#he continues to be the most charming little lad on the screen

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

[paralianprince]

[There's a letter!! A handwritten snail-mail letter!

Peter,

I really hope this isn't weird, but I looked up Sea|and and its history since we met, and it seems like today should be your birthday, if I understand correctly? Daudz laimes dzimšanas dienā! (That's Happy Birthday in my language! We say it much longer). I hope you have a wonderful birthday, and I can't wait to come over soon. Your friend, Raivis.

Inside is a little wooden fish he got from a local carver. Is - Is that enough? He knows they don't know each other well, so he doesn't want to do TOO much and freak him out or seem clingy, but he also doesn't want to seem dismissive. Hopefully, whatever the case, he can make it up to him on his visit.]

Snail-mails are rare, but Peter is diligent, so, it evens out, most of the time. With regards to stopping by his post office box to pick up any letters in an acceptably timely manner, we mean.

It surprises him, actually; ever since approximately two decades ago, he'd lost any desire whatsoever to make a fuss over himself every year for no reason. Aided partially by the fact that he's well used to getting to do whatever he likes, and if he wants to go do something fun, there's no point at all in waiting for a specific date to go do that. And everybody who knows him well enough to know his birthday, (as his reasoning goes, anyway), has hopefully gotten all this out of their system by now.

So, yeah, from his perspective, this sort of comes out of nowhere!

He's walking slowly along the rows of shops, with his head down, which is pretty stupid of him, reading the short letter over again for maybe the fourth time. He mutters under his breath the words he doesn't understand or know how to pronounce, wondering whether he's anywhere close to getting them right.

Obviously, he's nothing short of delighted at the carved wooden fish, (and plenty amused by people's continued insistence on his inherent nautical theming), as the newest addition to his perpetually-expanding collection of plushes, gunplas, figures (quality/elaborate), figures (tacky/cheap/charming), and miscellaneous CUTE ICKLE LIL LADS in small toy form. Peter decides on gut instinct alone that this bitty carved fish is definitely good luck, somehow. Mostly just because he wants it to be, which by itself counts for a lot.

By that evening he'd be home again. He sends Raivis a photo of the lil fish perched next to his laptop screen, with an accompanying message.

[SMS: Rai!!!!!!]: she made it here safe!!!!! thank you i adore her [SMS: Rai!!!!!!]: can i name her zivs or is that weird. orrrr if u had an idea before you sent her to me then please save me because i have been losign my mind for like an hour trying to make a decision

[spartanguard]

silvered sea captain

Summary: The sea captain who teaches Henry’s summer sailing class is not at all what Emma expected—in a good way. She’s not sure if she’ll be able to resist his charms...or his beard.

A/N: So, as I pointed out last night (and has been haunting me ever since I saw their Facebook post), the captain of the Lady Washington (aka the Jolly Roger) has a freaking amazing beard. Just look at it. And between my own comment and some other people’s, I couldn’t let go of the idea of Killian with that beautiful mass of facial hair. So I wrote this whole thing in like 4 hours while watching TV. It’s not the most detailed but hopefully hits all the right notes on beard and silver fox appreciation ;)

1.5k | rated vaguely M 

When Henry wanted to sign up for a summer sailing camp, Emma expected it to be taught by some kindly old man, or maybe a gruff Navy veteran who really wasn’t that great with kids. She figured Henry would end the first day tired, sore, and maybe a little beat-down—it’s not like sailing was an easy pastime, especially not on the old-fashioned tall ship that was proudly standing in the Storybrooke marina. She already had a motivational speech ready to convince Henry to go back the next day (the camp was, after all, nonrefundable, and she was a single mom on a limited budget).

But it turned out she didn’t need to talk him into coming back; he came running down the gangplank once the ship was safely docked, shouting exuberantly about everything and spouting off nautical terms faster than she could figure out what he was saying. All she could understand was when he turned around and yelled, “Bye, Captain Killian! See you tomorrow!”

Emma looked back at the ship, to see a tallish man waving back. He looked to be well-built, wearing a nondescript polo and jeans, but it was hard to read the expression on his face through his frankly majestic beard. Maybe she had been right on both her assumptions—his facial hair was reminiscent of the Gorton’s fisherman, gray and all, but everything in his posture seemed no-nonsense. 

On the drive home, Henry continued to babble about the day, with frequent mentions of the Captain and the wisdom he handed out. From what she gathered, the guy was a Navy veteran-turned-commercial fisherman, who spent his summer vacation teaching camp. “And he’s got a hook, like a real pirate!” Henry exclaimed with all the enthusiasm of a 13-year-old boy raised on the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. (What? Orlando Bloom was hot.)

She had to laugh at his excitement, but was glad he’d found something he enjoyed that involved fresh air and not a screen. 

Emma was working a tricky bail bonds case the next few days, so her best friend got Henry after camp for her. “Have you talked to the instructor yet?” Mary Margaret asked when she picked Henry up after the penultimate day. 

“No; I didn’t get a chance. Why?”

“You should,” she said with a wink—which just made Emma groan; it wasn’t the first time Mary Margaret had made a romantic suggestion and likely wouldn’t be the last. But there was only one day left, so there wasn’t much point in even considering it. 

However, when Henry came running up to her car the next day, the Captain was following him. “Mom, this is Captain Killian Jones; Captain, my mom, Emma Swan.”

“A pleasure,” the man said, and extended his hand to her. She took it casually, but then made the fatal mistake of looking him in the eyes. 

Blue the color of the ocean behind him was staring at her from underneath dark, thick eyebrows and a similar shock of wind-tousled hair, a sharp contrast to the thick gray beard on his chin (though, up close, she noticed its dark auburn roots). 

And then she was truly dumbstruck when he brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss against the back of it, his bushy moustache tickling her skin. “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things, Emma,” he said in his lilting accent. “And you’ve got an incredible lad here.”

“Uh, thanks,” she stammered. “He hasn’t been able to shut up about this all week, so I, uh, guess you run a tight ship.”

Captain Jones chuckled—a deep, somehow light thing that absolutely did not reverberate in her core, no way. “It’s always nice to leave an impression,” he grinned, and she could just make out the impression of dimples in his whiskers. (And she was choosing not to acknowledge the bit of chest hair teasing from the unbuttoned vee of his shirt, or the way the short sleeves highlighted his impressive biceps.)

“Mom, can I do it again next summer? Please?” Henry started begging; she’d kind of forgotten they weren’t alone, and the surprise made her finally drop his hand. 

“Yes, Mom? Please?” the Captain parroted, smirking, and her ovaries may have exploded.

“We’ll see,” she said, in a classic mom response, if only to put some distance between her and her sudden unexpected attraction. She didn’t do that anymore—at least, not with guys like this: good ones. 

“I hope so,” the Captain replied. “Henry might just have the skills to replace my first mate.”

They made their farewells and headed off for a camp-ending celebratory dinner at their favorite diner, and for the next week, Henry still wouldn’t stop talking about the camp—and its enigmatic leader. (If asked, she would decline to comment on the number of times she fantasized about dancing blue eyes and beard burn.)

But, like most things with a pre-teen, he moved onto the next obsession and by late fall, Henry’s adventure on the Jewel of the Realm was all but forgotten, save for their occasional drive past the marina. She was even able to block out her momentary infatuation—which came back to bite her when she ran her cart into someone else’s at the grocery store a couple weeks before Christmas. 

“Beg your pardon, ma’am—wait, Miss Swan?”

The seemingly unfamiliar man in front of her had close-cropped dark hair, with a few lighter streaks throughout, and mostly ginger-colored scruff over his sharp jaw. She was about to go on the defensive until she looked in his sharp blue eyes and it all came back. 

“Captain Jones! Wow, I didn’t recognize you without the beard,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

He chuckled and rubbed his chin. “‘S alright; I get that a lot. I tend to grow it out during the summer, when we’re at sea, but it’s a bit impractical for shore leave.”

“I can see that,” she said. And it was kind of nice to actually be able to see his face. Before, it had been hard to tell how old he was; she would have placed him in his early to mid 50s. Now, it was apparent that he was much younger—40 at best, but probably less. 

“How’s Henry?” he enquired, and she tamped down her resurfacing attraction to answer. Although, honestly, that kind of fanned the flames, too—a hot guy asking a single mom about her kid with genuine interest? That did not happen often. 

“And he does still talk about your class,” she assured him. “I’m planning on signing him up next summer as soon as it opens.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said with a grin, confirming her theory about him having dimples. “Although, I must admit—I hope I don’t have to wait that long to run into you again.” 

Emma found herself blushing at that, and then even more when she realized they were literally flirting in the coffee aisle with their carts still smashed together. (And didn’t let her mind wander down the path of other things smashing together.) “I don’t want that either.”

He grinned again, but it was softer. “Would you and Henry like to meet me for dinner tomorrow? There’s this little fish and chips place—”

“Dave’s?” she interrupted. 

“Aye; you know it?”

“Oh yeah.” Mary Margaret’s husband was the Dave in question. 

“How does 6 pm sound?”

“Sounds like a date,” she answered. 

Now it was his turn to blush, pink coloring his cheekbones—something she wouldn’t have been able to see through his full set of whiskers. “Until then, love.”

(Although they ran into each other three more times before they finished their shopping.)

(Dinner was lovely, even if she spent a decent chunk of it shooting down glares from David and overexcited grins from Mary Margaret. But other than that, it was casual and comfortable and all had a wonderful time.)

(They went on their first official date, without Henry, a month later—though that didn’t stop her son from sitting up waiting for her to get back, demanding to know how it went and if he kissed her. She told Henry it was really nice, which it was—but declined to mention the hallway makeout that had her lips tingling from the sensation of his beard, short as it was at the moment, against them.)

(She became more intimately acquainted with the beard burn she’d dreamed about shortly thereafter, and on much more sensitive skin. She had to invest in better lotion when he began to let it fill in once the fishing season started.)

And the next summer, when Henry ran down the gangplank after the first day of class, Killian followed shortly after and greeted her with an embrace and a kiss, and her fingers brushed against his bushy gray beard—a bit grayer than last year, as was the rest of his hair. 

Of all the things she didn’t expect when Henry signed up for this sailing class, falling for the silver sea dog who ran it was at the bottom of her list. But now—it was by far her favorite.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thanks for reading! tagging a few friends and/or silver fox/beard aficionados: @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @thesschesthair @kat2609 @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @winterbythesea @thisonesatellite @phiralovesloki @laschatzi @pirateherokillian @piracytheorist @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @cynmoon @wyntereyez @shipswreckedme​ and i’m not sure who else (feel free to ignore!)

[boat-dock]

“Snapshots” Chapter 1

Hello all! this is chapter 1 of my first ever Her Royal Highness fic. this is going to be a collection of oneshots which will start before they are together and will continue past the end of the book. I hope ya’ll enjoy and as always any and all feedback is appreciated and enjoyed

Chapter 1 “Her traitorous heart” is set between the visit to Skye and the surprise Thanksgiving. 

Millie laid on her stomach in her bed, with her laptop open staring at a blank screen where her essay was supposed to be. She’s been sitting there for half an hour trying to do her homework and not getting anywhere. Flora was in the room with her, not helping her distraction levels. Instead of trying to do work, Flora was rolling around the room in a rolly chair, the scraping of the wheels against the floor and her swishing blonde ponytail constantly pulling at Millie’s focus. It was a strangely childlike activity for a princess to be doing and brought a smile to her face.

“Can you please be a little quieter?” Millie groaned, causing Flora’s head to snap towards her, “I’m trying to work.”

Now the chair was being rolled toward her bed so Flora could rest her chin on the edge of her bed, so that she was only inches away from Millie. “But I’m bored Quint,” she whined, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. 

Millie rolled her eyes at that,” You could try doing some homework,” she offered, trying to nudge her away. Flora huffed at her and scrunched her nose. She was not deterred, however, she seemed even more determined to get attention. 

“Quiiiint,” she dragged out, poking her lightly on her arm. Millie ignored her and tried to bring her attention back to her essay, letting her fingers run quickly over the keys even though no useful words came out of it. “Millie,” she whispered and a shiver ran up her spine. She was so used to being called Quint that hearing Flora say her name caused her mind to go blank and her breath to hitch. Millie looked at her and blinked back to reality. 

“Yeah Flo?” she asked. The nickname she had heard Seb call her so many times, slipped out without her evening thinking about it. 

Flora’s face lit up, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the nickname or just from her attention in general. “I would like attention please.” 

It would have been so easy to drop everything and hang out with Flora, in fact she’d been doing that more and more these days and that was doing nothing but fan the flames of her pesky little crush. It was easy to follow Flora, she was powerful and confident in a way that only a princess could pull off. It was dangerous, because Millie found that her feelings were not nearly as aware that a relationship with Flora would only end in heartbreak as her brain was. “I can’t, “ she pushed back,” I have to write this paper.” 

The look Flora gave her could only be described as a puppy dog look and Millie’s resolve almost broke. They sat in silence as she tried to keep working, but Flora stayed next to her, watching with her large golden eyes. “Can I have your phone?” she asked. Normally Millie might have questioned this but she was desperate to actually make progress on this paper so she handed it over no questions asked. 

With a grin she rolled away from the bed to mess with Millie’s phone. A strange weight was lifted off of her shoulders and she could breathe again. Being that close to her old roommate, now friend, shouldn’t be this hard. The princess was now taking various selfies and saving them to Millie’s phone. “Couldn’t you do that on your phone?” 

“Perhaps, but I couldn’t use the fun snapchat filters,” she answered, shooting her a sly grin and snapping another photo. She forgets that Flora isn’t allowed to have social media by her family. 

“Go crazy then,” she says, leaving her to enjoy her selfies.

Flora flashed her a dazzling smile and left her to try and do her homework. Even with the new found quiet she still found it hard to concentrate, her mind wandered and all her thoughts seemed to find their way back to her ex-roommate. Somewhere along the way, her fingers stopped typing and her eyes glazed over. She’s snapped out of it when Flora’s voice disrupts the silence, except this time it wasn’t aimed at her. 

When she looked she found Flora talking to her phone, “Hi Americans,” she sang, waving at the camera. It was then that Millie noticed the blinking red button on the bottom of the screen that showed it was recording,” I’m..”

“What are you doing?” Millie cut in, scrunching her eyebrows. She shifted her weight so she was fully facing Flora and the camera. 

Flora turned toward her and spoke, while sliding the chair back closer to the bed,” I’m talking to the Americans and I’m going to post it to your story,” she said blatantly. She almost snorted but stopped herself, she had at most 20 friends on snapchat, four close friends, her aunt Vi and the rest were random kids she used to go to high school with but never really spoke to. 

She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands making eye contact with the camera,” and how many people do you think are going to see that?” she asked. 

“Don’t really care,” she commented,” I’m just bored, love.” she now turned back to the camera,” Amelia here, is very busy writing her essay and I have nothing to do.” Millie huffed and gave a small eye roll. 

“You could go do your homework ya know,” she was deliberately ignored. 

The door to her room flew open as Sakshi and Perry came in carrying snacks and coffee laughing with each other. Flora flipped the phone camera with ease, so that their friends were now in the shot, “ Say hello to the Americans,” she announced, startling them. 

Saks regained her composer quickly and answered,” Hullo Americans,” she grinned, waves of super model charms flowing from her. 

“Hi,” Perry murmmured,” we come bearing snacks.” 

Millie’s stomach growled loudly at the mere mention of snacks. The camera switched back to her and Flora and the filter snapped back into place, giving their skin a ethereal glow that made her kind of uneasy. Not that Flora needed any filter to be beautiful, she always seemed to glow all on her own. 

“Time to go,” she said waving,” Anything to say before we leave Quint?” 

She thought for a second before smirking and answering,” Send help,” she deadpanned, letting her eyes slide to Flora to see how she reacted. 

