don’t forget your stuff.” He handed over her clothes as she took off and folded her jacket carefully. She stuffed her sun dried clothes into her bag while he shut off the lights, and she followed him out to his car. They drove in a comfortable and easy silence that didn’t call out to be filled. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d say anyway, there was too much of a sense of inevitability in the air. “How’s the new apartment?” He asked. They'd all helped her move in the week before to a tiny ("It's bijou, Richie!", "It's fuckin' tiny, Syd.") studio apartment closer to the restaurant.

“S’good, yeah. Still a bit basic, but I’ll get there.” 

“You’re dad missing you?”

“He says so, but I think he’s just happy he can watch as much Jeopardy as he wants and eat potatoes for every meal again.”

“Living the life.”

“He’s loving it. Considering I was out of the house probably 15 hours a day, I think it’s a stretch to say I cramped his style, but that's the angle he's going for.” She pointed out a parking spot which she knew wouldn't get ticketed, and he followed her up to the fourth floor. She could already feel her heart pounding in her throat, the heady combination of nerves, anticipation and wanting, but he seemed so calm. For someone usually so weighed down by the expectations of others and the stresses of the restaurant, he was effortlessly laid-back. He was approaching her within seconds of walking through the door, stepping right back into the same space he'd occupied in the office earlier in the day. He placed one hand on her jaw which she covered with her own, and one on her hip, softly stroking the bare skin there. 

"This ok?" He asked, tentative but firm. She could hear in his voice that he had no reservations about the radical change they were about to make to their friendship and fuck, the confidence was definitely something. 

"Yeah," she replied, trying to sound composed. "Yes." She repeated firmly, "yes." He guided her a step backwards and held her against the small table in her kitchen. She waited for what felt like an eternity as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and across her bottom lip, taking his time to really look at her. His eyes never left hers until he finally looked at her mouth. The hand on her hip moved around to her back, she still felt sticky with sweat and the temperature was only increasing with their proximity. He didn't seem to notice or care at all as he captured her lips in a kiss. She hadn't known what to do with her hands but they moved unconsciously up his biceps, tracing the line of muscle. She worked her fingers over the knots in his shoulders and tangled them in his hair. He growled against her, deepening the kiss and sliding his hand up her back under her t-shirt so he could draw her closer with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. The heat of his palm against the bare skin of her back drew a low moan from her, she broke the kiss for air so he moved to the column of her neck. He sucked at the soft skin at the hollow of her throat and licked the sheen of sweat. "God, I feel gross," she breathed a laugh. He ground his hips against hers as if wanting to show her that he didn't agree. The length of him pressed into her thigh was enough for her to buck against him. She busied her hands in pulling his damp t-shirt off and his fingers brushed the underside of her breast as he went to do the same thing, 

"May I?" He asked,

"Please, yes." She sighed, lifting her arms. He dipped his head to catch a nipple lightly between his teeth, "Oh f-fuck, Carm,” she moaned, “please don’t stop.” His kisses moved back up her neck, 

"I'm not gonna stop," he murmured, palming her breast, "not ever going to stop, baby." Her hips bucked against his again in a frantic attempt to find pressure, fiction, anything . 

"Carmy -" She whined, 

"Tell me what you want?" She groaned in frustration, coherent sentences the furthest thing from her mind - or capabilities - her hand moving to his waistband instead. He took her hands in his own, "how long have you wanted this?" She wrestled her hands back and worked on her own waistband instead, pushing her Dickies down over the curve of her ass.

"Too long," she perched on the table and pulled him closer, 

"Zero patience." He teased, 

"Fuck you." She retorted, kissing him along his collarbone, running her tongue over the new-to-her tattoos and tasting the same sticky saltiness that covered her own body. 

"Gross?"

"I don't care, we match," she laughed, reaching again for the button of his pants. She popped the button and stopped, "sure about this?"

He took his hands from her hips and cupped her face, brushing his nose against hers, "Absolutely fucking sure." She pushed his pants down over his hips and wrapped a hand around him, his jaw tightened as he jerked into her. "Fuck, Syd," He rasped. He reached behind her to where he'd thrown his bag onto the table, and dug through blindly until he'd found a condom. "You're so good for me." He kissed her softly, pushing into her slowly. The table groaned dangerously as he fucked her, his pace increasing. She pushed back against each thrust, matching his hungry pace. Their sweat-slicked bodies worked in symphony and it felt like Carmy was adapting in the moment to every catch of her breath or garbled, breathless moan. "That's it baby, I've got you." He grunted, leaving a bite mark on the soft flesh of her shoulder. The table rattled and Syd gripped his shoulders,

"Don't break my fucking table," she warned. He brought a hand down between them in reply and worked his thumb in circles on her clit. His hips snapped against hers and she could feel her legs tremble as he brought her over the edge with him, her name positively reverent on his lips. She fell limp against him with a choked sob. She let her forehead rest in the crook of his neck while he rubbed her hips where his hands had gripped her so tightly she was sure to have bruises. "That was… god, why the fuck did we wait so long?" She asked, moving to look at him. He laughed, kissing her damp forehead and tucking a couple of stray braids behind her ear. He pulled out carefully and discarded the condom. She stepped down gingerly from the table, trying to work out who had the more stable legs of the two. She swayed on the spot a little and immediately decided the table was doing better than she was. He handed her his t-shirt and she put it on despite the heat. "Now I definitely feel disgusting."

"You shower, I'll cook." He told her, opening the fridge, "uhh filled pasta and tomato sauce? Wait, is this Mikey's?" He opened the plastic container and sniffed the contents. 

"Yeah. I was fucking around with a roasted tomato and basil filling for the pasta using his recipe but it's not there yet so this was the leftover sauce I had." 

"You made it here, at home, just because you wanted to?" She took the container from him and put it next to the stovetop so that she could loop her arms around his waist. 

"Yeah, it's the first thing I made when I moved in." She kissed him lightly, "so I'm going to shower because I currently feel more sweat than human, then you can do the same? We can skip the tour - bed's over there." She nodded in the direction of her bed which took up most of the space in the small room. He stopped her from leaving with a searing kiss that left her leaning into him once again. "Hmm, I'll be back," she murmured, gathering the clothes they hadn't put back on and throwing them into her laundry basket. The cool shower felt like bliss after the heat and grime of the day, followed by the sweaty sex. Stomach rumbling, she hurried to switch with Carmy and plated the food while he showered. 

"You didn't give me a real answer before, when I asked how long?" He said once they were sat on her sofa with her bare legs in his lap, 

"I was busy," she grinned. "Honestly? Maybe straight away but everything was too chaotic to know for sure? And then that day I came back and there was tomato juice on the walls and the floors and just fucking… everywhere and you didn't care, you just looked at me. That's when I knew I was totally screwed." She stopped to inhale more of the rich pasta, "you?" 

"The day I met you."

 

The heatwave broke overnight with rain and thunderstorms, but all Syd cared about was the delicious warmth of Carmy between her legs. 

 

FIN

[undreaming-fanfiction]

(likely a modern AU so the timeline fits)

Eddie feels so very, very torn about the Hobbit movies. He loves the music and hums "the Misty Mountains Cold" before he can catch himself, but he not very silently screams about all the crap that was added for no reason and, the bad CGI? A travesty, your honor! He glares at the screen when Legolas appears and utters "where the fuck did you come from?", he loves the casting choice for Bilbo but absolutely roasts the idiotic way that the screenwriters butchered Bilbo's relationship with the dwarves and the way it evolved.

But the thing he never forgives those movies for is that unbelievably idiotic love triangle and the way it made others tear up when Eddie's soul temporarily left his body to punch Peter Jackson. Because it DOES. NOT. MAKE. SENSE. There was no development. The flirting was bad, trust him, he knows what good flirting looks like and this ain't it. Eddie hates it with passion, especially the scene that overshadows the incredibly powerful one with Thorin's death. He is PISSED. The scene is so so SO lazy and Thrandúil did not deserve this disrespect. Shit, even the weird added ginger elf Tauriel did not deserve it. Yes, we're talking this scene:

Eddie mocks the shit out of this. He gobbles up all the memes and there is a 50/50 chance in the months after he saw the fateful scene that his contempt for it would bubble up.

"Hey Eddie," asks Steve whe he sees Eddie between moving boxes when they finally find an apartment together . "Why aren't you packing?"

And Eddie, instead of saying "I'm taking a break," clutches his chest and chokes out, "because it was real, Steve!"

When Eddie goes to buy groceries and Steve unpacks them, he notices that Eddie bought two bags of potatoes instead of one. "Why did you get two?" he asks.

Eddie rummages through his pockets and produces the receipt. "Because the discount was real!" he says with a mock sob and points at the potatoes being 30% off.

And Steve is a patient man, he really is, but when Eddie tells him that the claws were real as a response to his question why is Eddie all scratched from their cat and refuses to elaborate, he threatens that if it doesn't stop being real, he's going to get a set of the Hobbit movie posters for his side of the bedroom and proudly display them.

