#but they might give him ish about a relationship distracting him from a career

[chryblossomjjk]

ooohhhh jk need a reward for graduating. Best boy 😮‍💨

oof and i imagine oc meets his parents for the first time at his graduation...

[obiyuki-beebs]

you called me x: event submission

First third(ish) of a fic! because it’s 3 AM and I’m sleepy and this is the only part that I’m (mostly) satisfied with so here ya go. Companion playlist posted here. Ok goodnight.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

Shirayuki prided herself on having a knack for answering questions. 

This skill could be attributed to multiple traits; her quiet brilliance, a devout love of research, and an uncanny capacity to solve almost any problem presented to her. 

She enjoyed observing her world and figuring out the how and the why. She hoarded questions and carried them around like candy in her pocket, on her mind until she could find or deduce an answer, and always ready to chew on it for a while if it could give her the satisfaction of knowing. 

What frequency do bumblebees need to vibrate at in order to release pollen from certain types of flowers, like blueberries in their blooming stage? Middle C, which is how they are able to use buzz pollination, something honeybees are incapable of, making bumblebees indispensable in the ecosystem and farmers alike. 

Why are we told not to rub our eyes? It can cause corneal abrasion and worsen allergen exposure in the short term, and cause keratoconus in the long term, which is a thinning and deformation of the cornea over time. This had been a notably hard habit to break. 

Does bi-weekly refer to every two weeks or twice a week? Infuriatingly enough, both, depending on the context. 

Is a hot dog a sandwich? Yes, by definition. Is cereal soup? No, also by definition, though somehow she was more perturbed by this question than she had originally thought she could be. 

Shirayuki's ability to answer questions was not limited to health and the natural world. Her friends and colleagues often came to her for advice on various matters, whether it was about relationships or career choices. 

It also gave her a spectacular penchant for dominating trivia nights with her friends. 

Shirayuki liked answers. 

That was why, when she stumbled across a question she couldn’t answer, well… that could pose a problem. 

An extremely distracting problem with a long torso and a laugh that made her lift her head from her book whenever she heard it. 

A problem that had the potential to make her forget to step off the train on her way to the lab. 

A problem that might keep her up at night, undoubtedly chewing her lip and in a dissociative stare-down with the glow stars that she and Yuzuri had painstakingly pressed onto Shirayuki’s ceiling when they became roommates. 

Currently, she had such a problem. She couldn’t stop asking herself why, out of all of their friends, she was the only one who Obi still referred to by a nickname. 

She had always wondered, of course. 

For years, it seemed like he was on the tips of his toes, poised to bolt at the drop of an ill-chosen comment. In the early stages of all of them knowing each other, there had always been distance he placed between them. Rarely, if ever, did she see him drop his stoic smile; the smile he wore when he wanted people around him to be at ease. A smile that, though similar to his real one, wasn’t the same.

Sometimes, she thought of him in those early days and remembered the feral cat she’d befriended as a child outside her grandparent's pub. It had taken what felt like years for it to warm up to her, persuaded by one greasy palmful of stolen chicken at a time. 

Slowly but surely, Obi, just like that cat, had seemed to relax. Seemed to drop an anchor into their veritable sea of knowing each other. Or, at the very least, the bag she knew he kept packed under his bed started to gather dust. 

And then, one random night in May while they were enjoying their sometimes-weekly hang-out, Obi called Mitsuhide by name. Casual, as if he was asking them to please not make a big deal about it. 

Kiki had only smiled. Mitsuhide, who couldn’t hide anything if he tried, gaped like a fish with a hook still in its lip. Zen made a toast with his IPA, describing the continuous work it takes to be vulnerable and open with one's friends.

Progress had been slow after that. Obi waited another two months before dropping the joking “Princess” he usually used in conjunction with Kiki’s name. Ryuu was easier, as he was now taller than Obi and nearly at a level with Mitsuhide. Suzu, Yuzuri, and even his greatest chess adversary, Izana, were now all called by name instead of the nicknames Obi had been using as a last wall of defense against intimacy. 

The shock and sentimentality of the situation had kept Shirayuki from wondering, at least for a little while, why he hadn’t said her name yet. 

–

First, she had verified that he did indeed only call her by a nickname. She kept notes (in a marble composition tucked between her planner and her field notebook). But only one spreadsheet. One spreadsheet file, if she was being specific. She refused to count the sheet tabs in said file. (Four).  

When considering the question – that is, why only she remained among his nameless friends – she had come to the conclusion that he would get to her eventually. She just needed to be patient.

–

As it happened, Shirayuki also prided herself on her patience. 

She could wait. She had waited for so many things. 

As a child, she had waited for the cookies her grandfather had just baked to cool before stealing away with three of them and up the creaking stairs to her bedroom on the third floor. 

She was perfectly capable of putting in the slow, steady work needed to help her plant seeds germinate in the spring and even more patient with them as they spread roots and grew wildly over her trellis in the summer. 

She had waited for Zen to be able to publicly commit to her; had waited for him when they had been in a long-distance relationship for nearly four years; had waited for her feelings for him to be fulfilling again; had waited what felt like ages for him to accept that she meant it when she said she no longer saw him that way. 

She had demonstrated great restraint in not petting the feral cat all those years ago, instead letting it come to her. 

Yes, Shirayuki could be patient. 

So she waited, thinking that, eventually, it would be her turn, and he would call her by her name, implicitly reassuring her that they were as close as she considered them to be. 

–

And now here they were, nearly two whole years after the pivotal shift in nomenclature amongst friends, and Shirayuki found her patience to be entirely sapped.

Much to her consternation, Obi still only referred to her as “Miss,” and her question remained. Why had Obi thus far never used her given name? She had no idea. It entirely escaped her. This unanswered query had become the bane of her existence, plaguing her whenever she thought about him, which she also discovered was often and regularly. 

(No, she had not kept a data set of how often she thought about him. The thought had crossed her mind, and though the project was started, it was swiftly discontinued with vehemence due to extenuating circumstances relating to her inability to control the color of her cheeks.)

—

Shirayuki believed that every problem had a solution, and she was determined to figure out this one. She had a question whose answer entirely evaded her. She was losing sleep. It had become a matter of health. 

She started out with what she considered to be simple measures by sending him links to participate in Name-a-Plow-Truck events around the country, along with ridiculous – and hopefully fake – forum posts asking if the original poster was rude for laughing at their friend's baby name choice. She even went so far as to recommend watching Beetlejuice for movie night, which only ensured that they sang the Banana Boat Song back and forth to each other for what felt like weeks, followed by a rambunctious reprisal at karaoke in the fall. 

None of it worked. She had yet to hear him say her name. Clearly, her methods had not been effective. 

So she reconsidered. 

–

“Excuse me,” Yuzuri leaned out of the bathroom to get a better look at Shirayuki sitting with crossed legs on the rug outside the door, “you want to do what?”

“Obi doesn’t say my name. I’m the only one out of our friends that he doesn’t. So-”

“So you want to see if you can subconsciously influence him into saying your name? With a playlist?”

“Not all at once. Over a few weeks. Or months. I don’t want to tip him off too soon.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuzuri replied, voice reverberating in the sink as she leaned down to wash her face. 

“I thought you would be into it,” Shirayuki pouted, biting at the cuticle on her left hand.

“Stop picking.”

“You can’t even see me.”

“I can hear it.”

“How-”

“For the record, I am mostly into it. I am immensely amused by your plan, Yuki. You are exceptionally good at planning things out. Even if they are absolutely ridiculous and unnecessarily complicated. I am equally exasperated. You could just ask him to say your name. Honestly, please just do that.”

“What if-”

“Yuki. I promise your anxiety is lying to you. What are you afraid of?”

“I just want to try it this way and see if he gets it. It’s embarrassing to think about asking him that. We’re close, I know that, but it bothers me that he can do it for so many other people except me.”

Yuzuri, face now patted dry and shiny with lotion, leaned around the doorway again. She raised her eyebrows in a pointed look that Shirayuki chose not to deduce the meaning of. 

“You’re right, you are close. And both of you are idiots. Why a playlist?”

“We’re always listening to music, in the car, at karaoke, at get-togethers,” Shirayuki’s wilting confidence gained a new vigor as she spoke, choosing again to ignore the former half of Yuzuri’s sentence, “I already made one.”

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, let me see what you put on it. So, in short,  you’re planning to use subliminal messaging to convince Obi to say your name?”

“Exactly! I knew you would get it. Well, I guess not exactly. Subliminal messaging isn’t how I would put it.”

“Uh-huh.”

-- 

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

________________________________________________________

There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

*

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

*

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

*

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

[kinksvt]

behind closed doors (m)

requested

→ pairing: actor!mingyu x actress!reader

♕ summary: you and mingyu have a secret relationship and before he leaves for two weeks, you both decide to tie the knot.

✱ genre: celebrity au

✱ warnings: cursing, humor? (i tried), slow sex, angst at some parts

✱ word count: 5.9k

You knew that being in the movie industry would not be easy. You knew you had to work and sacrifice many things to avoid scandals, drama and rumors. So when you and Mingyu met on a set of a movie that your agent recommended, you had no idea what was to come.

The movie's plot included two characters—you and Mingyu—sent back in time to "save the world." You and Mingyu are friends in the movie but slowly fall for each other during the quest. You both shared a few kisses in some scenes in the movie and that was it. Yeah, maybe the storyline was a bit cliche but, a gig is a gig, you always thought.

Over the course of a few months, outside of your roles, you and Mingyu got close due to rehearsing and making sure it all went as planned. Closer than you would've guessed. You've heard of costars falling for each other during the filming of a movie and end up dating in real life to be admired by everyone? Well, unfortunately, this wasn't the case for you. Your agent, Seungcheol, did not like the idea of you dating in your career. He said that it might distract and hold you back from getting certain roles for future parts. You tried to tell him that it wouldn't change anything but Seungcheol didn't listen. He just waved you off and answered a phone call outside of the room.

And that's how you ended up in the situation now. Since the filming for you and Mingyu's movie ended, you haven't been able to score any parts that involved him as the lead as well. Not even a substitute role either. You enjoyed working with Mingyu, even if you didn't consider it working and more like just having fun with him while in character. He was an amazing actor and he was so passionate as well. You've heard many actors and actresses that's worked with him compliment on how dedicated he is in roles and how serious he takes his career.

Everyone loves Mingyu, he's handsome, funny, sweet, tall and not to mention, well built. Who wouldn't fall for him at his feet? But, what no one knew was that you and Mingyu have been seeing each other on the low. After those months of working with each other, texting and getting to know each other truly, you developed feelings and so did he luckily. He asked you out and, though you wished you could date freely, you two dated in private. It was still something though, even if you couldn't hold his hand out in public or even be seen in public—it was still nice to know that he cared for you and wanted to be with only you.

It had been six and a half months since he asked you out and what a wonderful six and a half months it had been. Six—and a half—months of pure and utter affection and dates at home that involved binge watching movies and shows, ordering out and spending as much time as you both could with your busy schedules. Including tonight.

Tonight was one of the few nights that you and Mingyu were available this month and of course, he called you and asked you to come on over. Both of you were initially cuddling on the couch, watching a random show that you put on when he put his hand on your thigh, accidentally sparking something inside of you that you've been dying to push down since the moment you laid eyes on him.

You guys have kissed, plenty of times and during those times there's been plenty of moments where it escalated to the point of almost having sex. Although neither of you both were virgins, you both were somewhat afraid of "sealing the deal." You knew at least that if you were to have sex with Mingyu, it would be hard to let him go eventually, like you knew you would one day. Mingyu knew if you guys were to have sex, he'd fall harder for you and wouldn't want to leave you. But at this moment, both of you didn't care.

You ended up on Mingyu's lap, the blanket that covered the both of you tossed to the side and the movie long forgotten. Mingyu's hands wandered all over your back, moving down south to grip your ass, making you moan into his mouth. Your hips subconsciously began to grind on him, making him moan into your mouth. The only sounds that were present in the room was the sound of your mixed heavy breathing and the television on low.

"Y/N," Mingyu panted as his cock began to get hard under your movements.

You whined against his lips, feeling yourself get wet at the friction. Mingyu broke the kiss, kissing your neck and nipping only slightly at the skin, knowing that if you suddenly showed up with a hickey, the press would get suspicious. "Mingyu," you spoke softly.

He stopped his movements, "Yeah?" he replied. He was sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed.

You wanted to have sex with him. At this point you didn't care about the consequences or the possible feelings that you might have hurt. You just needed him then and there or else you felt like you'd explode. "I think I'm r-"

Ring ring!

Are you fucking kidding me?

Mingyu groaned as you felt disappointed. You got up off of Mingyu's lap and let him answer his phone which laid face up on the table. "Hello?" He said when he picked up, mouthing an I'm sorry to you. You sat quietly, listening to Mingyu's responses and also straining to listen to who was on the other line. "Oh, hey Jeonghan. What's up?" He spoke nonchalantly as if you two weren't dry fucking on his couch.

Jeonghan was Mingyu's agent who—to put it nicely—wasn't the biggest fan of you. He knew that you two had a thing and when he confronted you about it, he made you stop speaking with him. Of course you didn't listen to him, sticking it to the man. You couldn't help yourself, trying to cut ties with Mingyu for the better of your career. But every time you tried, you imagined his sad little face in your mind and didn't have the heart to really end it.

"Really?" Mingyu got up suddenly, visibly excited. He glanced at you and his face dropped. "Okay. Friday? This Friday? That's too soon." You were on the edge of your seat, curious to know what was happening. "But- Jeonghan- I," Mingyu sighed, "Okay. Alright, thank you. Yes Jeonghan I am thankful. Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Okay, bye." You looked at him, waiting for him to talk to you.

"Jeonghan got me a role."

...

After hearing those words, you felt something in your heart. Mingyu would be gone for, God knows how long and you were—to say the least—devastated. You wouldn't see him, feel him, touch or hear him for whatever many months and it upset you. He would be leaving this Friday, only—technically—two more days. Two days to spend as much time with him as you can. That night you wanted to seal the deal. To hell with your fear of it because in reality, you were already in deep with Mingyu. You cared about him and you knew he cared about you too. But not yet. You wanted it to be meaningful.

You picked the absolute fanciest hotel you could find and were pleasantly pleased to find a private house for you and Mingyu, for two nights. You got there before nightfall, just before 6 o'clock, giving yourself time to set up and build up your confidence. When you entered the house, it was breathtaking. You knew Mingyu was going to love it.

The house was secluded, overlooking the mountains and the Pacific ocean. It was huge, beautiful wooden floors, the most expensive decorations and up to date appliances. Two master bedrooms, both with gorgeous bathrooms that made you wish you could stay in forever.

"It's that nice?" Mingyu's voice echoed throughout the living room as you had him on speaker.

"Yes, it's more than nice, it's amazing. You're seriously gonna freak out when you get here." You smiled at the thought of Mingyu's reaction. You can already see his eyes sparkling with his pearly white canines showing.

"Well, I'm only about an hour-ish away according to my GPS."

"Okay, drive safe for me. Come here in one piece."

"I will, Mom."

You groaned at his words, earning a laugh from him.

...

"Ho-ly shit, Y/N, you were right." Mingyu said right after you had opened the door. The sun set by the time he arrived and it made everything look so much more beautiful. Mingyu looked all around, taking his jacket and shoes off, setting the small bag he packed on the floor.

"I told you," you replied, giggling. You showed him around, every room making his eyes grow wider and wider. After Mingyu came to his senses, the sound of his nose sniffing filled your ears. "Y/N, you didn't." He turned to you, his eyebrows furrowing together while he pouted.

You winced jokingly, "I did."

"You made dinner for me?" Mingyu looked at you, pouting even harder that it made his lower lip ache.

"For us. I just wanted to do something nice for the two of us. You know," you trailed off. "Before you go." You said sadly.

Mingyu cooed and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his arms. "You're such a sweetheart, Y/N."

You sighed in his chest, "Just wanna make our last few moments a little special."

...

After Mingyu arrived, you served him his food and you both sat on the luxurious and quite comfy couch and ate together. You found a show to put on and you two cuddled. You glanced at the microwave that read 9:46. Mingyu had his arms behind his head while you laid on his chest, your left arm wrapped around his torso. Without looking at him, you called out his name. "Mingyu?"

"Yeah baby?" He looked down at you—well, the top of your head actually.

You paused for a second, thinking over what you wanted to say. "You remember what happened yesterday?"

At this moment, you sat up to look at Mingyu in the eyes. "Which part exactly?"

"When we were making out, I was gonna tell you something." You played with your fingers, nervous that you were ready but Mingyu wouldn't be. You didn't want Mingyu to feel pressured to have sex with you. He nodded his head slowly, waiting for you to continue. "I was going to tell you, that," you took a deep breath, "I'm ready."

Mingyu tilted his head a bit, "Ready for?"

"Sex. I, uh, I want to have sex with you. B-But if you don't want to that's fine! I don't want to if you don't want to."

He scoffed and sat up to grab your hands. "I thought you'd never be ready." You furrowed your eyebrows. "No! I didn't mean it like that! I meant," You stared at him, allowing him to dig his little hole. "Like, I meant- I thought that I was the only one ready and I was like, just, waiting.. for you."

You stayed quiet, internally giggling at his nervous state. "I know what you meant, goof." You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips. Standing up, you held out your hand for him to grab. He looked at you curiously but took your hand anyway. You led him through the house, into the main bedroom.

The room was filled with soft lighting—thanks to the candles that you lit beforehand and you bought a few rose petals to scatter on the floor around the bed, just to make it a little more cheesy. "Oooh," Mingyu said as you two walked entered and he admired your handiwork.

You laughed and turned back around to face Mingyu. He pulled you closer to him, connecting his lips to yours. Your face began to heat up, flustered at the situation. His tongue glided over yours as his hands rested on your waist. Your hand gripped the back of his neck while you stood on your tippy toes.

The kiss got hot quickly and you weren't sure if it was because you two were finally going to have sex, or if it was the romantic scenery that made you want to dive right in.

Mingyu began walking you backwards toward the foot of the bed. Your legs hit the edge and you pulled away from Mingyu, noting how cute he looked while his face was flushed. You smiled shyly at him as you hesitantly hooked your fingers under your shirt, pulling it over your head. Mingyu's face seemed to grow more pink, as he carefully watched your every move. He was trapped in a trance as more and more of your skin was exposed to his fortunate eyes. He always thought you were perfect but he didn't think you were this perfect. His eyes raked over every curve, dip and wonder of your now bra-clad torso. "You're so beautiful Y/N." Mingyu said quietly, a smile forming on his face.

You avoided his eyes, looking at the ground in shyness. "Oh stop," you replied jokingly.

Mingyu followed your actions and took his own shirt off. You knew Mingyu was built and despite seeing him shirtless plenty of times during a few of his previous movies, it felt more personal. Sure, he's shown his body on screen but seeing it in front of you, in a way that only he wanted to show you made you feel special. You were also in a daze as your eyes traveled over his defined abs and bicep muscles. "You're beautiful too," you said mindlessly.

He laughed at how adorable you were. Mingyu walked closer to you, grabbing your hand and sitting on the bed while you stood standing. He pulled you down gently, reconnecting your lips. He backed up on the bed to rest against the pillows and you ended up sitting on his lap, running your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging when you felt that addictive feeling down south.

Mingyu's tongue ran over yours, making sure no inch of your mouth went untouched. Both of your moans merged together, the air in the room slowly becoming hot. Your hips instinctively began shifting underneath Mingyu's, receiving a whine from him. He moaned, "Fuck, keep doing that, baby." Your clit pulsated at Mingyu's voice—he sounded so hot yet so cute at the same time. Mingyu's hair began to stick to his forehead, sweat quickly building up on the both of you. You halted your movements to unbutton the pants Mingyu wore, following your own afterwards.

Mingyu's cock strained against his underwear, giving you a clear outline of what you've been only dreaming about seeing since you two started dating. You definitely underestimated him though. Lost in your thoughts, Mingyu noticed you spaced out, basically drooling over his crotch. "Are you enjoying yourself, Y/N?"

You snapped out of it, your cheeks heating up from embarrassment. "Sorry.." you whispered.

"Your underwear is cute." He pointed. Your underwear were red with a black bow at the top. He messed with the bow You rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring him. Mingyu leaned up and pulled you down with him, kissing you once again. Your heat came in contact with his cock, making the both of you moan. Mingyu's hips instinctively bucked up, rubbing against you in a way that had your clit beating harshly and arousal building.

The kiss was sensual and soft, yet also rough at the same time, due to the both of you waiting for this moment for as long as you both could remember. In the past, you and Mingyu shared some heated experiences with one another before, but nothing at all like this before. The getaway, the room, the warm lighting that shined against both of your faces made the two of you stop and smile.

"I know this might not be a good time- you know, since you're leaving but, I'm really glad that you asked me out." You confessed to Mingyu.

Mingyu awed at your words, giving you a slight pout. "Well, I'm really glad that you didn't reject me."

You laughed, looking down and back up at him. "How could I ever even think of rejecting you?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, maybe you thought I was ugly."

Scoffing, you gave him a bewildered look. "Ugly?" You said, a bit too loud for your own liking. "Who could possibly think you're ugly?"

Mingyu winced. "I know a few haters that could tell you otherwise."

You rolled your eyes and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You're perfect to me, Mingyu." He smiled shyly up at you, avoiding your eyes. "Whaat? It's true, baby. You are perfect."

He shook his head, disagreeing with you. "There's so many other guys out there that could treat you so much better than me. I'm going to leave you for weeks, maybe even months in just a few days." He said in a sad voice.

Leaning down, you gave Mingyu another kiss on the cheek, rubbing your thumb on his cheekbone softly. "Mingyu, I don't care if you leave me for a year. I'm always going to have the same feelings for you."

Mingyu's eyes began to water, guilt settling in the entirety of his heart. Mingyu thinks that he might love you, but he's afraid if he says it out loud, it'll ruin everything. He knows his feelings for you are strong but he didn't know that they were strong enough to make him consider turning down the role Jeonghan got for him in order to stay close to you. It scared him.

"We can do long distance. We can Facetime whenever you have the chance or call or text. Whatever it takes. I just know that I can wait for you." Your own eyes began to tear up, your heart aching at the sight of Mingyu beginning to cry.

"I just-" he paused for a second, looking up at the ceiling as a tear slips down his cheek. You wiped to off, waiting for him to finish. "I don't know, I don't want you to wait all this time for me and give you false hope that the production time won't extend or whatever. I don't know, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you accidentally or whatever because I love you and I want you to be happy and-"

"Wait, wait. What?" Your thumb stopped caressing his cheek, and you sat up straight. "You what?" Your heart felt like it stopped, or maybe that's the loud thumping you hear in your ears.

Mingyu looked puzzled, "I want you to be happy?"

Your heart began beating faster. "Y-You-you love me?"

"Oh fuck." Mingyu mumbled, covering his mouth with one of his hands. He wanted to slap himself. He just said that he didn't want to say he loved you because it would ruin everything and now he did and you're probably freaked out and a million thoughts began racing in Mingyu's mind. He wanted to literally slap himself so hard right then and there.

"Mingyu-"

"Don't say it. I know that you don't feel the same way. I'm sorry, I didn't even mean to say it. I don't know why that came ou-"

You shut him up with a kiss, a deep, soft kiss that took his breath away. Which was what you were going for. After breaking the kiss, you paused for a second. "If it came out that easily, then that must mean that it has to be true."

"Y/N, I'm really sorry. I didn't want to say this then leave for who knows how long."