“Oi!” she exclaimed, in what Millie assumed was mock outrage. 

“Kidding,” she grinned,” Bye y’all,” she quickly grabbed the phone, effectively ending the video. Accepting a muffin and coffee from Perry, she tried to forget the video, knowing that Flora definitely was not going to. 

“Are we going to ignore the fact that Millie just said y’all,” Saks’ asked through a mouthful of muffin, in a surprisingly unlady-like manner for her. 

“...I’ve probably said it before,” Millie answered as Saks sat on her bed on the opposite side of the room. Flora abandoned her chair to join Millie on her bed so that Perry could have it. She sipped her coffee and scrunched her nose, in an annoyingly cute way, before setting it to the side. “I’m from the American south, it’s part of my vernacular.” 

“I like it, “ Flora replied, “ it’s got a cute twang to it.” 

Millie’s cheeks burned against her will and she ducked her head, avoiding eye contact with everyone. She had gotten used to hearing the Scottish accent around her now, but sometimes it still shocked her. It was strange to think that they might think the same things when they heard her talk. She didn’t have a good way to respond to this, so instead she just kept her head down, ignoring the weight of Flora’s eyes on her and the knowing look Sakshi was giving them. 

Her paper now forgotten, Millie closed her laptop and moved to put it on the desk simply so that she would have something to do with her hands. There was officially too much attention on her and she did not know what to do with herself. She was used to being in the background, not the center of attention and right now there was no doubt that all eyes were on her. 

Her phone dinged next to her annoyingly quickly indicating that someone had messaged her. She sighed knowing that it was about the video Flora had posted of all of them. The princess eyed the phone but before she could make a move to grab it Millie snatched it and clicked it on. 

She had a list of people from her old high school that she did not want to talk to and while the person she caught Jude cheating on her with was not on the top of said list he was definitely on it. Mason’s name sat heavily on her screen and she almost didn’t open it, but her curiosity got the better of her. 

She tried to make her fingers move but they sat stubborn and still. This was ridiculous, Mason didn’t know anything about her and Jude, there was no reason for things to be weird between them. Taking a deep breath, she clicked the message. 

Damn Millie who’s your friend? 

A distressed sound escaped from her throat, it started off as a yelp then turned into a groan. On instinct she threw her phone onto the bed face down trying to erase the words from her mind 

No. This was not happening. Not again. 

No. No. No. 

“What’s wrong with you Quint?” Flora asked, picking up the phone. Millie could see her eyes scanning the message. An all too familiar smirk formed on her lips and Millie could barely keep herself from staring, “Oh,” she says and an emotion that Millie couldn’t place flashed across her face, but disappeared as quickly as it had come,” Some American lad thinks I’m attractive. I don’t think that requires that level of a reaction.” she teased, her smirk returning causing Millie’s cheeks to heat up. 

By this point Saks and Perry were peering over Flora’s shoulder to read the message too. “It’s not the message as much as the person that sent it,” she backtracked. 

“Who is he?” Perry asked. 

She took a second too long to answer, “ his name’s Mason,” they all stared at her, waiting for more information. “He’s who I caught Jude cheating on me with.” she murmured and lowered her eyes. 

Saks gasped and before she could blink the phone was in her hand. “I want a picture of this boy,” she announced only to find that there was nothing for her to see. With a disappointed huff she and Flora glared at the home as Perry wheeled the chair across the room to join them. 

“Check his instagram,” he announced and then Saks’ fingers were flying over the screen. 

“Give me that,” Millie growled, taking the phone back to respond to the message. 

I thought you were with Jude?

Mason typed and deleted his reply at least three times before it finally came through. 

We broke up about 2 months ago.

I thought she would have told you

Her stomach knotted. She wasn’t happy about that, she wasn’t. But there was some sick satisfaction in knowing that the relationship had not worked out. She pushed down those feelings scolding herself. 

We haven’t talked much recently. 

Her friends were watching her intently but she made no move to let them read the messages. She deserved some privacy after all. 

That sucks

This conversation had turned painfully awkward fast. She started looking for ways to end it. 

For you too

She thought that would be the last of it and they would both go back to not speaking to each other for the next three months, until she was back in Texas for Christmas. Sadly she was mistaken. 

So is that a no from your friend? 

Just like that Millie closed the phone without answering and tossed it, determined to forget the entire conversation had ever happened. Sadly her friends didn’t agree with her. “Well…” Flora pushed, her eyes sparkling with the prospects of new gossip ,” What did he say?” 

“Nothing important,” she said bluntly, trying to put an end to this whole thing. They all moved in closer to her and she realized that the only way to end this was to give them what they wanted,” he just said that he and Jude aren’t together anymore and then he asked about you again.” 

An annoying smirk was again graced Flora’s face, she was relishing this, she was relishing how Millie was reacting to this. Millie hated how she was reacting to this situation, she hated that she wasn’t mad at Mason because of his relationship with Jude, she was upset because he was interested in Flora. Except she had no right to be possessive over Flora, Flora was not her’s. They were ex-roommates and barely even friends, nothing more. 

If only she could convince her traitorous heart that. 

[britishboystm]

For You- Matt *Blinded By The Light (SMUT)

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Ngl there is a bit of cliche cringe in here so beware👀, super fucking long wtf

A/N: Ok, ok. This one is hella long. Thanks to @blueeyedheizer for the inspo, hope you like it love:)

—-

“I’m telling you Y/N, he speaks to our generation. People like us who want to get out of Luton and see the world!”

“That’s great Javed.” The conversation that was happening while you and Javed walked home from college was less than exciting to you. He seemed super invested however, so you tried your best to let him rave about his new found obsession with Bruce Springsteen, some bloke from America that your dad listens to when fixing the car in the garage. You were more of a Cyndi Lauper and Madonna type.

You felt quite bad for Javed. No one really gave the poor lad the time of day. Not his dad, not the people at the college and most definitely not the community you guys lived in so you were his go to person. You had always been his confidant since you were kids.

Then there was Matt. The third of the trio. He took care of Javed. He was Javed’s protector against bullies in school. He himself was an eccentric personality. Very different from you and Javed. He loved girls, parties and synths. Once school was done, he had no desire to continue through to college. He was out of there.

But he finished the friendship puzzle and you relied on him as much as Javed did and vice versa.

It seemed like hours of him rambling and you tuning him out until you finally reached your neighbourhood. You, Javed and Matt all lived in the same cul de sac. It was where the three of you became best friends, then you were all enrolled into the same primary school down the road not long after. You guys became inseparable after that.

Everything was quite pleasant until you caught a glimpse of Matt. There he was, standing in all of his glory, sucking face with his latest fling, one you had not met yet. The image made your stomach churn and Javed noticed right away.

“Y/N, I really think you should tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Your eyes were glued to the car crash happening in front of you. See, you had developed feelings for Matt back in grade school, keeping it a secret to this day. The only person who knew was Javed.

He sighed and patted your back before walking towards the two love birds. The kissing was finally coming to an end and Matt pried himself off of her to notice the two of you.

“Javed, Y/N you muppets! ” His play thing grabbed onto his arm while he met you two half way.

“Hey Matt, how was Ibiza?” Javed asks reluctantly. Matt chuckles slightly, looking over proudly at his new arm candy. A look you had longed to receive from him one day.

“Met Emma over there, she lives nearby actually. It worked out brilliantly.”

You pretend to look happy.

“That sounds amazing Matt. Um, actually I’m going to have to run. My mum needs me home for dinner soon.”

“Leaving so soon?” Matt asked, soundly legitimately disappointed.

“I’ve been gone for weeks and this is all I get from you?” He pries a little further.

“Well some people actually have lives out of shagging girls and playing bar gigs so yeah I’ve got to go.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh but seeing this Emma girl had your blood boiling. She seemed lovely and deserved no harsh feelings so you felt it best to walk away from the situation which would probably just get out of hand.

“Y/N what’s all this about?” Matt says, hurt evident in his eyes. You sighed deeply trying to contain yourself.

“Nothing, sorry. I’m just super knackered. I’ll catch up with you guys later okay?” You didn’t wait for a response, hoisting yourself on your bike that you had walked home and rolled over to your front door, not as much as a look back and wave.

You were hoping that the day would come when Matt would bring home a girl and it didn’t bother you. But it was just getting worse. After closing the front door, you leaned against it trying to calm yourself before running up to your room to wallow alone.

---

Later that night you laid awake staring at your ceiling. The events from the afternoon had you in a frenzy. He really shouldn’t be affecting you like this, and yet here you were lying awake at the wee hours of the morning. It also didn’t help that there was light streaming into your bedroom window from Matt’s room.

You guys lived right next door to one another and your room windows faced each other, so most nights you would stay up and talk for hours on end from the windows edge.  

You stood up, groaning. It was probably the same situation you had faced so many times before. Because Matt was in a band, there were many nights where he would leave his desk lamp on to work on melodies and lyrics. The light would keep you up, which you absolutely hated but you would never say anything. 

Music was his life and you weren’t going to be the one to get in the way of that. With all the anger you were feeling though, tonight seemed easier to call him out on his bullshit. You approached your window and stood in front of it. But nothing could prepare you for what you would just witness. Straight ahead, stood Matt and Emma in very little clothing. Him in nothing but boxers and her in a matching set of red lace undies and bra. His hands were roaming her waist and landed on her perfect butt. 

You couldn't help but feel self conscious. She had such a bangin body, nothing you thought you could compare too. Without hesitation you shut your blinds, not wanting to subject yourself to that anymore. You shakily laid back in bed and just started sobbing. The image of his lips attached to her neck as he loved every inch of her body made you weep. It had probably been all of the pent up emotions you were feeling. This was your first ever heart break.

 ---

“Y/N! You need to eat before you head to work.” You tossed the sheets off of your body and huffed. The last thing you needed was a long shift at the mall jewelry store. The required outfit all employees had to wear laid in a heap in the corner of your room which you trudged over to and put on.Once you were ready you headed downstairs where your mom was organizing breakfast and your younger brother devoured his cereal.

“Matt dropped by not that long ago.”

 “Oh yeah? What did he want?” You focused on pouring a cup of coffee for yourself while asking.

“Don’t know. Just said he needed to talk to you.” You turned around to look at your mom and sighed.

“I’m actually not really speaking to him at the moment.” Taking a sip of your liquid energy. 

“Why? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to be late so I’ll see ya” You grabbed an apple and gave your mom a kiss on the cheek before running out the door

“Bye love!” You were already gone.

Your trusty bike always stayed locked up at the side of the house so you walked over to go grab it before heading to work.

“Y/N!”

Oh god. Whatever was about to happen, you weren’t in the mood. You turned around to see Matt running down his front yard in nothing but an open button up and pants.

She probably stayed the night, you thought.

You gripped onto your bike harder. Hopefully this won’t take long.

“Y/N, wait I have to talk to you.” He tried to catch his breath.

“What Matt?” Your tone was pointed.

“What’s going on with ya? You were acting all strange yesterday. Did I do something?” He stood there defeated. He had no clue what he had done to piss off the most important girl in his life. His best friend.

You groaned and threw your head back.

“Nothing really. I’m sorry I was being a bitch yesterday but I’ve just been under a lot of stress with school.”

Lies. You were at the top of all your classes.

“So are we good?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Always Matt.” You gave a smile. But the hurt was still there. His face lights up and he embraces you into a tight hug.

“Ugh Matt, you need to shower mate. You smell like sweat and regret.”

“Aww, you love it. Don’t pretend my manly musk doesn’t turn you on.” He gives you a wink. He of course was playing around. Why wouldn’t he be? You were his best friend. You couldn’t help but have your breath catch in your throat when he winked at you though.

You pretended to be amused.

“Hah hah Matt, very charming. Anyways I’m off to work so…” The laughs being overly sarcastic.

“Oh actually I wanted to ask you one more thing.” You couldn’t help but feel an excitement bubble in your stomach.

“Yeah?” You ask, eyes sparkling

“I need your help with Javed’s birthday.” Tonight Matt was going to throw a surprise party for Javed.

“Oh.” You were slightly disappointed. You didn’t know what you wanted him to say but it definitely wasn’t that.

“You know how I always want him to come to my parties but it’s impossible to get him there?”

“Yeah?”

“Well his parents trust you more than me by a long shot so I need you to pick him up and tell them your taking him to the library or some stupid shit like that.”

“Javed doesn’t know right?” You ask.

“Yeah, and it has to stay that way okay? Alright thanks love. I appreciate it.”

He comes in for one more hug and a kiss on the head.

“No worries Matt. See you tonight.”

He waves and starts walking back towards his house. Emma is waiting in nothing but one of his shirts (your favourite shirt of his nonetheless) in the doorway, watching the exchange go down.

You sigh and mount your bike, heading to work.

—-

That night you dressed up a tad bit. Of course it would raise suspicion if you showed up to Javed’s front door with what you had on so you snuck into your parents room and grabbed one of your dad’s old trench coats.

You let out a nervous puff of air as you sneaked past the living room where your mom was passed out in front of the tv. East Enders playing loudly on the screen. Your 5 year old brother laid on top of her asleep as well. It was pretty cute but there was no time to waste so you quietly snuck out.

The air was slightly nippy from the April weather. But you knew Javed’s house was just across the road so you didn’t mind.

You knocked on the door, hoping Javed would answer so it would be a quick exchange before getting him out of the house but alas, his father answered.

Shit, new plan.

“Hi Mr Khan. Is Javed around?”

“Why?” Uhhhhhh.

“We planned on going to the library to study.”

“Where are your books?” Fuck.

“I just got off work so I still need to drop by my house first.” Nice save Y/N.

He looked at you suspiciously then called out for Javed.

“Javed, your pretty friend is here.” You couldn’t help but giggle but it was cut short when Javed came down the stairs.

“Dad I told you this morning. Y/N and I are going to the library to study.” He had no clue what he was in for.

“Right well you two be good and get your work done.” He wagged a fatherly finger at you both and you nodded. As much as Javed and his dad has their problems, you could tell he wanted what was best for his son. Javed waved goodbye as the door shut behind him. Three heavy textbooks in his arms

“Where are your books Y/N? And what’s with the coat?”

“Oh Javed. You're so smart and yet so naive. Drop the books.” He gives you a confused look and you smirk, putting a sleeping mask over his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He seemed a little panicked as you grabbed the books from him and placed them behind the bush beside the stairs.

“Just relax.” You chuckle leading him away from the house.

He kept his hands out in front of him, trying to get used to the fact that he couldn’t see. It didn’t take long to approach Matt’s. You knew a bunch of people were already inside hiding, trying to stay quiet but failing miserably, probably already pissed drunk. You opened the door and Javed called out towards you. “Y/N? Where are we? Can I take this thing off?” You gently removed it from his eyes, darkness still filling the room. You quickly turned the light switch on and everyone came jumping out from different objects and doorways.

“Surprise!” Everyone yelled. 

Javed jumped back a little in your arms. The celebration didn’t last long though because after they did what they were instructed to do, they all went back to playing loud music and talking. Most of the people here didn’t even know Javed, but they did know free booze.

“Happy Birthday mate!” Matt approached, slightly tipsy with a drink in his hand.

“Matt, what is all this?” Javed seemed a little upset.

“It’s your surprise party. I thought you would like it.”

“Is it hot in here?” Javed interrupts. 

It seemed as though everything was too overwhelming for him. The smell of weed and beer was heavy and his mind was getting clouded. This was definitely not his scene.

“Shit. Hey, Javed, why don’t we go upstairs for a bit yeah?” You grabbed his arm knowing how to calm him down. Matt looked at you with a sorry look in his eyes.

“It’s okay Matt. Just give us a minute.” You said before pushing Javed upstairs. Matt quickly grabbed your wrist, his eyes looking deep into yours. They were soft and sincere. He felt awful.

 “You going to be okay?” You smile and nod. Out of nowhere Emma shows up, super drunk. She wraps herself around Matt.

