#and look at my boy! that determined expression on his face... the bags under his eyes... it's all so bloody adorable

[danganronpa-rejuvenation]

And so we reach our final Art Fight attack, which just-so-happens to mark the start and end of the Hibiki Era! I'm so happy this guy ended up getting art of him, considering he has my favorite design out of the entire cast.

Our final artist being highlighted is the user gavinnersroadie! Ending off on them is incredibly apt, as they're the creator of Apex Academy, a personal favorite fangan of mine that proved very influential writing-wise: it inspired some major quality-of-life changes in the remake, and provided some accidental character inspiration for a few of my sequel characters. As per usual, give 'em some love if you can!

[kenyummy]

DREAM ꒰⚘݄꒱ NAGI ,, SHIDOU

SYNOPSIS : what do the blue lock boys dream about when they're away from you, training to be the greatest striker?

note: hi! again, this is the same thing i posted earlier, just nagi and shidou versions ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) both are mildly nsfw. um actually i just read through it and i take it back shidous one is like hella crazy. I'm not making it as nsfw because its more like super crazy making out but. uhmm... yeah. ˙ᵕ˙

nagi seishiro

There's a bright light everywhere. Nagi can hardly see, through the half-lidded lens of his eyes. He blinks a few times, and there's a muffled sound encasing his ears. It sounds like his name is being called out in a pleasing voice. That voice sounds nice. Nagi wonders who it belongs to.

Through his blurred eyes, he can make out vibrant colours of purple and black encasing the walls of wherever he is. It's mostly white noise—but Nagi can make out a hint of a pop song playing in the background, but he doesn't care for which.

He turns around, vision still hazy, until he meets a pair of eyes. Beautiful, bright eyes that sparkle under this blinding light—a pair of eyes that belonged to...

"[name]?" His vision is suddenly completely clear, and he can see you in perfect detail. You're standing there with a soft smile, a bag around your shoulder and dressed in flowy, casual clothes.

"You finally responded? Did you manage to get the Psyduck?" You walk forward and stand beside him—and only now does Nagi realise where he is.

The arcade, with [name]?

Is this a dream or something? This feels way too good to be true.

Your expression drops and you look at him, annoyed with your hands pressed against the glass—you look mad, but it feels more like an angry kitten rather than anything to Nagi, "You didn't even insert your token?"

Looking down into his hands—he didn't even feel the weight of the full cup of tokens in his grasp until you mentioned it. He blinks, eyes dulling. "Oh. Sorry." He responds dumbly, quickly inserting a token.

The claw machine lights up and blares embarrassingly loud music that draws attention, but you don't acknowledge it and only cheer when he moves the claw around, "Go, Nagi!" You whoop, and this makes the snow-haired boy feel even more determined to win that stupid platypus Pokemon.

He finally gets the claw into the perfect position and sends it down—it grabs onto the plushie, and for the first time ever, Nagi gets it on the first try. It gets sent down the winning hole, and you cheer in joy as Nagi bends down to pick it up.

He stares wordlessly at the plush for a second, looking into its cartoonishly stupid eyes, before looking back up at you, with your wonderfully large smile, and holding it out to you. "Got it for you."

You blink, looking up at him, then the duck, then him again, lips parted so invitingly. Then, you smile, cheeks flushed prettily, and you take the duck from his arms, and into your own grasp. Hugging it into your chest, you lower your face into the head of the platypus, "Thank you, Nagi... you really didn't have to. It's a date for both of us, after all."

A date...

This is a dream.

Nagi has this sudden realisation while looking around. You're here, and you feel like you—but isn't he supposed to be in Blue Lock? Working his ass off to become the best striker? He shouldn't be at some random arcade on a "date" with you. Ego would never let that happen.

So, the last explanation Nagi could come up with, is that this is all a dream. That's the only thing he could come up with. Nagi was never that smart, but even he could point out the inconsistencies that came with this whole scenario.

So... if this is all a dream... I can do whatever I want.

He swallows thickly.

With no repercussions. This is all in my head... and anything I want can happen.

Nagi moves forward and suddenly hugs you close to his chest. You yelp in surprise but do not push him off or say anything—simply accepting his warmth engulfing your figure. He digs his nose into your hair and takes in a deep sniff.

You smell nice. Much nicer than any of the guys in Blue Lock.

But, you simply letting this happen confirms his theory. This really is a dream. You—the real, fleshy you—would never allow Nagi to just hug you without at least hitting him with an iconic one-liner or snarky quip. If this version of you is not real... if this version of you will never remember what he feels...

He looks down and removes one hand from your waist to tilt your head upwards, and with the most innocent look he can manage—he shuts his eyes and leans down. He knocks the breath out of your lungs with an aggressive kiss, fiery hot and burning in your stomach.

His heart churns and his mind is running at a thousand miles per hour, but Nagi can't care. He doesn't care, because this is what he wants—and is it selfish of him to take it within a dream? That is only what a true egoist would do, right?

You squeak, but Nagi does not acknowledge it, engulfing the puff of air in his own mouth when he connects his tongue with your own. It takes a good few seconds for Nagi to pull away—and he only does so when you grab his soft cheeks in your palm and push his head back. A thin string of drool connected the two of you.

You look into his eyes, hazy and misty and his clothes suddenly feel too tight and the room is far too hot. He runs his hands up and down your torso, feeling the creases of the material underneath his electric fingertips, and it's like every sense he has is heightened in this blazing moment. "Nagi... not here..."

Oh. So even his dream version of you had her morals.

"Fine." Nagi mumbles, eyes sunken low. He knows this is wrong. He knows that he should not speak, but the words glide off his silver tongue before he has a chance to stop himself. "But when we get home, you can't expect me to stop."

His heart skips a beat after he sees your embarrassed expression. He can't find it within himself to care that this is all a dream, and in the morning you will never know this has happened. You won't ever know what has gone on between the two of you in his mysterious mind—and this will be a secret Nagi will forever take to his grave.

It's okay if he does this, right? Because it's your Nagi, the one who you adore so much. He's forever yours—if only you'd say the word.

shidou ryusei

"So... you're seriously��saying you... want to...?" Shidou asks incredulously, and he can already feel himself twitching. His blunt nails dig into his palms and it takes every last bit of self-restraint he has left in his body to not pounce on you like a dog in heat.

This is the most composed you've ever seen him—and that's saying something. Well, not really, because he still looks like he's going to implode (haha, very funny) on the spot. You swallow thickly, a thin layer of sweat sheens down your back and suddenly the room feels way too stuffy—even if it was freezing cold when you had walked in.

Room... this room felt oddly unfamiliar. A room painted completely white, except for the odd accent of dark blue, proving its existence within Blue Lock. Shidou remembers stomping here after a brawl with Rin and getting extra scratched up this time because Rin ended up landing a good punch or two—he can't recall.

He doesn't remember how long he was out after you shocked him into submission—rather, he only recalls how you started this whole thing, as soon as he woke up in this strange room, you were practically in tears from how scared you were. Usually, Shidou woke up at most a few hours after being tased out, but this time, he was knocked cold for a whole day.

You nearly cried when he finally woke up, sitting by his side in a chair. You're holding onto his hand, but quickly let go in favour of hugging him so tight that he can barely breathe—and he can feel everything—and your voice is wracked with relief.

So now, here's the present, where you look like you're going to melt into a puddle on the floor when you say, "Y...yes... Because... I feel bad. That's the only reason I'll let you do this..." Still, with your pissy prickliness, you fold your arms under your chest, "But... only that, Shidou. Nothing more... I won't shock you this time... but I'll make you regret it."

Ignoring the comment that immediately comes to mind with your last sentence, he grins devilishly and feels his heartbeat increase with the anticipation, "Hell yeah! You're being serious, yeah? You'll let me?!"

Shidou can't quite remember since the last time he'd felt this excited for something that hadn't even happened yet—his goals were a burst of dopamine, but this? This was pure, unbridled excitement.

His leg unwillingly starts shaking up and down and you notice it—clearly, with the large sigh you suck in. You have to turn your head away before you shake your head—lest you see the face Shidou makes, a face you'd prefer not to be seared into your mind.

You walk forward, each step feeling like thousands of hands were trying to warn you—to hold you back—but you continue, right until you're standing in front of Shidou, who's sitting on the edge of his bed with his legs hanging off the side.

You place your things down on the table beside you. Hesitantly, like you're weighing your options—you slide your shoes off, so that the only thing on your feet are socks, and you slowly slide your jacket off, cheeks burning, so that you're only wearing your tank top.

Shidou watches in terrifying silence—you're sure this is the quietest you've ever seen him—and his eyes follow each move you make like he's a predator hunting for prey. Frankly, this scares you, but you have no room to say anything in this moment, so you only take in a deep breath, and lean upwards, placing your legs over his, and placing yourself on his knees.

Perched all prettily for him—shouldn't this be enough? Not for somebody like Ryusei Shidou, especially not just this. This would never be enough, and you were disappointingly aware of it.

This thing—the thing Shidou's been asking for since he met you... is to touch your boobs.

It shocked you just as much as it shocked anybody in the vicinity with his bold request, and you swore to yourself you'd never give in—especially not to somebody like Ryusei Shidou. But here you are now, practically trembling as he stares at you—his hands slowly reaching up.

He's silent... why is he silent? These thoughts run wild in your brain but are quickly shut down like a dead landline when his touch finally reaches your stomach. His fingertips are rough against your untouched skin, and it sends shivers flicking down your spine. Then, they finally came in contact with the lace around your bra, and he almost looked disappointed with the revelation.

But this doesn't phase him, no, not one bit, because as soon as his large palm engulfs one side of your chest, he squeezes. You slap your hand over your mouth and all the humiliation suddenly comes running back to you—crashing your brain like a ten-ton truck. He squeezes, and squeezes hard, like it's a stress ball and not a part of your body.

You bite out through groans, "Don't be so rough. Otherwise... I'll leave."

Shidou, who's been scarily silent this entire time, Shidou, who had his hand wrapped around your tit like a vice, and Shidou, who's looking into your eyes with such a serious look it makes you shiver, "Nah. Won't let ya."

You blink, and for a second, forget your humiliation in favour of blank confusion, "What?" You ask, dumbly.

"Won't let ya," and suddenly, the Shidou you know returns with full force, cheeks a hot stain of red and a demonic grin stretched out across his face—behind his sharpened, pearly teeth is a sense of danger, "I mean... ya gettin' me all worked up over here... and you think I'll just let ya leave?"

His eyes darken, and he grips your waist with his free hand, sliding you into his lap. "No. Fucking. Way. I would sooner quit soccer than let ya leave now."

Basically what he's saying—you're not going anywhere. Your heart races—sadly, you forget that he has a hand right over where your heart lies (even if it is a bit preoccupied with something else), and gets to tighten his hold before you squirm away. Warningly. He's saying—don't you dare fucking move.

He moves his hand from your tit—leaving the other one trapped around your waist—and moves it upwards, to the back of your head, gripping your hair hard in his hand. "You're way too pretty, manager-chan~ All those guys look at ya, but here I am, the one you hate the most having you here perched all pretty in my lap. This is how it should be, yeah?"

He grins, a grin you learned to despise, because of the words and person it was usually paired with—Ryusei Shidou looks so much like a demon. You can't say you hate him, but you don't like him either.

So then, when he crashes his lips into yours with the full ferocity you usually see on the court, do you not push back? Maybe deeply, somewhere in your fucked-up mind, you actually like this. At least, Shidou hopes so—because he can't get enough.

His lips move against yours in a harsh motion you're probably not used to—by the way your hands grip his shoulders and definitely leave marks from your nails. He tugs your head forward, wanting to become even closer—you think that if he moves you any further you'll fuse with him, but maybe, that's what he wants.

Ryusei Shidou loves so violently, so unabashed and unbridled that it scares normal people. Average people—who will never dream of understanding somebody like him. His love is so intense and overwhelming that he can't physically hold it in—but that is Ryusei Shidou, and he has no plans to change himself, especially not with how good it feels.

Dopamine spreads through his veins and he feels like he's about to light on fire from how hot his skin feels—but you're the same. His fingers sneak up the back of your shirt and it's positively burning, like wildfire in a dry forest. The mere thought that you're feeling the intensity he's trying to show you revs him up a gear further, biting down on your lip hard in excitement.

You try to pull back with a wince, but Shidou doesn't let you, kissing you so hard and pushing your head in so much that all you can do is whine against his lips. He fucking loves this. He fucking loves you. His eyes open just the slightest, and the expression on your face nearly makes him explode.

His hand slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass underneath your sweatpants, nails sinking into the material with how hard he grabs it. This feeling—that spreads from his numbed mind towards the tips of his toes, is a feeling he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of. He's kissed people. He's made out with people. But it's never been like this.

He's never had such mind-numbing excitement right here, in front of him and completely pliant to his doing—Shidou has never been this excited before. It's not just what's happening—it's you. He's so drunk—so high off of you that it makes him want to melt into you and never return. If one day, you decided to make Shidou your own, that would be the day he would die happy and submit to your will.

But until then... Shidou will have the reigns, and control them—until you and him are forever like this.

Finally, after a minute of torture and pathetic gasps for air through your nose, Shidou pulls away, letting go of your sore head of hair and panting, a thin string of drool connects both your lips. He grins at the sight, face flushed and a thin layer of sweat sheened over his face.

But you—with your lips swollen, glossy and plump from being kissed so hard by him, and the sweat beading down your face giving you an ethereal glow—looks so much more beautiful than he ever could, he's sure.

In fact, that look on your face—misty eyes with lids too heavy to hold up, and lashes curled upwards to your brows—is what prompts Shidou to finally flip it out.

You're moved faster than you can react, your back crashing against the sheets before you have a chance to protest. His legs are positioned in between yours, and he's hovering on top of you—his antennae ticking your cheek. You look up at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted from shock, and Shidou runs his tongue over his bottom lip when he sees his sight. Underneath him—where he believes you should always be.

My heart won't stop pounding. He thinks, a smile spreading at the thought.

The dopamine rushes through his veins and it gives him the energy to lean down, held up by the arms that cage either side of your head, "You're fucking gorgeous."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you so fucking much.

Shidou loves with such intensity that it can blind people—and maybe, you were the only person who could take such love. Even when his lips crash against yours once again, and you find you're now without your tank top—even in a dreamscape such as this, Shidou is sure that you'll just know.

© KENYUMMY 2024

[imaginesmai]

Feelings I cannot express - Eris Vanserra

Wow, look at that! Me, avoiding responsabilities and writing another Eris fic for which I have no time! What a surprise! Enjoy this LONG LONG PIECE that has consumed my time lately. Shout-out to @glitterypirateduck who is too in her Eris' era.

Plot: Five times Eris didn’t know how to express his feelings, and one time he did

Warnings: descriptions of violence and blood. Mean Eris when he doesn't know how to express his feelings. Troubled, traumatized boi.

1

His steps were wobbly, and he had already stopped three times to catch his breath. Each time, the ground seemed closer, more tempting. Eris always cared about the impression people had of him, and in his court, he polished it like nowhere.

The strong, cruel prince that matched his father’s temper. Someone who they wouldn’t mess with, someone who would reign one day when Beron was gone. Only the silent corridors were the witness of that other part of him, the real one, that was leaving bloodied prints on the walls.

Beron had raised his hand against his mother, like many other times. He had crossed her beautiful and soft face with a hard slap, just because she dared to share her opinion on a political matter. And Eris had unconsciously let his power flare. Just an ember, a spark in his middle finger.

His father had seen, and had deemed right to remind him where was his position in his court. Lashes had ripped his back into shreds, blood trailing down his arms and legs. He had finished two hours before dawn, but Eris hadn’t been able to move until the night was already started. That way, he made sure no one saw his vulnerable form.

Eris closed the doors of his room as soon as he was inside, and stumbled into his bed. Falling face first, he closed his eyes and willed his conscious to leave him. No one heard his prayers, and he was still wide awake when his door opened again.

He would have been startled, alert or even afraid, but your scent sneaked in before you entered. Eris groaned in acknowledgement, and he knew any warnings or threats were useless against you. You already knew the dangers of your actions, the consequences of being involved with him. And yet, you were always there.

“Can you take off your clothes?” you broke the sinister silence of the room with quiet steps. “I’ll run you a bath”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Asleep” you answered, brushing your soft knuckles against his locks. “Don’t worry about it”

Flynn, the younger Vanserra brother, had tight sleep schedules, so part of his worry faded away. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone found his younger brother’s betrothed in a light sleeping gown.

Eris heard you filling the bath with water, and tried not to let the guilt worry. The first time you had helped him, he had threatened to burn you alive, and gone as far as give you a nasty burn scar on your left forearm. You hadn’t left, and he hadn’t thanked you. While you two ignored each other in the court ministrations, it was your secret routine – you, a stranger promised to a monster, helping him among his dearest family and friends.

Not once in his life he had let someone so close to his torment, to his vulnerability – to his body. People assumed he had tons of lovers, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone touching him. With you, he had discovered in the last years, it was different.

Your hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality, and he finally looked at you. There were dark bags under your eyes, a determinated look fixed on him.

“It’s ready” you tilted your head slightly. “Can you get up on your own?”

“Of course. Get away” he scoffed, but didn’t argue when you stabilized him by his elbow when he rose. “I don’t need your help. You’re more a liability than a support”

“I know you can do it, Eris” you didn’t even blink at his mean words, nor reacted when he tried to push you away. “Maybe we should take your tunic off before – “

“Get off me!”

Eris didn’t measure his strength when he pushed you off, just desperate to shake the feeling of kind hands that he didn’t deserve. That would never be his.

You stumbled back and got your feet tangled between the carpet, which caused you to fall on your butt. He physically flinched when your hands broke your fall, when he saw you suck a breath in pain. But he wouldn’t apologize, he never did. If being the worst person alive meant you would live, if hurting you meant no one would do it, then he could carry the guilt and self-hate just fine.

From the ground, he felt your eyes on him as he striped his clothes. They fell to the ground, his tunic nothing but ripped shreds of cloth. His vest wasn’t much better, or his shirt. Only his pants had been saved from the bloodbath. Eris made a point by not looking at you while he undressed, leaving his briefs on.

He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that the way your body tensed from the corner of his eye wasn’t an exaggeration. Every fiber of his body screamed at him when he walked towards the bathroom, when he heard you get up in a rush and follow him.

The fact that you didn’t demand an apology or got angry at him rubbed all the wrong spots.

“Let me warm the water”

“I can do it myself, little fox”

Still, your hand sneaked and you dipped it into the water, and within seconds steam started to fill the bathroom. Eris stared at that particular spot between your shoulder and neck, where he wished he could thank you with a soft kiss. Wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into the bath with him. Be the person you would lay with that night.

“Do you want me to help you in?”

“What I want you to do is to leave” he answered as the temperature of the room rose. “I want you to lay with your future husband and forget about me”

“I can’t do that, Eris” you casted him a glance. “I can help you in though”

His anger rose back up and he didn’t say anything when you straightened back up. Your fire magic was only a spark of his own, only useful for warming water or lighting a chimney. That you had to use yours because he was too spent was a disgrace upon himself.

Eris made a point to leave his back to you inside the tub, letting the warm water wash the blood away. He pushed his head between his arms and ignored your presence. Ignored your warm hands as they brushed the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. Ignored your quiet movements as you left healing and numbing creams on the counter. Tried to ignore you when you massaged his shoulders and scalp, cleaning his hair like his mother used to do.

Eventually, you decided to leave him alone in his rooms. After helping him get up from the bathtub and into the bed. Tucking him in like a stubborn child, turning off the candles. Only when your hand brushed his hair one last time, he noticed the new addition to your beautiful wrist.

He gripped it before you could hide it, and for the first time in the whole night, you flinched. Not because his touch was rough, since he held it like expensive glass. Not because you were afraid, because with him, you never were.

“This is new” he whispered in the dark room, staring at the bruises along your delicate skin. “What happened?”

“He just got a little handsy. Flynn…” you doubted before you sighed, sitting on his bed. “Your father has been pushing him more and more about the weeding. He left this morning with him to hunt in the forest, so I can only guess they talked about it. So he got drunk. And I was late for dinner, because he hadn’t informed me it would be early tonight”

“Anywhere else?” he asked, and eyed you with enough intensity to warn you against lying.

“I’m fine”

You had been raised for that, Eris guessed, and that was normal for you. Being sold to the best buyer for your hand, endure a shitty betrothed until you were to marry and he could ignore you properly. Eris didn’t dare to think about how things would be if your position allowed him to marry you. If his father saw you worthy of his first-born.

But you were stuck with Flynn Vanserra, a man uncapable of love and caring. A man who did worse things than a bruised wrist.

“Be careful” he allowed himself to say, just because it was dark, and you couldn’t see the real concern and fear of someone finding out about your behavior in his room. “Don’t let anyone see you leave my rooms. And don’t come back. I don’t need you”

“Good night, Eris” you rose from bed, and Eris missed the warmth of your wrist against his fingers. “Don’t forget the creams”

With silent steps, you left his room, and Eris spent the night awake wondering of you could see right past his lies, past his fake cruelty and indifference towards you. If you could see how much he cared about his brother’s betrothed.

2

It wasn’t too often that the palace opened its door for lesser fae. On special occasions, his father allowed them to attend to the main hall and see what they were missing because of their condition. Beron took out the elegant clothes, the expensive wine and bright plates. And then, he didn’t let them use any of that and had them watch from the corner the superiority of his family.

Eris didn’t particularly care about those events, but he had been forced to attend to that one – since it was his own birthday. He didn’t celebrate his birthday, he didn’t get presents. Not when years of monotony rolled by and nothing changed. His mother had been the only one wishing him happy birthday that morning, kissing the side of his head quickly and reminding him to be nice.

To stand by and endure his father’s show of power at his expense. All his brothers were there too, and not too far from Flynn, you too.

You were wearing an orange dress that emulated autumns leaves. Each time you moved, lights reflected yellow and brown sparks that had the lesser fae turning their heads around. Eris too couldn’t keep his eyes away from your form for too long, with the risk of being caught.

Flynn seemed to be least affected by your looks, or your presence. While you were required to stay by his side and be faithful, he dragged you through countless humiliation. Talking and flirting with other women when you were standing a few feet away, ignoring your attempts to start conversations, leaving you while you greeted a friend.

Eri’s nails were imprinted on his palms from how hard he closed his fists each time it happened. He had almost set fire to a curtain when he had been close enough to watch your crestfallen expression.

To avoid anyone noticing him staring at you like a hawk or turning his brother into ashes, he busied himself with pointless talks and stupid politics. He endured it for three long hours, and then he granted himself a rest excusing himself for the bathroom.

He knew you had been following him since he left the ballroom, but didn’t acknowledge you until you were far from the crowd. Eris walked through the hallways and across the backyard, and stopped only when he reached the stables. Then, he turned around and his heart skipped a beat at your sight.

Your beautiful hair had been let down, and you were wearing a crown of golden leaves. Everything in your attire claimed you were their possession, but you weren’t his to look at, to enjoy. So he raised a brow and waited for you to talk.

“You’re hard to catch” you started. “Someone might think you’re running away from me”

“Maybe I’m running away from your annoying presence”

You scoffed and he hated and loved that you didn’t seem affected by his words. There was no truth behind it, just the urge of hearing your voice in your reply.

“I want to wish you happy birthday” you confessed, and even your voice was sweeter that night. “Haven’t seen you in all day”

“I’ve been busy” he lied.

Shamefully, he had waited for your visit for hours. Last year you had been the first one to wish him happy birthday, and he had remembered for the whole year the feeling of your lips against his cheek. It had been a friendly kiss, although it had been the only time he had seen you blush. And during the hard days, he held onto that memory like a lifesaver.

You hummed and tucked your hands in front of you. Eris tried not to notice the silver ring that claimed you as his brother’s possession, the distinction from other women. You never wore it, but you had to in events like that one.

In the silence that followed his lie, Eris’ whole body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his fist untightened and his jaw unclenched. His nostrils flared slightly as he took in your scent, and finally, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Happy birthday, Eris” you finally said, and smiled brightly at him. “Do you want to open your present?”

“Present?” he blinked surprised, the question catching him off guard. “You got me a present?”

“Birthdays are supposed to be filled with presents. Extravagant parties are good too, but I think everyone should get a present” you explained. “I tried to keep yours in an envelope, but someone found it before you. And I couldn’t help it. Do you want to see it?”

