#i’m a salty clean up artist at the moment

[ria-the-camel]

im very close to looking for a good quality video of Bonnie and Marcy’s right from The Star and animating some ears on PB.

[depressedacadamia]

How do you passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?

Summary:Nico walks into a flower shop asking for a hateful bouquet. Will cannot help but wonder who on Earth it’s for.

A/N: Oh my gosh, another on time weekly update??? WHaaaat? I have exams coming up so I'm procrastinating by writing instead of revising. I plan on making a part 2 so watch out for that! Besides that, comment, follow and enjoyyy  <3 from mee!

Read on A03

“How do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Will did not expect that to be the first request he had when he started his morning shift in the local florists that he worked in on Saturdays to help earn some more cash on the side. Med school was expensive and half his friends already thought he was crazy to work while studying Medicine but he had assured them that he could do it.

This customer was both proving his point and not.

Afterall, he wasn’t a professional florist or anything, he just knew the basics- figuring out how to say fuck you in flower sounded like something out of his range and he figured it would take a while.

“Uh, excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?” Will asked, rubbing the back of head, slightly unsure.

The boy in front of him simply sighed. “ I said, how do I passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?”`

Will couldn’t tell if his jaw had actually dropped or if he was just remembering the moment incorrectly. Looking back, he really hoped he hadn’t dropped his jaw.

“That, uh well- you see, I’m not really a professional, I just work here on the weekends and the actual florist doesn't come in on Saturdays- but she’ll be here tomorrow. I could take down your name and request for her if that’s okay?”

The boy grinned and nodded. He picked up his skateboard and left the shop with the bell ringing on his way out.

What had just happened?

Did he actually just get asked how to say fuck you in flower?

Will couldn’t say he was very surprised when the same boy showed up the next day with a blonde haired girl by his side. From his perspective, they seemed close- Was that his girlfriend? He does know that giving her flowers that say Fuck you without tellling her is extrremely passive aggressive?

Will brushed his hair out of his eyes and snatched a hair clip from the girl who stood behind the till. She frowned and threw a pen at him.

“Oi! Get your own clips sunboy,” Meg snapped. Will stuck his tongue out at her and walked straight into another figure before hitting the floor with a thud and groaning in both annoyment and agony. His eyes snapped open on remembering that he had walked into someone.

He glanced upwards and was surprised to find a hand shoved into his face and so let his eyes follow the arm upwards to find the face of its owner. It was the passive aggressive boy from yesterday. Unlike yesterday, he was sporting a lip piercing and was wearing black ripped jeans flawlessly like some magical idol from some manga or anime.

Will couldn’t help but gape, staring at him. The boy looking at him simply tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a small smile.

“Aren’t you gonna take my hand?” The boy mumbled, his gaze averting when he noticed Will staring at the lip ring. Will, on realising he had been staring, heaved himself up on the hand and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so so sorry, I didn't see you and I needed to tie my hair up…” He patted his head only to feel that his hair was still down but then he hissed and felt a small shot of pain across his palm. Raising his arm to take a look at his palm, he noticed their hair clip had broken and slashed a cut across his hand.

He gave another groan and ignored his hand. As he was left handed and the wound was on his right hand, it couldn’t be too bad. Besides, he had already embarrassed himself in front of the cute boy and his girlfriend and kept them waiting, he didn't want to cause more problems.

“Oh, yeah- your flowers. Boss told me- she said it was not as uncommon a request as I thought it was-”

“-You thought it was a weird request?” The boy's voice was smaller, less cheery. There was an element of melancholy to it and Will immediately realised what he had said.

“Uncommon, not weird. I just thought it was awfully passive aggressive.”

Nico grumbled, “I mean I did ask how to passive aggresively say Fuck you in flower…”

Will let out a warm, throaty laugh, flinging his golden hair back and batting his bloody hand in the air. “ I guess you’re right.”

Nico thought he could feel butterflies trying to force their way out of his body after listening and seeing the flower boy laugh- it was the most magnificently gorgeous thing he had ever seen and heard. His laugh sounded like honey- sweet and addictive.

However, he then caught sight of Will’s bloody hand and frowned. He was pretty sure that his hand wasn’t supposed to be bleeding and it really looked like it hurt.. Besides, how would the poor kid be able to write with a gash like that?

Will moved his hand to pick out the flowers he needed and just as his hand reached out to grab them, he felt another hand wrap around his wrist. It was undeniably cold. The fingertips had calluses and he saw a few tattoos lurking on the hand, a couple in a language that he recognised to be Greek.

However, before he could read the words, his hand was snatched upwards and splayed out. The cute customer with the lip ring was holding his wounded hand out.

“You’re bleeding,” He pointed out.

“Why yes, I am. Thank you for that very insightful observation. Are you an artist?” Will sarcastically asked, his voice still light implying he was joking. Nico raised his eyebrow in appreciation of the sarcasm.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to be bleeding- What are you, a doctor?”

“I will be,” Will said smugly.

Nico snorted. “Should I be alarmed for your future patients that their doctor doesn’t know how to keep their own wound clean?”

Slightly salty and pouting, Will snatched away his wrist and turned away slightly in a huff.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“It wasn’t an opinion. It was a fact- You could get tetanus walking around with a cut like that and handling these gardening tools- Aren’t you meant to know that, doc?” Nico smirked teasingly, right behind Will, his lips teasingly close to Will’s neck.

Will shivered, feeling the warm breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and for a second leaned into the warmth coming from behind him before remembering he was meant to be professional.

Professionalism, Yes, professionalism.

“You know, not to interrupt whatever soulmate bond you two are having,” Annabeth drawled, “I’m just saying, for once- Nico is right. That cut looks nasty. Let Nico clean it up for you, he’s gotten good at it after all these years.”

“Annabethhh,” Nico half groaned, half whined under his breath. Annabeth knew what it meant- Why did you tell the cute guy that?

Will glanced at the gory sight on his hand, grimacing slightly. He knew that he could go and sort it himself but if someone was offering to fix it for him, he wasn’t really one to object. Afterall, if Nico knew what he was doing, then his hand should be in good hands?

Will did not get the chance to make that joke out loud.

He sighed and nodded at the wise words from the blonde girl and led Nico to the back room- despite what it said, was not at the back. In fact, the ‘back room’ had its door right by the front of the shop, tucked away neatly in the front corner of the shop.

“Uh, I think the med kit is somewhere here.” Will rummaged about in the corner next to the high shelves, holding his bloodied hand above his head as to try and stop the bleeding faster- In med school he had been recently studying cardiology and he wanted to see if certain tips really worked.

“You don’t need to hold your arm all the way up there ya know? Just high enough so that it’s above your heart.” Nico stood right behind Will so when he turned around, they were face to face. Nico leaned closer, so close that their noses were almost brushing and Will panicked-

-Suddenly, Will placed his hands on Nico’s chest, in an effort to slightly push him away, which worked successfully. However, in the few seconds his hands had been pressed up against Nico’s chest, he had felt the firm planes of muscle- So he definitely works out.

“Hey! That’s kinda uh, quick isn't it?”

Will risked cracking one of his eyes open and saw Nico smirking with a med kit in hand. His mind faltered for a second wondering Where on earth did that come from before figuring that Nico had reached for it while they were pressed up against each other. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and his eyes darted anywhere but Nico’s face.

“What’s too quick?” Nico suddenly had Will’s hand in his and was stroking his hand softly, beckoning him to open it.His head was tilted downwards but he let his eyes catch a small glance of Will’s flushed face. Curtained by Nico’s dark and thick eyelashes, Will could see a sliver of light reflecting off the onyx eyes staring at him.

“Did you think something was going to happen?” Nico asked innocently as he began cleaning the wound. Will hissed at the sting of the antiseptics and so to distract himself, he answered Nico’s questions.

“No. I didn’t think anything was gonna happen.” Will winced again in pain. “ Could you be a bit lighter with that please?”

Nico mumbled out a ‘sorry’ and began applying a dressing around the hand he was holding. Will’s hand was freckled, with a golden tan that Nico could declare perfect. The freckles looked like rain spotted across his skin- so perfect, a force of nature.

But then the artistic side of Nico had another thought- the freckles look more like tear drops than rain. A force of humanity.

Nico continued talking, his voice lower. “ Did you want something to happen?”

Will wasn’t listening though. His mind was...away. Distracted. Missing.

Nico saw it in Will’s eyes, he saw it as the rain began to hit the window gently, killing it softly. He looked at Will again- it was killing him softly.

“Hey?”

Will shook his head and looked at Nico and let a smile overtake his face. “Sorry…. Tell me, how are you so good at this? What did your girlfriend mean when she said you were good at this?”

Nico sighed, ignoring the girlfriend comment but was still slightly hesitant. One secret couldn’t hurt him too much- after all, he was gonna be in and out of here and then he’d never see this cute guy ever again… or so, he thought so.

My sister and I, we used to go to summer camp. We got into a lot of fights there, learnt to stick up for ourselves- and I, well, I learnt how to clean up the aftermath of those fights.”

“I used to go to summer camp! Well, I was like 13 at the time.” Will beamed at Nico and pointed to his lip ring. “ Did that hurt? Oh, and you have a sister? Any other siblings?”

Nico gave Will an odd look. He’s asking me about myself? He wants to know more about me?

“Uh, well.. I have another sister. What about you?”

“Ah, that’s a good question.” Will shrugged.

“What, you don’t know?” Nico asked, his voice slightly confused. Will let out a little snort of laughter.

“My Dad’s good at one thing and it’s sleeping around, so god knows how many half siblings I’ve got lurking around.. For all I know, there could be a mini army of us.”

“Well, my Mum’s dead,” Nico offered. Will immediately looked at him with an alarmed look; Nico sighed in return and explained.

“I thought we were talking about dysfunctional families, maybe that would make you feel better.”

“As a future doctor, It really does not. Thanks for trying- although you might wanna see a therapist with your definition of ‘cheering someone up’.”

“Meh, I’d rather not. ” Nico batted his hand nonchalantly, the greek tattoo showing up in front of him again. Will’s eyes caught it but he still refused to say anything.

“You know,” Will’s voice was significantly lower when he spoke this time, borderline flirty. “You still haven’t told me if that lip piercing hurts.”

“Of course it hurt a bit, but I’ve gotten piercings and tattoos before that so it wasn’t as bad. And you’re done.” Nico gave Will his hand back. Will held it up, impressed with the job Nico had done.

“Nice wrapping. What does it feel like? Is it cold?”

“Kiss me and find out,” Nico mumbled under his breath, not intending for Will to hear- or course, Will did hear.

“Kissing someone in a dark and empty room calls for all kinds of trouble and potential situations.”

Nico felt his jaw drop and could feel the tips of his ears burn red. His eyes darkened and he could only hear Will’s teasing chuckle as he felt him slide a finger under his chin.

“Darling, close your mouth unless you intend to use it well,” Will murmured, his texan accent growing stronger. Normally he wasn’t this confident, but he decided to act on his impulses- besides, teasing people… it was fun sometimes.

Nico, knowing Will had caught him, was determined to get him back. He wrapped his hand around the back of Will’s head and yanked his head down and his head down to his lips so they could meet. For a second, Will was frozen in surprise, his eyes open and startled before he felt Nico’s lips moving against his, encouraging him to kiss back and relaxing while his eyes fell closed.

The kiss wasn’t calm or sweet, It was hard and rushed. It wasn’t special, it wasn’t magical, it was just the result of unresolved tension within two people madly attracted to each other. Will could feel the lip ring against his and relished in the cool feel of the ring compared to Nico’s hot lips. Nico’s other hand reached to pull Will closer and next thing he knew, he was lying with his back on the couch and with Will on top of him.

They paused for a second before slamming their lips together. Will slipped his un-injured hand under Nico’s shirt, feeling his body. His other hand went to his hair, wrapping his hand in it as if his life depended on it. He gripped with such ferocity, Nico thought he might rip some of his hair out.

Will teased Nico, tracing his tongue across the black haired boy's lips before lightly tugging on the lip ring in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting a full on moan from Nico.

Immediately, the two of them broke apart, panting and gasping for air. They stared at each other, their faces flushed and Nico could swear his ears had never been so red and hot as they were right now. Will was literally on top of him, now straddling him with his hands resting on Nico’s chest.

Nico covered his face with his hands and Will, on realising their position, got off him and settled for sitting next to him.

“Ah…. so,” Will started.

“So….”

“You’re a good kisser.” Nico looked at his shoes.

Will wanted to get it done and over- rip off the bandaid, right? “Are you going to tell your girlfriend?”

Nico gave him a questioning look. “What girlfriend?”

“The blonde girl you came in with?” Will scoffed. Dude’s got a thing for blondes. First that poor girl, now me. Who’s next? Jason? Octavian?

Nico let a bubble of laughter leave his lips as he tilted his head back. Annabeth, his girlfriend! What a ridiculous thought!

“Oh sunshine, you’ve got it all wrong. Annie is a good friend of mine, we’re here together because we’re getting flowers for her boyfriend.”

“She’s getting her boyfriend flowers that mean Fuck you?”

Nico shrugged. “They’re romantic like that.”

“So why are you here with her? Surely if she’s going to boldly tell her boyfriend fuck you in flower, she doesn’t need you to be here?”

Nico felt his cheeks grow hot. He rubbed the back of his head. “ Ah well, she uh, she said I’d like the guy who works here on weekends.”

“She wasn’t wrong, was she?”

“Watch yourself. You’re the person who almost willingly gave themselves tetanus,” Nico warned.

“Watch yourself- You’re the one who moaned when I touched your lip ring.”

“You were literally on top of me! You were straddling me and your hand was under my shirt, you were pulling at my hair and at my lip ring- how could I not moan?”

“It wouldn’t be that hard,” Will argued.

“We’re testing that next time.”

Will froze up at those words- next time. This god like guy with his beautiful locks and snarky comebacks wanted to see him again.

“Next time?”

“You think this is the last time you’re gonna see me?” Nico let out a little scoff to himself. “Trust me, you’re going to be seeing more of me and my friends then expected- In fact, you’ll probably get so sick of us by the time this year ends.”

“I’ll definitely look forward to it.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice. Nico rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and got up, reaching into the tight pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a hair tie and reached for Will’s hair before Will caught his wrist.

“I’m not that useless, I can still tie my hair ya know.”

“I was helping you, you’re welcome,” Nico snorted. They left the room and were met by a very smug Annabeth and annoyed Meg- The boys could tell theft was in trouble from the violent look on Meg’s face.

“What have you two been doing here? Please don’t tell me that I will have to bless this place after what you’ve done.” Meg sounded slightly desperate.

“Depends what you think would require blessing.” Will gave her a sweet smile.

“Will!” Meg complained. “ This is the 4th guy you’ve brought to the back room with you!”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up when he heard this. “ And here I was thinking I’m special.”

“You can’t talk either, mister. Poor Meg had to assemble the flowers herself because of you two,” Annbeth scolded holding the hateful bouquet of flowers in her grasp like her life depended on it- and if you wanted to be technical, Annabeth's pride was her life and these were going to prevent her pride from falling downhill, so yes- her life did depend on these flowers.

“He’s the one with 4 secret lovers!”

Will added quietly, “Those are only the ones I’ve been caught with.”

Nico gave a faux gasp of disbelief, his voice mimicking a tragically upset character. “ Like father, like son!”

“Fuck you,” Will grumbled.

“I fully intend to.”

“NOT HERE YOU TWO, TAKE IT OUTSIDE,” Meg screamed. “This place is a holy sanctuary- therer will be no sex of any sort in my shop!” The pair of the boys glanced at each other, walked outside and burst into laughter.

They, however, did not expect to see each other the next day at Uni.

[flowercrown-bard]

Cracked Marble

pairing: Geraskier

summary: Jaskier sees Geralt’s black eyes for the first time

content warnings: blood, self-deprication, angst

word count: a bit more than 1k

read on AO3

The world was sharp around him. Sharp pain in his chest from the gash the Aracha had torn into him, unnaturally sharp edges to everything he saw, the colours brighter than normal.

Only his own eyes are dull.

Dull and black and inhuman.

“Geralt!”

He had heard Jaskier run towards him even before he had opened his mouth to call for him. Even without Cat sharpening his senses, Jaskier’s feet on the forest floor stumbling over rocks and sticks wasn’t something that went unnoticed.

Just how Jaskier would be unable to not notice Geralt’s deathly pale skin and the spidery lines crawling from his eyes all over his face.

He was still a good distance away, but even so he was too close, close enough to see.

Geralt turned away and let his hair fall in front of his face, a vain attempt to keep hidden what no human should ever have to lay eyes on.

“I told you to stay back at camp.”

If Jaskier had done as he was told, Geralt would have had enough time to wait it out. To wait until the effects of the potion had faded enough to risk letting Jaskier see him or the night to fall and make it impossible for Jaskier to make out all the inhuman features of Geralt’s face.

Now all he could do was hope for the impossible, that somehow Jaskier would listen to him and turn back before he noticed the signs that made it impossible to ignore what Geralt truly was.

Geralt could keep his eyes averted and his face lowered, but what Geralt couldn’t hide was the roughness of his voice that made him sound almost animalistic.

“Geralt? Are you –“ Jaskier was cut off by a sharp yelp and the sounds of him slipping and hitting the ground hard. The stinging copper smell of blood filled the air.

“Jaskier!” Geralt was crouching down next to him before he knew what he was doing. His blood was rushing in his ears and everything in him screamed to make sure Jaskier was alright. As gently as he could he cradled Jaskier’s bloodied hand and felt relief calm his racing heart. “It’s just a scratch. Let me just clean it and it should be fine. You…”

Geralt’s voice trailed off and he stilled, his whole body tense and unmoving as he noticed that something was very wrong.

Jaskier was silent, his hands were unusually still and even his breathing had stopped. Only his heart was beating loudly, harshly, as if Jaskier thought himself in danger. As if -

Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand as if he had burned it and stumbled backwards.

It took all his power not to look at Jaskier’s face, to search for a sign that maybe he was mistaken, that through some miracle he hadn’t seen Geralt like this.

But even so he knew the damage was already done. Jaskier knew and there was nothing Geralt could say or do except await Jaskier’s judgement and hope the rotten stench of fear coming from the man Geralt had dared think of as his friend wouldn’t be the last thing he had of him.

“What is wrong with your face, Geralt?” The words were sharp, cutting him deeper than the Aracha had.

Geralt wanted to flinch back, but he couldn’t risk making any sharp movements, lest they scare Jaskier off even faster. All the time Geralt had left with him was however long it took Jaskier to realise that he should run as fast and far away as he could and Geralt wasn’t going to cut this little time even shorter.

“Is this part of your mutations?” Jaskier had often been described as having a silver tongue, and so was he now spitting silver at him with these simple words and burning him like the monster he was. “Are you – is it venom? Arachas are venomous, aren’t they?” His voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, Jask.” His words were barely above a breath, spoken with as little of that growling voice as possible.

“What for?” The stench of fear got stronger and Jaskier sat up, his eyes darting frantically across Geralt’s face. “Geralt, what are you sorry for? You’re not… tell me you aren’t going to - tell me you aren’t leaving me alone!”

Warm hands cupped Geralt’s cheeks, turning his head to face Jaskier. Geralt could do nothing to resist. Not when it meant feeling that painfully gentle touch on him one last time.

“Don’t worry,” Geralt said when he finally saw the fear in Jaskier’s wide eyes that twisted something painfully in his guts. “I’ll get you out of these woods. Then you don’t have to see me again.”

“Don’t say that! Not as if it would be a blessing.” Jaskier’s bottom lip started to tremble and his voice was tight. “Just tell me what to do to help and we’ll both get out of here. I’m not leaving you to die.”

Whatever words of comfort had been on the tip of Geralt’s tongue, they never left his voice. All he could do was stare at Jaskier as he tried to make sense of his words.

Why wasn’t he eager to get going, to reach the town as quickly as possible and be rid of the mutant who had so disgustingly thought he could keep Jaskier in his life?

“Tell me what to do,” Jaskier said, determined despite the tremor in his usually so steady voice. “Is there a potion? Do you need a healer? A mage?  We can fix this, I promise-“

“Jaskier,” Carefully, slowly to give Jaskier enough time to pull away Geralt reached for Jaskier’s hands and gently pried them off his face. “There’s nothing to be done, nothing to fix.”

“There has to be!” Something watery shimmered in Jaskier’s eyes and a salty tang choked Geralt. “I won’t let you die. You’re too important to me to let you die.”

Geralt blinked. Something wasn’t adding up. “Jaskier,” he said slowly. “I’m not dying.”

“O-oh?” A shuddering breath left Jaskier. “But you’re wounded. And you’re eyes-“

“Potions. And the wound isn’t too bad.”

Jaskier was staring at him for an eternal moment longer, before he tentatively asked, “So this isn’t hurting you?”

Geralt’s brows drew together, unsure what Jaskier meant, before all thoughts left him when Jaskier’s fingers with painful tenderness caressed the skin around his eyes. “This is helping you survive?”

Geralt had to fight not to close his eyes, but he couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. He hummed in reply, unable to form words.

A smile spread across Jaskier’s lips. “Your skin looks like marble.” He sounded so awed, so relieved. “Cracked marble, like those statues artist had spent lifetimes perfecting and that are still standing despite time and the world trying to destroy him.”

“There’s that silver tongue again.” But this time they weren’t cutting, weren’t burning or hurting him. They still didn’t make sense, but they set off something warm in Geralt’s chest, chasing away the icy grip Jaskier’s fear has had on his heart. These words weren’t meant to slay a monster.

Jaskier huffed out a choked laugh. “What, is this you complaining about the fact that I didn’t sound any more artful when I told you I cared about you? My deepest apologies for it not being satisfactory, I was kind of under the impression you were about to die in my arms.”

It had been perfect. Looking a monster in the eyes and telling them you care about them? There was no ballad and no pretty verse rawer and truer than that.

“I would rather do that than see you hurt or afraid for your life.” Geralt’s voice was achingly sincere and underneath the inhuman growl lay a very human vulnerability.

“Don’t you dare,” Jaskier said and jabbed a finger in Geralt’s chest, mindful not to hit the injury. “Now get back up so I can patch you up and make sure you don’t die on me after all.”

“I wouldn’t have died back there. Not if it had meant leaving you alone,” Geralt said later, when the last traces of fear and tension had fallen off of Jaskier and he was back to scolding Geralt about not being careful enough. “Because I do it too. Care about you.”

Jaskier’s smile softened and his hand stopped dabbing at his wound with a cloth, instead coming to rest on Geralt’s heart.

“I know,” he said, looking Geralt in the eyes that were just starting to gain colour again. “And I know you didn’t believe me when I said it. It doesn’t matter. I will say it again and again. Until you believe me.”

Geralt was silent for a moment, just taking in Jaskier’s words, the way his hand didn’t tremble when touching him and how there was not a trace of fear in his eyes. He thought that maybe against all odds he was already beginning to understand. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

[secondhand-trash]

Love in the Time of Allergies

A/N: this is a concept from @redbeanteax and I’m down immediately after she told me about it lmao

Pairing: florist!Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Description: You were a tattoo artist who loved flowers and he was a florist who was allergic to flowers.

Word count: 6785

Playlist:

How Long?//Vampire Weekend

Pleaser//Wallows

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

-

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. If you wandered through the many narrow lanes, maybe you would get further and further away from the flagships and tall windows of the main avenue in front of the quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd, bunches and bunches of bouquets lined up at the windows and pots hanging from the awning.

Sakusa Kiyoomi lived right above that flower shop, which he coincidentally runs.