You shook your head, letting the fact that Mingyu actually loves you settle in. "I think I feel the same way."

"You know you don't have to say that if it isn't true. I didn't say it for you to say it back." Mingyu looked really sad and you knew that what he said wasn't how you really felt.

"I do though. I don't know for certain but I do believe that the love for you is there, Mingyu. Trust me, okay?" You gave him a small smile, making him smile back.

Mingyu nodded his head and rubbed your arm softly. "Okay. Do you still want to do this, baby?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

He sniffled, wiping his eyes. "Well, I kinda just cried and shit so I wasn't sure if that turned you off or anything."

You laughed as you caressed his cheek lovingly. "You didn't. I'm glad we had that moment." Sighing, you reached behind your back, unhooking your bra. "Now, can we continue?"

Mingyu's eyes dropped to your chest, "Yes ma'am." He grabbed you and pushed you backwards, attacking your neck.

You moaned as he licked your neck, dragging his teeth against it since he couldn't mark you officially. He kissed from one side to the next and moved down to your collarbones.

Mingyu kissed and licked his way to the valley between your breasts, sucking a small hickey right beside your nipple. "I hope you don't have any roles that involve you being braless anytime soon." He said, making you laugh. Mingyu's lips were soft against your skin, giving you goosebumps as he reached your stomach, going down further and further before stopping above your underwear. Glancing up at you, he looked at you curiously.

"Please," you whined.

Mingyu smirked as his fingers slipped under the band of your underwear. Before pulling them down, he kissed your clothed clit and dragged them down your legs. You shyed away from him, hiding yourself. Mingyu moved his hands onto your knees, "You're beautiful, Y/N."

You pouted, his slightly cold hands making you shiver lightly. Mingyu placed his hands on your thighs, spreading you open slowly. Your breathing got deeper, the knowledge of how much you're exposed to him making you throb. Mingyu took note of the way your wetness shined from the candlelight, edging him to finally taste you.

His tongue flattened against your pussy, making sure he got every drop of your arousal. You let out a whine, as his tongue flicked your clit. "Fuck, you taste so good baby." Mingyu's lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently while swirling his tongue around it.

Your back arched off the bed while your hands tangled in his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. He took his right hand and used one of his fingers to slowly push inside you. You bit your lip as your walls clenched around his finger. "So warm too." Quickly taking his finger out, he scooted up close to your face, "Say 'ah,'" he said, opening up his own mouth for you to mimic.

Obeying his order, your mouth dropped open and you stuck your tongue out a bit. Mingyu pressed two of his fingers on your tongue. You closed your mouth around them, sucking on them and looking into Mingyu's mouth. "If you don't stop that I'm gonna have to put my dick in you right now."

"Do it then." You challenged as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Honestly, you wanted this to move along already. You were aching to have Mingyu inside of you, on the edge of begging for it.

"Really? You want to?" His eyebrows raised up as he held up his saliva covered fingers.

Giggling, you nodded your head. Mingyu laughed nervously, "W-Well okay then." His back smacked onto the bed, lifting his hips up to take off his underwear a little too eagerly. You started laughing as he struggled slightly. While he did, you stretched over to the nightstand on the side of the bed, grabbing a pack of condoms you placed there before his arrival.

Opening the pack, you noticed Mingyu's underwear were off and you stared for a moment. A breathy "wow" left your lips before you realized. His confidence peaked a little bit but didn't let it show. "Thank you," he smiled and grabbed the condom from your fingers. He opened the condom, pinching the top and rolling it down his length. You watched his movements carefully, admiring him in all his glory. Your eyes traveled up to his eyes, seeing his concentration and you felt your heart beat at the sight.

You laid down on the bed, in front of Mingyu who began positioning himself. He took a deep breath, "Ready?" You nodded your head and closed your eyes. He held his cock in his hand and slowly pushed into you. You winced and Mingyu groaned, both of you not used to this feeling. Mingyu was a bit thicker and you felt yourself stretch to his girth. Your walls clung onto Mingyu, making him feel like he was in heaven. "Tell me when," he grunted. You took in the sight of him inbetween your legs, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly and cheeks a light pink hue. Mingyu looked at you suddenly, "What did you just do?"

You looked at him, clueless as to what he was talking about. "Huh?"

Mingyu chuckled, licking his lips. "Your, uh," he scratched his head. "You kinda clenched around me."

Your eyes widened a bit, not even knowing you did so. "Oh," you said quietly.

"I'm not complaining though! I-It felt good actually," Mingyu admitted.

When you knew you were ready you told him and closed your eyes. Mingyu mouthed an okay, moving his length almost all the way out of you before pushing back in. You gasped, eyes popping back open as you seen his mouth drop open and a quiet moan leaving his pink lips. Grabbing the back of Mingyu's neck, you pulled him closer to kiss him. Mingyu developed a steady pace—slow yet forceful at the same time.

"Mingyu," you purred in his mouth. His cock hit the sweetest spots of you when he pushed himself the furthest he could go.

His tongue swirled around yours, caressing it lovingly and making your insides fill with butterflies. "Y/N," he breathed sensually.

The kiss broke, but Mingyu kept himself close to you. His forehead touched yours, resting it gently on you as his hips kept the pace. Mingyu's hips ground into yours tenderly, making you see stars. You looked into Mingyu's eyes, "I love you."

Mingyu smiled, brushing a piece of hair out of your face and holding your cheek. "I love you too, Y/N."

After saying that, Mingyu picked up his speed. Both of you moaned, drunk off the way the two of you made each other feel. Mingyu's cock felt warm in you and your walls hugged him in a way that you knew you'd miss when he left. At the thought, you wrapped your legs around Mingyu's lower half, wanting him to be as close to you as possible before he would be gone.

Mingyu laid on his forearms that were right next to the sides of your head. His breath mingled with yours, making your head spin slightly as his lips brushed your own. Your hand rested on his jaw, admiring his facial expressions. He moaned, feeling your pussy pulse around his cock. "You must really be whipped for me because every time you look at me, your downtown gets affected in a way."

You smacked his face gently, "Shut up, dork."

"No you." He said desperately, his hips going faster and faster. You whined while Mingyu placed his head in the crook of your neck. His breath tickling your collarbones as he moaned into your skin. "Fuck, Y/N," he rasped.

Your arms hugged his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as you felt your orgasm building. "O-Oh my god, f-fuck," you stuttered. You swallowed harshly, broken moans slipping past your lips.

Mingyu grunted, his own orgasm building quickly alongside yours. "God, you feel so, so good, Y/N fuck." He moved away from your neck to kiss you again. His teeth caught your bottom lip, making you giggle.

Mingyu swallowed your high pitched moans, as you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge. Your fingernails raked down his back, making him growl in your mouth. "Do that again," he mumbled against your lips.

You repeated your actions, your fingernails scratching red marks down his shoulder blades. "Shit, I'm close. Mingyu," you pleaded.

"M-Me too," he whimpered.

You slipped your hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit messily to edge yourself closer.

"That's hot," Mingyu chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

"I'm almost there," your walls began pulsing around Mingyu quickly.

Both of your moans got higher and higher until waves of pleasure washed over you two. Mingyu's hips halted as he came into the condom while he grunted softly. Your walls clenched around his length as your back arched off the bed. You collapsed back on the bed, your clit beating in a rhythm that you felt in your toes.

Mingyu sighed, pulling out of you gently as you mewled. He took the condom off of himself, careful to make sure nothing spilled out. Mingyu searched for the trashcan before looking back at you. You laughed, checking out his butt before pointing to the bathroom. He waddled his way into the room, flipping the switch on and tossing the contraceptive in the bin. Mingyu walked back in the bedroom, running his fingers through his damp hair.

You smirked, looking him up and down. "You know, you're really sexy, Gyu."

He waved you off, bending over to grab his and yours underwear. You gave him a wolf whistle and he covered his butt with his boxers before throwing your panties in your face and tossing your bra at you as well. Both of you laughed as you slipped your undergarments on and you put your bra on. Mingyu plopped back on the bed next to your right side. You and Mingyu stared at the ceiling, knowing that his indefinite leave will be even harder now.

After a long moment of silent staring, you spoke up. "If you find someone else, I don't want you to hold back."

Mingyu shifted his head to look at you. "What?"

A tear slipped past your eye. You turned your head to look at Mingyu as well. "I don't want to hold you back, Mingyu."

"But Y/N-" "No," you interrupted him. "You're an amazing guy, Mingyu. And I know that I'm not going to forget us or this night or any other nights we spent together. But Jeonghan doesn't approve of us. What if he wants you to be with someone else?"

Mingyu then turned his whole body towards you, laying his head on his hands. "I don't care what he wants. If it comes down to it, I'll tell him about us. I love you, Y/N. I want you and only you."

More tears began to fall, slipping out of the corner of your eyes. "I can't affect any of your decisions when it comes to your career though, Mingyu."

"Y/N, please. I can't lose you. Please just, let's give this a try? Please, just don't give up yet. I know we can do this." He cradled your cheek, wiping your tears away with his thumb. "Please," he begged.

You saw his eyes water, a tear forming before it slipped down the bridge of his nose and landing on the pillow. Taking a moment, you thought about what he asked. Could you really make this work? Will this make Mingyu deny roles that will keep him away from you longer? Was it selfish to want to make it work? Was it selfish that you wanted him to stay? Yes, but you knew you couldn't do that. "Okay," you whispered.

...

The next morning, you and Mingyu woke up in each other's arms. The two of you got up from bed, yawning and walking to the main room. You made breakfast while Mingyu helped in any way he could. He stopped you midway to finish and served you before himself. The day consisted of lounging around, watching tv, napping and making small meals whenever either of you got hungry.

The day after, you packed your things while Mingyu cleaned up and made sure everything looked the way it did when you got there. After you and Mingyu finished, you both stood in front of the doorway, taking in the last moments you'd be able to spend next to each other. You faced him. "I'm going to miss you so much."

He nodded his head, facing you as well. "Me too."

Both of you started tearing up before he pulled you in for a hug. His arms held your head, hugging you in a way you'll desperately miss when you wish he was there while he's away. You sobbed in his arms, muffling most of the noise in his shirt. Mingyu's tears fell in your hair—which he tried brushing off sneakily but failing. You laughed, pulling away and shaking your hair.

It was time.

You stood and looked at him one last time. You couldn't even go to the airport to say goodbye. Not only because of Jeonghan but because of paparazzi and fansites. "I love you, Gyu."

Mingyu pressed his lips together, his eyes glossed over from his tears as more shed down his cheeks. "I love you too, Y/N."

"Call me when you land?" You grabbed his hand and held it for a bit.

He nodded, picking up his bag with his unoccupied hand. He opened the door, and looked back at you. His hand slowly pulled from yours, a pout forming on his face. Mingyu's warmth left your palm as he looked away from you and began leaving the rental.

...

The whole ride back home, you cried your eyes out. Before getting back, you put on some black sunglasses, hopefully hiding your puffy eyes. You entered your house, already missing Mingyu's presence.

The rest of your day, you spent watching tv alone. At night, you got on your laptop, checking Twitter and seeing Mingyu's name trending.

Actor Kim Mingyu seen boarding plane with tear-filled eyes. What could possibly be breaking the 23 year old's poor heart?

You scrolled down the tag, seeing fansite photos and seeing how sad he looked. You got your phone out, sending him a message.

[11:19 pm] You: Hey babe. I seen the airport photos, I miss you and I love you. I hope you landed safe <3

You clicked your phone off and scrolled through a few more photos before heading to bed. He must've been too busy to call you.

...

Ring ring!

A phone call woke you up at the crack of dawn. You answered as fast as you could. "Hello?" You croaked, your morning voice definitely worse from all the bawling yesterday.

"Hey baby, I'm so sorry I didn't call yesterday."

You smiled at Mingyu's voice. "Hey, it's okay."

-

a/n: yerrr finally posted after ten years, hope u all enjoyed! <3 i feel like this wasn’t super interesting at all so feedback would be appreciated :(

[lykaokrios]

Jealous - Thane Krios x F!Shepard

My first posted Thane fanfic 💚 I’ve written fanfics for quite a few fandoms before, but never ended up posting any of my Mass Effect stuff anywhere before, here’s my first :) 

Paring: Thane Krios x F!Shepard

Word Count: 2,242

Description:  "Jealous over a magazine. They didn’t even know if they’d live until the end of this cycle, and he was upset over a magazine."

Warnings: None

My AO3

“Siha?” Thane calls out questioningly as he steps into her quarters.

“Come in, I’m over here,” Shepard shouts back from the other side of the room.

“I’m not interrupting anything I hope?” He asks as he walks further into the room, leaning against her desk when he spots her on the sofa.

“No, I’m just planning,” she replies looking up from her datapad to give him a tired smile. “When you promise fifteen people you’ll do twenty different things, the log book gets a bit messy if you don’t prioritize.”

“I see,” he nods giving her a smile back. “Don’t overreach Siha, you want to help everyone but you also must help yourself.”

“I know, I know,” she waves dismissively at him. “But things like figuring out why Grunt wants to tear a hole in my ship is pretty important. Finding data for some guy named Ish, not so much.”

“Just remember to relax sometimes,” he adds as he looks at her model ship collection over the desk.

“I do,” she responds looking back down at her datapad. “I have some down time.”

“Is that right?” He questions, his eyes drifting to the cover of a magazine laying beside her terminal. 'Sexiest Drell Men of 2185'.

Her response evades him as he wrestles with the feeling of unease in his stomach looking at the cover. Not a feeling he’s used to feeling. If he’d ever felt it at all. A mixture of aggravation, discontent, and unease all rolled up into one.

Reaching over he flips over the magazine while trying to calm himself. His eyes glossing over the back. 'Want to meet one of our models? Write into Fornax today to win!'

His fingers grip the edge of the desk, as he tries to will the annoying thoughts from his head. Lifting up the magazine, he holds it tightly in his hand before dropping it to the floor. “I… have something I must attend to,” he states before backing out of her quarters and all but running to the elevator, hearing her voice call his name after him.

Shepard could have nearly any man in the galaxy. An angel sent by Arashu to this destructive plane of existence they were sorting through. A rare light of hope in a galaxy he’d long seen dark.

It had been easy to fall for her. How could he not? Devoting her life to impossible cause after impossible cause all to save a galaxy that seemed to tear her down at every turn. Her small acts of kindness on their missions, defending those who couldn’t defend themselves. Throwing herself across the battlefield like it’s an art only she truly understood. Elegant, graceful, deadly.

And their solo talks on the ship, hours debating philosophy, trading battle tactics, enthusing over guns and books alike. That genuine smile she beamed at him, telling him she believed in him, that he was more than the life he’d destined himself to. The worry in her eyes and tenderness of her touch when he’d taken a bad hit on the battlefield. The pure kindness she showed him and the overwhelming affection in the simplest touches.

After what seemed like ages, the elevator doors finally opened to the third floor. Thane quickly exits it, heading toward his quarters, before changing his mind and turning into the men’s restroom instead. Glancing around the room to ensure he was alone, he approaches the sink to look at his reflection in the mirror.

His looks. Not something he’d ever put any thought into. Not even something he’d paid much attention to. Unlatching his jacket, he lets it fall to the floor before unzipping his top. He grimaces as he turns himself various directions. The last ten years had snuck up on him faster than he wanted to admit. He was nearly 40, and his career hadn’t exactly been kind to his body. His scales littered with scars shown under the intense bathroom light.

He sighs as he meets his gaze in the mirror and zips up his top. Jealous over a magazine. They didn’t even know if they’d live until the end of this cycle, and he was upset over a magazine. Over his age. Over his scars. Over his mortality. Over not being the young, healthy, and unscarred Drell on the cover of Shepard’s Fornax magazine. The person that could stay at her side indefinitely, not trying to outrun an invisible clock ticking closer to the end each day.

Snatching his jacket off the floor, he slips it back on before flinging the bathroom door open and storming into Life Support.

As the doors slide shut behind him, he looks up surprised to see Shepard sitting in her seat at his table. Her hands in her lap, a concerned expression across her face.

Taking a deep breath, his mind races to come up with an excuse as he slips into his seat in front of her.

They sit in silence as he grows nervous under her intense gaze, an awkward cough from him finally prompting her to talk.

“It was a joke, from Kasumi,” she says quietly, her cheeks reddening.

“What?”

Sighing, Shepard pulls the magazine out from under the table and slaps it onto the desk. Flipping to the title page, she turns it toward Thane.

Glancing at her then down at the magazine, he’s met with a bright pink piece of paper stuck to the page, “Happened to see this on Omega and thought you might enjoy this for when lover boy is too busy with his mediations, happy reading Shep.”

His mouth opens to speak, before snapping shut. His frills lifting in embarrassment as he avoids her gaze. “Oh,” he simply replies after a few moments.

“I didn’t think to hide it,” she explains sheepishly. “She’d left it there for me, and I just read the note then tossed it back on the desk to deal with it later.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide it,” he replies. “It shouldn’t bother me.”

“Well… if it was the other way around I’d be bothered,” she admits with a shrug.

“Siha I-" he begins before his shoulders slump and he stares down at the table in defeat.

Standing up from her seat, Shepard goes around the table to Thane, pulling his chair out further from the table and sitting on his lap. Her arms wrap around his waist, her legs across and over his lap, and her head on his shoulder tucked into his neck.

His body immediately relaxes into hers, and he rests his head on hers as her lips brush against his neck and frills.

“I haven’t read the thing, but if you’re in it I’m jealous, and if you aren’t I’m offended,” she says softly after a few minutes, prompting a dry laugh from Thane.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because if you’re not there’s been an egregious error, but if you are, I don’t exactly like sharing Krios,” she teases, her fingers brushing across his exposed chest.

“Very clearly not an error Siha,” he adds, humming slightly at her touch.

“Very much so an error,” she insists. “The blind could see that body with the way your leathers hug it.”

“Is that so?”

“Hell yeah it’s so, I about got shot the first time I put you on a mission team. You were ahead of me ducked behind a crate, your muscles on your arms and shoulders tense while you were shooting, your pants way too damn tight on your ass. Then you flipped around facing me, leaning to the side to continue shooting as your jacket fell away from your chest, your pants strained against your whole lower body, and you caught my eye and smiled. About got myself killed again, because I was distracted by you.”

“Then one day you just show up with these piercings,” she continues. “Like ‘oh yeah I already had it pierced’ and ask me if I think they suit you.”

“I was unaware you were struggling Siha,” he chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Not your fault that you’re incredibly attractive,” she adds with a shrug. “Though thankfully that battlefield gawking has gone down to a minimum now that I get to personally help remove that armor afterwards.”

“Not as tempting now that you have it?”

“Oh still as tempting, I just know the view later will be better,” she presses several light kisses along his frills, causing a shiver to go up his spine.

“You’re making it very difficult to not just lay you across this table now,” he mutters as she laughs softly against him.

The sound of the room’s door sliding open tears him from his thoughts, and he looks down quickly to Shepard in his lap. While they hadn’t exactly spoke of hiding their relationship, they tended to pull away from one another when they were interrupted.

She gives him a quick shrug and doesn’t move from her position in his lap as they wait for the person to come in.

“Need something?” Thane finally calls out to the silence of the open door.

“I’m just looking for the Commander,” Jacob’s voice responds back. “She wasn’t in her quarters, so I was seeing if she’s just making her rounds. You seen her?”

“What do you need Jacob?” Shepard replies, still not bothering to remove herself from her position on Thane’s lap.

“Commander?” Jacob questions, finally stepping into the room looking around, his eyes widening when he spots her.

“What do you need?” She repeats, turning slightly to meet his gaze.

“I- well you had said you’d let me know when we’d be able to check out that distress signal I talked to you about,” he answers, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Shit, yeah, sorry about that,” she lifts her arm as her omni-tool appears, and types into it quickly. “We’re near Tuchanka so we’re stopping there first to get Grunt checked out and rescue Mordin’s student. From there we’ll stop in the the Citadel to pick up supplies on our way to the distress signal. Did something change with the situation that we need to get there quicker?”

“No, that’s fine,” Jacob responds. “So what’s… going on Commander?”

“Hm?” she asks looking back over to him.

“You just cuddling the squad in your down time?”

Sighing, Shepard drops her feet down to the floor and turns on Thane’s lap to face Jacob, “Really Jacob?”

“I’m just surprised. Trusting a well known assassin to watch your back is already pushing it, to trust him to this extent… unnecessarily risky,” he comments crossing his arms.

Pulling herself up from Thane’s lap, Shepard crosses the room to stand in front of Jacob, her own arms crossing as she stares him down, “We have a group of dangerous people that are the best at what they do, all on a ship owned by an organization seen as incredibly dangerous by most of the galaxy, fighting impossible odds, against dangerous enemies, into a mission none of us may come back from. I don’t see how who I’m dating is a notable risk or of your concern Mr. Taylor. And if you actually took some time to get to know Thane, maybe you wouldn’t have such harsh criticism of him on our ship.”

“I- apologize commander,” Jacob responds immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Thank you for answering my question, I will be in the armory if you need me ma’am,” he finishes before backing out of the room quickly.

As the doors slide shut, Shepard’s tense muscles relax once again when she turns to look at Thane, “Sorry about that.”

“His views of me aren’t your fault,” he says simply. “You’re too kind.”

“I suppose I could have yelled a bit,” she muses, sitting on the table in front of him.

Laughing, he stands up to get in front of her, “I meant to myself, not Mr. Taylor.”

“We’ve all had to kill,” she responds dismissively. “Judging you because you’re trained as an assassin instead of a soldier that got sick of the Alliance is ridiculous. And if it’s over you being a drell, I don’t have time for racist bullshit on my ship. You also earned my trust a lot quicker.”

“So, you said we’re dating,” he says, changing the subject as he steps closer to her, placing his hands on the table beside her legs. “What does that make me to you?”

“I, well, I assumed we were,” Shepard responds hesitantly, her cheeks reddening. “I figured that was what the whole confession thing was.”

Thane chuckles, leaning in closer to her, “I didn’t disagree with you, I just want to know what I am to you.”

“My boyfriend?” she mutters carefully.

“Works for me,” he answers, bumping his hand against her leg. She wordlessly spreads them so he can press himself against the table. Her legs wrap around him as he tilts her head up to his.

“Oh does it?” she asks, her pulse quickening under his fingertips on her neck.

A smirk spreads across his face as her already dilating eyes meet his, and he leans in to feather kisses along her jaw until he reaches her mouth. “Is it still too early to admit how I actually feel?” He asks, his breath ghosting over her lips.

“No,” she whispers, leaning in closer to him.

“I love you Siha,” he whispers back before capturing her lips with his own.

---

My AO3

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: New Gods On The Block! Review or THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES: COCKBLOCKER OUT OF MYTH!

We’re back, and i’m doing away with intros, for now, i’m trying to see if offering people a bit of the review makes them more receptive to reading it and now we’re nearing the end of this hellyear, and the trump presdency, i’m going into this one with a ton of energy, so let’s get quackin!

We open with the Scrooge and Kids on a quest to get a golden helmet he’s been after for years and has been one of his lifelong goals using a carefully crafted plan with all the kids skills needed. Okay i’ll admit that last part is unique to this show: given how interchangable the boys are outside of this continuity,  I assume he’d just throw them at the monster like Pikmin as a distraction while Donald grabbed the helmet and just grow new ones in his vast venture bro style clone mine if they happen to die. Thankfully there’s no Child Death but there is Child Failure as the team comes back sad and defeated and doubting themselves.. Della having a confetti cannon ready to celebrate dosen’t help. Though it does bring me to the subject of Della being out of focus this season. It’s a mixed bag for me: On the one hand I do get it, as she was the main focus of last season, even more than Louie, and now we’ve gotten to know her, she can sit back and play more of a supporting role, especially since Donald , who himself was more of a supporting character the past two seasons, is now getting more screentime and Beakly’s getting fleshed out more. Their trying to balance a rather massive cast, so it’s natural the one whose already got a ton of focus at this point would take a back seat and all around the show’s done a far better job giving everyone screentime this season. Launchpad has been lacking of late but given a Darkwing Duck spinoff is probably in the cards, and he’s had tons of episodes at this point compared to Donald and Beakly, i’m understanding of it. 

