#was fighting for my life with the shading angles

[loonarmuunar]

Pauper, protector, prince.

I wanted to give a proper tribute to the chokehold of a broken family bond by @dekupalace! So. Take this‼️‼️

Extra under cut!!

Some contrived stuff bfkgk:

Siffrin’s head is turned up, towards the crown. A reference to how Siffrin mentions many times how he has to loop up higher and higher to see the King.

Flowers resembling the party! This is a reference to another fic, Bloom! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check it out!! Siffrin is crushing the flowers under his heels.

The flower in Siffrin’s hair is a nadine jessie, a type of dahlia. Obviously supposed to represent Nadine, but I wanted it specifically in Siffrin’s hair bc of the festival :) (couldn’t get it on their hat bc of the angle lol)

Siffrin holds a rose tucked between his palm and thumb, representing the King. I chose a rose, because of its connection to theatre, and its thorns.

Siffrin’s pose is knightly in nature, but without a sword or any grand weapon. They hide their dagger behind their back, alluding to the role he’s supposed to play. He is a knight, a protector, without any of the grace or nobility.

Siffrin faces away from the stars, and his face is shadowed, kinda alluding to Siffrin’s doubts of if this is really the right thing, if they are truly doing what the universe wants. Siffrin is, literally, turning their back to the stars.

Songbirds- I talked about this in a comment, but basically in my mind Siffrin taking the plunge into having to assassinate Mirabelle kinda reminds me of Eurydice from Hadestown agreeing to go to Hadestown.

The songbirds are specifically loggerhead shrikes, songbirds that impale their prey on sharp things like brambles and wire. Beforehand they paralyze their prey by biting down on the spinal cord with their tomial tooth. This made me think of King’s time craft freezing, or “paralyzing” Vaugarde.

I was inspired by this wonderful animatic for it! Also I just really love birds and will take ANY chance to include them in a drawing. (and Loggerhead shrikes translate very well to a desaturated color scheme—)

The king’s hair is staining from white to black/black to white, like Nadine’s hair dye.

ANYWAYS!!! YEAH!!! This is kinda a love letter, so to speak, for this fic, but to these fanworks in general :) If you haven’t already seen them, please check out these wonderful and creative works. I absolutely adore them all, and they deserve love!!

[leejeann]

More fanfic inspired art!!

This time for the Cinderella Boy fanfic Where the Sky Meets the Sea by @spookieee28

(I love this fic, it's so nice ;-;)

(close-ups under the cut for details ^-^)

[berriblossom]

Cold hands and warm love

[Date with Death : Casper x Reader] [i am positively obsessed with this man that he's making write again| spoilers for endings#3 btw and the story.]

There's something so oddly soothing watching Casper sleep with Azrael in his arms, all snuggled up without a care in the world. His ghostly white locks sprawled against your shared bed sheets. His eyes ever so softly flutteribg against his pale cheeks, the rays of sunlight dance across his face, almost creating his own personal golden hour.

You chuckled at the idea. Casper wasn't a huge fan of super bright things. Even when you managed to convince him to walk outside your apartment with you, he dons a pair of black shades and scowls at everything. Now that you think about it, he's even more like a black cat than anything, rather than a sign of bad luck but rather for his sassy attitude and his dislike for certain things.

As you quietly watch from your desk, with your pet sitting in the empty sunny spot of the bed, you think back to how long its been since tou winning the bet and being a somewhat embodiment of life while your sweet little now former Grim Reaper is the opposite.

Goodness, one small picture shouldn't hurt? Besides, Casper can't argue with how many not-so-sly pictures he has taken of you randomly as of late. Even changing his profile pick of you sleeping with Azrael while you napped on your bed after work. He tried fighting it off, saying he mainly picked the picture because Azrael looked so good in it while you just happened to be there....no other reason...(he said this while fighting off a flustered face while gazing back at the picture. He then denied making it his lockscreen too.)

You picked up your phone and began to open the camera feature and angle the camera to get the best picture possible. Hell you even move from the desk to hover slightly over Casper and your pet to get the best angle. "Stay right there pretty boy....just perfect..." you mumbled while snapping a few silent pictures. You went to adjust his snowy hair to move from his beautiful face. Just as you touch his cool face, sleepy red eyes flutter open and the iconic pout appears on the reapers face.

"Sunshine....what are you doing? Why do you have your phone like that..." Casper's eyes flutter as he fights off the sunlight beaming through the blinds, all while his sour pout turns into a playful one. Your pet scatters away while Casper tries to snatch your phone away to see the sneaky pictures you've taken of his sleeping figure.

"Ah ah ah! Nope, absolutely not pretty boy, if you can take pictures then so can I!" You shuffle off the side of the bed while Casper jumps up to grasp your hand and to get those pictures. You tease and weave yourself away from him and the bed, sitting on the edge you laugh at how pouty and upset Casper is.

His frustration only exceeded when you decided to flash him the adorable and beautiful picture of him in his sleeping form. As casper has told you before, reapers do not need to sleep or eat. But the idea that he was so comfy in your blanket and bed, cuddling Azrael closely. It just made you want to tease your little reaper to bits. Though sadly your teasing and fun was put to an end.

Suddenly, you felt two strong cold hands wrap around your torso and squeeze you gently. You could feel Caspers lips against your neck as he mumbked for you to please delete the picture. As adorable and pretty as he could be in those moments...the little rat decided to try and tickle you to get you to give uo your phone.

Luckily you were quick enough to slip from his grasp again(heh get it) and make your way back to your bed while cherishing your sweet victory. "Sorry casp, but you look too good! I might make this my profile picture on the chat room too!" His frustrated groans on embarrassment only fueled your decision.

"Sunshin pleeasseee....just....atleast make it your lockscreeb to while your at it...since you can't stop looking and staring at me. Just can't get enough, silly mortal.." ah his ability to bounce back is incredible as ever. But still it was fun while it lasted. Casper came to join you on the bed while bringing you back close to him...somethibg about "being warm." But you did not mind.

You'll never mind, your soul brings him warmth, his perfect heater if youll say. You chuckle as he scrolls through his camera roll whie trying to find a picture of you(an god awful one) to place as his profile picture on the chatroom. Yeah its going to be a long day. But you never minded.

[0cta9on]

Today

Length: 1.3k

Genre: Fluff

IVE Liz x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Motivation is hard to come by these days, I hope you can forgive my lack of frequent updates. For the sake of my mental health, please imagine that Liz's eyes are the slightest bit of gray, I swear they look gray but they could easily by colored contacts :> Enjoy <3)

【☆】���【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

It’s a Tuesday evening. Tuesdays always seemed like an awkward time of the week—way better than Mondays obviously, but still too far away from the weekend for any real excitement to build. The trees outside sway with the oncoming breeze, flecks of autumnal browns and golds dancing against the current before gently landing on the ground. The spontaneity of their movements reminds you of a certain someone that’s running a couple minutes late.

You take another sip of your coffee, warming and pleasant, as your gaze stays glued to the windowpane of the cafe, scanning each passing visage for a semblance of familiarity. You never had this habit before knowing her. In a past life, you kept your head down, too sheepish to look most people in the eye. Yet now, you're actively searching for the eyes of strangers, waiting until you see that glimpse of gray like the sky before a storm.

It’s a little creepy, you admit, but a billion weird glances are worth it for that split second where your eyes meet and you feel light as a feather, like the autumn breeze could carry you away with the leaves.

Across the street, the crowd splits like curtains at the start of the play to reveal the star of the show—Liz, weaving through the crowd and wearing that same apologetic look that’s become an unofficial symbol for the start of your meetings.

“I’m so sorry for being late!” she says, her voice ringing alongside the jingle of the cafe’s door.

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Still,” she removes her scarf and drapes it against her chair, the same cyan checkered scarf you bought her last year after she lost her old one, “This is, like, the millionth time I’ve been late, I feel awful about it!”

Liz rests her head against the table in defeat and you fight every urge to pat her head and comfort her.

“It’s really okay, I swear. I don’t mind waiting a little longer for you,” you say.

A smile dances across her lips, and suddenly you’re floating. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

Your heart pounds against the confines of your rib cage like a lovesick prisoner begging to be set free. You’ve always wondered how someone like her can exist on this planet. Someone so charming, so beautiful, so perfect in every way that her only flaw is her lack of time management. Irises like raging storm clouds, paired with the personality of a calm evening in the shade. The angle of her smile, the dimples that adorn her cheeks, the luscious waves of her hair—

“Hello?” Liz waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you back down to Earth. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, I just, um… Anyways…” Timidly, you rummage through your backpack for the reason why you invited her here in the first place, taking a little extra time to calm your nerves. “H-here,” you mutter, producing a fairly hefty box from your bag.

“Ooooooh!” Her eyes excitedly glean over its matte finish. “Are these the noise-canceling headphones you were talking about yesterday?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you could help me test them out,” you explain.

“Of course!” With an eager grin, Liz takes out the headphones and places them on her head. “Ready when you are!” she exclaims, flashing you a thumbs up.

Liz has this super power of somehow making even the most mundane tasks feel like you’re having the time of your life. As you fiddle with the bluetooth settings on your phone, you forget that it’s just another Tuesday, you forget about the countless pairs of eyes you scanned through earlier just to find hers, you forgot about the fact that you don’t actually need these headphones and only bought them as an excuse to spend time with her.

“There we go,” you say as you press play on a song. Almost immediately, Liz starts to shimmy her arms in a goofy looking dance as she mumbles along to the lyrics. You don’t even try to hide the smirk on your face. “Can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she utters a little too loud.

Chuckling, you decide to see if the headphones are as good as advertised. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, my mother is at home right now, probably watching a show or something.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Earl grey? I don’t know, I’m not much of a tea drinker.”

You keel over with laughter from her nonsensical answers while she continues to dance on like no one is watching.

Then, an inkling of an idea slips into your mind. The smile on your face fades as that idea begins to form into something new—an opportunity. What was once glee is now replaced with an anxious excitement. Your heartbeat overpowers all the background noise and all you can focus on is the gray highlighting her eyes.

The calm before the storm.

“Liz, I…” you start, voice shaky and laced with apprehension. It’s not too late to turn back and forget about this. And yet, Liz’s lack of a reaction to your change in tone calms your nerves the slightest amount. You take a deep breath and continue going.

“…I, uh, need to tell you something important. It’s been on my mind for a long while. Like, a year at this point, and, uh…”

A choppy sigh empties from your lungs. There’s no going back after this. As the last bit of oxygen brushes past your lips, you take in another mouthful of air and clamp your eyes shut.

“I like you, Liz. As more than a friend. I really, really like you.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, you collapse face first into the table like a rickety bridge finally crumbling underneath its own weight. You did it. Sure, she didn’t hear a thing, but you finally vocalized what you’ve been keeping inside and that’s good enough for you. Maybe one day, you’ll finally build up the courage to say it when she can actually hear you. Maybe.

The sound of plastic hitting the table jolts you back up. “Oh right, how was it?” you ask, unable to meet her eyes.

“They, uh… good,” she mutters, uncharacteristically quiet. “I-I mean, they work good.”

“G-good. That’s good.” You grab the headphones from the table and put them back into their box, making sure to unpair them from your—

Your eyes grow wide as you double and triple check your phone screen. The headphones are already unpaired.