Every morning, he woke up to the sun shining through the thin linen of his curtains. The streets were already alive by the time he was awake. The sounds of delivery vans driving past his window, the crisp bells of school children riding along the road to school on their bicycles ticking his still hazy senses. He was not a snoozing type of person by all means, immediately getting up to get his day starting the moment he paused his alarm. Then he would fold up his sheets neatly, getting them in the washing machine so he could replace it with the ones that had just finished drying the night before. Sakusa always made cleaning the first thing he does right after he wakes up, it made him feel productive and he relished in the feeling that his space was spotless at every corner. 

By the time he was done, it would be time for him to go downstairs to open up the store and get ready to receive the batches of fresh flowers that were delivered every day. If he pushed open his windows, the sweet smell of flowers together with the morning air would fill his room.

A florist with a face that looked like he walked out of an ink portrait from the old times, just him standing there could be worthy as a still from any movie scene. Long, nimble fingers placing each stem right where it belong, the beauty marks above his brow moving as the man furrowed his eyes in concentration like the morning dew sliding off the white petals of a blooming flower.

A beautiful man and beautiful flowers. It would have been a breathtaking sight if you could ignore the fact that the florist was sadly, severely allergic to the flowers that he was surrounded with at every waking moment of his life.

Sakusa himself would like to argue that you could not, and should not, brush off such an important detail to his survival. Thank you very much.

How did he become a florist in the first place if he was allergic to flowers, you may ask. Well, He didn’t know. One day, he was filling in for his cousin who couldn’t attend his shift because he had dropped ill. Said cousin might have deliberately hidden up the fact that he was working at a place that sells flowers and by the time Sakusa arrived at the storefront feeling like he got struck by thunder, it was too late.

It was a pity that he was such a natural, so much so that he received a phone call from the then shop owner asking if he could come back the next day.

Sakusa still thought about that day occasionally. What had he done to himself, he looked at the sky and let out a long sigh.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was inclined to believe that he must have committed some sort of indescribable crime in his last lifetime to deserve this cruel joke from the universe.

Pulling up the latex gloves, he released the elastic band with a snap as it sit snugly on his wrist. He had his protective suit on, the white plastic covering him from his neck all the way down his legs. He had his mask and mask cover (yes, the mask needed its own cover) on before pulling his hood over and making sure that all his hair was tugged in.

Looking at the mirror, he let out a satisfied hum. Perfect, now all he needed to do was wait for the truck to arrive.

“Hello! Your delivery is here!” 

The deliveryman was a new employer of the company, his uniform neatly buttoned up all the way. He checked his reflection in the window from outside the shop, reminding himself to put on a good smile when greeting the client. It was his first time going out for delivery on his own without a senior tagging along and he intended to leave a good impression.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while waiting for someone to answer the door. He looked around the street, taking in a deep breath of the morning air. It was a rumor among employers that there was a living urban myth on this street, one that looked like it walked out of a chemical waste field in a dystopian novel was what they said. He chuckled to himself when he recalled how terrified they looked at the describe the myth. Look at the street with its sunshine and serenity, they should at least pick a more suiting location for the lie if they wanted to prank the newbie.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright! Please notify me after you checked if all the stock is correct,” he said with a wide smile as he turned around to where the footsteps were coming from, “mr- AH!!!!!!!”

-

A few blocks away, you paused when you heard an ear piercing scream from outside. 

“Did you hear something?” your manager asked, looking out of the shop window with a confused look, “I swore I heard someone screaming.”

You tilted your head, looking away from the poster you were trying to hang onto the wall to follow where they were looking at. There were no panicking or people running to take cover so it didn’t seem like something major had happened. You shook our head, “Maybe it’s the sound of tires screeching?”

“Hm,” they glanced outside in wary but turned back to the empty store with a sigh, “is the backroom all set up?”

Your arms withhold in the air for a moment as you tried to see if the frame was before clasping your hands together in satisfaction before climbing off the stool you were standing on to turn and face your manager, “Yeah, I told the people to place all the chairs down as you said and all we needed to do was to unpack our tools, loaded up the shelves and we’re all done.”

“Ok, good,” they let out a heavy breath, placing their hands on both sides of their waist, “I still can’t believe the landlord of our last place can just take back the lot just like that.”

“Hey, they want to sell it to a big corp for quick bulk of cash instead of renting it out to a tattoo parlor, not that it doesn’t make sense,” you said with a click of your tongue, a loop-sided grin making its way onto your face as they chuckled at the saltiness you were not holding back at all, “at least we managed to find a new place fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” they said, “this seems like a pretty nice street.”

Other than the fact that someone screamed like they walked out of a horror movie in the morning out of nowhere, you thought to yourself but nodded no less as you two stood side by side and looking out of glass windows, trying to not think too much of it.

The fact was, you were just glad that you still had a job. It felt like the sky fell on your head when you walked into your humble little workplace one day to see the heavy expression everyone was wearing only to be told that the lease for the parlor would not be renewed next term. It wasn’t easy to just find a new place to rent so quickly nowadays and the possibility that you might go jobless for months horrified you to no end. 

You liked the parlor you worked in. You had heard your fair share of horror stories of how some places mistreat their apprentices before you made the commitment of applying to become one and even though you were scared out of your mind while you asked if the place was still taking apprentices after being turned down numerous times already, it was nothing short of luck that you ended up being under a group of very nice people when you actually did succeed. You had been in this parlor for several years now, staying behind even after you got your license. You liked the homely little shop and you most definitely loved working for the owner who taught you so much so you couldn’t be more glad when they came in just a week before everything at the old place must be cleared out saying that a new lot had been secured. 

You now needed to wake up a good hour earlier than before and take a bus that you were sure would take you to the other end of the town if you overslept by one station just so you could make it to work on time, but no complaints. At least the street looked nice, and there was a flower shop just a few blocks away from the parlor which you were very happy about. 

You liked flowers, you had always found them to be great inspirations.

“Hello?”

A crisp ring of the bell interrupted the silence you were having while you two quietly unwrapped all the tools and whip them clean before putting them in place at the back.

“Can you go get it? I think it might be some of the other decorations being delivered over.” they said, staring at the little scratch at the back of one of the lamps with a painful expression in their eyes as they realised that it could not be rubbed away no matter how hard they tried.

You pushed away the bubble wrap that was piling up on your legs before standing up, dusting off the plastic strands before walking out to the front of the store.

“Hello- ah!” 

You jumped when you saw a.. well you weren’t sure if that was a person because there was no face for you to identify but they had to be because you could not begin to process what else they might be underneath the full body plastic suit paired with what almost looked like a bee hat, standing at the front door with their arms stiffly extended and holding a flower basket in hand.

Your breath was rigid as you tried to calm yourself down, slowly getting back into a proper posture as you tried to ignore the million questions running through your head. 

“Hello,” the voice sounded a bit distant from behind the mask but you could still make it out to be the voice of a young man. “I’m Sakusa from the flower shop a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, nice to meet you," you blurted out, giving a slight bow when you realised that you were still standing there in a daze, never feeling so confused as to when the person replied to your panicking gestures with a slight nod, “I’m (y/l/n), I’m one of the tattoo artists who work at the parlor.”

So this was the person who runs the flower shop? You tried to control yourself from making it too obvious that you were stealing glances at his more than peculiar attire for walking on the street under broad daylight. You weren’t aware that florists had to dress in bee suits.

Sakusa raised his already raised hand a little, “This is a welcoming gift for your opening.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” you said, gingerly taking a few steps forward to take the flower basket from his glove covered hands. He seemed to be relieved after you took the flowers away from him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

“If you need any help please always feel free to come over,” he said, sounding rather unnatural as he stayed where he was, maintaining a fixed distance from you.

“Of course,” you replied, standing with your back just a little straighter at the sheer tension that you were feeling under the stare of a man whose face you could not even see, “thank you for the flowers.”

He gave you another nod before walking out the door and you waited, standing there until he was completely out of your sight and let out the breath you had been holding in.

That was strange, you thought to yourself as you took a look at the basket you were holding.

Hm, the arrangement was very pretty though.

-

At first, you were very hesitant to even go near the radius of the glass door with flower pots hanging down. Could you be blamed? Who wouldn’t be intimidated by a person who showed up in a full body plastic suit? But eventually, your urge to find good references for your sketches gave won over your prejudice and you gathered up all your courage one day while you didn’t have any bookings and walked into the flower shop a few blocks away. 

You weren’t sure if you were more bewildered or satisfied by your predictions being correct when you walked in to see him standing by the counter being covered from head to toe. Sakusa still looked as stiff as he was when he showed up at the parlor last time when he was in his own store, watering the flowers with this oddly long sprinkler. 

You still felt that to be pretty strange but you were determined that no matter what, you were not walking away from that place emptyhanded.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to approach as you had thought he might be and he was very helpful when you were overwhelmed by the many pots lining the store, pointing to the bunch of colourful daisies at the far corner when you told him you wanted something that looked delicate.

You started ordering bouquets from Sakusa’s store regularly a while later.

This did not look right. You stared at the black lines on the paper, feeling like your head was about to explode at how you could not point out what was exactly wrong with it but it simply didn’t look like the image you had in your head.

Throwing the pen down, you leaned back against the couch in the front room with an exasperated sigh as you glanced at the hand on the clock that tilted more and more as each second passed.

What happened to delivery at 3pm sharp?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you jumped up at the sound of the door being pushed open and Sakusa walked in with a bouquet of carnation in hand. He was still covered but even without seeing his face, you could tell how he rushed over with the slight heaving in his voice, “there was a... dire situation back at the shop and I had to get that handled before I can make the delivery.

Sakusa shivered as he recalled how there was this customer who kept sneezing while walking around the store. 

“It’s alright,” you said, getting up from the couch where you were laying on, “can you help me put it in the backroom?”

“Of course.”

“Just putting it here would be alright.” you gestured to the small table at the corner and he nodded before putting the ceramic pot down.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the last several bouquets and pots you got from him the past week lined up on the shelf at another side of the room.

Sakusa tilted his head. He had regular customers but none that showed up as often as you did and none that bought flowers for no specific reason at all other than to look at them. “Do you like flowers that much?"

He wasn’t sure what it was about the look of pure fascination in your eyes when you looked away from the colourful flowers to face him, but he felt an unexplained antsy feeling rising at the back of his neck.

“I guess it’s not so much of a sentimental liking than just admiration,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “they can be so simple but so detailed all at the same time,” you chuckled, “I find all my best works to be of floral patterns.”

You could not see his face behind the mesh net but you could guess that he was probably squinting his eyes right now with the way his body bent just a little forward. He was interesting to observe, and you had found quite a bit of entertainment in watching him.

“Here,” his eyes widened when you rolled up your sleeves with a laugh. He was wondering how you didn’t seem to have any tattoos on your unlike the other artists who he had met but it seemed like you just didn’t feel as much of a need to put them on display at all times. Under the white sleeves that now rest on your elbow, there were inked lines littering all across your arm, stopping at your wrist and he could only imagine that the vines would go further up into where the faintly see-through fabric was covering.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did on my own,” you said, tilting your arm so that he could see the sunflower on the inside of your wrist, “this is a gift to myself after I finished my apprenticeship.”

“My actual first tattoo though,” you lifted your arm up, showing him the morning glory that peaked out from under your sleeve, hanging on the vines that hugged the side of your arm, “is this one,” you had a look of nostalgia in your eyes like you were greeting an old friend, “I got it the moment I turned 18 without my parents knowing, to remind myself to be resilient like morning glories that climb high even on stone walls.”

He felt like he was invading some sort of precious intimacy that was supposed to be sealed up and savoured when you gently hooked your finger under the collar of your shirt, pulling it to the side just enough for him to see the dots of baby’s breath above your collar like tiny stars.

“But this one is my favourite. I got it because... well...” you poked your tongue out before pushing the folded collar back in place, “I just think it looks nice.”

Sakusa didn’t quite understand what the aesthetic appeal of flowers that you seemed to be so fixated on was. He worked with flowers but they weren’t anything that means much to him unless you count “mortal danger” as a special meaning. But as he watched you fix your shirt, the botanicas on your skin once again hidden from sight by the silky fabric that fell down like morning mist in the market street, he found himself sparing another glance to the flowers he just handed to you and wondered what they would become under your pencil and ink.

“Do you keep all of them around?” he asked, referring to the many different flowers that didn’t look like they go together on the shelf. 

“Sometimes I’ll let clients take away the ones that I already sketched if they like it but I kinda just put them here the rest of the time,” you replied, touching one of the petals of the tulips that were sitting in a vase, “it’s quite a pity that I can’t put them in the front but the manager said it doesn’t fit the rest of the décor.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, even though it’s not like you could see him do so with the cover of the black mesh, and said something that surprised even himself once it was vocalised.

“If what you need is a reference for your sketches, you can always come over and look at the ones we have on display.”

“Really?” you did not hide the sheer excitement you had towards his suggestion, only to back down sheepishly when you realised how eager you were, “But would that be much of a bother to you?”

He was never much of a people person. He had a very carefully selected few close friends around him and he did not intend to broaden his circle any time sooner. He barely even wanted to interact with his customers all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed the business, if he was being honest. His palms were starting to feel clammy from the sweat that wasn’t there just earlier, a feeling he very much so dread but the twist in his stomach that he could not begin to understand somehow hazed over this usual discomfort.

“Well, if you are only sitting there and sketching I don’t see that to be much of an issue...” he said, his voice getting tinier and tinier like he was starting to be confused over his own words. 

You walked him out of the parlor with a very, very wide smile that day, thanking him again and again and joking that it was too late for him to take his offer back now because you were going to start annoying him daily. He wanted to argue that you already went around for your flowers often enough that making it a daily occurrence wouldn’t be much of a difference but he bite it back, worried that it would come out harsher than he had meant it and gave you the impression that he actually didn’t want to talk to you.

Which was strange, considering how he never really thought that he actually did want that to happen.

-

You started showing up at his shop every day, as you had said you would. 

At first, your interaction with him was limited to the brief exchange of greetings when you walked into the store, informing the working Sakusa that you would look around yourself and he didn’t need to worry about you. You used to spend so long just standing there and sketch, stretching your neck that was sore from drooping down every once in a while. You said he didn’t need to pay any attention to you but as the owner, he still felt somewhat of a responsibility to show his care about his visitors’ well-being. 

Then you showed up at his place again only to find a little bar stool by the counter.

You looked at the suited man at the side and he looked away from under the mask under your stare. “I got you a chair because you are here for very long each time,” he added under your appreciative stare, “people are gonna get the impression that everyone can just walk in and do the same.”

So you now had your own designated spot in his shop, right by the counter where he worked. 

You started actually chatting to him after then and you liked to think that you two were friends, even though you still didn’t know what he looked like under the bee hat.

Until one day, when you went along the sidewalk of the peaceful street to the flower shop a few blocks away and saw a strange man struggling at the front door.

You froze in place, taking a few steps closer to the walls so he would not notice you too easily.

Who was this? You looked on warily at the lean figure that was shaking the lock on the glass door rather vigorously, seeming to be more and more frustrated with each moment passed. You could not see his face clearly with the dark curls that fell onto the side of his face. He was dressed in full black, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that only accentuated how long his limbs were. The attire did little to help with your suspicion that he was not there for a proper purpose, seeing how he was starting to shake the handle of the door and let out a tired groan when it stayed closed.

Would it be someone trying to break in? In the middle of the day? Oh god, you felt the blood drain from your face when you realised what this meant.

Sakusa would have a breakdown if some unknowns leave dead skin cells over all his things.

“Um... excuse me?” you gathered up your bravery and walked towards the man, slightly taken back when he snapped around to look at you. He was way taller upfront and you gulped.

To your surprise, he didn’t look shocked when you approached him. In fact, he seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier irritation with the lock upon seeing you.

“Did I not tell you we are closing early today?” he said, crouching forward slightly.

“Oh, I’m just here to look for a friend...” you paused, your eyes widening when you heard how familiar his voice was, “wait... Sakusa?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, brushing the piece of hair that had fallen onto his face away from his eyes. “Yes?”

You were so prepared to fight whoever it was that might be busting the lock open but you were not prepared for this. You were so used to seeing Sakusa in his full body protection gear that the idea of him being this faceless entity got so comfortable in your head, seeing him as someone with actual facial features and expressions made you feel like you were meeting a whole new person all over again. He was staring at you, bending even forward as he waited for you to say something in confusion. The posture allowed you to take a clearer look at his face, and somehow it sent more adrenaline to your system than the nerves you got from thinking that you were about to witness a crime.

Wait, hold up. Why did no one tell you that he was hot?

From the angle you were at, your eyes immediately caught on to the sharp arch of his eyebrows, the two moles on one side dotted on like ink on white paper. His bone structure was pronounced, the defined curve lining his eyes going down to the tip of his nose. He was looking down at your through his long lashes, his lips pursed as he waited for you to say something.

You felt a slight regret rising in your chest for his face that was wasted away because its owner decided to dress like a b-movie crazy scientist.

“Why are you trying to break into your own store?” you asked, breaking the silence when you realised that you had been staring at him like some dazed fool.

He let out a mumbled groan, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “I forgot my mask at the counter before I left but now the door is doing that thing where it gets stuck and couldn’t turn the key,” he turned back to the door, putting both hands on the handle and yanked.

“Do you need help?” you asked, peaking from behind him.

“Please do,” he sighed and you held onto the frame of the door, “I’ve already been exposed to the air for far too long for-” he gritted his teeth as he gave it another pull.

“My-” a slam on the door pushed the rest of the key that was stuck into the porthole.

“Liking-” 

The door crashed open with a loud bang and you stumbled forward to regain your balance. He sucked in a deep breath when he felt the sweat on his palm, walking as fast as he could to the counter and let out a relieved sigh when he pulled out another one of his white medical masks.

“Why are you closing early today?” you leaned on the counter as you watched him physically relaxed after hooking the cotton band over his ears.

“I’m heading to the flower market today to look for new suppliers,” he said as he pressed down on the wire on the bridge of his nose, “the one we were working with suddenly said they can’t do business anymore because the delivery company refused to send people here which is very strange.”

“I see,” you said, “I was gonna hang around here because I don’t have any more bookings for today, I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“You can come with me if you want,” he blurted out, his own eyes widening as he paused, “it might be very boring though.”

“Wait, I had never been there before, can I?” you gasped, “I want to go!”

“Ok.” he said rather stiffly, not expecting you to be so excited about what he viewed to be a rather blend thing to do.

He did not know what it was that made goosebumps rose on his arm when you followed him out of the shop, taking a few steps for each on he took just to keep up with him. It was like how it felt when he used to be less careful and got too close to the plants that he worked with, tickling and irritating and made him want to tear his own skin off but not nearly as unpleasant. In fact, he would go as far as to described the feeling as “fuzziness” when you kept talking to him on the way even though he rarely replied with more than a few short sentences.

“Sakusa, can I ask you something?”

Your voice broke him out of his running state of mind.

“Yes?”

“Why do you always wear a full body suit?"

"I'm allergic to flowers.”

“What?” he grimaced at the reaction he had expected, already knowing what you were going to say next.

It was a mistake, Sakusa grumbled to himself as he recounted how his life seemed to be full of mistakes, starting from becoming a florist even though he was highly sensitive to pollen.

“Then how did you become a florist-”

"Please don’t ask.”

“Ok.”

-

“Remember to leave the cover on for the next two hours and wash it with lukewarm water,” you said to your last client with a smile as you opened the door for them, "and just contact us if you need any help with the aftercare.”

You let out a satisfied sigh when they happily waved at you before exiting your sight. There was no better feeling than to see someone being so happy about the piece you did for them. You stretched out your arms, rolling your neck as your back cracked. That took a while, you let out a slight whine when you felt the knot on your shoulder. You found yourself to be the type that emerged themselves into their work completely once started on something which you view to be a good thing but that also meant that your notifications were always blown up every time you did a slightly bigger, more detailed piece.

You recalled your phone to buzz non-stop during the appointment until you got annoyed and turned off the sound completely. Taking it out of your pocket, you took one of your gloves off to unlock your screen.

Your eyes widened at the amount of miscalls and messages that came from Sakusa, who had given you his number after you annoyed him into saving yours. He rarely called you, you were always the one spamming his inbox when he was trying to put you on read.

You had a bad feeling about what had happened when you saw another incoming call from the man who had been bombing your phone.

“Hello-”

“Come over.”

“What?” you said. His voice was pressed down even lower than usual and you clutched your phone closer to your face to hear him clearly. 

“Please just... come over. Come over quick.” he hissed.

“What is going on? Sakusa are you ok?” you felt the panic building up in your chest at the tone he used. 

“I am facing a critical situation and you’re the only help I can get-”

“Ok,” you didn’t wait for him to finish before hastily pushing the door to the street and paced to the direction of the flower shop, “I’m coming over now.”

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, “and please be quick.”

You nearly went over the front door of the shop with how much of a rush you were in. Looking in through the window, the shop was completely empty and you could not even find Sakusa anywhere.

Oh god, what was it that got him in such a crunch?

“Hello?” you asked gingerly as you stepped inside, "Is anyone here? Sakusa?”

There was no one in there. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked deeper into the stores and past the vases that lined up at the sides.

“Psst..”

You snapped towards where the sound came from.

“Sakusa- ah!” you yelped when you were suddenly yanked down to the floor. You blinked when you saw who it was that suddenly pulled you behind the counter.

“Sakusa, why are you hiding under here?”

You felt bad for finding the very tall, very well-built Sakusa who was once again wrapped up in his plastic suit all curled up under the counter, even more so when you saw that he was actually sitting on a plastic sheet instead of on the bare ground. 

Even if he was finding somewhere to hide, he still uphold his principals.

“There’s this...” he shivered, “thing out there crawling around...”

“Thing? Crawling?” you tilted your head as you looked out, “I didn’t see anything?”

“Well of course you don’t. They are fast and tiny and black and...” he shivered again, shaking his head a little as if trying to shake away his thoughts.

“Fast and tiny and black...” you paused, “you mean a cockroach-”

“Do not say it out loud,” he gritted.

“I’m sorry for saying this but thank god,” you let out a deep breath, “I thought you were being held at gun point or something...”

“How is this any better?” he asked in disbelief, “please help me get rid of it..."

“Sakusa I’m not gonna be your personal bug killer-”

“Before I burn this place down-”

“Ok,” you said with your hands thrown up, telling him to stay put and hold back from doing any property damage. You sighed as you stood up, “Thank god I rushed out in such a hurry that I still have my gloves with me...”

Sakusa finally knew what that burning irritation he felt whenever you gush at him was when he peeked from behind the counter to see you swiftly trapping the cockroach under a plastic bag and swept it up with your gloved hands before taking it out to the street. He felt a rapid rhythm drumming in his chest when he heard a loud stomp from outside, his black eyes following your frame when you came back in with a sigh as you skillfully removed your gloves from inside out and tied them together.

“Um...” he felt the slightest bit uneased as he climbed out from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling small even though he was clearly towering over you, “thanks.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a chuckle, “can’t have you dying on me like that.”

He had never been glad about his allergies until now, feeling just a little bit more self-assured because even though his mind was in shambles from the sudden realisation he had, at least he had the mask to hide his face that he was sure to be flushed from you.

“Do you need help sanitising everything?”

"What?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Well,” you said matter-of-factly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I assume you won’t just let it be after that co- that thing got in here?”

“Yeah," he stood up just a little straighter, “yeah, of course.”

Sakusa felt an unexplained taste in his mouth. It was a bit bitter, the dryness making his jaw clenched but he also couldn’t help the muscle at the corner of his mouth from inching up higher and higher as he watched you scrubbing the counter with a cleaning wipe, your forehead crinkling up in concentration

He was so, so in love.