Eddie bitches, moans, threatens, but eventually he moves past the idiotic love triangle.

When they lie together, falling asleep, Eddie mutters into Steve's neck "I can't believe that stupid threat worked on me. Why would you even thing about something like that?"

Steve turns to him with a deadpan expression and says:

"Because it was real."

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.2 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2: 2912

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part of the story! I'll do my best to update every 1-2 weeks and to keep things interesting. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome, and if anyone wants to be notified for updates, drop your name in the comments and I'll gladly tag your @.

Warning: Flashback, mentions of violence, blood, and sex toys (odd combo, I know)

2…9…1…2

Deft fingers punched in the numbers on the door’s keypad, a practiced crescendo of beeps and bops granting you access to your flat. Hesitant fingers that dropped to the handle, but refused to push forward, instead anchoring you there. Not yet, you mumbled, your eyes squeezing shut as soon as your forehead hit the frame.

Today has been a long day. So long that you barely had a moment to process the line of rapid escalations as it brought you to this very doorstep, with the ghost of your former scarf dangling from your neck. Some people would rather be glued to the little screens of their little phones than discipline their eight-year-old brats who, for some reason, thought playing tug of war with others’ scarves while they busted their gut to make a leaving to be of utmost entertainment.

Some people ought to keep their genes to themselves, you exasperated, untying the fabric from your neck and then balled it inside your bag, zipping the bunny across the seam.

The bunny…

Toji…

It was becoming a habit of yours to follow up his name with a sigh. Sometimes a sigh that meant “What am I going to do with you?” and others coming from a place of deep longing and frustration, meaning “What am I going to do without you?”

He said he’d be home after “snipping some loose ends,” which in his dictionary either referred to him breaking some poor woman’s heart, or quite literally stabbing some equally unfortunate man’s heart out of his body at his job’s demand. Depending on the plausibility of each scenario, you were given a minimum of four and a maximum of six hours to try and make sense of his actions and devise a plan to make this cohabitation work.

You licked your lips for the millionth time that day, gnawing at the chapped flesh with the edge of your teeth. No lip balm could aspire to salvage their sorry-ass state, aggravated by the low temperatures and honed by your continuous munching on them. You’d become so conscious of their existence, that it seemed as if you were trying hard to erase it before he had the chance to realize his goal of kissing them— even when that was a common goal shared by the both of you.

The taste of metal pooled in the hollow of your mouth, your teeth sinking a tad too deep. There wasn’t much reason to keep contemplating that which never happened and that which, perhaps, would never come. You wiped your shoes on the crooked doormat (was it always crooked?) and walked inside, your legs nearly giving out at the sight of two knees dangling from your beloved couch’s armrest.

“Woah, keep it down, won’t ya?”

None other than the voice of Toji reprimanded you as you screamed at the top of your lungs. His body was spilled across your couch, the expanse of muscles barely fitting upon the three azure-colored pillows. A soda —your soda— nested in his palm, while a bag of empty potato chips —your chips— lay on the kotatsu.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?” A trembling hand reached out to where your heart supposedly was, checking whether it was still in its place.

“Watching some travel show about Chikura,” he answered, unfazed and undisturbed. “You like abalone, right? Why don’t we-”

“I’m asking, how the fuck did you get in here?”

“Oh, that,” Toji smirked, lowering the TV’s volume just when the travel host was about to devour a platter full of steaming hot seafood—mouthwatering enough to divert your attention for a second. “Sayaka let me in.”

“Sa-yaka…?”

“Flat hair, narrow eyes— kinda like Izumi Pinko. Walks around with a cane twice her size. Rings a bell?”

“Talking about Ogawa-san?” you asked, a caricature of your crabby landlady taking shape before your very eyes. “She never lets in anyone without a key, though. Last time I forgot mine, she acted as if she didn’t know me and went right past. Had to phone a locksmith,” you sighed, murmuring under your breath about the extravagant sum of money you were forced to pay. “How did you do it? Convince her to open up?”

“How else ya think?” His chin rotated leisurely atop his knuckles.

“You can’t be serious! Y-you fucked her?” Your eyes went wide like saucers, the notion sounding both feasible and surreal.

His smirk sharpened into a sly grin as he stood up, a slight slouch on his shoulders carrying him to your eye level. You couldn’t exactly look away from this proximity, so you began quietly analyzing him. The tight-fitting black tee and baggy training pants that greatly accentuated his hips and shoulders; his work outfit. The overgrown hair that curtained the dark circles of his eyes; evidence of a sleepless night. The absence of scent, not even of dirt, sweat, or struggle. He must’ve actually been working on a bounty, you deduced, your final thought of rationale as he invaded the last bit of personal space you’d left.

“You really think the worst of me, huh?” His tongue circled his lips, prompting yours to do the same as you sheepishly shook your head, the sultry sound of his voice as hypnotizing as his hooded green eyes were.

“You think I go ‘round spreading the legs of everything that moves?” Toji asked again, his tone growing more condescending by the second. “ ‘fraid that ain’t the case, princess. I’m not into goodwill. Don’t do things without merit, either. She asked who I was, got all perky when I said I’m moving in, and then handed me these,” he paused, throwing a bundle of creased envelopes at your feet.

You kneeled awkwardly, seeking the sender’s origin in each logo seal. Water company. Electricity company. Phone company. Insurance company. Even the bills from that one debit card Hinata issued in your name in case of an emergency.

“Could say I paid my way in,” he scoffed, his eyes searching for an inkling of appreciation that he failed to find in your stubborn squint.

“I could’ve handled these myself.”

“Thought you’d say this, that’s why I saved this one,” he tossed another, smaller yellow-tinted paper onto the pile. “Eviction notice. My, you have it quite hard, don’tcha?”

“I don’t need classes on financial handling from someone whose living conditions are entirely dependent on ‘the bimbo of the week’,” you snapped, rising back to your feet with the bills in hand.

Maybe things were a bit tighter these past few months than you’d accounted for, but you weren’t like him. Sooner or later, you paid all expenses through sheer work and effort— a concept foreign to him, who’d rather be thrown into the streets than save a dime.

You weren’t like Toji. Not one bit. You knew that if he hadn’t run into your landlady, you would have definitely paid all your debts off in a month’s time or two, even if that meant devolving your breakfast’s nutritional value to that of instant ramen. You could take care of yourself, just like you’d done for 14 years now. He had no right to interfere because, come next month, you’d—

But the overdue deadlines at the top of each paper spoke louder than your inner thoughts and bravado did. The next month would never come for you. Not in this house, at least.

Defeated, you unfolded the paper, straightening the creases your fingernails had helped create. You hated feeling this way— indebted. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into just another transactional relationship with an expiration date dependent on the other’s wage.

“Thank you, and,” you mumbled, your stare hiking up his body and stopping at his chest —right about where the difference in your height manifested— “….sorry, I guess. Just thought that with the way you look, and all that-”

“The way I look…?” A winsome smile tugged at his dimples, his left hand weaving through his hair as if he were oblivious to how effortlessly attractive he appeared in his work clothes, every single crevice of his body visible under the little piece of fabric.

“N-never mind.” You tore your eyes away, cheeks flushing bright red at thoughts a friend shouldn’t be having. “How was work?”

“Pretty dead,” he shrugged, using the same hand to rub some of the tension around the crook of his neck. “Don’t see a real challenge rising until that Gojo kid hatches from his egg. Rest die like flies.”

As a regular person with about an average percentage of cursed energy running through your system, you had little understanding of the mystical world of Jujutsu and its sorcerers, all the information you had acquired being bits and pieces that Toji had shared with you over the years. He never went into too much detail about his job but never hid anything either. He killed sorcerers with the same ease he spread butter on his bread.

You really didn’t understand much, and perhaps the keywords “kills for a living” ought to ring an alarm or two, but an outsider like you who didn’t abide by their rules had no right judging those who broke them. Besides, with the way his family had disposed of him as if he were a chewed piece of gum stuck on the back of their sole, things weren’t as black and white as one would assume.

“Gojo, you say,” the name sounding awfully familiar on your tongue. “Is that one of the three big clans?”

Toji nodded, his arms folding over his chest. “Special grade when he ain’t grown any pubes yet,” he scoffed, voice twisting in an unnatural way that could have tricked you into thinking he was jealous of the young boy.

“Are you gonna kill him?”

His brows knitted together, clearly not expecting such bluntness. “Question is, can I? Answer being, for the right price,” the frown he wore subdued into a crooked smile. “maybe. Kid should fetch one good wad of cash. I’m sure many want the six eyes out of the picture.”

Six eyes?

“Just make sure you save some of it,” you mindlessly said, eyes dancing around the room for the first time since you’d entered the house.

There were no real signs of his presence. The duffel bag seemed to be nowhere in sight either. Only his shoes were left by the door right next to yours, a sign you’d completely missed upon entering.

“What happened to your things, by the way? Don’t see ‘em.”

“Took the liberty of sorting them out,” Toji said. “You had a lot more empty space than you made it sound earlier.”