“Hey babe? Want to go somewhere a bit more private?” She giggled and nibbled at his ear. He gave you one last look. 

You nodded telling him to go have fun. She giggles again and grabs his face, going straight in for a make out. Matt now seemed a tad bit preoccupied. You turned around trying to block it out, while also trying to get Javed into a quieter space. You open a couple doors, either people making out in them or drunkenly crying about their ex. You huffed and finally opened the door to Matt’s dad's office. Empty since it was off limits but for you and Javed there was an exception.  

Javed let out a big sigh and you rested your head against the wall as you both sat on the carpeted floor.

“You know Matt did all of this for you. He may have missed the mark but it’s his way of showing that he cares.”

Javed looks over and nods.

“No I know, I just get worried about what would happen if I ever got caught up in that type of crowd. What my parents would think.”

“I understand.” You reply. It’s silent for a moment.

“Oh wait. I totally forgot. Happy Birthday mate.” You pull out a couple wrapped gifts from the pocket of the trench coat you had just taken off, handing them off to Javed.

He gives you a wide smile and rips open the wrapping paper to reveal a couple of Bruce Springsteen cassettes.

Writing on the front of one of the cassette said,

To J,

The biggest boss I know

Love, Y/N

He chuckles lightly before awkwardly crawling towards you and giving you a hug.

“I love it Y/N, thank you.” You smile and ruffle his hair.

“No problem at all. I’m always here for you, J you know that.”

“I know. Same here.” He smiles.

Silence filled the room, nothing but Matt’s weird music causing the walls to shake.

“So is tonight the night you are going to tell him?”

You groan and bring your knees into your chest, resting your head between them.

Not this again.

“Javed!” You whine. You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. It was his party for christ sakes.

You should be celebrating, not venting. And besides, it would be highly inappropriate since he has a girlfriend.

“I know you hate it when I pry but I’m going to be honest with you.” You look up at Javed waiting for him to continue.

“It’s kind of annoying watching you pine over him from afar. I’ve been subjected to it for years. It’s my birthday I think you owe me one.”

You scoff.

“You’re something else you know that?”

He shrugs and smirks.

“You have been head over heels since year 7. Don’t you think you deserve that closure?” You sigh and close your eyes, leaning your head against the wall again.

“I ju-, We are such different people. Yes I may be madly in love with him but… I don’t know. His type is for sure not me. I’ll just have to get used to the fact that he will never feel the same way that I do.”

Tears threaten to spill and Javed is quick to come over and comfort you.

“It’s okay. You never know unless you try.”

“But what if it ruins our friendship. He means too much to me to jeopardize that.”

“I don’t know what to say to you Y/N.”

You sigh and wipe your tears suddenly feeling parched.

“I’ll be right back, just going to go grab a drink. You want anything?”

“I’m good.” His voice laced with sympathy.

You nod and get up, a little wobbly but you find your footing. You turn the nob and open the door only to walk right into someone.

Your eyes meet their chest but you already know who it is. Your eyes slowly look up to meet Matt’s.

He looks as though he has just seen a ghost. You're frozen in place, wondering if it’s worth fleeing or retreating back into the dark office space.

“I was coming to check on you guys. Is it true that you have feelings for me?” He asks suddenly, his face still in shock.

“Are you in love with me?” You bow your head in shame, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“It’s okay Matt just forget it.” You slip past him and start walking away. You wanted to get the hell out of there but you couldn’t leave Javed alone so instead you keep your word and go find the drinks.

Matt follows you down the stairs and over to the kitchen where you were pretending to be busy finding a drink, your mind actually racing after what had just happened.

“Y/N.” He says beside you. You ignore him. He lightly grabs your face so you have no choice but to look into his blue eyes.

“Talk to me.” You push his hand away.

“There’s nothing to talk about Matt.”

He sighs and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the alcohol and into a quiet corner.

“We can’t just pretend I didn’t hear what you said up there. Y/N, do you have feelings for me? Be honest.”

“I might have some feelings for you.” He sighs and rubs his eyes in aggravation.

“I can’t believe you're making me do this.” You frown in confusion.

“Make you do what?” He doesn’t respond but instead walks away from you. Your heart shatters a bit, knowing deep down he wasn’t going to reciprocate and that you would ruin the friendship.

You can’t help but follow him and try to patch up whatever damage you had just caused. But you are stopped in your tracks. You see Emma and Matt talking. She looks upset and suddenly she slaps him across the face, leaving the party in a state. You flinched at the sound but run over to him.

“Matt what did you just do.”

“Was it not obvious?” He looked a little aggravated.

“What are you talking about.” Now you were getting annoyed. He wasn’t being clear with you. The same way you hadn’t been clear with him since year 7.

Once again he grabs your hand and pulls you upstairs. You thought that you guys would go back to the office but he enters the door beside it. His bedroom.

“Matt you're freaking me ou-“ He pushes you against his bedroom door and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes open wide and before it can go any further you push him off of you.

“Bloody hell Matt. You have a girlfriend!” You yell at him as he breathes heavily.

“What do you think I was doing down there? I was breaking up with her… for you.” You laugh in astonishment.

“You broke up with your girlfriend because I said I had feelings for you? Have you gone mad?”

“You don’t understand Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since we first met. I always thought you were beautiful, smart, funny, fun…. Look I may not have realized it then because I was 6 but still, once I understood what love meant I knew I had always loved you. Every girl I have been with has been a distraction to get over you. Now that I know you feel the same way, I’m all yours.”

You looked at him like he was a crazy person.

“You’re fucking insane.” You scoff.

“Insane about you.” You laugh again.

“Oh wow, you find that one on a bubblegum wrapper?” That line was probably the most cringey thing you have ever heard.

He smiles widely. He had always loved to see you laugh. It brightened his day.

“Y/N I’m serious.” He slowly walks back towards you and lightly pushes you back against his door. His left hand leaning against it beside your head.

Your breathing becomes very prominent as he leans down to leave a kiss on your neck.

“Tell me you love me.” He mumbles into your skin. You can’t help but release a small moan.

“Tell me you love me Y/N.” He sounded a bit desperate and honestly you were just as desperate as he was.

“I love you.” You respond in a breathy tone. He groans in pleasure and the kisses along your neck become deeper and they begin moving to different parts of your face. Soon your lips catch his and he holds your face in his hands while he slips his tongue down your throat.

“I’m so sorry it took this long.”

“Me too.” You gasp as he places his hand over your heat.

“Do you want to do this?” He let’s go and stops everything, looking into your eyes.

“Because I am okay with waiting.” He says, his face all blissed out.

You’ve been pent up for too long for this not to happen so you grab his hand and put it back where it was originally.

“I want you to fuck me Matthew.” His dick twitched in his pants when you said that. You had only ever said his full first name when you were really pissed at him.  Now it had a whole new meaning. He liked it.

“Oh baby.” He smirks hoisting you up and swiping all of his lyrics off his desk and placing you down on top of it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesiness as you held onto his neck. It felt like a stupid rom-com. But you didn’t care because you were with him. You kick your white heeled boots off, hating how they squeezed your feet anyways.

He began attacking your neck while between your legs, leaning you back slightly. You shifted your head to give him better access. You couldn’t help but stare out his window, looking into your room.

You were now one of his girls. So many times had there been glances into his bedroom, a new girl wrapped around him.

Jealousy always took over you. But now knowing he only did it because he couldn’t have you turned you on. You smirk slightly as he begins to remove your jean jacket.

“Maybe we should move this over to the bed.” You whisper in his ear. He nods and leaves you, the cold in the room making you shiver. He goes and jumps on his bed, excited like a little kid on Christmas. Trying to spice things up, you walk over to his record player and begin looking through his music library.

“Y/N!” He whines. He’s already taking down his pants and boxers, getting ready for you. You purposely take your time and evilly smirk at him while he begins to pleasure himself, waiting.

“I’m just finding some music.” You simply state trying not to drool over him stroking himself. You finally find a Led Zeppelin record that probably belonged to his dad and place it on the record player.

He groans and throws his head back on the pillow as he speeds up his movements. You crawl over to him, the music playing softly, his other music downstairs overpowering it.

He is quick to grab and pin you down onto his bed. Your arms held in place above your head

“You are so beautiful.” You smile and lift your head slightly to give him a kiss. He shifts a bit down your body and gives you a look, asking for permission. You nod so he starts to gently pull down the straps of your dress, then pulling the top down exposing your bra. It wasn’t as nice as Emma’s but it was uniquely you. A light purple with butterflies. He smiled down at you.

“So beautiful.” He starts to trickle kisses down your neck, then the exposed part of your breasts.

“Just take the bloody thing off Matt.”

“My pleasure.” He smirks. You arch your back slightly so he can work the clasp. It comes off after a couple of attempts and he throws the material to the side. You lay there complety bare from the waist up.

He bites his lip before dipping his head down and taking a nipple into his mouth. You close your eyes in pleasure, tingles moving down your back as you grip his hair.

“Feels so good.” You sputter out as he continues to suck on your chest. Some hickeys included. His tongue swirls around your nipple making you even more sensitive, a build up occurring in your lower stomach.

He lifts his head up and kisses you before pushing himself further down your body, gripping the sides of your dress and pulling it off of you completely, chucking it beside your bra.

His hands graze over your Saturday undies and he’s about to pull them down. You stop him however, bringing him back up so he’s face to face with you.

“Matt. Do you mean everything you are saying? I don’t want to be another number to your body count. This is real to me.” He smiled softly and lays beside you, giving you a peck on the lips.

“I’m serious about this Y/N.” You sigh and look up at the ceiling, in nothing but your underwear. All the times you had laid on his bed while doing homework over the years, you never thought you would end up like this. You weren’t complaining though.

“Let me take over for a bit yeah?” You say looking over at Matt. He smirks and kisses you once more before you jump up and straddle his waist, helping him take off his blue button up, leaving him stark naked other than his bracelets which you always secretly loved.

You lean down and plant kisses on his lips. Then you moved down to his neck, sucking bright purple hickies into his skin. You had a pattern going. Your lips continued down further his body. His chest, stomach that you always have adored when you guys went swimming throughout your school years. You made your way down to his pubic bone ready to take his dick into your mouth.

“Please love, stop teasing and put it in your mouth.” He almost looked like he was in pain. The back of his hand laid on his forehead while he winced, eyes tightly shut and lips pressed into a thin line.

“My pleasure.” You say softly, lightly gripping his throbbing member into your hand.

You slowly began stroking it. A tight enough grip where every once in a while you grazed your thumb over the tip, his thighs clenching every time you did so. You kept a mental note of that.

“Holy fuck! ” He cried out.

You kept going for a bit, pre cum leaking from the head.

Taking this as a signal you wrapped your lips around the tip and licked a couple swirls clockwise.

Matt wasn’t having it though because his hand shot up and gripped your hair, lightly pushing you deeper down his shaft. Surprised you choked a bit, which he caught right away and lifted you up.

“You okay?” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You smiled and nodded.

“I’m fine, just surprised is all.” He sighs in relief, and lays back down, an arm going under his head.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have forced you.”

“I don’t feel forced love” you reply, adoring the sound of calling him love.

Instead of going back to sucking him off you decide to just go for it.

“Um Matt. You have a condom on you?” He shoots up and leans over to his bedside table, you still in his lap.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” He says all giddy. You snort and wait for him to get the piece of rubber on his member.

It takes him a second but once he does it he flips you over so you are under him. He helps your shimmy out of your underwear then he brings you into a kiss while he uses his other hand to line himself up with your centre. Once he finds it he slowly enters, a guttural moan leaves his lips. Once he is fully inside you, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose. A tear slips out from your eye from how tight you are and he notices, wiping it away.

“I’ll move in a second. There is no rush.” You nod, silently thanking him for waiting. Once your body is accustomed to his length you give him a tap and he slowly starts coming out. He then enters again, a steady speed developing. You whimper and let out heavy breaths as he slowly pounds into you.

“Go faster. For fuck sake Matt, go faster.” He speeds up leaving your eyes to roll in the back of your head. It felt so right having him inside of you. You were in pure bliss.

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his tongue sticks out slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. You weren’t totally there yet so you let him circle your clit with his index and middle finger helping you build up faster. Once you got there you cried out,

“I’m gonna fucking cum Matt!”

“Look down love.”

You followed his orders and watched as his length moved in and out from your dripping core. That was enough to finish you so you nodded.

“Yup I’m there, I’m there. Cum with me baby.” You try to coherently say. He starts to twitch inside of you and you both let out loud moans of release.

He cums into the condom and crashes onto your chest, still inside of you.

The record had stopped but music from downstairs and yelling could still be heard from all corners of the house.

Inside the room was all pants and heavy breathing,

“That. Was. Fucking. Amazing.” He breathed out while you rubbed his back and played with his hair.

I love you Y/N.” He mumbled into your breasts. You laugh slightly at his childishness.

“I love you too bub.”

“We should have done that so much sooner.” He lifts his head up from your bare chest to say.

“What does this mean for us?” you ask, a slight worry in your voice.

“I want nothing more than to be with you Y/N. I would do anything for you.”

You smile, pushing his head back into your chest. He starts to lull off, listening to your heartbeat and breathing.

“Oh my god Javed!” You were brought out of your dreamland, remembering your best friend you left in that room about half an hour ago.

Matt’s eyes went wide and you both shot up from the bed and began to get dressed. Hopefully he was okay and wasn’t in a corner crying.

Once you were both somewhat collected, other then Matt’s badly done buttoning job of his shirt and both or your disheveled hair, you ran out.

You open the office door beside Matt’s room. He wasn’t in there.

“Shit.” You mutter, running downstairs. Matt close behind you. The party on the main floor stayed alive and well, even with the host's absence.

You look around and notice a group laughing in the living room. You walk in to see Javed, holding a blunt telling a funny story to a group of very interested people. He was the life of the party.

“Matt come here, you won’t believe this!” You call out to your now boyfriend.

He joins you and looks at Javed all surprised.

“J?” He asks. Javed stops his fascinating story and walks over to the two of you.

“Hey guys. I’m sorry for earlier. I’m having a great time. Really thank you for the party Matt.”

“No problem J.” Matt looked dumbfound.

“I’m sorry I left you in the office J, I got caught up.” You try to explain yourself. Javed smirks at the likes of the two of you.

“No worries and by the way thank you for the birthday present. “ You look at him confused.

“Now I don’t have to listen to you whine about Matt anymore. Same with you mate.” Your eyes went wide.

“Wait what? You knew all along Matt liked me back and never said anything.” He shrugs

“It was never my place. Anyways, next time just remember that the walls are thin in this place.” He winks before walking off, starting to talk to some girl from college.

You and Matt stand there dumbfounded.

[soranihimawari]

are you serious?

estranged friends to lovers featuring this lovely dude ^ and thanks to some meddling from both sides of their lives, miya atsumu finds out that maybe he should date you. after all, what are you going to do once msby guys see you on the evening news when you make the cut to be the vice captain of the ladies beach vbc olympic team?

warnings: none yet, so sfw for now ;]

+ note: will make this a weekly series if i get enough notes eventually

tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​

is it serious? --osamu

[[1 new photo]]

those three words illuminate underneath the backlight of his phone screen. the blips play at the strings of his heart. the run-in at the gym was completely by accident and truthfully you weren’t expecting the glow up fairy to fuck with both of your perceptions of the other. both of your posture changes from confusion to flirtatious the moment his eyes illuminate with the recognition.

“who’s your friend atsumu-san?” 

you divert your attention to the rest of the rookie teammates while you nod your head acknowledging the oncoming arrival of the other members of the MSBY team. you rapidly exchange greetings and names in an efficient manner. 

