#especially when the review board is made up of people that I actually trust and value

[kenna-is-reading]

Kennaisreading's Fall TBR/Recs

Dear Readers,

Happy Mid-August!

Now typically I steadfastly refuse to begin any sort of autumnal celebration until 12:01am on September 1st, but I am trying to plan ahead for my reading for the remainder of this year. This month has truly been sipped away like a bottle of wine, if you will, and preparing to lock in for fall classes has made me more ready to get into the upcoming season. Therefore, here is my long-awaited, (unsolicited), perfectly realistic (desperately ambitious) TBR for the months of September and October!

Fantasy

The Wren in the Holly Library by K.A. Linde (Find my Pinterest board for this book here).

2. Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

Don't kill me! I have never read the Twilight series. You got me. But I did purchase every single book in the series a few months ago, and plan to quickly amend this personal shortcoming by reading as much of the series as I possibly can this fall.

3. Harry Potter

I have only ever read the first 4 books, but I once again recently bought the whole series. (Rest assured that I bought every single book secondhand so as to not give any support to that author.) I read the first four in late middle school/early high school, so I am glad to be getting that same nostalgic feeling that people who read these books in elementary get.

4. Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross

I have heard great things, and I am expecting great things.

5. The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

I was actually like 30% of the way through this book a couple of years ago and was loving everything about it, but simply didn't have time to finish. It seems like the perfect fall read, so I am looking forward to this one a lot, especially as I reenter the university scene.

6. The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi

Another one I have heard wonderful things about. I hear it has a great found family, which we all know is my most favorite trope of all time, so I hope it lives up to the hype!

7. Once Upon A Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber

Excited to be the last person on earth to read this series. Seemed like a cozy fairy-tale-esque fantasy to read for fall.

8. The Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston

I read Ashley Poston's Once Upon A Con series in middle school and loved it, and I've heard nothing but rave reviews about her adult releases, so I have high hopes for this. The vibes seem perfect for fall.

9. The Stolen Heir Duology by Holly Black

Binged the original FotA trilogy in November 2020 when I was sick and delusional from Covid, so I am prepared to take on this duology perfectly well and in my right mind.

10. Powerless by Lauren Roberts

PRAYING y'all are telling the truth about how good this is. I need another fantasy series hyperfixation!!!

11. The Kiss of Deception by Margaret E Pearson

So excited to get into this whole universe. I was convinced to read this series by queen Sunny Kim (@ sunnykimreads on YouTube take your butt to her channel and subscribe NEOW!) and I trust her with my life so let's go!

12. Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer

One thing about me I am a sucker for a villain and I did not hesitate to buy this without looking up a singular comment or review.

13. Lightlark by Alex Aster

Heard mixed reviews on this one, so I have to see for myself!

14. Stars & Smoke by Marie Lu

Marie Lu raised me, schooled me, packed my lunches, sent me to college, and is one of the reasons I write. I am so late to this release but SO stoked to read it! What do y'all know about the Legend trilogy and also the Young Elites and also Warcross!!! Get into those!

15. Fable by Adrienne Young

Once again, miss Sunny Kim's love for the prequel novel of this series was influential enough to make me want to read the whole thing.

16. A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid

The aesthetic of this book, as well as that cover, made me SO excited to pick this up! Another great fantasy that looks perfect for fall.

17. Heartless Hunter by Kristen Ciccarelli

Expecting enemies to lovers fantasy greatness from this based on what I've been told!

18. Swordcatcher by Cassandra Clare

So excited to read my first non-Shadowhunter Cassie book! I love her writing and always get so attached to her characters, plus I met her at the event I went to for this book, so I'm biased.

19. Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

DID SOMEBODY SAY LIBRARY??? Sign me up!

20. The Infernal Devices Trilogy by Cassandra Clare

Now you know it is not autumn or winter if I do not reread the best series of all time! If you have not read the Infernal Devices (Clockwork Angel, Clockwork Prince, Clockwork Princess), then GET in the car and GET to your local library. And if you're like me and your brain won't let you read stuff out of order, then get through those first 3 Mortal Instruments books (City of Bones, City of Ashes, City of Glass) ASAP! I PROMISE it's worth it! Shadowhunters is such a wonderful universe I could cry. TID contains the best love triangle ever written, and I don't even like love triangles. At all. This series is truly my everything and I think about it every day without fail. There's nothing left to say but Pick This Series Up if you haven't! Perfection for fall reading!

Mystery/Fiction

1 Karen M McManus

I have read One of Us is Lying, The Cousins, and You'll Be the Death of Me and enjoyed all of those, so this fall I am hoping to get through One of Us is Next, Two Can Keep A Secret, Nothing More to Tell, and One of Us is Back.

2. Enola Holmes by Nancy Springer

I love the Enola Holmes movies (putting Henry Cavill and Sam Claflin in the same film right in front of my eyes was crazy work actually), so I read the first book back in winter. I'm looking forward to reading this middle-grade mystery series, because it's something I've lacked since I was much younger!

3. Reign by Katherine McGee

I have procrastinated finishing the American Royals series for such a long time because if it does not end the way I hope it will, I might lose my mind a little. Loved the drama in these books.

4. Games Untold by Her Royal Majesty Jennifer Lynn Barnes

I am reading the Grandest Game right now, and it has only confirmed that the best place to be in life is sitting somewhere binging a JLB book at breakneck speed. This is what life and writing and literature and reading are all about. I was lucky enough to get to meet Jennifer on the book tour for TGG less than 2 weeks ago, and it was such a wonderful time. I cannot wait to read these novellas about my beloved TIG characters even though this book comes out in November and this is technically a Sept/Oct list.

5. We Were Liars by e. lockhart

You know it. You love it. Or you hate it. Either way, I haven't read it yet, and I must decide for myself.

6. The Lovely and the Lost by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Every tongue that rises against JLB shall fall, and this is the last book of hers I have to read.

Romance

Fall is when I'm locking in on SPORTS ROMANCEEEE!!!

Whether you love it or hate it, sports romance is one of the most popular current genres out there, and I love picking up football and hockey romances when football and hockey season returns. I forced myself to leave 2 Elle Kennedy hockey books for myself to read in fall when hockey comes back, and I cannot wait.

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

I have never read a Mariana Zapata book, so I am excited to see what all the commotion is about.

2. Daydream by Hannah Grace

I <3 Henry and that is all I have to say on the matter.

3. Heartstopper v5

Heartstopper is such a cute and cozy series, so I will be finally picking up the most recent volume this fall.

4. Flawless by Elsie Silver

I am finally diving in to the Elsiverse! I wanna join in on the cowboy summer movement, I just haven't had time! So it is henceforth going to be Yeehaw Fall.

5. Unsteady by Corinne Peyton

Another Sunny Kim rec that I need to get my hands on immediately.

6. The Wingman by Stephanie Archer

Get into the Vancouver Storm series if you haven't!!! The Fake Out was one of the best hockey romances I've ever read in my life. I am SO READY for this book!

7. Offside by Avery Keelan

Has been on my KU TBR forever and a day. Will be devouring as many hockey romances as possible I fear.

Recs!!!

Now that we've covered the books I'm planning to read this fall, most of which I've never read, let's get into what YOU should read this fall!

Fantasy

ACOTAR by Sarah J Maas

I had to get this one out of the way if you somehow have never read ACOTAR. I think it's written somewhere in my nonexistent reader/blogger contract that I must mention this. Fall and winter are a perfect time to dive into this universe and hop on this bandwagon.

2. The Grishaverse by Leigh Bardugo

Shadow and Bone trilogy and the Six of Crows duology, if you somehow have not heard of them, are excellent. Or if you have heard of them and haven't read, take this obscure blog post as your sign to pick them up! This universe is so immersive and amazing when you don't have somebody in your ear whining about ship wars. I had a book hangover for weeks my freshman year after finishing these books, which I hardly ever get, but I still think about them regularly to this day.

3. The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

There is nothing remotely fall-like about these books at all, but if you're looking for a fantasy series with a found family and fairy-tale callbacks, get into Cinder! Truly such a beloved and nostalgic series to me. I am in the process of rereading them, and I absolutely love the characters so much. For being considered a "classic YA throwback series", we really don't talk about it enough.

4. Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

LOOK UP TRIGGER WARNINGS! This is an adult novel that deals with some very dark themes, so be aware of that going in. A lot of dark academia/fantasy/mystery vibes going on here, but definitely read at your discretion.

5. The Cruel Prince Trilogy by Holly Black (Folk of the Air)

Perfect fall fantasy vibes, enemies to lovers, pretty quick reads. There's a lot of politics involved in this series, and a very immersive setting, in my opinion. You kind of have to get past the "hey what is going on btw" and just go with it! Great reads.

6. Sisters of the Salt Duology by Erin A Craig

House of Salt and Sorrows and House of Roots and Ruin are wonderful spooky fantasy books to get you through the fall/winter. A murderous retelling of the 12 Dancing Princesses set in a seaside manor with a horror twist! I loved it simply for how unique and original the plot was (despite it obviously being a retelling, it was just a fresh take okay?).

7. Shadowhunter Chronicles by Cassandra Clare

Just trust me, okay? They really are amazing. I'll give you the reading order; don't be intimidated I know it's a lot of books just walk with me.

8. Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge

YA fantasy that I read in a day and really enjoyed. It is a Beauty and the Beast retelling; arranged marriage enemies to lovers vibes.

9. The Beautiful Quartet by Renee Ahdieh

VAMPIRES! In New Orleans! In 1872! That is all I shall say as I have not finished the series yet!

10. Kerri Maniscalco

Her books are perfect for fall, whether you pick up the Kingdom of the Wicked series or, my personal favorite, the Stalking Jack the Ripper series. These have mystery, supernatural elements, fantasy, and romance, so there's something for everyone.

11. A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer

This is another Beauty and the Beast retelling, and the perfect fantasy series for fall and winter.

12. Caraval by Stephanie Garber

Excellent fantasy for fall and I know I keep saying that, but this series just screams October to me; idk why.

13. Three Dark Crowns Series by Kendare Blake

SOOOO not talked about enough. I loved this series when I read it. It is spooky and dark, with really interesting female characters set in a very intriguing matriarchal setting.

Classics

Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Greatest love story of all time literally I wish Gilbert Blythe was real! Wholesome, dreamlike, cozy series perfect for fall. I have never loved a classic more. And when you're done reading, you get the pleasure of going to watch the 1985 movies starring Megan Follows and Jonathan Crombie. This book literally gave us the "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers" quote like come on!

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

I read this book once in middle school and it was the only thing I ever genuinely enjoyed reading for school. This was the original Knives Out/Inheritance Games I fear.

Mysteries

1 Charlotte Holmes Series by Brittany Cavallaro

2. A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

3. The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

4. The Naturals Series by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

5. The Debutantes Duology by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

6. The Dead Queen's Club by Hannah Capin

Romances

Off-Campus/Briar U Series by Elle Kennedy

Hockey Romance Essential Viewing

2. Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

For nostalgic fall vibes

3. Once Upon A Con Series by Ashley Poston

4. Vancouver Storm Series by Stephanie Archer

Fiction

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Mother Daughter Book Club Series by Heather Vogel Frederick (Middle grade but please read it anyway)

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

Another middle grade for nostalgic vibes

And that is it! The longest discussion about fall books I've ever done. If you have any other recommendations please feel free to let me know! As you can see my TBR is obviously not at all long enough.....

Anyway! Thank you so much for reading, and definitely let me know what you are reading this fall if you feel like it/if you even care fr omg. I hope y'all have a fantastic end of summer and that you're ready to have an amazing, vibey Gilmore Girls-esque autumn! Queuing up the Norah Jones as we speak, and until the next time I find time to scribble my literary thoughts down!

Xoxo,

Kenna

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Grishaverse

ACOTAR

[celestie0]

ouuu my dear flowie. i am long overdue in responding to this reblog, but just know that i read it when you originally posted it and it made my entire day, my entire week, my entire month, dare i say my entire YEARRR...your reblogs give me enough serotonin to last a lifetime. singlehandedly add years to my lifespan

live picture of me reading your reblog reviews of my fics:

I would let him give me a hundred thousand, even a billion headaches. Kickoff! Gojo deserves everything. Trust me. I would let no harm come to him.My man is a puppy in love with how he’s following reader around, tell me ellie, what do i need to do to manifest him? He’s so adorable aaaaaaahhhh my heart is bursting.

PLEASE A PUPPY IN LOVE IS SO ACCURATE THATS P MUCH KICKOFF GOJO. and yess his ways of charming are so unconventional :''') he got that pretty boy privilege and has never had to charm a woman lolol

but please all he needed to enter a bush was a little sound, he has 0 survival skills.

OMG NAMING THE CAT MEGUMI PLS THAT WOULDVE BEEN CUTE AND ALSO SO CANON. but yea kickoff gojo has zero survival skills how he hasn't been kidnapped yet up until this point is a miracle

Why do acting like you found them fucking publicly 💀😭 (is it the effect of seeing two pretty people together? Must be) i understand him.

girl yes anytime i see a hot guy in public just staring at him feels like having public copulation xddd its sumn ab the hot people

Especially with how she feels Gojo wouldn’t really understand her situation because he has never faced it, it’s the disguised-kinda covered element of helplessness mixed with embarrassment for me when i want to convey the social anxiety but cannot because people expect otherwise of me.

aww bb i'm sorry ab that, yea it's kinda crazy how we have attributes we associate w ourselves but then because of that, we're not able to give ourselves grace to differ from those attributes. but i totally think ppl are multifaceted and we can surprise ourselves w straying from our norm. like ig reader has stage fright but she also slapped tf out of a man at a bar in ch9 LOL...but anywho yes i hear youuu

The best part about kickoff is the sheer realism and relatability that readers feel when reading it. You write about stuffs that university students deal with, and you aren’t just making us live our dream of dating a man as beautiful as gojo but also giving us a voice and lending us an ear. You are hearing us and making sure we feel validated. Especially when you talk about insecurities related to career, that is something not a lot of fics do, they make us perfect, but you perfect our flaws, you let us shine through them. That’s a huge thing to achieve I believe. Like nothing in kickoff feels superficial even with those glowing blue eyes and white hair of the freak. Sorryyy!!!!

AAAAAAA flowie thank u so much i could cry fr :''') i'm so glad the realism comes off. yes i think...hmm i think career is so difficult to navigate in college, esp along w romance. in my romantic experiences in college, i always felt like they went hand in hand w my career stress. like wondering if i'm spending too much time thinking ab boys lol, or being w guys that didn't really value my career goals or even care about them. i miss my college campus clubs and my fellow club board members sooo much, i had sm fun organizing events w them and i think writing this chapter really took me back to that time. like idk just doing fun stuff w someone, like reader n gojo in this chapter, those moments are so priceless to me than something that might be an actual date or sumn, if that makes sense. but i'm so glad the story makes you feel validated, ik you were also in debate clubs in school so i think it's so cool how despite all the different careers n niches n interest (like idk anything ab film clubs lmfaoo) we all can still kinda relate to that feeling of ambition paired w insecurity

I love it when people praise our abilities by honouring our actions, that’s very meaningful and appreciative. Like he could have just told she’s all that, but him adding instances added much value to his sentiments.

YAAASS PREACHH i love it when people mention specific actions when they state a positive character trait xD makes me feel seen. kickoff gojo def sees reader in ways she doesn't see herself. also awww yes his dad would be so proud of him :'')

ihm! Reader and kickoff! Reader will have a great time together as the two gojos play golf together while one tries to pitch the other in to buy a house as the other one argues that soccer is the better sport.

LOLOL wait that's so cute i need to see this happen bahahah. i feel like ihm reader & kickoff reader would like not have much in common while kickoff gojo and ihm gojo would have a younger bro older bro relationship where they're just bickering all the time pls. and then the girls can relate to how annoying their boyfriend/husband is

i think as students we have all cried over missed opportunities or the lack of them, it’s feels nice to have that representation over here, and he ensures everybody feels seen and doesn’t take away from reader’s shine as she doesn’t from her juniors, again very endearing.

yes yes yes :'') i've def cried before because i felt like all my hard work wasn't going to bigger places like i wanted it to be. but like in the words of emma from one day: "it's not about changing the world, it's about changing the little bit around you." i think gojo using his influence for good in this chapter was my favorite part to write, yknow he's not just a dumb frat dude that gloats about partying and winning games n stuff on his social media, but he knows that he can help make a difference w it too! i def think kickoff reader really fell in love w him a little bit in this chapter. and omggg bb sorry for the TEARS!!! but i hope it was comforting happy tears <3 i'm so glad you feel seen! that's all i want to accomplish w my writing

AHH THANKS SM FOR YOUR REVIEW FLOWIE BB THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME <33 i look forward to them soooo much, i get so giddy to see them!! much love from meee to youuu

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.10 a fresh start

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 10/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 10.5k

a/n. hiii!! welcome to ch10!! if you’re confused about the word count, i decided to split up the original ch10 of kickoff (which was 31k words) into three installments (read more here) and sooo this is the first installment :0 i really hope you enjoy! i think this is a pretty chill chapter so no warnings or anything hahha. i’ll see you at the bottom :”)

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

“Let me take you out on a date.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“You look like you could use a break.”

“You look like you should go bother someone else.”

“I don’t want to bother someone else, I want to bother you.”

You sigh, sitting back on your heels in the chair that you’ve been balancing yourself on for the past hour or so within the business building, room 202, not sure if it’s the paint fumes coming off the brush you’re holding in your hand that’s giving you the headache or if it’s the incessant pestering of the man sitting beside you.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon and you’re working on painting a poster for the Film Club photography showcase that’s happening later tonight, and what you thought would be a peaceful moment to yourself turned into what it is now since you ran into Gojo in the hallway as he was making his way out of class, and of course he decided to follow you around like a duckling after that.

You glance to the right. He’s still got his backpack on as he sits slumped in the chair beside you, with his presentation of washed out black jeans, a hoodie that’s a shade of void darker with UTokyo Men’s D1 Soccer heat-pressed printing across in jock lettering and he’s got the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair looks thoroughly kempt for once, and not slick with sweat like it usually is on the field, or tousled from the amount of times he runs his hands through it when he’s concentrated or frustrated. But he might start now, given you’re not budging at all to his advances.

“You know how nice it would be?” he says to you with his own version of a blissful sigh, resting his elbow on the conference table and setting his chin on top of his palm, and the way he leans into your space makes you subconsciously lean into him too. “We could go out for dinner, maybe by the beach, order dessert, you wear something nice–”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“N-Not that you don’t always wear nice things–” His eyes briefly sweep down your form, in which you’re awkwardly sitting still with your paintbrush pinched between your fingers in mid air, and then he vaguely gestures to you, “I just mean something nicer,” this time, you feign an offended scoff, “wait, no, that came out wrong, I mean–”

“Satoru,” you interrupt him, bending over the table to dip your bristles into some blue paint in the palette at the other end, “I'm actually very busy right now, so I don’t really have the mental real estate to deal with your sales pitches on why I should let you take me out on a date.”

You can see in your peripheral vision that his eyes are on you, and you only flick your gaze to his face when you notice it’s the longest he’s been silent this entire time, and you find that he’s taking in the sight of you bent over this table. He snaps out of it when you sit back into your chair.

“And you constantly staring at my ass doesn’t exactly charm me, either.”

He glances over his shoulder for a brief second, as if to confirm the emptiness of this room, then grabs your chair to roll you towards him in between the space he’s created by the obnoxious amount of spread to his legs, and you wobble a little due to your seated position on your heels. A gasp leaves your lips at how close his face is now, and his hands hold onto the armrests of your chair to make sure it stays that way. “What do I have to do to charm you?”

You blink at him for a few, startled as you take in the serious expression on his face, and his eyes are so captivating you have trouble finding words. You know why he’s asking—because he’s teetering on an edge of desperation that’s evident in the way he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from your lips, like he’s just one slip of self control away from refusing your denial of him and closing this distance between the two of you that you seem so intent on torturing him with.

“I–” you start, and you grab onto his forearm with the excuse of gaining balance, the texture of a vein pulsing felt underneath your palm, “...I don’t know, figure it out.”

It’s a lame response, but you just can’t explain it. One week of him pining after you didn’t feel like enough, not after all the suffering he put you through after he rejected you, and maybe it was a little petty but you just liked seeing him chase after you because it felt like you finally had the power, the control, and that’s exactly why you don’t have an answer for him. But also, in your defense, his attempts to charm you so far have been………….rather unique and odd, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s ever had to “court” a woman before. Actions that have you realizing pretty privilege might really be a thing since he’s gotten this far despite his strange decision making.

Like earlier this week when he showed up to your apartment with flowers, but of course it wasn’t one of those sweet bouquets you’re always eyeing from the check-out line at Trader Joe’s, no–this man had pilfered an arrangement of roses and marigolds and tulips and dandelions from the park downtown near the city library while he was on a morning run and then showed up at your apartment with them in his hand. It annoyed you, because it was six in the morning, so not only did the ring of the doorbell wake you up but you also became annoyed at the early-morning reminder about how you’re not someone like Gojo who wakes up at the crack of dawn to casually go on eight mile runs (your biggest fear is marrying someone that wakes up at 5am on a Sunday to go on hikes and he unfortunately seems the type). But when you fluffed up those flowers in a vase at the kitchen counter a few hours after you shoo’d him away all in the name of getting a few more minutes of shuteye, you noticed the softness of the stems on the roses, and you realized he plucked each of the thorns off one by one before giving them to you.

He also showed up to your door yesterday, with twigs and leaves in his ruffled hair, a tear through his nylon shirt, and a small tuxedo kitten in the palm of his hand. When you asked him where he found the tiny thing, he said he heard something crying in the bushes while he was walking somewhere. And you figured that’s all the sensory input he would’ve needed to walk through ivy and thorns to find it. Something about I don’t know, I thought you’d think it’s cute and you’d wanna keep it, and you took it from him, the tiny thing so adorable and just a little puff ball in your hands, and most definitely covered in fleas. And then you started crying, because you remembered you can’t keep animals in your apartment. And then he started panicking because he didn’t know why you were crying and he tried to comfort you and that only made it worse and you kicked him out of your apartment with the tiny fluff baby too so as not to get attached, and you’re sure he still has absolutely no clue what he did wrong.

That’s how you would describe his efforts, in all honesty. But a part of you knows that he’s trying. You’re not entirely sure why that’s his definition of trying, but you haven’t thought a lot about what dating him would look like. You were so caught up in how you felt about him, and whether he felt the same, but you never thought a step forward after that. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you could handle staying away from him any longer.

By the way, Gojo kept the kitten. He’s still working on a name but he’s thinking Grand Theft Auto just so he can say ain’t no way got GTA cat before GTA6.

“All you are is pain and suffering,” he says. “You know that, right?” He rolls your chair even closer, to where the momentum has you threatening to fall right into him, so your hand moves from his forearm to his shoulder, and you're starting to get suspicious he’s trapping you in his personal space.

“You’ll learn to manage it,” you say to him, voice hushed, and you see it in his face that your words excite him.

It’s hard to think straight when those eyes are on you, and after a solid minute of just staring at your lips, he moves his gaze up to level with yours to prove some level of restraint. But what he can’t keep himself from doing is placing a hand on your thigh, pressure soft as his fingers press into the fabric of your jeans, and the movement is slow when he slides his palm up to grip your hip but with more intent.

Your hand that was grasping onto his shirt starts inching towards his neck until it settles on the curve where it meets his shoulder, and your fingers lightly brush against the texture of the hair at his nape. His eyes are still on yours, even with the test of your tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, and it would sound like a demand if he didn’t say it so breathlessly. His other hand also reaches out to grip onto your hips, urging you more towards him. Another shift forward and you’d be sitting in his lap.

“Oh, we’re asking for permission now?” you chastise, thumb pressing into his neck. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, and now his gaze drops to your lips.

“Yeah, ‘cause last time you were pissed about it.”

You almost roll your eyes. “Wow, my audacity,” you comment sarcastically.

“Just give it to me,” he says, face tilting, the perfect amount to kiss you if you just gave him– “the permission.”

Your breathing picks up when he leans forward, your eyes hooded slightly on reflex, and you’re both staring at each other's lips like it was stupid you’re not kissing right now.

The slam of the door startles you, and being one inch away from him turns into a foot of distance as your head turns to face the entrance of the room. Gojo’s still gripping onto your hips, keeping your chair close to him, and you’re shifting your body weight on your heels as you try to pull off his hold of you until he finally relents and releases.

There’s a student standing at the door, posture slumped as he holds a binder to his chest, and you can tell he’s probably a first or second year with the way he’s wide-eyed and just staring. When he realizes you’re waiting for him to speak, he jumps a little. “Oh! Uh, is this…where the Film Club showcase is happening?”

You straighten your posture, in a way that means business, and struggle a little to untuck your legs from your seated position on your chair to then stand up onto your feet with a bristling sensation of nerves in them when you realize they had fallen asleep. “Yes! Yes, it is. B202, you’ve got the right place,” you say and manage an awkward smile.

The student’s gaze shifts to Gojo, who you see in your peripheral vision is leaning back in his chair, knee swinging side to side and arms crossed at his chest. You want to tell him to sit up straight and not look so nonchalant in the presence of a stranger, but there are some things about a person you can’t really change.

You see the moment in the student’s eyes when he recognizes Gojo, and those wide eyes somehow become even wider. “Woah,” is all he says with a few blinks.

“Um,” you say, taking a step forward, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?” You feel eyes on your back as Gojo watches the interaction.

“Haru!” he says, “I think I messaged the club’s Instagram page last week…not sure if you’re the person I talked to.”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” you say and introduce yourself to him again. “Thank you for coming, but the event actually doesn’t start for a while…”

“Oh, my bad,” he says, “I’ll…” his gaze flickers to behind you, “...come back soon then.”