On the other.. there’s still a lot of stories to tell with her: We still haven’t had her deal with Scrooge basically erasing her for a decade at all nor Donald hiding her past from the kids.. he had reason and all, but he still made their mother a stranger to them. They had no stories, nothing to really go on for 10 years. That’s gotta have impacted both the kids and gotta hit della hard at some point that her father-uncle and brother both just kinda.. erased her to the kids. Plus we don’t know how she’s been adjusting to have a life OUTSIDE the kids especially since she’s been sitting out so many adventures, likely to let Scrooge have time with them and be a good daughter and mother and what not, but still there’s a LOT of ground to cover they simply haven’t yet. The Donald and Della plot we did get, while glorious, didn’t really add anything to either’s likely strained relationship and it’d be nice to give the two a subplot to work this out. Granted this might all be coming in the Castle McDuck Episode for all I know, but I can’t pin all my hopes and dreams on that one. And this all COULD’VE easily happened off screen.. but it’s something the audience really wants and needs. I’m not sure if we’re getting it and that worries me. But again theirs a large chunk of the season to answer this if this is the last one, and another season possible if it’s not, so i’m willing to wait for it. I’m just getting impatient is all. 

That being said this episode makes up for the Della Deficet as she’s one of the main driving forces of this side of the episode. I’ll get into that more in a second but Della’s been on the rare misfire adventure and knows Scrooge’s stages of grief and that he’ll come out of it with a better plan. Unfortunately for the kids that plan dosen’t include them and Scrooge runs off to assemble a better team leaving the kids utterly devastated. One of the other main driving forces besides depressed children and the greek gods is scrooge being really bad with people, but i’ll get to that. 

Point is the kids understandable emotional devastation and Della trying to mom for all of them at once because Launchpad had to get to his other job and is taking Beakly this weak to teach him and Drake how to raise a child, is interrupted by said Zeus ASSHAT RAPIST OUT OF MYTH! Along with Storkules COCKBLOCKER OUT OF MYTH and Selene, DELLA’S FIRST TIME WITH A WOMAN OUT OF MYTH!  There here because Zeus has lost his powers, as the Gods all collectively decided he was a dick and voted him out of office.. er stripped him of his powers. Sorry an asshole, narcacistic, sociopathic racist getting removed from his position of power happening a few days after the election was called.. the timing just could not have been better. But yeah Zeus is out, roll credits. Join me after them and after the cut for the rest of the review. 

So yeah the Gods are fed up with him, and Selene and Storkules are there to pick a worthy inheritor to his Laurel Wreath, his lighting bolts, and his collection of playboys he keeps alphabatized in his mancave.. also his mancave will also go to the winner. Storkules however, having a one track mind, notices Donald isn’t there and goes to find him. The kids are all eager to try but Selene is there for Della, which they all agree makes sense: I mean she has the disposition and sexual appitite of a green god but without all the rampant sex crimes and murder, and given most of them have clearly copped to the times except Zeus, that’s a plus. Plus she and Selene have already been together before so the fact they can smooch into infinity along with all the fun stuff is a nice bonus. It’s not like Storkules isn’t selecting his candiate soley with his 13 inch penis, so ther’es a precident. But Della, seeing the kids clearly need this more than she does, convinces her once and future girlfriend to let them try out. I really do wish we got more of the two this episode but what we get is great, and Selene reluctantly agrees after Della makes the valid point their STILL more mature than her dad. The fact Zeus punctuates this by getting into a “No you” contest with an 11-12 year old probably helped.  As for where Donald is he’s preparing for a date with Daisy! Horay. I’ve been waiting for Daisy to come back since the last time she was here, and Donald has naturally been considerate: Setting up a bunch of hearts, flowers, some punch that is likely just box wine and sprite, he has a budget and throwing all his garbage in the pool with bricks because he’s still Donald. Romantic, a good dad.. but still a disaster of a person who dosen’t know quite how to live like an adult... which naturally I immensely relate to and hope i’m lucky enough one day to have a lady or fella to hide all my garbage from. I mean i’m probably dying alone, but that’s likely my old buddy crippling depression talking. Oh you old scamp.. please fuck off an die.  But enough chilling looks into my psyche, point is Storkules barges in to ruin it, and eat his carefully made grilled cheese. As though Storkules may be incredible he’s also STORKULES, GOD OF NOT REALLY READING THE ROOM. Daisy comes in, and we find out it’s their second date.. and i’m assuming their first wasn’t that time they ended up in a direct to video sequel to Die Hard that’s still far better than Die Hard 5.. then again a colonoscopy is preferable to that movie so I Dunno. But she’s nice, friendly, if put off by the big sweaty man suddenly in their date. Storkules COCKBLOCKER OUT OF MYTH, does not help matters by, upon hearing that seeing how in love they are, and finding out it’s the second date assumes their getting married and hugs them in THE SWEATY ABS OF STORKULES. Do me next. 

Back at the God Tests, god I love a job-ish thing that lets me say that, Louie is up first, and being Louie has thought up a plan that benifets him wether he wins or looses but one that has serious underlying issues he hasn’t thought of. Naturally it turns out to be a gold touch which, as with Midas, works out about as well as you’d expect.. with Dog Murder and mass murder to follow. Selene undoes it, So Louie gets nothing. And yeah this has been a major issue this season that while I talked about it back in “Let’s Get Dangerous” bares repeating:  Louie feels like he learned NOTHING from the events of last season. He still likes, he still dosen’t think plans through, and he still cheats. In contrast Dewey DID grow from his season.. it’s subtle, he’s still the same loveable trainwreck and pre-teen Hank Venture he’s always been, but he no longer hides secrets or family stuff and is more of a team player. Still an egotsitical one, but it’s there. But Louie.. hasn’t changed at all. He’s still conviving, still thinks only in short term.. it’s only once or twice like with the Impossibin the events of last year really seem to have sunk in. It feels like the writer’s couldn’t figure out how to write a smarter Louie and just gave up. It’s really disheartning especially when most other character development, subtle and otherwise, sticks. 

While Huey sweats over his turn and Della tries to encourage, we cut back to the date which is going okay, Daisy’s trying to roll with it but Storkules, TERRIBLE WINGMAN OUT OF MYTH really isn’t good at talking Donald up or letting them get to know one another. While things breifly get better when Daisy brings up her career and Donald talks it up like the loving soon to be boyfriend he is, Storkules FUCKUP OUT OF MYTH screws things up by saying, when she explains to him she hasn’t made any Toga’s because she works primarily in dresses that she can “work up to them eventually. “ As proof this is the best Daisy she dosen’t dump Donald immidetly despite none of this being his fault and him trying to explain he didn’t invite him, but instead just makes an angry, and understandably so , face and goes to powder her beak.. which is clearly code for “Scream Obscenities into Donald’s Mirror for the next ten minutes”. Which if it already wasn’t abundantly clear they were perfect for each other this would be the clincher. Donald wants Storkules to go and TRIES to tell him, but Storkules just assumes he wants him to make a big romantic gesture for them and goes to “let Cupid’s Arrow” strike her. Donald understandably wants conformation he doesn’t mean that literally. Spoiler alert: He does. 

IT’s Huey’s turn next at playing god and he decides to be God of Intuition, gaining future sight so he can know everything and prevent tragedy. We instead get a damn funny scene where after adjusting to his powers he tries to prevent a breakup.. only to play both parts himself and cause it anyway. Just some great acting from Danny Pudi there. We get some more as Huey slowly melts down from the information, traumatizing a kid and nearly getting beat up with a guy who wants to “Beat up the freak for making everyone uncomfortable” which.. 

Yeah it’s not acceptable for what looks like a grown adult, or even a Teenager if that was an intent, to whale on a CHILD, let alone ANYONE for being “a Freak”. I mean yes Huey did screw up big, not mass murder bit but still.. but he’s still a fucking child. As someone who was prone to breakdowns at that age, and up to present day... I take this personally, especially since I see Huey as high functioning autsitic. So this hits home as i’ve had many people just tell me to get over it instead of trying to help. So yeah fuck this guy, take off that Gizmoduck shirt you do not deserve it. We fans do though, I hope that becomes real merch. 

But yeah Huey failed and Zeus is gloating..mostly because in his already considerably warped brain, he thinks that if they all fail he dosen’t get it. Selene explains basic logic to him: If they fail to find a new god here, they’ll just keep looking. Zeus naturally has a tantrum as Scrooge enters, wondering why the kids care about god powers and Della, being a supportive mom, tries to get him to encourage them. He instead focuses on his team. Again, we’ll get to him trust me. Selene also calls her dad out on the fact he hasn’t done anything good since defeating the titans centuries ago.  Naturally being THE GREATEST SHITHEAD IN ALL OF GREEK MYTHOLOGY Zeus takes the exact wrong lesson from this and calls his brother Hades to whip up a titan for him to fight because that was her point and not that your an irredemible dick tip who their desperate to replace and who was dethroned because no one liked you, not even your horrible presumibly now ex wife. I mean unlike DC Comics Zeus he’s not planning a cou but only because he has no powers. Hades however is well aware his brother has no powers, as the gods have been talking about it and laughing about it because Zeus sucks eggs. Also Hades has a great goth look and personality here as well as muscular arms to hold my bi ass at night. A-Plus character design. I may also have a thing for goths and emos I never realized I had. Just an observation. 

Back at the boat Donald and Daisy are enjoying drinks, which again has to be wine.. I mean again box wine, Donald needs a lot of booze after a hard days nearly getting murdered and Costco has great deals on it, but still booze. They cuddle a bit and it’s fucking adorable.. and Storkules WHO JUST KIDDNAPED HIS COUSIN CUPID AND STOLE HIS SHIT naturally ruins this moment by first trying to fire one date rape arrow at them, then takes donald’s rampant headshaking no as a sign to fire all of the arrows... with Daisy ending up in the water and unsettling the garbage. Granted Donald COULD’VE prevented this by explaning things to her.. but i’m betting he didn’t simply because he’s.. tired of this shit. He’s tired of adventure, tired of it intruding on his life and just hoped Storkules was gone and out of sight and didn’t have a chance to prepare for that till it was too late. NOW Daisy storms off.. but unlike say Cabs Daisy, whose a living nightmare, or Comic Daisy, whose not a great person but has her moments depending on the comic, she has VALID REASON. Donald lied to her about garbage and dind’t just take it out like a normal Duck, and didn’t just outright yell at his friend to leave on their date, a friend who just attacked her and already insulted her. IT’s understandable, especailly given a line coming up she’d WANT to leave and leave Donald behind.  Donald however is naturally miserable and it finally gets through Storkules thick skull he messed up and he runs off to cry while Donald miserably floats among the garbage and my heart both relates to that nad breaks seeing it. I mean .. Daisy meant a lot to him: After years of presumibly avoiding dating, or if he did not doing so for long, to focus on the boys, after a year of putting their needs ahead of his and living with his demanding uncle, of being dragged out of a normal if miserable life and into a less miersable but adventerous one he didn’t want, of being stranded in space and on an island wondering if his kids would be okay.. he finally not only has time for himself, and his sister back after years of thinking her dead and thus someone else to take care of the kids needs for a while without feeling any guilt over it or worrying about them, but found someone special. She’s talented, beautiful, charming, and understanding. And most importanlty she LISTENS to him and throughly likes Donald for who he is. And he looses that only PARTLY due to his won incomptence but mostly because someone he already barely allows in his life came in and ruined it. Once again the adventure and everything took something from him and while not nearly as big as loosing his sister, it still fucking hurts to once again have one small bit of something just for himself, one bit of normalcy, one person who loves him for who he is now through and through.. and it’s seemingly gone. It’s why I like this relationship even if this part panes me: Donald can FINALLY be happy... finally have someone who genuinely cares about him.  This also boils down Storkules character and why I don’t ship the two of them: He’s a good god, he’s brave, compasionate, carring, and generally wants the best for donald and does genuinely love him.. but he also dosen’t care really what DONALD wants half the time. He’s the embodiment of Donald’s biggest gripe with his life: No one listens to or repsects him or what he wants. Storkules wants Donald the adventurer, Donald the brave, Donald the undaunted, DONALD THE IDEALIZED VERSION THAT ONLY EXISTS IN HIS HEAD. He dosen’t really get Donald isn’t the same person, and even that person wasn’t into him. Not because he’s a man, like his sister Donald could easily be bi or pan.. but because he’s just SO MUCH and Donald’s family is already SO MUCH.. and that was BEFORE the kids and the launchpad. Donald has made peace with adventuring but it’s still clearly not his faviorite thing while for Storkules adventure and experince is his life. Storkules needs someone like him and Donald needs someone down to earth, someone who can HANDLE the amount of chaos that follows him and the famly, but someone whose .. normal. And Daisy is that. If you ship then fine fine, but I just don’t because they just don’t go together and both deserve a partner they can truly be a partner with, not someone they clearly don’t understand or someone they DREAD visiting. They both deserve better than that. 

Back on the god plot, it’s Webby’s turn as she becomes Goddess of Friendship. And helps the mood at the pier by spreading sunshine.. and then deals with the pier’s greatest menace and my honorary uncle, because he’s really not much worse than some of my actual uncles...

GLOMGOLD, SCOURGE OF CHILDREN’S KIDDIE RIDES. Because of course a seemingly regular habit for Glomgold is hogging a children’s ride he somehow fits into. Of course it is. It’s cheap and he’s not the best human being but I love him anyway. Webby heats it up to scare him then tries to get the kids to hug before having a breakdown at everyone not being happy. This does fit with her personality.. I didn’t think so at first but thinking back her first response in any friendship crisis is to panic and overreact. Her reaction to her best friend telling her she may have to stop sleeping over with her and her sister/webby’s giflriend because of magic danger is an implied death threat. She’s getting BETTER with people, but she still dosen’t have the life experince to fully deal with it and naturally upon seeing things get worse and worse goes on a lighting filled rampage Selene thankfully stops and likely undoes. Though Glomgold is likely on the moon now. He’ll be fine. 

Dewey is last and auditions.. but forgets the god part and fails which fits him perfectly and is a great bit. The kids have all washed out and are depressed about it. While Della is hopeful when talking to Selene, Selene gently explains to her girlfriend she shares with a space alien that the kids just aren’t ready and that maybe the power of a god just isn’t the thing you give to a kid for a self esteem boost. Della MEANS well here, she just wants her kids, Webby very much included, to feel good and get their self esteem back after Scrooge swallowed it whole. But Selene is right that this is just too much power, and given it nearly drove Huey insane  and nearly made Louie and Webby murderers, she has a point. It’s a good thought, but Selene needs an actual replacement for her dad. Sadly though this breaks the kids further after this and they slink off and Selene gets she messed up.. while she was right to reject them, she missed WHY Della was trying so hard. However credit where it’s do unlike her brother, while she dosen’t try to fix her issue, it’s likely out of emotional maturity: she knows just saying nice things to the kids wouldn’t help them or would wring hollow and their mom is better for that. IT’s things like this that are going to make her a good step mom.. yeah i’m shiping Della with both her girlfriends at once. Just because I gave up on her and Launchpad dosen’t mean poly’s off the table, and frankly selene is strong enough to win Penumbra’s favor and Penumbra has the kind of pepper and violence a greek goddess likes in her women. They’d be cute all together. I likes it. 

Less cute is ZEUS, SCHEMING BOWL OF ELEPHANT PISS OUT OF MYTH!, who realizes his greatest gift isn’t his powers: I’ts manipulating his children. 

And since he found a sad STORKULES POOR SAD BOY OUT OF MYTH. , and hears his issue, with Storkules hilarious sitting in his poppa’s lap, he spins it into getting what he wants: Saying since he and his wife, and Storkules mother in this version apparently I dunno, fell in love with battle, summoning Chronos will do just that for Donsy. Granted for most people your dad’s tale about how he met your step mom who tried killiing you a bunch and who he’s cheated on dozens of times would raise a red flag, but STORKULES IS THICK AS A BRICK.. in both senses of the word and calls forth Chronus. 

Daisy meanwhile is driving her car away, but is battling with herself. On one hand she doesn’t want to play mother to a guy who can’t dispose his trash or his weird friends. On the other she admits she can really be herself around Donald. We then get the most telling line though.. “You do not need to fall for another man who needs saving!”

That.. is clearly setup for the future. It MIGHT be Gladstone but it could be anyone. Hell it could be someone entirely new. She also could have a kid like we’ve all wanted. We could get a canon version of Juinor.. not named Donald Juinor because 1) He’s not donald’s son and 2) that name’s been forever tainted and we all know which living bottle of axe body spray to blame. I.. genuinely can’t wait to find out who this is and I expect we will before the season’s up and i’ts nice to see Tress, like last time, get to dig into some emotional complexity with the character instead of just yelling at Donald or talking about bows and stuff. Here she grapples with herself as she does love Donald but the past has burnt her a lot. But as a wise pansexual once said “ But I think it's important for us to remember that sometimes, sometimes it does work out. And even though everything inside us is telling us to protect ourselves, when you've got it, don't let it go. And I am telling you, that you have got it, if you want it. “ Love is hard, love is messy, maybe that among many other things is why i’m alone. But it’s worth it when you take the time.. and upon seeing a giant monster heading for Donald’s house, Daisy realizes he is worth it.. or that frustrated with him right now or not she dosen’t want him to die. Either way she’s a coming and i’m gathering hornets in a box in ancipation of finding out who hurt her so I can mail them to him. I popped an H on there so I know it has hornets. 

Back at the mansion the mood is bleak as heelllllllllll with Louie ordering pizza minus the toppings and Della’s attempt to give the kids hot choclate just getting an ow from Webby. It does make sense: Scrooge and adventuring are their lives.. if he dosen’t need them.. how would they ever do it themselves? Plus their 11 and 13 and at that age kids are very fragile so having their mentor and grandpa reject them like this really hurts, not helped by Scrooge proudly announcing his new team and trying to awkwardly bounce not getting this is his fault, though Della is staring at him with a look that just screams. 

But before Della can stab her Dunkle, we cut to a depressed donald who switches from one natural state, Depression, to another, fearing for his life, as Chronus arrives and Huey rightly wonders how he’s here. The kids all defer to Scrooge while Della continues to just be the best. Seriously for the entire episode her only throught is her kids, and their emotional well being and had this crisis not popped up she probably would’ve stabbed scrooge then yelled him out for hurting her babies. She’s graduated from trying to be a mom but having issues with it due to mentally still being in her 20′s, to genuinely being GREAT at the job. Good on her.  Daisy is naturally horrified to arrive to find Donald being eaten while Storkules is overjoyed. I WOULD say his stupidity’s overplayed this episode.. but he’s never displayed good judgement before why start now? It fits his character and his joy turns to distress when Chronus eats donald.. and has a cage in his tummy. with glass walls. I dunno, it’s a cool design. Daisy is understandably pissed and yells at it for eating her boyfriend, which gets an adorable oh boy oh boy from donald> Again love is rough, but one jackass screwing with you does not equate to every man or woman or person you date being a jackass. Daisy has realized this. Storkules is overjoyed, but soon finds himself and his sister fihgting Chronus and honestly both are damn impressive doing so. Seriously when the justice ducks form.. give htem a call. I mean She has moon beams and he’s a greek god.. plus Drake and Launchpad could use a third.. I mean he fits better there and Drake is already dating one manchild, and is one to a smaller extent, another won’t hurt. Just consider it shippers.. or foursies with Morgana because as this episode shows Storkules is bi as he is mighty. he’s Bighty. But the god squad fails, and gets eaten and Zeus’ time to shine predictably ends with an “I’ve failed immediately”, to no one’s suprise. 

Scrooge starts working on a plan as he and Della, naturally scale the colossus. We then get the scene that’s been boiling all episode: When Scrooge wonders where the kids are, Della calls him out pointing out they’ve been plauged with doubts about him replacing them.. because he literally was replacing them, and when Scrooge is earnestly suprised by that Della points out the obvious: Their children, as I said their fragile and as Della puts it, Scrooge puts a LOT of pressure on them, something she likely knows from experince.  And this is what i’ve been leading up to and putting a pin in all episode: Scrooge himself. It’s something I thought of days ago but this episode hammers in heavily: Scrooge really dosen’t have a ton of personal social skills. Sure he can work a board room pitch, lead a team of adventuerers, and run a vast empire while never forgetting the human element, for a lack of a better term, he’s not lacking in empathy or the ablility to talk to people, but when it comes to reading them it’s just surface level. He’s genuinely been show to struggle with empathy, with feeling someone elses emotions or realizing them till they’ve already been hurt. He spent a good ten years desperatley trying to bring Della back, avoding his pain and guilt instead of talking to Donald and making amends with him. His relationship with Goldie took decades to get anywhere healthy as he just put his walls up and assumed she’d never change when, as we’ve seen now, she always could she just needed a push. And when confronted by the kids he lashed out and then pushed them away instead of mending the wounds he created. Even on a much smaller level, when Lena and Violet ended up along next week he’s utterly lost when Adventure isn’t on the menu and only picks up from being baffled by two normal ish (One’s a parnaomal expert the other is the paranormal) joining him once it’s clear at least one of them fits right in with his intrests. He can deal with people on a problem by problem basis, but he’s just not good at dealing with their emotional needs or opening up.  It’s why this works so well: his oblviousness fits. To him and the way his brain works, the crown is just a problem to solve and he just needs diffrent tools to fix it, not realizing replacing the kids for a mission would bother them or they’d ever think they were replaceable. Until now I hadn’t seen much similarity to Huey but both.. are just not great with PEOPLE. They put them in boxes, try to solve problems that way.. it’s just their specific issues that way are diffrent. Scrooge can anticapte the unknown and how people he’s fighting act.. but can’t anticipate personal hurt and pain well because he bottles all his up. When checking off a problem.. i’ts just something he dosen’t consider and thus his biggest blindspot, the thing he has to overcome time and time again: How his family feels and how he can deal with it.  Here however he deals admirably.. now he KNOWS there’s a problem, and in a genuine show of character development over the past three seasons, he apologizes fully, saying their the best team he could ask for, better than zeus and don’t need his powers and they can get the helm together. Instead of putting up walls.. he’s letting his in and showing humility, which given Scrooge’s ego.. is a tall order. But for those kids, for his strength, it’s no small feet. Of course said speech gets Him and Della eaten, but the kids, now reinegized, ahve time to plan, with Daisy further stalling by roaring at Chronus to stop. Because she’s fucking awesome and Storkules finally gets that. The kids however take the leaves and breifly retake their powers, Dewey’s is for dance naturally, and use them together to take down Chronus, freeing everyone else, defeating the titan and throwing him back into the pits.  Donald and Daisy reunite and get a RELLY sweet moment, blushing and looking lovingly at one another, getting lava on each other, before kissing. STORKULES, DOSEN’T GET THEY DON’T WANT A THIRD PARTNER OF MYTH, of course interrupts and hugs them hostage for the remaider of the episode. I’m assuming Beakly , when she got home, pried htem out and explained them not wanting a third int heir relationship to him, and it’s a weak end to the plot as Storkules learned nothing and one of the weaker parts of this episode. The rest is stronger as the kids and Scrooge plan to make another run at the helmet and Selene wonders off to “use your shower” and then order pizza.. so she basically just asked Della out. And has used her shower before. 