Your mind starts to race with a million questions, but only one echoes in your head—How long were they unpaired?

You shoot your gaze back up to Liz, her once milky white cheeks now stained with a bright pink hue. Your mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. It’s too late. You know what that reaction means. And you know what’s gonna come next.

“I-I should go,” you stutter, clumsily throwing your belongings into your backpack. How could you have been so reckless? Why didn’t you double check before attempting something as idiotic as this? You’ll have to move cities now, fake your death, create a new life on an undocumented island in the middle of the Pacific—

“I like you too.”

Her voice sounds so sweet and harmonious, you wonder if all the adrenaline pumping through your system is giving you auditory hallucinations. You’ve imagined similar scenarios to these countless times before, but to hear her actually speak those words and mean them is a whole different experience.

The tidal wave of emotions washing over you renders you completely catatonic. So you sit. You let the feelings stew. You let the smile creep onto your face until your cheeks begin to ache. You let your eyes take nervous yet excited glances towards the girl sitting next to you, watching as she does the same. Those beautiful pearls of gray, gazing at you in a way that you’ve only seen in movies, TV shows, and your dreams.

Not so bad for a Tuesday.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter sixty. lost wc. 1.3k CW! very intense chapter. violent acts, domestic abuse, mentions of blood a/n: sorry pt 2 please don't kill me. as always, tl;dr at the end.

It’s hard to tell how long it’s been since he threw the first punch. It could have been mere minutes or a whole hour. You have no idea. All you know is that everything hurts.

He’s been spewing hateful words ever since he barged into the apartment but at this point you can’t even hear him anymore, too focused on the searing pain that’s spreading all over your body. You can taste the familiar and you’re pretty sure your leg is broken from the way it’s angled funny.

“Are you even listening to me you fucking whore?” His hands are suddenly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your weak hands to grasp at his own to pull them away but it’s a useless attempt. Your energy is rapidly fading and your vision swims in and out of focus.

You try to hold on but you’re losing consciousness fast and a single tear runs down your good eye. You can’t help but think that this is it, you were probably about to die. Yet the only thing on your mind is your boys. Instead of your own shitty life flashing by, it’s all your favorite memories you have with them in the short amount of time you’ve gotten to have them. It’s a rather nice way to go you suppose, being reminded of their love. After all, it’s probably the last time you’ll get to see them, even if it’s like this.

Hyunjin and Minho bicker while the climb up the stairs to the apartment, the older exasperated at the fact that Hyunjin did in fact misplace his keys once again. First they were late because he insisted he only needed one thing from the art store now to only find he really did not have his keys with him. Once they reach the apartment however, the door is already open and slightly ajar. The two exchange quick glances before barging in.

They can hear loud yelling and peaking from just behind the couch are your feet. Quickly, they run further into the apartment only to find you, bruised and bleeding with a male on top of you.

Hyunjin screams and Minho sees red.

The elder of the two if quicker as he jumps in to pull the male off of you. There’s not a single scratch on the strange man and it only fuels his anger. You couldn’t even fight back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minho spits at the man, his fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. The male towers over him by a good few inches but Minho could care less.

“Ha! Let me guess? One of her soulmates?” He says the word in a condescending manner, an ugly sneer on his face. “Sorry. I was just teaching her a much needed lesson,” The man grins and his teeth are yellow, alcohol lingering in his breath and it makes Minho cringe back.

Minho doesn’t need to hear anything else as he pulls his fist back and smashes it into the mans face. He watches with a satisfying smirk as the other falls to the ground, clutching his now bleeding nose. Minho doesn’t give him another chance to get back up, kicking him in the gut so he stays on the ground.

Minho hovers over the male with a scowl curling at his lips before spitting in the others face. He brings his foot up, aiming directly for his face. “Fuck. You. This is for my soulmate,” and then he brings his heel down. A sickening crunch is heard and Minho knows that he has successfully broken the others nose. The man is unconscious now, blood dripping from his nose but it’s the least of Minho’s worries. He glances over to you, seeing that Hyunjin is currently taking care of you so he slips his phone out to call the police.

Hyunjin is hovering over you, delicately cupping your face in his shaky hands. One of your eyes is completely swollen, turning a nasty shade of purple and there is a similar bruise starting to develop around your neck. You’re completely out of it, your breathing shallow and Hyunjin doesn’t even think you notice that he’s here with you as he tries to get you to focus on him.

“Baby. Baby, shhh. You’re ok now. Help is on the way, yeah?” You don’t respond or even look at him and it only makes him cry even harder. Fat tears run down his cheeks at how broken you look in his arms. How could anyone do this to someone else? Let alone to you. “Please…Please baby, look at me…” He all but begs, patting your cheeks lightly. Anything for you to focus on him.

“J-Jinnie?” Your voice is hoarse and raw but it has Hyunjin breathing out a sigh of relief. You look up at him slowly, eyes blinking drowsily.

“There you are. Hello my muse,” He tries to smile through his tears. “Keep those pretty eyes open for me ok? Help is on the way,” Hyunjin says in a gentle voice, stroking your cheek. You’re still very much out of it, unable to focus completely on him and it makes him frown. You mumble something as your eyes start to droop once more, causing the poor boy to start panicking.

“Hyun….” You try to call out to him but he just shushes you, squeezing your hands.

“Shh, it’s ok princess. You don’t need to say anything,” But you shake your head, grimacing as a wave of pain filters through your body. You need to say this. Even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Mm- Tell…Tell the boys that…I love them,” You manage to say and Hyunjin feels like his heart is breaking.

“Tell them yourself,” He says, begging for you to stay with him. You just smile softly, barely holding on with your lids feeling heavy. “No no no no. Baby, you can’t close your eyes,” He says, gently shaking you in an attempt to keep you awake but it’s all futile as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you fall unconscious.

“Baby! Baby no! Hyung!! HYUNG! She’s unconscious!” Hyunjin screams, now full on crying as he clutches your body to his.

Minho’s grip on his phone is so tight he’s almost worried it’ll shatter as he quickly calls Chan.

“Hello? What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be driving yn to work?” Chan answers on the first ring, always reliable. Minho has to take a deep breath to calm himself.

“…Hyung,” His own voice cracks, lower lip wobbling. “Come home. Now.”

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Theres….been an incident. I need you to come home. NOW.” Minho is demanding, making sure Chan understands that he isn’t asking.

“Ok, ok. I’ll come home right now,”

“Send the others to the hospital. I’ll have Hyunjin call them,”

“The hospital? What? Minho what is going on? Shouldn’t I meet you at the hospital then? Is yn okay??” Chan goes into his ‘leader’ mode, asking way too many questions that Minho isn’t willing to answer right now.

“No. I need you home because I can’t guarantee that I will wait for the police to arrive. I will fucking kill him,” Minho’s tone is deadly as he sneers towards the still unconscious male. Chan on the other line is concerned and confused. He can vaguely hear Hyunjin’s sobs in the background and with the way Minho’s talking he knows he’s not about to get any answers right now.

“Ok Min. I’m on my way home. Just…wait for me, ok?”

He takes another deep breath. “Ok hyung…please hurry,” His voice cracks again before he hangs up, unable to be away from you any longer.

Hyunjin’s still sobbing uncontrollably as Minho comes over and sits silently next to him. He reaches out to grasp at your hand, hating the way its limp against his own. Still, he clutches it like it’s his lifeline.

“…please be ok. You have to be ok,” Minho whispers a quick prayer, squeezing your hand.

TL;DR: yn's brother chokes her and she falls unconscious. hyunjin holds her as she tells him to tell the boys that she loves them. minho comes to curb stomp him and calls the police + chan to come home.

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[strawberry-daiquiris]

wet and messy and/or intercrural for nortrell if it pleases u 🙏🏻😊 (kink prompts)

ty anon, this one was a fun one to kick off with!!!

warnings for some kind of gender thoughts that max hasn't totally worked out in his own head in this one!!!

for the kink generator ask game

****

“You’re not doing me up the arse again,” Max warns, when Lando’s hands start to wander the night he gets to Monaco. “So don’t get any funny ideas.”

Lando groans, and not the good kind, against his neck.

“But why?”

He hadn’t hated it, exactly. It’d just been a bit weird, arsehole out on the bed, feeling cold and then too warm, and then cold again. Max’d felt it for days, sitting weirdly in his sim rig and wondering if that was just his life now, if he’d had his insides altered permanently by Lando and his massive fuck off horse cock. It made him angry, that his body wasn’t made for it, not the way he’d like it to be.

“‘Cos,” Max argues, unconvincingly, but a little flick of his fingernail under Lando’s foreskin and he’s rendered the idiot unable to fight back. Typical. “It’s late Bob, I can’t be arsed with the fingering. I’ll give you a blowie instead, alright?”

Lando sighs, flopping back against the pillows. He lifts his hips up expectantly, and Max rolls his eyes at the same time as he fits his palm around his dick, stroking him slowly as they continue the negotiation. Lando’s got it in his head that once he’s started, he needs to be touched at all times, else it’ll go floppy.

When he told him, Max had to ask if that had actually really happened ever, and Lando went eight different shades of the pink-purple spectrum in ten seconds and blurted out the word once before he buried his face in the mattress and told Max to fuck off, he didn’t want to have sex anyway.

Max hasn’t asked again after that. 

“Rub off between your thighs?” Lando counters, to Max’s very nice offer to suck his dick. “S’more like a hole.”

“What, than my actual mouth hole?” 

Lando rolls his eyes and lands his hand on Max’s thigh, stroking through the downy hairs. Despite his protestations, Max can feel himself get going, his dick starting to twitch to life properly.

“Oh fine,” he relents, rolling onto his back and bringing his legs up a bit, his dick flapping against his stomach. “Whatever makes you fucking happy.”

Lando’s messy with the lube, pumping it vigorously onto himself and the backs of Max’s thighs, working his huge paw through the gap Max has left for him to fuck himself happy on. If he’s honest, Max could probably fall asleep like this, head resting on Lando’s expensive feather pillows, if it weren’t for the way Lando has to narrate everything.

“So fit, Max. D’you know it’s fucking sick you let me do this? I love your legs, and your moles, and so on.”

Max snorts, shifting a bit when Lando slides his dick in for the first time. There’s lube dripping down the backs of his thighs, coating his arse, like it’s dripping out of him. He tries to control himself, the urge to touch where Lando is pressed.

“Mm, yeah, potential skin cancer, talk about attractive,” he jokes, trying to distract himself.

Lando leans down and fits his mouth over Max’s knee, dragging his teeth along the graze he’s still healing from an unfortunate incident filming for Quadrant over in Sweden.

They’re not allowed to talk about it. Death, or danger, or any of that sort of stuff. Morbid humour is strictly for within the four walls of Tarkov, and the dark, gloomy series Lando likes them to watch on Netflix.

Max relents, reaching a hand between his legs to alter Lando’s angle so every thrust hits against the underside of his dick, brushes his balls. It feels good like that, like the warm and spongy parts are doing what they should.

“Like that, alright?”

Lando smiles, kissing over where he’s been biting, holding on for dear life as he starts to thrust properly.

“Does it feel good?”