“i should go. seems like you want to celebrate,” your tone is honey incarnate causing even the ones under the medi-masks to absorb your warmth. “see ya miya-chan.”

when you wave over your shoulder, you shake your head wondering if your heartbeat would stop nervously beating out of rhythm because you caught yourself walking away from the afterglow. 

at the restaurant the lads usually buy dinner after another successful victory, the topic of conversation circles back around again to the mystery stranger who had a connection with their starting setter. the team dinner was an idea that everyone including meian thought would be good to have at least once (or twice) a month. 

“she’s an old friend,” he bashfully admits. 

“that makes you look like a lovesick war hero?” their libero busts his pride a little.

“it’s nothing like that,” bokuto defends, “right?”

miya shrugs and their captain pieces the information together for the rest of the team after being there many times himself before he had settled down with his lady.

“she was your almost,” meian states matter of factly. their ears perk up including atsumu who just stared at his captain registering the word in his head. 

“you two seemed pretty close when we arrived,” meian continues. “call it a hunch, but you shouldn’t throw away fate’s design ‘tsum.”

the television in the restaurant moves on to it’s countdown for the upcoming olympics. it creates a certain ambiance of familiarity at the family style restaurant which the team are frequent customers.

“and in other news, seems like the women’s beach volleyball roster has officially been announced,” the anchor says. there is a wide angle shot of the beach courts on the coast of Okinawa.

“Holy shit,” bokuto says and it’s the only time meian allows his team to use such language at their dinner. your sporadic movements on the sand court makes for insane sets for your teammates on the court. 

“their young vice captain makes her presence known as her teammate sets the ball to ‘the missile,’ and wow! a clean pipe that proves why the name stuck in the underground leagues. and you can catch up with the rest of the beach volleyball team when the summer games begin next month. now back to you guys in the studio!”

“fuck me, she’s probably more dangerous than omi-san,” meian says finally. atsumu just scoffs at the compliment because he knew there were other monsters in the world, but none that made him more nervous than you. 

...

“are you for real?” your roommate exclaims. you tell her about the run-in on the street and she flips. you could of told her you saw the Almighty and she would have an easier time believing that.

“did you at least get his contact info?”

“no! of course not,” you answer with a strained voice. “besides, he hears the banter of his fans everyday, so what difference does it make if he has my number or vice versa.”

“because those compliments came from the vice captain of team japan women’s beach volleyball?”

you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. after all, you were also watching the news story that was filmed last week tonight with her on the couch. in your wine glasses, you both share the last bit of blueberry powerade because you wanted to be sober in case you’d have to talk to the boy who christened you with the nickname one fall evening in hyogo. sure you were first years, but the bitterness of rivals with clashing styles on the court proved to be a little challenging especially since your schools respectfully had their golden week of training at the same resort.

“your phone is going to start ringing soon,” your friend shares a laugh with you. and usually she’s not wrong, but then again, her closest ally was sitting with her telling her the story of the nickname. the familiar chime of your phone going off caused her to only laugh harder before she watches you scramble to answer.

you shut your door the moment she yells, “no fucking between nine a.m. and five p.m.!”

clearly the other person on the line starts laughing hearing the voice clear as day before he clears his throat. atsumu is finally in the comfort of his own home in his side of the city. he asked his seniors if anyone had a way to contact you, so you were surprised the social media team readily gave him the phone number. funnily enough, it was the same one you had scribbled down on the back of an ice pop receipt.

“you didn’t change your contact number,” he states. 

“neither did you,” you said. a half rest of silence comes over you both, but he speaks first again. 

“i saw the news tonight with the team.”

“you guys have team dinners? that’s cute.”

you flirtatious remark didn’t go unnoticed, so atsumu decides to hit you with a genuine compliment. it’s the first thought that came to mind when you were younger due to the run in you had with each other at the bathhouse.

“you’re cute.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t quite catch that miya-senshu. i think you called me cute?”

“i-i...ugh yeah.”

“pfft. if this is you flirting with me, i’d say you are doing a lot better than most of my flings.”

“listen, the guys are going to have my head if i don’t follow through with this, so will ya--”

“meet me at roppengi station at seven tomorrow morning. dress casual.”

there was something in the way you had asked atsumu out in a charming manner he wholeheartedly agrees. after your conversation wraps up, you go about your evening plans of talking with your roommate who is beyond thrilled to tease you about a long-overdue date. 

atsumu stares the at clock on his phone before turning on his side thanking his captain for giving him an extra day off from practice tomorrow. according to the way meian explains it simply to their athletic trainer was that their starting setter needed a personal day.

you meet at the appointed location after much deliberation of wearing and you often quote your roommate’s line of, “you need your best ‘professional’ revenge outfit babs.” now that you see what she means as you spot the athlete you bumped into yesterday: long sleeve mocha graphic shirt with the designer house logo stitched on paired with tapered casual friday pants. you on the other hand, are a splash of dark academia styled clothing with sensible shoes.

“and here i thought about leaving you behind on my adventure,” you muse as atsumu gives you a once over. he was over analyzing your silhouette as the rust belt flecks in your eyes decide to taunt him. all his life, he had trouble not focusing on anything other than volleyball related (aside from school work and such), but now he had a transient lady friend look up at him like he was not the local playboy prince of the volleyball club.

“i’d bet good money you wouldn’t because no one would want to hear about me missing morning practice because of a covert date with ya,” he sees the way your eyes narrow a smidge. he knows this stare; he’s seen it before at the training camp because of someone making a snide remark about your financial situation at home. you lead him down the platform and when you board the standing room only train, you both stare at your reflection in the window. your stop is not longer than fifteen minutes away, but you allow atsumu to hold you steady with one hand on your waist and the other on the rail above him. you fill him in on the tour you’re planning to take him down to the shopping district where you know people would go about their days not realizing who they were (celebrity athletes).

“you two look good together, isn’t that right hue?” 

“thank you granny,” you said with a smile at the elderly woman who sits a few rows to your left. her husband nods with a funny smile. you really sell it with the way you place your hand over the one he has on your waist when the traini comes to a stop. 

you and atsumu, once you make it to the surface head into the east village where you see the local trattorias begin setting their outdoor seating arrangements and one of the servers stops you both asking if you’d like to part take in a taste testing for his family’s restaurant.

“senpai’s amazing,” the server says like it’s the easiest answer he ever had to say. “she paid for auntie’s medicine last time she visited here. you really are lucky to be on a date with her.”

after your orders are put in, atsumu decides for once to not be a complete jackass, somewhere sakusa runs into a butterfly and he chuckles to himself because it means someone was using their brain properly. and in the quiet hours of a local village fifteen minutes away by train, a miya twin is falling back in love with his date one minute at a time. 

“are you ok atsumu?” you ask as you pour some apple juice from the carafe into your glass. it was then you had your epiphany the moment he asks you if you’d like to visit his brother’s store on a dinner date before you head out for the taping of the opening ceremonies. 

“i’d like that,” you reply. “but let’s make it through this one first, mmk?”

“good because i couldn’t look you in the eye if ya said no star-chan.”

“star-chan?”

you lean back in your chair and tilt your head to the side in thought. your brows furrow together a bit confused by the nickname therefore atsumu enlightens you to the best compliment anyone had given you (in your young adult life):

“because i finally see what meian says when he says he loves the sunspot in his life,” he sheepishly admits. you can tell he was being sincere when you glance at the way he becomes more flustered when you encourage him to hold your gaze for a few seconds.

“seven out of ten,” you say with a rosey lilt in your tone. at this, your companion at the table leans in clearly annoyed with your score. “but given the fact that you’re here with me now at eight twenty on your day off, and the smoothness of that confession, you’re clearly a nine overall because i highly doubt you’re not going to let me go again, right?”

he nods. he finally replies to his message from earlier last week from his brother after taking a self-ca with you on the promenade before you head back to the train station around two in the afternoon.

yeah ‘samu. you could say i am.

[[1 new photo]]

[falseroar]

Maybe 3 with JJ and Wilford? :D

((One “How hard can baking a cake be?” with JJ and Wilford coming up! I’ll admit, the idea of these two in a kitchen together made me smile. Sorry it took so long!))

“So do you have all the flavors?”

Jameson Jackson jumped and spun around, one hand to his heart, a speech slide appearing between him and the fluorescent pink and yellow man as if some kind of defense. “Jeepers! I didn’t hear your knock at the door!”

Wilford frowned and waved the slide away before breaking into a manic grin. “Come now, who needs doors to get anywhere?”

“…Most people, I would think.” Jameson hid his step back from the man by leaning against the kitchen counter. “Why are you here, Wilford?”

Wilford, in a rare moment of awareness, tilted his head past the slide to give the other man a suspicious stare. “You know, for some reason I’m getting the sense that you’re not super comfy with my being here. But that’s just ridiculous, of course!”

Jameson frowned and pointed a finger at him. “Ridiculous?! You’ve turned a gun on me before, not to mention my friends!”

Wilford shrugged. “Existential crisis, happens to everybody! Besides, I’ve turned a gun on everyone at least once, it’s kind of my thing.”

“The last time we were in a house together, you tried to hunt me down like some kind of animal!”

“Ah.” Wilford paused and said, “In my defense, you did have that Antiwhatsit hanging around in your head. Plus, I kind of hoped you would have forgotten about that.”

“…Fair enough.”

Wilford beamed at him and moved toward the counter, only to be stopped short by another speech slide.

“But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Wilford read the words and turned toward him. “Which was…?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why, to bake a cake of course! Didn’t you get my message?” Wilford peered around Jameson to look at the flour, eggs, and other materials carefully arranged on the counter beside several bowls and pans. “Or do you always have baking supplies out and ready to go? Because I thoroughly approve if so.”

Seeing Jameson’s baffled expression, Wilford sighed and placed his hands on the gentleman’s shoulders. “JJ. Jameson Jackson. Jamieboy. J. Jonah Jameson—”

“Not my name—”

“Shush!” Wilford slapped a finger over JJ’s mouth, making the speech slide that appeared cut off and flimsier than the others. “Have you, or have you not, noticed that these days the others are a bit down in the mouth? They’re not going out, keeping away from other people—”

“You mean because people are supposed to be staying home and not breaking quarantine?” Jameson gave Wilford and the door a meaningful look, for all the good it did.

“Yes, yes, that’s what Dr. Iplier keeps telling me. That is, when he isn’t working himself to the bone at the hospital. Your doc’s doing the same thing, isn’t he?”

Wilford’s eyes bored knowingly into JJ, who thought of how Dr. Schneeplestein had been coming home at odd hours just to disappear straight into his room or more often his study. It had been days since they’d spoken to each other despite living right down the hall from each other.

“And what about the others?” Wilford pressed. “How are they doing?”

“I admit, the mood has changed in the house,” Jameson said slowly. When Wilford waited for more, he sighed and added, “We’ve never gone this long without a visit from Master McLoughlin. Jackieboy has volunteered to run supplies for those in the neighborhood who need it, but staying inside so much is not his cup of jam. Poor Chase has lost all motivation to continue his video logs, while Marvin…”

He paused. Actually, outside of cancelling his shows for the foreseeable future, the magician hadn’t changed his habits that much. Not leaving his study for days at a time was perfectly normal behavior for him, although he was more willing to volunteer to go to the grocery store these days to save his brothers from having to do it.

Wilford nodded. “My boys are avoiding each other as well. The house hasn’t been this quiet in, well, ever, even Dark has noticed! Yan can’t go to school to see Senpai, Bim can’t find guests for his show, and you don’t know cabin fever until it affects the Ipliers.”

Jameson shuddered, not even wanting to imagine what that looked like. The Iplier house on a normal day was bad enough.

“Why, even Y/N has taken to self-isolating over at Mark and Amy’s place, and apparently taking them out for the occasional adventure in the middle of the night is ‘dangerous’ and ‘irresponsible’ all of a sudden.”

JJ considered pointing out it probably wasn’t “all of a sudden” but thought better of it.

“The point, my son of Jacks, is that they’re all too focused on the bad things, and don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of it to go around these days.” Wilford threw an arm around Jameson’s shoulder and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “But you and me? We’ve been through this before, haven’t we? And we know the secret: this too will pass. We’ll get there, eventually. But until then, we need to get the others’ spirits up!”

“And to do that, we’re going to bake a cake?” Jameson’s slide failed to convey his doubt, but he had to admit the idea had a kind of simple charm to it.

“Now you get it!” Wilford said, thumping him hard on the back before turning to the arrayed ingredients. “This is going to be great!”

“Well, I do have some baking experience,” Jameson said as he picked up a simple recipe for a yellow cake he had laid to the side earlier. “And as long as we follow the recipe—Hey!”

Wilford snatched the recipe from JJ’s hand and tore it up with a snort. “We don’t need no recipe! How hard can baking a cake be?”

Jameson sighed, his palm pushing the brim of his bowler hat so far up it threatened to fall off of his head. This was going to be a long day.

After convincing Wilford that hands did not make for good measuring devices, an argument that went on for far too long, they managed to get as far as mixing together the sugar and butter before Jameson tapped his chin.

“Next is the eggs, I think. Was it two or three—Ah! Maybe I should be the one to—”

Too late. Wilford had already picked up an egg and, with one hand, cracked it over the bowl before tossing the eggshell over his shoulder and into the trash can without a single glance.

“…What?” Wilford asked.

Jameson opened his mouth and then shut it, unsure of what to say as Wilford continued to expertly crack open the next two eggs.

“Between you and me, I think your popup word thingy isn’t working properly,” Wilford said in a carrying whisper. “You might want to get that looked at.”

That surprise might have explained why JJ wasn’t prepared for when Wilford picked up the electric mixer, but the shout that followed suggested that Wilford wasn’t too prepared either. Several minutes of panicked mixing later, they were left with a large bowl of batter and a kitchen coated with a light dusting of flour and splattered half-mixed batter.

Jameson tossed the mixer in the sink where it could do no more harm and said, “Well, that happened. How about I grease the pans while you get the oven going?”

Wilford chuckled. “Oh, no no no, I’m not allowed to touch any major appliance after what happened with the dishwasher. And the washing machine. And the little mishap with the TV.”

Jameson considered asking but thought better of it, instead with some embarrassment admitting, “I, um, haven’t fully mastered this newfangled machine. I usually ask one of the others to help me, but…”

He looked around the kitchen, which he would much rather the others not see in its current state.

Wilford considered for a moment and then grinned. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what to do.”

“Oh, hey Jameson,” you said, unable to hide your surprise when you saw the dapper gentleman on the other side of your phone screen. You didn’t even know he knew what FaceTime was, not when texting was just barely within his comfort zone. “What’s up?”

The screen went black as a shaky speech slide appeared, the white letters reading, “This is a bit embarrassing to ask, but…”

The speech slide was pushed out of the way as Wilford leaned into view. “Do you think you could talk our lad here through using a modern oven?”

“I—Wilford? What are you doing there?” You frowned. “Don’t you know how to use an oven?”

“According to Chef Iplier, no. Not even a little bit,” Wilford answered with a smile, not even a bit ashamed. “Well, are you up to it?”

“I…I guess? JJ, can you turn the camera toward the oven so I can see it? No, that’s the floor, up a little more—”

It took a few minutes, but you managed to talk Jameson through preheating the oven and how to set a timer, finishing with, “And that should be it. Just don’t forget to turn it off when you’re done—"

“Got it, thanks Y/N, love you,” Wilford said, abruptly turning the phone off before you could finish or answer him. “Say, Jamieboy, what do we have in the way of food dye?”

You stared at the blank screen on your end and laughed to yourself before starting a text to Marvin, typing, “You might want to get some fire suppression spells ready.”

The response came back a few seconds later: “Already on it.”

—

Some time and an assist from Marvin’s magic later, you were standing with several of the other Septic egos in their dining room, looking at the pair of cakes arranged there.

“They’re very…colorful,” Chase managed, but like the others he didn’t seem eager to move any closer to it.