I mean again, she can have two partners. This episode alone has earned that and they seem like they’d mesh. Penny would just have to learn some lessons about sharing and godly vagina’s is all. Nothing wrong with that. And what about Zeus.. no one asked but he gets his wreath back only to fall in the pit, with Hades naturally laughing his ass off.. and likely also taking Zeus’ laurel back. So Zeus is trapped in hell with a goth mocking him. HORAY! HAPPY END.  Final Thoughts; This was a pretty good one. It does have it’s weak spots: Storkules learned nothing, the kids stories endings were easy to see coming and there wasn’t enough Dellene. But really despite that. .it’s still a solid episode mostly because it’s REALLY damn funny. The comedic timing is just pitch perfect and while like most of the plots I could see the rhythm of the donsy plot, the reasons for it were all funny and fresh and the scene with Daisy in her car was a nice bit of character building/clear setup for the future. And showing off Della’s own character developement and history with scrooge, the latter without ever having to mention it, really brought the episode up, as did the guest cast’s game voice acting and timing. This episode is far from perfect, but it’s still a fun episode that felt needed despite not being tied into the main plot: Bringing back some old friends, and having an intresting story to tell. Plus we got more Donsy so there’s that. Overall while not the BEST episode of the series, it was a funny, enjoyable half hour of television and sometimes, that’s enough.  If you liked this review follow me or more, and if there’s an episode of Ducktales from seasons 1 or 2 you’d like me to cover, you can comission it for 5 bucks, 5 bucks an episode, 5 dollars off your order when you comission more than one, via my personal messages. You can also follow me on patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet if you want.  NEXT WEEK: FLASHBACK EPISODE! BABY DONALD AND DELLA! BRADFORD ORIGIN STORY! POSSIBLE HORTENSE AFTER SO LONG! MY BODY IS READY!

[midnightsnapdragon]

Oops I’m bad at tumblr. I think I’m supposed to use this thing lol: Yayyyy! I’m a huge fan of all your stuff on Ao3 and have been dying for more good Cresswell fic lately :) How about: “It still surprises him, sometimes.”

...

“Carswell?”

Thorne bites back a swear word and swivels around in his girlfriend’s office chair, grinning widely. “Cress! You’re back early!” With one hand behind his back, he tries to close the program he’d been snooping in.

Cress leans against the doorway of her office and gives him a shy look through her hair. “You know we have security cameras in here, right?”

Uh-oh. Thorne forces himself to keep grinning. “Yeah?”

“And I keep an eye on my office 24/7.” She waves her phone at him, where a little app shows him a bird’s-eye view of himself, seated at her computer.

A drop of sweat creeps down the back of his neck. Shell Tech is a top information security company, and Cress is known to be its secret weapon. That’s why he was sent here in the first place. Carswell Thorne is six months deep undercover trying to get Shell’s secrets out of this five-foot-tall, twenty-four-year-old nerd, and if he just blew his cover because he forgot to disable one camera, he is never going to hear the end of it from his bosses. “Right,” he says, tilting his head with a quizzical smile.

Cress laughs. “So if you were planning to surprise me, this kind of isn’t the best place to do it!”

Thorne relaxes. “Oh. Yeah, you got me. Kind of dumb, huh?”

Her eyes widen. “No!” She steps closer, her fingers knitted together in front of her stomach: a bashful gesture that he’s starting to see less and less as their relationship progresses. “No,” she says again. “It’s really sweet of you. I was actually thinking we could go out for drinks after work, if you’re not too ...” Then she sees the computer screen Thorne is trying to shield with his body. “... busy,” she finishes, frowning. “Is that ... the beta?”

He glances over his shoulder, as if in surprise. “Oh. I guess. Is that what you were working on?”

“It’s kind of an important project.” She lets her hands fall. Crap. She’s not in bashful mode anymore. “What were you doing here?”

If he doesn’t come up with a really, really good cover story in the next five seconds, he can say good-bye to both his mission and his career.

“Okay, full disclosure? I was trying to see your calendar,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish way. “I know your birthday is coming up, and I’ve always wanted to throw someone a surprise party. But you can’t exactly do that if the person is already busy, right?”

Cress’s face lights up. Without preamble, she throws her arms around him, and he catches her and hugs her close. With him in a seated position and her standing, there’s not even much of a height difference to deal with. In fact, he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a few minutes. But only because she’s warm and soft and smells nice. No one ever said you couldn’t find pleasure in your work.

“You were going to throw me a party?” The words are muffled against his neck.

Thorne smiles into her hair. “Yup. And invite all your coworkers who hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” she says unconvincingly. “I’m sure if they just gave you a chance ...”

“Well, then this is the perfect opportunity.”

Looks like his cover is still intact. Carswell Thorne, devoted romantic partner and thrower of parties. It still surprises him, sometimes, how utterly naïve this girl is, how trusting, and so tragically gullible. This isn’t even the first time she’s caught him trying to snoop on her tech conglomerate’s projects. Next time, he promises himself. Next time, I’ll get her secrets. I just need a little more time.

“Carswell?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you.”

Thorne becomes aware of a warm, expanding feeling behind his ribcage. He shuts his eyes and lets out a breath into Cress’s hair. “I really like you, too. But you already knew that.”

She pulls away. For a moment he’s afraid that she’s detected something in his voice, that he’s somehow given himself away, but her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks turning pinker every second.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling down at him. “I already knew.”

...

“Jeez, Cress. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Cress says, and pulls something out of her pocket. It’s a cell phone, smudged with fingerprints and locked with a measly 8-character code. “Here. I got something for you.”

Linh Garan, founder and CEO of Shell Tech, frowns at her across his desk, but he takes the phone and turns it over in his hands. “Is it his? The agent’s?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How did you even get it?”

“I ... picked his pocket.” She feels unsure of herself just saying it, like she might be boasting or lying. But she’s not. She went through hours and hours of YouTube tutorials and even got Cinder, Garan’s adopted daughter, to practice with her. Which wasn’t hard, seeing as Cinder would have signed up for anything that made “that idiot American” look like a chump. In the end, Thorne hadn’t felt a thing when she slipped the phone from his jacket. Of course, she was hugging him at the time, and he was already flustered knowing he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Guilty people never consider the possibility that someone else might be deceiving them.

It still surprises her, sometimes. How easy it is to play someone who thinks they’ve got you wrapped around their finger.

Garan raises his eyebrows at the phone, clearly impressed. “Well, this is obviously Rikan-issue. We’ll do a full scan and decryption and have it back to you before you leave for drinks. If it’s his work phone, odds are we can get a lot of intel out of it. Good work, Cress.”

“Thanks.”

"And you know you don’t have to do this, right? Rikan’s the one that planted him here. We’d be well within our rights to fire him. Don’t feel pressured to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Cress bites her lip. “I know. I won’t.”

“Good.”

When she leaves the office, she finds Thorne chatting up Michelle Benoit, co-founder of Shell Tech, who’s holding a coffee cup and nodding along politely to everything he says. Michelle has been twisting the necks off of farm chickens since she was a little girl, and she’s currently looking at Thorne like he’s a very noisy, very juicy chicken. Cress wants to be a grandma like her when she grows up.

“The work day’s not over yet,” she tells Thorne, sidling up to him in an apologetic sort of way. “You should probably let Michelle get back to work.”

Thorne makes Michelle an elaborate little bow. “Au revoir, Madame. Until le next time.”

Michelle smiles indulgently. “Ton français est franchement abominable. Je me demande quel bête t’a enseigné.”

Cress walks him to the exit, and as they walk he whispers, “What did she say? I didn’t get the last part.”

“She said your French is pretty good and you should come by again soon.”

“Ah,” he says, relieved. “Well, I’ll have to brush up on my Italian next. I hear it makes a very good impression with the ladies.” And as he opens the door, he leans back down to murmur lowly in her ear. “Non vedo l'ora di vederti stasera.”

Cress has no idea what that means, but her face goes tomato red anyway, and Thorne twinkles his eyes at her before disappearing into the street.

She’s going to have to wear something really distracting when he realizes who has his missing phone.

...

send me a prompt and I’ll write a quick(ish) drabble!

[ladyherenya]

My favourite thing this year has been the Korean drama Crash Landing on You (2019-20).

It has something of a ridiculous title (I’ve ended up calling it Crash Landing or sometimes just Crash). But, to be fair, North and South was already taken.

“I can go to Africa and even Antarctica but not here. It’s a shame that you live here.” “It’s a shame that you live there.” -- episode three

To my great amusement, every month or so, Netflix has sent me an email that’s said: “Don’t forget to finish Crash Landing on You” or “Remember this? Watch it again: Crash Landing on You” or “Rewatch your favourite moments - Watch it again: Crash Landing on You…”

And I’m like: NETFLIX! Seriously, WHAT do you THINK I’M DOING?

I have now watched Crash Landing on You five times.

There are several reasons for this:

I successfully dragged other family members down this particular rabbit hole, and in a pandemic season, when things have been unpredictable (or cancelled), rewatching Crash Landing has been an appealing and comfortably-familiar distraction, as well as the source of many, many long, analytical fandom-y conversations, which has been fun.

I needed to watch it more than once to straighten out all the pieces of the story in my head. With 16 episodes, each over an hour long, it’s one of the longest stories I’ve ever watched. I’ve seen other TV series with more episodes, but nearly all have been much more episodic, rather than telling one continuous story.  

I kept noticing details that I’d previously missed because I’d been focused on the subtitles or that I hadn’t properly understood some cultural nuance. And some things are ambiguous in translation -- in a good way, a fodder-for-discussion way.

I have ALWAYS rewatched (or reread) my favourite stories. And Crash Landing fits right in with those. Someone in my family described it as: “Like Lord of the Rings on steroids!” However, I think it actually has far more in common -- visually and thematically, and also in terms of my willingness to discuss the characters as if they were real people -- with my favourite historical dramas.

In terms of story, Crash Landing is easy enough to summarise: A South Korean businesswoman is paragliding when a freak storm blows her across the border; she’s discovered by a North Korean captain, who hides her and helps her get home.

But I’m going to need more words to explain why I fell in love with it.

It is fascinating and, first time round, tense and unpredictable. It’s funny and very meta -- very aware of the tropes it’s playing with and of parallels and contrasts within the story. It’s visually and aesthetically pleasing, and the soundtrack grew on me.

There are a number of coincidences and a few ridiculous fight scenes, but the emotions are intensely real and so are the consequences. It has camaraderie and found-family and thoughtfully-complicated family relationships. There are characters I love, and characters who surprised me, and so much time given to character development!  It’s romantic. There’s a fake engagement (a favourite trope of mine) and while I’m not a fan of love triangles, I liked how this quadrangle-tangle is handled. And the obstacles to the romance are satisfyingly realistic; characters have sensible reasons for the choices they make.

I love how the story uses flashbacks, particularly the post-credit scenes.

The final episode isn’t perfect, but given that a perfectly happy ending would, realistically,  require the reunification of north and south, I thought it came very close.

Let me elaborate.

Cut for sheer verbosity, rather than spoilers. (I’m not allowing myself to list spoiler-ish examples or dive into analysing my favourite scenes, because then I wouldn’t just be here all night, I’d be here all week).

⬦ Fascinating, tense, unpredictable: I knew almost nothing about life in North Korea, so that was fascinating and made the story harder to predict, as I couldn’t anticipate what options the characters had or what obstacles might arise. And that isn’t the only reason I found it tense -- at different times, different characters are greatly at risk if discovered; there are occasions when characters are in danger of physical violence or are injured; and they have a couple of dilemmas to which there are just not easy solutions (See also: Obstacles for romance).

While I’m on the subject of the setting, although I cannot judge how accurate this portrayal of the north was, it’s portrayal of people as people was incredibly convincing. It’s a society where people have differences in personality and in circumstances. There are orphans begging in the market, people who can afford to stay in fancy hotels -- and a lot of people somewhere in between. In the military village, people have varying attitudes, tastes in clothes, privileges, standards of living, etc. Their lifestyle differs from that in Pyongyang, and also in other parts of the country. Amongst the military, some men are compassionate, some are corrupt and some are not obviously one or the other.

Moreover, it’s clear that corruption and villainy isn’t just in the north. In the south, as in the north, we see a range of humanity -- selfishness, good friends, complicated families, happy marriages, criminal behaviour, and so on.

I’ve read an article or two suggesting that the least realistic aspect is Ri Jeong Hyeok being such a sympathetic and honourable officer. I think it’s interesting that he clearly isn’t a typical captain -- he wanted a different career, he’s spent time studying overseas (in a democratic country), and, perhaps most importantly, his father’s position gives him protection from pressures many others face. He has the privilege of being able to afford to act with integrity, and of encouraging such behaviour in the men he leads.

⬦ Humour and meta: I’ve included these two together, because so much of the story’s self-awareness and intertextuality is humorous. I am very amused by so many things -- the village women’s interactions, Se-ri’s wit and banter, Jeong Hyeok’s facial expressions, the duckling's reactions, the way Ju Meok keeps comparing things to South Korean dramas:

Ju Meok: “I haven’t seen any drama characters that don’t fall in love in that situation. That’s how they all fall in love.”

(Because my knowledge of Korean drama is limited, there are a few cameos and references which I suspect would be amusing if one was in the know. The exception is the taxi driver singing, who was funny even without recognising the actor.)

I love the commentary that comes from all the moments when other characters witness the unfolding romance. Others’ reactions are often memorably hilarious -- some of my favouritest scenes fall into this category. (The customs officer! Jeong Hyeok’s dad!) They introduce humour and self-awareness into these moments, allowing the story to acknowledge “Yeah, we know these two are being ridiculous/sappy/emotional”. These moments reveal people’s attitudes towards displays of affection, particularly in the north, and their different attitudes towards Se-ri and Jeong Hyeok’s relationship.  

And as their relationship changes, Se-ri and Jeong Hyeok’s awareness of being watched and commented upon changes, too.

Which leads me to…

⬦ Contrasts and parallels: So many scenes which echo/parallel earlier scenes. Most obviously, this allows the story to compare and contrast the north and south, but it also shows changes in time, differences between characters, and differences in relationships too. Sometimes all at once!

 It means some plot developments weren’t totally unexpected -- it was Oh, of COURSE, we’re going to now see that character in this situation! or OBVIOUSLY we now have to see what this is like in the south!

But I thought it was really effective storytelling and I so much enjoyed spotting and analysing these moments.

⬦ Yoon Se-ri and Ri Jeong Hyeok: These two are the heart of the story and there are so many things I love about them. Like how, even though Se-ri is dependent upon Jeong Hyeok to hide and help her -- even though they’re initially hesitant about a romantic relationship -- they quickly become very protective of each other. Often to the point of willingly risking their own safety. Often to the point of exasperating the other. It’s great.

 That’s not the only thing they discover they have in common. They share some interests. They’re both highly intelligent, driven, successful leaders (he’s a captain, she’s a CEO) who are very private, lonely people carrying around grief about their family and their past. Neither of them likes to reveal their emotions -- he tries to conceal his by suppressing his facial expressions and avoiding answering questions, while Se-ri hides behind play-acting.  

I like watching Se-ri trying to get to know Jeong Hyeok. She isn’t deterred by his silences (unlike someone else) and she keeps the conversation going even when he doesn’t respond. She watches him closely, and says or does things to provoke a reaction. Poke, poke, poke.

And the time they spend together is really revealing. They share meals, they share a house. They see how the other responds under pressure, but also in various social and domestic situations. They see each other in a range of moods: calm, happy, grumpy, scared, tired, upset, unwell. Crash Landing takes advantage of spending sixteen episodes with these characters. Going through so many different experiences together, they learn a lot about each other -- about each other’s values, tastes and temperament -- and this means the audience gets a deeper, more nuanced understanding of who they are, too.  

Se-ri and Jeong Hyeok are also well-matched in how they show they appreciate each other -- she delights in giving presents, and he is quick to notice things Se-ri might need or like.

And it’s very satisfying when they open up, or when they cry in front of each other, because you know that they don’t do this lightly or easily.

⬦ Obstacles for romance, love triangle quadrangle-tangle: I appreciate that the obstacles in this story are not contrived or fueled by needless misunderstandings.  Se-ri and Jeong Hyeok have really solid, sensible reasons to be hesitant to first recognise, then admit to, and then act upon, a romantic attraction. Even once they realise that getting Se-ri home is going to take longer than they’d hoped and she’s pretending to be Jeong Hyeok’s fiancée, romance between them is still a road that leads nowhere. She isn’t safe staying in the north and he would endanger his family if he defected to the south, and they both accept that. And they’re reticent about sharing vulnerable feelings, and Jeong Hyeok is actually engaged to someone else.

But once they really open up to each other, the narrative conflict revolves around their circumstances, rather than doubts or misunderstandings they have about each other. Because the situations they face are dangerous and difficult, with no obvious or straightforward path to a happy ending, there’s quite enough tension to drive the story forward. They still have a couple of misunderstandings, but I like how they handle those, and I like that they don’t have more of them.

As for the love triangle, it doesn’t have the angst of someone torn between, or even attracted to, two people. Jeong Hyeok’s engagement has been arranged. Having feelings for someone else doesn’t change the foundation of that engagement, nor the pressure to please his family. He doesn’t love or know his fiancée -- not well enough to risk revealing Se-ri’s true identity to her. He’s honest with Se-ri and he makes an effort with Dan.  

(I have a theory that, if he had been in love before, he might be quicker to recognise how some of his behaviour towards Se-ri fosters intimacy and sends her messages he doesn’t intend, but this is all new for him.)

He tries not to mislead or hurt Dan, but she’s hurt nonetheless, and I like that Crash Landing doesn’t gloss over that. It explores why she’s hurt, why she’s so reluctant to let him go and why their relationship never really worked. (Neither of them are good at communicating with each other, and I think she takes some of the things he does for her for granted, rather than recognising them as overtures and as opportunities to get to know him better.)

Dan is not just a romantic rival, nor a narrative complication, but a person whose concerns and desire are taken seriously, and who is given space to grow.

Which leads me to...

⬦ Surprising characters, thoughtfully-complicated family relationships: As mentioned, Crash Landing takes advantage of the amount of character development 16 episodes allows, and not just for its lead couple. I was surprised by how much my opinion of certain characters changed, as I came to understand them better.

The character I was most surprised by was Gu Seung-jun.

Each time I’ve watched this, I’ve liked Dan more. I have a lot of sympathy for her now. I also like her mother, even though she’s embarrassingly over the top, because she cares fiercely about her daughter and about advocating for her.

Se-ri’s dysfunctional family are more nuanced than I expected, too. In particular, I love the attention the story gives to Se-ri’s relationship with her step-mother. I was expecting Se-ri’s father to play a larger role, perhaps because he’s nominally the one with the power and influence, and at first Se-ri’s mother seems so passive. But it was really interesting to understand where she’s coming from, why her relationship with Se-ri is broken and sad. The steps the two of them take towards rebuilding their relationship are believable.

(On a related thought, I appreciate a lot of the choices this makes in addressing these women’s mental health struggles. One or two moments arguably could have been handled better, but on the whole it’s realistically optimistic, with enough detail so that we understand the seriousness -- the impact it’s had on these women’s lives.)

⬦ Camaraderie, found family and the ducklings: Se-ri doesn’t spend as much time with the village women as she does with Jeong Hyeok and his soldiers, and when she does, she’s play-acting, in order to keep her identity a secret. But I like how they nevertheless support her, and how meeting her sparks change their dynamic with each other. They grow closer and become much better at supporting each other. It’s really heartwarming.

We gave many of the characters codenames, so we could discuss them when we were still learning their names. (I was surprised by how long it took me to learn some of the characters’ names.  Because so many were unfamiliar to me, they were harder to remember; I wasn’t always sure, from just reading the subtitles, how all of them were pronounced, and sometimes it was hard to separate the sound of the names from surrounding sentences, especially when, due to honorifics and titles and so on, subtitles don’t always match exactly what is being said.) Jeong Hyeok’s men are “the ducklings”, inspired by something I saw on Tumblr: Gwang Beom is “Handsome Duckling”, Ju Meok is “Drama Duckling” and Chi Su is just the sergeant.) I love how they function as a found-family, especially in contrast to Se-ri’s real family. They’re funny, loyal and caring, and in spite of their different personalities, work well together as a team. I enjoyed seeing the different relationships they have with each other, with Jeong Hyeok and Se-ri, and how some of those relationships change. And they’re so protective they are of Eun Dong!

Man Bok has an interesting arc -- I could have mentioned him under Surprising characters. I really like how he fits into this story, how he’s connected to the mystery Jeong Hyeok is investigating, how he becomes involved with the rest of the characters and has these moments when he plays a significant role. Or gets to be funny. I like the contrast and parallels too -- he’s in a different place in his life to the ducklings, and he gets opportunities to revisit past choices he regrets.

And I’m trying not to write essays about all the characters, and it’s ahhh, I have too many thoughts and feelings about them all!

⬦ Satisfyingly realistic: I like how -- one or two ridiculous fight scenes and an unrealistic paragliding scene aside -- things which happen have believable consequences. Particularly emotionally. We see men cry! A lot! And it always feels like a genuine expression of emotion, not gratuitous or overwrought. (Well, okay, there’s a very minor character who’s a bit over the top but he’s very minor.)

When one of the characters is gravely ill, she looks it, I found it oddly satisfying that she doesn’t have to be pretty all the time.

And I wasn’t sure if this belonged here or under “Visual details” but I love the attention given to Se-ri’s clothes. She cares a lot about fashion and in the north her clothing choices indicate that she cares a lot about her appearance, while making do with a limited wardrobe and still dressing for warmth.  (I’m happy to handwave that she seems to have more clothes than would realistically fit in those shopping bags.) I appreciated the practical streak, and, as winter wore on here, became envious of one of her outfits.

I don’t personally like the style of Se-ri chooses for work, but it’s different it is from what she wore in the north and from what she wears at home -- her power-dressing is like a uniform or a statement of persona she projects in her working life, and not necessarily a reflection of her personal tastes.

⬦ Visual details: I love so many of the visuals. Gorgeous scenery, interesting settings and clever framing for significant scenes. The sky, a place without borders, often becomes a focus and there’s a thematically-relevant flight motif -- paragliders, birds and kites.

I did not start noticing the   product placement until a rewatch, when I stopped to think about how often they went to Subway. The first time, it just seemed like a commentary on south-versus-north, and then I was just baffled-yet-amused by it all. (That sort of thing does not make me want to eat fried chicken...)

⬦ Soundtrack: The first time round, I liked the instrumental score and the presence of piano music actually in the story. As I kept rewatching, the rest of the soundtrack slowly but steadily grew on me, and I found myself liking the songs more and more.  

Now I not only recognise them by name, I can recall most of them well enough to hum them and know which scenes they’re associated with. Which is a lot harder when the lyrics are in a language I don’t speak and so I can’t use them as a prompt for memory.

⬦ Flashbacks: Instead of “previously-on” segments, Crash Landing employs lots of flashbacks whenever it wants to remind the audience of something.

Sometimes, instead of just repeating part of an earlier scene, it takes the opportunity to show the same moment from different angles or from a different character’s perspective,  or to juxtapose it with a different scene or to introduce new information. This was really effective. And when flashbacks were a simple repeat, I was usually happy to revisit important moments in the story (and sometimes, having a different person translating the subtitles meant there was a slightly different perspective on the dialogue).