Max sighs, closes his eyes. It always makes him feel a bit funny, how much Lando wants it to be good for both of them. It’d almost be easier if he didn’t care, wasn’t watching Max to make sure he’s satisfying him, wasn’t hell bent on making him his fucking wife, on top of the sex and the banter and the good chat.

He reaches out and takes Lando’s hand, threading their fingers together over his knee.

“Yeah, mate. It does.”

He jerks himself lazily, knuckles knocking against the head of Lando’s dick as it pokes obscenely through his thighs. Max thinks it looks a bit stupid. Would be hot with a girl, all smooth skin and cunt out, but his thighs just look messy, hair plastered down and sticky with it.

It only gets worse when he comes, striping his stomach, getting it in the smattering of hair on his chest. Lando’s reaction is immediate, reaching over to scrape his hand through the puddle, smearing it down Max until he can coat his dick in it, adding to the mess between his legs.

“Bob, for fuck’s sake,” Max is less forgiving now he’s come, and the fun’s over entirely. “It’s like a bog down there now.”

“S’good,” Lando says, voice dreamy, biting his lip into his mouth in a way that makes Max’s traitorous arsehole clench, fuck’s sake. “You’re so wet.”

“What,” Max laughs, nervous. “Like a girl?”

Lando nods furiously, as Max squeezes a bit tighter, using all the strength in his legs to make the hole as tight as possible. 

It’s enough for Lando to come, striping Max’s chest, his neck, his face.

“Yeah, bit like a girl, fuck.” Lando slumps forward. “That was so hot.”

Max closes his eyes, squeezing at the stranglehold of Lando’s fingers on his knee, and swallows it all down, deep, where he doesn’t touch.

“Next time,” he says quietly. “You can do it up the arse.”

[yourbasicqueerie]

All The Stars We Stole (avis amberg x lilia calderu)

summary: “Your Body Is a Copy of Venus and Cithera”’s epilogue!

author’s note : finally we have reached the final chapter in this tiny little fic i had the fun of my life making!!! thank you for everyone who saw over this process (especially @anthewitch , @angeliccss and @liliasenbyhusband ) yall have a special place in my heart, forever and ever!!!!!!! any and all mistakes i’ve make throughout this are my fault, english is not my first language and i do not wish it to be, it’s too crude and ugly. nonetheless it’s an important language. the songs i hear on repeat while making this are “From The Morning” by quickly,quickly and “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” by paul and linda mccartney!!! tysm for reading this, i hope u enjoy it!

─────────୨ৎ─────────

Three months after the kiss that could have set the whole city ablaze, Avis Amberg and Lilia Calderu had, against all odds, carved out an empire.

It didn’t happen quietly. Nothing about them ever did.

Their names were everywhere. Not just in gossip columns or on cocktail napkins scribbled with rumors, but carved into the very bones of Hollywood. Avis,  with her iron will and gleaming studios, and Lilia, with a sudden, almost impossible leap from mystical curiosity to magnetic starlet, Hollywood's new favorite actress.

It was the 1950s. The city ran on illusions. It was based on surface and scandal. But somehow, what they had built — rough, clashing and tender — was realer than anything else around them.                  

        Their first real argument was over wallpaper.

Not money nor fame. Not who loved who more (though that would come later, in quieter, more dangerous ways).  

Wallpaper.

“No flowers,” Avis had said, arms crossed as she stood in the center of the new living room — all blond wood and sharp angles. Her black pencil skirt was so crisp it could slice a man in half.

“They’re not flowers, they’re vines,” Lilia corrected, lounging barefoot in a velvet armchair she had absolutely stolen from a studio set. “Vines are dramatic. Sensual even.”

Avis narrowed her eyes. “They’re girlish. It’s like living inside a Valentine’s Day card."

Lilia smirked wickedly. “Afraid you’ll get soft, cuore mio?”

Avis took a slow, dangerous step forward. “If you call me that in front of the decorators, I will make sure they paint this entire house beige.”

Lilia gasped theatrically, hand clutching her chest. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

They spent the entire afternoon fighting — arguing over the merits of stark modernism versus lush, chaotic magic — pausing only for sharp glances, coffee breaks that somehow turned into lazy kisses against doorframes, and one perilous moment when Lilia threatened to paint the entire sitting room in a scandalous shade of deep red.

("You'll ruin the resale value," Avis snapped.

"Darling," Lilia said, smiling slow and wicked, "you and I are the value.")

In the end, they compromised, if one could call it that.  

The library (Lilia’s domain) got the vines, thick and curling in red and gold.   The parlor (Avis’s trophy room) was a study in brutal, masculine elegance: black, ivory, dark wood.  

And their bedroom — their shared bedroom — was left untouched for a week, an uneasy truce. Until one night, slightly drunk on way too expensive champagne, they painted it together in bare feet and silk slips, laughing so hard Lilia dropped the brush into the paint can. It dried uneven and imperfect. They left it that way.

READ MORE ON AO3

[kameyyy]

PASSION; atsumu miya x reader

CHAPTER 1: red

cw: ooc orobably, cursing, mention of a deceased grandparent, mention of dysfunctional family, lowkey unreliable memories, mention of alcohol use, umber is a color I don't mean amber, sry if I missed some [please refer to the general tags/warnings on the m.list !]

a/n: hi so I hope you'll enjoy !! this is my first ever written chapter in english and after like idk 4 years of writers block, so please be nice about it <3 I'm really excited to write this smau and I apologize for any grammar issues or typos !! I'm writing this at 6:30 am rn and I haven't slept yet lol so please bear with me

songs I violently played on repeat: Girl With One Eye ; Beatutiful Crime ; Claire ; Not

wc: 3.7k

She didn’t hear the front door of the shop creak open, nor the ring of the old bell attached to the ceiling sounding twice. He let his eyes roam suspiciously over the two steps of stairs in front of the door that led him further into the building, uneven and small, rough edges and splitting paint hidden behind a rug of yale blue that certainly has seen better years.

At first glance, the shop appeared messy. Countless rugs in various colors hung up on walls, spread out on the dark wood floor, or rolled up and stuffed together on shelves or any corners. The wallpaper was yellowed, partially wavy, and loose in places. Between the million rugs laid out underneath his feet, he spotted chipped parts of the wood floor and white dried-up paint smeared over it, seemingly by accident, as he moved over to the redwood counter and the person sitting behind it.

He wondered why his friend chose this specific shop for his rug. It was nothing like him, and not even close to the other stores he frequented. This one was cluttered, messy, and odd. The tips of the aloe vera on top of the counter were rolled tight and colored brown, balancing between life and death. Water and coffee stains adorned the counter top, dust settled in the corners and the jar with pens was tipped over. However, when his eyes landed on the stack of volleyball magazines spread messily next to the woman hunched over the counter, he suddenly understood his friend. He couldn’t make out her face since it was angled too far down, but instead, he clearly saw the video she was watching. A volleyball video. An interview of him. 

This place reeks of a discount.

She doesn’t like the color red. It reminds her of the past she is trying her best to forget, or it announced bad times coming for her. But as much as she learned to hate this color, somehow, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of shades of it every day.

Her childhood bedroom had wallpaper colored in carmine red. Walls that witnessed her silent sobs, her figure slouched over the prickly carpet writing a myriad of essays, all those fights with her mother, and countless nights where the bed stayed untouched and cold. She used to love this specific shade of red, though all it did now was leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her school uniform had a tie colored in maroon. The fabric accompanied her to all those classes, where she repeatedly realized just how different she was from everybody else. 

All her peers had their lives planned out already. They knew what to study, what job or company they wanted to work for, and at what age they wanted to get married. One child or two, the age difference no more than three years. A boy, or a boy and a girl. If they didn’t plan their life out this detailed, then they at least had an idea. Everybody had some sort of dream or goal to reach, unlike her. 

She was lost in a maze with no way out, the fog imprisoning her growing denser with every passing year or thought she spent on ways to escape.

The counter was made of redwood and the countless rugs scattered around the shop, either hung or rolled up, were all colored in some shade of red. They watched her fail the attempts of trying to forget the past whenever she lets her gaze wander out the window. Her eyes focused on the building across the street as if she was looking for someone. 

These rugs witnessed on cold fall days how she hung up a certain crimson red scarf on a coat rack behind the counter and sometimes stared at it a little too long, lost in thought. She got it as a gift a year before her high school graduation and never brought it over herself to toss it out of her life. It kept her warm on nights she turned her back to the locked front door of her house. Head hung low, sigh after sigh leaving chapped lips, a shiver from the biting cold of winter running through her body. Though moments later she was greeted happily in a certain house filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Umber eyes lifted unpleasant feelings and worries from her shoulders like a feather caught by a gush of wind. The scarf tagged along when she waited in front of the school gym, or when she laughed with the person that would later show her what passion truly felt like. Even when that passion was fueled by hate.

She was hunched over the countertop next to the cash register, her knuckles pressed against her temples as she kept her head low and eyes trained on the screen laid flat on the wood grain. 

She couldn’t help it.

The wired earphones she wore were broken in and tangled, the sound quality wasn't the best, but it was enough for her 10-minute walk to work. Or, to watch this interview with her eyebrows scrunched while the shop was only filled with her figure and a faint buzzing sound coming from the break room. It went unnoticed — just like the person actually standing in front of her.

She doesn’t know why she keeps watching these stupid volleyball interviews with him in it. She doesn’t know why she googles his name at least once a month, on the lookout for new achievements he made in his life, but not to celebrate. And she doesn’t know why she keeps buying these damn magazines he’s printed on the cover of — or is somehow featured in. 

She doesn’t know why she can’t let him go.

On her screen he stood proudly with a hand on his hip, the other running through his damp blonde hair while he answered the reporter's questions. His team won a match that was seemingly rather important. They talked a little too much about volleyball and teams she had never heard of before, though that was only because she always skipped the magazine pages that weren't about him, so she didn't really focus on what was said.

He carried himself with confidence, success was written all over his face. His hair wasn’t this awful yellow color anymore, it hadn’t been for a while, but rather a natural-looking blonde. He grew bigger, in muscles and size, compared to the last time she saw him in person years ago. He seemed more mature, though he was still the same and carried his signature smirk around, which she so desperately wished to wipe off his face. 

It’s unfair. Life’s unfair. It had only been good to him, for some stupid reason. He had a happy family, confidence and looks like no other, passions and goals he worked hard for to achieve and maintain. On the other hand, life had been treating her like a pacifier lost on the streets. It made her bitter. It filled her with hate. It made her cry at night — because she doesn’t understand why.

He got everything he dreamed of, while she didn’t even get a dream.

“What is your ideal type of woman?” The reporter spoke, and the blonde man paused for a second, raising a hand to his chin in thought, before a sly grin spread over his lips. She found herself biting on the skin of her cheek, a small part of her anticipating his answer a little more than she’d ever admit.

“My type in women?” He blew a lost strand of hair out of his vision, his eyes glimmering in amusement. “Someone who knows what they want in life.”

She scoffed loudly, roughly ripping her earphones out of the shell of her ears, and throwing them on top of the table. 

“What a dick.” She spat, venom rising to the back of her throat, daring to spill over like ink and red wine, staining her for years to come. She threw herself back in the creaking chair, nails roughly digging into the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded in offense.

