#I can’t remember why but that’s not my main complaint here (I’ll read up on it but rn I’m about the visuals)

[greenvillainredemption]

More monkey man posting. I wasn’t following the entire plot because I was very tired, wasn’t comprehending some characters’ accents, and the political stuff went over my head. So here’s a lil appreciation post of things I liked because like it’s good but it didn’t fully get me since I wasn’t in the right mood to watch it.

- the flashbacks, how there would be flashes between past and present, but then the fire and explosions could sometimes be seen in the present. Idk if that kind of visual has ever been done before but I’d never seen it done before this and it was very effective.

- the fight scenes. As per my last post, not as gory as I’d had it hyped up to be but the actual choreo and camera work were very cool and fun to watch.

- specifically the elevator scene, had my fave death involving main guy using a knife with his teeth hell yeah

- the mask. I may be biased because monkeys actually scare the shit out of me but it was so scary and I kinda wish he’d worn it more. WatchMojo top ten scariest non-horror movie masks when????

- also him using the glitteriest shoe with a thick ass heel to bash a guy’s head. I just love seeing people use whatever random object they can find as a weapon, and glitter.

- speaking of glitter, the group of mostly-female fighters backing him up in their extravagant bejeweled fits. Usually I’m not a fan of the trope where ‘women can fight but only if they look pretty’, but in this case the fits have cultural/traditional significance, were non-sexual, and the scene actually looked cool as hell. Reminded me of the kyoshi warriors from atla.

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[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[ptergwen]

written in the stars

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: jus (lots of) making out

summary: using your newly acquired knowledge of astrology, you test your compatibility with tom

a/n: i was planning on making this a little blurb for y’all but then i got really into it and here we are lmfhfksjks i promise you don’t have to know anything about astrology or birth charts to enjoy cuz i broke it all down + it’s not the main focus of the fic anyways! this is mostly a day in the life with tommy boy and i hope you like it as much as i do :,) also some of this might be wrong.. i’m not an expert so yeah

•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

“right, so how does this work again?” tom watches your laptop screen with curious eyes.

you’ve been getting into astrology lately, and whatever you care about, so does he. that’s why you’re currently laid across your bed in sweats while you teach him everything you know. but first, you’ll need to do his birth chart. it’s the pinnacle of everything.

“you just have to tell me what time you were born, then it does the rest for me,” you grin, typing in the name of the website. you’d had to do some research to find a reliable one. “that’s it? you don’t need, like, my birthday or something?” tom quirks an eyebrow at the chart generator.

“i already know your birthday, babes.” you laugh softly and let your head fall onto his shoulder. “you crazy gemini.” “‘m not crazy.” he smiles despite himself, leaning his head on yours. “just got a big personality, innit? charming, clever, lots of energy,” he lists off the characteristics of his sign, which you just taught him. that lights up your whole face.

“definitely not cocky,” you deadpan, tom scrunching his nose in response. “look at you, remembering all that. you really are clever.” “well, it’s interesting.” he drapes an arm around you, fingers running up and down your side. “i quite like the idea of the universe knowing me so well.”

tapping your fingers on the keys, you hum. “you’ll love your birth chart, then. tell me when you were born.” tom grimaces and squeezes at your waist. “i don’t actually know.” “how do you not know?” you flick his back playfully, making him flinch. he pokes you so you’re even. “i’ve never thought to ask. guess i’m not that clever after all.”

those are teasing words, but you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. he gladly accepts it and gives you one on the side of your neck.

“no, your head’s gigantic. there’s gotta be something up there.” you knock on his skull for emphasis, your hand tangling in his hair. tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “hot air,” he explains as your fingers run through the messy locks. “you’re so...” you don’t even have the words. tom does. “hilarious? witty? amusing?” he tries to finish, tilting his head back to look at you.

“yeah, all of the above,” you confer and bring your hand back down to the keyboard. your lips curve into a smirk when tom whines. he’s the biggest baby, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “why don’t you text your mom and ask for your time of birth?” you suggest, tom pursing his lips in agreement. “sure, i’ll give mum a ring. i bet she loves this stuff, too.”

you roll over to lay on your back, tom still on his stomach. he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens imessage. “ah, nikki’s an astrogirl?” you wonder. tom makes a funny face at the term. “is that what you call yourselves?” “not really. well, not officially.” giggling, you loop your fingers around his wrist. “you can be an astroboy, if you want. or girl.”

tom sighs and leans over so his face hovers above yours. “god, you’re adorable. how are you so cute?” he gently pecks your lips. you’re about to kiss back, then he moves off to your cheek. after that is your forehead, chin, and finally down the bridge of your nose. it leaves you out of breath from laughter and with warm skin.

“i can’t answer that if you’re gonna launch a kiss attack on me-“

tom’s lips capture yours in a proper kiss, which you now get the chance to reciprocate. you hold him in place with your hands on his cheeks. his eyes instantly flutter closed and lashes tickle your face. the feeling draws another giggle out of you, and right into his mouth.

“absolutely gorgeous,” tom mutters against your lips. “anyone ever tell you that?” “you do, tommy. all the time.” your voice comes out gravelly, breathless, a grin painting your face. it transfers to tom. “mm, that’s right. my pretty baby.” he’s beaming down at you. he moves on top of you swiftly, his weight held up by his elbows on your sides.

you pull apart so you can go back in harder, hands situating in his curls again. tom grabs at your hips while the kiss deepens. your legs wrap around his waist clad in joggers and allow your bodies to be even closer together. the less space between you two, the needier you both get. “love,” tom parts his lips for you. “can i get a little more?” “course you can, tommy.” your fingers tug at his curls, mouth opening slightly.

his tongue skims its way across your lower lip, asking for access. you give his hair another pull to grant it. tom lets his tongue slip into your mouth, searching for your own as his hands continue to roam your body. he’s gone from gently peppering you in kisses to fully eating your face. no complaints, though. a quiet whimper escapes you when your tongues clash.

tom starts to push up your t-shirt, eyes opening to meet yours for approval. they’re completely darkened. you nod because you can’t answer with words. your tongue is preoccupied, intertwined with his. he sets his hands on your bare stomach, your nails scratching at tom’s scalp in a way that elicits a low groan.

“feels good?” your words come out muffled, barely audible. tom still understands them. “so good,” he rasps, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. they start to move up your body as you brush your lips against his. the kiss is light, and tom’s lips feel swollen as they move. his hands are nearing your chest, your legs tightening around his waist.

it earns another sinful noise from him. you want to see just how much he’s enjoying himself, so you peek up at him. what a sight that is. his faced twisted up as he focuses on kissing you, strands of hair stuck to his forehead from your playing with it. he’s so beautiful, and deserves to know. before you can tell him, you see his phone light up from the corner of your eye.

“tom,” you mumble his name. he’s too distracted by searching for your bra hook to hear. “tommy?” you’re louder this time, his mouth moving off of yours. “what is it, love?” tom exhales, hot breath hitting your face. “i think your mom texted back.” you offer a smile and run your thumb over his plumped lips. he only squints at you.

“about your time of birth,” you clarify. “for your birth chart.” “oh, that.” he kisses your thumb, nodding to himself. “forgot we were doing that.” tom tends to get a bit carried away with anything you related. making out can go on for hours and down many different paths, but it’s not the only thing. he’s a man in love, and the woman he shares that with gets all his attention at any given time. you’re so lucky to receive it.

you nod back and feel his racing heart as it beats against yours. “if you still want to, yeah.” “i definitely do. wanna hear you say more nice things about me,” tom jokes, a smug grin pulling at his lips. your eyes narrow. “who says they’ll be nice?” you challenge and earn a snicker from him.

“alright, missy. can you hand me my phone please?” he drops his head onto your chest, big brown eyes gazing up at you. “yes, sir.” you pat his cheek and grab his phone from next to you. tom’s contact name for nikki is set as ‘Ma x’, which brings a toothy smile to your face. “here you go.” you dangle his phone above his head. tom takes it from you promptly. “thanks.”

after leaving a couple of kisses on your clothed chest, he rolls to lay next to you. “let’s see, let’s see,” he murmurs, reading his mom’s messages. you scoot closer so you can look. “ooh, lots of crying emojis,” tom remarks. “i think you made her kinda nostalgic.” you pout at the screen. copying your face, he clicks on a picture nikki attached.

“she even pulled out the birth certificate.” he shows you his phone, and you zoom in to see when he was born. “big stuff here,” you say while you read. tom takes the time to get comfortable, resting his chin on your shoulder. “looks like you popped out in the middle of the night,” you conclude, giving him his phone back. he clicks his tongue at you.

“don’t say popped out.” feigning innocence, you glance over at him. “too late.” tom types out a reply thanking his mom before tossing his phone aside. “middle of the night makes sense, though.” he bites the inside of his cheek. “i’ve always been a party animal, haven’t i?” you turn onto your side and put a hand on his chest.

“it’s in your gemini nature. or really, your tom nature.” tom does an over exaggerated wink. “i like the sound of that.” he chuckles when you hit at his chest. “bring the laptop. let’s get this thing going.” you huff as you reach over him to grab it. you’ve switched positions so you’re laying horizontally on your stomach and over his legs, your laptop in front of you.

“if we find out there’s any scorpio in you...” you shutter. “hm? what’s wrong with scorpios?” tom wonders, watching you plug his birth time into the generator. “they’re literally insane, tom. like, serial killer insane. there’s statistics.” your eyes go wide as you hit enter. he leans his head back on his arms with a wince. “never mind, then.”

a small gasp leaves your lips, you squeezing tom’s knee. “it’s done.” “what does it say? share with the audience,” tom requests so you do your thing. you’re eager to get to it, turning the laptop to show him his birth chart. “ok, so.” you point at a box a few places down. “this is your rising sign, which is basically how other people see you.”

tom reads the chart, moving his own finger along the screen. “it says i’m a... taurus. what are those like?” “in one word? boring,” you summarize, tom only frowning. “kidding, kidding.” his frown fades into a small smile at that. “they’re known for being super nice and chill... also stubborn,” you tell him and prop your head in your hand.

“so, that makes no sense. those are complete opposites,” tom comments, slipping out from under you. he settles by your side. “i don’t get how i can be a gemini and a taurus, either.” “weird, right?” you sigh in content as his hand comes to stay on the small of your back. “very strange. do you think it could be wrong?”

“are you questioning the universe’s plan?” you tease, tom drumming his fingers on you. “yes, i am.” “see, you’re stubborn! taurus things.” you scroll down to his moon sign before he can protest. tom sticks out his tongue and tries to lick your cheek, which you stop by putting your hand in his face. “next is your moon sign,” you laugh out, ignoring his boyish behavior.

“that controls your emotions and private thoughts,” you elaborate and look presently surprised when you see what tom’s is. “yours is sagittarius. that’s a cool one.” “is it? how come?” tom sneaks a few kisses down the shell of your ear. “you guys are really open-minded and into things that challenge you.” he nods, signaling for you to go on. you turn onto your back so you’re looking up at him.

“you’re all about your freedom, though. it’s hard to hold you down for too long.” grinning, tom brings his face into your line of vision. “that must mean you’re a real force because i’m not going anywhere.” he nudges your nose with his, lips ghosting over yours. you return the smile and meet him halfway for your lips to connect. “anytime soon,” tom adds on in a whisper, kissing back easily.

this one doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. it’s just one of those kisses that makes you feel each other’s love, no matter how you go about it. they’re essentially your own made up love language.

you’re still smiling when your lips detach, fingers combing through tom’s tussled locks. “now that we’ve done the big three...” you preface. “androids, aliens, and wizards?” tom jokes, you breathing out a laugh. you’d thought he had a soft spot for sam and bucky. your suspicions were correct.

“cute, but no. your sun sign, moon sign, and rising sign,” you explain to him. “sure, sure. what about them?” tom toys with the hem of your shirt while you think. a mischievous glint in your eyes, you suddenly sit up. “since you know yours, and i know mine, how about we test our compatibility?”

tom is well aware of what that means, and he isn’t so sure he’d like to do it. he’s someone who believes in cliches like soulmates and fate, so he’ll take your results seriously. after the lessons on astrology you gave him, especially.

his heart will always hold a special place for you and you only. nothing will change that. but, what if the universe says you can’t be together? where do you go from there?

“um,” tom presses his lips into an uncertain line. you’re already getting your laptop. “i mean, do we want to know? what if we’re not...” you come back over to him with both eyebrows furrowed. “compatible?” “yeah” he hesitates before answering, which tells you he’s nervous.

“it’s just for fun, tommy,” you assure him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “besides, if anyone could defy the odds, it would be us.” tom perks up a bit, sitting up next to you. “you think we’re that strong, huh?” “absolutely. do you?” you’re already sure what he’s going to say. he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your hair and letting it linger. “one hundred percent. i’ll do it.”

you put your laptop in your own lap with a grin. tom’s arms hold you by your middle. “ok, here we go,” you mutter, searching for a good compatibility calculator. it doesn’t take long to find one. “remember, this all a bunch of theories. our love goes beyond what a stupid website tells us, okay?” you remind him, his arms tightening around you.

“okay. i love you,” tom speaks into your hair. “you’re so good at saying exactly what i need to hear. how do you do it?” “i love you too, and that’s a secret i’ll never tell.” you take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. tom’s leg bounces while you plug your three signs and his into the calculator. before hitting the calculate option, you look at him over your shoulder.

“ready?” your finger hovers over the cursor. you know how much these things mean to him, so you want to be positive that he is. “can we do it together?” tom asks shyly, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “sure, baby. on the count of three.” you wait for him to place his hand over yours. he grips it tight, then you start to count. “one... two... three.”

the two of you click calculate at the same time, your results taking a few seconds to load. “love, i’m so nervous. i can’t look.” tom dips his head down so yours is blocking his view. you lightheartedly roll your eyes. “it’s fine, tom. i’m sure we’ll-“ the screen changes to display your compatibility rating, you cutting yourself off. he slowly creeps out from behind you.

“oh, god. are they in? what’s it say?” tom grabs onto your waist, feeling vibrations from you giggling. you shake your head at the website. “it’s really good... almost a perfect match. told you we’re meant to be.” he joins in your laughter, an endless amount of kisses going down the side of your head. “now, it’s written in the stars. we’re untouchable!”

he’s flipping you over so he lays above you, lips colliding messily with yours for the millionth time today. you don’t mind, though. you could do this a million more. “a power couple,” you continue for him between another peck of his lips. “always have been,” tom corrects and shuts you up again with his mouth on yours.

your hand reaches up for him, but doesn’t make it as the passionate kiss he’s giving you takes your breath away. he locks your fingers together instead, whispering one last thing.

“always will be.”

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: East Blue (Part One)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby  || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

so!! hey folks. as i’ve mentioned before, to mark the upcoming chapter 1000 (holy shit!!) as well as my blog’s first anniversary this december, i decided it would be a good time to go back and put together some highlight reel posts of my favorite panels/moments/scenes from each saga and some commentary about what i think the best parts of each arc and the series as a whole are and why, as a celebration of just how far one piece has come and how many fantastic moments we've had so far! 

this will be quite a series of rather long posts- they’ll all be tagged #the voyage so far, if you’d like to avoid this messy retrospective. i'll be posting one saga a day each day until chapter 1000's official release on january 3rd!

honestly, i’m opening with this panel because it has a special place in my heart: i’m pretty sure it was the first time that one piece ever made me laugh. 

the entire prologue does a really good job of setting up the tone for the entire rest of the story. i think i haven’t really written much about it before, but i really love romance dawn. it hits the exact mix of humorous and serious that’s practically one piece’s trademark tone, and introduces us to some of the main themes of the series: inherited will especially, and the theme of freedom, and the idea of betting your life for what you love. 

technically this isn’t the first time we see luffy as an adult- he punches out the sea king before this- but it is his formal introduction, as well as (in the chapter title) the first time he’s referred to as strawhat luffy/mugiwara no luffy. 

i really like a lot of these very early panels of luffy, really. i’m a writing person, not an art person, so i can’t really explain why, but there’s something about how he’s drawn that i think is just delightful for some reason. i like the earlier one piece art a whole lot in general, even though it’s often much less intricate and more simple than the current artstyle (which is not by any means bad either!! it’s just different). i think it fits the atmosphere of the start of the story very well- a journey just starting out. 

he’s going to be pirate king!!

i’ve complained before about how zoro’s backstory doesn’t really hit the way a lot of the others do, mostly because it goes so fast, and kuina’s death is unfortunately the closest the series comes to fridging, but- that said, i do really like the core of it. i really like zoro being motivated by a promise to the one friend and rival he could never beat, and i love how this moment is what he cites later on while facing mihawk: a promise to a friend. 

i love all the strawhats and their dynamics, and seeing the crew grow and develop and become a family over the course of hundreds of chapters is one of the great joys of one piece, but i think i’ll always have a soft spot for luffy and zoro’s relationship. there’s never really any conflict between them after their very first meeting; there’s loyalty and dedication and understanding there that starts from this moment and never really wavers.

it makes me grin to see the two of them, here at the start of it all. they don’t have a flag or a ship or a destination, yet, but this is the start of the strawhat pirates.

this series will probably reveal that i have a great weakness for group shots, and i think oda is particularly good at them- especially in these earlier arcs, you can usually see every character’s personality and feelings coming through in how they’re placed and what they’re doing. 

i had actually forgotten that usopp did this, and while i know kuro was egging him on on purpose, i feel like he doesn’t get enough credit for being a reckless idiot sometimes. there’s a reason he fits in as a strawhat, after all, even if he himself isn’t always aware of it. 

this is a lovely panel just on its own, but i think it (and all the other appearances of sunrise and dawn in the story) hits different now, with all the 'coming dawn’ theming that’s been established in recent arcs. 

oda often absolutely nails his use of negative space to emphasize heavy little moments like this, and i for one absolutely love it. this one in particular gets me in the heart. 

i like how you can reread some of these early arcs and see nami’s affection for the crew growing in little moments like these, and it’s very sweet, but there’s also a quiet kind of sadness in knowing she’s spending the whole time knowing she’s going to have to betray and leave them eventually. 

i LOVE the new crewmate toasts. they all always look so happy.

also, in my opinion, this is the first time the strawhat pirates feel like a proper crew. they have a SHIP now! and just after this, they get their jolly roger to seal the deal. 

it is my opinion that sanji has one of the best character introductions i’ve ever seen. in just a few chapters we know just about everything we need to know about him: he's not to be fucked with, he has extremely high respect for food and absolutely none for morons, and the first genuine smile we see from him is when he gives a free meal to a starving man. 

i think about this moment a lot, really. luffy knows almost nothing about sanji at this point. he hasn’t tasted his food- he doesn’t even know his name. but he’s seen sanji give free food to gin for no other reason than that he’s hungry and it’s right, and that’s all it takes for luffy to decide that sanji is gonna be his cook. 

baratie is mostly a serious arc (and leads into the even more serious arlong park), but it has some really good funny moments towards the start and this is one of them. you know they’re friends because they all just start roasting luffy without sympathy or hesitation. 

i’ve mentioned before that the zoro and mihawk fight was one of the big things that hooked me on one piece (the other being sanji’s backstory), but the way it ends, especially, is one of my favorite moments in the whole series. i love,, strawhat loyalty moments. carve “any complaints, pirate king?” on my fucking grave. 

sanji has a lot of really great action panels in this arc, but this is one of my favorites mostly because his combat abilities are being revealed to the audience at the same time they’re revealed to a lot of the characters watching. i can’t remember who pointed it out but sanji’s character design (especially pre-timeskip) just really looks like he’s designed for kicking- shiny black shoes, about 70% leg- and it really shows in panels like this. 

sanji and zeff’s chronic inability to communicate is kind of the emotional core of baratie, and i think sanji calling the restaurant zeff’s treasure sums up the entire conflict between them very neatly. of course zeff values sanji way more than the restaurant, but zeff will never tell that to his face and sanji has negative zero self-worth so he’s never going to figure it out on his own. so they’re basically in a stalemate. 

sanji’s backstory is absolutely brutal. we spend a truly agonizing amount of time literally just watching him slowly starve to death. it’s no secret that oda is really amazing at backstories, but i think sanji’s is probably one of the most effective at driving home exactly where his very specific mindset as an adult comes from. it’s hard to even read this section and not come away with at least a little more appreciation for food. 

(to be continued in east blue part two!)

[plaidbooks]

The R Drug part 3

A/N: Hey all! I’m still writing this story, I promise! And there will be a part 4, for sure! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

Tags: just a little more angst

Words: 1806

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy  @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867  @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

Part 1 / Part 2

Sonny woke up in bed alone. It must’ve been a dream, right? A fantasy that his guilt-ridden brain decided to torture him with. He was in Genoa, away from his old life, away from you. Sighing, he rolled onto his back, the sound of a rare summer rain soft in his apartment. He found himself still in the clothes from yesterday, and he tried to remember what he did yesterday. But that damned dream was still fresh in his mind.

There was absolutely no way you would’ve flown to Genoa with nothing but the clothes on your back. There was no way you would’ve tracked him down. And there was no way you would’ve consented to him holding you, thunderstorm or not. Not after that night in the club.

An empty hole formed in the pit of Sonny’s stomach; even though his emotions last night—not last night; in his dream—were confused, the main one he remembered this morning was happiness. Yes, he felt guilty holding you, felt like a coward as you trembled in his arms, but he was happy. Happy that you were okay, that you had moved past what happened, even if he hadn’t. And happy that you didn’t blame or hate him. But if that was a dream, then he wasn’t sure that you didn’t hate him. A soul-crushing wave of emotion brought tears to his eyes, and he wished he could go back to sleep, go back to that dream where you miraculously showed up in Italy, where you didn’t hate him, and he could hold you once more.

He noticed when the rain stopped, although his now awake mind connected the dots. That wasn’t rain; that was the sound of his shower. He quickly rolled out of bed, hurrying out of his room and towards the bathroom.

The door opened just as he came into view of it, and he froze. You were standing there, hair damp, steam curling in the air around you. You had taken one of his shirts and a pair of sweats, the legs rolled up, so you weren’t tripping over the material. Sonny’s sudden appearance made you jump in surprise.

“S—sorry; I thought I’d take a shower while you slept. I hope you don’t mind…” you said, trailing off. “I, uh, I also had no clean clothes….”

So not a dream, then… he thought. Sonny mentally shook himself. “No, it’s—it’s fine. We can go shopping today, if you want. Get you some supplies—”

“I don’t want you paying for me,” you started, but Sonny held up a hand.

“Either you let me help you get clothes and a phone charger, or you let me buy your plane ticket.”

Your eyes widened slightly; there was no way you could afford both, but the thought of flying home without Sonny made your heart hurt. “Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” you joked, smirking. But the joke fell flat.

“How long were you planning on staying?”

You shifted, looking at the ground. “As long as you needed me.”

He was quiet for so long that you glanced up at him. His expression was soft, pleading almost. You recognized the look; he wanted a hug, preferably a long, tight one. But instead of coming to you and burying his face in your shoulder like he would in Manhattan, he wrapped his arms around himself.

“I—we need to talk. But not now; let me make us breakfast. Then we can shop.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “And then we talk?”

“And then we talk,” he confirmed.

 ********************

Shopping went well; the only issue was the inevitable argument over how much he was buying you. At first, you tried to stop him from paying for anything, but he eventually wore you down—it wasn’t too hard with the meager amount of euros you had on you. You put your foot down on one outfit, though: just a plain shirt and pants…and a phone charger. You needed nothing else, and you wouldn’t accept anything else. Sonny also made sure to buy himself a new phone while out, so that he could call his parents regularly. But this only solidified the fact that he was planning on staying in Italy.

The entire time you were out together, you were filled with a nervous tension. You knew you were going to have a deep talk once back in Sonny’s apartment, and you weren’t sure if you were really ready for that. But you had to be, for him. If he needed a talk, then you would do it for him without complaints. Besides, maybe you could convince him to come home.

Soon enough, you were back at his place, and he not-so-subtly offered for you to go change out of his clothes. Once in your new clothes—which no longer surrounded you in Sonny’s scent—you joined him on the couch. He sat at one end, and you sat on the other, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

Sonny was staring at the ground, rubbing his hands along his thighs nervously. You waited in silence, knowing he’d start when he was ready. He started a sentence multiple times, but hardly got a word or two out before restarting. Finally, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m just going to say it; since you’ve been here in Genoa, I’ve—I’ve been confused. I mean, it’s obvious I miss the old days, miss you. But I—I don’t think I’m ready to come back to New York,” he said.

You nodded, figuring as much. “I’m willing to stay here as long as you need me, Dominick.”

“That’s just it…. I don’t want you to stay here.” His eyes were begging, pleading for you to understand, but you still felt like you were punched in the gut. “You have a life back in the states; a job, a family—”

“You mean like you do?” you shot back defensively. Sonny’s face fell and guilt rushed through you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “You’re right, though. As hard as I tried to leave it all behind, I…I miss it. I miss my life so much is hurts.”

“Then come back with me. We—we can get you into therapy, we can work through this, Dom,” you prompted softly.

You tentatively placed your hand on the couch between you, palm down. Sonny looked at it before his eyes flicked to yours. Then he slowly, timidly, covered your hand with his. “I’m not ready for that. I need to work on myself first. But to do that, I need you to leave.  Please.”

Sighing heavily, you rubbed your face with your free hand. “Okay…. I understand. But please, can we stay in contact? I—I can’t lose you like that again.”

He was nodding before you finished talking, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Of course.” He took his hand off yours, then moved to cup your face with both hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I promise you; this isn’t goodbye. I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that trailed down your cheeks. Sonny swiped at them with his thumbs, but you just couldn’t stop crying. “Y—yeah, okay. I’ll h-hold you to that,” you choked out, sobbing.

Your crying made Sonny start to cry. “I will; I promise. But I need some time to process things.”

“Okay…. I trust you, Dominick Carisi. I know you’ll be okay,” you sniffled. You reached up, covering his hands with yours as he held you.

He gave you a watery smile. “Since you’ve come back into my life, I’ve already stopped hating myself as much as I did before.” He took a hand from you, wiping the tears from his face. “You’ve already helped me so much, just by being here.”

Then why won’t you let me stay? you thought. But you knew the answer; he needed to do the next part alone. Instead, you said, “I’m glad I’ve helped you, even though all I’ve done is hide and cry during a storm.” You chuckled pathetically, but Sonny smiled softly.

“You made me feel useful, like I was helping you rather than—than hurting you. I…I needed that little bit of normal in my life,” he replied. Slowly, he let his hands drop from your face, and you knew the moment was over. But you couldn’t help but miss his touch against you, his warm hands soft against your skin.

Sonny sighed then stood, moving towards the desk with his laptop on it. “Now, let’s book you a flight home, okay?”

 **********************

The ride to the airport was silent and awkward. You made sure you exchanged phone numbers with Sonny, and he promised to call or text when he was mentally able to. He also promised to not fall off the face of the earth again, that he’d live in Genoa until he was ready to come home. But even so, it was a hollow victory; you were still losing your best friend, and you weren’t sure for how long.

Once the taxi pulled up in front of the terminal, Sonny asked the driver to wait for him before he climbed out of the backseat with you. Standing next to you, he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“I—I guess this is it,” he started, and you fought tears back. “Remember, this isn’t goodbye…it’s just….”

“See you later?” you tried.

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you later…. I promise.”

“Y—yeah, okay. I’ll—I’ll text you when I land…so you know I’m safe,” you muttered.

He gave you a pained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Please do. Um…travel safe, okay?”

“I will. I guess I’ll see you later.” You turned from him, ready to leave him behind in Italy. But his hand clasped yours, turning you back towards him. You glanced into his eyes, his face inches from yours.

“Can I kiss you, please? Just…something to remember you by…” he breathed, his breath hot on your face.

You answered him by pressing your lips to his. Sonny’s lips were so soft, so gentle against yours. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of passion and fear and guilt and love. You leaned back when you tasted salt and realized he was crying. You were afraid he didn’t like it, that he was uncomfortable, but the softest of smiles pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Th—thank you,” he murmured. You snuck another kiss before pulling away from him completely. He let go of your hand, letting his fall to his side. You gave him one last look, seeing him still standing there, big blue eyes watching you, before you entered the airport.

[braceletofteeth]

I would love to hear you elaborate on the Jieun/Jaeho/Jongwoo dynamic. It's pretty central and your post on Jaeho made me think and reconsider certain aspects so... pretty please?

I'm so happy that I could give you some insight! Thank you for asking me this, I'd probably be too lazy to elaborate on that for myself only.

You'll see that it got a little long. Since the dynamic involves three different people, I separated it in three parts, so to not be confusing.

Let's start with Jaeho and his involvement with Jieun.

The way I see it, they have nothing to bond over other than Jongwoo. Jaeho clearly finds Jieun attractive, but if that was his only reason to target her, it would be much easier to find another woman who was not dating already. It's not about Jieun, neither for her personality, nor for her looks. It's about Jongwoo's girlfriend, especifically.

Will this dude really try to convince me he can't find another woman in the whole city of Seoul that likes him in spite of his horrible personality, and therefore needs to hit on his friend's girlfriend, whom is only nice to him because he is her boyfriend's friend? And that he wants her for her, and not because Jongwoo "has her" and he doesn't?

Yeah, sure. It's not personal at all 🙄

I don't believe Jaeho could be more envious and selfish if he tried, but I already talked enough about it in the post you read first (if I go on in here too I might get stressed again lol).

Now, about Jieun. I know she really likes Jongwoo. I know, because of the times she puts him above her job, even though doing so damages her image to her boss and makes her life harder at work.

And another reason (that may sound crazy at first but hear me out) is because she meets with Jaeho many times.

You just need to remember their main theme of conversation. It's always Jongwoo this, Jongwoo that, the problems Jongwoo is having. Jongwoo is actually the excuse Jaeho uses to make her meet with him. Jieun is genuinely worried about Jongwoo most part of time (even if she doesn't really believe in the things he tells her, and finds his complaints annoying—whatever, he isn't perfect, but he's still her boyfriend, and she stands up for up him until the point she gets fed up with it all after he has been two inches away from killing her, which for normal standards is too far, I guess).

I don't believe, however, that she is naive and doesn't know what Jaeho truly wants from her—especially not after her boss rubs it in. On one of the nights he calls, she seems uncomfortable when he says it would be just the two of them and Jongwoo wouldn't be present. She also knows how it looks to other people, and what they must think of her.

But the problem is: Jaeho has a cover (a very good one). She can't turn him down until he drops the facet of "concerned friend" and makes an actual move on her. She can't tell Jongwoo, either. If she does, Jongwoo will (rightfully) be angry and confront Jaeho. That's where things get tricky. Jaeho is not only Jongwoo's "friend", but also employer. He could lose his job. If he loses his job, he won't have money to pay for his rent, and will have to go back to Busan, to the starting point, and away from Jieun again.

It's all about power play. Jaeho has the advantage and Jieun accepts her defeat, the same way she accepts the unfair demands of her own boss, because there is no way out without losing something in return (in the first case, Jongwoo's job, and in the second, her own).

What's the position of our last link in all this, then?

I'll start this final part a little weird: Yoon Jongwoo has really good manners. I have yet to make a whole post about it. Jaeho, on the other hand, has not.

From their first conversation after Jongwoo arrives in Seoul, Jaeho always brings Jieun's name up in disrespectful ways, objectifying her. As the best example, the scene at the office, in which he tells Jongwoo, "She seemed very hot for you". Wasn't enough his poor choice of words, it was said in a place where everyone could hear him. Jongwoo showed his disapproval immeaditely, but Jaeho used his CEO position to make his employees back him up. This was neither the first nor the last time Jaeho used his position to show he has power over Jongwoo, to pick on him and to get on his nerves. Not with the purpose of see him losing control (as someone we know), but to be the person who will force Jongwoo to hold himself and acknowlegde that Jaeho is the most powerful man in the room.

Jongwoo is not blind to it, and it's probably one of the reasons Jaeho is one of the people he would really like to snap on the most (we can see it in his imagination, and he gets very close to it in the restaurant scene on episode 8). But, for the most of it, Jongwoo tries to bear it. He stops frowning. He calls him boss instead of hyung. He gets in line and does as he's told.

It's different when Jieun is the one Jaeho is messing with, though. Jongwoo himself wouldn't dare to say or do anything disrespectful towards her (He can barely look her in the eyes??? He doesn't fight back when she's being cruel??? They only hold hands??? Hello???), and he absolutely can't abide that his "friend" (or anyone, really) would. She's one of the only more or less good things in his life at the moment, so of course he will protect her at all costs. When he sees her getting out of Jaeho's car, he gets angry at Jaeho, not her. He never asks why she was with Jaeho and doesn't assume the worst of her. He trusts her to a fault. He needs to, I imagine, in a world where everything else is corrupted.

