#sorta enemies to lovers

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

[linkbetweenlinksau]

Some references and written descriptions of the lbl boys. I’ll update the rest later, but for now, take Sky, Minish, Time, Legend, Hyrule, and Twilight.

Please for the love of all things that are holy read the tags and don’t tag this as LU

Next one

[unjorts]

listen,, you gotta look hot for when you burn your fellow organization member to death in front of a key-wielding lad and his friends !!

no text ver. under cut :D

+bonus low-res blurry saix, as a treat :)

[jaypentaghast]

this man uncovered your lies and ruined your marriage and your response is to make him be eternally linked to you???

makes it make senseee

[outcastpack]

The photographer and that damn Cocky Model

(A sorta enemies to lovers)

Liam Dunbar couldn't stand this job with a passion, having to work with Theo damn Raeken. He hated that the guy didn't take anything seriously and somehow always looked good in his photos, no matter how many times he purposely ruined the shoot.

The cocky smirk, the teasing smiles. The frame perfect clothing, and the abs showcased on the shirtless pictures. The captivating colour changing green eyes.

He hated that his best work was of Theo.

He couldn't wait for this job to be over and be out of Theo’s life. Now, if only he could stop jumping into bed with the teasing prick.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEST TEALENTED ARTIST I KNOW AND GUY I SHARE ONE OF THREE BRAINCELLS @de-constructmybones I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING DAY AIDEN AND STAY THE AMAZING PERSON YOU ARE

This wasn't exactly matching what I had mentioned yesterday, BUT I hope you like it anyway. (Not my best work, and may redo this later for the better quality yall deserve)

[applepixls]

things that i feel like not enough people picked up on or latched onto in secret life that i think could feed a criminal empire for years if everyone noticed it:

in episode three, sure its cool when the portal opening sound happens right as grians saying that mumbo can't reroll his task, but as mumbos failing scar says "i had, like, a little weird vision of his eyes turning red for a second? it was scary." which. every fic I've read of someone seeing a flash of someone in a past life with red eyes?? much food there.

bdubs and mumbo in general this season? there's a lot of little stuff like bdubs giving mumbo his heart to have it not reciprocated and "bdoubleo wanted to check out my backside and i never put my clothes back on" and just the fact that mumbo uses the full "bdoubleo" and bdubs is willing to do anything mumbo says (globe) and mumbos willing to piggyback on all of bdubs's ideas (sideways house), the whole little thing of mumbo accidentally being too tunneled in on say his task about scar to notice bdubs (i think of c!mumbo as sorta aro/ace but still, making a point.) and then bdubs dealing with the rejection (keep in mind this is all just from episode 3) the mutual complimenting of bdubs's building of the globe and mumbo' being the muse for it. something about sitting up there in the middle of the night and just talking is a little bit romantic

episode 5 when jimmy's just gone red and is absolutely ballistic and hunting pretty much everyone in the heart foundation. he says that he was never planning on getting tango, he had it out for skizz, but was pleasantly surprised when he managed to get tango. except their dynamic was sorta funny, very vicious and like. homoerotic fight scenes be like? its the old lovers(soulmates) to enemies sorta vibe and how jimmy kept demanding how many hearts he'd taken off tango and tango teasing him without saying the real answer. it was how tango whacked him (whoopsie) and then jimmy told him he had to stand and take the damage from the TNT and he did for some reason? he kind of didn't have to (i know moral code and life series is self moderating and tango was green and shouldn't have hit jimmy blah blah blah but) all that spicy stuff and then tango being away and being rengo for the next episode and real tango never getting to speak to jimmy again before he died? that all seems a bit too good to pass up

anyway, thats just some of my thoughts

[alecz-obssesionz]

♦️HK GIJINKAS | HORNET & LACE ♠️

◇ + HORNET ALTs ◇

◇ Original Sketch Page ◇

[zimanddibromance]

Very small thing for zadrday, sorry for the let down. Been busy, but It’s Just Puberty will be updating soon!