Somehow that statement terrified you— not because you were some overbearing control freak who didn’t want others interfering with their stuff, but because you feared the misplaced items he might have found casually lying around, providing him with all the excuse he needed to tease you to an excruciatingly slow and shameful death.

You went on a parade through the rooms, Toji following in your steps like a well-trained puppy, letting you freely inspect the new “changes”.

In the living room, you spotted a pair of dumbbells lying by the window, heavy enough that when you tried to pick one of them up, it resulted in one loud, unintentional shriek as your feet were nearly crushed, much to Toji’s vile amusement. Then in the bathroom, you found a second toothbrush that shared the exact same color yours did, along with a black fuzzy towel and a men’s deodorant that was missing its lid. You’d have to get another cup for his toothbrush, you noted, and moved along, eventually making it to your apartment’s sole bedroom.

“Where are your clothes?” you asked, Toji nodding in your closet’s direction.

You opened the first door, finding a series of dark-colored shirts, sweaters, and cardigans hanging from the previously vacant racks. You didn’t wear much color yourself, but when comparing the disparity between his almost exclusively black side of the space and the creamier pastels that predominated yours, the clash in taste was indisputable.

Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through his clothes, stopping at the dark blue parka you’d gotten him for his 21st birthday. He wasn’t the type to keep gifts from women, but seeing he’d preserved yours in mint condition filled you with a strange sense of pride.

“Not bad,” you exclaimed, satisfied with how aptly his clothes were displayed until a new worry surfaced. “What about your underwear?”

He glanced toward the bottom drawer, his instep gently kicking against it. You weren’t too sure if that was necessary, and under different circumstances, you’d rather avoid such overt embarrassment, but this was your house first and foremost. Your closet, your drawer, and—

“The bottom drawer…?” The realization struck like a ton of bricks, your pupils widening and then trembling as a breath hitched up your throat, remaining there.

The bottom drawer is where you kept it, perhaps the only thing in this entire household that you’d rather he didn’t see, at the cost of your own life, even. A rabbit, whose little ears tapped in excitement every time it saw you. A rabbit vastly different from the ones that hopped around happily in fields or the one that was weaved through the zipper of your handbag. A rabbit that had kept you company in his place many nights and knew the sound of his name better than Toji himself did.

Sinking to your knees, you felt his shadow loom over you like the shadow of imminent death. You let go of that breath and yanked the drawer open, eyes squinting at the sight of neatly stacked black boxers, their size big enough to make you arch a brow, yet not big enough to completely conceal 6 inches of hot pink. You were safe.

“Looking for this?” A light buzz rang in your ear, your head tilting to meet Toji’s namesake.

“G-give it back!” You dived forward, gracelessly collapsing at his feet when he pulled it out of reach.

“Come and get it,” Toji retorted, wiggling it before your very eyes.

Piecing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you pounced at him, fingers locking around the silicone and his hand, while he refused to surrender, his thrilled expression revealing just how much he enjoyed the demand in your tone as you bossed him into handing back the vibrator.

“What will I get in return?”

“Wha— why would you get anything?” You gritted your teeth, stumbling forward as he dragged you to him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his forefinger playfully. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. If ya really want it, better compensate me first. Oh, look, it has multiple speeds, huh….” he said semi-impressed, revving up the rabbit’s switch to its second and third speeds.

“…What do you want?” You practically begged, seeking a way out of this humiliation.

“Now we talking,” Toji smirked, barely restraining himself from ruffling the hair of the ferocious, albeit cute, beast that attacked him. “2912. What do the numbers mean? Tried your birthday first, but seems like you do have a few brain cells in there,” he tapped at your temple with his free hand, frustration pooling in your eyes. “Then your mom’s death anniversary, your sis’ birthday, that brat’s too— even mine, but no good.

“So, what’s 2912 to you? Indulge me, and I’ll let you have it.”

2912, or more accurately, 29/12. It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t remember. After all, it wasn’t an important date, just another winter’s day from many, many years ago. A day that was all but erased under the thick blanket of snow as it engulfed your tender memories.

A heavy sigh parted your lips, and at that moment, you knew you’d already lost.

“You really wanna know?”

It was the 27th of December.

The 27th morning of a month whose sole notable event was the week-long blizzard that’d condemned the entire nation to a period of absolute and unfaltering inertia. Well, as unfaltering as the in-between downpours let it be, snow washing over the streets in a diluted mixture of ice and mud every two days— streets turning into a dangerous minefield, and hospital beds quickly filling up with broken-boned smarty pants who thought wandering out and about in the heart of winter would be as inconsequential as those dull days were.

You were one of those idiots. Not quite, but you were on your way to join their ranks, every step you took across the frozen pavements of Tokyo threatening to leave you with a bad case of a sprained ankle, or worse, a cracked skull. You regretted wearing those worn-out boots today of all days, but then again, your wardrobe choices were limited to whatever clothing you’d grown out of, and the clothes your mother left behind.

This old suede pair was hers, too. A gift from back when your house was still open to crowds and birthday parties— when it wasn’t just an empty carcass of termite-eaten joists and web-infested corners that could barely welcome, let alone host, the final of its residents: yourself.

Returning to the reason why you’d chosen today as the day to stride across Shibuya —a thermos of soothing Butajiru soup gripped tightly between your mitten-clad palms and a backpack full of advertising fliers for your afternoon job attached to your back— and consequentially, the reason why you sported your mother’s beloved shoes: you had a job interview. Your first non-canceled interview in over two months since your personal inertia began when you were suddenly and unjustifiably laid off.

Those were tough times. The entire country was dipped in despair over the biggest economic recession they’d known. Left and right, people had their jobs snatched from within their grasp in the name of meek excuses such as cost reduction, or merging and buyouts, or even staff redundancy, and who could blame those small enterprise owners, really?

In any case, the cost of running your previous employer’s rathole of a convenience store might have been reduced, but your living expenses weren’t, and the supplementary funds the state provided were running dry. No one wanted to hire an inexperienced, uninsured high schooler. It was too much of a gamble, especially when the contenders were overqualified college graduates desperate enough to work menial jobs for the same breadcrumbs a part-timer would.

You were at your wit’s end. Out of luck and starved for something other than vending machine onigiri. Thirsty for a life you’d probably never be able to obtain. But today wasn’t about wallowing in self-pity. No, today was the day you’d take your first step toward normality and dignity. Today, you marched proudly in your mother’s most prized possession, and today you felt her comforting scent linger in the breeze, giving you the much-needed push to achieve what you’d set out to do.

Live. That was the final request that left her lips, and that was exactly what you were planning to do. You’d live. No matter what, against all odds, you would live.

The headlights at the bustling intersection shone a brilliant green as the herd of sharply dressed businessmen and casually dressed students on their day off pushed forward like a troop of toy soldiers, sweeping you past Shibuya River, where the crystallized waters from below its bridge stilled your grimacing reflection.

It’d been so long since the last time you’d genuinely smiled that your facial muscles barely remembered how to. It looked awkward and forced. Foreign. You’d practiced your introduction days ahead, but that damn smile stood in the way. If only there was a “smiles for dummies” playbook, though you doubted it’d help. Those without a reason to smile could only second-guess the happiness of those who were blessed with it.

As if to further test your theory, today’s misfortune came pedaling right in your direction, a hasty biker knocking the thermos off your hands and onto the water with a faint “sorry” echoing in his stead. You ducked over the handrail, spotting the silver shine a couple of meters away from the river’s brink. You sighed in relief, grateful that the impact hadn’t shattered the ice and that you still had about 45 minutes to catch your interview— more than enough time for you to carry out your flask’s impromptu rescue operation.

You walked over to the bridge’s sideline, where, in place of stairs, an overgrown cherry tree cast its shadow. This was far from sensible, but the cliff wasn’t steep enough to dissuade you. You looped your scarf around a leaning branch and began your descent, the non-existent friction between your tattered soles and the slippery cement sending you to meet your maker as you tumbled down the slope and hit the ground. Shit.

Once you were done lamenting your sheer idiocy, your faulty shoes, the tree branch, the weather forecast, and every Shinto deity’s name you could remember off the top of your head, you pushed yourself onto your knees, carefully rotating each ankle around itself. Not broken. Thank those aforementioned gods you cursed, or else you’d never be able to afford the medical bills.

You shook the snow off your clothes and stood up, stretching both arms over your head, only to realize your blunder had become a lonesome spectator’s object of amusement. The man —assuming that the creature behind you was a man and not some wild beast with the way his jacket fluffed over his skull— was bent in half, knees to his chest, and arms coiled around, the sole distinctive trait that of his sparkling green eyes zeroing in on your plainer orbs.

You could have sworn you heard a chuckle, too, but you weren’t about to start a fight with some unhinged bum at the bottom of a bridge— not when you were one missed bill away from sharing his fate.

Deciding to temporarily forsake his presence, you located the now broken branch and attempted to fish your bottle out, moving as close to the ice as you could. Desperate lunges pushed the thermos further in, your hold on the wood relaxing with each failed attempt until you barely had a grip.