-

You dropped everything at hand and ran out the door when you got his message.

“Can you come over?”

What was it? What was it this time? 

You ignored the bewildered glances from the passersby as you dashed along the otherwise serene street. 

Was it a bug? Did someone sneeze near him? Did some idiot broke the vases and got muddy water on him again? There’s no way that could happen twice in a week, right? Right?

You were heaving by the time you got to his place, nearly tripping into the shop as you tried to collect your breath. Sakusa was standing in front of the counter and facing the door, oddly without his usual bee hat. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as you held yourself up by the door with one hand and the other clutching your chest as you panted.

He did not expect you to show up so quickly. He had thought that he would have some more time to collect himself after pressing “send” with his shaking hands so he could look, well, somewhat cooler doing what he planned to do after a lot of inner conflicts.

“Ok, I’m here,” your hair was a mess as you looked up, your chest still heaving from the run, “what is it? What happened? What do I need to do?”

“Um...”

“Oh god, why aren’t you talking? how bad is it?” you said as you slowly straightened your posture, only to feel your breath hitched when you saw why he was in silence.

Sakusa seemed to be in clear discomfort, his eyes shifting around as his throat bobbed. But it wasn’t his usual look of wariness or discontent and instead, he seemed to be nervous.

And then you saw the bunch of red roses he was holding in hand.

“You know,” he gulped, holding his arm out as stretched out as he could, “a dozen roses means ‘be mine’ in flower language.”

You blinked, your eyes slowly widening as he looked away.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” you licked your lips, a grin finding it’s way to your face, “are you trying to say something?”

“I said,” he gritted from his teeth, his face burning up under your teasing tone, “be mine.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, your face aching from the smile that was only growing wider. In your ear, you could hear the steady drumming tapping at you, sending the signal everywhere in your body as you felt the warmth that spread together with it.

Say yes, say yes, say yes...

“Of course.”

He let out a hitched breath as his shoulders drooped, pouting a little when he looked back at you as if he was blaming you for poking fun at him earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the look of resentment only grew when you started giggling, “but you were so cute just then, I couldn’t help myself.”

He grumbled and your giggling turned into actual laughs while he glared at you but couldn’t hide the blush on his face.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I say yes, right?” 

"Sure,” he let out a soft tsk, “but can you please take this?”

“Is that really the way to go at it-”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, oh,” you said when you suddenly remembered his allergy and rushed to take the roses from him, “of course, of course...”

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. There was a quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd and a tattoo parlor a few blocks away, but you already knew that. You also knew that as bewildering as it sounded, the florist that run the shop was actually deadly allergic to flowers.

But what you didn’t know (or at least pretend not to so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed) was that for you, the tattoo artist who loved flowers, the florist who was allergic to flowers wouldn’t mind taking off his plastic suit and hand deliver fresh flowers to you every day just to see you smile.

-

Bonus

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Sakusa said with a deadpan face as he sat on the chair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he replied, even though his entire body was tensed up.

“Ok,” you said, leaning closer to him, “promise me you won’t regret this.”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you said in a breathy tone, gulping as you placed you held the edge of the tattoo chair for leverage, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Ok.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your boyfriend who had his eyes pressed tightly together as you lifted your hand.

His eyes snapped open at the light peck you placed on his lips.

Look, look. This might seem dramatic but this was a huge step for him, alright?

You blinked, nervous about what he might be thinking, “how was it?”

He seemed to be dazed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes that were fixed on him.

Nothing could stop the surprised gasp you let out when he suddenly latched onto you and kissed you much more firmly, not letting you move away with his hand at the back of your head.

Your breathing was rapid when he finally let you go, your face heating up when he poked his tongue out and swiped it along his bottom lip.

“I think I might actually like this more than I thought I would.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

10 tattoos/piercing, Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go! I based Dani's design on an arowana because I liked the color.

“Remember, non-scented soap, nice to meet you, byeee!” Aubrey waves to her client as they head down the boardwalk. She has thirty minutes until her next appointment, so it’s time to stretch her legs and check the little ‘doggy cam” she set up on Dr. Harris Bonkers cage to make sure the giant rabbit hasn’t finally managed to chew his way through the bars.

“Hi doctor” She coos into the phone. One white ear pivots towards the camera, but the bunny remains otherwise unmoved.

She leans on the railing, Pacfic sparkling like a postcard before her.

“Excuse me?”

“YEEEEP!” She jumps back, not expecting a woman to pop out of the water, let alone pop out and talk to her.

“Oops, sorry.” The other woman smiles, golden hair fanning out around her. There are two types of blondes in Long Beach; the ones hoping to be the next influencer sensation and the kind who are excited to tell you about GOOP and crystals.

Whichever kind this woman is, she’s the most gorgeous girl Aubrey’s ever seen.

“Um, can I help you?”

“Yeah! Can you tattoo me? A piercing would be okay too, but I really like how pretty the tattoos are.”

“Thanks. Um, you’re gonna need an appointment.” She pulls out her phone again, since it’s synced to the calendar Joseph makes them all keep, “lemme see....I have a big slot of time on Friday afternoon.”

The girl cocks her head, “That’s two days from now, right?”

“Yep.We can start at one if that works for you?”

“Sure, see you then!” She waves and then disappears under the water. A few moments later, a shimmering golden tail breaks the swell, seeming to wave once before submerging. Aubrey blinks, switches back to the bun cam.

“How do I tell Joseph I have to move my stuff outside to tattoo a mermaid?”

Dr. Harris Bonkers snuffles, but offers no further commentary.

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

“Joseph, for the last time, you are not gonna hang around just to ask my client questions while I’m trying to work.”

“I don’t plan to, but we need to make sure everything, and I mean everything, is as sterile as we can manage. Doing this outside gives me hives as it is.” Joseph finishes setting up the pop-tent, the kind sun-phobic families take to the beach.

“C’mon, people gave each other traditional tattoos out in the open for centuries. It should be fine.”

Joseph makes an unsure noise, but leaves her in peace all the same. Before long a golden tail flashes out of the water as the mermaid swims towards the beach, the closest spot to the pier where they could actually set the tent and generator up. It’s right on the tide line, Duck having used his almanac to tell them whether Aubrey would be chasing the tide or fleeing from it if the appointment turns out to be long.

“Um, hi again.” She waves.

“Hello!” The mermaid slides up into the surf. When she sits up, Aubrey turns pink.

“Uh, do you, uh, want a swimsuit or something?” Her voice is embarrassingly high.

The mermaid looks down, then at Aubrey studiously looking elsewhere, and laughs, “Oh, right, I forgot humans don’t like it when we’re bare-chested.”

“I mean it’s not that we don’t like it-” Aubrey mumbles.

“Be right back.” She pushes back into the sea, returning a minute later wearing a bright green bikini top, “is that better?”

“Yep!” She replies too quickly, “Sorry, I, um, I’ve never worked on a mermaid before, kinda figured you guys wore seashells or sea stars or something?”

“You...you realize where that would put the seastar mouths, right?” The mermaid scoots up onto the beach, tail in the water and back on the inflatable recliner they borrowed from Kirbys apartment.

“Ooohouch, you’re right, fuck, sorry.” She grabs her flash binder, brought in case the mermaid didn’t have a design in mind.

The mermaid glances over her shoulder, smiling, “You’re cute when you blush.”

She maintains her professionalism, but only just, as the mermaid chooses her preferred design; a brightly colored swirl of planets and stars. For a newbie, she barely seems to register the needle, focused instead on studying Aubrey’s face and hands as she works. She learns that her name is Dani, that she’s one of several merfolk living near the pier, and that she’s observed Aubrey and her handiwork courtesy of a rock and a pair of salvaged binoculars.

“Oooh” Dani wiggles her tail happily when she sees the finished product, “it’s perfect, thank you so much Aubrey.”

“Glad you like it-oh, okay.” She stiffens as Dani rubs their cheeks together twice before pulling back.

“I’m supposed to keep it clean right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how well saran wrap will hold up to sea water.”

A formerly empty Rose bottle thunks onto the sand. Dani grabs it, popping the make-shift cork off with her teeth.

“Ooh, Indrid sent me a special covering to keep it safe. And these must be for you.” She holds out two pearls.”

“Thanks” She’s more interested in watching the kissable lips covering razor sharp than the gems the mermaid gives her.

“Can I see you again?” Dani is halfway back in the water.

“Whenever you want. You’re a great client; you, um, you’re really nice to touch. Wait, um, I mean you take it really welllARGH, um, yes please come back.” Aubrey replies, tucking the second most valuable thing on the beach into her pocket and continuing to blush well after Dani has returned to the waves.

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

“AHFUCK!”

“Sorry!” Dani gives a sheepish wave to Duck before turning to Aubrey, who got used to her popping out of the water five times ago, “are you free tomorrow?”

“Sure” even if she isn’t, she’ll happily reschedule another client for Dani’s sake, “do want to pick something from my flash?”

“Nope, this time Indrid designed something. It’s about the same size as this” she holds up the watercolor hermit crab on her right arm, “see you then?”

“Of course.” Aubrey waves goodbye, blows a kiss when Dani is out of sight.

She forgot Duck was still here.

“You got it bad, Lady Flame.”

“Shush, I saw you chatting to Indrid by the coffee shop yesterday.”

“....you can’t prove anythin.”

She holds up her phone, smirking, “Oh yes I can.”

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

“Aubrey!”

She looks up, wondering who’s calling her name on the deserted beach. She brings Dr. Harris Bonkers down here on a leash late at night for enrichment for him and a break from the summer heat for her.

“Aubrey, over here!” Dani leaps through the surf until she;s only able to slide, “I thought it was you. Ohhhhhh” she squeals, “this must be Dr. Harris Bonkers. Hello cutie pie, aren’t you just so lovelyOH, oh he feels like an otter.” She rubs the rabbits head, causing him to creep towards the water, “you’re the second cutest thing on this beach, doctor.” She winks at Aubrey, then sits up, “can I introduce him to Ferdinand?”

Aubrey nods, excited to finally meet Dani’s pet; she only his name, but she’s expecting a seal, or maybe a crab.

What she gets is an octopus. The cephalopod winds a tentacle around her arm, investigating her.

“Aww, he likes you.” Dani sets the octopus down in shallow water, where it proceeds to stretch multiple limbs out to poke Dr. Harris Bonkers.

“Guess they’re having a playdate?” Dani scoots closer, resting her head on Aubrey’s shoulder.

Aubrey sets a hand on her tail, running her fingers up and down the scales as the mermaid sighs happily.

“As long as he doesn’t carry Dr. Harris Bonkers into the tidepools, they can hang out as long as you like.”

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

“Dani? How many tattoos are you planning to get?” Aubrey looks up from where she’s outlining an octopus on Dani’s side.

“I haven’t decided yet. It’s really common for mers to have lots of piercings and tattoos. That’s why Indrid can leave Duck so many expensive tokens; he’s the most in-demand tattoo artist on the coast.”

“Neat! Wait-” she sits up, shutting off the gun, “your friend is a tattoo artist, but you kept coming here?”

“Yes.” Dani is still, save for the end of her tail, which vibrates nervously.

“Why?”

“Um, well, I, I really liked your style. Then I really liked you, and I wanted to keep seeing you…”

“Holy crap, do you keep getting tattoos because you think that’s the only way you’re able to see me?”

“Uhhuh.” Dani is bright pink from her cheeks to her waist as Aubrey scrambles to sit in front of her, “I mean, when you want to date someone, you’re only allowed to see them at their work until they say they want to date you too. Even us meeting on the beach a few weeks ago was pushing it, and I didn’t want you thinking I was pushy.”

“....Huh?”

“Do humans not have that rule?” Dani’s honey-colored eyes widen.

“Nope. It’s actually kinda rude to ask people out at work, because they can’t get away BUT” she hurriedly sets the gun aside, “but I make exceptions for super cute wonderful mermaids.”

“Oh. In that case-” Dani knocks her backwards with her tail and climbs atop her, kissing her so hard she wonders if you can die from a really good make-out session. When the salty kiss ends the mermaid continues peppering her face with kisses and flicking her tongue along her neck.

“Dani I, I’m loving all of this but if you mess up my ink I’m gonna be as annoyed as I can possibly be with a gorgeous mermaid feeling me up.”

“Crap, you’re right.” Dani sits back up, glancing at the half-done tattoo, "I really don't want to ruin your work. Desperate need to see you aside, I do love your style." She folds her hands back into her lap and readjusts onto the inflatable chair.

Aubrey crawls forward, kissing her sweetly, "Once we're done and you're all wrapped up, wanna join me on the beach for a little, um, late night picnic."

A teasing kiss, first to her nose and then to her lips, "I'd love to."

[rollingthunderpouringrain]

Chapters: 1/1  II Ficlet, word count  843 Fandom: MCU / Captain America Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Stucky Characters: Steve Rogers, James Bucky Barnes Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Tired Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, 1930s, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Kissing

Summary:  “I feel a hundred years old.”, Bucky huffed. Steve turned around and meant to reply something witty, wanting to cheer his boyfriend up. But for some reason his breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows went up, the sight making him freeze. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, leaning against the wall next to the broken heater with one shoulder and trying - unsuccessfully - to somehow clean his hands on an old shirt hanging there. “Wait, Buck, hold on. L-lemme just…i need you to stay still.” “Come on, Stevie, I’m hungry, I-” “I’ll be fast! Please, I, uhm, I just- uhm. Need you to stay still. Right now.”

A tired and dirty Bucky comes home after a long day of work and Steve is there - that’s basically it I guess.

(Inspiration: this picture)

Steve bit his lower lip in concentration, carefully scooping up a spoon full of soup and putting it into a bowl.

Then he pushed the bowl away and pulled the second one closer, one hand going to his hair to wipe a sweaty strand away from his forehead.

A noise coming from the door made him smile without turning his head, already concentrating on the task of scooping up another portion of dinner. He heard Bucky’s muffled voice, a muttered curse and a sigh, and suppressed a sigh himself. It had been Bucky’s first whole day at the docks after having worked there only half days up until the week before. Therefore he was probably very exhausted, Steve supposed, and his smile paled slightly. Footsteps made clear that Bucky was coming closer, so Steve schooled his face into something happier, careful not to spill any soup while putting the bowl down. Just as he put the lid back on the pot, he heard a heavy sigh and a slight thump coming from behind him.

“I feel a hundred years old.”, Bucky huffed, without greeting Steve, who turned around.

He had meant to reply something witty, to make his boyfriend cheer up a bit. But for some reason his breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows went up, without him having any control over it, the sight making him freeze. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, leaning against the wall next to the broken heater with one shoulder and trying - unsuccessfully - to somehow clean his hands on an old shirt hanging there. “I’m not sure the bacon is all worth it, Steve. I mean, gotta be, right? But there sure are a lot of twits in the noon shifts, and the money don’t mean squat if I break my back doing what they should be doing, you know?”, Bucky mumbled, frowning. Then he looked up, a sudden wide smile appearing on his face and arms now crossed casually. “..Plenty rugged enough, though, so…”, he faltered and met Steve’s gaze. “You okay, Stevie?”

Steve was only now realizing that he had been staring at Bucky with his lips parted slightly, probably looking very alarmed. “Wait, Buck, hold on.”, he said quickly, as Bucky started to straighten up. The other man froze. “L-lemme just…i need you to stay still.”, Steve babbled, rushing to the table where his tiny pencil and some papers were - and understanding dawned on Bucky’s face, followed by the biggest eye roll that had ever graced his face. He clearly pretended to be annoyed, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Come on, Stevie, I’m hungry, I-” “I’ll be fast! Please, I, uhm, I just- uhm. Need you to stay still. Right now.”

Steve felt his ears turn pink, but he grinned at Bucky, taking back his position by the stove, art block in one hand, pencil stub in the other.

“Only a few seconds, okay?”

Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, but he had already one arm casually on the wall, the other propped on his hip dramatically. Now Steve was the one to give an eye roll, but his hand already started to sketch, eyes slowly leaving Bucky to wander down to the drawing pad. The other man’s facial expression turned pensive only a moment later, and Bucky’s hand left his hip to fiddle with a loose thread of his shirt. The paleness of his face made the dirt on it look even more obvious, and even though he looked tired there was a noticeable shine to his eyes.

A longer moment of silence than anticipated fell over them both, only the sounds of the alley outside and the scratching of Steve’s pencil could be heard.

Steve paused and looked up to find that he could also hear both of them breathing, rather loudly – which was not surprising in his case. He met Bucky’s gaze, who was staring at him intently, a small smile on his lips. A sudden wave of warmth crashed over him, and he let art block and pencil sink. The sketch was enough to complete it from memory later, anyway.

“Done. Come here.”, he said, grinning, and Bucky started moving as if someone had pushed him, hard, crossing the room with just a few steps. Automatically, Steve closed his eyes as soon as he felt Bucky’s hands on his shoulders and went on his tiptoes instinctively. Bucky’s lips felt warm and a bit salty but mostly familiar on his own, and a little sigh escaped him while he let himself get lost in the feeling of home and safety.

“Better say ‘please’, next time, pally.”, Bucky then mumbled against his mouth and Steve snorted, effectively breaking the kiss and sinking down again, opening his eyes. “I heard you’re hungry?”, Steve said, looking up. Bucky swallowed visibly before he answered, a somewhat uncharacteristically bashful look on his face.

“Very much so.”, he answered, voice a bit hoarse but smiling fondly. “Very much so.”, he repeated quietly.

Steve blinked up to him, returning the smile.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Passion Project (4/4)

Summary:

“Ignoring Hange Zoe had become a little passion project he allowed himself to indulge in, in between expeditions and quietly mourning unnecessary deaths in the battlefield.”

Levi tries to ignore Hange but it never seems to last. A ficlet detailing the development of Levi and Hange’s relationship before canon.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 3

“Captain, you’re moving a little too fast, could you please slow down with the next titan?”

“Moblit, this is the tenth titan I’ve killed today.”

“Apologies sir, we might need some clearer sketches so our squad leader could make the final decision on these blades.”

“Okay then.” Levi held back the grimace that was threatening to come out then. Moblit was just following orders after all.

Cooperating with each other’s squads was Erwin’s orders and in the end, Levi and Hange still had to work together. The first few experiments were easy, quality checking improvements for grenades, base supplies, flare guns and gas cannisters. They were all routine and Hange didn’t need to be there. Soon after she stopped showing up, Levi started to realize he didn’t have to show up in any of her capture missions either, only making it easier to pretend she didn’t exist.

At that moment though, having been stuck on the wall strategizing for more than four hours already, Levi was starting to accept that pretending Hange didn’t exist wasn’t such an efficient idea. When Hange wasn’t simping for titans after all, she had the brain of a logistics and a research prodigy, a rare gift that had propelled her to the top of that military section in the first place.

Levi couldn't help but think with his little struggle with Moblit, he had just stumbled upon a situation of the blind leading the blind. And with every failed attempt to get feedback on the prototype blades, its effect on the balance of the user, and the efficiency with which it cuts through the titans' nape, the inevitable only became all the more inevitable (if that was even possible). They wouldn’t make it on time for their deadline.

Levi jumped back down to the foot of the wall. There were three more titans attempting to scramble up the walls to no avail and Levi had two tests, the control and the experimental test and with that, two types of blades to test, the original and the prototype. They had come up with the genius idea of using a different type on each hand. Or begrudgingly, it had been Hange’s idea which Moblit had so graciously told him that afternoon after their miserable last session a few days before.

We need to check how deep you can slice with each of them. Moblit had said. And whether it slices cleanly through the neck. The older weapons were naturally duller which made cutting up napes a tall order for the average soldier.

Hange though had been working on a different blade which could make killing a titan an achievable goal for even the cadets in the garrison unit.

Levi felt some difference having been using those same blinds for long enough already. It was nothing more than a minute difference in movement for him. Levi was good with comabt which made him so easily adaptable already to the difference of blades. Hange had sworn though that there was a stark difference, many experiments ago back when they were still on speaking terms. With that unspoken yet mutual agreement not to speak though, Moblit was left with the burden of sketching what he can to capture that minute difference and Levi was left to find a way to slow down his movements to something accessible to the naked eye while exposing himself to the novel risk of being eaten by a titan with every single round.

Levi only realized as the sun started to set below the horizon and the sky started to look a little redder, that they had been up on the wall for what must have been five hours. They were both blind and consequently inefficient.

“We could try this another day?” Moblit suggested.

“You should get NIfa or Keiji here to help next time. More people to sketch, the faster this will go.”

Moblit put down the sketchpad and sighed. “I’m the only one who actually sketches among us so I don’t think they would be much of a help either. Our worst case scenario then is we hire other artists? Hopefully Commander Erwin would allow the funds for that. ” Hange’s right hand man had a generally courteous demeanor. Although Levi had felt a little accused by Moblit’s face, he couldn’t tell if the man really meant to inject spite into that statement.

He was right though. For one, of course Erwin wouldn’t waste the already low budget the Survey Corps receives every year on artists when a free alternative existed already.

Get Hange to show up for the experiment.

But it wasn’t that easy. Levi thought to himself. Eventually his anger at Hange dissipated but by then, even before he was aware of it, ignoring each other had morphed into a cruel game by some nonverbal agreement between both sides. Hange just stopped looking at him when they were in the same room and he decided to reciprocate that same action. Possibly out of pride more than anything else.

The situation at the scouts headquarters that night was no different. Hange and Levi’s squads were stationed nearby and everyone knew each other fairly well. As they all reunited in the castle after Hange’s successful attempt at training her own squad and Levi’s special Ops squad for the next titan capture attempt and Levi’s unsuccessful attempt at testing the blades, the tension in the room only became stronger.

Levi felt it as a sensation that consumed him slowly from his toes all the way to his fingertips, leaving him unable to do much but lock gazes with whoever was nearby that wasn’t Hange. He heard it in the uncomfortable mumbles of both Oluo and Petra, the more emotional ones in his team and he saw it in the way Moblit had a smile much wider than what should have been professional.

In his peripherals, he saw it, Hange making small talk with Gunther and Eld to her right, praising them for their quick wit and their ability to master the titan capture contraption she had been cooking up.

The frustrating part was, there was no tension in the way Hange gesticulated and gave out praises in that annoyingly sing-songy tone. Back then, it had felt like screeching in his ears. At present, that voice completely bypassed the ears and went straight for his chest sending piercing and almost nauseating sensations through his heart.

“I'm really grateful. Thank you for all of your help cleaning the lab last week. And of course, for cooperating with me today. My family sent over some souvenirs so I thought I’d share it. ” Hange went for the cupboards to the side of the common room and came back with a large enough bag with the familiar royal seal of that same familiar black tea shop.

“Their shortcakes are also pretty good so I asked my parents to send some over.” Hange continued as she laid out the boxes on the table. There were boxes of tea and boxes of shortcakes. Levi quickly counted them and was sure there was enough on the table for every single person in the room to have one box of tea and one shortcake.

Hange started to slide boxes over to the other soldiers

Rashad. Gunther. Moblit. Nifa. Eld. Keiji. Lauda. Oluo. Levi had occupied himself by saying the names out loud in his head. Hange was taking her sweet time, making sure to say a word of praise to every single person on the table.

That friendly gesture on her end only served to pull Levi back to the situation at hand despite his attempts to distract himself. Was she going to say anything about me? Was she going to apologize? Make peace?

He was on the other side of the table though, the farthest from her and Hange had gone for those closest first. He had to be patient.