Eris nodded dumbly. You could offer him a crumb of your lunch and he would gladly treasure it for the rest of his life. Just like he was doing with all your moments together, before you were cruelly snagged into his brother’s arms eventually.

He followed you through the stables, wondering what you could give him. He didn’t remember the last time someone got him a present, a pleasant one. Anything you could give him would be perfect, so he wasn’t worried about liking it or not. He was worried about cracking down and smudging that beautiful lipstick with his own lips.

Like second nature, you walked him towards the pit where he kept his hounds locked. They slept together and were Eris pride and joy, the first and only gift he got from his father. As you unlocked the door, Eris stuffed his hands in his pocket awkwardly. Then, he looked inside.

And broke into a loud, deep chuckle that rattled his bones.

Eris laughed and laughed until he took his hands out of his pockets and had to press them into his stomach, bending over. When he opened his eyes and tried to regain his posture, he lost it over and over again.

“I take it you like it” you chuckled with him.

He missed the way your eyes shone at his laugh, the way you bounced off your feet at his happiness. It had been the only real smile on your lips that night, and it rivaled any of the elegant lamps in the ballroom.

His hounds, the terrifying big dogs that haunted prisoners when they got out of his dungeons and tracked down traitors, had each one fox knitted hats. Who had ripped fae apart with their sharp teeth and devoured limbs like butter. They all stared at you with oblivious calm and a fox hat.

“They look – they look so ridiculous” Eris managed to say between laughs, and pointed at Maximus, who had its head titled and one of the ears had bent down. “And so happy! How did you put them on? This is the best present I could ask for”

“Oh, they didn’t put much of a fight when I sneaked some treats” you shrugged, and Eris broke into another laugh. “Besides, they like me too much not to let me do it”

“You’re a devious creature, little fox” he scoffed, and finally looked at you. “You are – “

Whatever he was about to say died when he caught the glimpse of the moon light hitting your ring. The ring that reminded him that you may have given him a birthday present, but everything else belonged to Flynn. He caught the words he was about to say and stuffed them down his chest. He forced himself to look away from your expectant expression, and swallow the guilt.

You would never be happy with him, but neither would you be with Flynn. Your fate in that court was sealed, yet you would keep your life with the youngest Vanserra.

“Thank you for the present, Y/N” he managed to say, not daring to look back at his hounds.

“You’re welcome, Eris” you copied his formal, clipped tone in a mocking way, noticing the change of the atmosphere but not caring about it. “Maybe next time I could knit you one for yourself”

“I’m afraid I look nothing like a fox. More like a snake perhaps”

“And I’m afraid you’re too hard on yourself, but we aren’t considering our deliriums”

Eris opened his mouth to argue, but he felt them coming before you did. A couple, probably drunk and lesser fae, had snuck into the gardens. And they probably wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t report to his father about your reunion. But Eris couldn’t risk your safety, not when you were the only thing that made him be glad of being alive for another year.

He caught your arm in a tight grip and your eyes widened before listening to their steps. You didn’t have to look to know the couple was staring. In your eyes, Eris could see his own fear of having those short and meaningless meetings cut short because of a snitch. He hated that you weren’t afraid of his tight grip or the fire in his eyes, but because of the retaliations if you were discovered.

One of his hounds poked a lazy head to see what the silence was about, but saw no threat and turned away. And to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a threat, Eris put on his heir-mask, the hatred and cruel prince everyone expected him to be, and snarled with fire under his tongue the venom he knew you didn’t believe.

“And if I ever see you snooping again, I’ll have your head on a pike in your weeding chambers. Tell my dear brother to shorten the leash of his belongings” he pressed on. He caught on the couple’s sniff of fear and respect, but also your own hurt. Hurt at the words he was blading for your protection, he told himself, that were necessary. “Leave before I change my mind”

With a final hard push, he threw you a few feet away from him. You looked down and scrambled away from him, and the couple left too. Eris was left alone with his foxed-hounds, and the horrid realization that hurting you was the only way of keeping you safe.

3

Eris paced the length of your room for what felt like forever. He had already noticed every detail you kept in your room that made it so you, had fought with the inadequate feeling of invading your personal space. He had had time enough to consider if he was going insane and paranoid, but it was late and you weren’t there.

You always retreated to your rooms early in the night. Sometimes, he knew because he accompanied you when his brother was too drunk to remember your presence. Other times, he knew because you sneaked into his dorms right before night set. You were supposed to be there with him, teasing him for not being able to look away from the lingerie that lay forgotten in your armchair.

But you weren’t, and Eris was pacing.

That morning, as you all had lunch as a family, his mother had asked an inadequate but innocent answer. It was only logical that after almost five years of courting you started talking about the actual weeding, but you weren’t. Because his brother was too much of a dick to entertain it until he had enjoyed his youth to the fullest, and because you sneaked glances at him when no one was looking.

You had given her a simple answer – love matters took time, and better be safe than sorry. While everyone agreed quietly, Eris had noticed the way Flynn’s face darkened. As if the idea of you answering a question directed to both of you was inadequate.

Eris had left the dining room with an uneasy feeling, and had kept it in his stomach all day. When you hadn’t appeared during dinner time nor had his brother, he had decided to search for you.

You weren’t in the stables, where you spent most of your time between horses and his hounds. You weren’t in the kitchen, where you snuck off when Flynn got too much to handle. And you weren’t anywhere he looked, so he had decided to let the worry get the best out of him and wait for you in your rooms.

As if the thought of you had summoned you, the doors opened and Eris turned around in a frenzy.

“Thank the cauldron” he scoffed, already replacing the worry with anger. “Where the fuck have you been all day? Do I really have to wait here if I want to…”

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice void of any fire or charm.

He tried to make himself argue with you further, to explain his presence in your room with a stupid excuse and not let you know he had been worried. There was no blood or visible wounds on you, not new bruises or burns he can explain his sudden lack of words with.

But he could see something there, that made his blood boil and his heart beat furiously against his chest. You walked past him in silence and removed your heels next to your wardrobe. Without saying anything or acknowledging his presence, you peeled the eiderdown off and climbed inside the bed.

Only then he watched your shoulders tight as you tried to keep the cries to yourself. Eris walked on autopilot to the edge of your bed, and watched in silent horror as tears fell down your face. You were squeezing your eyes shut, probably wanting to be left alone, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like you had done so many times.

It was so different from what he knew, what you did with him, that he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he caressed your shoulder and you whined, your body turning around so you could face him.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand trembling with the effort of staying on your shoulder and not brushing the tears away.

“He locked me in a basement, because he said he was tired of seeing me everywhere and hearing me all the time” you admitted, curling your body around his. “There was no light. And I was fine, but he didn’t come back and I called. And no one answered and – “

Your explanation died with the first sob, and many followed. Eris knew what basement you were talking about. His father had locked him and his brothers many times in the past. Big enough to allow a standing person, but not to let them sit. Tight enough so a part of your body was always touching the wall, and dark enough to rob your breath.

Eris willed the words stuck on his throat to leave him. He wanted to lay down beside you and comfort you like he should. He wanted to break every last of his brother’s bones, and then some more.

“I was so scared” you admitted quietly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I thought – I thought I’d been forgotten”

“How did you get out?”

“Beron heard me”

He didn’t need to ask for further details, just tried to keep eye contact as your beautiful eyes were constantly drowning in tears and sorrow. His father was as cruel as Flynn, but until you were officially married, he still had to ensure your safety for your family’s sake.

You cried against his side and eventually your body gravitated to his lap. His free hand carefully brushed yours, and you held it so tight and hard that Eris choked his own cry. How many times he had felt alone in his own home? Forgotten in that same basement while Beron went hunting, or partying?

The thought of you locked in those four walls turned his stomach up. You, with your easy smile and your kind words. Full of kindness and love that no one in that court deserved, certainly not him.

Still, Eris held his ground sitting on your bed. He lighted some candles and sealed the room with a glamour against sound and strangers. The rational part of his brain told him to leave before someone came looking for him, the irrational part to do worse things. But he stayed on your bed, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand and brushing his fingers against the nape of your neck.

As you cried, Eris begged himself to do something with the words that resonated in his heart.

“You’re not forgotten, I could never forget you. I won’t”

“He could try and hide you in the last corner of the universe and I would still crawl my way to you, my little fox”

His mouth was kept shut and his fingers continued his ministration, until your breath slowed and your sobs disappeared. Then, when you were about to fall asleep with his hand in yours, you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a small smile. Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but he was starting to suspect you could read his mind and heart.

“I’m glad you came for me” you confessed quietly. “Thank you”

He should have said that he didn’t accept your gratefulness, that he wasn’t worthy of them. Instead, he smiled back and stared at you while you fell asleep. With his heart roaring just a big wilder.

4

His court was under attack.

Eris had come to that realization a month ago, when a missive from Hybern had reached their borders with a threat of dead and destruction. In that moment, he had thought it had been a minor attack. A political attack, a threat with little importance in a world where everybody hated his court.

But then, his father had dismissed the king demands and patrols started to go missing. Parts of those patrols came back, traumatized soldiers that died in a few days but that had enough time to scream horrors. More soldiers were sent into the forest, and more soldiers died.

For a month, Hybern had debilitated them in their own home until most of the army was unavailable. And now, his home was under attack.

The top part of the palace was on fire, people ran desperately through the corridors and soldiers from both sides fought in the backyard. Eris was sure Beron would be able to win that battle, maybe the war. Yet what worried him was that Beron didn’t particularly care about causalities, and there were many that had Eris’ heart in a knot.

He had managed to take his mother to safety, to a hidden room where women and children waited. He expected to see you there too, but instead, had found a hiding Flynn that didn’t answer his questions.

Eris had left his brother in the middle of a hallway with a shutten eye and two broken legs that wouldn’t let him get away from the soldiers. He hoped he would get killed so Eris wouldn’t be the one to carry the task.

As he ran through the castle against the waves of running people, the fire on his veins roared louder. What would he do, if he came upon the worst scenario? Would he crash his home down? It had been eight months since his birthday, and he had come to the realization he feared the most. That those times he seemed to spot you among a crowd, when his soul sang for you, where for a reason.

He hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet about the golden string he tugged at sometimes, hoping you would turn around and confirm his suspicions.

If he lost his mate today because of his brother’s cowardice, because of a war his father had started out of greed, Eris wasn’t sure the world would be a safe place for anyone anymore.

Asking the running members of his court would be useless, as it would be worrying about them seeing his panic-stricken expression. Eris focused on running and following his instinct, until it led him to the stables. The place where you had shared so many memories that was now a bloodbath.

Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead and unconscious, some of them begging for his help as he stepped over their bodies. The heart of the battle was close enough he could hear and smell death looming, but all of that died down when he finally saw you.

“Eris!” you cried out his name, and what was left of his heart clenched at the broken sound. “Eris I –“

Your cries were muffled by a rough hand over your mouth, of a soldier that hadn’t seen him yet. You were being dragged towards a carriage, your limbs flying around as you tried to get free from the enemies’ grip. Eris would have time to thank fate for allowing him to reach you on time, before you were taken away from him permanently.

Fire licked the carriage’s front, not letting their occupancies leave untouched. It consumed the vehicle in a matter of seconds, burning so powerful and tight that Eris felt light headed for a second. His power felt like a bottomless pit where he could dive without consequences, so he did just that.

Unleashing his short swords, he used both hands to clean his path towards you. The soldiers realized shortly after that their scape root was compromised, but too late that who had compromised it was the crown’s heir.

They didn’t stand a chance against his rage, his power. They fell to the ground like flies while all Eris saw was red. Red seeping through your wounds into the ground, staining your dress. Red pooling the earth beneath his feet as every last soldier fell to their death. Red of his power, that consumed every threat against his mate.

Once he was done, he crashed to his knees in front of you, and the fire died all together when your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t contemplate what it would look like when he pushed you farther into his embrace, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby.

“You shouldn’t be outside” Eris whispered against your hair, the remains of his anger seeping through them. “If you were smart, you would have stayed inside. Dumb woman. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to find you”

Your admission didn’t catch him off guard. You sounded so sincere, so relieved, that he only got angrier. Why was fate so cruel to bond him with such a kind soul? Of course, of every reason you could have gone outside, you would have chosen him.

“I didn’t know if you were okay” you continued, lifting your face from his chest to look at him. “What if you had been hurt?”

“And what would you do, hm?” Eris almost cut you off, suddenly repulsed by your touch.

That he had let you get so close to put yourself in danger was a mistake. It had been a mistake the first time he looked at you long enough to discover how bright your smile was. A mistake each time he had allowed you in his room to tend his wounds, every conversation you two had in secret.

There was no answer to his questions, and you knew it. Eris got up and didn’t offer you a hand, instead turning his face away from you. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore the endless thoughts about what could have happen. The things he should have done better, because none of that mattered now.

Eris tried to ignore you when you finally got up and grabbed his hand. Your hand caressed his fingers, his hands, his arms. You caressed his skin as if he hadn’t just slaughtered ten strong, healthy soldiers with families.

“I somehow do irrational things when it comes to you” you spoke quietly, wrapping your hands around his elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in trouble. But the thought of you being hurt… I’m sorry”

“Let’s get you to safety” he grumbled, not acknowledging your apology.

He imagined what it would feel like to have you hanging from his arm in different circumstances, maybe in another world. Briefly, he indulged himself and slowed his steps so he could soak into it. There were bodies and blood, sounds of battle and death cries, but none of them seemed to matter as you walked down the hallways to the hidden room.

The battle was already dying down, but it wouldn’t be safe until nighttime. Eris would make sure every last enemy was death before letting you set a foot outside the safe room. He vowed himself to distance himself enough to never repeat that moment, and to protect you with whatever it took him. Indifference, cruelty. Whatever put you to safety.

What he couldn’t control was a last moment of vulnerability. He stopped right before the discrete doors where his mother and the rest of women and children waited. Turning to face you, his heart got the best of him and raised his arm without his consent.

“Be safe” you begged him. “Please. I don’t want to lose you”

“I will, little fox”

Eris tucked a strand of your hair, sticky with blood behind your ear. He watched like a hawk the cherry blush that painted your cheeks, the contained smile that you hid horribly. Instead of retreating, he let curious fingers explore the curve of your cheekbone. Your jawline, your chin. The curve of your nose and your lips.

His traitor fingers stopped at your bottom lip, tugging it down. It should have bothered him that those lips were meant for his brother, that they had already tasted him when his brother had gotten too handsy. But it didn’t, because they looked so kissable that he thought he had imagined it when you leaned forward.

When your eyes fluttered closed and his body gravitated too, he thought he imagined. The distance became shorter and everything became white noise. Eris had dreamed so long about it that he thought he was dreaming.

But not even his dreams were so livid, so real. He blinked one last time before crashing into your lips with a straining force. You tasted like blood from your open lip, and like clouds and sky and perfection. There were teeth and tongue and he couldn’t control himself more than the kiss.

Shockingly, he was the one pushed against the opposite door, your much smaller body trapping him as you grabbed him by the shoulders. He stole every breath and whine that left your mouth with kissing. For those few seconds, he let himself explore each inch of your mouth like it was the last minute of his life.

It might had been, if someone saw you with him and told Beron. His father thought had him pushing you away, so hard you stumbled down.

“Get inside” Eris demanded you, gripping your elbow harshly. You blinked with those swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and he clenched his jaw.

“Eris…”

“Don’t come out, not until I come back. Be fucking smart for once in your life” he opened the door and dozens of women stared at you two.

Something in his chest stilled when your eyes widened and that bond became alive. When he was certain that you felt the same tug he had been feeling for a long time, that he had lost sleep over. It dawned to him that nothing would be the same after that day, whether the attack finished or not. Whether his father found out or those women kept silent.

So, for the first time in his life, Eris let himself accept those hidden feelings and kissed you one last time. Slow, deep, in front of his mother who covered her mouth with a surprised gasp. He dragged his lips between yours, only for a second.

When he tore away, Eris was sure he would die happy if that face was the last thing he saw.

“Don’t leave the room until I come back, my little fox. Only me”

Eris didn’t let you answer. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, running down the hallways. Looking for the enemy, for his brother whose betrothed had just kissed, for his father who could kill you both. And away from where his heart was safe with you.

5

Not even a week of mourning was stablished for the deaths at the Hybern attack. Not even a week for the thousands of soldiers who had died defending his home.

Eris had made sure that every family got their loved ones’ bodies back, and that there was enough wood to light up fires for them. He mourned more for them than for his own family, who had suffered an immense hit.

Flynn Vanserra had been found ravished in a forgotten hallway, his body mangled beyond recognition. People whispered that he had found an end according to his life – cruel, mean, without mercy. Eris stared at his brother’s corpse and curled his lip, because before his death, not a scar marked his body. While he had usen yours like a blank canvas.

Beron Vanserra had died too, and that had rattled Eris’ world.

His father had been the main objective, and after he had fallen from the upper tower, the enemy had retreated. Beron was dead before he hit the ground, courtesy of a dozen poisoned arrows on his chest. Eris had watched his body burn in silence contemplation, thinking about how many times his father had raised his fire against him.

Now, it was Eris who light up his father’s tomb fire.

Days brushed quickly but there was one thing that had him grounded – you. Eris Vanserra was officially a High Lord, so no one argued when you appeared by his arm on Beron’s funeral. When you moved your things to the room besides him.

His people whispered about the caring brother who had taken upon the charge of his betrothed so she wouldn’t be discarded. And about the cruel king who had killed his own brother to wed a nameless girl. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of those comments.

He just kept you close as loyalties were stablished, letting everyone know that you were off limits. For touching, for hurting, for insulting. One noble was brave enough to question your place in the palace with Flynn death, and one noble lost his tongue the next morning.

As everything settled down, Eris found himself taking walks with you through the forest, something his brother had never bothered to do. You hung from his arm gracefully, new and expensive dresses on your wardrobe, and a radiant smile on your face.

“Will you teach me how to ride?” you asked him one sunny afternoon. “So I can ride hunting with you”

“I will get you your own horse if that’s what my mate wants” he let the title sweeten his mouth, warm his heart. “I will get you whatever your heart desire, my little fox”

“Maybe I’ll turn into a spoiled princess then. And you will find your ruin at my expensive demands” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

You could ask him for a court and he would fight to death with anyone to grant you your own court. You could ask him for his court and he would get on his knees and offer it to you without another word. Those words were meaningless, because you rarely asked him for anything. Even when you had changed rooms, you had been happy with just a bed and a blanket.

“I’m happy with being here, close to you. I don’t need anything else”

The more time he spent with you, the more he marveled at your selflessness. You had been helping those with injuries from the fight, talking with the families who were grieving. By nighttime, you returned to your chambers where Eris was waiting for you, having abandoned his own for yours. You two laid in bed looking at each other until you fell asleep.

Then, Eris spent hours staring at you, letting his heart soak into the comfort.

“You are quiet today” you commented, breaking him from his thoughts. “Court problems?”

Eris always had court problems. The change was coming slowly but surely, and his father’s loyal friends weren’t happy with that. But it wasn’t their enmity that had him deep in thought. The last rays of sun warmed your face as he looked at you with a small smile.

Talking about his feelings was his weakness. He had been mean, cruel and downright villainous to you for years because he couldn’t open his heart to you. He couldn’t endure the thought of you hurting because of his stupid feelings.

But he wanted things to change. He wanted you to be happy and safe, and if he had to share his thoughts and swallow his insecurities, he would.

“I was wondering” he admitted eventually, a little unsure. “We are mate. But… do you think, we would have found each other? If we weren’t?”

You looked surprised at his questions. You hadn’t talked about the bond, just accepted it. When Eris had found you after the battle, you had hugged him tight and kissed him once more. You hadn’t talked about it, and yet, you both were comfortable with it.

After the initial surprise, you gifted him a soft smile, and your eyes crinkled against the sun.

“I would have found you either way, Eris. You had me since I set a foot in this court” you answered him. “I used to worry that there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t feel anything for Flynn. Not love, not hate. Nothing. Whatever he did was fine because it was the price I paid to stay close to you. And it was worthy”

“Don’t say that, Y/N”

“I can’t, that’s what I feel. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve loved you for a long time, my darling. Long before I knew we were mates and through all we’ve been through. I’m sure I would have loved you even if we weren’t mates”

Eris wondered if he would ever be able to speak so freely about his thoughts. He couldn’t still voice out what he felt for you. How he would turn the world around if you asked him to, how your love was enough to keep him alive forever. For now, though, Eris smiled and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your nose, earning a soft giggle.

He would tell you all of that someday, show you his feelings when his words were stuck. Eris Vanserra owned you that much.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[zzprompto]

☆ the shared bath

geto suguru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: two dudes, [name] and suguru, share a totally 100% platonic bath after [name] notices something off about suguru. (meant to be viewed as romantic. happens before the things suguru does, au where everything turns out to be okay?)

the lowercase is intentional !

- brief mentions of nudity (because it's a bath) but no nsfw.

it was the little things [name] seemed to notice first. the way suguru started talking less, how he started wearing his hair up instead of down and how he started to grow bags under his eyes. [name] started to worry, but who wouldn't? sure, [name] wasn't the closest to suguru, that title was reserved for gojo satoru and gojo satoru only, but he was still quite close with the ravenette.

[name] couldn't help but worry. whenever he saw suguru around school grounds, he could feel his heart ache inside his chest and his stomach turn. the poor boy hoped his friend was alright, but that really didn't seem like the case. it was almost as if there was something bugging suguru, but he couldn't tell anyone. maybe he was too afraid? too standoffish to ask for help? whatever it was, [name] was determined to help his friend.

[name] spotted suguru alone on campus, so he walked up to him. it was weird to see suguru alone and without satoru, the two were independent. they were always together, but that didn't seem like the case anymore. it was probably the thing that was bugging suguru caused him to drift apart from satoru is what [name] thought. but, he didn't know the truth.

[name] walked over to suguru and stopped infront of him. "hey.. are you good?" he asked in a soft voice, trying not to startle the ravenette. suguru just looked at [name] and sighed. "i'm fine." is all he replied with in a bored, monotone voice. it seemed clear that suguru didn't want to talk about his feelings, but [name] was still worried. he wanted to find out what was truly wrong.

of course, [name] didn't want to be so persistant that he didn't get an answer from suguru at all, so he had to be creative. the first thing that came into his mind was.. a bath. just him and suguru sharing a bath whilst talking about their feelings. that doesn't sound gay at all..

"do you want to take a bath with me? we can catch up whilst soaking in some bubbles and what not." [name] suggests, a smile on his face as he spoke. suguru thought his ears were deceiving him for a second. did he really hear what he thought he heard? or was his mind playing tricks on him due to his sleep deprivation?

suguru's face contorted and twisted into that of confusion. he looked at [name] with that exact expression on his face. "what? a bath? that's a bit odd, don't you think?" suguru sighed, shaking his head at [name]'s suggestion. although out loud he said the idea was odd, on the inside his heart was racing. he never would've thought [name] would be the type of person to suggest a bath, an intimate one at that where they'd be discussing their feelings together. it was all a shock, but suguru found it quite romantic.

[name] immediately realises how weird taking a bath with another guy sounds, especially since both him and suguru are teenagers, on the verge of adulthood. "oh! right.. right.. uhm.. my bad.." [name] chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head and looking away from suguru. oh how stupid he was for thinking such a thing.

"..i'm not opposed to the idea, however." suguru clears his throat, also looking away from [name]'s direction. "i guess it would be nice to take a warm bath and catch up." suguru continues, his voice quiet and low as he's still flustered by the suggestion. maybe he was reading into it too much? but it was too late now, he already accepted the offer.

[name] perks up and he looks at suguru again, his previous smile creeping back up on his face. quickly, [name] takes suguru's arm and he starts dragging the poor boy to the baths. he already heard suguru say he 'wasn't opposed to the idea', so there's nothing stopping [name] now. he felt some sort of excitement rush over him, mixed with another feeling that he didn't know how to name. it was like he wanted to see suguru, topless, in the bath. but that was normal, right? it's normal to want to see another guy's body, right? it's totally not gay..

after a few long moments of [name] dragging suguru by the arm, the two boys finally reached the baths. [name] started to run the water, turning a mixture of the hot and cold taps before it was the optimum temperature. he then took one of the shower gels that was laying on the side of the bath, before squeezing a bit in the bath, waiting for bubbles to start forming. the bath wasn't big, but it wasn't too small. [name] hoped it would fit him and suguru, and possibly leave some space for the two of them. yet, he wouldn't mind being right besides suguru in the bath.