[justaz]

STOP STOP EVERYRHING

i do not know if this has been said but i am going to say it bc fuck it almost knocked me off my feet when i thought of it

merlin waiting patiently for arthur for YEARS. mourning him for longer than he knew him. watching everyone he knew in camelot die and himself not age a day. watching the stone of the castle begin to crack, the wood begin to rot, the streets begin to empty. camelot has fallen. he ventures out but not far in case arthur returns. he experiences decades pass by him in a flash, still nothing. humanity advances and advances, yet they are also their undoing. they build themselves up just to tear themselves down a moment later. years and years and years and years and years pass, still nothing. the great dragons words echo in his head and he holds them close in hope, arthur will rise again. a day in spring, merlin catches a whiff of something he can’t place but he’s hit with a wave of nostalgia. it’s not until he’s lying in bed later that day that he remembers it’s what arthur used to smell like. not long after that, he tries to recall arthur’s laugh, but the memory is mute. and fuzzy. why is it fuzzy? stop focusing on the laugh and focus on his face…what did he look like again? oh god. no focus on something small. his eye color. what color were his eyes? blue…right? or were they green?

merlin forgetting the pieces of the puzzle that make up arthur, he can’t remember what he smelled like, what he looked like, what his laugh sounded like, he can’t even recall the way he screamed his name everyday when he needed something. merlin’s loosing arthur again. how long has it been? too long, too long and arthur still isn’t back. the dragon said he’d be back. he remembers that. he’s been repeating the words in his head since they were spoken to him long ago. every morning when he woke, every night before he slept, whenever the world around him seemed out to get him. he’s coming back. arthur’s coming back. why isn’t he back? what had that damn dragon said? he always talked in riddles but merlin had thought his words were clear for the first time since he’d known him. what had he said?

when albion’s need is greatest, arthur will rise again.

he’ll rise again. arthur will be back. and they’ll fight a great evil like they used to, side by side, two sides of the same coin, arthur and merlin together at last. he just has to wait for such a great evil. a great evil that would constitute arthur’s return. merlin’s lived many, many years. he’s seen much evil. arthur never returned then. something bigger and badder then. something worse that anything he could imagine…would it be immoral to instigate the evil to come to pass? (merlin’s tries to recall arthur’s secret smile when merlin made a face at him across the room or whispered something in his ear when visiting noble and royals were acting like fools and comes up empty.) to hell with morals. to hell with the damn dragon. to hell with it all. merlin’s been alive for centuries. arthur’s been asleep for centuries. they’ve been waiting for each other for centuries. merlin’s sick of it. to hell with it all. arthur needs a great evil? he’ll give him a great evil.

[arvandus]

Hello lovelies! I recently participated in the WIP poll tag game, which you can find here. My multichapter Inumaki x F!Reader arranged marriage fic won with 21 votes!

So, here are the first 21 23 sentences (heh, ya I added a couple because it needed it). Please let me know in the comments or reblogs if you’d like to be tagged in the first chapter once it’s finished. It’s currently untitled… I’ll figure that part out later.

Warning: JJK manga spoilers abound! Aged-up characters, timeskip/future AU. Enter at your own risk. Also, not proofread. Like, at all. I cranked this out on my phone and will move it to a doc later.

(Divider by @reveriesources )

Inumaki was content with his life. That was what he told himself.

He was a grade 1 sorcerer, and an assistant faculty teacher at Jujutsu Kaisen High in Tokyo. He spent his days either removing curses from around Tokyo, or training the new generation of students with the help of his expertise and cursed speech. The lack of his left arm served as a bonus for him in that sense, new students often underestimating him on the training grounds. It was a good lesson for them, to put them in their place and help them learn to curb their youthful arrogance that young teenagers always carried with them.

Inumaki was content.

Even though his friends begged to differ; even though Megumi always gave him a lingering stare as he left the campus each day to head home to an empty house; even though Yuuji was always trying to set him up on blind dates with whatever cute girl he’d managed to charm.

Each time, Inumaki turned him down with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile. He had no interest in dating, not when he was twice handicapped, pinned between his cursed speech and his missing limb. Even with the world of curses and sorcerers now exposed to the general public, the challenges of building a relationship with nothing more than sushi ingredients and body language weren’t enough. He knew any attachments he’d potentially develop would end in heartache. And between his forced isolation and the losses he’d endured over the years, Inumaki had no more space within himself for heartache. It was as if each death and sacrifice he’d experienced had filled him more and more with concrete, until it was all he could do to keep himself from sinking, down, down, down…

It was okay. He was content. That was what he told himself.

It was what he told himself as he came home to an empty house, the rooms dark and lonely. It was what he told himself as he made himself a simple dinner and ate alone in front of the TV. It was what he told himself as he showered and laid in his bed at a reasonable, responsible hour.

And it was what he tried to tell himself as the darkness closed in around him, nightmares and regrets forcing his eyes to stay open as the minutes ticked by into hours.

Inumaki was content.

….

Inumaki was a liar.

