#I distinctly remember hearing these exact words

[jtophat]

It’s crazy that these are the exact lyrics to Far Away From Tulsa

[solitaryearthperson]

Infatuation

Summary: What is it about you that has Homelander so infatuated?

(The reader is gender neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

Why you?

That was the million dollar question that kept going through Homelander's mind. There was nothing truly special about you. You were nothing like him and his teammates. You were - he couldn't help how hard his face cringed at the reminder - human. No Compound V or Temp V. Only regular red human blood coursing through your veins with no harmful or life-changing chemicals. Just human. Sure you were good-looking. Sure you were smart, and polite, but so were many of the other dumb, cocksucking fans he had to smile for and pretend to give a fuck about. So what made you different from them?

When did this even begin?

He couldn't really pinpoint the exact date that your beauty, poise, and civility had caught his attention. He thinks maybe a month or two ago. He could distinctly remember how pissed off he was at Ashley, not because she had did anything herself, but because she was the one delivering the bad news to him, and how that was the first day, you had spoke to him.

"What," he asked, his voice low and strict, while dripping with disbelief at what Ashley had said. He tried his hardest to keep facing the large windows of the Seven's meeting room, and keep a cool composure, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Um-um," she repeated, her mouth opening and closing, almost resembling a fish. Her green eyes widened in fear at what the Supe in front of her may do.

"Ashley," he said, his irritation at her hesitance to speak was making him even more angrier by the second. "Say that again."

"Well, I-you,...uh," she gulped and tried to speak again, her words coming out easier this time. "Your points has gone down significantly, by at least 60."

Hearing it repeated made his crystal blue eyes become engulfed in ruby red and he kept his gaze towards the windows, already sick of hearing and smelling the rank fear that was emanating from Ashley, and not wanting to make the smell worse. "How the fuck are my points down that much?"

The calmness of his voice made Ashley want to hurry and leave the room, but instead she nervously gulped down some of her fear again, and spoke, "People have not truly forgiven the Stormfront situation and the civilians that you accidentally lazered in half on the last mission made it worst. Their families and friends are all in mourning and sharing their grief online."

"Oh come on," he yelled, finally turning away from the window and seating himself in his usual seat at the large table, his face frowning in irritation. "Both of those things were fucking accidents! Stormfront is dead and those people have been dead for, what, weeks now. Almost a fucking month!"

Ignoring the harshness of his raised voice, Ashley continued, "Vought thought it could really help if you made an apology video or interview to get people back in your favor-"

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for argument. "It was a fucking accident and they need to get over it already." The rage inside him was rising higher and higher and he knew that more redness was coming to his eyes the more he listened to Ashley and the bullshit that she was spouting. He was sick of having to apologize for who he is and how powerful he is.

"Mr. Edgar thinks that-"

At the very mention of his name, Homelander's fist quickly connected with the surface of the table, leaving a large crack in the glass. The sound of his fist hitting it made Ashley quickly quiet and she instantly took a deep breath in, waiting for his next words.

"Get the fuck out," he told her, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the chair.

"Yes sir," Ashley quickly replied, rushing out.

At the time, she had quickly forgotten that you were with her, and had left you alone with the most dangerous Supe of them all.

"Mr. Homelander, sir," your voice, while small, had still interrupted the quietness that had taken over the room and was beginning to calm Homelander, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked to you, his red gaze freezing you in place.

"Who the fuck are you," he asked.

"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, nervously holding your folders and documents close to your chest. "I'm Ashley's assistant."

"And...?" Every part of his body language screamed that he was ready to murder anything right now.

"I was just gonna say that I'm sorry that you're under so much pressure," you told him, your voice still meek, but a little more confident as you see that you have kept his attention. "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, it can be hard to be like others and make mistakes."

"Exactly! Fuck! Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, making you slightly jump, but you quickly hid it, and returned the wide smile he threw to you, happy to see the redness from his eyes finally cool down to blue again. "No one gets how hard it is to be me. No one is ever truly grateful for what I do. Right?"

You silently nodded your head, happy to see the Supe no longer angry.

"I have to pretend to like and listen to these fucking idiots and apologize to them for helping them!" He let out an incredulous laugh at the thought of apologizing to the public again.

An idea came to you when he said that, and you quickly voiced it, "Maybe you can get their favor again without having to apologize for it."

He quickly furrowed his brows at your idea and quickly gestured for you to continue.

"Plenty of celebrities make apology videos and people always know that it's fake. Maybe you should donate money to the families of the victims instead. You won't have to make some embarrassing video or do an interview."

"A donation?"

"Yeah. Fans love when famous people donate something of theirs. Money, clothes, cars. You win the favor of fans you lost, and more."

He was silent for a second, his face full of contemplation and for a second you were scared that you had gone too far, proposing an idea like this. He might see it as an insult that an assistant was giving him advice on how to get fans. You had sworn your heart was about to beat out of your chest by his silence, but a suddenly growing smile on his face quickly calmed it.

"That is perfect! No having to grovel to those idiots."

"Would you like me to get Ashley to help set everything up?"

"Yeah! Do that! Now!"

You made your way to the door and was about to leave the room, when suddenly his voice made you stop. "Hey! What's your name, again?"

"Um, it's (Y/N)," you told him.

"(Y/N)," he repeated, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Thanks."

You quickly left the room after that and went to get Ashley to tell her about the idea, and you didn't know it, too naive to realize it, but Homelander had already began making a plan in his head to see you again.

That was it. That was what caught Homelander's attention. Unlike other regular people, and even other Supes, you were the one who understood the pressure he was under, who understood how great he was, how better he was. Soon after that he began making an effort to talk to you. After Ashley would report things to him, he made sure to pull you aside and make conversation, and he surprisingly found it addictive to hear your voice, whether you were talking about your day, your favorite meals, current shows you were watching, he needed to hear your voice. Every now and then, he could hear the tremble in your voice as you spoke to him, fear still running through you at the fact that you were speaking to him of all people. That tremble did things to him. He disliked hearing it as he wanted you to be comfortable around him and trust him, but at the same time, he loved hearing it, reminding himself of the immense power he had over others even when he doesn't do anything.

It wasn't long before he used this power to find your address. He found himself relieved that you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, not wanting anything to happen to his favorite person. HIS? Yes, HIS. Just the thought of you accepting his affections, a life of being with him, of coming home to finding you ready to hear about his day and please him was already making him loose his already deranged mind, but he knew that you needed time. You needed to still be fearful of him, but at the same time, realize that he would be the best partner for you. And now as he looked at your sleeping form, he listened to the soothing beat of your heart, wishing he could lay his head upon your chest and take a deep slumber with you. Wishing he could wake up next to you, and make love to you first thing in the morning. Make love to you at Vought. Make love to you when he comes home from work. Make love to you before going to sleep. But he knew he needed to wait just a little bit longer. Not too long or else, some dumb imbecile will think they have a chance with you and he'll have to take care of them. But soon you would realize you belonged with him and no one else.

[caitified]

big day

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none ( part three, part two here )

the day of the wedding dawned bright and crisp, sunlight filtering through the curtains as you stirred awake. there was a buzz in the air, a sense of excitement you could feel from the moment you opened your eyes. today was the day—after months of planning, dreaming, and counting down, you and caitlin would finally say “i do.”

your closest friends and family were already around, bustling through the house, and you could hear laughter and the hum of voices as they set up. every detail felt like a small gift, reminders of everything you and caitlin had built together. with every flower arrangement, every light fixture, it was clear this day had been made just for you two.

you met caitlin briefly that morning, sneaking one last hug before the day took off. she’d held you close, her arms warm and familiar. “i can’t wait,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of emotion. ��i’ll see you at the altar.”

those words echoed in your mind as you slipped into your dress, fingers trembling as your friends helped zip it up, adjusting every last detail. you took one last look in the mirror and felt a swell of anticipation—it felt surreal, but seeing yourself ready, knowing this was the day you’d marry caitlin, filled you with a joy you could hardly describe.

meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, caitlin was pacing in her suit, grinning ear to ear as her friends teased her. she looked incredible in her deep navy suit, fitted perfectly, with subtle detailing that gave it a unique touch—something that felt distinctly like her. her friends laughed as she fussed with her cufflinks, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake. but she couldn’t stop grinning. “i just want to see her already,” she admitted, glancing at her reflection. “i can’t believe today is actually here.”

her best friend clapped her on the back, laughing. “you look like a lovesick puppy. but don’t worry; you’ll be seeing her in just a little bit. just breathe, cait.”

caitlin took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when she looked in the mirror again, there was a determination in her eyes. she knew you were the one from the moment she met you, but somehow, knowing she’d be promising forever in just a few moments made it all sink in.

the guests began to gather, filling the venue with quiet chatter and smiles. the autumn colors you both had dreamed of surrounded you—deep oranges, soft golds, warm ambers that glowed as the sun streamed through the trees. candles flickered along the aisle, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere, just as you both had imagined.

when it was time, the music started, and you felt your heart race as the doors opened. the world seemed to slow as you stepped forward, locking eyes with caitlin at the end of the aisle. her gaze was fixed on you, her expression soft and full of awe. she looked like she was holding back tears, and you could see her take a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

you walked toward her, every step feeling like a promise, a memory. every laugh you’d shared, every late-night conversation, every dream you’d ever had together seemed to echo around you. finally, you reached her, and she took your hands, her touch warm and steady as she whispered, “you look beautiful.”

the ceremony began, and as you stood there, listening to the officiant, you couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes. there was a glow in them, a look that held every unspoken word between you two, all the shared moments that had led you to this exact spot.

when it came time for the vows, caitlin took a breath, her hands gently squeezing yours as she looked straight into your eyes. “i remember the first time i met you,” she began, her voice a little shaky, “i remember thinking, ‘how did i get so lucky to know someone like you?’ every day since then, i’ve only fallen more in love with you. you make me want to be the best version of myself. today, i promise to stand by you, to laugh with you, to hold you through every high and every low. i’ll be there, always.”

her words washed over you, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. when it was your turn, you took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “caitlin, from the moment we met, you’ve felt like home. you’ve been my best friend, my rock, my safe place. i promise to cherish you, to lift you up, and to love you fiercely, through every season of our lives. i can’t wait to build a life with you.”

after the vows, there was a pause as the officiant spoke, but all you could focus on was caitlin. then, finally, the words you’d been waiting for: “you may now kiss.”

caitlin didn’t hesitate. she took your face in her hands and leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, warm kiss that felt like the culmination of everything you’d been through together. cheers erupted around you, but all you could feel was her, her touch, her warmth, her love. pulling back, she whispered, “we did it.”

the reception was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and dancing. you barely left each other’s side, holding hands as you made your rounds, sharing stories with friends and family, and sneaking glances at each other as if you couldn’t believe you were actually married. during your first dance, caitlin held you close, her hand firm on your waist, guiding you in slow circles under the soft glow of the lights.

she leaned down, whispering in your ear, “thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world.”

you smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “thank you for giving me forever.”

as the night wound down, you slipped away to a quiet corner, watching as your guests continued to celebrate. caitlin wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as she whispered, “ready to start this adventure with me?”

you looked up at her, your heart swelling with love and excitement. “i’ve never been more ready.”

thanks for reading! requests are open.

[writing-for-marvel]

"I dream of you. all i do, is dream of you."

If I Can’t Have Everything, Then Let Me Just Have You

Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Andy gets jealous of you talking with his colleague, you reassure him he’s everything you’ll ever need.

Warnings: age gap and although exact ages are never mentioned everyone is well and truly of age, jealous Andy

Word count: 700

A/N: this is for @nickfowlerrr’s the seven writing challenge - I spun the wheel for the seven deadly sins and got envy. A big thank you my darling friend @flordeamatista, queen of Andy fics, for not only providing the inspiration for this fic, but helping me with writing Andy for the first time and being my constant cheerleader 🩷 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Andy hated attending after work functions with his colleagues. He could barely stand dealing with them during the working week, but then to also be forced to give up his Saturday night so his boss could show off the house his old family money had bought him was another level of torture.

You were his saving grace. Part of him felt guilty for dragging the woman he loved along to these grandstanding cocktail parties where you were forced to make small talk with people you didn’t enjoy the company of, but you were also the only person who stopped him from going completely insane.

But at this moment, while he was stuck hearing about how his boss’s fantasy football team was performing, as if he didn’t hear enough about it at the office, Andy saw red as he was subjected to watch Dylan, the office womaniser, chatting you up.

In the back of his mind he knew with absolute certainty that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but the reason his heart clenched and acidic jealousy bubbled in his stomach was because of what Dylan represented: everything Andy couldn’t offer you.

He wasn’t young anymore, he was well aware the prime of his life was past him at this point in time. He had settled into a comfortable routine which didn’t involve a thriving social life which he remembered having with Laurie when they were your age. He was surely not as flexible or had as much energy as a young man fifteen years his junior.

He wanted to be able to give you the world, but all he had to offer was the trauma developed from his tarnished past, which was still following him around like a shadow, his back problems, wonky knee and the remainder of his life which would be distinctly shorter than Dylan, or someone of his age, could promise to spend with you.

The root of his envy was insecurity.

And he was green with envy.

Excusing himself from the one-sided conversation his boss was having, Andy set off with purpose, making a beeline to you, only to find you were already making your way over to him. Relief eased the tension in his shoulders as your gaze found his and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Your colleague, the guy behind me, is a creep.” You commented, hooking your fingers through his belt loops and pulling him protectively into you. Andy leaned down and placed a small, sweet kiss to your forehead, not needing to look behind you to know exactly who you were referring to. A sense of satisfaction filled his chest with the notion that you were clearly averse to Dylan’s pursuits.

“That’s not what most young women around the office think.”

“Well he is.” You stated firmly, a look of disgust flashing over your features. “Why does it take me telling him I have a boyfriend to respect that I’m not interested. Why would I want a boy like him, when I already have a man like you?”

Andy smiled, coming to the realisation that he had no reason to be jealous. Perhaps he couldn’t offer you his callow youth, but he did have maturity and experience, which would surely be much more valuable in a devoted relationship.

“You are a dream come true, you know that?” In response to this you scrunched your nose and smiled in a way that made Andy’s heart fill with pure adoration and devotion.

You truly were all he would ever need for the remainder of his life.

“You’re my dream come true too, Andy.” Standing on your tiptoes, arms sling around his neck, you placed a delicate kiss against his lips, neither of you paying any mind to his colleagues who could be watching on. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Taking a beat to commit the moment to memory, Andy made a promise to himself that he would never take his second chance at love for granted.

“Let’s go home, handsome.” You suggested, tugging gently on his tie with that mischievous grin which always promised a sinfully pleasurable time. “I have plans for us that definitely don’t involve the rest of you colleagues.”

[noxexistant]

ai-less whumptober; day nineteen

@ailesswhumptober 19 — disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.” ↳ the farm, intentionally vague word count; 1.2k

cw; violence, abuse, resulting in disability

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's just one hit that lands wrong.

Morris is fourteen when it happens.

Both he and Oscar are well-versed in being hit, being beat to absolute shit by their father — and Ma, when she was in the mood — and thus Oscar had always held this misguided belief that they're both toughened up by it all. The hits don't really matter anymore, have lost their weight with their frequency — and they can take it. The same way a scarred knee stops scraping as easily, the same way his arm that Da had once wrenched from its socket no longer seems to hurt as badly when it's wrenched in the exact same way by that same hand. They're strong, toughened, even though Morris still cries most of the time when Da goes at him.

Oscar knows immediately that something is wrong when the usual crying shifts distinctly with Da's last hit.

Da's been laying into him a while, over some stupid little thing that never mattered, but he's got this way of riling himself up when the violence starts. He'll just keep going, spurring himself on, remembering every tiny thing that Morris has ever done until he's furious, and then he'll go at him until he's satisfied. Or exhausted. Whichever comes last.

The final blow is a crack across the side of Morris' face, not particularly more brutal than anything else, but it has him curling up on the floor and wailing, both hands coming up to wind around his head as if to shield himself. But Oscar's seen him take worse. There's a bad feeling in his gut. Morris is making an awful wailing, high-pitched the way he used to screech when he was a baby hurting.

Da walks away, doesn't look back. Oscar scurries over to his crumpled brother's side.

"Mo," he says, reaching for his brother. Morris ignores him. "Mo, c'mon, it's me."

He gets closer, trying to yank his brother's hands away from his head to see what the damage is, but Morris fights him. His one arm finally goes, goes limp as it does, but the other is holding his palm clasped desperate over his ear — the one facing up towards Oscar. The one Da had cracked him across.

"You bleedin'?" Oscar asks him, gentle as he can, and tries again to pull the hand away. He's strong enough that, for a moment, it goes — and he does see blood. But it's not a gouge along Morris' ear or anything, it's blood dripping out of it. And…something else, something paler and more watery. There's something…so distinctly wrong-looking to it, something that makes Oscar's stomach twist.

Morris is still screaming.

"Mo," Oscar says. "C'mon, stop. You're makin' a fuss. It'll get better, okay? It'll stop hurtin' soon."

Losing his patience — panicking, though he'd never admit it — he forcefully rolls his brother over, intending to haul him up, and Morris freezes when he sees Oscar above him like he'd had no idea he was here.

"Os," he says, but it's. Garbled and weird. He doesn't make the sound right, the way people talk when they're sick and real bunged up. "Os. Os—?"

"What? What? I'm here, Mo, alright?"

Morris stares at him for a second, unmoving except for how he seems to be swaying, listing. There's something utterly petrified in his eyes, and in a moment there's tears dripping down his cheeks again. Silent this time.

"Os, p'ease—"

"I'm right here. You're fine, okay? He jus' caught you in a bad spot, but—"

"Os, I can't hear you."

Oscar is initially adamant that it'll fix itself. His own hearing has gone funny before, when he's been sick or after he's been stood too close to Da with the shotgun. He'd been deaf in one ear for days, just like Morris seems to be now. So he calmly cleans and wipes the blood and gunk leaking from his little brother's ear and promises him, mouthing the words real clear, that it'll get better. The pain and ringing will go away and the hearing will come back, be as good as his other ear again.

It doesn't.

Oscar's left to wonder, sometimes, if maybe it would've. If it hadn't been for everything else, if Morris had had the chance to just heal without being hit again and again on that same side of his brutalised head, whatever had been broken in that one ear surely being broken worse and worse. If he hadn't kept being overworked, sent out into the fields in the blinding heat and freezing cold, made to keep working even when he's sick, even when his ear starts leaking again. If they'd had the opportunity to just see a fucking doctor rather than Da ignoring it all, never once saying he's sorry, never once even facing the possibility of what he did.

But it doesn't.

The pain fades, and Morris cries less. Steadily, he stops falling over whenever he walks, though he still bumps into stuff constantly, gets real dizzy real easily. He's shit at following instructions and worse at paying attention, lists to one side when he's zoning out — and, sometimes, he disappears entirely.

It's something Oscar would love to blame on the deafness.

The fact that Morris will go catatonic sometimes, unresponsive, would be so easy to blame on him just not being able to hear Oscar's calling for him. But he knows better. Knows it's Da's fault, just like the deafness is — so maybe that comes together, at least. Morris will shut down rather than face what he can't. Oscar gets that. Wishes he had the same luxuries, but he can't seem to get any respite, awake or asleep — and though Morris is much better now at hearing, knows how to pick out the sounds and read them against lip movements, and Oscar knows how to speak and where to stand so that Morris can always understand him, there's so much that's lost. Been lost.

Oscar's spent every year missing that brother he lost at fourteen. All the time lost to Morris having to relearn how to hear with just one working ear, figuring out how to speak when he can't pick out the sounds he's making. All the worsened abuse from everyone else who never understood, insisted Morris was just rude and ignorant and belligerent when he didn't hear their murmured instructions or failed to respond to their speaking on his deaf side.

It's not fair.

And a part of Oscar knows he's being selfish, making Morris' pain — his own loss — about himself, but. It's for both of them, really. They've always been as much each others' as theirs, always together, and if Oscar is grieving a brother he lost then he's also grieving that Morris lost a version of himself too.

"I wish I could get you back," he says, to the silent air between them. Says it a little low so Morris won't be able to pick it out, but Morris is a million miles away regardless. Exhausted eyes staring straight ahead, glassy and empty, not even seeing the blank wall of their bedroom that he's been locked on all this time. Oscar had only sat beside him, shoulders brushing, ready to weather the emptiness as long as Morris holds it.

As much as Morris has had to relearn how to be himself, they're still relearning how to be them.

They'll figure it out.

[thegoldheartlocketandkey-blog]

911 Spoilers Season 3: You’ve been warned. 😅

Episode 2: Sink or Swim

Episode starts at the start of Buck taking Christopher to the pier and having a quick montage of all the fun they are having. There is a heavier focus on Buck having FOMO when the other firefighters are preforming a rescue on the pier.

Something I may have neglected before was Buck repeating he is proud of Chris as they play the water gun game where they shoot a target. He repeated it multiple times.

The girl with the drone capturing Buck and Christopher hanging out on the pier. Implying she that it was a moment worth capturing.

Christopher's hand on Buck’s chin right before they see the Tsunami wave, making the moment sweet and reassuring to instant fear and uncertainty is strangely poetic and a slap in the face.

Buck’s first instinct of chucking Chris over his shoulder and just running as fast as he could. Buck knowing, he can’t out run the wave and the next possible safest thing for him is to tuck Chris and himself behind a barrier. Buck looking at the wave moments before it is right on top of him was stupid, but it did make for a cinematic moment.

Buck completely submerged underwater, struggling, as we hear the last words, we heard him say before the wave formed. “Where did all the water go?”

This was cruel, but when I first watched the episode had me biting my nails.  Also, I have to say that Buck can not breath. They put this man in one trauma and then the next with no break in-between. Never allowed to process one trauma at a time, not that he really wants to process his traumas.

Buck finally coming up and gasping for air. His first words are screaming “Christopher” over and over again and we finally hear Chris scream “Buck”.

Buck Being determined and attempting to swim towards Christopher. The elements working against them. Separating them as they are inches apart. Once finally reunited, buck caressing Chris’ head as they hug and Chris wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck. Buck attempting to swim to safety and finding a fire engine. Nearly escaping being crushed to death by hopping on to the engine.

The 118 at a food truck emergency. Hen asks Eddie how their plan to “Buck up Buck is going”. Eddie responding by show casing a selfie Buck took with Christopher at breakfast that was sent earlier that morning. And possible plans of going to the movies. Eddie stating Buck is likely regretting his life choices inference to giving Chris sugar.

Bobby asking if a hydrant was left on, when noticing flooding around them. Eddie receiving a Tsunami warning at the exact same moment, while the photo of Buck and Chris is still open in the background of his phone.

The 118 showing up to the pier to help with rescue, Eddie being the first to hop out the truck. Being told to look out for the 136, because they were out on the pier when the tsunami hit.

Cuts to Buck and Chris hurdled together on the 136 engine. Buck is holding Chris tightly and asking him how he is doing. Chris responding with a cheeky, yes “I took Surfing lessons.”

I did not catch that the first time I watched this episode. Eddie spending so much money on Chris, for him to have a “normal” and fulfilling childhood by paying for surf lessons, played a hug role in Chris surviving.

Buck risking his own safety to save the other civilians who are also fighting for their lives. But before doing so ensuring that Chris is safe and will stay put on the Fire truck.  The rescue being extremely dangerous and more and more people appearing to need help. Buck continues to act.

The 118 patrolling the waters looking for survivors when they find the wedding boat. The water begins to surge.

Hen and Eddie doing CPR underwater while Bobbie is under the boat trying to cut a chunk out of it.  A well disserved quick celebration of saving Chuck. The 118 getting separated with Bobbie and Eddie heading towards the pier and Hen and Chimney transporting to the nearest hospital.

I distinctly remember the first time I watched this episode and thinking how Eddie will likely be the one to find Buck and Chris in that moment. I’m glad that I was kind of wrong.

Chimney calling Maddie and coming up with a field hospital idea. Maddie vocalizing that she’s happy her brother is “nowhere near this nightmare.”

Buck and Chris playing eye spy. Bucking beginning to have a deep conversation about their situation and how he admires how positive Chris is and how he preservers in difficult situations.

Buck trying to shield Chris from dead bodies floating in the water.

Eddie and Bobby heading towards the submerged Farris wheel, where we meet the “fire lady”

Chris reminding Buck that he saved him and all the people on the engine. Buck correcting him and stating they both saved everyone. They give each other a big hug.

There is another surge, this time the wave is returning back to the ocean. This surge affecting the people on the fire truck and everyone near the Farris wheel.  Buck panicking and holding onto Chris as he screams for everyone to hold on.

Buck hearing people in the water screaming for help and quickly moving into action, hoping over the roof of the truck and lifting people in. As this happens, the truck shifts and Chris falls into the water. Buck hears the splash turns around and starts screaming for Christopher. With out any hesitation, jumps out of the truck and into the water to find Chris. Screaming and swimming against the current.

[fnaffersblog]

On your latest reaction you said New Moon and Sun are repeating old habits and it's so true. I don't think New Moon means to be keeping things from Sun. I don't know if it's just me but I've always gotten the feeling that New Moon really doesn't like the old Moon like at all. He's seen through the videos and gotten vague clues from the computer's AIs that Moon didn't always treat Sun the best. I know Moon truly did care for Sun, but the way New Moon is receiving this information it really is not putting Moon in a good light. New Moon has stated multiple times that old Moon was awful (can't remember the exact wording but the meaning was similar enough), so of course he's trying to do the exact opposite of what the old Moon would have done and for the most part it's working. He's being more open about his care for Sun, he's talking more about emotions, and he's even accepting help willingly which is great! The only problem is that he's sort of relying on Sun to be just as open and upfront about things and Sun is just not doing that. I mean I get it, Sun's feelings have gotten brushed off a lot in the past so of course he's not going to try if the same thing is going to happen again but by doing that he's leaving New Moon to assume that things must be going somewhat ok. I mean he must see that things aren't great with Sun but surely Sun will come to him if really needed help. So New Moon starts keeping things from Sun to hopefully alleviate his stress unknowingly causing Sun more stress and it just sucks all around.

Oop sorry for going off on a rant I just really liked your analysis. Anyway for the pokemon thing Lunar is legally required to have a stantler named Spigot :)

Oh yeah, no, New Moon dislikes Old Moon for sure for sure.

I think Sun has made, at least, two different references to the trapping episode and Moon both times has gotten REALLY uncomfortable. New Moon is constantly in awe of the absolute horrible level Old Moon would take situations too. I think it was the episode about testing new dimensions where Sun was listed as a test subject and New Moon just asked, in the most baffled way, "Why would I... DO that??" But he's disavowed and commented on the horribleness of Old Moon's actions a lot. 110% agree.

He also gets exasperated with AI1 ALL THE TIME. And the AIs were synthesized from Old Moon's personality to help him with decision making soooooooo. Look at that how you will.

(I imagine it's very difficult looking back on something horrible someone with your face did. Comes with a lot of conflicting emotions. Was this my fault if I don't remember? Did I really do those things or was it someone else? Does the victim of these actions blame me? Should they if that's not me? It's a weird situation to be in all around.

I question at times if New Moon is ever worried now about his old memories coming back too. At this point it seems concrete that Old Moon is GONE gone, but I wonder if he ever gets concerned about it.)

Fundamentally, however, this is the SAME Moon. The reset set Moon's memories back to square one, but all of his specific personality traits are the same. None of the trauma, so he's less jaded. Less of, and excuse my language here, a jackass.

With that came his difficulty with social interactions. I don't remember when this happened, but I distinctly remember an episode with Old Moon where he mentioned he wasn't sure he'd ever get ahold of this social thing. I don't know what he said exactly but it was very close to being that, word for word. I also couldn't find the episode, so it may have been said on another channel. Rip MEEEEEEE.

Anyways, I don't know if he DOES see anything is wrong with Sun, he doesn't seem to be great at picking up on varying emotional ques from others. I know about people saying 'well, people can't read your mind, you have to speak up' kinda thing but, like, at the end of the 'Ruin Sun trapped Moon' episode I could hear Sun's emotions all over the place and at the beginning of 'Moon says Goobye in VrChat' it was the same. It was very noticeable, at least to me.

And Moon just...

didn't seem to notice at all?

So many people have pointed out the positive change in Moon's demeanor, I DOUBT he was just straight up ignoring/ being annoyed by Sun. I think he is a bit stressed out rn, but he wasn't trying to take it out on Sun. (Also wasn't saying you said that! I was reading it and it read to me like I was blaming so I just wanted to clarify, just in case.)

I think maybe Moon literally just... can't tell? At the very least, he's not good at picking up on them and based on his 'solution' of sending Sun on a break, he may just think Sun needs some time off.

I don't know. It's weird to me, but it's kind of the only thing I can think of that makes sense? It does mean Sun HAS to speak up though. If Moon can't read his emotional tells then the only way Moon is ever going to know what the actual issue is is if Sun tells him. Like you said, by not saying anything Sun is leaving Moon to assume things are alright. And I don't think that's going to happen, frankly, Sun speaking up, not without outside influence.

One of Moon's biggest reoccurring problems before the reset was the fact that, while he cared for the people he was trying to help, and BY GOD did he care so deeply for them, he made decisions for them. His penchant for not telling people his plans, which was born from this need to protect the people he loved, because he didn't want them to worry/ didn't think they'd understand/ he believes what he's doing is best for them without actually bringing them in to discuss it/ whatever, has probably pushed Sun into thinking he can't trust Moon.

As you said it "Sun's feelings have gotten brushed off a lot in the past so of course he's not going to try if the same thing is going to happen again", which is a sentiment I've seen from several folks here on Tumblr. Moon has 'stolen' his autonomy in decision making that should have involved both of them, as well as stuff Sun alone should have had final call in a LOT. And now he's fallen back into doing it again.

This may be a "New" Moon but it's also still just... Moon. All his pre coded personality traits and systems for dealing with things came with him. And even if Sun KNOWS it's not his old Moon, with so many similar traits in a person wearing the same exoskeleton, it's going to be near impossible to separate the two.

(which seems weird because a lot of the methods we use individually to navigate problems comes from our childhoods ((Don't quote me on that I am NOT a therapist or doctor or psychologist of any sort, but I do have my own personal experiences and what I've read)), aka all of Moon's trauma while he and Sun were stuck together + literally everything else should have been what influenced his pre-reset decision making and post-reset Moons decision making should jsut be affected by the last two months buuuuuut this is a silly goofy show on the internet about robots and brain resets aren't reeeal so I'm not losing my mind about that. I see what they're going for here and I like it, I'm just being nitpicky.)

I said in a long post, ages back that Sun and Moon have never really known each other the way they think they do. They had never really talked post body split and had ideas of who the other person was. In these past two months I do think they've taken huge steps to mediate that. They are for sure much closer I think than they have been. Every other episode, I feel like one or both of them is pointing something out about the other. Moon's ADHD and stimming, Sun's enjoyment of MLP, little things that I can't remember at the moment but that I know are happening?

But they still don't really know each other, and the only difference now is they LITERALLY don't know each other because they are completely new people to each other for different reasons instead of preconceived ideas of who the other should be. Which is especially true for Moon, Sun is a stranger he met two months ago.

(What if you deconstruct the truths you know about someone and find you don't love them anymore? That's scary.)

I think one of the things Moon is noticing, however, is that Sun WON'T come to him to ask for help. If I'm not mistaken, Earth and Moon have been the ones to instigate Sun taking care of himself these past two months. If not every time, at least most of the times they're the ones to pop up and tell Sun his worth, hype him up. Or make him take breaks when he needs them.

Sun is getting better at doing it alone, of course, it was very noticeable during the recent hallucination episode and along side him Moon is learning as well. "He's being more open about his care for Sun, he's talking more about emotions, and he's even accepting help willingly which is great!" I agree with this 110%, they are both taking great steps forward in becoming more emotionally stable and healthy!

They still have a long way to go. Which is why I'm so happy for Earth and Monty and now Foxy's inclusion. They have their own problems for sure, but they're outside mediators between the two brothers. Because let's be frank here, there is no way that the two of them were ever going to hash out the problems between them on their own. There's just too much to sift through, you know, for just the two of them, many problems which stem from the other! And they're falling back into learned patterns, like Sun pretending everything is okay, or giving up while trying to reason with Moon or Moon insisting he's right when he doesn't have all the information because he wants to help, or keeping information to attempt to alleviate stress without understanding it's actually just causing stress, which he can't know because the person he's stressing out won't admit he's stressed out because that person is afraid of the other persons response which is generally to make decisions for him! They are stuck in, careening back into cycles they need help getting pulled out from and they can't do it alone. You can't hoist someone out of the water from the top of the cliff when you're floating right along side 'em you know?

It does. It sucks all around. I can see a resolution in sight, but it'll take work and outside influences and time. And they have to want it.

Also, you don't have to apologize at all! I was excited to read through what you said! As long as you don't mind a multi paragraph response of my own long winded, disconjointed, meandering ramblings, where I sometimes contradict myself in the post and run out of steam before I've gotten all my thoughts out lol, I LOOOVEE seeing other folks interpretations about stuff. Odds are you'll get a couple hundred words to read through likeeee THISSSSS ONNNNEEEEE lolol. Feel free to go crazy.

Ayyyyeeee GEN 2 less gooooo! Stantler is amazing, truly one of the better overlooked mons from Johto's dex. I LOVE Wyrdeer too. I do have to ask, is there a story behind the name Spigot?

[sleephyuns]

Can we get some soft and fluffy sahyo in wrestling au? Maybe it’s their anniversary or something. Love your work!

Jihyo woke up that morning with a throbbing headache, which told her one of two things: she either drank too much last night, or it was well past noon. Thinking back, she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol last night, so it was obviously the latter.

She attempted to pocket her phone before realizing she was only in her boxers, not even bothering to look at the time as she trudged out of the bedroom and…

Right, she was at Sana’s house. She was always way too disoriented past this time.

She didn’t have to go far to find Sana setting the table in the kitchen up for a meal. And it didn’t take long for her girlfriend to notice her either. Just like Jihyo, she was in her boxers. But she had the decency of having a tank top on as well.

“Oh!,” a wide grin spread across her face, happy to see Jihyo and appreciating her lack of a shirt, “I was just about to wake you up baby!”

She sat down the flower filled vase on one side of the table, two plates set out in front of the chairs opposite to it.

Jihyo tilted her head in confusion, eyes flicking between the table and the woman’s skipping over to it. She waited until Sana was done dishing out the (rather delicious looking) food she bought to give a small hum of confusion. Fruit, fried eggs, sausage and waffles on each of their plates (with two on one of them, she wondered whose that was).

Sana just looked up at her, bright eyed and bushy tailed, answering as if it was so obvious.

“It’s our anniversary!”

Jihyo’s eyes widened, scrambling for the phone in her pocket to check the date. There was no way right? And sure enough-

“Sana… why are you fucking with me,” Jihyo grumbled. All the while her girlfriend sat nicely at one of the chairs, the perfect picture of unbothered. In fact, her smile got even wider.

“But it is our anniversary!” she pouted cutely, “of our first wrestling match together. Well… the year and a half anniversary of that.”

Jihyo couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but something this specific was so distinctly Sana she had no reason to be too surprised.

“Are you serious? How do you even remember that well.”

“Becauseeee,” Sana outstretched her hand to Jihyo, beckoning the woman closer, “that was our beginning you know?”

“I guess…,” she nodded. She took Sana‘s hand with no problem sitting next to her. “Sounds more like an excuse to do all this.”

Sana chuckled a bit, but didn’t say another word, grabbing for a can next to vase. She swirled some whipped cream onto her single waffle, then reached over to Jihyo’s stack. With a small smile still on her face, she dove into the meal. The air around them seemed still, and Jihyo wondered if she’d made Sana upset by not being as enthusiastic about the information.

She could see her eyes flash to Jihyo’s face every second she thought she wasn’t looking. But she still didn’t speak, she just ate her breakfast, making little noises as she ate.

So it was up to her to continue, she guessed.

“You know…” Jihyo started, “I don’t remember the exact day, but I do remember what happened.”

Sana looked at her expectantly, like an adorable puppy waiting for a treat.

“I remember I was annoyed out of my mind because of an exam I had to take the next day, and my professor wouldn’t let me reschedule. I had a match instead of being able to study like I wanted.” Jihyo stared off at the red and yellow hues of the petals across from them.

“And I must’ve looked angry, like I usually do. But I wasn’t really. You know why?”

Sana’s eyes widened in one blink, lips perked. A look that Jihyo wanted to kiss right off her. “Why?” Sana leaned in closer.

“Because, across the gym I saw someone who I’d never wrestled with before. Not new, but I hadn’t payed her much mind before.”

Jihyo was careful of her plate as she propped her elbow up on the table, leaning her cheek against her palm. “But damn was she cute. So maybe, I thought it wasn’t so bad…”

Sana’s eyes glimmered at that.

“…and you know… I usually don’t care, but I took a peek at that packag-“

Then she cut Jihyo off with a gasp, batting her at her arm softly.

Her hands shot up in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying! I was interested so I had to see what else I was working with.”

“Ah whatever,” Sana shook her head, but couldn’t keep from laughing “just eat your food.”

Sana always wore her emotions on her face, whether she liked to or not. Even when she was sad, her feigned smiles still told the truth. But this time? All Jihyo could see radiating off her was pure joy. A welcomed refresher for her sluggish morning. And Jihyo hoped and prayed that even after graduation, that sunlight would stay with her forever.

[pensandlakes]

Letter #3! Thank you, Tay!

Happy thanksgiving @taylorswift!

Just want to get out there that I am so thankful to live in the same lifetime as you. Your music has been such a crutch I heavily relied on as I navigated life all throughout these years.

From the first time I heard Invisible, Tied Together With A Smile, Mary's Song (Oh My My My), and I'd Lie (sorry Tay, I really thought that was an official release -- my 14 year old self never knew!), I gravitated towards you! Life was hard (or so I thought) as I teenager, and having you write these songs that perfectly encapsulated what my heart feels but my mouth can't exactly speak? It was just a blessing! I still remember crying to Teardrops On My Guitar for months because that bridge just nailed right through my bone!

When I finished high-school (technically 10th grade in US school system) in 2009, I distinctly remembered listening to The Best Day bawling my eyes out cause it just spoke to me a ton. I wrote the bridge on my parents' card during our tribute right before I walked the stage to receive my diploma that day.

There is a video I found From back when I was three You set up a paint set in the kitchen And you're talking to me It's the age of princesses and pirate ships And the seven dwarfs And Daddy's smart And you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world.

It still makes me cry!

In 2012, in the midst of my first real heartbreak, you released All Too Well and The Moment I Knew. I broke myself, and yet again, I leaned on to your music to somehow get me through that darkness.

And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up...

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again But I'm still trying to find it...

God knows I did try to find my old self, but I wasn't able to. I completely revamped myself after that. And coincidentally, you went through the same thing around the same time, and then 1989 was born in 2014!

You also had a monumental effect when it comes to my academic journey as well! I used to ace my English exams, write outstanding papers, and my vocabulary building game was strong! I even made it to our school's paper as Assistant-Editor-in-Chief. I truly think it was you (and Harry Potter) who galvanized my love for words and literature. The world insurmountable? When I head that in The Lakes, I honestly just guffawed the shit out of my self cause that particular word has been one of my favorites to use since around 2008. Oh Tay, I wish you'll end up writing books (in whatever genre you love -- fiction, biographical, a cook book even), cause I just know I'd devour that and make it my whole personality (like I already do with all of your works).

So much happened between 2014 to now. You lost your reputation but came back stronger. You found love. Reputation. Smashed records. Reputation Stadium Tour. Lover. Pandemic. Folklore/Evermore. Smashed records once again. Fearless TV. Red TV. The legendary Eras Tour started. Lost love. Speak Now TV. Found (possible) love again. 1989 TV. All while beating records and winning awards left and right!

I had my fair share of an eventful life as well -- not as eventful as yours though. I never really thought I'd make it to this decade of my life even. I'm just thankful that I decided to stay because had I given up, I wouldn't have been able to witness the new heights you've propelled yourself to! I cannot imagine not getting to hear the lyrical masterpieces in Folklore and Evermore! Nor would I have been able to hear all the freaking vault songs!! That would've been such a tragedy! Reputation could've been my last Taylor Swift album.

There were so many moments in my life wherein I wanted to just bow it out, and the only thing that kept me from cutting the thread of my own life is the exact thought: "You got to stay, Tay has more albums to release." And boy am I glad I pushed through! See. You kept me alive and breathing!

So yes. I am thankful and grateful for you. More than you can ever comprehend. It's not just because of your songs, but just you... yourself. I really don't get why people hate you, Tay. You just radiate "good person" energy. You don't deserve all the crap they throw at you. Yes, you're imperfect, but you definitely belong to the better people category in this Earth. I wish they can just stop. Why can't we all just live in love and peace, right?

Anyway. Once again, Thank You! I hope you'll have a good Thanksgiving! I know things are not so great right now. I do pray to the forces up there to keep you safe and surround you with love.

Love you, Taylor! Forever and always! I absolutely have been having the time of my life fighting dragons with you!

[amicidomenicani]

Question Dear father, I'm Giuseppe G. and I'm 19. It's not the first time that I write to you. I have a great joy in my heart, I have just started University a few weeks ago and, therefore, with the joy, friendliness and sympathy that the Lord gives me along with many other gifts, I have begun to make friends. Amongst others I met this girl, her name is S .. We started talking in order to get to know each other, and also to discuss various subjects (I am not one who is ashamed to speak his mind, especially about being of Christ and belonging to Him). I found out that she is a believer too, but she never prayed the Rosary except once as a child. I am so devoted to Our Lady ... and I am also devoted to the Holy Rosary, a safe haven for every time there are stormy waters to face. I never understood how someone can deprive himself of such a prayer which warms the heart so much with the Love that only a Mother knows how to give and not one among many, but Mary, Mother of God. I had the grace from God to pray the Holy Rosary daily for almost the entire month of October (I hope to continue and cultivate this holy habit) ... despite all this I am a little anxious ... she asked me to teach her how to pray the Rosary, and to pray it together ... Despite the fact that I love praying the Rosary, it makes me burn with love for Jesus and Mary, I'm afraid of not being able to transmit the beauty of this prayer which is dialogue (unfortunately, it has happened to me too to initially find it so monotonous, almost boring ... while it is actually a “treasure to be rediscovered”). I also read some religious literature, De Montfort, Teresa D'Avila, Thérèse of Lisieux, the writings of Saint Clare and Saint Francis, Saint Francis de Sales, St. Alfonso De Liguori, some books and writings of St. John Paul II. I immediately asked the Lord and the Virgin to grant me the grace to guide me in the best possible way, I have total trust in them ... on the other hand, without their intervention I would be good for nothing, including teaching how to pray the Rosary. At this point, you and your email immediately came to mind. Tomorrow I intend to go to my priest to ask him for advice too. I'll be waiting for your reply, thank you. Best regards. Answer from the priest Dear Giuseppe, 1. I am happy to hear that this friend of yours has been motivated by the desire to pray the Holy Rosary and has asked you what must be done to pray it properly. Several times I have had the opportunity to say how the Rosary is to be prayed and I am happy to repeat it once again. 2. First of all, it should be remembered that the Rosary does not simply consist in repeating the Our Father and the Hail Mary in an orderly manner for a certain number of times. To pray Our Father five times and Hail Mary 50 times is undoubtedly an excellent thing. Indeed, it is very advantageous because St. Thomas says that the Our Father is never prayed without receiving some benefits. And St. Bonaventure recalls that Our Lady always repays with some grace whoever turns to her saying: Hail Mary. Here are his exact words: "Mary always greets (responds) with (some) grace if we greet her with affection with the Ave Maria" to those who greet her with the Ave Maria "(" Libenter Maria salutat cum gratia si libenter salutamus eam cum Ave Maria ”, Speculum B. Virginis Mariae, lect. IV). 3. The Rosary is much more than this, which from a certain point of view is already quite a lot. The various mysteries that are enunciated give the tone to the prayer of the Rosary. They are placed there as if to say: now fix your attention on the events accomplished by Christ for your personal salvation. Attention to the mysteries, also called meditation or contemplation, not only serves to remember what the Lord has done for us, but, much more, it makes it happen in our life while we stick to this prayer. 4. This is why John Paul II wrote: “The Rosary… is a distinctly contemplative prayer.

Deprived of this dimension, it would be distorted, as Paul VI underlined: "Without contemplation, the Rosary is a body without a soul, and its recitation risks becoming a mechanical repetition of formulas and contradicting Jesus' admonition: "In praying, do not babble like the pagans, who think that they will be heard because of their many words (Mt 6, 7)” (Rosarium Virginis Mariae, 12). 5. In the contemplation of the mysteries, three essential things should be done: The first consists in the re-presentation or reconstruction of the salvation event (mystery). This presupposes that we know what happened in that event or mystery. For this reason, some, after having mentioned the mystery, read some words of the Sacred Scriptures that refer to it. In this way they help in meditation or re-presentation of the event. Undoubtedly, the best way to reconstruct the events is to get help from Our Lady, to have her tell them to you to find out how she experienced it. For some, however, it is flying too high, although it is the most beautiful thing in this world. For this reason, I will shortly tell you how this re-presentation or reconstruction of the salvation event can be replaced. 6. The second thing to do is to thank Our Lord for the event he has accomplished for us. Thanking him, we immediately understand that that event is an immense gift that was given to us and that is repeated to us. It is in this way that love for Our Lord is revived. We must repeat our thanks to him incessantly for ourselves and also in the name of many others, indeed throughout the world. 7. The third thing consists in asking God for some benefit by virtue of the merits accomplished by Christ in the event we are meditating on. They are merits that in that moment he generously puts back into our hands so that our questions to God the Father are accompanied by the price that earned them. 8. The Rosary should be prayed like this. If this were the case, one would immediately realize that the time reserved for this prayer is one of the most precious and most fruitful of the day. But for some this is too difficult, although it is one of the simplest things in this world. 9. What to do then? We can be satisfied with this: that at that moment each one puts his heart next to Jesus contemplated and loved in the mentioned event. In this case, there will be no particular or high reflections. However, there is a loving heart that, without thinking about it, says that the events of the life of Jesus are the most precious in our life and in our history. During the prayer, our minds will fly from one thought to another as in a perpetual distraction. But in this there is something firm, stable, indispensable: being together with the Lord and being with Our Lady, in the conviction that something very important is being done. So important and precious that you don't want to go a day without having done it. This method in its simplicity already brings the presence of Christ with his saving omnipotence into our life and also brings the presence of Mary with whom the devil has perfect incompatibility. And this is precisely the reason why at the end of this prayer we experience peace and serenity in our personal life and in our families. May the Lord bless the holy zeal that prompts you to make this wonderful gift to the friend you met at the university. On my behalf I remember you to the Lord in prayer, I wish you well and I bless you. Father Angelo 13 January 2022 | A priest replies - Liturgy and pastoral care - Pastoral section

[inthenameofallthingsholy]

Hi, Catholic Bisexual here, you’re right, the bible high key sucks a lot, but sometimes we gotta remember that this book is a living google translate nightmare that has been edited a million gajillion times, so a lot of stuff in there is probably not what the original text intended. Not to mention the original text itself may be more hearsay than we think.

Many believe that when the bible says “Man shall not lay with man” it really meant “man shall not lay with boy”, referring to pedophilia because of translation errors from the original language.

Also, the bible never actually mentions anything about trans people. Any christian person who tells you differently is wrong. The only thing the bible mentions is the creation of Adam and Eve, the first man and woman. Many say this is “distinctly 2 genders” but no, I don’t believe it means that there are only 2 genders, it only says that Adam and Eve were the first ones he made. It would be more accurate to say the bible recalls there are distinctly 2 SEXES not GENDERS. I’m unaware on if the bible says anything on intersex, I assume not, but even then the argument could be spread to the bible saying there are only 2 ORIGINAL sexes, and not saying there aren’t more. I can’t comment beyond that, as I have little knowledge on being Intersex or what the exact definition is, so Intersex peeps if you want to give your opinion please do, i’d love to hear what you have to say.

As for the slavery comment, this could be another case of bad translation, hearsay, or meddling scholars who forced their own opinions in there. However, due to the time it was written and and translated, I would take it with a grain of salt.

It is totally ok and normal to pick and choose parts of the bible that make sense for you and ignore the parts that no longer hold up to the current age. We do not see into God’s mind, and we were not present when those words were spoken, if they ever were.

Sorry for the long paragraph essay thing, I felt this was important to talk about what the bible actually says vs what homophobic and transphobic assholes say it says.

nobody has ever given me a satisfactory answer for why if the bible says slavery is allowed and acceptable, i should give a fuck what it says about trans and gay people??????? and honestly gay people need to start asking the tough fucking questions about whether a book that says SLAVERY is okay should be listened to at all

[roseharpermaxwell]

Bite-Size Dramione - Under 5k (Part One)

These are your bedtime stories, your palate cleansers, your individual serving sizes of serotonin. It’s okay to enjoy these even if you only read slow burn 100k+ fics, I promise. Live a little! 

This is a sampling of some amazing favorites, but I’m always reading new things and will add to it regularly. If you find something you love, I know the author would love to hear it, and so would I! Take a deep dive into their catalog to find other gems. 

Part One below:

Only Dancing by @sunflower-swan. NR, 378 words. Hermione is only dancing. No harm in that. Draco can get jealous or go with it.

Give and Take by @ambpersand. E, 1k. The softness of her curls brush against his thighs, and Draco has just enough slack to widen his knees to get closer to her. She’s everywhere, and it’s still not enough. He needs her to consume him whole. 

Indulge Me by @millennialgrandma. M, 1k. A little eighth year Veritaserum-fueled confession of feelings.

First Kiss(es) and the Path to Forgiveness by millennialgrandma. T, 1.2k. Returning to Hogwarts for an eighth year felt like penance. Kissing Hermione Granger felt like redemption.

You’re Older Now by @simplifiedemotions. T, 1.2k. “I don’t know how to do this,” he says, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. The only time Hermione remembers him being so harried was when she’d first woken up with no recollection of even her own name. She distinctly remembers his blood-shot gaze, the trembling of his limbs, when he asked her if she had remembered him.

Tentative Exporations by @dreamsofdramione. E, 1.2k. What Draco lacks in finesse he makes up for in enthusiasm. 

a cure for headaches by @whimsymanaged. E, 1.3k. Hermione has a headache. Draco has a suggestion. (Hint: It's not a pain potion.)

Some things, however by @frumpologist. T, 1.3k. Officer Granger is annoyed with Commander Draco and finds solace in the ship’s library.

A Full and Careful Analysis by @eveningstruggle. M, 1.3k. “Truth or dare.” Hermione traced her fingers over Draco’s chest, trying to match the pattern he was tracing on her back. “Dare. Wait—no. I need a refractory period first. Truth.” “Hmm…what’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” “That's too easy; it was four minutes ago.” or: Draco and Hermione talk about their past romantic history.

This Singular Night by @misdemeanor1331. T, 1.4k. On their last night in Las Vegas, Hermione asks Draco an unexpected question. He gives her an equally surprising answer.

Love of My Life by @mykesprit. T, 1.5k. A surprising revelation at their anniversary party sends Hermione reeling.

Round and Fluffy by @caitybellfics. M, 1.5k. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter arrive at the DMLE to retrieve their spouses.

Jealous by dreamsofdramione and @inadaze22. E, 1.6k. Draco isn't possessive. In order to be possessive, one has to have some sort of attachment to another person. There is no such ‘attachment’ to Granger. Sure, he knows the precise way to move his tongue inside of her to make her moan, the shape of her hip under his palm when he fucks her so hard they both see stars, and the exact pitch of her voice when she comes, but he’s not attached to her. This is the lie he tells himself.

Write What You Know by @pacific-rimbaud. T, 1.7k. Prompt: Muggle University Student AU: studying Classics or MFA Creative writing

Counting Days by dreamsofdramione. E, 1.7k. Arithmancy was never Draco's strong suit.

What Was Lost, and What Remains by PacificRimbaud. G, 1.8k. My name is Monica Joan Wilkins. I am 57 years old. I live in Sydney, New South Wales. I share a dental practice with my husband. We've been married for thirty-two years.

What To Do by @willhavetheirtrinkets. E, 1.8k. "I can," she said, smirking at him. "I have that authority. Since you're always going at it quick and hurried, without the slightest attention to detail, I've been given the authority to make certain it's done properly."

Draco ground his teeth. "You can't tell me what to do, Granger."

You Owe Me by musyc. M, 1.8k. Hermione has an anniversary plan.  

Mutually Assured Destruction… by @grangerdangerfics. T, 1.9k. As Head Girl Hermione Granger and Head Boy Draco Malfoy wage an escalating war of aggressive acts of kindness, will it spell ruin ... or romance?

Upper Body Injury by @provocative-envy. T, 1.9k. Hockey AU! "Careful," he says dryly. "Or I might think you're trying to flirt with me."  "Oh, you'd know if I was trying to flirt with you."

"Maybe," he concedes, flicking his hair back with a practiced nod of his head. "But would you?"

Coming in for Landing by @sunlightdaydream. E, 2k. Draco loved flying when Hermione worked. She truly was the best flight attendant he knew. She followed directions to the tee on most days, but even better when she's on her knees before him. Or: It's cockpit porn and he is the pilot.

Inventory of Moments by optimise. T, 2k. Hermione makes a lot of lists. And a list of names just happens to be one of them.

My Brown-Eyed Girl by PacificRimbaud. M, 2.1k. Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch.

The Dumbing Down of Love by inadaze22. T, 2.1k. Hermione is an expert at foiling Draco's plans.

Never Have I Ever by @niffizzle. M, 2.1k. With a bottle of firewhisky, a set of enchanted cups, and a game of Never Have I Ever, things turn interesting during one of the final days leading up to graduation. But just how much will be divulged? Maybe some things should stay private.

Two Full Inches Above Regulation Length by granger_danger. E, 2.1k. “Granger.” Malfoy’s voice was an ember in the dark corridor. He grasped her wrist and she almost dropped her jar of bluebell flames. “Your skirt’s not to the bottom of your knees. I may have to take points from Gryffindor.”

A Whole New World by simplifiedemotions. T, 2.2k. Draco takes Hermione out flying.

Passing Notes by @sodamnradd. T, 2.3k. D: Pay you 10 galleons to cover patrol tonight  H: STOP throwing notes at me ferret. And no.  D: 50 galleons?  and so ensues a term of note-passing between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

A Pretty Picture by @wickermayne. E, 2.3k. Draco wakes up with Hermione between his legs. Like a good boyfriend, he helps quench her thirst.

hands to myself by whimsymanaged. E, 2.4k. Every Friday night, Hermione goes to her favourite bar with her friends. One of the reasons this bar is her favourite is because she inevitably runs into Draco Malfoy. Tonight, all their flirting comes to a head.

Sucker 4 U by whimsymanaged. E, 2.4k. “You can’t just…casually talk about watching porn,” Hermione hissed, glancing around. “Why not?” Draco raised his eyebrows. “I’ve just discovered it, and I want to tell the world. Anyway, I saw a clit sucker in one of the videos, and I got to wondering how on Earth a contraption like that could feel like someone sucking your clit.”

This Time Tomorrow by sodamnrad. M, 2.5k. On the last night of school, Draco's unchecked feelings for Granger spill through the cracks.

A Different Kind of Magic by @canttouchthis87. T, 2.5k. Draco Malfoy watched Hermione Granger practice her Viola for six years. Returning to Hogwarts after the war, her music offers them both a place of freedom and sanctuary.

Shifting Perspectives by misdemeanor1331. E, 2.5k. Being a woman in a male-dominated profession is hard; being a woman and below average height is even harder.

Passing Notes by @shamione. E, 2.6k. Draco Malfoy has teased Hermione Granger for the last time, tucked away in an alcove with his fingers buried deep inside her. 

Lessons in Darkened Rooms by @raven-m-3. E, 2.6k. Draco Malfoy's eighth year at Hogwarts should have been simple, if unpleasant. Instead he finds himself grappling with a Granger-shaped problem.

A Thousand Ways to Say Sorry by @wordswithways. T, 2.6k. Draco Malfoy goes on a gift-giving apology tour. But a crucial person on his list wants nothing to do with it.

How to Break a Curse by whimsymanaged. E, 2.7k. They only had a small window before the curse took effect. “Run me through it.” Granger swallowed. “We have thirty minutes to have sex that ends with you coming inside me.” Draco clenched his jaw so tightly that it cracked. “What are our other options?” She didn’t sugarcoat it. “Death.”

Caught Wet-Handed by millennialgrandma. E, 2.8k. “Did we not agree, sweetheart, that we wouldn’t?” “Yes, Draco, which is why-” “And were you not the one who suggested, no, insisted, we abstain until the wedding night?”

Draco’s Consolation Prize by emilyinwonderland. E, 2.8k. Head Girl Hermione Granger comforts a moody Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

Feeling This by @echoofpromise. E, 2.8k. The one where Hermione elbows Draco in the nose at a rock show and he likes it

Just Desserts by @thelashjedi. M, 2.8k. Why would you talk to me?  Draco thought, behind a heavy wall of occlusion as he politely, but rotely declined the Head Girl’s offer to join her in the Great Hall, at the newly mixed tables set up in the wake of the war. 

Two Dry Martinis by @darkofthemoonfic. E, 2.9k. “You’re brilliant,” he said, flashing those teeth again. “What did I do before you arrived? And what else might you teach me?” Hermione knew she was blushing so she took another sip of her drink. The gin crisp and just the slightest hint of vermouth — how she liked it. When she flicked her eyes back to the bartender he was watching her. “A fair number of things, I’d expect.”

Pin-Up by whimsymanaged. E, 2.9k. Hermione needs to raise funds for her non-profit. Putting together a calendar of naked Quidditch players seems as good a way as any.

Severn Way by @magicaltraveler3. E, 3k. Hermione didn’t know it but they weren’t going home. They were going to a log cabin far away from anyone that could bother them.

Taste of Affection by dreamsofdramione. E, 3.1k. “You’re doing so well, Pet.”

Savour by @mignon-chignon. E, 3.1k. Draco Malfoy had a dinner to savour, hopefully without any distractions.

Overtime by @scullymurphy. E, 3.2k. Draco and Hermione are working overtime. It's late, they've gotten into the whisky and Hermione's self-control is at an all-time low -- especially once Draco starts rolling his sleeves.

Triple Axel by @batmansymbol. G, 3.2k. “As I’ve said ten thousand times, Malfoy,” she says, unbuckling her helmet, still breathing hard, “you wouldn’t last a second in speed skating.” She tugs the helmet off and her hair springs free. She shakes it back with supreme disdain. “You know what, though? I’m starting to think I’d like to see you try.”

Deal by @its-banannaz. E, 3.3k. It was all a stupid deal, and why she made a deal with Draco Malfoy of all people? She had absolutely no idea. Suffice to say, she lost the game.

Good Girls Get to Sit on Santa's Lap by whimsymanaged. E, 3.3k. On a huge, plush red armchair that the Sigmas must have borrowed (they’re usually green and silver everything) sits a guy dressed as Santa Claus.

Well. He’s got the velvety red pants and the red coat, only the coat is open to reveal a hard, muscular, bare torso, and his Santa hat sits askew atop a pale blond fade.

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know by @acciomjolnir. T, 3.4k. It's 8th year, post war, and Hermione isn't feeling in the Christmas spirit. She's not the only one who has chosen not to go home for the holidays... and when they get into the eggnog, all kinds of things happen.

It’s Draco fucking Malfoy, bane of my existence.

*and it's followup: No Regrets for the New Year. E, 2.7k.

Where You Belong by @ecaworks, raven_maiden. E, 3.4k. When Draco Malfoy shows up at the Burrow over the holidays, Hermione learns she has a decision to make.

Third Time’s a Charm by @monsterleadmehome. E, 3.4k. Head Girl Hermione Granger has been hopelessly trying to seduce Head Boy Draco Malfoy all term, but he just won't get the hint. 

Long story short (it was a bad time) by @ginnysocks. E, 3.4k. Were she and Draco currently shagging like rabbits every chance they got? Yes. Did they still utterly loathe each other? Also yes.

Flat(Mates) by WhimsyManaged. E, 3.4k. Hermione and Draco have been living together as platonic flatmates for years now. Neither have presented, so Hermione’s pretty sure they’re both betas. (Spoiler: they're not betas.)

Respite by canttouchthis. T, 3.5k. Hermione Granger is fine. Or at least there’s no reason for her not to be. But still, she finds respite under the stars, drawn to the night sky.

Mutually Assured Destruction by witchsoup. M, 3.5k. Hermione and Theo find ways to break it to each other gently... it's time to break up.

Continued in Part Two!

Give the authors some love! I also adore hearing if you found a new favorite fic or author.

I’ll be regularly adding to this, so if you’re seeing this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations for the most current list. Lots of new tumblr users as well, so if you see yourself and you’re not tagged, let me know!

[the-second-moon]

it's "thinking about carver and hawke together in the inquisition" hours

Carver and Dorian isn't a combo I expected to enjoy so much, but here we are.

(contextual note: this is from The Sarcastic/Charming Option, my ongoing attempt to somehow romance Dorian with a very purple Hawke)

--

Dorian taps a finger on the page he’s currently reading. “Did Hawke really say this line about boneless women flopping through the street, or was that a case of artistic license?”

Hawke goes stock still. As if this might allow him to blend into his surroundings and escape everyone’s notice.

Carver is looking pointedly at Hawke, as if to intentionally ruin this illusion.

And Varric breaks into a grin. “Uh… I’d call that one a solid fifty-fifty.”

“How is that possible?” Dorian asks. “He said half of it?”

“Yes, exactly,” Hawke says. “I said half of it. Only the nicest, most considerate half.”

“He did say the terrible thing,” Varric says, “but he didn’t say it in front of the grieving priest. It’s not nearly as funny that way, though, right?”

“I absolutely agree,” Dorian says. “Thank you so much for the clarification. That helps ever so much in my ongoing judgment of our mutual acquaintance.”

“Hey, no,” Hawke says. “That’s not fair! You can’t judge me based on what Varric writes.”

“What else is he supposed to judge you on?” Varric asks. “Your actions?”

“Now that you mention it,” Hawke says, “that also isn’t ideal.”

“Wait, wait,” Carver says. “You’re trying to learn about Garrett? Is that it? Well, that book’s not going to help. All that’s in there is Varric wanking him off for hundreds of pages.”

“Wow, Junior,” Varric says. “Just wow.”

“Beg pardon?!” Hawke splutters. “No one wanks me off at all in that book! Trust me, I’d remember.”

Dorian chuckles. “I bet you would.”

At those words, Hawke’s indignation screeches to a halt. His eyes snap to Dorian’s, then linger there, as if searching for any stray implications Dorian might have scattered for him.

There is a distinctly charged quality to the air between them, Dorian thinks. Impossible to avoid, what with the memory of their extremely recent collaboration on the exact lewd act that Carver is describing. Rather than say anything else on the subject, Dorian just gives Hawke his patented charming smile.

And Hawke ventures a smile back. That usual mix of uncertain and thrilled.

Oblivious to all of this, Carver snorts. “That’s basically what it is, though. ‘And then the heroic and clever Hawke said some witty lines and killed everyone again!’ As if that’s how it ever went. We both know he doesn’t remember his witty lines until about half an hour after everyone’s dead.”

“Ah-ha!” Hawke says—though his eyes stay on Dorian’s for one more moment before he wheels around to point at Carver. “So! You’re admitting my lines are witty.”

“Does it matter when you never say them in time?” Carver asks.

“Still in time for my beloved brother to hear them,” Hawke says. “Maybe they’ve all been for your benefit. So glad you appreciate my clever banter!”

Carver groans, though it can’t fully obscure the chuckle that tries to rise from his throat. “Stop being stupid.”

“Can’t. Impossible.”

“All right then, Ser Warden Carver,” Dorian says. “If this book is indeed so lacking, let me hear your interpretation of the matter.”

“My what?”

“What do you think I should know about your brother?” Dorian asks. “What are the key facts?”

Hawke is beginning to look alarmed again. “I… what? Why?!”

“Well, that’s easy,” Carver says. “He’s the world’s most brilliant doormat.”

"I’m what?”

“Oh? Fascinating!” Dorian says. “Please, do go on.”

Carver says, “Basically, everyone who meets Garrett immediately asks him for some huge and inconvenient favour. There’s just something about Garrett that makes people think they can do that. And then, worse still, he goes and actually tries to meet every unreasonable request, because he thinks he can. And also because he’s an idiot.”

Hawke opens his mouth as if to protest, considers it, then shrugs and nods.

“See? You’re just describing the plot of my book,” Varric says. “And you called it inaccurate. Unfair.”

“Yeah, because you trip over yourself to make him seem cool in the process.”

“Not to worry!” Dorian tells Carver. “I am under absolutely no illusions about Hawke’s ability to be ‘cool.’”

“Suppose you wouldn’t be,” Carver says. “It only takes spending five minutes with him.”

“Precisely.”

“You are both extremely cruel,” Hawke says. “Terrible and mean. My self-esteem would probably be shattered by now if I didn’t have Varric around to wank me off.”

“Yep. That’s what I’m here for. You’re welcome.”

“You know,” Dorian says, “I think there are people who would pay a great deal to see that.”

“Hear that, Varric?” Hawke asks. “A business opportunity! Why are we risking our lives out here when we could be wanking our way into prosperity?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s definitely not my style,” Varric says. “And second of all… how much are we talking, exactly?”

Carver grimaces. “All right, I really don’t want to picture this. Can we please change the subject?”

And Hawke whirls on him again: “This, from the person who brought up wanking me off in the first place?!”

“Well, I didn’t mean literal wanking, did I?!”

“Excuse me, gentlemen!”

At the sound of Cassandra’s voice cresting over their argument, both Hawke boys freeze as if they have just been spotted by their mother.

Cassandra has her arms crossed, wearing her usual weary frown. “We plan to be up early to reach Skyhold before dusk. Might I suggest you save this conversation until morning?”

“…Of course!” Hawke says. “Naturally. Right.”

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

All Might

There was an ache in your shoulder despite the painkillers. It was persistent, a constant reminder that your time in U.A. was beginning to lower your reaction speed. Perhaps you should consider returning to a full-time career in the hero world instead of taking random jobs here and there.

Sighing, you finished up with your costume and opened the door to find none other than Principle Nezu waiting for you.

“Great timing!” he chirped. “I was about to come and tell you that you’ll be sharing your second-year physical training class today.”

“The class that begins in twenty minutes?”

“That very one. When I found out that you had injured yourself, I thought that it would be best for you to take on an assistant of sort.” Nezu hummed softly to himself, as if wondering if he should continue. “And perhaps it will be a good experience for Toshinori to see how one can balance their time.”

You chuckled, catching onto the principle’s plan. “I don’t think a hero of All Might’s stature would have anything to learn from somebody like me.”

“There’s no doubt that he’s the better hero –“

“You could put that more nicely.”

“But you have far more experience teaching,” Nezu finished. “You take it easy to ensure your continued health and even though you whine about your lack of excitement, you never go out and chase it.”

That was true. Every year, you told the principle that you would be quitting and each time, he would laugh and tell you that you never would. You blamed the students. They were way too easy to get attached to.

All Might was waiting at the training grounds, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. The latter looked almost painted on. He absolutely towered over you, seemingly taller in person.

“We haven’t met properly before,” you said, giving your name. “But may I just say that I have endless respect for your heroic accomplishments.”

He laughed proudly. “Thank you. Nezu says that you got injured during a fight with a villain, is everything alright?”

There was something about his voice that you didn’t quite like. It just sounded so patently fake. Perhaps that was why you hadn’t been surprised when the news about his true form was shared amongst the faculty. It seemed to you that it should have been a given. Nobody spoke like he did in their day to day lives.

“It’s a shoulder injury,” you said. “In a similar line, you can drop the All Might moniker for a short while if you want. This class is incapable of arriving less than ten minutes late.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure this is a far more useful form.”

“Suit yourself,” you said with a nod. You rolled your shoulder and winced. “I’m going to need to have you taking over the majority of the hands-on training if that’s alright with you? If I push myself now, I’m just going to do more damage to the muscles.”

All Might gave an affirmative and then pondered your words. It was unsurprising when he seemingly vanished into a cloud of smoke, dropping the vast majority of his muscles and showing a far-more human façade.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged. “Some rest before teaching would be easier on my injuries.”

You smiled. “The last thing you want to do is let these students think they’re strong enough to take you on just yet. Don’t need that going to their heads.”

Endeavor

It was an accident that led to your first encounter with the recently elected number one hero. And it had mostly been as a result of a very long day filled with endless bad luck.

You had been walking through the parking garage after having coffee spilled on you, losing your keys, and nearly breaking your ankle when an escalator stopped working. It was overall an awful day. And it was about to get even worse.

It must have been as a result of some kind of villain but the exact situation escaped you. All that you knew was that somebody got thrown from out of nowhere. They flew into one of the pillars and cracked it. You jumped and immediately rushed over to them. It was only once you were right beside him that you realised the fire was part of him.

“You’re Endeavor…” you breathed. “Are you alright?”

The hero stood, clearly shaken. A deep scowl covered his face. He was much, much taller than you had thought he would ever be. “Get out of here before you get hurt.”

Before either of you could do anything else though, the ground seemed to tremble, much like an earthquake. You looked up wearily. This was the ground floor so it wasn’t like you could fall through anywhere.

And then the ceiling started to crumble.

You barely had time to react, just screwing your eyes shut and hoping for the best. A wave of heat washed over you. Dust filled your lungs and you coughed as all around you, a cacophony of collapsing rubble filled the air.

An unnatural silence took over.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. It was far too dark with a flickering light illuminating a large cavern of rubble held up by a few of the pillars that were still standing. Powder swirled around you, filling your lungs and making you cough heavily. Then you noticed the reason that you hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch.

Endeavor stood over you, shielding you entirely. He showed no visible discomfort but as you stared, you realised that part of his suit had been ripped and blood trickled down his side.

A few seconds passed and he moved away. In the tight space, he was unable to even stand straight. “Damn it,” he cursed. “There’s no way that Hawks can move any of this nonsense. We’re going to be stuck here until rescue teams arrive.”

You sunk down slowly, sitting against something sharp and putting your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to die,” you whispered. “There’s no air here…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the pro-hero snapped. “We have plenty of time before the air runs out. If it was just me, I could blast through here in no time.”

“Why can’t you?”

He stared at you as though you were stupid. “Either I would risk bringing the rest of this concrete down on your head or you would stand too close and get burnt. Somehow, I don’t think you would prefer either of those options.”

You shook your head and tried to hold back tears. This day had been worse than any other in your life. Should you call your family and friends? Was it worth worrying them just to hear their voices? Endeavor didn’t seem worried so maybe you should just trust that you would get out and everything would be fine. Or maybe you would die and –

Your thoughts were cut off by him suddenly appearing in front of you. “Relax,” he said. “If you panic, you’re just going to make the entire situation worse.”

“We’re trapped under concrete,” you said. “We could die.”

“You’re not going to die. Now stop being pathetic and find a way to occupy yourself that doesn’t cause a panic attack.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright.”

He nodded, moving considerably further away and then his flames flickered off. And that was your first meeting with Endeavor. Surprisingly, you ended up speaking until you were rescued.

Eraserhead

It had all begun years ago.

You remembered distinctly how you had been sitting in the garden and watching the bees happily buzz past. It was a warm day with a slight saltiness to the air. A perfect time to enjoy the summer as though you had no worries in the world.

Conversation filled the air and you perked up, recognising one of the voices. You had only managed to stand up when a blur of blue hair slammed into your side, pulling you into a tight hug with a happy shout of your name. Laughter filled the air as you nearly fell, unable to even hug back.

“Oboro!” you giggled. “I thought you were only getting back next week!”

He finally let you go and shot you a smile that made the sun look dim. “I was but then my parents said my friends could stay over! Come meet them.”

Oboro had been your closest friend for years but since going to U.A., you had seen less and less of him. That wasn’t to say that you hadn’t kept in contact of course but you missed him greatly.

His friends were… not what you expected.

The exceptionally loud blond was Hizashi Yamada and his quirk was volume-based. He greeted you with a booming shout, apparently having been told about you several times before arriving.

But Shota Aizawa interested you far more. He didn’t speak much and you never did find out his quirk when you were younger. When you’d asked why he wanted to be a hero, he just told you that he liked it. The rest of the week, you developed a bit of a crush on him and spent most of your time trying to impress him.

When the week ended, you didn’t see him again for a very long time and the next time you saw him, it was under circumstances you had never even imagined.

You were wearing a veil to hide your face. There was no dramatic rain or dark thunder on the day of the funeral. Rather fittingly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You liked to imagine that was Oboro’s final gift. A beautiful day to celebrate him.

Yamada had put his hand on your shoulder, subdued and quiet for the first time. He was a pro-hero now and you often saw his face on magazines.

Soon, he left to speak to others and you remained by the grave with only one other.

“Being a hero is more dangerous than I ever thought,” you said, not sure why you were speaking but feeling the urge to regardless. “You and Yamada have to stay as safe as you can, alright? He would want that.”

Aizawa glared at you from the corner of his eye. “How would you know that?”

“Because you were the most important people in the world to him,” you said. “Of course that’s what he would want.”

Aizawa didn’t speak anymore but after a while, he turned to leave. Before going, he paused and looked as though he wanted to say or do something. You met his gaze. It felt as though he could see straight through your veil, revealing the tears that streaked your face. The atmosphere wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just sad.

Still, standing there and just existing helped you to remember the loss wasn’t just your own. When Aizawa left, you turned back to Oboro’s gravestone feeling less alone in the world.

You were going to miss him like hell but you wouldn’t be remembering him by yourself.

Fatgum

As a solitary and underground hero, it was quite rare that you were contacted for big jobs. Rarer still that you took them instead of passing them on.

But something was different about this time.

This time, you had a personal vendetta drawing you to one of your least-favourite jobs – working with other heroes. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them but many weren’t in it for actually helping people. That put a bad taste in your mouth.

The job wasn’t technically being led by you purely because the information had come through a larger agency. They hadn’t wanted to pass it off to you alone so now you were sitting in the briefing room, listening to them going over everything that your investigations had revealed. No credit given, of course.

You stood toward the end and offered a simple warning. The villain that you were after had little concern about causing collateral. If anything, he relished in it. Your warning was primarily targeted at some of the heroes whom you knew dealt more with casual villains.

Many of them got overwhelmed when they came up against drug dealers and sex traffickers instead of pickpockets.

And then everybody dispersed, each having their own orders about how they would contribute to a safe arrest.

Leaving you alone. At least, you thought you were alone until somebody spoke behind you.

“Do you know what always calms me down? Taiyaki.”

You startled, though you didn’t let it become noticeable. Instead you turned to find yourself absolutely dwarfed by the BMI hero, Fatgum. Somebody you had always known about but never gotten a chance to meet.

“Do I really look that stressed?” you enquired.

He chuckled. “Not to be rude, but you definitely do.”

You sighed and looked at the documents in your hands. It was probably best that you didn’t have a mirror on you. “I’m worried about this case,” you said. “This guy has slipped through my hands a few too many times.”

Fatgum nodded. “I know how that feels but don’t worry too much. Everybody here is a capable hero and together, we’ll get him for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a few were capable but not everybody.

“You’re too cynical,” he reprimanded though there was little malice to his words. “You should try to trust the rest of us. At least for long enough to get a little sleep.”

You reached up and touched the bags that had formed under your eyes. “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be perfectly fine.” You shoved the documents into a small bag and slung it over your shoulder. Once you dropped them off at home, you could head back out and see if anything had popped up.

“It’s still pretty early,” Fatgum mused. “What are your plans?”

“I’m going to go and see if any of my sources have found new information.”

“Uwabami was meant to be doing that tonight accourding to the schedule,” he pointed out. “But you’re probably not going to be taking the night off. Why don’t you join me for my patrol? You can keep an ear to the ground and also not continue exhausting yourself.”

Sighing, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “We hardly know each other. Why are you so worried about me?”

He shrugged. “Too many heroes drive themselves crazy with this kind of stuff. Come on. My work study students are great, you’ll love them both.”

There was a reason that you didn’t take any of those on but admittedly his two students were entertaining.

Gang Orca

It was all for the sake of the cameras.

You had to remember that when you were getting up before the sun rose. Everything had to be absolutely perfect about your appearance. If it wasn’t then your little ruse would be seen through by every reporter with half a braincell.

Then you had to get to the setup site and speak with the marketing team secretly. You stood with the team leader to one side, discussing everything like old friends over a cup of coffee.

“Essentially, what we’re looking for is a very breathless and awe-struck victim,” he explained to you. “When you speak to the media, try and make it like you never even thought of Gang Orca much before but now his rescue has made him into your favourite. We’re trying to build a greater trust with the public especially amongst children.”

You pulled a face. “I don’t much like working with kids but for a small increase, I can become quite the lover of them for a short while.”

The guy smiled. “You’re one of the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. You can get your increase.”

“Thank you. Now let’s get to work.”

You made your way to the ‘accident’ site. The costume team ripped your shirt and you had some fake blood dotted around your head. Nothing to make your injuries too severe but enough for some pity.

And then you climbed under the wreck and waited.

Approved photographers snapped their pictures as you were rescued from your metal prison by the tall Gang Orca. His strength alone was enough to pull the door free. He held his hand out to you while using his other to lift the car high enough to help you out. You made a show of crawling free and then stumbling a little.

With one hand on your head, you leaned against him and stared up with a grateful expression. Cameras flashed and he checked the wreck once more before leading you away for ‘medical treatment’.

Once out of view of the media circus, you straightened and wiped some of the fake blood away from your mouth. “Thank you for the rescue,” you said.

Gang Orca didn’t seem very happy about it at all. It was good that his hero image didn’t need too many smiles.

“I’m going to guess that this wasn’t really your idea?”

He sighed. “No. I don’t like the need to fake rescues when there are real people who should be getting help from a hero.”

“But those people aren’t getting paid to better the public’s opinion of you,” you said. “Twenty minutes here can be what knocks you off lists like ‘scariest heroes’ and similar stuff. That way, you get even more opportunities to save people.”

You couldn’t tell if he was grimacing or not but he definitely appeared to be. It made sense. While some heroes relished in the easier work, many didn’t like the media part of their jobs.

“If you’re happy with it, I’d like your autograph,” you said. “It’ll help me sell the whole situation a lot easier.”

“Alright.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t have a warm opinion of the media either,” you said. “They’re vultures who benefit from the fall of good heroes. What I, and others, do helps stop the best from being sidelined just because they’re intimidating or unmarketable. You’re in this for the right reason but the news organisations don’t care about that.”

He sighed deeply. “It’s unfortunate that you’re right. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy with these kinds of arrangements.”

“Few people are.”

Hawks

Being a photographer was competitive work, especially in a world where people could have quirks allowing them to grow cameras from their bodies.

You had to go the extra mile in order to compete with them and carve out a name for yourself. Either you had to be there first or you had to see something that nobody else did. A good intuition never led you astray.

And so, when you found yourself walking down the right street late one afternoon, you just knew that it was time to take out your camera.

The event was nothing catastrophic. Indeed, it seemed that the main danger was people’s stupidity. A fire had started on the bottom floor of an office building and instead of waiting for first responders to do their jobs, people were choosing to make things more difficult by climbing out of windows and stuff like that.

Soon enough, heroes were on the scene and you had your camera ready.

Naturally, Backdraft was the first to arrive and you got some great photos of the rescue hero doing what he did best. The light from the flames perfectly illuminated the hero and made the entire situation feel a great deal more dramatic than it was.

The second hero was a young woman whose name escaped your mind. She assisted the civilians as best she could but, no sooner did she help one down, and the person was practically taken from her arms.

Bright red feathers flew across the scene, darting into the building and pulling every person free by their clothing. They were lowered safely to the ground though many stumbled.

You didn’t lower your camera but you cursed out Hawks under your breath.

Never, in your wildest imagination, did you expect to hear him respond.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

You startled, just about dropping your camera on the ground in shock. He was perched above your head, atop one of the streetlights, a smirk on his face and his visor down. His wings were shorter than usual and the only way you could tell he was even helping with the incident.

“You ruined my photo,” you said. “And she had him, you know?”

“She was moving too slow. The poor guy would have been stuck in the air for several minutes longer and that’s just not good on the heart. Besides, I can make up for your lost photo if you snap a shot in the next three seconds.”

You scoffed. “A photo of you sitting on a streetlight? From this angle?”

“What? Not dramatic enough for you?”

“Not unique enough, more like. You’re the most photographed hero in the whole of Japan. The internet is teeming with images of you from every possible angle, distance, and situation. I’ve seen them all.”

For some reason, that seemed to get to the pro-hero a little and you were surprised when he landed beside you. You were very rarely this close to a pro, your bravado disappearing now that he was actually standing there.

“So you’re saying I’m not worth a photo?”

Part of you felt like saying that he was and quickly taking one but your pride didn’t allow it. “Not when there are lesser-known heroes here. They don’t have crazy stalkers willing to chase them around the city for any picture.”

“And aren’t they luckier for it,” he sighed. “Ah well, your loss. I’ll see you around.”

With a flap of his wings, he was gone and you watched him go, fighting the urge to snap a photo the entire time.

Midnight

Some would call you shallow but interviews were one of your favourite parts of being a hero. Getting to answer questions and engage with the people who admired you was an experience that you just adored. Not only that but they were often the best place to clear up rumours or speculations so long as they were edited well.

With a reliable broadcaster and positive outcomes on all of your latest jobs, you were extremely excited to be offered an interview. You knew there was an ulterior motive of some kind but you hadn’t been sure as to what.

But still, you arrived early, dressed in your hero costume, and had your makeup done up as best as it could be.

And then you watched the interview before you and you quickly realised that the broadcast was doing a segment. One focused on hero costumes.

Your own was quite unique, a step away from the usual appearance of heroes. Personally, you loved it.

The public however was divided on whether it was fashion forward or just a flop.

And clearly that was why individual heroes had been chosen.

Being interviewed at the moment and practically being drilled on the ins-and-outs of her costume was nobody other than Midnight herself. She looked absolutely amazing as ever. A natural on the stage and in the field.

You had to admit however that you didn’t feel comfortable with the questions they were asking her. She answered smoothly but mostly in deflection.

The other heroes around you agreed with your assessment. This felt like an attempt at creating a media circus. Few were interested in participating anymore.

The moment Midnight gave her leave, the producers began gesturing at you. You gave them a look and turned around with the rest of the heroes there.

Midnight was in a bad mood but she put on a smirk when you made eye contact with her.

“We’re leaving,” you told her. “None of us were told that this was going to be working off controversy.” You wanted to apologise that she had been the first to get interrogated but you didn’t know how to do that.

She laughed. “You weren’t expecting there to be a catch?”

“I mean, I was but I thought they were a little better than running a segment that’s so clearly focused on… well…”

“Sex appeal?” Midnight asked.

You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. It probably should have tipped us off that we were all around the same status. No real big names aside from your own have worked with this broadcast channel.”