[name] looked at suguru with a smile. "well, the bath's running now. i guess it's time to get in." he hummed before turning around and taking his uniform off. as much as [name] wanted to watch suguru get changed, for some odd reason that didn't click in his mind yet, he gave suguru a little privacy and didn't watch. [name] got dressed pretty fast himself and he got into the water, waiting for suguru to get in too.

suguru took a little longer getting undressed. he was pretty nervous and flustered about the whole ordeal. suguru was about to be in a bath with someone he likes, close to this guy when they're both naked and the other guy doesn't see a problem with it! it didn't help that [name] was going to ask questions about what's wrong with suguru, it just made the whole moment feel like it was going to be more intimate than intended.

soon enough, [name] could hear suguru enter the water beside him. [name] turned off the taps and he looked to suguru with a smile. "the water's nice, don't you think?" he asked, trying to make some sort of small talk despite this awkwardly-romantic situation. this was meant to be a moment that couples shared. so why was it that two boys, who have not confronted their feelings about eachother yet, are sharing such a moment?

suguru just hums and nods along to [name]'s question, looking down at the water to try and avoid his gaze. it was all too much for his heart, there was only so much it could handle. "yeah.. the water's nice. thanks for.. asking me to come here with you? i don't know what else to say.." suguru muttered, definitely not knowing what else to say.

"i was worried about you, y'know? i mean, i still am, but i'm worried about you. i'm always worried about you, even when there's nothing to worry about." [name] explains, his brain going fuzzy after repeating the word 'worry' too many times. he's still gazing over at suguru with a small smile on his face. "i care about you a lot, even if it doesn't look like that. i just want you to know that." [name] admits, and it's not making suguru's heart feel any better. suguru feels as if his heart is going to leap out of his chest and drown in the bath.

suguru thinks for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts and words before he can say anything in response to [name]. "hm.. thank you, [name]. i appreciate how much you care and worry, it means.. a lot." suguru whispers, making the shared bath more and more intimate by the second. "i've just been thinking a lot lately about everything that's happened, i forgot to stop and see that people around me care. everything with amanai, haibara.. it's all piled up. i feel like i have to carry this weight on my shoulders, like i'm alone.. i want to do something about it.." suguru admitted before pausing. he didn't want to tell the truth about what he thought of doing, it would just lead [name] to hate him.

then, suguru heard the water sloshing and splashing about until he felt something wrap around him. it was [name], of course. [name] pulled suguru into a hug, holding him as close as he could. "i'm sorry, suguru. i'm sorry that you feel that way.." [name] whispers to suguru. "you're not alone.. you have us. gojo, shoko.. and me." [name] sighed, resting against suguru's shoulder as he continued to hug the other boy. "we're always here so you can talk to us. i'm here for you, always." [name] whispers and it plays in suguru's mind over and over again. suguru just wanted to kiss [name] so badly. [name]'s words were so intimate, yet [name] didn't even know the effect he had on suguru.

suguru hums and he rests his chin on the top of [name]'s head, reciprocating the hug. "thank you again, [name]. your words reassure me. i needed that, a lot." suguru sighed, continuing to hold [name] in his arms as [name] held suguru in his own.

"i really want to kiss you.." suguru confessed in a whisper, his cheeks immediately going a light pink instead of pale as he spoke. [name]'s eyes opened wide and he backed away from the hug slightly, some water tipping out of the bath tub. "what? what did you say? you want to kiss me?" [name] was taken aback, but he should've seen it coming. he was the one who suggsted such a romantic and intimate thing such as a bath in the first place.

yet, [name] didn't back away. he wasn't afraid of his feelings anymore. he leaned in closer to suguru to the point where their noses were almost touching. "do it, then. kiss me." [name] whispered back, hoping suguru would kiss him.

...and kiss him he did.

suguru leaned in, just as [name] did, and he finally made their lips meet. it felt like heaven. both boys were just melting at eachother's touch. all the unspoken feelings coming to light as they stayed in the bath. it was perfect, better than anything the boys could've imagined.

once the two of them pulled away, suguru was smiling so much that his cheeks start to hurt. "that was.. great." he whispered before pulling [name] in for another kiss, which [name] gladly accepted.

the two boys kept kissing in the bath, smiling and laughing. all in all, they were just enjoying eachother's company for what felt like the first time in years. it was great.

"do you want to go and grab food with me someday?" geto asked, grinning slightly as he looked at [name]. "as in a date?" [name] tilted his head to which suguru nodded in response. "sure, sounds good to me." [name] hummed, holding suguru close in a hug again.

as the weeks, months and years went past, shoko and gojo never stopped teasing the two. suguru and [name] could never catch a break. but, it all happened because of the shared bath. the bath [name] and suguru were so glad they shared...

☆ author's note: i feel like writing a highschool au gojo..

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

[inkmonster21]

The Willing One

Carry On - The Traveler x Fem!Reader

Words: 14,686 (Long asf so I’m sorry)

Warnings: (manipulation, ptsd, stockholm syndrome, SMUT)

You wake up groggily as your alarm blares in your ears. You check the time, frowning at 4 am. Your bed sheets shift off of you as you sit up, stretching out your limbs.

A sigh escapes you before you get out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. You remain steadfast to the routine you've set for yourself. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you stroll into your living room, doing yoga while a piping hot cup of coffee goes cold on the coffee table.

Your living room is adorned with festive Christmas decorations. Brightly colored lights and decorations hang from the wall. Gifts are scattered under the tree, awaiting your parents' arrival later today.

It was your final attempt to prove to them that you were doing fine. Despite living in LA and struggling to make ends meet, you were determined to pursue your dream of becoming an actress. Your parents of course thought that your aspiration was foolish. They would always push you to return home and take the desk job waiting for you at the office. But no, you stayed determined. You could achieve it. You would attain it!

Even if it meant working a shitty TSA job, especially on the busiest travel day of the year, you were persistent.

You finish your yoga routine, and the sun's first light starts to peek over the horizon. You head into the bathroom for a shower. As you rinse the shampoo from your hair, a nagging feeling overcomes you that you're being watched. You pause for a moment, turning slowly to look around the room.

You're met with no signs of an intruder. There's no one inside the bathroom with you. Though the initial wave of unease passes, a sense of lingering discomfort remains.

You prepare for work, applying makeup, styling your hair up in your hair claw, and donning your uniform. Gathering your belongings, you place them into a bag. You exit your apartment and make your way to the bus stop. After climbing aboard, you make your way toward the airport.

As you enter the airport, you plaster a cheerful smile onto your face. "Good morning!" you cheerfully exclaim to the people around you. You stride to the meeting room, taking a cup with you. Approaching the coffee pot, you begin to fill your cup. As you fish out the lid from your bag, a piece of paper catches your attention. "See you soon," the words on the small yellow note read.

You furrow your brows in confusion; it was definitely a note from your kitchen. Yet, you couldn't recall writing it or being given it. Dismissing the thought, you decided it probably meant nothing. You twist the lid on your cup and walk away, placing your belongings in your employee locker before making your way to your work area, ready to start your shift.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking down. As you settle into your seat, Ethan bursts through the door with a look of urgency. You roll your eyes affectionately and shake your head, "You're getting closer each time." Jason, a friend of yours, chuckles as he slides into a seat with a remark, "That's a record."

Ethan takes a seat next to you, joined by Jason. You smile at him as you speak, congratulating him on his new addition to their family. Ethan's mouth drops slowly open with surprise. "How did you find out?" he asks, dumbfounded.

You laugh heartily, "Good news spreads fast.” Jason smiles at his friend, “I'm happy for you," he says encouragingly. Ethan turns to Jason, puzzled. "I thought you and Rochelle were taking the boys to Murrieta?" he questions. Jason nodded in affirmation. "We are. Rochelle is heading up early today. I'll join them after my shift." You playfully pout and express your wish. "I want to go on a vacation," you say wistfully.

Mr. Sarkowski calls the group together, "Listen up, everybody. It is that time of year again. We have Contraband Bingo running. Five bucks per card. No cash, no card, no exceptions. The list includes gummies, dildos, vibrators, knives, and bullets. Everything gets its square."

You shake your head as you pick up a card. "This should be fun," you say with a touch of sarcasm. You stand up and bid farewell to the guys. "See you out there, fellas." You exit the room, making your way to your position at the metal detector.

The energy in the air changed as people began to flood into the airport and gather in clusters. You turn to Lionel and grimace. "Are you ready to face the most difficult people in the world?" you ask, bracing yourself.

Lionel chuckles heartily, "Darling, no one can have a bad day with a smile like yours." You stand there, taking in Lionel's kind and encouraging words. The stress of the day slowly begins to melt away.

You watch as Ethan approaches from behind and takes a seat at the scanner. You raise your eyebrows skeptically. "So, I guess the boss is letting you test out being in charge today, huh? On Christmas Eve?" you respond, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. Ethan chuckles sheepishly, "Well, someone has to oversee the checkpoint, right?" he replies with a hint of amusement.

You respond, "Good luck to you," a slight smile on your face, as you pat his back reassuringly.

The day started normally, with the usual bag inspections happening here and there. Yet, the mood among the travelers was tense, they were all on edge. You put forth extra effort to spread some holiday cheer, brightening up their day with your infectious smile and friendly banter. You shared a few jokes with some individuals, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

You overhear Mr. Sarkowski mentioning your cheerful demeanor on a bingo card. "Looks like '(y/n) being overly cheerful' is the next item to be checked off," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ethan allows a bag through without issue, and you pass through the metal detector effortlessly. You compliment her. "I love your hairstyle," you say, particularly fond of her blue streaks. "Thanks," she replies with a smile, retrieving her belongings from the security scanner. She glances down into the scanner's sorting bin and furrows her brow. She pushes the bowl towards you, apologetically. "Um, sorry, this isn't mine," she says, with a hint of concern.

You peer inside and notice a pair of earpieces lying at the bottom of the container. It seems like someone else left them behind. You nod at her and respond, "Thanks for letting me know. Happy holidays!"

You lift the earpieces and present them to Ethan. "Lost and found?" you ask, holding up the items in question. Ethan looks at the earpieces and nods. "Yeah, lost and found," he replies.

As you prepare to place the earpieces in the designated drawer, Ethan steps in and halts you, "Hold up." He stops you in your tracks. You regard him with a puzzled expression as you watch him glance at his phone. Almost instantly, your phone vibrates deep within your back pocket. The words "left ear. now." appear on your screen, emanating from an unknown number.

You turn to Ethan, a puzzled expression on your face, as he holds out his hand and demands, "Give me the right one." You hand Ethan the right earpiece before placing the left one in your ear.

“Okay you two, today is a day that you’re going to remember for a very long time,” a voice speaks through the earpiece to you. A voice suddenly speaks through the earpiece, filling the air with a cryptic message. You glance around anxiously, searching for the origin, while Ethan appears just as lost. "But if you handle it right, you’ll have a chance to forget it," the voice continues, leaving you both baffled.

You voice a tentative greeting through the earpiece, "Hello?"

The voice echoes once more, "One bag, that’s all.” Ethan gazes at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Excuse me?" he repeats, perplexed.

The voice asserts, "One bag. You’re going to let it through. That's the deal. That's what's gonna happen." Ethan snickers softly, "Nice try, Eddie. I hope you rap better than you prank or (y/n) and I am out two bucks each." His tone is laced with humor, and you both chuckle at the suggestion.

You observe that Eddie appears not to be the culprit. Turning to Ethan, your eyes widen with fear as you murmur, "It's not Eddie." Once more, the voice continues, "A smart one you are, (y/n). Eddie is currently in lane one, driving his inaugural Maybach.”

A wave of unease washes over you as you become increasingly aware of the gravity of the situation. "Just relax, (y/n), okay?" The traveler's voice assures you, adding, "You're too pretty to have a breakdown before noon."

The voice directly addresses Ethan, explaining the situation: "Soon, one of my associates will step into your line with a boarding pass for Northwind Flight 1850, a nonstop flight to JFK. It's your job to ensure that his bag gets through the scanner without any issues." Ethan reacts to the request with skepticism, asking, "This is a joke, right?"

The traveler's voice returns with a calm tone, asking, "Is anything I've said funny?" "No," you reply quietly, knowing that the situation is far from a joke. The voice continues, conveying a hint of frustration, "You weren't my first choice, Ethan. You're not supposed to be where you are today."

As the voice speaks your name, the words that follow send a chill down your spine. "However, (y/n), you were exactly my first choice." "Why's that?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. The voice responds, "I’m a good judge of character." The gentle, reassuring tone of his words sticks in your ears, evoking a strange sense of comfort.

The thought of being observed by this mysterious individual brings forth a question: how long had he been watching you?

You gather your courage and ask the question on your mind, "What's in the bag?" The answer to your question comes from the traveler, "Diamonds out of Papua New Guinea."

Ethan's skepticism is evident as he declares, "Bullshit." The voice responds with a matter-of-fact tone, "Okay." Ethan's observation reveals his skepticism, as he remarks, "You answered too quickly."

The traveler's words strike a nerve, causing you to tense up. "Yeah, maybe that's because knowing won't change anything," the voice continues, "and I hope I don't have to execute someone close to either of you to prove it." The traveler then makes a chilling observation, speaking your name in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your family's coming in on the one p.m. flight, isn't that right, (y/n)?"

The mention of your family's arrival, coupled with the stranger's knowledge of this information, has left you frozen in your tracks. You gather the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind, "Who are you?"

The man's voice maintains a nonchalantly casual tone as he continues, "I'm just a traveler headed home for the holidays, like everyone else. If we met at the grocery store, I bet we'd be having dinner with each other tonight, but we're meeting like this, and I'm telling you how this goes, sweetheart. Now, keep your voice down and do exactly as I say." Ethan interjects, seeking confirmation, "And you're watching us right now?"

The response comes through crystal clear, "Yes I am." Ethan discreetly pulls out his phone, his fingers dialing the number "9-1-1." "What am I doing?" he mutters to himself, his tension escalating. Your hopes for a quick resolution are dashed as the stranger continues their unsettling revelation, "Nora Parisi. Twenty-seven, recently promoted to manager of Northwind Operations."

You exchange a horrified glance with Ethan, both of you shaken by the stranger's comprehensive knowledge of your lives.

"Hang up now, or Nora dies," the traveler calmly states, his threat hanging heavily in the air. Ethan's shock turns to disbelief as he exclaims, "What did you say?"

The traveler calmly repeats his threat, "My people have a Barrett M82 sniper rifle pointed at her head. Hang up the call..."

Fear for your friend grips you as you rush toward Ethan's phone and hastily cancel the call, your own heart racing with anxiety. The tone of the traveler's voice is almost patronizing as he praises, "Good. See? Good judge of character. Now, take Ethan's phone and yours and lock them in the lost and found."

As you secure the phones in the lost and found bin, Ethan responds in a composed manner, "I accept. Just be cool, okay?" The traveler continues calmly listing the consequences, "Today won't be easy, but it'll be simple. When the plane departs at five forty, you are free to live your life.

If the bag gets flagged, Nora dies. If you pull my associate, your mother dies. If you talk to the police, I skin your cat. If anyone opens the bag..."

You release a sigh, acknowledging the threat with a nod. "Okay, we understand," you reply, your voice tinged with trepidation. The hint of genuine concern laces your voice as you implore, "Just please, don't hurt anyone." The line goes dead, and you can’t help but shiver a little in the aftermath of this disturbing situation. You look at each other with a mix of astonishment and anxiety.

The traveler's voice returns with a gentler tone, attempting reassurance, "I'm not going to, sweetheart. Not if you just listen to me." You nod obediently, forcing yourself to continue with your duties despite the tremors of fear that course through your body. "I'm listening," you reply, your voice quivering slightly. The traveler's voice responds, a note of satisfaction in his tone, "Good because I'm watching."

The traveler's voice interrupts, but to your surprise, he seems to be addressing you directly. "So, you were a volleyball player in college. Majored in hospitality. Now you're... a failed actress?" A mix of defensiveness and determination laces your words as you reply, "Not failed. I'm still trying."

The traveler's tone takes on a hint of condescension as he comments, "Right, right. That's cute. I could see you in some rom-com, kinda like this. Don’t you think?" You bristle at the traveler's sardonic tone, but deep down, his description hits a sore spot. He seems to be aware of your ambitions and insecurities all too well. Your response comes out more forcefully than you intended. "No. Not like this," you insist, emphasizing the fact that your hopes and dreams are not something to be mocked so lightly.

The traveler's tone becomes almost mocking as he points out details from your life, "Oh come on, your bookcase says different. So many suspenseful romances, you're practically in one right now." The realization that this man has been inside your home sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to murmur, "So you've been in my home."

“I have,” The traveler confirms your realization with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, his intrusion into your personal space adding an extra layer of discomfort to the already tense situation.

The thought of the stranger's presence in your home, potentially while you were unaware, fills you with a sense of violated space. You venture a question, your voice barely above a whisper, "Were you there this morning?" A moment of uneasy silence follows your question as the traveler contemplates his response. Finally, he speaks, his tone measured and calculated, "Did you see me?"

A chill runs down your spine as you hesitantly reveal your unease, "No, but... I felt…" Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the strange sensation of being watched. The traveler's words hit you like a slap, revealing that not only had he been in your home, but he had observed you in your most intimate moments. "You look good doing your morning yoga," he says.

The traveler's blunt comment elicits a mix of embarrassment and irritation, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks. "Shut up," you mutter, your cheeks burning with a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment.

The realization that this stranger has invaded your privacy in such a profound way is unsettling, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You can't help but feel a sense of violation as you struggle to come to terms with the knowledge that you have been watched, not only in your home but also in your most vulnerable moments.

You find yourself grappling with a torrent of emotions as the traveler's words ring in your ears. This situation, this entire scenario, is wrong and dangerous. But despite your best efforts, an image begins to form in your mind - the face to match the voice that is commanding you with such authority. In your mind, you imagine a handsome visage, strong and capable, its features framed by a determined, almost arrogant expression.

The sudden snap of a man’s fingers snaps you back to reality, causing you to jolt slightly. Shaking away the thoughts and images that had momentarily consumed you, you focus your attention on the man before you, his urgent tone snapping you back to the present moment. "Hey, come on! I’ve got somewhere to be!" he exclaims impatiently.

The traveler, as if sensing your agitation, speaks to you in a gentler tone, "You seem tense." The change in his voice is almost comforting, providing a slight respite from the mounting tension. Your response comes out as a scoff, the frustration and fear building inside you evident in your voice. "Wonder why," you reply with biting sarcasm, your tone laced with disbelief at the traveler's apparent obliviousness.

The traveler lets out a low hum of approval upon hearing your sarcastic retort. "I like women with a sense of humor," he tells you, a hint of amusement in his voice. Your frustration continues to show in the way you address the traveler, your voice laden with annoyance. "Not helping," you mutter. The traveler's attempts at humor and nonchalant banter only serve to grate on your already frayed nerves.

The traveler transitions the conversation abruptly, his tone becoming slightly more relaxed. "Then let's talk about something else. Tell me about your holiday plans," he prompts, seemingly eager to change the subject. The traveler's earlier statement about knowing everything about you comes into focus, his claim serving as a reminder of the extent of his knowledge about your life. "I thought you knew everything about me," you respond dryly, the sarcasm evident in your tone.

The traveler nonchalantly confirms your suspicion about his knowledge, revealing that he has indeed been paying close attention. "I do, but I like to hear you talk," he says, his tone dripping with subtle smugness.

You release a weary sigh, resigning yourself to the knowledge that resistance is futile. "My family is flying in for the holidays," you continue, your words tinged with a mix of resignation and anticipation. The mention of your family elicits a curious response from the traveler, his interest piqued by the casual revelation. "Are you excited?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of intrigue.

Despite the traveler's evident interest, your response is blunt and non-committal. "Not really," you respond, your lack of enthusiasm evident in your voice. The traveler seems momentarily surprised by your response, a hint of disappointment creeping into his tone. "Why not?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by your nonchalant attitude towards the upcoming holiday.

Your honest response reflects the strain between you and your family, the traveler sensing the disappointment and hurt hidden beneath your words. "Because they just think I’m wasting my time," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

The traveler, now aware of the strained relationship with your family, lets out a soft hum of understanding, his tone sympathetic. "That can’t be easy," he remarks, his words laced with unexpected empathy.

The traveler's question takes you by surprise, his interest in your career ambitions evident in his words. "So tell me, what's your plan? Name in the big lights?" he inquires, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and... admiration.

The words flow easily from your lips, the passion and determination evident in your voice as you share your earliest dreams and ambitions. "I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was little. Nothing else has ever really caught my attention," you explain, your words filled with a mixture of determination and nostalgia.

You glance over at Ethan, noting the way he subtly speaks into his Apple Watch. A flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of intrigue passes over your features as you attempt to piece together the situation. Ethan continues speaking, his voice steady and controlled. "They got dogs and..." he murmurs, his words trailing off meaningfully.

The realization hits you like a wave, causing a surge of fear and uncertainty to wash over you. Not only are you worried for your safety, but now you also feel a strange sense of attachment to the unknown traveler on the other line, and the thought of potentially losing this connection with him is strangely unsettling.

Confusion and conflict wage a silent battle within you, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. The traveler's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind, his words both surprising and oddly reassuring. "Let's cancel the text," he suggests calmly, a hint of authority in his voice.

You release a heavy sigh of mixed relief and regret as you watch Ethan cancel the text. Despite the uncertainty that gnaws at your insides, you can't help but feel a strange sense of reassurance in the traveler's words and tone.

The traveler's voice carries a hint of urgency and authority as he addresses Ethan, his words demanding immediate compliance. "Attaboy. Now, stand up walk over to the drawer, and put the watch in there next to your phone. We're off to a real bad start here," he dictates, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

The traveler's voice turns to Ethan again as he questions his trustworthiness. "This won't work if I can't trust you. Understand?"

Ethan, ever the realist, nods in response, his words carrying a sense of grim determination. "You can trust me," he assures.

The traveler's question lingers in the air, his attention now solely focused on you. "What about you, honey? Can I trust you?" he repeats, his voice almost gentle, as if seeking a glimpse into your soul.

The words leave your lips with such ease and honesty that it almost surprises you. "Yes. You can trust me," you assure him confidently, your voice conveying a mix of sincerity and a sense of loyalty. You can't explain why, but you genuinely believe that you and the traveler are on the same side.

The traveler's voice carries an undercurrent of warning as he continues to address both you and Ethan, his words a stern reminder. "Now, I've given you two warnings, and the next time, there's gonna be consequences. Do you understand me?"

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a sense of finality and seriousness seeping through. Despite the fear that lingers, you can feel a sense of commitment to following his instructions and living up to your promise of trust.

The traveler's words, addressed directly to you, hold a hint of condescension mixed with genuine concern. "You're smart (y/n). Yet, you still seem unhappy. You can steal what happiness you can when you can. Or just stay on autopilot for the rest of your life. I can help you with that."

His words cut straight to the core of your struggles and insecurities, a sharp reminder of the dissatisfaction that gnaws at you daily. Yet, there's a subtle glimmer of understanding and a hint of a challenge in his voice, as if he sees something in you that you haven't fully recognized yourself.

Your mind works diligently to piece together the puzzle of the traveler's surroundings, using the subtle background sounds as your guide. As the sounds coalesce into a coherent picture, your gaze scans the bar, searching for a familiar face.

Then, your eyes come to rest on a man sitting at the bar, wearing a black jacket and a black baseball cap. It could be a coincidence, but something about him catches your attention. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his solitary form, the subtle details of his attire matching your mental image of the traveler.

The question leaves your lips, with curiosity, and a hint of suspicion in your tone. "What are you trying to say?" you ask, your gaze unwavering as you try to gauge the traveler's intentions and the significance of the man at the bar.

The moment hangs in the air, the tension palpable as you await his response and the revelation of his hidden motives.

The stranger's words echo in your mind, a mix of flattery and pragmatism in his tone. "You're smart. You know, the smart ones find a job that pays the most money for the least amount of work. And they spend the rest of their time doing whatever makes them happy."