[candlelightandmoonshine]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062794/chapters/20612095

[automeris-io-moth]

Stupid and Stranger

Much too many people believed Hero to be the least bright of the bunch. 

Tall, strong and stupid, the media described, and even when their pictures flooded the magazines and the cover of reports, they were rarely invited to an interview or allowed to speak with the press. 

They did not have the gift of the word, their manager said, others would elaborate better, explain themselves more effectively and avoid a misunderstanding, they affirmed. Hero said nothing against it, conscious of the clumsiness of their speech, how their words stumbled when they got too excited, and, embarrassed, they stayed quiet. 

And Hero tried, they tried once and again to change such an image of themselves, to strategize, to plan ahead and reduce the damage as much as they could. They tried to sound smart too, but unnecessary words lasted little in their mind, the pompous inflation of the speech felt as such an idle tool to earn respect, and they felt simply ridiculous speaking like that, it fitted others, but not them. 

Perhaps it was that need to know that not everyone thought they were as dense as the media made it seem, the yearn for validation and respect being exactly who they were, and not some elegant made up version they had to force. 

Perhaps such was the reason why they had so eagerly accepted the attention of that stranger at a nightclub. A charming one, certainly, all nice, flirty smiles, and quite a pleasant conversation. An actual, true exchange of opinions, of interests and cheerful chattering, Hero felt embarrassed, not knowing well enough how to handle the true interest of someone in what they had to say, yet, amazed at how easy the conversation flowed. 

When waking up the next day, with a new contact on their phone, and a goodbye written on paper over their kitchen counter, Hero smiled, they felt lighter.  

Videocalls, messages and meetings kept getting more recurrent, Hero spent less time at their agency trying and failing to avoid the cameras, and more at their own place, at coffee shops, cinemas and bookstores, visiting parks and…

‘IS HERO FINALLY LEAVING THE WORK TO THE PROFESSIONALS?’

A picture of themselves stared right back, smiling awkwardly on one of their first dates.

Hero sighed out, leaning back. 

“Everything all right?” 

“It’s nothing, just…” Hero smiled from the couch, “no, I’m fine, tell me, how was your day?” 

Lover plucked the magazine from their hands, taking a few steps away, and read it. 

“Assholes,” they said, skimming over the first pages “this is bullshit, look at this, they’re attributing your last mission success to Other Hero, my guy couldn’t even walk straight that day.” 

Frowning, Lover closed the magazine with disdain, as if the paper was guilty for the words on it written.

“Don’t throw it away, I was reading it.” 

“You were, love, not anymore, it’s not worth your time. Come on, I brought Italian.” 

Lover was truly a blessing.

And, after some months, Hero started to believe what they told. 

They were not careless, unplanning, they were quick, they could take the decisions that needed to be taken when no one else dared to deal with the consequences

They were tall and strong, of course, but they were not stupid, Lover said one night, they were the least injured after a fight, the more conscious about their body, about their movements, they knew how to use what they were taught. 

But overall, Lover promised, they were kind. 

Lover liked kind. 

Hero loved Lover. 

Perhaps that was why their chest physically ached with pain when they stood before the burning remains of their apartment complex. 

Sirens flashed and blinked around them, thick, dark smoke rose with the night smoke. 

Their lover’s eyes shone under the light of the fire. A sad glance was the last they spared before fleeing the other way.

Hero’s mind went everywhere for a moment, nowhere then, more a longer time. 

The flash of a camera pulled them out of their thoughts. 

Maybe they were right, they were stupid.

***

‘I’m sorry love, I was getting too close.’

_

Masterlist

Do I love it? no

Do I like it? not really

I'm trying to get out of my writers block (unsuccesfully, send help)

[eggytoast2]

I just think they’re neat. 

[taterswithranch]

i personally think that trope is dumb hdhdjsk

[emahriel]

I am an ignorant fool please tell me more about Bastian

AHHHH Bastian Marwood is the MMC in the book series "Shadows of the Tenebris Court" by Clare Sager! While ppl draw him as your average white faerie boy with a posh appearance, he's described as a fae with pointy ears who often looks bored, hair so black it doesn't reflect light, stubbled face with a scar on his chin/lip and on his chest + has nip piercings (bc why not) and a snake tattoo on his back going up to the front of his shoulder. He's a spymaster whose magic involves shadows, he's a lil gruff, uhh he's all about consent (likes to be in control tho iykyk) and uh yeah! I don't know what else to say!! lmk if you wanna know anything else abt this series or him

anyway the author included some art of him in the book but I refuse to accept this is how he's supposed to look, so... I drew how I imagined him 🫡