That it was. Pink and blue swirled icing heavily coated both cakes in messy globs, both colors so bright as to almost appear capable of glowing in the dark.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Try a piece!” Wilford picked up the knife and everyone in the room flinched. “What?”

“Maybe I should do that,” Jackieboy said, gingerly taking the knife from Wilford’s hand, who just shrugged and backed out of the way. The superhero cut into one of the cakes, revealing the same colors had been used to dye the inside as well, and carefully meted out slices onto waiting plates.

“Those slices aren’t very big,” Wilford said doubtfully.

“We want to save some for Hen, right guys?” Jackie said, looking to you, Marvin, and Chase for backup and getting nods in return. A lot easier to be polite when you only had to get through a small piece.

Very aware that JJ and Wilford were watching you, you dipped a fork into your slice and took a hesitant bite.

“This is really good!” you said, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice.

Wilford beamed as the others shared your surprise and dug in, but you looked at Jameson who shrugged and leaned in to whisper with a slide only you could see.

“I may have baked something similar before. That, and I was able to salvage a couple of pieces from the recipe when Wilford wasn’t looking.”

You nodded, having experienced some of Wilford’s cooking before he was permanently banned from the kitchen in the Iplier house, as well as Mark’s kitchen and Ethan’s kitchen. And judging by the shriek from the other room, he was about to add another to that growing list.

“Meine Küche!”

“Schneep’s home,” Marvin said without looking up from his plate.

“Wow, look at that, it’s time for us to go,” Wilford said, grabbing the Iplier’s cake and your arm. “See you around, Jamieboy!”

“Wait, you can’t just leave me to—” Jameson’s speech slide stopped abruptly as he stared at the empty place where you and Wilford had been standing just a second ago, before it turned into a garble of censored swears. He turned to face the doctor storming into the room, mask dangling from one ear to reveal his anger, and attempted a smile.

“…Would you like a piece of cake?”

[soundwavereporting]

Presenting...RODAN’S BIRTHDAY, written for @fauveshumankaiju​. Written entirely by hand, and then frantically typed up whilst trying not to look at the screen. Any and all errors are entirely mine. Bonus picture of the og draft at the end!

The snow had stopped falling and settled onto a comfortable, chilly layer of white on the ground when his alarm woke Rodan up.

Ni was already gone—morning person he was not, but a shipment of some kind of fancy, non-IKEA furniture was set to arrive this morning.

Meanwhile, Ichi and San remained in bed with him.

“Happy birthday,” Ichi mumbled into his back.

Rodan was laying comfortably in Ichi’s arms, and San was comfortably settled in Rodan’s arms. Reluctantly, Rodan stretched, feeling Ichi grasp his waist, hearing San mumble a protest.

“Gotta  work,” Rodan said, fumbling for his phone. He unlocked it and swiped past a flurry of birthday texts and Facebook messages. Rick had said he was calling out today, wasn’t he? And Quetx had been using her non-rollover PTO this week; she wouldn’t be back till New Year’s Eve at the earliest. Which…gave him an idea.

Rodan sat up. “Hey. You doing anything today?”

Sneaking two-thirds of the Ghidquorum into the lab wasn’t hard. The security guard couldn’t care less who showed up as long as one of them showed a badge—and Rodan did. San was smiling—a genuine smile, Rodan was pleased to notice. He loved San’s smiles. Ichi’s face was a careful mask of cool neutrality. Rodan hadn’t planned on Ichi coming—not that he minded, of course. It was just that he had extended the invitation assuming Ichi would be busy, and only San would be free. Of course, where Ichi went during business hours, his laptop followed, and Rodan was quick to provide him with the lab’s wifi password.

As he had expected, the lab was deserted, just as he had left it. San set down his bag and wandered over to the locked cabinet and began fumbling with the lock, ignoring Rodan’s offer of the key with a wave of his hand. Ichi pulled out his laptop and settled on one of the vacant desks, and Rodan went to work.

Rodan had left a batch of samples simmering overnight. He examined them, then sat at his desk, absently scribbling notes.

“Your handwriting is…charming,” San said carefully. “Is that the correct word?”

Rodan snorted. “Not all of us went to ritzy private schools that taught cursive.”

“Fair point.” San seated himself on one of the lab stools and continued to watch Rodan write.

“Any plans tonight?” San asked, and Rodan narrowed his eyes.

“Is that an invitation for a date, or…?”

San visibly brightened. Rodan had persuaded him to put on a pair of safety goggles. They sat perched on San’s forehead (endearingly, Rodan thought), looking for all the world like an earnest grad student. Impulsively, Rodan leaned forward and bumped his nose against San’s.

San smiled.

“Monsuta Island Bar? Six-thirty?” From this distance ,it looked like San had six eyes. Three Sans. What a concept. “I don’t know, San…” Rodan pulled away and pretended to consult his nonexistent itch. “I did have a date tonight…”

Before San’s face could fall—the man did still have trouble picking up American sarcasm. Rodan pressed a quick kiss to San’s nose. “Of course I’ll be there.”

San’s smile lit up the room. He busied himself with rifling through a former coworker’s desk, and Rodan slipped out of his seat to bother Ichi.

Out of the three of them, Ichi was the best dressed—he had at least put on a suit that probably cost more than Rodan made in a year. Rodan’s phone buzzed—Goji, probably, wanting to know if he would be at the bar today. That would be…interesting. Gojira and the Ghidorah’s truce—or whatever it was—had been in effect for a grand total of 36ish hours.

Privately, Rodan wanted to hope it would last. Ichi had taken his hand, promised him that they would not go after Gojira until the new year, if Gojira agreed. For Rodan. All for Rodan.

And Gojira had agreed, which had lifted a burden off Rodan’s shoulders he hadn’t known existed.

Regardless, tonight would still be…interesting.

The rest of the day slipped by quickly.

San was content to create his own strange concoctions in the junked flasks and test tubes, though his habit of peering directly over the mixtures and sniffing and Rodan on edge. Ichi had situated himself on Rick’s desk, in front of the most neutral-looking of the lab’s walls as he Skyped with his multitudes of global business partners.

At exactly 4pm, the door to the lab opened, and Ni stepped in. Dressed in an elaborate gold and black jump suit made by a designer whose name Rodan couldn’t even begin to pronounce, Ni peered at the three of them over his golden sunglasses.

San looked up from his experiments.

“How did you find us?”

Ni blinked. “I track all of your phones,” he said, as though that were the most normal thing in the world. He turned back to Rodan. “Are you going to wear that to Chez Honrie?”

“He knows,” Ichi said, without looking up. Ni’s lips twitched. “You know, we could simply purchase that little bar,” Ni offered. “If not demolish it entirely, at least get it up to minimum health and safety codes.”

Rodan snorted, trying to quash the instinctive panic rising in his chest. That was something they would do, wasn’t it—and they would think Rodan would like it. Or they would do it, because they didn’t know what else to do.

“If you close MIB down, how will Battra ever make ends meet?” Rodan joked, hoping NI wouldn’t pick up on his discomfort.

“Who?”

“The EMT’S brother,” Ichi supplied dryly. “The one you mistook for her.”

“Ah.” Somehow, Ni managed to look (slightly) sheepish without his expression changing one bit. “I did not have my glasses that night.”

“Have we agreed we’re not buying and/or renovating anything tonight?” Rodan interrupted.

hearing the tone of his voice, San had looked up from his experiments, and Rodan shoved his irritation-slash-fear down and managed what he hoped was a genuine smile. San dumped his concoction into the lab sink and washed his (ungloved, Rodan noted slightly despairingly) hands. He moved to sit beside Rodan, close enough that it felt more like solidarity than simple companionship.

“Anyway…” San looked at Ichi, who lad lost interest some seconds before and had gone back to his laptop. “Do you have anything else to complete before we leave?” San asked.

“You are apparently the most reliable employee here,” Ni added, giving the empty desks a cursory glance. “It is not surprising you refuse to resign. This place would clearly fall to ruins without you.”

Rodan smiled. He accepted the peace offering for what it was, leaving his lab coat on his chair and taking a chance, squeezed Ni’s shoulder.

“Still,” Ni said. “Are you going to wear that?”

Rodan looked down at his shirt. He had gotten into the habit of consistently doing aunty since meeting them, and this was a clean shirt.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Rodan asked.

It was one of his favorites, an aloha shirt Angurius had gotten for him two Christmases ago, a dark red print with orange-ish patterned dinosaurs overlaid with vague, tribal-esque patterns probably dreamt up by some white college kid for their Redbubble. But it was soft and comfortable, and entirely Rodan’s style.

“I like it,” San said.

“You like everything he wears,” Ni retorted. “I do have some shopping in the car for him. Ichi?”

Ichi shrugged.

Rodan rolled his eyes. “If the Ghidquorum is finished debating the merits of my wardrobe? I’m ready to go.”

Ichi nodded and closed his laptop, then looked up, scrunching his nose in distaste. “What is that smell?”

Rodan inclined his head to the lab sink.

San grinned. 


As it usually was, at this time of the evening, the bar was pleasantly not-crowded. Later, the other regulars would trickle in—assuming they had actually shown up for work, Battra and Hedorah’s shifts didn’t end till 7, and though Goji’s shift had ended at 6, she liked to shower and change before heading to the bar. Which left…

“Rodan!” Baragon’s dusty, eager, freckled face was the embodiment of pure, obnoxious joy.

“Baragon.” Rodan allowed himself to be pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Faintly, he heard San snickering. Ni had refused to step more than a few feet into the bar, settling down at a booth near the pool tables, looking exactly like a frightened car. Rodan wondered what it would take for him to leap out and scamper out of the bar.

“Hey.” Angurius clapped a hand on Rodan’s shoulder. “You’re wearing the shirt!”

“It’s a favorite,” Rodan said.

“Then you’ll really like this one.” Angurius held up a gift bad decorated with bright, gaudy balloons. Angurius nodded encouragingly as Rodan peeled back the white tissue paper o reveal another aloha shirt, this one a light brown color with a palm tree and volcano pattern.

Rodan wasn’t yet drunk enough to strip off his shirt—the first shot of tequila was still on his tongue—but he slipped the new shirt over the old one.

San pressed another drink into Rodan’s hand.

“Seem familiar?” He asked, and Rodan raised a brow.

“Tell me,” San said. His eyes were dark—troubled, Rodan thought—though his voice remained light.

“If you had known—” San gestured to himself, then to Ichi, then to Goji, who had just walked in, but was already glowering at Ni— “Would you have taken the drink?”

Rodan stepped up on the tips of his toes—even so, he barely came up to San’s chin. ROdan tapped his chin, and San obediently tilted his head down.

His lips were warm.

“Was that enough of an answer?”

San frowned, though his expression had visibly brightened. “I do not know—I might need some clarification, yes?”

Rodan took another sip of his drink and grinned.

San had taken a seat on Rodan’s usual barstool, and when Rodan looked at him questioningly, San smiled innocently and patted his lap.

Rodan was tempted, though he elected to sit on the barstool directly beside him. He finished off the drink and set the glass down, as it settled in his belly, warm and filling, somehow like a fire smoldering over coals.

Ichi and Gojira were talking—arguing, more likely, though it hadn’t yet turned violent—and at some point, Mother had shown up and was nursing a bottle of something bright blue and tantalizingly shiny. Paragon and Angurius had taken over the pool table. Mando and Biollante were comfortable tucked into a booth just  outside of his peripheral vision. To his left, luring by the pool table was a man Rodan didn’t immediately recognize, but looked enough like Goji at first glance that Rodan immediately labeled him as “half sibling of Goji’s”, a category that so many in Monsuta seemed to occupy.

The door jinxed again.

This time, the atmosphere seemed to darken as Gigan stepped in, and Rodan could practically see Goji’s hackles rising.

“Rodan!” And then Jet Jaguar and Megalon stepped and inside, and it seemed all was forgotten.

Privately, Rodan was grateful for…whatever Jet seemed to have going on with Gigan and Megalon; he was happy enough for the guy, but his weird redemption-seduction thing they had going on had been enough to divert some of the attention away from Rodan and the Ghidorahs.

“Merry Happy Birthday!”

Unlike the grimace-smile that was plastered on his face whenever he was on the clock, Jet’s smile was genuine. Megalon was grinning from ear to ear, holding out a set of packages out to Rodan. Genuinely curious, Rodan slipped a finger between the wrapping paper and tape and popped it open.

Ah. A book on the chemical reactions that took place during the cycling of a home aquarium. From Megalon, then. And the other gift…

“Thanks!” Rodan examined the decorative test tube-turned-pen-holder, etched with R. Rodan in clear, professional lettering. “Both of you. Really.”

Megalon beamed.

Jet and Megalon grabbed their drinks and sauntered over to Gigan, who had stopped to alternate between chatting with Ni and shooting glares at Gojira.

Rodan waved his hand, as if by magic, another drink appeared.

Fascinating. Out of habit, Rodan sat in his seat, and landed in San’s lap.

“There you are.” Rodan could hear San smiling. “Enjoying the free drinks?”

“Free?” Rodan squinted at the drink in his hand.

“For you friends as well,” San said. “We are trying to fit in here. For you.”

Rodan felt his face heat up. He turned to face San, who was staring at him with something akin to…devotion. It was nice, to be wanted, even if the ones doing the wanting were a couple of gentrifying, foreign luxury real estate developers who wanted nothing more than to squeeze him and his friends out of their homes—

“As nice as that is,” Rodan said, “I’d rather you do it for you.”

“For me?”

“For yourself,” Rodan clarified. “Because you want to.”

“Hmm.” San was still frowning, though he seemed relaxed enough. “I will have to think about that. But tonight, it is all about you. Agreed?”

Rodan smiled. “Agreed.”

The night slipped by pleasantly enough—Battra and Hedorah arrived in due time; the former had slipped Rodan a gift card and was trying to hit on Goji’s brother or half brother or whoever he was, and the latter sat at the far end of the bar, alternating between frantically texting in between shots of cheap whiskey.

Ichi and Goji were still talking about…what, Rodan wondered? Their unofficial truce? The weather? Rodan?

And Ni and Gigan had resorted to carving intricate designs on the tables—the one closest to the door already bore the marks of Ni’s first foray into the bar.

“Here.”

Rodan’s eyes widened as he took in the drink. Beautiful and beautifully on fire, all red and gold in the dim lighting.

“You finished it!”

“Compari, vodka, a dash of Mothra’s tea blends…” Manda trailed off. “Our gift to you, my friend.”

“So,” San said, after Rodan had finished his drink. “How was your birthday?”

Roan took a long look at the bar—at Angurius and Goji and Mothra, at Biollante and Manda, and Gigan and Jet and Megalon, and even Baragon. And Ichi. And Ni.

And finally, Rodan looked at San.

“The best,” Rodan said.

[thirstybtsthoughts]

Never knew how much I needed priest!jungkook until now. So much potential for a fic right there 😩 the forbidden fruit is ripe with sexual tension and I love it!

Okay! For everyone who had been patiently waiting for a priest!JK fic, I am so so so sorry but it turns out I won’t have the time to write it 😭. I really wanted to, but now it has been too long and I don’t see myself being able to do it any time soon 🥺. I am really sorry! 

If any writers are reading this - please do write this concept because it’s such a great idea! 

Now... there were a few ways in which this could have gone...

1. Jungkook the former fuckboy who went a bit too far with his fucking around that he was forced to repent his own sins and become a priest to attempt to become a ‘purer’ person. This way, when the reader comes and starts confessing her dirty sins, he is more likely to be dominant and give in to her... go to her side of the booth and order her to get on her knees and suck him off because he’s so hard from hearing of all her sinful doings (touching herself etc.).