You can't help but think that he knows you even better than you know yourself. His observation feels uncanny as if he's peering into your innermost thoughts and desires. You find yourself considering his words, the truth of his statement resonating with your own yearning for a better work-life balance.

The question slips from your lips, an attempt to gain insight into the traveler's own philosophy and lifestyle. "Is that what you do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued by the idea that this stranger has it all figured out.

You await his response with anticipation, eager to hear if his advice is based on personal experience and whether his words hold any truth or hypocrisy. The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of confidence and a touch of invitation, leave you momentarily speechless. "I think you'd be surprised with how well I live. I could show you," he says.

For a moment, you are captivated by the possibility of glimpsing into this mysterious stranger's world, a world that seems so different from your own mundane reality. Curiosity and a hint of intrigue battle within you.

Ethan's sudden intervention snaps you out of your reverie, his actions stopping the moving belt and prompting your confused question. "What are you doing?" you ask, frustration creeping into your tone as you try to make sense of his actions.

Your furrowed brows betray your confusion, your attention now fully directed towards Ethan and his unexpected interference. The frustrated passenger's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his impatience evident in every word. "Does it take a doctorate to read a computer screen? Let's go," he repeats, his tone tinged with irritation.

Ethan, seemingly unfazed by the passenger's impatience, calmly slides the man's bag down to you. "Bag check," he mutters, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your hand reaches for the bag, the weight of the responsibility evident in your movements, but they are slow. You wanted to avoid opening the bag.

Ethan addresses the man with a professional tone, requesting to see his boarding pass. "Sir, could I see your boarding pass, please?" he asks.

The man in front of you nods, pulling out his boarding pass and passing it over to Ethan without any hesitation. The tension in the air grows as you await the outcome of the interaction.

Ethan speaks with a professional tone, addressing the man by name. "Mr. Herter, I need to conduct a quick inspection. If you prefer, we can use a private room."

Ethan's decision to inspect a public area puts the entire situation at risk, the potential consequences hanging heavily in the air. The traveler's urgency and impatience only exacerbate the predicament, adding another layer of tension to the already tense scenario.

Ethan's gaze falls upon you, as he watches your actions, waiting for you to open the man's bag. However, you stand frozen, paralyzed by fear and disappointment at the traveler's silent reproach. Your hand hovers over the bag's zipper, but your heart races, and your mind races with conflicting thoughts.

Your voice trembles with anxiety and uncertainty as you express your doubts about the necessity of the inspection. "I really don't think it's necessary," you murmur, your words tinged with fear and a trace of defiance. Ethan's eyes don't leave you, his gaze locked onto your face.

Ethan pushes the bag down further, his tone firm but professional. "In that case, I'll have a law enforcement officer run your boarding pass while I search. It'll save time," he states.

As you observe the scene unfold, you notice Lionel using a black light to scan the boarding pass. You watch with growing curiosity as the words appear, invisible to the naked eye until illuminated by the black light. "Sneaky sneaky," you think to yourself, the cleverness of the hidden message sinking in.

Your mind is conflicting with itself, torn between the fear of the traveler being caught and the strange feeling of wanting to protect him. "He's a criminal," you remind yourself, "He should be caught." Yet, despite that, there's a part of you that strangely doesn't want that to happen. Your emotions are a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

Your frustration bursts forth in a forceful question directed at Ethan, your emotions running high. "What the fuck, Ethan?" you demand, your voice betraying a mix of irritation and worry. You're still trying to process the events that unfolded, the conflicting emotions and thoughts swirling inside you.

Ethan's casual shrug only adds fuel to your frustration, his nonchalant attitude seemingly at odds with the seriousness of the situation. "You're acting like this isn't a big deal," you point out, your voice tinged with annoyance.

You attempt to justify your perspective, "I just know how to follow the rules. You're going to get someone hurt," you argue, your concern evident in your words. Ethan's lax attitude towards protocol and the potential consequences of his actions is infuriating and alarming.

The traveler's voice filters through, his words carrying a mix of intrigue and allegory. "There's a story I once heard about a tribe in the Serengeti…" he begins, drawing your attention to the story he's recounting.

As you listen, you also notice the sound of movement in the background, as if the stranger is walking around the crowded area, apologizing to people as he passes by. "Excuse me," he casually says, his voice almost lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport.

The traveler's voice continues, painting a vivid and unsettling picture. "So, when night fell, they crept into the man's hut and slit the throats of all three children." His words hang heavily in the air, the story's violent turn chilling you to the core.

Suddenly, a woman's scream pierces the air, causing a ripple of panic to spread throughout the area. Lionel collapses to the ground, and the scene devolves into chaos, with people calling for a doctor. Amongst it all, you catch a glimpse of a man in a black jacket and hat, the realization hitting you like a shot.

The man stands up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. “We need a doctor!” He calls out in false panic. It was him, the man you had been talking to all this time. He slowly begins to walk away from the chaos, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You watch him leave, the confusion and shock evident on your face, his smirk lingering in your mind like a haunting memory.

The urge to follow the man, to go with him, is stronger than you expected, his presence having created a strange connection in your mind. His fearlessness, his way with words, and his commanding demeanor make him seem almost unreal, like a character straight out of a book you've read. You debate with yourself, torn between the instinct to run and the inexplicable desire to be with him.

The airport staff swiftly removes you from your station in the wake of the commotion. Sarkowski, your supervisor, instructs you to take a break, suggesting you grab a coffee or take a walk. You comply, still feeling shaken and shocked by the event, and the thought of taking a break to clear your head seems like a good idea.

As you follow Sarkowski's instructions, you can't help but think about Lionel, and the fact that he was such a kind man, always looking out for everyone, even you. You feel a mix of sadness and disbelief as the weight of what happened starts to sink in.

You're walking towards the break room to try and gather your thoughts when suddenly, you find yourself pulled into a nearby storage room. The door closes and locks behind you, your back pressed against the hard surface of a body, their hand covering your mouth, muffling any sound.

Fear and panic well up within you as you're unable to move or speak, your heart racing with the realization that you're trapped in a vulnerable position.

The voice of the traveler, now identified as the man who had pulled you into the storage room, speaks softly into your ear, his tone calm and almost soothing.

"Relax," he whispers, his words carrying a hint of reassurance. You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and despite the circumstances, a strange sense of comfort washes over you, the panic within fading slightly.

The traveler, his hand still firmly covering your mouth, asks you calmly, "I'm going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?"

You feel the pressure slightly lessen, yet his hand remains in place, waiting for your response. The urge to call out for help lingers in the back of your mind, but a strange sense of trust in him holds you back.

You manage to shake your head slightly, the movement barely perceptible, but still conveying your intention to stay compliant. Your heart continues to pound in your chest as you await his next move, a mix of anticipation and tension coursing through you.

The traveler seems satisfied with your response, his hand slowly lifting away from your mouth, though you can feel his body remaining close to your back.

The traveler's voice breaks the silence, a tone of concern evident in his words, "You alright?"

You can sense the sincerity in his question, and a moment of realization washes over you. This man, who had just pulled you into a storage room, was asking if you were alright. Your mind grapples with the conflicting emotions coursing through you.

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of accusation, anger, and confusion present in your tone. "You... killed him."

The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere in the small storage room practically suffocating. The tension rises as you await his response, your emotions conflicting with the strange bond you've established with this stranger.

You manage to turn around to face him, creating a small distance between the two of you. The storage room suddenly feels even more cramped, the air thick with tension. Your eyes meet his, a mixture of confusion, fear, and curiosity swirling in your gaze.

The stranger regards you with a cool, almost casual demeanor, his eyes studying you intently as if trying to gauge your reactions.

The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of nonchalance, leave you stunned and confused. "I don't know about that," he says, his tone matter-of-fact, "Ethan knew the simple rules."

You struggle to comprehend the words he's saying, the nonchalance in his delivery not matching the gravity of his actions.

The stranger's response, a simple admission of his normalcy, catches you off guard. "I'm not some cartoon villain. I'm just a regular guy," he reiterates, his words tinged with a hint of vulnerability and almost... honesty.

His statement, so different from the image of a cold-blooded killer, leaves you bewildered. You struggle to reconcile this seemingly ordinary man with the events that have unfolded.

His features, now so close to you, appear more defined and complex. His sharp, blue eyes, framed by a straight nose and slightly disheveled hair creeping past the edges of the black cap, create a captivating visage.

You can't help but stare at him, your gaze taking in every detail, trying to discern the depths beneath the surface.

The corners of the man's lips curl upward, forming a subtle smirk. He can see you studying his features, and the smirk in his eyes suggests that he doesn't mind the attention.

You break eye contact, realizing you've spent too long studying his features. With a glance away, you attempt to recover your composure, trying to hide the fact that you find him intriguing.

The man's fingers, gentle yet firm, guide your face back towards him, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. As your eyes meet his, a strange mix of feelings washes over you - fear, curiosity, and a strange sense of connection, as if his gaze holds some sort of power over you.

He stares deeply into your eyes as if searching for something, the silence in the storage room almost deafening. The soft question escapes your lips, the single word hanging in the air with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger doesn't answer immediately, his gaze holding onto yours as if he's carefully considering his next words or actions. His fingers remain on your chin, his touch feeling both soothing and electrifying at the same time. There's a strange intimacy in this moment, a connection that defies logic and reason.

His words, spoken with a hint of tenderness and concern, make your heart flutter slightly. "Just making sure it’s okay," he repeats, his tone filled with a subtle s incerity.

As you look into his blue eyes, you can't help but feel a mix of unease and attraction. Part of you wants to pull away, to free yourself from his grip, but another part of you craves the intimacy of his gentle touch.

Before you can even react, the stranger's lips are on yours in a sudden rush of emotion, capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle yet fervent kiss. The kiss is intense, filled with a mix of urgency and a strange tenderness.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the kiss sends a jolt of electricity through your body, the sensation both unexpected and exhilarating.

For a moment, the world around you fades away, replaced by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hand still cradling the side of your face. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and your entire world seems to narrow down to this one brief connection, as if time and space have ceased to exist.

The soft moan that escapes your lips, a sound of both surrender and pleasure, seems to fuel the passion in the kiss. You allow yourself to lean into him, the contact between your bodies both comforting and intoxicating.

The stranger responds by deepening the kiss, his hand on your face moving to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his strong frame.

The intensity of the kiss grows as he pulls you closer, his hand now woven through your hair, holding you securely against him. The stranger's body presses against yours, the closeness and the heat between you both sending a wave of electricity coursing through you.

Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of confusion, confusion, and a strange sense of surrender. You feel both out of control and strangely secure in his embrace.

The stranger's words, spoken against your lips in a low, rough whisper, break the spell of the kiss. Even amidst the intensity of the moment, you can sense a hint of reluctance in his voice as he speaks to someone you can't see.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation. You feel his lips linger against yours for a moment longer before he slowly pulls back, leaving you feeling both bewildered and wanting more.

The stranger's words ring through the air, a mix of encouragement and a hint of endearment. "Stay sharp. Days almost over, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice slightly softer than before.

Despite the casualness in his tone, the nickname "sweetheart" resonates within you, adding another layer of confusion to the mix of emotions swirling inside you. You can't help but feel a mix of disappointment and curiosity as he prepares to leave, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips.

He disappears as quickly as he has arrived, leaving you standing in the small storage room, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The memory of his kiss, the touch of his body, and the sound of his voice linger in your mind, the events of the past minutes playing over and over again in your head.

You're left with a swirling mix of confusion, arousal, and an inexplicable desire to see him again, the mysterious stranger leaving you with more questions than answers.

The coffee in your hand feels strangely comforting, a small reminder of normalcy amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

You try to rationalize his actions, convincing yourself that it must have been nothing more than a distraction. The kiss was likely a means to take your mind off the situation, to throw you off balance. But despite your attempts to dismiss it, the feel of his lips against yours, and the memory of his touch, refuse to fade from your mind.

You return to your place at the bag check, outwardly appearing composed and focused, but inwardly, your mind is preoccupied.

Jason approaches, taking a seat at the scanner nearby, and you can't help but furrow your brow, something about his presence makes you feel on edge. You question him about Ethan's absence, curiosity piqued.

"Isn't Ethan scanning?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Jason replies with a matter-of-fact tone, explaining that Sarkowski instructed him to take over for Ethan. His words hang in the air, yet the sense of unease doesn't fade.

The thought crosses your mind, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. If Ethan isn't on the scanner, how is the bag going to go through without issue?

Your eyes dart around, searching for the traveler, and you spot him a noticeable distance from Ethan. The suspicion grows, and you speak into your earpiece, a sense of urgency in your voice.

"We've got a problem," you murmur, your words barely carrying through the earpiece.

The traveler halts in his tracks, turning to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Then, he responds with a hint of amusement, a mixture of humor and sarcasm in his voice. "Are we fighting already?" he asks, his words carrying a subtle challenge.

Your words hang in the air, “Ethan’s been kicked off the scanner.” The stranger's gaze remains on you, his eyes flicking to the scanner where Jason sits and back, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Then I guess Ethan’s got a problem to fix,” The stranger's words hang in the air with a touch of sarcasm, yet there's a hint of concern in the undertone. His gaze lingers on you, as if waiting for your next move or any other piece of information you may have to offer. The clock seems to tick slower as the tension builds, the weight of the situation pressing on your shoulders.

Ethan returns to the area, having received the instruction to return to the scanner. You shake your head, your words a firm reminder. "You have to get back on the scanner," you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument.

The low, smooth voice of the stranger reaches your ears, his words causing a strange flutter in your chest. "That's my girl," he murmurs, the praise and endearment in his tone sending a wave of conflicting emotions through you. Your cheeks warm slightly, and you try to hide your response, though he seems to have noticed your reaction, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The stranger's words, addressed to both you and Ethan, carry a hint of warning and a subtle threat. "She's right, you know?" he says, his tone a mix of amusement and a hint of concern. "If you're not on that machine by the time our man gets there, you're in breach. Then maybe I don't start with Nora," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, the mention of Nora adding a note of weight to his words.

Ethan's response to the stranger's words is immediate, his voice filled with defiance. "I don't care what you do to me," he declares, a stubborn determination evident in his tone. The stranger's gaze lingers on Ethan, his expression unreadable, his reaction masked by a neutral façade.

The stranger's words carry a hint of threat, yet they're also tinged with a strange sense of compassion. "Who said anything about you?" he retorts, his eyes locked on Ethan, the tension between them palpable. "Your friend there is coming off the machine. You can decide if it happens your way or mine," he repeats, emphasizing Ethan's choice in the matter, a subtle way of manipulating the situation and Ethan's actions.

Ethan, quick to react, swiftly devises a plan, framing Jason for drinking on the job. The wheels in his mind spin, and he effectively places himself back on the scanner, his quick thinking and manipulation skills coming into play. Despite the strange situation, you can't help but be impressed by his ability to adapt and think on his feet.

The stranger's voice filters through your earpiece, his instructions clear and concise. "Red baseball cap, three o'clock, by the bins. That's our guy," he murmurs, his tone serious and focused. Your eyes dart to the specified location, your gaze falling on the man with the red baseball cap by the bins, the subject of the stranger's words.

Ethan's question, "There are 250 people on that flight. You gonna kill 250 people?" is met with the stranger's chilling response, a simple and matter-of-fact "Mmm-hmm." The words hang heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine, the reality of the threat setting in and the weight of the stranger's words leaving a foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Ethan's question, "Why are you doing this?" echoes in the air, seeking an answer from the stranger. The stranger looks at Ethan, his gaze unflinching, his expression unreadable.

Your voice interjects, defending the stranger against Ethan's accusation. "He's not the doer, Ethan," you say with conviction, your words carrying a note of certainty. You can feel the stranger's gaze on you, his eyes studying your reaction.

As the stranger's words linger in the air, a question forms in your mind: What is this payment the stranger is talking about? You can't help but wonder what could be his purpose behind it, and more intriguingly, his interest in you. Is he working for someone, and if so, who? The idea that your involvement might be a part of his plan sends a chill down your spine, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of anticipation that gnaws at you, an unexplainable curiosity about your role in all this.

Your mind churns with questions, your thoughts attempting to make sense of the stranger's actions. Were you simply there to ensure the bag didn't get searched, or was there a deeper purpose to his presence and connection to you? You can't help but wonder if there's more to his actions, his interest in you, and his involvement with this entire situation.

The uncertainty and the unknown fuel your curiosity, yet also stirs a sense of unease within you.

The man with the red baseball cap passes through, his bag rolling smoothly onto the conveyor belt. Ethan, his gaze fixed on the screen, seems uneasy.

You allow the bag to pass with a polite smile, wishing him a pleasant day, but underneath it all, your thoughts are consumed by the tension in the air. Your actions seem normal on the surface, but inside, you're grappling with the knowledge of what's hidden within the bag and the implications of letting it through unchecked.

"I have something stronger if you need it," A quiet, gentle voice breaks the silence, offering a solution to your headache. You look up, finding the stranger standing a short distance away, his eyes watching you intently.

Your voice carries a hint of exhaustion mixed with curiosity, your tone slightly defensive as you question him. "What do you want now?" you ask, your words carrying a mixture of weariness and intrigue.

The stranger's lips curve into a subtle smirk, his eyes seemingly studying your every reaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze unflinching, as if he can see straight through you.

The stranger's response is casual yet tinged with a subtle hint of intimacy. "Well, I was going to keep you company on your lunch," he says, his tone almost indifferent yet also carrying a touch of tenderness.

His words catch you off guard. Keeping you company is unexpected, but there's a part of you that doesn't dislike the idea. You can't deny the strange connection you feel towards him, a connection that seems to defy rationality and reason.

You question him, your words tinged with a touch of sarcasm but also tinged with a hint of challenge, "Do I have a choice?"

The stranger chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on you. He leans against the lockers, his body language casual but his eyes sharp and observant, as if he's carefully studying your response. The stranger's tone is firm and matter-of-fact as he responds with a single word. "No."

His definitive answer lingers in the air, the lack of ambiguity in his tone making it clear that he has no intention of giving you a choice in the matter. Despite his sternness, however, there's a subtle glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he's enjoying the subtle power dynamic at play.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of determination and a subtle challenge as you state, "You're buying."

The stranger looks at you, his smirk growing slightly as he nods in agreement. "Fair enough," he says, his tone holding a hint of amusement. It seems like he's accepting your demand, a small concession to your assertiveness.

You both sit across from each other in silent anticipation, your lunch in front of you untouched. The air between you is filled with a strange blend of curiosity and anticipation.

The stranger's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes scanning your face, studying your expression. He seems to be waiting for you to break the silence, to make the first move in this unusual lunch encounter.

You hum softly, your head tilting in a nod of acknowledgment. There's a moment of silence that follows as if both of you are gathering your thoughts. The stranger's eyes are fixed on you, his expression calm yet somewhat unreadable, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction to his cryptic statement about his occupation.

He regards you thoughtfully, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "You can ask, you know?" he repeats, his tone a mix of curiosity and a subtle challenge.

Your eyes meet his in a silent exchange. It's as if he's inviting you to question him, to dig deeper. You can feel a strange sense of anticipation, a mix of curiosity and doubt filling your mind as you consider whether or not to press him further.

You hesitate, your words carrying a mix of uncertainty and a hint of intrigue. "I don't know if I want to," you admit, your tone tinged with a touch of wariness. The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, a subtle amusement in his eyes.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t do it again, and if you don’t ask, I can’t tell you.” The stranger's words hang in the air, the simplicity of them yet hinting at a deeper layer. He leaves the decision in your hands, allowing you to choose whether to pursue this deeper connection or not.

His challenge lingers, a quiet demand for you to make a choice. You're left wondering if you want to take the next step, to learn more about this mysterious stranger and his cryptic job, or if you'd rather keep the distance between you.

You admit, "I am curious, anyone would be," your words carrying a sense of vulnerability.

The stranger's eyes are on yours, his expression tinged with a hint of pride as if he's pleased with your admission. He leans forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, waiting for your next question.

The remainder of the unexpected kiss sends a shiver down your spine, the memory of his lips flooding your mind. You speak softly, your words tinged with a mix of confusion and intrigue. "You... kissed me."

The stranger doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. In the quiet, he waits for your next move, eager to see where this conversation leads.

Your comment hangs in the air, the weight of the moment evident in the silence that follows. The stranger's eyes hold yours, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that he's waiting for your next words, or possibly your next action.

It's almost as if the entire world has stopped, the only sound being the beating of your heart in your chest.

The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, I did, and you liked it," he says, his tone almost challenging, as if daring you to deny the truth in his words.

The warmth of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks, his words hitting their mark, leaving you feeling flustered. The stranger's smirk widens as he watches you, a chuckle escaping him, amused by your reaction.

He leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the effect his words have had on you. For now, he enjoys the silent moment, giving you time to recompose yourself.

The question hangs in the air like a cloud of curiosity, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a genuine desire to understand. "Why did you?" you ask, your words holding a touch of vulnerability.

The stranger's smirk softens into a subtle smile, his eyes studying yours intently as if considering his next words. He leans forward slightly, his voice carrying a subtle edge of sincerity. "It was a moment of impulse," he admits, a hint of vulnerability peeking out from beneath his usual demeanor.

“How long have you been watching me?”

The stranger's eyes flicker with a mix of emotions, his gaze holding yours with a depth and intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He considers your question for a moment as if assessing whether or not to be completely transparent with you.

"A while," he finally answers, his tone a mixture of honesty and mystery. He holds your gaze, waiting to see how you'll respond to this revelation.

Your question, "What's your plan here?" hangs in the air, your curiosity and uncertainty evident in your tone, “besides getting a bag in a plane.” The stranger leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes as if pondering how much to reveal.

His response comes a moment later, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and a strange sincerity. "I'm still figuring that out," he admits, his words leaving you to wonder about his intentions and goals. “It really depends on you.”

Your question, "Me? What do I have to do with this?" echoes in the air, your curiosity and confusion evident in your voice. The stranger's expression softens, his gaze locking onto yours as if seeking understanding and cooperation.

The stranger's words, "Your answer. When this is all over I'd like to know if you'd get that dinner with me I mentioned earlier," hang lightly in the air. His tone is nonchalant as if he's simply curious about your response.

His words, though seemingly casual, carry a depth of sincerity that can't be ignored. He watches you, his eyes fixed on your face, as if waiting for an answer, or a sign that you'll accept his proposal.

“You’re going to murder 300 people and you’re asking me to dinner?” The stranger chuckles dryly at your statement, the sound a mix of amusement and acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. "Yes," he responds, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and a hint of dry humor.

He seems unfazed by the contradiction as if he's fully aware of the dark nature of his actions and the paradoxical nature of his proposal. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for your response, the tension in the air palpable.

“Why me?”

The stranger studies you for a moment, his gaze unwavering. He seems to be searching for the right words, his expression hinting at a mix of intrigue and sincerity.

"Why not you?" he finally responds, his tone carrying a subtle mix of admiration and mystery.

The stranger's words echo in the air, the admission of knowledge about your home and personal details taking you by surprise. It's unsettling to realize that he knows so much about you, yet his expression remains calm and his tone remains casual.

The stranger's presence and the knowledge he has of you are strangely disquieting, the familiarity he shows is both intriguing and unnerving at the same same time. He seems to share some similarities with you, the revelation leaving you feeling a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“I’m going to assume you have my number.” The stranger's eyes follow you as you stand up, his gaze unwavering. Despite the mysterious aura surrounding him, his expression holds a hint of disappointment, as if he had hoped for a different response. He seems to take a moment to process your words, a mix of curiosity and contemplation evident in his eyes.

He nods slightly, acknowledging your statement, his lips curving into a slight, almost enigmatic smirk. "I do have your number," he affirms, his tone calm and almost nonchalant, hiding any deeper feelings he may have.

“Well when you get done here, see if it works. Might surprise you.”

The stranger watches you with a mix of amusement and a subtle challenge in his eyes.

Despite his confidence and power, he seems to appreciate your assertiveness and the way you hold your own.

He responds with a nod, his smirk growing slightly, his tone carrying just a hint of amusement and anticipation. "I will," he says, his words holding a subtle promise of future contact.

You walk away with a smirk, feeling the weight of the stranger's gaze on your back. The mixture of curiosity, uncertainty, and anticipation lingers in the air, leaving you with questions and a tingle down your spine.