“Excuse me!” you turned at your last resort. “Hi, um… could you please help me out here? I dropped this into the water, and it’s really important I get it back, but my arms can’t reach and the ice is so thin and slippery I just might fall.”

An uncomfortable chuckle failed to appease its tough crowd, with the man remaining lost in his thoughts, his eyes blinking slower than traffic lights during rush hours. It seemed like you’d found the worst person to exercise your communication skills with.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to blink in surprise, your jaw dropping at the man’s barking. You were too shocked to be offended and too offended to question if it was you he addressed, but his next sentence left no real room for misunderstanding.

“I said, shut the fuck up and take it elsewhere. You were the one who dropped it. If it was that important to you, then shoulda taken better care of it instead of avalanching your way down here and disturbing my peace.”

Clapping your hands over your agape mouth, you muttered an apology and faced away from him, coming to your senses a minute later when you realized you weren’t in the wrong. Sure, he could be dealing with some lachrymose life-shattering situation you knew nothing about, but that wasn’t an excuse for him to act like a complete jerk to a fellow stranger in need.

You weren’t sure why you held back from flipping him off. Maybe you’d accepted that dealing with douchebags was going to become part of your new reality as a service worker, or maybe it was because you really didn’t want any trouble with a guy who looked this intimidating even while seated. Either way, you whipped out your trusty branch again and neared the brink, this time using it as a cane to help you tread the frozen waters and snatch your thermos.

You didn’t even get a chance at a victorious cheer when you felt the ice shatter beneath your feet, eager to swallow you into the depths of its bottomless abyss. Or that’s what would have happened if the river didn’t cap at 2 meters, and if a hand didn’t yank you by the scruff of your neck, hurling you back to the shore as if you weighed no more than a snowflake.

“The hell you think you are doing? Got a death wish or something?” the brass voice of your savior accused, belonging to a much more pleasant and youthful face than one would have expected.

The boy was more or less your age, about a head taller with broad shoulders and a toned physique his baggy clothes undermined— much stronger than your average high-schooler, judging by the sheer strength he’d flung your body with. Messy raven black hair rained down to his ears, sloppily chopped into shape by their owner himself. Eyes as green as a thousand springs gone by, and as fiery as the blazing fury scorching them. The only discord in his features was that of a scar on the right side of his lips, begrudgingly moving with each profanity he spat.

Your second apology came as a knee-jerk reaction to his outburst, encouraged by the temporal trance his good looks had subjected you to. You wouldn’t say you had a type, and even if you did, you doubted that a no-good, rude bridge inhabitant was it. However, the only way for you to tear your gaze off of him was to physically force yourself away. The guy murmured something under his breath and moved back to his original spot, arms dangling over his spread thighs.

You were unsure of what to do. The time for your interview was closing in, and no one guaranteed he wouldn’t rip the vocal cords off your throat if you tried to verbally thank him. You had a very bad feeling about this guy, and perhaps you should have listened to your gut rather than nullifying the distance with a peace offering.

“Here,” you prodded a spare cup of soup into the empty space between you.

He arched a brow at your gesture, his irritation gradually melting into curiosity and then acceptance as he brought the cup to his lips and took a hesitant sip.

“Hmm,” he hummed, gulping down some more after he’d made sure you weren’t trying to poison him.

You expected something else to follow, but it seemed like his outburst exhausted his vocabulary. You could always ask what he thought of it, but the thought alone was as scary as going for another suicide dive. So you said nothing, and he did the same. Just two strangers who barely tolerated each other sharing a moment of silence in the snowy landscape.

A short while later, the boy shoved the cup toward you and dug his hand in his jacket’s front pocket, dropping about six crumpled ten-thousand yen bills at your feet.

“For the soup,” he explained as if the notion of spending such an extravagant sum on half a cup of pork loin soup made sense.

“Are you outta your mind?” You pushed the bills back at him, lest your greed take over. “How much do you think this cost to make?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, no real hurry to reclaim his cash.

Your initial impression was completely false. No bum would ever wave ten-thousand bills around as if they were nothing. No, this guy ought to at least be some troubled conglomerate heir that’d run away from his five-bedroom mansion.

“I’m sure you don’t know how dangerous this neighborhood is,” you said, placing your hand against your heart. “But as a born and raised local, allow me to say that if you keep flaunting wads of cash in people’s faces so recklessly, it won’t be long before you get mugged. It’s your lucky day you ran into me and not some sleazy money grabber, but trust me, not every day’s lucky, and not everyone’s as nice.”

Something about what you said must have resonated with him, considering his frown cracked into a simper.

“I’d like to see them try,” he spoke in a cocky tone that reeked of confidence. “How much for seconds then?”

“Not for sale,” you answered, throwing the thermos inside your backpack.

His weight shifted in your direction, chin balancing against his elbow. “Why not?”

“You see, I’m on my way to a job interview. Figured if I don’t cut it, then the soup will,” quickly adding, “It’s my trump card.”

“What a dumb plan,” he sneered. “If ya wanna bribe someone, better make an offer they can’t refuse. Couple of these work like a charm.”

He waved the money again, successfully drawing your interest when you noticed tiny splotches of red on one of the bills. Blood.

Picking up on the change in your expression, he hurriedly stuffed the cash inside his pocket, his thumbs sticking out in a relaxed grip so as to hide his discomfort. The air grew heavy once more, albeit for a different reason.

Every guess you’d made regarding this guy’s identity clashed with the next one. He was rude, but he’d jumped to your rescue. He looked unkempt yet strikingly handsome. He’d taken refuge under a bridge but was damn loaded. A walking (more like seated) contradiction of a man that intrigued you in more ways than he repulsed you.

“So, what are you doing out here? Did you also fall from up there?” You chuckled nervously while pointing upward.

He smiled.

“That’s a pretty old-school pickup line, if ya ask me.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Your chest pounded against your fleece jacket, hands quick to dispute him. “Did something happen? Why did you end up here?”

He shook his head.

“Did you run away from home?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you get into a fight with someone?”

He thought about shaking his head a third time, but instead, he opted for a groan and hissed about how he should have let you drown.

Your tongue embarrassed you yet again, as you mumbled an apology and cowered in your corner. For some reason, you couldn’t stop apologizing to him, and if that was enough to frustrate you, then it was definitely enough to annoy him. Maybe the time to leave had come. You’d done your part in thanking him, and it was really none of your business to pry into his sad character backstory.

“Well then. It was nice knowing you, and all. Hope you have a Happy New Year’s and a nice life, and let’s never see each other again for as long as we-”

“What if I told you I just killed someone?”

The blood in your veins froze for a reason separate from the cold. You were left staring at him with wide-open eyes and a wide-open mouth that refused to form anything other than a soundless “What?!”

“Thought so,” he scoffed as if he expected the outcome, sorrow lingering in his voice. “Go away if ya don’t wanna end up the same way. I’m still getting the hang of it, and I’m afraid it’d hurt more than drowning.”

But you didn’t leave. Even when that little voice of reason thrashed and begged for you to seize the opportunity and get the fuck away from this place, your legs refused to take another step. Instead, you settled back upon the snowy blanket and stilled your gaze on his face, watching a glimmer of something tune in the green of his eyes.

“W-Who was it?” You feigned calmness.

“Does it matter?” he shrugged.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it really matter?” he sighed, reconsidering his answer. “Dunno. Money, I guess. Not as if I had a personal grudge or anything. Didn’t even know the dude up until three days ago. Took him out with a single bullet to his brain. T’was instant since he didn’t move. Painless, too.” He tried to humanize his actions.

You weren’t entirely sold on his story, but on the off chance he was telling the truth, that made him a murderer and you a witness to his crime. Worse, if you didn’t rat on him, it made you an accomplice, and as far as you were concerned, neither was less illegal than the other.

Your hands cupped your mouth completely as you pretended to blow hot air, the reality being that you didn’t want to spew anything too backhanded before thinking things through. Oddly, it all made sense. The reason he sat down there like a puppy kicked by his owners. His devil-may-care attitude and rude comments that meant to throw you off. The blood on the bills and the stain on the hem of his jacket that you’d previously overlooked.

That was all the incriminating evidence one needed to possibly sentence him, and yet you sensed no real danger in his presence. Only a deep sadness that stemmed from his lifeless eyes, making you believe that his so-called victim was none other than himself. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in God knows how long, the light in his eyes reduced to a murky shade of jade now that everything was laid bare.

There was so much you didn’t know about this boy, his name included. But you knew that look of despair all too well. If it was because of money, then maybe, just this once, you wouldn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“How much did you make?” You lowered your palms.

Your question surprised him more than he thought possible, and his stupefied expression was a telltale sign of that. He flipped both pockets inside out and let the money fall onto the snow, revealing twice the amount he’d held before— a total of 120.000 yen.

“Minus a grand. Felt hungry after,” he admitted.

“Must be nice… With that amount of money, I could have rice to last me until the end of the year.”

“You’d kill for rice…?”

Glancing at his face, you couldn’t help yourself from snorting. You were both too deep inside the twilight zone to be questioning each other’s motives.