Her eyes snapped up from the screen that still played the interview. In front of the counter, she was met with a broad figure in a burgundy red t-shirt and umber-colored irises. Her mouth went dry — and with it, her heart stopped beating for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Her sudden words of calling him a dick caught him off-guard. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had his lips parted for more words to come out, offense painted across his face, though they died on his tongue the second she threw her head back to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they took in one another. 

It was her, to his delight. And it was him, to her misfortune.

He desperately tried to find his voice. He wanted to express all the feelings and questions swirling and burning inside his mind about her, after all those years, since they last saw each other. She pressed her jaw together tightly in an attempt to keep calm, the fight or flight instinct within her triggered. But she was working right now. Punching a customer would likely result in termination, as well as abandoning the shop.

He was the first one to break the silence again, a weak and nervous smirk painting his lips as he spoke.

“You’re a fan?” His eyes flickered to the interview still playing on the screen.

“Quite the opposite.” She scrunched her nose in disgust and quickly turned off the video.

Though, he simply raised his eyebrows, not buying a word she said, and instead nodded towards the stack of magazines next to her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that the magazine lying on the top of the stack had his face printed all over the cover. She cursed herself silently, the only one without him displayed on the front page, currently stuck under the left leg of her chair to keep it from tilting over.

“We sell those.” She said flatly, trying to seem indifferent about it, but the nervous biting of her lip betrayed her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the smile on his lips grew wide before his features ultimately softened. Umber eyes roamed over her face, taking in everything that changed or had stayed the same. 

Her hairstyle was different, the bags she used to carry under her eyes weren’t as prominent anymore. But she still looked tired, her lips still chapped from her habit to gnaw at them whenever something bothered her. 

He wondered if her troubles were different now. He hoped they were. Otherwise, everything he had given up — which was her — was pointless. Nonetheless, she resembled the same girl from years ago, though he knew she was different now. She looked at him differently, too.

“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” He muttered, memories of their time spent together played in front of his inner eye.

“I wish it would’ve stayed that way, Miya.”

His name tasted weird and unfamiliar on her tongue. The last time they saw each other — which was years ago — she referred to him by his given name, though not nearly as civilized as she managed now. Ways were parted in hate and anger, insult after insult spat from her mouth like venom as she screamed at him, in hopes of making him hurt as much as she did in that very moment.

He wronged her. He broke the trust he had so patiently built up and did the one thing she begged him not to do, sealed with multiple pinky promises and reassuring smiles. 

But suddenly her life fell apart. All because of him. 

She was left with nothing except this ignited spark of hate, and she never managed to loosen the claw-like grip it had on her throat.

“How have you been?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, dying to know about her life since he lost her. It was the same soft tone and expression he had used on her years ago. On days when she came to him after she had found the front door to her house locked and her hopes for a better life in shambles.

“Don’t act like you care.” She pressed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling from frustration.

She shot a glance behind him at the only functioning clock hanging on the wall, next to many others that were either off by many hours or just stopped working completely. Some were small, some were big, and a few were oddly shaped. Metal, plastic, wood. Brown, gold, red. It was 6:53 pm and her shift for today would end in exactly 2 hours and 7 minutes. 2 hours and 7 minutes too long, stuck in this shop, with a man she never wanted to meet again.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he took a step closer to the redwood counter, placing his calloused hands on the rough edge of chipped wood. The murmur of her name fell from his lips like a low melody. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that?” She scoffed, disdain written all over her face as she jolted up from her chair, the palms of her hands slamming against the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He winced when her chair hit the floor, avoiding her gaze as he tightened his grip, looking down to her hands sprawled out on the wood grain. Chipped redwood dug uncomfortably against his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, biting his cheek as if to force himself to make his next move. 

He gulped as he carefully lifted his gaze back to her, silence hanging thick in the air between them. 

Years ago, on a day that began like every other, he messed up and lost her completely. Today was similar, though this time he won’t let her stray far from him again. Their friendship meant a lot to him, even if he never openly admitted it, and he wanted to win her back. Make up for past mistakes and fix things, see her laugh at his stupid jokes or hear her cheer loudly for him during a volleyball match again. 

He missed their late night talks in the quiet of his living room, arms softly brushing against each other and acting as if both didn’t notice their knees touching underneath the thin blanket. Hushed voices conversing from the floor and bottom bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, trying not to disturb his brother who always fell asleep first, and giggles muffled by their hands when his mother returned from a shift way past their bedtime, rushing up the stairs with adrenaline pumping through their veins. 

He was uncharacteristically soft with her, doing small things his brother teased him about, like holding her hand under the pretense that she was walking too slow, or so she wouldn't get lost. Physical contact like this normally made her uncomfortable, but for him, she made an exception.

A wary look was painted on his features and his warm, calloused hand slowly cupped over her own, his thumb softly brushing over her knuckles in a calming manner, voice just as gentle. “Look, I’m sorry for what I’ve done-”

“No, you’re fucking not!” She cut him off with a snarl, swatting his hand away like a nasty fly. “You’re only sorry because your stupid attempt to ��save me’ failed!”

He opened his mouth to object, his hand pulled close again as if he had burnt himself, though his words died on his tongue and he pressed his lips together tightly, running a hand through blonde hair. 

Never before had she seen him this close to looking remorseful, though, she knew it was just faux feelings. If he hadn’t met her today, after roughly four years, he wouldn’t have spared a single thought on her. She was just a side character in his story, after all.

Atsumu Miya was the type of guy who spoke a lot and couldn’t ever shut up. Even when the situation called for it. 

She only slept 4 hours? Well, he only slept three and has a stomach ache. 

She tries to talk about her life at home? Too bad, suddenly he’s reciting every moment of his life, starting from when he was just a cell in his mother's womb. 

Something was always on his mind. Anything he deemed worth expressing he spoke out loud, and often it was unnecessary, stupid, or left her questioning his common sense. When he didn’t talk over her or made every conversation about himself, he was too busy training and bickering with his brother. 

Emotional, soft, and heart-to-heart conversations were impossible with him. This includes when she first opened up about her situation at home. Her voice was quiet, her hands trembled, and she made him promise a million times not to tell anyone else. 

Opening up to someone filled her with anxiety. Somehow, she even feared his reaction. Would he be indifferent? Dismiss her completely, or tell her to suck it up? Would he get angry at her? Would he tell her mother? Or his brother and mother?

These are things she never had to worry about whenever she emailed her deceased grandmother, emails in which she thoroughly spoke about the things that had happened to her, dumping her thoughts and feelings. She had tried diaries before, but the fear of her mother discovering them or someone else led to her lying about the things she wrote about. But that destroys the purpose she bought the book for, no?

So she stopped, and poured out her heart's content in emails instead that no one had access to anymore. Even though she will never receive an answer, sending those made her feel as if she really talked to someone. Something a piece of paper or the notes app on her phone couldn’t ever do for her. Unlike when she opened up to Atsumu, she felt heard and listened to.

He kept pacing around the room, muttering curse after curse through gritted teeth. She didn’t know if they were directed at her mother, her, or himself. He was ticked off and frustrated about the fact that this had been going on for years at her home, without him knowing anything about it, though they only recently started growing closer. So when could she have told him about it? Not only that, but she used to hate him too. 

Many people her age actually preferred being friends with Osamu, rather than him. They were alike, but the grey-haired brother was rather laid back and kind of calm, more bearable to have a conversation with. But the blonde kept pestering her, walking her to class, eating lunch together and joining her on the swings by the playground at late hours. She eventually came to the realisation that he was only half as bad as originally thought, and that she actually kind of liked him. 

Yet moments like these, where she opened up and made herself vulnerable in front of him, caused her to second guess her choice of friend. There were no hands holding hers, and no softly spoken call of her name to sooth her spiraling thoughts. Nor did they ever truly talk about the things she so slowly and carefully put together in words. He couldn’t comfort her the way she needed, and to a certain degree it seemed like he never truly cared, always swiftly moving to a different topic.

“I was doing okay, I was content. But you made my life sound so much worse than it actually was.” she said, her tone tight, edged with frustration and a hint of wounded disbelief. “I had you and your support, no one else needed to know what was really going on, there was only one year of school left anyway.”

Somehow, she noticed, their roles were reversed now. He grew up and learned to manage and express his emotions better. He was successful in his job and his passion. Everything she prayed to god to was ignored and fell into his lap instead. 

It filled her with hate and bitter jealousy.

They both came from somewhat similar backgrounds. A deadbeat father, a single mother, and issues with making friends. She was an only child, he was a twin. She expected his mother to be exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed, unable to control her emotions or lash out at them sometimes. It’s what her mother was like already, though she only had to feed one extra mouthful, and not two. Instead, she was met with nothing but love and support in the four walls of his home. Something incredibly foreign to her. 

Now, she directed her frustration and anger at people close to her who deserved it the least. Her emotional control kept slacking off with every passing day. She’s been fired from previous jobs often, goes out drinking instead of attending her classes, and her relationship turned from something that gave her joy and a will to push through, to this never-leaving sense of guilt and exhaustion. 

“I had plans, Atsumu. I knew how to get out, I knew how to help myself. But you robbed me of every opportunity and broke your stupid fucking promise.”

Everything he had dreamed of was just one breath away, while she’d been drowning for years.

They’re two sides of a coin. 

He woke up early with a smile, feeling refreshed and energized. She hadn’t moved an inch the moment she opened her eyes, even though she’d been meaning to get up for the past hour.

He kept in touch with his mother and called her every Sunday. She hadn't heard a word from hers since she moved to Osaka.

He doesn't know who his father is and doesn’t plan on knowing. She was forced to find out about hers.

He was a role model for many children. She never understood the concept.

The blonde stepped back from the redwood counter, hands buried in his pants as he shook his head slowly. “You would have lost yourself.” 

“And I’m not lost right now?”

please consider leaving a like, reblog or follow if you enjoyed <3

masterlist ; playlist ; pinterest board

taglist, open (comment here or send an ask);

throne of honor: @solzscribblez @wyrcan @heartmaddie @causenessus @hyunteru

@angeleilee @kawoala @vertejay @vitoshi @kang-ulzzang @hanadulsetaad @nobodybutnnoorr @pookalicious-hq @gigiiiiislife @fridaenpina @sahrii @sakusasbadger

©kameyyy all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[zerocoded]

summary: the view of linkon city from above is really different than what you're accostumed to, but you can't help but love every second of it when caleb is by your side.

authors note: can't believe i'm posting a caleb work here on this account before a sylus one LOL, anyways i'll treat our dragon fine later, now this colonel has been eating my brain the past two days and i need to get this out. this is pretty lame honestly, just trying to figure out what caleb i want to write among ALL of the ideas his one minute trailer gave me geez. i hope you like his soft side here because i plan to write a more obsessive caleb next time hehe.

banner credits: sixthsensw on instagram. thank you lovie!

warnings: soft!caleb lol he is just our boynextdoor here • idk where this would fit in the og story so just enjoy the reading and pretend it makes sense pls • sfw content

word count: 0.6k

the neon glow of skyhaven's artificial skyline reflected off the polished surfaces of the floating colony, bathing everything in shades of blue and violet. caleb leaned casually against his fighter jet, the sharp angles of the aircraft framing his silhouette. his black jacket, emblazoned with the deepspace aviation administration emblem, caught the faint light, making him seem larger than life.