As you leave, his eyes follow you, his gaze lingering on you, as if committing your form and your subtle smirk to memory. He seems to find your assertiveness and confidence intriguing, and a subtle smirk plays upon his lips, a mixture of respect and fascination in his gaze.

You return to your position at the checkpoint, only to find several LAPD officers filing in, their presence unexpected. Your gaze flicks to Ethan, confusion etched on your face. You ask him, "Did you say anything?" your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Ethan shakes his head in response, his eyes fixed on the officers. He seems puzzled by their arrival as much as you are, and his confusion is evident in his expression.

The announcement rings out through the checkpoint, the TSA's words echoing in the air, their message clear and firm.

The words "random bag checks" hang in the air, adding a new layer of uncertainty and anxiety to the already tense atmosphere. You watch as people react with apprehension and confusion, their eyes glancing around them in frustration, wondering if they'll be selected for a check.

Sarkowski, the supervisor, swiftly becomes flustered by the turn of events, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. "Everyone meet in the office. Right now!" he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The employees scramble into action, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry. They know the importance of following Sarkowski's instructions, and they quickly gather in the office, their gazes fixed on him as they wait for further explanation.

The stranger's voice comes through your earpiece, his words carrying a tone of anticipation and a hint of tenderness. "Walk slowly, honey. I need my eyes," he murmurs, his voice a quiet but noticeable contrast to the tense atmosphere in the office. You feel a shiver run down your spine, the combination of his words and the strange tenderness in his voice causing a mix of confusion and anticipation to swirl within you.

You follow the stranger's instruction, your eyes seeking out the room on the left. Your gaze lands on a room tucked away, seemingly out of sight from the main activity.

"Alright, see that room on the left?"

You nod as you walk ensuring that you understand which room he means. Your body is tensed, your voice full of anticipation and a touch of excitement, despite the circumstances.

“Go inside,” the stranger's words a quiet command that you follow without hesitation. With a glance around to ensure no one is watching, you quietly make your way toward the room on the left. Your heart beats a little faster, a mix of anticipation and caution coursing through your veins as you approach the room.

You enter the room and close the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place filling the room with a sense of privacy. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you see the stranger standing there, his presence dominating the space. The room feels claustrophobic and intimate, the air between you charged with tension and anticipation.

The stranger studies you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, his eyes flicking over your face as if taking in every detail. There's a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and his gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost as if he's enjoying this moment of anticipation. The silence in the room is heavy, the only sound being the steady beating of your heart in your chest.

He leans closer, his body pressed close to yours. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His words, "You're a brave woman, defying the rules just for me. I like that," send a wave of anticipation through you, and his lips brush against your ear, causing a surge of pleasure to surge through your body.

You feel trapped, the weight of his body and the closeness of his presence stirring something within you.

Your heart raced as his hand slid up your waist, his touch sending waves of heat through your body. You wanted to resist, to ask more questions, but all you could do was gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his mouth claiming yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting of sin and temptation. You felt his hand slip into your pants, his fingers skillfully working your wetness. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pleasure he was offering.

His fingers teased your clit, circling and rubbing, driving you wild. You squirmed in your seat, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your neck. "I want you, right here, right now," he growled, his voice filled with desire.

You couldn't deny the raw hunger in his words. With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your lace bra. He pulled it down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking and teasing, while his fingers continued their magic between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body arching as an intense orgasm ripped through you. He didn't let up, his fingers working you relentlessly, milking every last drop of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"That's just a taste of what I can give you," he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "But you have to be quiet." You leaned back, your body trembling. You wanted more, but you also feared the consequences. "Who are you?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

He smiled, his eyes full of mystery. "I told you, I’m just a regular guy." You couldn't shake the feeling that you had just embarked on a dangerous and exhilarating path. The man's touch, his words, and the thrill of the forbidden had awakened something primal within you. You wanted to know more, to uncover his secrets, even if it meant dancing with danger.

He presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and sensual, leaving you with a flutter in your stomach. Then, with a subtle smirk, he buttons up your shirt, his nimble fingers working efficiently to correct your indiscretion. Once done, he unlocks the door and pushes you out.

His lips curve into a slight smile, his eyes holding a mix of amusement and affection as he watches you go. He knows he has left you with a mix of confusion, anticipation, and a lingering sense of pleasure.

You re-enter the meeting room, finding it nearly empty as the meeting appears to be over. Ethan's eyes narrow at you, his gaze intense and filled with suspicion, as if he can sense that something is off about you.

You feel the weight of his gaze on you, the suspicion in his eyes making you slightly uneasy. Despite your attempt to maintain a cool exterior, you can't help but feel slightly exposed, as if he can see right through you and detect the effects of the stranger's touch still lingering on you.

You grab your MDT and log in, your fingers moving swiftly over the keys as you access the list of people with flagged bags. As the list appears on the screen, your eyes scan the names, and you see that 50 people are marked for bag checks.

Your mind immediately switches into professional mode, the task at hand demanding your focus. You begin to navigate through the list, planning and prioritizing the checks based on your training and protocol. All bags besides the one you would make sure would board.

The woman's voice over the PA system announces the random bag checks, listing off the names of the selected passengers. Carrie Pierce, Cameron Figgs, Mateo Flores, and Alison Mallory are among those called to have their bags checked. You can't help but notice the list, the one particular names of passengers echoing in your mind. It was the associate.

You turn to Ethan, your tone tinged with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Ethan, what did you do?" you ask, your eyes narrowed slightly as you study his face for any signs of guilt.

He shakes his head, his response firm and defiant. "Nothing," he insists, his eyes locking onto yours as he denies any involvement. "I didn't move." He stares at you with suspicion, his gaze searching for any indication of your involvement.

"Why'd they pull my guy?" the traveler asks, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Ethan responds calmly, "It's a lottery system." His words are confident, but you can sense a hint of tension beneath the surface.

You call him out, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of suspicion. "You're lying," you assert, your voice filled with conviction.

Ethan looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of defiance and a subtle challenge. He doesn't deny your accusation, his silence speaking louder than words.

Ethan leaves his position, his movements rushed and determined. You notice his departure, your instincts telling you that something is off. You follow him, your steps hurried and deliberate.

As you chase after him, you try to catch his attention, trying to stop him from ruining whatever plan may be in motion. You can feel the tension building, your thoughts racing as you try to anticipate his actions.

As you rush after Ethan, you feel a strong grip on your arm, a firm tug pulling you back. You turn, finding yourself pulled against the traveler's chest, his hand gently holding onto your wrist.

"Stop, stop," he whispers, his voice a gentle command that sends a shiver down your spine. His tone is both soothing and assertive, a mixture of insistence and concern.

The traveler speaks, his tone is soft but firm, his words a mix of reassurance and a request. He holds your wrist gently, his eyes searching yours, a silent plea for cooperation in his gaze.

His words, "I'll handle him, but I need you, to just go back and do your job. Can you do that for me, honey?" hang in the air, a mixture of trust and a subtle command. You can feel the weight of his request, and the implications of his words sink in.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your head as he whispers, "That's my girl. Days almost done." The words linger in the air, a mix of encouragement and something else that you can't quite place. As he pulls away, his fingers delicately removing your earpiece, you feel a strange mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

The weight of the moment lingers, his actions leaving you with a mix of anticipation and a subtle flutter in your chest.

Your thoughts, consumed by the stranger, make it increasingly challenging to maintain your professional demeanor. The anticipation of seeing him again, the concern for his safety, and the strange sense of connection you feel all swirl within you.

You can feel the effect he has on you, how he has taken over your thoughts and consumed your mind. The need to see him again grows stronger, an almost primal desire to be near him again.

A quiet, but insistent, voice breaks the silence, capturing your attention. A detective from the LAPD stands beside Sarkowski, their tone is urgent and professional. The words, "I need a line to LAX Security Tower and I need to talk to Ethan Kopek," fill the air, their gravity clear.

Sarkowski turns to you, his gaze inquisitive and expectant. "Where's Ethan?" he asks, his tone tinged with impatience and concern. You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your response.

Your mouth opens, but for a moment, no words come out. The silence stretches, as your mind struggles to find an answer, your thoughts racing to process the situation. The detective's gaze seems to intensify, her suspicion growing with each passing moment of your hesitation.

Another employee, hearing the conversation, intervenes, their tone casual and informative. "Yeah, you looking for E? He's on his way to sorting." Their words add a touch of normalcy to the tense atmosphere, though their casual tone seems mildly out of place.

The detective's gaze flicks from you to the new speaker, her suspicion shifting momentarily before returning to you. Sarkowski voices his concern, "What is he doing down there? The guy's been acting wiggly all day." The words hang in the air, a mix of confusion and suspicion.

The detective takes charge, her tone firm and authoritative. "Shut this checkpoint down now. And you," she points to you, her gaze fixed on you, "I need you to speak with you first." You feel the weight of her words, the intensity of the situation suddenly escalating. The room seems to close in, the tension palpable.

The nerves take hold, your voice a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "O-okay," you reply, a subtle tremble in your words. Your hands are slightly clammy, and your heart beating a little faster. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the weight of the situation and the intensity of the detective's gaze make it clear that this is far from a routine inquiry.

As you make your way down the hallway with the device, you pass the sorting area, your mind becomes consumed with a mix of worry and determination. The thought of the stranger, his face, his voice, his presence, all swirling in your mind as you desperately try to figure out a way to prevent him from getting caught.

The weight of the situation presses on you, the knowledge that something important, something significant, is at stake. It's a strange mix of emotions, the fear for his safety, the desire to keep him from harm, and the uncertainty of what you can do to help.

Your words, "Can I just make sure-" are cut off mid-sentence by the officer's firm response. "No," she says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan suddenly appears, his movements swift and frantic. His eyes meet yours, a mix of desperation and urgency in them. He quickly speaks, his words tumbling out, "He still has it, he still has it!" The message hangs between the two of you, a mixture of panic and a sense of understanding passing between you.

The detective, standing nearby, watches the exchange intently. Her gaze narrows as she asks Ethan, "Are you Kopek?" Her tone is sharp, her words carrying a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She's trying to piece together the puzzle before her, her focus fixed on Ethan, waiting for his response.

Ethan's desperate plea echoes through the air, his words a mix of desperation and urgency, "I know this looks bad, but you have to let us go, I have to get to my girlfriend!" His tone is pleading, a mix of fear and anxiety lacing his voice. The detective watches as Ethan tugs at you, her expression a mixture of skepticism and anticipation, her eyes analyzing Ethan's behavior and words, trying to assess the situation.

Ethan tugs at you, his movements urgent and determined, pulling you down the hall. As he speaks, his words carry a sense of urgency, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. "He's trying to take out Northwind 1850. All passengers," he informs you, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and urgency.

The thought of the stranger's safety, his fate hanging in the balance, and the potential consequences of your actions feel immense. It's a moment of deep contemplation, and the choice you make could have far-reaching consequences.

Ethan instructs you to stay with Nora, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and importance. "Stay with Nora," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. The responsibility of protecting her, of ensuring her safety, adds another layer of weight to your already stressful situation. You nod in agreement, your mind now divided between protecting Nora and ensuring the stranger's safety.

Ethan quickly boards the plane, his eyes scanning the bags, a mixture of urgency and determination in his gaze. He searches through the bags, his movements efficient and focused, until he finally finds the bomb amongst the other bags. The discovery solidifies the gravity of the situation, the threat of the bomb now out in the open, its presence a grim reality.

As Ethan tries to disarm the bomb, another man, a stranger in a black cap, suddenly calls out, "So you're Ethan!"

The unexpected voice, the man in the black cap, catches Ethan off guard. The sudden appearance and the question add an element of confusion to the already tense situation, the stranger's identity and intentions still unknown. The man in the black cap, though different from the stranger you encountered earlier, seems just as determined to ensure the bomb's mission is carried out. He appears ready to sacrifice himself if necessary, a grim resolve in his eyes. The knowledge of this adds a new layer of urgency and danger to the situation, as you realize the extent to which the attackers are willing to go.

Ethan, with a mix of determination and resourcefulness, manages to fight for his life and save the entire plane. He seals the bomb and the associate in a vacuum chamber, a desperate act that ultimately results in the death of the associate and the neutralization of the threat.

The danger is averted, the bomb's threat contained, but the price for Ethan's victory is steep, leaving the weight of the situation and its consequences hanging heavily in the air.

You tell the police your story, sharing the events of the day and the manipulation you faced. You're cooperative, sharing all they wanted to know, the words flowing out of you.

Even as you speak, a sense of loss weighs on you, the realization that you may never see the stranger again settling in your chest. Despite the danger and uncertainty of the situation, a part of you feels strangely drawn to the stranger, his presence and words lingering in your mind.

A part of you entertains the idea that the stranger was right, that if you truly wanted to, you could forget him, erasing his presence from your thoughts and memory.

Your life's trajectory has shifted, moving in a direction that you never anticipated, but that you've worked hard for. Your family visits for the holidays, their gratitude and appreciation for you leaving a warmth in your soul that you'll never forget.

The local news station reaching out to invite you for an exclusive interview is the spark that ignites a fire within you, leading to a string of phone calls and auditions. Finally, your father secures you a genuine agent, and you land your first major role in a movie, a dream that you've been chasing for years.

As each day passes, you find yourself constantly glancing around corners, half-expecting to see the stranger lurking there. The anticipation lingers, a subtle undercurrent in your daily routine, but the stranger never appears, the corner remaining empty.

Weeks turn into months, and the memory of his presence, his words, and his actions begin to gradually fade, the intensity of your expectation slowly waning with each passing moment.

You return to your new house, a cozy home nestled in the picturesque hills of California. The house is a testament to your success, a symbol of all you have achieved since that fateful day at the airport. Yet, as you step into the quiet solitude of your home, a strange sense of loneliness lingers in the air.

A mix of shock and disbelief washes over you as you enter your bedroom and flip on the light, finding a man sitting in the chair across from your bed. But it's not just any stranger - it's the stranger you've been unable to forget.

Your heart skips a beat, the surprise making your breath catch in your throat. You stand there, frozen in place, your mind struggling to comprehend his sudden presence in your most private space.

His voice cuts through the stillness of the room, the words carrying a mixture of accusation and nostalgia. "You changed your number," he says, his tone a blend of disappointment and understanding.

The words make your heart skip a beat, the weight of his statement hanging in the air between the two of you. You feel exposed as if he's laid bare your attempts to move on, to forget him, and yet he doesn't seem overly upset by it.

You respond, your tone is defensive and slightly sheepish. "I had to," you say, the words carrying a hint of regret and a touch of guilt.

The truth is, you had changed your number for your own sanity, as a way to distance yourself from the memories and feelings that he brought up within you. Yet, now that he's here, you realize that a part of you never truly let go.

He stands from the chair, his movements are deliberate and measured as he closes the distance between you. Each step brings him closer, the anticipation growing with each passing moment, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he approaches, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence commanding your attention, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His brown hair, shorter now, still slightly disheveled, framed his handsome face. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to devour you as if he was seeing you for the first time, yet with an intimate knowledge that made your cheeks flush.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible. You had changed your name, moved cities, and started a new life to escape him. But here he was, proving that his infatuation knew no bounds.

"I've been looking for you," he said, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Never got my answer on that dinner."

You took a cautious step back, your heart racing. The last time you were together, things had ended abruptly, leaving you with a mix of emotions. He had been possessive, and controlling, but there was an undeniable passion that kept you entangled in his web.

"I... I don't understand," you whispered, your eyes darting around, searching for an escape route. "How did you find me?"

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a pleasurable tingle down your body. "I've been keeping a close eye on you, waiting for the right time."

His words sent a chill down your spine. You remembered the countless nights you woke up to his intense gaze through your bedroom window. The flowers you'd find on your doorstep, with no note, but you knew they were from him. The feeling of being watched, and followed, had become a constant in your life.

"You can't just show up like this," you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. A part of you was intrigued, drawn to the intensity of his desire. "I have a life here, a career..."

"And I intend to be a part of it," he interrupted his voice firm yet laced with a hint of desperation. "I won't let you slip away again."

As he spoke, his eyes trailed down your body, taking in your curves, the soft swell of your breasts beneath your thin blouse. You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet a tingling warmth between your thighs betrayed your unease. His desire was palpable, and it awakened something primal within you.

"You know you want me too," he whispered, taking another step forward, closing the distance between you. "You've always had. From the first time, I whispered in your ear, you wanted me.”

His words were like a spell, breaking down your defenses.

"I..." You trailed off, your eyes searching his, trying to find the strength to resist. But his gaze held you captive, and you found yourself taking a step forward, closing the gap between you.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands reaching out to cup your face. His touch was electric, sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your initial resistance fading as his tongue danced with yours. His hands traveled down your body, molding your curves, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

He pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, and you could feel his hardness through his pants. His kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire, as his hands skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, exposing your heaving breasts.

"Oh, I've dreamed of this," he growled, his hot breath sending shivers across your sensitive skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple, sucking and teasing, while his hands worked their magic lower, sliding beneath your skirt.

Your breath caught as his fingers found the damp silk of your panties, stroking the sensitive folds of your pussy. You were already soaked, your body betraying your attempts at resistance. He knew how to touch you, how to drive you wild, and he took his time, building the anticipation.

"Please," you whispered, your head thrown back, as his fingers teased your clit, bringing you to the edge. "I need you..."

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot and raspy. "Not yet, honey. I want to savor every moment."

His fingers delved deeper, sliding inside your wetness, stretching and filling you. You moaned, your hips thrusting involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He added another finger, curling them, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"That's it, let go," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "Come for me, my beautiful girl."

His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right pressure, and you shattered around his fingers, crying out his name. The orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless against the wall.

But he wasn't done with you yet. He lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze burning with intensity as he stripped off his clothes.

"You're stunning," he whispered, his eyes raking over your naked body. "Every inch of you is perfection."

He joined you on the bed, his body covering yours, his lips claiming yours once more. His kisses were feverish, desperate as if he couldn't get enough. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of your body, reacquainting himself with your curves and valleys. "I need to be inside you, to feel you around me."

You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your hands tugging at his hair, urging him closer. He positioned himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your wetness, and slowly, he began to fill you.

The sensation was exquisite, his thick length stretching you, filling a void you didn't realize existed until that moment. He thrust slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, but soon his movements became more urgent, driven by the heat between you.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" you cried out, meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, as he hit all the right spots, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he pounded into you, driving you higher. Your cries filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he took you to heights you'd forgotten existed.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body tightening around him, seeking release. "Oh God, I'm so close..."

He increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours, his breath hot against your neck. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words were like a trigger, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft as you rode out your orgasm. He followed soon after, his body tensing, as he filled you with his hot release, groaning your name.

As your heart rate slowed, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his arms possessive around your waist. You lay there, breathless, your bodies glistening with sweat, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held now that he had found you again.

"You're not getting rid of me this time," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You knew that this was just the beginning, and as you looked into his determined eyes, you realized that this time, you did not want to escape after all.

[cailinsblog]

First Skates-Matthew tkachuk

Matthew tkachuk x reader

Masterlist

It was a crisp winter morning when Matthew and Y/N Tkachuk decided it was time for their son Nate to learn how to skate. The sky outside was a pale blue, and the snow had fallen thick the night before, covering the driveway and the world beyond in a soft, fluffy blanket. Inside their house, the air smelled faintly of pancakes and maple syrup as Y/N finished breakfast.

Nate, barely able to contain his excitement, was bouncing around in his pajamas, clutching his little skates like they were the most precious thing in the world. “Mommy! Daddy! When are we going to the rink? I wanna skate!”

Matthew, standing by the counter with a cup of coffee, smiled at the sight of his eager son. “We’re leaving soon, buddy. But first, we’ve gotta make sure you’re all ready,” he said, adjusting Nate’s little hockey helmet.

Nate, with his dark hair still messy from sleep, looked like a miniature version of Matthew. He wore a tiny black and red jersey with a Tkachuk jersey number on the back and hockey pants that were just a bit too big for him. His excitement was contagious, and Y/N found herself smiling, her heart swelling with love for her two boys.

“Do you think I can skate like Daddy?” Nate asked, his eyes wide with admiration.

Matthew crouched down, meeting his son’s gaze. “I think you’re going to be even better than me one day.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she finished packing up the bag with extra gloves, water, and a towel. “I don’t know, Matty. He might need a few years to catch up to you.”

Matthew shrugged with a playful grin. “I’m just saying, he’s got my genes.”

---

At the rink, the cold air hit them as they walked through the doors, and Nate’s face lit up. The ice was pristine, with freshly painted lines and the hum of the Zamboni still lingering in the air. He took a few tentative steps onto the ice, but the surface was slippery and unfamiliar, and he froze in place.

Y/N kneeled beside him, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Nate. You’ve got this. Mommy and Daddy will help you.”

Nate bit his lip nervously, looking up at his parents with big eyes. “I’m scared, Mommy.”

Matthew knelt down next to them, putting his hand on Nate’s back. “Hey, it’s totally normal to be scared at first. But I promise, once you start skating, you’ll love it. And we’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

Nate nodded slowly, still unsure, but his little face set with determination. “Okay, Daddy. I’m gonna skate.”

“Atta boy,” Matthew said, ruffling his hair before standing up and taking Nate’s hands.

“Here we go, little buddy.” Y/N stood beside them, holding Nate’s other hand as they slowly moved toward the ice. Nate’s skates were sharp, but he was so small that his movements were more like tiny steps than the graceful glides he’d eventually master.

At first, he wobbled uncontrollably, his legs flailing as he tried to keep his balance. “Whoa!” Nate giggled, his feet sliding out from under him. He fell backward, landing softly on his padded bottom with a small grunt.

“Good job, Nate!” Y/N cheered. “You got back up so fast!”

Nate looked up at her, a smile breaking out on his face. “I fell! That was fun!”

Matthew laughed, his heart swelling at his son’s excitement. “That’s the spirit. Falling is part of learning. Let’s try again.” He gently helped Nate back to his feet and steadied him.

They spent the next hour on the ice, with Matthew and Y/N holding Nate’s hands as he took slow, wobbly steps. Every time Nate fell, he popped right back up, determined to keep going. His parents cheered him on with every step, praising his perseverance.

“Look, buddy! You’re doing it!” Matthew said as Nate, with a concentrated expression, managed to glide a few feet on his own before stumbling again.

“I did it! I did it!” Nate shouted, his face lighting up. “Did you see, Mommy? Did you see, Daddy?”

“I saw!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re skating! You’re already better than me!”

Matthew laughed, shaking his head. “No way. No one can skate better than Mom. You should see her back in the day. She was a pro.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “That was before you, Matty.” She turned to Nate. “You’re doing great, honey. You’ll be skating like your daddy in no time.”

---

As the lesson continued, Nate’s confidence grew. With every step, he was more sure of himself. He stopped looking at his parents for support and started holding onto the edge of the rink, his little legs pushing him farther across the ice. His giggles echoed through the rink every time he made a successful push forward.

“I’m doing it! I’m skating like Daddy!” Nate shouted, beaming.

Matthew, standing next to Y/N, watched with pride as their son gained more and more confidence. “He’s a natural,” he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Y/N smiled back, her heart full. “You think? I think he’s got a long way to go before he catches up to his old man.”

“Well, we’ll have to get him a stick soon, huh?” Matthew mused, eyes glinting with excitement.

Before Y/N could reply, Nate skated toward them, his face flushed with excitement. “Look, Mommy! Daddy! I’m a real skater now!”

Y/N’s heart melted. “You sure are, sweetheart,” she said, bending down to give him a hug.

Matthew joined them, lifting Nate up in the air and spinning him around. Nate squealed with laughter, his arms and legs flailing in delight. “You’re a little hockey player now!” Matthew said, his voice full of pride.

As they continued to skate, Matthew held Nate’s hands and guided him around the rink. They went around the track a few times, and soon Nate was gliding on his own, though he needed the occasional steadying hand.

“Look at you go, buddy,” Matthew said, his voice full of admiration. “Next time, we’ll work on stopping, alright?”

Nate’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I can stop! Watch!” He bent his knees and tried to slow down, but ended up wobbling and falling. He landed softly on his bottom again, giggling.

“See? You’re already better than me,” Y/N teased, ruffling his hair.

Nate’s laugh was infectious, and the family continued skating around the rink, soaking in the special moment.