“Why act surprised? People like us do all sorts of things to get out of our predicaments, don’t we?” you asked, deciding there were more things you had in common than things that divided you. “Is ‘just money’ a better reason than rice?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “But if I were you, I’d get myself a pair of boots that ain’t a death trap of its own. Gotta be a special kind of idiot to wear crappy shoes in the snow.”

“These were my mother’s!” you objected, and he smirked. “What about you? Where do you plan on spending all that money?”

“Roppongi probably. Or Kabukicho. Heard the right price fetches you the right type of fun there.”

He couldn’t be serious. Those were two of the most renowned bad districts in the history of bad districts. Drugs, gambling, prostitution— you name it.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than you,” he childishly retorted.

“What’s your name?”

“So you can snitch?” His tongue wet the scar below his bottom lip. “Toji.”

“Last name?”

He contemplated his answer for a bit before proudly stating that he didn’t have one —that he didn’t need one— and then he asked you the same.

“Y/N.” You smiled faintly. “I do have a last name, but doubt the one who gave it wants me to have it. Would’ve asked it back if it had any real value.”

“So we are two fuck-ups,” he— Toji, declared.

“I suppose we are.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the kind that wasn’t heard but felt through the eyes of two kindred spirits entirely content with each other’s presence. Ever since your mother passed, you lived in a sphere separate from other people. Your classmates and those who tried to be your friends could afford the luxury of sharing takoyaki on a school day and going karaoke singing the next. They could attend field trips and leave memories on a string of Polaroid frames.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. There wasn’t a single moment in your life when you hadn’t thought about the cost of milk and the value of one-plus-one deals you convinced yourself you didn’t need. Such were the concerns you had at seventeen. Not boys, no friendships, no university entrance exams, no nothing. You couldn’t afford the price tag of a dream, let alone a tomorrow. You lived for today and for making ends meet, so how could someone like you ever aspire to be understood? How could you ever view yourself as something other than the zeros at the bottom of your meager paycheck?

Your self-exile had no room for others, yet somehow, this foul-mouthed stranger had barged his way in and given you a moment that you couldn’t price. A moment that neither loan sharks nor the bank could ever steal. A moment of your youth.

The thick fingers of a calloused hand came to tap at your knee softly, making you wonder whether you’d missed something during your short period of contemplation.

“When’s the interview?” Toji asked.

“Uhm.” You rolled your sleeve to check your watch. “Ten minutes? There’s still time; the place’s right around the corner.”

“Somethin’ tells me getting your ass over there will take longer than that.” Suddenly, the hand that was on your leg hovered above your head, prompting you to grab it as Toji towered over you. “Let’s go.”

“You coming with?”

“You think I’d rather sit down here like some bridge troll that reels in defenseless damsels in distress?”

You were tempted to answer “yes” to see his reaction, but he resumed talking before you could utter a word. “Won’t say it again. Let’s go.”

And with that, you followed Toji to the other end of the bridge, where the stairs you previously failed to locate mocked you with every little squeak your heels produced, until you stood back at the top of civilization, finding it, unsurprisingly, the same as you’d left it. Thoroughly white and eerily quiet.

Just as you thought your ways would part, Toji took your hand in his rather forcefully and picked up a steady gait that you were made to keep up with, your shoes leaving deep imprints in the snow.

He held your hand all the way to the diner, and although you were truly curious as to why he did that, you didn’t dare ask. You walked side by side in silence, occasional fleeting gazes catching his warm breath clashing with the cold. It was then that you realized how warm his palm felt, despite it being all bare. Warm, strong, and certain. So this is what holding a guy’s hand feels like, you giddily mused.

By the time you reached the front door, you were more reluctant to let go than you’d been to grab his hand, thinking that this was the first and last time the two of you were saying goodbye. Sweat made your fingers slippery. You were anxious. You slid your mittens off your fingers and, on a whim, pressed them tight against his palms, making him the recipient of the first gift you’d ever given. He shot the pink-colored wool a funny look —maybe because the prospect of him accepting such a girly-looking accessory puzzled him— and then lingered for a moment or two before he turned around and waved at you over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” You asked when the distance between you began to increase.

“You won’t need it,” you heard him say. “The soup will do.”

And with those final words exchanged, you traded the frigid cold for the diner’s artificial heat and the presence of a prospective friend for that of your boss-to-be.

Just like Toji predicted, you didn’t need luck, and you didn’t need that lukewarm soup either. The man hired you almost as fast as he saw you, sternly announcing that you start come Monday. You thanked him from the bottom of your heart and ran back outside, searching through the various white-painted buildings for that stubborn hint of black you’d not too long ago parted with— which you quickly spotted a couple of alleyways ahead.

“I got the job! You hear me, Toji?” You yelled in utter glee, sensibility alone keeping you from springing upward like a jack-in-the-box. “I’m not a fuck-up anymore; I got it! I got the job!”

You weren’t even sure whether that shadow really belonged to him and whether he’d actually made sense of all your frantic cries, but maybe if you’d hushed a little, then you could have heard a distant voice chiming, “I knew you would.”

It was the 27th of December when we first met, but it was on the 29th that I fell in love with you— the scruffy boy with the snow-laced hair and emptied pockets who ordered the cheapest fries off the menu as my company’s fee.

You had your answer locked and loaded— a trigger waiting to be pulled. A clear shot. One bullet was all it’d take to end it. One word, and the farce you called friendship would fizzle right then and there. A sadistic impulse uncoiled deep within your stomach, hitching up your throat like a vile serpent of temptation spurring your chaste tongue to commit the greatest sin imaginable.

I hate being your friend. I don’t want to do this anymore. Do you have any idea how hard it is?

All synonyms for the same emotion. A gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, and above all, self-destructive unrequited love that made your heart clench at the mere sight of him, pound at the sound of his voice, and hammer at the ghost of his touch. If you could reach deep within your chest and cut that useless thing off the strings that held it in its cavity, you certainly would. You’d hand it over to him and gladly watch him stomp on it with the biggest smile contorting the final expression on your face. You wanted to rid yourself of this pointless emotion, but you knew very well that to destroy yourself meant to destroy him.

The 18-year-old Toji that held your hand on a cold winter’s day as if it were the most precious thing to him. The 20-year-old Toji that came along to meet the sister and nephew you didn’t know you had. The 22-year-old Toji that said he was proud of you when you paid off your parents’ house’s mortgage. The 24-year-old Toji that came to your graduation from state college with blood-stained lilies in his hand, again letting slip how proud he was. The 26-year-old Toji that didn’t hesitate to knock the teeth right out of a handsy prick’s jaw, spending his first and last night in a holding cell. The Toji from the last ten years of your life that never strayed too far away from your sight and always managed to return in time for lunch.

Standing in front of the 28-year-old Toji, you felt more apologetic than ever, wishing that you wouldn’t have let your love for him fester into something so selfish and consuming. Because if Toji left, then you’d still have your sister and her family, but if you left, Toji would have none.

And that was why you could never tell him what that day meant. It was impossible to speak of it with any less fondness than the one depicted in your memories, and as dense as Toji could be at times, he was no idiot. So rather than giving him the answer he thought himself to seek, you retracted your hand and took a step back, forcing the meekest smile your guilty conscience could muster.

“How about an offer you’d never refuse?”

tags: @absoluteindulgence

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mom- Tom Riddle x Beater!Buff! reader - blurb

=

"This is unfair."

Tom muttered as he gazed at his girlfriend's well-built back. You laughed aloud, looking at him over your shoulder, putting your quidditch uniform on as he stared at your muscles. "why?" you teased, strolling towards him, making a show of your big arms as you fit on your arm guards, your fingers flexing as you tightened the straps and made sure everything fit right.

"becuase-you-me-" Tom stuttered, something he only did when he was really flustered, usually when he saw your body working around and watched your muscles work under your skin. you laughed, in good nature, and leaned down from where he was sitting on your bed and kissing his flushed cheek.

"you're adorable," you teased, knowing he hated being called that and he smacked your stomach-only to wince silently as you rolled your eyes and turned away. It was no secret you were buff as fuck thanks to your beater position on the Hufflepuff quidditch team, and Tom...was well...lanky, he had very fast metabolism and could eat as much as you did and never gain weight-he burned everything faster than it could stay in his body to build fat or muscle.

It was obvious to say that you were a bit of an odd pair, the buff Hufflepuff with the lanky Slytherin, your favorite thing being to just...scoop him up since he was hardly 120 pounds.

"you going to the game?" you asked and Tom made a face. he hated quidditch. "and be surrounded by screaming teenagers with no sense of composure? I'll hole up in the library thanks." Tom said with a roll of his eyes and you rolled your eyes back at him.

"nerd." you snipped teasingly and he bit back with a snark of his own. "bitch." he said with a snarl-like grin, his ears turning pink when you pinched his scrunched nose and kissed his cheek again. He yelped as you suddenly picked him up, slinging him over your shoulder. "lets go babe!" you said with a cheer, ready to carry him to the game to make him watch you play against Gryffindor.