Then there are the post-credit flashbacks, quite a few of which take places years earlier. I love how they’re puzzle pieces about the characters’ pasts and the connections between them.

⬦ The end:  The first time round, after watching the penultimate episode I was so engrossed in the story and so invested in the characters that I had trouble sleeping and I went around the next day with this tight, anxious feeling, unable to get the story out of my head.

The final episode is an emotional rollercoaster. SO. MANY. FEELINGS. There’s one particular scene which packs a powerful punch -- it’s exceptionally emotional and beautifully filmed. I love it, but I’m  glad we get the aftermath too.

It isn’t a perfect ending, but as I said, I don’t think there was a perfect ending was possible, not one that was both realistic and satisfying. But this comes very close. In the very final scenes, not everything is resolved or explained, and I like how that ambiguity is open to interpretation -- I like that there are some gaps for the viewer to fill in for oneself, however one prefers to imagine the characters’ lives going forward.

I know I could easily write another four thousand words about this story -- there are aspects I haven’t really discussed but this seems like a good place to stop. For now. I really like this story. I expect I’ll watch it all again soon.

[generallybarzy]

your baby, she’s mine

mat barzal x reader

summary: Your parents aren't thrilled about your relationship with Mathew. You don't care what they think, but Mat takes their criticism so hard it creates a little break in your relationship, and he just really wants a redo. (This is mostly based on single by the neighborhood but I also added some 5sos Lover of Mine in there bcs ive been listening to it for like 4 hours straight) warnings: swearing?, age gap (18-22, not super big).  word count: ~2,650 ish

It had been 10 days now since the incident with your parents. 

It had been a week now since Mat started avoiding you.

You had been so amazing to hang out with, to go out with, to laugh with, to fall asleep, and wake up with. He really, really, really liked you. He knew he did. So why did he let a little bit of criticism be the thing that tore your relationship apart?

The two of you had only been dating for two months, but you had been pining after him for a long time, ever since your close friend- a girlfriend of one of his teammates- introduced you. You became friends really fast, which was good, but it also came with months of pining after him and having to see countless girls flirt with him and knowing about his hookups with them every now and then. So when you finally got over yourself and all but begged him to stop, he broke down to you and confessed that you’d been the only one on his mind for months. The emotions were hard to control, finally knowing that you liked him back- god, it was so good. He wanted to keep you forever, wrap himself up in your warmth and your joy, protect you, love you. It was crazy, unlike anything he'd felt before. But he was still caught off guard when he came over to visit you one day and was greeted by the disapproving faces of your parents who had come to make sure she was adjusting well to living on her own and who, as he soon realized, had no idea their precious baby girl was dating anybody.

He knew something was wrong the moment you opened the door. “Hey, baby. Thought I’d swing by before the game for some-” You shook your head, signaling him to stop and opened the door further to reveal who he assumed were your parents standing behind you with questioning looks on their faces. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Mat, these are my parents. And, uh, this is Mat. We're dating" he saw them exchange a look and your father scowled a bit.

“Mat? The same Mat who kept breaking your heart for months?” Ouch. His heart dropped to the fucking floor. Shit, he already had a bad reputation with them, but honestly, he couldn’t blame you for complaining about his past habits. They’d probably heard you cry over him a lot.

Fine. He had thought to himself. Didn't expect to meet the parents today, but I’m sure I can still get on their good side. That hopeful thought was gone a minute later when the interrogation began. Your parents seemed to have a problem with everything about him. Okay, yes. Maybe he had met you at a post-game party, but that didn’t mean you were only a starstruck fan. No, he wasn’t just hooking up with you for fun! Okay, he might be four years older than you but that’s really not that big a difference- you’re an adult, not a baby.

Okay, he’d admit that he had gotten a little bit defensive to your parents when they lowkey accused him of taking advantage of a young fan who was just idolizing him. That was a fucked up thing to say. “She’s not a child. She’s not your baby, she’s my baby.” He was grumbling under his breath but everyone heard. And oh boy did it start something. 

Your parents- especially your father- wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you begged them. You were so young, you had your whole life ahead of you, they argued. You could be out on the dating scene meeting the perfect man to marry one day, not hooking up with the man who had hurt you for months and taken your focus away from furthering your education. “If I know anything about professional athletes,” Your father said, pointing an accusing finger at Mat, “They don’t want serious relationships this young, just quick hookups, and you should be able to see that by now!” By the end of the night, Mat had sunk down into his seat, quiet and red-faced, holding back everything he wanted to say. It wasn’t him at all, and you hated seeing him so defeated. The day ended with him leaving for a game, sad and quiet, and you practically kicked your parents out, quickly texting Mat and begging him to come back.

You had apologized profusely for their actions, but still, every day after that was tiring. He would barely text back, he didn’t come back over after the game that night and you knew he needed cuddles after a rough loss. He didn’t come over after practice the next day, and it wasn’t long before you received a text from him. All it said was: “I think your parents are right. I’m sorry baby”. 

And, no matter how many questions you sent, that was the last you’d heard from him in the past week. 

Mathew hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week. He missed you, but what your father had said was still gnawing away in the back of his mind. You were still young, you could be bettering yourself, he shouldn't be distracting you. He had broken your heart. You could do so, so much better than him. But he was suffering without you, and his teammates could tell. 

After another long, tiring practice, Mat wasn’t looking forward to going home alone and spending the rest of the day thinking about you, so he was happy when Tito offered a distraction by taking him out to eat someplace that he claimed had the best food. He’d been a little confused at how much his friend was hyping the place up, and even more confused when they arrived at a cute little cafe. After entering, it didn’t take long for Mat’s eyes to spot you, sitting all alone in the corner, sipping on a drink and scrolling through your phone, looking just as tired as him, if not worse.

No. No, no, no. It's such a bad idea to be near you. As much as it hurt him, it was for the best that he should stay away and keep himself out of your life, and being alone with you was the last thing he needed right now.

But, shit, it felt so good to see you again.

“What the hell.” He turned to glare at his friend. "I can't-"

“You need to talk to her. You’ve been so mopey and sad and you sucked at practice today and we all know it’s because of her.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Seriously, you’re dumb to ignore her. Like really stupid. Fix it.” Mat cast another glance in your direction, making sure you didn’t notice him yet.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? Because her parents don’t like you? You know that’s not a big deal.” 

“Yeah, it is. Because they’re right. I’ve hurt her and she deserves a lot more than me.”  Tito just laughed and shook his head. 

“And you don’t think you’re hurting her now by ignoring her? Go talk to her. She misses you. And I know you miss her too.” Before Mat could argue or leave the cafe, Tito looked over in your direction and waved. “Hey, (Y/N)!” You looked up to smile at your friend and wave back, eyes going sad when you saw Mat standing almost awkwardly behind him. Giving his friend a slap on the back and a nudge in your direction, Tito left, leaving Mat to finally talk to you. 

He looked so sad, you noticed, as he hesitantly approached your booth. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a soft hoodie, one that you often used to steal from him when you had a bad day, and his hair looked just as soft as always but a little bit messier. As he slid into your booth across from you, and you could finally see him up close, the way the week apart had taken its toll on him, how tired he looked, as if he hadn’t been getting sleep at night. How his eyes, which usually only held joy around you, were sad and dull as if all the life had been drained out of him. “Hey.”

“It’s been a while, Mat.” You still hadn’t smiled at him since he sat down, but he knew he couldn’t blame you. You sat in silence for a few uncomfortable moments, something uncommon for the two of you. He hated it so much. He didn’t want to feel this wrong when he was with you, so wrong that he couldn’t even meet your gaze. He fucked it up so bad. “You wanna tell me why you went from being practically attached to me to avoiding me completely?”

He sighed and looked up at you softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“That doesn’t fix it.” Your voice was soft, delicate, sounding like it was about to break, but the way your eyebrows were furrowed up let Mat know that you were upset with him. 

“I know.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, either. You don’t have to listen to my parents, you know. We care about each other, that’s all that matters.”

“Baby-” He paused, not knowing if he should’ve called you that or not. It didn’t feel like he should, but it felt so, so good. “(Y/N), I know I shouldn’t have let them get to me so much but… as much as it hurts... they are right.”

“Right about what? The part where they said you're just hooking up with me for fun? The way they said I'm still a baby and I can’t make choices for myself yet?”

“No, no!”  He held his hands up to calm you, wanting so badly to take your hand in his, but again not knowing if it would be appropriate to do so. “Listen. I’ve…” He dropped his hands flat onto the table, giving up any hope of getting to touch you. “They were right about how I hurt you. I broke your heart already. Over and over. I fucked us up already.” His voice was cracking, and even though you knew he wouldn’t let himself cry, especially here, you could tell he wanted to.

“Mat…”

“You’re fucking beautiful, (Y/N). You could get anybody you want. Anybody. You’re young and hot and pursuing a career, and I can’t hold you back from that. You should be dating someone that can be there for you all the time. I’m always busy, and I always end up hurting you. I do care avout you, a lot, but you deserve a lot better than I could ever give you.”

“No, shut the hell up!” Mat looked up. startled. He’d honestly never seen you angry before. “Mathew, there’s nobody better than you. There’s nobody else I want. And you’re not holding me back.” You reached over to take his hand in yours and immediately, Mat responded by lacing your fingers together, thankful to finally feel your touch after a week of separation. You continued, voice softer this time. “Mat, I don’t care that you’ve hurt me in the past. It’s in the past, and it was unintentional. I’m not upset over that. I love you, ya know?” Finally, for the first time in a week, a true, honest smile stretched across Mat’s face, lighting up your heart and making you feel butterflies as if it was the first time again.

“I love you too, baby.” You stood from your booth and slid in next to him, letting him press a kiss against your cheek, keeping it short and sweet in public. 

“Mat, the only thing I’m upset about is how you ignored me for a week.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. This past week has been the biggest mistake of my life. Not being able to see you, touch you, even hear you say my name... I'm so sorry, and I swear I’m never going to let you go again because in the past few months, being with you is the only thing I got right. I’m so sorry. I never want to let you go again.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his waist, tucking yourself into his side. “Are we good?”

“We’re good, Mat. So good.” He held you against him, just taking the moment to enjoy the fact that he finally had you back in his arms. God, he was never going to let you go. 

“I still want a second chance at meeting your parents, though.”

You laughed a bit at his persistence. “Are you sure? Last time wasn’t so great.”

“I’m sure I can get on their good side. And if not, oh well.”

“Alright then. Woo them with that Barzal magic. I know you can do it.”

Next weekend, you called your parents back to visit, not telling them that Mat was going to be there. Mat came extra early, dressed nice but not too formal, in contrast to the fact that he had been in all sweats at their last meeting, with his hair styled nicely. It made your heart flutter, seeing the lengths he was going to to get your parent’s approval, even if it really meant nothing in the end. He smiled and shook their hands when they arrived, even though they obviously weren’t too thrilled. He helped set the table for dinner and offered some stories that made your mom smile. By the time dinner was over and he offered to wash the dishes for you, it was obvious your mom trusted him. “No, Mat I think my mom and I need some time to talk. Why don’t you go watch tv with my dad.” You smiled sympathetically, knowing it was really your dad Mat was trying to win over now.

So he took a deep breath and went to the small living room of your apartment where your dad was flipping through the channels on the TV. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna say my stuff, then.” Mat stood beside the TV, nervous as your father’s eyes shot up to look at him. “I know you’re still unsure about (Y/N) dating me, and for good reasons. I know she’s young and you're worried about her in the big city, but she’s an adult, and she can make choices for herself, and she loves me. I love her, too.” Your dad sighed and muted the TV, sitting up and turning his full attention towards Mat. He looked him over, obviously trying to gauge something about him.

“Do you know how often my daughter used to call us, crying that her best friend ignored her calls and blew off their plans to hook up with some random girl?”

Your father’s words felt like knives through his heart. It hurt knowing how much you cared for him even before he knew it, but he continued. “Trust me, I know I’ve hurt her, broken her heart, and I’ve apologized to her so many times, so now I’m going to apologize to you. I’m sorry for ever making her go through all the heartbreak. I seriously never meant to hurt her. I never meant to hurt your baby and I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt her ever again. You can trust me to keep her safe out here. So will you let your baby be mine?” There was silence for a few long moments before Mat sighed. Well, that was all he could do. “Alright, I’m done with the speech, but I’m just gonna say that no matter how you feel about it, I’m still going to love her.” He was about to leave the room before he heard the man let out a small, amused laugh.

“You seem like a good guy. Mathew.” Mat bit back a smile, waiting to hear how he would continue. Your dad sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry for judging you too early. You’re fine.” Mat finally let out his smile. He did it! Your dad was okay with him! You’re fine. You’re fine. The words kept ringing in his ears. “Just know that if you ever hurt her again, I don’t care how much of an all-star you are...” He gave him a pointed look, but Mat had nothing to worry about.

“That’ll never happen, sir.” He added 'sir' just for good measure, wanting to stay on you family's good side. He caught your smiling gaze from the other side of the room, feeling his heart fluttering in his chest at just the sight of you washing the dishes and smiling up at him. “Trust me. I’ll be here for a long time.”

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 20)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2430

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got up the next morning, you felt like a truck had hit you. You slept maybe thirty minutes, if that. The anxiety settled on you heavily. Your marriage, career, and freedom were on the line. 

The worst part was you knew if you lost one of them, you’d lose them all. Everything that had transpired between you two lately seemed so insignificant at that thought. Yes, you were the one doing the killing, being the accomplice, but suddenly, the problem with JJ felt miniscule. When Spence was kidnapped and you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again, you still wondered how he felt about her, how you two had a future together.

Yet, now… now you were terrified you’d pushed him into her arms. Between keeping your distance physically and emotionally, and literally admitting to being a serial killer, you weren’t sure there was much hope for your marriage. 

How did it all go so wrong, so fast? Six months ago, you two were the picture of a happy, perfect marriage. 

Now you’d spend the next two weeks looking over your shoulder, wondering when and if your husband would show up with the handcuffs -- and not for pleasure this time. 

You only had to teach ten classes - two a day each day this week. Then next week, you would be giving out finals. This was your late afternoon Monday class, and you were just getting started. 

“Alright everyone. Hope you had a great weekend,” you said with a cheery smile, thinking about how you had a horrendous weekend. “Today, we’re going to be talking about resolving the case. You’ve found the killer, now you’re at trial. We’re going to talk about everything that could go right, or wrong, and how a forensic psychologist might be able to help with this.”

Just then, the door towards the back of the room opened and you saw a very familiar face. It was Rossi. 

Your gut dropped. Oh no, did Spence tell the team to just go ahead and come arrest you? 

But his face said otherwise. There was no disappointment or grimness, or hesitation. No, actually, he had a shiteating grin on his face. 

“Well, look who it is everyone. This is my very esteemed boss, David Rossi,” you announced as he made his way to the front of the lecture hall. “Are you here to ream me on my teaching?” you teased.

“Even better, I plan to sit in on it and correct you when need be,” he stated cheerfully before slightly turning to your students who laughed. 

“It’s always a pleasure.” 

He smiled at you before pulling a spare chair up to sit somewhat behind you in the corner as you taught and went through your powerpoint. You were only on your second slide when he interjected. You’d just asked the class, “What does it mean if a defendant wants to plead NGRI.”

A boy who usually spoke up in your class, raising his hand. “It means not guilty by reason of insanity.”

“Right, and what happens when they plead that?” 

“They get cut slack and the jury sees them as insane. Then instead of going to prison, they go to a mental institute for a shorter amount of time,” the student explained. 

“Actually,” Rossi started before standing up, “that’s not usually the case. An NGRI is only successful 1% of the time, and when it is, the defendant has to usually stay in a facility for a lot longer than the prison sentence would’ve been and they have to prove themselves capable to a doctor.” 

At this point he was pacing and you couldn’t help but grin fondly as you gave him the floor.

“This actually reminds me of a case I word back in the late 80’s,” he continued. With that, he took off down memory lane. It was one epic story after another. Some included you, some were decades before you, but all of them had the kids on the edge of their seats, soaking up every one of his words. After each anecdote, the kids had questions. 

Before you knew it, class was over. Rossi sort of touched on the points you wanted to, but mainly it turned into a lot of his exciting tales of being in the field. Which was ultimately fine. You’d just post the lecture notes online for the kids tonight. 

When the kids left the lecture hall, you gathered your things and turned to Rossi as you exited the room. 

“So what brings you down, other than crashing my lecture?”

“That was it. Hadn’t seen or heard from you in a while, thought I would come visit the ole sunshine state,” he informed. “How’s it going down here? I hope I didn’t step all over your class.”

You shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. You talking about the glory days is a lot better than me droning on about court cases.” You laughed slightly. 

“So you sad to leave it? I know your classes are almost up.” 

“No, not really. Teaching is fun, but I miss field work. Actually catching criminals, instead of teaching how to catch them.”

“I think your husband might say the opposite.”

At the mention of Spence your heart hammered and went icy. 

“Spence would probably say that because he doesn’t like the fact that we do have to do our jobs.” 

“This is true.”

“Hey, you wanna grab dinner? You flew all the way down.”

“I’d love to, kid,” he agreed, taking you up on your offer. 

“Awesome. I know a great seafood joint nearby. I know you might prefer italian but maybe a change of pace would be nice.”

“Just point the way,” he said, gesturing forward. You smiled and led him to your car where you two piled in and drove about five minutes away to a nice restaurant. You got in, ordered your drinks, and settled in. 

“So you ready to be back in the field?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, I think I am. Every time Spence calls and mentions a case I’m profiling immediately,” you stated with a slight laugh, trying to hide how you felt like you were dying inside. Your stomach was a war of anxiety, dread, depression, and a tiny flicker of hope.

“Yeah, he tells us,” he remarked. “So your time as a professor down here is ending. What’d you think? Would you want to keep it up back up at Quantico?”

“You offering me a job?” you teased.

He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “The academy is always looking for teachers. But I’m curious. I know Reid loves teaching, didn’t know if that extended to you now.”

“Well, if it was back in DC and it didn’t take me too far away from the BAU and Spence, yeah I’d probably be up for it.” 

“See? You were nervous for nothing.”

You chuckled. “Hey, I’d never done this before!” 

“Talking to a crowd of people is a lot easier, and safer, than talking to one unsub.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” you said as soon as the drinks hit the table. 

“Are you going to miss all this sunshine?”

You peered around the restaurant, as if you were actually gauging it. That’s when the question hit you -- if, by some miracle, Spence didn’t turn you in, you would be leaving behind Dexter. Your truest friend. You’d miss him dearly. He was unusual, yes, for an FBI agent, but he was also… very real. You could joke, be yourself, not be judged around him. He wouldn’t take what you said too seriously or get offended. He found your dark humor delightful. You hoped that he found a friend in you too. 

Yes, despite everything, you’d miss Dexter, the one person who truly knew every part about you. 

“I’ll miss some things about the state. Yeah,” you admitted with a fond smile. 

“Well you can always visit,” he reminded as he raised his glass.

The two of you talked, caught up like old friends. Shop talk was little, and you discussed life with Spence, kids, the marriage. You pretended he didn’t know you were a serial killer and you weren’t on edge, wondering if you were going to prison any second. Rossi didn’t know about JJ, or if he did, he didn’t say one word and you didn’t feel like airing your dirty laundry. So you left the topic alone. 

Other than that, it was a great dinner with a friend. He said he and Krystal were on their way to a little resort for a few days. She was sightseeing in Miami while Rossi visited you. As soon as he was done with the restaurant, he was going to meet her at the resort.

Unfortunately for you, your distraction was gone now, and you were back to being consumed with anxiety. Seeing Dexter didn’t help either, or at least, you didn’t think it would. 

-------------------------------------

The next day, around 4:30 pm, you got a text from Dexter asking if you’d want to grab dinner. You agreed.

The two of you met at a little outdoor restaurant. It was a beautiful night. Very warm, but a cozy kind of warm, not a strangling type. The ocean breeze was doing an excellent job at calming your nerves. 

You were daydreaming, wondering when or if you’d ever see or feel anything this beautiful again when Dexter took a seat right in front of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, a slight smile on his face.

“Hi,” you softly said. Not one little part of you was mad at him. Maybe some part of you should’ve been, but how could you be? You were the authority in this relationship. You could’ve locked Dex up a long time ago, not looked back, and been a local and FBI hero. But no, your personal vendetta and vices got in the way and you gave into a darkness inside you that you never knew you had. Not until you met Dexter and knew what a good vigilante looked like. 

“How’s...uh, how’s everything going?” 

“As good as can be expected,” you truthfully stated, frowning a bit. “Listen I’m so sorry I--”

He held up his hand. “Nope. No. You don’t have to apologize. I knew that there was a risk in teaching you. I knew that one day your coworkers might figure it out. I was sort of hoping they’d only take you down though,” he stated with a grin that made you laugh. “But seriously… I knew the risks. I could’ve said no. Like I said, if this is how I go out, then your husband is a worthy opponent.”

A sorrowful smile touched your face for the briefest of seconds. 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Y/N, I’m the killer. I know the dangers I face every time I take someone out. That was happening long before you were in the picture.” 

“Yeah but having an FBI agent for a partner must not be ideal.” 

“On the contrary, there might be hope. Do you really think he is going to turn you in? Turn us in?” 

You heaved a large sigh. That’s all you’d thought about since the words came out of your mouth and you were still no closer to an answer.

“I honestly don’t know. The fact that it’s been a few days and we haven’t been arrested is a good sign. But, Spencer is practical too, he may be waiting until I get home to sort out details of the marriage, the home, and everything else before asking me to give myself up.” 

He nodded. “I don’t know him as well as you, so I can’t say anything on that. But we should take it as some form of hope that there aren’t feds at our door.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” 

He eyed you up and down, seeing as you were clearly miserable. 

“Hey, well, worst case, he does… Don’t spend your last days of freedom sulking. Spend them doing what you want. Go take a tour, go see a museum, go… do whatever it is you do to relax. Speaking of, do you ever relax?”

A half smile perked up on your face. “Yes, Morgan, I do relax.”

“Oh, ‘Morgan’, did I hit a nerve, Agent?” 

You shook your head and laughed, sticking your tongue out. 

“Hey, Dexter…” you started, your eyes down at your fingers that were playing with each other. “I want you to know that you’re a really good friend. If it wasn’t for you when Spence got kidnapped… I would’ve been a mess. I would’ve gone off on JJ. Hell, I’d be a lot of things.” You took a deep breath. “But not just that. Spence, he knows me inside and out. He even knows about my… secret now, but you… Well you saw all of me and didn’t judge me. I mean, you know I’m an agent and you didn’t give me a lecture.”

“That’d be a bit of a double standard, don’t you think?” 

You shrugged. “Maybe, but you could’ve, and you didn’t. I appreciate that. Even when we weren’t… teaching, I liked just hanging out with you. It was nice to have a friend that wasn’t so by the book. I mean, the BAU is great, and we’re a family, but I can’t be my morbid self with them. They just don’t share my ideals and if I said half the shit I did to them that I did to you, they would be so offended that I’d be sent off for a psych eval faster than you could say ‘unsub.’” 

He slightly grinned. “Yeah, I liked our time too. It was nice to be myself too. Harry… he did his best but I could tell he didn’t accept me, not all the way. With Deb… shit, with Deb, she barely knows me. Rita sees a little bit more. She can tell when I’m upset, or agitated but… yeah it’s nice to have a real friendship. I’m going to miss this.” 

“Yeah… me too.” 