As they left the ice hours later, Matthew hoisted Nate up onto his shoulders, and the little boy’s tired but happy face was the picture of contentment.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” Nate asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Matthew grinned. “We can come back as many times as you want, buddy. We’re just getting started.”

Y/N smiled at the sight of her two boys, her heart swelling with love. “I think this is the start of something really special.”

“Definitely,” Matthew agreed, looking down at Nate with a soft, loving smile. “We’ve got a little hockey player on our hands.”

“Yeah!” Nate chirped, his voice filled with joy. “I’m gonna be like Daddy!”

And just like that, the Tkachuks had a new family tradition—skating together, laughing, falling, and learning. The rink would always be a place of fun and memories for their little boy, and Matthew and Y/N couldn’t wait to see what the future held for their young skater.

[saioratral]

so there's this professor... - 02 Chalked Hearts masterlist

if you ever had to give a mathematician a gift, a set of hagoromo chalk would be the perfect choice. known as the "rolls royce" of chalks, the "steinway" of writing tools, hagoromo is a luxury that many would go to great lengths to obtain. the same chalks that turn every mastermind into old folks fighting for the last fish. it's feather-smooth writing, even a mathematician transforms into an artist, the blackboard becoming their canvas.

that was exactly what you were planning on buying for your professor. you’d often notice how he relied on the university’s cheap chalk, constantly wiping his hands to rid them of chalk dust. you’d watch his expensive vest get coated by the fine powder, almost resembling a sugar doughnut.

you’d even gone as far as offering to clean the board after class—it just didn’t seem fair for your professor to teach for hours and then clean up the mess. determined to make a change, you resolved to buy him a set of hagoromo chalks. you spent months saving up every bit of your pocket money, but even the smallest set was beyond your budget.

“why are we in the market in this blazing heat?” your best friend alvin leroy groaned

“it will be quick! i just need to buy a nice cloth and some hagoromo chalks!”, you replied, pulling him closer to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“wait hold on- did i hear you say hagoromo chalks? why on earth would you need that?” alvin stopped dead in his tracks.

you looked back at your friend’s confused face. he proceeds to drag you both away from the bustling crowd, into a quieter corner of the market. you looked up to alvin who stood firm as a statue, clearly not planning to move until you confessed. with a sigh, you lowered your head, finding comfort in staring at your shoes.

“i want to buy it for.. professor….. william”, you muttered under your breath 

“professor william?!” alvin nearly shouted before you clapped a hand over his mouth in panic. “Why him??”

“don’t shout it out loud! urgh why did i bring you?”, you retracted back your hand 

“wait... don’t tell me you have a crush on professor william? no way, [name]! you? crushing on professor will- hey, wait up!”

you bolted away, your face flushed as you tried to hide your embarrassment. for the rest of the day, alvin declared himself the “captain” of his newfound ship, teasing you relentlessly until you finally parted ways. the next day, he was waiting for you with a... board?

“alvin what are you doing??”, you shouted as you ran over and pushed the board down.

“i’m having a voting poll on my ship name! i’m debating between will[name] and [name]liam!”, alvin grinned, folding the board back into his bag. 

“i don’t like him that way”, you grumbled, throwing the nastiest side eye on him 

“I hope so too”, alvin mutters to himself 

despite this antics, alvin's smile didn’t hold the same meaning. there was a hint of something else behind it. deep in his heart, resentment began to spread as he let you drag him into the classroom.

even during your maths class, you weren’t left in peace. your professor walked in with his neatly pressed coat draped casually over his arm, which he placed on his chair. he looked around the empty hall, spotting you and alvin seated at the front.

“i never thought i’d see mr. leroy arrive on time," william joked, pulling down the extra blackboard.

“Yeah yeah- oh professor, [name] has something”, alvin nudged you with a not-so-subtle grin

“[last name]? how can i assist you? having trouble with yesterday’s theorem?” william asked, setting his board at last 

he turned to face you both, his expression patient but with a hint of curiosity. he slowly walked closer to your seat, standing not too far from you. alvin gently pulled your chair back and gave you a small pat. you turned over to the boy and wished to slap off the wide smirk he showed 

“professor moriarty... i’ve noticed how you often leave with a rather... dusty coat,” you began softly as you stood up 

“i thought it was unfair for you to put in so much time to teach us- especially alvin”, you snickered remembering his test score 

“hey-” 

“i decided to buy some new chalks for you! it’s pretty popular amongst mathematicians”, you continued 

taking a closer step, you could smell his woody perfume, tinged with a hint of citrus. never in a million years did you expect to stand this close. alvin’s voice died down, watching the subtle tension and nerve you held to yourself 

you presented your professor a neatly wrapped cloth with his name engraved. william’s usually sharp and calculating eyes soften by the gesture. he took the gift from your hand to carefully feel the soft cloth. 

“thank you [last name]. it was rather unexpected but i am flattered”, william’s voice portrayed his genuine gratitude 

the rest of the day went on as normal. students rush into the class feeling dreadful but are left with joy after william promises not to give any homework. later that evening, william walks back to the moriarty estate feeling happier than before 

“you look like you outwitted sherlock holmes” albert welcomed his brother with a sip from his glass 

louis glanced up to see his brother indeed looked in a good mood. he watches william settle his satchel down on a nearby sofa before he sits himself. his lips created a small smile as he looked back at albert. he pulls out the small present he receives, letting it rest on the table in front 

“one of my students gave me a set of chalks as a gift for always coming home like a baker” " william replied with his rare gentle humour 

“that is rather…” 

“considerate. you don’t often see students go out of their way like that” " albert finished louis’s hanging sentence 

louis leaned forward, wanting to see more of the chalk. adding a small comment on the expensive gift, he questioned his brother about the owner. even albert expressed a wide-eyed smile, listening to william refusing to reveal your name 

while on the other hand, alvin stared at the ceiling of his dorm, replaying the events of the day. a heavy heart is what he would describe his feelings. he tried brushing off his obvious feelings of jealousy. he needed to ensure his ‘ship’ wasn’t sailing too fast, even if he was the ‘captain’. 

He prays that moriarty isn’t who he suspects to be 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

taglist:

@fishii28 @ayaswrld @eliasorchard @onna-musha-mari @dija200 @whyamidoingthisrip

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/gxtzeizm/730214598851067904?source=share THAT LAST GIF! :O

(link)

ok but the way oscar eats in these and the other rare moments we've seen him eat is so fucking sexy??? weirdly enough gremlin Lando eats fairly demure bc while he may shovel it in like a victorian street urchin begging for crusts of bread he does keeps his mouth closed and he's good about chewing. but Oscar is all teeth, curled up nose and throws back BIG bites to gnaw on, jaw working away. he's also super nonchalant about it and doesn't care if Lando or anyone else watches. he's going to eat his fill regardless.

that's also what I was thinking of when he did the wordless 'put your hands out and I'll give you a portion' rather than just handing the bag over to Lando after opening it. he's going to keep Lando in that dependent position because Lando actually likes it.

it made me think of this absolutely devastating ex-dando landoscar fic where Oscar casually asserts dominance over Daniel by eating from a chicken carcass with his bare hands and then kissing Lando possessively. I could literally see him hunched over ripping pieces of dark meat from the bone knowing that he can reel Lando in from Daniel with just a word. look at Lando's face in that gif above and that's the perfect imagery for fic Lando who's used to being at the mercy of an uncaring master because he wants so badly to be cared for - and now he's finally found someone who will wield the upper hand but always look out for Lando's welfare first. he's hanging on Oscar's every word and reaction and won't budge or speak until Oscar does because Oscar will always do what's right for Lando. sorrryyyy that fic is just - sometimes it dominates my mind.

but also the fact that Oscar's face always resets into that serious, determined expression with the unnerving steady gaze under those straight eyebrows idk. just all kinds of casual dominance and confidence. the fact that he'll absolutely have seen fans joke about how much he stares at Lando but he's never bothered to try and stop ??? like 'go ahead and watch me eat' 'go ahead and watch me stare at Lando' 'go ahead and try to publicly pressure me into signing that contract' 'go ahead and assume a rookie can't beat Max in a sprint race'. like he's saying 'this will be amusing for me'. 'first thing to say is… I would never back out of a race'. and how all of Lando's moods - even when he's in bad ones - are all easily accepted by Oscar because he's decided Lando is Always Worth His Time. but does he go out of his way to try and make new buddies with the rest of the grid? nope, mostly sticks to Logan or Zhou. Worth His Time.

I think it's why I love my vamposcar au so much bc sometimes it's like this old soul is having to pretend to be a nervous, awkward boy to not give the game away and sometimes he just forgets lol

[saekkas]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆-𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

summary: in which you go camping with the blue lock boys whilst having to deal with their shenanigans and your own feelings towards them.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

notes: i had to take a break halfway into writing the second scenario. my heart couldn't take it.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐘 and uses it to his advantage! is the type to forget packing his tent and sleeping bag (intentional or not? remains to be seen) but makes up for it by being super sweet and a complete gentleman.

isagi, reo, yukimiya.

"hey, here let me help carry that!"

"no. it's okay, i can-"

your words fall into deaf ears as he snatches the twigs and branches away from your hand. you watch with an exasperated sigh as he holds them in his left, his right holding fishing equipment that includes rods, nets, and bait. he's swaying on his feet, trying his best not to slip on the muddy landscape as it's just rained, and you hide a smile from his very sweet antics.

"you're going to fall if you keep this up."

the air is breezy, wind picking up the small leaves on the ground. small droplets of rain fall from high treetops as the birds start chirping, and the forest seemingly comes alive. looking at the sky above, you marvel at its colors, watching as the sun starts to set, leaving hues of orange, purple, and blue as its parting gift for the world.

up ahead is your campsite, one you've built just hours ago. it isn't much, built by two amateurs intent on spending a night away from the hustle-and-bustle of the city life. the wind blows against your face as you take in your little haven for the night: a medium sized tent that can fit up to three people decorated with fairy lights, and two foldable chairs sit upfront.

"no worries, i can do it. we're close anyway."

your eyes move to take him in, hair damp for the natural shower with beads of sweat rolling down the side of his head. he looks like a mess, breathtakingly so.

he sends you a blinding grin followed by a thumbs up as he surveys the pathway of stones you'll both have to climb to reach your designated spot. "oh man," he groans, swiping a hand across his forehead, "why did we set camp so far up?"

"because we want to be in a place far away from the bears and foxes?" you chuckle, using the same exact words he said only hours ago before sending him a look. "you wouldn't be so tired if you'd just let me help. c'mon. let me carry the fish, at least."

"the fish are slimy and they squirm a lot." he raises an eyebrow at your request, shaking his head with a frown. "you might fall."

"then let me hold onto the equipment. they aren't slimy and they don't move."

"yeah but they're long. you might trip over them."

"let me hold the firewood then," you offer with a hopeful smile, "they're still, they aren't slimy, and they fit right into my hands."

"you might poke an eye out if you hold onto them."

he's been like this the whole day. it started in the morning when you were just about to leave for the trip. at first, it was the little things. he offered to help carry things like snacks, luggage, or the portable stove. it got worse when you arrived. he insisted on doing every single thing, from setting up the tent to unloading the things from the car, refusing any of your help. he even offered to carry you when it started raining, not wanting you to get wet.

"okay. that's enough." the wind picks up and it's silent for a few moments until another light shower hits. you cross your hands in front of your chest, huffing as a strand falls onto your face. "either you let me help or we stay here under the rain until tomorrow."

he says your name with a shy mutter, quickly glancing over at your expression to determine whether you're being serious. "i- just don't want you to get hurt?" the answer comes out as more of a question and he winces at his own nervousness.

his eyes flicker back to yours for a second before he sighs, walking over to hand you the fishing equipment. "there," he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "we should go before you catch a cold."

"before we catch a cold," you correct, holding out a hand for him to hold.

"before we catch a cold," he mimics your words with a slight laugh, taking your hand before starting to climb the pathway. he mumbles be careful and watch your step, don't want you to slip several times as he keeps his eye on you the whole way back. when you finally reach the top, he tugs you into him to press a small kiss on your forehead.

"good job," he smiles shyly before he all but runs into the tent. "hurry up! before you catch a cold."

you dash under the tent and into his waiting arms with a mad grin.

"so what's with the princess treatment?" you ask with a quirked eyebrow as you pat yourself dry with a towel. "not that i mind but it's more than what i'm used to."

"ah. well. i just didn't want you hurting yourself," he says with a blush creeping up his neck as he runs a hand through his slightly wet hair. "and i- i still feel bad for this morning."

taking in his words, you fidget in your spot as butterflies start to flap in your belly, your heart warming from his intentions. "wait. this morning?" you ask with a tilt of your head, a curious expression your face. "what- oh! the sleeping bags, you mean?"

"yes." the blush intensifies further, crawling up his cheeks. "i still feel bad for forgetting my sleeping bag."

"well, i told you that i don't mind sharing mine." you shrug your shoulders, punching his shoulder playfully. "it isn't like we haven't slept in the same bed before."

"the last time we slept on the same bed was 10 years ago. in 3rd grade," he deadpans with a wince before turning around to face the opposite side of the tent.

you watch as he strips off his shirt, your eyes trailing down his bare back. he doesn't seem to notice, intent on changing into a fresh set of clothes. "well hey, who knows?" you add with a cheeky smile as you tease, "maybe you did it on purpose so that you can sleep with me again."

he groans, his blush threatening to envelop his whole face. "you're horrible. i told you, it was an accident. i left it by the door because i was in a rush to leave," he pouts.

"okay. i believe you." you giggle at him, watching with soft eyes as he zips up the tent, lighting the fairy lights surrounding the inside of your tent. "i'm just saying that i don't mind either way."

you listen to the sounds of nature, the soft chirping of crickets and the howls of the wind. you listen to the rustle of fabric as he prepares the sleeping bag. and you sigh, flustering as the thought of spending a night in the same sleeping bag as your childhood best friend and crush finally dawns on you.

"it's ready. do you want to slip in first?" he asks as he finally finishes dismantling the fabric, nodding at you with a shy smile. "it'll be a tight fit, though. are you sure-"

"yes." you cut him off as you shuffle into the sleeping bag, pinning him in place with your eyes. "i told you. i don't want you to freeze in your sleep, so please get into the bag with me and shut up."

"okay. okay," he chuckles as he raises his hands as a sign of surrender. "who knew you could be so bossy?"

you bite your lip and do your best to help him fit in by wrapping your hands around yourself. a minute later, he's in the sleeping bag with you, his arms and legs bent into awkward positions because of the tight fit.

"hold on," he mumbles as he starts to squirm around. "let me try something."

your heart is beating out of your chest at his proximity, your face warm as he finally settles into a position. he places his chin on your head, his hum reverberating through you. one of his hands lays itself under his head, the other on his hip. you close your eyes, trying to control your heart rate as he slots his feet with yours.

don't be nervous, he's just your childhood friend. your childhood best friend. he doesn't think of you as anything else. stop making this so weird.

"is this okay?"

you don't have the courage to see his face, blindly nodding against his chest. your heart lurches out of your chest, butterflies breaking out into a frenzy as he then wraps a hand around your waist timidly.

"you can tell me if it's not," he mumbles from on top your head, his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin of your hip. "i'll move if.. it's too much."

"no," you answer into his chest, slowly leaning in to press yourself into his warmth as the stiffness bleeds off your limbs. all traces of uncertainty and embarrassment fly out of your brain when he kisses the top of your head. "it's.. perfect. you're very warm."

"i am?" you feel his chest rumble underneath your hands. you feel his breathy laugh against your head. you feel his lips touch your forehead, your eyes closing at the intimacy of the moment. "we won't freeze in our sleep then."

"we won't."

he feels you nod against his chest, your hand gripping the material of his shirt. he stiffens for a moment when one of your hands move to his head, patting and playing with his hair.

he looks down at you, meeting your eyes.

"hi," he smiles shyly.

"hi," you giggle back, entranced by the soft hue reflecting off his face from the fairy lights. you watch as he slowly closes his eyes, leaning down before stopping just inches from your lips. giving you the option to sink or swim.

emboldened by his action, you lean in to reciprocate the kiss.

you both spend the night asleep in each other's arms, waking up the next morning with shy smiles, intertwined hands, and matching bedheads.

𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 but seems like the complete opposite. he looks bored out of his mind to even be participating, probably the type to have an emotionless expression the whole way through. grunts and sighs when asked to join any of the activities. don't be fooled though, he'd do anything just to spend a second alone with you.

RIN, sae, kunigami, nagi.

"thank you for the food!"

cheers ring out in the dining room of the villa, clinking glasses and plates heard throughout. meant as a friendly gathering, you watch with vivid amusement as the group of boys start to dig into their food.

"who knew they were such slobs." you look to your left as he scoffs the words, his eyes filled with poorly disguised annoyance. he ignores your curious eyes, instead choosing to focus on his own plate filled with baby back ribs, mashed potatoes, and grilled corn. "what?" he asks with a muted expression, boredom lacing his features. "do i have something on my face?"

"not at all," you laugh nervously with a shake of your head. internally, you're kicking yourself for staring too long. "was just curious about what you said."

he nods his head, picking up a fork to scoop the mashed potatoes into his mouth. there's a minutely silence, one you fill by eating your own share of food, still watching him from the corner of your eye. he's been nothing but quiet from the start, and you wonder if he's glad that the trip's coming to an end.

"do you have plans for the rest of the night?" you ask, nibbling at the cob. you hum in delight when the sweetness of the corn melts in your mouth.

he snorts at your happy expression, a shadow of a smile appearing on his face. "no," he answers bluntly, his bangs falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. "was planning to head in early."

"but they were planning on lighting the fireworks," you put down your corn, looking at him with a frown. "aren't you going to join? it's our last night here, after all."

he eyes the stray piece of corn in the corner of your lips, his hand itching by his side to swipe it off. "no." he angles his body away from you, stretching across the table to take two glasses of guava juice before he sits back down, placing one in front of you. "not a fan of explosions, you?"

"thank you." your chest warms at his gesture, smiling to show him your gratitude. you take the glass into your hand, lifting it to take a gulp. "me neither. i'm sitting out on this one."

you feel the pinpricks of his stare on the side of your face as you savor the flavor of the fruit. the ice cubes clink against your teeth, and you shiver at the coldness they spread through your body. gulping it down, you lick your lips at the sweetness of the fruit.

"wait," he calls your name in a low tone, and you look to him at the sound. your eyes widen when he leans in, his face right in front of yours, as he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. your hand clenches into the seat below, trying to ground yourself as he slowly retreats, his eyes on your lips the entire time.

your eyes stray to his lips in return, only to flick up into his eyes. you see them fill with amusement and his lips spread into a small smirk. biting your bottom lip, you watch as he brings his thumb, the one that was just on your lips, into his mouth, tongue peeking out to lick the digit.

"you listening?" you break out of your stupor as he smiles slyly, his eyes glinting. his voice is low, and you feel a shiver run down as it caresses your heart, holding it in his palms with a tight grip, never intending to let go. "you went somewhere there. mind telling me what's on your mind?"

"sorry. i- i was just thinking about how good the food is," you stutter, your eyes locked onto his as the others fade away into a blur. "don't you agree?" you laugh nervously, pinching yourself when his eyes stray to your lips once more. "you were saying?"

"are you planning on sleeping after this?" he repeats himself, slowly turning back to his food with that godawful smirk still on his lips. "or were you thinking of doing something else?"

"i was going to stargaze. the sky should be clear since we're far away from the city." you place a hand on your thigh, pinching the skin, doing anything to stop your heart from beating so fast. you look away from him, trying to shake his gaze and previous words out of your head.

i think i'm going mad is the first thing you think to yourself as the night air blows in your face. it's chilly, yet comforting, guiding you deeper into its embrace. the sky is clear, a dark blue sea dotted with thousands of glimmering stars, twinkling as if saying hello. the ground of the roof you sit on is cold, sending goosebumps across the exposed skin of your legs.

"ah. should've brought a jacket." you sniff, the wind biting at your cheeks but there's a smile on your lips. one of content and happiness. "i'll miss this when we leave," you whisper into the night, tucking your feet into your chest and leaning your head on them.

"i'll miss this too." the sound of his voice startles you, and you look over your shoulder at his approaching frame. you take in the way he walks with his hands in his pockets, a warm, oversized jacket on his back. he nods his head in greeting before he sits himself next to you.

it's quiet for a few seconds and you can't bring yourself to look his way, his previous stunt and words still playing in your head like a broken radio. there's a sound of rustling before he places his sweater on your head. "hey!" you complain, still not looking at him as you take the jacket and cradle it into your chest. "i thought you were going to sleep."

"changed my mind." his reply is simple, short, and you think nothing of it until he adds in, "wanted to spend it with you."

squealing on the inside, you chuck the fabric at his face, which he evades with an amused glint in his eyes. he takes it from the floor, gently brushing off the dust before placing it around your shoulder. like a warm embrace.

you look at him, trying to ignore the heavy fabric on your shoulders that smells and feels exactly like he would.

he offers no explanation, his lips sealed shut as he takes in the view. the silence is calming, like a cup of hot chocolate after playing all day in the snow. it isn't long after that his hand comes to intertwine with yours, tugging you onto his lap like it's nothing. you feel him sigh into your neck, breathing in your scent. he places a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering three words that calls for your heart to do the same.

it feels like coming home.

𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒. has watched every summer rom com, which he forces you to watch along with him, and is desperate to at least recreate one scene from the classics. thinks that the best friends-to-lovers trope is the best one and is dying to make it happen in his own life.

kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

there's nothing like feeling the air in your hair, the glide of water on your skin, and the smoothness of jagged rocks on the soles of your feet. a water gun is in your hands, and your chest heaves in exertion as you hide behind the bark of an old oak tree. you push your hair out of your face, annoyed by the looseness of your once tight bun, and listen to the pitter patter of feet against water.

"gotcha!" he practically yells as he throws multiple water filled balloons at you, most of them breaking against the tree. "you're horrible at this."

"i am not!" you giggle to match his laughs, running from your hiding spot with your gun pointed at his face. you take aim and smile in satisfaction when it hits straight on, laughing as his grumbles about water getting into his nose. "you're the one horrible at it. i win."

you walk towards him, face smug, with your gun pointed towards his chest. "ready to give up, criminal?"

"criminal, eh?" he asks with his hands raised in surrender, a twinkle in his eye that has you suspicious. you stand your ground, staring as he steps forward to press his chest to the muzzle of your gun. "guess that makes you the goody-two-shoes cop then?"

"it makes me the winner," you say with a raised eyebrow, eyes following the motion of his hand when it swoops down to caress your face. "what are you doing?"

the water from his hand drops onto your cheek and wets your hair as he swipes a fallen strand onto the back of your ear. a droplet slides onto your neck, running down the side of your body, and you shiver as he follows the motion with an unreadable expression on his face.

"sorry got distracted there for a sec." his grin appears just as fast as it disappeared, his eyes trailing down your body as he moves his hand to your hips, squeezing the fat around it. "you're pretty wet already, baby, and i haven't even done anything."

it takes you a minute to process his words. between the hand on your hip, drawing little hearts into your skin, and his pretty eyes, you're swept off to a place far away. at the same time, the wind sweeps down to envelop you both, caressing your bodies with a gentle kiss. if you close your eyes, you could imagine it was his.

"enjoying the view so much you can't speak, hm?" he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, and you watch them trail down from your eyes, down to your nose, and finally onto your lips. "can't blame you. mine's pretty good too." he leans in, eyes closing just a fraction, intent on making this the best moment of your life.

too bad something slimy makes its way past your foot, causing you to screech and jump towards him.

"hey! hey! woah!" the position you landed in isn't ideal. your legs are spread above his hips, making room for his body under yours. your faces are just inches apart, nose touching, and breath mingling with one another. "you okay?"

his hands are back on your hips, this time grounding as he wraps it around your waist. his eyes are filled with concern, his hair as wet as the rest of him is. he surveys your face, looking for signs of panic in your wide eyes. he sends you a sweet smile at last, one of his hands moving to rub gently against your back.

"it's okay. you're okay. you're with me." he lets you rest in the crook of his neck, stroking the back of your head. you can feel his heart beating through his chest, the organ racing against your palm. he tugs you back to meet his eyes, a hand cupping your cheek, as he looks you in the eyes. "that's it. that's better."

the stream is gentle under you. small fish swimming in pods start to gather near your bodies, curious of the two humans interrupting their peace. your body molds with his, your heart screaming to lean in and press a kiss.