"(y/n)!!! put me down! I'm not a sack of potatoes!" Tom yelled, his face bright red and upper body hanging over your shoulder as you picked up your game bag and broom before carrying him out of your room with a grin.

"(y/n)!!!!!!!"

-end-

[willalove75]

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 5

Summary: You have a relaxing weekend with your daughter before your first full week of work begins - and it begins with a surprise visitor and a spontaneous conversation with your new boss.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: fluff, angst if you squint, plot development

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 5! In reference to the gif: if you know. You know. BECSPK gang 4 lyfeee💕 (Although my go-to is egg whites and bacon on a seedless🤤)

I want to SO apologize for not updating this fic in MONTHS! For those of you who haven't seen my Alcina's New Maid update (or my Tumblr post update) the reason for my lack of writing has been because I'm pregnant! I'm officially 20 weeks (halfway! WOO!) and have been trying to get myself back into a regular writing schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!

Ik slow burns can be boring and I'm trying my hardest to keep it entertaining while also not rushing too much!! I have a LOT planned for this fic and I'm excited to get into the meat and potatoes of it!

Gif source

Saturday mornings are your favorite. They're usually relatively quiet, not a lot goes on and you get to spend some lazy quality time with Emma. Just as you're clipping her into her booster seat your phone dings with a text message.

Open the door, bitch

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the door and open it to find your sister, Sam, standing in front of you with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Finally!" She says as she walks into the apartment.

"How long were you standing out there for? Thirty seconds?"

"Thirty seconds too long!" She says over her shoulder as she drops the bag onto the table and leans down to kiss Emma. "Hello my sweet little angel, how are you this morning?"

"Auntie! I'm hungry!"

"You didn't eat yet, did you?" She asks you as she opens the paper bag.

The smell of bacon immediately fills the kitchen and it makes your mouth water. The signature scent of an egg sandwich causes your stomach to growl in response.

"No, I was just about to make Emma something. Fuck that smells so good." You say under your breath. "Where are the kids?"

"Good, I got you a sandwich. And Tyler has them today. It's his weekend." Sam says.

"Ah, gotcha."

Sam hands you a sandwich from the bag and you eagerly take it from her.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more in my life."

"Ha ha" Sam sarcastically laughs. "Yeah I'm sure."

After whipping up Emma eggs of her own you sit at the table with Sam and dig into your sandwich.

"God I haven't had one of these in a minute."

"Consider this a 'congratulations on getting a job' gift." She says and you laugh in response. "How was it?"

"It was good, I keep saying this but it's really great to be back working and doing my thing. I missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. How are the people?"

"They're good, my boss is really nice, her kids for the most part are nice too. The CFO is kind of an ass, at least that's how he comes off."

"That sounds about right. Your boss' kids work there?"

"Yeah." You tell her about Bela, Cassandra and Daniela and she chuckles at Cassandra's attitude towards you.

"She sounds like a ray of sunshine." Sam says.

"You have no idea."

"Mommy! I want out!" Emma says.

"Okay baby, let's get you out."

You take Emma out of her booster seat and set her on the ground.

"Can I go play?"

"Yes baby, go ahead."

"YAY!" Emma screams as she runs into her room. You chuckle and shake your head at her.

"Well I'm glad you're liking it so far and that your boss is pretty cool. Have you told her about...?"

"No, not yet. It's too soon."

"She hasn't questioned why you've been out of work for two years?"

"Oh no, she has. But I danced around it. I'm not ready to talk about it in the office yet. It's nice not having people look at me the way they do once they find out, you know?"

"Not really, but I can understand. Is she at least understanding that you're a single mom?"

"Well, she just found that out yesterday, on accident really. Bela asked if Em was a mommy or daddy's girl."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. But I think I played it off well enough. And Bela definitely felt bad for asking because she blurted out that Alcina is a single mother too."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah. Alcina shot her a look. A 'don't tell people about our personal lives' kind of look. Then before I left for the day she thanked me for being so kind to her daughters, especially the youngest one. It was really sweet."

"From what you've said she doesn't seem like the type to get sentimental with her employees like that."

"She isn't. I honestly don't know if she's ever showed anyone else in the office that side of her before. Everything is always strictly business with her, at least from what I've seen so far. But it was nice seeing that softer side of her."

"What does she look like?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm nosey and want to know!"

"I don't know, she's tall, like six feet tall and she wears heels."

"Holy shit she must be a giant."

"She is. She has short curly hair, really pretty blue-grey eyes. I've never seen eyes like hers before, they're beautiful. And she has the best figure I've ever seen, it's almost fake but you know it isn't."

"How so?"

"She has like, massive tits." You say as you imitate the size of her breasts with your hands. "And a small waist, but not like, too small? Nothing about this woman is small honestly. She has a like, perfect hour glass figure. But you can tell it's all natural. And she dresses like she walked out of the 1950s."

"Sounds like you've looked her over on more than one occasion." Sam says as she smirks at you.

"You would too if you saw her! Practically everyone does. She gives off this crazy alpha energy."

"You're single, right?"

"Oh god Sam stop. She's my boss!" You say as your cheeks turn pink.

"That hasn't stopped people before!"

"You're ridiculous. No."

"You're turning red!"

"I've been there three days! I can't have a crush on my boss! Plus, just because she's a single parent doesn't mean she isn't seeing anyone. And I doubt she's into women and she's. My. Boss."

"Whatever you say." Sam says with a smirk as she cleans up the table.

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Yet you love me anyway. So how's sassy pants downstairs?"

"Margie? She's fine, same as usual. She finally gave up driving, thank god."

"Oh fucking finally. Deb's been trying to convince her mother to stop driving for years. What made her finally give in?"

"Well, a few months ago she ran into the garage door."

"Oh Jesus."

"So she bargained. She said she would stop driving if she could start smoking again."

Sam laughs out loud and shakes her head. "She is stubborn as fuck."

"The most stubborn woman I know."

Sam hangs out with you and Emma for a few more hours before heading out. Around one in the afternoon you put Emma down for a nap and you decide to jump in the shower. After your shower you get dressed and clean the house a little. Emma only naps for an hour and a half before you go in and wake her up.

The weather is finally warming up so you decide it's the perfect day to head to the park nearby. Emma squeals with excitement when you pull up and you can barely keep up with her as she runs to the slide. There's a few other kids at the park with their parents watching close by. You keep an eye on Emma as she goes up and down the slide a few times before growing bored of it and moving to play on the jungle gym.

Kids and their parents come and go as you sit on the bench watching your daughter. Dinner time is slowly arriving so you tell Emma she can go on the slide three more times before it's time to go home. After the third time she puts up a little bit of a fight but the moment you suggest going and getting dinner from her favorite place, she's more than eager to leave.

After pulling into the parking lot you and Emma enter the 1950's-style diner. The hostess seats the two of you and when your waitress comes you place your order. Not long after the food comes out and you start on your sandwich as Emma munches on her chicken fingers. Emma squeals with excitement when you tell her that she's allowed to get an ice cream and she happily orders a vanilla sundae, you of course also order one for yourself.

As usual, Emma is wearing her ice cream by the time she's finished with it but truthfully, you couldn't care less. After getting the check and paying at the register you and Emma head home.

Once Emma is bathed and dressed in her pajamas, the two of you pick out a book, as you do every night, and you read her the story as she falls asleep.

The rest of the weekend flies by and before you know it, Monday is back again. After dropping Emma off at your in-laws house you make your way to the estate.

Walking inside you see Cassandra and one of the other bartenders prepping the bar for the day. You wave at them, Cassandra as per usual ignores you but the other bartender, Dave, waves at you with a smile and a pleasant "good morning!"

Rounding the corner towards the offices you spot Chris and Alcina talking in the hallway. Alcina is leaning up against the wall inspecting her fresh manicure, looking like she couldn't be more uninterested in whatever Chris was talking about if she tried.

When the sound of your shoes against the floor reaches her ears her eyes flick up towards you. A bright smile stretches across her lips and she pushes herself off of the wall and steps towards you.

Chris stops speaking mid-sentence and gives Alcina a look. She returns the look and says to him "I already told you you can go ahead with the project, I don't need you to continue to bore me with details that are irrelevant." before turning away.

"Good morning." You say.

"Good morning Kathleen. How was your weekend?"

"It was good, quiet but relaxing. How was yours?"

"Excellent. My weekend was busy, as usual, but pleasant."

Just as you go to speak you're interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed open in the tasting room. A second later a voice rings through the tasting room and down the hall.

"DELIVERY FOR HER HIGHNESS!"

Alcina's head snaps in the direction of the room, her eyes narrow and you hear a low growl rumble in her chest.

"If you'll excuse me." She says through gritted teeth. You notice a vein in her neck begin to pulse and she storms towards the noise.

"Oh this will be good." Chris says with a little excitement in his voice.

"What? What was that?"

"You're gonna want to see this." He says with a smile as he walks in the direction Alcina took off in. You drop your bag at your desk and head towards the direction Chris and Alcina went off to.