Anyways. That's all just my personal opinion; it may change, and it's always up for debate. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter, if you ever feel like sharing, anon! Feel free to ask for clarification, too, if I had not expressed myself well at some point.

Have a good day and take care 😊

[crow-in-a-teapot]

tower of nero spoilers

i have just finished the tower of nero. and before i go searching for other people’s thoughts and art and more of the characters i love so much, i want to write down some of my own thoughts because i know as soon as i delve into that ‘ton spoilers’ hashtag there are going to be complaints and criticisms and so much that i don’t want to hear, or essays that’ll make me upset, or things that’ll change my perception on the book (because on this website people really love to hate the trials of apollo).

i want to start with: i loved it. it didn’t feel earth-shattering or huge and momentous like some of my favourite riordanverse books (house of hades, the blood of olympus, the last olympian and maybe some of the magnus chase books take those pedestals for me) but it was satisfying. and i think it was satisfying because it in no way felt like an ending. whether because eventually rick will write that will-and-nico-go-through-tartarus-and-save-bob novella, or because we (or at least i) will continue writing and imagining and creating for this world i don’t know. he didn’t wrap up the story in a perfect little bow like ‘nineteen years later’, he simply put it on pause. gave us a glimpse of where every character was at at the end.

the only thing that makes me so angry and upset is that i did manage to get some spoilers for moments that i know would have been so good to experience for the first time if i hadn’t been spoiled for them. the moment where rachel mentions penguins in a mansion near her house, nico getting mental health advice from mr d, the fact that will and nico were going to be in the book for so much of the story, but the big thing was literally spoiled for me two days ago, it was the reason i sat down to read it as fast as possible because i was terrified of getting more spoiled and not being able to experience the moments for myself, was that piper had a girlfriend. i know that reading that for the first time would have been so cool and surprising, and the fact that when it came up for a moment in the last couple pages all i felt was disappointment because it was spoiled for me and because it was now tinged with whatever that person was saying about her having a girlfriend.

but i still had some warm fuzzy moments, the two parts where apollo thinks he’s going to die but nico comes up behind him - so good. impeccable. 

Leader Guy spat. ‘Now, I kill you.’

He raised his sword... and froze. His face turned pale. His skin began to shrivel. His beard fell out whisker by whisker like dead pine needles. Finally, his skin crumbled away, along with his clothes and flesh, until Leader Guy was nothing but a bleached-white skeleton, holding a sword in his bony hands. 

Standing behind him, his hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, was Nico di Angelo.

and

Nero raised his hand, ready to give the kill command, when behind me a mighty BOOM! shook the chamber. Half our enemies were thrown off their feet. Cracks sprouted in the windowsand the marble columns. Ceiling tiles broke, raining dust like split bags of flour. 

I turned to see the impenetrable blast doors lying twisted and broken, a strangely emaciated red bull standing in the breach. Behind it stood Nico di Angelo.

gods. poetic brilliance. i can’t believe i’m still a nico di angelo stannie in the year 2021. in five years i have not changed (ever since the tv show announcement last summer i have managed to morph into myself from 2017)

from here i’m not sure where to go next i kind of want to go through everything, except it’ll be more difficult than my tyrant’s tomb reaction because i wasn’t reading on a kindle and thus can’t just do funny little reactions to screenshots of quotes, so i’ll just skim through the book page by page and see what i can comment on (i’m not planning on doing analysis today, no thank you, just enjoying the end of my childhood and trying to squeeze as much out of it as possible)

i have an emotional attachment to mr. snake from the very first chapter, and am very upset that he’ll never get off on his baltimore stop and get to see his wife, lu had no reason to shoot and kill him like that.

that brings me to lu, i liked her, it was interesting to see how rick kind of brought in not only the overarching theme of abuse, but also people who let the abuse happen, i have more i could say on this i’m too lazy to right now, and i promised no analysis - or the fact that Lu had conspired to make the show non-lethal to spare Meg’s feelings rather than - oh, I don’t know - refusing to do Nero’s dirty work in the first place and getting Meg out of that house of horrors. 

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to opppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything.

the parallels to meg and lester heading to percy’s apartment, and then to camp half blood to the hidden oracle was so cool to read, every callback to the hidden oracle just there to remind us readers exactly how far apollo has come and how he’s changed; the entire chapter with sally, paul and estelle just felt sickly sweet, it just didn’t seem real how wholesome and good that family is, like i get why apollo broke down and just sobbed in that shower.

also rick really saying acab again in toa, i thought he was done after that elf cop chapter in magnus chase (the magnus chase series is a masterpiece) but apparently not, with A ‘good cop’ is still a cop... still a part of the mind game.

the grey sisters, i forgot about them completely but this threw me back into was it the sea of monsters when annabeth summoned them? i’m not sure, it could have been the lightning thief either, they really remind me of the disney hercules movie. the whole ganymede paragraph was gold, i love gods being canonically confirmed lgbt in the riordanverse. i also love the whole eye-tossing part - 

‘He will crush our eye,’ Anger cried, ‘if we don’t recite our verses!’

‘I will not!’

‘We will all die!’ Wasp said. ‘He is crazy!’

‘I AM NOT!’

‘Fine, you win!’ Tempest howled.

also, the explanation for why dionysus chooses to look the way he does was perfect, because it was something i often wondered about and wasn’t expecting to get an explanation for, and i imagine the whole mythological dionysus to look like.. well like a more feminine apollo i guess, beautiful in a gender non-comforming way.

Other Olympians could never comprehend why Dionysus chose this form when he could look like anything he wanted. In ancient times, he’d been famous for his youthful beauty that defied gender.

... 

In retaliation, Dionysus had decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared.

every scene with nico at camp just BREAKS ME, i would throw in screenshots of every damn quote but unfortunately, as said above, cannot and would rather not type every one; we’ll start with, obviously apollo confirming to him that jason is dead. 

He didn’t look angry exactly. He looked as if he’d been hit in the gut not just once but so many times over the course of so many years that he was beginning to lose perspective on what it meant to be in pain. He swayed on his feet. He blinked. Then he flinched, jerking his hands away from Meg’s as if he’d just remembered his own touch was poison.

ugh then will talking about how nico’s doing, confirming that he’s suffering with ptsd, mr d giving him advice, helping him sort though what voices in his head are real and which ones aren’t, then the paragraph that just recounts every horrific thing poor nico has been through, how will has to reassure him that he’s okay and ‘with friends’ when he wakes up after shadow travel

will’s kindness to apollo, buying him clothes, and apollo finding seymour the leopard’s head in his bed, put there by mr d aaaa AAAA A A A A A THE ORDINARY, EVERYDAY CAMP HALF BLOOD THINGS..

i could go on for years and years about how much i appreciate rachel having a big role in this book, and the visit to her apartment, everything, her art, the fact that she got what she wanted, she’s going to PARIS to study ART, she isn’t forced to be someone she’s not by her dad, and gets to be a big part of a demigod mission and not stand on the sidelines for once.

i love that her landscapes are still visions, that she still paints the quests demigods go on - the burning maze, jason’s funeral pyre, caligula’s ships; and how nico ~appreciates art~

‘And, hey, di Angelo -’ she pushed him playfully away from the canvas he’d been ogling - ‘don’t brush against the art! I don’t care about the paintings, but if you get any colour on you, you’ll ruin that whole black-and-white aesthetic you’ve got going.’

i. love. rachel.

WILL GLOWS!! THE HEADCANONS FROM LIKE FIVE YEARS AGO THAT YOU’D SEE FLOATING AROUND ABOUT HIM MANIPULATING LIGHT!! CONFIRMED!! CANON!! AMAZING

I AM  OBSESSED WITH THE TROGS, I LOVE THEM, THEY ARE GREAT, not gonna lie, i was expecting something more dramatic and spooky with how worried will was and how dionysus was going.. visiting the cavern-runners isn’t ♫ good for your mental health  ♫ but the little hat frog gremlins were a good addition. i like them very much and their funky little soup shenanigans. quoting the ghost king himself: trogs good. nice hats. (IM SORRY I KEEP MENTIONING HIM BUT I JUST) also how apollo starts wishing for breadsticks a s ajoke and theY STRAIGHT UP HAVE BREADSTICKS? HUH? WHERE DID THEY GET THE BREADSTICKS FROM??

yeah, i’m also still very much upset by every mention of jason grace, it’s funny how ever since his death in the burning maze i have grown to love him more and more and that’s not fun for me, for that boy to become one of my main comfort character’s and have his death and sacrifice and nobility mentioned every few chapters. i’m pretty sure i cried when he appeared to talk in apollo’s dreams, and this time the tears weren’t from the effort of keeping my eyes open and working for hours straight reading this book (i remember staying up until 2am to finish the sequel to beautiful, broken things, it was very much worth it)

‘All right, Jason. We miss you, though.’

ALSO. THE FACT THAT THIS KID. THIS CHILD. HAD TO THINK ‘BUT IF A HERO ISN’T READY TO LOSE EVERYTHING FOR A GREATER CAUSE, IS THAT PERSON REALLY A HERO?’ A KID ISN’T SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THAT AND BE READY TO SACRIFICE THEMSELVES FOR THE GREATER GOOD,, i,, ugh,, he’s supposed to be finishing school and designing temples not being the perfect hero and soldier,, spain without the s,,

as @couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name said: ‘thinking about how ghost! Jason didn’t seem to understand why Apollo was so upset about his death because he’s been raised to believe a hero’s sacrifice is noble and his life doesn’t matter in the grand scheme and also if he doesn’t understand why the person who watched him get horrifically killed is so torn up over his death he probably doesn’t even realize his other friends are grieving him..’

IM SO UPSET THE ARROW OF DODONA IS DEAD D: IT WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE CHARACTERS ALL THE FUNNIEST MOMENTS WERE BECAUSE OF THAT ARROW AND IT'S DEATH WAS SO SAD WTH LIKE WE FIND OUT HOW USELESS THE ARROW FELT AND HOW THE GROVE OF DODONA ALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CRAP AND WOULD FAIL APOLLO AND THEN ONCE WE FEEL BAD FOR IT, IT DIES??

the entire python battle was pretty grim, there is a part of me that's like because this is the last book series i would have loved say the magnus chase and kane chronicles gang in a giant battle with everyone like the battle of manhattan but even more dramatic, but even so, i did appreciate that python battle and the whole almost-falling-into-the-depths-of-tartarus thing.

him talking to artemis was cool, but JESUS: 'I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked.' like that HURTS. it was such a huge culture shock for apollo to go throught this huge character arc and be so human and understand the pain of others, to be around gods again who are so.. apathetic. also, zeus. 'Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let's be honest: some fathers don't deserve that. Some aren't capable of it.'

OKAY OKAY SO THE END?? CHIRON TALKING TO A CAT (BAST) AND A SEVERED HEAD (MIMIR) ABOUT SHARED PROBLEMS WITHIN THE PANTHEONS!! WILL AND NICO RECEIVING A PROPHECY FROM RACHEL TO GO TO TARTARUS AND SAVE BOB!! THE HUNTERS OF ARTEMIS, INCLUDING THALIA AND REYNA BEING BEST FRIENDS (qpr.. qpr..) HUNTING THE TEUMESSIAN FOX!! PERCY, ANNABETH AND GROVER, THE ORIGINAL TRIO, GOING ON A CHAOTIC ROAD TRIP TOGETHER!! - SO MANY STAND-ALONE SET -UPS PFSJSJSJ

okay quick word on the reunions at the end: funny little elephant visitation program with livia and hannibal. love that for them. calypso and leo's relationship seems rocky and complicated, but that's to be expected, i think even if they do get properly back together again it might not last long, because it does pretty much feel like a teenage relationship where the two aren't very compatible, but we'll see. hazel and frank are so funny with their gold plated necklaces. lavinia - tap-dance icon. almost cried at the mention of jason's temple-extension plan again. percy not being sure about what he wants to do in college is accurate and i like that that's left to be up-for-interpretation (rick does THE MOST for the fanfic writers pfsjsj). i am OBSESSED with aeithales, like i hate deserts so the burning maze setting is not my favourite but GOD that HOUSE, the vibes are off-the-charts. i'd love a house made of living trees that's also a greenhouse filled with dryads. meg gets a unicorn. that is so great.

i kind of wish the book hadn't ended with 'Call on me. I will be there for you.' because every time I imagine the friends theme song and i don't think that's the vibe he was going for, BUT i do love him talking to meg, that was genuinely emotional - 'You'll come back?' she asked. 'Always,' I promised. 'The sun always comes back.' ; i really wish it had ended with that, but i guess apollo does tend to break fourth walls and talk to the readers, like a lot of the protagonists of riordanverse books.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Bethany x Alistair (Bethistair)

Rating: T

Ch WC: 3115

AO3

Chapter 4

He was dreaming the most wonderful dream. He was old, he could tell by the amount of wrinkles on his hand. Her also. She had the same wrinkles in her skin as his as he held her, staring out over the lake. The sun was just setting and it was warm. Summer, it must have been. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as her. Elissa smiled at him, her face clear as day and leaned into his shoulder. He kissed her forehead. They remained that way for what seemed an eternity and then—

He had to piss. Nothing was as jarring as that feeling after a nice dream. Alistair went about his business, the dream fading even though he’d clung to it desperately.

He crawled back into his bed. Squeezed his eyes shut. If he could just go back to sleep, he could be with her again. He pulled the blanket tighter. Burrowed himself in its dark and let himself be hollow. The day could start without him right?

He never slept.

Just sort of curled up into himself and let his mind lecture him instead.

Get out of bed Alistair.

No matter how many times his mind told him to get out of bed or tried to entice him with life’s beautiful delights, including the promise of spring, there seemed to be this external invisible force pressing him further into his mattress and he couldn’t get it off. That sudden urge to cry came over him again. Maker, would it ever end?

Clattering by his bed and Alistair groaned. Why hadn’t he written a decree stating that not a single soul could be in his castle excluding his son and the healer?

“I brought you some breakfast. The servants claim you haven’t been eating.”

Great. Somebody had called in the calvary. He clung even tighter to his blanket.

“Alistair. You can’t just lie in bed all day.”

He heard Anora sigh. A bit dramatic in his opinion.

He mentally prepared for her to yell at him or give him a stern talking to. She never came to the castle otherwise.

“Trust me. If I could have just lain in bed all day after Cailan passed, I would have. I understand how you must feel. But you’re not doing anyone any good by not eating. You want to waste away? Leave Bryce without either of his parents?”

The Maker knew his brain was useless for getting him out of bed so he’d thought it’d be comical to send Anora instead. He should count himself lucky.

Light blinded him as the blanket was ripped away. He should’ve clutched it tighter. Blankets these days were as precious as pearls.

“Get up. We’re going to the lake.”

He balked, shrinking away, scrambling for a cozy shadow. “But I don’t want to,” Alistair whined.

“But you’re going to. So sit up. Eat. Get your big boy pants on and meet me at the front gate in an hour. Or so help me I will drag you out of this bed myself and spoon feed you.”

He dared to glance at Anora. She was serious, of course. She shoved a glass of orange juice at him. He eyed it suspiciously as she rolled her eyes and forced it into his hands.

“Now drink,” she commanded.

He hesitated more out of defiance than anything. “I could have you thrown from court for how you’re speaking to me. Could even put your head on a pike.” Emphasis on the last word had to have sounded threatening.

Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head that time. “For Andraste’s sake Alistair, don’t be so morbid.” She shook her head and muttered something about an insufferable little brother. She handed him a piece of buttered toast next.

“Where am I supposed to put that?”

“In your mouth.”

He glared. Drank his juice and traded the empty glass for the toast. He took the world's smallest bite out of it and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. After he swallowed, Anora patted him on the cheek.

“There, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Why are you here?” Alistair asked.

She cleaned the dirt from her nails with a brush she seemingly pulled out of nowhere. “Fergus has been concerned so he sent for me. He knows you listen to my council.”

Alistair scoffed. “More like I let you boss me around.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

After all this time, Alistair still wanted to stick his tongue out at some point in every interaction with her. He shoved his toast in his mouth instead. He didn’t miss that coy smirk on her face either.

She rose and strutted towards the door. “I’ll be seeing you in a short while. Oh, and do wear something comfortable.”

She exited like she was leading an army. Alistair glanced down at his nightshirt. A miserable army of one. He managed to finish half his breakfast and throw on some clothes before the time allotted to him. Though, his main motivator at that point was getting to check on Bryce before he went on an excursion with Anora.

He spotted Bethany and he froze. She should be at breakfast like every other morning when he visited Bryce. And he had been avoiding her for nearly a month, successfully, ever since what he referred to as the incident. He had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out that door.

“Oh good morning,” she said. She was even smiling. Then she motioned him over. Did she not remember him losing his shit over roses? “He’s been having longer periods of wakefulness. Though, he still often calls me his mum.”

All thought of embarrassing incidents, anxieties and what have you dispersed when he heard that. “He calls you mum? Does he not realize…” Alistair didn’t want to say it.

She shook her head and adjusted Bryce’s pillow, smoothed out his blanket. “You may or may not have to remind him. I wouldn’t worry about it now. It’s still too soon to tell whether his memory is affected long term. Of the patients I’ve seen sharing his condition, many have suffered from short term memory loss. I have rarely seen otherwise.”

Rarely. The word wasn’t lost on him. Alistair didn’t think he could explain her death to Bryce again. Maker, wasn’t once enough? He shuddered at the thought and Bethany’s hand was over his.

“Really, you shouldn’t worry.” She squeezed his hand then let it go.

Shouldn’t worry.

Good advice but his heart couldn’t take it. Alistair leaned over and kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you,” he murmured. Then pulled back.

“I will return again after dinner. I’d like to read him some things.”

Bethany nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled gently at him and the thought crossed him that she had a very pretty smile. Not that he should notice such a thing. Maker, what was he thinking? Hadn’t he just dreamed of his wife this morning? Now he was admiring another woman’s smile?

Forgive me.

He rushed away from Bethany before he thought something else he shouldn’t possibly think.

—

He really didn’t want to be at the lake. Too many bad memories. Too much guilt. Too few enjoyments. And it was cold. Not quite Ferelden winter cold but the wind had a bite and nipped at the tips of his ears. He ticked the reasons off one by one, keeping his worries at bay with complaints until Anora interrupted his thoughts, shoving a fishing rod into his hands. He’d rather try aiming for fish with a bow and arrow. Fishing with a rod was a slow, agonizing way to catch fish, one in which he was left to marinate in his morose musings.

“Already has a worm. Do you prefer to fish off shore or…”

Neither. He didn’t like fishing at all. It was by far one of the most boring and wretched past times he’d ever encountered.

“Shore it is,” she decided for him.

“I don’t like fishing,” he said. But plodded after her anyway.

“Oh, I know. But I do. I find it quite relaxing.”

“Then why not go by yourself? Bringing me along with you seems the opposite of relaxing.”

“I should confess then, I did not bring you along for my benefit.” She cast her line.

“I already mentioned I don’t like fishing. Did you have a lapse in hearing?”

“My hearing is excellent. The benefit is you getting out of bed, getting some sun and fresh air while putting your duties for the day off for a few more hours. Perhaps it would be a good time for you to take your mind off things.”

Her motives were good, he could admit but they were absolute bollocks. The sky was overcast and looked like it would burst into tears at any moment. How was he supposed to get any sun? And if the fresh air was going to smell like fish, especially dead fish, he didn’t want it.

Alistair sighed and attempted to cast his own line. He got it tangled up in the reeds along the shore. Then he cursed and threw the rod on the ground. “Blast! I think I’d do better wrangling fish out of the water with my bare hands.”

Anora sniggered. “What a sight that would be.”

“I’m going to take a walk.”

“No, no!” She grabbed his cloak sleeve. “Stay. If it helps you can talk and I’ll try my very best to listen.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I—no. I’m good. No need for a talk.”

Not that he didn’t want to talk. Talking would probably do him good. But he couldn’t think of anyone to talk to. Fergus maybe. Though Alistair didn’t feel like he could be honest without diminishing his grief. Ferguson had been through far worse and he didn’t seem to struggle to get himself together. It intimidated him.

“Fine. Have it your way.” She picked up his rod then and fixed his line, casting it for him. She placed it back in his hands. “I’m really sorry for your loss Alistair. However, being so sullen doesn’t suit you or your kingdom. I’m not saying you can’t grieve, just maybe try keeping it contained, hm?”

Alistair closed his eyes. “And how do you propose I just contain my sullenness?”

“Try fishing for starters.”

He wanted to mock her in a tiny man child voice but he refrained. Thankfully he had Morrigan as a traveling companion long enough to train him in the art of biting his tongue. As well as shoving his foot straight into his mouth but that was another story for another day.

He fished silently alongside her wishing desperately to be back with Bryce. The fresh air didn’t feel any different than the drafty castle. The sun was nice at least, when it decided to make an appearance. But the sky was looking more sullen by the minute and the wind was picking up.

“Isn’t this a terrible time to fish?” he asked.

“Any time is a good time to fish,” Anora said.

“I don’t think that’s true. I remember there were certain times fish were more likely to bite.”

“We’re not here for dinner,” Anora snapped.

“So we’re just dipping worms in water for what? Fun? Sounds like torture.” He reeled his line in and studied the sad soggy worm on the hook. “Aw see? Now the poor little worm is a goner. I’ll have to make it a little worm grave.” He removed the worm and set his pole in the crook of some driftwood.

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“I won’t stop until you let me go back to my bed.”

“You know, I was quite fond of Lady Cousland. She was much better at fishing than you.”

“She was much better than me at a lot of things.”

“She was at that.” Anora got a bite on her line. She tugged her rod and reeled it in. No trouble at all.

Alistair sat on the driftwood with his chin in his hands. “I don’t mean to be so morose. I just miss her. I miss her terribly.”

Anora unhooked the fish–a cute little perch–and tossed it back into the water. She set her own pole aside and sat next to Alistair.

“I miss her terribly too,” Anora said.

“You do?”

“Yes. Is that really so surprising? I’d miss you too, even though you’re quite the lummox.”

“Aww,” Alistair placed a hand over his heart, “such warm fuzzy feelings, right here.”

“Must you always act like this?”

“Only with you. One day you’ll come to appreciate it. I–I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye and I’m glad you and Elissa became close after–well after everything. You could have found a clever way to toss us from the throne but you didn’t.”

“Not yet anyway. I could still.”

Alistair allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Treason!”

Anora clamped her hand over his. “You are such a child!”

A sort of chuckle snort escaped from Alistair as Anora placed her hands back in her lap. He noticed she could smile too. “I’d still like to take a walk. You could come with me, if you wanted. I promise I won’t run away or do anything stupid.”

She nodded. “I’d like to keep fishing. But do be back in time for dinner. I can’t keep you out forever.”

Alistair nodded and stood. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Anora was taken aback. “An honest thank you? With no snide remark? I–well you’re welcome then I suppose. Now shoo, enjoy the fresh air.”

Alistair went without further ado. Surprisingly, it did him some good. But when he entered the castle later that day to attend to his duties, his heart seemed heavy again.

–

Bethany wasn’t exactly sure if she should be in the room when Alistair came back. He had been dodging her since the garden. But she was tired and the fire was cozy. She also enjoyed seeing this side of the King and had missed him–no missed him interacting with Bryce. He was a kind and tentative father. Much like how her own had been. She pretended to read a book she had no interest in to provide an illusion of privacy.

“…and the young boy bravely reached out to touch the dragon’s snout. His friends gasped, waiting and watching for him to be scorched by fire. But the dragon closed its eyes and huffed, melting under the touch of the boy.” Alistair let out a big yawn. “I think that’s all I can manage tonight. We’ll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Bethany stole a glance in their direction. Alistair was returning the book to the nightstand. Bryce was fast asleep.

He stretched and she admired his form. Strong arms, wide shoulders, and a slightly rounded belly that she briefly dreamed of laying on. Then her eyes flicked lower and saw he also had quite a lovely bottom, not that she was focusing too much on it. Just appreciative. She told herself to look away and stop thinking such things. He turned and definitely caught her staring. She tore her eyes away and buried her nose in the book. Cheeks flushed.

She pretended not to hear his footsteps coming towards her. The book was really really interesting then. She nearly bore a hole through the book with her immense interest.

He sat across from her.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for all you have been doing to help my son. So, I uh—“ He ran a tired hand through his shoulder length hair, wisps of reddish brown bangs with hints of gray, flopping to each side of his face. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Though I must say, it’s a pretty easy thing to do.”

“I don’t think most people would share your opinion.”

She laughed a little. “It’s a good thing I’m not most people then, isn’t it?”

He gave a half hearted chuckle coupled with a nod.

Then they both stared into the fire. Bethany wanted to say something more. Have an actual conversation but she wasn’t even sure where to start. Her brain kept wanting to think about the way her fingers would feel running through his hair. Through his beard and–

“Can I ask you something?”

Praise the maker. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you ever dream of him?”

She tilted her head, searching her mind for the him he was referring to. She blinked as everything came up blank.

“Your brother, I mean. Of Garret.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and then that sad sort of feeling pooled in her stomach. She sighed. “Of course I do. They are always happy. And he is always safe. When I wake up, I remember that it’s all a lie and it hurts.”

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

“Yes, in a way.”

“Hm.” He tugged at his beard.

“Have you been dreaming of your wife?”

“Yes,” he said. His hands came to rest in his lap and he fiddled with the hem of his nightshirt.

“Would you tell me about her?”

Alistair glanced up then. Eyes wide like she was asking him to jump off a cliff.

“I–I don’t really know where to start.”

“How about your dream? Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’d love to hear about it if you’re willing to tell me.”

And he did. He told her all about how they had grown old together. How it made him feel. How it had affected his entire day. How it tore him up inside.

“I just–when the person you share everything with, including your deepest secrets and darkest hurts–when they die, who do you turn to? Normally, they’d be your person. But she isn’t here and it’s so incredibly unfair. Which is ridiculous to think, I know. Life isn’t fair and all that.”

Bethany reached out without thinking, covering his large hand with her smaller one and squeezed. “It’s really not. It’s understandable you feel that way. I’m so sorry Alistair. You’re right. It is incredibly unfair. It’s unfair that the world took what you loved most and still moved on, leaving you to pick up pieces of yourself in the throes of responsibility. It must be difficult.”

“It–it is.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, retracting his hand. Then he bolted upright out of his chair. “I’ve taken up too much of your evening, Bethany. Have a good night,” he spit the words out in a hurry as he fled.

“You too, I guess,” she muttered, then doused the fire with a cone of frost.

[frauleinjustice]

Saioumaweek Prompt: Kokichi’s Birthday!

HEY EVERYONE, I KNOW IT’S A DAY LATE, BUT!!! Wanted to write something for Kokichi’s birthday!! 🍰🍇 Just something very fluffy and cute for his special day... 

Summary: It’s nearing the midnight of Kokichi’s birthday. He had sent a text to Shuichi for an impromptu hangout, wanting to spend private time with him since they’ll celebrate with their classmates later tomorrow, and Kokichi with his organization later that night! After a fun time at the amusement park, and enjoying some food and cake together... they head back to Shuichi’s house together, where Shuichi gives him a very special gift. And from there, just a very soft moment between the boys...

So basically, just some cute mindless fluff I wanted to write with the boys~ As always, to anyone who gives it a read: thank you in advanced, and I hope you’ll enjoy! ♥ And Happy Birthday once more to the glorious supreme leader Kokichi Ouma!!! 🎉

Running down the late light streets at 11:00pm towards the main Shibuya train station... not exactly what Shuichi expected to suddenly find himself doing. It all had started with an unexpected text from Kokichi 10 minutes earlier. ‘Saihara Shuichi, WHY are you late!!!’ Is what it said. Shuichi-understandingly-was very confused, and responded:

{Txt: Ouma-kun} Huh...? Late??? Late for what?

{Txt: Saihara-chan!} Huh! so not only do you have the audacity of keeping someone like ME waiting; you don’t even remember you were supposed to spend time with me tonight? s...s-so CRUEL, Saihara-chan...!!!

Which was a lie, of course: they didn’t plan to actually meet up tonight, as they were going to see each other tomorrow, anyway; at school where Kokichi’ll celebrate his birthday in the day with his classmates, before celebrating it with DICE later that night. But as always, Shuichi played along, knowing this was always Kokichi’s way of asking him to hang out without directly saying so... so he “apologized” for daring to “forget” their promise, before he rushed out the house like that after getting dressed, towards the train station where Kokichi told him to meet him. He honestly didn’t mind spending personal time with Kokichi tonight; in fact, he was happy about it. They probably wouldn’t have had time to tomorrow, with how busy the supreme leader would be... so a ‘pre-celebration’ together, just the two of them.... he was excited for it.

Once he made it to the station, he comes to a stop before taking a moment to catch his breath. "Hah....hah.... I-I made it..." He lifts his head up to glance around, looking for Kokichi. "I-I don't see Ouma-kun anywhere, though... I'm sure I'm at the right entra-"

"BOO!"

"Ahh!?" Shuichi jumped when he also felt hands grip his sides firmly. He quickly turn ls around to see the culprit. "O-Oh!! ...O-Ouma-kuun! You scared the heck out of me..."

"Nishishi~! Surpriiise!" He giggles, having purposely hidden behind a nearby wall to scare him. "You actually made it in less than 10 minutes! I'm impressed: well....not that I would've spared you long enough to explain yourself..."

“Well that’s because you told me you’d “send your boys after me” if I didn’t. Yeah, right.” He playfully tugged on his cheek, emitting a giggle from the boy. “So what would you like to do? I don’t imagine there’s many places still open tonight...”

“Lots of things! Like going to the amusement park: it’s still open. That’s why I wanted you to meet me here at the train station. And then after that, you’ll treat me to a fancy dinner and allow me to take over your bed when we go back to your house in the end! I’ll be my birthday midnight by then, so you must do everything I wish without no complaint~!”

“I-I see...” He slumps his shoulders, giving an exasperated smile. “Well then, you certainly got a lot on your agenda already, hmm? So the amusement park, then dinner, and then you want to stay over my place...” His smile brightening, he gives a nod. “Sure! That all sounds good to me: whatever you’d like to do Ouma-kun, we will do it.”

“You mean it!?” Beaming, Kokichi does several happy hops. “Yaaay~! That’s why Shumai’s the best! O-kaaay, let’s hurry down the stairs: our train will arrive in 5 more minutes!”

“Oh-!” Grabbing Shuichi’s hand, Kokichi rushes them down the stairs so they could make it down to the line they need to ride. Minutes later, their train did arrive, where they grabbed a window seat. They simply chatted about whatever, admiring the view of the city lights after exiting the train tunnel. It reminded them of the times they’d sometimes take walks together along the beach shore, where they could admire the skyline nearby at night. It was one of the times they could feel most relaxed, without a care in the world...

Once they got off the train, it was only a short walk until they reached the amusement park. While it was still expectantly pretty lively with people, it wasn't nearly as packed as it would be in the daytime. "Alright, Ouma-kun: where would you like to ride, first?"

Without missing a beat, he explains: "The roller coaster!!"

"..Eh?"

That frozen smile on Shuichi's face makes Kokichi laugh, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as his smile widens: "You heard me!! The roller coaster! Ohh I can't wait for Shumai to scream his lungs out!"

"W-W-Wait, wait, wait! C-Can we not ride something more uh....m-milder like the Ferris wheel or some-" Kokichi starts dragging him to the direction of the roller coaster. "thiiiing?!"

"Norpe!! Wahahaha!"

"Ouma-kuuun!!!" While Shuichi wasn't afraid of roller coasters, they still weren't exactly a ride he'd choose to get on compared to anything else. But for Kokichi, he'll get on it.

"Waaaaaah!!!"

"Yaaahoooo!!!" One screaming in exaggerated delight, and the other in distress, they were zipping through the air with how fast they were going. "We're going so fast, Saihara-chan!! Don't you love it?!"

"Noooo, I don't!! I don't at alll!!" He screams out, literally wrapping his arms around Kokichi as best as he could, as if holding on for dear life.

"N-Nishishi, hah hah haaah! You sound so funny when you scream, Shumai!!"

"D-Damn you, Ouma-kuun!!"

Kokichi cackled even more, cheeks turning a slight pink when Shuichi held onto him. This made coming here and riding the rollercoaster all the more worth it, now. Once the ride was over, Kokichi merrily steps off the ride without a care in the world. "Woo, that was fun! Right, Saihara-chan?"

"Guuuuh...." Meanwhile, Shuichi was blue in the face as he slumped over a nearby bench. "Y-Yeah. Sooo fun...." ("Thank god I didn't eat yet...") He thinks to himself...

"There, there...” He slowly strokes Shuichi’s hair, feeling just a little bad for him. “I have to admit... I didn’t expect you to actually get on with me. I guess you really do know better than to disappoint me, hmm?” He smiles, clearly joking. “But that’s a lie: Shumai was being so brave for me... it makes me happy.” There was a sincere touch of softness in his tone. He then leans his head up a bit, so that he can plant a soft kiss to Shuichi’s cheek.

“Ah....” Shuichi gasped softly at the kiss, cheeks now turning a warm shade of pink as he nuzzled his head slightly against his hand. “O-Ouma-kun...” It made his heart flutter in his chest, and to hear that he could make him happy like that. Anything was always worth it to make Kokichi happy... “I...I-I’m glad that... it made you happy! Even if, well-felt my life flashed before my eyes several times-I-I guess I also... had fun riding it, still...”

“Nishishi... good...” That made Kokichi just as happy to hear. Already, he was having fun on their little date. It made him wonder if Shuichi even saw this as one, knowing how oblivious the detective can be. Giving Shuichi’s head a few more pats, Kokichi hops out his seat. “Alllright! Time to get on more rides!! We’ll spin super fast on the teacups, bump into each other super hard in the bumper cart rides, and-”

“You’re seriously trying to kill meeee!!” And riding the many different rides at the amusement park, they did. While they didn’t actually spin super fast on the teacups (which Kokichi playfully “threatened” to do several times, resulting in very amusing Shuichi yelps as Kokichi’s hand was gently smacked each time), they still had a fun time on them; along with the bumper carts, swing rides, the games at the booths and arcade section, enjoying treats at the snack booths.... by the time they decided to get on the Ferris Wheel as the final ride for the night, they were fitting several bags of stuff they bought from the item shops, and prizes won at the game: including a giant white cat plushie Shuichi won for him at a shooting game. Even if he insisted Shuichi win him one of the best possible prizes as a worthy ‘tribute’, he didn’t expect him to actually try multiple times to get a high enough score to win him that cat plushie. It made him swoon.... he’d definitely treasure it.

“Wooow....” Kokichi leaned up from his seat a bit to observe the view of the amusement park below and the skyline in the distance. “So pretty....!”

“Yeah...” Shuichi looks out the cart’s window, admiring the scenery, too. “I’ve never really been here this late, before: I never thought the view from the Ferris wheel could look so pretty.”

“Makes you all the more happy I dragged you here, riiiight~?” He snickers, looking towards Shuichi with a smile. “I had a lot of fun, and was spoiled tons as I deserve to be! And don’t forget, we’re not done just yet: you still owe me a 5-star dinner aaand your bed.”

“Yes, yes...” He playfully rolls his eyes with a chortle. “Trust me, I didn’t forget. And I will still do all that for you: happily so.” He nods, smiling softly at him.

That smile, and hearing just how happily Shuichi will indulge and spoil Kokichi so much like this.... it made a deep blush spread on his cheeks, feeling his heart bounce around in his chest. “You’re the best, Shumai.” He flashes him an even brighter and bigger smile: one as genuine as the gentle tone he told him that in... and before he knew it, he was moving to sit next to Shuichi, so that he could lean his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes in content. “Mmm....” Until the ride is over, he just wants to stay just like this: enjoying the warmth of leaning against his beloved’s side....

Shuichi’s smile warmed when seeing Kokichi lean against him like that. Then when gazing down at their hands.... they were so close together, just barely touching. Maybe... it’d be okay to do this, he thinks to himself: to go and... rest his hand gently on top of Kokichi’s, intertwining their fingers together.

“....!” This made Kokichi open his eyes in surprise, darting down at their intertwined hands, before looking up at Shuichi. He was tempted to tease the heavily blushing boy who didn’t dare look Kokichi’s way, for being surprisingly bold like that. But for once, he wanted to spare Shuichi and not fluster him too badly. So to reassure him he’s okay with this... he gives Shuichi’s hand a soft squeeze, intertwining their fingers together just a bit more, before he closes his eyes back once more, an even bigger smile on his reddened face.

“Ahh...” A sea of relief washing over him, he also closes his eyes and leans a bit more against Kokichi, too. He also wanted to enjoy this moment as much as he could before they would have to eventually get off. He almost wouldn’t want the ride to end... neither of them did.

After they left the amusement park, it took a moment to find a restaurant that was even still open at this hour. They eventually did, and while it wasn’t some super fancy place or anything... Kokichi didn’t truly care about that: just being able to eat with Shuichi was good enough for him... they still enjoyed some great food together, and the detective even bought him a to-go cake that they could enjoy together later at his house, which Kokichi was very much looking forward to.

Once they arrived at Shuichi’s home, they quietly made their way to his bedroom. An impromptu sleepover: the perfect excuse he can give to his aunt and uncle when they’ll surely wonder why Kokichi is suddenly there in the morning. Having brought no change of clothes made for the perfect excuse of him grabbing some of Shuichi’s pajamas to wear, instead. They were notably a little big on him, but why he was all the more cozy in them. He’d tried not to pay attention to how much it made his heart flutter just wearing his beloved’s clothes.... and while Shuichi would be too shy to outright say it: he thinks Kokichi looks cute in his clothes, especially because they’re a bit oversized on him.

Shuichi also took a moment to change into pajamas as they sit at his coffee table. The container of the blackberry lavender cake Shuichi bought them sits in the center, and he made them cups of tea to go along with it. He cuts them both a slice, serving Kokichi one with a smile. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you~! I totes will!” He chimes, uttering a hum in delight at how delicious it tasted, along with the honey green tea Shuichi made them. As they were eating, curiosity couldn’t help but make him ask: “So! Saihara-chan definitely got me a present, right? Where is it, where is it? I wanna see!”

“Of course I did.” He nods with a smile, before chuckling. “It’d ruin the surprise if I told you before showing you, wouldn’t it? It’s still in the bag I was going to bring to school tomorrow, since I planned on giving it to you during the party. But since you’re already here... might as well just give it to you tonight, yeah? After we finish our cakes, I’ll show you it.”

“Okaaaay!” While he was usually impatient when he really wanted something, Kokichi gives several excited nods. From how that sounded, Shuichi must have gotten him something good. No: he knows it will be good, because it’s from Shuichi. “I can’t wait! A worthy present for a supreme leader of evil like me.... perhaps I’ll promote you to a higher rank in my organization if the the gift really wows me, hmmm?”

“I love the implication I was one of your subordinates to begin with. But wow, a higher ranking one, huh? What an honor: then I hope the present will be impress you well enough, ‘Boss’.” He plays along with a laugh, Kokichi laughing with him. He truly does hope Kokichi will love it, though: as he wanted to make it something extra special.... when they were done cleaning and quietly cleaned their dishes, Kokichi got comfy on Shuichi’s bed as he saw him go into his closet to pull something out. “Here is the bag containing your present.”

“Oho!” Giddily, Kokichi sits upright on the bed, excitedly kicking his feet in the air. “Present time!! Let’s see what Shumai has bestowed upon me!”

Smiling, he nods and hands Kokichi the gift bag. “Here you go. I... really hope you’ll like your gift. And since it’s past midnight now... Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, Saihara-chan! And yeah, I’d better: if you’d wish to survive but that’s a lie, of course I’ll love it! Shumai never breaks my high expectations, after all!” He snickers, emitting a shy giggle from Shuichi. Without taking a second longer, Kokichi reaches into the bag.... and his eyes widened in surprise. “....!”  

In Kokichi’s hands was a journal; a handmade one. The cover was a deep purple color, and made out of soft leather, complete with a thin strap to be able to close it once tied. In the lower left corner of the journal, ‘K.O.’ was engraved in gold lettering, symbolizing the initials of his first and last name. Kokichi slowly coursed his fingers down the fabric of the journal, admiring its soft touch. Shuichi had been nervously standing in place as he saw Kokichi examine the cover. “It’s a journal....! A-A handmade one. I thought, if I made one myself... it’d make the gift feel all the more special to you.”

“A handmade one, huh...” Shuichi had actually made this for him. To make his gift feel all the more special: Shuichi put in that much effort... for him. “Ah...” Feeling his cheeks burn, it was hard to ignore the loud pounding his heart. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall for the detective any harder than he already does: he’s proven wrong, once again.

“S...So... what do you think?”

“The cover feels soft.... I like it. And my initials being engraved in gold... nishishi, you truly are aware just how much of a big deal I am, huh? As expected from my beloved Saihara-chan!” He cheers, smiling brightly at him. “I love it! And you know that’s not a lie!”

“Ahhh....!” His eyes shining in delight, relief instantly washed over him as he clasped his hands together.  “O-Ohh, I’m so happy to hear that, Ouma-kun: so happy that you love it! I thought you might like the soft leather and gold letters, heheh... ah, but there’s more-!” Now sitting down close to him, Shuichi gestures: “Open the journal and look at the inside cover. I left a...l-little surprise for you!”

“Ohhh?” Curious, Kokichi does as told and opens it to look at the inside cover. There was a small note inside, also written in golden letters. It reads:

‘Ouma Kokichi’s very own personal journal! One befitting of a supreme leader, I hope? Hahaha: in all seriousness, I hope that you love it, Ouma-kun. Happy Birthday, and may today and the following days be great to you... my beloved supreme leader.’ - Shuichi

“...............” The expression on Kokichi’s face froze. Eyes widened, he purses his lips, stifling a sharp gasp that wanted to leave it. He felt his cheeks burn even worse than ever, not being able to help the small whine that leaves him. “Nnnnghh....” From the heartfelt message, to Shuichi calling him his beloved supreme leader: that officially obliterated Kokichi, feeling like his heart was going to explode. “K...Killing me with something so damn sappy.... d-damn you, detective!!” He points an accusatory finger at him, feigned look of irritation on his completely red face. “How dare you!? This is treason!”

“H-Hahaha! That doesn’t even make sense!” He laughs, feeling his own cheeks darken. He shyly darts his eyes as he scratches his cheek. “I-I just, um... wanted to leave you something nice that you could always read whenever you use this journal. To ah... put a smile on your face...”

“So damn cheesy...” Yet there was nothing but fondness in Kokichi’s tone as he said that. Shuichi being so cheesy like that, was exactly what he loved so much about him. Carefully placing the journal down beside him on the bed after he curiously flipped through the empty pages.... Kokichi goes to wrap his arms tightly against Shuichi in a big hug, burying his face in his chest. “...I love the message: really, I do. It makes me so happy. My beloved always makes me so happy...”

“!” A surprised gasp left him when Kokichi suddenly hugged him tightly. But then he instantly returns it, smiling warmly at him. “I’m so happy that you do.... and that I always make you happy. I always want to, since... when I’m with Ouma-kun, I’m always happy, too.”

“Heheh...” Nuzzling his face into his chest, he lets out the happiest sigh. He was so happy, it was nearly overwhelming: a feeling he wasn’t used to... but loves it so much. “Good... I’m glad.” And as he nuzzled his chest, he could hear Shuichi’s heartbeat. It was so calm, so soothing... he wants to just stay in his arms all night. “Thanks so much for the gift, Saihara-chan: I’ll treasure it forever and ever.... and because I’m so nice, it’s only fair I give you a special reward as thanks.” Feeling his heart suddenly pound faster, he was admittedly incredibly nervous about doing this. Would Shuichi even like this for a reward? Would it make him uncomfortable or upset? Before those anxious thoughts started playing in his head, Kokichi quickly buries them. He wanted to do this: for so long, he’s wanted to. While a bit reluctant to, he breaks out of the hug.... so that he can gently cup Shuichi’s chin, making him look directly at Kokichi. that hand would then go to cup his cheek. “Here.... for my beloved detective.” And as he slowly leans up, closing the distance between them further and further... there’s a special kind of love and warmth in Kokichi’s eyes, that he would never give to anyone else. Those eyes slowly come to a close... and after a quick pause, right before their lips touch... he closes the distance between them in a soft kiss.

“....!” Shuichi’s eyes had widened when Kokichi cupped his chin and leaned in closer. He really was going to kiss him... something Shuichi always wanted to do with him as well, but he never thought it would happen. And that look Kokichi gave him as he did lean in, and eventually locked his lips with his... made Shuichi’s heart burst with warmth and happiness. A soft hum emitted from him as his eyes also came to a close. He leaned his face in just a bit more to press his lips more against Kokichi’s. Kokichi returns the gesture by also pressing his lips firmer against his, gently stroking Shuichi’s cheek now. The kiss felt so nice to them both, finding the other’s lips so soft. It made them not want the kiss to end anytime soon.... and even after that kiss was over, their faces stayed very close to each other’s. “Ouma....kun....”

“Shumai...” Their foreheads touching, he gently nuzzles his. “...Now give me one. As...another special gift for me. Spoil me some more...”

“...Of course: happily so.” Without hesitation, Shuichi closes the distance between them in a kiss this time, lips pressed more firmly against Kokichi’s. Kokichi lets out a very satisfied sigh in the kiss, slowly positioning himself to sit on Shuichi’s lap as he throws his arms around his neck. Shuichi wraps his arms around Kokichi’s waist in turn, soft sighs and pants emitting from the two as they gently peck each other’s lips. And they kissed each other again... and again.... just enjoying the feel of the other’s lips so much they didn’t want to stop. It was until they literally needed to catch their breath, do they finally break away. They exhale and pant deeply, faces heated and hearts pounding like crazy. “H-Hah....ahh....th-that, um... th-that was nice...”

“Nishi....s-shishi....” Kokichi nods his head in agreement. “Mm... it was. I’ve always wanted to kiss my beloved.... and if he’s okay with it... I want to kiss him whenever I want, even after my birthday’s over.”

“Heheh.... of course I’d be okay with that. Since I...I-I....” The look in his eyes grow much more loving as he softly whispers: “....I love you so much, and: I want to be with you. K....Kokichi.....”

“...........................” For a moment, Kokichi had to question if he actually heard that. That he heard Shuichi say he loves him... and called him Kokichi.... “A...Ahhhh....” Oh it killed him so badly, he immediately buried his face in Shuichi’s chest once more, needing to take a moment to deeply exhale and calm down. Everything Kokichi wanted... was happening in one ight: on his birthday, no less. It made him emotional, needing to fight back actual tears that dared spring up i his eyes. Tears of nothing but absolute happiness. “Shumai... truly can surprise me all the time, h-huh...? Inflicting a fatal combo attack on me like that....”

“H-Hehehe....” Shuichi was honestly surprised he confessed, too. But in the heat of the moment, and being so full of love for the boy... he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He just had to finally tell him how much he loves him. “S-So...um.... would you like that?”

“Dummy...” Sniffling, he looks back up at him. The smile he gives him is so warm... the warmest  smile he’s ever given to someone. “Of course I would. You’d have to be out of your mind to not wanna be Shumai’s boyfriend. Since, well....you stole my heart.... and I always want to be with you, too. I-I.... love you, too. Shuichi...” Saying it so bluntly was so embarrassing... but he was happy to finally be able to say, how much he loves him, too.

Shuichi could feel himself grow emotional as well when Kokichi accepts his confession. “A-Aww, Ouma-ku....K-Kokichi.... and... I’m so happy!! Th-That you feel the same! You ah, a-also stole my heart...!”

“Mmhm...” Though before he could die from how flustered he was, he suddenly exclaims: “N...Now cuddle me! The birthday king demands it!” And after placing the journal safely on the table, he gets under the blankets, patting the spot next to him. “Come, come!”

“H-Hahaha, alright, alright! Here I come-!” After taking a quick moment to turn off the lights, Shuichi crawls into bed with him, too. He then goes to shyly, but happily wrap his arms around him, pulling Kokichi close against him.

“Ehehe~! Shumai pillow obtained!! And he’s not allowed to let go of me the whooole night!” He giggles, beaming up at him.

“And letting go of you, I shall not.” He giggles as well, softly cuddling Kokichi. It makes the happiest little noise leave the supreme leader, who snuggled up even more in his arms as he cuddled him back. It felt like Heaven in Shuichi’s arms... he felt so warm, so happy.... so safe. A combination of things he never thought he’d feel in someone’s arms. Waking up as Shuichi’s boyfriend in the morning... he was already looking so forward to waking up. But for now: he’ll enjoy being cozy in his beloved’s arms. A soft yawn, one hand goes to stroke Kokichi’s hair as Shuichi mumbles: “Alrighty... let’s get some sleep. You’ve got quite an eventful day later in the day, after all! I hope your birthday will continue being a great one for you.”

He hums happily at he hair strokes, nuzzling thee back of his head against his hand. “Mmm...! I’ll get some sleep, yeah.... and thanks, Shuichi: totes! You already made it feel like the best birthday ever. Thanks again for coming out with me tonight: and for the prizes you won me, the journal... everything. Let’s have lots more fun later!”

“Heheh. of course, Kokichi: Everything was worth it to make you happy. Yes...! Let’s... but for now: goodnight...sw-sweetheart.”

His heart leaps when he calls him his sweetheart, looking at him with love-filled eyes. “You’re so sappy... I love it. Goodnight, my beloved Shumai~! And thanks again....” And with one last kiss they give each other, the two get comfier in each other’s arms before eventually drifting off to sleep. Never before has Kokichi been happier to send Shuichi a text for an impromptu hangout: because of it, he was going to start the day later as Shuichi’s boyfriend.... and Shuichi being Kokichi’s. This birthday was going to be one Kokichi remembers forever and ever...

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Hotspot Pt.1

Genre: Smut 

Word Count: 1331

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Public humiliation, Edging, Orgasm denial, Spanking, Yangyang's lame Earth sandwich joke

A/N: 

1. Yangyang’s name (揚) has the same pronunciation as “lamb/sheep” (羊) in Mandarin, so y’all would see the word-fuck (X) word-play (O) on this often throughout the fic

2. Been planning to re-upload this fic from my old deleted acc but wanted to extend it and make some changes, yet was clueless before, but then I eventually got inspired, so I decided to release it as part one of something bigger, thanks to this anon for providing me with ideas for part two, and thanks to @wildernessuntothemselves​ for forcing (X) suggesting (O) me to collect the XiaoHenYang aka her TMTM trio

3. It’s almost Xiaojun’s birthday yet I posted Yangyang content, I’m sorry my lovely prince. Anyone who’s thirsty for him can read my month-old upload here

   “Goddamn-f-fuck, please!” Yangyang swears in utter desperation as you suddenly withdraw your hand from his cock, denying his first orgasm. He shifts in the chair in an attempt to grab you, but futile since his hands are tied behind it, as he’s kneeling on the seat facing backward with his ass pushed out, while his legs are forced open wide since both his thighs are secured to the armrests of the chair as well, rendering him into a compromising position.

  “Brats like you don’t deserve to cum.” You state icily before thrashing his sensitive rear with the paddle. "You never want to miss a chance to annoy me with all that endless fussing, don't you?"

  "I don't deserve this punishment with just that Earth sandwich joke...ahh stopppp…" 

  "That lame joke is not the point, you brat." You hiss, tugging his hair, as Yangyang's hard-on jolts at the sudden sensation of pain. "Remember how awfully much you snickered about making a sandwich with my pussy around your dick hmm? Giving me that stupid devilish grin whenever you have one for meals? Even shamelessly bragging about it in front of other members to embarrass the hell out of me? You are just a pathetic horny little lamb…"

  "C-c'mon, it's not that b-bad when you actually like my teasing..." Yangyang gasps in between your relentless spanks in arousal, as you can tell that his second orgasm is nearing.

  "Oh? How you like this sandwich with my hand then?" You smirk as you wrap your hand around his cock again, fingers irregular dancing on the tip yet not pumping him.

  "Ahh-L-like it! Just let me cum goddamn it!" Yangyang's whole body tenses up and curls up as he can't handle the teasing anymore.

  "That's not how you ask for things, bad little lamb." You chastise while giving a slap on his angry red cock, earning a yelp from him.

  “...P-please Mistress let me cum…” Yangyang begs, his proud form finally breaking down.

  “Good try, but not quite.” You smirk, before resuming his spanking again.

  “Ahhh Mistress I’ll be a good little lamb for you...now p-please let me cum…” Yangyang’s voice falters at the denial of his second orgasm.

  “That’s my cute little lamb…” You praise as you peck his now teary cheek, before finally granting him release with your hand, as he lets out a loud moan upon climaxing. 

  “Now you know you shouldn’t be bragging about sandwiches too often.” You embrace Yangyang in your arm while soothing his red flesh with the other, calming the sobbing boy down.

  “You should be more kind to me since you already sin too much torturing me…” Yangyang gazes into you as he forms a cheeky pout, the way how he quickly returns to his usual mischievous self surprising you a little.

  "I am already showing you enough kindness by letting you cum without much teasing." You sneer as you wipe the white tendrils off Yangyang’s gradually limping cock and your hand.

  "Without much teasing? Says someone who literally edged me twice, so fucking bossy." Yangyang retorts while letting out a sigh of relief as you untied his hands behind the chair.

  "I am sure you can take much more than that, usually I would edge you for hours until your bratty mouth can't talk back to me anymore." You imply your annoyance for his endless ripostes, since it's always difficult for your boyfriend to just be grateful for his orgasms instead of being cheeky.

  "Nah you are just sadistic as hell. You are just one cruel cougar who loves my suffering too much." Oblivious of your hint for him to behave, your boyfriend still continues his complaints, redressing himself while smirking at you.

  "Cheeky boys deserve to be disciplined with cruelty, and somehow you like it too much, and love to ask for more by being a nuisance, don't you, my little painslut?" You reply slyly, another punishment for this ungrateful boy beginning to form. 

  "Now that your butt cheeks are rosy hot spots…” You say thoughtfully as you rub his ass teasingly. “...I am gonna give you the taste of real embarrassing punishment. Now give me your phone."

  Yangyang reluctantly hands you his phone. "What for?"

  "Unlock it."

  "No!"

  "Just obey me you brat." You hiss while tugging his hair, forcing him to comply with a wince.

  "Don't worry, I am not gonna post something weird on social media." You reassure him while opening up settings on his phone. "But, everyone will know someone has been a slutty hotspot in heat while connecting to wifi…" You triumphantly smirk as you click "Save" after changing his SSID.

  "'Mistress’ Slutty Lil 🐑🐑'? Hell no that's embarrassing!!" He snatches back his phone in an attempt to undo your act of mischief.

  "Do not ever try to change it." You demand sternly, covering his screen with your palm. "If I catch you disobey me, you will get punished even harder. Understand, Mistress’ slutty little lamb?"

  "Alright…" Yangyang sighs and facepalms, already internally freaking out about how his members will react upon seeing this.

  You smirk in delight as you both leave your makeshift playroom, which is a storage room, to catch up on your normal lives. Yangyang returns to his members as you meet up with other staff to participate in a meeting discussing details of upcoming shootings for the next project.

  Yangyang slouches back to his room but gets caught up with Lucas before he can retreat behind the door.

  "Yo bro, care to explain this?" Lucas holds his screen in front of the younger's face, grinning so knowingly that Yangyang has to fight back every urge to punch him in the face.

  "See no evil." He weakly protests, hoping not to embarrass himself even further, and shuts the door in Lucas' face.

  Thinking he has escaped the ordeal, he doesn't realize how bad things can get until he opens up the WayV group chat. Hendery has posted a screenshot of all the WiFi SSIDs his phone detected and circled the obvious questionable one, and all the other members reacted with either stickers with laughing expressions or words like "Our naughty 🐑  has finally got the taste of his medicine!" or "Y/N'S REALLY MAD LMAO", all of their mockings make Yangyang wants to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

  Red with both embarrassment and resentment, he decides to defy you as his devilish side begins to awake. Since he's never the type to listen well to anyone, then why should he this time? Besides, he feels his body begins to heat up with a familiar tingle again as he thinks about all the pain and degrading words that will be inflicted on him after you find out about his rebel, as he brazenly invites more with more provocative and insolent remarks, then eventually feeling himself dissolving into ascending sting and humiliation that turn into euphoric pleasure soon afterwards…

  Licking his lips at the indecent thoughts, he alters the SSID and waits impatiently for your discovery.

  Ten minutes later, he receives a screenshot from you as well as an angered message from you. "'Mistress’ bossy af 👿'? You fucking brat."

  "Just telling the truth 🤷"

  "You are originally getting 20 paddles on your bare ass, now it's 40."

  "Shouldn't you focus on your meeting first?"

  "IDGAF now. Change it to 'Fuck Lil Slutty🐑  Pls😩' in under a minute or you're getting 80."

  80 spanks? Yangyang ponders. Tho being a painslut he is, he still needs to make sure that he can function normally tomorrow to avoid more unwanted attention. Sighing, he decides to give in to you and finally obeys.

  Sliding off nearly every notification from the uproar in his group chat for this even more humiliating SSID, he feels unexpectedly even more exhilarated at your praising messages that concludes with a specific time and place to meet up for the main course of punishment that he both somewhat fears but also craves.

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (2/5)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don’t fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~16.5k. Also on Ao3. On Tumblr: Chapter One

A/N: I’m back! Thanks for your patience in waiting for the latest chapter of my @cssns​ piece. My apologies for the wait; these chapters are slow in coming due to my own overthinking and perfectionism, what I know where everything is going and this Will Be Finished. 

Special thanks to my betas, @snidgetsafan​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​, and to @eirabach for the absolutely gorgeous art she created for this chapter. Seriously, it’s like she climbs right inside my head to see what I’m picturing. Give her a BUNCH of love for all this. 

Tagging the interested parties (and let me know if you’re one of those!): @welllpthisishappening​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​, @spartanguard​, @phiralovesloki​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @winterbythesea​​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Henry is six the first time he visits the Circus. 

It’s a special treat for an orphaned boy like him; the nuns who run the Storybrooke Children’s Home, just outside of Portland, Maine, aren’t much given to frivolous entertainments like this. But a generous monetary donation had been made to the home when the Circus had set up just over the next hill, and tickets for all the children along with it. The nuns may not be much for frivolity, but they’re not ones for waste, either, especially where gifts are concerned. The next night, Sister Astrid and Sister Theodora collect all the children who want to go, and bring them to what, to Henry, feels like a whole other world. 

Henry is a boy the adults already say lives in his imagination too much, and the magic of the Circus only enchants him further, calling to him in a way he doesn’t yet have the words to understand, let alone describe. There are trapeze artists who soar through the air, and jugglers, and lions and tigers and wolves so tame that they’ll take treats from his hands. Kindly confectioners slip him pieces of praline and boxes of popcorn to snack on through the night with a wink and a smile. It’s treatment such as he’s never experienced before, and it’s easy to wonder if he’s just wandered into some kind of dream.

(Even at six, Henry knows better than to disrupt such a lovely dream.)

It’s easy to get separated from the rest of the children in the dazzle of it all, and Henry finds himself wandering the curved paths alone as the clock strikes one, when the others in his group are preparing to return to the Home. Not that he knows it; he’s far too occupied by staring wide-eyed at the black and white tents where they soar to meet the stars and peeking beyond their entrance flaps.

That’s how the lady finds him - gawking with a craned neck at everything around him. 

“Have you lost your group, young man?” she asks with a gentle voice. Henry likes being called young man; it makes him feel important. 

“It’s okay,” he tells her earnestly. “They like to go faster than me. I can do it by myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” the lady laughs. She looks really pretty; her hair is yellow and curly and she wears a poofy white dress with black swirly bits and a black, long-sleeved jacket, the lack of color making it obvious she’s part of the Circus somehow. If this was one of the fairy tales Henry likes so much, she’d be the princess in hiding; here, at the Circus, that just might be true. “I was just planning to walk to the front gates. Would you care to escort me, young sir?”

Henry eagerly takes the hand the lady offers. “I’m Henry,” he tells her as they walk. “What’s your name?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Emma.”

“That’s a princess name. Are you a princess?”

“No,” she laughs, “but thank you very much, Henry. I appreciate the compliment. Are you enjoying the circus?”

“Yeah!” As they walk, Henry eagerly tells the lady - Emma, his new friend - about all his favorite bits - the animals and the dancers and especially the magician. Emma has a funny little smile when he talks about that, but Henry doesn’t think to ask about it.

When the front gates are finally in sight, Henry tugs on Emma’s hand. “I like it here,” he whispers. “Do I have to go?”

Emma crouches down, her skirts pooling around her and threatening to envelop him too. “Yes, Henry, you have to leave for now.”

“But why? I want to stay here. I could stay with you!”

“Oh, Henry, I’d like that so much,” she tells him, pulling him into a hug. “You need to go for now, until you’re older, but the Circus will always be here for you, okay? You’ll come back.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Henry dreams of the circus that night, and for many nights after, though the visions his mind conjures up never quite match the mysticism of the real thing.

A week later, the Circus is gone.

(But here, in a small room in a cold, gloomy children’s home - a young boy remembers.)

———

Belle, unsurprisingly, proves to be a determined and reliable correspondent. She’s like his little window into the Circus, even when he can’t be there himself, as is so often the case - especially in those first few years. Five years pass of letters and far-too-rare visits, and yet Killian never feels left in the dark. That’s the magic of what Belle can accomplish with her words - let him feel as if he is present even when he can’t be. 

Her missives contain the important things he asked for, of course - reports of new tents and changes in operations and unusual things his opponent, Miss Swan, is doing. They’re useful words, words that help him plan his own next moves. More than that, though, her letters are filled with wonderful little mundane details that make him smile. Belle tells him about the latest book she’s read and how fast the Zimmer twins are growing up and particularly funny anecdotes she’s heard. There are complaints about the weather, and discussions of the interesting or ominous things she reads in the cards. Always, always, there are chronicles of all the many places she has seen as the Circus crisscrosses the world, recountings of wondrous sights and marvelous people. Belle had wanted to see the world, and she’s getting to, five times over. It’s everything she deserves, only wrapped in an unusual and often demanding package. 

“It’s not too much, is it?” Killian asks on one of the rare instances their paths cross - in Paris, this time, where Killian has come on an errand for Jefferson, sitting in a little cafe in the shadow of Notre Dame. “I never want to ask more of you than you can manage.”

“Don’t be silly,” Belle says, waving off his concerns like the steam from their coffee. “They’re merely letters, Killian. It’s no great bother - especially for something I’d be doing anyways. I’d be writing to you regardless, Killian - you’re my best friend in the world, and I’ll be terribly put out if you ever stop writing me back.”

And that’s that.

(Most days, Killian believes that Belle is a much better friend than he could ever possibly deserve. He makes a mental note to say something of the sort in his next letter back to her.)

(Of course, he forgets - but then again, he can’t imagine she doesn’t already know.)

———

As a child, growing up knowing she was destined for some magical contest, Emma had always been told that she’d understand what she needed to do once her competition actually started. As an adult, now smack in the middle of it all, she finds that is decidedly not the case. Emma does her best, but it still feels like she has no idea what in the world she’s supposed to be doing.

The Circus is meant to be a canvas for her abilities, hers and her opponent’s; that much is obvious. What exactly that means is… more up for debate. Emma tries to take on more of the Circus in little pieces, bit by bit, so that more of its operations run on magic than on man power. It’s more enjoyable to try and come up with new attractions, drawing upon her imagination to come up with something new. It’s not a particularly quick process - Emma spends a lot of time planning each idea, to make sure she doesn’t miss anything, and it means that she can only create maybe two new tents each year. It’s worth it, though, to wander through the finished product, and see the way her most fanciful ideas have come to life. 

(“You need to be doing more,” Regina always scolds her on those rare occasions she makes the effort to visit her student. “This isn’t playtime. You can’t just make the effort when you feel like it, silly girl. Don’t you want to win this?”

“Of course, Regina,” Emma always says, making whatever promises she needs to in order to appease the other woman - all the while knowing that she will continue to act in her own way.)

(For Emma, the best thing about the Circus may be the separation from the woman who took her in. Regina does not often make the effort to check in on how her student is doing - and Emma more than likes it that way.)

There are traces of her mysterious opponent’s work, too. Sometimes it’s in the form of dramatic new attractions, things that push the bounds of possibility and perception; sometimes, it’s with more mundane things, like a wine-sampling tent tucked along a path that Emma is certain never existed before. 

His or her greatest feat, however, is on the members of the Circus themselves. As the years pass by, Emma can’t help but notice that time doesn’t affect everyone who brings the Circus to life, with the exception of the Zimmer twins. It’s been more than half a decade, but Granny Lucas is still as hale and hearty as ever. Not a single face has gained extra creases, or a single head extra grey hairs. Something this unknown competitor did has stopped the clock for all of them within the iron fence, even as the grand timepiece above the front gates ticks on.

It’s an impressive piece of magic - one that must take a considerable amount of skill and effort. It’s the first time Emma wonders if maybe this is a contest of endurance, rather than skill.

Regina won’t tell her, however, and Emma puts the matter out of her mind while she turns her attention towards the night’s performances and the germ of an idea blooming in her head. Something fantastical. Something striking - and icy. 

There’s always room for imagination and for creation at the Circus, after all - and despite her opponent’s impressive efforts, that’s exactly what Emma is counting on to one day prevail in this competition. 

——— 

The Zimmer twins are special, Emma discovers, and not just in the way anyone who has loved a child claims them to be exceptional. In Ava and Nicholas’ case, it’s true. 

There had been something in the air the night the circus opened, the night after the twins were born - something crackling and pervasive and magical. Emma has suspected for years - since that very moment - that the energy was something created by her still-unknown opponent. It’d been like a wave, rippling through them all at once and creating unknown effects. She thinks this might be one of those - powers growing in two children who, by all indication, shouldn’t have received them.

It’s especially noticeable to Emma, who not only has the ability to sense the powers running through their veins, but spends a considerable amount of time with the six-year-old twins. Ava and Nicholas grow up like the beloved niece and nephew of everyone involved with the circus, as though everyone communally agreed to test the proverb it takes a village. While the circus is open to visitors, and the children’s parents responsible for their little cart of carved treasures, everyone else watches the little boy and girl in shifts when they’re not performing - and Emma quickly becomes a particular favorite. She’s never been sure why; maybe they sensed the magic in her own veins, even as babies, and latched onto it. Maybe they simply like the way she thoughtfully humors every flight of fancy. Whatever the case - Emma knows her life would be far less interesting without the two in it. 

Ava has magic that likes to shake out and twinkle at the edges of her soft hair, similar in a way to Emma’s own powers. Unusual things happen around her, if you’re paying attention; lost things are more easily found, snacks and sweets turn up in unlikely places, and on one impressive occasion, a pair of fluffy orange and white kittens crawled out from beneath her bunk. 

“I can fix that,” she tells Emma innocently one day as Emma moves to throw a vase of wilted flowers out. She hasn’t prodded Ava about her powers before - it doesn’t seem the time to bring to the forefront all the things she can likely do, not when she’s still a little girl, not when Emma’s own childhood was largely sacrificed because of her own powers - but it’s a hard opportunity to pass up. It’s worth demonstrating to Ava, anyways, that her powers are simply a part of her, and nothing to make a fuss about.

“Can you show me?” Emma asks. It’s impossible not to smile when the little girl nods eagerly and furrows her brow in concentration, staring fixedly at the wilted daisies. Slowly but surely, the browned tips disappear, the petals straightening from their shrivelled state and the flowers once again lifting upright to seek the sun.

“That’s very well done, Ava,” Emma makes sure to tell her. 

“I know,” Ava replies seriously with all the intensity of a child her age. “Can you do that too?”

“I can.” Emma doesn’t tell people about her magic, usually, but Ava seems like a necessary exception - to let the little girl know she’s not entirely alone in her special, unusual skills.

“I thought so,” the little girl nods sagely. “I could feel it.”

It doesn’t surprise Emma in the least. 

Nicholas knows things that he shouldn’t - knows things that no one should know. Somehow, the stars speak to him in a language only he can understand. Nick sees things to come and things that have already happened, and sometimes divulges them readily and at the most unlikely times. 

“Is the scary lady with the dark hair your mama?” he asks one day out of the blue, startling Emma before she collects herself.

“No. She was my teacher,” Emma explains. 

“Oh.” His question asked, Nick happily goes back to playing quietly with his wooden lion. He’s less prone to chatter than his sister, happy to keep to his own thoughts when Ava isn’t pulling him into some other adventure. Emma rather wonders if it’s not because he has all the things he sees in the stars to keep him company. 

“Is there a reason you asked?” she inquires as casually as she can. “Did you… was there something you saw?”

“She hurt you,” is all he’ll say. “Before you were here.”

Something from the past, then - not so immediately alarming, though a sign she’ll need to be vigilant about hiding certain portions of her memories that young, impressionable and trusting minds shouldn’t be seeing.

“It’s alright, Nickie,” she tells him. “She isn’t around to bother me very often.”

He nods decisively. “Good.”

As he turns his attention back to his wooden lion, bringing a tiger in as well, Emma reaches out for the magic constantly humming about her and draws it into herself, directing to play through her mind and cast something almost like her invisibility cloak around her more traumatic memories to keep Nicholas from seeing. 

“Is there anything else?” she prods, mostly to test and see if the charm is effective.

Sure enough, the little boy’s face twists into a frown. “I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I can’t see.”

“Ah, well,” Emma replies in a purposefully light tone. “Maybe some other time.”

(She is not entirely sure she means it.)

Truth be told, Ava and Nicholas and their wondrous gifts are a beautiful mystery. All Emma knows is that it’s her responsibility to protect them from more sinister influences, the way she wishes someone had done for her. They deserve that. She deserved that. And she’ll be damned if they’re turned into pawns the way she was. 

There are many good things to come out of the Circus - friendship and wonder and home - but Emma thinks the Zimmer twins, and the powers they should be able to wield for good without the interference of people like Regina - are one of the best. 

——— 

There are attractions at the Circus unlike anything you’ve seen before, that you think may only exist within these iron gates. The Circus is a place where the otherworldly and impossible come to life.

This tent contains one such wonder, advertised with simple but mysterious words. This marker swirls and glistens in the moonlight, coaxing you inside to discover its secrets.

Stepping through the tent flap, brisk air tickles at your face - the first sign of what’s to come. Twisting through the interior are all manner of transparent structures, arranged in neat beds. The Ice Garden - just as promised. Each creation appears impossibly delicate and fragile, and by all logic, should be impossible on a warm summer’s night. There are lilies and roses and daisies, sculpted topiaries, winding vines, flowers that remind you of an illustration you once saw of tropical flora. A raised bed of cacti and succulents sprawls along one wall. Opposite, an apple tree, laden with fruit, arches gracefully at the edge of a silver-stoned path. There are little crystalline plaques, too, for all the plants whose names you’d never begin to guess: Shooting Star. Gayfeather. Anemones. Candelabra Primrose.

Every inch, every label, every petal, is made of ice.

Even at the Circus, such a thing should be impossible, This tent may be slightly, inexplicably cooler, but it’s by no means chilled enough to maintain this icy wonder. Though you know you shouldn’t touch, you can’t help but graze your fingers along an icy petal, just to make sure it isn’t cleverly blown glass. It’s a joyous mystery when they come away cold and wet, the sculptures revealed as ice in truth.

There’s no explanation for the Ice Garden - how it can exist at this edge of the Circus, seemingly unburdened by the laws of nature.

The longer you spend in the sparkling, colorless chill, the more you come to realize that beauty doesn’t need an explanation anyways.

———

Killian - 

I know it’s not quite the update you were asking for, but I still feel compelled to share - something wonderful and charming and amusing, and so delightfully human. I couldn’t quite resist writing to tell you. 

I could be wrong - but I believe a little fanclub has sprung up to trail the Circus. You’ll think it silly, Killian, but I am starting to recognize faces here - not of Circus members (I am not nearly so unobservant, or so rude not to recognize them by name after all these years!) but of visitors. There are a handful I could swear are coming over and over again. I’ll have to ask, next time I notice.

(Not that I can begrudge them of such - I certainly would be doing the same, in their shoes! It’s just that the fortunes get rather repetitive. I should probably let them know that the stars of fate do not change nearly as quickly as they seem to believe…)

There’s a certain awe, or maybe more like peace, that they wear on their faces as they move about the grounds that’s unique from all the other looks I see - almost like they’re coming home. I certainly know something about that - I think so many of us do. It’s wonderful, really - the way these visitors love the Circus so much that they feel compelled to return time and time again, joyously retracing the same paths over and over. It’s clear they love this place the way we do. Isn’t that just what we wanted, anyways? To make something for others to love, to play a part in bringing it to life? 

(Yes, I obviously remember that you’re also doing this for your mysterious competition - but I don’t believe someone makes something so beautiful without a generous dose of love as well. Don’t try to deny it, Killian - you know I’m always right.)

I hope you are well; no other news from here. As always, I’ll let you know if anything changes. 

Best wishes,

Belle

——— 

In time, the Circus gains followers.

It was probably inevitable, in a way; as the Circus winds its way across the world, through large cities and small towns, it touches countless lives as it goes, some more impactfully than others. There are those who visit once, and remember it fondly; those who take the opportunity to visit whenever the Circus is in their area, and look forward to it; and those who hold the memories close to one day tell their disbelieving grandchildren.

And then - there are the Rêveurs.

The Rêveurs start almost like a book club - groups of people who meet to reminisce about their favorite attractions, all the sights and smells and tastes that make the whole experience unforgettable. In time, the groups morph; they begin to go to the Circus together, and then travel to visit other Rêveurs when the Circus comes to their area. Particularly eloquent members begin to write into their local newspapers and magazines, beautiful editorials that convey love and wonder and coax thousands of others through the twisted iron gates. It becomes an entire movement, based off of a shared love, of people coming together to experience the Circus over and over again.

It is easy to spot the Rêveurs, if you know what you are looking for. In one of the editorials, an adherent mentions his own preferred way to experience the Circus - to blend in as much as he can, in all black and white, while still setting himself apart from those who bring the experience to life by adding a single touch of red. The trend catches on quickly; wandering the grounds, it is easy to spot splashes of red in the crowd, handkerchiefs peeking from pockets and roses or carnations in lapels and gloves and ribbons in hair. 

Some Rêveurs make sure to visit new attractions each time they visit; some prefer to see the same over and over, lingering in the acrobat tent or on the carousel for hours. In a way, they prove that there is no right or wrong way to experience the Circus - there will always be new things to see, and old favorites to return to. 

The members of the Circus are aware of the Rêveurs, too. Indeed, there are benefits to being in the same audience with that little flash of red, as performers bring out their best, most dazzling tricks and attempt new daring feats. Watching carefully, one might see a vendor slip a cup of cocoa or an extra serving of toasted nuts to a man or woman with that bare hint of color. All visitors to the Circus are valued, but the Rêveurs are treasured, in a different way, that makes every person involved in the endeavor want to do just the slightest bit more to bring the experience to life in a new way. 

The performers and vendors and other members of the Circus are its engine, in many ways - but the Rêveurs just might be its heart. 

———

Killian - 

I just realized that it’s been a while since my last letter - two months, I believe! Everything is perfectly fine here, I assure you. In fact, I haven’t written because there’s been nothing particularly notable to report. I’ve been watching for new additions, just as I always do, but nothing has appeared. Ah, well. We must be in a quiet stretch on that front.

Meanwhile, the Circus trundles onward, as it so often does. This week, we’re in Morocco. I’ve never been - and oh Killian, it is wonderful. The air is hot and dry and tinged with all kinds of spices that I can’t quite identify. And the food! A little group of us went and wandered in one of the markets, trying things from the stands. I’ve never tasted anything like it. What boring lives so many people lead, happy to stay on their own little island and pretend they know everything. This is so much preferable. The weather is a wonderful respite, too, from the cold I know must be sweeping through now that December is well and truly here.

I do not know if we’ll be home for Christmas; I rather doubt it. I’ll miss our usual holiday feast, but I trust that you’ll have a lovely time with your brother instead. My regards to Liam, as always.

Yours &c.,

Belle

———

Killian is lucky, in a way. After all, he has Belle and Liam, who both know about this competition. They’re his support system, the people who keep him grounded to life outside of all this - especially Liam. Lord knows Mr. Gold has never sought to do that. He doubts Miss Swan has that. Maybe he’s wrong; for her sake, he hopes he is. How lonely it must be to keep that secret, otherwise. 

Liam’s apartment is like a sanctuary at the end of a long day, where his brother waits with dark spiced rum and a roaring fire. Sometimes they venture out for dinner; some nights they stay in, and have the landlady send up something to eat. Mostly, Killian enjoys the peace of being in company that never expects more of him than he’s sure he can give. All Liam expects is companionship, and maybe for Killian to come with a nice bottle of spirits every so often. Killian can more than handle that. 

(They do not mention that Liam does not seem to age, the same way all those attached to the Circus do not. If his brother has even noticed, he remains blessedly silent on the subject.)

“Do you wonder sometimes,” Liam asks one night, “what would have happened if you hadn’t been selected by Gold? If you had turned him down?”

Killian shrugs. They’re in the middle of their third drinks - just the time for philosophical questions like these. “Not really,” he admits. “What’s the use? It happened like it happened. You wouldn’t have as nice a place as this, that’s for damn sure.”

Liam snorts, and the atmosphere turns more jovial for a few minutes as both men indulge in a drunken laugh before things turn thoughtful again. “If you had to do it all over again… would you?”

“I would,” Killian agrees. “We were a couple of scrappy orphans, no prospects, nothing. I’ve never been given a reason to truly regret it.”

“Then I’m happy for you, brother.” Liam tops off their glasses and raises his drink in a toast. “To good decisions, then!”

“To good decisions,” Killian echoes. “Or at least ones we haven’t yet regretted.”

———

Some attractions are more conventional in name, their promises familiar and comforting in that way that the expected can be. But this is the Circus, and conventional simply doesn’t exist here in the same way. 

You enter another tent to discover a hall of mirrors. It is a common enough attraction, at its core, one you have seen in other carnivals and street fairs. But true to the promise of the Circus, this version of such a fun house classic is more than you’ve ever seen. There are tall, full length mirrors, as you’ve come to expect, but small mirrors too, clustered on tables in every nook between their larger counterparts to reflect the lantern light in every direction. The mirrors don’t just distort your own reflection either; in addition to mirrors that cause your reflection to look taller or shorter or wider, there are mirrors to make you look older or younger, mirrors which change your hair, mirrors which duplicate your visage over and over again until you appear to be surrounded by a crowd of your own self in the mirror. There are even mirrors which somehow make it appear that you are someplace else entirely - by the seaside, the water slowly soaking your shoes, or in a fragrant flower garden, or wandering amidst ancient ruins. It is a clever trick, and one you won’t pretend to understand. In your heart, you never want to, for fear of ruining the illusion.

The world feels bright and new under the moonlight as you exit back outside the tent, like the hall of mirrors has helped you find a new way of seeing.

(And maybe, you realize, that’s the entire point.)

———

Killian takes small comfort in the fact that Mr. Gold seems pleased with his efforts. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that somehow he’s supposed to demonstrate his abilities and magical knowledge on the canvas that is the Circus, but that only tells him so much. Killian adds attractions when he can, crafting things like the Hall of Mirrors in careful dioramas before sewing the plans into his master book, but it’s so hard to know if he’s on the right track. 

Mr. Gold has never been particularly involved in Killian’s life, and that doesn’t change now that the competition has well and truly begun. As a child, Killian had been largely self-taught, relying on the books that his teacher provided and the man himself only dropping in periodically to test his knowledge and comprehension. This feels like much the same thing; once a year, Mr. Gold will appear in Killian’s office after one of the Circus dinners, or outside his flat door without warning. There may be a polite inquiry about what Killian is currently working on, especially if the visit occurs in his cramped and ruthlessly organized office; more often than not, there isn’t. Killian will make polite inquiries about his mentor’s health and business, all of which are carefully avoided. Mr. Gold will state that he is satisfied with the work of his student - exactly that, and nothing more. 

Killian never expects an expression of pride; after all, he’s never received anything of the sort in all the years he’s been under his teacher’s direction. Theirs has always been a distant relationship, if it can even be called that. 

“How will I know I’ve won?” Killian dares to ask on one of these visits. “What do I have to do?”

“You’ll know, dearie,” is all his teacher will say. “Trust me, it will be very obvious.”

It is not. 

But Killian works onward, carefully building and manipulating things. Who knows? Maybe, one day, he’ll understand. 

———

The relationship between the members of the Circus and the Rêveurs has always been unusual. If it weren’t for the fact that the two groups are inextricably linked, and indeed obviously treasure one another, the interaction almost might be called respectfully distant. There exists an unspoken, but obviously adhered to, separation between the two - that there are Circus folks and there are Rêveurs, and they do not socially interact. Though a vendor or performer might, surreptitiously and casually, mention an anticipated next stop to an awed visitor with that single splash of red, they will not be found together in the light of day, strolling in the public parks or sharing a coffee in one of the cafés. The Rêveurs, largely, prefer it that way; the mystical quality is somehow kept alive when the people of the Circus only seem to dwell within its gates.

Of course, Emma has never been one for formality, or fitting in with the rest of the crowd. 

If pressed, she’ll claim that Marco is an anomaly - a man who fits between both worlds, and therefore special. It’s her own kind of loophole in the intricate rituals of the Circus and the Rêveurs. 

(No one ever presses, though - to do that, they’d need to know that Emma writes to Marco in the first place.)

Marco, in truth, has been involved in the Circus since the very beginning - though he did not always know it. An Italian by birth, living in Germany and creating exquisitely crafted cuckoo clocks, Mr. Marco Gepetto had been the very man contracted by Mr. Booth, the architect, to build the massive timepiece at the front gates, back when this whole endeavor was still coming together. Marco hadn’t been aware of that, at the time; all he’d known was that an Englishman had offered him a frankly absurd amount of money and next to no direction, only to create something unusual and extraordinary for a circus venue he was helping produce. With his rambling imagination and careful craftsman’s hands, Marco had more than delivered, creating the masterpiece Emma has found comfort in watching many times. 

That clock had always haunted him, he’s tried to explain to her many times during their correspondence, his mind running wild wondering exactly where it had been installed. Mr. Booth had sent a note declaring the producers delighted by the result, and Marco had never heard a peep again. Emma cannot blame him for wondering, truly, after all the months he had invested in the clock and all the personal touches he had poured in. The truth, he confides, is that he believed - nay, believes it to be his greatest work, all the while unaware that so many others were similarly touched. It was only years later that Marco had realized the grand project he had unknowingly helped bring to life, when an acquaintance had insisted they visit the traveling circus setting up just outside of Munich. 

“It was wonderful,” he gushes to Emma as they walk down the streets of Naples several years later, the older man happily pointing out the location of all the haunts of his younger days. “It was more than I ever could have imagined - and so well situated! So perfectly blended with the rest of the design! I must tip my cap to Signore Booth for his work, and all his compatriots.”

Marco had fallen in love with the circus on that first night, as a venue for his masterpiece and as a creation all its own. It was impossible not to, he had claimed later in the first of many editorials and subsequent letters - it was like the Circus called to him, begging him to uncover all its secrets. It may be the work of several lifetimes; perhaps, that’s just the appeal. 

He didn’t particularly mean to spearhead the Rêveurs movement, he’d explained to Emma in one letter. It was simply that he’d fallen in love, with a place and an experience, and wanted to share that with everyone else. It was just that he was the first, the first to not just talk about the Circus but publish his thoughts, that had made him the unexpected figurehead of the group. He’d been the one to come up with the idea of that touch of red, too, though he never admits it unless pressed. 

Letters flood in, from across Europe and the globe, wanting to compare experiences and share in the joy of the Circus. Marco gladly responds; many, indeed, become friends. But none is quite like Emma, who he only first knows as a woman with unusual insight into the Circus when she first begins writing, just another person who reaches out after one of his editorials. He assumes she’s just another of his Rêveur correspondents at first, but her thoughts, so carefully measured but fond, strike a chord somewhere in Marco. A friendship blossoms over dozens of letters exchanged, comparing experiences and details noticed and treasured - until, finally, this summit, as Marco had visited an elderly aunt while the Circus docked along the Italian coast. 

He takes the revelation that Emma isn’t merely some visitor, but a core member of the Circus, with an unexpected lack of surprise. “I wondered if you were rather closer to the matter than you let on,” Marco explains, patting her hand before tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “I shall consider myself uniquely lucky to have earned your friendship.”

And he has. Marco possesses a sharp mind and an affection for the little details that Emma loves, and an easy-going manner it proves near-impossible not to be charmed by. He fills something like a fatherly role, for Emma - always encouraging and delighted to hear about the latest improvements to her show. She doesn’t tell him that all the magic she does is real - but somehow feels that he understands, anyways. Marco is special like that, and perceptive. Somehow, Emma doubts that he’d be much surprised if she revealed the whole mess of the competition.

Marco may be physically distant from the ever-changing Circus grounds, and may not fully know what’s going on - but he’s a pillar of support, all the same, like Emma has never known.

(She only hopes he isn’t one more thing that’s just too good to last.)

——— 

Killian - 

At long last - an update! I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve had anything to report to you. Not that I don’t enjoy our correspondence, of course - it’s always so wonderful to share with you a little slice of my life here and hear from you in return. I simply feel so much better when I have something concrete to report to you, as we agreed.

I’m stalling, though. The truth is… I’m not entirely sure how to put into words exactly what this latest tent contains. It defies description, I find. The little sign along the path reads ‘Wishing Tree’, but that doesn’t describe much, does it? That could be anything. The Wishing Tree, in truth, is… oh, where do I start? It is somehow both earthly and otherworldly. It is both wondrously fantastical and firmly rooted in the soil. It exists both on this plane and in the world of dreams and aspirations. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it is a contradiction, in the most spectacular way. Most simply put, if I stop beating around the bush, it is like a living, growing wishing well - but so much better than that, in its symbolism. There are no words to do it justice.

If you couldn’t tell already, Killian, I am insisting that you come and visit the Circus grounds next time it is convenient. There is no other way to fully grasp the delight of this latest addition. If I were not so terribly fond of you, I’d offer a hearty ‘Bravo!’ to your competitor - so count yourself lucky!

Yours,

-Belle

———

The Circus’ tents are filled with wonders - large and small, loud and quiet, and everything in between. What unites all the disparate attractions is a mystical quality - one that’s hard to put into words, but that makes every move and every moment greater and more magical than any similar display you may have seen before.

The particular tent in front of you is tall, but narrow, with a delicate wooden sign carefully placed to the side of the silvery-paved path leading beneath the entrance flap. Wishing Tree, it reads in a painted cursive script. An attraction you’ve never heard of.

Lifting the tent flap reveals just what was promised on the placard - a tall, elegant tree, all in the colors of the circus, with white bark and black leaves. The tree’s branches twist and curve around the tent, creating a structure almost reminiscent of a basket. Where it could be grotesque, the way branches stretch and dip around your body, but the effect is somehow comforting - like the tree protects all that it surrounds. It is otherworldly, in the truest sense of the word, an effect only heightened by the clusters of pearly white candles on each branch. By the entrance sits a small table, with a basket of candles and a crisp white card, embossed with a simple instruction:

Make a wish.

A wish is a sacred thing, and this is a place that respects that. After making your own wish, lighting your candle with one of the many already waiting on the tree’s branches, you place it in the highest nook you can reach where two branches join. There’s a profound symbolism to it all - one wish ignited by another, left to become part of a beautiful mass of light, illuminating this little corner of the world in soft and beautiful light. 

(That light will stay with you long after you slip back through the flap of the tent.)

———

At Belle’s urging, Killian makes the trip to see the Circus, and especially this new attraction, when they pass through Edinburgh. It is not precisely convenient - there are multiple trains involved from London, after all - but there’s no real telling when it will next be in the city, and he trusts Belle’s judgement that he must see this Wishing Tree for himself.

She’s right, of course. The Wishing Tree defies all conventional description. There’s a sense of possibility, and hope that just can’t be captured in a simple letter. Killian is sorely tempted to take a candle and light a wish of his own, but ultimately resists. The Wishing Tree isn’t just for some passing fancy - it is for the deepest dreams of one’s heart. As long as Killian is still unsure as to what his own dearest dream might be, it feels more appropriate to refrain from adding his own candle to the glowing branches. There will be time, later. 

His immediate business for the evening concluded, Killian takes the time just to wander the grounds. It’s something he hasn’t had the opportunity to do in far too long - there’s always been something to worry about, something to take care of when he comes to the Circus. This is a bit of a chance to try and experience things the way all their unknowing visitors do - to see the beauty, and the wonder, without analyzing anything further. Once he clears his mind, it’s easy to see the things the way that normal visitors do, the way something special sparkles in the very air.

There are still stops to make, of course; Belle would never forgive him if he didn’t pop into her tent. The fortune teller’s tent is made up to be an eye-catching oddity, but there’s still something welcoming about it that always soothes Killian - though maybe that’s just the knowledge of his dearest friend waiting just inside. Just inside the tent flap, dark curtains speckled with silver flecks like stars drape, giving way to a beaded fringe that softly clicks when touched. He’s been known to fiddle with those beads as he sits and talks with Belle, like a soothing sort of fidget. Beyond the beaded curtains sit three comfortable armchairs with a draped table at their center; Belle always does like the romance of reading for couples. There are no crystal balls, or posters about lines on palms; just Belle, the table and chairs, and her deck of tarot cards. Killian knows one of the curtains stretched behind her hides the entrance into her private quarters, where she’s been known to duck for a quick cup of tea, but no one else who didn’t know would see that. The whole effect is decidedly unusual, even mystical, but in a way that feels cozy. It’s like sitting in someone’s living room, sharing a bit of conversation - but the conversation concerns all manner of possible futures, and how they’ll come to pass.

Belle looks like herself, mostly, elegant in shades of white and grey and black and silver. She hasn’t leaned into any of the stereotypes or cliches - no scarf around her head or massive gold earrings or patchwork skirts. She looks like she could be any shop girl, or personal secretary, or even a beloved female relation in her neat dresses in playful patterns, accentuated with pretty bits of lace. There are more formal options in her closet too, he knows, provided by the Circus organizers for her use, but she likes this better; it makes her feel more like herself, and not entirely subsumed by the role she plays. 

“You came!” she crows with delight when he ducks his head past the beaded drapery. He hadn’t let her know he was coming, this time, happy to let it remain a pleasant surprise. Not that it matters much - Belle’s face would light up in delight in the same way, even if he had warned her to expect his visit.

“Of course I did, love,” he assures her with a grin. “You insisted, didn’t you? I seem to remember a very commanding letter, telling me I must come see this wishing tree for myself.”

“Yes, but there was always the chance you would get stubborn on me, or get called away on business for Jefferson, and I’d have to send another three to five letters until I finally guilted you here.”

“Alright, I suppose that’s true,” he admits. He does tend to get rather sidetracked much of the time, especially when there is work to be done and new, exciting ideas to explore.

“Instead, here you are! Only weeks after I wrote. A rare instance of agreeability - there’s hope for you yet,” she continues, only to plow forward before he even has a chance to defend himself. “But tell me - have you seen the Wishing Tree yet? Or did you come straight here first? I’m touched, of course, but really, you must —”

“I’m not nearly so foolish as to come here first, knowing you’d demand my own opinions on the tent just as soon as I arrived,” he teases fondly.

“Wise man. Tell me then - what did you think?”

“It’s everything you promised,” he tells her. “Utterly indescribable. I’m glad you insisted I come.”

The beam that graces Belle’s face at that simple agreement is a sight to behold.

“You’ll stay for a few days, won’t you?” she asks - cajoles, really, though Killian won’t take  any convincing. “It’s been so long.”

“Of course. We’ll have dinner tomorrow, and you can tell me everything you’ve seen since I last saw you.” It’s an easy promise to make, and one he’ll be even happier to keep.

Though Belle is an expected friendly face, one Killian had already built into his loose plans for tonight, the person he runs into as he wanders down the path away from her little tent is rather more unexpected.

“Mr. Jones,” Miss Elsa Frost smiles warmly - a member of the creative team of the circus, whose eye for details had been invaluable in creating this world so many have fallen in love with. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Nor did I,” Killian admits, executing a short and polite bow of greeting. “Especially not here, so far from London. May I escort you around the grounds, if I may be so bold?”

“You may,” Miss Frost says, slipping her delicate hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “I was just about to go see the magician - Miss Swan, was it? I’m told she should have a performance starting soon.”

“Then it will be my honor to accompany you.”

Though Killian has visited the Circus on several occasions in the past years, on business and to see Belle and to examine the creations of his competitor, he’s avoided this tent. It somehow feels like cheating, to watch Miss Swan like this with full awareness that she’s his competitor when she hasn’t been privy to the same knowledge. That’s not to say he hasn’t been tempted; across all the spiraling stone paths, her magic calls to his own like a siren’s song, drawing him in. Tonight, with a companion on his arm, he finally has the excuse to cave. As they approach her tent as others trickle in ahead of them, Killian makes sure to draw a spell around him to mask his own magic like a cloak, the same one he’d used that first day he’d seen her. Even if he feels guilt at the advantage, Killian isn’t quite sure he’s willing to tip his hand yet, no matter how often he’s been tempted. It’s not the time for such a revelation. 

(He doesn’t notice, beside him, the way Miss Frost’s forehead briefly creases as the spell settles around his body; it would not matter if he had, anyways, and the lady is more than happy to hold her tongue on the matter.)

The magician’s tent is small, intimate - a small clearing surrounded by a double ring of chairs. It’s a subtly ingenious way of heightening the drama and the enchantment of the performance: there is, quite literally, nowhere to hide, every angle visible to spectators as they space themselves around the center ring. A lesser magician would never be able to pull it off; it’s lucky, then that Miss Swan doesn’t have to rely on tricks.

Killian is the only one that notices that the tent flap has disappeared, two minutes past the hour. Everyone else is too busy whispering to each other, speculating about where the illusionist is and when the show will start. Unlike the rest of them, Killian waits patiently, knowing that the show has already begun.

No one misses the next trick, as a stream of flame chases around the tent above their heads. Gasps echo from the crowd, in excitement and wonder and no small dose of fear. A handful turn towards where the exit once was, only to discover that the way has been sealed and blocked by chairs during their inattention. Gasps turn to screams, panic quickly catching, until - 

A single figure stands from the audience, a woman with dramatic black skirts and what appears to be a men’s top hat. As she moves towards the center of the ring, she casually tosses the hat onto the seat she had occupied - and as if on cue, the streams of fire chase around the tent once more before plunging downwards, downwards into the hat, which somehow serves to contain the flames instead of catching on fire. As the rest of the audience comes back to their senses, turning their attention towards the slight blonde woman now at the center of the tent, she flicks a finger, sending the hat tumbling through the air to land in her hand, where she jauntily tips the black felt back onto her head and takes a dramatic bow.

And like that, the magician begins her show.

The displays that follow exceed Killian’s feeble memory of her audition, those several years ago. There are little miraculous bits she’s still using - the chairs still levitate, and the hat replaces the jacket as it turns into a beautiful black raven to fly about their heads - but there are new bits, too, as items disappear and reappear and visitors discover all manner of unexpected items in purses and pockets. Somehow, it all flows together seamlessly, one display of ability and control into another. At the very end, the fire returns again, chasing around and around and around her body until she can’t be seen anymore —

And when the flames disperse, all on their own, there is no one to be seen at all. The tent flap appears once again, and they all file out, awed in a way they hadn’t expected. 

It’s beautiful, mysterious, magnificent - just like the woman herself. And Killian can’t remember why he ever stayed away. 

———

Wandering the grounds of the Circus, it is impossible not to notice the statues scattered along the path. Some are monochromatic, fully pristine white or glistening black; some are so vividly realistic, in black and white and flesh tones, as to seem almost lifelike. There are single figures and couples, male portrayals and female, all beautifully detailed and caught mid-action. There is something mystical about them, something you can’t quite put your finger on but know separates them from anything else you’ve ever seen - a feeling that saturates the very air within the iron fencing. 

Examining the statues reveals that the life-like state of the statues is no trick, no clever construction of hard stone and a steady chisel - no, these are merely people mimicking statues by standing so still and moving so slowly as to trick the eye. This isn’t some mere street performer, either, like you might see near the buildings tourists frequent en masse. No, this is something more special, more deliberate, more enchanting. It is almost like a dance, performed on a timeframe only the dancer can perceive. Watching closely, it is possible to see the movement - though it will take much patience. It is easier, in some ways, to pay careful attention to the stance of the living statue at the beginning of a set period, and then see how it has changed some minutes later.

It is said that if you wait long enough, the statues will bend enough to pluck an offering from your very hand. However, it takes a certain kind of person, with a certain kind of fascination, to even try. After all, why spend so long examining statues, when there are so many other wonders to see? 

(Just before you walk away, you could swear the living statue of a young man winks an eye, all in impeccable slow motion - just one more memory of the Circus to treasure in your mind for years to come.)

——— 

The Circus returns when Henry is ten.

Ten is a sensitive age; it’s an age where one is still young enough to be excited about simple, playful things, but believe oneself to be too old to show it. Perceived maturity is beginning to be tantamount at this age, as is the idea of being cool.

Henry, for all his efforts (and a good bit of maturity, in truth), is perceived as neither. 

“The circus is for babies,” Jack Hastings declares in the schoolyard when Henry makes the mistake of mentioning that he’d seen the tents. A keen observer might find humor in the fact that Jack’s proclamation was made as he and the boys played with a collection of small wooden soldiers; the boys, however, are not yet adult enough to see the irony. “I’m not going.”

“I don’t know,” Henry ventures cautiously. “I think I might like to go. It isn’t very often something like the circus comes to town.”

“That’s because you’re a baby,” Jack taunts. “Henry’s a baby! Henry’s a baby!”

“Am not!” Henry bites back hotly before anyone else takes up the chant. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then prove it.”

That’s how Henry finds himself examining the black iron bars that encircle the circus tents, searching for a way to slip in. It’s a dare - to sneak in, in daylight hours, and come back with something to prove it. Henry had agreed in the heat of the moment. Now, with school over, Henry’s got to do the deed, while all the other boys wait back in the schoolyard.

While Henry remembers the Circus practically crackling with its own special energy, things are quiet in the light of day. He supposes that makes sense; the Circus operates from sunset to sunrise, and it’s still an hour until dusk. Its performers need to rest and prepare and the like, like anyone else, and this is the time they get to do that.

After spending far more time than necessary carefully examining the outer fence, Henry finally finds a little out of the way stretch, framed by the back of two tents with no one in sight. The bars will be a tight squeeze, but he sucks in his stomach and holds his breath, and after a little bit of wiggling, manages to twist his way through. Quickly brushing himself off, Henry searches around for something he can bring back as proof for the other boys. The easiest thing to do would be to tear off a bit of fabric from one of the tents, but he struggles to bring himself to do it. The tents feel special, nearly sacred, somehow; it would be the worst kind of crime to ruin them in any way. Maybe, if he ventures a little further in, he can find something else —

“What are you doing?” a girl’s voice sounds, interrupting Henry’s thoughts. 

Whirling around, Henry is met by a blonde girl he could have sworn wasn’t there before, about his age, dressed in a black and silver striped dress. He didn’t know people his age were allowed to join the circus; it catches his attention nearly as much as the look on her face. Though her words are accusing, her face only shows curiosity. 

That does nothing to temper Henry’s shame, for better or worse. He didn’t exactly count on getting caught, after all. “There was a dare,” he blurts out. “To sneak into the circus.”

“Well, you managed that,” she observes. 

“Yes.” The silence sits heavy between them. Henry knows he ought to leave, but also feels like he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he finally cuts in - practically begs - once the quiet gets too much and he can’t take that curious stare anymore. “I can slip back out again, or pay the admission, or —”

That finally makes her smile - a bright, lovely thing that makes something stir within Henry that he’s never felt before. “It’s quite alright, Henry. You don’t need to leave. Nick saw you coming.”

He has many questions about that - how she knew his name, what in the world saw you coming means - but he reaches for the easiest first. “Who’s Nick?”

“My brother,” the girl beams. “Twin brother, really. I’m Ava.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” It’s obvious that there’s no real point in offering his name; Henry is curiously less concerned about her unnatural knowledge than he figures he really ought to be. 

“Likewise,” Ava replies with that same smile, offering her hand for Henry to awkwardly shake. 

(For the first time in his life, he’s left wondering if he should have kissed the back of her offered hand instead. Then again - that sounds gross.)

“Come with me,” she commands with a little nod of her head. Even knowing he ought to slip back through the fence, Henry can’t help but follow, pulled along in a way that he doesn’t quite understand. “You picked a good day to come - Nick says the Circus will be closed tonight for inclement weather,” she adds with a hand waved towards the quickly gathering clouds.

“Yes, they just called it,” adds a different voice - another boy, this one also their age and with a remarkable resemblance to Ava. The biggest difference, really, is the boy’s light brown hair, a contrast to her cheery blonde. It’s obvious this is the twin brother she mentioned - Nick, who somehow knows things.

“He was there, just like you said, Nickie,” she laughs. “I don’t know why anyone bothers to doubt you.”

“They don’t know better,” Nick shrugs.

“Nick has a gift,” Ava explains. “He sees things that others don’t - and they always come true.”

“Oh.” Henry isn’t really sure what to say to that, honestly. He doesn’t disbelieve it, really - Ava did know things she shouldn’t have, without what they claim being true - but he’s a little too flabbergasted at it all to say anything more comprehensible. Besides, if such a thing were to be true - well, it makes sense that it’d happen at the Circus. Where else is magical enough to shelter people with such talents?

Ava breezes right past it though. That must be characteristic of her, if the way her brother stifles a smile is any indication. “There’s always a party in the acrobats’ tent whenever the weather is too bad to open. It’s the biggest, you know.”

“You can come too, if you want,” Nick adds.

Despite the tempting offer, Henry frowns. “I’m not part of the Circus, though. Won’t anyone mind?”

“Circus people are welcoming,” Nick shrugs. “They won’t mind.”

“Besides, everyone thinks we need friends our own age,” Ava chimes in. 

As the sun starts to creep below the horizon, Henry lets the twins lead him across the circus grounds. He wants to go, really - besides, there’s no reason not to. There’s no one waiting who will care if he doesn’t show up for dinner, or even for bedtime. 

(Nick probably already knows that as well; perhaps that’s why neither of them ask whether he needs to be home.)

The inclement weather party is a different kind of marvel than the otherworldly splendor of the open circus that Henry remembers. It seems like everyone is crowded into the tent as raindrops start to patter down upon the canvas, yet somehow the space never seems claustrophobic. Half the collected mass is in their black and white and silver circus clothes, while the other half wears street clothes in all manner of colors and styles. Laughter colors the air, as small groups congregate only to disperse and remingle again. It feels like a family, like a great big reunion, even though Henry is sure they’re not all related. 

(Then again, maybe family doesn’t have to be linked by blood and genealogical trees; maybe family is something that can be crafted with those you choose and care for.)

Ava tugs on his arm before he can get too lost in his thoughts and marvelling at the spectacle of the tent. “You should meet Emma,” she says. At her side, Nick nods in genial agreement. “You’ll like her. She’s the magician.”

She doesn’t quite bodily haul him across the tent space, but it’s close. Henry would complain, but it isn’t hurting; he can tell she’s just eager to share her and Nick’s world in a way she hasn’t with outsiders before. At least, Henry hopes she hasn’t shared all this with outsiders before; Henry’s never really had the chance to be special. It’d be a nice change. 

Eventually, she halts in front of a cluster of women - three brunettes and a blonde. All smile fondly as Ava approaches with Henry in tow. “Emma, I want you to meet someone!” Ava bursts out as they pull to a stop.

“I can see that,” the blonde chuckles as her companions move away. Henry’s distracted for a moment by the movement of the other three ladies, but forces his attention back to meet the magician’s eyes.

And it’s her - the nice lady from the last time he was here. Henry’s face flushes red as he remembers his youthful question - Are you a princess?. She still looks like a princess, four years later, only in a burgundy dress with her hair in a simple bun instead of her sumptuous black and white dress from the last time they met. He can see the moment recognition sweeps across Emma’s face, and knows she remembers too. 

“Henry, was it?” Emma smiles down at him. Somehow, he manages a nod of confirmation. “It’s lovely to see you again, Henry.”

Ava’s face drops a little in disappointment, and a hint of confusion. Seems this is one thing her brother’s visions didn’t reveal - or at least one thing he didn’t share with her. “You know each other already?”

“Only a little,” Henry hastens to explain. It somehow feels very important that Ava know he didn’t deceive her in this way. 

“Henry and I briefly crossed paths the last time the Circus was here - what, four years ago?” Henry nods again. Emma and Ava and Nick and the rest of the Circus may have been to so many places since them that they don’t remember exactly how long it’s been, but Henry could probably tell them down to the day if he just had a couple of minutes to think. “He was kind enough to let me escort him back to the front gates. I must say, I didn’t expect to see him here tonight, though… is there anything I ought to know?”

“No!” Ava assures quickly. It’s not remotely convincing; Henry barely manages to smother a smile as she continues her blatant evasion. “We should go get a little something to eat. Come on, Henry, let’s go!”

To be fair, the spread that Ava leads him to - Nick pulling up the rear, laughing - is very impressive. There are all manner of little finger foods to carry with him, savory and sweet, and an older lady the twins call Granny who presides over the whole thing and makes Henry take another sandwich. All of the circus members - and it feels like Henry’s introduced to every single one - seem to treat the twins like a niece and nephew, or maybe even children. There’s an affection in the air amongst everyone that’s almost palpable, and like nothing he’s ever encountered before. It’s hard not to feel a little jealous of his new friends; it’s everything he’s ever wished for himself. 

Eventually, he’s dragged across the grounds to what they’ll only call the cloud room after a stop by Emma again for a set of umbrellas that seem to actively repel water. 

“It’s my favorite spot,” Nick explains as they shake off their umbrellas just inside the tent flap in a dim antechamber. Henry had barely caught a glimpse of the signage before he’d been bustled inside; Atmospheric Wonders had been less than illuminating a descriptor. “Ava’s is the carousel.”

“I like the animals,” she shrugs. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah, well, so is this,” her brother quips back. “Henry, look.”

And when Henry does - it’s more than his imagination ever expected.

Somehow, there are dozens of fluffy clouds floating within the confines of the tent, the top of the peaked canvas not even visible for all the clouds in the way. They come in all sizes, all winding around a central, silvery structure with a platform at the top and a slide spiraling back down to the ground. Somehow along the stretch from the ground to the indiscernible peak, the stripes shift into a night sky gently dappled with stars. It’s mystical, and marvelous, and unlike anything he’s ever imagined. 

Henry has barely processed what he’s seeing before Nick takes a flying leap onto a cloud hovering at chest height. Miraculously, it somehow holds his weight, bobbing gently in the air under the change of balance but showing no signs of capsizing.

“It’s really very sturdy,” he calls from his perch, grinning with glee. “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Carefully, Henry steps onto a different cloud hovering about his knees; that’s less distance to fall if there’s any problem. Under his feet, the cloud isn’t exactly firm, or stable - it’s more like if you try to step onto a mattress - but he can also feel that he’s not at risk of crashing down. Somehow, it’s just as safe as Nick promised. 

(How did he miss this before? Now that Henry’s here, he’s not sure he ever wants to leave.)

Ava clambers up onto a cloud somewhere between him and Nick, abandoning grace to pull herself to standing. “It’s a newer tent,” she explains, brushing her skirt free of imaginary cloud dust and casually reading Henry’s mind. Maybe her brother isn’t the only one with special powers of sight. “It only went up a couple months ago, right, Nick?”

“January,” he confirms. “Just after the new year’s party.”

“Not a lot of people know about it yet - but it’s one of our favorites now. Nick and I like to come on the nights we’re not busy with other things.”

Across from them both, Nick obviously grows impatient with all the chatter, leaping to another, higher cloud. “Race you to the top!” he yells back, quickly becoming obscured from sight as he scrambles higher and higher.

Ava stretches her hand across the divide to help him forward. “You’re going to love it,” she beams.

Henry takes her hand, gladly, and lets a smile crease his face even as hers stretches impossibly wider. 

He does love it, just as she promised. The view from the top is spectacular, like something out of a fairy tale, an impression only magnified by small tufts of cloud still hovering around, inviting them to lounge. It would be a good place just to sit and think, Henry thinks, if you lived with the Circus and had that chance. 

Time passes both quickly and slowly at the top of the tower as the three of them sit and talk for what must be hours. Henry feels as if he’s known the twins forever, not just a night - like he fits with them, somehow, in a way he never has with his schoolmates or the other children at the Home, and can’t explain.

(It’s the same feeling he remembers from the first time he visited the Circus, four years before. Of belonging. Of home.)

All too soon, things much end, however. As the conversation encounters a rare lull, Henry sighs heavily, knowing he must draw this to a close. 

“I have to go,” he tells his companions - now friends, he thinks - with the kind of regret that’s practically palpable. 

Ava nods sadly; Henry scrambles to his feet to help her do the same. It’s what a gentleman would do. “We know. But this was lovely.”

“And you’ll be back,” Nick says decisively. “I know it.”

It’s not worth arguing with the boy with a gift. 

Getting down from their perch takes a little more boldness. Technically, there is a slide they could all take advantage of, but Nick won’t let that stand. 

“You’ve got to jump, Henry,” he cajoles. “It’s so much more fun. You feel like you’re flying!”

“More like falling,” Henry mutters. Even if he knows that Nick wouldn’t try to hurt him, like some of the boys at school might, looking down from this height makes his stomach turn. 

Suddenly, a soft hand slips into his own. Ava, who slipped up beside him while he was distracted by the height. “We’ll do it together,” she promises, and somehow - Henry finds himself nodding.

Nick lets out a wild whoop and throws himself off the platform, gleefully tumbling down and down. Ava squeezes his hand tight, just the once, and then she’s running too, bringing Henry with her as they leap. It feels like he’s left his stomach up at the top, but it’s a little freeing too. At the bottom, a particularly soft cloud cushions their fall, surrounding them like a hug. Henry even finds himself laughing along with Ava and Nick as they pick themselves back up. 

Ava walks him back to the main gates under the marvelous umbrella, Nick letting them go on their own after offering Henry a jolly wave goodbye. The door in the iron bars opens without even a squeak, letting the both of them slip through. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Henry confides, the words spilling out of him almost without permission. “I don’t want to go back to the real world out there.”

“You’ll be back,” Ava promises. “We’ll see each other again - I promise.”

He wants to believe her - he does. But it’s a mean world out there, and he’s long since learned that nothing is guaranteed, and —

Ava presses up on her toes to drop a quick kiss on Henry’s lips - his first. It’s just a little peck, really, but it makes them both blush and sends something hopeful in his soul soaring above all the other negativity. 

“To seal it. The promise,” she explains.

No explanation was needed, really - not to the perfect ending to this dream of a night.

(He does not return to the Circus this time, the Sisters punishing him with extra chores when he sneaks back into the Home long after bed checks. Though he would like nothing more than to return back to the Circus and his new friends, he somehow can’t regret it. Every moment was worth it.

Later, he finds a single glove, white with shiny black buttons, tucked into his pocket - proof for his dare. He never shows it off to the other boys; the little scrap of fabric is too personal, and too precious. Instead, he tucks it into the old cigar box he keeps all his treasures in, amongst the perfectly round stones and colored bits of glass and a brightly colored birds’ feather. Let them think he never managed it. They’ll forget soon enough anyways. 

We’ll see each other again, Ava had promised - and Henry intends to wait.)

——— 

There’s a new attraction at the Circus again, Killian - the most wonderful carousel. There’s the usual carved horses, of course, all wonderfully detailed, but there’s all manner of other creatures too - giraffes and elephants and a particularly clever ostrich. There’s even some mythical creatures too. I’m particularly fond of the gryphon, though I suspect you might prefer the dragon. There’s even a bench seat with a kraken twining around it! It’s truly charming; the kids love it, obviously, but it’s wonderful to see the delight of grown men and women too. I believe I saw a young couple squabbling over the cow yesterday; the lady won, of course. Wise man. 

If you hadn’t guessed already, the carousel is very obviously a creation of your winsome competitor. The ride travels through an enclosed portion at the back, ostensibly to parade the figures and their riders past a scrolling display of landscapes; however, having ridden the thing myself (I couldn’t resist, Killian! And obviously chose the gryphon, though I was tempted by a polar bear), it’s obvious that this tunnel somehow bends reality, stretches the track much further than it should ever go. Magic is obviously at play, here, though I believe the visitors are too enthralled (and, as usual, too oblivious) to realize. 

There’s something else a little unusual about the carousel: Mr. Booth’s part in bringing it to life. He was here in Brussels to oversee installation, or I might not have believed it. You know as well as I that usually, new installments just… pop up, without explanation. His craftsmanship is evident in the construction, too, if you know to look - the smooth curves and the intricate carvings and the way the peak of the striped roof stretches up towards the sky. It’s lovely, really, and undeniably a joint effort between Mr. Booth and Miss Swan. 

Does that mean he’s aware of her abilities? I can’t say for certain, but I have trouble imagining otherwise. It could be interesting to see if you could enlist him in a similar effort - though of course, that’s entirely up to you. I’m merely reporting your opponent’s most recent move on the chessboard, so to speak.

(Do come see the carousel, though; I promise you won’t regret it.)

Affectionately yours,

Belle

———

Killian folds Belle’s latest letter carefully, considering her words as he meticulously files the pages away, just as he always does. The new carousel sounds beautiful, of course; Miss Swan’s creations always are. The fact that she enlisted August Booth to create it captures his attention the same way it had Belle’s. That’s something he never considered - drawing upon others’ skills to create something that is not entirely mechanical, but not fully dependent on magic either. He should have thought of it sooner - after all, the Circus as a whole operates in a similar way, weaving enchantments in amongst all the physical manpower needed to bring the whole thing to life. It sets Killian’s mind running in other directions, other ideas that could be brought to life in the same way. And if Booth is aware of the things Miss Swan can do… perhaps he can serve as an intermediary, of sorts, in a way that could bring this competition to a new level.

But Killian is a patient man, a planner through and through. It’s his greatest advantage in his employment and in this game. So before he lets his imagination run away with him, drafting things that can never come to fruition, he calls upon Booth at his office to test the waters of what is possible. 

“I didn’t expect to see you, Jones,” the other man says, smiling genially as he comes out from around the back of his heavy wooden desk to offer a handshake of greeting. 

“It was a bit of an unplanned visit,” Killian admits as he seats himself in the offered chair. 

“Well that’s quite alright. What can I do for you? Is this about the Circus, or are you finally looking to build something more comfortable than that little flat of yours?”

“It’s about the Circus.” Killian lets his gaze glance around the room before he speaks further, considering his next words. Though the furniture in the office at Booth’s architecture firm is heavy, with dark wood and intricate carvings and tall bookshelves lining two walls, the whole thing manages to avoid a feeling of claustrophobia due to a stretch of tall windows along one wall. A panel of stained glass is installed in the middle, with beautiful swirling patterns in all kinds of colors. The whole effect is a little whimsical, while somehow still ordered and elegant. In that moment, Killian can see exactly why August Booth was chosen as a partner to produce the Circus. 

Drawing his attention back to Booth, Killian finds the man patiently waiting for him to start speaking, prompting him to gather his thoughts. “I understand you had a hand in creating a new attraction - a carousel.”

“Ah yes,” August smiles. His tone is fond, almost like a parent speaking of a favorite child. “Marvelous, isn’t it? Though, of course, I can’t take full credit - or even most of the credit, really.”

“So you’re aware of others’... unusual contributions, shall we say.”

Booth makes an amused, guttural noise from the back of his throat. “I may be a skilled designer, but not nearly enough to create space that’s not there. And I’m not nearly oblivious or egotistical enough to believe I can. Besides, Miss Swan was involved from the beginning. The carousel was her idea.”

That’s one question answered. “So how much did Miss Swan tell you about her… abilities, I suppose? And her influence on the Circus?”

“A rudimentary explanation, I believe - just as much as I needed to agree to assist her. All her illusions are real, true magic, and she’s engaged in a competition to be played out at the Circus.” Realization suddenly lights his eyes. “I suppose that makes you the competitor, then? She didn’t seem to know who they were.”

“Aye, I am. And I would appreciate it if you would keep that fact between us. This particular game doesn’t precisely encourage familiarity between contestants.”

August waves him off. “Of course. Now, are you here just to talk about the carousel - or do you have something else in mind?”

“You read my mind,” Killian says, letting a smile spread across his face. “I have an unusual idea, one that I think you can be of assistance with.”

———

Emma should have known that her opponent would hear of the carousel, and of her partnership with Mr. Booth. What she hadn’t expected was for Mr. Booth to send her a letter, detailing an idea her competitor had brought to him.

One they want her involvement in as well.

It’s a simple idea, on the surface - a maze of rooms. Its brilliance is in how it allows the two of them to interact and compete directly as they build off of each others’ ideas. Once the maze is brought to life, once visitors enter the tent, they reach a hallway lined with doors, each leading into other rooms with other doors, and so on. Some will be hidden; some will be obvious. It is entirely up to Emma and whoever she is competing against to build out each room, testing the limits of imagination and reality and magic. 

It’s like a puzzle on a massive scale - each piece fitting into others which in turn fit into others. It’s fascinating to see the things her opponent comes up with over time - creations that play with structure, with scale, like golden bird cages and a room where everything appears so large as to dwarf the viewer. She treasures exploring each one, finding all the hidden doors and discerning the way everything fits together. 

Emma has a niggling feeling that this is not exactly how their competition is supposed to play out - but as she opens another door, she can’t bring herself to care. 

——— 

Maybe it’s ridiculous - but Killian feels like he comes to know the lovely Miss Swan a little better through the room maze and each addition she crafts from her imagination.

She focuses on creating an atmosphere, he finds - the little things that make each space feel like an environment, rather than a room. There are lush green jungles and arid desertscapes and the illusion of a lovely rose garden. He wonders if she feels trapped; all the illusions of open spaces make him think she might. 

He can tell she truly loves the circus in all the little details she weaves in, too. It must take her incredible effort, but it’s worth it to see how leaves glisten with dew and the barest scent of earth or flowers tickles his nose and heat or chill dances along his skin. There’s pride to be found in the work she creates - all the things that take each room of the maze from the illusion of a space into something tangible and believable as its own natural world.

She’s smart, too: the hatches and doors out of her rooms are cleverly hidden, and often require searching for a key first. Killian thinks she might be trying to stump him, for all the time he spends searching for the way out in some rooms. Would she laugh if she could see him? Is he reacting in exactly the way she anticipated, or even intended?

(Would he even mind?)

He’s not such a fool as to fall a little in love with his opponent in the rooms that she builds, but he does delight in receiving these little insights to her personality. It reminds him that Miss Swan is more than his opponent - she’s a person, and one he’d love to know under other circumstances.

Only time will tell whether that makes things easier or harder.

———

To no one’s particular surprise, Regina does not approve of the maze.

“This is a waste of your time,” she proclaims to Emma on one of her rare (and never welcomed) visits. “You’re supposed to be competing, not… collaborating.” She spits out the word like it’s a profanity; who knows, it likely is in her mind. Emma wouldn’t be entirely surprised. 

“Isn’t this just a different way of competing?” Emma asks. Truthfully, she doesn’t see the fuss. “I’d think it would be easier to compare, when we have to share the same structure. Well, even more than we usually do.”

“This is not how things are supposed to work,” Regina snaps. “I didn’t train you to be so stupid about this, Emma. You know better - this is… frivolous!”

“I like it,” Emma says, letting her voice display a quiet defiance. “I think it’s wonderful.”

That’s why she’d led Regina to the maze in the first place, instead of simply taking tea in her compartment as usual - a little childish thought that maybe her mentor would see all the careful crafting she had put into each chamber. That maybe she would appreciate this unusual way in which Emma was stretching her abilities beyond what she thought was possible, challenged by the necessity of working around someone else’s ideas in the most literal, compressed way. That maybe she would be proud.

Pride, at least for others, is not something that’s in Regina’s vocabulary, however - something that Emma has never been more aware of than in this moment, standing amongst the hedges of a shifting maze within a maze. It’s an ever-changing creation, one that Emma had been particularly proud of.

It’s easier simply to wind their way to the closest exit than to attempt to convince Regina any further; Emma has long since learned her mentor is an immovable force. If Regina hasn’t been swayed by the creativity and brilliance of seeing the maze in person, no words will do it. So they’ll exit the maze and slip back into the backstage rooms, where Regina can berate her about her work ethic and how it seems like Emma doesn’t even want this while still failing to offer any concrete details or advice, until Emma can make her escape to perform another show, displaying her abilities to a kinder audience. That’s how these things always seem to go, and now that her foolishly hopeful little bubble has been broken, there’s no reason they won’t go that way again. 

Then again, there’s alway room for surprises and changes from the norm; Emma should know that, after so many years here at the Circus. As they exit into the chilled night air, Emma - and more importantly, Regina - clearly didn’t expect to run into Mulan as the sword swallower wandered back towards her own lodgings.

Most days, Emma almost forgets this other source of magic buzzing around the circus. It’s like white noise, almost; something Emma is subconsciously aware of, and can focus on when she chooses, but fades into the background most of the time. They’re friendly, but not quite friends - happy to spend time with one another, but rarely seeking each other out. Mulan is closer with Ruby, or with Belle. It’s easy, in that way, for Emma to forget the higher force that binds the two of them together - Regina herself, who has been a teacher to both of them. 

It is visibly obvious the moment they catch sight of one another: both straighten to their most rigid posture, Regina’s face shifting into something even more haughty than her usual mien, and Mulan shifting to something cool and dangerous. The air between them practically crackles with restrained magical energy, sending the hair on Emma’s arms to stand on end. Emma sends a silent thanks to whomever may be listening that this meeting occurred firmly in public; while the confrontation is primed to be bad as it is, she wouldn’t relish being forced between them in a private setting. Or a dark alley.

For all of the danger sparking the air, it is almost anticlimactic when each party finally finds their words. “Regina,” Mulan says, coolly polite and with the barest incline of her head. Regina only jerks her chin in a broken nod in response. 

And then they’re moving their separate ways, the whole thing over. Maybe it’s better that way; it would be a pity if the Circus was razed to the ground, after they’ve all put so much effort into the venue. There’s a story there, though, one Emma doesn’t know but can’t help but wonder about. She’ll have to ask Mulan, later; she knows very well that asking Regina will bear no fruit. 

(She never does, of course, just another intention lost to time and her mentor’s berating. Not that it would have done any good, anyways. Mulan keeps her secrets locked as tight as the most impressive safe.)

———

Emma knows Belle, of course - they’ve both been with the Circus for more than a decade, and Emma isn’t entirely self absorbed. They’re even friendly, in that way two people who work together but aren’t particularly close can be. But never once in all that time can Emma remember actively seeking the other woman out - for her skills or anything else. 

Belle’s particular skill unsettles Emma, she supposes. It feels a little hypocritical - Emma has magic, after all, she shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable about fortune-telling. There’s something about the talent to see glimpses of the future, however, that has never sat quite right in her mind - that has always made her ever so slightly uncomfortable. It’s not Belle’s fault; Emma knows as well as anyone that sometimes, these kinds of gifts choose their recipient instead of the other way around. 

There’s something in the air, though, something Emma can’t quite identify. There’s a niggling feeling of anticipation, like a reverse deja vu, where Emma knows something is coming, but doesn’t know what or how or when. She’s never been particularly good with that kind of uncertainty, searching for control wherever possible. It’s that search for control that brings her to Belle, seeking answers anywhere she can find them. Unusual times call for unusual measures, or some other such cliché. 

Emma goes at night, while the Circus is open, in between her own performances - just like any other querrant. It’s a simple thing to blend into the crowd - after all, no one is expecting  the illusionist to wander among them, especially in a dark coat and skirts turned crimson red with the touch of a finger. It takes no magic at all to slip down the silvery paths and duck into a tent labeled Fortune Teller: Feats of Fate and Prophecy. 

Belle snaps into character as soon as Emma brushes past the beaded curtain welcoming visitors into her space, only to relax again as she recognizes Emma’s face. “What a lovely surprise,” she comments with a pleased smile. “Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, Emma?”

“I was hoping for a reading,” Emma explains as casually as possible - as if this is no great favor. Still, it shoots the brunette’s eyebrows up towards her hairline in surprise. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect that,” she comments. “I don’t believe you’ve asked such a thing of me before.”

“I haven’t felt the desire before.”

“Ah. You must face some kind of crossroads, then.” 

“Truthfully, I am not even sure enough to say that much,” Emma admits. Summoning a few coins into her hand, she pushes them across the table - payment for services rendered, as is typically custom in Belle’s little nook. “I hoped you might be able to shed more light on the matter than I can currently discern.”

Belle pushes the coins back. “Keep your money. Consider this a gift for a friend. Now, shall we?” As soon as Emma nods, Belle begins shuffling the cards - a quick, hypnotic motion, as each card flies past again and again. Once she’s satisfied with the shuffle, she carefully fans the cards across her table, face down. “Pick a card to represent yourself, if you please.”

Emma contemplates her options; truthfully, the tarot has never called to her, and this moment is no different. After some short examination, she selects one barely visible towards the left-hand side.

Belle chuckles a little as she turns the card over - and Emma can see exactly why, as soon as she sees the card. The Magician. 

“Now, this card often represents a plethora of abilities or options you may not be fully aware of, especially in the face of impending change or disaster,” Belle explains. “And that may still be the case. However, under the circumstances, I suspect this card is supposed to be taken rather more literally in this particular reading, Madame Magician.”

Belle shuffles again, before cutting the deck into three portions and directing Emma to select one. Replacing the selected stack back at the top at the pile, she quickly doles the cards back out, in practiced patterns and an unexpected elegance. There are flashes of cups and swords on the cards between them, interspersed with picture cards of women and wheels and a couple reaching for one another.

(Emma does not think she has the time for whatever a card like The Lovers may symbolize.)

“I see what you mean,” Belle says after a long moment. “There are significant changes here - in circumstance, in thinking, and in feelings. Whatever knot you have been working at in your mind will begin to unravel - one change that will spur many more. Now these changes - they seem imminent.”

“How imminent?”

Belle cocks her head, examining again. “There’s rarely an evident timeline that I can see,” she admits, “but I would wager in the coming weeks or months.”

Emma nods. It’s not really an answer - but it feels like validation, somehow. Like someone else can sense that something is on the horizon. 

“Now, I asked about a crossroads, before we started,” Belle continues. “The changes that are coming - they will not be your crossroads. This will not be the moment you have to make that decision. But each change will compound upon each other until it leads you to that crossroads - a choice you’ll make that will change everything, again. It will not be for some time yet, but those seeds are being sown now.”

Emma nods slowly, taking it all in. There is an odd comfort in Belle’s words, even as Emma tells herself not to put too much stock in it. “Thank you,” she finally says. “Is there anything else you can see?”

Belle shakes her head ruefully. “Not that I can see now, no. But I’ll keep looking. Sometimes, these things make themselves clearer given a few hours to think on them.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Emma ponders the words as she emerges back into the night. A momentous change to come seems inevitable - both from her instincts and Belle’s own readings. All that’s left to do is brace herself and face that change with an open mind and courage.

The weeks and months to come may change everything - and Emma intends to be ready for it. 

———

We’ll be back in England next month - just in time for the rains, I’m sure. As if they ever stop. I anticipate many inclement weather parties in my future, and I don’t even need the cards to tell me that. 

Speaking of which - be on the lookout for something, Killian. Change is in the cards and in the air. Something is on the horizon, and I think it’s best you be ready for whatever that might be.

We’ll have tea one afternoon next time I’m in town, and you can buy me an absurd amount of books. I have several recommendations to give you from the last batch. I expect you’ll feign interest and the time to read, just as always, but I don’t particularly care. You’ll do it because I’m your friend, and you love me.

Yours &c., 

Belle

———

That same feeling of anticipation, of something in the air, only intensifies when the Circus returns to London for a short stretch. It’s been growing ever since Emma spoke with Belle, becoming more urgent as time goes by. A breaking point must come soon - though what that will herald, Emma doesn’t pretend to know. There’s no use continuing to worry over something that will only reveal itself at the right time.

Emma throws herself into rediscovery instead, wandering all those places she used to know. It’s hard to call London home, even though she grew up here - that designation has only ever belonged to her cramped and cozy little train compartment - but the city is familiar in a way that’s comforting. She spent the first 24 years of her life here, after all; even trapped under Regina’s thumb, she was able to discover little corners of the city all her own, park benches and cafe tables and backstage theater rooms. 

(She doesn’t intend to visit her benefactor during this stop, if she can at all help it; bringing Regina into things always invites trouble that Emma would rather avoid.)

It’s raining on their first day in town, of course, like her own meteorological welcome. Emma smiles a bit at the thought of the clouds and raindrops and wind whispering a hello - though truthfully, she’s seen odder things. She’s orchestrated odder things. The soft patter of raindrops on her umbrella is almost soothing as she walks down the cobbled streets to a favorite remembered cafe. Emma loves the Circus with every fiber of her being, both as her creation and as her home; still, sometimes it’s nice to escape for an afternoon and enjoy the anonymity of people watching or reading a nice book. Some days, she wants that distance; to be just another face in the crowd.

The afternoon passes quietly and uneventfully with her tea and scone and a silly novel. It’s easy to blend into this little corner of London, tucked into the corner of a quiet street off the main road. Emma has always liked this place, and tries to visit whenever she’s in the city; it’s something about the way that light dapples through the wide windows at the front, always perpetually just the slightest bit grimy, like dirt had accumulated just as soon as some poor soul had taken the efforts to clean them off. The used bookstore just across the street is a wonderful bonus too, where Emma sometimes finds unexpected treasures. Here, she can be just anyone else - no expectations, no grand fate. Just a woman at a weathered table. 

All too soon, the clock on the wall chimes 4pm, prompting Emma to gather her things to leave. This time of year, even though spring approaches, the sun still sets early, heralding the opening of the circus’ wide gates. Emma is lucky enough to set her own performance hours during the night, generally aiming to do three or four shows in an evening; however, it’s still important that she’s fully ready for the evening by the time the first visitors trickle into the grounds, regardless of the fact that she won’t make her own dramatic entrance for at least another half hour. 

As she bustles out the door, she mentally runs through her checklist for the night of tricks she might like to perform. That’s the freeing thing about performing with real magic; not having to depend on mechanics means that she can improvise, that every single show can be different as she feeds off the audience and her current whims. 

She’s so busy running through her possibilities for the night that she doesn’t notice she’s grabbed the wrong umbrella - not at first, at least. It’s just one amongst a cluster of black fabric in the umbrella stand, each nearly identical to each other. Emma’s put a special charm on hers that repels the rain; that slight buzz of magic is the only thing that differentiates hers from all the others. She picks it out by the feel alone, absentmindedly, before exiting into the deluge.

Something is off, though - something she realizes the further she walks from the cafe and comes back to full awareness. The charm on the umbrella is wonderfully effective, as always, but there’s something… wrong about the magic. Emma’s own magic has a particular warm feel to it, one that largely fades into the background of her mind until she barely notices it. This, though… the buzz continues, like a pricking or a tickle under her skin. Foreign.

Not hers.

Realization draws her up short. This umbrella - clearly imbued with powerful magic - magic like her opponent would possess - in the cafe at the same time - 

A polite clearing of the throat causes Emma to whip around, revealing an unexpectedly familiar face: Jefferson’s assistant, the handsome one, who she remembers lurking at the edges of ballrooms and the back of theatres and in the densest of crowds. Jones - something with a K. Or a C? Kelvin? Carson? No —

“Excuse me, Miss Swan,” Killian Jones smiles warmly, “but I believe you have my umbrella.”

[crimson-mage-02]

Spy x Family Mission 2: Honeymoon (Smut/Fluff)

Summary:  Loid wanted to go on a family outing with his daughter and wife until he was asked to go on a mission and had Yor to come along on their new mission to save newly wedded brides on their honeymoon.

A/N: This is my Christmas gift for @kadhis-stuff!! This is for you! I also posted this in Ao3! I had so much fun writing this fanfic of Loid and Yor! I really, really, really, hope you’ll like this! Please forgive me if you spotted any errors. Everyone and @kadhis-stuff, enjoy reading, comment and give feedback! 

Merry Christmas and and stay safe! 

Anya was walking along the path with her adoptive father, Loid was following her on the way home and listened to her talking excitedly about how she’ll spend her time with her uncle Yuri and Franky. He wished they wouldn’t teach her anything that was unnecessary unlike the last time they had taught her how to handle a knife and a gun.

But luckily it was a plastic knife. Much to his relief, he chuckled remembering Yor was teaching her hand to hand combat before attending the Eden academy. He didn’t really say anything much, but right now, he finds it cute. “Papa!”

“Ah, yes, Anya?” Loid looked down at her with a smile.

“Is Mama coming home to cook dinner with us?” Anya asked him as she tugged in his pants.

“Mama will be coming home a bit late and we’ll be cooking dinner together. How does that sound?” Loid asked her.

“Mmm, yeah!” Anya smiled brightly as they walked in hand in hand together on their way home. When they got home, they immediately got started with preparation of making dinner while Yor comes home from work.

It has been months since he and Yor have become an official married couple. He loved spending everyday with her and their daughter Anya. He definitely will not abandon them as he loves them so much. He vowed to protect the two of them. “Anya, get changed and wash your hands.”

“Okie!” Anya saluted with Bond licking her face. She ran into her room to get changed while Loid had changed as well and gave some dog food for Bond in the corner near the new table they had bought. Franky and Anya both had promised they won’t be destroying another table ever again.

He had started some buttered chicken with some sauce while hearing Anya was running towards him and hugged his legs. “Oh, Anya. You ready? Here, you start by stirring the soup.” He gave her a spoon to use to stir while he cuts the meat and then put them into the soup.

At 5pm, when the sun had set and it was dark, Yor came home tired with a worn out look on her face. “Oh no! Mama!” Anya exclaimed worriedly.

“I’m home.” Yor said tiredly as she walked towards the couch and lay down for a bit. Loid turned off the stove and had asked Anya to give them privacy which she complied as she went to study in her room.

He turned to his wife and let her lay on his shoulder. “Tough day at work?”

“Mmm hmm, I have been working so hard. Yet there is so much needed to be done. Oh, how I want a vacation, Loid. It would be very helpful just to relax every once in a while.” Yor said hugging him around his waist.

Loid smiled and then rubbed her back. “I do hope that some dinner would help you relax tonight then maybe I can plan for a trip. Just us three.”

Yor’s eyes brightened and sparkled. “I really do love your cooking. And a think a trip does sound wonderful.”

“Great. I will tell Handler that I will be unavailable for the entire week or month.” Loid smiled at her and stood up with her.

“Oh? Handler is the one who tells you about your missions as a spy?” Yor asked as she helped setting up the table.

“Yes, she’s the one. I think she’ll understand.” Loid chuckled putting the pot in the center of the table. “Plus, she now saw how things had gotten better with us, I think she’ll understand I could have a few days to spend more time with you.”

“I am sure she’ll understand. And I’ll get Anya since dinner is ready.” Yor smiled as she walked towards daughter’s room. “Anya, dinnertime.”

The three of them had dinner together with Bond eating some of the leftovers. They all had discussed what they all had done for the day including Anya showing the art projects she had made in classes.

After dinner, Loid was reading some paper in thinking where he could take Yor and Anya to for their trip. He hummed in deep thought while Yor washed the dishes and Anya was taking a bath. “Loid? Are you searching for a place where we could have a trip?”

“Yes, I am. We went to the aquarium last time. I thought we could go to the beach while renting a beach house to stay in. How does that sound?” Loid asked her.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful.” Yor agreed while clasping her hands together. “I cannot wait!”

The next day…. Loid walked to the agency to request for a few days off with his family. But it wasn’t all he ever had hoped for until Franky had informed he has a new mission on the same day of his vacation with his family. “What? Can’t you find another agent to do this? I really need to spend more time with my family as possible.”

“Sorry, Loid.” Franky apologised to him. “But—But it is a really interesting mission. Just wait until she explains to you.”

Loid sighed and muttered. “This better be good.” They both walked into the office and found Handler was putting some champagne in a basket with red ribbons and some love hearts inside it. Loid gulped softly and cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Oh, good Twilight, you have arrived.” Handler smirked.

Loid’s eyes twitched and gritted his teeth but took a deep breath in and out before speaking up. “Handler, what is it that you want to discuss?”

“Well, I was informed by Franky that you wanted some alone time with your wife and child. Well, I have this mission that involves with kidnapped brides in this honeymoon spot for newly wedded couples.” Handler started explaining the mission for him.

“And…?”

“And you had told your lovely wife that you were a spy and that was not a part of the plan, Twilight. So, I will let this slide and give this chance for you to spend your time with her there to rescue these poor brides.” Handler continued with a grin.

Loid blinked and shook his head. “Wait…wait… are you saying you are granting me permission to bring my wife on a mission with her? Are you testing her abilities as a hitman?”

“Well, yes and no. I can truly see how strong and capable she is, but I need to know that she won’t breathe a word that you are real life spy. Of course, I am granting permission for you to spend time with your wife.” Handler replied as she handed him the basket. “Oh, and I added a few things in the basket just for you as a reward. But before I do let you look into the basket, I am going to let Frankly get you up to speed with the rest of the information of the mission.”

The two boys walked of the office and Franky took out some files for the mission. Loid was really overwhelmed seeing stacked papers on the table, some were categorised and in order. He even looked at the recent kidnappings and the grooms complaints.

“Some papers are growing and growing. There’s a lot of women who are captured. Grooms are getting worried.” Franky said while shaking his head seeing all of the papers.

“Hmm, we’d need to do this quickly. But who will look after Anya?” Loid asked him as he looked through the files.

“I could look after her. I mean, this mission is gonna be for week. You will have time to spend your lovely moments with Yor.” Franky teased him and then sweats nervously seeing his eyes staring at him deadly into his soul. “…Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I am just…. Been so protective of Yor. She has been a center of attention when I had introduced her to everyone here.” Loid said as he remembered every men were trying to get her attention and really wanted to hold her soft hands.

“Maybe I should ban everyone from having contact with her.” Loid continued while clenching his fists with a vein popping.

“What? No! I mean, I am sure she was trying to get settled in. And besides, she had helped us a lot during our other missions.” Franky pointed out.

“True. Alright, I suppose I can let you take care of Anya. But on one condition. Yuri can help out.” Loid said to him.

“What?! Why?!” Franky exclaimed in shock.

“Because it has been months, he had seen her. It would be nice if you two got along well and try to work together to look after Anya while we’re gone.” Loid replied as he got the files in his bags and reluctantly grabbed the basket that Handler gave him. “Alright, I am off and come to eat dinner at 6pm.”

“Good luck, Loid. You may need it.” Franky called out to him as he prepared himself to get to his house and pack up his things for his stay in their apartment. He wished it was just him and Anya, rather than Yuri, him and Anya. He scares him.

(~)

On the way home, Loid arrived early to tell Yor that their trip will be their new honeymoon. And he will tell her about their new mission together. He waited for her at home while packing with Bond watching over him.

“Loid? Are you already home?” Yor called out to him.

“Yes, I am in our room.” Loid replied, putting some clothes on their bed. Yor came in and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Handler was kind enough to give us a week to let us rest up.”

“Oh that is wonderful. I cannot wait to pack everything! Who will tell Anya that we’re going on a trip?” Yor chimed excitedly and then felt his hands grabbing hers.

“Actually, Handler said it was also a trip and a mission.” Loid explained clearly to her as she frowned.

“Mission? What happened?” Yor asked in alarmed, looking into his eyes. Loid offered her to sit on the bed and sat next to her.

“Okay Handler has assigned us to a mission where we have to act like we are on a honeymoon. And our main focus is freeing all of the brides who were captured and reunite them with their grooms.” Loid explained the mission to his wife.

“I see. Then if it is a really urgent mission, then I must pack right away.” Yor understood how important it was and packed all of her clothes including her hitman attire and her weapons. “So, when do we leave?”

“Right after we start packing. I hope you don’t mind, I invited Franky to look after Anya as well.” Loid said to her.

“Oh, sure it’s great to have him accompanying Anya and Yuri.” Yor smiled, getting her clothes folded and placed them on their bed with Loid giving her luggage and heard the bell ringing. “Must be Yuri.”

“I’ll get it.” Loid smiled at her as he walked over to the door and opened it seeing Yuri. “Hello, thank you for coming in.”

“Anything to look after my darling sweet little niece. So, she is still at school?” Yuri asked with Bond licking his shoes.

“Yes, she is on her way with her friend and classmate. Not to worry, she will be here on time for dinner while your sister and I pack.” Loid replied with a smile.

“You two are going on a trip instead of me looking after Bond and your apartment?” Yuri asked in confusion as he rubbed his neck while Loid sighed deeply.

“Well, I am going on a long-awaited deserved honeymoon with your sister.” Loid smiled at him with Yuri’s eyes widened in fear and shock. He knew this day would come! And he never wanted to let Yor be fully attached to this man ever! But he must accept the fact, she loves him very much.

“W-well, I do h-hope you two enjoy it. You really do deserve it.” Yuri smiled while clenching his fist and a vein was popping out while Loid slyly smirked at him. Seeing him crack just for a little bit was so satisfying for him to see.

The door opened with Anya came running inside and hugged her papa on the legs. “Papa, I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Anya!” Loid happily greeted and carried her in his arms. “Look who’s here. It’s your Uncle Yuri.”

“Uncle Yuri!” Anya reached for him with Loid letting him hold her. He let them have a few minutes with each other and went back into his room seeing Yor was putting something in her luggage rapidly as if she doesn’t want him to see.

“Yor? Something the matter?” Loid raised an eyebrow.

“No. No! I am all packed now. Is that my brother?” Yor asked quickly as she left the room to greet her brother. Loid shrugged and then decided to put the luggage’s out in the living room and then saw Franky had brought in a lot of cartoons for them to watch.

“Look, Franky was kind enough to bring in a lot of cartoons for Anya.” Yor smiled at Loid who smiled cheerfully and then looked over at Franky who gave him another file. Loid watched Yuri and Franky were eyeing each other with a glare on their faces.

This is going to be a long week. But all that’s worth, he gets to have some alone time with his lovely and beautiful wife. He also remembered the basket and held it in his hands and placed it on the table. Also putting the secret envelope Handler had given him.

“Anya, I am very sorry that we cannot take you to our trip. But Papa and I are going on a special trip. I want you to be good to your uncles.” Yor said to her daughter with a smile and then gave a stern expression to her brother as he understood that he’ll do whatever he needs to do to take good care of

“Oh, that’s okay, I do understand!” Anya smiled brightly at her parents.

“Also, I left the numbers on the fridge. Be sure to call us if something has happened.” Loid smiled at her as she hugged the both of them. “So behave and listen to your uncles. We will be back soon.”

“Okay! Have fun Papa, Mama!” Anya chimed while Bond barked.

They all had said their goodbyes to Anya, Franky, and Yuri. Both of them went inside the car that will lead to their ‘honeymoon’. It seemed like a quiet place to have a honeymoon. It was nice. Clean air and beautiful sights to see and go to. The beach house looked so beautiful, it has great architecture, wonderful spacious rooms and it is a breathtaking luxury beach house.

“Hmm, I love it Loid, how did you afford this? It must’ve cost a lot.” Yor wondered as she took off her sun hat and put her bags on the floor next to the table.

“Well, Handler handled everything, the money, the activities, the food and everything.” Loid replied as he looked at the papers. “So, tonight, there is a restaurant that is opening on the beach. We should get ready. You have your uh, weapons ready?”

“Of course, but if you don’t mind, I would like to get changed first.” Yor said as she got her dress out.

“Sure, I’ll just wait in the main room.” Loid nodded with a smile. He thought it would be a good chance to go over the mission and look for certain clues where they might be. He had looked through some of the photos but never got the chance to read the rest of the information that Franky had given him.

He also wondered if Yor wanted to go on a real honeymoon. He would love it if he would take her to dancing and take her on a walk down to the beach, then play in the waters. Maybe even kissing her with the sun setting. Sounds like a perfect honeymoon.

“…..Loid? What are you smiling about?” Yor asked him while she fidget with her sunflower dress with her hair down past her waist. Loid blushed seeing her in a beautiful dress and has fallen in love with her all over again.

“Uh… j-just how we are doing this missions together that’s all. Ahem, and that we are on our honeymoon trip.” Loid smiled nervously with a small blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, then I am very excited. I also got my weapons ready.” Yor chimed with Loid standing up, smiling at her.

“Alright, we should get going.” Loid smiled back.

They both walked along the footpath, holding hands together and act like they are a real married couple. Yor blushed a little, remembering the moment he had confessed his feelings of love. She was so happy she got to experience in going on a honeymoon.

They had reached to their destination and sat at their table. Loid pulled the chair for Yor shyly which she happily accepted and sat on the chair with him sitting opposite of her. They both had looked into the menu together and had ordered what they would like to eat.

“Hmm, this place does look romantic, don’t you think, Loid?” Yor asked.

“Of course. When we get home, we can go on another date.” Loid smiled lovingly as he held her hand across the table while she blushed bright pink and looked into his eyes until something caught her eye.

“Loid, two men are outside the restaurant. Possibly waiting for a newly wedded couple to come out.” Yor said softly with Loid nodding with a stern expression.

“Appearance?”

“Dressed in black, both in coats with golden and silver watches on their waist.” Yor noted while she play with his hand which Loid blushed yet, he played along until their food has arrived.

“Alright, we have to be on our guard. For now, let’s just be our normal selves.” Loid winked at her while she giggled and began to eat her meal which was absolutely delicious! Yor also fed some of her steak to Loid which he shyly accepted.

“So, do-do you think we could do this some other time? I mean, someplace else?” Loid asked while he rubbed the back of his neck watching her eating her dessert.

“Hmm, I would love to. Oh, I wonder how Franky and Yuri doing.” Yor wondered while Loid whimpered as he was supposed to call them, but they call them now. “You’ve forgotten to call when we got here, didn’t you?” Yor asked, seeing his reaction.

“Yes, I did…Sorry, sweetie.” Loid apologised seeing her arms were crossed and she narrowed her eyes at him then she chuckled softly.

“It is alright, Loid. It’s our first time. So there will be no mistakes next time.” Yor smiled at him while she drank her water. Loid looked on the reflection on the glass, seeing a wedded couple were walking out of the restaurant and heard car wheels screeching from outside.

Loid and Yor both looked outside seeing the bride was being taken away while the groom had called in for the police. The spy and the hitman had paid for their food and disappeared from the restaurant and had ran back to their beach house to get ready.

They were both on a roof top and he had brought in his binoculars to see what they were doing. It looked like there has been multiple missing women inside. He looked to the side seeing Yor taking off her coat seeing her revealing outfit. He blushed deeply seeing her in a halter-style black dress, showing her shoulders. As well as her cleavage. She also wore a rose choker and rose pattern on the inside of her skirt. He also noticed she wore a pair of black thigh-high boots with black fingerless gloves.

And she had changed her headband to a golden coloured with a rose and two spikes coming out each side. “Uh, ahem. Yor?”

“Hmm yes?”

“Is, uh well, you do certainly l-look lovely…. Um, doesn’t make you feel cold?” Loid asked her, trying not so hard looking at her cleavage.

“No. Not at all. I have been trained not to be bothered by the cold.” Yor replied with a smile as she twirled her weapons in her hands. “Shall we?”

Loid nodded as they both jumped off the rooftop down to the warehouse and had heard the men were trying to select a woman which made Yor more furious to hear such crude words that has been side. The spy held her hand tightly to calm her down as he grabbed his guns from his holster.

They successfully went inside the warehouse with Yor swiftly taking down two guards with Loid punched one in the face. Yor gave him another gun to use and she looked over at the women who were whimpering in fear. She desperately wanted to save them badly. She walked around with her husband following her.

If he ever had lost her to these men, he would hunt these men down if they hurt Yor in front of him. His eyes glanced over at the table and he got Yor’s attention as she looked over at the board with her eyes scanning all over the papers.

All of the women who are targeted by these men. It boils her blood inside and she wanted nothing more but to take them down. Loid heard footsteps and then held onto Yor and hid behind a pillar, holding her closely to him.

“Looks like these are all of the women.” Said one of the men.

“Heh, too bad we didn’t get that new bride that came in today at the restaurant. She looked like a real snack boys.” With that comment, it made Loid even more furious. They were thinking of capturing Yor to be one of their……toys to be played with. He cannot allow those men do such a thing to those women or to Yor.

“Loid…. We must get them out of here.” Yor whispered to him.

“Yes, and fast.” Loid nodded and looked at how many men were there in the warehouse. “Okay, here’s what we are going to do. I’ll distract them and then once I got their attention, you take the women out of here. If one man touches one of them…”

“I’ll fight them off.” Yor finished as she went to the other side of the warehouse to try and get to the women. She made sure they all stayed quiet, not to get her caught. She heard some rattling noises and turned to see Loid was the one who was doing it to distract them while he fought off against the men.

“Get him!” shouted one of the men who ran after him outside of the warehouse. But they weren’t prepared on what’s going happen next. Loid side kicked one of them in the face while shot one on the leg with his gun.

Yor quickly got the ropes of the women’s wrists, cutting them free from the restraints and guided them outside until one man grabbed onto him until she twisted his arm and then kicked him in the stomach, sending him into the air with one coming at her with her punching him and swung her golden metal pick and plunged it onto the palm of his hand, making him scream in agony.

“Go!” Yor cried out to the women who were rushing outside while she fought against them. She kicked them hard as she can, sending them back into the boxes unconscious.

Outside of the warehouse, Loid was handling very well fighting against them and saw one man was thrown from the window, he saw Yor was walking towards him while she twirled her weapons in her hands. He looked behind her saw one man was about to attack her from behind. He got out his gun and grazed his arm a bit, screaming in pain. Saving her just in time.

Then they heard the police was coming at their position while they ran into hiding away from the police and watched the men being arrested. Loid was watching how the grooms where reunited with their wives and saw the look on Yor’s face. She was relieved to see them being reunited.

He was glad that the mission was a success. Both of them walked along the beach while Loid watched her playing in the water and laughed when she felt it was so cold. He never knew he would have this type of feeling towards her and…. He was glad that it was her that got him this far to becoming the world’s best spy of all time.

All thanks to her encouragement as well as Anya. He loves both his wife and daughter with all of his heart. “Loid! Look a seashell! And there is a smaller one. I am sure Anya would love this!” Yor beamed with excitement.

“Yes, I am sure she will love it.” Loid smiled lovingly as he caressed her cheek softly with the stars sparkling in the reflection of her eyes. He gently touched a strand of her hair and then kissed it while she blushed deeply red. She was glad that it was night time, so he won’t be able to see it.

Loid’s eyes stared into her red eyes, he was looking at the most beautiful assassin he has ever seen. He leaned in and kissed her passionately as they fought for dominance with Yor reciprocating the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his torso and felt his heartbeat.

They kissed each other underneath the stars as they played with each other’s tongue and Loid felt every bit of her soft curves with her chest pressed against his. He held the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

“L-Loid?”

“Mmm?” Loid moaned into the kiss as they broke away to get some air. He saw her hair was now getting messy.

“W-We should do this at our beach house.” Yor said shyly, looking down at their feet.

“Of course. W-We should.” Loid nodded in agreement, holding her hand. leading her back to their house on the beach. Once they reached towards their beach house, he looked back at Yor who was taking off her boots and took off her shawl and put it on a hangar.

She placed her weapons on the table and looked at Loid who was taking off his jacket and his suit. She bit her lips, thinking back of their kiss on the beach. Slowly, she walked towards him as he noticed she was getting closer to him.

He reached out to her cheek and then they both clashed their lips together and he stumbled against the table with the fake vase falling down. He caressed her cheeks with her undoing the buttons of his suit and shirt, with him throwing it away on the floor while staring into her eyes.

They both breathed in and out heavily and continued making out as they both made their way to their bed room. He gently laid her back on the bed and took her appearance as an assassin and gently took off her headwear. Dropping it on the floor while he rubbed his knee in between her legs, getting the most cute and adorable reaction from her, moaning softly.

Hearing such angelic noise coming out from her mouth has really blessed his ears. He trailed his kisses on her neck while she moaned. She felt every bit of his muscles and kissed his ear softly while placing more kisses on his neck and felt his hands were exploring her curves and her breasts. He massaged them gently.

She arched her body and opened her eyes seeing his blue eyes staring down at her. She covered her face and whimpered. “Yor…are you afraid of me? If you are, then we could stop.” Loid said gently.

“No…I mean…. I am not afraid. Because it’s you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Yor admitted with a single tear rolled down her cheek. She smiled and caressed his cheek, kissing him on the lips, then whispered. “You can keep going.”

Loid nodded slowly while he helped her get out of her attire while kissing her shoulder softly. He laid her back on the pillow as he took her dress off, seeing her naked body while she hugged her chest, blocking the most beautiful view away from him.

“Sorry, this is my first time….” Yor said softly while closing her legs.

Loid didn’t say anything but was staring at her like she was the only woman in the whole wide world. “You…look beautiful, Yor. Do not hide yourself from me. Please, may I continue?”

Yor nodded and put her arms away from her chest, letting him kiss her bare chest and messaged one breast and sucked one nipple, making her moan louder and louder.

“God, Loid, your…your tongue…feels great! Ah!” Yor exclaimed and gasped softly in pleasure, tilting her head back on her pillow and gripped onto the sheets. Loid switched breasts as he bit softly, making her moan even more louder. He massaged them at the same time while watching her reacting to his warm touch.

He felt her hands were squeezing his arms softly and reached up to his strong biceps. His hands caressed her body while she caressed his cheek and she got up on her elbows to kiss him softly on the lips while his hand trailed all the way to her thighs.

He kissed her neck while she played with his blonde locks and then laid her back down again while trailing kisses on her chest, to her belly then went to explore her clitoris. But she covered it with her hands and whimpered.

“Yor…you don’t have to hide away from me. As I said, you are stunningly beautiful. A-and I cannot wait any longer, you are driving the world’s greatest spy crazy.” Loid smirked, licking his lips while she rubbed her thighs together before she lets him take off her underwear and started licking it gently and slowly.

“Ahh! Loid….t-that’s feels so good! More!” Yor moaned as she held onto the sheets in her hands tightly. He licked her more roughly while he squeezed her thighs as she moaned. She watched him getting up and wiped his mouth until he put one finger in her. She screamed and moaned, humping into his hand while he was exploring her folds.

“How does that feel, Yor?” Loid asked softly while he held her hand.

“It feels so…ah!” Yor whimpered, feeling two fingers in her now. She thrusted herself in his hand. She cannot take it anymore as she wanted more of him…him inside of her. “L-Loid?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Loid asked, thinking she doesn’t want to go bit more further.

“No. I do not want you to stop. It’s just did you bring a c-condom? Protection?” Yor asked, looking away from him, covering her mouth.

Loid looked at her in confusion then remembered something. He went to the basket Handler gave him earlier and grabbed the bag filled with little squares, had something in there. Now he gets it now. These are the condoms Yor had mentioned. “These are it…right?” Loid shown her the condom in his hand.

He saw her looking at him lustfully with her eyes shining brightly. She nodded and stood on all fours, watching him taking off his pants and saw his dick with her eyes widening in shock, seeing how big he is. He put the condom aside and he caressed her cheek as she looked at his dick, she gently touched it. She has never done this before but never wanted to disappoint him.

So she took the risk and licked the tip softly hearing him groan softly. She put her hair behind her ear as she sucked all of his dick while he tilted his head back, feeling such a great pleasure. He never felt anything like this. “Ahh, Yor!”

A muffled scream escaped as she pulled away from his dick, seeing more of his juice spilling out while she gulped, taking it all in. She breathe out while looking up at Loid in his eyes. He took a cloth in his hands and wiped it all away.

Loid decided it was time to put on the condom. He put it on and turned to see Yor was opening her legs open for him. Once he was ready, he was rubbing his dick against her, making her whimper and twirl her hair.

Then he thrusted his cock into her as she moaned while he grunted, burying his face onto neck. She held him tightly, both panted heavily. “It…. doesn’t hurt?” Loid asked her quietly.

“No, please do keep going.” Yor replied seductively against his ear as he started to thrust into her, in a perfect rhythm. She loved the sensation she was feeling. She made eye contact with Loid, locking into each other’s eyes before they both kissed each other passionately.

Loid thrusted in her more roughly and held her hands with her legs wrapped around his waist. In no time, he would cum. He stopped while putting one leg up on his shoulder and thrusted slowly into her before doing it roughly.

She moaned louder and louder, holding his arms. How she loved it! She arched her body, feeling something was happening and screamed out loud with Loid holding her body down onto the bed, coming into the condom. He set her leg down and collapsed on her chest, panted heavily while she held him tightly in her arms with a smile.

(~)

Loid and Yor both laid down on their bed with content smiles on their faces, she was leaning on his chest with their legs tangled with each other underneath the sheets. He had his arm around her while staring up at the ceiling with a smile on his face.

He really did it. He made love to the love of his life! But he wondered if she thought he was bad at it and that she would regret it. “Loid?”

“Y-Yes?” Loid saw her getting up and laid on top of his chest.

“Thank you. I mean for this honeymoon, mission, going out for dinner and well… this.” Yor smiled lovingly, creating circles on his chest. “I really enjoyed it. Including the sex part.”

“You’re welcome. I am glad that was successful.” Loid chuckled, brushing her hair out of the way to see her face clearly. “I hope I wasn’t all that bad.”

“Loid, no, no. Y-you were amazing, I must say.” Yor blushed softly while getting up a bit and kissed him softly on the lips. “If we ever do get another chance doing this, we could ask Franky and Yuri to look after Anya again.”

“Of course, I called Franky, she’s asleep now.” Loid smiled at her while she laid her head back down on his chest. “If we are going to do this again…we might need more condoms. I believe we already used them all that Handler gave us.”

Yor giggled, remembering how many times they had done it and it was an amazing night of her life. She got to experience it with the man she truly loves. “I believe so.”

Few Days Later

Loid and Yor came back home to their house with happy and content smiles on their faces and opened their door. “Anya, we are home!” Loid announced until he heard snoring from the living room.

“Aww, how cute, Loid, look!” Yor squealed softly with Loid going in the living room and then gasped softly seeing the big mess right in front of them. But then smiled seeing their daughter sleeping in Yuri’s arms with Franky hugging a pillow in his arms, sucking his thumb.

Loid snickered as he decided to take a photo of them and try to at least tease his brother-in-law and his friend. Maybe show it to the entire agency. “This will be in the history photo albums. I shall show this to everyone in the agency.”

Yor giggled at his antics. It was rather cute to see him all loosened up after doing their missions. She has been blessed to share such a blissful honeymoon with him. It was the best night of her life. She hugged him around his waist with him looking behind to see her smiling.

“Let’s fix up some breakfast and wake them up. We need to report this to Handler.” Loid smiled at her.

“Of course.” Yor smiled brightly while walking towards her daughter and younger brother. Loid could still see she was still a bit sore and wobbly in the legs. But nonetheless, he enjoyed it.

He put the suitcases near the table and watched Anya hugging Yor tightly with Yuri while Franky came hugging Loid tightly. “I am so glad you are back from your honeymoon!”

“Yes, yes, I am glad I am back and what have you done to our house?!” Loid hissed at him grabbing the collar of his shirt. He gulped fearfully and then looked back at the mess in the living room, seeing every packet of candy and chips everywhere, including some crumbs.

“Um… well, that was a very long story.” Franky chuckled nervously at his friend.

“This will be the last time you’ll be babysitting Anya in here. Instead, we are getting her to stay at your place.” Loid whispered.

“Yuri, thank you so much for looking Anya.” Yor smiled at her brother.

“It was no problem. I love my little darling niece with all of my heart.” Yuri smiled warmly at his niece. If anyone has the desire to hurt my niece, I shall shove my gun at their heads and shoot them myself.

Anya was shocked to hear that in her mind and immediately hugged her mother’s leg. “Aw, she missed her parents a lot. I do hope you enjoy your trip.” Yuri hoped as he grabbed his bags. Yor awkwardly looked at Loid who was drinking some water with droplets of sweat falling down from his forehead.

“It was…we have the greatest time of our lives.” Yor chuckled while hugging Yor in her arms.

“Oh, that’s great!” Franky exclaimed, happy for the two. “Now can we go now?”

At the agency, Loid and Yor had left Anya in the care of Franky again while they had talked to Handler. Loid and Yor were standing in front of her desk while she smiled at the two with a grin. This irritated the spy so much he knew how much she was going to tease him.

“Well, well, Twilight, I hope you enjoyed your honeymoon with Yor. I heard the mission was a success. And thank you, Yor for helping us out.” Handler smiled at her.

“Oh, no. thank you. I really do love helping you with your missions. Especially with Loid’s. I am more than happy to work with you again.” Yor blushed bright pink.

“Happy to hear that.” Handler smiled at her. “Loid, you are one lucky guy to have her. Never let her go. You understand?”

Loid smiled at his wife lovingly and held her hand, intertwining their hands together. “I am not planning on letting her go.”

The couple said their goodbyes to Handler and walked back into the hallway to get to Anya with smiles on their faces. Yor saw Anya was running up to them and held out her hands to her with Loid watching with a smile. He got the family has he never thought he would have, and he loves both of his girls and had promised he’ll never leave them.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 24

Last time, Gold went to Storybrooke, and Belle’s waters broke

[AO3]

x

“Mr Gold, thank you so much for dealing with this so quickly.”