You purse your lips together and politely nod before he exits the room and you let out the breath you were holding, face wincing a little from the awkward interaction.

You turn on your heel to head back to the table, and you see Gojo still slumped in his chair looking at you with curiosity.

“Okay, seriously, please stop distracting me,” you say as you take a seat on your chair again and pick up your paint brush, “I need to finish this now, because I won’t have time before the event tonight.”

“Why won’t you have time before?” he asks, tapping on his phone screen to check the time. “It’s at six, right?”

“Yes, but I have to finish this poster, and then rehearse my presentation. And then I have to get the supplies from my professor’s room, and also need to go get the pizza and refreshments, and–”

“And why are you doing all this by yourself?” he asks, setting his elbow on the desk and leaning his cheek against the knuckles of his curled hand. He pulls the hood of his hoodie over his head.

You sigh. “The other board members were busy this week. With midterms and stuff. I mean, I’m busy too, but this is a really important event.” You sneak a glance at him, and his earnest attention is suddenly making you feel nervous. “It’s the freshman & sophomore students’ chances to show off their works in a large capacity, and talk to some people about their photos, even book some shoots if there’s a decent turnout.” He nods at you thoughtfully. “Anyways,” you say, directing our attention back to your poster, “I didn’t want to cancel it, so I just figured I’d take on the job. But I wasn’t expecting any distractions.” You regard him with an annoyed flick of your eyes in his direction.

He hums softly, and you use his silence to get lost in your thoughts for a moment. You still need to rehearse the presentation slides, and it could be the exhaustion you’ve faced in the past week that causes you to shake a little from the anticipation of speaking in front of people, but you realize that you’re nervous. Nervous to publicly speak. Nobara usually does these sorts of things as the president, you’ve always opted out to do more of the behind-the-scenes as vice, but there’s this feeling you’ve got that makes you realize if this event doesn’t go smoothly, there’s no one to blame but you.

You glance over at Gojo for a second, who has been watching you this whole time, and he raises an eyebrow in question. You blink, and shake your head slightly, as if to say oh, nothing and then your eyes slowly travel back to the brush in your hand.

“Are you nervous?” he asks you.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Huh?” you squeak out before looking at him.

He uses a jerk of his chin to point to your hand. “You’re shaking.”

You look down at your hand, and notice it is indeed trembling slightly, and you're about to hold your wrist with your other hand to keep yourself from shaking, but his hand beats you to it when it falls over your own. You look down at the sight, and then slightly tilt your palm upwards so you can loosely hold onto his. He squeezes it once and you look at him.

“You’ll be fine,” he says.

It all feels a little silly. I mean, you can imagine the last thing in the world he could empathize with is stage fright. He plays in front of thousands of people in stands every week, of whom you’d say half of which are showing up for him exclusively, and even if the team’s down during the half or stakes are insanely high, or if the chants are so loud most people could hardly even hear themselves think, he always pulls through in the end. Something as simple as presenting in front of a handful of students in a media room wouldn’t have his hand trembling the way yours is right now, because there probably isn’t a fearful bone in his body.

“Do you ever get nervous?” you ask him. It comes out faster than you could think, but curiosity is killing you.

His eyes study your face, brows dropping a little.

“I mean, on the field,” you clarify, “when you’re playing.”

He relaxes a little bit. “Oh, no, not really. I mean, sorta, but it’s not really a feeling I can afford to give much thought to when I’m out there, so I guess not?”

“Mm…” you hum, accepting his answer, and his fingers curl over your hand to hold it a little tighter. “I see. I wonder what that’s like.”

“What what is like?” he asks.

“Not getting nervous.”

“I get nervous sometimes. Just not really on the field.”

“When do you get nervous?” you ask him.

“Usually when I’m with you.”

Your eyes study his intently and your cheeks feel warm.

“Are you just messing with me?” you ask, with a half scoff, to prepare yourself to play it off as a joke.

“No, I’m not,” he states, “I get nervous around you. Cause I’m always scared I’m gonna fuck shit up somehow.”

“Oh,” you say, shoulders slumping a little, “I thought it was a different kind of nervous.” Like a love sick, can’t breathe around the person, heart about to give out kind of soul crushing adoration-filled nervousness.

He looks at you puzzled. “What other kind of nervous is there?” he asks.

You sigh. “Nevermind.” You pull your hand out from under his, and he flexes his fingers a little, like he’s getting used to the absence of your hand underneath his, before he withdraws it back to his side.

Your hand is still shaking.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in a bit closer to make sure you hear what he has to say, “I saw you slap the shit out of a guy at a bar for disrespecting you and then telling that other fuckface to go take it up the ass. Which is probably the most badass thing I think I’ve ever seen anyone do, so I know you’ve got no reason to be nervous right now.”

You take in a deep breath for confidence and nod.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He leaves you alone for the most part after that while you work on your slides, except for his occasional loud shouts when he messes up some mission in the combat game he’s playing on his phone. And you remember he’s someone who’s supposed to be extremely busy, and probably has shit to do right now, but he’s essentially killing all day here with you.

“What are you doing?” he asks when he peers over at your laptop screen once you come back from a bathroom break.

“Oh.” You stretch your fingers out and close them into fists over your keyboard before going back to one of your open tabs. “I need to submit my grad school application.”

Gojo places his elbows on the table and leans his weight onto them, watching your laptop screen from beside you as you navigate UTokyo’s grad school application portal. You can already tell he’s dissociating.

“It’s done?” he asks as you click through the webpage.

“Yes. It’s done. Officially. I just need to–,” you take a deep breath in, “I just need to press…submit.”

Your cursor hovers over the blue button, in the same way your finger is hovering over your mousepad, and you’re stuck frozen.

Gojo leans in closer to your space to where you can smell the soft fragrance of his detergent, “then press submit.”

“I…I will.” You blink at the screen.

But you’re the queen of stalling, in all aspects of life.

He takes his elbow off the table and reaches his arm over to your laptop before pressing down firmly on the right-click cursor button, and you watch in a panic as the loading circle appear on the screen as he calmly retreats his arm, and then you see Congratulations on submitting your UTokyo Graduate School Early Admissions Application for the 2024-25 School Year!

“What–” you look at him with shock.

“You were taking too long,” he says with a shrug.

You slump into your seat with a small pout and watch your phone light up with a confirmation email as well.

“So how should we celebrate when you get in?” he asks.

“We? And when as in if.”

“Yes, we. And when. Now answer.”

You sigh. “I dunno…”

“Is there something that you really want?” he asks, nudging your arm with his elbow before he lays his cheek down on his forearm on the table so he can see your face better. And he looks so cute and boyfriend-ish with the way his hair sprawls over the sleeve of his hoodie and his cheek is plush from where he’s resting it.

You lean all the way back in your chair. “Mm…to end world hunger. Cure cancer. Bring peace and prosperity to all my friends and family.”

“Yes ok, very kind of you,” he responds, voice scratchy like he’s tired but his leg is bouncing impatiently underneath the table, “I meant something you can buy.”

“Like happiness?”

“Just be serious for a second.”

You laugh. “Hmm…I mean, it’s not really a tangible thing…but I’ve always wanted to take a roadtrip to Mt. Fuji,” you offer.

He lifts his head up off his arm with interest. “Ok, then, when you get in, I’ll take you on a trip to Mt. Fuji. All expenses paid.”

“You sound like one of those travel advisors at the mall that scam families for debit card deposits,” you snort, “also, why do I feel like it’d just be an excuse for you to annoy me in forced proximity over the span of five to seven days.”

He drops his head to rest it on his arm again with a small grumble leaving him. “You’re so cynical sometimes.”

Just a bit jaded since last week, is what you think to say. But you’re not in the mood to explain the existential dread within you since Kai’s whole posse of ultra lame losers stirred the unnerving pot of career stress within you, but maybe you just need a bit of time to come down from it.

“Ok fine. If it’s all paid for, then I guess I shall accept the offer. Er, the prospect of the impending offer.

There’s a grin on his face, kinda drowsy and sick with some sort of glee, and he uncrosses one of his arms from the surface of the table to hold his hand out to you, pinky sticking up in the air.

“Alright then, it’s a promise,” he says.

You blink at him, eyeing his pinky, but he just wiggles it in the air like get on with it. You sigh, curling yours around his firmly, and your signature addition is the press of your thumb to his in security of sealing the deal, which you realize by the slight furrow to his brow that he’s never seen it before. You shrug.

“Pinky promises are never to be broken,” he says, kinda cheekily like he knows it sounds silly, and for a second there’s a glimpse of juvenile innocence on his face. His words sound like something a parent would echo to a child, like words from his own. Your pinkies are still coiled. “You’ve gotta say it too.”

“P-Pinky promises are never to be broken,” you repeat after him.

“Sweet.” He pulls his hand from your and then he turns his face so his forehead is resting on his arm now instead of his cheek, breathing slowly as he’s silent for a minute.

“Are you–...are you sleeping?” you ask.

“Yes.” He muffles into his crossed arms.

“Tired?”

He sighs heavily. “Very.”

“Um…I need your help with some things, though.”

“...okay.”

—

“Who are we going to see again?” Gojo asks, using a shake of his head to get some of his fringe out of his eyes hands-free as his fingers spread in his hold of the box underneath them, and it’s hard not to admire the way his hands look. Large shades of pale pink where they were slightly strained, like at his knuckles and joints, and those cool toned veins that valley from the grip that he has. There’s something way more attractive about his hands when he puts them to earnest use.

You two are walking down the hallway on the third floor of the building. “Our faculty adviser for our club,” you say, reaching into your pocket to make sure you still had your keys with you, “oh, he’s also the professor I asked for my reference.”

“Ohhh, interesting,” Gojo comments. “You said he’s a fan of soccer right?”

You’re taken back to that first night you met Gojo at that frat party, and you mentioned your professor to him. Feels like forever ago. But at the same time, like yesterday.

“Yes, UTokyo’s team in particular,” you comment, “honestly I think he might faint when he sees you.”

“I wish you would faint when you see me,” he sighs.

You roll your eyes and then finally arrive at your professor’s office. It’s slightly ajar, as it usually is, and you take a small peek inside to see that he’s sitting at his desk, window open and illuminating the room with golden rays of the setting sun, and you’re made aware of the fact that night is coming soon.

“Hi, Professor,” you say after knocking once, and the man jumps in his seat when you pull the door open to step inside. You always forget he’s easily startled, and make another mental note to not scare him anymore because if he gets a heart attack and dies from shock, you wouldn’t be able to afford the lawsuit.

“Hello, hello, y/n,” he greets, sitting up in his chair by grabbing onto the arm rests for leverage, and you can feel the edge of the box push against your back as Gojo makes his way into the room too.

As predicted, your professor nearly faints and dies from shock when he clocks the sight of Gojo, and you briefly wonder if Gojo would be able to afford the lawsuit, and then your professor is running up to him and shaking his hand with a vigor that has the younger man wincing a little in discomfort, but by the short amount of time you’ve finished looking through the storage room for projector cables & supplies, then re-emerge to your professor’s office with filled up boxes in your hands, Gojo’s typing his number into your professor’s phone and apparently he’s going salsa dancing with him and his wife this weekend?

“You should come too,” Gojo says, adjusting his grip on the boxes he took from you as you two meander down the hallway back to the media room.

You dust your hands off. “To what? Salsa dancing?”

“Yeah, apparently there’s gonna be spiked brazilian lemonade,” he coos, like he’s pitching a pyramid scheme to you.

You sigh. “How often do people just randomly invite you to things?”

He glances up at the ceiling like he really needs to think about it. “I dunno. I just accept, don’t always go.”

“So you’re, like, a selective people pleaser,” you note. “Save face in the moment but then run away from the commitment.”

“Relax. I was having a good evening.”

You two make it back to the media room with no more unsolicited psychoanalysis, and you’re scrambling around to get things in order for the event while Gojo tries his best to be helpful wherever he can, but he mostly just looks like a lost puppy.

“Okay so I ordered four pizzas,” you say, holding up four fingers in the air, “and then you also need to get, like, maybe two family size bottles of Coke from the store?” Now two fingers. “A pack of napkins would be nice too since apparently we ran out.” You look through the box you got from your professor’s storage room. “And…I think that’s it. Keep the receipts so I can reimburse you.”

Gojo nods at you after every command, eyes wide and brows furrowed in concentration like he’s really trying to picture the list of tasks in his head so he doesn’t forget any of them, and you feel a bit bad for ordering him around to do all of this for you but he was here anyway so you might as well put him to use.

“And then can you also get some stuff from the trunk of my–er, Mina’s car. I parked it by the Literature building in Lot 16.” You pull the car keys out from your tote bag and hand it to him. He stands there like a statue before his fingers curl around the cold metal keys. “Please be back here a half hour before six!!”

“So I guess I’m a member of the club now?” he muses, throwing the keys up into the air a few feet to then catch them.

“Mm, no, you need to fill out a form to be an official member,” you say as you make your way to the podium and open the drawer to pull out one of the microphones.

“Send me the form then,” he says.

“It’s on our Instagram.” You tap the head of the microphone and are satisfied when you hear thumping across the room’s speakers. “LinkTree in bio!!” you chirp in club advertisement reflex.

He pulls his phone out from his pocket and half leans back/half sits on one of the tables and taps away at his screen. You’re standing at the podium computer scrolling through your logged-in Spotify account to figure out which ambient playlist to have playing for the event.

“Alright,’ he says before slipping his phone back into his pocket, “I just filled out the form.”

Your phone chimes with an email notification right after he says it. “Yay! Congrats! Welcome to UTokyo’s Film Club!” you exclaim, again, in practiced club advertisement reflex.

He smiles at you and crosses his arms. “Are there any cool perks?” he asks.

“Uhh, a chance to enter into a Kodak film roll raffle every semester?” you say, knowing it’s useless because you two are graduating in less than two months so this was your last semester anyway and the raffle had already passed. Oh, also useless because Gojo isn’t a film photographer. Your phone chimes with another email notification. You glance at it. “Oh! Someone else RSVP’d for the event tonight. Yayyy.”

“Sorry, I think that was me,” he says, “I filled out the wrong form at first.”

“Oh,” your shoulders drop in a sulk slightly, done before conscious thought can stop the motion, so now Gojo’s caught onto the fact that you’re upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and he walks over to where you’re standing at the podium.

“I’m just a little…bummed out about the turnout,” you confess as you glance at the RSVP form for the event on your phone, “eighteen people signed up, but that includes the eight students that are showcasing their photography. Oh, and now it also includes you. So…that means only nine real sign-ups, and I guess it’s a little less than what I thought it would be.”

“Aww,” he coos, and he places his elbows up onto the wood of the podium, holding his face up to look at you. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you say, and you blush for some reason.

He’s smiling at you now, boyish and lost in thought that probably has nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “I just think you’re really cool.”

“Okayyy,” you diffuse the compliment, “are you going to stay for the event?”

“Will you let me?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you say, “if you don’t do anything strange during it.”

“And if I do?” he asks.

“So you are going to do something strange?”

“Nope.”

“Well, now you seem suspicious.”

He laughs. “I was just joking.”

“When you bring the pizzas back, just leave them outside the door. I’ll take it from there,” you say.

“You’re not even gonna let me inside?” he scoffs.

“No.”

“And if I come inside anyway?”

“I’ll place a bucket of water at the top of the door,” you say, “so it’ll fall on you, except it’ll give you a concussion instead of a soak.”

He snorts. “Yeah? How are you even gonna reach the top of the door?”

“I–...shut up.”

“I can help you,” he grins, leaning forward on the podium, “reach the top of the door.”

“You’re going to help me terrorize you?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. “Anything if it means I get to touch your butt.”

“Wha–!! Why would that entail you touching my butt?!”

He looks confused by your confusion. “Hmm…maybe…maybe we should act out what you think this scenario would entail…and then we can act out what I think this scenario would entail, perhaps multiple times, and then–”

“Just go get the things I asked, please,” you say with a sigh.

He laughs, it’s sweet but loud, and you blush when you realize he’s just messing with you for his own amusement.

“Stop teasing me,” you pout at him.

“I seriously can’t help it,” he tells you, and he leans himself off the podium to stand up straight before shoving the car keys you gave him into his pocket, “the way you react is always so cute.”

You feel like you could melt.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” he says, and you watch him as he heads out the door. And the room feels empty without him.

Luckily there are things you can distract yourself with in his absence. Well, technically he was the distraction, but sometimes it felt like everything else was the distraction keeping you from him.

There’s still about an hour left before the film club students come in to set up the exhibits, and you set up everything else you need to set up around the room, like moving the tables around so that the walk flow is like that of a museum’s, you set the club posters you painted up on the wall, pull a plastic table cover over what will be the food and refreshments section when Gojo eventually brings them. And you spend the last ten minutes rehearsing your slides.

It occurs to you that this is the last time you’ll be doing any of this, possibly for the rest of your life. Film Club still has a few events left for the year, but they’re mostly just tabling events and then the end-of-year banquet at the Cheesecake Factory. And so as you click through slides at the podium, your eyes drift from the screen off into the still empty room. And that feeling of something coming to an end washes over you. But you’re not really sure how to feel about it just yet.

Your thoughts drown out the gradually growing bustling noise outside in the hall, and you only become aware of it about a couple minutes later, when the noises increase into loud shouts and cheers. Was there some event next door that you didn’t know about at the same time as the Film Club event? You didn’t know of any, but right before you can check the university’s social media, the door burst opens and Gojo’s standing there with a stack of four pizzas balancing on one palm, with the pinky hooking a plastic bag seemingly carrying a couple bottles of soda, and in his right hand is—…beer?

“Hey,” Gojo says, a gleeful look on his face. The noises outside are heard clearly with the door he’s keeping open with his foot, and then they disappear back into muffles once again when he closes the door. “Where do you want this stuff?”

You storm up to him. “W-Why did you buy beer?” you ask him.

“Huh?” he glances down at the couple of cases of beer in his left hand. “I mean, pizza and beer, you can’t go wrong with that.”

“What??”

He blinks at you. “I-Is it BYOB or something??”

“Satoru. This isn’t a frat party!! This is a Film Club event!!”

“There’s no alcohol at your events?” he asks, setting the pizzas down on the food and refreshments table you had set up earlier. “I assumed you had just forgotten to ask me to get some from the store when you were listing off tasks earlier.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “No. There is no alcohol at our events,” you sigh. But he’s ripping the tops of the cases anyway. “Do you know why it’s so loud outside?” You move towards the door and try to peer through the frosty glass.

“They’re here for the event,” he says. You swirl on your heel to face him, but all you see is the expanse of his back as he rips a pack of napkins open.

“T-This event?” you squeak out.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “Yeah. You said something about the turnout being small, so I posted it to my Instagram story.”

Your mouth drops open.

He stiffens. “I mean, that’s what one of the…” his voice slowly trails off, “…roles & responsibilities was…for the Film Club membership form…to be a member…”

You continue to stare at him.

“…help publicize for club events,” he clarifies.

You quickly turn to face the door again and push it open with force, almost hitting someone straight in the face, and after you apologize for your carelessness, you take in the huge line of people flush against the wall, all chatting with friends in small groups that trail all the way back to the entrance of the building. Most of them are people you’ve recognized at SAE parties and social media posts, and you quickly close the door because now your heart is beating so fast in your chest from the nerves that you can hardly handle it.

You turn to face Gojo again and walk up to him while he’s still busy fixing up the table with more finesse than you'd have expected from him. “Satoru!! I don’t have enough pizza to feed all these people!! There isn’t even enough space in this room for all of them!!” You’re panicking a little.

He tilts his head at you. “Just—…have them walk inside in a single file and round out of the room in a circle.” He gesticulates the plan with his finger in the air. “Easy.”

Right. Like the professional-grade sports conference signings he’s been a part of. “I’m just one person. I have no idea how I’m gonna deal with a group that large.”

“Relax,” he assures you, and he takes a step towards you to hold both your hands in his, “it’s going to be fine! You’ve done these events before, it’s no different than those times. Plus you’re not just one person! I’ll be here with you, too.”

His overwhelming positivity and ease and nonchalance is starting to contrast way too heavily with your anxiety and uncertainty and cynicism, and it has you pulling your hands from his because your palms are starting to get sweaty.

The door creaks open slightly ajar, and you both turn to face it. Haru, the film student from earlier, takes a step into the room.

“Hi!! This is—…this is where the event is supposed to be, right?” he asks sheepishly with skepticism, likely because he can’t believe the line outside.

“Yes!” you confirm, and you glance at the projector screen for the time, “take a seat, I’ll be going over logistics soon.”

Following him suit are a few other film students that trickle in and take seats at the tables, and you do a mental roll call and notice that only a couple are missing. But you’ve only got five minutes until the hour starts for the event, so you shut the door airtight for a peaceful ambience and rush to the front of the room at the podium.

“Hi,” you say into the mic, “thanks so much to you all for coming here!! In a few minutes, I’ll be opening the door for people to come by and check out your photo exhibits. I ask that if you do get commissions booked for your work, you write it down on the sheets provided so we can assess the helpfulness of these events in helping students secure freelance work!” You’re practically reading off a script as a coping mechanism, because your hand is shaking in anticipation. You look down at it underneath the hood of the podium, and in a second, it’s being covered by a familiar hand.

Gojo’s standing next to you at the podium now, holding your hand but discreet from view, and it gives you enough ease to finish your presentation smoothly, mostly because it goes by in a blur with the distraction of his comforting hand squeezes, and you can finally release the deep breath you were holding in.

“Awesome,” Gojo says right when you dismiss the students to start setting up their photo exhibits at their tables, “you finished the presentation. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You almost sound patronizing,” you sigh, but you turn your palm up so he can hold your hand anyway.

By the time you open the door for the event, your anxiety has settled, and all you feel is awe as you watch people make their way into the room. Albeit most of them just go straight for the beer and pizza at first (which you’re pretty sure is illegal to serve on campus, but whatever), and you had to make the last minute decision to change your spotify playlist on the speakers from Studio Ghibli classics to early 2000s club music just to keep them engaged, but as the event proceeds, they all start to travel down the exhibit tables and glance at students photos sprawled across tables and swiping through slideshows on their laptops, and there’s genuine conversation and interest.

Turns out frats & sororities were the target audience for professional photography all along? Considering how anal they are about their social media aesthetics and what-not. Something you’d never even really considered until today, and somehow your world has become a little bit bigger than what it was before.

As you walk around the room just to eavesdrop on some conversations and make sure things are going okay, you steal glances at the freelance commision sign up papers that the film students are keeping track of, and you see occasions written down like birthday photoshoot and grad photos and aunt’s baby shower scribbled under the event columns and you start to feel emotional. The little freshmen & sophomore film students look so ecstatic with the amount of work they’re booking in one evening, and for once you feel like a proud mom.

This is singlehandedly the biggest turnout you’ve ever seen for any event you’ve ever hosted, and for someone that has a hard time asking for help most of the times, you finally see what you’ve been missing out on when you do let someone see you for who you are and they just know what’s important to you.

When you think of it, he’s always known what’s important to you. And he’s always cared.

You’re blinking fast to fight the sheen of tears when you look at Gojo from across the room, who’s chatting it up with some people he knows and then ushering them into the showcase line, because you realize he’s made you feel really proud of yourself today, which is something you’ve really struggled with in the past week.

It’s been four years since you joined this club, with hours of hard work invested into events that weren’t going to get the front page of the newsletter like the Friday soccer games would, or get circulated around on social media like the sorority formals would, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t any less important. And it’s ironic that someone like Gojo who fits into that world of prestige and popularity and success is the one to show you that.

“Hey.” You jump when you hear Gojo’s voice near you and realize you had been too lost in thought to notice that he was approaching you. He’s pointing over his shoulder towards the door. “Some guy came by and said we’ve only got five minutes left for the room?”

You turn away from him slightly, and the sniffle of your nose is quiet enough in the loud echoes of the room. “Oh, yes, um, we only had it booked for an hour. I didn’t think we’d need more than that.”

“Oh okay,” he says, “I’ll tell everyone to get lost then.”

“But not before telling them to follow us on Instagram!!” you chirp at him in practiced club advertisement reflex, “the QR code is posted on the door.”

He nods slowly. “Sure thing, boss.” He turns to head back to the line of people still leading out of the door, but his eyes linger on your face and he turns back to you. The step he takes towards you makes you nervous, because you don’t want him to see you were on the verge of tears. You’re good at hiding these sorts of things.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head down to look at you straight in the face because it’s obvious you’re not making eye contact.

You take in a deep breath and finally level your gaze with his when you’re certain your eyes are dry. “Yes, fine. Thank you.” And you smile at him. And he takes your word for it.

__

It’s pitch black outside as you walk with Gojo across campus towards the parking lot. He’s carrying all the supplies you have to take home in boxes piled high in his arms, while you just pull an empty mini wagon along because there’s way too many stairs as obstacles for any mode of transport by wheel.

There are a few moments where your shoulder accidentally brushes against his arm, and it’s mostly because you can’t walk in a straight line for the life of you, but you like it because it just feels nice to be in his space somehow. Like those little moments when your knee bumps someone else’s under the table, or your hands touch when handing something to someone, always noticed but never addressed because it just felt natural.

On the way to the faculty parking lot, where the blacktop is barely lit by the baseball stadium lights off in the distance, the exhaustion of the day catches up to you. Gojo’s hand reaches inside his pocket and he pulls out Mina’s car keys before pressing down on a button to open the trunk.

“Gosh, I forgot you had those keys,” you sigh as you fold the wagon and slide it into the back. “I would’ve freaked out if I noticed I didn’t have them.”

“Yeahhh I considered pretending that I lost them just to fuck with you, but I got lazy,” he says with a shrug and a yawn then sets down the boxes in the trunk with a slight grunt that leaves him, then he’s dusting his hands off.