“thought you’d chicken out,” caleb said, his voice laced with mock disappointment as you approached. “figured you’d be too scared to race the great colonel caleb.”

“scared? of you?” you shot back, folding your arms. “last i checked, you scraped the hull of your jet in the last drill. hardly inspiring confidence, colonel.”

he chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the jet with an easy grace. “ouch. remind me to never let you near the observation deck again. you’ve got a real knack for holding grudges, don’t you?”

your banter was familiar, a shield against the weight of the world outside skyhaven. but tonight, there was a strange tension in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.

caleb stepped closer, his usual teasing smirk softening into something more genuine. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter now, “all jokes aside, it’s good to see you up here. the city looks... different from above. easier to pretend it’s not falling apart for a while.”

you glanced past him, your gaze settling on the twinkling lights of linkon city far below. “it’s not falling apart,” you said firmly. “not while we’re still here to fight for it.”

“always the optimist,” caleb murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you make it sound so easy.”

“it’s not. but what’s the alternative?”

silence stretched between you two, broken only by the hum of distant machinery. caleb looked at you, his purple eyes searching yours for something unspoken. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, rawer.

“do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t lived through the chronorift?” he asked. “if we’d just... had normal lives? no wanderers, no aether cores, no missions?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. caleb rarely let his guard down, always the jokester, always the soldier.

“sometimes,” you admitted. “but then i remember how much we’ve done—how much we’ve survived. i wouldn’t trade that. not if it means losing you.”

his gaze sharpened, and for a moment, caleb seemed to forget the world around them. he took a step closer, the space between you shrinking.

“Y/N,” he said, your name heavy with meaning. “you know i’d do anything to keep you safe, right? even if it means...” he trailed off, looking away, his jaw tightening.

“even if it means what?” you pressed gently.

he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “even if it means putting the whole world in danger. you’re the one thing I can’t lose.”

for once, you didn’t have a comeback. instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. “you won’t lose me, caleb. not as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”

the tension between you softened, replaced by something warmer, quieter. caleb’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something deeper this time.

“guess i’ll have to stick around then,” he said, his voice lighter now. “wouldn’t want to miss out on you finally admitting i’m the better pilot.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “keep dreaming, colonel.”

and as the two stood there, beneath the artificial stars of skyhaven, it felt, for a moment, like the weight of their world was a little easier to bear.

author's note: look how sweet we can be, see? anyways next time i'll be writing about how he fucks probably, xx. CHECK OUT MY NEW POST ABOUT CALEB. send me a request • my masterpost

[overtaken-stream]

hello! i hope you’re having a great day, i was just going to generally ask for a fluff fic of sakuragi since he’s my absolute favorite ever. Honestly there’s no specific plot i’m asking just a sakuragi fic and it’s okay if you can’t do it!! take your time have an amazing day ^_^

Not the Last Time

Sakuragi Hanamichi x GN!Reader

You can not convince me that he isn't the cutest dork in Slam Dunk. I hope you enjoy this and have a great day, too! ^_^

Warning: kiss 💋

Hanamichi had never been in a girl’s room before. He’d never even imagined being in a relationship where he’d get to step inside her house—let alone, her safe haven, filled with every trinket and treasure she held dear. Yet here he was, his black socks pressed against the floor. Does this mean you like him, too?

—Wait, what was he thinking? Of course you did! You’d been dating for two solid months and three days.

He sits on your bed—your bed, the one you sleep in every night—legs now crossed, back straight against the headboard as you settle comfortably in front of him. Hanamichi feels his cheeks ignite as you bravely stare into his irises. He fights the urge to avoid your gaze and loses.

Your stiff posture—mirroring his—melts at the sight of his obvious shyness, shoulders shaking with laughter that fills his ears. The sound sends his heart fluttering against his ribs, wild as a caged bird, beating wings that only a true love’s kiss could still. Kiss—

Kiss.

If Hanamichi’s face was pink before, it’s crimson now—scorching under the heat of your laughter as you glance up at him, breathless and grinning at his cost.

"You're so adorable, Hanamichi-kun."

The way his name curls around your lips—soft between breaths—sends a jolt through him, scratching at some desperate, hidden part of his mind. His chest tightens; his fingers twitch against the bedsheets. Outside, he’s a statue-still as one can be. Inside? A wildfire. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he's having a fever. Then comes the honorific, harsh on your tongue and completely unfit. It acts as cold water to cool the tall teen down. A pathetic whimper, slips from his mouth.

He'll make sure you only call him by his name after this.

"You ready?" You ask.

A hum of agreement resounds throughout the room. He knows this, knows how he should move, and what angle to lean in, but it's different in practice because the movies didn't carry the weight of reality, they didn't feel the tension in the air that Hanamichi's currently experiencing or the emotions going through his mind.

He watches you close your eyes, hands clenching your blanket below as you stay rooted, waiting for him and Hanamichi— he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, banging against his ribcage and loudly making his nervousness known to the world. He has a tiny suspicion that you notice it, too. He's thankful you don't point it out. Otherwise, he might pass away on the spot.

Apparently, he takes too long since you're the first to lean forward. Hanamichi's shoulders freeze up as your lips lightly grace his closed ones, and he completely squeezes his eyes shut once you fully lay your warmth onto him, similar to two puzzle pieces that are cut perfectly to fit one another, completing him, he realizes that Hanamichi has been walking half-a-man his whole life. Hanamichi takes in the much needed oxygen while your noses touch, your warm breath flowing pleasantly against his face. Sakuragi loosens the grip on his sweatpants. It's nothing explicit and not like he expected it to be!

His cheeks are still warm as the chaste kiss ends, all too short for his liking.

He only opens his eyes when you pull away from him, smiling up at his face like you didn't make the tingling sensation under his skin that much more prominent.

"How does it feel?" You ask, voice shaky and airy, face almost the same shade of red as him. It's comforting to know that you're not judging, just asking— it soothes his tense form, wills him into a state of relaxation and satisfaction.

Hanamichi can get used to this.

"Like heaven." He answers, hand coming up to rub his flushed neck. Can you even distinguish where his neck ends and hair starts?

You giggle at his words, but it doesn't last long. However, the comfortable silence doesn't stay for long either, because the next time both of your eyes lock—

"Wanna do it again?" You say, and he can only nod up and down in a heartbeat.

[v3nusxsky]

Twofold ask about one topic, bear with me

1) If you can (no pressure), maybe a hurt/comfort with Larissa where we're able to save her life and look after her at the hospital/take her home and look after her there too? Poor girl is always looking after us and I wanna return the favor when she needs it the most

Or 2) If you can't work with that prompt or are too busy or w/e do you have recs for similar? Again no pressure, either is fine and I love your work. Arrivederci!

Anything for you

*Authors note ~ slowly but surely clearing the inbox hope y’all are enjoying daily gifts and the first instalment of love is the best medicine most definitely wasn’t wrote while in a lecture🫣*

Trigger warnings~ weems injury, Marilyn shade

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You don’t think you will ever get the image of her out of your brain, laying there looking deathly ethereal but her limbs were bent at unnatural angles as the needle lay empty beside her. The shimming sapphire liquid was still oozing from her slender neck. Yet it occurred little over two hours ago before your wife was rushed into Jericho’s hospital as a matter of emergency. Paramedics flinging long drawn out medical terminology between them not caring you understood nothing. Apart from the word poison. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, that Normie bounty teacher tried to poison your wife. But why? Why would anyone want to harm someone so wonderfully unique?

The steady beeps that flowed steadily from her heart monitor were all that was giving you hope, sat at her bedside praying to a god you don’t believe in to bring her back to you. It can’t be her time to leave the earth, you have too many plans to start a family and grow old together. It would be cruelly to take it away before it’s even really began. You hadn’t even made it a year of being her wife yet. This can’t be fair. All you could do was clutch her Snow White hand in yours and pray she would pull through this. Marilyn would pay for this as soon as you knew she was okay. All the pent up anger and hurt from this moment would be channeled into ridding the world of her crap. But for now your wife needs you to be strong, to fight for her just as she would you.

Thankfully the antidote that was administered via an IV seemed to slowly be repairing the damage done to the shifters system, due to her capabilities she was healing. You don’t want to imagine what would be life if she didn’t have them. If you found her moments later you could’ve been too late and that thought is enough to shatter your heart into millions of tiny shards.

The moment she opened those beautiful icy blue eyes you cried tears of joy. She looked like hell but she was alive. Your wife. A fighter. Instantly you smothered her in love, praise and physical touch. Tiny kisses pressed to the palm of her hand as you cried and thanked her for fighting. You’d never let anyone hurt her like this ever again. The amount of love you held for Larissa Weems was overwhelming to say the least. A long road to recovery lay ahead but it was one you could walk together. Hand in hand like always.

The day she was released back to Nevermore under instructions for bed rest you knew your stubborn lover would be anything but easy to handle. Duty practically ran in every vein of her body, Nevermore being her pride and joy and its complete disarray due to Marilyn only fuelled her fire to jump back into work. “My love, if you do not lay back down I swear to god I’ll tie you to the bed” you threatened as she tried to escape to her office for the fifth time in an hour, “Nevermore is in good hands baby. Rest please it’s all anyone wants.”

Every four hours on the dot you returned with some more antidote and pain relief just to ensure there was no trace of nightshade or pain to be felt. “Larissa? My love? It’s time to take your medicine” you cooed seeing the shifter frown like a petulant child. “I don’t need it. I’m fine now. Please darling, Nevermore needs me” she pleaded her case for the umpteenth time this day. All you wanted to do was wrap her in bubble wrap and ensure she was safe. Nevermore would cope for a few more days while she recovers, yet Larissa was never the type to sit back idly while others did work.

Nighttime was the worst, Larissa would be plagued with that fateful evening replaying every night, she would feel the poison entering her veins as she woke up shivering from the cold sweat, dried tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air. “You’re safe my love” you’d whisper as you passed her a bottle of water that you’d stocked up by the bedside for this reason, helping her hold her drink to her mouth due to the shaking. It was truly heartbreaking to see her in this way yet you remain strong for her. Marilyn now finally receiving the punishment she deserves and with Weems getting stronger with each day you knew the time would come to return to normal.

Settling back into bed with Larissa curled up on your chest, your hands playing with her silver locks in a comforting manner, you soak in the fact she’s living and breathing. Whispering words of comfort as you hope to lull the older woman to sleep. “Thank you for looking after me darling” she murmured sleepily to you as her eyes fluttered closed. You would spend all night holding her, fighting off the trauma she experienced only to spend all day ensuring she had everything she needed and more and of course that Nevermore was running smoothly once more.

The day Larissa finally returned back to work you saw a light in her beautiful eyes that you missed dearly. To think you almost lost her and then she was as stubborn as they come about recovery, to see her now getting ready for the day you felt incredibly lucky. “I love you Mrs Weems more than you’ll ever know and I’m just so glad you fight to be here with me every day. Nevermore has missed you dearly my love” you mumbled before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips causing her to chuckle. “Darling? You have a little something right there” she signalled to her lower lip where her ruby red lipstick had transferred to yours. Normalcy once again causing you to smile, she definitely left a mark on you, one in which you would wear proudly.