“Thanks… for looking behind the mask and not being afraid.”

“Thanks for letting me look behind the mask,” you countered, raising your beer, clinking it with his.

The rest of the evening was spent just talking. Not about kills or teaching. Not about prison. Just about your accomplishments, why they meant so much to you, what you’d seen, what you loved about Spencer. 

But something had clicked with you. Dexter said something and it resonated deep inside you. So you set the plan in motion when you got home that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[theanimesideblog]

Villainous Love: Your Route

Dabi x Reader (former), Aizawa & Reader (former) (part one)

TW: cursing, violence

A/N: Reader is an independence person who don’t need no man

You weren’t sure how long you had been walking, but you knew it had been a long time. You needed to clear your head to try to start sorting everything out. Your feet and head ached and tears stained your cheeks. It was so hard to keep your thoughts straight.

You didn’t mean for all of this to happen this way. You never wanted Aizawa to know about your relationship, at least not this way. Not in a way that would pull you into two different directions.

You loved Dabi… you know you did. Right?

[[MORE]]

Aizawa’s words bounced around your head. Did you really love Dabi? Could you even love someone?

To be fair, your parents didn’t show you what romantic love was. You figured out your own definition of love through TV shows, books, and relationships around you. Was your definition of love even the right one?

Of course it was. It had to be… right? Could love even be real when two people were fundamentally different? You and Dabi had damage and similar ideals, but those ideals were different if one looked at them with the actions of those ideals in mind.

You were a sign of light in this society. He was the creature lurking in the alley, the one someone’s momma would warn them about. You were the one someone’s momma wanted them to be like.

You knew your relationship had failed from the start with that in mind. No one would accept you two, unless Dabi made a major change.

Maybe you needed to talk to Dabi.

Then again, was Aizawa truly loving you? Making you choose between your love life and your hero life? Why couldn’t they coexist?

Aizawa knew that you were good. He knew that you would never give up information to the League… right? He had to know! He became your father figure, a title you knew he secretly wore with pride.

Were you disappointing your father figure, the one man you trusted with your life?

Your phone had been buzzing for an hour, and you didn’t care until this moment. It was a needed distraction. You pulled it up to see Dabi’s contact.

You answered his call, hoping his voice would help you make a decision.

“(Y/N)! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!” He exclaimed, his voice angry. You knew that he wasn’t really upset, just horribly worried. He wasn’t the best at showing it, but you could tell even after months of dating… you knew him so well, it was surprising that you two had only dated for months.

“I know.” You said.

“You know! What does that mean!” He huffed. You sighed.

“Dabi, Aizawa knows about us…” You said. Suddenly, sobs threatened to rip from your throat. You remembered how angry and upset Aizawa looked.

“What!” You explained the situation to him, including Aizawa’s ultimatum to you. By the time you finished, fresh tears rolled down your face.

“Shit…” Was all he had to say to you.

“Shit.” You agreed.

“What are you going to do?” His voice was calm. It was soothing and unnerving at the same time.

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “I’d hate to lose you…”

“I don’t want to lose you either… but that was a dick move on Aizawa’s part. Doesn’t he trust you!” You thought about that for a beat.

“He does… he doesn’t trust you. Can you blame him?” You said, a humorless laugh in your voice. You ran your hand through your hair, before sighing again. Dabi stayed silent.

“Dabi?”

“I would never use you, you know that right?” Dabi asked.

“I know, but you don't have to prove anything to me.” You leaned against a wall, suddenly feeling too weak to stand.

“Ditch him. If he’s forcing you to make this big of a decision, you don’t need him.” You frowned.

“It’s not that easy.” You thought Dabi would understand that.

“It can be. I’ll help you forget all about him. You can start fresh.” You shook your head.

“Are you crazy? I can’t just forget him! He’s… he’s basically my dad. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” You admit. Dabi makes a ‘tch sound.

“Doll. Listen to me. He’s pushing you into a corner. If he really cared about you, he wouldn’t do that.” Dabi said. You stood up, suddenly feeling angry.

“He does care about me! He’s worried about me!” You say. Dabi scoffed.

“He’s going to turn you into the authorities. If he really cared, he wouldn’t do that!” You stomp your foot, frustrated by all of this.

“Stop it!”

“You know I’m right! If he really cared about you, he wouldn’t force your hand!”

“You’re the one forcing my hand right now!” You wanted to scream, but you figured that wouldn’t be a good idea at four(ish) in the morning.

“It’s because I care about you.”

“Both of you are suffocating with your love. I can’t do this-“

���Doll! Let’s not make rash decisions right now. You’re upset-“

“Damn right I am! But I’m still capable of making decisions. It’s my fucking job!” The next words hurt to say but you knew it was time. “I think we need a break.” Dabi scoffed.

“You’re playing right into his hand.” You gripped your phone so tight, you thought it might shatter.

“How is it any better than playing right into yours!” You exclaim. “Don’t try to call me or find me. I’ll beat you up and leave you for the cops. We’re done!”

“(Y-“ You hung up on him before he could finish saying your name.

You knew what you had to do.

You started to run, finding a new burst of energy from the fight. Your feet carried you, somehow knowing the exact path to take.

You found yourself outside of Aizawa’s door, knocking on it until he answered. His eyes widened as soon as he saw you.

“(Y/N)! Are you ok?” He tried to usher you into his home. You held your hand out to stop him.

“No, I’m not.” You said. “I have to choose between my love and my career.” Aizawa’s gaze turned to a tired one.

“You know why.” Aizawa told you. You refused to look away from him.

“I don’t.” You said.

“You better come in if you want to talk about this.” Aizawa said. For once in the past eight hours, you agreed with him.

Aizawa and you moved to the living room. He sat down on the couch and gestured to one of the seats. You ignored his offer.

“Why do I have to break up with Dabi?” You didn’t want to tell him you already had.

“You can’t trust him. Villains are villains for a reason.” Aizawa said, rubbing his face.

“Can’t you trust that I would drop him in a second if I knew that he was planning something?” Aizawa shifted his gaze to look at you directly in the eyes.

“We can’t let it get to that point.” You narrowed your gaze at him, liquid anger coursing through your veins.

“But you trust me?” You asked Aizawa, readying your trap for him.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” You shut your eyes so tears wouldn’t fall out.

“Answer the question!” You said. You couldn’t bring yourself to see Aizawa’s face as he answered your question.

“With your… involvement with Dabi, you lost some of my trust. I figured you would know better than that-“

“Is that why you threatened to call the cops?” Your hands started to shake, so you balled your hands into fists.

“I did that to ensure Dabi didn’t get any information out of you, even if you did it without realizing it. The League is too dangerous to trust. You shouldn’t have gotten involved with Dabi.” Your fists shook with anger, with rage, with sadness. Your eyes shot open.

“You’re not my dad! You don’t need to tell me that I’m wrong! You’re not my teacher anymore! You can’t tell me what to do!” You regretted those words as soon as you said them, feeling your heart finally shatter. Still, you couldn’t back down now, especially when you saw how hurt Aizawa looked. He stood up, the pain in his eyes replaced with anger.

“I’m not your teacher, I’m your mentor. That’s my title until you’ve learned everything you could from me. Clearly, that’s not the case.” Aizawa said, his voice level the whole time. You pursed your lips.

“I think you’ve taught me enough!” You growled.

“So, what are you going to do now? Crawl back to Dabi?” Aizawa jabbed.

“No. I’m done with men trying to make decisions for me.” You said, before stomping off. Aizawa didn’t go after you as you stomped off.

———

Aizawa had Dabi wrapped in his capture weapon. He pulled the struggling villain towards him. Aizawa felt like he was going to blink any second, but he knew he had to hold on. The League was so close to falling apart, he couldn’t stop now.

Suddenly, a blinding white flash went off. Aizawa shut his eyes, his grip slacking. He felt Dabi escape his weapon, but Aizawa was useless without his sight. However, Dabi was groaning, the sounds of blows landing told Aizawa that whoever interrupted their fight wasn’t in the League.

Aizawa rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to clear his vision. Unfortunately, he felt a rope wrap around him and tie him up before he could fully process it. His vision cleared up too late. Dabi and he were tied up on opposite ends of the battle zone. You stood in between them.

Aizawa recognized you as soon as he saw you. How couldn’t he? He could recognize your fighting style from anywhere.

You had become a vigilante a few months after you had left. He assumed that you were on Dabi’s side until he saw how you would sabotage their plans. You were considered a villain by police standards and a hero by News standards. You were nowhere as evil as real villains. In fact, everything you did improved the world in one way or another.

“(Y-“

“Don’t call me that.” You stopped Aizawa.

“What are you doing?” He asked. You glared at him.

“Cleaning up the mess you two are making.” You said. “I knew this battle would destroy the area.”

“Then why did you tie me up?” Aizawa said. You scoffed.

“You kidding? You really think I trust you anymore? I can’t trust that you’ll turn me in.” Aizawa and you both knew that would happen. It’s not that he hated you for your choices, it’s just that he had to do the right thing.

“I’m sorry it ended like this.” Aizawa admitted. You jumped, like someone had punched you. You calmed yourself down, trying to pick the right words to say.

“I know.” You said. You looked at him with sadness. “But we made our choices, didn’t we?” You looked away.

“This is goodbye. I never got to tell you, but thanks for taking care of me.” You said, turning to look at him with a teary smile. “And don’t worry about Dabi. He’ll be knocked out for a while.” Aizawa nodded at you. He wanted to tell you so much and nothing at the same time.

You gave him a salute before quickly leaving the scene.

And that was the last time he got to see you in person.

[7team7]

SasuSaku Month Day 6: Sharp Edges

Title: a paper crane for a paper heart // rating: T (warning: major illness, angst) // Sakura is very sick. Sasuke wishes she would just get better, so he folds one thousand paper cranes. // ao3 link 

A/N: Inspired by the book “Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes”, it was one of the first books to ever make me cry as a kid. My mom was a teacher and she used to read it to her class and she gave me to book later.  Based on a Japanese legend, making a thousand origami cranes is said to make a wish come true.

---

“And then you fold this part over like that, and you have a crane! Well, yours is looking like it could use some work, Sasuke-kun. Make sure to fold it so you have clean, sharp edges. Like mine.”

Sasuke hated this. He didn’t see the point in this. He didn’t know all of the details, but Sakura was very, very sick. Even dying. The fact that they were folding cranes while she sat in her hospital bed said it all. He grew more frustrated by the day; she should be back at school, at his house for dinner, at the gym, at the sweets shop—anywhere but here. He yearned for their younger days when they daydreamed about the future and folded paper airplanes full of hope instead of cranes weighed down by tragedy. The hospital made Sasuke exceedingly uncomfortable, but he’d be damned if he missed even a moment of what could very well be Sakura’s final days. 

And Sakura, ever the curious one, ever the optimist, took the experience as a time to learn. She was a great patient, allowing a million tests to be done on her for research purposes, asking all sorts of questions because she was genuinely interested in medical practice. When Sasuke asked her why she kept prodding the nurses for more information instead of relaxing in her bed, she just smiled at him and replied, “I’ll need to be prepared for my future career, right?”

If it were anyone else, Sasuke wouldn’t humor them, but this was Sakura, and he’d do anything for her. Really, even fold as many paper cranes as he could manage. Even when she was napping, which was becoming more frequent as her strength left her little by little, he folded. This side over that, taking care to make sharp edges. Nothing but neat, clean cranes would do.

---

Once, he was so distracted while fiddling with a half-finished crane, he gave himself a nasty paper cut. He had been staring at the tiny form on the hospital bed, consumed by his thoughts of a future without her when he sliced a thin line clean across his palm. Stupid cranes. Stupid sharp edges. 

He hated how that phrase said by her soft voice kept ringing in his head. That’s what Sakura was: pink, soft, warm. If someone was all cold and sharp edges, it was Sasuke. 

When he wasn’t with Sakura, it was more apparent than ever. He snapped more easily, got less sleep, zoned out when others spoke to him. His mind was always on Sakura, Sakura, Sakura. It felt pretty twisted: he had always felt happiest with her, but her condition made his mood incredibly sour. The only person he had ever felt comfortable enough with to talk about his feelings was Sakura. But he couldn’t burden her with his fears and grievances, not when she was the one teetering between life and death each day. Sasuke’s heart hurt so much, he sometimes felt like he was dying too.   

So he kept folding, if not to just have an excuse to stay by her side without speaking. He wasn’t sure what he could even say to her at this point. His mother had already tried talking to him about the stages of grief he already seemed to be experiencing, like anger and denial, but he just walked away from the conversation to go visit room 707. 

It had been a month since that talk and she hadn’t attempted to reason with him since. After he came home from the hospital that day was the first time he had allowed himself to cry in a long time.

---

Sakura’s illness scared him even more because it seemed devastatingly similar to Itachi’s. His beloved older brother was sick for a long time before he couldn’t hold on any longer. If the same thing happened to Sakura, Sasuke wasn’t sure what he could do to keep himself together. She was such an integral part of his life; losing her would be like getting half his heart scattered to the wind. 

He loved Itachi deeply, but differently; their relationship was something he was born with and could always count on to be there, no matter what he did. Itachi would love him always. But he made the choice to love Sakura everyday, instead of pushing her away like he did in the past. She was the first to offer comfort when Itachi died, even when he lashed out at her. She had helped him to restore a sense of normalcy, but he couldn’t return the favor.

But where had he gone wrong? He couldn’t take any of it back now, even if he was hurting. Maybe if he had made different choices in the past, he could’ve protected her from something, anything. Maybe they wouldn’t be in the situation they were in now. He felt so helpless. What was the point in having her by his side, knowing her, loving her, all in the past when she was about to be ripped away from his future? 

---

Even as his thoughts walked themselves in circles, he couldn’t imagine a life without Sakura, no matter the situation. 

So he kept folding. Sharp edges on all the cranes: big, small, patterned paper, plain paper. Lots of pinks and greens. A part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, if he had wished hard enough and folded enough cranes back then, his brother would still be with them. So he would keep trying for Sakura. 

---

When she first showed him the stacks and stacks of papers for the cranes, he asked her what she was going to wish for. She laughed at him, “I can’t tell you! If you tell someone your wish, it won’t come true.” 

Even though she was smiling, Sakura didn’t bother asking Sasuke what his wish would be. They both knew what Sasuke was going to wish for and it was breaking their hearts. 

He kept folding. 

---

He was quite proud of himself and ready to show Sakura when he finally reached the last crane to fold. He swung by room 707, just to find the bed empty. His stomach dropped and he immediately thought the worst. 

“Where is she? Where is Sakura?” he started shouting to no one in particular. He started to panic when no one answered and he slid his back halfway down the wall with his head in his hands. Was she...? Why didn’t anyone tell him? They knew him since he was here almost everyday, they had his phone number after he insisted on being added to her emergency contacts list. 

A kind nurse hurried over from the counter, “She’s not here anymore. I guess it all happened too quickly for anyone to let you know.” 

Sasuke thought he was going to vomit.

“They moved her to a different unit this morning.”

“A different unit? So she’s not...dead?” his voice cracked and saying the word out loud nearly made him choke. “She’s okay for now?” 

The nurse smiled gently at him, “I think she’s going to make a full recovery. The esteemed doctor Tsunade came to town yesterday and it turns out she’s been doing years worth of medical research related to Sakura’s illness. She’s going to be able to help Sakura.”

Sasuke didn’t realize how much he had been shaking until his knees gave out and he fully collapsed to the ground. “Can you tell me where she is? I have something to give to her.”

The nurse took pity on the kid and told him, even if protocol might say otherwise. Young love was really something.

---

Sasuke rushed up the stairs to the fifth floor, going through what felt like an endless maze of stark white, fluorescent lit hallways. His heart was pounding, nearly drowning out the sound of the hospital’s endless conversations and crying and beeping equipment.

He finally rounded the corner to face a huge pane of glass. Sakura. It had to be her, there was no one else with that hair. But he couldn’t get a clear view, a blonde woman he had never seen before was talking to the many other doctors, who he recognized as Sakura’s doctors, in the room. It almost looked like she was teaching them something. Even reprimanding them. Was this the doctor the nurse downstairs had told him about? Sasuke didn’t care who was in there, as long as they could make Sakura healthy again. He took a seat across from the window so he could still glance inside while folding. 

Just one more. One more crane with meticulous sharp edges, and he could make his wish. The paper he chose for the final crane was a beautiful floral pattern, all pinks and greens and the feeling of spring and hope. A new beginning, a new life. 

“Hey kid,” a voice called. Sasuke looked up from the crane to see the blonde woman poking her head out of the door to Sakura’s room. “She keeps asking for you so hurry up, get in here.” 

Sasuke scrambled to get out of his seat, nearly dropping the crane in his haste. As soon as he reached her bedside, Sakura sat up. It had been a while since she could do that on her own. She smiled with more brightness than he had seen in a long time and said softly, “Dr. Tsunade is so smart, I’ve learned so much.” 

“And I’m going to be fine.”

Sasuke didn’t trust his voice at the moment, so he wordlessly presented the thousandth crane. Sakura carefully took it from his hand to place it on the bedside table, next to the very first one he made with her. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” 

His heart felt like it was made of paper: it had nearly been torn in half, but it was going to be all smoothed out soon enough. What mattered was that his was still beating along with hers.

One thousand paper cranes, one wish. 

One boy and one girl who would do anything for one more day together. 

---

A/N: Who would I be if not a writer who includes happy endings every time (even if it is kind of deus ex machina ish lol)!! Hope you still liked it

After I wrote this I realized I could’ve gone with something inspired by AKB48’s 365 Nichi no Kamihikouki/365 Days of Paper Airplanes, so I added the paper airplane part in the beginning. I really love that song :)

something fun is coming tomorrow so please look forward to that!

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 3 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom is a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off. But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. This chapter: no smut, light hurt / comfort, all fluff. Warnings for usual stuff + UTI talk [6k] Ao3 link

You woke up in agony. With an ache through your entire lower body, and that distinctive, painful need to piss that made you want to cry. After a few dazed moments in the bathroom, you realised what was wrong, and bit back tears as at the overwhelming sensation cramping through your entire lower body.

Before you’d even googled the symptoms, you knew Urinary Tract Infection would be at the top of your screen. Next to it, a new message from Tom, asking some question about a file he couldn’t find.

Fuck off, you wanted to send back, crawling back to bed and struggling to focus on the words as the burning sensation refused to subside. Another message followed it:

Tom: Actually no rush, we can go over it in the office.

A few more seconds, and he’d sent:

Tom: Does 12 still work

Tom: I’ll bring snacks :)

That stupid smiley face. He still couldn’t work out emojis. Usually it would endear him to you, but instead it brought tears to your eyes, your duvet both a comfort and unbearably stifling as you wrapped yourself around it, desperately shifting your hips to find a position which might numb the burning pain from that fucking UTI.

You were hungry, shaky, and you knew if you wanted painkillers you’d have to get food. But it was so far away. And the thought of cooking food made you want to throw up. Or scream into the pillow.

Your phone buzzed again.

Tom: ?

It wasn’t his fault. You knew it wasn’t his fault. Even if he had written the script and directed the scene and then trapped you into a heartwarming conversation which had definitely given bacteria the chance to destroy your urethra and bladder after hours of being fucked and fingered and you were going to kill him if he sent one more fucking text.

Grumpy and in pain and curled up in bed, it felt exhausting to even compose a short text which was polite enough to not hurt his feelings.

Sorry, don’t think I can make it in. Need a sick day.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and considering just sucking it up and going in to the office. Maybe if you could grin and bear it, it might take your mind off things. Then you needed to piss again, pain pulsing in your entire lower abdomen, and you cursed the day you ever took the damn job. As you limped to and back from the bathroom, grabbing a huge glass of water on the way, the insistent buzz of your phone interrupted your pity party.

Of course it was Tom calling you.

You thought about not picking up, but you knew he’d only worry more. And some small part of you wanted the sympathy, as you forced yourself to chug water you knew would burn on the way out and lamented the bloated pain in your bladder.

“Hey, Tom.”

A second after you picked up, he was already in a full blown speech.

“Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on? You should have said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, we didn’t need to shoot. It’s – ”

He trailed off, and you smiled at the sound of his huff down the phone, his frustration at himself as he realised he wasn’t giving you space to talk. Even as the pain in your lower stomach demanded your attention, you caught yourself smiling.

“I’m fine, just feeling a bit worse for wear.”

For a beat he was silent, but you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes would soften with concern if you could see his face.

“What’s really wrong?”

His voice was so soft, laced with that rare kind of sincerity that left you feeling like he truly, truly cared, and suddenly you realised you were crying. Stumbling over your words, face screwed up from discomfort, you knew you should be mortified to be sobbing down the phone to him. But Tom wouldn’t care.

“I’ve got a UTI, and it really fucking hurts. I should have peed straight after the shoot yesterday but I forgot and I don’t think I can get out of bed. I’m really sorry, I’ll – I’ll make up on the work. Email me what I need to do I just… I can’t do it today,” you choked out.

On the other end of the phone, you could hear Tom was moving.

“Oh, darling. Don’t even think about the work. You don’t need to apologise. I’m… what do I need to do? I’m on my way over.”

You wouldn’t expect anything less, the unguarded concern and tinge of panic in his voice catching you off-guard with how sweet it was. He was really worried. The conversation from yesterday loomed large in your memory – was he just worried about losing his biggest talent? You knew that wasn’t true, cursing yourself as soon as the thought flitted through your mind. He really cared.

Background noise leaked through the call as he put his phone on speaker, the jangle of keys and the sound of doors slamming telling you he was getting ready to leave.

“Tom, it’s fine. Please. I don’t need you to look after me,” you protested, “just the day off is great.”

He said your name lowly, almost a whine, and you knew he wouldn’t be discouraged whatever you said.

“I’m fine…” you returned, equally stubborn. You expected him to laugh, but instead the phone was returned to his ear, his voice clear as glass, with all of his decisive firmness.

“You said you couldn’t get out of bed. I’m coming over.”

It was enough to forget the discomfort you felt, your heart clenching at his protectiveness. You could keep fighting him – some part of you didn’t want him seeing you sick – but in truth it sounded really nice to be looked after. You curled up tighter in your bed, the screen of the phone cooling against your overheated cheek.

“So I’ll ask again,” he continued, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you grab some cranberry juice on the way over? And maybe some junk food?”

“Of course. You should have just asked.”

“Thank you.”

Your voice sounded impossibly small, some admission of weakness, but Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He chatted for a bit longer, the sounds of the city playing in snatches alongside his baritone as he walked through the streets, blathering and giving you advice and smothering you with sympathy as he rushed over. It made you smile as you just listened, distracted a little from the pain and pressure in your bladder, as he offered completely vague and generic advice about looking after yourself.

It was nice. To have someone care for you that much. He was completely forgiven for his hand in causing you all that pain to start with.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a doctor?”

You heard him stop walking, no longer distracted from his worry as it leeched into his voice. You could imagine the little row of shops he was standing outside of, the faded shopfronts he was staring down.

“I’ll be fine, Tom.”

“There’s a pharmacy on the way –”

“No!” you laughed, imaging his frustration as it was accompanied by the beeping of traffic lights.

He only hung up as he entered a shop, promising he wasn’t too far away, and as the line went dead you realised you’d been smiling for the past five minutes.

*

When Tom arrived you were just leaving the bathroom, rushing to the door and drying your hands on your sweatpants, fighting to stand normally even as a fresh burning pain demanded your attention.

He was juggling bags as you let him in, one in his arms and a backpack weighing him down.

“Hey!” he greeted, bustling past you to the kitchen, leaving you to close the door behind him.