Alcina opens the doors to the tasting room and her vision turns red. Waltzing into the room is her brother, Karl, making his way towards the bar.

"Cassie, hook your uncle up will ya?" He says, taking a seat.

"Heisenberg." Alcina hisses.

"Ah, there she is!" He says as he puts his feet up on the bar.

Alcina smacks his feet off and glares down at him.

"Do you not have any manners?" She says as her eyes flash with rage.

"What? I'd think you'd be more appreciative that I worked so hard to finish whatever the hell it was you asked me to make."

You walk into the tasting room behind Chris and watch as Alcina stands next to a slightly disheveled man. He's wearing a stained t-shirt with baggy pants and boots. A hat, sunglasses, and a trench coat.

He goes to grab the drink that was set in front of him, ignoring the fact that Alcina is practically shaking with anger. He takes a long sip of the beer he was given and pulls out a cigar, sticking it between his chapped lips. As he goes to grab a lighter from his pocket, Alcina snatches the cigar from his mouth and breaks it in half, dumping it onto the counter in front of him.

"The fuck was that for?!"

"You cannot smoke in here!"

"You're such a fucking buzzkill." He mutters, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from the bottle. "Cassie I don't know how the fuck you put up with this shit every goddamn day."

Cassandra snickers and Alcina shoots daggers at her. Rolling her eyes at her mother, Cassandra turns around and continues putting away the glasses.

Karl finishes off his beer and lets out an obnoxiously loud burp. Alcina scrunches her face in disgust and wafts the air between them away from her.

"You are a truly vile human being." She says.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I don't meet your standards, princess." He replies. "Hey Cass, get me another round will ya?" He says, slapping his hand down on the bar.

"Absolutely not." Alcina says. "I will not have you come in here, make a scene, drink all of our imported beers and pay not as much as a dime for them. Up! Go," she says, shooing him away from the bar. "get the table and get the hell out of my establishment!"

"Someone's in a great fuckin' mood this morning. What happened, woke up on the wrong side of your coffin?"

"Karl you are testing the very little patience I have left." She says through her teeth.

"Hah! You? Having patience? I didn't know you were a comedian."

Alcina squeezes her eyes shut and rubs at her temples as Karl gets up and starts to head towards the door. As he turns around he sees you and Chris standing near the door leading to the offices.

"Ho shit! If it ain't the fancy CFO himself!" Karl belts across the tasting room before meeting Chris halfway. "Howya doin' ya son of a bitch?" He says, shaking his hand.

"Karl my man!" Chris says. "I've been good, keepin' busy. How about yourself?"

"Hope slenderwoman hasn't been too rough on ya!" He says before laughing too loud, earning another eye roll from Alcina. "And not bad, not bad. Your boss here commissioned some kind of table from me so I'm just droppin' it off. Nice excuse to ruffle a few feathers too if you know what I mean." He says, nudging Chris in the ribs and laughing. "And who is this little lady here?" He says, looking over at you.

Not a second later you hear Alcina's heels stomping in your direction, looking up you see her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

"I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

"Karl Heisenberg," he says, taking your hand in his. "the pleasure is all mine." He gives you a small bow before kissing the back of your hand and letting it go.

The action took you by surprise a bit and you swore you saw steam come out of Alcina's ears as she walks up behind him. Karl lets your hand go and Alcina grabs him by the back of his jacket and begins to pull him away.

"Will you keep your filthy hands off of my staff? God only knows when the last time you washed them!" She hisses before whipping him around and pushing him towards the door. "Go!"

"What?! Is this how you treat family here?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

"One I will have you removed from if you don't get that table this instant!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm going, I'm going!"

Alcina lets out a huff and brings her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. After gathering herself she turns back towards you and Chris and makes her way over.

"I do apologize for my little brother, he is quite feral."

"Ah come on Alci, he isn't so bad!" Chris says and Alcina shoots him a glare.

"I told you, do not call me that. And that man is insufferable at best." She turns towards you. "I do apologize for his behavior."

"Don't worry about it, really, it's okay." You say with a smile.

The doors open once more and you can hear Karl barking orders to the guys lugging the table in. Alcina physically cringes as they bang into the doorframe while trying to get it inside.

"Ay! Watch it! That table is worth more than what you get paid in a month!" Karl yells.

"If you will excuse me." Alcina says before making her way over to the men and directs them where to go.

Both you and Chris take that as your cue to leave so the two of you head back to your offices.

"Told ya you'd wanna see that." He says with a satisfied smirk.

"See what? Ms. Dimitrescu and her brother?"

"Yeah! I've never seen anyone else be able to get her riled up so easily. Just his presence is enough to make the woman lose her shit."

"I guess." You say

It aggravated you a little seeing Chris find so much enjoyment from watching Alcina get frustrated and riled up. If anything, you felt bad for the woman. Luckily you and your sister got along great but it would probably piss you off too if you had a sibling that was to blatantly rude and dismissive in your place of work. If anything it's probably as embarrassing as it is annoying.

The rest of the walk back to your office was quiet, much to your surprise Chris seemed to get the hint that you weren't in the mood to revel in Alcina's misery and didn't say anything else. When you sat down at your desk you finally able to get started on today's work.

A few minutes later you hear heels on the tiled floor and see Alcina walk past your office. She looked less than thrilled for the couple of seconds you were able to see her. The door to her office opens and a minute later you hear it close and she walks past you again. Thinking nothing of it, you dive back into answering emails.

Once your inbox was taken care of you go to check your to-do list to see what you needed to prioritize for the day. Digging through your bag you realize you must have left your notebook in the car so you grab your keys and head out the side door towards the parking lot.

As you open the door the smell of fresh air quickly changes into the smell of cigarette smoke. Looking over, you see Alcina leaning up against the brick wall with a cigarette perched between two fingers.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were out here." You say as you close the door behind you.

"No need to apologize. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just left my notebook in my car." You reply.

Alcina brings the cigarette to her perfectly painted red lips and takes a long drag before pulling it away. She turns her head away from you and exhales the smoke. Usually you found smoking to be unattractive but somehow every single thing this woman does is attractive as hell. You'd put money on the fact that she could shovel a pile of shit and still look good while doing it.

You make your way to your car and find your notebook on the floor of the passenger side. Walking back over to Alcina you notice her eyes are still on you.

"I didn't know you smoked." You say as you walk up to her and immediately wish you kept your mouth shut. Why would you say that? What a stupid thing to say.

Alcina chuckles as she takes another drag before exhaling again.

"Yes, it's truly a disgusting habit I've yet to break. I had been doing well, however, my brother certainly knows how to get under my skin."

"I get that, siblings definitely know how to rile each other up."

"He is a man-child. A petulant fool." She grumbles.

As you chuckle a van drives by and slows down. In the drivers seat you see Karl. He blares on his horn a few times as he drives by, causing both you and Alcina to jump. Your hands fly up to your ears and Alcina visibly winces at the noise.

"Nenorocitul acela." Alcina grumbles under her breath as she sticks her pinky in her ear. (That fucking moron).

She takes another drag from her cigarette and looks over at you.

"You said your daughter is starting daycare this week?"

Her question took you by surprise for a second, you definitely weren't expecting Alcina to remember that from the conversation you had last week.

"Yes! She starts tomorrow." You say with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Truthfully, you were excited that Emma was going to spend time with other children her age and be able to socialize more, but the thought of sending her to daycare also gave you a lot of anxiety.

Alcina notices your apprehension even though you hide it well in your voice. It brought her back to when the girls were little and she sent them off to daycare for the first time. Granted, it was more of a private school than daycare, but leaving the girls behind and going to work was still anxiety-inducing for her.

"Nervous?" She asks before taking another drag of her cigarette.

Knowing Alcina was asking about you, you decide to divert your answer.

"Oh Emma is really excited. She wasn't sure at first but as soon as she saw all of the toys they had she was thrilled. She was very upset that she wasn't able to stay the day we did the tour."

"I was asking about you." She said with a smile.

"Oh."

"I remember when I dropped the girls off at daycare for the first time. I think I cried more than they did." She says with a chuckle. You notice a faraway look in her eye as she thinks back on the memory.

Alcina walked down the large, ornate hallway with Cassandra's tiny had in hers. In Cassandra's other hand, Bela clung tightly to her. When they arrived to the classroom the girls' daycare teacher greeted them at the door.

"Good morning! You two must be Cassandra and Bela." She says with a warm smile.

Bela and Cassandra clung to each other tighter, staring between Alcina and their new teacher. Alcina bends down and runs her fingers through Cassandra's dark hair.

"Girls, do you remember your teacher? Ms. Jackson?"

Bela's blue eyes scan the room as she holds onto her sister.

"Eu vreau sa merg acasa." She says quietly as tears begin to fill her eyes. (I want to go home).

"It will only be for a little while, draga. I'll be back before you know it." Alcina says, turning both girls to face her. She wipes the tears from Bela's cheeks and shushes her. "Nu plânge, e în regulă draga mea." (Don't cry, it's alright my darling).