2. Actual good boy Jungkook who is an innocent trainee priest and is corrupted by listening to the reader’s sins - he’s so turned on that he finds his hands palming himself while she talks about how much she touched herself this week. After a few weeks of this he has had enough of listening to her talk and goes to her and tell her “look at what you’ve done to me” pointing at his hard on. He says that he’s had enough of hearing her continue to commit these deeds every week and she needs to be cleansed of her sins. This leads to her offering to help him with his bulge... which he doesn’t object to.  

Personally I found the first scenario a little easier to write, because I feel like dominant JK would be more likely to go to her and order her about. Whereas in the second scenario, pure innocent JK wouldn’t take the lead and might just stay in his booth and listen to her forever 😂. That’s just how I see it anyway. 

So I started writing the first scenario, and only got this far....

(If anyone would like to continue this or re-write it you are more than welcome to!)

..............

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

It was the new normal for Jungkook. Or as normal it could be since he started his new life on the straight and narrow. Currently sat on his side of the confessional booth during the Sunday service at his local church, Jungkook was listening to the person on the other side of the screen which separated them as they confessed their sins. Or what they thought were sins anyway. Most people who used the booth were middle aged, there to admit to ‘minor’ stuff like hoarding things greedily or reacting to things with anger. Jungkook sat there and followed the routine, listening to these dull confessions and absolving people of their sins. He wanted to do his job well and really tried his hardest to stay committed to his role as a ‘Trainee’ Priest, especially as it had taken him such a massive step to get there.

______________

Jeon Jungkook had a reputation. He was the most popular student in his year group at university for all kinds of reasons. Known as the sweet, smart and charming young lad to the professors, he was known a little differently among students.

But he was also a cocky idiot who liked to think he could fuck anyone he fancied. Well, he wasn’t wrong in thinking that, after all, he had girls falling at his feet …

...................

That’s all I managed to write a few weeks ago! Again, I’m sorry I won’t be able to finish this! Thank you for all the interest and support though! And major thanks to the priest!JK anon for the idea and the others who agreed it was a good idea! 

[ifritini]

So the prompt was from a conversation that basically went “wait video games are real in FFXV that means I can play my favourite games haha nice” which devolved “haha the lads reacting to you falling for vidy game characters” and going with it. Basically I took a shitpost prompt and ran with it. 

Noctis Lucis Caelum

He is OFFENDED the moment you either say it casually or let it slip. After all he's the one who suggested playing the game together to spend time together, only for you to proclaim your love for one of the characters. To think you'd fall for someone that's not him and admit to it just like that? Preposterous. 

In his mind he knows it's all fictional and you truly love him. His heart however? It knows a thing or two about jealousy from even one offhand comment about your new fave video game spouse. There are of course doubts here and there over just how much you truly love him but he tries to ignore them. Success varies depending on his current peace of mind. As best as he tries to keep this jealousy up under wraps, it's hard for Noctis to not subconsciously pout over it. 

He knows you love him more than that person on the television screen but sometimes knowing for himself isn't enough and you telling him that your love for him is far greater if not entirely incomparable to that of a fictional character. He knows it's petty and childish, but he will be smug about it. Perhaps even a "Take that!" directed at them. 

Takes up to teasing you over it. "Oh look, there's your Prince not as charming as me." whenever they appear on screen. No, the pillow to the face won't shut him up no matter how many times you throw it at him. 

Prompto Argentum

He is distraught. Shaken. His own chocobae betraying him like this, in his own home no less. He is quickly reduced into a mess faster than you can add onto your passing comment; "Man I think I'm falling for this character.". He believes his entire love life career has ended then and there. Prompto has been trying to play the game of love and he just got a fatality. 

He's known jealousy towards characters before, wishing he was as cool or as smart as them in the past but now he's found a new type: your affection for them. He puffs out his chest and attempts to be ten times cooler ten times braver and ten times more badass than his newfound rival and it's hard for him to be subtle about it. 

Prompto does need to be told that it's only a passing fictional crush and your love for him outshines the crush for this character, and always will. Sure they're neat but he's the whole cake with a cherry on top.

Apologises weeks later for his crisis because he progressed further in the game and fell in love with a separate character and understands precisely how you feel. You two bond over your fictional crushes and holding their hands while lounging on Prompto's couch holding each other's hands. 

Gladiolus Amicitia

He is indifferent. Partially indifferent. The other part is mildly offended he now has competition he can't square up with face to face. Can this character hold you in their arms? Give you kisses? Take you on long hikes? No? Then what's the point of loving them when he's right there ready to do all that and more. 

He can't say much though. He plays a ton of fighting games (and mostly got good at them to wipe the floor with Noctis whenever they played against each other) and Astrals know how many times he's felt a little swoon over either lady or man who could snap his spine in half with no effort. Not to count the same crushes with the same standards from the plethora of books he's read. To protest your crush would make him a hypocrite and Gladiolus most certainly isn't one. 

Not to say he doesn't slip in "Bet they can't love you as much as I do." and bringing you closer without a warning and smothering you with all the love only he can give. Nope, not jealousy. Not one bit. "You realise I love you more right?" you ask and he just beams like he heard it for the first time again. 

Much like Noctis he will relentlessly tease you over this. No you can't shut him up. No he won't stop. No shoving a pillow in his face won't work like with Noctis and he'll dodge it. But Astrals forbid you find out about his own pile of fictional crushes because it works wonders as a counterattack. 

Ignis Scientia 

Mostly confused over literal pixels managing to get your affection. Not that he blames you considering his schedule offers little free time but he can't help but find himself… Thinking. The day he admits this "thinking" is his cover up for sulking is the day he will die. A small, horrible little thought wonders if you're finally falling out of love with him. Again, he won't blame you due to his work. 

As silly as it is Ignis admits he feels jealousy. To himself only of course. He would rather die than let anyone else know that some fictional person has his heart in a twist over you. Him being so in control over his emotions is his triumph, but after it's been eating away at him after a while it becomes his downfall. 

"Did you really think I'd legitimately choose anyone over you?" comes your response after he finally decides to open up what's causing his most recent fowl mood. He knows it's silly. He assumes you know he knows it's silly. Yet hearing those words has him beaming. Hiding the self assured smug smile becomes harder with each passing second. 

Won't tease you as bad as Noctis and Gladio, but does make a passing comment every now and then. Though instead of teasing you over your crush, it's more in the ilk of "A shame they're not there to hold you like I am." 

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret 

She is FLOORED. What do you mean you love them? And what is she? A worm to you? She will be pouting about this and she will be miffed you can't take her seriously when she looks cute doing anything, including pouting. A shame she is very much so guilty of the same thing. You distinctly remember her talking about some muscle bound sword wielding girl in a television show a day before and how dreamy she was, and a week before about some ditzy male character in a book she found cute. She won't win this. 

Jealous? Absolutely. Does she try to hide it? Yes and the keyword is try. You easily tell what's up when she's frowning at the television and that character appears. She'll have her few attempts at denying anything but finally caves in and admits that she does in fact envy your feelings for a bunch of pixels no matter how small the affection. 

Knows she shouldn't need reassuring that you love her most but that doesn't stop her from revelling it when you confess your undying love. You can tell by the slight puffing up of her chest that she feels a GREAT sense of victory over this. 

It's just back and forth teasing and both your fictional crushes turn into a battlefield. It's all a game who can get the other flustered worse and sadly there are no winners when you both end up a mess. It's all good, and the scores are always settled by cuddles right after the battle is fought. 

Ravus Nox Fleuret 

Frankly he is offended. Granted you cannot tell by his disgruntled look that seems to be ever prevalent no matter his current internal turmoil. He is right there in the flesh and you're fawning over pixels? He just doesn't get it and refuses to. Immediately takes the leap to conclusions and assumes you truly don't love this mess of a man anymore. Laments over his continuous loss and begins coming to terms with his fate of being unloved. 

Tries not to be passive aggressive over it but it turns out it’s something easier said than done. Somehow he manages to perfectly convey it without any words - just glaring an impressive amount of daggers at the television screen. Hasn’t felt this jealous since that time before he could even muster up the courage to confess to you and he found out some random Niflheim soldier was chatting you up. At least then his competition was tangible. How was he to prove himself over some funky colours on the screen? 

The cat’s finally out of the bag and your suspicions are confirmed when he makes his first ever direct remark: “What’s so great about them anyways.”. His tone absolutely takes you aback; he sounds like a sibling who received a second less worth of attention from a parent. Ravus has to get affirmation that you do in fact love him a whole lot more. Ravus will revel in this little fun fact - or would smug be a better word? 

Cannot tease you without feeling jealousy creeping up and he absolutely hates himself for it. And so instead you get little offhand comments such as “Let them best me in a duel and we will see who wins your hand in marriage.” No varying levels of exasperation in your sigh will deter him, he will refuse to relent. 

Ardyn Lucis Caelum

For the most part he is confused. Didn’t really think someone could catch a bad case of the feelings for a fictional character but sometimes it’s best some questions go unanswered. Jealousy? In my Ardyn? It’s… less likely than you think. He knows for a FACT whoever this person is on the screen cannot even begin to compare to what he has. Perhaps their one redeeming factor is not being a walking talking daemon parade and being able to not sting in sunlight but that’s not enough to outshine this package. 

Doesn’t stop him from making a big show out of it all. He sees the chance to dramatically drape himself over your lap, lamenting how his one love has been snatched away by this stranger. The antics cannot and will not end. 

Doesn’t really need confirmation that you do in fact love him more, but appreciates it when you say it nonetheless. That’s simply proving him right and the only thing he loves more than being right is you. The second bonus is more smugness to throw around. “Oh I pity that poor soul, never knowing what true love feels like. Unlike me, of course.”. 

And a pity for you, because he’s found a new weaponised way to tease you with. A whole ten miles farther than Noctis or Gladio could ever wish for, you’d swear he’s writing you some sort of self insert fanfiction on the spot. The pros? He seems to be putting quite a lot of effort into it. The cons? He’s doing it specifically just to fluster you, alongside the things he decides to come up with to achieve that goal. 

Aranea Highwind 

Her confidence has not wavered since she found out. Or rather, it hasn’t wavered that much. Psh, of course you still love her. Right?  Right? Good thing that inner turmoil is kept under wraps. She’d much rather an Astral strike her down where she stands rather than have to admit she has beef with a fictional character you just so happened to take a liking to. 

Gets all in a little jealous twist wondering exactly what she’s missing. What does that pixelated rando have that she doesn’t? A physical body for one and that leaves her ever so slightly questioning her lover capabilities. Has she failed? Is this how it ends? You somehow ride off into the sunset with this character somehow materialised? What a life to live and this shall be her legacy. 

Her act gets thrown off and while normally concerning, this time you’re grateful so you can pinpoint just what’s on her mind. She may huff all she wants but there’s not much one can do caught red handed. Logically she knows she doesn’t need that affirmation but emotionally? By the Astrals does she wanna hear it. “You do realise… I love you more right…?” Damn right you do. Her confidence has reached astronomical new levels. 

There is no grandiose teasing but there is a few smug comments. Her goto is looking at the screen and tutting; “A shame they’ll never be me, huh babe?”. Absolutely takes is as a competition and knows she can win every battle by simply stating that she can do it ten times better, and will do it now given the chance. 

[constantviigilance-blog]

alastor rhys moody ; auror. did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

tw: death, spousal death & unborn baby death.

before hogwarts (1940-1951)

born august 10th, 1940 to rhys and constance moody, aurors. they didn’t plan to have a child, only surprised when it happened and it didn’t stop either of them from their work. grindelwald was at his height when alastor was born and it was due to this that his parents kept an extremely watchful eye on him.

this created a rather paranoid and jumpy child in alastor. not that he didn’t try to be brave, he often tried to be but the stories his parents would tell him would make him wary of strangers, wary of people he should have been trying to befriend.

his parents also kept him alone outside of his tutor once he reached a certain age. the tutor had gone through such a rigorous screening to make sure that they were not of dark magic and won’t harm the family.

alastor began showing magic right around the age of eight, relatively normal age and his parents weren’t wholly impressed by it or wholly worried that he had shown it later in life. they knew their son wouldn’t disappoint them and he still had years and years of learning left before he would be ready to truly show them if he would be a disappointment or not.

it was ingrained in his head from a small age that excellence is the only thing to be expected of him and even during his tutoring, alastor would go above and beyond what was needed in order to try and impress his parents. even if nothing seemed to impress them.

alastor showed to be a curious child when it came to learning, often opening books beyond his level in order to learn more and nothing was off-limits. even the early magical theory he learned put him ahead of his peers once it was time to start at hogwarts.

hogwarts (1951-1958)

hogwarts turned out to be a literal blessing for alastor. he didn’t have the constant pressure of his parents around to force him to be the very best and he could finally figure out what sort of man he wanted to be after seven years of learning.

sorted into ravenclaw after a few minutes of debate between gryffindor and ravenclaw. alastor had a certain level of bravery, something that would manifest in him further as the years went on, yet it was his curiosity for learning that set him down the path of being a ravenclaw.

excelled in most of his classes, particularly in charms, transfiguration, potions, and of course, defense against the dark arts. herbology had been something that grew on alastor after a few years, especially when challenging himself to get an outstanding o.w.l. in it by his fifth year.

made prefect and eventually head boy, two feats that alastor felt proud of himself for receiving but his parents didn’t show much of their approval of such things. thinking that it might take away from his lessons, from his studies, from his future career of being an auror.

it had come shortly before fifth year, the talk of expectations and the career that he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of. the moodys had been aurors for years, his father and his father’s father and so on. even his mother’s family had their own generations of aurors. there was no other path for alastor to take.

despite this, alastor worked hard at his o.w.l exams, managing to get twelve outstandings across his classes and would continue to do very similarly in his n.e.w.t.s, just good enough (but could have been better) for his parents and the career path they’ve set forth.

he didn’t mind becoming an auror, there was something behind the elitism of such a career that had his attention from a young age and it required a lot more thought and detective work than some of the other branches of magical law enforcement. 

but his time at hogwarts wasn’t just spent working on his career and working towards becoming the man he’ll later become. alastor wasn’t one for sports or parties or really anything else most of the other students got up to, he took his prefect and head boy duties pretty seriously. 

she changed his mind over time. alys pugh, spitfire welsh girl sorted into gryffindor and alastor’s best friend from first year. they had one class together, potions, and if it wasn’t for alys, he would have never fallen in love with the subject. or maybe if it wasn’t for potions, he would have never fallen in love with her.

alys was everything that alastor wasn’t. she was extroverted, she could befriend and talk to anyone and everyone who would let her and she was fierce about it. the way her mouth always seemed to be set in that almost smile, almost smirk. but when she would smile, fully, the number of times he stopped breathing was countless. smart enough to be on his level, the only person who could intellectually give him a run for his money and his academic rival despite their friendship. 

he fell in love with her so gradually that he hadn’t felt that it was real until seventh year when she had been made head girl, and she seemed to gain the eyes of almost every other lad in the school. alastor hated seeing her go on dates in hogsmeade, he hated seeing her cry over some boy that wouldn’t treat her right. it was halfway through the year when he couldn’t take it anymore, telling her that he’s in love with her and she deserved no one else but him.

all she did was laugh before kissing him. “finally you bloody idiot.” 

the day they left hogwarts was the day he asked her to marry him the first time. she laughed in that way she did, driving him mad, before telling him no. “it’s not time yet.”

post hogwarts // career (1958-1975)

alastor had been accepted into the auror program before the start of his seventh year, early admission, and something that his parents were actually proud of. 

by the time he left hogwarts, his parents began to slow down as aurors and were planning on retiring. one more case they were working on together, one that had them working late and often forgetting to ask their son how training was going. radicals, they called them, muttering as they wrote down little notes. they were close to something bigger than they could understand.

his parents worked hard up until the very end. they had bested many foes over the years, they helped during the fall of grindelwald and worked closely with albus dumbledore in that time. together they fought, together they went out. it was so fitting. 

except they never figured out who the ones in the masks had been and why their actions seemed to lead somewhere and nowhere at the same time. after their death in august, as a means of coping with the sudden loss but the kind of loss he had been prepared for his whole life -- alastor took their files and poured over them.

in between his training and trying to balance a social life, he would find himself looking over his parents’ last file, trying to find a pattern where it seemed there was none. often reaching out to dumbledore, a trusted friend despite up until recently, he had been alastor’s teacher. 

it wasn’t until a decade later they would finally find out who the masked wizards were, having grown into an army that no auror would have expected. not after grindelwald was defeated.

by then, as alastor mckinnon rose through the ranks, as did alastor moody. mckinnon had been a good mentor for alastor and something close to a friend, often feeling more like a father figure in the absence of his own father. he quickly became one of the youngest senior aurors. 

this was the career he was groomed for his entire life. brilliant strategist, quick on his feet, skilled duelist. the love of his life being a potioneer helped greatly with his own potion brewing, antidotes in particular, and knowing properties of most common poisons. 

by the start of the 1970s, alastor had managed to catch a decent number of dark wizards but it felt like just the tip of the iceberg. 

his career had become one part of his life that he loved but it was the quiet moments with his wife that would be the memories he would cherish for as long as he could.

post hogwarts // personal life (1958-1975)

alastor asked alys to marry him a total of four times before she finally said yes in 1962, around when his training finished and his career started. she told him it was finally time because all of his attention wouldn’t be on his training. 

if it were up to alastor, they would have gotten married the next day. the only time he would ever truly be impulsive was whenever he was with her. she brought it out of him, filling him with a sort of exhilarated rush because when it was just them -- everything else in the world melted away. he was so head over heels in love with her and no moment could be too long. 

but alys delayed it because she knew that he would become too busy with his career and she would never come between a moody and being an auror. she had her own dreams, her own goals to reach first anyway. the engagement was the true test, marriage is just a fancy slip of paper.

it wasn’t until 1970 that alastor and alys finally got married, in september, on one of the more warmer yet aesthetically pleasing early autumn days.

alys radiated in the sunlight. he supported a nasty cut on his cheek that would eventually scar due to a duel he had been in the night before. one of the many that began to adorn his face throughout the years. and still, she would kiss every scar and still see that beautiful man she fell in love with.

marriage life had its usual ups and downs, good days and bad days, whatever cliche left to be said. they had fights, little insignificant fights to almost world shattering ones that would leave both of them breathless at the thought of losing each other for good. but then they would make up and sometimes the makeups were worth the fight.

it wasn’t always about his job, even though it often had him coming home bloodier than when he left and sometimes she would think him too paranoid when he needed to check every piece of mail and food. no, their fights turned into something alastor could never figure out why he was so afraid, to begin with.

alys wanted a child, or two, or three, or five. she wanted a family and it scared him. it scared him becoming a father. but by their fifth-anniversary, when alys told him that she was pregnant and they were expecting their first child, that fear melted into something indescribable. love and pride mixed into one bigger feeling. 

eight months later would be the worst day of his life. 

june 3rd, 1975 - now

at the time, there was no way for alastor to know what would happen. he could have had his inkling that something might happen, but never the when or the how. only ever the why and the who. he was careful as he always was but they still manage to track him to his house.

it was in the middle of the night when they attacked. a group of death eaters against alastor and an eight-month pregnant alys.

looking back on it, he still can’t answer what happened.

he woke up sometime later in st. mungos, the lower half of his right leg missing and no good news about his wife and unborn child. 

the rest of the year felt like a blur, filled with immense darkness that surrounded him, suffocating him. he had to take off of work for months to go through physical therapy for the wooden leg they charmed for him. something that would be light enough not to make too much noise for stealth is key to being an auror, while not being too uncomfortable on his still-healing body.

it’s safe to say that anything good in alastor died with his family. yet it was the anger he felt for their deaths, the mystery behind who attacked them, that fueled his need to go back to work. and once they allowed him to, moody didn’t stop until he put more and more of these death eaters in azkaban. 

it was only two years after the death of his family that alastor was approached by albus dumbledore. the older man still someone that alastor trusted and trusted enough to join this secret organization, the order of the phoenix. as long as dumbledore lead, he would follow.

it was his revenge that made the decision so easy. he could be useful to the order while being an auror while the order will give him the satisfaction of finding and hurting those who hurt him.

 not a day goes by where he isn’t filled with thoughts and memories of his lost love, the lost future he could have had. do not pity the dead, pity the living.

[shinygoku]

I know its irrational, I know it has makes no logical sense but I my heart simply can't let go of that man named Goku. People view him as basic, people treat him as if he has no depths while often flanderizing him so much that his unrecognizable sometimes. There are 'cooler' heroes, 'deeper' heroes, there might even be some characters who do everything he portrays better. But I can't do it. I can't abandon the man who fought for all of us before we had the strength to fight for ourselves.

You are truly an Enlightened One, Anon-chan! I very much Feel your words~

I think one of the coolest things about our man Son Goku is that he really is one of a kind! Even though his bombastic success directly lead to many clones, he still stands above them, unique.

There’s so many Shounen Lads who have his traits - They’re friendly, they love to eat, they strive to achieve higher heights in [INSERT CHOSEN FIELD]. A lot even ape (tehe) his transformations in some way. And yet, not only is Goku one of the few who goes from being a semiferal little boy to a kind and loving father and grandpa on screen, but he’s still the only one who, for lack of any words that can express this better, has the magical charm of being the Goku-est!

He’s lightning in a bottle to even the extent that the installments today can’t get the genuine article back, so they settle for a plastic knockoff ¬¬

Anyway, to get this back on track,

You say that there may be cooler and/or deeper heroes? Maybe, coolest is massively subjective so it’s hard to measure, but someone like, say, Spider-Man has a lot more pathos to him. Goku when compared directly is very straightforward and simpleminded.... but as you also said, it’s a [tediously] common misconception that he lacks depth.

In my view, Dragonball (pre-Z) gets better and better with the run, but a huge turning point in not just the story quality but Goku’s real Character is his encounter with Tao Pai Pai. For the first time, Goku suffers a devastating loss. And then another! He had setbacks before, sure, but he took most everything in stride and it was all played much lighter. But now his new friend Bora got killed and he failed to avenge him. Goku looks long and hard at the momento of his Grandfather which he treasured so dearly, and immediately decided to use it on the chance he could undo the death. And then we get a sweet training arc, vengance, and the fufillment of that wish!

A lot of the arcs following that have similar beats, the main pattern becomes “Bad guy starts some shit and it’s up to Goku to beat the tar out of them.” but man, something about the way it all plays out is so captivating. The way Goku remains lighthearted for the majority of the time, bringing hope and courage to his friends and allies. The way he very much does get serious, but decides to wring as much positivity out of a bad situation as possible (see: his fight with Freeza after everyone else has been safely evacuated). The way his choices, while not always made purely for moral reasons but what Feels Right, has converted many old foes to join his side. And the way he relentlessly continues to train and improve himself, never resting on his laurels but still finding time to just have fun and chill out with his family, attending everything with wide eyes and a smile.

Gosh dude, I could sure go on like this a lot more, but you’ve already summed up the Mood in your initial ask, haha! Thank you for dropping by, here’s a few (I had to omit some as this post would get extremely long otherwise lol) Gokes to tide you by~

💖❤💕孫悟空💕❤💖

[phantomphangphucker]

The Bindings Of Time - Chapter 5. And Times Little Slideshow Comes To End, Only To Start Again - PhannieMay - Day 24 Ghost Stories and Day 22 Memories

Summary: Danny’s had all of time to tell his personal ghost story

(Multi-chapter fic, each chapter falls under the Memories prompt as well as another day’s prompt) —the future— Danny smiles fondly as he closes his mouth, looking out over the gathered crowd, some here physically others viewing through the surrounding floating screens. Danny pats affectionally at his chest while sitting atop a black and white podium, ghostly tail curled around it as he finishes his story. The story of how the weird little halfa became The Master Of Time. It’s been a long time since then, though it feels so very different to him. Recalling it like it was yesterday and also seeing it like it would come to pass tomorrow. In all that time humanities views, not only of him but ghosts, had changed so very much; as he knew they would. 

Pointing at one of the raised hands, “so you really are a god then? Just a ghostly one?”. Danny still doesn’t care for the god term, while he was separate, and needed to be viewed as such, from everyone else; being viewed as a god was a little too separating. He wanted and needed reverence, not devotion. Smiling slightly, “while I may possess many qualities you ascribe to godhood, I don’t claim the title. I am very much one of you, a human. Not some grand being beyond you. My humanity simply exists differently and my state of self-access to things beyond. I walk amongst you a regular civilian, as I always have and will continue to. I tell you this now as it’s come to the time for me to be truly known to you. For you to understand that it is more than just earth itself I protect and stand guard over”. It really hadn't taken humanity as a whole very long to come to view Phantom as the Human Realms protector, though many falsely believed he simply protected this realm from ghostly threats. It had taken longer for them to understand that he actually protected the Ghost Realm as well. Even longer still, to accept and like that. Now it had been a few years since he’d become universally viewed as earths protector, keeper of both Realms and respected as such. Sure the two species still had their skirmishes and didn’t exactly get along, but that was expected. Heck, even he still got into sparring matches with both ghosts and humans. Two things so utterly different and in states that really shouldn’t be able to coexist, but yet do in him, could never truly exist in complete peace. But they did exist in harmony now, which was enough. He smiles warmly at all the nodding heads and faces, slipping off the podium to float upright as one of the world leaders turns to him, “so what title is it that you hold, if not that of a god?”. “Guardian remains suiting enough. Guardian of Earth and of Time. My title amongst ghosts is The Master Of Time or Time Master. But even they call me by Phantom. So Phantom is who I am, any further titles are simply embellishments”, no one knows what he looks like as a human, or more specifically they don’t know that the human they know is actually Phantom. Even with the knowledge of halfas, no one seems to make the connection, and how could they? The idea that someone you know is some powerful otherworldly and unfathomably old being, is so absurd that no one would even consider it. The old leader nods as he brings forth a purple high-status crown, three separate swirling bands of purple light with white rimming on the top and bottom of each. Danny stills his ghostly tail enough to let the two reverence guards slide it to float around his tail, below the three blue and green ones, before they stand stiff and salute him. Danny telekinetically moves the three purple bands to make it so there’s a pattern. Purple, first because his place as Master Of Time comes above everything else; then blue/green, purple, blue/green, purple, and the last blue/green an inch or so above the tip of his tail. Most people wore any status crowns they had, to mark important jobs or achievements, floating around their arms, but his tail was the only place where they would not hinder him. He never really used legs as a ghost anymore, far more comfortable to have a tail. Only ghosts got crown bands that glowed, though the blue part of the bands that marked him as Earths protector didn’t glow. A sign of his halfa state. Just the same, having three bands was only for the highest ranked of a position, most who did have bands only had one. Danny only knew of a few people who would forgo wearing their bands, himself included while human. A couple people chuckle over his rearranging of the bands, he really was being extra and him thinking about style is very humanising to them. Which is exactly why he did so publicly. “For someone so powerful and with so many responsibilities you sure don’t take things seriously”, pretty well everyone is quick to agree. Danny smiles devilishly, he did take all this seriously just with a thick coating of humour, “time’s a funny thing, and I’m a funny man. Burdens will crush you if not handled with light comfort. And a perpetually humoured demeanour and way of thinking is a near weightless level of comfort. Far more than the sweet embrace of everafter that I will never know and that will always be my greatest joke”. Danny floats off thinking about how it was rather amusing that there had come to be a universal term for when someone stopped existing. Sure many humans still said “death”, and many ghosts “fading”, but for anything official or public “everafter” was used. And it amused him even more that this word existing and being accepted as the proper norm, was what finally sealed the deal of the harmony between his two worlds. Meaning there was one less secret to keep.