After what felt like a lifetime to Levi, Hange only had four more boxes on the table. Two for herself and two for me. Levi thought to himself. Despite the tensions in the room, he found himself excited to be able to taste the delectable shortcake which he had been admiring in the underground, along with the black tea that despite the somewhat salty memories in retrospect still had the malty and bitter taste he enjoyed so much.

Levi chose the exact moment her hands went for the black tea to look up at her. To his surprise, she was looking back at him.

They were on opposite ends of the large round table and thus, the distance only made it difficult for Levi to realize that she wasn’t looking at him at all. It was as if she was looking past him.

At the window behind him. “Looks like it’s getting late everyone. We should get back to the barracks. I’ll keep these two for myself,” Hange said, sliding two of the boxes into her bag.

And the other two? Levi found himself asking silently. The discomfort he was feeling had him speechless.

As if to answer his question, Hange slid the two boxes across to Petra. “Petra, you really worked hard on that first aid plan today. We're trying to keep casualties to a minimum so that was really a great addition to the plan. You deserve something extra.”

“Ah… Thanks!” Petra answered. Levi noticed she had snuck an uncertain glance at him. Levi looked away, not wanting to influence whatever decision Petra chose to make. There was only one decision though that could have made Levi the least uncomfortable at that moment.

“Maybe you should share it with some family or friends?” Hange suggested. “You might know someone who would appreciate this. I heard It’s going to be pretty difficult to find something with this recipe  from now on since they’ll be phasing out the shortcake. I heard they’ll be changing the black tea recipe too. It’s one of my favorite mixes so I’d be happy if as many people as possible got to try it.”

Hange could have been thinking about him or she could have been thinking about anyone in the general public. Levi though had erred too much on the side of the assumer.

He didn’t want to make that mistake again.

                                   Passion Project

“To be frank, I don’t feel too good about having to approach you too like this. As a commander and as your friend, I trust both of you to do your jobs. As of late though, it looks like you two have been experiencing some bumps when actually trying to do your jobs. Care to explain?”

To Levi’s relief, Hange spoke up. He had no plans of being the first one to answer.

“What do you mean by… bumps? Erwin?”

It was as if Erwin had been ready to answer the question for a while. His approaching the desk and pulling out a wad of papers conveniently at the top of his drawer had seemed rehearsed.

“Let’s see here,” Erwin said. “I am still expecting a deliverable on the proto-type blades the research team has been working on… And Hange, why does your plan for the next titan capture mission involve everyone in Levi’s squad except Levi. “

“I thought Levi would have been busy with experimenting on the new blades so I didn’t want to bother him too much. Also... since I’m only expecting to capture one titan on our next expedition, I think his squad is more than capable of handling the titan capture without him.”

I wouldn’t have picked them if they weren’t. Levi had to note. He found himself a little amazed that despite the tension between them, Hange had given a pretty reasonable answer.

“And about the experiments on the blades Levi, have you been working on those?”

“Yes. Moblit and I have been working on them,” Levi answered, keeping his replies as brief as possible. He didn’t think he had Hange’s charisma to pull off such a reasonable explanation but he should at least be able to manage not making a fool of himself.

“And it looks like you’ve been working on them for more than a month,” Erwin noted. He looked to Hange. “Hange, How many trials do you need?”

“Just one good one. I only need to see Levi’s movements and positions when he slices the blades, I think that’s more than enough for me to see whether the new prototype can really be helpful to the average soldier.”

“Then why is this taking a month to do?” Erwin looked to both of them and Levi was somehow relieved that at least whatever fault they may be concluded to have, it would most likely be shared between the both of them.

“I asked Moblit to sketch it,” Hange answered with the same charisma and confidence of a while ago. If Hange had been talking to an idiot with that tone, she would have convinced them.

Erwin though, was no idiot. “Sketch it?”

“Sketch Levi’s position.”

“You mean draw Levi’s position in the air while he’s slicing the titan’s nape.”

Hange nodded. “Moblit is a very good sketch artist.”

Erwin raised one eyebrow and turned to Levi. “And Levi, how has that been working for you?”

“Moblit says I move too fast,” Levi answered.

“And that’s why it’s been taking you a month to do this?”

“I’m still trying to learn how to slow down.”

“And why can’t Hange see for herself the experiment?”

“She’s busy,” Levi answered.

Erwin rested his chin on his hands. “Oh, so you too have been too busy to coordinate yourself that Petra and Moblit had to do all the liaising for the both of you?” He took out the first two pages and slid the rest of the papers under them.

One crucial part of being a leader of his own team had completely slipped Levi’s mind as he played the silent treatment card a little too seriously. The paperwork.

“If I recall correctly, I told both of you to fill out these reports together. A lot of the technological developments in the survey corps are dependent on both of your performances after all.”

Hange and Levi both remained silent.

It didn’t look like Erwin was giving them time to defend it either. “Why are these both signed Moblit and Petra? Neither of you could make it to the fortnightly meeting I required of both of you? And neither of you even bothered to tell one another you couldn’t make it?”

Levi swallowed the lump in his throat. That had been an oversight on his end and as he looked to Hange to see that same panic, it turned out he wasn’t alone. Levi had asked Petra to handle the paperwork so he wouldn’t have to deal with Hange.

And it turned out Hange had done the same.

“Both of you are lucky you have subordinates who know both of your trades so well that even if it wasn’t signed by them, I still would have thought the both of you prepared it.” Erwin said as he fixed the papers neatly on his desk. “Except the handwriting part.”

It was an attempt at some humor to lighten the already awkward mood of the room. It hadn’t worked though. With how he felt, Levi actually felt slightly insulted that Erwin had mentioned their shitty handwritings on top of their inability to do their jobs.

“I’m seeing an issue of communication here and I think you two should be addressing it now. The next expedition is in three days and I don’t want any unnecessary deaths just because of some bad communication and failure to deliver on both of your parts. If I see another paper signed by Moblit or Petra--- or scratch that, anyone else other than both of you, any time in the near future, I will shred all the reports I have right now and I will ask both of you to redo it all.” Erwin paused for long enough to glare at both Hange and Levi. “Don’t test me.”

And with that, the short meeting was over. Hange stood up, gave a friendly greeting and walked out.

The door frame could have fit both of them. Levi though, had let Hange go first, not wanting to confront her then. Hange’s face had been unreadable and after that small rageful stint in the research lab a few weeks back, he realized there were buttons about her, he just didn’t want to push just yet.

“Levi, stay.”

Levi looked back at Erwin and mechanically moved back to his seat.

“Moblit and Petra already told me about what happened so I don’t need the whole story from you if that’s what you’re expecting,” Erwin started.

“What did they tell you?”

“What happened after the titan went loose and after her lab got destroyed.” Erwin shook his head. “But that’s not the point. As your commander, I’ll say this. You and Hange are two of the most valuable soldiers in the survey corps. It was your cooperation that got us into this standing in the first place and that’s why it’s in all our best interest that you two keep your communication lines open.”

Levi could only listen.

“And as both of your friends, this is what I have to say. You two are just going to remain as miserable as you are right now if you don’t fix this between yourselves.”

“Miserable? What makes you think I’m miserable?” He had already accepted long ago that it was making him miserable. What makes you think Hange is miserable?

“Maybe because you’re denying it right now?” Erwin said.

There should have been more to it than that. And the knowing look Erwin had given Levi then only added to his self consciousness at that moment. He noticed everything from the way his shoulders dropped, to the way he had leaned further into the chair and the way he had let his eyes fall to the floor below him. “And Hange? What makes you think Hange’s miserable?”

“She denied it too.” Erwin looked pointedly at Levi. “In this exact same way.”

                                   Passion Project

Erwin had made sense. If that whole debacle with the titans and the cold war that followed hadn’t made him a little miserable, he probably wouldn't have entertained the prospect at all. Whether he could say the same for Hange, at that rate he didn’t want to assume.

The commander had seemed privy to both sides and it was he who decided the next plan of action to go about the rift that was created between the two.

Talking to Hange is easy. Proving to her that you still consider her a valuable friend is a little harder.

It was only through Erwin’s words did he realize how much of an arse he had been to Hange lately. He had played that little game of silent treatments since Hange had approached him about the titan capture mission. All he needed was Erwin to knock some sense into him before he quickly recalled everything, while a little more biased against his own actions.

And this is how you repent for this. Levi had to remind himself as he wandered through the woods. He wasn’t excited at all for the plan Erwin had laid out.

“Hange has been a little hyper fixated on getting a specific type of sample she wanted to work with. If you give it to her as a peace offering, maybe you could win back her trust?”

Maybe? It wasn’t a maybe. Erwin had proposed it in a way that it sounded foolproof. And Levi was starting to become a little more convinced that it might just work. Not just because of Erwin’s persuasion. Also because he was doing something that had been so unimaginable and so repulsive of an idea that he would have never done it if it wasn’t for the suggestion and the eventual prodding of Erwin. He probably would have tried any other idea first. But that was the idea left for him. He was desperate and somehow, he was clinging to the hope that Hange would see that desperation.

Most titans stay in the woods so keep an eye out for it. They’re usually on the ground next to the trees and they look like tiny cocoons. Levi was sure he knew what Erwin was describing. In fact, he had seen them multiple times before.

Maybe in this same forest. He had his procedural memory on his side. All he had to do was retrace his steps. As if his own motivations to talk to Hange again were spurring him on, he didn’t take too long to find one.

The cocoons were titan puke and they didn’t dissolve as easily as titan blood. Beneath those cocoons were half digested dead bodies.

But Hange doesn’t need those. She wants the digestive juices. Erwin had pointed out.

“The digestive juices and the spit,” Levi repeated to himself like it was some sort of mantra. He only ever wanted to do that once in his life and that only time he would be doing it, he needed to do it perfectly or risk having to go back.

He took out the jar he kept underneath his cloak and bent over next to the cocoon. He pulled his green cloak up to his face to at least protect himself from the odor that he was sure was coming.

The cocoon already had an odor, a faint ominous odor that only hinted to Levi that there may have been more of it underneath.

With one blade, he poked a hole into the cocoon, and ripped it open a bit towards the top. It was big for an arm to move freely inside without actually having to touch the shell of the cocoon. It wasn’t big enough to send the digested material spilling out.

The smell was horrendous and Levi felt tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes. Even with a first line of defense on his face, nothing had prepared him for the stench of rotting flesh mixed with digestive juices and a titan steam. It had his head spinning and Levi found himself teetering to a tree as far away as possible from the scent but still at least near enough to keep an eye on the cocoon.

He took a break and he made sure it was a quick one. He counted down two minutes to be exact. He only had ten to twenty minutes to finish this little project before a titan appears or worse, his squad starts to look for him. He had little time to waste.

He removed his cloak, folded it and wrapped it tightly around his face, covering all the way up to his eyes which were burning from the stench.

This wasn’t a test of courage nor was it a life threatening combat situation. As Levi got closer to the cocoon, he quickly memorized his surroundings before pulling the cloak up to his head. For that five minutes, he could spare his vision and his full range of movement. He could be as cowardly as he wanted to be.

But really, he would have rather been facing thirty titans at that moment.

Levi found himself having to talk to himself, having to coax himself through the motions just to be able to get his feet moving towards that horrible stench. All he had to do was feel around for the cocoon, dip the jar in, quickly put the cap over it, run away and the hell should be over.

“Levi, why are you here? And why are you like...” A voice rang out in the darkness.

The hell would have been over. It seemed like the devil heard his monologue and opened up another circle of hell.

“Hange?” He had attempted to say. The cloth had gotten caught in his mouth and it had ended up sounding a little more like a muffle. He had tried to enunciate the words a bit before the fold of his cloak got further caught in his mouth.

Levi should have godly balance with the amount of experience he had flying through the air, killing man eaten beasts. At that moment, incapacitated by the foul odor, the awkwardness of the situation, the embarrassment of being caught in it and the disorientation that came with having a piece of cloth tightly wound over his whole head, Levi lost his balance for the first time in years.

He fell forward with a big, loud and incredibly putrid splash.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Levi felt arms around him before the putrid and mildewy smell rushed up his nose, taking his consciousness with it.

“Get yourself together!”

                                    Passion Project

When Levi came to, the odor hadn’t left. In fact, it was more pungent that he could even remember and Levi had to bury his face on the cloak that was conveniently in front of him to stop himself from hurling whatever those odors were pushing out of him.

The cloak didn’t smell as clean as his own. Any smell though far enough from the one he had just witnessed was a good enough respite. The respite didn’t last long though, soon enough the scent did creep up on him and as Levi soon realized, the cloak had the beginnings of that same odor.

He was the one who smelled like it. That exact moment when the odor did rush through him into his nostrils and spread to both up his head and down his throat, the horse he had been riding broke rhythm and had Levi jumping in his seat.

“Stop….” Stop the horse. Levi felt the contents of his stomach quickly climb up as if the odor had pulled them out himself.

“Levi, you okay?”

Of course I’m not! Levi would have wanted to say. Before he could even ponder the ridiculousness of the question, his body took over his inhibitions.

The last thing he remembered before faded out of consciousness was the cloak in front of him drenched with his own personal cocktail of digestive juices.

                                          Passion Project

“Good morning!”

It had been a week since they got back from the expedition

“I brought breakfast.”

And he had been waking up to that same view of Hange by the door since he started to get a better sense of his surroundings.

The breakfast consisted of bread and egg whites just like he requested. He had attempted a more daring combination of food when he first woke up, and the first night Hange had even tried to serve him black tea. The foul odor which still lingered like a ghost made itself particularly known through his taste buds. With the more daring food choices, Levi found himself facing a disgusting mix of rotten mildew and edible food which had him nauseated if not throwing up at just the first bite.

With the plain choice of egg whites and a piece of bread, he was at least able to placate that little ghost of an odor. He didn’t enjoy the tastes and the sensations which still stung at his throat and rushed to his nose in the most inopportune time. As Hange had told him though countless times since they got back from the expedition, he still had to eat.

He was halfway through the harrowing experience of chewing the bread when Hange spoke up.

“I looked into the samples you took and I think I found out why it smelled weird. To be honest, I threw up too when I opened the jar.” It was just like her to have a little lack of awareness at the fact that Levi was still far from recovered from the titan cocktail debacle and the fact that he was still eating when she mentioned it.

Levi willed himself to swallow the last morsels of bread. “You really want to talk about it now?” he asked, eyeing the plate of egg whites in front of him. The egg whites were starting to look less appetizing by the second. As if they were appetizing. Levi almost forgot how ‘appetizing’ actually feels like.

“We can talk about something else first,” Hange suggested.

Levi pushed the plate away. “No, go ahead.” He had lost all motivation to force the food down his throat. Somehow, the explanation for his one week of recovery that followed that splash into what could have been hell seemed to be more ‘appetizing.’

“The cocoon on top of the rotting flesh and organic matter, was the ideal environment for some fungi to grow too. And that pungent smell was released by the fungi when their vacuum was disturbed…” Hange started. “On top of the titan spit and the rotting bodies…”

Levi knew it was odd. Despite being his fastidious self, Levi had been exposed to enough disgusting things to have at least been able to stand the odor. He had been drenched with titan blood. He had been surrounded by dead bodies a few times. That odor shouldn’t have been enough to knock him out.

But it did.

The pungent odor was cruel. It lingered for days. In fact, even Erwin had sympathized as if he knew how horrible that smell had been. He had given him the week off after the expedition to get his life together after. It was Hange who had stayed in the room while he alternated between the bed and the bathroom. It was Hange who forced him to eat enough so he wouldn’t starve to death.

That week while he recovered from the ordeal of a head first splash into the cocoon juice, his life consisted of sleeping and showering and struggling to eat in between.

“Figures…” Levi said

“And for someone as obsessed with cleanliness as you, of course it would have made you a little sicker.” Hange paused for a second and her lips curled up subtly. “And you did dunk your head in.”

Levi blinked back the memory of that fiasco. It had seemed like a fevered dream then. From what he understood, he had flitted in and out of consciousness on the way back from the last expedition. There were voices discussing the logistics of transporting an unconscious yet stinky captain and one notable voice that had stuck out, so confidently volunteering to have him ride behind her. The only proof that it was anything but a fevered dream was that vivid memory of throwing up half conscious on Hange’s horse and the strong bout of embarrassment that followed. So strong that Levi felt the blood rush through his face just thinking about it. He ended up looking away. That was the last thing he wanted to recall then. He coughed. “Did you find out anything else from those samples?”

Hange shook her head, looking regretful. “Nothing much that could have hinted to the origins of titans. So far… It was all rotting organic matter. The cocoon had smoked when you opened up, which means if there were fluids from within the titan, they might have evaporated already by the time you got the samples.”

“So it was all a waste?”

“Not really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that type of fungi in my life. Maybe I could study it in my free time,” Hange said. “And you can help by telling me all about your experience.”

That wouldn’t be an experience Levi would have been happy to recall. But if she were going to continue looking at him with that same wonder and curiosity, with that same wide smile and starry eyes, he might just comply.

He didn’t tell her that though but he didn’t reject her either. “Maybe…”

“I’m sorry. I never got to thank you for the samples...” Hange’s cheeks were a little rosier which only made Levi stare at that smile for a little longer. “I was planning on getting samples during that expedition but then I found you there... getting them for me… Why did you?”

“You like studying titans right?”

“But I know you don’t like that I do it. You hate titans and you’re a clean freak. And I was, studying them, enjoying it, making messes, sometimes endangering lives…Ever since before, when I started focusing more on titan research, you don’t visit as often and when I suggested we capture a titan, you kept ignoring me. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me. And with what happened in the lab... You told me yourself you didn’t want to talk to me anymore… So I didn’t expect this at all…”

Levi admitted, he regretted those last few words. But everything before that, those biweekly tea dates, those hours he spent just waiting for her in the lab. How could those have been interpreted as him not wanting to see her? “Weren’t you the one a little too obsessed with your research?”

Hange widened her eyes. “Was I?”

“All you did was coop yourself up in the lab, I had to be the one to take you out for baths, force you to actually spend time with me. How the hell does that make you think I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

“Because you always sounded angry when we actually talked.”

“Did I?” Levi had to concede, she had been annoying and frustrating and maybe he had raised his voice at her. And he did have to knock her out a few times to get her to bathe. But did he really have any other choice?

“You knocked me out to bathe me,” Hange said pointedly.

“Maybe because I thought you should take care of yourself more and Moblit has been trying to tell you that for years.”

“Yes I get that Levi but knocking people out actually does the complete opposite of self care. You could have asked nicely.”

“Weren’t you listening? Moblit has been asking you nicely for years.” Levi hissed. “I had to resort to that because you weren’t listening to anyone. If the titans were the ones who reminded maybe you would have actually listened,” Levi turned to her and narrowed his eyes. “Does your relationship with your squad mean anything to you? Does our relationship mean anything to you? Or is the only thing in your head just titans now?”

Hange’s eyes were wide with shock for a while. The realization he could make out in her face was enough for Levi to stop and wait for her response. Her expression was at least enough for him to want to listen to what she had to say next.

“Maybe you’re right… I’ve been a little too excited,” Hange’s expression softened. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten this excited over something. When I see titans, I’m excited, when I see an abnormal die, I get angry. When I got Ilse’s journal and read through it, Levi… I felt something bubble inside me and I was ecstatic for days. Is this hope? Wonder? There’s so much we don’t know about this world… I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever been this emotional in my life and lately, I get so excited just waking up every single day. How would you describe this feeling?”

Hange’s words were stilted and it was apparent that she was talking while coming up with what to side. Her words were coming out faster than her mind was coming up with them. Yet at the same time, they flowed so easily and smoothly, like an unimpeded stream.

Passion Levi could only suspect one emotion that could do just that to people. And as Hange started to talk about the one thing that had made her so emotional, so excitable and so hyper fixated that past five years. When he saw the way her eyes wandered around the room, probably not focused on her surroundings but on the memories of all those creatures that had made her so excitable, he was sure she was seeing more colors and more sensations.

He himself was no stranger to it. The past five years, he had been more irritable, more angry, more frustrated. At the same time, he had been happier. Back then, when they had first met, he never did understand what kept her rambling on to other people about nonsense. But somehow, with the amplification of his own emotions the past five years, the sudden emotional investment he gave to specific things, he started to emphasize.

You have your passion projects and I have mine. Levi closed his eyes and looked away. The truths and implications behind that sentence had Levi’s chest hurting and it brought back the memories of his own fractured ribs from many years ago having been squeezed by a titan. His heart was hurting and the pain rushed all the way up to his mouth.

And Levi swallowed it back in as quickly and as violently as it had rushed out.

“Hey? You okay? You’re gonna puke again?”

“No,” Levi managed to answer. He wondered though if he had come out as a croak or as a coherent answer. He kept his eyes closed and detached himself from his surroundings, allowing himself one final reflection of what had rocked him so violently to the core.

The realization came after an eternity that could have probably only lasted a few seconds. She was his passion project. Somehow, he wished that he had been hers too.

When Levi opened his eyes again, Hange had pushed a basin in front of him, ready to catch anything that comes out of him. She was staring at him so intently, saying things about keeping it down, getting some rest but he hadn’t been listening.

He saw wonder in her eyes. He felt concern in her tone. And maybe, underneath all that, there could have been care, and possibly even passion. Do I make you feel the same way? Do you feel things with me that you don’t feel with titans?  Somehow, he had managed to convince himself that the expression she gave him as they locked eyes, were only his to enjoy.

“I’m fine.” As quickly as that feeling clenched at his chest and pushed the bile up at his throat, it pushed it back down again and with it had placated that war that waged inside him.

“Hey, you scared me. I thought you were gonna get sicker again and go on those long naps again. The last time you ever slept that long was in the hospital.”

Of course Hange would know. She had been the one visiting everyday. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve been visiting everyday right? Don’t you have research to do?” Levi asked.

“Well, I thought I’d wait for you to feel better first. Besides, there are things I wanna test and I’d rather you were there with me.”

I thought I’d wait for you to feel better first. Levi found himself smiling. “Thanks for taking care of me.” For once, she had picked him over titans.

“Of course, you’re humanity’s strongest and we have lots of work to do when you’re out of leave. Erwin still needs reports on the new blades and we’re going to have to redo the titan capture strategy if you’re willing to help out…”

As quickly as the smile had curled up his lips, it morphed into a grimace.

“But first things first, let’s focus on getting you up to speed. Are you going to finish those egg whites? You’re not doing yourself any favors leaving it like that.”

With the right prodding, Hange managed to get Levi to swallow those egg whites in spite of her incessant and detailed rambles about her findings on that very unappetizing cocoon.

                                  Passion Project

Levi did not doubt it. Hange did live with passion. He felt it as a tingle in his eyes when he would count the stars in her eyes as she reported the results of her research over strategy meetings and nights of cafe. He felt it as blood rushing to his ears when he’d hear her shrill screams from up on the wall as he proved another one of her hypotheses about titans correct. He felt it when his nose burned as he entered the lab, only to have to knock her out for another bath.

It was fairly obvious what had been breathing life and passion into her. Those feelings were all tied to one thing--- titans. To save himself the potential pain of expecting something from the unexpected, Levi chalked up her passion for titans as an inevitable truth.

Sometimes though, he was the object of her shrill screams or those stars in her eyes. In those few times, he stood corrected. And in those not-so-few occasions he was proven wrong, Levi was happy for hours, maybe even days.

“I wonder if you’ll still get this much praise if they find out how much of a neat freak you are.”

One of the few places Hange seemed to give him more attention than usual was the ride to the gates of the walls. It was that heavenly in-between. Hange was too far from her lab, yet still too far from the field to be considering titans. And for those few moments, sometimes he did have her full attention.