Word count ~ 1013

[coffins-flowers]

Day 5: realization

I can’t believe it’s ending and I still read only 1 prompt from femmescripter. I need free time. I’m writing my stories for hour or so because I can physically give only so much attention to it :’^(

Storytime (this time without sad sub-plot I promise):

(Bradley)

I admitted to myself I love you at the end of november, when while driving I saw you on pedestrian street. Angry, cold, unlike you. I’m glad I made you get into my car; when we sat on folded back seats and started eating and drinking, when we were covering eachother with blanket; you finally brightened.

”Why won’t you ask what happened?” I heard.

I never associated this question with genuine concern. It was always a mind play for me in my worst years. How to tell you that?

”Why would I? If you want say it yourself.” Bravo me.

”It’ll be nice if you’d ask. That would mean you at least care.”

Oh Max. Getting on my nerves already, I am too weak to fight.

”I don’t like that question.”

”That’s all?”

”That’s all.”

”Can I tell you this?”

”You can say anything.”

”Even that your older sister is hot as hell?”

”WHAT!?”

You… started laughing. Very, very loud. It was… pleasant, pretty.

”You should have seen your face! Hahahaha, Jesus man haha. How are you not blowing your brain out with our trio? Ahyuk”

My heart was about to escape my ribcage and run to you, my smile subconsciously appeared. I thought for a moment that maybe this is how love feels.

You calmed down. Looked at me with your onyx eyes and said a phrase I will always remember.

”So this is your honest smile? Maybe you should use it more often”

You made it even wider.

(Max)

How did you know I would agree to a date? Was it a wild card or you knew something I didn’t yet but now am sure of?

My thoughts were just like that before seeing your smirky face „Ice rink? I never even wore ice skates before. Is it like regular skating? Why I agreed to it? Why was I so excited on a word ‚date’? Are you just mocking me? Or maybe it’s genuine.” I’m still mad that it was probably you figuring my own self sooner than I did.

Ice was much more unstable than asphalt, my legs were melting and you just stood there.

”Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

”NO. Give me a second.”

What am I talking about? I’m barely standing and fighting for my life clinging onto barriers. I won’t admit I can’t ice skate, that I am scared. Ain’t no way.

”Ugh!” Oh no. Your voice full of irritation went through my spine. Don’t approach me, don’t approach me, don’t approach me… DAMMIT!

”Hold my hands”

”No, thanks. I’ll figure that ou-„ You bastard you grabbed me!

”Listen, shape your feet into V…”

”Ookay”

”See? You’re fine. I’m holding you, you are steady. It’s fine” Steady? It is anything but steady!

”Now. Pull dominant leg away and go to me. Just like skating”

”mhm” I’m moving forward, it’s fine, it’s fine. No! Hell it’s not! It’s not at all… wait, I feel your grip getting stronger.

”I’m here, don’t worry. Look at me and it’ll be fine” Why is your voice so calming? Not that I mind but… how are you doing that? Making me feel so safe?

We are moving forward, I start getting it. I can do this!

”Let me go”

”Max, I don’t think it’s good idea”

”C’mon. I will do it”

”As you wish~”

Heck yeah! I’m doing it. I’m great. It is great. It… it starts to get unsteable again. Oh no. OH NO. OH NONONONO ARGH-

I barely got caught, one millimeter further and I’d be on a ground. I feel like made of jelly.

”Hahahahaha! What were you saying? It’s not THAT easy princess hahaha”

Looking at you, laughing, holding me from that angle… oh cupid you really are cruel. I don’t think I’m ready for relationship.

”Are you alright Max?” Your ocean-blue eyes widened. That cloudy-sky, royal, deep blue looking at me. And your hair waving in a wind like a sea of weeds, with all the shades of a plane tree. Even your brows look stuning when you look at me all concerned. You are all mine at this moment and this is comforting like comfy bed after tiring day, like cold drink in summer heat, like… us seating in your car.

I changed my mind. I must be with you in a relationship.

[fandom-lover2]

Hope To Stay A While, Just Till The Rain Stops

Chapter Ten - Next Time, I'll Stay Home

-image not mine-

Chapter Nine - Locked Down

Chapter Eleven - Not All Who Enter May Stay

I gasped and then started to run to them.

Tried to at least. Ra’s had a firm hold on my chains and when I’d gotten a step away, he yanked me back.

He pulled me to his chest, looking down at me with dark, sadistic eyes. “Now, now, My Blood. I cannot have my bride rushing down her aisle.”

“Let…me…go!” I growled, twisting to free myself from his hold and turning to face them.

Jason looked the worst, his broken nose gushing blood from an open cut across the bridge. Beneath his left leg, a small pool of blood had formed, a droplet dripping off his pants. But just because he was the one with the most visible blood, didn’t mean he was the worst hurt.

Damian, for the most part, seemed mostly unharmed. As the grandson to this monster, he was probably overwhelmed more than cut down.

Tim and Dick seemed equally battered, cuts and tears littered across their suits and leaking red. It did nothing to quell their glaring.

And my father, he looked like he’d taken about a million hits before he finally went down. His left eye was swollen completely shut, the skin around it an alarming shade of purple. His jaw angled slightly to the right.  Redness around his neck showed he’d be strangled.

Superman lay on the floor beside them, a third arrow sprouted from his back, and chains made of the same green rock were wrapped around him. His face was twisted in pain, his breathing labored. He tried to smile reassuringly to me, but it came out as a grimace.

I tugged against Ra’s again, tears burning my eyes as took in each of my family.

Though they were each secured tight, it didn’t stop them from squirming either, Dick trying to say something around the cloth.

No wonder they hadn’t come yet. They were already here. Of course they would be. I was so stupid to even consider the idea they wouldn’t come for me.

I had just childishly assumed they’d be strong enough to overcome anything and get to me.

Ra’s yanked me back to him, slapping me once again with the back of his hand. This time, he put more force into it than any of the previous times. Given I was already off balance the force had me stumbling and I landed on the floor in a heap of white with a grunt.

I think I heard Damian try to yell something, and Jason growled, his seat squeaking as he thrashed in his hold.

And then things went deathly silent.

I looked up to them, seeing each, expect Damian, had a man stood behind them, blades now at their throats.

“Disobey me again, and you shall be dancing in their blood.”

I froze, looking each one of them in the eye. 

The message was clear; forget us and fight like hell.

But I was not losing a brother or father today.

My life, my future, meant nothing if I had to go on in this world without them. Even if I was giving my life away, securing a future of pain and never getting to see them again. I would do so with a smile on my face to protect them, knowing they were still there to breathe another day.

I stood slowly, working my jaw to unwind the pain, as straightened my back and walked.

The sun had just set, only candles to light the way as I walked to the end of the aisle, and with it, the end of my life.

I could feel Ra’s smirk as I walked before him, his shoes scraping against the tan stone floors while my chains jiggled, feet bare and cold against the old stone.

As the alter, I chose to have my back to my family, but Ra’s did not allow it, spinning me around so I had to see their poorly disguised looks of fear as the Demon Head took my hands and nodded to the officiant.

I clenched my jaw, a poor attempt at keeping my eye dry, my gaze locked on Ra’s boots.

My father and brothers grunted, trying so hard to break free despite the swords at their throats warningly drawing small trails of blood.

Jason looked like he was moments away from turning into a raging monster, Tim and Dick looked out right murderous, Damian seemed to be pleading with his mother, and my father had his one working eye locked solely on the back of Ra’s head. I imagined that if he were Superman, lasers would have incinerated the man before me.  

Ra’s squeezed my hands. Not in a reassuring manner, tightly. Painfully. And order to focus.

I looked to him, then the officiant. Calmly, the man repeated what he had said in Arabic, then looked to me expectantly.

Even if I said no, fought and cried, Ra’s would drag me from here kicking and screaming and get what he wanted. Fighting would only buy a little time, prolonging the inevitable.

And what of my brothers? Bruce?

I looked past Ra’s to them, letting my eyes wonder over their wounded bodies. I looked into their eyes and saw the panic, the pleading, the pain.

He would not killed Damian, though I was basing that assumption solely on the fact had had called him ‘satisfactory’ and hoped in Ra’s speak that meant ‘too good to kill’. But my father? Would he keep him alive, holding onto the hope that in some way, he would be able to create the golden offspring directly from the source?

Dick, Jason and Tim would be killed for sure. Would he do it so I was forced to watch? If I played along, became the good wife, would he spare me the horror of watching it and let me live with the false hopes they had escaped?

How had only 24 hours ago my biggest concern been Matt and his creepy tendencies? Why was this world filled with so much evil?

I took too long to answer, and so Ra’s turned his head  just so to glance at my family over his shoulder and the man with the blade to Tim’s throat readjusted his hold on his sword.

“No! No, stop.” I turned back to the officiant. “Yes. I do. I want to marry him.”

Not knowing the Arabic word, I babbled a moment more before he nodded and turned to Ra’s. He repeated the question, and just as Ra’s opened his mouth to answer, a gunshot shattered the air.

I flinched, dropping to my knees on instinct alone and glancing around wildly for who the hell had shot, and where the bullet had gone.

Standing at the end of the aisle, smoking gun in his grasp, a man heavily armored and wearing a split mask of orange and black.

The gun was aimed just above my head, and I glanced up slowly to see Ra’s lifeless eyes roll to the back of his head, knees buckling.

Beside me, the officiant fell back, blood splatter and brain matter coating his ivory tunic, a pool of his own blood expanding across his chest.

Ra’s body tipped forward, head falling inches from where I was crouched. His mouth was parted slightly, blood dribbling from his nose.

The bullet had gone right through his head and into the officiant.

The whites of his eyes looked back at me.

For a second no one moved, too stunned by what the fuck had just happened to know what to do.

Then Thalia screamed and pulled her sword, racing down the aisle and all hell broke loose.

More men, not members of the League, poured into the room, guns and swords aimed and ready.

Dropping to my stomach, I leopard crawled over Ra’s body and scrambled to get behind the lined chairs of my family, whispering “Fuck fuck fuck.” as I did so.

Gun fired, the small room with hard stone walls making the sounds bounce off one another and in a cacophony of explosions. Added to the men yelling, and blade meeting blade in a few tradition battles, the room was disorientedly loud and dangerous.

I had to stop often, curling into a ball to avoid feet and flinched every time a bullet embedded itself into the bricks inches from my unprotected body.

But I kept my head down and kept crawling towards my family. Reaching them, I flipped onto my knees and began looking at their bindings. Chain, with locks. I couldn’t untie them or yank them free.

But they could get shot. They needed cover.

Could I drag the chairs somewhere?

Looking around the room, there was nowhere to hide. And between the mass of dozens of men trying to kill on another, I would never make it to the doors safely.

Rising higher, I slipped my own chained hands up and untied the cloth around my dad’s mouth.

“Left side, third pocket from the hip. Skeleton key.”

Somehow, over the roar of guns, I heard him.

I ducked again, hands now on his hip and counting the pockets.

Men charged toward us, the stranger’s men, and I had a mini heart attack, but they turned their backs, some drawing guns, others swords.

They formed a shield, putting themselves between my family and the firefight, blocking both bullets and attacking assassins.

The fight was over moments later, though I should have used that time to free my father instead of sitting there like a fool watching these men surround and protect us.

Was this part of the plan? Had this been my father’s doing? Was Alfred somehow involved?

The last man gave a shout, and then a grunt, and then a body dropped.

Blood filled the air, the scent thick and nauseating. The liquid had begun to run, pools of it slipping closer to me as it spread from the endless dead bodies left in the wake of this attack.

What the fuck just happened?

Seconds ago I was about to get married, forcefully, and now… well maybe I was about to marry a new monster.

“Y/n?” a voice called, one slightly muffled but still familiar.

Dumb move, really dumb move, but I shot up, leaving the safety of cowering behind the tied-up form of my father and looking for who had said that.

The human shield wall parted, reveling the first man to enter, mask splattered with blood and gun still in his grasp.

His head turned to me, and I could see the tension leave his body as he sighed, his shoulders dropping.

Through the mask, I felt his eyes run up and down my body, scanning me.

Holstering his gun, he raised his arms and pulled off the mask.

Gray hair, always so well maintained, though the last time I’d seen it, it still had some black flecks in it. An eye patch, impossible to get the true origins of the injury from him though. My bedtime stories had been grand tales of fighting crocodiles in the outback and wresting lions in the African plains.

I swallowed, not sure if this was a panic-induced hallucination or if what I was seeing was real.

If it was, my entire childhood was just flipped upside down.

“Uncle Slade?”

[pollyharp]

Here is a fic I wrote about a day in the life of the ninja when there is no villain to fight.

No obligation to read, leave a like if you enjoy it though :)

Title: "Between Storms"

The sun rose over Ninjago City like a soft exhale after a long-held breath. Birds sang. The skyline shimmered. And for the first time in what felt like forever, no monsters, tyrants, or ancient curses cast a shadow over the world.

On the outskirts of the city, atop a forested hill, the Monastery of Spinjitzu stood quietly basking in the morning light. It was a rare thing — the ninja were home, and peace had truly settled.

7:05 AM – Morning Calm

Lloyd was the first one awake, as usual. He sat on the monastery roof, legs dangling over the edge, a warm cup of green tea in his hand. With his powers quiet and his thoughts still, he simply watched the wind move the trees below.

Behind him, soft footsteps approached.

“Could’ve guessed you’d be up here,” said Nya, joining him with her own mug of black coffee.

“Just needed a moment,” Lloyd replied. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Peace.”

Nya chuckled. “Almost suspiciously weird.”

He smirked. “You think trouble’s waiting just behind the corner?”

“Always is,” she said, sipping. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem.”

8:12 AM – Breakfast Shenanigans

Down in the kitchen, Jay and Cole were in the middle of a very serious pancake debate.

“I’m just saying, blueberry is the superior fruit,” Jay insisted, flipping a pancake with unnecessary flair.

Cole raised an eyebrow as he retrieved a bowl of batter. “Chocolate chip. Don’t even try me.”

“You just want an excuse to eat dessert for breakfast.”

“That’s the point of pancakes, Jay.”

Kai walked in, hair still damp from a shower, and groaned. “Why are you two always arguing about food?”

“Because food is important,” Cole and Jay said in unison.

From the hallway, Zane’s voice chimed in: “Nutritionally, they’re both suboptimal. But if you are making extra, I would like three.”

9:00 AM – Training Time

Despite the calm, training never truly stopped.

In the courtyard, the ninja gathered for their morning drills. Wooden dummies were lined up, mats unrolled, and the clang of weapons echoed under the clear sky.

Sensei Wu, calm and timeless as ever, watched from the shade of a tree.

“Even in peace,” he said, “we prepare.”

One by one, the ninja took turns sparring. Lloyd’s movements were graceful, honed by experience. Nya’s strikes were fast and precise. Kai’s fire came in controlled bursts, while Cole’s earth-shaking stomps echoed deep. Zane fought like a machine — because he was one — but also with a warrior’s heart. And Jay, chaotic as ever, kept everyone on their toes.

Their laughter interspersed with grunts and shouts — a family playing at war, though no war loomed.

11:30 AM – Free Time

Training ended early.

Cole found himself in the garden, tending to the vegetables he had planted weeks ago. He hummed an old rock song as he gently trimmed the tomatoes.

Jay, unable to sit still, had built a makeshift kite and convinced Lloyd to help fly it. It lasted a glorious four minutes before getting stuck in a tree. They laughed anyway.

Zane was sketching in the library, tracing the angles of a bird’s wing with almost surgical focus.

Nya and Kai were fixing the monastery roof tiles together — mostly to keep their hands busy and their minds clear. The rhythm of hammer and nail brought comfort.

No one mentioned villains or destiny. No one needed to.

2:15 PM – A Visit to the City

Later, they made a group trip into Ninjago City — not to fight or rescue, but to browse shops, visit an arcade, and eat dumplings from a street vendor who always gave them extra because “you saved my cousin that one time.”

They posed for photos with fans. They stopped by the museum to see their own old armor in a glass case, which was both strange and humbling.

A kid tugged Jay’s sleeve and whispered, “Are you really a lightning ninja?”

Jay knelt down, smiled, and sparked a small bolt between his fingers. The kid gasped.

“You bet.”

6:00 PM – Dinner and Memories

Back at the monastery, they cooked dinner together. It was chaotic, hilarious, and more than a little dangerous (especially with Kai near the stove). But they got it done.

Around the big table, the conversation flowed: memories of old battles, jokes about weird villains, and heated debates about the best pizza toppings.

“And remember that time Ronin turned us into old people?” Jay laughed, mouth full of noodles.

Kai groaned. “Don’t remind me. My back still hurts thinking about it.”

Zane raised his glass. “To peace — however long it lasts.”

They all clinked their glasses together.

9:00 PM – One by One

As night fell, the ninja peeled away one by one.

Cole stayed up drawing in the common room, charcoal smudged on his cheek. Nya polished her weapons by moonlight. Jay dozed off mid-sentence with a comic book on his chest. Kai stared at the stars for a long while, quietly thankful for the stillness.

Lloyd, once again, returned to the rooftop. This time, Zane joined him.

“You’re always watching,” Zane said.

“Can’t help it,” Lloyd replied. “Feels like if I look away, it’ll all go wrong again.”

Zane placed a hand on his shoulder. “But tonight, it hasn’t. And tomorrow is not ours to predict.”

They sat in silence after that, listening to the wind.

11:47 PM – The Quiet

In the deepest part of the night, the monastery was still. No alarms. No missions. Just the soft breathing of heroes finally allowed to rest.

And somewhere in the dark, beneath the stars and the gentle hum of the world turning, the peace held.

For now.

THE END

[sohnric]

[TEASER] partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. acquaintances to lovers. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: for the teaser :: 1k || for the full fic :: approx. 32k

warnings: for the teaser :: existential dread, a fake gun, robbery || for the full fic :: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), more to be added as i edit lmao

SEND AN ASK/COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST! Posting when the editing is done and my beta reader gives me the approval and validation <3 (end of may??)

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

[is-on-its-way]

My one Fictober post

(because im a slow writer)

Prompt: 22 why are we doing this again?

This is “au” for after season 8 || read on AO3

She stared out across the lake sized pond, they called lakes ponds here, making her wonder what Maine’s lakes looked like. She made a mental note to ask Mulder to take them to see one after. 

Everything was so vast and open and endless. Sun drenched mountains stood ancient and unmoving past the parting of the trees on the opposite bank. Their rocky tops colored an amber yellow in the sunrise. Tall pine trees hugged the shore but for the rocky beach she was standing on. The water was a clear shade of greenish blue, reminding her of his eyes in the light of a sunrise. 

Rocks as big as her feet under her bare toes were warm to the touch, baked in the morning sun. They felt wonderful in the chill air surrounding her, remembered from the night before. It was cold here in the evenings, the warning of winter came as early as late August. But they were cozy in their cabin, with a cast iron stove and a furnace and a fireplace to keep the chill out. 

She liked the wildness of it and loved feeling the cold prick her skin at the closing and opening of each day, chasing her and being chased by the sun. There was a comfort there, of the silent and unmovable force of nature after being pursued for so much of their lives by things much less impressive. 

They would all flee inside as their daily ritual, Mulder their shepard when she or their boy were inevitably stubborn. But he was being strict with her, and would never allow it. 

She wanted to sit outside around the firepit on occasion but Mulder wouldn’t hear it. He worried about her, insisting she come inside. Telling her there would be other summers and autumns when she could. And the funny thing was, she let him. She didn’t even have to fight herself and her independence at all really, she found his protectiveness, her cheeks reddened just thinking about it, sexy. 

He’d missed out the last time she told herself, he deserved to have this. So she let him herd them all inside and cuddle up as a family every night on the cozy couch by the fireplace and they would all take turns telling stories and adding new chapters to their favorite ones until one of them, usually her, fell asleep. 

Besides it made her feel a comfort she couldn’t describe or understand. His care for them, she couldn’t have imagined how good this could be.

A wind blew off the water wipping her hair around her neck and she shivered pulling her sweater tight around her and glancing back to the hammock tied between two trees to make sure it wasnt swaying too much in the wind. He was warm enough she’d put a sheepskin down and then a wool blanket over top of him. The impression their little boy made was so tiny and she had a sudden wild feeling of joy and sorrow mixed together in the most confounding way. How small he used to be, with his little rabbit ear hat. How big he would seem in seven more months. Everything felt like it was going so slowly in this calm, but when she stopped to look she realized everything was going at the speed of light. 

The truth was he wasn’t tiny, she couldn’t really lift him up anymore, and they’d started transitioning to couch cuddles when he needed comfort. He was in the 94th percentile for height. Mulder had kissed her head and said “Thank those recessive Scully genes your brother got, huh?” at his last checkup. To which she’d muttered back “He's a Mulder.” Mainly to see the pride flicker across his face. He had started planning to put a basketball court in beside the driveway.

She turned back to the water chin dimpling at the passage of time. She’d always loved the fall, the shade of sunlight on her skin in the mornings and the sharp angles and yellow sunsets cast across living rooms in the evenings. This fall though, was the happiest of her life. The stillness of it was turning her world on its axis. God knows, she wasn’t one to remain in one place for long, neither was Mulder. She smiled at the thought. But they had soaked this in for two weeks now and she could envision seven months more, longer. Safe. Him safe. Together and enjoying each other for the first time… ever. 

It was like a honeymoon phase they never really had. They were like teenagers exploring their newfound freedom and the change in their lives for the first time it felt like, for the better. She couldn't stop smiling. Neither could he. Sometimes by the fire in the evenings, her, curled up in the big armchair reading, him, typing on the sofa next to their son fast asleep; they’d meet each others gaze and just grin dopily at each other.

Even Liam saw their newfound giddiness. “Momma you’re happy now?” Hed asked this morning, through a spoonful of oatmeal. They’d eaten a later breakfast than Mulder after he had left for an early morning hike. 

“Yes baby, I’m happy.” she’d said kissing the top of his sun bleached, sandy brown head.

“Are you happy my love?” She asked, playing with his hair.

“Yeaaaaah!” he’d exclaimed and wiggled in his chair and shed laughed.