You do a quick look-through of the supplies to make sure you didn’t forget anything in the room, and then pull your phone out to text Nobara that everything went well today. Well, great. Fantastic. Honestly, she’ll be shocked by the turnout when she sees the Instagram photos you’ll be posting to the club’s socials.

Gojo pulls down on the top of the trunk and shuts it closed, then he turns to face you. “Alright, so…”

“So…” you repeat after him, and you’re not sure why the air feels a little awkward, but you twiddle with your fingers because you don’t have the desire to step into the car and head home just yet.

Gojo nods slowly, looking around himself at the ground. “I guess that’s everything.”

“Mhm.”

He scratches the back of his head, and you realize he’s not making any moves to walk away either.

“Um,” you say, “Satoru–”

“Yeah?” he responds, fast, the second you say his name.

You take a step closer to him, and lean your hip against the car. “Thank you,” you say, holding onto your elbow and rubbing soothing circles over your own arm, “for what you did tonight.”

He tilts his head at you in confusion, but then his face relaxes. “Oh, no worries,” he says with a smile, and his voice sounds a little tired from the day too, “I’m pretty sure you would’ve killed yourself if you tried to carry those boxes down the stairs.”

“What?...no, no, not for the boxes,” you say with a shake of your head, and then you remember you need to be offended by what he just said, “what the hell, that’s not true. I have more than sufficient upper body strength.”

He tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, like to stifle a laugh. “Uh-huh.”

You sigh and briefly pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance and then shake the feeling off with a shake of your head. “I meant…for what you did by publicizing the event.” And for being there for you, when you were feeling alone and nervous about the whole thing, like he could tell you just really needed someone to be with you. But you bite your tongue before you can say that part too.

His brow furrows for a moment, and you realize he’s confused about the appreciation.

“It’s just, I know what it was like when I was a freshman and sophomore, feeling like my work wasn’t really reaching anyone,” you say to him, the vulnerability on your sleeve as you speak, “so it was a really nice thing for you to do for those underclassmen today. I saw the looks on their faces, and they looked really happy. And–...I’m sure it made their day.” You glance off to the side for a moment because you feel a little shy, and then you look back at him. “It made mine too.”

He takes a step towards you, and he’s close now, to where the tips of his shoes almost touch yours. His eyes are calm, darker with minimal light to reflect off of but there are still stars in them as always. “I’m glad I could help. Uh, well, I’m a member of the club now, so, if you need any other help, then. You know where to find me.”

You laugh. “I doubt there’s much I could give you to do at this point in the year, but alright. If anything comes up, I’ll assign it to you.”

You both look up at each other with small smiles. Your thumbs still swiped over the skin of your arm, and he shoves his hands in his pockets to look at his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly. You click your tongue and look up at the sky, and he tilts his head to the side a few times to stretch it out. Were you two just so brain-fried by the day that you can’t even think of a single thing to say to one another? But if that was the case, then why not just call it a day and go home?

There’s a person on a bicycle that passes by, jingling his bell in the process and that breaks the two of you out of this weird trance, and then he’s clearing his throat and you’re shifting on your feet.

“Oh, by the way—” “Um, I just wanted to—” you both say at the same time.

You blink at each other.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “go ahead.”

“No, no, you go ahead,” you say.

“It’s fine,” he gestures to you. “You first.”

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Well—,” he starts, “I’ll say what I want to say after you say what you want to say…so…no worries. Go ahead.”

“Right,” you nod in agreement, and scratch your arm a little. “I just wanted to say I’m still…sorry about what I said to you last week outside that bar,” you confess, “about…having it easy in life.” You squeeze your upper arm in anxious tendency. “ImeanIknowIalreadyapologizedforit,” you say, fast, with surprisingly no tongue twist, “but…still. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t open up to me about stuff because of what I said and because of…I guess, the…mean impression I claimed to have of you. I just don’t think I was in a great headspace, and…well.” You look up at him and his expression is soft. “I’ve really appreciated being able to talk to you about lots of things. Um. So, yeah, I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry about it.” You take in and release a deep breath once you’re done with your ramble.

He’s quiet for a moment as he lets your words sink in, and he briefly glances down at his shoes, shoulders raising slightly to roll them back and then he relaxes them when he looks at you again.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he leans against the car now too. “I know you said that I was contributing to making you feel that way, so I owe you an apology for that too.”

You blink up at him.

“Plus, you were dealing with a bunch of pricks,” he says, “and stressed about your future.”

“Mm,” you acknowledge.

“We’re seniors,” he randomly mentions, “I think we’re all just…trying to figure ourselves out? So, I get it. And I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

You feel a tickle in your throat, and the distracting pain of your nails digging into the palms of your hands is enough to direct your brain away from getting emotional right now. “That’s true. Figuring ourselves out. Mm.”

He gives you a small smile, and then he sighs when he remembers something. “Yeah, a friend of mine just broke up with his girlfriend of six years because he didn’t get into law school, so, stress is a crazy thing.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry for him–and, them.”

“Yeahhh he bought a ring and everything,” Gojo says, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing a little in empathetic discomfort.

“Oh my gosh.”

“Well, anyway,” he laughs a little, in some sort of fear that he’s just made things awkward, “you don’t have to worry about what you said. I–” he pauses, “I’m hard to get rid of when I want to be around. Ask Suguru, he’s tried to get rid of me on multiple occasions.”

You laugh, and he doesn’t follow up with any more jokes or explanations, like he just wants to hear your laugh in its purity. And you nod, taking in his words for a bit, letting them rerun in your head, because they leave a warmth in you.

“Have you given any thought to what you want to do after graduation?” you ask, and you’re humbled by the fact that you never even thought to ask him that before. Hell, you even asked the stranger you sat next to in stats today that question before you ever asked him.

“Yeah,” he nods, “I think I’m gonna play for the national league.”

“Oh! That’s awesome,” you chirp, “I have no doubt you’ll get it. I’ve seen those recruiters constantly coming up to you during games.” You lightly poke his arm in flattery. “Although you always look super annoyed when they do.”

He laughs. “Yeah, they have no concept of time or place.”

“But anyway,” you say, “that’s really cool. I know your dreams are going to come true, and you’ll be great at it too.”

He nods, and you notice your words seem a little lost on him, like he's distracted by something else, but he covers it up with a well-meaning smile of pursed lips and then another silence settles between you two.

“Oh, what were you gonna,” you start, pointing your finger at him, “what were you gonna say?”

“Oh, right, phew, thanks,” he exhales in relief at the reminder, “well, I guess it’s more of a…question,” he’s sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “but we–the frat–is hosting this barbeque thing on Thursday before our game on Friday…and, I was wondering if you’d want to come.” His words hang in the air for a moment as he’s preemptively studying your expression for any clue of an answer, and you realize he’s nervous. When you keep your features neutral, he feels the need to keep speaking. “I mean I—...I’d have to send you the invite, ‘cause it’s kind of an exclusive thing…it’s also in the afternoon since it’s too late in season for us to be throwing parties the night before a game, but, uh, if you’re free,” he pauses to take a breath, “I’d really love it if you came.”

You just stare at him.

He holds his hands up in a slight panic, shoulders tense. “Not a—…it’s not a date though. Don’t worry.”

“Ahh…” you nod, feigning relief but in all honesty you forgot about how many times you’ve turned down his pleas for a date this week and you think it’s sort of cute but also sad that he felt the need to clarify. “Yeah, um, I’ll let you know.”

He smiles, it’s genuine and real and something you’ll never get tired of. “Alright, cool.”

And here you two are standing again in silence, just looking at one another. If you were on the outside, looking in, you’d think that the two of you had just met. Like a fresh start.

Your breathing slows as you gaze up at him, because the way his brow furrows ever so slightly as he looks at you is so handsome and sweet and it makes you remember how when you first met him, you wondered if you’d ever feel relaxed in his presence from how gorgeous he is. Back then, you never would’ve imagined that you would make him nervous someday.

His gaze slowly travels down to your lips, and you feel your eyes soften to where everything else around you is a blur. You want to kiss him. Maybe as a thanks, or a reward, something sweet to show him how much today meant to you. You tilt your head, looking up with doe eyes and flutters of your eyelashes, in the most obvious way a girl could silently tell a guy she wants him to kiss her. He’d have to be the most immensely dense person on the planet to not—

“You really should think about the salsa dancing,” he says, breaking any and all energy between the two of you, “I think it’d be fun.”

You blink at him for a solid ten seconds, and then sigh with a slight slump to your shoulders, because you realize he’s probably never had to guess if a girl wants him to kiss her or not. And he’s still as dense as the person he was when you first fell for him. But there’s something endearing about it, too. Simple. Simple was what you needed. “Mhm.”

After another brief moment of silence, you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“I should get going,” you say, through an awkward half laugh, “I have an essay due at 8AM tomorrow, so...I need to go home and procrastinate.” That earns a short snort from him, and you lean yourself off of the car to head towards the driver’s side. Gojo’s on your tail and then suddenly a step ahead of you as he gets the door for you and you sit inside then fiddle with the rearview mirror just to give your hands something to do because you feel his eyes on you and it’s all-consuming as ever.

“Hey,” he says, resting his elbow on top of the car door as he peers down at you, “text me when you get home.”

You look up at him while you push the keys into ignition. “I will. Good night.”

“Night,” he says with a soft smile on his face, and he hesitates for a moment before he closes the door. Like something someone would do when they don’t want a moment to end.

.

.

.

a/n. thanks so much for reading!! this was such a domestic little chapter to write haha i think it’s the most mellow of the three scenes i wrote for the original longer version of ch10 but sdkfhsdkf i still really enjoyed writing it.

anywhoooooooo the next chapter will be the frat bbq :0 i’m very excited for that one, i think it’s my favorite of the three installments aaa there’s a scene i wrote for it that is one of the highlights in the series for me so far. not because it’s angsty or dramatic or anything, it’s just really silly and cute and horny and is kinda young love vibes and i’m living for that recently because gege has ripped my heart out already i cannot handle angst rn xD hope that’s ok

again thanks so much for reading. i think some of you may know it was really hard for me to push through w writing bc of lots of reasons and stuff that was happening on my account, but all the lovely support n messages really motivated me to not give up on the chapter and i really appreciate that a lot!!

also i had fun dedicating the last chapter to someone, so i kinda wanted to do that again!! i have a lovely n sweet 🫶🏼 anon whose birthday was i think the week after i was supposed to initially post ch10, but unfortunately i didn’t get around to posting it in time even though i said it would be my early bday gift to them BAHAHAH so i wanted to dedicate this chapter to my darling 🫶🏼 anon <33 happy belated birthday my love!!

aaa i’ll hopefully see you in the next one!! :’’) love u all sm <3

- ellie 💕

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes: please do not ask me for updates (read rules); also, i have decided to officially close the taglist! i’m so sorry, but it’s getting a little too much for me to keep track of :’’) and apparently i have to manually input the tags as well as make separate posts to include everyone because of the tag limit, and it’s too stressful for me lol. i will continue to tag the people who i have been tagging so far (if you were tagged in this chapter or in my separate extended taglist post, i will continue to tag you in future chapters), but if you were not able to make the taglist, i do post on ao3 at the same time as tumblr, and ao3 has a subscription feature where you can get emails for updates! i think that would be helpful for anyone wanting to keep up w the story. sorry!!

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @getitsatoru @gabriiiiiiii @kissofife @tiredflame132

[klysanderelias]

Y'know, there are a lot of things I appreciate about Tumblr but maybe one of my favorite things is that it's entirely possible to create and curate a social media experience that's radically different from basically every other website. Everyone* is so excited and pleased about Bridget Guilty Gear and I think it's hard to overstate how much control I have over the things I'm exposed to on this site.

I always think about my experience here compared to reddit where most of the communities I would consider engaging with generally have a not-insignificant amount of shithead nazis and bigots, and the only way I can really control what I'm exposed to is by completely abandoning a subreddit.

We talk a lot of shit about leftist infighting on this site, and I think it's still fair to complain about it, but to a certain extent it is in fact possible to build the 'leftist echo chamber' where the people you engage with generally share your beliefs and while they may challenge and offend you occasionally, it's usually by way of a minor infraction that feels larger because you've come to see them as, if not a friend, then at least as someone that you're safe around.

But at the end of the day, even the disagreements and infighting I'm exposed to here are relatively minor in comparison because I can just delete someone out of my life forever if it comes to it. And like, I follow people whose politics I disagree with to a certain extent because I think it's valuable to have viewpoints that challenge mine, but here it's like, MLs and demsocs, as opposed to on reddit where you'll literally see deus vult shit.

Anyway, I'm just saying, I wish I cared about fighting games because guilty gear always looks so fucking good, and Bridget Guilty Gear is adorable, and I appreciate being able to inhabit a space that genuinely is positive and uplifting.

[ninebluehearts]

hi! hope you're doing well. if its okay I'd like I'd like to request something where the reader is a student in jonathan levys class and he convinces them to not drop out please, can be platonic or romantic. thank you :))

Hello! I'm doing well, thank you for asking! How are you doing? 💕

Warnings: Hurt/comfort

There was something about this semester that was just rubbing you the wrong way. The first semester was easy; you loved all of your classes, you were getting decent sleep, everything seemed like a movie. But after the holidays and everything being so cold and dark, you just couldn't seem to fall back into your old routine.

Your therapist mentioned something about seasonal depression, but you barely even remember that session; you just couldn't seem to focus as well as you used to. Therefore making your grades suffer.. Even the Dean pulled you into her office and asked if everything was alright, mentioning how you were once a 'A+ average' and now it was rare for you to even get a 'B.'

You were sitting in the back of your philosophy class and though your eyes were fixed on the board, you couldn't seem to pay attention to any of the writing on it. This was especially unusual for you since this was your favorite class. Jonathan Levy's class.

Though it was forbidden, you couldn't help but at least day dream about the man. Could anyone really blame you? The way he adjusted his glasses whenever he was stressed, how he always licked his fingers before plucking your paper out of the stack of assignments and handing it to you, or especially how he always wore the most flattering outfits..

He was truly a sight for sore eyes.

And that was another reason you wanted to drop out. He already has an ex-wife and a kid and he was twice your age. There's no way you could keep coming to his class and pretending there wasn't any tension between the two of you. And that was what made things ten times harder; You knew he liked you back.

"Alright guys, that wraps up our unit on the history of modern philosophy. Make sure you review the unit's key points and study them well, because we have the unit test tomorrow." Jonathan put his hands up and sighed, listening to the chorus of groans filling his classroom.

You used to be annoyed when people would do that, but now you couldn't help but drop your hand into your hands and join them.

Jonathan handed out worksheets to all of the passing students. "You guys have got this. You've been working hard these past few weeks." But when he got to you, his smile dwindled. "Miss l/n, could you actually stay behind for a moment? I'd like to have a word with you."

You simply nodded, walking over to sit on top of one of the tables in the front of the classroom.

Once the last student walked out, Jonathan shut the door behind them, then made his way over to you. "So.." He began, leaning against the table, standing right next to you. "How are you doing?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "You?"

"I'm alright, thank you for asking. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about your last paper.." Jonathan adjusted his glasses before pulling a printed copy of your latest essay out from behind your assigned homework. "It's not bad. I'll start with that. You have the right idea, I just think that you could do a better job of conveying your ideas through your writing, ya know?"

"Mhm.." You hummed, not trusting your voice at the movement. It was getting hard trying to swallow around the lump of emotions in your throat. You really did try on that paper, but you will admit, it was rushed.

"I can even help you work on this and homework, if you'd like? I just don't want to test you on something you don't fully understand." Jonathan had set the papers down next to you, now standing up straight with his arms crossed, giving you his full attention.

Now's the time. You thought to yourself. But god, you really didn't want to disappoint him.

You cleared your throat, pushing yourself off of the table to stand face to face with him. "While that is very appreciated, Mr. Levy, it will not be necessary.. Considering that I will not be moving onto the next unit. Thank you for your time." You tried to grab the papers from the table, but Jonathan put his hand down on them, pausing your movements.

"What do you mean? Of course you're moving onto the next unit. You just need-"

"I don't think you understand, Mr. Levy-"

"Please, Jonathan." He said, then gestured for you to continue.

You breathed out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. "Right, Jonathan.. I don't think this whole college thing is for me. I'm gonna go home and focus on myself for while.. Maybe I'll come back in a year or two."

Jonathan stared at you for a long time, his eyes fixed on yours even if you wouldn't even look at his. "No."

"No?"

"No." Jonathan said simply, shrugging his shoulders before removing his glasses to clean the frames on his wool sweater. "I can't just let you quit. You'd never forgive yourself and quite frankly, I wouldn't either."

The tears you'd been holding back finally fell, making you turn your entire body away from him. "I've already made up my mind. I can't do this anymore." You bit down on your lower lip, trying to quiet your sobs.

Jonathan grabbed a tissue off of his desk then hooked his fingers under your chin, guiding your face up to meet his. "Hey." He mumbled, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his sweater. "It's gonna be okay. I don't want you to just give up. Let me help you." He held the tissue up to you, a small smile growing across his lips.

You knew what the tissue symbolized.

If you took it, you'd agree to stay. But if not.. Well, you honestly couldn't imagine a world without him in it. So, you took the tissue from him and blew your nose, shaking your head as you tossed the tissue into the trashcan. "I don't know if I can do it.." You mumbled, your eyes fixed on your shoes.

"Hey, come here." Jonathan wrapped his arms around your upper back, laying his head on top of yours. "I've got you."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried in his chest as you finally allowed your sobs to escape. "Thank you." You whispered, only hugging him tighter.

Jonathan nodded, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. The next few months were gonna be rough, but Jonathan would be damned if he was gonna let you get through them alone.

[i-stand-with-survivors]

Just a friendly reminder that Amber is a borderline. Boderlines are deeply manipulative and sadistic individuals. They lie for attention because they pretty on people's sympathy. In a sense, they're basically psychopaths. Don't let tiktok and mental health twitter tell you otherwise. These individuals are dangerous and should be avoided at all costs

Yikes, the ableism really jumped out here.

Luckily I do not get my information on mental health from social media. I prefer to get it from peer-reviewed research articles and other reputable scientific sources when possible, such as this article describing the relationship between BPD and trauma and this article discussing that BPD is similar to PTSD in many ways (but can be distinguished). I also get my information from the DSM -- you can see the DSM-5 BPD criteria here -- which does not in fact list sadism, lying, or predatory behavior as symptoms.

Of course, all of that is pretending like I actually believe the diagnosis given by a woman hired by the opposing team, who potentially agreed to diagnose Amber before actually meeting her and had dinner and drinks with Depp and his team prior to the assessment, who did not administer a single assessment geared specifically at measuring personality disorders (MMPI can be used in this way but that's not what it was designed for), who was hired as an "expert" witness despite having zero experience testifying in IPV trials and not being board certified, who diagnosed two highly controversial and lifelong disorders after meeting Amber only twice, who appears to have a strong bias that people commonly fake PTSD and used an interview-based PTSD assessment which is thus at risk of clinician bias, who never gives a single example of a statement Amber herself specifically made that backs up her conclusions , who ignored every single reported instance of abuse shared by Amber's previous providers because "therapists have to take clients at their word," and whose conclusions very conveniently are "coincidentally" exactly what team Depp hoped she would conclude.

Obviously, I call bullshit on the above. But the issue of ableism is broader than whether Amber herself has BPD.

People with BPD can be abused. In fact, some studies have found they are at higher risk of being abused compared to people without BPD. Yet because of stigma, the diagnosis is often used to discredit survivors who speak out, as though the two were mutually exclusive.

And nobody deserves to be demonized because of a health condition.

BPD is extremely stigmatized. Perpetuating that stigma doesn't help anybody, yet harms many.

And again, BPD is often a reaction to trauma, especially early interpersonal trauma. Many of its symptoms make sense within that lens. For example, of course it's going to be hard to trust people if you were abused as a young child by people you should have been able to trust; and difficulties with emotional regulation are very common after childhood abuse and neglect, as the safe co-regulation parents typically provide is usually missing in such situations.

[mypoisonedvine]

Getting In Tune | Chris Evans x reader fluff

summary: taking house calls as a piano tuner doesn’t usually mean meeting hot guys… mostly just old ladies who offer you lemonade, which is great and all, but did not prepare you for an appointment to tune chris evans’ full grand.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, dirty jokes about pianos, allusions to nsfw things?? vaguely?, mostly just fluff and flirting and awkwardness

Checking that the address on your worksheet matched the one on the door in front of you, you reviewed the nature of the appointment as your boss had written out for you: 

Customer: Christopher Evans

Appointment type: Warranty tuning and check-up

Arrival time: 10 a.m. 

You checked your watch and saw that it was 9:58, but hopefully that wouldn’t bother him too much.  Leaning forward, you knocked on the door and waited.  You could hear a dog barking inside, running up to the other side of the door as someone unlocked the bolt and cracked it open, poking his head out while he held the dog back with his leg.

He seemed a little surprised to see you standing there, made even more apparent by the fact that he was obviously wearing pajamas— specifically, a baggy tank top and gingham flannel pants.  A few tattoos were visible on his arms and collarbones, though you tried not to stare at them or anything.

“Did you not know you had an appointment today?” you asked him.  When he didn’t answer, you tried to give a bit more of a prompting.  “I’m here from Boston Steinway…?”

“Right, right,” he agreed, “uh, let me put the dog out, and… put on a shirt…”

“Good idea,” you suggested, “I’ll be here!” 

He smiled at you one more time before shutting the door again, his footsteps shuffling away as you waited for his return.  Thankfully it was a nice day out so you weren’t too cold in your work uniform (yes, you felt like a total dork having to wear a polo with a nametag on it, but such is the life of a piano tuner).  When you heard the dog run into the backyard, and the sound of Chris coming back to open the door, you took a moment to straighten yourself in hopes of looking like you’d been waiting patiently.

“Come in please,” he offered as he opened the door one more time, wearing a navy sweater and jeans now (and a NASA ball cap, for whatever reason) and stepping aside to invite you in.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” you smiled as you stepped past him, letting him shut the door behind you, “a lot of people forget when I’m supposed to show up, trust me.”  You shuddered as you remembered those times you caught people in a lot worse than pajamas.

“No, I knew somebody was coming today, I just… wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

“A girl?” you finished for him with a smirk.

“I… yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting a girl,” he laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well, piano tuning is a real boy's club," you joked.  

"Is it?" he asked sincerely.

"Um, no, not particularly."

"Oh."

After an awkward moment passed while you cringed internally at your failed joke, he finally guided you across the house to where the piano was; you set your toolbag down beside it, stepping back to admire the instrument.  “It’s gorgeous,” you told him.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled a little.  “Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“How long have you been playing?” you asked.  “Or are you one of those people who keeps it mostly for decoration.”

“Decoration?” he repeated incredulously.  “Do people do that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “more often than not I end up doing cosmetic repairs instead of internal ones because families are basically using this as the most expensive object possible to put framed family photos on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, “I mean, I’m sure I’m not using this thing the way it deserves, cause I’m still not very good at it but… yeah, at least I play it a few times a week.”

“Good, it deserves that,” you agreed.  “Mind if I…?”

“Oh, go ahead,” he prompted, stepping back and motioning for you to touch the piano.  You didn’t sit down, just leaning over to do a quick scale up and back down.  "Anyways, I think it's mostly fine but those higher notes are getting kinda squeaky…" he mumbled.

"Right,” you noted, messing around with the keys near the top to check what he’d said, “well, they do that, especially out here with these cold winters making the strings tighten up.  Should be fixable."

“Great,” he smiled.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s take a look at your guts,” you grinned, groaning a bit as you lifted the heavy lid to see the strings inside.  "It's in great shape,” you observed aloud, “this can't be more than a few years old."

"Yeah, I got it pretty recently actually.  It's never been tuned before."

"Oh, this is its first time?" you smirked, leaning in to whisper to the strings: "don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He blushed a little as he laughed, making you pretty sure your joke hadn't gone too far.

“You, uh, don’t have to be around for this part,” you informed him.  “I mean, unless you want to, but it’ll just be me messing around in here for a few hours.

“No, I’ll give you some space,” he decided, “just let me know if you need anything.  Do you want, like, water or something?”

“I’m fine, but thanks,” you dismissed, “just continue as if I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna see that,” he disagreed, looking like he regretted saying it as soon as he finished his sentence.  You felt your face warm and hoped he just meant that he’d be eating cheetos out of the bag in his underwear and not anything more… mature.  

As he awkwardly shuffled away, you opened your toolbox and got to work.  Your first task was to get a pitch reader so you could figure out how well-tuned each string was— you set that on the soundboard and got to work testing keys and reading the little digital display of your device.  Once that told you how much work each key needed, it was easy to just put your tuning hammer on one pin at a time, loosening or tightening until the pitch was just right.  You couldn’t just start at one side and tune all the way up to the other, oh no, there was a very specific ideal tuning order that you’d memorized by now: first the middle strings of the octaves from C3 to C5, then the one of each of the unison strings in the double bass section, then the middle strings from C5 to C8, then the lower single bass strings, then every left string of all the unisons from C3 to C8, then the rest of the double bass section, and finally all the right strings from C3 to C8.

Easy peasy, right?

It actually sort of would be, if you hadn’t gotten stuck on the unison bass string of E flat 3, your tuning hammer suddenly unable to turn even when you tried to brace yourself against the piano for some leverage.

"Um, Mr. Evans?" you called out.

"Yup!" he answered, swinging out from the entryway instantly— he must have been waiting just outside, which made you feel a little like you were being spied on.  

"Would you maybe come over here and use your manly-man strength on this?"

"My what now?" he laughed, walking towards you.

"You know," you explained by flexing your biceps and making a sort of serious face; your charades version of what a muscular man looked like, apparently.

"Oh, I see," he nodded, "my—" and he repeated the charade, except it made your face warm and your eyes all but bulge out of your head.  That was him jokingly flexing?!  What did he look like when he was actually trying to show his muscles?

You tore yourself from that train of thought as he leaned over the edge of the piano, gripping the tuning hammer you'd left on the pin there.

"This one?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give it a little nudge counter-clockwise, please."

He did it like it was no trouble at all.

"You could've at least pretended it was difficult," you rolled your eyes.

"No, you loosened it up for me," he winked.  WINKED.  Was he trying to kill you or something?  "Chris is fine," he said abruptly.

Chris is fine indeed, your brain supplied instantly.  "I'm sorry?" you choked out aloud instead.

"You can call me Chris, I mean," he explained.  "You called me Mr. Evans before."

"Oh, right," you nodded.  "Chris.  Thanks for your help with that, Chris."

"Sure thing," he smiled.

Just as the conversation began to lull, you could hear the dog whining and scratching at the back door, and you felt so guilty that he had been left outside.  “You can let the dog back in, you know,” you suggested, “I don’t mind.”

“I shouldn’t,” he shook his head, “he’ll jump all over you and stuff…”

“No, really, it’s fine, I love dogs,” you assured him.

“Alright, just prepare yourself,” he chuckled a little as he slipped over to the back door to let the dog in.  Running past his owner instantly and straight to you, you knelt down to let it lick your face as you laughed.

“Hi puppy!” you greeted.  “Oh, thank you for the kisses, it’s nice to meet you!”  He calmed down a bit when you scratched behind his ears, wiggling and putting his paws up on your knees.  “What’s his name?” you asked, turning your attention to Chris who had his arms crossed and a prideful smile on his face.

“Dodger,” he informed you with a nod.

“Aw, hi Dodger,” you cooed at the pup, “I’d sit here and pet you all day, but your dad’s not paying me to play with you— apparently.”

Chris laughed a bit as you stood up, and Dodger actually took it pretty well, dashing to curl up on the nearest couch as you got back to work on the piano.  

“I’m just about halfway done,” you informed him as you started to move on to the next string, occasionally plucking the string to test that the pitch was right.

“I’ve never heard a piano plucked before,” he observed, leaning in to watch you work.

“Yeah, probably better to just stick to hitting the keys,” you smirked.

“Psh, anybody can do that,” he scoffed, “you could invent a whole new genre of music!”

"I'll leave the musical experimentation to you," you decided, "and I'll stay on this side of the action board."

"See, I didn't even know that was a part of the piano," he admitted.

"And that's why you're on that side."

You two chatted while you worked— he asked some questions about you, you asked some questions about him, classic small talk sort of stuff.  He managed to keep it interesting, though, and keep you laughing throughout the whole conversation.  It was significantly more fun than you usually had during house calls like this, and instead of distracting you it actually seemed to help you keep your focus.  It was easier to talk to him when you could keep your eyes on the strings anyways: looking right at him was sort of overwhelming.

With the last string adjusted, you slipped the tuning hammer into your back pocket and dusted off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work.

"That's it?" he asked as he stood up from the couch, noticing the signs of completion.

"It is if it sounds good!" you smiled.  "Go ahead, take it for a spin," you suggested.  "Play something and tell me if it sounds how you want."

"Okay," he nodded, slipping around the bench and sliding onto it.  He took a breath before he placed his hands on the keys, but then suddenly stopped and set them back on his lap with a sigh as he turned to you.  "Um, it's a little weird with you watching me."

"Oh, are you not used to performance?"

"Not outside of my family and friends and stuff, no."

"I don't really have to be here for this part, as long as you're happy with it then that's fine," you shrugged, "but you know, I wanna be able to fix any issues while I'm still here—"

"No, it’s not a big deal," he shook his head quickly, "I should get over myself.  I guess it's just scary cause you've probably heard people a lot better than me play…"

"Don't worry about that," you laughed, "just play something, really, I won't judge."

He spun back to face the keys, placing his hands on them— for a second you wondered if he struggled to hit just one key at a time with those thick fingers, but you pushed that thought away quickly.

As he started to play, you found yourself focusing on the music more than the sound of the keys like you should've been.  He was good, actually, although you could hear the hesitance in the way he played.  He didn't rush as much as most people did, though; he was savoring the piece, one note at a time, and you let your eyes fall shut as he continued to play.

You broke from your trance when he suddenly stopped, repeating the phrase he'd just finished and stopping on the same note.

"Does this one sound kinda… off to you?" he asked.

"Um," you paused, "play it again?"

He poked the key with one finger a few times, and you frowned.  "I can't really tell." You stepped forward and leaned over his shoulder, caging his body in accidentally as your arms wrapped around his shoulders to fiddle with the keys in front of him.  You rested your knee on the bench beside his legs, not even realizing that it was a massive invasion of his personal space until you were already in it.

He moved his hands out of the way so you could repeat the phrase, and although you didn't hear anything wrong, you felt the key sticking.

"Oh," you mumbled to yourself, "it's the key, not the string."

"Can you fix it?" he asked looking up at you.

"Yeah, I—" you stopped in the middle of your word as you looked back at him because his face was really close, so close that his bright blue eyes were burning right through you; so close that you completely lost your train of thought.  "I can fix anything," you finished softly.

"Great," he whispered back, eyes seeming to glance down to your lips quickly before moving back up to meet your gaze.

You cleared your throat as you stepped back, giving him space again as you nervously crossed your arms.  "It's probably just something stuck under there or whatever, but I can order a replacement key if not."

"Right," he agreed with a nod, sliding to the side of the bench to give you room to fiddle with it.  You grabbed your smaller toolkit and sat beside him, starting with your flashlight to see if there was anything hiding underneath there.

Moving to peer behind the action frame, you realized it was a problem with the hammer hitting the string— or, more specifically, with the mechanism that kept the hammer balanced.  All you had to do was reach in with a long screwdriver and shift some parts around, and it seemed to be back in working order.

“Play it again?” you requested, and he slid back to the middle and started the piece over.  He grinned when he reached the part he’d stopped at before, flying through the phrase without stopping.

“Hey!  You fixed it!” he beamed.

“I’m a genius,” you shrugged, smirking a little.  He stopped playing and you found yourself a little disappointed by that, unexpectedly.  “Any other musical ailments I can magically cure for you today?”

“Unless you can make me a better sight reader, that’ll be all,” he smiled, standing up from the bench.

“Ah, if I could do that, I’d be using that power on myself.”

He shrugged; "Fair enough."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," you announced as you put the last of your tools away and picked up your bag.  "Hope I didn't disrupt your day too much."

"You did, actually— in a good way," he grinned.  "I definitely learned a lot more than I was going to just watching TV and drinking beer."

You followed him back to the front door, which he opened for you.  "You can always give us a call if you need anything.  Um, anything piano-related, that is.  Tell the dog I said goodbye, okay?"

Chris smiled a little, softer than his normal expression.  "I'll be sure he gets the message."

As you got back in your car, you took a minute to just catch your breath for the first time since you'd gotten here.  Trying to be funny and cute and charming when all you wanna do is stutter and gawk and melt is exhausting!  As enjoyable as it was, in a certain sense, you were relieved at the idea of returning to your routine— which typically did not include super hot dudes chatting you up at work.

//

“This must be a mistake,” you shook your head as you showed the work order form to your boss, “I was at this address two weeks ago, the piano’s in perfect condition.”

“Well, he has an unlimited warranty, so either something happened since you were there last, or you fucked something up when you were there last, or he’s just determined to get his money’s worth out of us,” she explained without looking up from her computer.

You sighed and left, heading back to the same address and hoping you weren’t about to get chewed out for somehow ruining Chris’ like-new piano.

Knocking on the door, you found yourself chewing your lip as you waited for him to answer the door.  You were a little surprised when he answered in a button-up and slacks— entirely opposite to pajamas, although you sort of missed that get-up if you were being honest.

“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, stepping back to motion for you to come inside.

“Hi,” you responded awkwardly as you stepped past him.  “Is... everything alright with the piano?  I didn’t damage it, did I?”

He cleared his throat as he shut the door behind you, the size of the hallway forcing the two of you to stand slightly closer together than you would’ve personally preferred; it was hard to focus with him so close, sometimes.  “No, no, it’s not that,” he answered, “the piano’s fine, I just…” he stammered a little, starting over.  “Uh, there was something I wanted to ask you about last time, and I called the Steinway store but I couldn’t figure out how to call you specifically, so I just had to make a new tuning appointment.”

You furrowed your brow with confusion, not sure why someone else on the phone couldn’t answer whatever question he had, but decided to let him go through with his thought.  “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh, I just wanted to ask you… out,” he finished plainly.

You paused as you processed that.  “Out?”

“Like, I was wondering if you’d wanna… go out, with me.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away all of your shock, but at the same time, you figured it probably did.

He winced as you continued to stare at him in silence.  “I’m kind of out on a limb here,” he reminded you.

“Right, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “um, I guess I’m just sort of surprised because you’re, like… hot, and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Yeah, like… nice…” you explained.

“Hot and nice?” he laughed.  “Slow down, you’ll give me an ego.”

You laughed, too, and less nervously than you expected.  Feeling the rare urge to be spontaneous, you scratched your neck as you prepared to propose an idea.  “Listen, so, this might be crazy but... I have another appointment today, at the Symphony Hall— it’s a final tune-up on the pianos and harps before this massive concerto thing and they always let me stay to watch the performance afterwards.  If you came with me, I could get you in for free.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you probably have better things to do today—”

“I don’t,” he refuted.

“And if you just wanted to, like, get lunch some time then that would be great, I just thought I might as well invite you to hear the chamber orchestra from the best seat in the house,” you shrugged.

“The best seat?” he questioned incredulously.  “And where is that?”

“The rafters,” you laughed.

And that was how you and Chris ended up sitting on the steel catwalk suspended on the ceiling of the Boston Symphony Hall, dangling your feet over the edge as the sounds of the concerto echoed out from the stage, over the silent audience and, finally, up to you two.

The music was incredible, if a little quiet from where you were listening, and so soothing that you felt compelled to close your eyes and focus on the sound.  You were partial to the piano, as always, but the violins and cellos in harmony made your chest warm unexpectedly.  Or maybe that was from the feeling of Chris’ gaze on you, as you opened your eyes to find him looking at your face rather than the performance below.  

“What are you looking at me for?” you asked him with a nervous laugh.

“For fun,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem very exciting,” you scoffed, looking back to the stage.

“Oh, it’s exciting,” he mumbled his reply as he returned his gaze to the performance as well.  

Your cheeks burned when you heard that, in spite of the fact that it was actually a bit drafty in the auditorium.  Even though your nerves were buzzing with anxiety, a rush of bravery struck you and suddenly you were leaning your head onto his shoulder.  Just the warmth of him through his shirt— hell, even the smell of his cologne— somehow managed to relax you and energize you simultaneously.  His hand gingerly slipping around your waist was even better.

After this many years of tuning pianos, it felt like you were getting yourself in tune for the first time.

[lokitvsource]

You came into the show with the idea of Loki clashing with the TVA already in place. How exactly does this kind of arrangement work at Marvel? Michael Waldron: There was a creative brief that was 20 pages or so that basically said: “We want to do something about Loki running up against the TVA. Here’s some different avenues that might be cool to explore.” It was really serving it up for writers as a jumping off point for us to put together our pitches. Then I went off and really worked on the idea of Loki being brought in to hunt another Loki, and that becoming the heart of the show, and the Loki/Sylvie relationship. The big thing that I did in my pitch — even as early as pitching it to Kevin [Feige] — I really walked through the six episodes, kind of similar to what they were. I knew I wanted Episode 3, for instance, to be a little bit of a Before Sunrise, with Loki and this character walking across this apocalyptic moon. But Marvel had the initial, probably the most important spark of genius, which was just Loki and the TVA.

Where did the idea of the variant being a female Loki come from? That was one of my ideas, that we then confirmed in the writers room. Yeah, we knew from the get-go that it was going to be Loki falling for another version of himself.

Why was that appealing to you? I love writing any romance; it’s fun. Especially, it hasn’t been done a ton in the MCU. There’s an obviously self-reflective quality to it. And a show that’s quite literally about self-love; it is Loki getting to see parts of himself. At the start of the show, he kind of hates himself. He assesses himself to Mobius as a villain. And then he meets Sylvie, and he sees her as someone on a heroic crusade. He sees the good in her, and is able to see the good in himself.

Mobius suggests that, of course, Loki fell in love with his own variant, because he’s a narcissist. Do you think he’d be capable of falling in love with someone who is not a version of himself? [Laughs] I don’t know if he didn’t fall in love with himself first. Maybe after that, but the first time he falls, maybe this is what it had to be.

What’s the key to telling a time travel story that takes advantage of the concept without confusing the audience? I think it’s doing a lot of work that the audience never sees. It’s really understanding the logic of this thing, building out the TVA as a real organization that actually exists in our minds. Our writers room, we had a TVA handbook, encyclopedia, what they do and why they do it, a glossary of terms. And then you want to only give the audience the absolute bare minimum to understand the story, and to just get swept up in the emotional stakes of everything. If the sci-fi of it all, if the time travel logic of this show did not hold up week to week, then that would have distracted from the emotional journeys of the characters. So I’m glad that even though everyone had to take their medicine a little bit, along with Loki, in episode one, I’m glad it didn’t distract from the story we were telling. And we had the benefit of Loki being the audience’s eyes in. The audience is learning as he is.

There’s a funny scene in Avengers: Endgame where the Avengers start arguing about exactly how time travel works in the MCU. How much did you have to study what other Marvel movies had done with the idea to make sure your rules were consistent? Fortunately, Endgame was the main one, and that’s how they understand it. The TVA is an organization that understands time travel on a deeper level, probably more comprehensively than the Avengers do in Endgame. We wanted to make sure we were staying true to any rules that they laid out, but sort of establishing our own rules. It’s a time travel show. What was I thinking? A movie’s one thing, but a show is hard.

How many Loki variants did you have on the writers room whiteboard at various points? Hundreds. So many different Lokis. There was one Loki, actually maybe it was a version of Mobius that took off his glasses, and he just had really tiny eagle eyes, like he could see everything. There was stuff like that all over the white board. Tom Kauffman, who wrote that fifth episode, he’s an amazing comedy writer, and was on the first three seasons of Rick and Morty. His first draft of that episode was just bananas.

Was there a variant, or a crazy idea in general, that you really loved but couldn’t ultimately do? There was so much different stuff that we wanted to do in the Void. But the truth is, I don’t want to say any of it, because you never know. The ideas that I want to do the most may pop up elsewhere.

Okay, so let’s stick with a variant we did see. Was Alligator Loki actually a Loki, or just an alligator that happened to be wearing a Loki’s crown? A magician can’t reveal his tricks, man. That’s the great debate. Let it rage.

What was Alligator Loki‘s origin story on your side of things? Who pitched him and how was that initially received? That was maybe my very first meeting with the producers at Marvel, Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, talking about the show, and me saying, “When we’re doing this, you can encounter lots of different Lokis. You could have an alligator Loki. Why? Cause he’s green.” And us all laughing about how stupid that was. I think I made the point that it’s that energy of what we can do with the show. We can have something like that, but let’s play it straight. Alligator Loki, you get a laugh out of it, but by and large you try and play it straight. That was the fun tonal balance that we tried to strike in the show.

There’s been some conflicting information out there about whether the big bad was originally just going to be He Who Remains, who’s a different comics character altogether from Kang, and whether the casting of Jonathan Majors changed the plan. From your point of view, what happened? The character was always written as a version of Kang, as early as the first draft of the script, we knew in the writers room, relatively early on. He Who Remains, that’s the guy behind the curtain with the TVA, and we saw an opportunity to fuse that mythology with the Immortus mythology. And that was just really compelling. It was a way to elevate, it just felt right for Loki, because Loki was there in the first Avengers, he’s the one who brought the Avengers together, and here is directly related to the exploding of the multiverse, this event that will drive the events of Phase Four. Certainly, when Jonathan came in, it allowed us to step on the gas of just how eccentric and charismatic this character could be. I was inspired in the writing of He Who Remains by Tom Cruise’s character in Magnolia, trying to give it that Frank TJ Mackey energy a little bit. He captures that and then elevates it to something else that’s different and weird.

You just said how important the multiverse is going to be to Phase Four of the MCU. How challenging is it to have to set up this big thing for the larger Marvel endeavor while also serving the needs of the particular story you’re telling on this show? It’s a challenge in the sense that it’s all a relay race, and you’ve got the baton on this thing, and you want to do a great job. The name of the game over at Marvel is with each movie or TV show, make it the best it can possibly be. And they’re really supportive of that, and trust that it will organically fit into the larger blueprint of everything. We were excited about introducing a version of Kang, because yeah, to introduce this new big bad was cool for our show. I was aware, and cautious, of the thing I read in your review, that it might not be the most sound storytelling to introduce a new character at the very end that we’ve never seen before as the big bad of this thing. Obviously, we had the benefit that people know who Kang is, and there’s a meta thing where a portion of the audience knows Jonathan Majors is going to be playing Kang in Phase Four. But the finale was only ever going to work if He Who Remains, in a compelling way, serviced the Loki and Sylvie emotional story. That was the most important job that that character did in the finale: he laid out a very compelling conflict that ultimately drove the two of them apart.

There has also been some confusion as to exactly when you knew that there would be a second season, as opposed to you just making a limited series. Initially, in the writers room, we were not operating as though there would be a second season. And the whole way through was, this should be a story that should stand on its own. I referenced The Leftovers and Mad Men all the time. I think about those seasons, they pushed the overall stories forward, but you can pull any one of those seasons and look at it on its own as an individual story. I wanted that to be the case here, whether we did a second season or not. I think we always felt that we would want to propel Loki forward into the MCU after the conclusion of our season. The only question was, would that be in an appearance in a movie, or would that be in a second season. And it was only over the course of development that the stars aligned to make a second season.

But that end scene, where Mobius no longer recognizes Loki and the TVA is filled with Kang statues, wouldn’t have been a satisfying conclusion to a limited series. That is an ending that only works if there’s going to be a second season. So there is another conclusion to the story that I wrote that exists out there, that I guess is just for me. My own little play, that I perform with my action figures.

What was Sylvie’s original plan, before Loki hijacked her to that dying moon? It was to empty out the TVA. The entire bombing of the Sacred Timeline was to create a diversion. She’s not going to be able to create a multiverse from doing that. Ultimately, the TVA has the manpower to get out and take care of these events, but they’re going to have to scramble a lot of their minutemen teams, and it leaves the Time-Keepers significantly less guarded than they would have been otherwise. That was her plan.

You didn’t come into this as a big comic book nerd. So was there someone on staff who could tell you, “Well, there’s this giant cloud called Alioth that eats time,” or, “Well, one time Thanos had a helicopter,” or maybe someone assigned to you by Marvel? I’m constantly reading the comics but trying to not be so beholden to the and do our own thing. I charged our writers assistant, Ryan Kohler, with, “You’ve got to become the authority on all things TVA, all things Kang, and all that.” So he and my assistant, Sophie Miller, became a support staff who read a ton of these comics and became a wealth of knowledge for the writers to turn to. And then the Marvel producers, obviously are very well versed in the comics. It was Kevin Wright who came in one day and was like somebody throwing down a blueprint in an asteroid movie, going, “Alioth! Look at this!” And we were like, “Ohmigod, this is perfect!” The best thing about working on these comic book shows is that if it’s from the comics, it doesn’t matter how much of a deus ex machina it is, it’s just cool, like, “I can’t believe you pulled that from the comics.” Alioth, that was a big breakthrough that unlocked the last two episodes for us.

That is not a famous comic book that introduces Alioth. It’s an obscure Nineties miniseries, with really ugly art. But you look at it and see what it could be. You say, “If we do this, and it feels like Twister, it’s going to be really cool.”

Was Mobius’ love of jet skis there simply to illustrate his character, or did you have a grander idea in mind? I will come clean: I’m a jet ski guy. I’ve spent a good amount of time on jet skis in my day. I used to tow a jet ski to a lake and ride it in college. So it probably was me. Loki, I was just becoming a steward of that character. Mobius was a character I really felt I got to create from nothing. There’s not really anything to that character in the comics. So bits and pieces of me found their way in. I just think there’s something so poignant — here Mobius is, a guy who is literally fighting to preserve all of time in the multiverse, and yet his interests are maybe the most humble, human, terrestrial, unremarkable thing you can think of. Just a jet ski. And when you’ve got Owen Wilson playing him and it’s just that much better.

Will you be back in some capacity for Season Two? [long pause] Time will tell.

‘Loki’ Head Writer Michael Waldron — and ‘Rick and Morty’ Alum — on MCU, ‘Heels’ and More

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

I’ve seen this done before but here are my modern!rdr2 social media headcanons for the Van der Linde gang.

some of these are LONG and then some are shorter. doesn’t mean I love any of them any less however. I just did my best with all of them. 

* I treat the gang as family especially for my modern au 

Dutch

frequently uses Facebook and has dozens of friends he doesn’t even know. like if he gets a friend request he’ll accept it. John tells him he might as well just make his page public and Arthur pleads with him to make a facebook PAGE so that his random friends will stop liking posts that Arthur tags Dutch in. 

Dutch has no idea how to make a facebook page. 

he also has a Twitter and a massive following at that. He’s VERIFIED. 

all of his twitter posts are vague though

are they a joke? are they political? is it what he’s eating for lunch that day? literally no one knows.

Hosea

also has facebook but doesn’t use it because why does he need to look at pictures of events he was at. he only uses it to see things he didn’t partake in

also has snapchat but just to keep up with the kids 

because life360 was too much to deal with for everyone

and snapchat is cool

also he can and will spam you with bitmojis 

Arthur

used to use facebook a lot but stopped because he was tired of his posts getting likes from people he didn’t know and friend requests from people Dutch was friends with. 

plEASE

he has a private facebook for a reason, he doesn’t want other people to know his business. 

he also has an instagram but anything he posts on facebook also goes on there. it’s not aesthetic or pretty or anything and he doesn’t even caption over half his pictures. 

he literally only uses social media so that his friends and family know he’s alive

has snapchat because of Hosea but barely knows how to use it 

doesn’t get why everyone wants to use snapchat when teXTING AND CALLING ARE RIGHT THERE

John

the question is what doesn’t he have.

john has been trying to make it big on social media since youtube came out.

his youtube used to have videos on it but he deleted them because they were cringy and arthur liked to send them to the group text. 

plays twitch games on the weekends and sometimes with Jack but he thinks most of the subscribers are there for his kid since most of his solo streams don’t do as well

has a twitter, doesn’t follow Dutch, literally envies that he’s verified. 

he’s tried everything but no matter what he does nothing pans out

uses tiktok to promote twitch streams

instagram feed is mostly selfies of him but 99.9% of the time he’s wearing sunglasses and the caption is some random quote 

also has facebook but only to appease Arthur and Dutch, he doesn’t even have a profile picture. Claims only boomers use it. 

an avid reddit user. if he’s got problems he’ll go to reddit. claims reddit saved his life. everyone’s tired of the story so they stopped asking. 

also uses snapchat more than he should and the only social platform he has more than 100 followers on. 

Charles

same as arthur and has both facebook and instagram and posts the same on both except his are pleasing to look at. 

they’re unintentionally aesthetic 

he uses a psd on all his pictures and won’t share what it is

has monthly life updates that start with some inspirational or deep quote and then text that pushes the instagram word limit

also has a deviantart , has shared psds there before , constantly tries to convince Arthur to get it. 

used to use tumblr but he forgot about it

Abigail

the definition of a facebook mom. 80% of her facebook posts are about Jack or parenting. 

Instagram is similar but also different, she’s actually a relatively successful influencer with over 1,000 followers. 

all of her friends and family (who have instagram) follow her

has snapchat solely for the cute bitmojis and to send John adorable snaps of Jack playing with all the fun filters. 

she also won’t take a selfie unless it’s with snapchat because she no longer trusts her own camera. 

also uses pinterest and has a collaborative board with all the ladies. 

but in general, on her own, she has too many boards. she uses pinterest for EVERYTHING 

Sadie

bold of you to assume she uses social media. 

she does just not a whole lot. 

checks it once in the morning and once at night. 

except pinterest because how dare Abigail get her into it. but even pinterest she only uses in downtime. 

has facebook and instagram but there’s maybe only five posts.

if anything she’ll post on her story

will only snap Abigail and Arthur otherwise she doesn’t use snapchat

all of the social apps are mostly offloaded on her phone anyways

if she needs to know anything she just checks the group text which she has on do not disturb because they text way too much. 

Molly

she’s verified on instagram 

it’s also the only social platform she’ll use, which frustrates Dutch because he wants to be friends with her on facebook

but she’s happy with just instagram 

she keeps it simple 

and the main theme to her posts are fun outfits in her ever expanding closet

the other posts are usually of plants that she’s managed to grow. she’s not the best at being a plant mom but she’s still a good one to the ones she’s managed to keep alive. 

the only thing she contributes to the pinterest board are her own pictures of her plants which are overly aesthetic. 

Karen

started out with a normal instagram account then made a spam account which she ended up using way more often.

all of her posts are extremely chaotic

and usually reposts from her snapchat

has a reddit just to troll John

reposted his cringy youtube videos to reddit and got hundreds of upvotes

if you wanna see the most raw and chaotic videos of Arthur and John then she’s the one to follow. 

also if you wanna see Abigail when she’s not all put together. 

is the reason there’s so many memes in the collaborative pinterest board

Mary-Beth

has a instagram but also has a second instagram for art and book reviews

or basically anything she’d post on her tumblr

which is her second most used social

also uses facebook but only because she is an admin for one of those multifandom blogs. 

also begs Arthur to get a deviantart. 

uses pinterest most but only second to Abigail

literally the queen of pinterest DIYs

Micah

has twitter

as far as anyone else knows that’s all he has

maybe he has snapchat?

maybe they saw him on snapmaps once? 

all he ever does with twitter though is retweet anything Dutch posts.

yet somehow he has so many followers. 

Lenny

anyone who has snapchat has streaks with Lenny

even Hosea who doesn’t understand why it’s a thing

he also posts a lot on facebook but it’s mostly travel or vacation photos everyone is just a tad jealous of. 

Lenny always seems to be busy but still has time for streaks with his friends. 

he’s also an up and coming youtube vlogger

Sean

also has reddit to troll john

but he also legitimately uses it too. 

he’s also really popular in the minecraft subreddit , don’t ask

also has twitch and also has way more subsribers than John

and a youtube which he’ll upload (overly edited) twitch streams to

everyone subscribes to him but they don’t tell John that.

also has a tiktok and is up to date on all the trends because of course he is

Kieran

got facebook when he was 10 and just never left.

literally doesn’t use any other social media

he’s not in the group text either so he has to facebook message Arthur to know what’s going on. 

but he shares a lot of memes and cute pictures of animals

he used to follow Dutch but unfriended him when he was the only thing he ever had on his activity feed. 

Susan

has facebook but claims she doesn’t have time to use it

Arthur knows this to not be true because she will like a lot of his posts. 

she’s also guilty of liking every single picture in one post or album. 

Arthur has also caught her looking at memes and using recipes she finds on there. 

also part of the pinterest board but never contributes. 

Trelawny

he has an account for everything

like

litereally

everything. 

even whatsapp and linked in and kik

even tinder

the only one anyone knows about are his facebook, twitter, and instagam

but there’s no posts on any of them except twitter

he’s also verified

but for unknown reasons

any posts on his facebook are ones he’s tagged in

he’s also in a lot of facebook groups

Strauss

runs a subreddit

a paid facebook admin of several pages

the only person who actually knows this is Dutch because Strauss has told him about it

he has no online presence whatsoever out side of those.

Javier

spotify king

has over 500,000 subscribers on youtube

uses instagram but as another platform for his music

edits his own album covers

top tier playlists too

Tilly

aesthetic queen

the most put together and pleasing to look at instagram feed next to Charles. 

uses pinterest a lot as inspiration and for making moodboards.

also uses tumblr to share moodboards

part of the sims global community facebook group

she keeps saying she’s going to start a youtube vlog but hasn’t yet

keeps trying to convince John to let her help him with his youtube.

she also uses twitch to play minecraft and sims

oh and she set up a minecraft server for everyone

Bill

facebook boomer

that’s it

I don’t know how else to put it

probably shares heavily republican posts

Swanson

didn’t use social media until tiktok.

he doesn’t do dances or anything but he does post weirdly obscure and chaotic videos that end up trending on more than one occasion

it’s usually drunk ramblings in his car that end up being hilarious

or videos of the others almost dying or ending up in the ER

Pearson

facebook boomer but make it cool.

also shares conservative posts but less offensive ones compared to Bill’s

likes almost every post any of his friends share

also comments on them too

Uncle

does he have social media? no one knows for sure. 

yet somehow he knows what’s going on

even if nobody can find any of his social accounts or have ever seen him using one before let alone doing anything on his phone other than playing cheesy mobile games.

[tlbodine]

The Great Content Warning Debate

Horror Twitter has been aflame for a few days now with heated discourse about trigger/content warnings, and I keep seeing the same arguments and questions and points come up repeatedly so I wanted to collect all of it into one place because I feel like discourse can only get so far if people keep reinventing the wheel -- so perhaps having the full discussion laid out in one place could be helpful.

Of course, the folks arguing probably won’t see this post, but perhaps there can be some benefit from talking about it anyway. This is intended to be more of an overview of arguments and counter-arguments, collected and displayed as impartially as possible, but of course my own opinions are going to leak in and color some of this. 

NOTE: This is written specifically from the perspective of the horror book community, a genre that traditionally is associated with troubling, transgressive, risk-taking and shocking works. There are discussions to be had for content labels on other types of fiction, but as I’m unfamiliar with the norms and expectations of, say, romance, I’m not going to wade too deeply into that here. 

So without further ado, the arguments and counter-arguments and discussion points that I keep seeing hashed and rehashed and circled around when the issue of trigger warnings comes up! 

If you’re sensitive, you shouldn’t be reading horror 

“Horror is supposed to be horrifying! It’s not fluffy bunnies and kittens! You’re supposed to be made uncomfortable!” 

There are a few problems with this: 

“Uncomfortable” is not the same as “Sent into a panic attack/flashback/relapse” (ie, triggered) 

People with PTSD and other issues can and do engage with horror all the time and often love the genre for entertainment or therapeutic purposes

Many people are fine with some types of content but not others; blood and guts won’t affect them the same as rape, or they’re fine with adults dying but can’t handle child death, and so on and so forth 

Knowing what you’re getting into can help you prepare/brace yourself so you’re not taken unaware; people with the right warnings can mentally prepare themselves and enjoy a book that they would not have been able to read if they were confronted with it unexpectedly

Trigger warnings are censorship 

Some folks have an implicit/kneejerk reaction that “trigger = bad thing” and respond to the request to put warnings on a book as a moral value judgment on the book’s contents. I can see why they might fear that, especially because at a glance it’s easy to conflate the groups asking for warnings with the groups who say things like “if your characters have underage sex then you the writer are literally a pedophile.” But by and large the folks asking for warnings do not seem to be asking for folks to stop writing certain difficult themes, only to provide a heads up for readers about the type of experience those readers can expect from the book. 

There is an argument to be made that warnings could affect the sales of a book, in much the same way that an NC-17 film doesn’t get the same distribution opportunities as an R-rated or PG-13 film, and that authors/publishers will make marketing decisions to include or exclude certain types of content in order to avoid this. 

Trigger warnings will spoil the book 

While some readers will benefit from content warnings, others might have their reading experience ruined by knowing about major twists. This seems especially relevant with a warning like “child death.” It’s very important that people who have, for example, recently lost a child not be unexpectedly re-traumatized by reading about a child dying without warning. But it’s also important that people who want to enjoy the full, shocking impact of such a scene have the opportunity to do so without having it dulled by forewarning. 

Any kind of warning system needs to be opt-in for a reader. Some suggestions include: 

Placing warnings at the end of a book, where readers can flip to that page to look (not helpful if you’re ordering online) 

Placing warnings on the author’s website, where readers can search (not helpful if you’re buying in person)

Given the limitations, a combination of those strategies seems to make sense. It may also be unfortunately true that someone looking for one type of warning (ie, rape) will have their experience ruined if they spoiler themselves for another warning (child death). This may be unavoidable collateral damage. 

Authors/Publishers should be responsible for putting warnings in their books

There seems to be some debate over whether the onus of responsibility for providing warnings rests on the author or the publisher. It should be acknowledged that authors may not always have the power to make this choice -- and if the presence or absence of warnings becomes a factor for judging the quality/moral fiber of authors, those authors could be punished by the reader community for a choice that was largely out of their hands (although, there’s still nothing keeping the author from hosting those warnings externally - how successfully that is implemented is another matter). 

Additionally, the demand for warnings will be placed more consistently on small presses simply because those presses are more likely to heed the request. This could create a double standard where readers might be more forgiving of large pub works that forego warnings because there’s no expectation that they would have implemented them anyway. On the other hand, this could be a way for indie publishers to differentiate themselves on the market and appeal more to certain subsets of readers. 

External groups or communities should be responsible for warnings

There’s a line of reasoning that an author or publisher may not be sensitive to the potentially triggering/damaging things in their work, and some kind of external governing body should manage this work instead. This does sound a lot more like the censorship argument that people are worried about. 

Wiki-style sites and places where people can freely tag books (such as Storygraph) also fit this bill to an extent. They would presumably have less power over the market than a ratings board like the MPAA, but could still exert influence over how a book is received. 

Demanding warnings will negatively impact marginalized authors 

We’re already seeing some evidence that BIPOC and LGBTQ authors are affected more by user-generated trigger warnings on sites like Storygraph, and that these warnings can be weaponized against marginalized authors. Much like review-bombing a book before it comes out can affect its launch, labeling a book with inaccurate trigger warnings could damage its sales. 

Similarly, lists of “safe” and “unsafe” authors have already begun to circulate among some groups, and there seems to be a disproportionate number of marginalized creators on that “unsafe” list -- at least according to the anecdotal reports I’ve seen. 

Historically, it is true that any attempts at censorship or content moderation will be more harshly applied to marginalized groups (see: film ratings for gay sex vs straight sex). 

It’s impossible to warn for everything

One hesitancy that some authors have with tagging their work is they’re not sure what to tag for. Triggers are highly personal, and there’s no way you can possibly guess what might upset a reader. 

Here’s a list of commonly agreed-upon things that might make sense to tag for in a given work: 

Violence/gore 

Suicide/self-harm

Rape/sexual assault

Domestic violence

Child death/endangerment

Animal death/abuse

Drug use/substance abuse 

Racism/slurs 

That said, it’s still difficult to account for context. At what stage do you warn for something? If a character is drinking a beer, do you need to tag for that? Do you distinguish between the tone things are written in, such as being played for laughs vs seriously? If the rape scene is written artistically/metaphorically, does the same warning apply as if it were described act-by-act in a clinical sense? What if your blanket list of warnings gives readers a false sense of what the book will be like -- is it actually helpful at all, or is it just posturing/virtue signaling to include warnings that won’t actually be effective?  

Some would argue that this is dramatically overthinking it, but this does seem to cause a great deal of distress to authors who want to do the right thing but worry about getting it wrong. An argument could be made that trying and failing might be worse than doing nothing, especially if your attempts get you labeled as a “trustworthy” or “safe” author only for that trust to be “betrayed” by a warning you used incorrectly. 

On the other hand, many would argue that we all “pretty much know” what needs to be warned for, and that warnings are intuitive. These granular questions could be viewed as a distraction from more common sense issues. 

Readers are responsible for managing their own safety

Ultimately, because it’s impossible for every potential trigger to be identified and warned for, readers will need to remain vigilant. Of course, there are already ways to identify the content of a book without any kind of established warning system -- such as, for example, reading posted book reviews, asking a question on a book’s Goodreads page, reaching out to the author directly, asking about the book in a reading group online or having a friend/parent/spouse/trusted person read the book first and report back with their findings. 

This is the system we’ve pretty much used as readers for years, before “trigger warning” became part of the common vernacular, and it does have some distinct advantages just because you can get a lot more specific information this way. 

It is possible that if warnings become more commonplace for books that readers may become less vigilant about their own safety, which could paradoxically put them at greater risk of finding troubling content unexpectedly. 

There’s also the issue of “safe” and “unsafe” author lists. At the moment, while the discourse is hot, it’s perhaps more natural to pick sides and disregard some authors for reasons that may be unfair -- for example, marking an author as unsafe or boycotting her work because she doesn’t want to include warnings, but she wants to avoid warnings because she strongly believes they will be detrimental to a reader’s safety. A reader may or may not agree with that perspective, but it’s certainly not the same motive as an author who would do something actively malicious to a reader (like, idk, emailing a screamer to a reviewer or something. that’s a made up example.) 

In the end, trigger warnings are a good idea, but the issue is complex to implement and some people do still have reservations about their overall efficacy. 

We simply won’t know one way or another until we try to implement it. But in the meantime, I do think it’s valuable to continue talking about this, as long as everyone involved remains civil and engages in good faith. Once people’s perspectives start getting thrown out the window in the heat of the moment, or strawmen arguments are erected that don’t reflect what anyone involved actually believes, the discussion ceases to be helpful. 

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 1

Behold, my attempt to rectify the appalling lack of into the mind fics in the BNHA fandom.  :P

AO3

FFN

.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He stood on top of the stairs to the beach, looking down on them.  With the sun rising behind them, his pupils were pinpoints, his irises shockingly bright. He wore a thin windbreaker over a t-shirt that read ‘tracksuit’ and a pair of sweatpants with his signature red shoes.  His expression was strangely flat and blank.  He had never looked at them like that before.

“Deku?” said Ochako, uncertainly, taking a step forward, her hand half raised, as though she could reach him despite being so far away.

The commission instructor flung out an arm, stopping her.  He was staring up at the boy, too, his eyes blown wide, lips pulled back with something like worry, something like fear, and something like avarice.  “Whatever that is,” he said, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.”

.

Aizawa reviewed the program the commission had sent to him, ignoring the gentle bumping of the bus and the barely controlled chaos of the students around him.  It looked fairly straightforward, all things considered.  The requirement was new, and Aizawa felt it was illogical to test students like this, when they could simply have the material added to the course load, but, overall, he’d seen worse.  

So why did this bother him so much?

He scanned the paperwork again.  He was going to be getting the same certification as his students, had arranged to be part of the same general ‘cohort’ even, because he didn’t trust them on their own.  At all. Ever.  

But that shouldn’t be an issue.  Even when they did get split up, they’d be going in groups of five and—

Ah.  There it was. Groups of five, with any odd numbers being used to fill out other groups who were undergoing testing on the same day, most of whom were adult heroes, if he recalled correctly.  

With the addition of Aizawa, there were twenty-one of them.

Calling on years of experience, Aizawa didn’t groan.  The thing was, Aizawa knew, even before arriving and having numbers and groups assigned, who the odd one out would be. There was only one student who could be so problematic without trying or indeed having any control over the variables that went into causing the problem.  

Midoriya.  

Aizawa almost suspected that Midoriya had some secret trouble-attracting quirk on top of the lightning-spitting bone-breaking insanity and the randomly appearing eldritch abomination tentacle things.  It would fit right in.  

Sadly, Midoriya’s ability to find trouble didn’t seem to go away when Aizawa stared at him, so he had to acknowledge that the kid was just that unlucky.  

If Aizawa let Midoriya go off to complete the course on his own, he would probably discover that, oh, pro hero Wash was laundering money from an overseas smuggling operation disguised as an environmental clean up charity.  Or, somehow, locate a villain, despite being at a secure hero commission building. Like he had during the provisional license exam.  Or break a bone.  Again. Or discover a previously unknown aspect of his quirk.  Again. Or get into a fight with Bakugo. Again.

No way.  Not if Aizawa had anything to say about it.  

.

Izuku bounced in place, excited.  He was attending a professional development course given by the Hero Standards and Practices Commission.  It was like a dream come true!  Literally!  He dreamed about this!  Of course, he’d had the dream when he was seven, and he’d just learned about the HSPC and what it did, and All Might had been the course teacher, which he wasn’t going to be for this course, and which was also a little redundant, because All Might (Mr. Yagi, Toshinori, Eight) was already his teacher, and the reason behind this course, and making everyone with any kind of hero license take it, was a bit disturbing, and he’d had to opt out of some of the course features, because reasons, but, regardless—

“Midoriya,” said Jiro, tapping on his shoulder, “they’re calling for you.”

“Oh!  Thanks!” said Izuku, nodding vigorously, and, man, he really had to cut his hair soon. It was getting long enough to fall in his eyes when he did that, and that would be distracting in the field. Good thing it wouldn’t matter for today!

They weren’t going to be doing anything physical, after all.

He walked up to the table, showed the person with the clip board his provisional license (he could still hardly believe he had it!  It was so cool!) and received a card with a number on it.  

“Pin that to your shirt,” said the man, hardly looking at him.  

At least, the man was trying to look like he was hardly looking at him.  Maybe he recognized him from the sports festival and didn’t want to make things awkward?  But it had been a while since the sports festival.  They tended to drain from common memory pretty quickly, and—

Oh, no, he’d been holding up the line.

He sketched a quick bow and ran over to where the rest of his classmates and teacher were waiting.  

“So,” said Aizawa, looking as exhausted as ever. There was a spark of something in the man’s eye, though.  Vigilance. Had he noticed something amiss? Should Izuku be on alert as well? “We have consecutive numbers, so most of us should be together in the same groups.  Problem child.”

Izuku jumped to attention.  “Yes, sir?”

… It was kind of sad that he answered to the name ‘problem child,’ wasn’t it?

(Was it sadder that he almost liked the nickname? It was nicer than what some of his other teachers had called him.  It didn’t have the same bite.)

“Trade numbers with Yaoyorozu.”

Izuku blinked and looked at Yaoyorozu in surprise.  “Um,” he said.  “Okay?”  He unpinned his card and held it out to his classmate.  

Yaoyorozu took it carefully, frowning at the number.  “Why are we doing this, sensei?” she asked.  

“Because knowing his luck, Midoriya is going to be the odd one out, and you’re the only one I trust not to kill someone or get kidnapped if you’re left on your own.”

Okay.  Harsh. But fair.  

“What about Iida?” asked Kaminari.  

“I know what I said.”

Harsher—Wait.  Aizawa knew about that?  Since when?!

“Didn’t she go off that one time, though?  At Kamino?”

Aizawa turned to stare at Mina, who held her hands up. “Forget I said anything, sensei!”

“No, no, you’re right.  Hagakure, you take Midoriya’s number.”

“Eh, me?” asked the invisible girl.  

“Yes,” said Aizawa.  

“Er, are you sure?  I don’t know if I could survive a Midoriya-level calamity!”

Izuku felt his jaw drop a little.  Was that what they were calling it now?  Rude.  

“The calamity won’t happen if he isn’t there,” reasoned Aizawa.  

Which.  Okay.  True.  But also, rude.  

Izuku wasn’t that bad, was he?

Izuku took Hagakure’s card.  The number put him between Uraraka and Aizawa, so he’d probably be with at least one of them.  On reflection, Yaoyorozu’s number had put him on the other side of Aizawa.  Which probably wasn’t a coincidence.  

The rest of the class got through registration shortly thereafter, with several of his classmates trying to trade their own numbers, only for Iida to scold them.  Which was typical, really.  It was almost calming, and Izuku needed calm after��� that.

Was his luck really that bad?

Now he was much more nervous than before.  Except, before he’d been excited, and, now, he was really—

Not.  

He fiddled with the sleeve of his uniform, trying not to pick at his scars or cross the line into overtly fidgeting and being distracting.  He wished he’d brought one of his grip strength training tools.  At least with those he could pretend their only purpose was working out, unlike his other fidget toys.  

Oh, gosh, was that pro hero Rosemary, the memory hero? And Strato!  The high altitude hero!

Wow, he’d been so worried he almost hadn’t noticed how many amazing heroes were here!  There were even some he didn’t know!

And then they were being called up, number by number.  

Hagakure, true to Aizawa’s prediction, was placed with a group of confused-looking strangers, including Rosemary.  Izuku was almost jealous.  He’d love to learn how her quirk worked.  

Actually…  All of the people in that group were heroes with mental quirks.  How interesting!  Izuku would have to ask Hagakure if they gave her any tips.  He was sure they’d have different insights than the other people in their class, especially considering the subject matter of the course.  

The subject matter being combating mental attacks.  

That’s why Izuku had to opt out of being a ‘subject’ for the course.  He didn’t entirely understand it, not yet, but One for All definitely had a mental aspect, and he didn’t know how or if that would show up in a simulated attack like the ones they’d be demonstrating.  It was better to play it safe.  His quirk was already weird enough as it was.  He still wasn’t sure how he’d manage to talk Aizawa and his classmates out of being suspicious after blackwhip came out.  Most of that day was a blur.  

Izuku suspected that things would not have been smoothed over nearly so easily if Nezu hadn’t known about One for All.  

He also wasn’t looking forward to the reaction when the other user’s quirks started coming out – Even if being able to use them was going to be really cool.  

Anyway, his own group had resolved itself to consist of Aizawa, Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki.  He was relieved.  Todoroki looked relieved, too.  That made sense.  With what Todoroki had told Izuku about his history, he wouldn’t want to be doing this with people he didn’t know, either.  

But Todoroki would have opted out, anyway, right?  Or did Endeavor not let him?  Honestly, that would be par for the course for Endeavor. Todoroki said he was getting better, but…  Izuku had doubts.  He liked to think that people could always be saved, even from themselves, that most villains could be reformed, even if the government didn’t think so, that people like Endeavor and Kacchan could see the error of their ways. But.  

But even though Kacchan was better than he was before didn’t mean that he didn’t still do things that Izuku… didn’t like.  

And he couldn’t imagine that Endeavor was changing faster than Kacchan.  

“Who will they have us do first, do you think?” asked Uraraka. “I mean, I know they’re going to go through all of us, but all of this is making me so nervous.  I have a lot of embarrassing memories, I mean, I’m sure everyone does, but, ugh, that didn’t come out right…”

“Well!” said Iida, energetically.  “If they let us volunteer, I shall go first!”

“What?” said Izuku, surprised.  “You didn’t opt out?”

“Opt out?” asked Uraraka.  “That was an option?”

“I mean, yes?” said Izuku.  “I mean, I had to file a bunch of paperwork and get Mom, All Might, and Principal Nezu to sign off on it, but, I mean, it’s an option for people who know secrets that shouldn’t be exposed.”  Like Iida.  What was he thinking?

“I… did not know that was an option,” said Iida, who had evidently now realized he was in deep, deep trouble.  

Izuku resolved to protect his friend’s secrets as best as he was able, even if it meant he didn’t get a good score in the training.  

“I didn’t think there was an opt-out option, either,” said Todoroki, frowning.  He reached towards his face but tugged on his hair instead of touching his scar.

Okay.  So.  “Am I- Am I the only one that asked?  L-like, it wasn’t easy, I had to get a bunch of signatures, but it was doable, I…”  He shrugged, helplessly.  

“I wasn’t informed there was an opt-out,” said Aizawa, grumpily and a little… suspiciously?

Izuku cringed.  He did not need his teacher to be suspicious of him.  He did not need people looking into his life.  Into his past.  Into his quirk.  

Maybe, if they couldn’t keep Iida’s and Todoroki’s secrets quiet, he could play his reluctance off as pertaining to those.  Even if the idea made him feel incredibly guilty and unworthy of his friends.  

He would just have to do his best to help them.  

Before any more conversations could be had, their group was called into one of the rooms.  A set of six cheap futons laid on the floor.  Monitoring equipment lined one of the walls.  Two commission personnel, a man and a woman, were waiting for them.

When the woman saw Izuku, she frowned and pulled her phone out of her pocket.  What was that about.

“Hi,” said the man, who had a rather hooked nose and very bright, almost glowing, yellow eyes.  “I’m Ito Kenzo, and I’ll be your instructor for today.  You can call me Ito-san.  This is Saito Yume, we’ll be using her quirk for today’s demonstration.”

The woman smiled brightly, putting away her phone quickly. “The way my quirk works is that I can put up to five people into a shared dream state modeled after a sixth person’s mind.  All six people lose consciousness when I use my quirk, and the perception of time in the dream state is usually altered, although by how much varies depending on the group.  The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.  However, I’ll be making the rounds once an hour to pull everyone out and let you move on to the next person in the group.”

“I’ll be joining the dream state with you, to help point out tactics,” said Ito.  “Although the person the dreamscape is modeled on won’t be completely aware of what’s going on, the goal is to familiarize you with what it feels like to have your minds invaded in a safe, secure environment.  Saito-san’s quirk is similar enough to that of several known villains to be a good example of what to expect.”  Ito paused.  “Any questions?”

Uraraka raised her hand.  “Who’s going first?” she asked.  

“Ah, that would be—” He broke off as Saito tugged on his sleeve and showed him her phone.  The man did a double take, then paled, slightly.  He glanced at Izuku.  “Er,” he said, “you’re not supposed to be in this group.”

“Yes, I-I am,” said Izuku.  “This is- This is my number?  It matches?”

Ito glanced at Saito.  Then his phone rang.  “Oops,” he said, looking at his phone.  “It looks like I’m in the wrong group.  You kids are supposed to have Suzuki-san, I was, was requested by another group, so sorry! He’ll be here in a minute!”  Ito retreated through the back door at high speed.  

Izuku swallowed.  Something was going on behind the scenes.  This wasn’t about the suspected traitor thing again, was it?  Izuku had thought, after the training camp, that it was pretty obvious it had to be a teacher…  And it couldn’t be Aizawa-sensei.  He’d almost been killed by the noumu.  

(Also, he was the best teacher Izuku had ever had.)

A new, much taller man walked through the door.  “Hello,” he said.  “I am Suzuki Takami.  I am your instructor.  Apologies for the mix up.”

“No worries!” said Saito.  “Everyone, go ahead, lie down, get comfortable.  Midoriya-san, you’re first!”

“What?” said Izuku.  “But, I, um, I opted out?  I filled in the paperwork and everything.  I got a signature from Abe-san, and Kondo-san, and, and—” He fumbled to pull out his paperwork.  He’d kept copies, just in case.

Saito and Suzuki didn’t so much as look at it.  

“This course doesn’t have an ‘opt-out,’” said Suzuki.

“Excuse me,” said Aizawa.  “He clearly has paperwork for an opt-out.  Maybe you were misinformed.  Like you were about the room.”

Suzuki shook his head.  “I don’t know who you talked to,” he said, “but they were either mistaken about what course you were referring to, or you misunderstood them.”

“But,” said Izuku.  

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “if you want to sit this out, it’s fine.  I can go with you, so you won’t be alone.  No one’s going to make you subject yourself to a quirk you aren’t comfortable with.”

“He can do that,” said Suzuki, “but he’ll lose his provisional license.  He’d have to go through recertification entirely.  When’s the next licensing exam?”

“Hold up,” said Aizawa, “you’re doing this course two more times, aren’t you?  I know I was given multiple options for getting this certification.”

“Sure,” said Saito, “but it’s still going to be my quirk.” She wrapped a strand of her hair around her finger, stressed.  

Izuku’s mind was racing.  He couldn’t lose his license.  He couldn’t lose his ability to help people.  He—What would All Might think?  He couldn’t—

“It-It’s-It’s fine, sen-sensei, I’m um.  It’s fine!  I’ll- I’d have to do this anyway, right? Mi-might as well get it over with, huh?”  He walked over to one of the futons, and set down his backpack, trying to hide his trembling hands.  “So, is-is there anything special or specific I have to do for your quirk to work?”

“Nope,” said Saito, cheerfully, “just lie down and close your eyes.  Come on, everyone lay down.”

Aizawa moved slowly, which was nothing short of shocking considering how eager he usually was to crawl into his sleeping bag.  He put the bag down on one of the futons.  “You’re sure there’s no way for Midoriya to opt out?”

“Positive.  We’re really sorry,” said Saito.  

“Illogical,” grumbled Aizawa.  He got into his sleeping bag nonetheless.  “You sure about this, problem child?”

“I-I’m sure, sensei!  Plus ultra, right?”  He laid down, trying to get comfortable, but the panic rising in his veins really didn’t allow for that.  He could, distantly feel One for All (and all it contained) pressing up against the back of his mind with something like concern.  He swallowed.  Don’t think about it.  

His classmates were, hesitantly, picking out their own spots. Iida looked like he wanted to say something.  Uraraka’s brow was furrowed, her lips pursed.  Todoroki was difficult to read, as always.  

Suzuki was already lying down, staring at the ceiling.

Izuku closed his eyes.  

“Alright!” said Saito.  “Here we go!”

.

Yume left the room with Midoriya Izuku in it, feeling just slightly dazed.  She paused for a moment in the back hallway.  She had dozens of other groups to set off, and she was running late after that little snafu.  

Midoriya Izuku was supposed to be in a group with Suzuki-san and four other specially picked professional heroes.  Heroes who would get to the bottom of why and how he had multiple quirks, who would find out who he really was, who would figure out how he was in contact with the League of Villains and why they decided to pick some random quirkless nobody—

Assuming that’s what Midoriya Izuku really was.  The initial investigation had uncovered some discrepancies in his family records.  

In any case, he was not supposed to be in a group with his little friends and overprotective teacher.  

Oh, well.  Except for Midoriya, they were all clean.  If they were really heroes, they’d do what was right.  

Yume pushed off the wall (when had she started leaning on it?) and stumbled.  Something bright and red caught on the periphery of her vision and she looked down.

Her nose was bleeding.

She licked her lips, tasting copper.  It shouldn’t be bleeding.  That only happened when she overused her quirk, when she tried to put too many people into one dreamscape or tried to combine two dreamscapes into one. She’d been pacing herself.  This shouldn’t be happening.  It shouldn’t be bleeding like this, like she had just put more than a dozen people under.

Suzuki Yume promptly passed out.  

.

“Wow,” said Uraraka, looking around in delight.  She was still worried about Deku.  He’d looked really bad right before Saito-san activated her quirk, and she and Suzuki-san had been acting kind of shady, but—

But—

This place was beautiful, and she couldn’t help but be a little in awe.  She’d kind of expected dreamscapes to be more… Mushy, maybe?  Darker?  Her dreams usually weren’t very clear (except for the nightmares, and those didn’t count).

But Deku’s dreamscape was as bright as he was: a beautiful beach and a cerulean ocean at sunrise.  Or was it sunset?  Either way, the sun hovered above the ocean, its light gleaming off the waves.  

“Wow,” said Todoroki, approaching the breakers on the beach.  He crouched, looking at the sand.  “It’s really…”  he poked the sand, “detailed.”

“As expected of Midoriya!” exclaimed Iida, waving his hands. “His attention to detail is unparalleled!”  

“Hm,” said Aizawa.  “Too bright…” He put on his goggles.  

“Excuse me,” said Suzuki.  “If I can have your attention, please.  I apologize for the deception, however—”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

Likes and Reviews are appreciated. (Reblogs too!)

I - Alex

The bright California sunshine striked across Alex's face as soon as he shifted his sleeping position. The newly assigned agent clicked his tongue and covered his face with his heavily tattooed arms, letting out a slight groan of frustration. His head was slightly pounding from a night of irresponsible drinking, courtesy of his new found friends. It was almost always customary for him to get to know some locals for information, especially in foreign territories, but last night's set of people was wilder than he'd imagined. Americans do have their own definition of fun.

He wasn't much of a heavy drinker, so he actually felt the nasty after effects of the alcohol or whatever they took last night, but none of such pain did he regret. After all, he did get a decent amount of information without raising suspicion.

Sprawled across his apartment wall are photos, articles and a handful of red yarn interlacing across pins of different colors. His own evidence board finally made sense because of last night's encounter. Reports of missing people that later came back disoriented and have no recollection of what happened started increasing day by day and it all started in this exact city.

Taking a fresh white shirt from his gym bag, Alex slipped it on and made his way to the evidence board staring at the piece of paper he had from last night and comparing it against what he had so far. A smirk strewn across his face as he pins it on the board.

"Gotcha." he muttered proudly, blindly dialing his immediate supervisor over the phone.

"This is Alex. Intel was off, they're after a different person. I'm sending it to you as we speak." he informed over the encrypted lines. He did this expertly, as if his whole life was like this, secret spy work and a whole lot of information gathering.

"This one? She seems ordinary, even her name brings out zero results." the voice replied over his phone.

"That's why it makes much more sense. She may be using an alias." Alex commented, standing up from his laptop, casually pacing back and forth as his free hand rests on his hips.

"Well, I trust you know what to do. If she's being targeted then it's either she's being protected-"

"-or a threat to the enemy." he cut off, completing the caller's thoughts.

"Keep us posted while we monitor the other missing person cases."

"Got it." he assured as the call ended, taking one quick glance at the image displayed on his screen.

Samantha Cooper, age 26, a graphic designer at a nearby local company. Alex took his time staring at her, clearly familiarizing her face as she will be the object of his eyes for this mission. He can't help but appreciate how cute she is, how her brunette curls perfectly fit her facial features. It would be such a shame if she's actually a threat and it would make him a believer of the phrase "looks can be deceiving". He quickly tapped on his burner phone arranging a meetup with a certain person from last night, a person whom he believed to lead him right into Samantha.

* * *

Strong gusts of salty seaside air blew across Alex, who sat on a park bench by the baywalk waiting patiently for his guide. He somehow wished he brought a cap, as the harsh rays of the sun kept his eyes squinted while looking at his phone.

"There you are!" a short blonde haired woman greeted the agent as he busily taps on his phone. Alex quickly recognized the person as Maxine, also known as Samantha's best friend and roommate, whom he met at the bar just last night.

She wore tattered jeans and a white shirt covered by a gray cardigan, a typical choice of clothing around these parts.

"Yep." Alex stood as he shakes her hand, quite an awkward gesture to say the least, but she immediately dismissed it with a friendly hug.

"Handshakes are for acquaintances, Alex. If you're friends with Samantha, we're friends." Maxine hugged him as Alex slowly pats her back, still baffled by the action she's done. But it was no time to dwell on those, so he silently cleared his throat and went on to business.

She's obviously alone, but that could also mean Samantha's just letting her go first for confirmation, so Alex took quick glances at visible corners for any sign of her.

"So, where's Samantha?" he finally asked, the question was quite demanding almost indicating urgency. Maxine seemed to catch this reaction from him and made Alex slightly worry about his cover.

"She's still at work, but I'll lead you to our apartment. It's just a few blocks from here..." she goes on about how she should also know Alex at some point if he's really here staying. It felt like she's starting to get cautious whether to let them meet.

"You say you're a friend from her hometown? Come to think of it, she never told me where she came from." She asked the agent as they walk across the block.

"Yeah, from Georgia." Alex replied confidently. Her information was very limited, and judging from it, Samantha may have been also living with a lie. A lie that kept Alex from wondering if she's s threat or she needs to be protected.

"Really? Doesn't strike you both as from there. Or maybe that's just me. What do I know about that place anyway? I haven't been there..." she chuckled and Alex slightly laughed. He was almost being suspicious, something that never usually happens when he's gathering intel.

"Yeah. Moved a lot growing up. Gotta follow where my Dad's job is." Alex commented, trying to support the lie he's built up. Funny how you have to lie to look for the truth, he thought as they pass by the busy streets across the beach.

"Oh, so you're that kind of kid growing up. That's probably why you easily got along with our group last night." she laughed and suddenly fished her phone from her pocket.

Raising a finger, she gestured to Alex that she had to take the call. Alex automatically nodded and she excused herself just by the alley. He couldn't help but be cautious around her, as she told earlier she was the target's roommate and if ever she's a threat, she's also on his watch list. But for now she's all he's got to bring him close to Samantha.

An embarrassed grimace formed on her lips as she approached Alex. The agent raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Sorry, Alex. My boss needs me to go earlier than usual. I'll just lead you to our apartment and I'll let you wait for her on the stairs. You wouldn't miss her if you still know what she looks like, right?" she stepped forward, leading him the way. Alex nodded in agreement and gave a soft "Yeah." as they made their way across two more blocks.

A tall three storey building, walled with dark orange bricks, with three flights of stone steps as entrance greeted Alex as Maxine stops walking.

"This is where we stop. And this is where you wait." She pointed at the stairs leading to the apartment doors.

"She'll be here in a few minutes. She told me she wants to go home immediately after work before she left. Good luck on your meet up, Alex!" She waved goodbye almost in a hurry and left before Alex could even open his mouth.

"Guess I'm on my own now." he muttered and sighed as he sat down on thr topmost slab, just beside the door. He found himself tapping his foot nervously, as if he's really out to meet her. A lie he made that felt so real, even he almost believed they're really hometown friends.

At that exact moment, he saw a foot step on the bottom slab and he immediately trailed his blue eyes across the person. Her floral dress sways to the breeze as a man on a skateboard passes by her. Then their eyes locked for just a second, her hazel eyes now embedded in his memory as she quickly turns back and ran away.

"Hey! Wait!" Alex immediately bolted and followed her.

II - Samantha

[bluerose5]

The Ghost of Paradise (Exile AU)

Chapter 2: By the Minute

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,796

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Scott Ryder, Reyes Vidal, Reyder, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exile, Flirting, Secrets, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, Rivalry, Engineer/Mechanic Scott Ryder, Jealousy

[Read it here as well on ao3.]

“Our agents say that you were speaking with Reyes Vidal at Kralla’s,” Nola said. She didn’t even give Scott a chance to breathe. The second he was through their gates —which were still a work in progress— Scott was ambushed. “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

Scott grinned at her.

“Why must I always have something planned?” Scott asked. “Reyes is a good friend. For all you know, we could have been catching up over drinks.”

“‘Could have’ doesn’t mean that you were.”

“Fair enough.”

As she fell into step at his side, Nola led him around while they spoke, appraising their growing community with pride.

“Scott, as governor of Paradise, should I not be made aware of any transactions that might affect us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Tell me what I need to know then. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As if he could refuse her insistent prodding. Every time he left, he always forgot how relentless she could be upon his return, but only when it pertained to matters that could have both predictable and unforeseen effects in their future.

In a way, Scott was grateful to have someone with that type of dedication on their side. They’re going to need it.

“I swear, it wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking,” Scott promised. “I gave him some seeds from our latest project in exchange for a long-ranged scanner modification. That’s it.”

“Hmm… A decent enough trade.”

“Glad to have your approval.”

Of course, it was too much to hope that she would leave it at that.

“What is it for?” Nola asked.

Scott knew from experience not to lie to her face.

He sighed. “I’m going to scout out some of the Remnant ruins nearby. See if I can get a read on their bots, or a turret if I’m lucky.”

She cocked her head to the side and considered that for a moment, lips pursed.

“Promise to be careful then. I know you would gladly give your life to protect any of these people, but we don’t need you to throw it away because of pure recklessness,” she reminded him. “If it comes down to an altercation, we would rather have you here than some lousy turret schematics. Besides—” She shrugged. “You would probably be the only one who could make sense of them anyways. You and that stupidly genius brain of yours.”

Scott scoffed, suddenly uncomfortable as he shifted in place.

“Got it from my parents, or so they say.”

Ellen and Alec Ryder. The woman who literally gave her life to perfect biotic implants and the man who created a whole new type of AI. Quite the legacy to live up to.

Good thing Scott wasn’t living his life based on their achievements. Andromeda was a whole different playing field compared to the Milky Way. The work he was doing with Paradise was incredible in its own right. At least, he liked to think so.

If he could change at least one person’s life for the better in Andromeda, then he considered that a success.

Based on the feedback he was receiving from the residents, he was doing a damn good job, and that was enough for him.

But Nola had a point.

People relied on Scott now. As much as he was willing to dive headfirst into danger, he needed to refrain from doing so.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised her. “If things start to go south, I’ll ping you and Nakamoto.”

“Thank you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Scott hated to worry her so, but there was that one other matter.

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Scott said, trying for a lighter tone yet failing, “Reyes offered to accompany me on the trip.”

Nola stopped short, and Scott skidded to a halt. She narrowed her eyes at him with a sneer curling at her lip.

“No, that is not of any consolation to me. Scott Ryder, you know how he is.”

“Charming and witty?” Scott tried for his best smile, but Nola wasn’t buying into that bullshit, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Flighty and untrustworthy, especially once his back is against the wall.” Then, she amended her statement, taking on a slightly accusatory tone. “That’s assuming you didn’t pay any of his ridiculous service fees.”

“Puh-lease.” Scott chuckled. “If anyone should be spending their credits, Reyes should be the one paying me for my company. I’m a treasure not many can afford.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nola snorted, “but at least you know your worth.”

“They say that time is money, after all. I’ll make sure to charge him by the minute while we’re together.”

“Please do, and make sure to get a picture of his face once you show him that bill.”

Scott was only happy to see her smile again.

“Will do,” he said.

“While you’re at it, drop a few hints here and there that Paradise might be looking to contract out some exclusive deals with top-rate smugglers. Leave out the ‘top-rate’ part, of course. Can’t have that going to the poor man's head.”

“His ego is already insufferable enough without the compliments,” Scott agreed, “but isn’t the whole point of secrecy for you and I not to draw attention to our connections here?”

“A woman can dream though, can’t she?” Nola sighed.

“So much for Reyes being ‘untrustworthy.’”

Nola didn’t even hesitate, brushing off his attempt to use her words against her.

“Skill is skill, and we don’t exactly have the people or resources to be picky right now. Everything is a commodity on Kadara, even integrity. If he betrays us, we’ll deal with him, simple as that.”

Right.

Still, it was laughable to think that the Charlatan would take on a contract with some of his direct competitors.

Although, that sounds like exactly the type of stunt that Reyes would pull. More than likely, he’d have an ulterior motive for doing so, but Scott could see it happening.

Did he support the idea, though? Definitely not. 

“I don’t know,” Scott muttered. “I couldn’t see Reyes limiting his business to one group, especially if we’re only starting to get our feet wet.”

“You would know how he operates better than I, but I suppose that attitude is understandable. Disappointing, but understandable.” Nola grumbled. “Well, if nothing else, tell him the least he could do is give you a discount.”

“Trust me, I’ve been working that angle for a while. No such luck.”

“Greedy bastard.”

As they finished up their routine patrol, they soon switched direction, heading towards Nakamoto's clinic to conclude their meeting. There, Paradise’s leaders convened. They reviewed the requests that their colonists posted on the message boards around the settlement. Together, they decided on what matters they could approve for certain and which ones would be placed on the docket for a community vote. After that, they moved on to logistics, including topics such as requisitions and inventory.

To draw the meeting to a close, Nola relayed their latest numbers for colonial development. Water production was steady. However, food stores would be struggling soon to keep up with the recent influx of residents, so security personnel and all of those who knew their way around a gun were strongly encouraged to increase hunting and foraging activities while out on patrols or while performing their daily tasks. A roster will be posted on the local message boards to look for volunteers who would like to fill a full-time hunter-gatherer role.

Hopefully, what few angaran scientists they had amongst their people would be able to process their first batch of nutrient paste after their next harvest. It wasn’t exactly the tastiest solution available, but it was a necessary one if they were to survive.

In terms of population, there was a rapid spike in enrollment when word spread that Paradise actually got shit done and held true to their promises, but they expected the effect to eventually plateau once people settled in. Angara enrollment was up at the moment, especially after Scott appointed Nola as governor, and they have even seen a few Initiative members join up, having made the journey all the way from the Nexus to be reunited with friends, family, and loved ones.

Scott asked that they spread word for people to be warm and welcoming. The request probably wasn’t necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Their community would make no friends by tearing people apart, and they prided themselves on being close and tight-knit.

It was important that they not only claimed to be but that they acted like it as well, backing up their words with actions.

Security assignments were then posted. Patrols would have to be upped to make up for an increase that they were seeing with gang-related attacks. Once automated security measures were in place, they would revisit the matter in order to assess which sectors needed heightened security. Emergency drills would be held at the end of the week.

With all of their needs addressed, Nola called the meeting to a close.

Once the meeting was adjourned, Scott approached Nola and their Head of Security, requesting a full census to be done within a day's time. Scott needed names, numbers, faces. Each citizen’s profile needed to be updated within their database.

If Scott was going to make an effective defense matrix for the colony, then he would prefer to program an IFF system that only a select few could remotely activate. For the system to work as intended, all of the colonists' photo IDs and biometric profiles would need to be kept current and constantly updated in real-time.

Nola promised to see to it that Scott got what he needed, shooing him off.

Apparently, he was hovering, but Scott could take a hint. He could tell when he was no longer needed, and he knew that Nola worked best when he wasn’t constantly worrying after her like a mother hen.

Departing from the settlement, Scott cloaked himself the second he went beyond the boundaries of their walls.

He was almost halfway back to Port when he received a message from Reyes. Figuring that he was in the clear, Scott made sure that the coast was clear before deactivating his cloak.

Pulling up his omni-tool’s interface, Scott opened the message. Along with it, there was a set of coordinates, sent from Reyes’s location.

R: Think I’m ready to cash in on those shuttle repairs. Wouldn’t mind the company right about now.

Scott’s fingers hovered above the holographic keys, contemplating his next move before deciding to hell with it.

S: Miss me that much?

R: Am I that obvious?

He didn’t even give Scott a chance to reply before he sent another message.

R: If it’s still in question though, let me put it bluntly.

R: I want to see you.

Scott pursed his lips, cursing his stupid heart for racing in response.

S: Give me a few. I’ll be there.

R: I’ll be looking forward to it.

Before he could embarrass himself, Scott closed out his messages. He quickly made his way to Port, grabbing his bag of tools and gear before venturing back out into the badlands.

From there, Scott followed the coordinates to a cliff, overlooking a nearby valley. The sun was slowly but surely sinking down over the horizon, lightning up the sky in array of pinks and oranges and reds.

Reyes was already waiting for him by the time he arrived, the shuttle powered down for the moment.

However, the second Scott noticed that Reyes was facing away from him, he instantly slowed his walk to a crawl. He bent his knees into a slight crouch and shifted his weight with each step, toe to heel as he snuck his way up behind him.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Scott delighted in watching him him jump in shock, only to have a blade at his throat in the blink of an eye.

As soon as Reyes realized who it was, all the blood drained from his face.

“S–Scott!”

Hands raised in surrender, Scott raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

“You know, I was kind of expecting a warmer welcome,” he admitted, careful of the firaan's sharp edge. Keema must have given it to him. “Have to say, though, would it be weird if I was a little turned on right now?”

Reyes scoffed.

Trailing the blade along the outline of his throat, Scott swallowed thickly when he eventually felt its pointed tip press underneath his chin. Reyes tilted it up, and Scott followed, lest he risk being cut.

Their eyes met, and Reyes smirked.

Bastard was toying with him.

Retracting his knife, Reyes sheathed the firaan while Scott tried to catch his breath. The goosebumps left behind in the dagger's wake soon receded, yet a warm heat lingered.

“Tsk.” Reyes huffed at him. “Ryder—”

Uh-oh, back to last name basis. From experience, that meant trouble.

“You know better than to sneak up on me!” Reyes scolded.

“I do,” Scott said, not even afraid to acknowledge it, “but I love getting a rise out of you.”

“What if I would have hurt you?”

“But you didn’t.”

Scowling, Reyes placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Scott, what the hell am I going to do with you?” he asked, releasing his nose, half-fond and half-frustrated.

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

Reyes hummed in agreement, watching Scott approach the shuttle with his bag tossed over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground, then immediately got to work.

Watching him closely, Reyes leaned against the side of his shuttle with a thoughtful look.

“Maybe I could take you on a date?”

While Reyes tried to sound confident, his attempt ultimately failed. Instead of forming the words into a bold offer, they fell flat, sounding more like an uncertain question.

Scott stopped what he was doing. He spared Reyes a brief glance, only to return his attention to the task at hand, hiding his flushed face.

“Wouldn’t Zia disapprove?” Scott asked, being rougher than necessary as he practically took apart the control panel.

Envy curled inside him, spreading like an infection through his bloodstream. There was a sharp squeeze around his heart as it was encased in the feeling.

Reyes called him out on it, way too perceptive for his own good.

“Ryder, are you jealous?” Reyes chuckled.

Scott glared, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender.

“Just asking.”

“And if I am?” Scott retorted.

“Then I’d have to put your mind at ease.”

“It’s really none of my busin—”

Reyes closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he cupped Scott’s cheek, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. Weak as he was, Scott leaned into his touch for a split second. His eyes threatened to flutter closed, but he had to remain firm about this one matter, if nothing else.

As he started to pull away, Reyes said, “There is nothing going on between Zia and I.” Scott froze into place. “We went out for drinks a few times, nothing more.”

“You swear?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear.” His voice grew heated, impassioned. “I might be a bad man when it comes to many things, but I wouldn’t ever lie about that to you.”

Scott considered that before replying, “Well, like I said—” He cleared his throat, eyes averted. “ It’s not really any of my business, so I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He trailed off, uncertain why he was acting that way.

Reyes furrowed his brow.

“No need to be sorry. If you had crossed a line, then I would have said so.”

“Even then, you’re not mine. Your relationships are your own.”

“I could be.”

Scott regarded him skeptically.

“Could be what?”

“Yours,” Reyes answered instantly, staring intently at Scott. “Just say the word.”

If only they weren’t both keeping secrets from each other at the moment, then Scott might take him up on that.

Turns out, being with the Charlatan would be a huge conflict of interests. Who could’ve guessed?

Silence settled between them. It was as if the whole world was awaiting Scott’s answer with bated breath. Time itself seemed to stand still in anticipation.

“I—” He struggled to find the right words. “Give me time.”

That’s all he could ask.

Reyes’s hopeful expression fell, and that alone felt like a stab to the chest. Scott's breathing trembled a little, as if it was becoming difficult to continue drawing in one breath after another.

God, he didn’t want to hurt him, but neither of them could really afford to rush into things half-cocked.

Scott copied his earlier gesture, reaching out to cup Reyes’s cheek. The change was almost instantaneous, how the tension drained away, only for Reyes to melt into Scott’s touch. He leaned into his hand, starved for affection.

Scott swallowed thickly, unable to pull away, let alone take his eyes off of him for even a second.

“All I ask is that you give me time,” Scott repeated. “That’s not a ‘no.’ I just need to think a few things over, iron out a few details.”

Reyes listened, then agreed.

“Alright.” He pulled away with a small, private smile. “As if I could deny anyone such a reasonable request, especially you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Returning his attention to the shuttle, Scott got back to work. After all, he didn’t want to neglect the poor bird, and it appeared that the shuttle was in desperate need of a little TLC.

His diagnostics only confirmed his suspicions.

When a couple of sparks resulted from his prodding, Scott chastised Reyes for mistreating their baby. Reyes grew defensive, both of them falling back to old habits as they bickered.

This was the type of work that Scott did on the Nexus after he got sidelined and shafted. Systems repairs, shuttle repairs, routine maintenance… That sorta thing.

It was how he met Reyes to begin with. Few pilots had the energy to hang around and talk shop with Scott while he worked, especially since a lot of them had only recently returned from failed colonization efforts. Understandably, most people didn’t want to entertain idle conversation after watching their friends die out in the field.

That was fine by Scott, but Reyes had always gone out of his way —even then— to make sure that Scott had anything and everything that he needed.

They might have taken his shuttle out on a few joyrides together, gotten in trouble for wasting fuel, but Scott wouldn’t trade that time they spent together for anything in the galaxy.

Even now, it felt natural to settle back into their old routine. While Scott worked, Reyes watched, and they talked about anything and everything.

Time passed, and Scott only got deeper into the repairs and modifications. Despite the setting sun, he still broke a sweat, a light sheen glistening upon his skin.

Eventually, he had to take off his shirt, leaving him in a plain tank top that quickly got dirty along with his hands.

Swiping at the perspiration beading at his hairline, Scott grunted as he came to a stopping point for now. He reached for his bag, but what he was seeking wasn’t there.

“Shit.”

Turning towards Reyes, Scott huffed at him.

The bastard wasn’t even trying to hide his staring. Face flushed, he was biting teasingly at his bottom lip, brown eyes dark as he watched Scott through a hooded gaze.

Getting to his feet, Scott crossed his arms over his chest.

“See something you like?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re shameless.” Scott shook his head in disbelief, tsking under his breath. “You’re just as bad as that one time when Gil Brodie asked for a ‘second opinion’ on some fix he made. Turns out, I ended up doing almost all of the work while he sat back and watched.”

“Smart man,” Reyes noted, giving Scott a thorough once-over. “This Gil must have great tastes.”

Scott snorted.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. If you really want to make me happy, then you would grab your water bottle for me.”

“Did you forget yours?” Reyes asked, slightly concerned. After all, being caught out in the badlands without water was just asking for dehydration or heat stroke.

Nevertheless, he got the bottle for him. Scott placed his hands over Reyes’s, shrugging with a flustered blush.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “I thought I had packed it! I don’t know where it could’ve wandered off to.”

“Perhaps you were in a bit of a rush to get here,” Reyes said, trailing off suggestively.

Scott figured that he would allow that.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but what else do I keep you around for, if not the water? You wouldn’t want the guy repairing your shuttle to get dehydrated, right?” Scott smirked. “I could get delirious, and it would be very unfortunate if I just so happened to forget to install an essential component.”

Reyes gasped dramatically, relinquishing the water to Scott, who was quick to take a swig.

“You always have to watch out for the pretty ones,” Reyes grumbled. “Always causing trouble, keeping secrets…”

There it was again. That sense of knowing , that sense that both of them were holding something back. It was left unsaid. Neither confronted the other about it, but they knew that the secrets were there.

Before the sudden lag in conversation could get too awkward, Scott took another swig of water and asked, “So, you think I’m pretty?”

Reyes chuckled, glad for the change of subject.

“Kian seems to think so,” he muttered. Leave it to him to avoid the question. “He keeps asking when you’re going to start working for him at Tartarus.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“As a dancer?” He had to make sure he was hearing right.

“Yep.”

“Could you imagine?” Scott scoffed. “Me, shaking my ass for money? A tempting offer. It would probably be more profitable than the odd jobs I take on here and there, but I think I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Damn,” Reyes sighed, “what a shame.”

Scott raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“You saying you would have come to watch me?”

“Not only that, but I would have paid to watch you,” Reyes said, “especially if I could have gotten a private show out of it.”

Scott tried to imagine it, grinning in spite of himself.

“What’s so funny?” Reyes wondered.

“Nothing, nothing,” Scott said, brushing off his concern. “That just made me remember a thought that I had earlier.”

“What about?”

“Oh, you know.�� Scott gestured vaguely. “Just that I should start charging you a fee for when we spend time together.”

Reyes winked at him.

“It would be worth every credit.”

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About the Climax of "Reunion" from Amphibia

Salutations, random people on the internet who are already scrolling right past this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

So, Season Three of Amphibia is coming pretty soon. And I am...excited, but not as much as most people.

If you've seen my reviews, you'll know that while I do like Amphibia, I wouldn't go so far as to say it grabbed me as well as a series like The Owl House. With a show like that, it took me until Episode Five before I realized The Owl House was something special that was worth remembering. For Amphibia? It took me until the Season One finale before I had a similar reaction. But, to be fair, that's because this series is really good at making an ending. "Reunion," for example, takes a lot of the small things the first season has been building up, taking plots from episodes I considered filler and tying it all together in a pretty satisfying ending. I know people are still reeling over the epicness of "True Colors," and all for a good reason, but I want to start the new season on the right foot by discussing a moment that made me consider giving the series a chance.

But it also contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen Amphibia yet, now might be a good time to check it out. It may not have grabbed me and might not even grab you, but trust me when I say that it's worth it just to get to that final scene.

Now, let's review, shall we?

Grime Explaining Flipwart and Bogjump: One thing I will always defend about this series is its humor. More often than not, it succeeds in getting a chuckle out of me with perfect timing and solid comedic delivery. And stuff like this? Where Grime takes a break from his evilness to explain how two board games work to two teenagers? Only to then give up and stick with a simple answer? Yeah, I'm sorry, but that's funny to me. A good thing, too, given how this show relies more on humor than anything else. It may have an overarching plot and its fair share of grim moments (I give you Marcy's maybe death), but Amphibia knows when to keep things light amongst the darkness, which I always appreciate.

Anne Pleading with Sasha: Here, the scene showcases Anne's own personal struggle with Sasha. We know Sasha's a bad friend, primarily because we have eyes. But Anne still needs convincing. Because while she speaks up, she still doesn't assert herself. Anne doesn't yell at Sasha or tell her she's going too far. Instead, she just begs and pleads, hoping to seek the bit of humanity of this girl that Anne sees as a friend. Only for Grime to cut things short in demanding Hop Pop.

Anne Grabbing a Sword to Defend Hop Pop: This, on the other hand, was a defining moment for Anne. She spent so much time with the Plantars, risking life and limb for their own personal health and safety in multiple episodes before this one. So in desperation and due to being backed into a corner, she yanks out one of the guards' swords and orders people to back up, including her "best friend." This moment is when Anne is right on the edge of standing up against Sasha, ready to do all she can to help a person, er, frog that treats her right.

Sasha Talking Anne Down: But she isn't fully ready to fight back yet. Sasha sees the panic and desperation and uses that to her advantage and takes control. She speaks calmly, attracting Anne with talks of going home and pointing out the ridiculousness of standing up for Hop Pop. And my blood boils with how easily she does it. It was like a light switch, turning off her intensity just so Sasha appears to be empathetic. Even though she isn't. You can tell just how cold hearted she can be with the way she says the line "End of discussion." Does the way she say that really sound like a person who has Anne's best interests at heart. I wouldn't think so.

Sprig’s Reaction to Anne Lowering the Sword: And neither does Sprig. I mean, look at Sprig's expressions when he sees Anne lower the sword:

First, there's shock and empathy in seeing Anne crumble to Sasha's will. And unlike the fake empathy Sasha offered, you can see that it's real.

Almost as real as the look of pure disgust he gives Sasha afterward. Personally, I can't blame him. Sprig cares deeply for Anne, as the two of them have the most real friendship out of everyone else in the main cast, one built on mutual trust, respect, and willingness to have the other's best interests at heart.

Sprig Standing Up for Anne: This only proves my point. By slingshotting mud (was that mud?) into Sasha's face and praising how incredible Anne is, Sprig proved he really is the true friend that Sasha can only wish to be. And it's just the boost Anne needed to snap out of her stupor and do, in her words, "something that [she] should have done a long time ago."

Anne Standing Up to Sasha: If standing up for Hop Pop was a defining moment for Anne, defending Sprig from Sasha was a moment Anne could never go back on. It was one thing to fight for her found family against soldiers she's never met before. It's something else to do that against Sasha, Anne's best friend, who she pleaded with earlier and was so close to falling into submission for. But not anymore. At this moment, Anne decided to think for herself and do what needed to be done. Rather than let a bully tell her what to do instead.

Grime’s Words of Warning for Sasha: Grime’s little warning is similar to how a commander gives tips to a fellow commander in leading the troops. Because that's what Sasha really seems like. Not a friend, but someone who takes charge and orders what Anne and Marcy should do rather than listen to the opinions of the group. You see it more in "Battle of the Bands," and that's why I think she follows his advice to "stamp this out." Especially with how he finishes his warning: "Fail, and nothing will ever be the same."

There are two things to take away from that.

The fact that Grime was right. Sasha failed, and nothing was the same because of it. Anne now stood up to her and won't take her orders anymore. The thing is, that would have happened if Anne failed or not. Sasha winning may have stamped Anne's spirit a bit, but it still shows a dark side to her that wouldn't have been forgotten for long.

The fact that Sasha vocally admits that she won't let things change. It proves how twisted her mindset on friendship is that Sasha would willingly partake in a sword fight with her "best friend" because she refuses to have Anne standing up for herself. She likes being in charge and refuses to lose her power no matter what needs to be done to keep it.

If Anne defending Sprig is a moment where she crosses the line for the better, Sasha listening to Grime is a moment where she crosses the line for the worst.

“Anne, you don’t have to do this”: I love how Hop Pop tries to talk Anne out of the challenge. It's his life that's on the line, but he cares just as deeply for Anne as she does for him, that letting her duel Sasha, her supposed "best friend," is a choice he doesn't want her to make.

“Yes, I do.”: But Anne isn't about that. She now knows the type of person Sasha is, and letting her get away with more control is something no one should allow. And Anne won't. Not anymore.

The Fight: The fight isn't all that special compared to other action animation, and even to a certain fight scene we see in "True Colors." But as is, it is still pretty tense. I mean, for f**k's sake, it's two thirteen-year-olds fighting each other with swords! It's a miracle that only Sasha got a small scar at the end of it. Plus, while not the show's highest standard yet, there is a lot of effort and attention put into this battle. Anne is a lot more inexperienced and frantic with her attacks, where Sasha shows she was trained well in her time with the toads and is rotten given that she cheated by blinding Anne to force a victory. In a way, it illustrates the desperation the two of them have for winning, making Sasha's actions, in particular, easier to root for Anne.

Anne Wins: So when Anne is victorious, it's all the more satisfying. Primarily thanks to the look on Sasha's face. Look at it:

That is the definition of shock and anger, mostly shock. Sure, Sasha might be ticked that she lost, but it's Anne's words that I think really hit a specific soft spot: "You're not going to push me around anymore." That's probably the first time that Anne called Sasha out on her awful behavior. Saying that she's standing up to her huts, but pointing out how Sasha basically controlled Anne and how that's something she won't allow anymore, could be an eye-opening moment that Sasha needed.

Grime Goes Against the Deal: Ok, full disclosure, while this post is meant to shine a light on how great a scene is, there is one complaint I've got to get out of the way. You see, Grime going against his deal to let Hop Pop go free if Anne wins was way too predictable. Because why the f**k would he?!

I mean, does this seriously look like the face of a man you can trust? This scene may excel at everything else, but this one predictable moment is just a little off to forgive.

The Tower Blowing Up: This predictable moment, however, is done flawlessly. Because there's a difference between a twist and a payoff. Where a twist is meant to shock the audience, a payoff has to, well, pay off a setup brought up earlier in the story. And Wally's boom-shrooms going off at just the right time, transitioning to the most iconic moment of the series? Yeah, that's a payoff done right.

(Also, Wally cursing his one eye is hilarious)

“Lean On Me”: By the way, NOT joking when I say what follows is the most iconic moment of the series. All of which is aided by the inclusion of "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers. I'm not a music theory major and have no idea if the song itself is actually mildly appropriate to the scene, much like how "All Star" and "I Need a Hero" work perfectly for Shrek and Shrek 2, respectively. With that said, "Lean On Me" really does add an extra Umph! power to what follows. And as Matt Braley, series creator, describes, it is the coolest thing, but it will never happen again.

(Apparently, the song was too expensive).

Anne Goes to Save Sasha: Believe it or not, I actually do love this decision. Sasha may be a bad friend...Actually, no. Sasha is definitely a bad friend, but that doesn't mean Anne wants her to die. Not after all the good times that they had with each other. Anne might refuse to let Sasha push her around, but she's not ready to cut Sasha out of her life. Not yet.

Anne Holds Onto Sasha, the Plantars Hold Onto Anne: ...I mean...just f**king that! Through this moment, we get a perfect idea of how Anne's relationships work.

To put it simply, the Plantars raise Anne up and keep her safe, where Sasha just weighs her down and risks her safety. And the saddest part is that Sasha knows this.

“Anne. Maybe you’re better off without me…”: Some say that this could be Sasha trying to get in one last manipulation, using her own sacrifice to stick to Anne for choosing talking frogs over her. While I could see that perspective as a possibility, I personally take this moment as Sasha finally realizing the damage she causes for Anne and admits her faults. Sure, Sasha might have backpedaled in later episodes. What with refusing to change and even directing her anger towards Anne instead of towards herself. But that's because she had time to process these events and unfairly aim her negative feelings at Anne for wanting something better. So it doesn't seem implausible to me that Sasha admitting that Anne's better off without her is something she believed deep down and, for just a moment, allowed herself to accept this heavy truth. I won't deny the possibility that she's still trying to manipulate Anne, but to me, with the tone and expression Sasha has with her admission, you can't fake that. And you can't fake what she does next.

Sasha Lets Go: This...shocked me right down to my core.

I knew Grime would go back on his word, and I assumed the boom-shrooms would pay off somehow. But Sasha, willingly and unhesitantly, letting go of Anne's grip and falling to an expected demise? I...I couldn't have ever predicted that. Not with what we've seen from her before. When I hear how people see this as one last manipulation tactic, I just can't see it. Yes, there are monsters on this planet who would go this far, but I don't think Sasha is one of them. Later episodes like "Battle of the Bands" (despite a rough start) show signs of a person who could be better, and the Season Three trailer hints that she might actually learn from her mistakes. So her letting go, with no way of knowing her survival, could be the first sign that Sasha would one day make that first step. She might not be able to become Anne’s friend again, thanks to burning that bridge in "True Colors," but she'll at least try to become a better person. She just needs to do one good thing in her life first.

Plus, whenever I see this image:

I’m reminded why I could never say that I didn’t like this show.

Grime Saving Sasha: A lesser viewer would say this cheapens Sasha's sacrifice, but not to me. She had no way of knowing Grime would save her, so to her, so this is still a bid decision to go through with, even if she couldn't have gone all the way. In no way does it take away from the sacrifice, just as much as it doesn't strike a chord deep in Anne's heart.

Anne Breaks Down: Because what else would she do?

It's true, Sasha isn't a good friend, and Anne would likely be better off without her. But that's not what Anne's thinking at this moment.

She's thinking about the good fun she had with her best friend.

She was thinking about the person she could lean on.

And she was thinking about how she almost lost this person forever.

So when it all comes crashing down on Anne at once, there's nothing left to do but cry. It is such a real moment that proves one thing: There was effort put into this finale.

IN CONCLUSION

Would I say Amphibia draws me in as much as The Owl House does? No. But it still has my respect. A finale like this proves how hard the writers try to give a good experience. Even if a Schmuck like me thinks that all the pieces don't come together, they still do all they can to make a beloved series.

Season Three is on the way, and while I'm not as hyped as others, I still can't wait to see how it ends. Because if "Reunion" taught me anything, this series really nails an ending.

(And if you want me to do a scene breakdown of the finale in "True Colors," I'll tell you now: I won't...alright, maybe I'll do something for the mid-season premiere. But no promises!)

[19red]

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

+

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.  

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face.  It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy.  “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 7

:3c

I exchanged @biodad-bruce-month‘s Day 7: Fashion Show with Fight!

Chapter 7: Fight

-

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords

-

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Amira looked at the white board inside her walk-in closet, reviewing the new information she got last night. During last night’s patrol, Amira took a break halfway through, using the time to ask Tikki more questions regarding the miraculous. 

They were earrings, which thankfully, can shift in design but can’t change its original form: earrings. 

So here was Amira, sporting all black studs. Simple and hidden in plain sight. Amira also found out that the appearance of the earrings can always be changed as Tikki doesn’t have to use too much energy to do so. Therefore, Amira has been planning on changing its appearance after every akuma attack, an easy tactic to see exactly how much Hawkmoth himself knows about the Ladybug miraculous.

Next up, her yo-yo. Turns out that it’s more than just that. While it works as a tracker and phone, it only works when Amira is transformed. No yo-yo, no way to communicate with Chat. Because of this, Amira decided to get him a burner phone to make sure the two can communicate outside the suit. Will also help in case they have to communicate during an energy break while there is an akuma. 

Her costume. Thankfully, Tikki had told her that it morphs into whichever design the holder has in their head. With more concentration on the design, the more the costume will have what the holder would want. After patrol, Amira made it her mission to get the utility belt in her design and after plenty of trial and errors, Amira got it. 

Now she had smoke pellets, a taser, a small utility knife and a first aid kit at her disposal. Of course, the belt came with a price - her dagger.

Brushing out her hair, Amira looked at her reflection. She always hated having long hair. While Dick always told her that he liked her hair when it was long (because he liked braiding it for her), Amira never took a shine to having long hair. 

It was a hassle to brush out, to clean. During track (even though she was only on the team for two years), Amira hated seeing other girls have their lucky amulets in their hair. A special pin or hair tie from their fathers and sometimes from their-

“-to Marinette!” Tikki yelled, snapping Amira from her trip down memory hell.

“Tikki, I live across the school. I won’t be late.” Marinette stated, continuing to stare at her reflection.

“I know that, but your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Tikki said, showing her the multiple texts she was receiving.

Marinette took it, smiling when she saw they were from Wally and Dick, telling her to have a better day at school than yesterday’s disaster. “Are they from your friends?”

“You can say that.” Marinette said, tucking her phone into her pocket, looking at her reflection once again. “Tikki. Can you grab my fabric scissors on the table near my monitors?”

-

“It suits you.” Alya randomly told Marinette after the end of their first class. “Your hair, I mean. Don’t think I didn’t notice it.” Marinette simply blinked, wondering why people always said a compliment before bringing up their actual motives. “Name’s Alya-”

“-Cesaire. I know. Now if you excuse me, I have a class to get to.” Marinette filled in, getting up to leave, only for Alya to grab her wrist. “Let go.”

“Sorry!” Alya apologized, letting go of Marinette. “I just...I just wanted to tell you that you were a bit too harsh on Mlle Bustier yesterday. You should apologize.” Alya didn’t expect a scoff from Marinette.

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what I know is right.”

“Mlle Bustier-”

“-should’ve done her job correctly instead of enabling, especially now that Hawkmoth is a threat. But even with Hawkmoth out of the picture, Ms.Bustier shouldn’t have just assumed it was Ivan who instigated the argument. There’s always two sides of a story and we should always make it our job to figure out who is right. Sometimes, we even figure out why things happened the way they did. Sometimes, we find out we are wrong and when that happens, we have to accept it. If not, how else will we grow?”

With those words, Marinette gave Alya a little bow before going to her next class. Hopefully Marinette can find M. D'Argencourt during her break to try and convince him to let her join the fencing club...again.

 -

“Well, that went easier than I thought.” Marinette told herself, walking down the school steps. M. D'Argencour had happily accepted her into the team, proceeding to tell her the team’s schedule.

While it took a while to hunt the coach down, Marinette was about to find him towards the end of the day.

“Why exactly do you want to know fencing?” Tikki asked her from the pocket inside her sweater.

“I just found it...interesting.” Marinette lied, knowing she couldn’t tell Tikki that her father never let her take up the hobby. While Bruce had allowed Jason to learn how to use a sword, Jason quickly dropped it. Dick was also taught how to use a sword, but he complained how annoying it would be to carry it around, hence the reason why he carries escrima sticks.

While fencing wasn’t the same, fencing will help her gain more skills she can use during her fights. You never know after all.

After greeting Tom and Sabine and squishing Bridgette’s cheeks, Marinette made her way to her room, only to find him in there...again.

“If it’s about the Miraculous, I’m still not giving it to you.” Amira said, throwing her school bag to the floor. She whispered the renouncing spell before reaching into her jewelry box, where countless dupes rested. Oh how she wanted to cackle when she saw her father look at her with wide eyes. 

“Amira, hand them over.” Bruce ordered, stretching out his hand in hopes of Amira doing the correct thing.

“Why won’t you trust me?” Amira gritted, balling her fists. “Why don’t you trust me to do the right thing?”

“I do trust you.” Bruce said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I expect you-”

“I can’t just hand earrings over! The people need me! They need Ladybird to-”

“You don’t need to be running around Paris playing hero, Amira. Let Diana-”

“Must I remind you that I was given the earrings? It’s me who they want! Me! And no! I’m not playing hero! Hell, I’m not even a hero! I’m a vigilante! I’m doing what’s right by being Ladybird, by protecting the people the only way I can.” Amira reasoned, looking at her father. “And trust? Doesn’t that go both ways?” Amira set out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. “After all, when were you going to tell me about Batgirl? About...the new Robin?”

How Amira wanted to scream when Bruce remained silent. 

“How did you find out?” Amira scoffed.

“Find out? The whole internet was talking about it! My class was talking about just earlier today!”

It happened during break. Just as Marinette was leaving the class, she bumped into the second surprise of the day in the form of teen model Adrien Agreste. 

Adrien apologized for the accident when Chloe pulled him into the class and began to ‘teach’ him what it meant to be part of a school. The only reason Marinette even remained in class at that point was because she heard Adrien talk about this being his first time in a school...meaning that up until now, he had been homeschooled all his life.

Kinda how like she was up until she was around seven to eight years old. But to be homeschooled until 13? How lonely he must have been. Especially when she heard he was the only child at home.

You’re really ungrateful.

Marinette stiffened, feeling her heart pick up in pace upon remembering Jason’s words. She already knew that...she knew, but was it wrong of her to want something else? To want to have something different than what she currently had?

As Marinette was fighting off the beginnings of a breakdown, Alya’s sudden burst almost triggered it.

“Since when did Robin come back to Gotham?!” Alya yelled, rising from her seat. 

Marinette didn’t need to hear any more, running out of the classroom and locking herself into one of the girl’s bathroom stalls. While she hated having breakdowns, Amira was glad to have had one, as it helped her gained more insight on how Hawkmoth’s powers worked.

He can’t control you if you’re in the middle of an emotional breakdown and can’t register his words. In other words, he can’t control you if you’re already out of control. 

Guess it’s good to know that if Joker were to ever come to Paris, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to take over him. 

Amira looked at her father, awaiting for his response. “Under different circumstances, I would have forgiven you for replacing Jason with another guy. But it hasn’t been a year since he died and you’ve already replaced him. 

You know how Jason felt, you know he lived with the fear of doing a single thing that would give you a reason to kick him out of the manor. And while you always assured him you would never do that, here you are, doing just that.” Amira watched as her vision went blurry, wiping them away as she collected herself again. 

“I wasn’t replacing-“

“You were. You are. And not only have you replaced Jason, but it seems you’ve also replaced me.” Amira looked at herself. “Batgirl? Really? You know that was the name I wanted to use if you ever let me fight crime alongside you. Of course, that never happened.”

“Amira.”

“At this point, I don’t care what you do.” Amira gripped all the turmoil inside her. “Right now. I just want you to leave.”

“Amira.”

“Leave! I don’t want to see your face Bruce!” Amira yelled, shocking herself at her outburst. 

Bruce? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? She tried it again. “I don’t want you anywhere near me Bruce, so leave! Just leave!”

And he did.

As she watched Bruce leave her room with a heavy heart, she slumped to the floor, standing back up when she felt something approach her. “Tikki!” Tikki appeared before her. “Spots on!” A second later, an akuma appeared before her, Amira quickly capturing it. Before letting it go, Amira quickly searched for a glass jar and a box in her desk.

She let the now purified butterfly go into the jar, surprised to see that it didn’t phase through the jar. So it was just a normal butterfly after all. When coated in magic, the magic allowed it to phase through whatever it wanted to to ensure that it made it to its target.

Calling off her transformation, Amira quickly got to work, carefully placing a tracker on the butterfly’s wing. 

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Tikki asked, looking at her holder with worried eyes.

“I’m alright Tikki. I’m alright.”

-

No, she wasn’t alright.

The next day at school, Chloe tried to stick gum in her seat as a revenge plan for once again chewing out Mlle Bustier for allowing Chloe to interrupt the classroom with another one of her stupid excuses. Not to mention Chloe using her father’s position to get away with said excuse.

It didn’t help when Marinette was stuck with Alya trying to ask her about her past in Gotham and Alya claiming to be her friend.

They barely knew each other and this girl was already clinging to her like a newborn chick. 

While Marinette tried to avoid her at all costs, Alya always found her, Marinette hating it. Didn’t she know about personal space?

Her week got worse when Chat accepted the burner phone but refused to be trained by her. Something about him not needing it.

Thankfully, she was able to vent to Dick and Wally, although more to Wally since Dick was busy with university. 

Days went by and even then, Amira knew she was never going to adjust to life in Paris.

It’s only been four akumas and this city already thinks they saved the world. 

While technically they saved Paris, Ladybird and Chat have yet to fight off a Victim that can become a potential threat to the world. Bubbler and Mr.Pigeon weren’t exactly the worst to deal with, but they weren’t the easiest to take down either. As for Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi, Ladybird realized that it was Victims like them who posed a threat to France. Victims with intangible powers were a force to be reckoned with after all. 

But just because the duo saved Paris four times, it didn’t mean their work was done. They had yet to find out who Hawkmoth was.

Oh, did she mention the ridiculous statue they made in her and Chat’s honor because of the four Victims they took down so far? Long story short, she didn’t go to the ceremony and Chat must’ve told the artist something stupid because here they were. Fighting a Victim all thanks to Chat and his loud mouth.

“Chat! Stop trying to regain your honor and let me-” Ladybird yelled, only to get pushed back by his bo.

“No! This is my fight!” Chat hissed, attempting to land a hit on his copycat. Copycat grinned as he parried all of Chat’s hits, flinging Chat’s bo to the side when he saw an opening. 

“He’s good.” Chat said, landing next to Ladybug as he retreated. Ladybird scoffed, gaining an arched brow from her partner.

“He’s good? Got some pretty low standards there Chat. Have you ever seen Nightwing in combat? This guy is nothing compared to him.” With that, Ladybird charged into the fight, picking up Chat’s bo and using it against Copycat.

The two fought, Ladybird noticing Copycat starting to hit her with less force, more sloppily. He was starting to become more aggressive, half of his hits missing. 

“Chat! Switch!” Ladybird yelled, knocking Copycat’s staff from his hands and throwing Chat his own back to him.

With Chat distracting Copycat, Ladybird waited for the perfect- there!

Chat had launched Copycat into the air, Ladybird using this to wrap him with her yo-yo and slamming him down. Holding him down, Ladybird turned to Chat.

“Where’s his akuma?”