You privately liked it when he was like this – on a warpath. It happened on set quite a lot, everything else forgotten as he found a goal and the blinders went on. You were usually there to balance him out – to remember to talk to people and do the boring stuff.

His current warpath was rummaging through your cupboards, muttering about all the things you needed to be given to feel better. He turned to face you slightly out of breath, a completely over reactionary panic in his eyes.

“I got you breakfast too, I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.”

As he set his backpack down on your kitchen counter, unpacking pastries and painkillers and snacks, you wondered what you had done to deserve Tom. Without thinking, ignoring the fact you were just wearing sweats and probably needed a shower, you hugged him. Pulling you closer to him without hesitation, you felt Tom smile against you.

You blamed the pain, the hunger, the stupid bacteria, for the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured into the hug.

Tom squeezed you just a little bit tighter, one hand tensing where it splayed flat against your shoulder blade. He refused to let you go first.

“Of course,” he murmured back.

Finally you stepped back, ducking you head to avoid his eyeline, turning your attention to the stuff he’d brought. Tom seemed to take a second to snap out of his daze, his overwhelming energy momentarily sapped, allowing the moment to fade away.

As he started to unpack the bag, you realised just how overboard he had gone. Every brand of cranberry juice you could imagine. You got a narrative of everything he bought as he stacked it in front of you, batting your hands if you tried to help.

“I know you said not to, but I spoke to a pharmacist on the way over. He said you don’t need to see a doctor unless it’s bad for another three days, then they might give you antibiotics. I got you paracetamol too – he said that was best.”

Two boxes of pills emerged from the bag, followed by chocolate.

“Since you feel rough,” he explained sheepishly, before pulling out more pills, “and I also got Vitamin C tablets. Those are supposed to help. Snacks for lunch…”

He’d practically bought you the whole corner shop, and you bit back a fond smile as he filled the fridge.

“…and cranberry juice. As requested.”

You were about to thank him, the words trapped in your mouth at just how overboard he had gone, but Tom was already speaking again.

“I know he said just to give you painkillers, but if it gets worse I will take you to see a doctor. Your kidneys might be at risk if it doesn’t clear up soon –”

You sat down heavily in the kitchen, pulling your legs closer to yourself as the pain spiked for a moment, making Tom twist to face you in concern. It fucking hurt, but you wouldn’t let him see that. With a huff of laughter, you tugged at his arm to sit beside you.

“Tom! You are mothering me to death,” you teased, feeling your cheeks burn hot at his attention.

“I’m hopefully mothering you to make you feel better, darling.”

Damn him, for being so sweet. You felt yourself blush under the attention.

“Just because you need me to find that file!” you shot back, trying not to stare at the way his teeth worried his bottom lip.

His eyes met yours intensely, purposefully, and for a second you remembered his uncanny ability to be so sincere it felt like he was staring right through you.

“It’s not just work. I care about you,” he told you candidly. You almost couldn’t bear to listen to it. “I was so worried when you said you were sick. I hoped you were just hungover or something.”

Snorting a laugh, you tried to break the heaviness of the atmosphere. It sounded horrifically unnatural. Tom didn’t even crack a smile.

“There’s a reason we start at 12 most days,” you teased, before sensing you’d somehow gotten the mood entirely wrong. Tom stayed quiet.

“Thank you,” you tried again, voice more sincere as you tried to match him, wincing as you shifted your hips, “I do really appreciate it. So much. I was just going to lie in bed and be miserable, and this is actually making me feel better.”

You’re making me feel better. The thought went unsaid.

“I’m glad.”

The pair of you ate in silence for a while, Tom working on an orange as you munched through the breakfast he’d brought you. Every few bites, you caught his concerned gaze on you.

“You should have told me straight away. And we’ll get you the week off work.”

You went to protest, but he’d strategically spoken as you had a mouth full of food. He ploughed on.

“No arguments. We can reschedule the shoot on Thursday, or hire someone else.”

“Tom, no. I’ll be fine once I’ve down the… three cartons of cranberry juice you bought. How much do I owe you, by the way?”

“Not a penny.”

“Tom!”

He ignored your complaints, silently moving to stand instead. As Tom searched for a glass, opening random cupboards, you picked a carton to chug cranberry juice from with all the grace of a frat boy. Tom laughed at first, before resting on hand on your arm as you forced yourself to drink as much as you could.

“You’ll make yourself sick!” he protested, and you finally conceded defeat and put down the remaining half of the carton.

“Better than this UTI,” you grumbled, “cranberry juice usually clears them pretty quick.”

He left you to it for a while as you forced down the sickly sweet cranberry juice (not your favourite brand, you decided, but it would do) and finished your breakfast.

Assuming he was responding to emails you sat quietly, letting him focus while you enjoyed the food, until you caught the banner of WebMD at the top of his screen. You sighed, and Tom’s focus was on you in a second, worry in the lines of his forehead.

“Is it bad?” he asked quietly, glancing down at the hand firmly place on your lower stomach.

“It’s not ideal,” you conceded.

He bit his lip, and you knew he was sinking further into a pit of worry.

“People have them all the time. Stop reading that, I’ll be okay!”

“I just get scared. Whenever I see what you go through at work, I – ”

“You make it sound like I’m suffering some terrible fate, Tom. It’s my job, and I have to do it. This could have happened from anything.”

You cut yourself off before you could accuse him of overreacting. He was sincerely worried. You didn’t want to mock that.

“You could get a hot water bottle, if you don’t mind?” you suggested, “That helps sometimes.”

He was on his feet before you finished speaking, rummaging through cupboards and flicking the kettle on. It seemed like a good solution, to give him a task. You chewed your last bite of croissant slowly as you watched him.

Sweet, sweet Tom. It was dangerous to admit, but you had no idea what you would do if he wasn’t in your life. You watched the line of his slim build as he strode around your kitchen, filling the hot water bottle and testing the heat of it against his hand before he guided you to stand.

“Come and sit on the sofa, love.”

One hand outstretched, a fluffy water bottle grasped against his side, curls dishevelled, you were taken aback yet again by just how rare Tom was. You often wondered if he had some secret partner you’d never heard about, some situationship or wife or something he kept hidden from you.

It just didn’t seem possible a man like this could go home to an empty house. Your heart ached for him, sometimes. His loneliness, as he fought to climb the ladder in such a harsh industry with that ridiculously soft heart of his.

Then he was calling your name, stepping closer with concern on his face, reaching for your jaw as you stood dazed.

“Sweetheart?”

“Sorry,” you blinked, trying to snap out it, stumbling forwards a little as you tried to reassure him you were fine.

One hand still rested awkwardly on your aching lower stomach, and Tom was shoving the hot water bottle beneath it, arms ready to brace you if you fell. Fuck. Embarrassment overtook your senses, tears starting to well in your eyes, as you realised just how shit you felt.

Tom was muttering about sitting down, guiding you as if you couldn’t navigate to your own sofa without help, a helpless concern on his face which was making your heart ache with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered again as he helped you sit, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to pee, by a fresh pain in your stomach. By Tom’s hands on you, the smell of his cologne and the concerned crinkle of his forehead as he knelt on the ground in front of you.

Leaning forwards, you tried to be subtle as you shoved the hot water bottle tighter against your lap and grit your teeth against the fresh wave of discomfort. Those painkillers had better kick in soon. With your eyes clenched shut you didn’t have to see Tom’s concern, didn’t have to imagine yourself weak and useless in his eyes. Even so, your embarrassment about him witnessing you like this was potent. You hardly felt like you were in your own body, confused and clumsy. You realised you were still gripping Tom’s hand, probably hurting his fingers as you squeezed involuntarily from the pain.

You let go suddenly, gasping as you remembered to breathe, hand covering your own eyes instead.

He was watching silently, and it unnerved you more than his rambling. Under the mask of your fingers you opened your eyes, seeing the fold of his knees against the floor and the wringing of his hands in his lap.

All you could hear was your breathing and his, slow and fast respectively.

Fuck, you needed to piss again. Damn cranberry juice. The knowledge that it would flush your system was all the comfort you could grasp as the uncomfortable pressure in your bladder became abruptly unbearable and the pain seemed to swell further, somehow.

You thought for a moment, your brain ticking along painfully slowly with exhaustion and pain, enjoying the darkness of your eyes screwed closed beneath your palm.

Ignore Tom. Stand up. Get to the bathroom. Pee.

In your confusion-addled brain, it felt like enough of a plan. The discomfort was so potent, it was hard to string thoughts together. After a few seconds of bracing yourself, it felt like every muscle in your body strained to stand back up again, resting a hand on the couch for balance as you swayed for a second, blinking against the sudden brightness bombarding your opened eyes. Tom was asking you what you were doing, but you ignored him. You felt drunk, nauseous, staggering and eyes still welling with tears at the sheer agony of straightening up to walk the few steps to the bathroom.

You could ignore Tom, this fresh well of misery making his words seem miles away, but as you finally got close the bathroom door his hands on your hips halted you in place.

He forced you to look at him, eyes struggling to focus on his features, the deep frown on his face deepening as he saw the tear tracking down your cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked purposefully, overenunciating the words like he was speaking to a stubborn child, hands grounding you as he held you still.

“Bathroom.”

The words seemed like someone else’s, taking an impossible amount of effort, shaky as they fell from your lips. You realised you were fully crying, and some distant, rational part of you felt a stab of mortification.

“Okay,” Tom nodded in understanding, still using that slow, controlled tone.

He didn’t seem to have anything else to comment, guiding you to the bathroom door and opening it, letting you walk inside before holding it open by the handle.

You frowned, struggling to find the words to complain to him, desperate to pee and try to end the pain in your sensitive bladder. Tom’s face was still creased with concern, a fresh tinge of quiet authority in the set of his jaw.

“Please don’t lock the door,” he insisted, and you frowned. “I won’t… I won’t open it. I promise. But please don’t lock it. Just in case.”

You nodded mutely, unhappy, but not quite having the presence of mind to argue. Tom closed the door, and you sighed, accepting his deal as you nervously sat to pee, eyes fixed on the handle. He was probably pacing outside, and you tried not to think about how embarrassing this all was as you let your face fall to your hands, trying to scrub away the tears which had begun to itch on your cheeks.

It burned, and you exhaled shakily. You reached to turn on a tap, and hoped Tom couldn’t hear.

Fuck this. Fuck this.

The fogginess of reality was cut through sharply by pain, and the all-consuming ache which seemed to suddenly rage through your entire pelvis, your worry about the unlocked door only adding to the sheer misery this day seemed to have planned for you.

“All okay?” Tom called through the door, shocking you with the reminder of just how close he was.

With a wince you cleared your throat, trying to hide the weakness of your voice as you prepared to reply before he got any big ideas about bursting through that fucking door.

“All good!”

“Good.”

His reply was awkward, too loud and too curt, and you wondered what he was thinking. If he was lamenting some other plans for his day. You heard his footsteps retreat, and turned off the running tap.

The pain in your abdomen had lessened now, the burn finally subsiding, and after a few moments staring into space your head started to clear. A few more litres of cranberry juice, and hopefully it’d be all better.

You always forgot the kind of despair that acute kind of illness seemed to bring, the pain and the weakness. Blinking away the confusion, you washed your hands and face. Tried to fix your hair a little. Brushed your teeth. All those little things fixed, and you started to feel better.

It took you a few more minutes, and one more check-in from Tom, for you to emerge. The kitchen had been cleaned up, the hot water bottle ready to be refilled, and Tom was sat uncomfortably on the sofa – it was obvious he’d just sat down as he heard you approaching.

He jumped to his feet again, not quite sure what to do with his arms, and you wished you knew what was going on behind those widened blue eyes. You should ask, you knew he’d tell you everything straight away.

Tom was never insincere.

The movement of his lips suggested he was trying to word a question, and failing. You put him out of his misery.

“I’m feeling a lot better.”

“I’m glad. That’s good.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it. You folded yourself onto the couch, and he moved to refill the hot water bottle. Handing it to you wordlessly he hovered nearby, until you shuffled to indicate he could sit beside you.

It was awkward. Things were never awkward with Tom. His weight beside yours dragged the two of you together, even gravity willing you to reconcile from this strange shift in the atmosphere. You resisted, shuffling a little so you could sit up without touching him, one arm on the sofa as you faced him.

“Sorry for zoning out on you there, I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

His face broke into a quiet relief, and it broke your heart a little.

“You weren’t! I didn’t think you were being rude. You just scared me. I was worried.”

Smiling tightly, you hugged the hot water bottle closer to your torso, enjoying the comfort as much as the pain relief from the warmth. The storm of concern on his face lifted a little as he watched, hearing your quiet, unspoken thank you.

“What have you got planned for the rest of your day?” you asked softly, diverting the conversation.

Tom knew what you were doing, and you saw him bite down a laugh.

“Just looking after this stubborn woman, and not leaving her house until she feels better.”

The mocking was light, undercut by the open fondness in his eyes, and you found yourself warmed by it.

“She sounds like a pain in the arse,” you teased.

“She’s really not. Only when she pretends to be fine when she’s not.”

“Sorry.”

His face dropped, immediately reaching for your hand, and he scrambled to backtrack. You were a horrified as tears sprung to your eyes again, trying to blink them away.

“You know I wasn’t serious. I just worry, I’m sorry.”

He was still reaching for you, one hand on yours and the other gently brushing away your fresh tears, his face close to yours as you shuddered out breaths and tried to form words.

“No, you say anything wrong, I think I’m just feeling a bit…”

“Down?” Tom offered.

“Fragile.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure if he opened his arms first, or if you reached for him first. But you were against his chest in a second, head on his shoulder and his arm around you, the hot water bottle displaced as it warmed both of your hips where they were pressed together.

There was comfort in the beating of his heart, in the smell of him and the cologne he’d put on hours ago, in the strength of his arms as they held you to him for the second time that day.

You apologised again against the fabric of his shirt, and he shushed your words.

“You must feel dreadful, love. You’d be well within your rights to tell me to go fuck myself. I think you were very polite, all things considered. Ignoring me was very considerate.”

When he felt you laugh against his chest you could hear Tom’s heart speed up, the rumble of his own chuckle, and you knew the two of you were fine again.

You’d always be fine. The two of you were close like that.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” you teased.

“There won’t be a next time.”

A sombre promise that you’d never get another urinary tract infection was crazy, it didn’t make sense. He was taking far too much accountability, as usual. But you let yourself sink into his confidence, into his comfort. You let yourself believe him.

“You’re so good to me.”

He didn’t say anything, just shuffled you to relax down on the couch, keeping you against him but twisting you. One hand found the hot water bottle and pressed it against your abdomen again, and even when you reached to take it, his hand just stayed there.

It took a few seconds to process that he was spooning you, the solidness of his chest against your back and one hand over your stomach. He was everywhere, against your whole body, warm and smelling amazing, his breath against your neck and his weight pulling you closer to him on the soft cushions.

You wondered if he felt it too. That strange, desperate need to be closer even as you were pressed together. Like you wanted your soul to merge with his, your skin itself to melt together with his.

Maybe you could blame the infection-induced madness for that feeling too.

The pain in your abdomen was barely there anymore, your bladder feeling less raw, the ache no longer acid-sharp. But you knew that was because of him. Because of the warmth and the distraction and his comfort, these stupid endorphins coursing through your veins, and his sweetness in bringing you medicine and sustenance and three fucking cartons of cranberry juice.

“You okay?” he mumbled against your neck.

For a second you couldn’t think of anything except a flash of irrational jealousy. The mere thought he’d held other people like this. That there were nights he might have come home from you and whispered against someone else’s neck, raised goosebumps on their skin, warmed their body.

You had to stop yourself from gasping, wondering where the hell that had come from, a strange brand of anger still burning hot in your chest. You were starting to sweat, from his body heat and the hot water bottle and the infection. Maybe a bit from jealousy.

If Tom noticed, he wasn’t disgusted. He stayed right there. While Tom babied you, you were happy to engage in moping around for a bit.

“They don’t warn you about this bit,” you whispered, “when you sign up to do this shit.”

“This shouldn’t happen,” he consoled, “I thought the studio was better than that. We’ll tighten protocols. I’ll see what we can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You knew he couldn’t see your smile, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the tightness in your chest at this ridiculous seriousness. A worry for your health that surpassed your own concern.

Was that what love was? You hadn’t really thought about it before.

“Risk of the job,” you dismissed.

He grumbled into your hair, his breath ghosting over your neck. You wondered if his eyes were closed. As he minutes passed his head relaxed a little, the position melting, your bodies wax under that quiet, smouldering flame which you shared.

You closed your eyes, focusing on Tom’s steady breaths lulling you to sleep.

*

He was still there when you woke up, a heavy arm over your waist, his hand replacing the fluffy hot water bottle which had fallen to the ground. You could feel the five points of his fingertips on your thin shirt.

You weren’t sure if he was awake, his breathing quiet and even, chest moving against your back even as the two of you had fidgeted in sleep. It was delicious, warm, but your bladder was screaming at you. You realised you probably should have drunk more before napping, that burning sensation returning, and sighed as you started to disentangle yourself from Tom without disturbing him.

He must have been asleep, mumbling in confusion as your form was replaced with cool air against his chest, rolling over and opening his eyes sleepily.

It was early afternoon, the room bathed in light, and he squinted as he murmured your name. His voice was deepened and slurred by his nap, and you tried to soothe him back to sleep as you retreated to the bathroom.

“Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

He was fully awake, rubbing his eyes, and you sighed. Pausing in the doorframe, you watched as he sat up and looked around to fix you with a stare. He had a fairly extraordinary case of bedhead, red creases from the sofa marking his face, confusion on his face as he woke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I… Tom. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry.”

He blinked, and asked again.

“Where are you going?”

You fixed him with a glare of ‘I don’t want to say it’, but he was too sleepy to understand. He cocked his head in confusion.

“I have to pee again,” you admitted, and Tom clambered to his feet.

For some reason.

He seemed more awake now, stretching to his full height as he strode across the room to you.

“Really? You’re embarrassed about that? How long have we known each other?”

“Why are you following me?”

He paused in the doorway, blinking in confusion at himself, pink creeping up his cheeks.

“Right, sorry.”

You smiled to yourself as you used the bathroom, still wincing from pain but blessedly noting an improvement, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands. You weren’t sure when you’d started feeling differently about Tom. You weren’t sure if your relationship had changed, or if it was just in your head.

You were sure that this was new. Something beyond the close friendship you had taken for granted for years. You could get used to the feeling of waking up pressed against him. To being spoilt by him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. You could get used to that desperate sincerity, those blue eyes which saw right through to your soul.

Drying your hands on your sweatpants, you re-entered the living room, seeing Tom’s mop of curls as he sat cross-legged on the sofa, back straight and hands folded in his hands. He seemed sheepish, his position almost child-like as his eyes tracked you across the room, waiting for you to settle somewhere.

There were gears turning in that overactive mind of his, and you perched yourself beside him, waiting for him to speak. Finally he did, the words precise and practiced inside his own mind.

“I’m sorry for just barging in. I don’t know if that was too far, I just wanted to help. I couldn’t go to work alone knowing you weren’t well.”

You couldn’t help smiling. Of course that was what he was worried about.

“Tom, it’s okay. I appreciate your help so much, not many people would do that for me. I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

He winced, lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“But you were right,” you admitted, “I was being stubborn. I should have just said thank you. So, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement, but you knew he hadn’t taken the words in. He kept talking.

“I felt so bad, I knew yesterday was too much. We should’ve taken more breaks. You must be so tired. Or getting sick. Apparently if your immune system is already fighting something off you’re more likely to get ill. And I kept you talking when I should’ve made you to and clean up.”

“You won’t convince me this is your fault, Tom,” you told him lightly, resting on hand on his bent knee.

He stared at your hand for a long second, and you knew he didn’t believe you. You closed your eyes, swallowed, letting your eyes drift across to everything he’d brought. Remembering how he’d dropped everything at the realisation you were sick.

How he wouldn’t take no for an answer until he was with you, helping you. Making sure you were safe. You wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t come over. Would you still be in bed, choking down water and painkillers, debating texting to ask him to bring groceries over?

You couldn’t recall why were so averse to him coming over now. He hadn’t made you feel bad, or weak. He’d been nothing but caring and helpful and, yes, a little overbearing.

But that was part of him. What made Tom, Tom. He put one hand on his thigh, inches from where your thumb rubbed over the inside of his knee, and you took the leap. You laced your fingers which his, staring at how your hands fit together.

“I can’t remember a time anyone was this nice to me. Ever.”

Tom sighed, and you felt a moment of heaviness. A realisation that your life was about to shift. Chapters, ending and beginning. Something new taking root, as Tom met your eyes nervously.

“Then I need to do a better job.”

[electricbluebutterflies]

stay

“You are here with me and you have made it absolutely clear, at every possible opportunity, that you will keep me safe. And this right now is not who you are.”

Pre-relationship Garcy emotion-flail, because @amandamiris brought this image to my attention and I had to write something off it. PG-ish and also on ao3.

She decides to stay because it's two in the morning and the stairs make too much noise. At least, this is the reason Lucy will give if anyone outside of this room ever has any idea about her current set of choices, which she hopes they will not. She is allowed some vague version of a private life, she hopes, and the whole situation is not at all what it looks like or what certain people have assumed it to be.

It is innocent. All she did was seek a little companionship with someone who, despite everything, lets her into his spaces. No manipulation or ulterior motives, no acting on tension, just two haunted people wanting to feel a little less alone. Not at all what it looks like, but it still looks better if she stays.

This isn't the first time either. As much as she hates to put it like that, she's been hiding in Flynn's room on a fairly regular basis since they were moved to the current safehouse. This one was actually designed for longterm human occupation, a little more spacious and several more levels to the living area, and her partner - can she call him that, in the most innocent and platonic way? - exiled himself to the out-of-the-way attic room before anyone else figured out their respective spaces. Lucy suspects that was yet another act of subconscious masochism or sacrificial tendencies or most likely an unholy midpoint - the ceiling is a little too low, it's colder than the rest of the house, and there's a half-assed attempt at a skylight that requires repair on a level none of the team can figure out. Perhaps not fit for human occupation, but someone had to claim it and…

She ends up there most nights, at least for a while, because talking to him is about the only good thing in her life right now and because it's easier to avoid certain other problems if she does not see them. She is the only other person who goes up there - she does not have confirmation of this, has not watched anyone else's habits closely enough to prove it, but she knows she is. Group dynamics are steadily improving, but Flynn is still the designated outsider and she suspects he feels it more than he lets on.

She sees things, and she tries to distract and help as she can, and usually she wanders back downstairs at a more sensible hour but tonight they ended up having a long rambling conversation about childhood injuries because she asked about one of his scars and it spiraled from there, and now it is two in the morning and she absolutely does not want to leave.

She feels something in the air - not just the changing dynamic between them, the inevitability being made clearer every day, but something outside. The first warnings of a long night, the worst storm this part of wherever-the-hell has seen in a decade. And that too means she cannot leave. She has watched him closely this last year, seen with her own eyes that all the clichés about career soldiers and loud noises are true. Perhaps, she thinks, it will be a little less painful if he is not alone.

"Is it okay if I stay?" she asks, because there is a plan evolving in her mind and she wants full permission for every step.

He nods. They're in their usual places right now, him in the chair and her on the bed. On other nights she's decided to stay, they've maintained their perfect distance like this. She suspects he doesn't actually sleep when she's around, protective instincts too high, but she can justify it tonight, she can-

"Could you… could you come over here?"