Mary Margaret Blanchard both looked and sounded relieved, and Gold could understand why. The leak in her bathroom had been fixed, but not before water had soaked through the ceiling and fused the kitchen lights.

“I don’t even know how it happened,” she went on. “I could have sworn everything was turned off.”

“One of the pipes was damaged,” he said. “Took a knock somehow, cracked it in two places. I’ve had the plumber replace it. Good as new.”

He ran his eyes over the ceiling, where damp patches still showed, and made a note in the little book he kept for repairs and tenant complaints.

“Minimal damage, it seems,” he said. “I’ll have someone come out and repaint as soon as it’s dry. We may need to replace one of the panels, but I’m sure it won’t require any major works.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress with her hands. “Uh - may I offer you some tea?”

Gold eyed her curiously before clicking the end of his pen and slipping it into the inside pocket of his coat with the notebook. Miss Blanchard was a good tenant, but even she had never offered him tea before.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I need to head back to Boston.”

“Oh yes, Mr Dove mentioned that you’d only be in Storybrooke today,” she said, and hesitated. “Um - I hope you don’t mind my asking, but Granny said that you and Belle are expecting a baby.”

Gold felt himself smile.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I think pretty much everyone in town was in a state of shock,” she said, with a tiny laugh, pressing a hand to her heart. “We had no idea you were even seeing each other!”

“Well, that’s the unavoidable consequence of not telling anyone, I suspect,” he remarked.

“Moe didn’t say a word!”

“I think he preferred to pretend it wasn’t happening,” he said coolly.

“Right.” She looked as though she was about to burst from curiosity. “Could you give me Belle’s number? I’d love to catch up with her, give her my best wishes.”

Gold had a vision of every woman in Storybrooke suddenly clamouring to get in touch with Belle, and he gave Miss Blanchard a tiny smile.

“Why don’t I give her your number, and a message that you’d like to speak to her?” he suggested. “The baby is due next week, you see. She’s somewhat preoccupied with that at the moment.”

“Oh, of course!”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out, smiling slightly as he saw Belle’s name flashing on the screen.

“Excuse me,” he said, turning away from Miss Blanchard a little and swiping the screen to answer.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I’m just about ready to head back.”

“Yeah, you might want to step on it.” Emma’s voice floated out of the phone. “Belle’s waters broke.”

Gold felt as though a fist was closing around his heart, squeezing the life from him.

“What?” he whispered.

“Is that Belle?” asked Miss Blanchard. “Say hi from me.”

“She’s in labour,” said Emma patiently, as Gold reminded himself to breathe. “Probably got a while to wait before there’s any real action, but I’m gonna call the midwife after I get off the phone to you. If she tells us to go to hospital, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Tell him to get his arse back here right now!”

Gold could hear Belle in the background, her voice strained, and Emma chuckled a little.

“You heard her, big guy,” she said. “Drive safe, okay? We’ll take care of her.”

“Thank you,” he said numbly, and the call cut off.

Gold slipped the phone back into his pocket, his heart thumping hard. The baby. The baby is coming. I have to get there. I have to be with her.

“Is she okay?”

Miss Blanchard’s voice cut through his inner terror, and he started.

“Yes, thank you,” he managed. “I’ll - uh - I’ll get Mr Dove to arrange the painting. Please let him know if you have any other issues.”

“Thank you, Mr Gold. Are you sure you won’t have that tea?”

Gold was already on his way out, letting the door close behind him, and barely heard her. He walked as swiftly as his limp would allow, heading back to the shop to grab the few things he had boxed up to take with him, and locking the doors behind him. Within five minutes he was on the road, senses heightened by anxiety as he headed back down to Boston. The baby’s coming. I’m gonna be a father.

x

“Is he coming?” Belle could hear the low-level panic in her voice, and told herself to calm down. “What did he say?”

“He’s leaving now,” Emma assured her, looking through her phone contacts. “What’s your midwife’s name?”

“Oh - Dorothy. Dorothy Gale.”

“Okay.”

Emma put the phone to her ear again, and Belle began to pace back and forth. She was dimly aware of Emma talking, but paid little attention, rubbing at her aching back as she traversed the lounge.

“How long until the baby gets here?” asked Henry excitedly. “Does Belle have to go to hospital?”

“That’s what Mom’s asking about,” said Neal, ruffling his hair. “Why don’t you go sit down and read until we know what’s happening, okay?”

“Okay, thanks a lot.” Emma looked up, handing the phone to Belle. “She says come on in. You have everything you need?”

“In the hall,” said Belle anxiously. “But - Alex! Will he get here in time?”

“Of course he will,” said Emma soothingly. “He’s on his way right now. We’ll call him when you get to the hospital, let him know where you are, okay?”

“I should never have told him to go to Maine!” She was fretful, her pace quickening. “He wanted to stay with me and I told him to go! What was I thinking?”

“He’ll be back in plenty of time,” said Neal easily. “You’re gonna be yelling at him before you know it.”

Belle burst into a laugh that sounded a little hysterical, and Emma put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, get your coat,” she said. “Neal, can you pick up the bag in the hallway?”

“Got it.”

Neal headed for the hallway, and Belle slipped the phone into her pocket, glancing around worriedly. Have I forgotten anything? Oh God, it’s really coming! Where the hell is Alex?

“Will the baby come tonight?” asked Henry.

“Probably not,” said Emma. “Probably tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“April thirtieth.”

“Oh,” said Henry. “Dad’s birthday is the day after.”

“Yeah, it sure is. Come on, get your coat.”

“Hey Dad!” called Henry. “If the baby doesn’t come for another day you could have the same birthday!”

“I don’t want to be in labour for two days, thanks Henry,” said Belle, in a dry tone.

“Okay, do we have everything?” Neal put his head around the door. “I’ve got your bag.”

“Thanks,” said Belle, wincing again. “Oh! The casserole!”

“I turned the oven off already,” said Neal. “Figured you’d be a little too busy to make dinner.”

“Right.” Belle chewed at her lip, suddenly frozen with indecision.

“Coat,” said Emma firmly, steering her towards the hallway.

“Right.”

x

Gold had never made the journey from Storybrooke to Boston as quickly in his life. There was a tailback on the way into the city which made him want to scream in frustration, but eventually he reached the hospital. Emma had called him when he was leaving Maine to say that Belle had been advised to go in, and that the midwife was attending her, and he had been running on anxiety and adrenaline ever since. He found himself brimming over with gratitude for Belle’s friends being with her when he couldn’t. Striding through the hospital, he cursed his limp, wishing he could run to Belle, praying she was alright, his inner voice calling out his inadequacies, his failures. He reached the maternity unit stressed, breathless and thirsty, and found Neal sitting in the waiting area cradling a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” said Neal, getting to his feet. “The midwife’s with her. You can probably go on through.”

“How is she?” asked Gold, and he grinned.

“Not long now, I guess,” he said. “Look, if you don’t mind I’ll leave you to it. Emma took Henry home, and I should really get back to them.”

“Yes, of course.” Gold hesitated, putting out a hand for Neal to shake. “Thank you. You’ve been good friends to Belle. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Well, she’s easy to be friends with,” he said, with a lopsided grin. “Tell her we’re looking forward to seeing the new addition to the family, okay? Let us know how things go.”

“I will.”

Neal shook Gold’s hand briefly, drained his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash before sauntering off, and Gold took a deep breath before heading to the desk to ask which room Belle was in before setting off as fast as he could. His leg was hurting, the pain enough to make his teeth ache, and he grimaced as he reached room 609, pushing open the door. Belle was in a hospital gown, an open bathrobe over the top, pacing back and forth with a hand pressed to her back and an agonised look on her face.

“Where the hell have you been!” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, I got here as fast as I could without being arrested,” he said, hurrying to her side. “How are you? How is she?”

This last was said to Dorothy Gale, who gave him a smile and a soothing pat on the arm as she passed.

“She’s doing fine,” she said. “Everything’s proceeding as we’d expected. I need to check her dilation again, but we’ve got a while to go before it’s time to start pushing, right Belle?”

Belle groaned, clutching at her midriff, and Gold rubbed her back soothingly.

“There, love, just hang on,” he said gently. “You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing.”

“Oh, thank God you’re here, I would have forgotten!” she snapped.

“Right,” he said, sharing a glance with Dorothy, who looked amused. “Well, I remember the breathing exercises we did together. Shall we try those?”

“Oh, shut up, Gold!” She pushed him off, pacing faster. “This is all your fault!”

“Yes, it undoubtedly is,” he agreed. “Blame me all you like. Uh - is there anything I can do to help? A foot rub? Perhaps set myself on fire for your amusement?”

Belle burst out laughing at that, and shot him a fond look that became a twisted grimace of pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said, through her teeth. “This is - every bit as painful as they said it would be. And I was worried you wouldn’t get here on time so I kind of freaked out. I might yell some more.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely yell more,” said Dorothy cheerfully. “I’m sure he can stand it. How about we check your dilation now? Hop up on the bed.”

Belle took Gold’s hand, sending him a strained smile, and he helped her towards the bed, wishing he could bear the pain for her.

x

Their baby was born at six-fifteen on the morning of April thirtieth. By the time her labour was over, Belle was exhausted, drenched with sweat and almost hoarse. Gold didn’t leave her side, running through breathing exercises with her, speaking words of encouragement until his voice almost gave out, and feeling helpless as she suffered. On the final push, Belle squeezed his hand so hard he felt the bones grind together, a hoarse cry coming from her throat.

“There we are!” Dorothy cried. “Well done, Belle!”

Belle fell back against the pillows, gasping for breath, and Gold stroked damp strands of hair back from her forehead. A cry went up, a stuttering, fractious sound, and Gold felt his heart thump hard as Dorothy straightened up, grinning at him.

“It’s a baby boy!” she announced.

Gold glanced up, eyes wide. His son was being held up, red-faced and squalling, tiny arms flailing in outrage at being born into the world. He could see the cord leading from his belly, strands of dark hair covering his tiny head, and he felt tears well in his eyes as love burst through him.

“Oh God, he’s beautiful!” he wept. “Belle, he’s so beautiful! He’s perfect!”

He turned to her, bending to kiss her full on the mouth, not caring that tears were streaming down his cheeks. As he pulled back he could see that she was crying too, lower lip wobbling as she sent him a tired, but beautiful smile.

“Is he okay?” she asked tremulously.

“He looks absolutely fine,” said Dorothy. “Responding well, plenty of movement, good pulse… Here, why don’t you hold him?”

She placed the baby carefully on Belle’s chest, the tiny body streaked with blood and birthing fluids, and Belle burst into tears, bending to kiss the top of his head. The baby grizzled a little, tiny fists waving before he settled. Gold felt his heart swell with love for them, and reached out to stroke his son’s head with a gentle finger.

“He’s perfect,” he breathed. “Thank you! Thank you, my darling.”

Belle sniffed, lip still wobbling, and turned to kiss him. She was still trying to catch her breath, and Gold brushed damp strands of hair back from her face.

“You did so well,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Had to come out somehow,” she said wearily.

Gold smiled, and leaned in to press his brow to hers before turning back to gaze at the child they had made. He’s beautiful. As beautiful as his mother. He could hear Dorothy and the nurses clattering around as they cleared things away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his family. I have a son. I have a beautiful son and a beautiful woman who loves me. I’m the luckiest bastard on this entire earth.

“Okay, looks like the cord’s ready to be cut.” Dorothy’s voice made him look around. “It may take a little while for the placenta to come out. Alex, you can go get yourself a coffee if you like. We’ve got some measurements to take and we need to get Belle and Baby all cleaned up.”

“Oh.” Belle smiled at her, letting her head fall back against the pillows. “Yes please, that sounds great.” 

“You sure you want me to go?” Gold asked, and Belle smiled, squeezing his arm.

“Go get a coffee,” she said. “You look as exhausted as I feel, and I’m sure you don’t want to see me getting stitches. Would you call Emma, let her know?”

“Of course.” He hesitated. “What about your father?”

Belle pulled a face.

“I’ll call him later,” she said. “He won’t be awake yet, anyway. Maybe when the baby’s had his first feed. Maybe when we’ve decided on a name.”

She was looking a little hesitant, and Gold smiled.

“Does that mean you’ve thought of one?” he asked, and she inclined her head.

“What do you think of Gideon?” she asked. “I thought - I thought maybe Gideon Alexander Gold. How - how would you feel about that?”

Gold mouthed the name, then whispered it as he stroked his son’s head. The baby snuffled, his tiny fist shifting against Belle’s skin, and Gold nodded. It sounds good. It sounds right.

“Gideon Alexander Gold,” he said aloud. “It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him, her eyes shining, and he bent to kiss her gently before kissing the top of his son’s head.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to hold him.”

When he left the room he slumped against the wall for a moment, feeling drained. His jacket and tie had been discarded some hours ago, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and he headed for the bathroom to freshen up. Stubble scraped his palms as splashed water on his face, his eyes stinging with tears and weariness. A son. I have a son. I’m going to give him the best life I can.

After he had washed up as best he could, he headed for the cafeteria. It was quiet in the early morning; the only people in there apart from the serving staff were a man doing a crossword at the corner table, and an orderly mopping the floor. Gold watched the mop move in circles, leaving gleaming wet streaks like petals. The lights seemed too bright for his tired eyes, but he bought himself a large coffee and a toasted bagel and sat at one of the tables, staring into space and thinking about the future he wanted to build with Belle and Gideon. Belle had mentioned the possibility of raising him in Storybrooke when she had finished her studies, and the thought was a pleasant one. If she could get a librarian position, even better. He sipped his coffee, cogs turning in his head as he thought it through. Perhaps there was a way to make it work. He had favours to call in. 

He called Emma at seven-thirty, letting her know the news and agreeing to pass on her best wishes and a promise to visit later. After that he called his lawyer and left a message on her voicemail. The formal agreement with Belle might have been torn up, but there were still things to sort out in order to ensure she and his son were provided for.

By the time he returned to Belle’s room, she was dressed in clean nightwear and tucked up in clean sheets, with Gideon swaddled and feeding at her breast. There was a plastic bracelet on Gideon’s wrist, and another around Belle’s. She was smiling down at the baby as he fed, tiny head pushed into her breast and a clenched fist jerking against it. Gold took a moment in the doorway to savour the scene, smiling as he watched mother and son. My family. My perfect family. God, I love them so much!

“You know, you could always take a picture.” 

Belle’s voice made his smile widen, and he went to sit by her side, reaching out to gently stroke Gideon’s head.

“Have you seen the doctor yet?” he asked.

“Dorothy says Jekyll will be around in half an hour or so,” she said. “She says everything’s fine, though. Gideon’s responding well to all the tests, he’s feeding well. He peed on her when she weighed him.”

Gold chuckled.

“How much does he weigh?”

“Six pounds two ounces,” she said. “I can’t remember if that was before or after the pee.”

Gideon coughed, a dribble of milk coming from his mouth, and Belle wiped it away with a cloth. He grumbled a little, and she smiled, lifting him up and kissing his cheek.

“Here, why don’t you hold him?” 

Gold took the tiny bundle from her, feeling love surge within him as he held his son in his arms. Gideon opened his eyes, and Gold smiled broadly.

“Hey there,” he said gently. “I’m your Papa. It’s wonderful to meet you, Gideon.”

He stroked a fist with his finger, his smile widening as Gideon grabbed it.

“Well, that’s quite a grip you’ve got,” he said.

“He’s a strong little thing,” said Belle. “I think he’s gonna be a handful when he gets mobile.”

“Hazel eyes,” said Gold. “Although they change colour, don’t they?”

“Yeah, apparently they don’t settle on the final colour for a while,” she said, yawning. “I think they’ll be brown, like yours.”

“As long as he doesn’t get my nose.”

Belle giggled.

“There’s nothing wrong with your nose.”

Gideon wriggled, beginning to grizzle, and Belle held out her arms.

“Here. Let me see if he’s still hungry.”

Gold handed him back, watching avidly as he latched onto a breast again.

“I could watch him all day,” he said, and Belle shot him a fond look.

“I know. I keep thinking I’ve dreamed it and I’ll wake up. But he’s really here. A whole little person that we made.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead tenderly.

“I think you did almost all the building,” he said. “I provided the equivalent of a shovel full of rubble in the foundations of a skyscraper.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate the importance of good rubble.”

She was smiling, her eyes gleaming, and he kissed her again.

“You look tired,” he said, and she groaned, letting her head fall back against the pillows.

“God, I’m exhausted!”

“In that case, you should sleep,” he said. “I’m going to go home and get showered and changed. I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck, so I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“Tired, happy and bloody sore,” she said, with a smile. “You should get some sleep too.”

“Emma said she’d visit later,” he said. “She sends her love.”

“Well, if I’m going to have visitors, I definitely need sleep,” she said, and kissed him. “Go on, get home and have a nap, at least.”

“Okay.” He kissed her again, and kissed Gideon. “I’ll be back later.”

x

By the time he got home, Ella had called him twice, so he called her back, received effusive congratulations and gave her some instructions on making provision for Gideon’s future. He wasn’t expecting to sleep, but after showering and shaving he lay down on the bed anyway, and woke up as it was approaching five in the evening. He dressed quickly, cramming a sandwich into his mouth and downing some coffee before hurrying out of the door.

The hospital was far busier than it had been when he left, and he moved as quickly as he could past parents and children and rushing nurses. He reached Belle’s room just as Dr Jekyll was closing the door quietly, and the doctor gave one of his nervous smiles, snatching his glasses off his face and cleaning them.

“Ah, Mr Gold.” Jekyll put a hand on his arm, steering him away from the door. “Perhaps you could give her half an hour? They’re both sleeping. The poor thing hasn’t had a chance to get much rest today what with all the comings and goings.”

“Of course.” Gold hesitated. “How are they?”

“Oh, doing very well. I imagine you can take them both home tomorrow.” Jekyll smiled again. “I expect you’ll all be relieved to hear that. You’ll have a busy house from now on.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Jekyll walked off, and Gold headed to the cafeteria again. He was surprised to see Neal sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of coffee and flicking through a magazine. Gold got his own coffee, carrying it over, and Neal looked up with a grin.

“Hey, congratulations,” he said. “How’s it feel to be a dad?”

“Pretty amazing, actually,” said Gold, and gestured at the chair across from him. “Do you mind?”

“Take a seat. I told Emma I’d meet her here. She was taking Henry to get some new sneakers but she shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Gold sat down, pushing the coffee cup towards the centre of the table. His leg was hurting, and he cursed himself for forgetting his painkillers.

“Belle’s still asleep, I take it,” added Neal, and he nodded.

“The doctor said to give her half an hour.”

“Yeah, you never get much rest in hospitals,” said Neal. “Emma said when she had Henry she couldn’t wait to get home.”

“The doctor says I can take them home tomorrow,” he said. “She should be able to get some proper rest then.”

“Which I guess means you getting up with the baby, huh?” Neal grinned at him, and Gold smiled.

“I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to spending some quality time looking after both of them.”

There was silence. Gold sipped at his coffee, wincing as it burned his lips, and looked across at Neal. He was turning the cup between his fingers, just as Gold himself did when he was thinking. Gold cleared his throat, making Neal glance up.

“Thank you for being here for Belle,” he said. “Especially for all those months I wasn’t.”

Guilt stabbed at him, a painful reminder of his self-destructive decisions, his terrible behaviour towards the woman he loved.

“You’re here now, right?” said Neal.

“Doesn’t make up for it,” said Gold quietly.

“Maybe not, but it means something.” Neal leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table. “You didn’t know she was pregnant, and as soon as you did, you tried to make it right.”

Gold let out a hollow laugh.

“Believe me, the way I’ve acted in this past year should in no way be praised,” he said dryly. “I behaved appallingly, and I wish I could take it back.”

“Hindsight’s a great thing,” said Neal. “Doesn’t stop you making dumbass decisions in the here and now, though.”

“That’s certainly true.”

“I never knew my dad,” he added. “Told myself that I’d always be there for my kids, and then because of my own stupidity, I missed eighteen months of my son’s life. Time we won’t get back, you know?”

“I don’t suppose Henry remembers much about it, if it’s any consolation,” said Gold.

“True,” agreed Neal. “But I remember. And so does Emma. If I had my time over, I’d make different choices. I guess that’s all you can do. Decide you won’t screw up that way again.”

Gold nodded slowly. He was right. There was no getting that time back, he just had to concentrate on being a good partner and father in the future.

“Belle said that you and Emma were in the system together,” he said, and Neal pulled a face.

“Not exactly,” he said. “We met on the streets. We were both in kids’ homes when we were younger, but we didn’t meet until we were teens. That was after we’d both run away.”

“That must have been dangerous for you both.”

“I don’t think either of us realised how dangerous until we found our way off the streets,” agreed Neal. “There again, there were reasons we ran away in the first place. Excellent reasons, you know?”

“I’m fairly sure I don’t want to imagine,” said Gold, and Neal nodded.

“I guess there are good and bad people involved in Social Services,” he said. “Can’t say I ever met any of the good ones, though.”

“I’m sorry you both had to go through that,” said Gold sincerely, and he shrugged.

“It was a long time ago.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with,” said Gold dryly. “As my therapist helpfully informs me.”

Neal chuckled.

“How’s the therapy going?”

“Slow,” he admitted. “But I’m told any progress is good. I’m also told there may be times when it feels as though I’m going backwards.”

Neal wrinkled his nose and hunched his shoulders a little. The gesture reminded Gold of how he himself reacted to his therapy sessions at times.

“Yeah, I hear you,” said Neal. “Emma and I went to therapy after I got out of jail. Thought it would be good for us. Fresh start, all of that.”

“Did it help?”

“Absolutely,” he said sincerely. “Sometimes you don’t realise how much you’re bottling up, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” said Gold quietly. 

“Emma was abandoned when she was just a baby,” Neal went on. “Never knew her parents. Sometimes I think it’s harder on her because of that. She’s spent a lot of time thinking about who they might have been, why they had to give her up.”

“And you?” asked Gold, and Neal grimaced.

“Well, I never knew my dad, but I remember my mom,” he said. “I especially remember the day she dropped me off with Social Services and never came back.”

“Really?” Gold shook his head. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to abandon my child. Not ever.”

“Yeah…” Neal hunched his shoulders a little more, shuffling his feet. “Guess not everyone’s meant to be a parent.”

“Have you seen your mother since?” asked Gold, and he shook his head.

“Nah. She never left a forwarding address, and I decided a long time ago that I never wanted to look for her.”

“What about your father?”

“Don’t even know his name,” said Neal. “I know he was boring and didn’t like to have fun. That’s according to my flighty, absentee mother, of course.”

He shared a smile with Gold.

“Families, huh?” he said.

“Indeed.”

They fell into silence again. Gold sipped his coffee. It was cool enough to drink, and he took a gulp. Neal drank the last of his own, setting down his cup.

“Belle said that you had a kid,” he said. “I mean other than Gideon.”

“Oh.” Gold felt his jaw tighten. “Yes. I did. I do.”

“Yeah, she didn’t really go into what happened.” added Neal hastily. “She said you probably wouldn’t want her to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay.” Gold scratched the back of his neck. “I’m told I need to learn to open up more.”

“Yeah, well.” Neal sent him a slanted grin. “Easier said than done, right?”

“Speaking as someone who’s had a lifetime of keeping things to myself, I concur.”

“Gets easier,” said Neal. “Emma was like that when we met. Hell, so was I. Hard to trust people when all you know is being let down by those who are supposed to care for you.”

“Yes,” said Gold quietly. “Well. I promised myself I’d give Gideon everything he needs. Everything I didn’t have.”

“Like me with Henry,” said Neal. “See? Like I said, all you can do is learn from your shitty past and decide you’re not gonna pass the crap down to the next generation.”

“True enough.” Gold glanced up as two familiar faces appeared in the corridor leading to the cafeteria. “Here’s Emma and Henry now.”

“Hey,” said Emma, tossing blonde curls back off her shoulders as Neal turned around. “How are the new parents?”

“Excellent,” said Gold, with a grin. “Belle was sleeping, so we were just having a coffee while we waited.”

“What’s the baby like?” asked Henry excitedly. “Is he big?”

“You can see him yourself very soon,” said Gold, and pushed to his feet. “I should go and see if they’re ready for visitors.”

“What colour’s his hair?” asked Henry. “Does he cry a lot?”

“Just hang on for like forty seconds and you can see him for yourself,” said Neal, looking amused. “But keep it calm, okay? Belle doesn’t want you climbing all over the bed when she’s just given birth.”

“Okay. Is there gonna be a party?”

“A party?” said Emma, confused.

“It’s Dad’s birthday tomorrow,” said Henry, and she ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten.”

“Maybe he and Gideon can have a party together.”

“I think Gideon has some growing to do before he can enjoy a birthday party, kiddo.”

Something in what Henry had said tickled at the back of Gold’s mind, and he frowned.

“Your birthday is the first of May?” he asked, and Neal nodded.

“Yep.”

“Right.” He drummed his fingers on the handle of his cane, skin prickling with what felt like anxiety. “Uh - let me just go and see if Belle’s awake.”

He took a step away, then hesitated, swivelling on the toes of his shoes as he turned back.

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” he asked, and Neal pulled a face.

“Twenty-nine tomorrow,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing. Excuse me.”

He bowed his head, turning away and heading for Belle’s room at a fast pace. Coincidence. It has to be.

[tarhalindur]

Rebellion’s Biggest Outstanding Question

(Big fat PMMM+Rebellion spoilers under the cut, natch:)

Homura, at the end of Rebellion, believes that she is rebelling against Madoka’s will.  But is she actually doing so?  Or is she acting in accordance with it?

Let me explain.

I’ll start with the point I’m sold on either way (and have commented on at least twice before, including my explanation of Madoka’s other big mistake): Rebellion is directly downstream of Madoka making a single mistake immediately after her ascension in episode 12, a moment when she could not afford to make any mistake at all.  Much like Madoka’s other big mistake in episode 10, this one is not obvious on the surface and only becomes clear when looking at the events through a symbolic lens.

Specifically, a Buddhist symbolic lens.

I’ll leave the full explanation there to this post, which lays out the Buddhist influence on base PMMM’s themes and imagery and on Madokami’s ascension better than I could.  (Although its author is missing a few points.  First, the shot of Madoka expanding to galaxy size is DIRECTLY out of ego death symbolism.  Which makes sense, because there’s enough accounts to suggest that regardless of whether or not it has any deeper meaning beyond brain chemistry the people who’ve had it are describing a single class of subjective experience, and “one’s consciousness expanding to the size of the galaxy” seems to be a common feature of it - I’ve read at least one account of that kind of experience from, of all people, a random Protestant minister who claims to have had such an experience on a vision trip to the Amazon and only later realized that there was precedent for that kind of experience in Buddhist traditions, and he mentions that exact expansion as part of what he went through.  Second, the flower on Madoka’s bow is a rose, not a willow... which makes sense, because “Guanyin/Kannon and the Virgin Mary are two aspects of the same goddess” has been a theory in certain parts for at least a century, and the rose has a traditional association with the latter goddess - there’s a reason they call it the rosary, after all.  (I’ve seen speculation out of a few polytheist/less orthodox Christian circles I keep tabs on that Pistis Sophia is yet another aspect of the same goddess, too...)  Third, note all the mandala symbolism floating around - most obviously Walpurgisnacht’s appearance and Kyubey’s exposition in episode 11.)

And that influence is important here, because part of the process of the escape from samsara is the breaking of all karmic ties to the world.

Except... Madoka does not do this.  She leaves one karmic tie behind.

This one, to be precise:

Now, in theory it’s possible that the tainted miracle of Homura remembering Madoka has another root.  But I have my doubts, and the biggest piece of evidence there is the OST: the track that plays when Homura meets Junko in the finale and offers to give up the ribbons is named Taenia Memoriae, aka “the ribbon of memories”.  HMM,

(That Junko scene is in this regards the single most enigmatic scene of the main series finale to me.  My instinct is that it’s drawing off of Christian mythos again, either canonical or Gnostic, but I can’t quite place what piece; I kind of want to compare it specifically to the Denial of Peter.)

Now, there’s two other pieces here that are worth noting.

1) While Homulilly is described as the Nutcracker Witch in Rebellion, Homulilly’s name and Witch card are first revealed in the PSP game, and there she goes by a rather different epithet: Witch of the Mortal World, nature is karma.  Which is rather on the nose (the Mortal World [shigan] being another term for samsara), but then that’s probably by design - main series PMMM is not subtle at all when it wants to make a point.  And it is this epithet, not the Nutcracker Witch, that the Doppel versions of Homulilly in MagiReco draw off of, which suggests the staff considered it important.  (There’s a second distinction in the latter, because Moemura’s version of the Doppel implies that Homulilly’s nature was originally slightly different again - Witch of the Mortal World, nature is closed circuits - but I think for our purposes here this is a difference without true distinction, much like the Witch of the Near Shore pun for swimsuit!Moemura’s version of Homulilly.)  And there’s echoes of this even in Rebellion: the Clara Dolls are of course referred to as the Children of the Mortal World, plus of course the obvious “Homulilly’s Rebellion barrier as the Mortal World” take.  (Which, hmm.  Hello second-order symbolism - Homura failing to “break out of the egg” as failure to escape the cycle of samsara.)

2) The red ribbons of course suggest a very specific form of karmic tie - the Red String of Fate.  And you can be very, very sure that the staff intended that, too.  To drag a certain piece of key animation back out from storage:

While it’s hard to tell at this size, it sure looks to my eyes like the two ends are specifically tied around the girls’ pinkies.  You know, exactly where the proverbial Red String is said to be tied.

Or, to put it another way: AI YO.

Everything in Rebellion is downstream of this.

But all this is prologue.  Now that we have established the mistake, we can address the actual outstanding question: Did Madoka intend to make that mistake?  People have noted the applicability of Junko’s comments about intentionally making a big mistake when backed into a corner to Homura’s actions in Rebellion; do they also apply to the action Madoka took that led to that?

I am not sure.  Both cases are consistent, and I’d put about even odds either way.  But it’s the affirmative case I want to lay out here, to show that it does in fact exist:

- Let’s start with the one point someone else might bring up that I don’t really weight: Madoka’s final conversation with Homura in the flower bed.  This one, I think, can mostly be discarded.  We have word from both Kyubey and Sayaka that Madoka does not have her memories here; I can’t see both of them lying here.  (Also remember that Kyubey seems to have restriction that is sometimes said to apply to demons, at least under certain circumstances: he cannot directly tell a lie.  This is of course a very different thing from having to tell the truth, as episode 9 alone is enough to attest, but in this specific case it’s a boost to his credibility.)  If there’s an actual argument here, it’s a second-order one; it is possible, especially given her divine abilities, that Madokami was running a Xanatos Gambit and counting on her amnesiac projection to unwittingly relay her true feelings.  (In which case I would have to grab a certain infamous line from another well-known anime: “Just as planned”.)

- That one shot of Madokami’s gloved, scarred arm reaching down through the window to touch Homura.  Operative word scarred.  (And honestly, looking at one of the subs for that scene again Madoka’s comments there look potentially consistent with her actually supporting of or at least accepting Homura becoming a demon...)

- Mata Ashita, specifically the lyrics thereof.  With the perspective of the full series, Madoka’s character song is fairly clearly from the perspective of Madokami, and it’s suggestive that she is not entirely happy with the results of her wish and ascension.

- The fact that Rebellion happened at all.  There’s a complaint that I’ve seen regarding the mechanics of the Incubators’ plot in Rebellion: logically, by the wording of Madoka’s final wish the Incubators’ plan to use the Isolation Field to block the Law of Cycles should not work, since part of Madoka’s wish was to rewrite any rule or law that would prevent her from destroying Witches with her own hands, including the one the Incubators set up with their Isolation Field - doubly so if you take Madokami’s statement can see every world that ever existed or could ever exist and apply it to the Sealed Reality the experiment generates.  Except... there is one way that argument fails, regardless of anything else: namely, if Madoka saw what the Incubators were doing and intentionally allowed their experiment to proceed.  And at this point there is precedent for her doing something very similar; AIUI in her Magical Girl Story in MagiReco Madokami does something very similar wrt the MagiReco timeline, deliberately declining to destroy it despite its continued existence conflicting with the Law of Cycles.