"Vreau să merg acasă, te rog." Bela says as her voice trembles. (I want to go home, please).

"How about you give it a try? I have to go to work, but then we will go back home and we can play with your toys." Alcina says.

"No!" Bela yells, taking Alcina by surprise. "Vreau să merg acasă la mami! O vreau pe mama mea!" She cries. (I want to go home to mommy! I want my mommy!).

Alcina can feel her heart breaking in her chest. Cassandra's eyes begin to fill with tears as she watches her big sister cry. Even though she's only a year younger than Bela, she still understands that so much has changed and that they're no longer with their mother.

"O vreau pe mama mea." Cassandra whimpers before she starts to cry as well. (I want my mommy).

Wrapping her arms around the two little girls, Alcina pulls them into her and they grab onto her shirt and jacket as they cry.

"Shh, shh. Nu plânge fetele mele dragi, nu plânge. Va fi bine, doar respira, totul va fi bine." She says softly as she rubs circles across their backs as she tries to soothe them. (Don't cry my sweet girls, don't cry. It's going to be alright, just breathe, everything is going to be alright).

Their small cries chip away at Alcina's already fragile heart. She squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to shed a tear, refusing to let the girls - or anyone else for that matter - see her cry.

After taking a few deep breaths, Alcina begins to quietly hum the girls' favorite lullaby. She may still be brand new to parenting, but the one thing she figured out that works was singing to the girls in their native language. It was one of the few things that have been able to calm them when they were upset or scared. Alcina's mother would sing it to her and her sister when they were young. One night when she was at her wits end, she began singing it for Bela and Cassandra and they immediately began to calm down. It's been her go-to ever since.

The girls finally stop crying and Alcina pulls away enough to look at the two of them. As heartbreaking as it was, she couldn't help but think of how cute they looked. Bela's blue eyes and Cassandra's hazel eyes always looked brighter after they cried. Even their flushed cheeks and runny noses made them look cute. Alcina cupped each of their faces and wiped away their tears before placing a kiss in the center of each of their foreheads.

The girls looked up at her and it was almost pitiful. So much of her wanted to just take them home but she had to go to work and she had to let them go. Taking both of their small hands into each of hers, she looked both girls in the eye.

"I know it's frightening, I know you girls are scared, but I am coming back. I promise, I will be back and we will all go home together, okay?" The both nodded at her as tears began to fill their eyes once more. "No more tears my darlings, alright? No more tears." She says as she wipes away the stray tears from their cheeks. "I need both of you to be brave? Okay? Bela, I need you to look after your sister, to be protect her, alright?" Bela looks at Cassandra and back at Alcina and nods. "Cassandra, I need you to look after your sister, to be brave for her, can you do that for me?" Cassandra wipes her nose and nods at Alcina.

She strokes their hair before pulling the girls back in for a tight hug.

"Vă iubesc, vă iubesc atât de mult fetelor. Mă întorc, promit dragilor mei. Mă voi întoarce după tine. Nu te voi lăsa." Alcina whispers to them before giving them one last squeeze and letting go. (I love you, I love you girls so much. I'm coming back, I promise my darlings. I'll come back for you. I will never leave you).

Alcina stands up and straightens out her shirt and jacket. She takes the girls hands in each of hers and guides them to their teacher. Ms. Jackson smiles down at the girls and points out all of the toys scattered around the room. Cassandra eyes a baby doll and another little girl picks it up. The girl sees Cassandra and walks over to her.

"Play?" The little girl asks.

Cassandra looks up at Alcina and Alcina smiles down at her.

"Go ahead darling, go play."

Cassandra hesitantly releases Alcina's hand and looks at Bela, reaching out towards her. Bela's grip on Alcina tightens and Alcina strokes her hair.

"It's alright love, go play with them."

Bela looks up at Alcina who nods. After contemplating for a moment, Bela takes Cassandra's hand and the three little girls make their way over to the rug and begin playing with the toys.

Alcina takes the opportunity while they are distracted to thank the teacher and leave before they see her again. With her heart still breaking in her chest, Alcina makes it to her car and starts the engine.

Before she can pull away, the floodgates open. She grips the steering wheel and rests her forehead against her hands as she cries. Different emotions bubble up, but the strongest one is anger.

She's angry that the girls were put through so much at such a young age. She's angry at how unfair the last few months have been for them. Angry at the situation she herself was put in.

Alcina slams her fist against the steering wheel before pulling herself together. She takes her makeup bag from her purse and fixes her makeup before taking one last deep breath and driving away.

You can see memories flash across Alcina's eyes, memories you know nothing about. But you can see the emotions in her eyes, worry, sadness, and anger. Alcina snaps out of it and takes another drag of her cigarette and exhales.

"It's certainly not easy," she says. "the first few times are the most difficult, but eventually they were so excited the girls didn't even say goodbye when they ran through the doors." She says with a laugh.

"I'm sure we'll get there, but like you said, the first few times are gonna be rough."

"I have no doubts that the two of you will do great." She says with a smile.

With one last drag of her cigarette, Alcina puts the butt into the cigarette receptacle.

"Shall we?" She asks, nodding towards the door.

"Oh! Yeah." You say sheepishly.

Alcina opens the door and holds it for you. "After you."

"Thank you." You say with a smile before the two of you head back in.

[lotstradamus]

inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

[dotster001]

Le Chasseur d'Amour, Chapter Two

Summary:Rook x gn!reader. On earth, your mind begins playing tricks on you again. In twisted wonderland, Rook begins his journey.

Chapters: One Three Four Five

"I'm home," you announced as you tossed your keys on the couch. No one responded, so you texted a family member that you had made it home safe from work. They always wanted to know where you were. You couldn't really blame them, especially with how volatile you'd been when you'd been "found".

You sat down with a groan, propping your aching feet up. You definitely were regretting how you told your family you weren't going to college because you "already had a degree". Maybe you could have had a job where you sat all day, instead of standing. Still, neither job sounded all that appealing, if you truly thought about it.

You looked at the time on your phone and groaned when you saw how much day was left. You searched your brain to decide what to do with yourself, when you heard a sizzling sound. 

Confused, you stood up and searched for the sound, finding yourself in the bathroom.

"The fuck?" You muttered, staring at the orange, burning, starting on the edge of your mirror and slowly moving inward.

The parts that weren't burning showed a foggy room, a pair of green eyes that you knew from your dreams flashing for a moment. The sizzling sound got louder, and you shouted as the mirror, and bathroom light bulb, shattered.

You covered your face with your arms, petrified. When it felt like you could move again, you looked at all the shattered glass around you, and took a deep shuddering breath, before letting out a scream.

Once the scream had settled you, you calmly pulled out your phone, called your therapist to set up an emergency appointment.

….

Rook was hastily packing a bag full of belongings; some food, some thaumarks, a couple random potions.

"Wait, you're planning to leave right now?" Vil asked, startled by the fevered look in Rook's eyes.

"Obviously. I can't waste another moment without mon amour."

"But you don't know where the portal lets out!"

"My signature spell will guide me!"

"And what if they use different money than ours?"

"I can live off my surroundings."

"What if Y/N has found someone else?"

Rook turned to him, his face split with an anger unlike any other. 

"Roi du poison, if you are insistent on staying in my way, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Anyone else would have backed down. But Vil knew Rook better than anyone. And he knew someone had to be reasonable.

"It's been five years, Rook. Listen, I miss them too, but-"

"But you can't feel them pulling you, can you? You have no idea what it's like!" Rook shouted, his eyes quickly filling with pained tears.

"They're right there," he whispered hoarsely, his voice raw in a way Vil had never heard it before.

He stared silently for a minute.

"You're such a potato sometimes. At least make preparations before we leave."

"We?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"I can't ask you to-"

"Hush. I can't leave you alone in some strange dimension, now can I?" Vil pulled out his compact and reapplied his lipstick. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me, Hunt."

Rook just stared, ever in awe of his queen. Vil sighed. 

"At least pack us both a change of clothes. It'll do you no good if you reek when you reunite with your beloved."

Rook rushed off, no doubt to grab his most fashionable garb. While he was away, Vil curiously approached the glowing mirror, holding his palm an inch from the surface.

"I hope you're in there, Y/N," he whispered, a final prayer for a heartbroken friend.

Rook came back with two bags.

"I have everything we need. Let's go."

Before Vil could even react, Rook had grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the portal.

When they had both come to, they looked around. It appeared they were in a public restroom, and a nasty one at that.

"Revolting, I hate it here already," Vil gagged, "and what are we going to do about that mirror?"

Rook looked around, before pulling out his pen and miniaturizing it, sticking it in his pocket.

"You think they won't notice their mirror missing?"

"You think I care if they notice?"

Vil sighed. After all these years he never truly learned.

"So Y/N's…here?" The here was spat out, like the word itself was the disgusting part.

"Non, non, something shifted when we stepped through," Rook said offhandedly, "but I know where they are."

"Where?"

Rook grinned and started to walk away.

"Where? How dare you ignore my question! Where are they?"

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir