#also this is pretty much uneditted so please have mercy

[sandwichtheuhh]

The Eiffel Tower

Yeah this is from my TF2 au Trials, Tribulations, and Teufort, Enjoy!

Scout had been feeling better since his last mishap with the sizeshifting, but he still felt uneasy about it. The memory kept replaying over and over again, growing huge then being so miniscule the slightest movement would send him flying. He’d seen films about The Incredible Shrinking Man, not once did he think he’d be in the position to understand it.Billy winced, it was- embarrassing, shameful even. Even the thought of being in someone's single hand, let alone that prick frenchman, was enough to make him green with anxiety. He went to bed early that night, hoping to get a good night's rest. However, in the middle of the night, Billy woke up feeling strange.

He looked down at his body and gasped. He was shrinking again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No matter how much Billy wanted to just stop, for everything to just stop, the sizeshifter part refused so much so it was painful to argue with it. “H- HEY! Is- Is anyone there! PLEASE SOMEONE I- I..” suddenly the shouting turned into sobbing as Billy collapsed into his body, hugging his legs into a compact fetal position. The worst part about shrinking: You are rendered utterly useless and vulnerable. It was almost, depressingly obvious not even a raccoon would've been awake in the base. That was until he heard a voice beside him.

"Are you alright, Scout?"

He looked up and saw Spy standing over him like the mother fucking eiffel tower, a very concerned tower. Billy rubbed the tears away, his face red with embarrassment that someone had actually caught him in this state. This would’ve been fine if he’d be 30 feet towering over teufort, but 3 inches isn’t exactly towering material. 

"I'm fine, just a little...uh...problem," Scout muttered, shrugging the ordeal off like it was ‘no big deal’.

Spy raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem like 'just a little problem', Scout. Are you sure you're okay?"

Scout sighed, realizing that he couldn't keep his secret from Spy forever. "Okay, fine. We’ve talked about this, I can't control it and it's really fucking embarrassing. I can’t even sleep normally when my pillow is the size of a damn football field!"

Spy raised a brow "That sounds more preferable than a mattress filled with microfiber.”  

“That- that’s not the point, It makes me feel like a freak I-"

Spy nodded his head. "You are a freakish boy."

Billy looked up at him like he’d just been punched in the gut. "Thanks, Spy. That means a lot coming from you. Ya know if you came here to insult me to my face, you coulda said somethin first. Jeez, you’re a real prick ya know that? " 

Spy smiled. "Of course, mon ami. Now you may be a freak, You may be the most unpredictable illiterate boy i’ve known-" “Hey watch it buddy-” “But you are no less than the freak obsessed with unicorns and hellfire. Sure, You downsize- or upsize- it’s hard to keep track anymore, but you are no less annoying than the same scout i’ve had the godawful pleasure of working with before.” And just like that, spy took a single index finger and patted Billy on the back. 

They sat in silence for a while, it was deafening, it made Scout think. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think before, but now he had to reflect on everything spewed at him. It was different being patted on the back by a regular sized hand, it was painfully obvious something was off when a whole finger covered his left shoulder. Despite it, Billy leaned into it. On a regular day the speech would have made him brush it off and go back to reading comics, yet now it was just as big of a reality check as spy. A fucking eiffel tower. Scout started growing back to his normal size, muscles contracting and bones expanding. The sickening series of crunching made the frenchman hold his mouth in effort to not gag. Billy took a deep inhale then stretched his limbs "Thank you, Spy."

Spy patted him on the back, a normal sized pat “Goodnight Billy”.

[sukirichi]

VIRGIN KILLER TRIO !! & their habits

→ oliver aiku + karasu tabito + otoya eita

→ nsfw. smut. wrote this impulsively on my notes because karasu has me feeling things. aged up characters. toxic men. fingering. oral (f receiving) otoya is a cheater (canon but i love him) unedited. size kink kind offf. aiku hits it and quits it.

+ I NEED AIKU SO BAD. i also hc that karasu is a manwhore but he would teeat you so well <3

it’s hard not to catch sight of the virgin killer trio in every afterparty. there’s oliver — the smooth talker who can never remember a girl’s name, karasu — who reads your every move and can tell from across the room how badly you want him, and otoya — the quietest of them all. but don’t let his demeanor fool you. rumors have it that he’s as great in bed as he is at breaking hearts.

pick your poison, they said. don’t let the night go to waste, they said.

but all is easier said than done when oliver has forgotten his cold beer on the counter as he presses you against it during a party. he calls you names that are outright dirty and should not have made you this wet. he smells like smoke and liquor — like danger, like everything you should avoid. you know he won’t remember you the next morning and you’ll most likely wake up in an empty bed. no notes, no small gift left behind. it would be hard to tell he was ever there if it were not for the ache between your thighs and the bite marks he’d left all over your skin.

oliver fucks like the way he wins — luring his opponent and trapping them against him until you give in and submit. what’s the point of fighting anyway? you know it’s futile. you should just let him do as he pleases — to hammer into you from behind, his large hands squeezing your hips in a vice-tight grip. oh no, he’s not letting you go. he’ll keep you there until your thighs quiver and your head drops down to the pillow, the sheets drenched with sex and sweat. he’ll keep you there until his legs are tangled with yours, your tongue lolled out as he fucks out the most delicious moans from you.

oliver aiku is dirty, intoxicating, and when he leaves his mark on you, he only has one goal in purpose — to ruin you for any other man who comes next.

karasu is different. he’s sweeter, more tender with his words and gestures. he doesn’t seduce you right away. no, he likes to watch his prey first from across the room, letting his gaze wander to your pretty face and picturing if you’d look better when you’re finally coming around his cock. when he makes himself known, it’s too late. he’ll know everything about you already, just like how he knows he’ll have you putty in his hands by the end of the night. the only thing left is to prove his theories right — don’t even try to think you can hide your weaknesses from him. he can read you like an open book. he can tell from the hungry way your eyes roam over him that you’d take it like a good girl, and your eyes would roll back when he slides himself in deep.

unlike aiku, karasu doesn’t cage you under his arms and suffocates you. this isn’t a battle for him, because battles mean there’s equal chances of winning, and there’s none of that in the bedroom. karasu knows he’s stronger and has the upper hand. he knows you’re entirely at his mercy when he pins your hands above your head, his long fingers locked around your wrist. and oh, he’s sweeter, so much sweeter. he calls you beautiful and gorgeous. he worships you and leaves kisses on your body, murmuring sweet nothings like a mantra against your skin. he isn’t rough, but he fucks you hard and deep. hard enough you’re seeing stars and your toes are curling, pussy fluttering around his girth. and when he’s pushed you to the edge, he’ll make sure everyone at the party knows who made you feel that good.

karasu doesn’t leave a note. he stays the night and kisses you again, his eyes droopy in a post sex-haze. he gives you his number, because why not? he sure wouldn’t mind sleeping with you again the next time you run into each other.

the next time you attend these events, it isn’t the dominant oliver or endearing karasu who charms you. instead, otoya comes unexpectedly — slithering his way into your heart (and pants) before you could realize it. he’s subtle, and doesn’t stand out much from the crowd. it comes like a shock to you when you find yourself pressed up against a wall in a random hallway with his lips against your neck. he doesn’t say sweet things like karasu, or teases you on how you’re such a dirty whore like oliver would. no, otoya speaks with his words, and you get the message clear enough when he’s pumping his fingers in you. he’s quiet still, giving you only breathy moans and low groans when you squeeze around him — but by the heavens, he sounds the prettiest.

there is nothing quick and swift when it comes to otoya, unlike how he is when he’s speeding through the field. he takes his time with such confidence and patience that karasu would lack, since he’s too eager. and he touches you in the gentlest manners briefly reminding you of karasu, but when otoya looks at you, it’s different. with his handsome face above you, his reddened lips parted with a shuddering breath, and his eyes narrowed as he watches your cunt swallow him to the hilt. he isn’t the sweetest, but he is the most romantic. lacing his fingertips with yours, otoya swallows all your moans in a devouring kiss. his hips plunging into you in a way that you’re sure you’ll feel him for days. and he kisses like he means it — kisses your sweet pussy with his eyes closed and rough hands kneading your ass like a starved man.

and when he leaves, it’s with a hole in your heart. otoya is a silent killer, who comes and disappears into your life, but not without ensuring he’s more than just a silly fuck. because otoya didn’t have to make out lazily with you, or ask about your passions. he didn’t have to be genuinely interested in getting to know you and smile like he’s fallen in love. he didn’t have to hide that it was all a mistake — that he was already with someone else, and simply couldn’t ignore his needs when you set foot into the room and your scent got him hard.

and when the regret sinks in, otoya will barely look you in the eye. he doesn’t stay the night because there’s someone waiting for him at home.

he doesn’t ask for your name or number because it’s easier to pretend nothing happened between you. just as silently as he made his way to your heart, otoya leaves with a final resounding click of the door being shut.

because just like his friends, otoya never stays.

and they’ll be on their way to find their next conquest.

[moonlight-prose]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE

a/n: all i'm gonna say is this song is so benny coded i'm losing my shit over it. he's absolutely the man to leave you in tears by the end of the night. also someone stop me from writing heaps of angst for him, because i genuinely can't stop making wips in my drafts for him. this is entirely unedited because fuck it and i'm nervous he doesn't sound right, but oh well. the divider is made by the incredible @saradika-graphics.

summary: benny cross was trouble, he was a storm waiting to cause damage, he was everything you wanted. but men like him have a tendency to break hearts without even trying.

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: benny cross x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, crying, benny is a toxic man in this, emotionally constipated men, reader's favorite color is red. stupidity, violence, blood, fixing up wounds, makeup getting messed up, thigh riding, spitplay, he's filthy.

"He'll get you into trouble honey."

Five months ago you wouldn't have thought anything of the words Johnny said over a glass of whiskey, his eyes trained on the way you looked at Benny. The far off gaze that he'd seen cross his lady's face more often than he expected. At first it meant love—hope that you might finally meet the one you longed for—but reality always seemed to crash down around you quicker than you expected.

You laughed as if he told you a joke, a funny one liner that would be a distant memory on the day of your wedding to the man by the pool table. You thought nothing of his words and found yourself lost in the gaze of blue eyes and red knuckles.

You should have listened.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang as you stormed through the small house—your jacket discarded over the leather chair Benny claimed belonged to him. Anger burned in your chest at the realization that one day...it wouldn't sit there. One day he'd leave and you would finally have the gall to throw that piece of shit outside. You glared at it as he followed you, shutting the door with a soft click, a distant sigh leaving his lips.

"Baby—"

In all the months you'd known him, Benny being scared was unthinkable. He was a man who made more trouble than he sought out, the same man who came home bruised, bloodied and begging for mercy. The man you promised to love forever. Yet when your gaze fixed him with a look that could have killed him if you weren't weaponless, you watched that small inkling of fear cross his eyes.

Benny was scared.

And not because he nearly got killed in a fight. Not because he leapt across the bar, a blade in his hand, and a smile on his lips. He felt terror at the thought that you—the person he found his little inkling of peace in—might finally be the one to turn him away.

Tonight very well could be your last straw in this relationship, the thing that finally cracked you in half, and Benny felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He swallowed thickly around words that would never leave his mouth, a cold sweat beginning to form along the back of his neck as you stayed silent. There was nothing either of you could say to fix what broke tonight. He threw the first punch and felt satisfaction at the crack that followed when his knuckles met bone and blood stained his skin.

"I'm s—"

You huffed, fingers curling into fists. "I swear if you so much as say a single word I will break your nose."

The grin that crossed his lips wasn't helping your anger—merely fanning the flames of something catastrophic—but he couldn't stop the thrill that nearly flipped his heart at your threat. His girl, so pretty and dolled up, ready to send a fist flying towards his face. Maybe he should talk to someone about why that made him smile. Why he wanted to kiss you senseless all of a sudden, until neither of you could breathe.

He should have realized it was fucked.

Instead he licked his lips and yearned for more.

Exhaling a deep breath, you closed your eyes to the image of him with blood still smeared across his knuckles and a bruise forming on his cheek. Johnny warned you. He told you Benny Cross was trouble. Yet even now, you found yourself unable to unravel the tangled thread that tied him to you. That set in stone your future with this man. You gave your heart over without thinking about the consequences. But wasn't that supposed to be what love is?

Weren't you meant to fall fast and quick and pick up the pieces later?

"Go sit down, I'll get the bandages," you muttered.

Thankfully, he didn't give you a fight on that front. He nodded silently, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as he took a seat in his chair. You half expected him to let your jacket fall to the ground. Instead he folded it gently, placing it on the couch with enough care to break down a small bit of your anger.

He wouldn't speak. Not until you asked him to.

But he could show you he loved you in ways that went unnoticed by others, yet meant everything to you.

You returned silently, handing him the first aid kit as you poured alcohol on the once clean towel. A feeling he often fled from began to eat at his insides, clawing up his throat, as you bent down to evenly wipe at his open cut. He didn't flinch, barely even registered the sharp sting of pain. His mind was reeling, heart pounding, with the knowledge that he felt guilty.

"Johnny warned me," you sighed, seeing the beige towel begin to turn red.

Benny hummed, blue eyes meeting yours—that soft gleam of an apology shining through. You tried to avoid looking at him, knowing your resolve would break. Not even you could deny how irritating his gift for softening you up was. Yet somehow...you always let him get away with it.

"He said you were trouble."

"Johnny says that about everyone," he sighed. He wanted to touch you, to place his hand on the back of your thigh as you stood between his legs.

The harsh and final swipe at his cut sent pain down his face. Enough to have him reaching for you blindly, a soft grunt falling past his lips as you began to clean his bruise. You should have pushed him off, maintained your level of anger, but with Benny things became complicated. Anger bled into your love until you couldn't discern between the two.

Love and hate toed that invisible border between the two, but with him...the line simply disappeared.

"I asked you to stop fighting." He handed you the bandage softly, still trying to meet your gaze. "I don't like you coming home broken. Bloody. Do you think this is fun for me Benny? Stitching you up every time?"

His breath washed across your wrist, eyes falling shut as the guilt practically ate him alive. You could see the conflict on his face. A struggle he didn't know how to win. Fighting was all he knew, all he could count on most days, and whether you liked it or not, it helped him keep the control he desperately needed. The one thing in his life that remained unwavering.

"No," he murmured into the skin of your wrist.

"Then why?"

"I just gotta do it baby."

Bullshit always sounded prettier coming straight from his mouth. More often than not you took it without a second guess. You let him be the wild man they needed—the person who would fight without question. But tonight as you watched him pummel a man into the ground, you caught a glimpse of your future. Of the path that you willingly said yes to.

And it terrified you.

"I know the club needs you," you sighed, cupping his face and finally meeting his soft gaze. "I know Johnny needs you. But so do I."

The sting of tears wasn't unfamiliar when it came to Benny, but you wanted it to be different. You didn't want to cry over his mistakes anymore, you didn't want him to be the reason you were like this. He let out a breath, his hands reaching for hips with a gentleness that gave you whiplash. There was no resistance in your body left, no arguments to be had, because this was just how things were.

Benny Cross remained himself at the end of all of this.

Even as you broke in his hold.

Tucking your face into his neck, you allowed your worries to slip into the background. What more could you do? When you loved a man so reckless he barely remembered to breathe before jumping headfirst into danger. His hand ran down your back, lips finding your temple, as the night began to settle, and you found yourselves back in the same spot. In a position that felt familiar.

"You've got me," he murmured, feeling the collar of his shirt grow damp with your tears.

"The club comes first though."

"I don't know what you want me to say—"

You shook your head and pressed your face into his palm, his thumb running along the top of your cheekbones. "That's just it Benny...you can't say anything I haven't heard before."

A flicker of something foreign creeped along his face, peeking its head out before sneaking off again. A part of him that he'd never share with you. The trepidation, the grief, the worry that he barely let himself feel. How could he give that to you? How could he let you see it all without scaring the shit out of you?

Keeping that to himself was what kept him there. It stopped him from running at a moment's notice. And you knew that.

You figured it out the day you met him.

"C'mere," he mumbled, gripping your chin with the softness of a lover who yearned to apologize but didn't know how.

So you fell into his touch and let his lips slide along yours. You kissed him back with a worn out sigh of pleasure, your hands creeping along the neck of his jacket—until your skin pressed against his. Benny didn't kiss you with passion or fervor. He kissed as if he had all the time in the world to do nothing but. To tease out every manner of sounds that might be trapped in your chest.

His tongue dipped into your mouth, hand gripping at your hip as his breathy grunt was swallowed by your lips. By the moan you fed him—the need that echoed from your chest directly into his.

"You taste like me," he groaned, his hand finding the back of your neck at the same time he gripped your ass, pushing you a bit closer. Until no space remained but the clothes you wore.

You smiled, stealing a quick bite to his bottom lip he felt right down to his cock. "I taste like cigarettes."

"My cigarettes."

"You all smoke the same cigarettes baby."

He mumbled something you couldn't hear—not because you didn't try, you did—because he chose that moment to press his thigh between your legs, catching you in a kiss before the sound could escape. What you might have recognized as a soft warmth that spread through your stomach, suddenly burned you on sight. A whine spilled from your mouth, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, and yet he merely smiled against your lips.

Whatever argument that might have continued long into the night, died in the back of your mind the second he guided your hips along his leg. The rough fabric of his jeans catching along the seam of yours. You wanted to focus on him, to see the slightest bit of crimson dust his cheeks, but the haze of bliss began to bleed into your vision. Blurring anything but him and his thigh and the open mouth kisses he tracked along your throat.

"B-Benny—"

The squeeze on your ass let you know he was listening, and perhaps you were too far gone to realize how your heart fluttered at the touch. Maybe he knew that this was too much for you to give up on. The unconditional pleasure he was willing to give you.

The ache he could fill with ease.

"That's it," he mumbled against the corner of your lips, gripping your chin in his large calloused palm. "Ride it. Take what you want."

Soft panting breaths was all you could get out with each stunted grind of your hips along his leg. With any other person you might have felt ridiculous. Like you were the show they were paying for. But with Benny...you existed beyond whatever this was; you were the person he'd ride to hell and back with. The person who gave him a reason to come home.

He watched you with awe in his eyes, his thumb rubbing along the eye makeup that you cried off. The mascara that you'd later have to remove with his help.

"How do you feel?" he finally said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

If he wanted coherent sentences, he wasn't getting them. And some part of him knew. He could see the effort it took to even keep your eyes open as blinding pleasure began to course through your body. Ripping at what anger might have remained and replacing it with want.

His name was a soft sigh on your lips, eyes glazed and begging for that final push. When it came to you, he willingly gave in, gave you the need that he could feel in his own body.

"What do you need?"

He knew what would push you over the edge; could practically see the plea in your eyes. And his lips curled at the sight. Your hips dragged along his thigh in short stunted thrusts, working yourself past the point of feeling that blistering ache in your legs. Pulling your face closer, he pinched your cheeks slightly, silently waiting for you to follow his move. He wasn't a patient man, but when it came to you...he'd endure centuries if it meant getting to have you like this.

"I know," he murmured, sliding his nose along your cheek. "Lemme give it to you."

With a soft moan, your lips parted open, fingers grabbing onto the front of his vest in the hopes that it would stabilize you. He dipped down licking into your mouth with a groan, before the all too familiar sensation of his spit landing on your tongue sent heat flaring towards your stomach.

"That's a good girl." Your eyes fluttered, body trembling. "Swallow."

Few things existed that made him feel that flutter in his chest. The sight of your eyes rolling back as the release you'd been aching for finally spilled over and down your spine, was at the top of his list. He'd watch it on repeat without ever tiring of what he could bring you to. A feeling that if taken away from him, would bring a sane man to madness.

"Benny," you sighed, feeling his forehead press to yours, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to settle his body. You needed a moment to gather yourself before he dragged you back to that comfortable bed you made him find the first week you began dating him.

"I'm sorry."

The words weren't a promise, nor a confirmation that a future spent with him would change. Or even be easy. But you took what little he could give. The pieces of his heart he let you have, even as he fought everything screaming at him to leave.

"I know," you whispered, giving into his hug, and soaking in the affection he offered.

You came to the conclusion that this is where you differed. You loved with everything, all that you could give of yourself. And Benny loved like the wind. There for moments of the day, but gone by the time the moon began its ascent into the sky. You never knew when you'd finally catch him for good—perhaps you never would.

His hold tightened, lips finding yours, and it was then you finally settled on the answer you'd been searching for. You didn't want to find out the future, because this right here...this was enough.

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER TWO

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you and cassian pull a job for luthen, and something is starting to form between you and the rebel.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR*, canon-typical violence and injuries, talk of the rebellion, cassian andor is a giant flirt i’ll die on this hill, and if I’ve missed anything please let me know! (this chapter is pretty light though!)

a/n: should I have started writing/posting this fic in the midst of The Last of Us dropping and Joel Miller brain rot taking over? probably not. do I care? also no. I love this story too much. (also I’m lazy and this is unedited bYE)

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works, please follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications!✨

As soon as the Fondor is safely adrift in hyperspace, Luthen reappears from the cockpit, and you slide the belt straps off your aching shoulders. Cassian is quick to help, his fingers nimble on the buckles, his brow furrowed as he releases you. You murmur your thanks, and he just nods before undoing his own restraints, disappearing into one of the Fondor’s many dark corners. You know them well.

In the early days, before Hoth, when you were just a young thief with a silver tongue, when you were Luthen’s (only) pride and joy, most of your time was spent on the Fondor, jumping from system to system, selling your stolen wares and cashing the credits in before anyone could question you. You’ve stared yourself down in that fresher mirror more times than you care to count, hidden in the storage compartments when Imps yanked the ship in for a random inspection, cleaned your wounds using the same kit Luthen had just used.

It was you who had nicked the hyperdrive that now powered the ship, enabled Luthen to make his grand escapes when required. You who had charmed the mechanic on Dantooine to install it with as much secrecy as possible; the vibro-blade to his throat certainly seemed to help. You’d traded for the droid mod that you knew was still hooked up in the cockpit. Yes, you know the Fondor well. A little too well.

Cassian disappears around the corner, and you let your eyes linger on the space he’d just filled, the shadow of him hooked on the door. Luthen comes to stand before you, arms crossed over his chest, piercing eyes staring down at you.

“We’re going to Taanab,” he says, casually, as though he were commenting on the weather. He hands you the flask of med-nog once more, and you take a large gulp. “It’s a big score.”

You lean forward slightly, testing the give of your side, releasing your breath when the pain isn’t unbearable. Thank the Maker for bacta. “What makes you think I’m working for you again?” you ask, lifting a brow and taking another sip of the med-nog, smaller this time.

Luthen snatches the flask back from you, stowing it in his jacket. “You’re not, never said you were. But I have a feeling you’ll want in when you know who it is we’re stealing from.” He lifts a shoulder. “Like I said, it’s a big score.”

You narrow your eyes him. “What’s the mark?”

He starts to walk away, a smile tugging at his lips, not yet reached his face, but you know Luthen. This is his game. This is how he’s always got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“What’s the mark, Luthen?”

“Black Sun. My sources tell me the storehouse is filled to the brim with weapons. I’d like to relieve them of that burden.”

Not so subconsciously, your hand wanders up to your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You’d tangled with Black Sun before, tried to steal a crate of Savareen emeralds on it’s way off-planet. You’d nearly gotten out when the guards caught you, dragged you before their leader. He’d decided to show you mercy after a bit of deliberation, but left you with a deep scar cut into your left shoulder, put there by the burning red blade he carried. It had taken months to heal, the burn almost worse than the wound itself, and the scar still tingled from time to time.

“You did this on purpose.”

The old man barks a laugh. “I didn’t know you were on Arkanis, did I?” he says, coming back to stand before you. He reaches out, takes your chin in his hand, brings your eyes up to his. “Either you come with us, or I leave you at the spaceport, no hard feelings.” He pauses, squeezes your face lightly. “Shadow.”

Biting out a groan, you bat his hand away. “Don’t call me that.” You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. “Give me the med-nog.”

His brow pinches.

“If I’m doing this, I’m gonna need it, Luthen,” you snap, holding out your hand.

The corner of his mouth twitches again, and the flask is pressed to your palm a second later. “Get some rest.” He reaches out again, this time his hand touched to your cheek. There’s something like admiration in those pale eyes, but only for a fleeting second, before the hard gaze returns and he turns away, stalking back towards the cockpit.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the old man missed you.

You flick open the flask, sipping more of the med-nog, and Cassian reappears. He doesn’t wander towards you, busies himself checking a blaster sitting on one of the many weapons racks the Fondor holds. His movements are calculated, but easy, second nature. It’s easy to tell just looking at him that he’s a true fighter, and his voice rings out in your head.

This is the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.

Perhaps Luthen is right, perhaps you will get along with this new Rebel. Though something tells you his rebellious spirit is nothing new.

It’s quiet, for a long time. The only noise is the quiet clink of metal as Cassian works, the quiet thrum of the Fondor’s engines, the in and out of your breathing. You find yourself watching the man before you, your head cocked to the side, following his movements. He’s modding the blaster, you can tell, swapping out certain parts for others, flicking the switches that make up the inner workings.

“Where’d you learn that?” you ask after what feels like ages, your voice scratchy, making you clear your throat when he looks over. Slowly, you stand, making your way on shaky legs towards him. You can feel him watching you, one hand extended when you get close enough, there in case you need it. The med-nog is definitely working, a warmth making it’s way through your body, spreading through your aching limbs. You’ll be fine once you land on Taanab.

You brace both elbows on the rack, leaning your weight onto it. “My father,” he says quickly, and his tone tells you that you won’t get anything else out of him. Not yet, anyway. “Why did Luthen call you that?” he asks, eyes still focused on the blaster in his hands. “Shadow.”

You heave a sigh, reaching for one of the discarded bits of metal, sliding it between your fingers. “It was my…” Your brow pinches. “My name, I guess. Before, when I was working for him. He would send me in to do his negotiating, most of the time. Called me Shadow to keep my identity a secret, made sure no one ever saw my face. After Hoth, I ditched it. Traded on my own name, tried to make an actual name for myself, instead of just a ghost story.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but no smile follows. “You don’t like it.”

“I never liked it,” you answer, putting the metal piece back down. “I never wanted to hide. I wanted the Empire to know exactly who I was, exactly why I was stealing from them.” You sigh. “Not like it ever mattered. We’re just…numbers, to them. Blips on a map, tallies in a database. They don’t care.” Another sigh. “I just want to make a difference, you know? Somehow.”

He stares at you for a long moment, long enough that you have to force yourself to look away, your face heating under his intense eyes. It’s not lost on you that he’s handsome, dark haired, darker eyes, strong nose, stronger jaw. The thick beard suits him, and his shoulders are broad beneath his shirt. And he carries an intensity. You felt it the moment you woke up, your saviour standing beside your old employer. 

Cassian clears his throat, and you force your eyes back, looking down as he slides the blaster towards you until it touches your hand. “Here.” He reaches into the rack, produces a thigh holster. “I switched out the repeater. More blasts per shot. Probably better than that rusty thing you’re carrying around.”

“T-thank you,” you stutter out, taken aback by the offer. There’s an actual grin on his lips now, and his eyes soften slightly. “You know, you’re awfully quick to trust.”

His head shoots up at that, something bright in his eyes. “Luthen trusts you.”

“And that enough for you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He gives you a wry smile. “We want the same things, Shadow,” he quips, and laughs when you roll your eyes. “We get these weapons,” he pauses, and reaches into the rack again, hands you a commlink, points to his ear, “and it’s a start. Everything we do, it makes a difference.”

+

The sky is dark, when you land on Taanab. But the med-nog and the bacta did you well, and you feel almost refreshed. Coupled with the blaster Cassian had given you strapped to your leg, your knives at your belt, commlink in your ear, you feel ready.

It’s been a while now, since you worked a job with someone. Since Hoth, you’d been travelling alone, finding marks on your own, hopping to the next system before anyone could spare you a second glance. Visiting Vel on Chandrila had been the exception; she’d been your way in to the few pieces you’d managed to nick, and she’d given you back the Kuati signet. Though she hadn’t told you where she’d gotten it from.

“It’s a long story,” were her exact words.

Luthen stays on the Fondor, within range of the storehouse. To keep watch, he tells you, and you’re not surprised. He was never one for close combat, and besides, with a job like this, the last thing you need is all three of you getting caught.

“Don’t take any chances, you two,” you hear as you and Cassian slink into the forest surrounding the storehouse. “You get in, get it prepped, and signal me. Then we get the hell out of here.”

The storehouse has a large opening on the roof, sliding doors that would allow a ship to land inside, take cargo in and out as needed. A handful of Black Sun guards, weapons already crated and ripe for the taking. It’s the perfect job, so long as you don’t get caught.

Luthen’s intel gave you an idea of how many guards you’d hit, and the bioscanner Cassian carries out with you gives you a map of where they are. “What are the odds they have one of those?” you whisper as you reach the tree line, the storehouse in plain view.

“If we were stealing from the Empire,” he whispers back, looking down at the scanner’s screen and back up again, “then they would have grabbed us already.”

“Comforting.”

It all goes off without a hitch. Mostly.

You follow the map laid out on the bioscanner, taking down guards as you go. You make a good team, Cassian covering the front, you at his back, sweeping through the building slowly but surely. You leave the guards alive, but unconscious, much to Luthen’s audible dismay. “Needless deaths,” you whisper through the commlink. He just scoffs in response.

Cassian shoots you a look, his brow raised.

“I don’t like killing,” you say instantly, adjusting your grip on your blaster. “Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“These days,” Cassian replies, his voice hushed, checking his own weapon, “it’s us or them, no matter who you’re fighting. I’d say that makes it necessary.”

You’ve cleared out the main area, started loading the weapons onto the hoist that’ll send them up to the Fondor. You’re strapping a crate into place when there’s an unfamiliar hey! behind you and a red blaster bolt zips past your head, pinging off the crates behind you. Before you can even react, Cassian fires his blaster, and the guard falls.

You whirl, watching him shove the gun back it’s into his holster. “Maker, you’re a quick shot.”

“What?” he asks, an innocent look on his face, a boyish tug to his lips. “You’ve never heard of shooting first, asking questions later?”

You balk at him, shaking your head, returning your attention to the crate. “You better hope those shots didn’t just announce us to the rest of the guards.”

He reaches down for the bioscanner, just as another guard rounds the stack of crates behind Cassian.  The guard reaches for him, grabbing the back of his jacket, but before he can yank your new partner backward, you’ve drawn your own blaster and fired, the guard thundering to the floor.

Luthen chuckles in your ear. “What was that about needless deaths?”

Cassian just stares at you, something like thankfulness in his expression.

“Shoot first,” you say with a breathless shrug, noting the large blade that has tumbled from the guard’s grip, which no doubt would have been buried in Cassian’s spine had you not shot as quick as you did. “Ask questions later.”

“Good girl,” Cassian murmurs, and it sends a surprising shock down your spine you’re not ready for. “Let’s get out of here.”

You sprint for the roof controls, suddenly desperate to put some distance between you and him. Partway between the hoist and the panel, however, something catches you eye. Discarded on the floor, rolled behind a stack of crates and clearly forgotten. Your feet carry you to the object, and everything in your body jolts as you wrap your hands around the hilt of a lightsaber.

You’re old enough to know. Your father used to tell you and your brothers stories about the Jedi, their codes and their promises, the ways of the Force and the weapons they carried. Civilized weapons, he always called them, and there had always been something in his voice, a certain kind of longing that you never understood and he never elaborated on.

The blade zaps to life in your hand when you flick the switch, the humming noise filling your ears, bright yellow plasma illuminating the space you’re standing in. It’s mesmerizing, watching the saber crackle and spark. “What did you find?” Cassian shouts, and it yanks you out of the reverie, your father’s voice echoed in your head, the blade disappearing as your fingers find the switch again.

“Nothing,” you reply, heading for the control panel, stuffing the saber into an inner pocket of your jacket. You don’t have to look at him to know he doesn’t believe you, but you busy yourself with the roof controls. “Luthen, we’re clear.”

As soon as the roof opens completely, the Fondor appears above the storehouse, hovering in place. A wired hook lowers from the belly of the ship, and Cassian catches it once it’s within reach, hooking it onto the hoist and locking it in. He grips the wire as the hoist lifts, the crates lifting from the ground, and you just watch from the control panel, holding your breath.

“Come on, Shadow,” he calls, and you can hear it through the commlink as well as the space between you. “Time to go.”

As soon as the crates are clear of the roof, you hit the right sequence to close it again, then sprint out of the storehouse. You nearly stop in your tracks when you see the group of Black Sun guards heading straight for you, but spin on your heel, sprinting in the direction the Fondor is slowly heading, the crates now completely concealed inside.

You sprint, legs and arms pumping as you head for the clearing where Luthen had landed the shift. Blaster bolts zip past your head, scorching into the trees ahead of you. You duck left as the ship lowers into view, and the same hook that had lifted the crates slides down. Once you’re close enough, you slide your boot into it, gripping the wire tight as you can, ducking your head as the blaster bolts continue to flash past you.

The wire retracts, lifting you closer and closer to the ship’s hull, the opening nearly within reach, when a bolt pings against the hook, you foot sliding off, your grip faltering.

Before you can fall to your death, there’s a hand around your forearm, the grip strong. You blink up to see Cassian sprawled against the edge of the opening, teeth gritted, hauling you up with a loud grunt. You can’t help your own relieved groan as he yanks you over the edge, the movement rolling you on top of him. You’re both breathless, your hands propped either side of his head, staring at each other. His hands on your waist feel like lead weights, magma hot and pinning you in place.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life in less than two days, you realize.”

“Then you owe me one,” he replies, that boyish grin you’d seen in the storehouse reappearing. “You’re a good shot.”

You force your eyes from his face, scrambling backwards off of him, out of his grip. Your face is hot, every part of you he’d had his hands on feeling almost burned. The same zip you’d felt down your spine when he said what he did happens again, making you shiver. Good girl.

Shit.

Luthen doesn’t appear until you’re back in hyperspace, the whir of the Fondor’s engine enough of a distraction as you stow your blasters and comms, shrug out of your jacket. You inspect your bandages, steal another few sips of med-nog, go snooping through a few familiar compartments, your brow pinching when you see Luthen never tossed the clothes you’d kept stashed on the ship.

You can feel Cassian watching you, and you avert your eyes on purpose, turning away from him to hide the lightsaber in the waistband of your pants, careful of the switch as you go. 

“Good work,” Luthen says, clapping Cassian on the shoulder, a gleam in his eyes. “You make a good team.”

“I can see why you like her,” Cassian tells the old man, and you can feel both of them looking at you now, but you still refuse to look over. “She moves fast. Precise.”

Luthen chuckles. “You should both sleep, while you can. It’ll be some time before we reach the base. Have to take the long way around to stay off the Empire’s scanners. I’ll wake you when it’s time to land.”

He disappears again, and silence settles over you and Cassian. You can still feel him watching, busying yourself with checking and rechecking your blaster.

“Did I do something?” he asks, taking a slow step towards you, ducking his head in an attempt to catch your eye.

You lift your head, giving him a flat stare, schooling your face impassive. “No, why do you ask?”

He squints at you, chewing the inside of his cheek, his jaw working. You refuse to let your eyes linger on his mouth, his beard. His stupidly handsome face. “Just asking. You going to show me what you found back there?”

You drop your eyes, turning back to the compartment you’d opened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cassian just laughs.

+

The base on Yavin-4 has grown substantially since you last saw it.

The last time you were here, it was early days. Very early days. The Rebellion was nothing more than a whisper at that point, but Luthen had decided they needed a focal point, a haven for those who would become displaced as the war spread through the galaxy like a disease. Planets would be razed, he said. Homes would be destroyed, families would be lost. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

It’s still not an army by any means, but the barracks are larger. There are more people working in various parts of the space the Rebellion has claimed. Faces you recognize, old contacts of Luthen’s that you’ve utilized in the past. A few are surprised to see you, embracing you warmly. You even get a few tears from those you’d worked with more than once, a murmured we thought you were gone offered more than once.

You help them unload the weapons from the Fondor, pleased with your score. Luthen disappears, no doubt to brief the other leaders on what was done, what you’ve brought back. Part of you wonders if your reappearance will be in his report.

With the ship empty, you lock your few belongings away, trading your heavy coat for a lighter one. The saber still sits in your waistband, the metal cool against your skin. You wander a bit, trailing your hands over boxes and crates, ships and weapons racks. It’s real now, the Rebellion. It’s actually happening.

The air on Yavin-4 is warm, but it suddenly feels stifling.

You wait for an opening, for the few eyes on you to avert their attention elsewhere, for Cassian to get distracted by the other Rebels, caught up in conversation about something, and head out of the nearly constructed base.

+

He lets you think he’s not watching.

From the corner of his eye, he tracks you, after the crates have been unloaded from the Fondor. Cassian has made it a point to learn more of the names on the base, matching them to the faces in his mind. Some are overjoyed to see you, tearful hellos shared, wrapping you up in embraces he’s not sure you want. 

He’s still trying to figure you out. You had been warm before Taanab, forthcoming and chatty, giving him that little bit of your past, what had sparked the bit of Rebellion inside you. 

Rebellions are built on hope. 

And then, after he’d yanked you back into the hull of the ship, nearly tearing his shoulder apart in the process, you’d been a breath away from him, and he knows you’d felt the same thing he did. It explained the coldness that had radiated off you afterward, when you’d lied straight to his face about what you found in the storehouse. 

But now, watching you slink towards the tree line, he feels there’s something else that’s bothering you, something else on your mind.

He waits a few minutes, before he follows the path. You’re hard to track, your footsteps disappearing into the forest partway down the path. It takes a moment for him to realize where you’re gone, and it pricks at something in his chest, spurring him forward.

Cassian found the clearing the first time Luthen had brought him to Yavin-4. It had all felt so overwhelming, the events on Ferrix still fresh in his mind, his heart. His family, his home, his freedom. The ultimatum he’d given Luthen, his acceptance into the Rebellion solidified as soon as the door to the Fondor swished shut. He’d wandered, much like you are now, trying to find something that didn’t feel so compact, so set in stone.

The grass is soft beneath his boots, rocks and fallen trees lining the edge of the space. You’re stood in the middle, the lightsaber ignited in your hand. The yellow plasma glows brightly, the light of the setting sun somehow making it shine more. He hangs back, watching you, your grip easy. You swing the blade over and over, twirling it between both hands, the hilt becoming an extension of your arm.

He waits until you’ve let the saber touch the earth, the plasma singeing the grass into dust, leaving a black scorch behind. “You didn’t find anything back there, huh?”

You flinch hard, the blade retracting with a zip. You stare down at the hilt, chewing your lip so hard your jaw goes tight. You don’t say anything, but your eyes lift to his, and instead of the flat stare you’d given him back on the Fondor, there’s a brightness to your gaze, your lashes lined with tears.

Slowly, Cassian approaches you. The space between you goes from much too little to much too much, and he can feel it. There’s an unmistakable urging in him to comfort you, and he’s not surprised to hear his mother’s voice in the back of his mind again. You do what’s right.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest to staunch the need to reach for you. “Seemed like a lot of people were happy to see you.”

“It’s…” you start, but trail off, tucking the saber into your back pocket. You glance past him, towards the base, shrouded by the trees that surround you. “It’s strange, coming back like this. They all thought I was dead.”

“Because Luthen thought you were,” Cassian asserts, his brow lowering slightly.

You nod. “I just didn’t expect the tears, I guess, but I suppose that’s what this is now.”

Confused, Cassian tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

You rub your hand up and down your arm, and he sees one single tear slip down your cheek. “The Rebellion, it’s a family.” You swipe at your face, trying to shake the emotion from your expression. “You should go back, we should—”

“Sit,” Cassian tells you, and sinks down beside you, offering his hand. You take it slowly, crossing your legs beneath you as you lower yourself to the grass. “We don’t have to do anything. If you need a moment, then take it.”

There’s a comfortable sort of quiet that settles over you both. Distantly, the sound of the base can be heard, orders shouted from one to the next, the beeping of droids, the quiet hum of ships. It’s calming in a way Cassian isn’t expecting, and you’re silent beside him, your knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them. He busies himself with picking at the grass in front of him. He can feel your eyes on him, glued to his hands, watching him tear the blade of grass into smaller pieces.

“It’s nice,” you say after a while, and your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “not being alone anymore.”

Cassian lifts his head slightly, meets your eyes. There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t voice any of them.

You still manage to answer a few of them.

“After Hoth, I just kept moving. I never stayed in the same place for long, and it was lonely. I found contacts where I could, but Luthen doesn’t have as many friends as he thinks, not anymore. The Empire has paid out a lot of Rebels, captured more, killed twice as many as that.” Your head tilts back, staring up at the cloudless sky. “The galaxy never made me nervous, before, when I was…”

“The Shadow?” he finishes when you go quiet, and you give a nod.

“When I was working with Luthen, I never felt like I had to watch my back, you know? Cuz he was there, watching it for me. But after, I couldn’t turn it off. I was always looking over my shoulder, always hiding, always running. It was exhausting. I was on Glavis for a while, and I was nearly sold to Tatooine slavers six times.”

Cassian lifts his brows, staring down at the shredded grass between his fingers. “I’m not surprised,” he says, picking at another blade, “unfortunately. Pretty girl like you.” He gives you a quick glance, looking away when he finds your eyes trained on his face, tilting his own to the sky. “The galaxy is a mess.”

More silence settles. You watch each other when the other isn’t looking, these silent glances stacked atop each other. You don’t seem as upset anymore, which eases the need to comfort you further. Slowly, you unravel yourself on the grass, legs stretched in front of you, and you reach into your back pocket, producing the lightsaber and laying it on the grass between you.

“I have a buyer,” you say, and he looks at you, takes in the hopeful expression on your face, “on Hosnian Prime. A collector; I’ve bargained with him before. He’s an ex-Stormtrooper, collects Jedi relics. If I bring him this, he’ll give me information on my brother.”

Cassian reaches for the saber, closes his fingers around the hilt, feeling the weight of the foreign weapon. He’s only ever heard stories about the Jedi, about their sabers. Holding one in his hand, it’s something else entirely.

“Then I guess we’re going to Hosnian Prime.”

PREV | NEXT

[shewhowas39]

another chapter 7 sneak peek

i'm still having fun before i do the sad thing (unedited thus far)

***

He looks over at the handsome young man and considers him very carefully. He’s good looking, no doubt about that. And clearly has the same obnoxious altruism as June. Perhaps, now that Alfira is here, he would be a better target? There’s no competition. And he is a monster hunter, after all. He may have the best odds of anyone in this party of potentially taking out Cazador one day. 

Astarion weighs this option for a long moment before ultimately dismissing it. 

The fact that Wyll is a monster hunter might mean he is more likely to kill Cazador, but it also means he is likely to kill Astarion if he ever finds out about hsi true nature. June, on the other hand - though he’d rather not risk it and find out, Astarion suspects she might b more willing to show some mercy. Wyll’s dedication to vanquishing evil and whatnot might result in a stake through the ribs before Astarion even has a chance to explain.

And then there is the small matter of fun. Astarion highly doubts Wyll would entertain his hypotheticals about ideal ways to be murdered.

No. His best choice is still the mad mage. 

He turns his attention back to where June and Alfira, who have finished cleaning up the diner mess and seem to be discussing preparing for bed. June is laughing at something - not a chuckle or a giggle but a full belly laugh - and Alfira looks quite pleased with herself, proud of whatever joke she made to earn such a response. 

Astarion bristles. 

“Alfira really brings out a different side of her than I’ve seen so far,” Wyll says. 

“Mmhm.”

“It’s nice to see. June always seems so…distant. Maybe it’s those visions she told us about. But I feel like, in the past three days I’ve known her, I’ve mostly seen her looking dazed or distressed. I suppose that’s not surprising, though, with the amnesia. Hopefully having Alfira here at camp can bring her some joy.”

“Hopefully,” Astarion says, fists clenching with annoyance. “You know, Wyll, as much s I love this little chat, it is getting quite late. Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep? Wouldn’t want exhaustion to mar that pretty face of yours.”

Wyll laughs at that. “My face survived the loss of an eye. I hardly think exhaustion will make much of a difference. I’m glad you find it pretty, though.” He grins at Astarion, and his teeth are much whiter than they have any right to be. “But you’re probably right. Are you keeping watch then?”

“I am.”

“Good. Keep an eye out and don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need anything. Now that we know there is a vampire around, I don’t want you facing off with one alone.”

“If a vampire comes for a nibble, I promise to wake you,” Astarion says, restraining the smirk he feels pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Thank you.” Wyll gets to his feet, stretching his muscular arms over his head with a yawn. “I’ll see you in hte morning, Astarion.”

“Goodnight.”

***

listen Wyll is so fucking hot. i just need opportunities to have people appreciate this fact.

anyway chapter 7 of Juniper & Starlight should be up tonight or tomorrow.

[cursestothemoon]

I just want to make Fred cum in his pants. A blurb or headcanon of this would be much appreciated.

I can offer compensation in the form of more horny Fred thoughts

i wrote this as sub fred because...well because sub fred

Angel Boy

F.W. X FEM!READER 

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW 

warnings: smut, sub!fred/dom!reader, dry humping/grinding, light degradation, praise kink, hair pulling, humiliation, crying kink, slapping (once), also ✨unedited✨ because i am lazy :)

Your dorm had been quiet, serene even, as you thumbed through the last few pages of Pride and Prejudice. With proposals, brooding gentlemen, and gentility  it was no surprise that your senses were intoxicated by the words of Jane Austen- leading to your failure of noticing the timid knocks at your door. 

Maybe it was because of the make out session that had been cut short last night- thanks to George, maybe it was the homesick feeling bubbling in his chest, or maybe it was a mix of it all that had Fred toeing the line of painfully needy. He knew you had a free period during his last class, and he knew Professor Binns wouldn’t miss him in History of Magic so he took a detour to your dorm after Umbridge’s class had ended. 

The lack of response he was getting from his knocking made him let out an audible whine before rapping at the door harder. The sudden sound made you jump, book jolting in your hands as you turned in the direction of the harsh sound. Dog-earing the already worn page of the book, you stood up, stretching as you did so, before walking to open the door. 

“Fred? Don’t you have cla-” You were cut off by the breath being knocked out of you as Fred’s chest hit your own in a bone crushing hug. 

At first your brows knit together in worry, “Is everything alright, angel?”

He nodded into your neck before starting to place open mouthed kisses on the skin, his hips rutting against you. 

“I’m all achy. I need you.” He whined, his neediness making him disregard all of the rules you had pout in place for him. 

You gave a cynical laugh as you pushed him off of you, watching as hips pathetically stuttered at the loss of contact. He tried to pull you in again, hands having a vice grip on your hips.

“How embarrassing, had to skip class just to get your dick wet.”

Fred groaned at the way the words fell from your lips with such a filthy lilt, the fog in his mind growing at a quicker rate than ever before. 

He needed you. Now.

With unmatched indifference you walked back to your desk and picked up your book, opening it to the page you had marked just minutes prior. The sight made your boyfriend vocalize his frustrations, his hand dipping dangerously low in the direction of his very prominent bulge. He was testing you now, knowing that he was pushing it with his desperate humping earlier and now he was pushing your limits of mercy. 

You could see him from the corner of your eye, his form displayed on your bed not wanting to hide.

“You know bad boys get spankings.” You warned without giving him the satisfaction of eye contact. 

His hand retreated slowly, but his whimpers had yet to cease. 

“Just need t’cum. Please, princess.” He begged, ego going out the window. 

His phrasing of what he wanted had the gears turning in your head, he wanted to cum, he never specified how. 

You huffed, standing up with the book still in your hand with your thumb splitting it from the page you were just reading. The way he had draped his body across the bed, one arm bent and covering his eyes, his chest having a slight heave, and the just barely setting sun made him look angelic. 

Deciding to play with your food before eating it, you jutted out your bottom lip walking closer to him with slow steps.

“Poor baby. All achy, huh? Just wanna cum right?”

Fred nodded, “Need it.”

Your hand reached out to grip his knee, slowly trailing up to where he wanted you most, “My angel boy looks so pretty, all whiny and desperate. Pull your hand away let me see your face.”

The sudden flood of emotions from having you finally paying attention to him and being so close to getting what he wanted had tears gathering on his waterline. 

“Aw, baby.” You cooed, climbing up onto the bed and straddling his hips making them twitch against you against his will. 

Your thumb traced his cheek bone making him lean into your palm before you hit him with a harsh slap. 

A choked gasp came from Fred’s throat followed by a strangled moan as you sat on his clothed prick. 

“Such a horny brat, forgets all his rules the second his cock gets hard.” You spat, hips starting gyrate against his.

The long awaited friction made the words dissipate from the tip of his tongue, replaced by breathy moans. His hands tugged at your shirt as you leaned over to grab the book you placed on the bed next to you. 

“No touching.” You warned, pushing his hands off of you.

Another whine fell from his lips as your hips started to grind harder against his own. 

“Please, wanna be in your cunt. Wanna cum inside.” He begged, tears threatening to spill from his waterline. 

You thumbed through your book again, not paying much attention to the writhing boy under you, “Desperate brats don’t deserve to cum inside my cunt. Desperate brats get to make a mess in their pants.”

No longer keeping the tears at bay, Fred cried out in disagreement at the news. It was a new level of humiliation, being forced to cum in his pants made his cheeks heat up and cock twitch. 

Watching you read your book, as if you didn’t even notice the presence of his painfully hard bulge rubbing against your clothed clit made him almost go against your earlier warning of no touching, almost. 

Your hips picked up speed as you felt yourself near your own orgasm and the way Fred’s chest started to heave let you know he was close too. 

The book was long forgotten, set aside on some corner of the bed as you braced yourself with your hands on his chest as you dragged out each grind. You reached for his hands, pulling them away from his sides were he kept them like a good boy, and placed them on your hips. 

“Go ahead and get yourself off.”

Fred didn’t hesitate to flip you over, his hard cock that was tucked away in his trousers rutting down against your cunt. Your hand went to his hair, pulling at the strands as he created a delicious friction against your clit. 

“Look at you,” You teased, hand trailing down the length of his spine before grabbing the waistline of his pants forcing him to rut against you with more force. “Gonna cum from humping me like a bitch in heat?”

Your words made Fred’s head drop into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. You felt him nod into your neck, unintelligible words being muttered onto your balmy skin. The precipice of your own orgasm had you hooking your leg around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you both got closer to release. 

Bring both your hands into his hair, you got a firm grip on the strands and gave a firm tug to lift his head and make him look at you. 

“Beg.”

He was in no way going to sabotage his- possibly only- way of getting off and was quick to let breathy, high-pitched, pleas tumble from his parted lips as he looked you in the eyes.

“Please, need it, need to cum. Please, princess, please can I cum? Wanna cum in my pants like a desperate brat.”

You smirked, “Hurry up then.”

That was all it took for Fred to cry out- a borderline sob- as he picked up his pace as he came. You let out a moan as you followed suit, soaking the thin material of your panties. The body of the lanky ginger collapsed onto you as he tried to catch his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as he calmed down, slow soft kisses being placed onto your collarbone. A few beats went by like this until Fred peeled himself off of you, a wet patch evident on the front of his pants as he looked at you with big, wanton eyes.

“Can I use my mouth to clean up my princess’ pretty pussy? Please?”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@maraudersgirlxx

@famdomhideout

@raabyakhan

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

[sunflowerspecter]

haley (a.h.)

summary: hotch doesn’t know if it’s time to move on. then he meets you, and your daughter haley. 

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical mentions of murder, canon-typical mentions of drugs 

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 3.6k

note: hey? i’m back! with another fic! after like four months! woo. i’m also almost at 400 followers which is pretty wild so cool cool. this is absolutely unedited and i’ve been working on it for literally ever, but i doubt you expected more from me anyways (the plot is also kind of sketch) anywayss, here it is my loves! 

~~~oOo~~~

“JJ!” you yell, crossing the bullpen quickly. She turns to face you and smiles widely, throwing her arms open. 

“Y/n!” she calls as you fall into her arms. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?” 

“My team’s going to be working with your team for the next couple of cases!” As the communications liaison for Operations Support Branch (OSB), you and JJ used to collaborate often, until she was transferred and changed positions. You and her don’t get to see each other half as often as you want, but sometimes you bring your daughter, Haley, to spend time with Henry. 

“Wait, really? Why weren’t we alerted?” she asks. Behind her, a tall man with dark hair steps towards you, and you already know who he is. SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

“Because the decision was just made this morning,” he says. He offers his hand and you shake it. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner.” 

“We all call him Hotch,” JJ adds quickly. 

“Y/n Y/l/n,” you say to him. “I’m the communications liaison for the OSB. I’m the only one here right now, my team is heading up as we speak.” You turn to the elevator, where your boss, Sam Holmestead, is standing, talking to Derek Morgan, someone JJ had introduced you to. “Holmes is over there.” 

“Great,” Hotch says, “excuse me.” He nods at you and begins his way over to your boss, and you watch the entire way. 

“Ooh,” JJ sings, giving you a friendly laugh. 

“Oh, shut up,” you say, but you’re laughing too. “Now, I heard there’s a case.” 

She nods. “Come up to the conference room, we’ll introduce your team to my team and give you all of the details.” 

In the room, you, Holmes, and the two others from your team that were joining you— Gary Long and John Wilson— stand at the back, while the BAU all gathered in their seats. 

“These four are from the OSB,” Hotch says. “Strauss wants our team to collaborate with some members of the OSB on the next few cases, so they’ll be travelling with us,” Hotch says. “JJ, want to make introductions?” 

She nods, then says, “Sam Holmestead leads the team, and this is Y/n Y/l/n, Gary Long, and John Wilson.” She turns to her team, then, and says, “This is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, and David Rossi.” 

Greetings are exchanged, and then it’s back to business. “Two young women were kidnapped and then killed in Tallahassee, Florida,” Garcia says. “Each one was taken from a parking lot, then held captive for a week, and then killed. A week after the first girl was killed, the second one went missing. She was found dead yesterday. Other than their throats being slashed, they were otherwise unharmed.” 

You blink down at the pictures. You’ve seen things before, awful things, but this was just… so much worse. You feel better about your squeamishness when you look over and see that Wilson is as white as a ghost. 

“So, what does this guy get from the kill?” Morgan says, one elbow on the table. 

“It’s rather clean, as far as murder goes,” Prentiss quips. “No stabbing, no bruising. Even the cut is clean.” 

“How long did it take her to die? This could be seen as merciful,” you say, glancing at Holmes, who nods at you. 

“I’m guessing just a few seconds,” Reid said, looking through his file and finding the coroner’s report, then nodding and glancing up at you. 

“Garcia, do these girls have anything in common?” Hotch asks, and your attention goes straight to him (because he’s talking, and you’re polite, obviously). 

“They both attended Florida state and now work in insurance. Different companies,” Garcia says. 

Hotch nods at her, then says, “Wheels up in 30.” 

~~~oOo~~~

The jet is larger than you expected. And nicer, too. You take a seat between JJ and Morgan, and see Garcia on Skype on the table. The rest of the group files in, and you begin discussing the case. 

“So, what’s this guy's deal? What’s he doing with these girls for a week?” Morgan says. 

“There aren’t signs that they’re tied up, or that he blitz-attacked them,” Prentiss adds. 

“Maybe he kept them locked in a sort of cellar. He wouldn’t need to tie them up.” 

“Did he drug them?” Holmes asks. Reid looks over the report, then nods. 

“Actually, yes, both girls had methylenedioxy​methamphetamine and methamphetamine in their system,” Reid says. 

“MDMA and meth?” JJ says, crossing her arms. 

“Wilson, you still have contacts in Florida, right? See who’s dealing both of those these days,” Holmes says, and Wilson nods, pulling out his phone. 

“MDMA is really hard to get a hold of,” Wilson says, “I’m sure it’s easier in Florida, but still, this guy has to have some way of getting money in. Lots of it.” 

“Okay, so how does he insure he doesn’t hurt them with the drugs?” Prentiss says. 

“And what purpose does it serve? What fantasy is he living out?” Rossi adds. 

The plane hits a bit of turbulence, and your stomach flips. “Is that normal?” you whisper, and JJ laughs, nodding.

“You’ll get used to it,” Morgan says. You nod and give a short laugh. 

“The likelihood of being in a plane crash is about one to 5.4 million,” Reid says, “and even so, it’s improbable that turbulence will cause a crash. Even commercial airlines are built to withstand forces 1.5 times stronger than anything experienced in the past—” 

“Reid,” Hotch says sternly, but softly, “focus, please.” 

“I didn’t know the BAU made cyborgs,” you say, squinting your eyes at Reid. 

Prentiss nods at you, throwing her arms up. “That’s what I’ve been saying! Someone finally understands.” 

“Sorry,” he says, eyes widening. “I’m curious as to whether these girls were using these drugs before or after he took them.” 

“You think they were using before?” Hotch asks, and Reid nods. 

“I just don’t know why he would give the girls these drugs.” 

“I’ll ask the families,” JJ says. 

“When we land, Reid, start setting up a geographical profile. Prentiss and Morgan, check out the dump sights. JJ, talk to the families, and make sure the press doesn’t get the information about the drugs. Rossi, take Long and go check out the abduction sights. Wilson, reach out to your contact. I want Y/l/n and Holmestead to help me with victimology,” Hotch says, looking around. 

“Yes, sir’s” went around the group, and you flip to look at the victim pages. 

Holmes leans across the table and looks at you. “What do you think?” 

You shake your head. “It’s strange,” you say. “They hardly have anything in common. Yeah, they went to the same school, and yeah, they both work in insurance, but two very different jobs.” 

Holmes shrugs, then nods. “I agree. Were they friends?” He looks at Hotch for guidance, who shrugs. 

“We’ll have to find out. Garcia, have you made any connections?” 

Garcia looks up on the screen, then says, “Actually, another girl has just been reported missing.” 

“It’s only been a day,” JJ says, and looks at Hotch. 

“We hit the ground running,” he says, and you all nod. 

~~~oOo~~~

Working with the team goes a lot smoother than expected. Your teams bond together instantly, and you all work quickly and effectively. 

Unfortunately, even a day and a half after the third victim's abduction, you’re no closer. 

“In his comfort zone, there are 14 warehouses, 13 abandoned buildings, 25 apartment complexes, and too many residential areas to count,” you say, looking over Reid’s shoulder as he writes on the board. 

“He could be anywhere,” Hotch mutters, standing beside you. 

“What are we missing?” Rossi says, and you turn and slump into a chair, sitting at the table with the team. Hotch sits next to you, a pensive look on his face. 

“How did he choose each girl? Are these premeditated or spur of the moment? And why did he escalate his time frame?” Morgan says, looking around the table. 

JJ rushes into the room. “The third girl's body was found. And he left a note.” 

The table stands. “Reid and Y/l/n, stay here and analyze the note. JJ, keep the press occupied. No one releases the note. We don’t address it yet. Everyone else, at the crime scene.” 

You nod, finding it a little odd that he left you with Reid (sure, you aren’t a field agent, but the rest of your team is going somewhere), but you stay nonetheless. The team files out and you turn to Reid, looking down at the scan of the note. 

“The paper looks old,” Reid says, and you squint. 

“It’s not old, it was made to look that way. See how it’s not torn or wrinkled, but it’s yellowed?” 

Reid nods and looks at you, for a moment, surprised. It passes quickly, and he’s looking back at the text. “Typewriter, and it’s in third person. It just describes the crime.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, and Reid shrugs. 

“It could mean any number of things. Could be living out his fantasy, could be any number of mental illnesses.” 

You nod, crossing your arms. It’s going to be a long night. 

~~~oOo~~~

The fourth girl was taken in the wide open. There was a witness. With a description of the vehicle. 

“There are more purple Volkswagens in Tallahassee than there should be,” Garcia says, “but only one registered to someone within the comfort zone of our guy.” 

He doesn’t know you’re coming, and the arrest is smooth, and the girl is safe. 

The plane ride back is quiet—everyone is mostly asleep. You sit by Holmes, talking idly about how the court is probably going to rule on the case. Hotch is awake and across from you, but you can tell he’s listening. 

“How’s the little one?” Holmes says, and you laugh. 

“As rebellious as ever,” you sigh. “She wants to be a superhero when she’s older.” 

Holmes laughs, leaning back in his seat and pushing his hand through his hair. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t have kids.” 

You elbow him. “Like you could get someone to reproduce with you, anyway.” 

He gasps, grasping his chest, feigning pain. “Low blow, Y/n, low blow.” 

“Whatever, old man,” you say, leaning back. “How long are we working with the BAU?” you ask, glancing over your sleeping teammates. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he says. Then he lowers his voice and whispers in your ear, “You’ve caught the BAU’s dear boss’s eye, I think.” 

You giggle (you giggle) and say, “No way.” 

“Yes way.” 

“I guess he’s cute,” you say in a whisper. “But that’s a conversation for the morning. I’m exhausted.” 

You look over at Hotch, writing his report and talking quietly with Rossi. You wonder what’s going through his mind. 

“You know she wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life mourning her,” Rossi says quietly. Hotch nods. 

“I know that, I do. I just, I wish there was a sign.” 

Rossi puts his hand on his friend's shoulder. “There will be.” He looks over at you, eyes shut, head on Holmes’ shoulder. “Meanwhile, you’ve been looking at her quite a lot.” 

“What?” Hotch says, taking in a shaky breath. 

Rossi chuckles, shrugging. “I think you know.” 

~~~oOo~~~

“Hey, sleep today, but tonight you should come out with us,” Garcia says as you gather your things from your makeshift desk. You landed at 4:30 in the morning, and after finishing your paperwork, you were ready to sleep for the entire day. 

You hesitate, then shrug. “Sure, why not?” 

Garcia squeals, “Yay!” You laugh and nod. 

“What time, and where?” 

“How about I pick you up?” she suggests, and you nod. 

“Actually, that would be great,” you say. She smiles, and leaves you in your office. Your daughter calls you as you're leaving the building, and you meet Hotch in the elevator. 

“Mommy!” the little girl cries happily into the phone. 

“Hi, hon! I’m on my way home right now, what are you doing up this early, baby?” 

She giggles. “Auntie and I have a surprise for you!” 

You freeze. “Haley, what did you do?” You feel Hotch stiffen beside you, but you don’t ask him about it. 

“Nothing! Bye, mommy!” she says before you can tell her no, and she’s hung up. 

“Children,” you mutter. Hotch nods. 

“What’s your kids name?” he asks, barely looking at you. 

“Haley,” you say. “She’s four next month.” He hums, and you ask, “Do you have any children?” 

“Yes,” he says. “Jack. He’s seven.” 

The elevator door opens, and you almost think you’re disappointed. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks, and you nod. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

The walk is silent. 

“See you tonight?” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Probably not.” 

“Why not? Could be fun.” 

He hesitates, meeting your eyes. Then, he says, “I’ll think about it.” 

You smile, getting into your car. “Have a good one, Hotchner.” 

“You too, Y/l/n.” 

~~~oOo~~~

Haley is asleep by 8:00, your sitter is at your door by 8:15, and Garcia is at your door at 8:30. 

Black dress, red lipstick. It isn’t too fancy, but if Hotch shows up, you’ll look nice. (Not that you care, of course. As far as you know, he’s married). 

“You look so pretty!” Garcia says once you’re in her car. 

“Thank you! You too!” you say, and then she starts telling you stories from the team. How Reid will go off about Halloween, how Prentiss faked her death, how Morgan and her flirt endlessly (which you picked up on), how Hotch’s son, Jack, is doing soccer. 

You, in turn, tell Garcia about Wilson’s wife, Mary, and how Holmes once fell down a well while working on a case and was stuck for an hour and a half, and how Greg has this terrible habit of accidentally befriending the worst people. 

You reach the bar laughing, and you find the table everyone (except Hotch) is sitting at. You and Garcia join them, and conversation becomes easy. Until, a few minutes after your arrival, Hotch takes a seat beside you. 

“Hi,” he says, and everyone greets him. 

“We were just talking about how we could run off and buy a house in the woods and live a secluded life together for the rest of time,” Prentiss says, and you let out a laugh. 

“I’m sure that will work out wonderfully, especially with three children,” Hotch says. 

“And the house has to be big, there’s a lot of us,” you add. 

“And we work for the government, they’ll be suspicious if we all quit at once,” Greg says. 

Spencer shrugs. “Not to mention the cost of living would be expensive, and we’d be out of a job. Plus, there’s no one to replace us.”

You lean over and boop Spencer’s nose. “We’re irreplaceable.” 

“Don’t count on that, Strauss has been after my ass since the moment I stepped in that office,” Hotch says. 

Rossi mutters something into Hotch’s ear, and your stomach does backflips. JJ turns to you. “Is Haley still into dance?” 

You shake your head. “That was a short lived hobby. I think this week it’s art.” 

“Henry is the same way! He doesn’t stick with one thing for more than a few days,” she laughs. “Hotch, what about Jack?” 

“He’s stuck with soccer pretty consistently, but he also can’t decide if he likes drums or drawing on the wall more.” 

You and JJ laugh. “Where’s Will?” you ask JJ, raising an eyebrow.

“He stayed home with Henry, but he sends his love.” JJ looks over at Hotch. “I presume Jack is with Jessica?” 

“Yes,” he says, huffing a laugh, his eyes darting to yours. “I really should be paying that woman.” 

“Is Jessica not your wife?” you ask, glancing from JJ to Hotch. They share a look, and JJ turns to Spencer, picking up on his and Emily’s conversation. Your attention is now fully on Hotch, who sighs. 

“No, Jessica is my sister-in-law,” he says, and he opens his mouth to say more, but then hesitates. “My wife died a few years ago. Her name was Haley.” 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “Oh, oh I’m so sorry.” You meet his eyes, but he shakes his head. “My husband died a few years ago too. Right before Haley was born, actually,” you say, laughing humorlessly.

He nudges your shoulder lightly, then says, “Look at us, two widowed single-parents.” 

“A pair we make, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, and he nods. 

~~~oOo~~~

As you’re leaving the conference room after a briefing, Holmes pulls you aside. He watches as everyone leaves the room, and says, “This will be our last case with the BAU.” You blink at him, disappointment filling you. 

“Why are you telling just me?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

Holmes shrugs, looking out the conference room window. You follow his gaze to where Hotch and Morgan are talking in front of Hotch’s office. “Because you might want to shoot your shot before you never see him again,” Holmes says. You try to ask him what he means, but he’s already left the room.

You sigh, picking up your things and getting your bag, going to stand beside JJ and Emily as you make your way out to the jet. You trail a step behind them, your mind racing. What did Holmes mean by that? Your heart dropped a little bit at the thought of never seeing the team you had been working with for the past six months ever again. Surely, you will. JJ and you are close friends, and you had grown close with the rest of the team too, right? 

“What’s on your mind?” You startle at the sound of his voice, looking up to see Hotch looking down at you, his brows drawn together. 

“Oh,” you say. “Nothing.” 

“You can’t lie to a profiler.” 

You laugh. “Holmes told me this is our last case together,” you tell him, looking ahead, where JJ and Emily are boarding the plane. 

“It is,” he says. His voice is even, steady, normal. There is nothing to suggest he is happy for your departure or upset about it. He is neutral. 

“Shame,” you say, “I was sort of getting used to working with you guys.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you board the plane. You sit in your usual seat and he sits beside you; that’s how it always is. It feels wrong, today. 

“It’s not like we’re just going to disappear, though,” Hotch says to you, just so you can hear. “You know where I work after all.” You huff a laugh, your heart rate increasing more than you’d care to admit. “On top of that, we have no idea how long this case will last. Maybe it goes horribly wrong and you’re stuck with me forever.” 

“We better solve it quickly, then,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him. He scoffs, and you shake your head. “But, really. I’ll miss working with you.” After a second, your eyes widen and you add, “All.” 

He nods, shifting in his seat. “I’ll regret no longer having your team’s expertise.” 

“Our teams are good together, for sure.” 

~~~oOo~~~ 

After the case, you try not to look too blue as you step onto the jet for the last time. You and Holmes are the first ones on the jet, and when you sit across from him instead of your usual spot, he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Do you know where we’re going next? What our next assignment is?” you ask. He shakes his head, and you look down at your hands. 

“We won’t be travelling with the BAU,” he says, “but we will be working at headquarters for the meantime.” 

“That’s going to be an adjustment,” you say, looking over at him. “Watching the team leave, not going with them.”

He nods. “But at least you’ll get to see him.” 

“You mean them,” you say, furrowing your brow. “The team.” 

As the words leave your mouth, Hotch walks on board. He nods at the two of you, his facial expression blank. He sits in his usual spot. He looks small. 

“No, I said what I meant,” Holmes said, shrugging. “Maybe you just didn’t want to hear it.” 

You don’t reply, looking over to where Hotch is sitting. You look to Holmes for permission, and he nods at you. You make your way over to Hotch, sitting next to him. 

“Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” he says back. 

A beat. 

“So—” you both say at the exact same time. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You go first,” he says. 

“I’m going to miss you. The whole team,” you add, “but especially you.” 

He flushes, giving a sort of smile as he shifts in his seat, nodding to you. “I’m going to miss you too.” You hold your breath, and he says, “But I figured, you know, there’s not really any reason we can’t still see each other. After this. We could get coffee sometime.” 

You grin, bumping your shoulder against his. “Are you asking me out, Hotchner?” you whisper quietly, jokingly. 

“Maybe,” he says, looking uncharacteristically unsure. “If you say yes.” 

“Well,” you say, looking up and tapping your chin. You meet his eyes, and he’s staring at you like your next words are the most important thing in the world, “I would be an idiot if I said no.” 

He smiles, big and wide like you’ve never seen and it goes straight to his eyes. “Then it’s a date.” 

“Then it is,” you say, smiling right back at him. 

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hehe thanks for reading xx

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 64: Final Exam part 6: Making the Grade

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!   Please note, this chapter may undergo more extensive editing before it gets posted to AO3/FF.net, as this one ended up a bit on the long side.

Earlier chapters can be found here

“Kocho!  Were you watching the whole thing?  I didn’t know you were going to be here!  Does this mean you’re going to be in our class?” Ojiro wrapped her arms around Koharu and pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned.  “What’d you think?”

“Maybe let her breathe, Kimmie?” Sato asked, but he was smiling.  Even Koharu would admit the invisible girl’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“I was,” she told them, as she took a seat in the small auditorium she and Class 1-A had been brought to after the exam had ended, injuries had been tended to, and the Hero Course students had had a chance to shower and change.  “You guys did good.  I was worried for a while, but wow, you really pulled it off!  Your teacher was quizzing me just about the entire time on what I’d do if I was out there with you. So, yeah, I think that’s pretty official.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Sero added.  He had one of those flick-combs and was trying to fix his hair. One strand was stubbornly sticking up no matter what he did.  “Do you think he’s that scary naturally or does he have to work at it?”

“Bro, really?” Sato asked.

“I’m pretty sure it’s natural,” Koharu told him.    “He can make you feel like he’s glaring at you even if he’s not looking at you.”

She gave a wave to Midoriya and Haimawari, who were in the front row with Tokoyami and Shinso. Twenty chairs filled the back of the room, meaning it could have fit a Hero class with room to spare or any class from any of the other courses.  There was a podium at the front, and a large projection screen behind it.

As Aizawa, All Might, and Vice-Principal Midnight entered the room, Class 1-A grew silent and took their seats.  Koharu folded her wings and took a seat in the second row from the back, with Ojiro, Sero, and Sato.

Behind the teachers followed the Villains from the exam.  She recognized the bug-like Nauseous and the winged Raptor right off the bat, and it wasn’t hard to identify Kamuy and Shadow-Thief.  Even utterly depleted of power, Kamuy still towered over most of them.   The last one, a beefy man built like a sumo wrestler,  with a shovel-like jaw, had to be Jawbreaker, even if he was now made of flesh instead of a conglomeration of metal, concrete, wood, and rock.  All of them had changed from their costumes to comfortable clothes.  Most of them looked amazingly relaxed for people who had just been fighting a bunch of students less than an hour ago.  Only Shadow-Thief kept stealing furtive glances at the door.

Aizawa took the podium and held their gaze for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time.  She was certain he was doing it on purpose, trying to put them on edge.  She’d already gathered from his exam behavior and the discussion about the “Villains” that he liked to play mind games.  “So, let’s discuss the results of your exam.”

He clicked a button on a small remote control, and the screen behind him divided into three vertical segments.  The right portion contained a picture of Recovery Girl and a note that her final distance from the civilian defense shelter was two meters.  Koharu had to admit, her heart had been in her chest the entire time Haimawari had been racing after her, especially as Shadow-Thief had gotten closer and closer to the end.  But given that the numbers were green, she guessed they were still good.

“You were able to complete your primary objective and keep Doctor McGuffin from being moved past the 100 meter,” Aizawa went on.  “Barely.  Not guarding the defense shelter after you engaged with the Villains’ final assault was foolish and under other circumstances, could have been deadly not just to Doctor McGuffin, but to the others inside as well.”

Ojiro’s arm shot into the air.  “No fair!”  she whined. “You didn’t tell us she could just sneak inside like that!”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “The results would have been the same if one of the more powerful Villains had brute forced their way in. You all practically left the door open and did not only did not account for the full range of her teleportation abilities, but seemed to forget her existence entirely once you were engaged with the others.  I shouldn’t have had to explain what all the Villains could and could not do to get in.”

Even Koharu had forgotten about Shadow-Thief, getting much more caught up in watching the other fights. But Aizawa was right too.  

“Would have gotten away with it too,” Kamuy said to Shadow-Thief, “if you hadn’t stopped to gloat.”

“Don’t blame me,” Shadow-Thief hissed.  She jerked a thumb in Aizawa’s direction.  “He was the one who said we had to give them a fighting chance.”

“Still,” he went on, “you met the objective.  Barely.”

The middle portion of the screen showed a tally of civilians rescued and a separate tally of failed rescues. The top number was bigger by a long shot, in the three digits, but there were numbers on the bottom too.

“In terms of civilian rescues,” Aizawa went on, “you more than surpassed the bar we set.  The number of failed rescues includes a portion of the those injured in Doctor McGuffin’s abduction, but also those missed during the course of your other fights.”

He looked down. “Fortunately, no real lives were lost, as this was just an exam.  But in the real world, there will come times when you’re unable to save everyone. When you have to make a split second decision between confronting the Villain or saving the civilian.  When you’re too slow or not attentive enough or simply unaware there’s anyone there.  It will happen and it’s more than likely at some point, you will make the wrong choice.

“So learn while you can.”

None of the others said anything at that, though many of class 1-A exchanged glances with each other. Koharu guessed that they were trying to figure out what they’d missed, what they hadn’t seen.  Second guessing could make you crazy like that. Hopefully, it wouldn’t weigh on them too much.

The final screen displayed pictures of the Villains, all of them but Shadow-Thief with a red x slashed through them.  “And for your third objective, you managed to defeat four of the five Villains.  As valiant as your rescue of Doctor McGuffin was, Haimawari, I’m afraid it did not count as a complete take down of Shadow-Thief.”

“Still,” Shadow-Thief piped up.  “Nice try, kid.”

“I’m going to be sore for days,” Jawbreaker said, speaking less gruffly now than he had during the exam. “I wasn’t expecting children to go all out like that.”   He rubbed the back of his neck.  “I haven’t been hit like that in a while.”

“At least you got to put up a fight,” Nauseous said.  “I got taken out early.”

“Wimp,” Kamuy taunted.

“Can you all not…?” Raptor said.

“Settle,” Aizawa growled.   He looked over the class again. “As we told you originally, in addition to the three-tiered priorities for passing the exam, we were also scoring you individually.  You’ll all receive more detailed feedback after All Might, Midnight, and I have had a chance to compile it, but for now, we’ll be providing a basic evaluation of your exam performances.”

There was a collective gulp from the class.  Even Koharu felt a chill go down her spine.  

***

Worried looks passed through 1-A, dreading the criticism that was surely going to come from Aizawa. Koharu had only known him a short amount of time, but already she could tell that he did not suffer fools gladly and was quick to point out any flaws he found.  Judging by how fearful 1-A looked… she was going to assume it did not get any better with time.

“Aoayama,” Aizawa began.   The glowing boy stiffened in his seat. “Nothing exceptional in your performance, but no glaring weaknesses either.  You made decent use of your Quirk to try and counter your foes.”

“Merci,” Aoyama said, looking relieved.

It was short lived. “However,” Aizawa went on, “check the arrogance.  When you were out the search and rescue teams, you lost valuable seconds arguing with your teammates.  If you have something to contribute, offer it.  But don’t automatically assume you know better.”

Aoyama looked down, but nodded in response.

“Funny, that’s not how I remember it when we used to team up, Eraser,” Vice-Principle Midnight said, giving him a teasing nudge with her elbow.  

“I seem to recall some choice words as well,” All Might said, wearing a grin that might have best been described as “shit-eating.”

“That’s not the topic of discussion,” Aziawa said.  “Moving on.”

He made a show of shuffling his papers.  “Since we have two Iidas in the class,” Aizawa went on, giving Vice-Principle Midnight a significant look, “we’ll begin with Sora.

“Overall, impressive tactical thinking in the early stages and excellent teamwork throughout.  When the shooting started, you did a good job taking command of the situation and put yourself at risk for your teammates. Commendable.

“But you twice allowed yourself to become distracted and vulnerable because you were worried about your boyfriend.”

“That’s when I got you,” Jawbreaker said.  “And I’m not exactly easy to miss.”

Sitting next to Sora Iida, Midoriya turned a bright shade and sunk low in his seat.  

“They’re dating?” All Might gasped.  “Young Grandson, why did you not tell me about this?!” Koharu wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Midoriya turned even redder.

“Sorry, Grandpa Might,” he squeaked.  

“Heroes in relationships are more common these days,” Midnight said.  “But with a handful of exceptions like Suneater and Nejire-Chan, they typically don’t work together, for just such a reason.  I’m all for young love, but do keep it in mind, children.”

At this point, Koharu was wondering how Midoriya’s chair hadn’t caught on fire.  Sora Iida looked nonplussed by the whole thing, occasionally shooting curious glances Midoriya’s way.

Still, Koharu understood the flying girl’s worry.  Midoriya had been knocked under a collapsing building and no one had been able to raise him. He could have been hurt or worse. That he’d just been pinned down with his patched together communicator unable to get a signal out was nothing short of a minor miracle.

“As you say,” Sora Iida said.  “Thank you.”

“As for you, Tensei,” Aizawa continued, “you demonstrated overall good sense and teamwork, and a willingness to sacrifice yourself for your teammates.  You kept your head about you.”

“He still went down when I got ahold of him,” Jawbreaker added.  “All that speed doesn’t do anybody any good once somebody grabs you.”

Tensei nodded.  “I shall endeavor to improve.   Perhaps some sort of shock field through certain points on my armor…”

“It would be difficult to properly calibrate the strength of it though,” his sister said.  “Especially since you could not anticipate enemy resistance in advance and under such circumstances, it would be difficult to manipulate precise controls.”

Both twins made a “Hmmm” sound and looked like they were about to burst into more discussion.   Aizawa cut them off. “Moving on,” he said.  “Ojiro.”

Next to her, the invisible girl stiffened and shook.  On her other side, Sato took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You did well,” Aizawa said. “Good use of your Quirk, good support of your classmates, and good, if unorthodox, thinking when fighting Kamuy.”

“You’re creepy, kid,” Kamuy growled.  

“Continue focusing on your skills and teamwork,” Aizawa finished.  “And know when to back off.  Your stunt against Kamuy ultimately worked, but it also severely hampered Todoroki and Kaminari’s ability to support you.  If Aoyama and Tokoyami hadn’t arrived when they had, you could have had trouble.”

“Yes, Mister Aizawa,” Ojiro replied, actually sounding serious.  Koharu hadn’t known her long, but she hadn’t really expected that of her.

“See, Kimmie” Sero said, leaning forward and looking her way.  “Nothing to worry about.”

“As for you, Kaminari,” Aizawa said, and Koharu looked to the back row, where the blonde was sitting next to Mineta, “while you proved effective during the majority of the fighting, with good use of your Quirk and Support gear…

He sighed wearily. “Victory dancing?  Really?   Never let your guard down like that.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kaminari replied, her Cords drooping.  “In my defense, I really thought she was down.”

“That kind of overconfidence will get you killed, Sweetie,” Vice-Principal Midnight said.  “As it was, it nearly cost your class their win.”

That got a gasp.  And there was a lot of hurried talk and in the case of Kirishima-Bakugo, a lot of swearing.  It wasn’t until Aizawa activated his Quirk that they silenced again.

“Had any of the objectives not been met,” All Might said, gravely, “we’d be having very different conversations right now.  As it stands… we decided the two things canceled each other out well enough.”

“Understood,” Kaminari said, very quietly.  Mineta gave her a small hug, but Kaminari pushed her away.

“It wasn’t even good dancing,” Kamuy added, which earned her a glare from a couple of the others.

It wasn’t fair, in Koharu’s opinion.  But in the real world, that kind of slip up would have absolutely been fatal.  And even she was boggled by Kaminari’s early declaration of victory.

“Kirishima-Bakugo,” Aizawa began, clearly eager to move on.  

The muscular blonde girl sat up a little straighter in her seat.  “Bring it, teach.”

“You acquitted yourself well in straight-up combat scenarios and demonstrated a measure of tactical thinking,” Aizawa went on.  “But your first instincts continue to remain all out, full-frontal assaults.  Those aren’t always going to work.”

“Worked well enough on this guy,” Kamuy said,   giving Jawbreaker a nudge.

“Shut up,” Jawbreaker snapped back.

“Worked so far,” Kirishima-Bakugo said, flipply.  “But got it. More thinky, less blasty.”

“I could have told you that,” Todoroki, who was sitting on her left, said.

“…Maybe tell me those things earlier, Iz.”

Aizawa’s attention focused next on the rock-skinned girl sitting next to Aoyama.  “Koda, you made good use of your Quirk and demonstrated excellent teamwork with your classmates.”

“Thank you,” Koda said.

“Unfortunately, your combat skills are often not as aggressive as fits the situation.  While I respect your desire to cause as little harm as is necessary… there are times where that’s simply not possible. Restraining your opponents won’t always work.”

“Sometimes,” Jawbreaker added, “you just have to hit someone.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Koda replied.  

“I thought you performed admirably, Mademoiselle Koda,” Aoyama said, making a dramatic flourish with his hands.  

“Now, Sato,” Aizawa said, obviously determined not to get derailed.  

Next to Ojiro, Sato just buried his head in his hands.  “Oh no, here it comes.”

“You were one of the few to be able to properly approximate how Kamuy’s Quirk worked, and you were able to use that you your advantage, so good job there.  And you had creative application of your Quirk when you faced her the second time, as well as good teamwork with Ojiro.  In the future, however, you may want to put more work into combat options that don’t require the use of your Quirk.”

It took a minute for Sato to realize he wasn’t being yelled at.  “He said you did good, Kenta!” Ojiro squealed.  “Get your head up!”

“Th—thank you,” Sato said, nodding rapidly.  “Thank you, sir.”

“Shinso,” Aizawa said, and Koharu could have sworn that there was something just a little warmer in his voice when he said the same compared to the rest.  She remembered how he’d cheered for the purple-haired boy when they were watching the exam.  Just what was the relationship between the two of them?  

“Excellent teamwork and good use of your Quirk,” Aizawa said.  “We did have some concerns you weren’t giving it your all, but you eventually corrected.”

A small smile pulled its way across Aizawa’s face.  “And your… unique insights proved invaluable in supporting your team’s efforts.  Good job.  Work on bringing your A-Game right out of the gate though.  Don’t just build up to it.”

“Got it!” Shinso bubbled, punching the air.  “Give them the Smash right from the start!”

“As for you, Shoji,” Aizawa continued, looking at the tall, six-armed boy.  Koharu was one hundred percent of a lesbian, but even she had to admit, Shoji was ridiculously good looking.  No wonder Ojiro’s webshow—After becoming friends with her, she’d dug up a few old episodes—called him Class 1-A’s most eligible bachelor.   Of course, she’d suddenly stopped doing that for some reason, but hadn’t mentioned why.

“You did well.  Good fighting skills, good teamwork.  Work on showing some greater initiative in planning and remember that you have options for long range attacks that don’t put you at as much risk in a physical confrontation.”

“Understood,” Shoji said with a small nod.

“Sero,” Aizawa began.   The name had barely left his lips when the pink-skinned boy let out a terrified whimper and turned several shades paler.  “Overall, good teamwork and good rescue work.  You were especially effective against Raptor.”

“Damn tape,” the winged man growled.  “Swinging me into that building hurt.”

“But watch your grandstanding.  The correct response to finding out you’re fighting real Villains is not worrying about your hit count.”

Sero still hadn’t moved or reacted.  It took Sato giving him a nudge.  “Bro. You’re not dead.”

“I’m not?”

“You’re not.  I’d tell you if you were.”

“Good.”

Once again, Aizawa looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.  He closed his eyes and appeared to be counting, judging by the slight movement of his lips.    “Tokoyami.”

The glowing frog-thing, Frog-Shadow Koharu thought it was called, was sitting on Tokoyami’s shoulder. She perked up at Tokoyami’s name. “And me!” the thing declared.

Aizawa gaze briefly went to a corner of the room, where a yellow sleeping back, of all things, was sitting.  He instead returned his attention to the bird-headed girl.  “The first true victory went to you, so congratulations on that.”

“She got you good, bug man!” Kamuy yelled, slapping Nauseous on the back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nauseous growled.  “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

“I was planning on it.”

“As seems to be the common theme here, good use of team work and collaboration with your classmates. However… as difficult as it is to draw the line where you and Frog-Shadow end and begin, let’s focus on your own physicality and active participation in these battles.  Being saved by your living Quirk is fine, but you cannot rely on that.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Tokoyami said, giving a slight nod.  “Or rather,” she added before Frog-Shadow could interrupt, “we shall.”

“Todoroki,” Aizawa went on, addressing the pale girl with the multi-colored hair.  Koharu wasn’t quite sure how her ombré hair worked exactly, starting white but turning red the further out it got, but given that her own hair matched the pattern of her wings, she wasn’t sure she was in any position to question it.  “Your overall performance was excellent.”

“Indeed,” All Might bellowed, interrupted him.  “Young Todoroki was very much the MVP of the exam!  You proved invaluable in multiple Villain confrontations!”

“I merely did what I could,” Todoroki said demurely.  “I only regret that I was unable to better protect my classmates…”

“That is unfortutnate,” Aizawa said.  “But sometimes inevitable.  In the meantime, you demonstrated excellent use of your Quirk and good overall thinking and teamwork.  Continue to work on your endurance and you’ve a bright future ahead of you.”

“Would it be possible to have that in writing?” Todoroki asked.  “I would like to make sure my mother is aware of these facts.”

“Geeze, more jokes, Iz?” Kirishima-Bakugo asked.  “You’re on a roll today.”

“Yes,” Todoroki said, her voice carefully neutral.  “A joke.”

“You’ll receive your written evaluation later,” Aizawa reminded her.  His voice turned protective.  “But by all means, do invite your mother to visit if she has any… concerns.”

In the front row, Haimawari squirmed uncomfortably as Aizawa focused his attention on him. “Haimawari, your overall performance was positive.  If not for your efforts, the class would have failed the primary objective.  You also proved your strategic worth against Jawbreaker and your combat powers against Raptor.”

“That was your plan?” Jawbreaker asked.  “Good job, kid.”

“I was supposed to give you a chance,” Shadow-Thief added, “but I didn’t expect you to catch up. You could be faster than Inegnium someday.”

Aizawa stared the lanky boy down.  “You’ve raised my expectations of you, Haimawari.  I’ll be looking to see you step up to leadership positions again.”

In spite of the praise, Haimawari looked a little pale.  “Ah, okay, got it.  Thank you, sir.”

“As for you, Midoriya,” Aizawa continued, “if you keep hitting up against a wall and keep bouncing off, what do you do?”

“If you’re this kid, you keep on doing it,” Jawbreaker said with a laugh.

“Maybe… not that?” Midoriya tried.  “It’s kind of my go to move, but it really wasn’t working so well. And there wasn’t a lot of room to do some of my bouncing tricks like Gran Torino.”

“At least,” Aizawa said. “You recognize it.  You’ve got a lot of power and a lot of techniques, work on developing them.  We can focus on some options for when your usual strategies don’t cut it. Additionally…”

“Yes, Mister Aizawa?” Midoriya said, in response to Aizawa’s trailing off.

“In the next team exercises in class, you’re not allowed to take charge or formulate plans unless your teammates have also come up with plans.  I think we’re all very aware how much of a leadership role you’ve taken.  And while those skills are desirable for a Hero, we can’t have your classmates becoming complacent.”

“He is right, Young Grandson,” All Might added.

Midoriya nodded. “You’re right,” he said.  “I’ll… do my best to stick to that.”

“See that you do.” Aizawa looked down at his notes on the podium, then up at the class.  He looked back down again, as though he was making sure of something and made a pained expression.  Finally, he looked back up.

“And Mineta,” he said. “As is becoming a pattern for you against live opponents, you demonstrated solid tactical thinking when provoking your opponents into a trap or otherwise keeping their focus on your mouth instead of what you’re doing.  I would tell you to be less…”  He gestured vaguely.

“Ah, you just gestured at all of me,” Mineta said.

“Exactly.  I’d like you to be less you.  Except that it seems to be working.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “It would be illogical not to encourage you to continue using those skills, not matter how distasteful.”

“What Eraser is saying,” Vice-Principal Midnight added, “is continue to own it, girl!  If I was still active in the field, I’d snare you for a sidekick in a heartbeat.”

At that, Mineta actually blushed, something Koharu hadn’t been sure was actually possible.  “Y-yes, Vice-Principal.  T-thank you.”   Koharu was extremely sympathetic though.  The Vice-Principal’s expression was enough to set her own heart aflutter.

“Continue to work on battlefield discipline, however,” Aizawa corrected.  “As useful as your… talents are, there is a time and a place.”

“Got it,” Mineta said. “Time.  Place.”

“And Kocho.”   It took Koharu a moment to realize Aizawa had said her name.  The others of 1-A turned to look at her.   “Overall, good analysis of how you’d participate against the exam Villains. Though you did forget about Shadow-Thief, just like the rest of the class, so I can’t fault you for that entirely.   But good analysis overall, especially for someone not currently in the Hero Course.  I’ll be expecting good things of you when you join the class for the training camp and for the next term.”

“I knew it!” Midoriya shouted.

“Way to go!” Sero said.

“Good job!” Sato added.

“You did it!  You did it!” Ojiro said, practically bouncing in her seat.   Cheers went up from some of the others, like Haimawari, and even those of she didn’t really know, like Shinso.

The celebratory moment was short lived.  One of the Villains, Jawbreaker, spoke up.  “So… that’s it then?”

Aizawa nodded.  “The exam is over and the students will be returning to their dorms after this.”

“Then,” Raptor said, “I suppose we just wait for the police, then?”

All Might gave Aizawa a surprised look.  “Just what did you tell them, Aizawa?”

“He said we had to beat the kids if we wanted early parole,” Shadow-Thief snapped.   “I knew it.  I knew I should have run when I had the chance… just taken my chances and run…”

“I can’t speak for these idiots,” Kamuy said, “but I’ll go quietly.  I gave my word and I keep it.”

“What’s a few more years?” Nauseous said, shrugging.

“It was a logical ruse to get the most competitive edge out of you,” Aizawa said.  “Once you’ve returned to your respective detention centers, your effects will be returned to you and your releases will be processed.

Koharu wished she could say she was surprised.  Even already knowing that Aizawa had misinformed the Villains somehow, she hadn’t expected that.  But given what she was learning about the man, along with the dirt that the Voice and Deku had spilled on him, she really, really wasn’t surprised.  

“You bastard!” Shadow-Thief snarled, and had to be restrained by Kamuy and Jawbreaker.  She probably could have escaped easily if she’d wanted to, but it seemed her heart wasn’t in it, as she let the other two push her back down.  “I thought I’d lost my chance…!”

“Guess I’m going home,” Raptor said, leaning back in his chair and smiling.

“You’re definitely a bastard, Aizawa,” Jawbreaker said.  “But I have to say… it worked.”

All Might just shook his head.  “Dirty pool, Aizawa, dirty pool.   Let me apologize on his behalf.”

Jawbreaker waved a hand in the air.  “Honestly, I figured he was bullshitting us.  It was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.  But I figured it was a worth a shot.”

All Might just shook his head.  “One of these days, Aizawa, these “logical ruses” of yours are going to backfire…”

“Haven’t yet.”

Being in Class 1-A, Koharu thought, was definitely going to be an experience.

***

“Okay, everybody,” Midoriya began, “if I could just have your attention for a minute?”

Unfortunately, Class 1-A (and Kocho, who’d been invited to celebrate with them) were too busy celebrating their exam victory to notice.  After the exam, they’d pooled their money—Izumi had offered to pay for the whole thing, but they’d insisted it come from all of them—and ordered pizzas (and shakes for Kocho), gotten the stereo going, and turned the dining area into a party spread with other snacks and sodas.

It had been close out there more than a few times, but Isamu was glad he’d been able to be a part of it. Of course, now Aizawa was expecting bigger and better things from him, on top of having already raised his profile at the Sports Festival, so that was a lot to live up to. And there was still the training camp on the horizon.  They had a departure date for it, but no other details. But those were worries for another day.  

He did wonder how the other Hero Courses were doing.  1-B was supposed to be taking theirs this afternoon, and 1-C in the evening.  Kana had promised she’d let him know when they were done though, so he was anxiously awaiting that text.  1-B didn’t have as many “heavy hitters” in it as his class did, but they had a lot of variety and a lot of potential for teamwork if they really tried at it.

“Guys?” Midoriya tried again.

“If everyone could give us their attention for just a moment?” Tokoyami tried, with no success either.

“HEY!  LISTEN!” Frog-Shadow shouted, from her perch on Tokoyami’s shoulder.   And that did get everyone to shut up.

“…Thank you,” Midoriya told Frog-Shadow, before looking around at the class.

“Anytime!” Frog-Shadow said, giving him a thumbs’ up.

“As I was saying,” Midoriya continued, “everybody did great out there.  There’s not a one of you I’m not proud of.  Not that I was worried for a minute, but we really showed how we could come together when it really matters.  So absolutely, let’s celebrate!  We earned it!”

Isamu joined with his classmates in cheering, though he thought Kaminari looked like her heart wasn’t in it, despite everyone having told her that they didn’t blame her for almost causing them to fail the exam.  He could see the electric girl had taken the criticism to heart and he doubted she’d do anything like that again.

He’d talk to her later if he had the opportunity.  They weren’t exactly friends, but they’d gotten to be friendlier over the term, especially when he’d burned a few copies of some of his mom’s lesser known CDs for her. And they both agreed that Double Pop was a cheap rip off and not an homage, no matter how hot Mineta insisted they were.

As the cheers died down, Izumi spoke up.  “I have already told my parents about our passing the exam,” she said. She sounded pretty happy, as far as he could tell.  Izumi was a fairly reserved person, but even he could see the pride in her victories today.  She deserved it, completely.  “They send their congratulations to all of us.  They have also extended an offer to the whole class—and you, Kocho—to join us at our island vacation home before the training camp.”

He knew Izumi’s family was rich.   But all the same, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “You have an island vacation home?”

Kirishima-Bakugo smirked at his surprise.  “They have their own island.”

That did not do anything to take down his surprise.  “Of course,” he said.  Visions of the costs of plane tickets and island prices and everything else immediately tampered down any enthusiasm he would have had for going.  Not all Pro-Heroes were rich, of course, but with the right endorsements and even a modest amount of success, they could be very well off.  That was not his family.  They did well enough, of course, but he wasn’t anywhere near the same ballpark.

Really, between the Iida twins, Izumi, and Mirdoiya alone, the amount of yen in the room was staggering. It did very little to quell his feelings of inadequacy.  But he could see Kocho doing a very good job of concentrating on her drink and a pang of sympathy overrode anything else.

“Of course, since it is the Yaoyorozu private jet and hotel, it is all expenses paid,” Izumi went on.

“As long as we’re back in time for the I-Island Expo,” Midoriya said.  “Dad’s going to be busy, but the Aunt Meslissa and the Togata kids are all going, and I’m going with them.”

“We’re going too!” Sora Iida piped in.  “Mother is presenting several new inventions and Father will be there as well, representing the family.”

Tensei Iida looked over at his boyfriend.  “I will insist upon you being allowed to come,” he told Sero. “It is only fair, since my sister’s boyfriend will be there.”

“Double-date vacation with our Iida squeezes, Midoriya?” Sero said.  “It’s all moving so fast!  We’ll be in-laws before you know it!”

Midoriya turned red at that. “Maybe… maybe not that fast!”

“Toshi,” Sora told him, leaning in, “I think he is joking.”

“Or am I?” Sero laughed, giving himself a double thumbs’ up.  Ojiro reached over and gave him a smack on the shoulder.  “Ow!  Go easy, Kimiko!”

“Stop making Midoriya a nervous wreck!  You’ll ruin my ships!”

“You can’t call it a ship when it’s real people, Kimmie,” Sato said, looking faintly embarrassed at his friends.

“You’re going too, right, Haimawari?” Midoriya asked.

“I, ah, yeah,” Isamu said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He still needed to find a suit before that happened.   As the first year winner of the U.A. Sports Festival, he’d gotten an all- expenses paid invitation to the Expo.  It would be the furthest he’d ever been from his home in his life.  Still seemed like way too much attention on him, but Hero-Society really did like to have people it could celebrate, it seemed.  “Hadn’t had too much time to think about it, with the exams and everything.”

“You get a plus one, you know!” Mineta yelled.  “You should totally take Kana!”

Isamu let out a squeak. “We’re really not ready for that!” he said quickly.  “Really!”

“Take me then?” she asked, pouting.  “Shinji’s still grounded and I’ll be so lonely…”

Nope, nope, nope, get away bad thoughts!

“We should be able to return in plenty of time,” Izumi said, answering the question and thankfully ending any conversation with Mineta.  

“Are you sure it’s okay if I come?” Kocho asked.  The tips of her wings flicked about as she talked.  “I mean, I’ll have to ask my parents to begin with, but you all barely know me.”

Boy, did he know that feeling.   It definitely summed up how he’d felt at the start of the term.  But now he had good friends here, and even got along with pretty much everyone else.  He still sometimes felt like an outsider, but with people who’d literally grown up together, that wasn’t completely surprising.  But he definitely no longer felt like an outsider.

“You’re going to be in 1-A,” Midoriya said, smiling.  “That makes you family.”

“Welcome to the crazy house,” Kirishima-Bakugo said.  She made a sweeping gestured.  “I’d say you get used to some of them, but, well…”

***

It’s the next morning, Saturday, and most of the class was out and about, some of the couples spending time with each other, some enjoying a day of much deserved rest after the exams. A few had even gone home already in preparation for the upcoming trip.  They’d had one of the biggest tests of their lives and they’d passed.

So why couldn’t Chihiro bring herself to celebrate?

Maybe because she’d nearly ruined the whole thing.  Not just for herself, but for everyone.  She’d barely passed her other exams.  As much as her mom often told her to “dig down deep and find the genes I gave you,” Chihiro sometimes had to admit… she just wasn’t that smart.  Book learning did not come easily to her.  So she’d poured everything she had into being a Hero.  And with her new costume, she’d actually started finally getting good at that, overcome the limitations of her Quirk and started thinking a little bit smarter there.

And in one fleeting taste of victory, she’d done something stupid and started celebrating.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. One of the first basic rules of Heroing. Never, ever celebrate until the Villain was either unconscious or in a police car.  She’d been so damn sure their combined power had been enough to put Kamuy down.

She’d been wrong.

And everyone had nearly paid for her mistake.  Sure, they said they didn’t blame her.  And she even believed them.  Well, she believed everyone but Kirishima-Bakugo.  She’d never actually said it, just grimaced and nodded along when the others said it.

It didn’t mean she didn’t blame herself.

In retrospect, being alone in the common room with her thoughts probably wasn’t the best thing right now, no matter how much she didn’t want to be around other people.   Of course, if she really didn’t want to be around other people, she would have just stayed in her room. Instead, she was sitting on the couch, strumming on her ukulele.  Maybe, just maybe, a little music would take her mind off of everything.  She hadn’t had as much time to play as she’d like this term, but maybe she could get back to it.

She was definitely bringing it on the trip to Izumi’s island.  Islands practically called for ukuleles.  Also, she just liked the word ukulele.  This one in particular had been a gift from her dad.   It even had a small inscription.  “Just write “I love you, Chihiro.’”

The doors to the outside flew open and in walked someone she really didn’t want to deal with right now:  Shiro Monoma.  If he said one word about anything—never mind how he’d have found out in the first place—she knew she’d throw hands and Cords.  And then she’d probably get in actual trouble.

He had bolted through the doors like he’s gathered up all his courage for an important mission, but now that he was inside, he just looked a little confused.  He even pulled his phone out and checked something on it—probably his text messages.

“Mika’s not here,” she told Monoma flatly.  Mika had said something about how he was having a rough time lately, but honestly, he got on her last nerve often enough that she wasn’t sure she cared.  “Pretty sure Koda’s upstairs though.”

How someone as nice as Koda was put up with the likes of him and Aoyama, she had no idea.

“I, ah, yes, good,” Monoma said, looking both awkward and uncomfortable under her gaze.  She must have stepped up her intimidation game. Maybe she’d actually see how this played out.  “I… heard you all passed the exam?”

Of course.  Why did she think it was anything else?   “Come to gloat?” she snapped, pointing her Cords at him.  Sparks danced along their tips.

He put a hand to his chest, offended.  “Gloat about what?”

“You don’t know?”  She carefully set her ukulele down in its case on the table in front of her and stood up.  She waved her arms through the air as she ranted, her Cords mimicking the gestures.  “You’re not just bullshitting me, so you can insult me?  Mock me?  Mock poor stupid Kaminari who nearly danced her way into failing the exam?”

Crap.  She said too much.

Monoma’s expression softened, though she could also see some kind of comprehension dawning too.  “I assure you,” he said, crossing the room so he was standing across from her, “that I meant to do no such offenses.   It’s not my place to do so anymore anyway.  At least you’re still here.  It sounds like you still deserve your spot.”

Wait, what?    “The hell does that mean?” she demanded.  Dammit, he needed to stop looking like a kicked puppy. It was making it incredibly hard to be mad at him!

“I’m leaving U.A.,” he told her.  Chihiro’s Cords jerked up in surprise.  “I’m… I’m not cut out for this.  My Quirk’s not good enough.  I’m not good enough.  I only stayed long enough to help my class pass the exam.  Which they did.”

Okay, seriously, what the hell.  

“I, ah…” she began, uncertainly.  “They throw real Villains at you too?”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.  “…Your teacher really is insane.”  She didn’t disagree.  “Super-Ball got some of his Pro-Hero friends to play the part.   Dirtbreaker, She-Panther, Silver Stalker, the Human Rocket, and Microwaveabelle.  They’re all fairly minor and low ranked… but they gave us all a pretty good fight.”

“Betcha Shinso could have told you all about them.”   She did genuinely like the little guy.  Their dads were friends, so while they weren’t close, she was certainly more than used to his quirks.

“Yeah,” Monoma agreed. “He probably could have.”   Chihiro recalled that his dad was friends were Shinso’s dad too.  She seemed to remember the two of them had even been closer, once upon a time.

“But you’re quitting?” she asked.  As much as he tried to brag or claim his class was better than theirs, she couldn’t believe it.

“My mind’s made up,” he said, quietly.  “Please don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.  “But like I said, Koda’s upstairs if that’s who you’re looking for.”

He hesitated, then looked down at her ukulele.  “I didn’t know you could play,” he said.

She shrugged.  “I’m not nearly as good as mom.  But I do all right.”   She realized he was looking at her expectantly.   The curse of the musician.  As soon as you admitted you could play, people wanted to hear it.

With a sigh, she picked it up and sat down, using her Cords to indicate that he could sit too if he wanted. He took up a spot on the couch opposite her.   She took a moment, then launched into the cords of a positively ancient song and couldn’t help but launch into song, in English.

“I see trees of green and red roses too

I'll watch then bloom just for me and you

And I think to myself

Oh, what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue, clouds of white

The brightness of day, the dark, say goodnight

And I think to myself

Oh, what a wonderful world…”

She stopped when she realized he wasn’t just watching her, he was staring.  Hard.

“What?” she asked.  

“I’ve never actually seen anyone play music up close like that,” Monoma said, actually sounding impressed.  “At least, not live.  Video is one thing, but up close and personal… it’s actually rather breathtaking.”

Okay, Monoma was dishing out compliments instead of insulting her intelligence.  This was obviously a Monoma from an alternate universe where he was nice.  “Think you could copy it?” she asked.  “You’d probably make a good musician that way.”

He shook his head.  “I could copy the motions, but I wouldn’t have the heart for it you do.  Or the kind of conditioning in my fingers you have.  I’m honestly really impressed.  You’ve got real talent.”  There was an undercurrent of “and I’m jealous” to it, so she took some pity on him.

“It take some work,” she said.  “But anybody really can learn.  You learn the chords, you put them together, one after the other, they turn into music. Same for every song, just broken apart and put together in different ways and speeds.”

Monoma’s lips were moving, but no sound was coming out, as he seemed to be processing what she’d said. He suddenly bolted from his seat. “That’s it!  Like music! Not like shots from a quiver!”   His eyes were wild and Chihiro slowly and deliberately put her ukulele in its case so she could stand up.

“I’m going to tase you if you don’t start making sense!”

His expression still maniac, Monoma continued. “I could string moves together into a symphony of fighting!  I’ve been treating moves like separate weapons, to be used and discarded!  I can combine them!”

“Uh… good for you?” she tried.  Should she be calling someone here?  Was he having an aneurysm?  She could probably always defibrillate him, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t the right medical procedure.  

His eyes were shining and maniac still, when he focused them on her.  “You’re brilliant, Kaminari!  Thank you!”

In a burst of speed, he was at her side, his arms wrapped around her and holding her tightly against him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” His lips pressed against her cheek for a moment, a long moment, separating with a wet, smacking sound.

Reality seemed to settle back in.  He stared at her, then bolted towards the door.  “Thankyouagain,Ihavetowithdrawmywithdrawl,Ineedtogonow!”

Chihiro stood there for a moment longer, before she flopped back onto the couch, her legs suddenly weak.   Her fingers touched her cheek where Monoma had kissed her.  “What… what just happened?”

***

Mika had made herself scarce from the 1-A dorms and was hanging out with Anime in hers.  As was expected, her friends’ dorm walls were completely covered in posters from various manga and anime, most of which even the biggest otaku would find obscure.  

Her phone buzzed.   Earlier, she’d sent a message to Shiro, telling him a “mutual acquaintance” was feeling depressed and maybe he could go by and cheer her up.  He was depressed, she was depressed, it was the perfect plan.

She checked her phone.

Cute Ex: So I’m not quitting.   Got a really good idea when I was at your dorm building.  Had a really good conversation.  …I may have kissed her.  Things got happened and I got passionate.

Mika smiled.  That was fast.  Really fast, actually, given the parties involved.  Good for Shiro and good for Akaya.  Her friend needed it.  And Shiro would be way better for her than Aoyama, if he ever figured out that he was clearly crushing on Akaya.

“It worked!” she told Anime.

The animated girl squeed happily.  “I knew it! Just like I Set Up My Best Friends (Because I Could)!”

Cute Ex: I hope this doesn’t make things awkward.

Mika was about to respond that of course it didn’t, this was her plan all along, when she saw more dots indicating Shiro was still typing.

Cute Ex: Because now I might actually ask Kaminari out.  Not just because of the kiss.  But because I discovered she’s actually fascinating.  I know it sounds crazy, but…

She didn’t see the rest of the text, as the phone dropped from her hands.  “Anime, we’ve made a terrible mistake.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 003: Superhero Academy Entrance Exam

Chapter 3 of my not-actually-live liveblog of Boku no Hero Academia! And I have to say, this one is my favorite chapter so far. We’ve got new characters, we’ve got weird video game point challenges, and we’ve got a new crowning moment of awesome for our protagonist! All this, and a guy with the power of jeans. What more could I ask for in life.

Notes: As of posting this I’ve read up through chapter 6 of the manga and watched episodes 1-5 of the anime. My comments (aside from ETAs), however, are from my initial readthrough of the chapter and are unedited. And despite residing here on tumblr where BnHA is a trending tag like every week, I somehow continue to remain almost totally unspoiled (boy that feels like I’m jinxing it).

hey it’s some random speech bubbles just spitting out facts about U.A.! how convenient and helpful

damn, they only accept 1 in 300 people... that’s a 0.33% acceptance rate. I’m pretty sure even Harvard accepts like 5 or 6% of its applicants, so this is... yikes

All Might magnanimously declined the People’ Choice Award lmao

“Best Jeanist.” oh my god. for years I’ve thought Eiichiro Oda was hands-down the best mangaka when it came to creating off-the-wall new characters. but this character’s name is Best Jeanist and he’s wearing a turtleneck denim jacket and has onion hair and I just. I don’t know anymore. my world is shook

what makes it better is the implication that there are other jeanists out there. but he is the best

so much the best that he’s won the best jeanist award eight years running

what is his power?? jeans??

shout out to this other guy Endeavor who I’m completely ignoring because he had the misfortune to be standing next to my homeboy Best Fucking Jeanist

Deku actually went home and took a shower and packed and then got on the subway for a forty-minute ride. holy shit this kid is cool under pressure. probably took a fucking nap on the train too

DID HE EAT THE HAIR??? I ASSUME YES? GODDAMMIT THIS IS BULLSHIT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED RIGHT NOW

is this the school? I like the trees just chilling out in the entrance lobby there

“there was no time to test out the power All Might had given to me” -- fjkalsjdfj ARE YOU SERIOUS

THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU IDIOTS DO THIS LAST WEEK

YOU COULD HAVE PACKED THE NIGHT BEFORE

THE SHOWER IS FINE, SHOWERS ARE IMPORTANT, BUT YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT FASTER

HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW IF THE HAIR ACTUALLY DID ANYTHING?? YOU SPENT THE PAST 10 MONTHS BUILDING UP TO THIS? YOU WERE CARRYING THAT BALL FOR TEN FUCKING MONTHS ONLY TO DROP IT THREE FUCKING HOURS BEFORE THE EXAM SFKSHLHK I’M FUCKING LOSING IT

I DON’T CARE IF HE’LL OBVIOUSLY BE FINE, I NEED SOMEONE TO GO AND SMACK HIM PLEASE

-- OH LOOK IT’S MY PROBLEMATIC FAVE

HOLY SAVAGE FUCK THAT “IGNORE + WALK PAST” WAS OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS

“ever since that day, Kaachan never tormented me again”

the answer is yes, right? no? are you sure?? damn

wow they still remember the sludge monster and call it the “sludge incident”

here I was thinking this kind of shit happened on the daily in this crazy superheroes&supervillains society, but I guess some incidents are more memorable than others

also it’s nice that he stopped harassing Green Tsuna, but when my previous (I shouldn’t say “previous”, actually... more like “still current”) favorite Gokudera “GOAT” Hayato had his life saved by his protagonist, he not only stopped tormenting him, but he immediately swore his eternal fealty and dedicated his life to serving him, so that’s a pretty high bar. I will give Baku the benefit of the doubt, though

I’m still obviously on board this ship, as evidenced by the fact that Deku thought “I gotta stop flinching instinctively” and I was like “aww they’ll be lovers any day now”

I don’t understand it either

hey hello I’m cracking up in real life here

wow I thought he was gonna fall and that was hilarious, but instead he’s somehow just... floating there? which is somehow even MORE hilarious

HEY A NEW CHARACTER. [takes notes]

WHY ARE YOU SORRY FOR STOPPING HIM IT WAS A NICE THING TO DO

“[SMILES BROADLY] THIS SURE IS NERVE-WRACKING!” HEY I’M SORRY, BEST JEANIST, BUT YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF, THIS IS MY NEW NEW FAVE

HIGH FIVE, GREEN TSUNA. YOU’RE DOING GREAT

“Everybody say hey” this motherfucker better be saying this in fucking English goddamit. (ETA: he is!! yessssssssss)

nobody said hey

“well that’s cool.” nice recovery! gamfuckingbatte you funky boombox man

YEEEEEEAH

nobody said yeah

my god this is a tough crowd. the practical test could just be warming these stone-cold motherfuckers up and it would 100% explain the abysmally low acceptance rate

I love how Deku talks to himself all the fucking time. I want to watch movies with him. we’ll both talk quietly while trying not to annoy people and probably not succeeding.

they’re sitting next to each other oh my god they were roomaaaaates

no but it’s seriously so cute??

there are probably thousands of people there, they didn’t HAVE to sit with each other. (unless seating arrangements are determined by school)

ETA: which they probably are come to think of it. hahaha)

they can’t take the test together though, aw

look at these fucking Mario silhouettes. did Nintendo sign off on these?

is it allowed because they’re blacked out? how fucking sneaky

(ETA: actually in the anime they didn’t make any Mario references at all, which makes me think there actually was a copyright issue)

these rules seem simple enough. actually seems almost too simple. the amount of different quirks they’re dealing with and the lack of guidelines on how not to use them seems to be asking for trouble. but I guess they probably know what they’re doing by now

I thought this was a high school, why is this 40-year-old man here asking questions about the exam

OH SHIT DEKU HE’S CALLING YOU OUT FROM TWENTY FEET AWAY

we would so get kicked out of movies together

now they’re literally referencing Super Mario Bros by name huh

and calling it an “old retro game”... sob

I actually love the pop culture reference so much and hope that more of these follow. this is how people talk in real life. none of that coming across a zombie and not actually calling them “zombies” because that concept somehow doesn’t exist or any of that bullshit. no sir. “you guys know thwomps from Mario? this thing is like a thwomp from Mario”

here we go. this set-up reminds me of Choice from KHR. please dear god don’t actually be like Choice from KHR

yeah, come to think... how big is this school

there’s a guy whose arm bone is sticking waaaaaay out of his elbow and it’s making me so fucking uncomfortable

please go away

THE GIRL IS HERE

AND THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN IS HERE TOO DAMMIT

all these people who don’t even fucking know Deku are still picking on him for some reason. ugh. just more people to show up, Izu. you got this dude

I’m getting strong Hunger Game vibes here

oh damn they sure did run

thd thd thd thd

relax, Deku, I’m sure there are plenty of monsters to go around. plus most of those guys appear to be morons and I’m sure the smiley girl and the forty-year-old man are the only ones in the group who’ll actually pass somehow

oh fucking FINALLY a flashback to him eating the hair!!

he’ll START to feel SOMETHING in A FEW HOURS?!!!

and there he is running off to take a shower as previously established

I am glad he is confirmed as having good personal hygiene, though

“prepare for some real kickback” noooo I’m getting nervous

when you use One for All, clench up your butt

ssshhf this giant fucking robot literally interrupted his flashback right before we got to the good part??

DEKU. CLENCH YOUR BUTTTT

“why can’t I move?” MAYBE YOU CLENCHED TOO TIGHT. SHIT

some bishounen with a crotch laser just appeared out of nowhere and blasted it!

whew

“merci!” you’re welcome, Tuxedo Mask

wow he’s been standing around for four minutes already?? I take back what I said before, Deku. fucking run

everyone else has killed basically all the enemies. fuck why do I feel like he’s about to face a fucking thwomp. how many points were those again

...lmao zero. well shit

these Ender’s Game test-makers have deemed Yuri on Ice over here a “decision maker”

who am I to argue

BAKUGOUUU

YESSS MY ANGRY SON WHOM I’VE ADOPTED FOR REASONS THAT STILL CONFUSE ME HAS GOT THAT .3% ACCEPTANCE RATE LOCKED UP

OH NO IT’S THE YARUKI SWITCH

WHAT’S A YARUKI SWITCH

ah

now feels like a good time to speculate on just how fucking expensive this fucking test is with the giant robots and the entire fucking city built for the sole purpose of being leveled in ten fucking minutes all for the sake of a test which only 1 out of every 300 people will even fucking pass

somewhere out there I hope there are people whose quirks are just “building lots of things really cheaply and effectively”, otherwise this feels like such a waste

haha now everyone is running again but in the opposite direction this time

and so is Deku. NOW he can move, huh

aaaaaand he’s crying again

something better happen or else he’s screwed

oh fuck me, the girl fell, of COURSE it had to be the girl

(ETA: actually upon reflection I think they redeemed this due to two things: (1) tying it back to her not letting him trip and fall earlier, and (2) the fact that she’s not the first person that Deku has had to heroically rescue, and the person who WAS first was not only a guy, but the angry explosive prodigy character. so I’ll give them a pass here)

(ETA 2: after watching it in the anime, a bunch of debris fucking fell on her, so I take back all of my complaining. good show)

AHHHHH HE’S RUNNING BACK TOWARD THE GIANT MONSTER DOING THE HEROIC “I JUST ACTED WITHOUT THINKING” THING AGAIN AHHH

AHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS THE COOLEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN

HOLY SHIT WAY TO BRING ME BACK DOWN

-- AH?! NOOO WHY IS IT OVER

I’M GONNA GO READ THE NEXT ONE RIGHT NOW

(ETA: and you better believe I did)

BUT FIRST

BONUS:

”I’m glad he came out so unlikable.” HAHA JOKE’S ON YOU

”his face just screams ‘I’m a rotten thief’” LMAO SOB WHY IS HE MY FAVORITE

GOOD CALL CHANGING HIS PERSONALITY THOUGH BECAUSE THIS VERSION NEEDS TO BE PUNCHED IN THE FUCKING FACE:

I HATE HIM

AND THAT’S IT THAT’S THE CHAPTER????

holy fucking shit.

[pseudodeepwords]

thoughts from a head in the clouds

okay, context: i got a little d9 dab pen at the gas station and took too much and decided to document how i felt because it was crazy. here is what i wrote, unedited and in its entirety. please be merciful.

hi tomorrow morning aubrey its me 10 pm high aubrey

in case i dont remember:

took more hits than with haz previously and took some pretty big preheated hits and holy shit dude this is crazy

i wasnt sure if i was high before but i for sure am high as hfuck now i was gonna fix tha typo but i didnt feel like it. same for that one idc so idk if im gonna fully remember this but uh

vision kinda goes in and out in a groovy wave pattern. very 70s fashion inspired stuff

everything is going in and out a little bit. like sea spray on glass. oceanic themes are also present elsewhere. if i try really hard i can make myself stop for a second before doing it again but i keep waving my torso around like im in a boat or a tube or something. like in galveston when the waves kept knocking me arounf or in kiowa that sumer with emma and caroline and i dont really know why but it's nit unkpleasant.

i care less about the typos right now but i promise im fixing some of them. most of them.

i realize i might pos this on my tumblr maybe and its gonna sound fake and crcinge and 2014 and thats okay becasue right now i think it;s really fun to documnet it. thats why i write. its for me. its almist never for anyone ekse and i dont give mysekf credit for it. it's beeen about seven minutes since i starged typing but it feels much longer. it's easiet to sto swayin gand things are almost back to normal speed. not really tho. kind of. lol

im sad haz isnt here. they would probably have been fun to talk to. im thinking about trips i didnt tell dad i was taking.

like the lake with haz a couple weeks ago when we got minecrafgt steve stuck in that pothole and those really nice okies had a tow strap theu used to save us and like that timw i told dad i was in austin and instaed i went with my friends i hadnt seen in two years to galveston so i could traste the ocean and the sea salk breeze for the very first time and even though it was galvy water and i got sick afterwards it was still the sea and i didn't sleep because i forgot my sleeping pills and i thought about will the whole time because i loved him so much and it hurt so bad but it was still better than being numb like i thought id be without him like i was without him that i let it go on too long and killed whatever else we coul have been.

like that time i told dad i was going with ally to abilene and it was her idea and we had a friend out there and i really went alone to see b for the first and so far onky time and even thouh it was miserably hot and i got so dehydrated i got a uti and we couldnt have as much evil sex as we wabted it was so good and i am so in love with him now but this time he does not love me back and i dont jnow if it scares me or not because the last two loved me back and still left so whats this gonna end jp being anhwaus but i dont care because i think i love him even though i feek like we dont know each other that much and im onkyt just now realixing that but i dont care i dont think, i think im reading too deeo unto my own insecurities and we just are what we are thats something sam would say and i trust him even though im still hurt but not realy

im still upset with sam but even more upset with mysle fbaout it. i cried about mom the ither day for the first time in a whike

am i a abd person? do i miss her> i think i do bit i can barely remember her. why wasnt i allowed to be a whole person

why did i always have to be alone

did i do it to myself

where did it get me?

it got me to kiowa and the worst sunburn of my life and it got me to galveston when i was supposed to be in austin esveot no i wasnt and my car needed an oil change but i didnt wanna get one so i was reliant on others for transportation and i remembered how much thar sucks because i want to be able to leave on my terms because god fucking knows i never have been afforded that kuxury before. it got me to abilene. it got me to will and sam abd fucking matthew and all that shit. i dont know if i regret any of it or all of it or none of it. i cant tell anymore if i think im in love with b or if i just need to be wanted. i tjink right this second im leaning towards tha latter but thats bc im emo and lonely. forgot how much distance sucks lol. someon e tected me

it was emmy from tinder. shes nice.

it feels like im a diver. water. remember this was about water,

i wish haz was here they could talk me through the emo patch i know it

i trust them so when they tell me i deserve love and knowin the wouldnt keep me around if they didnt love me in their own way i have to eblievve them theyre my best friend and id probably kill myself if they died bc i really could not live withougt them theyre maybe the only person i think has ever actually seen me or even come close to seeing me without leaving me theyre so importan to me haz i hope u read this if i post it on tumblr ur my platonic soulmateb my twin flame whateber the fuck idk how i would go on without u for real ur my eternal shoulder to cry on and u know me so wekk and care about me even when im a bitcbh ilysm

ally also i love u even when u are devious because of your occasionally unchecked mental illness ilysm

i forgot i was wearing a shirt bc the yellow light frin the screen on thsi white tank top looks like my sking lol

im gonna turn this smocsh video compilation on and tru to sleep lol see u in the nmorning sober me xoxo maybe we dont do that much along next time to avoid the esy mood shifys shawty

i love water i love my friends i love the people i love so much and i love being a diver in secret becuase its just for me and nothing else evr seems like it is. i do not deserve salll the bullshit i went throgu and i deserve to be happy. i hope i find that soon.

[evdarcy]

An Unusual Hero C8S2

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Tuesday 18/05/2021

There were no power points.

Sarah’s mind whirled as she stood in the middle of the only bedroom the cabin provided, phone in one hand and its charger in the other.

How the hell were there no plug sockets?

She hadn’t found any in the living space and there weren’t any in the bedroom either. She’d pulled the chest of drawers away from the wall and the tiny bedside cabinets too, and there were none. Not a single one.

Although… She glanced back at each of the surfaces, there weren’t any lamps on any of them…

She wrenched her head skyward, staring up at the ceiling.

No lights.

The realisation sunk in as she continued to stare at the bare ceiling; no lights meant no electricity.

Well, shit.

She sighed, dropping her arms to her side. So much for finding out what the back up plan was. She perched on the edge of the bed and stared down at the useless phone. She’d have to find an internet cafe in town or a library—they usually had sockets for laptops to plug into. She pondered that thought for a moment, wondering if they could really afford to risk another trek back into Jackson. She was still unsure how the sales girl—Willow as Luc liked to keep reminding her—in the last store hadn’t noticed it was Luc right away. Didn’t teenagers watch TV anymore?

Okay, so the girl probably wasn’t a teenager and Sarah had to stop calling her a girl. She’d probably been about twenty—

Sarah shook her head. Why the hell was she still fixating on the silly bint? She had much bigger problems than some girl fluttering her lashes at her companion. Like, what the hell she was going to do with said TV star currently showering in the bathroom?

She groaned and flopped back on the large, soft bed. It had taken all her will power to not slide open that shower door and ask if he needed a hand. From what she’d seen of him that morning, she might need two!

No, no, she had to focus on the real problems right now and they had plenty of them to consider. She had no idea if David—the wanker—had compromised her WITSEC identities, and even if he hadn’t, her grabbing Luc and bringing him along for the ride had screwed everything up even more.

Even if all her aliases were still secure, all of her pseudonyms were single. No husbands, no kids. Not even a pet dog. And while it wouldn’t be a problem for she and Luc to pretend to be a couple—she stopped that train of thought right away—she had no paperwork for him and no clue how to get a false set created. As much as she’d been trained over the past year, forgery and meeting criminals with the intent to work with them had not been part of the programme.

She was also pretty certain that a star like Luc wouldn’t have the first clue either.

She held the uncharged phone up to look at it, recalling what Prime Minister Edwards had told her in their little emergency tête-à-tête…

The door closed behind the most powerful man in the United Kingdom, excluding even Jack from the conversation.

‘I know this has been hard, Sarah, and I know that the situation isn’t perfect,’ the Prime Minister said as he sat next to her on the itchy, wool blanket the army had provided as part of her bedding over the past year.

She couldn’t look up at him, couldn’t meet his eyes. She’d let them down and his false niceties weren’t helping.

‘I want you to have this,’ Edwards continued. Sarah glanced up out the corner of her eye as he held up a black velvet box. She snorted.

‘Really? You’re giving me jewellery as a send off present?’ Her tone of voice was far from respectful.

‘Just… take it.’ He used the same exasperated inflection she’d often used when dealing with an irritating child in class.

Really, she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but she’d done that once before and there was no way she was going to do it again. Well, at least not at the moment. Perhaps, she’d send him a card with it written neatly inside when she got to the States. Maybe a postcard of the Golden Gate Bridge with it written in huge, black, capital letters as the message on the back. Instead, she took the box from his hands with a sigh.

She carefully opened it and saw the unusual, but pretty, necklace snuggled in its velvet bed. It was a block of silver on a long chain that looked far sturdier than any necklace she’d worn before, yet just as fine as her best piece had been back home.

She considered the design for a moment, her fingers brushing over the silver cuboid to feel its smooth, cold surface before she finally took it out. She threw the box on the bed as she examined the pendant. There were no fancy designs, engravings, or layers. No hinges or lines indicating openings that she could see. The weight wasn’t balanced; the top of the block heavy, the bottom end quite light.

‘Okay, I give up,’ she said holding it out to him in the palm of her hand. He chuckled and shook his head, before taking it from her and holding it out to fasten around her neck. She lifted her hair and turned her back to him to allow him access.

‘This is something very special,’ Edwards said as he fastened the clasp. He took her hair in his hands and arranged it over her shoulders again before she turned back to him, this time meeting his rich, brown eyes. ‘If you find yourself out in the wild, if things don’t go to plan and you have to make a dart for it, then you are to use this.’

The Prime Minister took the pendant from its place atop her t-shirt and held it up. He pressed the longest sides with his thumb and index finger, and Sarah watched, surprised, as a tiny port popped out the bottom.

‘Whoa, just like James bond. How the hell—’

‘Don’t ask. If people believe that the crap Bond gets is a far fetched fantasy, then we have the advantage.’ He threw her a wink and she chuckled. ‘Get a mobile phone that has a charging connection of this type and plug it in. It will do the rest to get you instructions for the back up plan.’

Sarah stared at the little port, wondering what it did. She glanced up at the Prime Minister who gave her a small smile. The guy was a hardarse, there was no doubt about it. His threats to her the day she’d arrived at the base still rang clear in her ears, but it had been for her own good. This wasn’t something to take lightly.

‘Good luck, Sarah,’ Edwards said as he stood. ‘But I hope you don’t need it.’

Well, she fucking needed it now!

She sighed as she dropped her arm back to the bed, it bounced slightly as it hit the soft mattress. What Sarah wouldn’t do to just be able to climb in the bed, snuggle under the thick duvet, and never come out. She rubbed her arms over the cover as if she were in snow and trying to make an angel. It was soft and fluffy and—

‘You okay?’ Luc asked. Sarah jumped at the unexpected interruption—how long had she been lying there?—and struggled to sit up.

Luc raised a brow at her as he rubbed a towel over his long, wet, bleached blond hair and Sarah felt her mouth drop open.

This was Luc Truman.

Ignoring the hair, this was the older version of the man she’d fell in lust with over a decade ago. There was no beard, no stubble, not even the hint of a five o’clock shadow. Sarah blinked as she tried to formulate words but the only ones that wanted to come out were, Anything you want… I’m yours.

Her hands itched to feel that smooth, fair skin, to hold his cheeks between her palms as she counted the freckles on his nose and the few scattered over his cheeks. At least he’d put on the jeans and dark grey t-shirt she’d left on the top of the toilet, she realised as her eyes took in the rest of him as she tried to regain her ability to speak.

So it is true, her mind teased as she saw his large feet, bare against the wooden floor. Sarah felt the flush in her cheeks as the image of Luc’s large, thick cock hanging out of his jeans earlier popped into her mind and—

‘Sarah?’

‘Yup,’ she said as she quickly stood up and headed back towards the living room. ‘There’s no power though,’ she told him. ‘Good job we got those torches. But it means that I can’t use the clippers so it’s going to have to be snip-snip the whole way.’ She made the scissor sign with her fingers as she disappeared back into the living area.

‘Beg your pardon?’ he asked, his voice rising slightly. ‘You’re cutting my hair?’

‘Well, of course. So don’t piss me off or I’ll give you back the curtains you had in Mercy.’

‘Don’t you dare!’

Sarah smirked as she heard his feet hurrying after her.

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Tuesday!