Just like every other time she engaged in a non-titan related conversation with him, it was music to his ears. Those moments always came as a welcome reprieve Levi wished would never end.

“Just beyond these walls is a world of titans…”

Just like all other reprieves though it ended. Levi used the view of the gates rising in front of him as some sort of distraction to her passionate tirade

“I wonder what kind of titans I’ll meet today...”

And once again, Levi heard the passion. That time in the music in her voice as she trailed off.

“I would really love it if we ran into an abnormal!” Of course, Hange played favorites even among her favorites.

“There’s an abnormal nearby already.” That little provocation from Levi had come up as something so casual and emotionless. Yet, Hange ate it up so quickly, Levi was sure that was where her appetite went.

“Really? Where?” Even within the confines of the wall, she was still looking for them. As if she didn’t have enough test subjects, samples and records within the walls to stare at.

And that train of thought in particular had Levi wheeling his horse a little closer to her, just to mess with her a little more. Maybe illicit some reaction from her.

“Over here.” I’m the abnormal titan. I’ll be the abnormal titan you’re so idiotically looking for within the walls.

Hange only returned his look with a confused one of her own. He looked for stars in her eyes or maybe a flush in her cheeks to find none. She just seemed utterly confused and unpreturbed and Levi found himself feeling a little disappointed in return.

Titans were disgusting. They were filthy. They were chaotic creatures. In that split second where he felt himself manifesting just a little the titans Hange loved so, he wished he were one of them, just so she could look at him, just so she could talk to him with that same sing song voice and scream at him with that same shrill sound.

“Soldiers ready!” Erwin’s voice rang out among the crowd, so naturally grabbing everyone’s attention, notably his and Hange’s.

His duty as a soldier was always priority though. As quickly as he had manifested that jealousy towards the titans, he forced it out of his mind. When Erwin demanded attention, those passion projects took a backseat, something he would only reserve a minute or so to ponder in between titan kills.

He had expected that expedition to be similar.

It turned out though, there wasn’t much mind space or emotional space to consider that passion project any longer. With the siege of Trost, the capture of titans, the 57th expedition and the quickly progressing chain of events that followed, the frustration at the unrequited feelings that came with his passion project had faded into nothing more than a regularly passing thought.

Hange never left. In fact, he was working with her more closely than before. Her projects, her experiments, her conclusions and her crackpot theories fueled by passionate research were just turning out to be more and more crucial with every development.

It was slow going and sometimes Levi did entertain that green eyed monster that would pay its occasional visit. With each turn of event and with each truth uncovered though, Levi did eventually have to accept the harsh truth that accompanied their reality.

Maybe, it was for the better that the titans kept their rightful place, the center stage of Hange’s little passion project.

[tasteofsmut]

Tasteof Smut Fest Masterlist!

It’s September, and we’ve now come to the end of the Taste of Smut Fest! Us mods @eva-eleanore​, @tasteofshapes​ and @veelawings​​ would like to thank everyone who participated in the fest by creating such gorgeous works or who left kudos and comments for our amazing content creators - THANK YOU for this precious August gift! We hope that you’ve enjoyed this fest as much as we have! Here’s the MASTERLIST OF ALL WORKS sorted alphabetically by ship.

Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

It starts with an inkpot by @penguinanimagus​ / vivi1138 (FIC) Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Senses: taste, smell, hearing, touch

When you have a crush on your best friend, sometimes all you need is a little push in the right direction. Being locked in your dorm, unable to see or be seen, might just be the perfect opportunity to confess.

Blaise Zabini/Ron Weasley

Down Into My Sensory

by

TheUltimateUndesirable

/ @ultimateundesirable (FIC) Blaise Zabini / Ron Weasley

Senses: hearing, sight, touch

A boring tasteless marriage with Hermione leads to Ron being enraptured by his sense when he finally feels something more again. That something is shagging Blaise Zabini. What's Ron going to do about being married to his high school sweetheart and finding himself without her? Go with it all like he has been and or finally move on from what was clearly a mistake.

 Charlie Weasley/Hermione Granger

Bared Before Him by articcat621 / @articcat621​ (FIC) Charlie Weasley/Hermione Granger

Senses: Touch,  Hearing 

One Saturday afternoon, Charlie offers a suggested activity that she just can’t turn down.

Draco Malfoy /Harry Potter

Long in the Baking, Never Quite Done by @p1013 / p1013 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter 

Senses: Taste, touch 

“Hi, Luna.” Harry toasts her with his glass. “That looks lovely.”

She curtseys back. “Thank you, Harry. It’s to keep the wrackspurts away. How’ve you been?”

“Good. I brought cakes.”

“Wonderful. I’m assuming Ginny sent you in here?”

He smiles. “She did.”

“Warned you about Draco?”

“Yes.” He takes another drink. “Though I don’t know why she felt the need. We’ve been civil for years.”

“Does she know you fancy him?”

Harry chokes. 

Centric Dreams by SensibleRen (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Sight, Hearing

Draco keeps having dreams about no one else other than Harry Potter. Each dream continues to come true the following day, until Draco has a particularly interesting one. 

Woodsmoke by @underscoresally​​ / underscore_sally (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Senses: smell, touch

After the war, Harry questions Draco and Draco demands answers he isn’t quite prepared for. But the warmth of a late-autumn fire and the smell of woodsmoke have a magic of their own, and as the answers come, so does an understanding.

Prepare the Brush for Me (I’m Craving With This Need) by @clemandben​ / Ladderofyears (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Sight, touch and scent.

Harry Potter is feeling artistic. Draco is his canvas.

Arôme d'Amour (Aroma of Love) by @slytherholic​ / slytherholic (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

Harry's in for a surprise when he's hit with a perfume that attracts only the true soulmate.

With You, Always by acupforslytherin / @acupforslytherin​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: hearing

All his life, Harry repeatedly hears one same calming tune in his dreams. No one seems to recognize the mysterious song, until one day, Harry catches Malfoy humming it when he thinks he's alone.

all the feelings that you're making me feel by M0stlyVoid / @bonesliketambourines​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Harry should have known that ‘clean bill of health’ he got after a spell rebounded off him in a raid was too good to be true, especially with Draco Malfoy involved. He never expected this, though, but he finds to his utter shame that he could bloody well get used to it.

esto quod es, fortis et liber by @drgngrl87 / DragonGirl87 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell, Taste

One fateful late-night run ruined Harry Potter's life...or did it? When the wolf in him threatens to turn life as he knows it upside down, he's left with no choice but turn to Draco Malfoy for help. Can his former Hogwarts nemesis fix his problem? And more importantly, will they be able to keep their hands and paws off each other?

 Tracing Body Lines Unexplored by Veelawings / @veelawings​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Sight

Harry had teased him a few days ago, made a crude joke about Draco’s Slytherin scarf that he couldn’t even remember at the moment, but it had led to this. To Harry naked on his crisp white sheets, green eyes masked by a green tie and waiting for Draco to follow up on his promise. That he could make this scarf Harry’s favourite thing in the world.

(Or — gentle body worship, but kinky)

 Even the Night by tackytiger / @tackytigerfic​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses:  Taste Touch Sight

I'm so bad at this

Two boys meet on a rooftop

Read and find out more

Featuring lots of cigarettes, a Midsummer sky, close encounters in a bath, and plenty of fireworks.

 the first language by saltwatergarden / @talkingtravesties​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

There are some things that Draco just knows about Potter. For instance, he hates the press. He loves his friends deeply and would die for them. He's terrible at fending way his simpering fans and the stories about how powerful his magic is are more than just stories. He also hates being touched. Or does he?

  Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips by angrywitchpolice / @angrywitchpolice​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste Smell Touch Sight Hearing

Harry and Draco’s first time together, lost in the sensations of each other.

  A Light for Another's Dark by p1013 / @p1013 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Every touch leaves a memory. For Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, this is literal. When Harry Potter goes missing, Draco is asked to use his ability to Read the memories embedded in the objects he touches to help find Potter. While following his trail, Draco's only certain of one thing: what he learns about Harry Potter affects Draco's life more than he wants to admit, and, more worryingly, not just his life, his heart.

They Glow (Bright) Under the Moon's Light by @zandragorin​ / ZandraGorin (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Senses: Sight, Touch It took some time but now Harry's finally realized that Potions isn't as bad as it once seemed. Of course, this realization has nothing to do with a particularly gifted (and good-looking, fit, gorgeous) Potions Professor. None whatsoever.

 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor / @eva-eleanore​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Hearing, Touch

For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on and international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched him going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for him though. Maybe for just one night...

 Pottering with Potter by keyflight790 / @keyflight790​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Hearing

Harry doesn't know why he has a wireless show either, but he's going to make the best of it.

  Here’s To You by Drarrymadhatter / @drarrymadhatterstuff (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry 

Senses: Sight and Taste

Harry’s in a muggle bar drinking to Sirius’ honour on what would have been his birthday. Draco comes into the bar after a horrific blind date in need of a strong drink. Together they take on the cocktail menu and experiment with taste and sight.

 Crimson Neon by xanthippe74 / @xanthippe74​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

Winter, 1999. Harry thought going to New York would help him get his head on straight, but all he has to show for it are sore feet and a fridge full of takeaway containers. And now he’s homesick on top of everything else. It doesn’t help that his mysterious neighbour in 2C keeps cooking dishes that remind Harry of home and all the people he lost or left behind.

The familiar face behind the door of 2C is only the first surprise. As the bleak winter eases into spring, Harry discovers that happiness isn’t as out of reach as he thought… as long as he can find a way to hold onto it.

  another heart whispers back by slytherco / @slytherco (FIC & ART) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste, touch, smell, sight, hearing

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates.

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato

In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago.

  Sun Stroke by peachpety / @peachpety​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach. With the help of a sultry sea setting, encouraging friends, and a fisherman's jumper, Harry and Draco's mutual attraction swells and things get hot on a salty summer night.

Every Inch Of You by Ladderofyears / @clemandben​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Sight

When Draco returns after a year at the Koldovstoretz School in Russia he has gained some weight and now has quite a prominent belly. He feels shy about his new physique, but Harry thinks that his lover looks just as gorgeous as ever.

Cooling Down by prolix (shal) / @prolix- (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Taste

Harry needs to relax. Draco needs to cool off. Together, with a little bit of ice, they manage to do just that.

 Your Music To Create by GayAFSlytherin  / @gayafslytherin (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch and Hearing

Harry has taken up piano as a coping mechanism. However, he really wants to be part of a bigger group so he signs up to be the solo Pianist for an orchestra. What he doesn't know is that Draco is going to be the solo Cellist for the orchestra as well. They're both fascinated while watching the other play and, unexpectedly, by each other.

The Scent of You by tsundanire / @tsundanire​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

After a chance encounter leaves his new sense of smell reeling, Harry discovers that being a werewolf has more to offer than he'd ever imagined.

Espresso Patronum by tasteofshapes / @tasteofshapes​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry potter

Senses: Taste, Smell

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Royal Purple Polish by littymcgritty / @littymcgrittywrites​​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Hearing

Tell me, have I lost my mind again?

I get the feeling you might feel the same

Tell me you can feel that love, feel that love again

In which Draco and Hermione try love for a second time. Sort of.

All Tied Up by sunflower_swan / @sunflower-swan​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: taste, touch, hearing, smell

It is Draco's birthday. Hermione has a (sexy) surprise planned, but he will have to wait to find out what it is.

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy by MissELY / @misselylux​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Hearing

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have a series of unpleasant, confusing, and electric encounters during the Death Eater trials after the war.

"And once again, for better or for worse, the sound of that voice is enough to fell her."

Limbic System by dirtymudblood / @dirty-mudblood​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight (and also smell)

There are very few things that are unexplainable. Quantum entanglement, antimatter, the Fermi Paradox to name a few.

Add to the list; Hermione Granger’s inability to orgasm.

Love is Blind by Aneiria / @aneiria-writes​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight

‘Draco, we need to talk about what happened,’ Hermione said now, placing a cup of tea next to her partner as he sat hunched over her kitchen table. She gently laid her hand over his, guiding him towards the handle so he could drink. ‘I have to complete our report for the DMLE.

Draco Malfoy grimaced and shook his head. ‘There’s really no need, Granger,’ he said, but she pushed on anyway. Draco had acted as bravely as any Gryffindor today, and she wanted to know why.

‘For all we knew, that curse could have been an Avada. You could have died, but you jumped in front of me without hesitation.’

‘Of course I bloody did; I’m your partner!’ he snapped back, looking in her direction with his sightless silver eyes. ‘That’s the first thing we were taught in Auror training, remember? Always have your partner’s back.’

Because Six Ate Seven by VexLonely / @vexlonely​ (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight

"Draco Malfoy had started gardening for stress relief, but looking down at his delicate failures, he seethed.

He had never seen Number Seven out in the garden, had never crossed their path in the posh St. Mungo’s housing where they lived. He blamed the wizarding world for enabling his antisocial tendencies. With a floo inside most apartment units and apparition at one’s fingertips, who needed to linger in a hallway?"

 sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton / @kissingturians (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Smell

A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.

Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood 

Fingers in her hair by Hypallepse / @hypallepse​ (FIC) Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

Senses: Touch

Whenever Luna is having a nightmare, Ginny is here to take her in her arms and distract her by brushing and braiding her hair. But while Luna is reminded of her mother, Ginny thinks of something else entirely.

 Take a trip into my garden by sassybipotter / @sassybipotter (ART) Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood 

Senses: Touch, Sight

How do you announce your engagement to the world? By capturing the ethereal beauty of your fiancée and sharing it with the world.

Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

How to Pull a Publicity Stunt, and Everything in Between by @triggerlil​​ / triggerlil (ART/FIC) Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

Senses: Touch, sight, hearing, a bit of smell and taste

Ginny and Pansy live on the edge of the spotlight—constantly straddling the line between living private lives and being bonafide celebrity sensations—when they finally step into the spotlight, they decide to take full advantage of the attention.

a little chocolate now and then by Pineau_noir / @pineau-noir​​ (FIC) Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson 

Senses: Taste, Touch

There are few things Pansy Parkinson holds dear, but first and foremost is her girlfriend, Ginny.

Harry Potter/Ronald Weasley

Sun Kissed by @static-abyss​ / static_abyss (FIC) Harry Potter/Ronald Weasley

Senses: touch, sight

Harry notices the freckles the first time they meet, the light dusting across Ron's face as he stands there in his maroon knitted jumper with the yellow R in the centre. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd swear he could trace the tendrils of a lightning bolt from Ron's nose down to his cheek. Something warm settles in Harry's chest at the knowledge that, perhaps, Ron carries a piece of Harry, no matter how unknowingly. It's proof of a connection between them, the first real tangible relationship Harry's ever had that is good and whole and wanted.

Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Underneath Your Clothes by Ladderofyears / @clemandben​ (FIC) Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Senses: Sight

When Scorpius wears a pair of very small, very lacy and very revealing pair of purple satin knickers to work, Head Auror Harry Potter is driven to near distraction.

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

These Scars We Bare by MiriMora / @mirimora (FIC) Harry Potter/Severus Snape 

Senses: Sight

Harry is a photographer by profession, and he's working on a new series to be revealed in the fall. He has one last subject that he'd love to capture for his series highlighting the brave individuals who bear scars from the Wizarding World's two wars with Voldemort, but he's pretty sure he's going to have some convincing to do if Severus Snape is ever going to agree to step in front of his camera, even if they are friends now. Further complicating matters, he's also harboring some unrequited feelings for the prickly Potions Master. Or so he thinks…

 Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Vanishing Inside Us by @dwell-on-dreams / HogwartsToAlexandria (FIC) Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Senses: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Taste

Sometimes, the only thing that matters is how the other feels. And this time, Severus knows he has to show how he feels too, or it won’t work anymore than it did the first time around.

Hermione Granger/Sirius Black 

Lucky Dog by realjane / @thesuperjane​ (FIC) Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

Senses: Taste, Smell, Touch

Thanks to a new marriage initiative for the betterment of wizard-kind, SIrius Black finds himself wed to the woman of his dreams. He has no idea that she's been dreaming of him, too. Maybe this arranged marriage thing isn't so bad...

Lily Evans/Sirius Black

French Braid by heirblack (FIC) Lily Evans/Sirius Black

Senses: Touch and smell

A nice, relaxing, and lazy day in the Gryffindor dormitory leads into a bonding session over hair.

Narcissa Malfoy/Rabastan Lestrange

Memories That We Made Will Never Change by @malfoylestrange​ / Houseofmalfoy (FIC) Narcissa Malfoy/Rabastan Lestrange

Senses: Sight and touch

They fell in love in the midst of the first wizarding war, and when he went to Azkaban she moved on with her life and her family. Now he’s back,and the memories and regret that Rabastan Lestrange brings up in her are stronger than ever.

Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

would you just look at me by HogwartsToAlexandria / @dwell-on-dreams​ (FIC) Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Senses: Sight, Touch 

Moony's been in a mood, and therefore isn't the best version of himself either lately, which is code for, 'Sirius is a mess when Remus won't talk to him' really.

Severus Snape/Sirius Black

your arms, around my lungs by HogwartsToAlexandria / @dwell-on-dreams​​ (FIC) Severus Snape/Sirius Black

Senses: Hearing, Touch

Even when they hate each other, even when they argue more than they talk, the sound of Sirius' regular breathing still brings Severus solace when the nightmares don't want to go away.

[dearjamesxo]

Lip Gloss

[in response to THIS ASK]

Billy x Leo, M lite, femboy!Leo

Part 1 - Create temptation

Billy’s focus is shot. He must’ve read the same paragraph seven times, each time forgetting to absorb even a single, measly conjunction. The project is due in two days, and he’s supposed to present his part to his group in an hour to cut the fat. He procrastinated down to the wire, which isn’t usually a problem; in fact, he thrives under pressure, always pulling high marks out of his arse somehow despite doing the bulk of the work in a fraction of the time.

Bea wasn’t worried when he told her he was holing himself away in the library until he had to meet her, Spike and Susan to go over things. She knows Billy’s M.O. as well as anyone, knows he’ll piece together something coherent and impressive that will wow their teacher before they have to hand in the written half of their project.

And Billy’s absolutely going to do just that.

As soon as the gorgeous, young thing across from him stops being so bloody distracting.

The boy sits beneath the window, one table down in the chair that faces Billy, reading what Billy recognizes as The Catcher in the Rye. For what purpose, Billy doesn’t know; it’s not on the syllabus nor the recommended reading list. He can’t fathom someone would willingly subject themselves to that sort of horseshit. Horrible book, in Billy’s opinion, a pretentious waste of paper that serves no other purpose than to make the reader feel stupid for not vibing with the protagonist’s motivations when, in reality, Holden Caulfield is just a spoilt moron.

It’s not profound or artistic, it’s shallow, subpar nonsense.

Billy senses the boy across from him feels the same given the number of long-suffering sighs and adorable snorts the boy’s made in the span Billy’s been watchi—distracted by him. This isn’t the first instance Billy hasn’t been able to tear his gaze away from the boy – Leopold Wettin, though most of their classmates and teachers refer to him simply as Leo. Leo’s been distracting Billy since last year when Leo returned to school after spending the summer hols in Greece, sunbleached and bronzed. He came back different, maybe not confident but certainly more comfortable in his own skin.

Leo’s always been pretty; slight build and straight lines, a shy charm about him that appeals to the girls he hangs about with, though he wasn’t on Billy’s radar as anything more than a body filling the seat in Billy’s peripheral. But when Leo waltzed in that first day of the new school year in the girls’ kilt, knee-highs and chunky Doc Martens shoes, Billy n o t i c e d.

It took Billy a month to realize why Leo’s blue eyes seemed more startling, accentuated by an artful smudge of thin black liner and a generous layer of mascara that fans his long lashes perfectly. Christ, and then there’s the gloss, applied between classes when Leo thinks no one’s looking. Tinted very faintly, smeared with precision, and evened with a kiss, making Leo’s pout glisten a juicy petal pink that begs to be sampled.

A throat clears and Billy comes to, drowsy eyes dragging up from where they lingered on Leo’s mouth.

Well, shit.

Leo arches a slender brow, quirks a vague, Mona Lisa smile and asks, “See something you like?” in the overtly flirtatious tone he uses like a weapon against the boys in their year who torment him.

Billy blinks away the blur in his vision and straightens in his seat, chooses honesty because what does he have to lose: “Yeah.”

Crimson heat blossoms high on the arcs of Leo’s cheeks, flushing him sweetly. He licks his lips, a nervous tic that Billy doesn’t realize he emulates, and ducks his chin, slouching into his chest. Tipping his head, Billy watches Leo shrink and wonders; he’s never seen Leo this uncertain, meeting every challenge he encounters from the other boys with the sort of lofty courage required to be different and survive secondary school.

Billy pushes back his chair and stands, rounding his table to get to Leo’s. There, he pulls out the chair across from Leo and plops down, sprawling with his back against the wall, one arm on the back of the chair and the other on the surface of the table, knees spread. He sits quietly for a moment, openly admiring how Leo’s blush brings out the smattering of freckles across his face.

“Not what you were expecting?” Billy guesses.

Leo breathes a laugh, “No.” Then, bolder, “Not from you anyway.” He lifts his head again, turns to the side to glance out the window, the faded sunlight casting his features in gauzy relief, giving him a softer, more feminine appearance.

Billy feigns injury, hand over his heart, “Ouch. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leo shifts, tilts forward, and folds his arms on the table, elbow pushing his book aside.

The collar of Leo’s shirt is loose, top few buttons undone and tie discarded. An assortment of thin, silver chains – some with simple pendants, others plain – are spun around his neck, drawing Billy’s attention downward. What Billy can see of Leo’s cream-pale chest is smooth, the peek of muscle within Leo’s shirt stirring something hot and hungry low in Billy’s gut.

“Just that boys like you don’t talk to boys like me.” Leo’s face pinches as if he sucked something sour, “Not unless they’re being dickheads.”

“You think I’m a dickhead?” Billy smirks.

With absolute surety, Leo says, “Yes.” before he tacks on in a loaded tease, biting and releasing his plush bottom lip coquettishly, “But you’re welcome to try and change my mind.”

The boy is a seductress in disguise, all cute stances, and bubble-gum tones on the outside and fiery, sex-kitten on the inside. He knows what he's doing, Billy can tell, has likely done this dance before, and doesn't that just send a sharp sting of jealousy through Billy. He bets Leo isn’t wearing Tesco tighty-whities under that rolled up kilt and, damn, does he want a chance to find out.

“Pfft,” Billy leans in, takes an exaggerated look around and says like it’s a secret, “I dunno, beautiful, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“Oh?” Leo scoffs, gradually stands from his chair while bending further forward across the table, upper body supported by arms that squish the subtle mounds of Leo’s chest like cleavage. He arranges himself sinuously, hips hitched, arse in the air, back bowed, and blinks slowly at Billy, clicks his tongue, “I’m not so sure about that.”

This close, Billy can smell the light fragrance of whatever perfume Leo prefers, combined perfectly with the clean, salty tang of boysweat from their earlier PE class. He licks his lips again, pulled toward Leo as if by a string.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his project if he was given millions of pounds to do it, anyway. Why not enjoy himself before being ripped a new one by Bea and the others?

“Care to find out?” He asks brazenly.

≡≡≡

CONTINUED ON AO3 💋

[helahades]

James and the Siren

(Prewar!Bucky x Black/WOC!Siren)

Summary: There’s magic in Brooklyn before the war. She takes the form of an alluring Siren with an appetite for predatory men. While at the beach one day, Bucky gets involved in something that draws Her attention. Will he live to tell the tale?