(- Magia.  This point of argument I’m not convinced of either, but let’s lay it out.  (Honestly, even if I’m right I’m not sure how much of this was consciously intended, but creations can have a life of their own - especially creations where fucking natural disasters delay them so that they’re released on the most appropriate day possible!)  There’s two pieces to this, one I’m more sure of than the other:

1) The visuals.  Here’s the spot where I feel most solid about interpreting Magia: the ED visuals are clearly a reference to Madokami’s ascension.  (The show loves hiding that sort of foreshadowing in plain sight, why would you be surprised?)  Note the second half particularly, both Madoka’s hair lengthening and the starfield she’s running past.  (I think the order of the four other girls in the first half is probably how long they held out without Witching out.)  That leaves two issues, one more obvious to Western audiences and one less so.  First, that enigmatic and ominous shot of Madoka in fetal position (appropriate - her request in 10 and then her wish in 12 can be rephrased as “don’t let me grow up”) in the eye of Mephisto.  Second, there’s a point I’ve seen raised in analyses of Connect: in Japanese cinematography, motion from right to left indicates a correct course (unlike its Western equivalent, where the opposite applies)... and for the entirety of Magia Madoka is moving left-to-right.

2) The lyrics.  This is the part I’m less sold on, but once again let’s lay out the affirmative.  My line here derives from a hunch: Connect is famously from Homura’s perspective despite appearing to be from Madoka’s, perhaps the inverse is also true?  I’m still not sure there, but especially if you’re considering the TV version it can work... provided the lyrics are specifically from Madokami’s perspective again.  Grabbing the wiki version of the translation: “The light of love lit within your eyes will transcend time” sure fits better if we’re talking about Homura rather than about Madoka, likewise “with this power that can break even darkness” sure sounds like a better fit for Madokami to me.  And in that case the most interesting stanza is the second: “Swallow down your hesitation.  What is it that you wish for?  With the direction of this greedy admiration, will there be a short-lived tomorrow?”  The former two lines  are quite consistent with Homura’s decision in Rebellion (and I note the visual of Homura biting down on her Soul Gem to break it!), and “tomorrow” is consistently a reference to the possibility of Homura and Madoka meeting again in other PMMM songs (Mata Ashita again, Colorful, Connect full version) - which is realized courtesy of a greedy admiration, no less.  So.  Magia’s full version might count, too - there’s lines there that are harder to square from a Madokami perspective (”if I can move forward without hesitation then it’s fine if my heart gets broken” especially), but “Someday, for the sake of someone else, you too will wish for great power; on the night love captures your heart, unknown words will be born” fits Homura’s fall better than Madoka’s wish, I think.)

- If Madoka’s mistake in 12 is intentional then it more closely mirrors her (unintentional) mistake in 10: she’s implicitly asking Homura to once again do something she can’t and stop her from/alleviate the effects of her making a mistake.

- At a Doylist level, if they go for a proper happy end (either in Walpurgis no Kaiten or in a hypothetical sequel to the same) I’m not sure there’s any way they can get there without using this interpretation.  (In general, the two outcomes that make the most sense to me are “Akuhomu becomes the core of Walpurgisnacht, cue ending scene with Moemura making her wish” (the Logic Error ending, consistent with the Eternal Return of the Self; cue MagiReco as the way out) or an ending based on the answer to this question being yes - the easy version being a movie of everyone except Homura fighting to let Madoka rejoin the Law of Cycles only for her to surprise everyone with some sort of ending based on “actually, I was counting on her to do this from the start”.)

[simplybakugou]

OKAY I JUST READ YOUR SHORT STORY ABOUT BAKUGO HAVING A QUIRKLESS KID AND CRAZY IDEA BUT WHAT IF MIDORIYA, WHO’S STILL IN TOUCH WITH BAKUGO, WAS LIKE A CLOSE FAMILY FRIEND OR SUM AND GOT ALONG GREAT W KATSUO. idkidk but im sure deku would truly understand how katsuo feels so he’d kinda take him under his wing and “guide” him as he grows up AND MAYBE ONE DAY PASSES ON ONE FOR ALL TO HIM ? CRAZY IDEA BUT IT JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD WHILE READING IT.

⋆ PAIRING: dad!bakugou x female!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; angst ⋆ WORD COUNT: 6126

A/N: I was already planning on making a part 2 for this but you guys beat me to it! And this is so long, I didn’t mean for it to be so long but so many ideas kept coming to mind lol. This is also my way of contributing to Bakugou’s birthday because I’m too depressed and sad to do anything else for him :) Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy :)

Link to part 1 is here!

✐posted 04.20.2020✐

“You’re all done!” You exclaimed, patting one of your patient’s back as you wrapped up the bandage. “Remember to not put too much pressure or overwork your arm otherwise it won’t heal properly. Please contact the hospital if you have any other abnormal pains.”

The young woman smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Bakugou-san. No wonder you’re so famous!”

You smiled and thanked the woman as she exited the room. Your nursing assistance, Hana, walked into the room, holding her clipboard of all of your appointments in hand. “Hana, do I have any more appointments?”

Hana looked down at the clipboard, shaking her head. “No, you’re clear for the afternoon.”

You nodded, thanking her and pulled your phone out from your pocket as you walked out into the hallway. There were numerous missed calls from Aldera Junior High, Katsuo’s school. A sigh escaped your lips, already knowing that the meaning of the call couldn’t be good. You dialed the phone number and called back.

“Hello, this is the office of Aldera Junior High, how can I help you?” A man’s voice asked from the other line.

“Hi, my name is Bakugou Y/N and I was just calling back after receiving some missed calls from this number.”

“Oh, Bakugou-san! Let me redirect you to Principal Hirai. She will answer your call shortly.” The line was momentarily cut off until you were redirected to the principal’s phone.

“Hello, this Principal Hirai. Is this Bakugou-san?” 

“Yes, it is. Sorry about not answering your previous calls. I had a few appointments to take care of at the hospital here.” You took off your white lab coat and sat down in your office.

“No worries, I understand how busy and hard you work. I called because there was an… incident here.”

You furrowed your brows. “Incident? Is it about Katsuo? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine but he did get into a fight with another student here. His mother is here in my office now and I would like you to come as well. I tried calling your husband but he is currently on duty so that’s why I called you,” Principal Hirai said.

“I understand. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” You hung up, setting your phone down on the table. Your fingertips rubbed small circles into your temples as you could feel a migraine forming. Katsuo, despite being a carbon copy of his father, had your temperament, making him calmer and less aggressive than his father. That was why you were shocked to find out he had gotten into a fight, something that is not in his character. 

You grabbed your coat, phone, and bag, approaching the front desk of the hospital. “Hana, call me if I get any other appointments. I’m taking my lunch break early.”

Hana nodded, waving good-bye to you as you made your way to your car and Aldera Junior High.

***

The doors were light as you pushed open the doors to the main office of the school. A man, most likely the one who you were on the phone with, greeted you. “Bakugou-san? You can take a seat right there. Principal Hirai will be right with you.”

You nodded, looking over to where he was gesturing. In the seats was your son who had a tissue in his right nostril to stop the bleeding as well as a bruise on his right cheek. He looked up at you, his crimson eyes widening at the sight of you. “Mom!”

You sighed, walking over and sitting down next to him. You cupped his face in your hands, examining his face. “You don’t look too beaten up but that bruise will take a few days, maybe weeks, to heal.”

Katsuo looked at you with a puzzled expression. “So… you’re not upset?”

“Of course I’m upset!” You exclaimed. “Why would you get into a fight, Katsuo? It’s not like you to do something like this.”

Katsuo scoffed in a manner similar to Bakugou himself. “That bastard Watanabe is a piece of shit.”

You felt your eye twitch at the sound of your son cursing, normally reprimanding him for doing so but deciding not to now since he seemed so upset. “He was picking on a kid in class for not showing him the answers on the test so I just wanted to tell him off for picking on someone like that. But then he started getting all pissy, talking about me being shitty for not having a quirk and then he…”

Katsuo looked over at you, looking away after his eyes met yours. “Then he what, Suo?”

Katsuo sighed, looking down at his hands. “He started saying that I’m probably quirkless ‘cause ‘my bitch of a mother’s shit quirk was too weak to pass on’ and that it was ‘her fault for making such a fucked up kid.’”

Katsuo looked back up at you, holding your hands in his. “But your quirk is so cool, Mom! No one else thinks it’s shitty or anything! Everyone thinks that you’re amazing for protecting and saving so many people and they all admire you for it! I admire you for it! Even if you aren’t a pro, you’re my hero, Mom.”

You smiled at him, raising your hand up and caressing his blonde hair down. “When did I get such a sweet and caring son? You didn’t have to say anything, Suo, I’m proud of you for sticking up for your classmate.”

He smiled back at you, looking over to see the man at the front desk smiling at the sight of a mother comforting her son. Katsuo blushed, rubbing his neck. “I-It was nothing, Mom.”

The door labelled ‘PRINCIPAL’ in black, bold letters, opened up. Principal Hirai gestured at the two of you to come in and you both got up to enter her office. Inside was an older woman and a young boy, who was even more beat up than Katsuo with a large band aid covering the bridge of his nose as well as a black eye. It seemed like even quirkless Katsuo was capable of showing his strength and protecting himself. Katsuo sat down on the chair next to Watanabe and you sat beside your son.

Principal Hirari sighed, folding her hands together on the desk. “Thank you both for being able to come here today, especially you, Y/N, with your busy schedule.”

The mother scoffed, crossing her arms. “What? Being a little doctor means she gets more praise than me?”

“No, not at all, Aiko. But let me get to why I had you come here in the first place. From what I’ve heard from Mashiho, he was minding his business when Katsuo came over and kept initiating a fight. Then he punched his face, forcing Mashiho to have to fight back.”

Katsuo stood up from his seat, eyes widened and teeth clenched together in anger. “You liar! You threw the first punch! And you were the one who kept picking on Asahi!”

Watanabe rolled his eyes at him. “I didn’t do any of that, Principal Hirai. Who are you going to believe: the kid with respectable parents or the brat with a sad excuse of a father who uses his aggressive behavior to call himself a hero?”

Katsuo grabbed Watanabe by the collar, pulling him up to his feet. “I dare you to say that again, you fucking piece of shit.”

You stood up, pulling Katsuo back and making him sit back down. “That’s enough, boys. I’ve heard enough,” Principal Hirai said.

Aiko began comforting her son in her arms. “Oh, my poor baby! Hirai, as you can clearly see, that barbaric kid is the one responsible for all of this! But you can’t blame the kid for being like that, since his parents can barely take care of one kid, let alone two. I mean how many times has that behemoth of a hero caused damage to the press. He’s better off being a villain than a hero if you ask me.”

Your hands clenched into fists. “Good thing no one was asking you, ‘cause the next time you even think about insulting my son or my husband in front of me will be your last.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Principal Hirai commanded. “It’s clear to me what happened.”

“Good, so I’m glad that that brat will be taken care of,” Aiko huffed.

“No, the exact opposite will be happening,” Principal Hirai said, eyeing Aiko. She looked over at Katsuo, smiling. “Katsuo has never gotten into this kind of trouble. Nor have I ever gotten complaints about him from the teachers. In fact, they say that he will most likely be the valedictorian for this year’s class. I only expect good things from him and I can see that you and your husband have done an excellent job raising him and Suki, who also is doing well in her classes here. I also want to thank you and your husband for everything you do for the people and so selflessly as well.”

You smiled, bowing your head at her. “Thank you for your kind words and taking care of my kids, too.”

Principal Hirai nodded, her smile disappearing as she looked at Watanabe. “Mashiho, on the other hand has caused more trouble than any other child in this building. There have been numerous cases where he has bothered other students for his benefit. I’m sure that if Katsuo didn’t step up and defend his classmate, Watanabe would have continued this behavior. Therefore, I’ve decided to suspend Watanabe for three weeks.”

Aiko and Watanabe stared at Principal Hirai with wide eyes and they both jumped out of their chairs. “This is outrageous! Look at my baby, look at how beat up he is because of that little shit!”

Principal Hirai looked at Aiko with disgust. “I also advise you, Aiko, to learn some manners as well because I won’t allow any adult to address my students as ‘little shits.’ I won’t be changing my mind. Please leave my office and do not return.”

Aiko, who was enraged, got up and grabbed her purse in one hand and her son in the other as she stormed out the door, cursing as she did so. Katsuo snickered and you nudged his leg to make him stop. Principal Hirai sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I really do apologize for making you come all the way here for such a nuisance. I’m sorry to you, too, Katsuo for having to deal with this.”

Katsuo grinned at her. “It’s nothing. If I’m being honest, I only fought back ‘cause he talked shi– I mean bad about my mom.”

You ruffled his hair, bowing and thanking the principal. “Thank you so much. If it’s alright, I’d like to sign Katsuo out for the rest of the day.”

Principal Hirai nodded. “You can sign Suki out as well as my way of showing my thanks for everything you and Ground Zero do for the world.”

You and Katsuo thanked her once again, going out into the office and having the man at the desk call Suki’s teacher to have her come down. Suki was your daughter, two years younger than Katsuo. Unlike her older brother, she had inherited your healing quirk. The difference was that she inherited Bakugou’s special sweat where she is able to heal using her sweat. Although she still can’t use it to the best of her abilities, she does try and train it as best as she can.

As you signed your children out, Suki opened the doors with a large grin on her face, most likely due to the fact that she got to leave early which was practically every child’s dream. She made a face once she saw her brother’s bruises. “God, what happened to you?”

Katsuo rolled his eyes at his little sister. “I’ll tell you later.”

***

“And then, I used just one drop of my sweat and it healed her paper cut! Isn’t that great, Mom? I’m showing so much progress!” Suki said, her face lit up with excitement as she latched her arm around yours.

Katsuo scoffed. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to do more? You’re in sixth grade now and that’s all you can do?”

You nudged Katsuo’s side. “Progress is still progress. I’m proud of you, Suki.”

Suki grinned at you, sticking her tongue out at her brother. Katsuo flipped her off when you weren’t looking. It was bright outside, the sun beaming down on the three of you as you took your kids out. Although you didn’t want him to get into fights, you were proud of your son for sticking up for his classmate and defending himself even without a quirk. There was no doubt in your mind that he would become a great hero just like his father.

Katsuo extended his arm out in front of the two of you, causing you to stop walking. He pointed down the road. “There’s a bunch of reporters there. If we go down this way, they’ll just ambush us and ask a bunch of questions about Dad.”

You nodded, looking down the street that was a bit dimmer as it wasn’t exposed to the sun’s rays due to the ginormous trees on the sidewalks. “This road looks better. It’ll take us a bit longer to get back to the car but that’s fine.”

“Do you think we’ll run into Dad or another cool hero on the way?” Suki asked excitedly as the three of you began walking down the narrow, desolate road.

“It’s possible, but I’d rather not ‘cause heroes only show up in times of need and that would mean a villain would be here,” you said. 

“Do you think there are people out there that hate Dad?” Katsuo asked.

“I’m sure there are. Just as there are people who love and admire Dad for everything he’s done, there have to be people who despise him for getting in the way,” you stated. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, looking at it to find an alert from a ‘villain movement app,’ one that notifies you when there is criminal activity in the area. WARNING: Level 5 villain, Gamma, is in the area. Be cautious.

“Gamma? Who’s that?” Suki asked.

“He was a villain that Dad and Uncle Deku faced a few years ago. He got away from police custody but no one’s heard from him since. We should get to the car as fast as we can before anything happens.”

“Too bad I got to you first,” a raspy voice called out from a few feet from behind you.

You felt like something was crawling under your skin as you clenched your hands around your kids’ forearms, turning around slowly to make eye contact with a pair of green beady eyes. 

“Mommy?” Suki called out to you softly. Gamma grinned menacingly at the three of you.

“Kids, run that way as fast as you can and get help from the first person you see,” you said in a low voice.

“What about you, Mom?” Katsuo asked, his voice trembling. Although he had never seen Gamma, obviously, he remembered watching the news feed of his father and Midoriya facing off against Gamma and it was difficult even with their combined strength. 

“Don’t worry about me, and go!” You said, your tone harshening in a way that Katsuo or Suki had never heard.

Suki grabbed her brother’s arm, running in the opposite direction. Katsuo looked behind him, your back faced him and he could see how you were shaking. Gamma took a step forward but you stopped him. “I’m your target, not them.”

Your quirk was in no way suited for combat but you knew you could distract him as much as you could just so that your kids could get away. Gamma grinned even wider. “You think I’ll let those little shits get away?”

Gamma used his quirk to create a solid wall in front of Suki and Katsuo’s path in a similar way that Cementoss’ quirk worked. “Your little husband and that All Might wannabe did this to me!” He pulled down his hood to reveal all of his hair singed off as well as burn markings all over his scalp. “I’m gonna make them feel every ounce of pain I felt.”

Suki began tearing up, clutching onto her older brother as Katsuo held her tightly against him. Gamma smirked. “I’m gonna kill all of you and make that explosion bastard feel so much agony he’s gonna beg me to kill him.”

Gamma moved his arm, his quirk activating to create a branch like substance, wrapping around Suki’s waist. Suki screamed as she was ripped from her brother’s grasp but Katsuo refused to let go of her, holding onto her arms. Although he didn’t have a quirk, he still trained with his father to maintain his physique. Due to Gamma’s strength to have been immensely depleted thanks to Midoriya and Bakugou, Katsuo managed to yank Suki from the cement branch.

Gamma grunted under his breath and you let out a sigh of relief. But it still was far from over. Gamma looked over to Katsuo, snarling at the sight of him. “You look just like him. I think I’ll play around with you until he gets here.”

Your eyes widened, looking back at Katsuo as another cement branch grabbed him this time. “Katsuo!” You and Suki called out in unison.

Suki attempted to pull her brother away like he had done for her but she wasn’t strong enough. The cement branch moved towards Gamma, holding Katsuo up in front of him. Gamma activated another cement branch, grabbing Suki and maneuvering it forward so it would grab you on the way. The substance felt like the side of the road was wrapping against your bare skin as the tiny rocks dug into you. You winced in pain and Suki began crying out.

Gamma laughed maniacally. “You all made it too easy! I expected it from the doctor but not from the brats! I expected at least one of you to have that bastard’s quirk!”

The crowd of reporters heard the commotion from the street over, moving to the source of the sound. With little time, the crowd continued growing as they all watched on, unable to do anything other than watch. 

The cement dug deeper as Gamma tightened its hold around all of you. The silent road was now filled with the sounds of the three of you screaming in agony. You gritted your teeth. “They’re just kids! It should be enough to take your anger out on me, not them! Let them go!”

Gamma shook his head. “I want him to feel as much pain as he can! I don’t give a fuck who gets hurt!” You continued baiting him, angering Gamma even further.

Katsuo grunted, trying to break his arms free or at least move them around. Think, Katsuo, think!

He remembered watching the video of Gamma fighting all those years ago and how he relied on the darkness when using his quirk. It was a long shot, but Katsuo knew he had to do something otherwise his family would be murdered. His fingers snuck into his pocket carefully, pulling out his phone and turning the flashlight on. He shined the light at Gamma’s eyes and Gamma screamed out, his eyes feeling like they were burning. His grip began to weaken and Katsuo broke free from his hold. He continued to shine the light at him as he went over to his mother and sister.

The only way to get them out would be to break the cement. Katsuo didn’t have any tools to do this, having to rely on his fists and the fact that Gamma was weakened by the light to break them free. So Katsuo began punching the cement, his knuckles cracking and bleeding as he pounded relentlessly. 

“Suo!” Suki cried out, tears streaming down her face.

With one final punch, Katsuo broke you and Suki free, falling to the floor. The crowd cheered for Katsuo as you grabbed your son and daughter and ran towards the crowd and away from Gamma. Katsuo continued to shine the light onto Gamma, sighing in relief as he thought they had gotten away.

“Not so fast, you shit!” Gamma yelled, releasing one more cement branch blindly, grabbing Katsuo. He dropped his phone, releasing Gamma from being burned by the light. You moved to grab your son, only to be stopped by the formation of a cement wall, one with numerous net-like holes so that everyone could see what he was about to do.

“All you bastards out there, feast your eyes!” Gamma called out to the crowd. He tightened his grip around Katsuo. Katsuo felt his ribs crack as he let out a blood curdling scream.

“Katsuo!” You called out, covering your mouth as you sobbed. 

Suki fell to the floor beside you, turning around at the crowd. “One of you fucking idiots call for help! He’s gonna kill my brother!”

The crowd flinched at the intensity and vigor of Suki’s voice. One of the reporters had gotten the attention of others around him, and the crowd managed to call over Midoriya who was initially informed about the situation, the perfect person for this. 

“Gamma!” Midoriya called down the road.

Gamma flinched at the sound. “That voice…”

Taking advantage of the diversion and Gamma’s lack of attention, Katsuo pushed his arms out, wriggling his body from Gamma’s clutches. He fell to the floor, groaning in pain. He was broken and bloodied. “Suo!” Suki called out.

Katsuo punched through the wall, managing to break free, falling in front of his mother and sister. He was panting, clutching his side in pain. 

“That damn hero…” Gamma grunted. 

Before Midoriya could make his way through the crowd, Gamma created another branch, one with deadly shards of cement that would surely impale you as he was trying to grab you this time. Katsuo saw this, grabbing his book bag that was strewn on the floor and flinging it at the branch. He threw his body in front of you and Suki.

“Don’t you fucking touch them!” Katsuo screamed, his voice cracking. 

Gamma smirked at him. “Look at you being all brave. Come to think of it, I did hear about Ground Zero having a quirkless son. And you think you can defeat me? You’re just a waste of space!”

“I know that I’m weak!” Katsuo yelled. “I’m quirkless, and I’ll never be as strong as my dad.”

“Suo…” You murmured, holding onto Suki. 

Katsuo looked at Gamma with an intensity in his eyes that matched that of Bakugou’s. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll just let you hurt the ones I love without a fight!”

Gamma scoffed, angered by the child’s tenacity. He created another branch, this time aiming for Katsuo. “It’s over for you, kid!”

“Not while I’m here!” Midoriya called out, finally breaking through the crowd and running full speed at Gamma. “You’ve hurt them enough!”

Gamma flinched as Midoriya used his quirk and landed a devastating punch to Gamma’s large body. His body cracked, weakening his powers immensely. He was already weak due to Midoriya and Bakugou’s efforts all those years ago. 

As Midoriya reprimanded Gamma, Katsuo collapsed to the floor, continuing to clutch his side. You moved to hold him in your arms. “Katsuo, don’t worry I’ll fix you up soon.”

***

“Will he really be okay?” Suki asked, sniffling as she continued to cry.

You smiled softly, caressing her hair. “He’s alright. He has a few broken ribs and broke a few fingers, too. But Katsuo’s the strongest kid I know.”

Suki’s fists shook in her lap as you two sat outside of Katsuo’s room in the hospital. “He’s such an idiot! He should know better than to hurt himself like that!”

You rubbed Suki’s back, leaning your head onto hers. You shivered at the mere thought of Gamma but was assured as the images of Katsuo’s bravery flooded your mind. You knew that he trained with Bakugou since he was a toddler but you had no idea he was so strong, especially without a quirk.

You were broken away from your thoughts as Midoriya walked down the hallway. He smiled as he saw you and Suki. “Are you guys okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks to you, I don’t know what would’ve happened without you, Deku.”

Midoriya smiled sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I was just doing my job! Your son was amazing out there! Speaking of, is he awake?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he wanted a few moments alone to breathe and process what happened so I’m just waiting for Katsuki here.”

“I see. Is it alright if I see him?”

“Go ahead!”

Midoriya smiled at the two of you as he slid the door open, closing it behind him. Katsuo sighed from his bed. “Mom, I said I wanted a few moments alo–”

Katsuo’s eyes widened at Midoriya by the door. “Oh, sorry! I can come back later if you want.”

“No! It’s okay, you can stay!” Katsuo sat up in his bed, wincing slightly. “I actually wanted to thank you for saving us back there.”

Midoriya shook his head, sitting down on the chair beside Katsuo’s bed. “You did so much for your mom and your little sister and I don’t think you understand how you literally saved them. I’m sure if you hadn’t done what you did and protected them in the way that you did, they would have been harmed severely. But you used your own body to protect them.”

Katsuo blushed. Although he was close with Midoriya due to his connection to his father, this was the first time someone other than his parents was commending him for his strength. “I just didn’t want them to get hurt. They’re my family and I think that if I had just done nothing, even though I don’t have a quirk, I would have never forgiven myself if they got hurt.”

Midoriya smiled. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, you know.”

Katsuo’s eyes widened. “What? No way! You’re one of the top heroes, Uncle Deku! You’re as strong as Dad, there’s no way you were like a quirkless loser like me!”

“I was though.” Midoriya paused. “I was quirkless like you.”

Katsuo stared at Midoriya with genuine confusion. Midoriya raised his hands in front of him, showing the numerous scars on his hands. “I was born quirkless but I was given this quirk by someone else. It’s called One For All.”

“You were given your quirk? Is that even possible?”

“This is the only possible way. A long time ago, I met my hero, the past symbol of peace, All Might. He gave me this quirk.”

Katsuo got excited, his eyes shining with excitement. “All Might?! Dad always tells me stories about how cool he was back in the day! And he gave you his quirk? Was that why he retired?”

Midoriya shook his head. “No, you see, that’s not how it works. One For All can be passed down from one person to another and it has been for generations. All Might was given his power by his teacher, too.”

Midoriya looked down at his hands. “I was a quirkless kid just like you when I met him. I thought it was impossible for me to become a hero and so did All Might at first. But then, I tried to save your dad from a villain, even without a quirk, and All Might saw me do it. He saw my drive to save as many people as I could as the perfect thing for the next successor of One For All. So he passed his quirk to me.”

“Dad never told me about that… about the whole villain attacking him.”

Midoriya chuckled. “That sounds like Kacchan. It isn’t something he’s proud of, having to be saved by a quirkless kid. But seeing you throw yourself and do anything to save those that you love, it reminded me of exactly why I wanted to become a hero.”

Katsuo furrowed his brows in confusion at Midoriya. “I like hearing all these stories, but why’re you telling me all this? Isn’t this supposed to be a secret?”

“I’m telling you this because I want to pass down One For All to you.”

Katsuo stared at him with utter disbelief, not believing for a second that he was serious. “Uncle Deku, I really do respect you, but if this is a joke, I think you can stop now.”

Midoriya shook his head. “I’ve never been more serious, Katsuo. Kacchan and Y/N have been telling me how much you’ve wanted to be a hero and I’m sure a lot of people have told you that you wouldn’t be able to be a hero because you’re quirkless. But from one quirkless person to another: you too can become a hero.”

***

Bakugou’s feet moved at a pace that the rest of his body couldn’t keep up with. The moment he heard the news of Gamma attacking his family, he didn’t hesitate to drop everything to rush to your side and make sure all three of you were okay. Midoriya had texted him the location of the hospital and Bakugou cursed under his breath as he had decided to take the stairs to the fifth floor, which was where you were. He even used his quirk to move his body faster, finally reaching the fifth floor.

His crimson eyes scanned the halls and found Suki lying on two chairs outside of a room, you close beside her. You looked up, smiling after seeing your husband. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou didn’t hesitate to hold you in his arms, practically knocking the wind out of you. His calloused hands held you tightly, his head nuzzled into your neck. He was so glad to see that you were alright. Bakugou pulled away, examining your body once more for any external injuries. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Suki and I got away with a few scratches.”

Bakugou’s blonde brows furrowed in worry and concern. “And Suo? What about Katsuo?”

“He has a few broken ribs and fingers. He’ll be okay though.”

“What the fuck happened?”

You smiled at Bakugou. “Katsuo protected us from that villain, Katsu. He did whatever he could to protect us.”

Bakugou stared in silence and relief. He was concerned about his son, slightly aggravated with the fact that he had been so reckless, but he also knew that if Katsuo hadn’t stepped up, you and Suki would’ve been harmed to a degree that Bakugou didn’t even want to imagine.

“He’s in there with Deku if you want to see him.”

Bakugou nodded, moving over to Suki who was fast asleep. He sighed, knowing that she was okay before sliding the door open. Katsuo nor Midoriya heard the door open, Bakugou only seeing the sight of Katsuo in a state of utter shock.

“What the hell did you tell him, Deku?” Bakugou asked, closing the door and leaning against it.

Midoriya flinched at the sudden sound of his voice, turning around to face him. “Oh, Kacchan! I didn’t even hear you come in.”

Midoriya looked back at Katsuo who was looking at his hands, both his hands bandaged up as the aftermath of the day’s events. “Dad, do you think I can be a hero?”

Bakugou sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think what you did today is enough proof that you’re better than half the pros out there. Some of them hesitate to even save people, valuing their life above everything else. But you didn’t even think about that, and even though it was reckless, you’re the reason why Mom and Suki were able to get out of that unscathed.”

Katsuo let out a breathless laugh, his eyes tearing up as he whispered out, “So you think I’m a hero, too?”

“From how shocked you are now, I’m gonna guess and say that this shithead wants to pass down his quirk to you.”

Midoriya and Katsuo looked at Bakugou with shock. “How’d you know, Kacchan?”

Bakugou scoffed. “I wasn’t born yesterday. The moment I heard what happened and how you were there at the last minute, you probably saw that my kid was just like you all those years ago with that fucking sludge monster. And seeing as you’re here and Suo looks like he’s gonna pass out, I figured that’s what you told him.”

Midoriya turned his body around to face Bakugou. “So what do you think?”

“I think that my opinion has nothing to do with this. This is your quirk and it’s your decision for who you want to pass it onto. And it’s up to Katsuo if he wants this.”

Midoriya smiled, looking over at Katsuo. “You see, Katsuo? There are only a few people in my life that know about One For All and All Might and your dad are included. It’s all up to you.”

Katsuo clenched the sheets in his hands. The minute Midoriya had explained his situation, he knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll do it. I’ll take One For All.”

Midoriya grinned. “Awesome! I knew I could count on you. But, I will say that I can’t pass it onto you for now since I still have so much to do with this quirk. But, I will train you and help your body be prepared for this quirk. I had no muscle training until All Might came into my life but I can see that Kacchan has prepared you well.”

“I–”

The door slid open abruptly, almost making Bakugou fall backwards. You put your hand on his back, pushing him back up. The three boys stared at you in shock and you looked at them in confusion. “What? You guys look like I interrupted a classified meeting.”

Midoriya shook his head vigorously. “N-No! You didn’t interrupt anything!”

“O-kay?” You sighed. “Can you two get out for now? I need to examine Katsuo’s wounds a little more before we can call it a night.”

Midoriya nodded, getting up to leave and sit on the chairs outside of the room. You walked over to Katsuo, sitting on the chair that Midoriya was sitting on. Bakugou unfurled his arms from his chest to his sides. “I’m gonna go talk to Deku.” You nodded and he closed the door behind him.

Bakugou sat down beside Midoriya who seemed to be deep in thought. Bakugou looked over at him. “What, you regretting your decision already?”

Midoriya shook his head rapidly. “No, not at all! I have no doubt that I made the right decision. I’ve just been thinking about when All Might approached me the same way with this quirk.”

He looked down at his hands which had numerous scars. “I want to approach this the right way. All Might was running low on time with One For All and he prepared me as best as he could until the U.A. entrance exams. But I want to make sure that Katsuo’s body will be prepared to the fullest before taking this quirk. You’ve seen it’s backlashes and I don’t want him to have to experience that same pain.”

Bakugou looked over at his daughter, caressing her (H/C) hair. He smiled. “He’s stronger than he looks. He’s my kid after all.”

Midoriya smiled as well. “I figured that much. If he wasn’t strong, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fight Gamma and hold him off as much as he did.”

Bakugou sighed, looking in the opposite direction. “I’m gonna say this once so you better fucking listen up.”

Midoriya looked at him with curious eyes. “Thank you.”

Midoriya became flustered, expecting anything other than a ‘thanks’ from his hot-headed friend. “There’s nothing to thank me for! I didn’t really do anything.”

“You idiot, you’re giving him hope. No matter how strong a person can be, it’s difficult to become a hero without a quirk. I always told Suo that I believed in him and I still do, but I was always worried about what would happen once he faced off with an actual villain.”

Midoriya shook his head. “I didn’t do anything, I’m being honest. He’s always had hope. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to do what he did today. He believed in himself. Besides, I didn’t expect anything else from a Bakugou.”

Bakugou smirked. “Of course, where do you think he got it from?”

Midoriya smiled. “Kacchan, I’m going to make him become an even better hero than you and I. He’s going to be the best hero in existence.”

Bakugou looked over at him. “Damn right he will.”