"sorry," you mumble as you correct your stance, leaning back to straddle his thighs so he wouldn't be half submerged in water. his hand falls from your back, going back to its original position on your waist.

"it's fine." he brushes away with a chuckle, leaning back on his elbows as he looks at you. his heart is still beating irregularly fast, more so at the sight of you practically on his lap, the sun's halo against your head. you look like you're an angel. his angel.

your eyes go from his hand onto his face, your hand sliding up his chest to sweep away the water splashed onto his face. "you okay?" his silence bothers you, your expression turning into one of worry. "are you hurt?"

"not at all." he watches as you push off him, standing on your own feet. the warmth you exuded disappears with you, as if washed away by the stream, and he has to bite back a frown. this better not be what friend-zone feels like. "it feels nice to have you worry about me, though~"

he watches you roll your eyes with a tender expression. he eyes you, trying to sear this moment into his mind. his eyes linger before they catch onto the pine tree behind you, nervousness sparking as an idea comes to him.

"come with me." he doesn't give you time to react, hurriedly taking your wrist in his hand, and running towards the tree. he laughs when you shout in surprise. "just trust me!"

you're both panting when you reach it, the oak tree you hid behind just minutes ago. you turn your head, surprised at the distance you've covered from the start of the game. "okay," you say as you pant, hands on your knees. "tell me what you're up to or i'm dunking you in the water again."

"oh. so that was on purpose." a sweet grin appears on his face, his eyes misted over with a lovestruck haze. "and to think-" he stops when you pinch his cheek, laughing at the pout on your face. he misses the feeling of your hand when you turn away seconds later.

the tree stands by the waterline, tall and imposing, a testament to its age. you watch as he picks up a random rock, whistling as he starts to carve something onto the bark. you approach, gently leaning over his shoulder to see what he's made.

it's your initials. surrounded by a poorly drawn heart.

the sight has you giggling, shaking your head at his childish ways. "one of the scenes from your rom coms?" you ask, as you face him with your head still on his shoulder. you watch as the red gathers at his cheeks, his eyes fluttering at your close proximity. "ticked another off the list, then."

"not yet." he tries his best to remain nonchalant at your gaze, shrugging his one shoulder. "mind if i complete it now?"

"you don't have to as-"

his lips are pillowy and soft, the hand on your nape warm. there's a certain giddiness in his movements as he kisses you, his hand shaking where it's placed on your neck. you don't have the time to comment on it as he pulls away right after, his eyes alight with affection. you're sure you look at him the same way.

"i don't have to ask?" he asks as he strokes his thumb on your cheek, a grin on his lips. "got that."

this time, you chase his lips, shouting when he playfully runs away, "come back here, you thief!"

[thatfeelingwonie]

— 🧷 . . . MINISKIRT . . . sim jake

zhao iseul always had it easy. she could get everything she wanted due to her charms, and boys would always fall at her feet. but there was one guy who didn't seem to be phased by her, sim jake.

barista!jake x oc. lots of angst, slow burn (?), contains smut, mentions of domestic abuse, death, brain tumor, alcohol, hooking up.

CHAPTER TWO !

wc : 1.1k

it's been days since what happened at bar and iseul couldn't seem to move on, it bothered her just how unphazed that barista was compared to all the other men she had met in her life, and she needed to change that. it nearly kept her up at night the fact that she wasn't able to make all men swoon at her feet, and she was determinated to change that.

that's why she asked her friend to go out for some drinks at the same bar hoping she'll find that barista and prove him wrong.

"are we really back in this crappy bar just so you can seduce some random guy you'll forget about in a week?" her friend complained as she sipped on her drink annoyed, observing iseul fixing her make up and hair in a small mirror she carries in her bag before pushing her corset top down to expose her chest slightly and smiling slightly satisfied with her look.

"just watch, i'll get him this time." she warned before standing from her chair and approaching the counter where the same guy stood, threating her slender fingers through her strands with a soft grin stretching her glossy lips as she leaned over the counter and tapped her nail on the wooden surface to grab his attention. jake glanced at the direction of the sound and sighed heavily once he recognized the girl from the other night, quickly finishing the drink he was preparing before shifting to her direction.

"you again? did you miss me that much for you to be here on a wednesday night?" iseul brushed the annoyance that was already spreading on her face off and just smiled at him again, leaning further hoping he'll even just glance at her chest once but it was no use as all he did was staring emotionless at her face.

"so funny. can i get a bloody mary?" she fished a ten thousand won bill out of her skirt and pinched it between her index and middle finger. "and i'm actually planning to pay this time." she slowly set the bill down as his puppy eyes followed its movements, the brief glance he threw at her exposed chest not passing unnoticed by her as a small smirk curved her lips, sliding the money towards him before purposely crossing her arms on her chest.

jake cleared his throat and adjusted the thick, black, glasses resting on his nose's high bridge before beginning to prepare the drink she requested, tilting his head slightly at his own behaviors as looking at someone's chest was wrong and disgusting. it was clear her intentions did not chance even a bit and she was probably trying to get into his pants just for a free drink, even if he couldn't understand why she was so determined.

the raven watched his every move as he worked, her gaze lingering on the way his strong hands handled the drink shaker, the subtle flex of his forearm muscles as he mixed the cocktail, leaning on the counter with a playful pout while keeping her chest displayed. this wasn’t a new tactic for her, and usually guys would instantly fall for this.

"you know, you’re not like other guys," she started, letting the statement hang in the air as if it was meant to flatter him in any way, awaiting a reaction from him but allowing her brows to drop disappointedly when he didn't respond. "most men would’ve been tripping over themselves by now, but you— your eyes have never looked below my neck."

jake set the drink in front of her with a quiet clink, meeting her gaze with a flat expression as he wiped his hands clean. "i’m just here to make drinks, not to entertain your games." he replied with a cold tone, grabbing the cloth hanging from the dishwasher before wiping the glasses dry that he then set under the counter.

his indifference stung more than she’d like to admit, and it gnawed at her ego.

iseul’s smile dropped for the briefest second before she regained her composure, tucking a strand of her raven hair behind her ear and reaching for the glass but instead of taking a sip she ran her finger along the rim with gaze still locked on him. "games?" she tilted her head slightly, playing innocent as she let her fingers trail over the glass, dark eyes following his every movement as a way to put him on the spot. "who says I’m playing any games?"

the boy didn’t even bother to glance at her as he turned away, busying himself with stacking clean glasses behind the counter and letting her voice turn into a white noise as the sigh that slipped past her lips passed unnoticed by him. she wasn’t used to being ignored, being dismissed like she was just another customer, every man she met, from high-profile executives to local bartenders, had always fallen for her charm, her beauty, and her ability to get what she wanted.

but not this guy.

the girl couldn’t help but grit her teeth slightly, the smile plastered on her face becoming harder to maintain as her frustration only grew further. taking a deep breath, she decided to change her approach. she stood up from her seat, her demeanor shifting from flirtatious to something more casual leaning against the counter as if she was simply there to have a conversation. "alright, i'll drop it," the aussie gave her a suspicious glance, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in her tone but still keeping his attention on the drink orders coming in.

"but can i ask you something?" she continued once he didn't respond, sipping on her drink and maintaining a smile. "why do you work here? I mean, you don’t look like the typical bartender."

jake paused for a moment as if he hadn’t expected the question before giving a slight shrug, wiping his hands on the cloth again and cleaning his work surfice. "pays for my college."

"is that it? you just make drinks, go home, and repeat? don’t you have other plans?"

"i’m not really interested in sharing my life story with someone who’s just trying to get me fired," he finally answered, his tone still distant but not as harsh as before, glancing around the the customers in front of the counter that were waiting for a drink. "now if you excuse me, i have drinks to make." iseul sighed defeated, stepping back from the counter with a laughing friend awaiting for her at the table.

this was going to take more effort than she’d thought.

tags !

@boobaemilk @ziiao @riqomi @lvvstruck @maewphoria @makrleestoes

[enemiestolovershoe]

I just found your blog now and holy crap am I glad I did !!! Your JJ fics are seriously so AMAZING 🤩.

Could I pls request JJ x fem where she convinces her parents to let her boyfriend come with them on their annual lake house vacation, Her mom is a sweetie pie and instantly gives approval but her dad very reluctantly agrees hoping their relationship is a just a brief summer love fling because God forbid her daughter is in love with a pogue. He tries to break them up one night and she’s (reader) is not having it all… Angsty with some smut cause it’s JJ 😜 happy ending perhaps with him proposing to her as a nice touch🩵.

Somewhat inspired by the movie “Endless Love”

Tysm hope it’s not too long/confusing explanation 🫣.

Summer Heat

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: The request explains it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: some fighting between y/n and her dad.

A/N: I haven’t seen Endless Love but I read a few summaries and tried to capture what you were looking for. I didn’t include any smut bc I wasn’t in the mood to write it that day. I’m sorry about that, but I still hope you enjoy it! :)

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of your bedroom as you packed the last of your bags for the annual lake house vacation. You were practically buzzing with excitement, knowing that this year was different. For the first time, JJ Maybank—your boyfriend of the past year—would be joining you and your family.

You had spent weeks convincing your parents to let him come along. Your mom was on board from the beginning, always quick to support you and, in her words, “happy to meet the boy who makes my daughter glow.” Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as easily swayed. His protective nature amplified when it came to your relationship with JJ, whom he viewed as reckless and irresponsible—a “pogue,” in his words, who wasn’t good enough for you.

Despite his reluctance, you finally got him to agree after promising JJ would sleep in the guest cabin and be on his best behavior. But you knew that was only half the battle. You were determined to show your dad how wrong he was about JJ.

“Are you sure about this?” JJ asked as he carried your suitcase to the back of your car. His trademark smirk softened into a more nervous expression.

“Yes,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his face. “I want you there with me. Don’t let my dad get in your head, okay?”

JJ exhaled and nodded. “Alright, but if he challenges me to a duel or something, you’re stepping in.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him briefly. “Deal.”

The lake house was as picturesque as ever, surrounded by towering pines and a crystal-clear lake that sparkled under the afternoon sun. Your mom greeted JJ with open arms the moment he stepped out of the car, pulling him into a hug and exclaiming, “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, JJ! Y/N talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, I hope,” JJ said, his easy charm shining through.

“Of course, sweetie!” your mom said, giving you a knowing smile.

Your dad stood off to the side, arms crossed as he surveyed JJ with a critical eye. “Let’s get the bags inside,” he said gruffly, brushing past without offering a greeting.

JJ’s shoulders tensed, but he covered it with a grin directed at you. “Fun times already,” he muttered under his breath.

You sighed, silently vowing to make this trip work.

The first few days went smoothly. JJ fit in effortlessly with your mom, helping her cook dinner and making her laugh with his endless stories. He spent hours swimming and kayaking with you on the lake, his carefree energy infectious.

But your dad remained distant, watching JJ like a hawk and making snide comments whenever he got the chance. “So, JJ,” your dad said one evening during dinner. “What’s your plan for the future? Or do you just plan to drift through life?”

JJ set his fork down and met your dad’s gaze. “I’m working at the marina right now, saving up for a boat of my own. I’d like to start a charter business someday.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow. “A charter business? Sounds...ambitious.”

“Dad,” you interjected, your tone sharp.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” JJ said, squeezing your hand under the table. “It’s not easy, but I’m willing to put in the work. I’ve got goals, even if they don’t look like the ones you might expect.”

Your mom quickly changed the subject, but the tension lingered.

It all came to a head on the fourth night. You were sitting on the dock with JJ, your feet dangling in the water as the sun set. It was peaceful, just the two of you laughing and talking in the warm evening air.

But when you returned to the house, your dad was waiting in the living room. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” he said, his voice clipped.

JJ started to follow, but your dad held up a hand. “Alone.”

You exchanged a glance with JJ, who nodded reluctantly.

“What is it, Dad?” you asked once you were in the kitchen.

“I’ve been patient,” he began, pacing the room. “I’ve given JJ a chance, even though I don’t think he’s right for you. But this...this thing between you two—it’s a summer fling, Y/N. It’s not real.”

Your jaw dropped. “Not real? Are you serious? JJ and I have been together for a year.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” your dad said bluntly. “He doesn’t have a stable job or a secure future. What happens when this little romance fizzles out, and you’re left picking up the pieces?”

“Wow,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “You don’t even know him, Dad. You’ve already decided he’s not worth anything because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little box.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” he said, his tone softening.

“No,” you snapped. “You want what you think is best for me. But guess what? I’m an adult. I get to choose who I love, and I choose JJ.”

Your dad’s face hardened. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you said fiercely, tears stinging your eyes.

You turned on your heel and stormed out, finding JJ waiting on the porch. His expression was a mix of concern and determination. “I heard yelling. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, throwing your arms around him. “But I don’t care what he says. I love you, JJ. I’m not letting him come between us.”

JJ pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean that,” you said.

He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. “Because I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he dropped to one knee. “Y/N, I know this isn’t the most romantic timing, but I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

JJ slipped the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Inside the house, your mom was watching through the window, a wide smile on her face. Your dad stood behind her, his expression unreadable. But for the first time, he didn’t say a word.

A/N: This will be my last JJ fic for a while. I’m just not feeling the same connection to him and Rafe as I used to. I’m sorry, and I hope you understand.

Taglist: @courta13

[sleekervae]

The Bride [1.0]

Masterlist

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Billy leaves the Seven Rivers Gang

Warnings: cursing, slander, violence, shooting, death

Word Count: 4,641

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

Billy stood at the edge of the gathering, his face set in a determined expression as he addressed Jesse, Bob, John, and the rest of the gang. The murmurs and laughter of the group fell silent as he spoke up.

“Where you been, Billy?” Jesse's voice cut through the quiet, tinged with suspicion.

“Around,” Billy replied evenly.

“Yeah. And where's that?” Bob asked with a hint of irritation, his gaze narrowing.

Billy took a deep breath, knowing this was a conversation he had to have. “I came to tell you something. I’m quitting Major Murphy’s payroll.”

A tense silence settled over the group, the weight of Billy's words sinking in. “I’ve accepted a job with the Englishman, Tunstall. I’m leaving today.”

John's face darkened, his eyes blazing with anger. “Well, you are a little piece of shit, ain’t you? Huh. What’d I say? Hmm?"

Jesse, struck between shock and his own fury, stepped forward, "Billy, I’m your oldest friend. We’ve ridden together a long time. We had some good times, we had some bad times, but our friendship… has always remained. I can’t believe that you’re gonna quit on me now. It don’t make any sense.”

Billy met Jesse’s gaze steadily. “I’m sorry, Jesse. This wasn’t an easy decision to make. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Yeah. That you’re a traitor and our enemy,” Bob spat out.

"This is all that girl's fault, I reckon!" another one snapped, "He took one look at her and it was game over!"

“This has nothing to do anybody else. I just came here to tell you in person.” Billy reasoned, his eyes remained resolute. “Some of us have been friends. When this is all done, we can be friends again.”

Bob's laughter was bitter and cold. “Is that what you’re hoping? That we’re gonna be friends?” He scoffed, the sound echoing harshly as his hand come over his holster, “Do you really think we’re just gonna let you leave? After what you’ve just done?”

Jesse stepped in, trying to defuse the situation, “Boys, boys. We’ve all slept, starved, fought with The Kid. See, he’s trusted himself amongst us. He didn’t sneak out. He came right out and told us. Let him go his way.”

Jesse’s eyes remained fixed on Billy, the fury in them still burning bright. “Our time will come.”

Billy nodded, acknowledging the truth in Jesse’s words. “Yeah. It will.”

As Billy turned to leave, Jesse’s gaze lingered on him, a mixture of anger and reluctant respect in his eyes. Despite the bitterness of the moment, he couldn’t deny the courage it took for Billy to face them directly. The tension in the air was thick, but Jesse’s voice softened as he muttered under his breath, “Chickenshit.”

Eleanor darted around her small room, her hands trembling as she hastily stuffed her belongings into a worn leather trunk. Clothes were half-folded, crumpled, and tossed in with barely a glance. The once neatly arranged items now lay in chaotic disarray. She grabbed a small stack of letters from her desk and scribbled furiously, the scratching of her pen almost frantic.

Billy, I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stay here. I hope you find happiness, even if I can’t be part of it. All my love, Eleanor

She folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, her hands shaking.

Quickly, she moved to another piece of paper.

Dear Mr. Tunstall, I must resign from my position effective immediately. This decision comes with great difficulty, but circumstances have forced my hand. Sincerely, Johana Delile

With a sharp exhale, she folded the resignation letter and set it on the desk. Her heart pounded in her chest, each thud resonating with the urgency of her departure. She grabbed the last few items—a photograph, a book, a small box of keepsakes—and shoved them into her bag.

Just as she was about to snap the trunk shut, a loud knock echoed through her tiny room. Eleanor froze, her breath catching in her throat. The noise was sharp, unyielding, and it made her heart skip a beat. She stood still, her hand hovering over the latch of the trunk, the last vestiges of her resolve crumbling in the face of unexpected visitors.

Her mind raced, trying to process who could be knocking at her door now, and why. She glanced at the clock, realizing she was out of time. The knocking persisted, more insistent. Panic set in as she took a deep breath, her hand trembling as she slowly reached for her switch blade, the echo of each knock reverberating in her ears...

Billy's heart raced as he approached Tunstall's store. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the street, and his mind buzzed with a mix of relief and anticipation. His encounter with Jesse and the gang had been rough—bitterness and anger had hung heavy in the air, but now, with that chapter behind him, he was eager to share his news with Eleanor.

He swung open the door to the store. The interior was dim, lit by the warm glow of lamps that cast flickering shadows on the shelves of goods. Billy's eyes searched for Eleanor, but the store was empty except for Sam, who was behind the counter, arranging a stack of papers.

“Sam!” Billy called out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the lingering tension from earlier. “I’m here to see Johana. I’ve got some good news to share.”

Sam looked up from his work, his brow furrowing in concern. “Billy. I'm sorry but -- Johana's not here,”

Billy’s heart sank. “What do you mean, she's not here? She's off?”

"No, she just... didn't show up," Same replied, his expression troubled. “She usually keeps to her schedule pretty well. I'd go check on her, but I'm the only one on today. I can't leave. I thought she might have been delayed, but it’s been a few hours now. I’m worried,”

Billy’s mind raced. The excitement of sharing his news with Eleanor had shifted to concern. He stepped further into the store, glancing around as if expecting her to appear at any moment. “Can you think of anything? Maybe she said something about her taking off in passing?”

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. I haven’t heard a word. She didn’t mention anything unusual before she last left. The only thing that's happened is the army caravan riding into town,”

Billy’s heart pounded in his chest, "The US Army?"

"Is there another one?"

The mention of the army caravan immediately set off alarm bells in his mind. If the army was rolling in, then there was a good to fair chance Captain Harbinger was closing in. Maybe he's spotted her? Maybe he grabbed her?

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he looked at Sam. “When did they arrive?”

Sam’s face was indifferent as he replied, “Just last night night, I think. I saw them pull in and set up camp across the street,”

Billy’s thoughts raced. The coincidence of the caravan arriving just a day before she went missing was too significant to ignore. He couldn’t shake the feeling that her disappearance might be connected to the soldiers’ arrival.

“Did she say anything about it?” Billy asked urgently.

Sam shook his head. “I was already gone. Is she wrapped up in some kind of trouble?”

Billy’s worry deepened. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, "You could say that," He had to find Eleanor, and he had to do it quickly. He gave Sam a nod, barely registering his thanks as he turned and headed back out the door.

As he rushed toward the boarding house, every step felt like a battle against the rising tide of panic and dread surging through him. His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of fear and urgency. Eleanor's safety was at stake, and the realization of how dire the situation had become fueled his desperation.

He pushed himself faster, weaving through the bustling streets, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The sight of the army caravan loomed like a dark omen in his mind, each passing moment heightening the sense of impending disaster. He scanned every shadow, every alleyway, praying for a glimpse of Eleanor or a sign that she had escaped whatever threat was closing in on her.

The stakes had soared to a terrifying height, and the weight of his mission bore down on him with crushing intensity. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs, the urgency of the moment leaving no room for second-guessing. With every beat, he felt the crushing fear of arriving too late, of failing her when she needed him most. He pushed onward, driven by the desperate hope that he wasn’t too late to save her from whatever danger loomed just out of sight.

Billy burst into the dimly lit lobby of the boarding house, his eyes scanning the room for the desk clerk. The clerk looked up from behind the counter, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern at the sight of Billy’s frantic demeanor.

“Excuse me,” Billy said, his voice edged with urgency. “I’m looking for Johana Delile. Have you seen her? It’s really important.”

The clerk’s face tightened. “You just missed her. She left with her bags not ten minutes ago,”

Billy’s heart dropped. “Left? Where did she go?”

The clerk shook his head, apologetically. “I don’t know. She didn’t say where she was headed, just asked me to bring up her bill so she could pay. I’m sorry.”

A rush of frustration and fear surged through Billy. “Damn it,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “Thank you.”

He dashed back out into the street, his mind racing with possibilities. Eleanor was gone, and with the army caravan in town, he knew he had to find her before it was too late. He felt the gravity of the situation settle over him, pushing him forward with a renewed sense of urgency.

Eleanor’s hands were shaking as she finished packing the last of her belongings onto her horse. The familiar, comforting routine of preparing for travel was now tainted by a sense of imminent danger. She glanced over her shoulder, her breath hitching when she heard the unmistakable voice she dreaded most.

“Hello, Eleanor,”

The blood-curdling tone made her spine go rigid. She spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. Captain Harbinger stood there, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over her. His eyes were cold, and the cruel scowl on his face sent a chill down her spine.

"Captain," she started casually, hoping to keep things pleasant, "Been a long time. You're moustache is longer,"

“It's been a long time, indeed. Over a year I’ve been looking for you,” Harbinger said, his voice dripping with menace. “You didn’t think you could just run away from me, did you? I paid for you. You’re mine.”

Eleanor’s mind raced, her thoughts scattered as she tried to stay calm. “Harbinger, please. You don’t have to do this. I... I have money. Lots of it. I can pay you back what you paid my father!”

Harbinger’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. “Pay me back? You think you can just pay me back after everything? I won’t have it. You’re coming back with me to Rosario, and you’ll be my wife whether you like it or not.”

She glanced at her packed belongings, then at the horse. Her escape route was close, but Harbinger’s presence made it impossible to act without getting caught. “I’m not going back with you,” she said, her voice steadying despite the fear clawing at her. “I have a life here. I—”

Harbinger’s eyes flared with anger, cutting her off. “A life? You had a life before I paid your dowry. And what a waste of a life it was—slaving away in a stuffy office, hucking mud and shit out of the stables, and cleaning up after your father’s drunken stupors. He was your burden. I freed you. And now, you’ll do as you’re told.”

The venom in his words struck Eleanor like a physical blow. Her fear began to twist into searing anger, her heart racing with fury. She could feel the rage bubbling up inside her, fueled by the insult to her father—the only family she had left.

“My father was no burden!” Eleanor spat, her voice shaking with both fear and anger. “He had his problems, sure. But he was twice the man you'll ever be!”

Harbinger’s smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with malice. “He was nothing but a stumbling drunk. I could've offered him a bottle of whiskey and he would've handed you over to me without question.”

Eleanor’s hands trembled as she reached into her pocket, pulling out her switchblade with a swift motion. The cold metal glinted in the sunlight as she brandished it, her anger transforming into a fierce resolve. “I ain't coming back with you. I'd rather be laid out to die and have the coyotes on me then ever even consider being your wife,”

Harbinger’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face as he took in the sight of the blade. “Eleanor, put that away. You don’t know what you’re—”

“I know exactly what I’m doing!” she interrupted, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

Harbinger’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face as he took in the sight of the blade. He smirked, pulling out his gun with a deliberate slowness. “A knife? Really? You bring a knife to a gunfight?”

Eleanor’s resolve hardened, but her fear was palpable, “John Riley murdered his wife last night, and if you think I'm coming back with you only to end up the same way, you got another thing coming to you!”

Harbinger’s smirk twisted into a cruel grin as he leveled the gun at her. “You think you’re tough with that little thing? Come on, then! Let's see how brave you are!” he held his arms out, "I'm wide open!"