A/N: This is the surprise project! If you’re dead set on Greek Mythology accuracy, this is not the fic for you. I’ve definitely taken some liberties.

Im not sure if I’m planning to do a part two, but if y’all show interest in this, I’ll consider it! Quick shoutout to @xbuchananbarnes for being a lovely angel and betaing this and encouraging me all the way. Also to @invisibleanonymousmonsters for being the sweetest and helping me put my scrambled ideas together. ♥️♥️♥️Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Two minor deaths. Creepy guy following someone. Injury. Blood mentions. Drafted, scared Bucky. Fighting. Drowning if you squint. Sad and confused Bucky. Overuse of cheesy water imagery. Me completely ignoring the reality of New York’s geography. I did what I wanted skskksk.

Word Count: 4.2k

—

Light.

Light like smooth honey.

Light like tree sap in glittering in the sun, spread across the sand in a broken mosaic, tumbling in waves to just barely provide the light Bucky needed to see his notebook.

The day feels so bright his eyes won’t open wide, and yet shaded in the trees, Bucky can’t see.

Shuffling with their branches, the leaves danced as the wind blew through them. Everything here seems to have its own rhythm, from the clouds stretching and inching across a leaden blue sky, to the filtered light leaping from one wave to the next.

These purities make Bucky feel like he can breathe, in a time that has been near suffocating.

He’s been sad.

Sergeant James. That’s all he is now. In a week or so, Uncle Sam will come to retrieve the body he is, and he will leave most things behind. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to serve—actually maybe he doesn’t. But is that so wrong?

He can’t understand why Steve wants it. He’s not foolish enough to think that punk has the same roots in Brooklyn anymore, not with Sarah gone, not with the way the guys around here treat him.. But Bucky can’t understand how Steve can be so…ready. He won’t say it to anyone, but he just doesn’t want to look Death in the eyes quite yet.

Bucky finds himself praying for some force to steal him away in the night. He dreams of things otherworldly.

Bucky finds himself trying not to think about how it will only be good news for his mother, who loves him, but whose wallet will breathe now that she’s not feeding a growing man along with her multiple daughters.

Bucky finds himself at the beach in Brooklyn, writing random things in a journal. He doesn’t know how to get the feelings out. He can’t write words on paper in a place his mother won’t eventually find and be heartbroken by them.

So he writes nonsensical things. He scribbles. He’s no artist like Steve, but it feels like it's enough. And he watches the glistening shores, waiting for what lies beyond—or at least what he hopes exists.

Jenny and Dot and Nancy and all the girls say there’s something big in these waters. Maybe it’s someone who swims. But maybe... it’s magic. Maybe it’s some sort of impossible magical creature that makes dreams come true.

That’s what they tell Bucky behind their giggles, but really they know She’s a protector.

—

One day, Jenny was walking home, and felt a strike of ominous energy in her heart. She had taken the long way, because she likes to see the clear waters of the ocean. Sometimes it feels like nothing else is clean in New York.

But as she came upon the beach she cursed herself for this choice, and hurried along the sidewalk that overlooked it all, for she felt someone walking towards her, and with intention. Hearing a chuckle from behind, that was closer than it should be, she realized the man must have noticed her change in body language and begun to advance upon her.

Step.

Step.

Step.

It took everything within her to refrain from breaking into a run, but she was wearing her fancy shoes, and wasn’t confident in her ability to run in them. She wonders if she’s out of normal step, and tries to walk to the beat of her heart, only to find that it’s racing. Clutching the sides of her skirts, she breathed in deep and let it out into the salty air. If he would hurt her, she certainly wouldn’t show him fear.

As if she could see into the time not yet passed, and knew all would be fine, she started to breathe again, tension beginning to unwind from her veins. Then a wave of it hit. It was power and reassurance, like a hug from a mother, like a proud smile from a teacher.

Jenny chanced a look behind her in the same moment. The man was frozen. He was desperately looking to the rocky shores in the distance below them, no longer pursuing her.

Somewhere inside was screaming to her that it was time to go home. But everything was heavy and light and fresh, and she was feeling the strange seduction of the waves too.

She took one—two scooping steps backwards in alarm when the man urgently began to move again. Only, he was stumbling down the bouldered bank in a rushed, yet somehow lethargic shuffle. As he finally got into the sand and clambered onto the rocks overlooking the ocean, a head breached the water!

Dark cascades of curly hair wrapped around and around in tight coils, and curtained the sides of her angelic face.

She was alluring, and glowing bright and faded, as living moonlight. Her skin was deep brown and cool, like driftwood or seashells, also washed by the sin she consumed.

Jenny would have been surprised at their breath holding skills, had her soul not already known the truth. For just a fraction of a moment, the being’s energy was focused on her, before the attraction released Jenny, and safety flowed through her and guided her home.

Then. They turned on the man, and he leaped into the depths.

No man bothered Jenny again after that day.

—

“—not a soul heard from that chump again!”

“It’s them canary lookers by the beach!”

Bucky sat and tried to process. The fellas that hung around the dance hall had all sorts of stories.

But he’s a smart kid. Smart enough to put two and two together.

When the girls all talked about this creature that supposedly lives in the beach waters, they speak of it—of her— as some sort of guardian angel, maybe a friend.

When the guys tell it, she’s a man eating broad that swims naked and eats innocent family men. Every guy knows another one who hasn’t come back after hearing a smooth song and wandering down to the beach like they were possessed with something wild.

A man of science, as Bucky believes himself, but a dreamer all the same, he wants to believe the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

—

Bucky can’t deny the beach has its magic.

He feels alone at school, at the diner, walking the streets, sometimes even with Steve.

At the beach though, things are alive and awake. He doesn’t understand why some guys can’t stand the place. Some guys, and Bucky sees no coincidence in it being the shadier ones, feel as though they’re being watched if they edge too close to the coarse sands.

To Bucky, there is energy, but it just feels like peace. Peace that is much needed as he reconciles maybe never returning home after shipping off. Notebook forgotten, Bucky looks out across the cerulean waters and tries to make out waves as far as he can before the blur of them mixes with the skyline. He’s already sweat out the gel in the front of his hair, and some of the growing strands are ruffling in the salty wind.

Just then, a couple guys from school waltz down the hillside behind him, and begin walking down the beach, laughing obnoxiously and making jokes all the way down.

Roy and Charles. Maybe the only two people Bucky's age in the city that match him for size and strength. They love to let the world know. They’ve given Steve one too many rough looks, and frazzled too many skirts for Bucky to be comfortable with them.

Roy has stick straight mahogany colored hair that never seems to be without a perfectly gelled style. He will abandon dates if he dances too long and fears he might have sweated it out. Standing just a bit taller than Bucky, he was stocky, blocky, and cocky. He will soon, like Bucky, outgrow the food budget of his parents.

Most kids from school think he’s been big since birth. He must have gone straight from baby to man, or been delivered here by a bone tired stork, some say. For all that muscle and size, there is not a bone of charm in him, or anything interesting about him. His skin is a dull beige. He tries to make up for all of this by being as loud and obnoxious as he can, filling up any room with his desperation.

Charles has all the charm. The whispers say that Roy follows him hoping to catch a personality. With loose blond curls and granny smith sweet eyes, he can turn on his games, and dames, in just an instant. He seems to have a permanent flush of the skin, enhancing the smattering of freckles across his nose. He is lean and lanky, and just as tall as Roy. Something about him unsettles Bucky. Charles seems to always be thinking something strange, and every girl who ever loved him has always regretted it.

They both thought it was a shame Bucky refused to hang with them, and held a strange reserved animosity towards him at the rejection. What are they doing here though?

They secretly feared the depths. It was only when Bucky noticed Roy’s sloshed stumbling that he felt dread wash over him. Once they reached the bottom of the hill, Charles patted Roy on the back and turned to leave, as if he had only come to escort his friend.

How strange, Bucky thinks.

In a moment of weakness, Bucky looked down, not caring to be caught watching the waves. He’s not sure why.

Bucky decides to leave the drunken Roy to his business. If he does something stupid wandering the beach, that is his own problem.

That is…until he saw Roy wasn't just relaxing or wandering. Jenny was further down the beach, standing just where the tide won’t touch her. Loose from her usual tight curls, her hair waved like a banner in the breeze as she stood watching every movement of the tide. She’s a liberated picture, like she found out how to breathe, like there’s nothing to fear, and Bucky would have kept admiring, had he not severely doubted the intentions of the meathead making his way closer to her.

He found himself on his feet, and followed after the young man. Now there were two suspicious gazes on Roy…and one on him.

Following carefully, he was slightly behind when Roy arrived at where Jenny was.

“Ya floozie,” Roy slurred before stepping closer, “think nobody knows what you did to my Uncle Kenny?”

Still watching the waves, Jenny made no indication she had heard him at all. Roy took a deep breath, like he was ready to yell. Before he did, she finally looked his way.

“What malarkey,” she spat, looking up into his eyes.

Stepping closer to the tide she kept her eyes on Roy, and noted Bucky looking at her just behind him, trying to decipher the intensity in her stare.

“No one did a thing to him that he didn’t already have comin’.”

Turning red, darkness bled into his stare as he lunged for Jenny. Running up just behind, Bucky tackles him into the water, falling in beside him.

Roy scrambles up into the sand and locks eyes with Bucky, standing bristled, like a cat given an unwanted bath.

“This ain’t your fight, Barnes! That tramp’s gonna learn!”

“Give it a rest Roy…”

“That lyin’ bat,” he continued to slur, “All these dames lie! Now somebody’s gotta pay, and it was this floozie who gave him up to—“

Roy vaguely gestured to the ocean and became distracted, considering something else for just a moment.

Then Roy turned to Bucky, who had put himself between him and Jenny. Shivering in the breeze that suddenly felt frigid, his eyes seemed to turn wild. Roy began to pat down his soaked slacks frantically, as if fearing he lost something in the gritty tide.

On alert now, Bucky prepared for a fight, moving himself in closer to block him from getting to Jenny. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave him be, Bucky,” she pleaded, only now stirred by the thought that Bucky could be hurt. She didn’t know if her protector could stop this.

Bucky couldn’t stop to consider why Jenny didn’t fear for her own safety, because with a brash guffaw, Roy’s desperation blew away as he found what he had been looking for. A glitter of a threat gleaned off Roy’s shiny blade, and he seemed to sober up, drunk on something else. Bloodlust.

“Walk away, Barnes.”

“You first.”

Bucky started to take a deep breath of the salty air in preparation, but had to cut it short when Roy lunged. Instinctively throwing one arm out behind him to shield Jenny, Bucky left himself open.

One free arm and a bad stance in the uneven sand wasn’t enough. A burst of pain and heat stretched across his chest in an instant.

Grunting, he pulled both arms forward and shoved Roy. Hard. Roy stumbled, but managed to keep on his feet, throwing a crossbody punch that Bucky knocked out of the way, using Roy’s momentum against him. Using that opening, Bucky swung a fist into Roy’s unguarded side just under his ribs. That took him down.

From the ground, Ray scooted back as Bucky advanced on him. A wet blob of chunky sand sailed through the air, and Bucky coolly side stepped, evading it. It would have directly hit his chest wound.

Looking like a cornered animal, Roy stopped scooting away, and when Bucky got close enough, he swung his foot up right into Bucky's groin.

Bucky was down too now, and after catching his breath, Roy was the first to get back on his feet.

Trying to fight the fire in his nerves, and the rough sand tearing at his chest wound, Bucky yelled with all his might as he writhed in the sand.

“Jenny, RUN!”

She backed up in a daze, from where she had been watching with worry, and the gravity dawned on her, just a moment too late. Turning abruptly, having no choice but to take her eyes off Roy, her chunky heels pounded sloshing wet splashes through the soaked sand.

Four of her strides were one and a half of Roy’s. But now Bucky was up, and he ran after them both, intending to tackle Roy and wrestle the knife away.

It began like a change in the air. A frequency finding itself, humming with the tune of the moon pulling the tide, and adjusting to its prey. It was like the evening cicadas, until it rounded into something lovelier. It had a sonorous resonance, like the cry of a damsel worn by a widow sneaking around her net, waiting for entanglement.

It was rich like a church choir and seductive like sin. Both Roy and Bucky were frozen upon hearing the melody. The familiar feeling of protected comfort washed through Jenny, but she immediately felt dread at realizing Bucky was also in a trance at the siren song.

“Not him,” she breathed.

Then, She appeared.

The melody grew into a spiked honey of sorts, warming with command. The men straightened from their tense stances, and inched ever so slowly toward the water.

Her song grew sharper, and she rose higher from the water, scales like gold scattered on her arms, sensuality running down Her neck and chest like flowing oil.

Finally, Jenny ran to Bucky and threw herself into his arms with a shriek, pressing her cool palms to either side of his face.

“Not him!”

The song swallowed her pleading. It had been seen. The girl. Two men after her.

First it was Roy. He took big steps forward, Her allure magnetic to sin, and the ocean swallowed him suddenly, as it does.

She flipped back then, slick abdomen curling over the surface before a long emerald tail followed, entering the water silently, sending ripples that Bucky reached out to touch. Still looking desperately at Bucky's greying eyes, and trying to hold him back, Jenny began to cry.

“Oh please, Bucky, please. I never would wish this on you. I'm not sure what you’re hearing, but don’t listen! You’re too good.”

Bucky wanted to breathe. He’s been so tired. The waves call him.

When She returned, Jenny felt it before seeing it. She studied Jenny. Torn lovers had, on occasion, tried to rescue bad men from the curse. For just a moment, she reserves judgement, wondering if this is that. She studies Bucky. Sees the gash across his chest. Puts it together. Then she’s gone.

Bucky falls to his knees and the clouds seem to wash out of his vision, his familiar diamond eyes blooming back to their shade. He lets out a shaky breath, and Jenny throws her arms around him. They stay there, on their knees, startled in the sand, before Jenny pulls herself up, a funny look on her face as she looks at his wound.

“Y-You stay. Stay right here, James! I’ll get somebody!”

When the tide washes in and back, the sand and shells part to reveal the knife. Bucky snatches it up and presses it into Jenny’s hand without thinking, looking at her intently.

She shivers at the silent message, but knows it's not her who needs the protection. Then she runs, hoping to find someone who will know what to do. She wonders as she leaves... what life will be with Roy dead and gone. She wonders what Becca Barnes will say if she sees her at school if life never returns to her brother. Will Bucky ever tell what happened today? She sure won’t.

As Jenny disappears into the distance, Bucky realizes the clouds have eaten up all the direct sunlight. He stares in the direction Jenny left, still there in the sand, trying to process what happened. Where’s Roy? Is Jenny alright? Can he die from this cut? Would that save him from the war?

He absentmindedly looks to the water, before gasping and freezing in place. The creature is back. It had saved Jenny… sure. That was good. Bucky never liked Roy, but now he’s dead, maybe, and that’s a lot to reconcile. Now it’s staring at him again. Will it—She—sing him into another spell? What does She want?

Her eyes melt from whiskey brown to honeyed gold in an instant as she assesses his pain. Twirling where she is, she lies on her back in the water, with the slow fanning of her multi gem colored tail propelling Her languidly across his field of vision. This allows Bucky to take in Her captivating form. Now that She doesn’t deem Bucky a threat, everything about Her is warm from Her eyes to the undertone of Her skin. He can’t believe what he’s witnessing, and considers the fact that he may have died already.

Stretching Her arms behind her head, she paddled both arms in full motions until She reached the cool, flat stone She had been searching for. It extended from the sand into the sea, and was littered with weeds and grit from the high tide. With a casual turn of Her wrist, the debris parted down the middle and slid off into the water.

Twisting towards the flat rock, She planted two surprisingly human hands onto it and pulled Herself gracefully and easily atop it. Lying flat on Her stomach, She curled her golden emerald tail up toward the sky, then further toward her body. Finally deciding she was comfortable, after lying her head on crossed arms, she regarded Bucky again.

He felt a pull towards Her, like a silk lasso on his heart, but it was softer than before. She wanted him to choose. It was, of course, impossible for him to resist Her, and he was up, walking the stretch of the beach it took to close the distance. Coming to kneel next to Her, he was closer than he had ever been, and was transfixed by Her beauty. He also noticed that she seemed to be wrapped up in the water's surface tension, for it seemed to glide over Her skin, even when She was out of it. It parted for a moment though, when Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and She, once again, grabbed ahold of his soul.

A wave of sedative-like calm overtook Bucky, and he only watched as She assessed him. Rising off of her arms, Bucky rose too as She reached for his chest and placed gentle, and surprisingly warm, hands on either side of the gash. With sweetly sure and surely piercing golden eyes still on him, She rolled her palms against his chest, pulling sand from him and his skin back together in just a moment. Then, with a final palm in the center, where the gash had previously been, Bucky’s face twisted into something comical as he felt something beneath the newly healed skin shift, and the pain disappeared.

Propping Herself on one sinewy arm, She reached for his face with the other, gently pressing a palm to his cheek, gently curling Her fingertips, and rubbing small motions with a gentle thumb. She appeared somber for a moment, then almost mournful as She looked into his baby blues, reading something he couldn’t see.

“Thanks,” Bucky said softly, wincing at how croaky he suddenly sounded.

She hummed a small confirmation and it flowed easily through the air, like the sound of bells or wind chimes. Pulling Her hand back from his face, She lowered Herself mostly into the water, crossing Her arms at the edge of the stone and gazing up at him.

He had so many things he wanted to say, but the surrealism of this moment was making abstractions of his thoughts. It hits him. There's magic in Brooklyn, and there had been all along. It feels right, but wanting to believe, and being made to see no other truth are two different frames of mind. He is still having trouble processing. Is Roy dead? Is Jenny okay?

Will Steve be okay without him? Bucky knows he’s strong, hell, Bucky would say Steve is stronger than him. Steve has got enough determination and courage in one finger to win several wars. Put him in a healthier body, and that punk would be unstoppable.

Actually, Bucky is sure everyone will be okay when he leaves. He’s glad about that in many ways, but in many others, it just makes him feel like a grain of sand, respective to the universe. He knows everyone will be okay. Bucky is just not sure about himself.

As if She could read the focus of the lines of stress etched into his face, Her gaze focused intently, and She began to think of how to word Her sentiments. She reached to hold his icy hands in Her warm ones, and Her eyes darkened to an amber brown as She grew less playful, gently somber.

“Everything changes, James,” his name was a lullaby from Her mouth, and he could not help but to listen, “that sort of…”—

—she paused thoughtfully, trying to find the word.

“That sort of fluctuation,” she continued, “is the only thing that is sure in anyone’s existence.

Some part of him was melting into ease, but he still was not sure what she meant.

“You will not be afraid. Not forever. Even once you have...left. Nothing will stay as it is.”

She looked, sort of at him, but more so beyond, as if there were some greater picture, as if she could see his soul.

“What is forever, is the gracious creature you are. And not a soul can take that from you, James. Not a soul.”

She raised one hand out of his gentle grip, straight to his heart, where his old wound once was. Now calm, and entirely transfixed, he realized, She has now healed him twice. Then She pulled away.

He feels the finality of the moment, he tries to rush and say something else.

“R-Right now they say it should only be a year...or two. But then I’ll be back.”

Eyes falling shut, She pulls in and releases a slow breath, and Bucky can't tell if it's the water of the sea gliding down Her cheeks.

“You will be back. And we will see each other again.”

Reaching a hand to his face, She presses a couple of fingers to his forehead, and his eyes flutter closed. He slumps into a sleep, and before he falls, She raises both hands, bending the energy behind him, and She slowly lies him down in the sand.

“Goodbye, for now, James,” she whispers, trying not to mourn the pain of his future lifetime, before disappearing into the depths.

—

“—ucky, Bucky, Bucky, JAMES!”

Jenny shook him with all her might, tears threatening to spill. When Bucky’s eyes open, he becomes distressed too.

“Heya doll, easy! I’m alright, I swear it.”

She gasps in a shaky breath before they pull each other into a long hug. A few seconds in, he looks over her shoulder and out to the depths. Trying to get a grasp on the events of today, he hopes it all wasn't a dream. Then, he remembers Her words.. He suddenly feels warm, emotions rushing back in a flurry.

He gets the sudden ache to see his family, to see Steve, to go dancing. After all...

Nothing will stay as it is.

—

lovely darlings who are very inspirational:

@xbuchananbarnes @threeminutesoflife @invisibleanonymousmonsters @honeychicanawrites @thorsthot @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @jtargaryen18 @propertyofpoeandbucky @papi-chulo-bucky @tropicalcap @smollest-soybean

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Virago 12. Too Good to be True

Summary: Y/N was sent to the ground after spending five years in the Skybox for stealing medical supplies and murder. How will she deal with her new environment and learn to survive on earth? Will she crack under the pressure of becoming a leader of the 100 or will she embrace it. 

Post Date: 08.21.20

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Based off: 02x01 “The 48″

Masterlist

100 Master List

You wake up no longer covered dirt and grime and in clean white clothes. You search your surroundings to find any indication of where you are. You can see Harper in the room across from you and Monty in the room next to her. You then drift your eyes a little further to the right and see a large sign that says “Mount Weather Quarantine Ward”.

You quickly jiggle the handle to try to open the door but find that it’s locked from the outside. You try to communicate with Monty and Harper but you can barely hear them through the thick door. You start to pace around the room and wash your face to refresh yourself. You think of how you could get out as you sit along the wall.

After a few hours, you decide to look out the glass again to see if anyone has come around. You notice someone walking into the room where Monty was. You jiggle the handle once more even though you knew it was locked. The next thing you see is glass flying outwards from the room beside yours and an arm reaches out to open the door. 

You watch as you see Clarke emerge from the room with a bloody arm. She grabs a piece of glass and approaches the person before ripping the head part of their suit off, revealing a girl around the age of you guys. Clarke backs the girl up in the room out of your view. You frantically look around the room for something to break the glass on your door. You pick up the metal rod that holds the medical bags and smash it against the window of your door. As soon as you reach to the door handle you cut yourself on the glass in the same fashion Clarke had seemed to.

As you open the door you find that Clarke and the girl had disappeared. You go down the hallway to the right and wander around the massive compound. You find an elevator and press the button. Only to find that it doesn’t open. You try once more before noticing the red light show up on the side and realize that some sort of key card is needed. Knowing that the elevator won’t open you run around to look for another way to get to a different level.

As you run around sirens and lights start to go off, you keep running but are soon stopped by a group of people that seem like guards. You head the opposite direction before being stopped once more by another group of guards. You try to slip by them but they catch you. You struggle and fight as they start to drag you off. 

You find yourself taken to some sort of med bay. As soon as they lead you in you see Clarke sitting on a bed with restraints around her wrists. The guards set you on the bed beside her and restraint your wrists as well.

“I see you got out the same way I did,” Clake whispers to you looking at the cut on your arm.

“How else would I. Do you know why we’re here or who else is here?” You ask.

“No, but we need to find out,” She responds back.

“Agreed,” You say back before hearing the door open and noticing a group of people walk in.

“Hello, Clarke and Y/N. How are your arms?” A woman with a white coat on asks. You and Clarke stay silent not wanting to talk to anyone but your friends.

“They’re not talkers, are they?” She says after a few moments of silence as the people make their way over to us.

“A skill picked up from the savages, no doubt. That’s fine. Maya has something to say first anyway.” The white-haired man says while gesturing to the girl who Clarke threatened.

“You two were the next ones to be cleared through quarantine. Another 10 minutes and you would have--” She says getting pissed before the white-haired man stops her from outbursting. “I’m not pressing charges on you, Clarke,” She says quieter.