“And nobody will again once I speak to a few contacts,” Midnight said, a hint of bitterness finally seeping into her voice. “Guess that will teach me to give new places a chance. They’re all looking for the big ratings instead of actual interest. Maybe I should just go into being a teacher full time at this rate.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

She shushed you. “Not if I don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed and stuck by her as your group exited the building, ignoring the clamoring from the higher-ups who were desperately trying to convince you to stay. The type of people who would take advantage of being able to pressure people into things. Lovely.

“Don’t you hate how rude they are to you?” you asked her. “I get so furious sometimes and my questions are always tame compared to yours.”

She shrugged. “At some point, you get used to it. I don’t think there’s a question out there that would shock me anymore.”

You really hoped you never reached that point.

Mirko

The villain pulled experimentally at his cuffs. He twisted around and began shuffling when he met your eyes.

“Where exactly are you trying to go?”

He grumbled something under his breath and stopped moving. You raised a hand to your head and sighed. At this rate, you were going to wind up with wrinkles. One of your favourite outfits had been destroyed by this little altercation and nobody had even bothered to show up yet. Somebody had called emergency services, right?

“Stop moving, I can hear you,” you snapped.

The villain would have been a greater threat if you hadn’t happened to be shopping in the area. Your quirk was the perfect match for his own and it allowed you to quickly take control of an otherwise dangerous situation.

Now you sat on a bench, him tied to the nearest building support bench, and you waited for somebody to arrive and take him off your hands.

There was a thump somewhere to your right and you lazily looked up from your phone. Only for your heart to kind of stutter.

“Aw, come on! I was told there was going to be some excitement over here!” Mirko complained. “What gives?!”

The rabbit hero was absolutely gorgeous with white hair and legs that went on for literal days. She was the epitome of everything you aspired to be as a hero. What she did was on her own terms and she fought for the thrill of it all.

You had just never expected to actually meet her.

“I’ve dealt with it,” you said once you had gotten over your shock. You gestured towards the villain. “No problems here.”

Mirko bounded over and stuck her face way too close to his. Her nose seemed to twitch in excitement. “You don’t seem so tough,” she scoffed. “I got the call and it said that this was setting itself up to be a good clash! Are you just that good?”

Her eyes fell on you, bright and teasing. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she huffed it away without breaking eye contact.

“I am,” you said, mostly joking but feeling unable to deny it.

She threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good answer. I like your confidence.” She eyed what you were wearing. “Your costume could use some work though.”

You chuckled. “It’s actually pretty similar to yours when I’m not interrupted while shopping. I’ve always loved your style.”

She nodded firmly as though that was a given. Then she looked around and raised an eyebrow. “If this moron interrupted your shopping, then what are you doing hanging around with him? You have things to get back to, don’t you?”

You gestured around. “I do but the police haven’t shown up yet.”

“Don’t worry about them,” she scoffed. “I’ll bounce this guy down to the station for you. Don’t waste time just standing around.”

She turned back to the villain just in time for you to both see him run around the corner. He nearly tripped but managed to keep his footing. You glanced at one another and Mirko laughed heartily. “You stay here,” she said. “I can deal with cowards in well under a minute. They always do the same things to ‘throw me off’ or whatever.”

“I’ll come with you,” you said. “It’s technically my fault he got away. And I could always learn a thing or two from the best, right?”

She grinned. “I knew I liked you. Let’s see if you can keep up though.”

Natsuo

On a good summer’s day, there was nothing better than the beach. The waves gently lapping at the shore, soft clouds drifting across the sky, and few children due to the earliness of the day. It was well worth getting up early to watch the sun creep its way over the ocean and begin what was scheduled to be the hottest day of the year.

Not that you would be outside when it hit noon. By that time, ice cream and a nice spot of shade became necessary.

For now though, you waltzed along the beach and enjoyed the sand beneath your feet. As you walked, you kept an eye out for shells though there were scarce. People came every day to collect this time of year.

In a way, that made you sad.

But the lack of shells did mean that you didn’t need to watch where you were walking quite as much. At least, that was your thought process. Shells cut your feet and there were none so why keep an eye on the sand.

The answer is broken bottles.

It was a sake bottle, probably stolen away by some kids to be drunk where their parents wouldn’t see. The searing pain made you think you’d stepped on a jellyfish. Cursing, you jerked your foot away, blood running down into the sand below.

A small wave washed up, taking the bloodied sand away to reveal the culprit.

Struggling to balance, you hopped away from the bottle and sat down, lifting your foot to see the damage. It was a rather deep slice that made you feel quite woozy. Sand was already sitting around the injury and your only option to wash it off was the very salty sea.

“Sorry, do you need some help?”

You glanced behind you to see a guy standing on the boardwalk. His hair was pale and his expression kind. Something about him seemed oddly familiar but you weren’t sure why.

“I stood on a bottle,” you said. “It’s alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need some help getting off the sand?”

You were going to deny the offer but your entire leg felt like it was on fire. The pain was undoubtedly because of your brain flicking through reminders about the danger of stepping on glass. “If you’re alright with it.”

He made his way down to where you were sitting quite quickly and glanced at your foot. “That’s going to need stitches,” he said. He offered his water bottle to you. “You should clean it off and then put some pressure on it before we move it.”

The cut hadn’t seemed that bad to you but you hadn’t really been looking carefully. “Are you sure?” You still took the water though, hissing as you poured it over your cut.

“Very,” he said. “Do you mind your towel getting blood on it?”

“No.”

He used the towel to put pressure on the cut and then helped you stand, hobbling your way off the beach. Once there, he quickly listed off the nearest hospitals.

“Are you a medical student by any chance?” you asked, trying to keep your mind off the pain.

He blushed. “Sorry, is it obvious?”

You laughed. “Just a little but that’s okay. It was good that you happened to be nearby then. Can I get your name?”

He hesitated but then said, “Natsuo. Don’t worry about my family name.”

Curious now, especially given how familiar he looked, you were tempted to push. But you didn’t and instead thanked him again for his help. He turned out to be correct, of course. You did need stitches.

Present Mic

You stretched before going into the office. Everything was sore – an unfortunate result of your late night. It couldn’t have been helped. Train wrecks were rarely planned.

Principle Nezu greeted you warmly when you arrived and then asked you to sit down. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, there was a recent incident on the grounds. Thirteen was badly injured and we’re in need of a new teacher with expertise in natural disaster management.” He smiled at you. “I thought you would be the perfect match.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you were going to try convince me to take a work study student.”

“I’m sure you will one year,” he joked.

“Unlikely but you can always offer.” You sighed and turned your gaze out the window. “I have little care for children. This will be a temporary position, yes?”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

You gave him a look but the principle just sipped at his tea. He already knew that you were going to accept – if only because you had always been a close friend of Thirteen’s. Taking over one class wasn’t going to kill you.

“I don’t have any experience in this,” you reasoned. “Other schools must have teachers who can come and cover classes?”

“None who are as experienced in the field as you are. So I’ve organised with Hizashi Yamada to take you through his methods of teaching and you can convert them over. He’ll be here soon.”

You sunk further into your chair, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “What would you have done if I said no?”

“Been very disappointed, of course.”

Present Mic was a hero you had always admired but you hadn’t ever expected him to be as loud in person as he was in the media. You just about jumped out of your skin when he entered the room dramatically, calling out a greeting.

Nezu gave the introductions and informed you that before doing an actual class, you had a week of acting as an assistant instructor alongside Present Mic.

“Should I invest in earbuds?” you joked.

He laughed but then actually lowered his voice as though you had reminded him. “Don’t worry. If I yell too much in class, Shota tends to come and glare through the doorway until I quieten down.”

You chuckled. “Do you have similar teaching schedules?’

“No but he claims that he can hear me from anywhere in the school. It’s the best way to find him actually. You just yell until he shows up.”

“I’ll take that as lesson number one in how to teach at U.A.”

“Lesson number one is to not take Nemuri’s flirting seriously,” he corrected. “I know it’s very flattering to think that she’s interested but she’s not. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell her to stop but she doesn’t always listen. It’s part of her image, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow at Nezu but he just shrugged. That didn’t seem like it was too professional but alright.

You took a deep breath and tried to pretend that this was just going to be temporary. It wasn’t like Nezu had been trying for years to get you involved at the school.

Temporary.

“Which subject do you teach?” you asked as you followed Present Mic from the office.

“English. No crazy action or anything which means you have to work double time to keep the students interested. You’ll have it far easier.”

Nobody really prepared you for the fact that Class 1A didn’t know how to do things the easy way.

[if-mirrormine]

hotel room

as one of the winners of my follower celebration, which happened so long ago i'm so sorry, this drabble is for @nexusnix! i hope you enjoy, bestie!

pairing: grayson x m!mc (azriel)

summary: there was only one bed

warnings: just a little bit of post-disappearance angst

word count: 888

your decision to leave town wasn't made lightly. you need a break from all the questions, the stares and the concern. being made aware of your disappearance was hard enough; you don't need a reminder of that with every interaction you have, and besides, you always wanted to visit new york. 

grayson was insistent that he tag along with you, and you conceded, with the promise that he not fret over you too much. you doubt he'll keep his word; he worries about you too much not to, and you suppose you can't blame him, but you know he'll be on his best behaviour. or he'll try to be at least. 

so that's how after a day of packing, waiting in the airport and a long five-hour flight, you and grayson come to stand in the doorway of your hotel room. the both of you staring at the bed. the one double bed. the bed you're expected to share with the man you've had a crush on since before your teen years. 

with a heavy breath leaving your lips, you walk further into the room, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed. you could've sworn you asked for a double room when you called to make the initial booking. you distinctly remember wanting to avoid this exact situation. and you're so tired after the day you've had.

"i'll go downstairs," you say, rubbing a hand over your face as you do your best to mask your frustration; with the hotel for creating this mess, with grayson for caring about you so much, with yourself for wasting as much time as you have. "see if we can switch rooms." 

"you don't have to do that, azriel," he says quickly, stepping closer to you. he has his arms raised, as if ready to stop you from leaving the room, which he drops to his sides just as quick. "i don't mind sharing if you don't." 

there's something of a hopeful tone to his voice that convinces you to reconsider. you look at him for a moment before turning your gaze to the offending bed behind you. you've shared a bed with grayson before, multiple times in fact. you never had a problem with it but things are different now. neither of you are twenty-two anymore, as strange as that is for you to say. and even though you're still you, you don't know how much he's changed. you don't know how differently he sees your friendship. 

with a slow, deep breath, you decide to throw all caution to the wind and give in to your impulses. "won't be the first time," you concede, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. you stifle a yawn as you lie back and he places his bag down to join you. "i don't think i have the energy to go shower." 

"then don't," he replies. 

you turn your head to look at him just as he does you. you find it difficult to believe that ten years have come and gone, but looking at grayson, you can see the truth. he's still the man you remember him to be; the same pitch black hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same dazzling smile. but there's a tiredness to him now, a sense of having done and seen too much that can only come with time. time he had to spend without you. 

"but i probably reek of airport," you counter. "and that grimy taxi we took on the way here."

at that he laughs. a hearty, melodious laugh that you don't hear as often as you'd like. "coming from someone who was with you the whole time, and probably smells the same, if not worse," he says, blue eyes locking with yours and making your heart beat a million miles a minute. "that's not gonna be a problem."

the two of you share a smile. and it takes you back to a time when smiles came easy, when you were just you and gray was just gray. 

“don’t say i didn’t warn you,” you reply and he chuckles again. it's moments like this that you're reminded of the ease of your relationship before. you could talk about anything, laugh about anything, it didn’t matter what. it was far from perfect back then, but it was good enough. you’re hopeful you can get that back. 

you don’t remember much after that, especially falling asleep. when you pull your eyes open, you’re greeted by darkness and for a moment, you forget where you are, forget all that’s gone wrong in your life. you’re elsewhere; another time and place, somewhere you’re happy. until you feel grayson shift next to you in his sleep and you’re brought back to reality. 

you’re both still fully dressed, tangled in each other’s limbs on top of the duvet. you shouldn’t be so close, you shouldn’t feel so comfortable. but you do. every fibre of your being tells you to move away from him, to go to the other side of the bed and put some distance between you two. but you don’t. Instead, you settle back down on the bed, rest your head on his chest and as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, you know you made the right choice. consequences be damned.