Eleanor wanted nothing more then the gouge his eyes out, to draw her knife over his neck and slit his throat from ear to ear. She would've enjoyed it to, because without certainty, she would've been free. She could bury him somewhere, he'd disappear, become a legend, and she could move on in peace.

But alas, Eleanor couldn't move. Because at the same time, Eleanor had never killed anyone. That was a line so many people in her life as crossed, she herself couldn't bring herself to move.

Before she could react, Harbinger came at her, the gun striking her hand with a brutal impact. The switchblade flew from her grasp, clattering against the ground. Harbinger seized her wrist, his grip ironclad as he wrestled her down. Her horse, spooked, took off into the desert.

Panic exploded within Eleanor as she struggled against him, but his grip was like iron, unyielding and merciless. His face was close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath, the rancid stench of his breath mixing with her own desperation. “You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not,” he growled, his voice a cold, menacing promise.

The fight felt interminable, the searing sun casting harsh shadows on their tangled forms. Each second dragged on, each movement a battle against the suffocating despair. Harbinger’s grip tightened with relentless force, his strength sapping Eleanor’s resolve and hope. Her vision blurred with tears of frustration and fear, the fight slipping from her grasp as she felt her strength drain away under his brutal hold.

Just as Harbinger was about to secure her, a shout cut through the chaos. “Hey! Get your hands off her!”

Billy’s voice was a roar of anger and desperation. He charged in, tackling Harbinger with a force that sent both men sprawling to the ground. The gun skidded away as Billy grappled with him, his fury evident in every move.

Eleanor scrambled away, her breaths ragged as she looked up to see Billy wrestling Harbinger off her. She saw him pull the man from her, throwing punches with a ferocity born of deep concern.

Harbinger fought back, but Billy’s determination and strength were unmatched. With a final shove, Billy threw Harbinger to the ground, panting heavily as he stood over him.

“Stay the hell away from her,” Billy growled, his eyes locked on Harbinger with a fierce intensity.

Harbinger’s eyes flickered with sudden recognition as he looked up and saw Billy rushing towards them. The realization hit him like a jolt, and a cruel smile twisted on his lips. “Well, well, well,” he sneered, “If it isn’t the infamous Kid Antrim himself.”

He turned back to Eleanor, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. “Looks like I’ve struck gold,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “Not only do I find my runaway bride, but I also snag the outlaw they’ve been hunting.”

His gaze shifted back to Billy, a malicious glint in his eyes. “And here I thought today couldn’t get any better. You two are just making it too easy.” he staggered to his feet, spitting out blood, "Let me guess, she told you some sob story about running away from a loveless marriage and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. She’s quite the little lady, isn’t she!" He laughed, a grating sound that sent shivers down Eleanor's spine.

Billy glared at Harbinger, his fists clenched by his side. "Leave her out of this, Harbinger. You know nothing about her or me," he growled, his voice a low rumble.

Harbinger just laughed again, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to Eleanor's ears. "Oh, but I know more than you think, Kid. And I'm going to enjoy killing you in front of her," he said, his eyes taking on a dark, maniacal gleam.

Billy barely had time to react before Harbinger's fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The impact echoed through the dusty clearing.

Billy’s head spun, but he quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He lunged at Harbinger, landing a solid punch to his ribs. The two men clashed with a ferocity that was almost primal, exchanging blows with a violence that sent dust and debris flying into the air.

Harbinger grunted as he took a punch to the stomach but retaliated with a brutal swing of his fist that caught Billy square in the face. Billy stumbled, his vision blurring momentarily. Harbinger seized the opportunity, grabbing Billy by the collar and throwing him to the ground.

Eleanor’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the brutal struggle between Billy and Harbinger. With her switchblade clutched tightly in her trembling hand, she knew it was too small to make a real impact in this deadly confrontation. Desperation fueled her actions as she launched herself at Harbinger, trying to wrestle him away from Billy.

Harbinger’s powerful shove sent her crashing to the ground. Eleanor hit the dirt hard, her skin scraping against the rough surface. Pain flared as she felt the sting of cuts and scrapes, and her lip split open, blood mingling with the dirt. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled to push herself up, her mind racing for a way to help Billy despite the agony of her injuries.

Billy scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. His fury only heightened when he saw Eleanor in the dirt, and he charged back at Harbinger with a renewed determination, landing a series of quick, powerful punches. Harbinger, despite his size and strength, was momentarily overwhelmed by Billy’s relentless assault.

Eleanor’s mind raced, desperately searching for a solution. She scanned the surroundings for anything that might help. Her eyes fell on a nearby pile of wooden crates and a small barrel of oil. An idea sparked, and she rushed over to the barrels, struggling to lift them.

The fight between Billy and Harbinger continued, the two men locked in a deadly struggle. Billy’s blows were becoming more desperate, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Harbinger, though bruised and battered, was relentless, driven by a dark, twisted satisfaction.

Eleanor finally managed to tip over the barrel of oil, spilling its contents onto the ground. She grabbed a nearby crate, her heart pounding as she carried it over to the edge of the clearing. With a deep breath, she struck a match and tossed it onto the oil-soaked ground, creating a fiery barrier between herself and Harbinger.

The flames erupted with a fierce crackle, sending a wall of fire shooting up between Eleanor and Harbinger. Harbinger’s eyes widened in shock as the fire cut through the air, the heat pushing him back. He stumbled, momentarily distracted from his fight with Billy.

Billy seized the opportunity, launching himself at Harbinger with a final, desperate attack. The two men tumbled to the ground, the fire roaring around them as Eleanor watched with bated breath. She knew this was her chance to escape, to finally break free from the nightmare she’d been trapped in.

The blaze crackled fiercely, casting an ominous glow over the struggling figures. Harbinger’s face was a mask of pure rage as he tightened his grip around Billy’s throat, his fingers like iron bands cutting off Billy’s breath. Billy's struggles grew weaker, his face turning red as he fought to break free.

Just as Harbinger’s grip threatened to crush the life out of Billy, a chilling click echoed through the chaos. Harbinger’s eyes shot open wide, his expression shifting from fury to confusion. He released Billy momentarily, glancing around to locate the source of the sound.

The firelight flickered across Eleanor’s face, her eyes fierce and resolute. In her trembling hand, she held Harbinger’s revolver, the barrel pointed directly at him. Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the gun heavy but grounding.

"Get away from him," Eleanor’s voice rang out, steady despite the tremor in her hands, "Or I'll kill you."

Harbinger’s gaze snapped back to Eleanor, his face contorting into a mask of sheer anger. He lunged towards her, but the gun was now firmly in her grasp. The realization of his missing weapon sent a wave of panic through him, even as he tried to mask it with bravado.

“You don't have the nerve!” Harbinger growled, but the sound was cut off by the sharp crack of the revolver as Eleanor fired a warning shot into the air. The bullet whizzed past his ear, a clear and resounding declaration of her resolve.

The shot caused Harbinger to freeze, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. He took a cautious step back, his hands raised in a gesture of reluctant surrender.

Eleanor stood her ground, her voice unwavering despite the danger. “I don’t care what you do with me, but you don’t hurt him. He’s an outlaw, sure. But he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

Harbinger’s rage flared at her words. “I’m going to enjoy making an example out of both of you. You think your little threats scare me?” He moved closer, his posture menacing as he reached for the revolver Eleanor was holding.

Billy, still gasping for breath, struggled to his feet, his eyes locked on Eleanor with a look of desperation. “Eleanor, wait…”

Eleanor’s heart raced as she held the gun steady, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle. “Stay back!” she hollered, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “The town's people are gonna show up any minute and see what you've done!”

Harbinger’s laugh was low and dangerous. “You think I'm worried about these simpletons? You started the fire, after all. Who do you think they're gonna' believe? A decorated army captain, or a hysterical woman with a gun?”

Eleanor’s resolve hardened. With a steady hand, she took a deep breath and fired the revolver. The shot rang out, echoing through the night, and Harbinger’s expression transformed from one of arrogance to shock as the bullet struck him squarely. He staggered backward, clutching at his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He fell to the ground, his body convulsing in a final, desperate spasm. Eleanor kept the gun trained on him, her hand shaking but her aim steady. Harbinger’s eyes, once full of menace, were now clouded with the realization of his own mortality.

Billy staggered to his feet, equally shocked at what he'd just witnessed. Eleanor killed a man. Five-foot-nothing, big-mouthed Eleanor Aubert, killed a man right in front of him.

As Harbinger lay on the ground, his strength waning, he glared at Eleanor with a mix of hatred and disbelief. “You… you’ll never be safe,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll make sure… you pay for this…”

Eleanor’s gaze remained firm, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re done,” she said quietly, her voice a mixture of relief and sorrow. “Consider our wedding officially off,”

Harbinger’s eyes closed, his body going still. The night was silent once more, the echoes of the confrontation fading into the darkness. Eleanor lowered the revolver, her hands trembling as she stared at the lifeless form of the man who had brought so much pain and fear into her life.

Billy moved to her side, his expression one of concern and gratitude. “Eleanor, are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

Eleanor nodded, her gaze still fixed on Harbinger, “We need to get rid of him,” was all she replied.

Billy's eyes followed her gaze to Harbinger's lifeless body, a grim understanding settling over him. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. “Let’s take care of this.”

Together, they dragged Harbinger’s body away from the scene, their movements deliberate and somber. The darkened landscape stretched before them, a stark reminder of the harsh world they inhabited. The road to Lincoln was long, but they were determined to see this through.

As they made their way to a secluded spot far outside of town, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts and shared relief. The task of burying Harbinger was both a necessity and a final act of defiance against the man who had tried to control their lives.

When they reached a desolate area, far from prying eyes, they began to dig a grave. The earth was dry and resistant, but their determination made quick work of it. Billy’s movements were methodical, while Eleanor’s hands shook slightly with the lingering tension of their confrontation.

Finally, they laid Harbinger’s body to rest, covering it with dirt and stones to ensure that it would remain hidden from any who might seek to find it. The act was a quiet, solemn ceremony, a way to put an end to the nightmare that had plagued them.

As they finished, Billy placed a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, offering a supportive squeeze. “It’s over,” he said softly. “You're free now.”

Eleanor took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on the freshly disturbed earth. “Yes,” she replied, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “It’s all over.”

[kaashallmighty]

You Think You’re Hard.

César Díaz x Male Reader

Set during/after the Chapter 4 halloween party

I guess you don’t have to have watched the show to read but it’d make a lot more sense cuz im dead not starting from the beginning🤞🏿

there was posed to be more to this but yeah y'all don’t know that🧍🏿. . . . first actual post so wassup? I take criticism so don’t think we gon tussle or sum

Egg driping from his shoulder, Cesar rapidly typed on his keyboard. He could hear his friends bickering in the background.

“Jamal, get a Lyft?” Ruby asked said male. Jamal looks up from the fake sling bag hanging loosely from his forearm.

“My dad said Lyft was only for emergencies…” he urgently replies.

“Seriously!? What exactly constitutes as an emergency?” Cesar pockets his phone after sending his last message and lifts his head to look at everyone in the group.

“Don’t get a Lyft. It’s handled.” Cesar turned on his heels, heading back to the Halloween party they left minutes prior. With newfound determination, he walks straight up to the phony santos white boy. Noticing people looking behind him the boy turns around to be faced with Cesar. He chuckles and holds his arms out to his sides.

“You want some more?” He questions Cesar with a grin displayed on his face. Cesar rocked on his feet giving the boy a glare from head to toe.

“Oooh, you think you’re hard. Okay.” Leaning his shoulders back and eyebrows up, he taunted the latino in front of him, still harboring a cocky attitude.

“Nah, I’m not.” Cesar states while shaking his head, never breaking eye contact with the offending party.

“But he is.” The engine of a black 1964 Chevy Impala Convertible can be heard pulling up behind Cesar. He finally he averts his eyes to look back at the car rolled up behind him. Stepping out from the car and slamming the door, you’re hardening glare immediately met with the paled face of the white boy. Cesar’s lips twitch upwards watching as you hastily step around the car, towards the imposter.

Coming face to face with the male, you watch as his eyes flicker from the cross tattoo peeking from under your tank top , to the teardrop sat just below your eye. The surrounding area is silent apart from the strained breathing of the boy. Noticing the eyeliner drawn tattoo you curtly scoff with an amused expression before returning to the mug. Lifting your thumb to your mouth, you wet it and harshly swipe away the marking on his cheek. Using your index and middle finger you rub at your own, once again looking directly into the male’s eyes.

“You playin dress-up but this shit’s real.” You step up closer, brows furrowed, watching the facade completely slip away.

“Please. What do you want?” The trembling form in front of you pleaded. You quickly glance back at Cesar before smirking down at the scared male.

“Got sum to drink?”

[hannahssimblr]

“Is someone sitting here?”

“What?”

“I said, is someone sitting here?”

Evan plucks out one of his earbuds and gestures broadly to the empty seat at his table, “No, take it.”

“Thanks,” I sit down and begin unpacking my school bag. I look up a moment later to meet his confused expression. 

“Are you not going to take the seat?” He says, “I mean, take it, as in, go bring it to another table?”

“Nah, I want to sit here.”

“...With us?” He exchanges a look with Michelle, who shrugs. They let a long silence stretch on, but I won’t be intimidated. I’m here now. We will be sitting together for this class and there’s nothing they can do about it. 

He clears his throat, “Well… usually you sit up next to Jill. She’ll probably think it’s a bit weird if you just switch seats.”

“I don’t care about that. Do you care about that?”

He hesitates, “Well, no.”

I shrug, “Okay then,” I rummage through my pencil case and yank out a fresh 4B pencil, “Do you need this? Yours is looking a bit gnawed on.”

He scowls and slides his tooth marked pencil under his sketchbook where I can’t see it and I chuckle, “I was joking, I only have one 4B pencil, actually, you can’t have it.” And I swear that I can hear Jen’s voice in my head. That’s not the way to make friends with someone, she points out. Try again.

I quickly look for something else to talk about and spot a scrawl of lyrics on the inside of his sketchbook cover. 'Smile like you mean it' next to a scratchy drawing of an upside down grin, “Hey, you like The Killers?”

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“I love The Killers, actually, I just got Day and Age for Christmas and-”

“Jude, shush,” Michelle hisses, “the teacher is talking.”

I glance quickly over my shoulder at Miss O’Reilly who is as usual saying something grandiose about art using broad, sweeping hand gestures. I listen for three seconds before I determine that it is not important.

“Michelle Tengu,” I turn back to her with a smirk, “are you a teacher’s pet?”

“No, I’m just trying to listen.”

“To what? Draw a cross in the middle of an oval and put the nose there and the eyes there and bla bla bla, which, by the way isn’t even accurate. You’re going to have to unlearn it all when you go to art college.”

“Who said I’m going to art college?”

“You changed your mind?” 

“Okay shut up, she’s coming over.”

Miss O’Reilly rests a hand on my arm, and I’m certain I’m about to get into trouble again, but she just says “...and Jude and Michelle, you can be the next pair.”

“For what?” I mouth to Michelle, and she shakes her head and mouths back, “I don’t know, you were talking over her, eejit.” 

“And that leaves Evan, who can go up to the top and work with Jill.”

“Aw what?” He protests, “this is my seat, Miss.”

“Well today you are sitting with Jill.”

“That’s Jude’s seat,” He stabs an aggressive finger in my direction, “He moved today for no reason.”

“Miss,” I pipe up, “I’ll go with Evan, it’s fine.”

“No, I want boy-girl-boy-girl. Evan, just go and sit with Jill please.”

I turn around and mesh gazes with Jill who is glaring at me with confusion and disgust. “Evan?” She mouths, “Why are you down there? I don’t want to draw Evan. Ew!”

I ignore her and turn back to Michelle as Evan packs up his things and makes a big show of stalking away, “So I’m drawing you and you’re drawing me, yeah?” 

A weary sigh, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Nice to have a challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“As in, really ridiculously good looking people are the hardest to draw.”

“For God’s sake.”

I smirk, “C’mon, it’s funny.”

“Excuse me, I can’t draw your mouth when it’s moving, so keep it shut.”

I snicker into my sketchbook and begin marking out the shape of her face, “You’re funny, Michelle. Did you know that?”

The corner of her mouth ticks up, “Yeah, and you’re a pain in the arse.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[class1akids]

Some JPN Twitter reactions to Ch 425 (Todofam things)

So I read through the Toya, Dabi, Shoto, Todofam tags, and the Japanese fandom is as divided as the Western. Many are gearing up for more pain, but also many are happy that Touya is alive and want a conclusion for the family. Shouto's expression at the end tends to be read as there being some hope.

A random selection of comments under the cut.

The Todoroki family… Endepappa's back is so painful... But right now, I'm just glad that Dabi-kun is alive... It was really good There's still hell ahead, but when I see Shoto-kun's face at the end, I think it'll be okay The Todoroki Family's Hope

Is this where the real hell begins for the Todoroki family? Judging by Shoto's expression, there's no need to worry... I'm afraid to read...

[My Hero Academia Magazine] Todoroki, with his bag on his shoulder, is remembering the time when he was going to the hospital to see Rei after the sports festival. Even though it's just one panel, he looks confident and reliable...! I can believe that when he told Deku, "It's okay," he wasn't lying. He has the confidence and moderate tension of a club competition

Endeavor in the visiting room facing a device that seems to contain Dabi is powerfully negative! His back view makes it seem as if Endeavor is on the side of the prisoners! It's a perfect composition of a criminal confessing to a strange god! Even though it's his own fault, it's still brutal to see his own sins taking such an obvious form right before his eyes...!

I'm so happy that Touya-kun is alive..Next time, I wonder if it'll be Hell's Todoroki Family 3

I don't follow the magazine so I only have fragmentary information from tweets, but is there a chance that Touya-kun will make a comeback? But no memory loss or childhood regression, okay? Even if he does resurrect, I hope he comes back to life as a cremated Touya (´･ω･｀)

By the way, a spoiler from the magazine revealed that Shoto-kun is still alive...!! It seems that the hellish Todoroki family's problems have not yet been resolved, but I'm glad that everyone, including my favorite, is alive...

I wonder what will happen to the Todoroki family. No matter how hard they try, I don't think there's a happy future for them.

My Hero Academia has had a lot of bitter developments that can't be called salvation, so I'm worried about the end of Dabi and the Todoroki family...

The crime doesn't go away, and I don't want to see a story of a child forgiving an abusive parent and a wife forgiving domestic violence portrayed as a heroic tale. I think the Todoroki family would prefer an ending where they get divorced after some degree of repair to their relationship, and just keep sending alimony and child support...

The story of the Todoroki family seems like it's going to get pretty gruesome, so I'm really looking forward to seeing

In the Hiroka manga, I wish the Todoroki family wouldn't involve their son any more while Dabi is still alive... It's the father's sole responsibility, so it would have been fine if they'd just commit suicide together.

While the conversation was going on in a fun atmosphere, the Todoroki family suddenly threw me into hell.

I'm grateful that My Hero Academia doesn't end with winning the battle, but also depicts the chaos that occurs after a big battle. First of all, I'll be watching the outcome of the Todoroki family, which has been portrayed as the "Hellish Todoroki Family." It'll be tough, but I'll be watching it through.

The fact that Shoto-kun showed a determined and happy face is my only hope. You are the light of the Todoroki family.

I love the Todoroki boys too and I'm rooting for you (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`

And Todoroki-kun's final "It'll be okay" makes me feel like he's made up his mind again, or rather, he's determined... He looks really cool and has a great expression, but he really has a lot to carry on his shoulders.

Things suddenly got ominous at the end. Even though there was that kind of atmosphere from last week, Todoroki's face has changed a little, or rather, he looks more determined... In contrast to that, his father's back... The Todoroki family story isn't over yet.

Many people are feeling psychologically damaged by the latest episodes... [Book fans] Touya-kun is alive → Should I be happy or sad that it couldn't end? Maybe he and Endeavor will talk about it now → What's the point of talking about it now? I'm scared of the book coming out... I'm scared of finding out the details.

If Touya-kun (Dabi) ○ dies, I'll seriously cry. Absolutely.

To be honest, time cannot be turned back and Touya will never be the person he and his family originally wanted to be, and since he committed a grave sin as an adult and was forced to live longer despite not having much time left, it would be terrible if he were to be forced to take part in a game of atonement with his family, who still have the time, future and lifespan to start over again.

No, can't you just wait for Shoto-kun to come? First, let Touya-kun and Enji be the two of them... Stop asking your kids for a push until the very end when you can't face it yourself, seriously...

[llondonfog]

twst (horror) tober — day 6 (time)

➤ Day 6: Time | “How long has it been?” 

Silver once told him that ever since stepping into the role of caring for Lilia, the concept of time turned meaningless to him.

Silver told him that he can only categorize the days now on a continuum of good and bad.

There were days when his father would wake up with the hint of recognition in his eyes and an agreeable slant to his lips, and Silver needn't coax him out of bed to amuse him with the trinkets and gifts bestowed upon him by well-meaning classmates and a grieving liege. There were even better days when a glimmer of memory not yet lost would surface in the dark and mired deadlands of his father's deteriorating mind, when he'd pat the cushion beside him on the couch and regal Silver with a tale he'd heard at least several times before— each time, he listens just as patiently as if it were the first.

And then there were bad days when the fae that awaited him on the other side of the bedroom door screeched and howled in a long-lost tongue, days when Silver was forced to use the iron bolts that Malleus-sama had pleaded with him to install on the wooden frame if he wouldn't listen to reason and use manacles fixed to the bed instead ("My father isn't a monster, Malleus-sama, I won't humiliate him and strip his dignity away!") to stop those wild, ragged claws from tearing through the wood like paper to scratch out his eyes. Days when it is hard to separate the loving, smiling father from the feral creature caught in a losing battle as it succumbs to a fate inevitable to its kind.

Sebek listens to his friend, remains silent for once— it is unlike Silver to share his burdens, to even talk about the difficulties of caring for a fae so advanced in the decay as Lilia lest he fears that anyone find him complaining. They had all tried to talk him out of it when they had learned that Silver had already rescinded his studies at Night Raven College with the intent to care for his father to the bitter end. Malleus had nearly been beside himself, for safety could not be guaranteed, even for a human as strong and determined as Silver— "He'll overwhelm you," Sebek had watched his prince all but beg the boy to reconsider. "You know naught of what you are consigning yourself to, you have never seen our kind at our most frightful display. He would not wish this upon you, he would want his memory to remain pristine in your mind!"

But Silver had remained steadfast, loyal and devoted to his father beyond all rational persuasion. "I will not allow his last moments to be in suffering and all alone, Malleus-sama. He has sacrificed his life for the country, for you, and for me— I find it hardly equal what meager weeks I can give to him so that he may go in peace."

And so they had left to that cottage in the forest, the only home that both of them had ever known. Sebek had visited only once, the nature of being Malleus-sama's sole guard until Silver's return dictating that he shoulder a more hefty responsibility. They had both appeared rather worn and weary, bags deeper under Silver's eyes than he had ever known them to exist before, but together at least with wan smiles on their faces, as Silver had so desperately wished for them to be.

All the same, Sebek's gaze had keenly noted the presence of thin, crimson lines along Silver's forearms and neck— he found himself too much of a coward to glance at Lilia's hands.

Today, however, he's visiting for a much different reason than merely personal concern. Malleus-sama had bid him to venture out into those isolated, lonely woods, a frown deep and haggard on his perfect face; Sebek knows that if he were to look in a mirror, the same expression would be reflected back at him. For two weeks now, not a single letter delivered to the cottage had returned with correspondence, courtesy of Silver's little feathered friends usually so delighted to concede to his requests. Normally, a week's worth of silence would have jolted the both of them into worry, but with the whirlwind of a recent goodwill trip to the neighboring human countries, Sebek had merely assumed there would be a small pile of daily updates from Silver for them to look forward to reading upon their return. Imagine then, the foreboding that had settled in like an ominous pressure at the lack of any such notes.

That pressure only mounts and builds with a wicked weight upon his shoulders as he approaches the darkened cottage, silent among the stilled trees. A pressure that twists in his stomach like a corkscrew, and grips his throat in a vice, thinning the air he breathes as he stares with dread at the front door swinging off its hinges, and a faint, nauseating smell choking the scent of violets from beneath his feet.

Today, it seems, is not simply a good or bad day— it is an awful one.