“Thank you, Maya. You can get your treatment now. Restraints aren’t necessary,” The man says to another standing to the side.

“Yes, Mr. President,” The other man says and starts to take yours and Clarke’s restraints off.

“Dante Wallace,” The white-haired man holds his hand out to Clarke. She takes his hand and holds it to look at the smudges on his hand. “Oil paint. That’s right. You’re an artist too.” He then moves to you and holds out his hand, but you don’t move a muscle.

“Who told you that?” Clarke questions getting up from her bed.

“Your people did. They also said you two were their leaders. Looks like you two and I have a lot in common, kiddos,” The man says as you stand up next to Clarke.

“Where’s my watch?” Clarke asks.

“And where’s my necklace?” You ask concerned as well while feeling around your neck for your mom’s necklace. You forgot you had the necklace as you had never taken it off since she gave it to you. But now that its gone, your chest feels almost naked.

“I’m sorry...but we can’t let contaminated items inside Mount Weather. We couldn’t risk it. Our protocol is very strict, Clarke and Y/N. We prioritize safety over sentimentality,” Dante explains.

“So you just left the last thing I had from my parents out there?!” You say raising your voice. You feel Clarke’s hand grip your wrist knowing that she wants you to calm down.

“How many of us did you capture?” Clarke asks next.

“48, including you two. But you guys have got it all wrong. You’re not prisoners. We saved you,” Dante explains.

“Well, in that case, you won’t mind if we leave. If there are 48 of us here, we still have people out there,” You respond.

“Patrol brought in who they could find,” Dante explains.

“What about the Ark? It came down last night--” Clarke asks.

“We saw it. There were multiple crash sites over 100 square miles. If there were survivors, we will bring them in too. You have my word,” Dante explains.

“We want to see our people,” You tell him.

“Of course you do. I would too,” He responds before gesturing to a wardrobe like thing two men roll in. They open it up to display clothes and jewelry. “Change and meet me in the hall,” He tells us before walking away.

You and Clarke go up to inspect the items, clearly in awe as you two have never seen anything as pristine as the jewelry and clothes they had. You notice Clarke pick up one of the shoes and break off the heel. She hands it to you and picks up the second one to do the same. 

The two of you change into comfortable clothing, you pick out a gray tank, black jacket, and pair of grey pants. After you guys are dressed you make your way into the hall, into a very loud room.

“Sorry about the noise. Hydroelectric power from Philpott Dam. Fresh water from our own underground reservoir. Fresh food from our hydroponic farm,” Dante explains as we make our way down the hall.

“I don’t understand. You’re on the ground. You know its survivable. Why would you stay here?” Clarke asks.

“It’s not survivable for us,” Dante answers back.

“The grounders seem to have managed.” You add.

“Natural selection works. The grounders who couldn’t survive in the radiation didn’t. Those who could pass on their DNA. For better or for worse, here, we never went through that process,” Dante explains.

“Neither did we. We’ve been on the ground now for…” Clarke starts. 

“Solar radiation,” You interrupt.

“Very good. Your DNA ran the same gauntlet as the grounders. Only because radiation levels in space are even higher...your ability to metabolize that radiation is even stronger. Truth be told, our scientists were blown away by the efficiency of your systems. If not for that, your friends would still be upstairs in quarantine. Please.” Dante gestures to an elevator for you and Clarke to step in.

You and Clarke make your way into the elevator after two men walked in. The door starts to close until Dante stops it, “First, give me the heel. Both of you,” You were reluctant to do so until you noticed Clarke pull hers out of her sleeve and you soon followed and handed it to him.

“You’re not fighting for your life anymore. You’ve made it. Welcome to Mount Weather.” Dante says before the elevator door closes. The elevator moves until you arrive at level five.

“Your packet contains everything you need to know about Mount Weather. Which, I promise, is not as confusing as the map on page one makes it out to look. You came from level three, which houses our medical facility, including quarantine--” You hear a woman explain as you and Clarke make your way over to the group.

“Clarke! Y/N!” Monty says running towards the two of you. He hugs you both and the rest of the group turns towards you guys. Jasper soon follows in the hugging.

“Finn?” Clarke asks.

“And Bellamy?” You ask quickly after.

“Clarke, Y/N, they uh… they didn’t make it,” Jasper says as his voice gets lower.

“We don’t know that,” Clarke says hoping to calm Jasper and your nerves. “What about Raven?” She questions next, but Monty just looks down indicating she wasn’t here as well.

“Welcome, Clarke, and Y/N.” The woman speaking before says and hands you both an info packet. “If you have any questions, I’m Keenan,” She introduces herself.

After you guys had gone through orientation they announce that lunch is ready. You sit with Jasper and Monty as they dive into the food. You’re hesitant at first but after realizing how hungry you were, you start to eat. Monty and Jasper come back with desserts in hand. They dive in as well but you stopped after the main course. 

“Sit down and pretend you’re happy to see me,” Clarke whispers after Jasper and Monty and a little dessert standoff.

“We are happy to see you. You have to try the chocolate cake,” Monty offers as the three of them sit down. 

“Oh, it is so on,” Jasper says clearly salty that Monty offered it to Clarke and not him.

“I’m not eating their food,” Clarke states. “Look. They gave us a map with no exits. Tell me everything you’ve seen. Every room. Every hallway. Every way out.” Clarke says as she points to the map.

“‘Way out.’” Jasper repeats. “Look around, Clarke. There’s no one hunting us here. First time in our lives we’re not hungry. Why would we want to leave?” Jasper questions, clearly being happy here. 

“Because we have friends out there who need our help,” You add-in.

“They’re looking for survivors. And they’re way better equipped to find them than we are,” Monty points out.

“This place is too good to be true,” Clarke states.

“You’re bumming me out. I’m gonna get more cake,” Jasper says and gets up. You and Clarke watch as Jasper talks to Maya. Soon enough Clarke gets up from her seat and makes her way over to the two.

“So do you agree with Clarke? That this place is too good to be true?” Monty asks, getting your attention.

“Yes...Maybe,” You respond clearly not knowing where you stand. “I just think they should let us out there if we want to. I can’t stand knowing that our people are still out there.” You continue.

“You mean Bellamy?” Monty says. You sharply inhale having been caught off guard by Monty’s question.

“And Octavia. And the others,” You quickly respond.

“Oh come on. Anyone with eyes can see you two care more for each other than anyone else.” Monty states taking another bite of his cake.

“I care for our people. And Bellamy is one of them,” You say pushing off Monty’s comment. Soon after you start hearing sirens and see lights go off again. You notice Jasper and Maya run off and follow after them.

“What’s going on?” You ask the two as you all run.

“Clarke took my keycard,” Maya states. Soon enough you catch up to Clarke finding her at a big door.

“Clarke, no. If you pull that lever, these people will die. Even a little radiation could kill them,” Jasper says catching her attention.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Maya says popping up beside you with a gun in hand.

“Wait, wait,” Jasper says stepping in front of Maya and turning to Clarke. “Don’t do this,” He says to her.

“I don’t believe them,” Clarke says upset.

“Why would they lie?” Jasper questions her. “Listen to me, We are safe here. Because of you and Y/N, we’re safe.” Jasper says looking between you and Clarke.

“Not all of us,” You add-in.

“I’m the one that fired the rockets. Should I not have done that? Clarke...when you pulled that lever, you saved lives. Don’t throw that away by pulling this one.” Jasper says as you hear his voice shake. 

Clarke lets go of the lever as a group of guards make their way in and take Clarke into custody. The other guards take you and Jasper to the room where you all were staying in. It was filled with enough beds to house all of you.

“I’m glad you’re all alright,” Monty says hugging you and Jasper.

“Better if we could leave,” You snarkily respond under your breath. 

“Well, I’m just glad we all together,” Harper says making her way to you guys.

“Not all of us. They won’t let us leave to look for our own people,” You respond getting upset. But no one responds.

“Dinner is ready. Get dressed in nice clothes” A guard at the doorway says. They escort us to the dining room after we get dressed and have us all hold hands as Dante speaks some words. 

To your surprise, you notice Clarke eat their food after you all sit down. Either she’s playing get along or they told her something to convince her you really are safe, you think to yourself. After dinner, you are escorted back to your room. You watch as everyone settles in and actually looks happy for a change. 

“A little gift from Dante?” You ask Clarke as you notice her looking at a card and object that was on a chair.

“Yeh let’s see what it is.” She says as she lifts the lid to display some art materials.

“Looks like Dante has really taken a liking to you,” You chuckle.

“Yeh,” She chuckles back. For the rest of the night you sit and chat with Monty and Jasper.

“So, we never finished the conversation about you and Bellamy,” Monty says.

“What is there to finish? As I said, he’s one of our people and we need to find them,” You state back.

“Ooo, what is this, You and Bellamy thing you guys are talking about?” Jasper butts in. 

“It’s nothing,” You respond.

“Nothing my ass. Jasper, can you agree with me that Bellamy and Y/N here clearly care for each other a lot more than anyone else?” Monty asks Jasper.

“I care for all of you, equally,” You quickly respond getting defensive.

“Well...now that I think about it...you two do seem like you’re always together,” Jasper states.

“You know what. If you two don’t believe me. Then I’m just gonna go see what’s up with Clarke,” You say getting up.

“Oh don’t be like that Y/N. We’ll let it go, never talk about it again,” Monty says throwing up his arms.

“Uh-huh,” You respond making your way to Clarke. You find her sitting on her bed, sketching something.

“So how are you liking those art supplies?” You ask her as you climb up to her bed.

“They’re great. Better than any I’ve had on the Ark,” She responds as you sit next to her. As you look over to what she was sketching. She was sketching on the map that was given to us, labeling where she believes places are that were unmarked. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” You smile at her, hoping that she’ll keep you in the loop. You make your way back to your bed and lay down ignoring every attempt Monty makes to try and talk to you.

A/N: So what do you think Y/N is gonna do now that she’s stuck in Mount Weather?? Also, I know I just added the necklace in randomly but I liked the idea, please lmk if you guys would like a bonus chapter of a flashback to her receiving it, id be more than happy to do that! I hope you guys enjoyed this part and are excited to see what happens next. I have lots of ideas and plans for Y/N, for Season 2!

🏷: @im-a-writer-right​ | @marsbar-inspace32​ | @zestylemon99​ | @unrvquited​ | @thebeautifulbookworm​​ | @gxvrielle​ | @simonsbluee​ | @iwishilivedinthesims​ | @awkwardspontaneity​

[neverneverlouisland]

two of us (l.t)

fandom one direction/louis tomlinson

pairing louis x reader

word count 1813

summary reader is dealing with the loss of someone important to her. she doesn’t want to see anyone even days after the funeral, but one person is able to talk to her and help as best he can

warning(s) mentions of loss/death

-

She didn’t think she could ever comprehend the way her friend felt when he lost his mother and sister. She only thought she would be able to put herself in his shoes to be able to console and comfort him properly. Never did it cross her mind that it would happen to her. Or at least, not as soon as it did.

She’d been sitting in her old bedroom for hours since the memorial for her father, reminiscing and mourning.

She was grown now, but he was always her best friend.

Ironically enough, her dad was the one who chose to take care of her after the accidental pregnancy her parents had in college; not her mom. He stayed in school after she was born and continued to raise her with the help of his own family until he was able to afford a place for them. For as far back as she could remember he was the only force that kept her together all these years, even after she moved to another country for school and chose to live there. They would call, visit each other, and she was never once embarrassed whenever he would surprise her at the university. Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t too much older than her; after all, he was in his early twenties and starting graduate school at the time she came into the world. He taught her everything he could that wasn’t taught by her teachers. They cried, laughed, argued and joked around too many times to count. Now, however, the bad moments seemed especially precious. It was too little too late, and most of those fights were done during the cliche rebellion stage of being a teenager, yet she could finally see the concern and care behind her dad’s strictness and anger all those times she would show up late or not answer her phone.

The only sound that could be heard from her room were the sniffles every few minutes or so. Beyond that door, the sound of her grandparents discussing whether or not they should consider contacting the girl’s mother.

It seemed like hours of constant tears and blocking out conversation about the one who didn’t care to stay before a new sound entered her bubble. The turning of the knob and swinging door caught her attention, but she didn’t dare look up. She thought it was her grandmother wanting to try and get her to go downstairs or talk to another ‘friend of her father’s’ who would just give the family members the same condolences as everyone else. With that she sighed, blinking slowly and wiping a sleeve across her face. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, but I really don’t want to see or talk to anyone.”

“Should I just come back dressed as your gran to be able to enter, then?”

Her head jolted toward the familiar voice. A young man stood in the open space between the doorway and the room; one hand reeling its way down from pointing to the outside world. She quickly went to clean her face as best she could, looking directly at him as she spoke. “What are you doing here?”

A gentle smile settled on his face as he moved toward her; she felt the bed shift as he took a seat behind her on the mattress. “Your grandparents called. They thought you could use a friendly face.”

The only thing he heard in response was a soft, empty chuckle. He wasn’t expecting her to have anything to say or thank him for coming. This was about being there for someone he cared for at a time they needed it most. They hadn’t known each other long - they met at a coffee shop a few years back when he was working on his music and she was starting a new semester. It was a cute story about the barista calling out the order and setting it on the pickup counter, only to have two people reach for the same drink. They’d been friends ever since. One never let the other down or diminished their spirit, and he wasn’t going to start now. So he let the silence overtake the melancholy room until she decided it was okay for her to say something.

After a while of sitting and contemplating, a shaky voice announced itself into the quiet. “How did you do it?”

Was there a proper way to console her? Should he use tough love or soft words? Would anything he said come off as helpful in such a moment of vulnerability?

“I didn’t - for a long time.” He stared at the pastel wall in front of him, tilting his head as he put all the heart he could into what he would say to her. “Even with the rest of my family and the support from my friends, I felt alone. She’s my mum, you know? Months of consoling myself when I thought I was getting better went by in slow motion. It was like a part of myself left the world, especially when we lost our sister not too long after. Pouring myself into my music and being able to create something beautiful out of a tragedy is what really got me going again.”

She turned her head slightly, seeing his still figure facing the same blank space. “What do you mean?”

“Her words always rang in my head - they still do. I know she wouldn’t want me to give up or hold myself back. They’ll always be in my mind and in my heart. And I know they’re cheering me on from where they are; just like your dad is with you.” He nudged her shoulder, smiling when the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “Nothing is ever easy when someone so near and dear to you is taken from the world. Sometimes I still wish it was me instead, though I know that’s far from what they would both want.”

There was that lack of conversation again. However, no matter how many times the silence would befall them, it was comfortable. Within the somber air was something that very few people were lucky enough to have. The strength their connection held went beyond keeping in constant touch when he left to do performances and radio shows before and after his album. It went beyond him making sure their friendship didn’t go awry while he was starting and preparing for his first real tour as a solo artist. It was the gestures he made over and over again that showed her not everyone would leave her when she was vulnerable or just needed someone. With everything going on, it didn’t feel right to call him up and disrupt his life because she chose to lock herself up in her old bedroom. Her father’s parents felt different, and here he was. While he was in the middle of a major turning point in his solo career, he still flew to America and found means to make it her childhood home just so she wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t know anyone who had a friend so kind and selfless; she certainly never did, at least not at such a level.

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. I didn’t think they would call you.”

“I’m glad they did.” The brunette finally turned around, his upper half twisted so he was leaning on the bed with one arm as he faced you. “We may not have known each other for too long, y/n, but I know you. I know you wouldn’t have done it yourself because I’m gunning up for my tour and you didn’t want anyone to see you so broken.” He chuckled lightly, “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and also the most considerate. Pride and kindness is an awful combination, love.”

She rolled her eyes immediately, but her lips twitched up for the second time since his arrival. He analyzed the slight change of expression on her face, the shine of her sad eyes, and what was left of the cries from before he showed up sliding down her cheeks. “It took hours to get here from home; I’m sure you’d been sitting here for much longer than that.” He stood up, moving around the bed to crouch down in front of her. Without question he wiped them away, straightening back up only when her face seemed clean of tears. “Let’s go somewhere.” He said softly, reaching a hand out. “What do you say?”

Her smaller hand fit into his as she accepted the offer, rising off the now dented spot on the soft mattress. She followed him out the doorway, orbs and mind working together to reminisce all the time she and her father had as they passed his bedroom and the office. Every moment was flooding back into her mind, only this time there were no tears. Maybe it was because there simply weren’t any more to be shed. Or maybe it was having a presence there to comfort her that made walking through this hall just a little bit better.

When they reached their destination at the bottom of the staircase, the sight of her grandparents with a small child surprised her. Her wide eyes watched as the trio became aware of her presence, the boy hopping down from the couch and rushing over to not only hug her but attempt to jump into her arms. It took quick reflexes from both her and the boy’s father to keep him in her embrace. However, despite the situation and her still current mood, the way her name was called out by the four year old sparked a joy that he noticed immediately. It was the twinkle in her eyes when the two came in contact that told him their appearance today really would be good for her. And it was the showcase of a real smile on her face that told him he was right; that her grandparents were right in calling him when they did. “Is he going to come with us?”

He blinked, realizing he was too quietly watching the exchange between his son and this girl he cared deeply for. “Um, no, not this time. It’s just going to be the two of us.”

Her smile grew into a small grin as the pair looked at one another. Maybe it wasn’t the fact that her tear ducts ran dry or the presence of another person that made it okay to go through her father’s house without shedding a salty tear. She realized in that moment, as she held her favorite toddler and shared a content look with her close friend, that it was him.

If Louis wasn’t the one to come comfort her, then she wouldn’t have been okay as soon as one would have hoped.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Fireworks, paper lanterns, and glittering stardust

The Sea of Lights is so beautiful! Lanterns and fireworks decorate the sky like constellations, little specks of stardust scattered about. I enjoy taking the time to craft a lantern, make a wish, and watching the lantern float away until it's nothing but a little speck in the sky.

Prepping for the Sea of Lights was a lot of work. Once again, the camp has held the honor of hosting a big event so naturally, we had to go all out. Luckily, we have some friends helping out with the festivities - two who happen to be a part of the committee.

Rika and Elowyn have been part of the Sea of Lights crew since last year so they pretty much know how to make the festivities a hit. Alma and Milana aren't directly part of the crew but they've been to the festival a few times so they were also able to chime in.

Elowyn hopes to get the couple to volunteer for next year but since they have to do a lot of work for the annual cherry blossom festival at their hometown, I don't think they're too interested in helping run another big event. Let's be honest, Alma and Milana are mostly here for the food - I mean, who isn't? That, and also the fact that they're finally visiting the camp after all this time!

Things have been pretty much the same at Corentine, well for the most part. Alma said there's some new guy who's been scouting the outskirts of the village due to rumored abnormal supernatural activity. It's not unusual for them to have strangers walking around these areas though it's frustrating for everyone - especially the stranger - when the mission's unclear. Despite suspicions nothing's been confirmed so the poor guy's been scouting the woods for weeks with absolutely no progress or direction. And since he's gonna stick around for a while, the town council insisted on providing him a place to stay so he's staying in Alma's old room.

Rika hasn't had too much of a chance to get to know the guy but from what she and the others learned, he acts all tough but gets startled easily. Knowing these girls, they've been messing around with him quite a bit. Alma says he's cool, probably a bit shy and prideful, but once his guard's down he has a good sense of humor. Milana wants to use him to test out her latest contraptions as she's in need of a newbie to critique her inventions. RIP (or good luck?) to the new guy.

Alma and Milana are enjoying their new house, which is only about five minutes from Alma's family house. They both figured that now they've been married for over a year, it's probably time to leave the nest and finally give Alma's father some peace of mind. However that still doesn't stop Alma from using him to occasionally get away with chores. Milana says that if Alma keeps this up, they might as well hire him as a housekeeper and pay him by the hour. Then Alma promised that she'll try to do her share of the chores so they could instead use that money to either dine out in a fancy place or go on a fun vacation.

There's never a dull moment with these two. They can be a bit much, especially when you throw in Rika, Elowyn, Emerald, Jade, and Kei into the mix. It's been forever since I've seen the latter three - last I've heard, they joined Rika in Jamie's entourage for a bit before it disbanded. I think all three transferred to Seashore Path so I guess Emerald and Jade probably graduated or will be soon by now while Kei's probably got another year to go.

Rika's been working on some new projects, teasing us as usual. They're always up to something. As of last week Rika now goes by she/they, which feels right for them. The elders are a bit out of touch but they try to be supportive. Ojiichan started complimenting Rika by saying they look gnc af and now all the other elders are saying it, which is sweet! The big mystery though is who taught Ojiichan that and whether or not he fully knows what it means. Still, it's nice to hear how supportive everyone is.

They have also taken up pickling veggies, which sounds kinda surprising but isn't at the same time. Given how much she loves kimchi, it makes sense that she'd want to make her own. My mom sometimes makes her own kimchi and she says it can be a hit or miss. It also looks like a lot of work so kudos for Rika for being successful! It also takes some patience and even then you never know how they'll turn out until they're ready. They plan on doing beets next. After that it's daikon and carrots, and then garlic - all which sound good.

As for the kimchi, it's great! They like it super spicy though so I was only able to eat a little bit before I couldn't handle the heat anymore, but it's tasty. The veggies are perfectly crisp and it's not too liquidy and salty. Rika plans on refining the recipe as well as make a mild version for those who can't take the heat - she means a weakling like me - which is something to look forward to, Buuut Rika's definition of mildly spicy and mine's is probably very different so either way I'll be chugging a lot of water or tea between every bite.

Rika's also been helping Elowyn start her own Patreon, which is exciting! A friend's friend of theirs is also gonna launch a Patreon too so I'm gonna keep an eye out for that as her work seems interesting. The friend had just moved from Japan a few months ago and she's an artist who has an ongoing manga/webcomic about a high school girl who becomes bonded with a young ghost whose job is to keep order between spirits and mortals. According to Rika and Miki - who knows her as well - the story's inspired by true events that happened to the author.

The premise sounds interesting and an english translation by a friend of hers who also serves as an editor/beta reader is usually uploaded the day after so when I have time, I'll definitely read it. From first glance, the art style looks nice so I'm intrigued. It definitely has the vibes of a deceptively cute and lighthearted story that's complex and tragic underneath. The manga's ongoing and usually updates twice a month.

Elowyn's also gonna be in a short fantasy murder mystery film directed by her brother called The Scythe. A few weeks ago she appeared in a music video as a backup dancer for Avery Ronnie. In between gigs Elowyn practices magic with Rika by going on various missions. Though Elowyn says it's no different than being an unpaid intern, except with an increased risk of dying and things going terribly wrong.

Rika and Alma are alike as they're hard working but also kinda lazy. Without prompting they can accomplish something cool and badass but ask them to pick their things up from the floor or do some cleaning around the house and they'll make up some excuse. We roast them for it but at the same time we get it - and it's not like they can't take care of themselves but sometimes they do need a bit of prodding. Both also have this charm that let them get away with it half the time so it's kinda on us too.

We've been hard at work setting up the stalls and decor as well as making lanterns and planning out the fireworks show. To our surprise, Rika and Alma have been pulling their weight, though I think bribing them with food helped with that.

Rika got some glittering stardust from a friend and wanted to put that to good use by adding some spark to the lights. We tested out the fireworks with it and it produced some dazzling effects. Problem is that glittering stardust is super flammable so we have to be super careful. So that's why I left fireworks duty to Rika while the rest of us kept our distance.

Making lanterns was a lot of fun! A while back Pai and Connie sent me a lantern they made for a similar festival in Bonsai Harbor. Apparently the two really got into making lanterns so they started giving away a bunch of them to friends.