Shed been saddened a bit by this. It had only been months that they’d finally been free.

Their son had grown up with both of his parents filled with worry, and anxiety, and serious conversations, and fights even, about the right thing to do, the time it would take them, the sacrifices they were making, even the moral thing to do. He’d spent his toddlerhood in an underground medical lab that was soulless and sunless and the bane of her existence for three hellish years.

Scully sometimes couldnt believe they’d gotten through it. Couldn’t believe she and Mulder had come out of it together and loving each other the same way, if not more deeply. 

She shook off her memories of that time determined to enjoy the world in front of her now. Mostly alien-less and beautiful and sunny and windy. Oh how she’d missed the wind. 

And people! Strangers, smiling as you passed them on the street. It’d taken them a couple of days to get used to the college town hospitality but how refreshing it was to see people. No weirdos, no cults, they'd employed the gunmen to double check, just students and parents and seniors posted up at the local coffee shop all day. Nothing but normalicy. Well except for the three of them. But she could live with that. 

She could live with a lot, she realized, once that low hum of anxiety, the constantly on guard state of being she’d become so accustomed to fell away. Mulder too, was more relaxed and happy here, just them, in their own universe. 

——————————

He’d been booked for a flight to a case he’d been working with the lone gunmen when it happened. It would’ve been a normal case with them otherwise, like he had done since they’d been freed. Free of the FBI, free of the conspiracy, and the group that had been a danger to them. Some in the government were taking the threat seriously and many of the survivors had been placed on the most wanted list. They were, more importantly, free of the colonists. They’d gone once the vaccine program had been rolled out, the earth, useless to them now. 

It felt like a weight that she hadn’t known she carried since she had woken up in the hospital in 1994 had been lifted off of her. No more experiments, no more women and children in danger. She could rest now. They could rest now. And rest they had.

She’d come back from the doctor in a daze. She’d been feeling under the weather and silently, she’d feared cancer, she hadn’t said as much to Mulder, but he had offered to drop Liam off at her mothers and go with her. She’d said no, it was probably nothing and if she needed him she’d call. He’d sent her off with an extra tight hug and a thousand kisses, whispering things that made her face flush thinking of them now. When the nurse had told her to do the standard pregnancy test before any imaging could be done she hadn’t even thought…

Mulder and Liam were dozing on the couch when she got home. She’d gone to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, hands shaking, mind blank, watching the water.

Mulder appeared at the kitchen door, wordless and waiting. She swallowed and managed a smile. “Not sick” she’d said.

And he’d been so relieved by this news he’d hardly noticed her fighting to remain calm while he woke Liam and they’d jumped around the kitchen shouting the lyrics to everything’s gonna be alright by Bob Marley. Mulder said they’d been waiting to have dessert with her, so she picked at the ice cream and watched her boys chatter and laugh for what she realized would be the last time as just the three of them. 

She’d waited until they’d put him to bed and he went to the couch holding a hand out, waiting for her to join him in their nightly cuddle. 

Instead she’d sat on the coffee table, taking his hand. She’d whispered “Mulder, I got some news at the doctor.” 

“I thought..?” He’d looked worried then and she’d wanted to beam her thoughts into his mind to stave off the five extra seconds of worry. 

“No its nothing bad, its…” She didn’t quite know how to say it, which if she wasnt so distracted she would find hilarious given this was the one thing she’d rehearsed in her dreams every single night the first time around. It came tumbling out of her mouth instead. 

“We’re going to have a baby.”

He’d blinked at her in complete shock and then his brow had furrowed and she’d wanted to say something else but he’d just leaned into her, took her in his arms and drew her into his lap.

“You’re sure? How scully..?” He’d mumbled from her neck. 

“I dont know” she’d cried, holding onto him like a life raft. 

They’d been overcome, trembling together, his tears wetting her neck. And she’d held him and kissed his cheek. 

He’d whispered ‘oh my god’ and found her hands and kissed each finger and then her face giving her little kisses all over, until the tears turned into giggles and they sat back and looked at each other faces red and puffy and happy.

The feeling that welled inside her then was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. At the chance to tell him. The second chance at everything. 

“What about the placenta?” he'd blurted out serious. And her heart could’ve shattered at his care for her. “Will they check it? Make sure you two will be safe not like last time?” His arms wrapped around her waist hugging her close to him.

“Well it was a great deal more stressful last time.” He squeezed her hand “but yes my OBGYN wants me to come in as soon as possible to do some testing.”

“Tomorrow?”

She nodded. 

“I’ll take you.” he said it with a finality that raised her deeply ingrained self suffient hackles and perplexingly turned her on a little.

Normally she’d have shaken her head. She almost did it automatically. But instead she’d smiled. “I’ll call to see if we can come in when Liam is at Bill and Taras.”

He’d sunk to the carpet, let her lie back on the couch as he rested his chin on her hipbone and whisped salutations to their child. Her fingers raked through his chinchilla hair. Trailing his fingers across her bare belly, asking for her to un button and unzip her pants so as to be as close as possble to where their baby currently inhabited her belly. He whispered about how he hoped they’d get her beautiful nose and come to think of it her eyes and the shape of her earlobes. She’d added 

“Tell them about your jawline and your soft hair.” 

“And your mom wishes you’d get my jawline so maybe work on that in there while you can, but I like her hair better so its up to you kid.”

She’d giggled, and they’d cried, and he’d carried her to bed. That night Mulder wrapped his body around her, entangling his limbs in hers, his hands placed protectively around her belly.

And when they woke up three days later and he’d prepared to go to the airport for the gunmen’s case, they both could barely look at each other. 

And he’d hugged her and said, “Don’t worry Scully, no monsters just run of the mill missing persons.” 

But her stomach dropped into her abdomen and stayed there as the door closed behind him, and as she’d started breakfast and cried silently at the stove begging god not to be so cruel. Not to take him a second time. Knowing he’d be okay but feeing deep down something would go wrong, the darkness would find him. 

And it jumped into her throat ten minutes later as the door crashed open and she heard him call her name and his long strides coming determinedly to her in the kitchen, catching her face in his hands, and wildly searching her eyes.

She’d cried his name as he’d asked desperately.

“Why are we doing this again?”

“I dont know” she’d broken down then; relieved, and so happy he’d come back to her. And he’d grabbed her and kissed her like he should’ve the first time, like he wanted a second chance, like they could relive the past and physically force it to change. 

“I dont want to miss a second of you this time.” he’d muttered into her hair holding her to him. 

“Mulder” she’d choked out, emotions too vast to put into words.

“Momma waffles” Liam had reminded her and she saved them before they burned

“Breakfast” she’d smiled weepily at Mulder, as they both wiped tears away.

“Yes, then let’s get out of here.” he’d said looking at her as seriously as she’d ever seen him.

She tilted her head in question

“Lets go to the maine house.”

She tried to hide a smile. “For how long?”

“The rest of it. A year. Forever. However long you want.”

She’d raised her eyebrows. This was her Mulder, all or nothing all the time. She’d fought a smile. “What happens when we get bored?” She crossed her arms, spatula still in hand, after putting the waffle on Liam's plate.

“I have a book to write that I’ve been putting off. You have a baby to grow and two full shelves of books you've been wanting to get through and…” he searched for more concrete reasons, “you wanted to decorate that house…Fall is the best time for antiquing” he’d said fluttering his eyebrows enticingly.

“We can stop at Brimfield on the way up.” he added in a sing song, knowing this would do the trick.

Her eyes lit up, he knew he had her, and he grinned.

“What about my training?”

“Can you take a sebatical?”

“Maybe, I can ask” 

“Ask”

“Okay I’ll call after breakfast.” She said excited at their new plan. 

“Good” his fingers found hers and pulled them around him spatuala and all, as he pulled her into a hug. 

“I’m so happy.” he mumbled in her hair “Its terrifying.” 

She nodded into his chest and said “I know exactly what you mean.”

And then he started laughing and she laughed with him and then Liam started his cutest five year old laugh and soon everyone had dissolved into giggles and hugs.

—————

The sun dappled her dappled cheeks catching a tree on its rise. She found herself smiling at the memories and she sighed.

He walked up behind her. She didn’t turn around knowing it was him from the sound of his footfalls. He stopped behind her and wrapped his arms under hers and over her slightly swollen belly, tucking his nose into the side of her neck. “Mmm” she hummed “Hi”

“Hi”

“Nice walk?”

“Very relaxing” he muttered into her, lips brushing against the top of her shoulder setting her skin alight in goosebumps. 

“Tomorrow we can all go.” She whispered, tilting her head so he could continue the path up her neck.

“Okay. I found a perfect little outcrop that looks over the lake. The trail is mostly flat.” His nose drifted across her jaw.

She smiled at his worry.

“Mulder” she said in that exasperated voice she knew he loved “I worked for the FBI the first time I was pregnant I can do a hike.”

He just breathed her in. “You smell different.” He murmured from the soft bare skin behind her ear.

“Better or worse” she asked, voice still playful.

“Just different. I love it. I love being here with you, watching you.” He breathed her in deep over exaggerating, and she giggled.

“You’re amazing. Have I told you?”

“Today? Not yet” she teased.

“You’re amazing Dana.” He said kissing her jawline.

“Thank you Fox.” she whispered as if his name was their secret.

“I have something for you.”

She turned in his arms looking at him questioningly. He dug in his back pocket and pulled a notebook out, opened it and on the page there was a perfect maple leaf in fall colors. The veins of it were still green but the colors faded outwards from them in a tricolor rainbow of brightest yellow to deepest red around the very edges.

“It’s beautiful” she said studying the way the colors merged from one vein into another.

“It wasn't ready to fall but it did and it ended up better for it.” He said. “Like us.”

She smiled earnestly up into his eyes. She twirled the stem in her fingertips the light catching it and illuminating the colors even more. 

“Fall always reminded me of you.” He said in a low voice still holding her. She reached up to his face brushing a finger across his plump lower lip. He answered her unspoken request, bending down to brush his lips to hers and allow her to open her mouth to him playing with them between her own, tasting the familiar taste of him on his tongue. Before parting, and pressing her cheek against his chest, looking out at the sun fully risen over the water now.

“I have something for you too” she said glancing up at him, finding his eyes a smile playing on her lips. She dug in her sweater pocket and pulled out a smooth stone and held her hand out with it lying on her palm. He took it beamused, then his eyebrows raised “Its shaped like a UFO” he said surprised. She laughed pleased he could see it too.

It was. It was oblong a perfect sphere from the top with a small hump on one side that could’ve been a cockpit.

“Don’t go imagining it actually is with tiny aliens inside, its just a coincidence in a stone.”

He smirked at her “Maybe” he said suggestively.

She shook her head staring back at her leaf 

“I think I can put this between wax paper and preserve it.”

He kissed her temple their presents held in each others hands.

“I can’t wait for spring, we can swim.”

“The babys due in May, I dont think I’ll be able to for a while after.”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll wait for summer.”

“You’ll take Liam, teach him to swim.” She said with certainty. “We can watch.” She spoke as much to him as her belly.

Mulder smiled and she saw tears flood his eyes threatening to spill over his bottom lashes. She put a hand to his cheek and asked for his eyes. 

He sighed and smiled “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

@today-in-fic