“Here!” Chat said, taking out a photo from Copycat’s pocket. Ripping it, it released the akuma, Ladybird unwrapping her yo-yo and capturing the akuma. Now purified and having the tracker implanted, Ladybird released the butterfly. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybird watched as everything was returned and fixed. Turning to Chat, she glared at him. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes. Meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

NEXT

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 9. The Ride Along— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Robin

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N This is a brand new series that I was inspired to write. I am going to go chapter by chapter in Sam Daltons POV. This story is completely inspired by Choices The Nanny Affair. I have used most of the dialogue from the actual story, anything written in BOLD was taken directly from the book and therefore is not my writing- credit to our good friends over at Pixelberry! All characters are credit to Pixelberry except for my OCs

Summary: When an office tour of Dalton Enterprises takes a turn, who will be left picking up the pieces?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383

I hear the elevator ding and glance at my watch, 6:15… who is here this early?

“Oh good, you are awake.” Sofia strolls into the penthouse, setting her bag on the bar and resting her hands on her lips. “We need to talk.” Oh great…

I fold the newspaper and set it down on the counter, bringing my coffee to my lips and taking a small sip before focusing my eyes on her. I wait for her to start… its too early for me to play these games.

“That little stunt that Ana pulled last night was completely unacceptable.” She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. “I can’t have someone under our employment treating my family like that.”

I bite my tongue with a sigh… first of all, she is under my employment… not ‘ours’.

“Sofia… the boys love her… I really don’t want to do this to them.” I choose my words carefully as to not give away my true feelings… I have never lied so much in my life…

“Sam, it was embarrassing and out of line.” Red color rises up her neck as the volume of her voice rises.

“Come on, Sofia. Don’t you think you’re being a little irrational here?” I plead.

“She completely humiliated my father in front of everyone! Some of the club staff heard her.” She takes a step toward me, lifting and pointing one long manicured finger at my chest.

“She was defending you.” Now I am starting to get annoyed, this really isn’t up to you Sofia.

“I don’t care. There’s a way to handle that sort of situation and that wasn’t it. I want her fired immediately.”

“Look, I will take care of it, but there is absolutely no way I am letting her go. That is not even up for discussion, and it ultimately is not up to you.” I turn from her and pick up my coffee, effectively ending the conversation. I hear her scoff as the sound of her heels echo through the penthouse.

I run my hands down my face with a sigh… fuck.

***

My feet pound against the pavement as the sun starts to rise over the New York skyline. Maybe today would be a good day to bring Ana into the lab… I shake my head at the thought… she has been avoiding you…

I stop to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees before looking up at the bluing sky.

I know she has to have aspirations outside of being a nanny… like being your wife? My eyes widen… what the fuck, where did that come from? I pinch the bridge of my nose before taking the final sprint to the penthouse… Duty and responsibility…

***

I lean against the kitchen counter, bringing my coffee to my lips. She has to come in here eventually… I hear the light tapping of feet and she quietly rounds the corner into the kitchen, her eyes widening when our eyes meet.

“Sam! I didn’t expect you to be up so early.” Her emerald eyes quickly drop to the floor.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You can be a difficult woman to find, when you want to be.”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re wrong.” Her eyes rise to meet mine and she pushes her shoulders back with confidence.

“I am?” Where did that come from?

“Maybe I embarrassed Paolo. Maybe I spoke out of turn. But I was also honest and right.” Her eyes narrow as her pink lips turn down in a frown. “Aren’t those the values you want me to teach Mason and Mickey?”

“I’m not going to fire you, Ana.” I breathe a sigh of relief before reaching out and lightly touching her arm.

“But Sofia-“ Her mouth opens with surprise.

“Sofia doesn’t get a say in this.” My tone comes out more angry than I intended. “Yes, she was upset about what happened at the club, but I wouldn’t fire someone just to soothe her ego. Especially when everything you said to Paolo was spot on.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna stop speaking my mind.” I see determination in her eyes and it sends a wave of desire through me.

“I wouldn’t want you to. Besides, if I fired everyone who voiced their opinion, I’d be an army of one. The world needs more thinkers like you.” My gaze lingers on her lips as she shines from my praise. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about this morning… your future. I thought maybe you could come to the office with me today. Carter can watch the boys, and I know you have ambitions outside of being a nanny. This is your chance to see a Fortune 500 company up-close and personal.”

“Dalton Enterprises is a little out of my league, don’t you think?” She turns to get a cup of coffee, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Nonsense, I’ve seen your credentials. I almost handed your resume over to HR instead of hiring you personally.” Don’t sell yourself short Ana, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.

“Really? I would’ve loved working under you… it any position.” Her eyes darken, making my cock twitch, as I imagine her bent over my desk.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re very… capable.” I turn towards the counter to hide my growing desire… calm down Dalton.

“Thank you, Sam. Or should I call you ‘Mr. Dalton’ again today?” Her pink lips turning up in a smile.

“‘Sam’ is fine. Now, do you wanna tell the boys, or should I?” Her eyes light up as she turns on her heel.

“I’ll tell them.”

***

The car ride to work is quiet and riddled with sexual tension as the memories of the last time we were alone together in the back seat come flooding back. I steal a glance at Ana, who has her thighs clenched shut and a blush creeping across her cheeks. She is remembering it too.

When Carter rolls to a stop and opens the door, I have managed to successfully control the fire building in my chest. Ana and I walk into Dalton Enterprises confidently, side by side. This just feels so natural…

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton. I made a submission to the patent folder whenever you have a moment to review.” Grant walks up to me, effectively ending my day dream.

“Excellent. Grant, have you met Ana Schyuler?” I step to the side, gesturing to Ana.

“Haven’t had the pleasure. Are you new here?”

“Oh no, I-“ Her eyes widen.

“Maybe someday, if we’re lucky. She just got her masters in chemistry, and shows a lot of promise.” I glance down at her and I see her flash me a grateful smile.

“Mr. Dalton, call for you on line one.” Stacy, my assistant, has appeared at my side.

“Be right there.” I look back at Ana with a nod.

***

When I go to rejoin Ana, I watch her face as she talks to Grant. Her features are alight as she clearly talks about something she is passionate about. God she is so beautiful…

“Spoken like a future boss.” I hear Grant say as I walk up.

“Should I be worried about my job?” I ask as Ana’s radiant smile is turned towards me.

“No, I’d keep you around to smooth the transition of power.” She says with humor.

Grant leaves to join a meeting and I fight the urge to place my hand on Ana’s lower back as I guide her to my private elevator. I step in after her, the smell of jasmine filling my senses as her eyes flick to mine. My mind races with the possibilities of being alone with her in this elevator, and right as the doors are about to close, a hand slips in to stop them.

“Sam, we need you. There’s a problem with the office in Milan.” Robin’s face is etched with concern as his eyes meet mine. I watch his concern turn to pleasure as his eyes settle on Ana. “Hey, Ana. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Robin. What’d you do now?” I stifle my laugh with Ana’s choice of words.

“I never said it was my fault.” His eyes scan her body as his tone drops.

“Strategic guess.” Her eyes are fixed on him.

I narrow my eyes at Robin who is too infatuated with Ana to notice.

“Damn, Ana, I don’t want to just abandon you here, but these meetings can go on and on…”

“I can take her off your hands and skip the meeting altogether. It’ll be lunch before you’re done anyway…” Robin’s eyes still haven’t left Ana’s body.

“I like that idea even less.” My voice gruff as I try to grab his attention.

“Can I sit in? That’s why you brought me today, right? To see you in action?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me.

“That’s true. Alright, follow me.” The doors to the elevator open and she follows me out. We walk into the conference room, and I watch as Ana takes a seat at the table. Her eyes flick to mine and I give her a smile, that’s my girl. Robin pulls up Luca from the Milan office whose face is dropped in worry.

“Signor Dalton, c’e un grosso problema qui.”

“In inglese, per favore, Luca. Non tutti qui parlano italiano.” I respond back to him, wishing to continue this conversation in English.

“We’ve had a security breach. Several files were lifted onto a jump drive. We think it was a former employee. The suspect was last seen in Lab C.” His words make my temper rise and I quickly forget about the other people in the room as the rest of the board members begin to murmur around me.

“Our customer DNA profiles are in that database. If the data get’s out, it’ll be the most catastrophic violation of privacy in our lifetime.” My hands turn into fists at my side.

“Our stock is going to plummet.” Luca’s voice rings out over the speaker.

“Our stock? What about the millions of customers who trusted us?” Our fucking stock is the last thing on my mind you imbecile. I close my eyes and are a deep breath as I try to collect my thoughts. “Luca, how did a former employee even have access to those files?” I narrow my eyes at him and he seems to falter at my question.

“That was my fault, Mr. Dalton. I lost my temper and gave him immediate notice instead of following our usual protocol. I’m sorry-“

I put my hand up, and he stops his useless apology. “Seal off the complex and tell security to do a thorough search, building by building. Then, alert the police. Call me as soon as it’s done. Your job is on the line here, Luca.” I reach over and end the call before he can say anything else.

“Fiona, follow up with the Milan office in an hour. David, I’m going to need projections on the impact of the breach.”

“You’ve got it, boss.” Fiona pulls out her phone ad furiously starts typing. I turn my attention to Robin.

“Robin, write up a press release. You’ve always been good at getting people who should be mad at you to calm down.”

“It is one of my many talents.” He sits back in his chair with a cocky smile.

I can feel Ana’s gaze on me, but before I have a chance to settle my attention on her, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“It’s my father. I have to take this.” I reach into my pocket and step out of the conference room making my way to my office.

“Can you get Ana and have her meet me in my office, please.” Stacy gives me a nod before I step into my office and bring my phone to my ear.

“Hey Dad.”

“What the hell is going on in Milan, Sam?”

“We had a security breach. Luca didn’t follow protocol and now we have someone loose in the complex with our customers data.” I hear my dad take a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you know who this person is?” He asks, and I can hear the anger in his tone.

“I have Fiona following up shortly. Luca is trying to clean up his mess now.”

I hear a knock on the door and the vision of Ana is standing there, all long legs and olive skin. I wave her in, my body responding to her presence like a breath of fresh air.

“I’ll update you again when there is an update, Dad… You know everything I do, promise.”

“Sam, I expect a lot more than that. Luca needs to be held accountable for his actions…”

My dad continues to drone on as I look at Ana and roll my eyes. I watch her gaze grow heated as her eyes travel up my body, lingering in all the right places, until finally her eyes rise to mine. Her gaze doesn’t break when she realizes I caught her staring, her emerald eyes dark with desire, and the fantasies of what I want to do to her in this office come rushing back.

“…Dad, I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone before he has a chance to object. I might regret that later…

“Sorry about all the excitement. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I invited you to the office.”

“No need to apologize. Besides, it’s been kind of… thrilling to see you in action.” She clenches her thighs shut. “I like the way you take charge.”

Fuck…

“Good to know…” Is all I can think of to say in that moment. Try to keep it professional… “It seems you’re quite the hit around the office already.”

“I am?”

“Everyone is so curious about you… I blame Grant.” I also blame how damn beautiful you are. “Well, that and the fact I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been able to give you a proper tour. But I booked the labs for this afternoon to make sure we have them mall to ourselves.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Thank you.” Her eyes light up, god you are so beautiful when you are happy.

“You’re very welcome. Although…” My voice trails off. How do I word this….?

“What?” She asks casually leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“I’m an impatient man, Ana. I’m not sure I can wait that long to get you alone…” My eyes trail over her bare legs as I imagine them spread open before me.

“What did you have in mind?” She notices my heated gaze.

“We could have lunch together, away from the prying eyes of my employees. Honestly, after the morning I’ve had, I could really use the break from the office. What do you say?”

“Let’s go.” She stands up confidently and moves towards the door.

“Great. Let me send a quick text and we can head up there.”

***

Soon, Ana and I are walking side by side along the High Line, I have a picnic basket in my hand. I find a quiet bench and sit down. I watch her fold her body next to me, the electricity that arcs between us, making me feel alive. She grabs the picnic basket and begins ruffling through it, the corner of her lips turning up in a small smile before she looks over at me.

“Are you telling me that they managed to whip all of this up after a quick text? There must be enough food for twenty people in here!” She holds up a whole range of appetizers.

“I admit, I was hoping you would take me up on my offer, so I planned ahead a little bit… But really, all the chef did was pack what they were serving in the cafeteria into a basket instead of onto a tray to send up to my office.” I shrug my shoulders.

“You have this kind of food everyday?” She looks down at the content of the basket.

“One of the perks of the job.” And the perks of being the boss.

“Mmmm, my compliments to the chef.” She says after taking a bite, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

“So, first impressions. What do you think of Dalton Enterprises?” I pop an olive in my mouth and watch her carefully.

“Seems like a great place to work, especially if you get to eat like this all the time. Everyone’s so friendly and excited about their jobs here. I could see myself working here in the future… assuming things aren’t too complicated between us.” Her eyes grow distant as she shifts her attention to the people walking by.

My mood immediately turns serious as I reach over and place my hand on top of hers.

“I think you’d be a great fit. And the last thing I want to be is a ‘complication’ for your career. Regardless of what happens between us.”

“I know you’re not the kind of man to hold that sort of thing against me… but still, it’s nice to hear you say it.” Her emerald eyes swing to mine as she gives me a small smile.

I turn my attention to the view, enjoying this rare moment of peace between the two of us. I think back on the meeting with Luca and wince as I realize she saw that side of me.

“I hope it didn’t bother you too much to see me get tense in the Milan meeting.”

“Not at all. This company is your baby, and sometimes that requires tough love.” She pauses, and takes a sharp intake of breath, her face turning to resolve. “In fact, it made me want you to discipline me someday.”

My gaze cuts back to hers, did she really just say that? God, I want to bend you over and spank you right now for saying that to me out here…

“Ana… you can’t just say that to me. Not when we’re in public. Not when I can’t do exactly what we both want, right here, right now.”

“I’m not stopping you.” She leans towards me, her eyes flashing.

“No, but the threat of a public indecency charge is.” I smile at her challenge.

“Wheres the fun in that? Maybe I should break a few rules until you tie me up and teach me a lesson.” She gives me a knowing smile and I picture her round ass bare and pink before me, begging for more.

“I have thought about creative ways to punish you…” I admit, my voice husky.

“Like what?” She whispers.

“Drive you to the edge and not let you fall over. Even when you’re begging for it.” I lower my voice as my body leans towards hers.

Her eyes darken as she moans my name, a blush creeping across her neck and up her cheeks as I watch her body shudder.

A dog barks in the distance, bringing me out of my fantasy, I sit up and clear my throat.

“Dessert?” I ask her, swallowing down my desire.

“Dessert? Yeah, sure.” She blushes again.

I grab a strawberry, dipping it into the soft chocolate and offering it to her. She looks between he strawberry and my face before taking it carefully from my fingers. I watch as she traces the curve of her lower lip tantalizingly slow, her eyes never leaving mine. Her tongue darts out and licks the chocolate away. I shift to try and hide the growing hardness in my pants.

“Mmmm, that’s so tasty.” She moans, her eyes fluttering closed. “Sam, I need more…”

“Ana…” Fucking hell woman.

I watch her grab a strawberry and dip it into the chocolate, bringing it up to her lips and sucking lightly on the tip. A wave of desire makes my cock twitch as I imagine her lips wrapped around me.

“Are you trying to kill me? Because its working…”

“I can see that.” She gives me a sly smile, her eyes drifting down to the obviously bulge in my pants.

I swallow, trying to regain control as my mind wanders to the fucked up situation we are in, and the reality hits me hard.

“Ana… I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of all this.”

“All what?” She asks, her face passive.

“My life. My engagement. My… desire. It’s not fair for me to put you through this… not when I can’t give you everything you deserve.” I reach out and gently place my hand on her cheek, running my thumb across her full, pink bottom lip. “But I can’t seem to stay away.” Because I don’t want to stay away.

“What if you are what I deserve?” She asks me, her eyes searching mine.

I can’t help but feel like you deserve so much better than me… I watch her lean her body closer to mine, I can tell she wants me to kiss her…

“You have no idea how much I wish I’d met you first.” I whisper as I look between her emerald eyes which are fixed on mine. My thumb caresses her soft olive skin.

“Sam, it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere. Not after finding you.” Her words strike me hard as I realize what she is saying.

“Really? You’ll wait?”

She slowly nods her head and leans into my palm.

“Forever and ever… although I’d really rather we work something out sooner than that.”

God, she is giving me way more than I deserve… you stupid ass hole, what are you doing?

“Me too.” I say with a smile. “I will find us a clean way out of this mess. I promise.” I don’t even know if that is a promise I can keep, but I am going to try my fucking hardest. “For now, though, let’s just enjoy each other’s company? For one childfree day?”

“Deal.”

I drop my hand from her cheek as we continue to enjoy each others company, the lunch hour passing way too quickly.

***

After lunch I lead Ana to my favorite part of Dalton Enterprises: the labs. I feel like a teenager as we descend down the elevator and through the key card locked doors. I ensured Stacy understood that we were not to be interrupted, and ignored the weird expression that crossed her features at my request.

I swipe my keycard in front of the final door, pushing the door open to the robotics lab. I take a deep breath and breathe in the smell of metal and feel the charge of electricity in the air.

“This is where the magic happens. The prototypes, the formulas, the fistfights over whose name goes first on the patent…” I turn my attention to Ana. Her eyes have widened as she looks around in awe.

“I can picture it now.”

“This is my favorite part of our new line. Granted, it’s got some kinks to work out.” I lead her to a table with our latest project, slipping the gloves onto my hands which make the tiny robotic arms on the table match my every movement.

“Whoa. I can’t decide if you’re a mad scientist… or if the tiny robot is too cute for words.” She says with amazement.

“Are those the only options?” I give her a wry smile.

“Cute or crazy? More often than you’d think.” Her gaze lingers for a moment before she turns her attention back to the miniature robot.

“I’ve never seen you so passionate.” Her voice comes out low and my eyes snap to hers.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. You’ve seen me plenty passionate.”

“I meant about your job.” She rolls her eyes with a grin, and a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“I do love a good experiment. And as messy as it can be, I’m glad that’s a trait I passed down to the boys.” I stifle a laugh.

“So, if you’re in one for a promotion to CEO… will you have to leave all this? The lab?” Her eyes scan the lab and my stomach sinks.

I look down at my hands, slowly peeling the gloves off.

“Unfortunately, yes… I’m not looking forward to that part, but I’ve been waiting to lead Dalton Enterprises for a long time. It’s my namesake. Even if it’s not easy to let go of what I love… sometimes you have to.” The double meaning in my words is not lost on me… but I hope she doesn’t notice.

I watch as Ana leans back on the counter and watches me carefully. The words duty and responsibility ring in my ears like a broken vinyl, the ache in my chest growing as I scan the curves of her body.

“Why is your dad hanging on to the title of CEO, anyway? He’s not even here today.”

“He’s easing his way into retirement, but it’s hard for him to let go… especially given my so-called ‘wild youth’ before the boys. And then as a widower, I think he saw me as a liability. Too fragile. Adrift.” My mind sinks back into the memories of the countless arguments my father and I have been in. “It’s taken so long to finally earn his trust, prove to him that I’m a reliable man.” Which is why you need to control yourself…

I watch Ana reach out to console me, but I hand her the gloves first. Duty and responsibility… self-control… you have worked so hard to get where you are… don’t fuck it all up now.

“Anyway, why don’t you try it now?” I give her a small smile and I watch her lips turn down in disappointment which she quickly masks as she pulls the gloves onto her slender hands. She makes slight movements with her hands, which the robots effectively match.

“Okay, this is really cool.” Her eyes dance with excitement as she blows me a kiss. You are making this really difficult… but the light in her eyes is contagious. You are so radiant when you are happy…

“Clever.” My eyes meet hers with a smile before the moment is broken by the sound of the robot flipping over onto the table.

“Crap! Did I break it?” Her eyes widen slightly in alarm.

“We built it to be more resilient than that. Here, try it like this. You have to go slowly. Gently.” I position myself behind her, and the smell of Ana, jasmine and sunshine, suddenly fills my senses and clouds my judgement. I run my hands down her slender arms, hearing her breath hitch at the heat and contact. My hands come to rest on top of hers and her body involuntarily leans back into mine. “Go too fast, and the whole system shorts out.” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She turns slowly in my arms, and I am acutely aware of how close we are, our breathes mixing in the silent, still air. My eyes scan the delicate features of her face, ending at the curves of her plump, pink lips. A forbidden place that draws me in like a moth to the flame. I am going to hell…

“Sam…” her lips open and she whispers a desperate plea. She leans toward me until our lips are only centimeters apart. My head starts to swim in the intoxicating smell of her, remembering the sweet taste of her lips, and the delicious blush that covers her body when we touch.

“What if someone walks in?” Her emerald eyes flick between my eyes and my lips.

“No one’s going to. I booked the lab for us. No one will dare interrupt.” My voice is husky as it betrays my desire. My self control is teetering on the brink. I see the moment that her resolve finally crumbles and in that moment I reach up and cup her cheek, as our lips meet in a desperate kiss.

“I tried so hard to hold back… but it feels so good to let go.” She leans back for a moment, her eyes scanning my face.

“I know exactly what you mean…” I pull her lips back to mine in a heated kiss that deepens as my self control effectively disappears. All I can think about is how sweet her lips taste, how intoxicating she smells, and how badly I want to feel every inch of her skin.

My fingertips graze down her curves, as she leans into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. She closes her lips around my tongue and sucks hard, sending a shooting wave down to my cock as I groan into her mouth. I feel her lips turn up in a smile and I moan her name.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” She pulls away, her lips red and swollen from our kisses and that blush covering her cheeks.

“God, yes…” I admit as I run my hands down the curves of her body, unbuttoning her silk blouse and pushing it off of her shoulders exposing her perfectly round breasts in her lace bra. My fingertips graze her newly exposed skin as I push her skirt down to the floor and I take a moment to appreciate her figure. God… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen… “I think about this, about you, all day, every day.”

I put my arms on her lower back, pulling her body to mine as my lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck, then her shoulder, tasting her skin and listening to the soft moans that leave her beautiful lips, have me blind with my desire. She moans my name and the sound of my name off of her lips is almost enough to unman me.

She pushes my jacket off of my shoulders and I watch her shaking fingers quickly unbutton my shirt, pushing it from my shoulders and exposing my chest. She tries to reach out, but I grab her body and bring her breast to my mouth. I suck on her nipple through the lace and I feel her coming apart in my arms.

“I could kiss you forever, Ana.” Because you taste so damn sweet. I drag my teeth across her breast and she gasps as her body responds so perfectly to mine.

“I’m tired of just kissing.” She grinds her hips against my growing desire causing a moan to escape my lips.

“What’s gotten into you?” I look down at her and her eyes are dark and hooded.

“I liked seeing your sexy dominant side. You were so firm and strong and hard with that Luca guy, showing him exactly what kind of boss you are… it was hot” A smile plays on her lips as she continues to grind against me.

“Remind me to let you watch whenever I discipline someone at work.” A fire is raging inside of my body as the friction continues.

“I’d rather you just discipline me instead.” She moans before our lips meet again in a frenzied kiss.

My fingertips travel around her exposed skin before they dip inside of the cup of her bra.

“What’re you doing to me, Ana?” I whisper breathlessly against her lips.

“You’re the one who - oh!- makes me…” I don’t let her finish her thought as my fingers dip lower, feeling the pooling wetness between her thighs. I feel her body start to tremble.

“Sam, are you… sure?”

I pull back and look at her eyes which are wide as she pants. I grab her hand and place it over my racing heart.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.” In this moment I realize truer words have never been spoken. This woman has my heart, I don’t know how it happened… but in the few months that I have known her, she has completely consumed me. I realize in this moment that I have to do whatever I can to have a future with her. “Don’t you feel the same way?”

“I have never been more sure of anything too.” Her eyes search mine in her confession. “No matter the consequences. I’m all in.”

Her words send a fresh wave of desire through me as my eyes scan her every curve, memorizing every freckle on her olive skin.

“Tell me what you want, Ana. Whatever it is, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Sam, I want you on the table.” She grinds her hips against my desire again.

I lean back and give her a sly smile before she grabs my hand and pulls me to the other side of the lab. I watch her perfect peach of an ass walk away from me, her hips swaying from side to side.

“I always wanted to do this.” She says with a smile before she brushes all of the papers off of the table. She lifts her hips up and lays herself back as if in offering before me. I take a moment to marvel at her body, spread before me.

“Good thing none of that was important…” I smile.

“Would you care if it was?”

“With you spread out before me, moaning my name? Not even remotely.” My eyes travel down to her most intimate place as I spread her legs wide. I bring my lips to the inside of her knee, blazing a trail of hot, fiery, open-mouthed kisses up thigh. I bring my nose to the apex of her thighs, inhaling the sweet scent of her desire. So fucking sweet. I am going to take my sweet time with this delicious pussy. I can feel the moisture as I run my tongue along the lace. Her hips writhing as she moans my name. God, its so fucking good.

I reach up slowly to hook a finger into her panties when the worst sound I could possibly hear in this moment rings through the lab. That fucking buzzer.

My eyes fly to hers as she lifts her head in alarm.

“What was that?”

“Someone just used their keycard to enter the hall.”

I stand up quickly, grabbing Ana’s hips and helping her off the table, before we hurry to the opposite end of the lab where our clothes lay strewn on the floor. We dress quickly, and just in time, before I hear a closer buzzer signal that whoever is coming down here is about to join us. I look over at Ana who is making still blushing and her lips are still read. Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair.

Thats when Robin walks into the room and my anger flares.

“He should just be in here.” He is holding a phone to his ear.

“Robin! What a pleasant surprise!” Ana exclaims and I fight the urge to pinch my nose.

My eyes are fixed on Robin as he looks between the both of us and gives me a knowing look. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sofia, Im gonna have to call you back.” He narrows his eyes at me before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up the call.

This isn’t good.

***

A/N- There are a few choices in here I really struggled to make with my MC, I played it several ways and ended up with this, before Ana really knew what she was getting herself into. I had to rethink who she was at this point in her life with Sam, but please forgive me if you don’t like the choices that I/She made. Muah!