"What do you want?" He sounds scared, but more for her than himself, and it breaks her heart a little, and-

"It's cold and you're warm. And I would like… I want you."

She realizes as soon as she's said it that she could've done it differently, said something that sounds a little less like she's propositioning him - which she is decidedly not, thank you very much - but she's made herself clear enough and he crosses the space without further hesitation.

"This might be awkward," he murmurs.

"I trust you won't hurt me."

Lucy gets to her feet and motions to the mattress behind her. The way she sees it, it'll be easiest if he gets in some kind of comfortable position - to the extent that he can, in a space that is definitely not designed to accommodate a person his size - and she gets roughly on top of him. Which, yeah, has a chance of being awkward. But she's not particularly concerned about him doing anything, and her own impulse control is improving, and-

"You're really gonna sleep in all of that?" she asks, giving him a Look.

Flynn has not made any effort to make himself comfortable. Not only is he still wearing several layers of shirts, which seems like overkill, but he's also still in his damn shoes. Not at all normal, and she's concerned about how much is for her benefit and how much is just neurotic bullshit, and-

"Trying to make things less awkward."

"Don't. Pretend I'm not here. I know… I know not to ask questions about things."

He gives her that kicked-puppy look she hates so much, but again complies and does what she wants. Shoes kicked off, layers shed. She is not about to tell him when to stop, but she's still a little surprised when he takes off his undershirt as well. This is… okay, this is a lot.

She's looking. She is definitely looking, taking note of scars and also just appreciating the view. She is not about to do anything, but she has made her peace with her attraction to him. Someday, perhaps, she will act on it. Right now, she's imprinting as much of this as she can into the core parts of her brain.

"Are you alright?"

His hand on her shoulder, steadying her before she knows she needs that.

"Yeah. Fine. You… yeah."

She turns away for a moment, gives him space to figure out position again while she figures out her own clothing situation. Leggings are cute but unnecessary so off they go, and she's short enough that this shirt she's got on covers enough and she figures she'll be fine. To the extent that it is possible to be fine while curling up around someone she has a lot of very complicated feelings about. She will be fine.

She walks over and turns off the light, and from there it is far too easy to take what little space there is on the mattress, just slightly draping her body over his. It feels, and she hates herself for thinking this, like the best thing she's ever done.

"Why are you doing this, Lucy?"

She feels his voice more than hears it, and yeah, the other kind of awkward is an absolute possibility.

"If I were to go downstairs right now, I would wake people up," she murmurs. "It's easier if I stay."

"I meant more…"

"I want to. I'm touch-starved and you're safe. Is that enough?"

He makes a noise that sounds a lot like no it is not, but he does not question her judgment any further. "You are safe. Try to rest."

She does.

She wakes up to her body in motion and the sound of a falling tree in the background, hopefully not too close to their current location. For a moment, Lucy is very scared, but she quickly processes everything. She was right about the storm and equally right about her partner's reaction to it, and her current physical state of being makes perfect sense.

A more normal person would probably react to being pinned against a wall, with their partner's body covering theirs, a little more dramatically. Lucy just sighs and accepts that she did in fact sign up for this, and she is able to breathe just fine so there's no point in making an issue out of what is probably just a subconscious reaction.

Again, this is not a completely new experience. Perhaps a little more sudden and complicated than before, but similar enough things have happened on missions. Flynn is strong and protective in equal measures, and quick reflexes on top of that mean he's pulled her out of bad situations a couple of times for various reasons. She trusts him enough, and-

Lightning illuminates the room as his eyes open, as he processes what he has apparently done without knowing. She watches and feels his panic, though he makes no move to separate himself from her. His arm around her back pulls her closer, and she does not know how to calm him, she does not-

"I cannot keep you safe enough," he murmurs, sounding like he is probably about to cry.

She signed up for this, she tells herself as she wraps her arms around him. She has made space in her life for this man, she is well aware of his scars and chose to want him anyways. At times the protectiveness feels like overkill, but right now it makes total sense to her. The world outside sounds like a threat, and she is what he cares about most, and-

"I'm not bothered by it," she replies. If anything, this confirms her feelings - not that she will ever say that out loud, but-

"I panicked. And I did something without warning."

"You did something without knowing," and again her heart breaks, and-

"What if that were something real? What if I am not enough?"

"Shhh. You've taken… how many injuries for me?" She really can't remember, it's too late or maybe too early for this.

"Two bullets, stabbed once… are we counting the minor ones?"

"Enough," she murmurs. "You are enough." She wants to kiss him right now but knows that won't help, knows that will only add more layers to their current set of problems. And these are their problems, she decides - she will face everything alongside him, this man she loves, she will-

"How can you be so sure?"

God, she is not awake enough for this conversation, but it's happening regardless of whether she wants it so might as well embrace the chaos.

"I stayed tonight," she starts, because that elephant needs a little eye contact before she says something stupid about feelings. "Because I knew this would happen. Because I remember that incident with the fireworks and… I didn't want you to deal with that alone."

"You don't need to sacrifice yourself for me."

Well that is just… oh, she's wanted to yell that line at him a couple times recently, in much more deserving situations, and now she can't. Dammit.

"Exactly none of this is a sacrifice," she hisses. "I am here. I am safely in bed with someone I love, and you're hovering over me without squishing me and I'm kinda impressed, and I trust you to protect me. Whatever happens. I love you and I trust you."

And okay, that was not how she planned to admit she actually has feelings for him, but she went for it and now she gets the consequences. And oh, there are consequences.

He's shellshocked for a few moments, and then he breaks. Silent falling apart, and their bodies shift again and they lie side by side and she wraps herself around him because she is not sure what to say.

Touch-starved, she'd said earlier. It hits her now how much that goes both ways, exactly how long it has been since the last time this man was safely entwined with another person. And he has had that - a good life, before it was taken away - and has a baseline for how that ought to be.

Lucy, on the other hand, is figuring this out as she goes and hoping she doesn't screw up too catastrophically. And not really sure, at this point, how to ask.

"I love you and I trust you," she repeats, willing that to be enough.

"Why?"

Four in the morning is really not the ideal time for this conversation, she thinks again, but she's opened that box so she might as well see what all comes out before she crashes.

"Because you see me. Because even back when I was wrong, you were able to be annoyed and in awe of me at the same time. Because I have known from the moment I saw you that you are incapable of hurting me. Because your first instinct a couple minutes ago, when lightning struck a fucking tree out there, was to make sure I was as safe as possible. Do you realize how much that means to me, Garcia Flynn? Do you realize that's all I've ever wanted from another person?"

He is still shaking, still in panic. "I am useless to you right now, Lucy."

"No. Wrong. You are here with me and you have made it absolutely clear, at every possible opportunity, that you will keep me safe. And this right now is not who you are."

"I am not-"

"Can you please shut up and let me say nice things about you? I don't care about how useful you are at a given moment. That's not… that's not what matters to me. It's nice but it's not everything. What matters to me is you're kind and you have done everything possible to keep me out of harm and I don't… I don't have to question that. I know where your heart is."

"I do not deserve you," he breathes.

"You're not a monster or whatever the hell you think you are right now. You're a good man, and you're mine, however you want to be."

She expects some dramatic self-deprecating comment, because he does have a certain talent for those, but instead he shifts closer and presses a gentle kiss to the curve of her neck. Likely the easiest part of her skin to reach in their current positions, but it sends a shiver through her entire body. It's a matter of time now, days instead of months, before the inevitable collision she has braced for since their paths crossed. Not right now, no, but soon.

"Was that alright?" he asks, because of course he does.

"Yes. I don't… this is bad timing, but… yes."

"Understood."

"You're in a bad place and I think I'm in shock. And I know I've used people before, and…"

"I trust you too."

"In the morning. Maybe."

"I would like that."

The worst of the storm has passed. It's been a few minutes since she's heard anything particularly loud, and she suspects her hearing is probably better than his. And it is still late, and she is still tired, and-

"Try to sleep," she murmurs, closing her eyes.

She doubts he will. She is amazed as her own mind drifts, her last thoughts as she slips into subconsciousness being…

The next time she wakes up, light is shining through the skylight and her body is exactly where she expects it to be. A little more entwined with her partner than she expects, perhaps, but comfortably so. She could get used to all of this so easily, and she wants to, and-

"You're still here," he breathes.

"Yeah. Still here."

She kisses him because she can, because she's wanted to for years and neither of them really has to do anything just yet. If the alarm goes off, plans will obviously change, but otherwise…

"You were right."

"Oh?"

"Having you here… did make things better."

"Good."

She thinks, as he kisses her and she feels made whole, that she would like to stay.

[tornrose24]

Cu secret superhero au! Krupp backstory and headcanons

Oh, I’m going to have fun with this! Let’s see if I can come up with things that I have not yet.

-So because CU’s origin story is canon, that means Benjamin’s place of birth was originally Underpanty world and BDLJ and PPH are his real parents.

-He crash landed on his adoptive parents farm, but his biological parents had the sense to give him a device with a recording explaining his true heritage. (Not sure if that also happened in the Superman lore).

-His adoptive father was all for adopting him and was the one to name him ‘Benjamin’ yet Bernice was not as much for it, especially since she was already pregnant with Jasper (this is according to @jackie-sugarskull’s contribution).

-His adopted dad had found the device and, after finding out what was on it, had it hidden away and would later tell Benny he should only open it if something were to happen to him (or to him and Bernice) or when Benny reached a certain age (9 or 10-ish).

-Because Benjamin had the EXACT same physical features as his adoptive parents, EVERYONE besides close family members were fooled into thinking he was their actual biological son in addition to Jasper.

-Benjamin was loved by his adopted dad and Jasper. Bernice… not so much. When his dad passed away, there was nothing to hold her back from mistreating him and he had no clue why for a long time.

-Eventually he did find the recording from his real parents, in which they revealed who they were, where he came from, and that he was due to get superpowers upon reaching the age of 9/10. He thought it was a joke. Later on when he reaches that age (and one amusing incident involving suddenly flying and lifting heavy objects happens) it turns out that it was the truth.

-Clothes actually DO diminish his powers significantly. With them, he’s not as strong and he can’t fly very far or for an unlimited amount of time.

-And spray starch can also make him temporary powerless.

-Water doesn’t do anything to him in this AU.

-He did not let any of the bullying or Bernice break him like it did in canon. He wanted to help others out who had to suffer like he did and give them something to be happy about.

-Plus he’s got a better way of venting his aggression out–by beating up bad guys and trying to save the day.

-I would imagine that as an older kid/teen, he’d do things like community service/tutoring/programs helping kids out, in addition to being on top of his studies. Which of course benefited him later on for his career.

-His best friend in his childhood/teen years is jackie-sugarskull’s OC Sawyer, who was the only one who knew about his superpowers. They used them to pull off pranks/help out other kids/escape to somewhere like the arcade or a nice place outside of town. In fact, she was a huge reason in why Benjamin didn’t turn into the jerk we are used to in canon. (Anything else involving Sawyer in this AU is up to Jackie since she’s her OC).

-Benjamin does have a bit of a skin sensitivity issue due to what his biological race is (super powered people who mainly wear underwear) so there are certain fabrics he can’t stand. (Cotton is one of the few materials he can handle wearing). Growing up with a ‘mom’ who barely cared if a certain type of shirt was too itchy for you to wear didn’t do that any favors for him as a kid.

-He opted to embrace the ‘Captain Underpants’ persona as a hero because 1. It makes it easy to fool bad guys and distract them 2. Why not embrace that part of who he is? 3. The world needs a bit of humor 4. Again he’s more powerful WITHOUT the clothes.

-Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he had tried his hand at it as a teen, but tried a more ‘edgier’ approach back then.

-He probably can’t be super open about it at an elementary school, but he does support the LGBTQ (and others). (Actually, I think CU is more open about it out in public. Understandably it causes mixed reactions for some).

-Again, while Benjamin is not a complete jerk as a principal, he HAS to keep up the stern, tough, no-nonsense facade to not only lower any suspicion that he might be CU, but to protect his students if someone were to find out the truth. Which kind of sucks for him because this version does adore children, but he can’t afford to let his guard down for one minute out in public.

-He IS a little easier on the kindergardeners because they are new to school life. Same for kids who need additional help (think students who need modifications or accommodations, IEPS, 504s, etc.)

-Both of the above also plays a part in why his relationship with his nephew isn’t so great. (In addition to the fact that he refused to give Kipper any special favors and was against his nephew bullying others.)

-I imagine the moments where ‘CU’ is especially dumb is an act to further fool his enemies. I think Benjamin’s truest self is a mix of both CU and Krupp (but especially without Krupp’s nastier side). Like he actually is a fun-loving, caring guy, but he’s someone you still don’t want to anger.

-Before George and Harold found out the truth, Benjamin had mixed feelings about them. Yes they did the pranks and whatnot that made his job hard. On the other hand, they adored his superhero self to the point that they made comics about him and he wanted to open up and just tell them the truth for the longest time.

-And ironically, it’s with George and Harold (and later Edith) that he feels more open and who he can be his truest self around.

-He has that wig stash, but it’s more for disguises.

-While everyone at school thinks the relationship between the three is strained, Benjamin has more trust in George and Harold than most others (Edith he trusts for obvious reasons. With Ree he tolerates him due to the man’s background and that he’s the most likely to protect the kids out of the other adults if something were to happen to him). So the boys report to him if ANYTHING is out of place on campus or if it seems there’s a super villain around.

-For that reason, he’s not a huge fan of substitute teachers.

-The boys’ parents are under the impression that he’s personally tutoring them a few times. It’s actually a cover for if they are genuinely hanging out with him. It also doubles as an excuse for why they were not around when they were actually helping CU out.

[dirtierhockey-blog]

hampus lindholm; low key-ish

for @bahharrington28​

you don’t meet Hampus at the arena, you’ve never so much as seen him in passing there but you know who he is the second he slips in beside you at the crowded bar

you’re at a bar with some co-workers from the Honda Center after a long work day so you hadn’t scouted out the crowd when you got there, but you’re kicking yourself for it now

you flash him a smile, assuming he’s grinning at you out of politeness while he waits for the bartender to come over too- but then he’s introducing himself and asking if he can buy you a drink

that hopeful smile is so cute it makes your stomach flip

you only take a second to glance back at the table full of your co-workers and mull over the pros and cons of ditching them before you’re accepting, turning fully towards him with a flirtatious grin

conversation starts and flows easily, he’s funny and flirty in a way that’s obvious but still undeniably charming

you lean into him with a hand on the crook of his elbow and you try to keep collected but you’re sure your face just looks like a tomato when he compliments you

you stay at the bar like that for so long the bartender probably gets sick of you taking up the space but you don’t notice, you don’t notice all of your co-workers(aka ride possibilities) leave either

what must be an hour or so after you first started talking, one of his apparent friends interrupts you to bid him a goodnight with a bro-handshake

Hampus looks around then and chuckles when he realizes his group’s completely gone as well, and you admit you should sober up so you can walk back to where you left your car and drive home

he chews on that distracting bottom lip and then he asks if he could walk with you, he’d need to catch an Uber anyway and he says “I don’t think I’m ready to stop talking to you”

you go bright red again but you nod and tell him you’d appreciate it… when you’re out of the bar and you’re left with only silence around you for the first time that evening, you tell him you weren’t ready to stop talking to him either

that makes him beam like he won a prize and you have to look away to shield your own huge grin from him

it not too long of a walk but you fill the time with passing questions back and forth, the shimmer of something new surrounding the two of you bumping shoulders down the sidewalk

you’re just about there when he asks what you do, and you point towards the arena while you tell him, you were just about to anyway because he got on the topic of enjoying his career so far in Anaheim, he gets so excited he makes you stop in your tracks

“Does that mean I can take you out on your lunch break when I’m done skating there- or, wait, do you come to a lot of the games? Would you?” Hampus grabs your hand, your fingers interlocking easily and giving you butterflies

“I-I’d like that but I don’t know if you can, I don’t know if there’s a thing about inter-company… canoodling,” your teeth worry at your bottom lip, ignoring how he poorly hides a giggle, “Or if we count as co-workers even…”

“Hey, hey,” he eases you in an effortlessly calming tone before you can begin worrying about if that would stop whatever this is before it really gets started, “We can be… quiet, low key? We won’t meet at the office, or anywhere in the building, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to tell anyone that we left together tonight. None of our friends were there to see, right… don’t worry. This’ll be good.”

something about his confidence unleashes the butterflies back into your stomach, the soft smile he’s had for you all night making you want to believe him so badly you do

you’ve never clicked with anyone so quickly as you have already with him, and you’d never typically kiss a guy the first time you meet him... but you keep getting told that you won’t get what you want out of life unless you go for it and this tall, gorgeous blonde man is everything you want right now-

instead of telling him that or even that he’s right you surge forward to kiss him, having to pull him down a bit awkwardly to get there but your mouths meet in a sweet but not at all chaste kiss that’s just as good as you’ve been thinking it could be

he brings his free hand to cup the back of your head and kisses you again and again with just teases of his tongue along your bottom lip, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the back of your hand

it takes you much longer than it should to get home that night, kissing each other through the parking lot like stupid teenagers, Hampus convinces you with his mouth at the corner of yours that he should take an Uber because he’s going the opposite way, and you know one of you wouldn’t get home if you gave him a ride

you exchange numbers just as his ride pulls up and keep looking back at each other until his Uber turns the corner and you’re left to catch your breath in the driver’s seat before you can even start your car

there’s a text waiting for you when you get home, he saved his name with a kissy face and an orange heart: I can’t wait to see you again, goodnight

you can so vividly imagine his voice, his breath over your cheek like it had earlier in the night and you don’t remember ever feeling this way, especially not with anyone you’d just met and you text him back the same sentiment with a grin on your face and it doesn’t fall for the rest of the weekend

you text each other as much as possible over the next couple of days and when you go into work on Monday you get that giddy feeling just from parking

you text him that, and you know he won’t be back in the building until the next game day but you’ve already memorized when it is and you can’t wait

it’s not too long of a wait, and soon the day’s come and you’re walking back into the building from you break with a coffee in hand when your phone rings

the second you answer Hampus tells you he found an empty room and he absolutely needs to see you before the game tonight or he might just die, and you can hear the huge grin in his voice and you can’t help but let your own match it

you know you’re going to be late back to your desk, but you don’t care and go find him anyway

the second you find the right door he’s pulling you into the room and into him, laughing with you as he presses his nose to yours and you both let the intense moment before your mouths meet stretch out

“It was so nice to see you,” you whisper when you finally pull back, hands flattening his t-shirt back over his broad chest from where you bunched it up. you’ve never had much self control and it takes every ounce of it to really make yourself leave after he says the same, licking his lips and looking at you like he can’t get enough of your face and you know the feeling

when you get back to your desk you make a pretty wild excuse for your twenty minute detour but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone minds

the second you’re off work Hampus calls you like he was waiting by his phone for the clock to strike 5:01 despite probably having stuff to do before his game

“Let me take you out tomorrow night, I have to go away for a couple days after that but I need to take you on a real date before I go, please,” he starts with that, probably not even aware yet that it makes you smile so wide your cheeks strain

“Yes, yes, please, I’d love that,” you tell him, trying to stay focused while you walk to your car but smiling like an idiot the whole time while he tells you that he wants to wine and dine you and show you he’s more than just a ‘spectacular kisser’

you have to laugh but you can’t deny it, he really is a great kisser

it’s the best date you’ve had in years, not to mention first date- you feel shy and nervous in the lead up but it’s not awkward for a second, again caught up in each other, but you keep the little touches on the way in the restaurant and from across the table innocent

you share dessert with your feet tangled together underneath the table and when he drops you off, he kisses you at your doorstep, leaves you wanting so much more but the promise of more when he gets back to Anaheim leaves you practically floating on Cloud 9 while you get ready for bed

every time he gets the chance to be in the Honda Center while you’re working he finds a way to get you alone, but it’s not like you do much to stop him

you never imagined it’d be so hard to keep it up, but you still can’t help yourself from going to see him when he’s just so close and tempting… you don’t have the guts to ask your manager about what the policy is...

though you maintain a constant stream of texts, snaps, and IG messages of various funny and adorable things even when he’s in Anaheim, he calls you almost every away game day to tell you he’s thinking of you, and you wish him luck

(one day you send him a snap of you in his shirsey you picked up on a whim just before a game in LA and he nearly loses his mind, which is a confidence boost to say the least)

you get him to come into your apartment after your third ‘official date’, you had already spent most of the movie you went to cuddling into each other in the far corner with exploratory touches and as much kissing as you could keep quiet and keeping the conversation open without words-

-you don’t fuck that night but you get each other off with your hands, kisses slowed to sharing breaths and moans

he has to leave too early the next day for practice but you still walk on air all morning, knowing you’ll hear from him once he’s done

the first person to find out about your relationship is one of his teammates; you met in a spot that’s now become pretty frequent for the two of you and he’s just pushed your panties aside with his hand all the way up your skirt, his mouth panting against your neck and you’re just distracted enough to not notice but he does catch the bit of a gasp from the doorway a few feet away

“Rickard!” Hampus lifts his head to bark, curling over you and using his frame to shield you entirely from view, “Get out!”

“Sorry, sorry!” the man laughs and backs out immediately, seemingly not bothered but you’re frozen in embarrassment, never having come that close to being caught with someone’s fingers inside you

Hampus apologizes as much as he can before he has to go back to his team and you to work, late that night he comes over to assure you Rickard wouldn’t spill a word, but he’ll be more careful about being seen wandering off on his own

in all truth, all of your friends have been wondering what’s going on, having heard so little from the two of you basically since the night you met. you’ve been noticeably happier but even your best friends hear little of your life lately, they just know you’ve been suspiciously busy

you don’t know if it’s the fear of rumours about you in the workplace, the possibility of your relationship being frowned upon by management, or the possibility of it shattering under reality but you’ve kept a solid force field between what’s going on between you two and anyone or anything else…

you remember when you kissed him the first night you met and how nervous you were to do that too and you ask him, “Would… would you want people to know? I know I really like you, and I think I want this to be more… real-”

“It doesn’t feel real because we sneak around the arena?” you immediately shake your head, moving closer to him where you two are on the couch, putting both hands on his forearm

“No, no, it is so real, I didn’t mean that I just, I think I want my friends to know why I’m so happy now, and I want to tell my mom about you and I’ve been at my job less than a year I can find another one if it’s that big of a deal-”

he’s grinning already and you break your train of thought to look down and smile too, biting hard into your bottom lip to try to contain it enough to continue

Hampus cups your face in one hand and leans in to kiss you softly before you can, “Will you be my girlfriend? I’ve been waiting to ask you, only because I’ve been too much of a chicken, but I want to tell everyone I know that you are mine…”

you nod your head, a little too choked up to speak but you share a loaded smile with him before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him until he picks you right up off the couch and walks you to your bedroom

he undresses you both and lays you out on the bed, kisses you until you’re practically melted into the bed, until you can feel him rock hard against your thigh every time he presses down into your body and your entire core aches with the need to have him inside you finally

he fucks you slow with your legs wrapped around him and his forearms framing your head to keep his torso just pressed into yours, you cum with your eyes locked on his until he thrusts hard into you with his own orgasm and they squeeze shut as you shake with overstimulated after shocks

you fuck again, you on top this time, right after your alarm goes off in the morning

Hampus gives you a ride to work and since you’re already late you spend another five minutes kissing him silly

your co-workers don’t seem impressed by your lack of punctuality but they’re suitably distracted when you drop that your boyfriend held you up; you don’t give them anything else for the rest of the day but they do bug you to hell over it when a gorgeous bouquet comes for you an hour later from ‘H;)’