Yeah, I think we also kinda went overboard with our lanterns. But they're so much fun to make! Well, I could just give them away too - I know a bunch of people who would love to have a souvenir from a festival. I'm gonna keep a bunch to decorate the camp and cabin when we're in a festive decorating mood. As for the inevitable surplus - I'll figure that out later.

The fireworks and lanterns were easily the highlights of the night, second to the food. Thankfully there were no incidents with the glittering stardust - we did a bunch of test runs to make absolutely sure that there's no chance of the lanterns and fireworks colliding to create a possibly catastrophic explosion as glittering stardust is dangerous around anything that involves flames.

(I mean it turned out to be a great idea, but why the hell did we take such a risk by using flammable stuff around fireworks? Then again, it's Rika and when they overlook something, we tend to follow suit too because it's too easy to get caught up and carried away. It's not our fault that she makes it easy to get away with a lot of dangerous stunts - but it all worked out for the better so it's good.)

Being surrounded by fireworks and lanterns, I feel light on my feet. Wishes floating up in the sky, finding their way into the black night sky. I wonder how far will the lanterns fly before their lights go out.

I wonder how many wishes were released throughout the night.

[trouvelle]

Wish

Fandom: Detective Conan Pairing: Shinichi/Ran Rating: G Genre/Tags: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: @dcmkemogust20xx 17.08 — Wish Summary: How Shinichi wishes things were different.

.

Shinichi looks around, scanning the near empty neighborhood, illuminated by the dim moonlight. It’s late at night, and the heavy clouds seem to be moving at a faster speed, obscuring the moon every now and then. It’s about to start pouring. He shivers, his hand reaching out to grab the shoulder of the man next to him before the other disappears into the dark street.

“Be careful, Hattori.” Shinichi gives him a firm nod, and he receives a fierce grin in return; their silent exchange is an indication that they’re not about to give up, now. It’s too late to back out and Shinichi has no means to change his destiny anymore. Besides, he is the one who convinced Shinichi to tackle it head-on anyway. “Same goes fer ya, Kudo.” 

They part ways, only for a few days, before they will meet again for their next rendezvous. Shinichi is grateful that he has Heiji, the only person he trusts more than himself. It is Heiji’s fight as much as it is Shinichi’s. They’re in the front lines, only trusting each other and never another.

He walks up to the door feeling a lot lighter, and he knocks. On any other day, he would be anxious to be there, for fear of being followed by one of them; but now, it’s too late in the night, too dark to be seen. Tonight, he’s not in a hurry. 

He hears the steps and he lets out a long breath. There are good things in this world.

“Who is it?”

Shinichi smiles, imagining her behind the door, her eyes inspecting, but kind and trusting. Her voice is as beautiful as any other music in the world – it’s… Shinichi’s favorite sound.

“It’s me,” Shinichi says, so close to touching the door, smelling the wood. It’s an old, used door, but it smells like home.

Ran opens the door. Her hair is wet, and she’s in her night clothes, the ones made of soft cotton like she’s ready to go to bed. He opens his mouth to say something, but he feels his throat constrict. She sniffs at him, and he knows she’s not going to ask. Shinichi washed himself many times before coming, but death is a lingering scent.

Ran takes him by the hand, and after all the violence, her hold feels like feathers. She takes him to her tiny bathroom and takes off his clothes, concentrating. She folds the clothes and walks away; places them in the laundry bag in the corner. Shinichi sits on the floor and makes no movement while Ran washes him – he wants to touch, but it’s not the right time. He closes his eyes and just feels her hands on him. If he concentrates enough, he may believe he’s really fresh and new, he may feel like he was washed from all the pain, all the blood, all the screams. Her fingers touch his scalp gently, the cold water refreshes his body and the soap’s smell makes him dizzy. It’s his rite of passage; now, he’s not fighting. As if he could sense it, he feels the soft crashing of lips. It’s just a symbolic demonstration of affection because Ran knows they don’t do anything unless they’re in bed.

He’s methodic, he likes the right place, the right moment.

Ran dries him off precisely. “Wait for me in bed,” she whispers. There’s no reason to be quiet but feels right to be a bit solemn. “I’ll clean myself for you.”

It means they’ll go all the way tonight.

Shinichi wasn’t expecting it. Right now, he wants nothing but her company, like most of the time. He wants to talk his bad memories away and he just wants to hold her tightly, too tired to do anything else; while she listens patiently, accepts his embrace, his sobbing, his pain. That’s enough.

He stares at the ceiling quietly and expectantly, rubbing his hand on Ran’s soft blanket. Like everything she owns, it’s simple and old, and it doesn’t feel regal like the ones he has at home. Home, where his parents are waiting. Shinichi should have gone to them first, his heart knows, but his feet took him here and he spared no energy to fight with himself. He will go home to his parents soon, maybe in the morning later, when he wakes, because he knows they’re the ones who worry the most. 

Ran walks over to him and he watches in silence. He never understood the reason people bought paintings before he saw Ran naked. Now, he thinks he would pay good money to have this image accessible to him anytime. An impossible dream, for sure. As long as the fight goes on, he has no time to sit and appreciate it. He is painfully aware he has no reason to take root. He has to leave again, and the only thing he can do is keep in his heart every detail he can memorize.

Shinichi had asked Kazuha, if she can take care of Ran for him, in case he meets his destiny. Kazuha, it turns out, and he should’ve known, is just as stubborn as her other half. She had insisted that she would look for him and kill him herself, if it were to get to that point. But just in case… he left her a letter for Ran. He’s no poet, no artist, but…

Ran kisses his thoughts away. Shinichi lets her do whatever she wants. He’s in no position to ask for anything; never has been, to be honest. He is grateful for every drop of affection, caress, for every second of the time they spend together. He knows that after every moment he’s with her… he has to leave again, and he’s not sure if he will come back the next time. Ran waits, but for how long can she keep waiting?

He has to focus on Ran again. He’s not in the field anymore. He has a beautiful lover kissing him, and her hands touching precisely, getting them ready. This is what everyone wishes for. Everyone wants to come home to their lover, someone soft and welcoming, a comfort.

Seeing Ran like this, over him, her face showing pleasure and desperation at the same time. No sight would be more beautiful and fulfilling than Ran melting when she was rising and falling with Shinichi inside her, lips parted and eyes shut, too concentrated on finding release. Moments like this made Shinichi fight harder, wanting to win the battle to come back and see her again.

He was warned once, you need arms to come back to, otherwise you won’t live; we all go insane if we don’t have someone to heal our wounds. Hattori Heizō was the roughest man Shinichi met, his words were like a prophecy. No man is lucky to have Heizō as his enemy. Even Shinichi’s terrified of him then, when he finally came out from the shadows, and they met, under the starless sky of the night. The terror doesn’t leave, only dampened, despite the revelation in the light of recent events that Heizō is actually on the same side of their battle.

“Shinichi,” Ran touches his chest. He’s dirty, he has finished already, but he’s still moving his hips. She presses his sides pointedly, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trembling. He touches her thighs, her soft belly. He doesn’t want this to end, but it does, like everything else. Shinichi is restless now, so he walks to the window and opens it. He’s naked, but it’s raining strongly outside, so no one will see him if he stays at the corner. He wants to see the stars, but unfortunately, the sky doesn’t permit, so he just closes his eyes and enjoys the sound. Ran brings him the blanket, but Shinichi holds her instead. He presses Ran tightly against him, kisses her shoulder, and feels the texture of her skin and the blanket over it.

No one can touch him this way. Even in the worst condition, life is worth living if he can have moments like this.

“It’s been too long,” Ran murmurs. It is. Too long. “Are you going to stay?”

“A few days,” Shinichi whispers in her ear. “But I have to go to my parents.”

Ran nods. Shinichi kisses her skin lazily; he enjoys the salty taste. The rain is angrier and few water drops hit them. It’s unusual to be silent like this, but they will talk later. A thunder lights the sky, and its noise makes Shinichi shiver. He doesn’t mind it. He loves being the spectator and to be the one appreciating, especially when he has Ran next to him.

—

As he has expected, his parents are more than overjoyed. He pretends to ignore his mother’s visible sigh of relief, her deep intake of breath when he comes in through the door and presents himself to them. It hurts them and it hurts him, but he has to see the end of the battle.

Shinichi goes back to Ran’s place the evening of the next day. She doesn’t complain. She makes soup, and he watches the way she prepares it. To think that her hands can create beautiful things, while his hands…

“It’s too hot,” Ran warns before he drinks it. “Wait a minute.”

Shinichi puts the bowl on the table, scoots closer to Ran.

“I’m worried,” she says. So Shinichi holds her. “Did you lose your voice while you were away?”

Maybe. There were definitely screams, maybe his, maybe others. They have lost many people this time. Shinichi took down some of them by himself. They will haunt him for a while. 

“What happened?” Ran frowns. He kisses her briefly, just to calm her down. She touches his chest again, pushing him away. “Shinichi?”

He can’t say many things. He can’t say when he’s coming back, if he’s coming back, what happens while he’s out there. The fighting, violence – he hopes it never reaches Ran. Shinichi doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t want her to be tainted by the darkness. He wants them to hold and love each other, while they can.

“Do you have a story?” Shinichi says, finally. “A happy story.”

So she reads him a children’s story, a fairytale. He knows Ran likes to read stories. He remembers when she read stories for him. Ironically, he wishes he was still Conan, when he wasn’t away from her.

How he wishes for things to be different. He wishes that the battle will be over soon. He wishes to see the light at the end of the tunnel. He hopes to have a good ending for himself. However, under all his wishful thinking, he always keeps in mind the worst ending they could have.

One day, Kazuha will knock on the door, presenting her a letter, and it will not be a happy story for her to read. He can picture it. Ran, sitting like she is now, a piece of paper on her hands. Then, and Shinichi will be grateful to be long gone, she will see the only poem Shinichi has ever written in his life. It’s about her lips, gentle hands, soft voice and loving heart.

After that, maybe Ran will have another lover; she can’t sleep alone in a cold bed forever. But Shinichi would have done something beautiful, at least once; maybe Ran wouldn’t be mad at him for losing, for not coming back.

It couldn’t be that bad of an ending, after all.

[sanditoncreative]

Dear Sanditonites and influenza quarantees: given the current fervor for in-door pleasurable activities, @sanditoncreative comes before you today to propose a new and exciting adventure. We promise clean, virtual and healthy in-door fun for all who join.

Embark on our horse drawn carriage to Sanditon. From the moment you take your seat you have 50 days to come up with 50 creations to pass the time until your arrival at our luxury accommodations courtesy of Tom “The Worst” Parker. To help you along, you will receive a tourist pack of 25 prompts that will need to feature prominently within your work to which you can add 25 of your own.  

This is open to both fanfiction writers and graphic artists alike, although the rules will be slightly altered to fit the two mediums.

Graphic Art:

I’m not sure if this format is something you’ve come across on Tumblr before now but it used to be somewhat popular on livejournal. The challenge was made for icon creation in particular but for the purposes of tumblr, we’re going to be extending that to gif sets, moodboards, fan vids and any other graphic art format you would like to use. If you want to do a mix of icons, gif sets, moodboards, that’s also permitted.

The gist is you have 50 days to come up with 25 creations fitting your chosen pack prompts as well as 25 more of your own choosing.

Fanfiction:

Sanditon has a very thriving fanfiction community so we really wanted you guys to participate in this challenge. However, given the different medium, we need to alter the goal somewhat.

Your goal for the 50 days is to incorporate all of the 25 prompts in your work. The formats can include drabbles, short stories, poetry or WIPs and the prompts can be titles, chapter names, feature within the work or just set the mood of the piece. The catch is you need to create 10 different pieces in 50 days. Whether they’re chapters in a WIP or standalones, that’s up to you. 

In order to give you even more artistic freedom, we’ve settled on two different tourist packs of 25 prompts each for you to choose from. Remember, though, that you need to stick to one of the two. You cannot mix and match so choose wisely.

The tourist packs are:

The Jane Austen special:

1.      Sense

2.      No two hearts so open

3.      Not handsome enough to tempt me

4.      Pride

5.      My feelings will not be repressed

6.      Truth universally acknowledged

7.      Prejudice

8.      Half agony, Half hope

9.      Such precious feelings

10.   Persuasion

11.   A proud, unpleasant sort of man

12.   A gentleman's daughter

13.   Sensibility

14.   Fond of dancing

15.   Fools in love

16.   Lady Susan

17.   Fine lady

18.   Mortified

19.   Felicitous

20.   Low spirits

21.   Taking the air

22.   Single man

23.   An exemplary vegetable

24.   Courtship

25.   An evening of wonders

And …

The “Not Brighton” seaside resort:

1.      Like a shell upon the beach

2.      Not a wave but a part of the ocean

3.      Salty breezes

4.      A seaside retreat

5.      Ship

6.      Fun in the sun

7.      Beach bunny

8.      Summer nights

9.      Bodies in the sand

10.   Somewhere beyond the sea

11.   Straight to her arms I'd go sailing

12.   Out of the gale

13.   The way the sunlight plays upon her hair

14.   These arms of mine

15.   She’s like the wind

16.   High Tide

17.   Hazard

18.   The summer where it all began

19.   Sun bathing

20.   Tan lines fade

21.   An afternoon stroll

22.   Live by the currents

23.   I want to try everything there is to try

24.   Gloried in the sea

25.   The last smiles of the year

This is an on-going challenge with not end date in sight. 

In order to enter, all you need to do is: 

announce on your blog that you are doing this challenge

let everyone know which pack you’ve chosen 

@ us at @sanditoncreative 

tag your post with #50 ways to sanditon

You can choose to post all your work in one go at the end of the 50 days or to do it in increments of your own choosing (daily, weekly, etc.). If you are going to do it incrementally, include in your posts the prompts you’ve used from your tourist pack so everyone knows your take on them.

In case you want to participate in the challenge and you don’t have a tumblr account, you can send us a message to our inbox and we will host your work directly on our blog.

And now for the fun part …

Once the 50 days are over, you’ve completed the challenge and you have finally arrived at your luxury accommodations at the spectacular Sanditon terrace apartments (fully fire insured! We promise! We swear!), as gratitude for your wonderful work you will receive a specially made icon and moodboard for your enjoyment with a Sanditon inspired theme of your own choosing.

If you have any questions about this challenge, please feel free to drop us a message and we will respond as quickly as we can. We know this is a new-ish format so it’s bound to create some confusion. 

Our public coach leaves every day and we hope to see you on board! Join us! It will be fun! We promise potential sightings of naked Sidney Parker and Young Stringer’s hat upon arrival!

Your Mods,

Lis x Lori

[just-call-me-johnny-archive]

The following contains mentions/implications of abuse, attempted sexual harrassment, mentions/implications of past sexual abuse/assault, graphic depictions of homicide/torture, mentions/implications of past suicide attempts, implications of police/military violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Johnny didn't learn for a while what the house wanted from him. It was clear that it demanded something of him. The ceiling seemed too low, mold-ridden even if he couldn't see any. The floors were freezing- wooden and splintering, but he hadn't bled once despite getting some shards embedded painfully into his hands when he searched the ground for his pencils after the moon went down. 

Every number he called about the electricity going out lead to a dial tone. His phone was strangely the only electronic- the only appliance- that still worked in the house. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been left in the bathroom to die and woke up with stark scars on his forearms, the shower curtain draped over his body, and the bathtub dry as a bone. And Vargas gone. For good it seemed. 

He almost wanted to believe it was a nightmare- that it all was a nightmare. So he tried to pick his life back up as he stepped out of the bathtub and went to find clothes and the thermostat.

One day, he found a bill on the table in front of the TV. He couldn't remember when he'd received any mail recently- let alone opened it. Even stranger than the bill was the message that had been printed on it. There wasn't any amount under 'AMOUNT DUE.' The only other print on the paper was red text reading 'UTILITY SERVICE TERMINATED DUE TO NONPAYMENT. REMIT PAYMENT TO CONTINUE SERVICE.'

There wasn't an address or a phone number to contact regarding the bill. Johnny was left confused over how to alleviate this debt. He didn't know who, when, where, or what. The only thing that he still had control over was the 'how.' He needed a job. 

 After digging around for a week or so, Johnny managed to uncover his portfolio that he'd submitted copies of alongside Edgar. He was not about to go back there- they loved his boyfriend and always doubted Johnny's judgment. 

There was a new comic publishing company; a start-up with a promising, rich CEO that was recruiting new styles. Macabre. Gothic. Grotesque. Mindfuck. It was perfect for Johnny. 

He put on the best outfit from his closet, something with a blazer and no rips in the jeans. He'd done his hair until the two antennae that hung over his face were hidden amongst the rest of his combed blue hair. Johnny walked into the office feeling confident that his second chance at life had been a blessing or a reward for surviving. 

Everyone working at the company currently was skinny, wired, and brutal. Nobody seemed to actually be creating anything- instead, they were all busy working on photo manipulation and advertisements. There also seemed to be someone altering a passport photo meticulously. 

Johnny's meeting with the CEO started off alright enough. The man listened to the artist speak about his work and he even asked a few things here or there. He asked something about the paint choice and Johnny responded in a way that he hoped didn't sound too try hard but also genuine. In truth, Vargas didn't let him use anything else.

Maybe he could sense that. Maybe the man could tell that Johnny was an easy target. Maybe Johnny had painted 'patsy' on his forehead in asshole-vision invisible ink.

Whatever had caused the conversation to turn towards Johnny's personal life- particularly his relationship status- was unimportant. He wanted to leave, but he figured that the man would probably ask that for reference purposes or perhaps personally-identifying information. Johnny told the CEO that he was single, recently left a relationship with his ex-fiance. The way that the man reacted should have said enough to him, but he tried to reason with his brain; he was overreacting. 

But to put it crudely, the CEO wanted fresh meat and Johnny was a free-bleeding fresh cut. Eyes still clear. Silent like a fish out of water, when he moved over and started massaging Johnny's shoulders, saying how awful that must have been. That he was there for him. That he was recently divorced himself. He understood. 

Johnny felt his hand being moved, heard a zipper being pulled down, and when the CEO moved his mouth to press against his ear, all Johnny remembered was that he had the other man's letter opener embedded in the space directly below his eye socket. He registered the crack of bone giving under unforgiving metal. The burst of red sprayed across his face and his shirt. The screaming. His screaming. 

He was on his knees over the blubbering, defaced CEO shouting out as if he was emptying every last moment of anger or shame or hurt into the puncture marks that kept adding up. Johnny wasn't sure if he was crying or that his body was finally catching up- maybe he was having a heart attack. 

He has no idea how long he kneeled on the grimey black floor of the CEO's office before he realized that nobody was coming. Surely, someone must have heard them. Was the police waiting right outside the door- bullets trained on him- ready to shoot to kill? The man who was under Johnny's blade was miraculously still alive- dying- but still actually alive and he only then heard the tiny whimpers of 'please, don't kill me' 'I'll change.' 

Johnny grabbed the man's stripped, bloodied face, digging his fingernails into the wounds, and his heart sung with the screeches that rung throughout the office. There was nothing else there except for Johnny and the filth disguised as a human being. 

He listened to him plead, held his face in his hands as the man continues to plead pathetically. Johnny's heart nearly jumped this time when he claimed 'he'd change'.

"No; you won't." His voice was venomous, low and angry in a way that sounded calm. "You will never change. You know what happens when I give people like you the opportunity to change? Do you? They stop for a little while, sometimes days, sometimes decades, because they're so fucking scared for their life. For jail time, for repercussion, Hell maybe for the Devil himself coming to fuck them up the ass for what they've done. But when the Devil doesn't come, when the tabloids remain silent, when the name becomes deceased or missing or disappears completely, you go right back to what you'd been doing before. You put your fingers or your face or your dick wherever you want because you think you're untouchable. You think you are above the lives that you've ruined. You think that they deserve it- or maybe that you deserve it for being so good for so long, right? Well, guess what?" 

"You won't get to do that because I'm going to end your life right here, right now. I'm going to end whatever cycle of abuse that may or may have swept you up and corrupted you - brought you to believe you somehow are entitled to this pain that you inflict on others. And I'm going to enjoy it."

The man was able to only let out a sharp 'please, no' before Johnny grabbed his skull and twisted it until he heard a snap and the person below him had turned into a corpse. Into a past tense. 

He was coated in blood. 

Johnny dropped the body unceremoniously before he shakily got onto his feet. It was copious. It was gruesome. He threw up into a potted plant near the door. He gathered his portfolio into his arms and picked up his application from the CEO's desk. Johnny slipped the single piece of paper into the paper shredder, watching it turn into dozens of tiny bits of future bunny bedding.  

He braced himself before he stepped into the workplace. He expected a lot of things. He expected to see a huge stack of chairs and terrified workers huddled behind them like frightened raccoons. He expected SWAT, FBI, CSI, NCSI, the Navy, Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and the Marines. He expected to have a bunch of horrified, traumatized faces staring back at him.

Instead, they looked annoyed. And the only people who were annoyed were the ones whose desks were closest to the CEO's office door. They glared at him, sneering like he was covered in shit and not in blood. Then they were completely disinterested. He was just some freak. They gossiped amongst themselves, but otherwise didn't approach Johnny. 

The man tore out of the comic publishing building and ran all the way home. It was midday- in the middle of December or January, where the sun was absent and the wind was unforgiving. Johnny had sweat through his stained clothing and the temperature change between the outside and the inside of his house was minute. The only shelter he had from the Winter chill was just covering from the elements.

Johnny walked into the bathroom and over to the bathtub and tossed the downed shower curtain out of the way. The water was freezing and felt like needles against even his clothed skin as he attempted to wash away the blood. It streamed down, staining the white porcelain as it streaked off of him and into the drain. 

The man had put his head against the tile, directly under the showerhead as he held himself. His eyes were shut tight, so it took him a moment of brief confusion before he opened his eyes to the bright lights of the bathroom and a gradually increasing warm shower. 

The water was perfect now and after getting past the initial shock, he undressed and continued to clean himself off the best he could. All that remained after he finished was the blood caked under his fingernails. He would cut them later. 

Johnny dried off using a somewhat warm, scruffy towel, it had been hanging there on the rack since he first awoke in the bathroom. He wrapped it around himself before he explored the rest of the house. It was warm, and the lights were all on. The electronics were all buzzing in a way they hadn't unless in memories. He opened the fridge and found that the food in there had not rotted. He picked out some lunch meat from a drawer and savored the usually incorrigible processed salty ham. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Or the last time he slept. 

He needed clothes. He needed to get rid of the clothes at the bottom of his tub. Johnny went over to the bedroom where he hadn't tread since awakening. The light was on. The bed was still done but looked slept in. He went and grabbed the first shirt and pants and underwear that he found and then quickly went to clean up the mess in the bathroom.

He wrung the blazer out, pink-red water had poured and then streamed and then dribbled. He repeated this with the pants and then the shirt and his underwear and socks. His boots were not salvageable. That's fine. It was all fine. 

At least for now he did not have to immediately worry about paying the bill. In fact, the house felt warmer when he returned inside after he buried the clothes under the dirt of his dead front lawn. Johnny found a new paper attached to his freezer. He figured he'd missed it when he first went for the ham. 

He took it down after he grabbed a bag of microwavable pizza pocket bites. Johnny didn't know what it meant and how it happened, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was given another chance for a reason. He gnawed at his fingernails as he watched the plate spin in the microwave and the house hummed with life as it was finally fed.

'PAYMENT RECEIVED. 

UTILITY SERVICE WILL RESUME AS NORMAL. 

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. 

THANK YOU.'