Smiling fondly and waving at people as he flies by them, pleased at how they don’t and won’t treat him different. His presence has become so normalised to humanity as a whole that there was very little he could do to change the ways they treated him. Habit is a powerful thing, specially when it was one every human was surrounded by from the day they’re born. Pretty well every household had a charm of Earths Guardian. His symbol, a flaming DP inside a gear, was everywhere really. Teleporting back to Amity and leaving the visible spectrum before anyone notices his presence, funny thing about his teleporting, time always stopped for a bit just before and after; unless he forced it not to, of course. In Amity his symbol was even more popular, it was practically one of the pride and joys of the city; and rightfully so. It was, and still is, his home town after all. The whole freaking place was his lair and that was common knowledge, though he wasn’t here even a tenth as much as he used to be. Back in human form, Danny chuckles as he makes his way to Fenton Works. Of course he left out real names while telling his tale, he did have a human secret life to keep quiet. It was a bit funny how Phantom used to be his secret life and identity, now Danny Fenton was. Though he generally went by his middle name, James, now, and no humans actually knew his human last name. Ruffling up his purple dyed hair as he sighs at the Fenton Works sign, he does wish his parents had been around for all of this but that’s in the past. Besides, Jazz’s many times' great grandson was here now, though he didn’t know his secretive otherworldly uncle as anything other than a human family friend who worked as a relations director between humans and ghosts. Danny had found it utterly hilarious when Jazz’s husband actually changed his last name, effectively carrying on the Fenton name. Sure it was largely because of the Fenton name being famous and constantly mentioned when all things ghost were concerned. Still that way to this day, his whole little family essentially became the pioneers and faces of all things ecto. His parents with their hunting, ghost biology research and inventions, Jazz with ghost psychology, and him with ghost relations and ghost translations. The foundations for the sciences and arts of all things ghost. Even the current generation carried that name, too much pride and importance attached to it for any of them to ever change it. Pushing in the door and promptly getting tackled by little ten-year-old Levi Fenton, “hows it hanging you little devil?”. She chuckles up at him, “you deeker, for being so young you sure are unlived”. Danny will take the lighthearted insult, if anyone gets to used dated terms it’s him. Even if his little niece insists on calling him a deeker, foolish and socially inept, for it. Besides, he’s always been a dork. Waving at her father, Jester, as he sticks his head out the kitchen, smirking before going back to making food, “ah, I fancy you were at Phantom’s little meet turned nuclear? Quite the shell he cracked open on everyone huh?”. “Oh, I already knew. But it was highly to my own amusement”, now Jester jerks his head back out and looks accusingly at Danny. Squinting as he realises Danny’s serious, “lad what? Since when? I know you’re the director of a secretive branch, even if you’re barely older than I am, but truth?”. Danny laughs and rubs his neck, “I've always known. But you’ll find no human who did before today anyway”. Jester only gets to glare as Levi runs out the kitchen with the entire pot of food. Danny grabs and catches it as she trips, holding up the hot pot above her, that would have spilled over her, as he raises an eyebrow at her, “Fenton’s are a reckless bunch but this is walking-inside-a-portal-and-turning-it-on, levels of reckless”. She huffs at him though clearly startled, while Danny walks the pot to the kitchen. Jester shakes his head and pinches his nose, “well, she’s a case of extra reckless”. Tilting his head at Danny, “still haven’t placed where you get that saying from. You’re the highest open book covered in synthlocks I know”. Danny smirks and tilts his head, it’s nice that it’s finally the right time to have his Fenton family in the know again. Even if there are only two living Fentons’ now, well, and one half living one. “All secrets with time, Jester. But if you really must know...”, Danny trails off as Jester aggressively seats himself and slams his elbows onto the table, ever eager to know anything about the weird ass family friend. Guy didn’t even know Danny’s human bedroom was hidden in the house, so Danny doesn’t exactly blame him. Plus, Fentons’ were a curious bunch. Picking back up, “it’s part of the Fenton family’s biggest, weirdest and best-kept secret. And yes it’s a bit ironic that only one Fenton actually knows nowadays, but that’s just how things had to be”. Now Jester just looks confused, which is expected since, to his knowledge, him and his daughter are the only Fentons’ currently. Danny waves off his confusion, “the portal in the lab has some major history. So did the first Fenton protoprotal, both created halfas after all”. Jester coughs and looks at Danny incredulously, “dench! Truth?”. Danny nods as he sits down, “indeed, one Vlad Masters. Bless that man’s tiny cold evil heart, can’t say it’s surprising he managed to destroy himself. He wasn’t a true halfa though, the other one is”. Jester nods, “so that’s why the Fentons’ and Masters’ are close, huh”. That was something else Danny got a massive kick out of, Vlad instantly started playing nice when he found out Danny was beyond just overpowered. Eventually, that fake friendliness became somewhat genuine, even if Vlad had still been a conniving evil prick. It was downright impressive his daughters turned out alright, probably wouldn’t have if they’d been halfas though. Shaking his head, “Vlad actually hated Jack Fenton, was in love with Maddie Fenton and wanted to adopt the two kids. Spent most of his time trying to kill Jack and fighting the only other Halfa in existence at the time”, tilting his head back and laughing at Jester’s appalled face before continuing, “the only two members of a species utterly hating each other. One evil and lonely, the other good and connected. Very black and white, ironically. The third halfa was actually a clone of the good halfa created by Vlad to make the perfect son. Vlad was a straight up frootloop. Would have acted on a plan to destroy the entire world unless he was made earths ruler if it wasn’t for Phantom becoming The Master Of Time and putting a stop to that bent shit”. “How do you even know this? And who’s the Fenton that does? Do the Masters’ know all this?”, Danny wasn’t sure if it was sad or funny that the Masters’ did indeed all know about their halfa ancestor. They didn’t really see him fondly and most of his life was forgotten past to them. “The Masters’ know of him and that he was a halfa, but not really about him. As for everything else. Vlad was the very first halfa, existing alone for twenty years until Maddie and Jack built the official Fenton portal. But they put the on switch inside the portal, so when their son decided to walk inside and snoop around, it turned on accidentally. Making the second halfa, one Daniel James Fenton. You can figure out why his middle name is left out in everything”. Jester gawks at him as Danny continues, “calling myself a family friend was a needed ruse for quite some time, it’s simply not now. And now you get why I’m so weird”. Jester shakes his head some, “dench, visuals?”. Danny’s not about to just transform into Phantom but an eye glow should be enough, letting his green eyes glow powerfully bright, effectively getting across that he was telling the truth and was not weak by ghost standards. Jester whispers, “dench”, before shaking his head, “you are officially terrifyingly good at hiding and keeping secrets. Dench lad, you’re my ancient uncle and I had no clue”. Danny chuckles, “I’m quite the enigma to pretty well everyone. You won’t find any that are completely clued in on everything about me. Ghost, human or otherwise. Even my parents never were, heck! They didn’t even know I was a halfa for four years. But I’m the reason for the family business being what it is, my parents used to hate ghosts, Jazz didn’t even believe in them and there wasn’t public proof ghosts even existed. Till I half died and became a famous ghost, anyway”. Jester shakes his head, “that is baffling but also a densely Fenton thing. But if your ghost half is or was famous, I’ve probably heard of that half, I’m to guess?”. It was kind of nice that halfas and ghost were so much more common knowledge know that people were about as shocked at finding out their friend was a ghost as they would be finding out they weren’t straight. But finding out your friend or family was Phantom of all ghosts, was impossibly shocking. Such is the issue with being a hero and guardian, with fame and global reverence. Smiling softly, “oh yes you do, everyone does. Ghost, human, or otherwise. I got the title of Great One and saviour of the Ghost Realm, or Ghost Zone really because that’s what it was called back then, when I was fourteen. Sure only the tribe of the FarFrozen called me that but the worshiping made that pretty hard to forget. Eventually, I earned the title of hero here in Amity for picking fights with pretty well every ghost that showed and caused issues. Which used to be pretty well everyone. Which did make school pretty strange, Paulina had a shrine to me in her locker and would put herself in danger just to get my ghost halfs attention. Glad very few people still do that”. Jester shakes his head, “what even is your beforeafter? But considering the sheer amount of ghosts Amity’s had, there are lots of options really. Can’t say I’ve memorised the timeline”. Danny snorts, because that was too easy of a setup, “I have”. Jester glares at him, “you've half-lived it. Our history is just your life”. That’s not really what Danny meant but he’s also not exactly wrong either. Danny chuckles, “well, as you know, it’s sort of tradition for halfas to name their ghost half. Shocker, Vlad and me started that. Though we were both pretty dumb about it, well, I was more of a joke than dumb but using the same first name, in the same town where you live wasn’t exactly smart. Which is why my human form goes by James now. And why my ghost half goes by my chosen last name, even if everyone knows my first”. Jester laughs into his hand, “ok yeah that was pretty dumb of you, for such a smart guy too. Something tells me you weren’t the most thought blessed kid”. “Naw, I failed nearly half my schooling. Largely because I didn’t care though. My problem is more so that I’ll make jokes at the expense of my own safety. I have let myself get stabbed just for a pun on many occasions. My ghost name is literally a ghost pun on the Fenton name. Vlad called himself Vlad Plasmius or just Plasmius, it was cause his purple ectoenergy reminded him of plasma but he never told anyone that. He really was a science deeker in his twenties. Quite the dork. Just eventually became a rich pompous evil bastard of a madman. He made himself the mayor of Amity just to spite me”, Jester shakes his head but gets up, “tea?”, Danny nods but Jester pauses and points at the ectoplasm kind with a raised eyebrow. Danny shrugs, leaving it up to the guy, doesn’t really matter and he’s cool with either. Unsurprised when Jester indeed gives him the, slightly thicker than normal tea and glowing, ectotea. Swirling it around and smiling mischievously, “anyway, there’s no point in you guessing at my name, since it’s likely the last thing you would guess. No ones exactly ballsy or inane enough to think they even are friends with, none the less related to, the big DP”. Shrugging at Jesters’ incredulous and puzzled stare, “Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom, it’s almost sad how no one ever notices the similarities. Especially when the whole halfa thing is public knowledge”. The two sit silently for a bit before Danny loudly sips at his tea purely for his own amusement. It’s not until his third time doing this that Jester speaks up, whispering, “dench”, before shaking his head and glaring at Danny, “visuals”. Danny tilts his head to check before smirking and transforming, forgoing his cloak and staff, “my times get up is rather unnecessary and faintly overwhelming to have out right now”. Danny sips at his tea while Jester gapes. Danny, with a smirk, “your tea’s gonna go cold”. Making Jester look down at his drink dumbfounded. Before looking back up and composing himself, “dench lad, Phantom is a Fenton. And oh wow yeah that does sound alike. You’re right, I never would have guessed that, but with the time thing, I’m guessing you already knew for sure I wouldn’t”. Danny nods as he tilts his head towards the doorway, seconds before Levi slides in, having been pinged by the house that food was actually ready now. Running past Danny and Jester without even looking at them, while Danny smirks. His echoey voice gets her attention though, “so, gonna steal the pot again?”. Danny knows full well she intended to and Jester knows too because of her guilty face, one that’s instantly replaced with shock at seeing Danny still in ghost form. “BENT! PHANTOM!”, Danny tilts his head back and laughs while Jester tries to glare at her for her language but he’s still a little too caught off guard. Danny gets up and walks over, opting for legs for once, for the sake of seeming more humanly normal. With the bands shrinking and floating around his ankles. Purples on the left and blue/greens on the right, ruffling up Levi’s hair, “bet you never would have guessed Phantom was your ancient uncle huh? Still think I’m an unlived deeker?”. “JAMES!?”, she tilts her head and makes a fish face before looking excited. Kids really were a lot quicker to accept absurd things, and they were also quicker to not really give a shit. “Seeve! You so have to tell me stories!”, watching as she shuffles a bit while Jester spoons out everyone’s food, she tries to look up at Danny innocently, “I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone, can I?”. Danny smiles warmly at her as they sit down for food, “fraid not little lady, tis’ a Fenton family secret. Always has been, always will be. It just so happened that only one Fenton could know for a time”. Jester shakes his head as they all eat though the two human Fentons’ spend a good portion of the meal staring at Danny’s fangs every time he opens his mouth. Which is definitely hard for Danny to not laugh at.

Eventually, the three sit in the living room with Danny in human form again, it’ll take time after all, for them to get used to knowing they're related to and hanging out with Phantom. Danny summons up a viewing screen, “my life’s one big ghost story so care to see how I lived my teenage half-life? Everything, after graduating Highschool and becoming The Master Of Time, is pretty well history. But the stuff before? That’s Fentory”. Jester groans over Danny’s mash-up of Fenton and history while Danny snickers, while Levi just slaps his leg excitedly. Pointing at the screen, “these are viewing screens, I use them to display anything that’s happened or could happen in time. Like a souped-up vimsight. They can also be portals to that time but we’re not doing that”. Jester scoffs, “you make this sound mundane. Which, it stands, is for you”. Danny nods, “but of course. My normal is and always has been, everyone else’s definition of abnormal. And if you’ve ever doubted how much of a joke I am, I made a theme song and title sequence to go along with this”. Laughing some at Jesters’ and Levis’ incredulous laughter while the theme song starts and they flat out watch him die on screen. They go well through the night watching all the weird to plain messed up episodes of his teenage years. Little ghosts stories encapsulated on a screen about the strangest overpowered no longer so young, halfa; and how he wound this way. End. Fin. 

[timeagainreviews]

A Loch back at a Zygon Era

Hello friends! I've had quite the week! Monday was my birthday, so my boyfriend and I took a road trip around Scotland. We saw lots of things from the Beatrix Potter Garden in Birnam, to the Cave of Caerbannog from Monty Python, to the Devil's Pulpit in Dumgoyne. But our main destination was Loch Ness! We settled into our hotel by watching "Terror of the Zygons," which seemed appropriate considering our surroundings. Naturally, I decided to review it here. Before I do, however, I would like to thank all of you who have been liking and reblogging my stuff lately. It means a lot to know I'm connecting with people. Thank you for your support!

On the surface, "Terror of the Zygons," appears to be just like any other serial of its era. However, if you do a bit of digging, you'll discover that there are some interesting facts about its production. Did you know that there was a sort of "real-world," tie in with the story? No, I don't mean Nessie. Think closer to Mickey Mouse. In 1975, Tom Baker played the Doctor for the August "Disney Time," bank holiday special. After introducing several clips from Disney films, he is called away by the Brigadier to the events of Terror of the Zygons. I can't help but wish this information was known to me before writing my Doctor Who and Disney article! You can watch the clips on youtube. They feature Tom being suitably bizarre.

Along with having an unusual prequel, the story also had a deleted scene from the beginning which was later colourised by YouTuber "babelcolour," for the DVD release. This edited version is the one I rewatched for today's review. The scene begins with the TARDIS materialising invisibly. The Doctor walks out from nothingness, wearing a matching tartan tam and scarf, replacing his usual fedora and scarf. Not far behind are Sarah Jane and Harry Sullivan wearing said hat and scarf respectively. There's something rather humorous about the Doctor using his companions as human hat racks. Considering Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart's name, it seems appropriate that the Doctor is sporting the Royal Stewart tartan. I can't help but wonder if the costume department did this on purpose. After rematerialising the TARDIS to "fix," it back to it's usual broken police box state, the three continue their journey to answer the Brigadier's Disney Time summons. It seems an oil rig off the coast of Scotland has crashed into the sea just shortly after having lost radio contact.

After hitching a ride from the eccentric Duke of Forgill, the three meet up with a kilted Brigadier in a small Scottish inn where the landlord, Angus, plays bagpipes ad nauseam. They're really driving the Scottish shit home, which makes sense when you consider they filmed the episode in Sussex. Also gathered at the inn are Sergeant Benton, various UNIT soldiers, and a man from the oil company named Huckle. The Duke has some curt words with Huckle, informing him that any crewmen found on his land will be shot. After leaving in a huff, we see one of these crewmen wash ashore, seemingly alive. Over the past month, three different rigs have all met their demise. The gang splits up Scooby-Doo style. Dr Harry goes off to check on the injured crewmen, while Sarah stays behind to get the scoop from the locals. And the Doctor goes off to be the Doctor.

Back at the inn, Sarah mentions the odd nature of the Duke to Angus who promptly defends the duke as a good man. However, even he has to admit that the Duke has been acting strangely since the oil companies came. After letting go most of his servants, the only real bit of interaction he's had lately was gifting the inn with a goofy looking stag head. Nowadays the Duke keeps mostly to himself at Forgill Castle. The surrounding area of Tulloch Moor seems steeped in mystery. People go missing as the mist comes in, Angus tells Sarah as they're being spied upon from a distance. Eavesdropping in on the conversation over a veiny, bio-mechanical screen, an unknown figure watches from the shadows.

While driving alone, Harry spots the washed-up man from the rig and jumps out to help him. Believing him to be yet another trespasser, a beardy fellow by the name of Caber shoots the survivor and wings Harry across his brow, rendering him unconscious. Back in the bio-mechanical ship, alien villains twist and caress a fleshy panel in the weirdest form of nipple play ever seen on Doctor Who, causing the destruction of another oil rig near Ben Nevis. While trying to decipher the signal that has been jamming the oil rigs' radios, the Doctor learns of Harry's brush with death.

After checking on Harry, the Doctor goes out to inspect the oil rig wreckage where he discovers strange holes in the foundation. After taking a cast of the holes with plaster of Paris, the cast reveals what looks like the shape of an impossibly large sharp tooth. During a call with the Doctor, Sarah is attacked by the previously seen alien hand, which belongs to none other than a fearsome Zygon! I've always loved their design, especially in this scene. Something about the shape of its mouth is particularly disturbing. I was slightly disappointed about the redesign from the new series. I'm a big fan of the Zygon cat nose. I almost named one of my cats Zygon due to his dark orange fur and similar nose shape, but my partner at the time vetoed that idea. I named him Rory instead.

After discovering both Harry and Sarah missing, the Doctor discovers Sarah in a decompression room for divers, the door slightly ajar. I was annoyed by the fact that the Doctor fell for such an obvious trap, but it also led to an intriguing sequence. Harry's nurse, Sister Lamont, closes the heavy door behind the Doctor and seals it shut for decompression. Running out of air, the Doctor hypnotises Sarah and enters into a trance to conserve air. I'm a big fan of any time the Doctor acts like a bit of a mystic. I'm a meditator myself, so it's cool to see the Doctor tap into the innate powers of thought control. One of the side effects of certain meditations is a slowing of breathing. It was nice that the scene doesn't overly explain this. It allows Tom the chance to really play up his weird alien charm as his eyes roll back and he howls toward the ceiling. Moments like these are why I love Tom Baker so much. He's not afraid of being utterly bizarre.

It's around this time we begin to learn a little about the Zygons. Having taken Harry to their ship, their leader, Broton, tells him a bit about their history. After they crash-landed centuries ago they awaited rescue while subsiding on the lactic fluid of their giant Nessie-like cyborg pet known as the Skarasen. That's correct, you did not misread that- they feed off of cyborg breast milk. Only with a show like Doctor Who can you get a sentence like that. You've kind of got to love that. After discovering their planet was destroyed by a cosmic event, they redirected their efforts toward getting their suckers on Earth. The Skarasen is to be the form of Earth's destructor, as no human weapon could hope to penetrate its augmented skin. In order to move their plan into motion, the Zygons gas the village, knocking the Brigadier and the UNIT soldiers out cold, thus allowing them to move in secret. Luckily for the Doctor and Sarah, Sergeant Benton was on the lookout for them where he saves them from death by asphyxiation.

After coming to, Huckle gives the Doctor a bio-emitter that attracts the Skarasen, which he found among the wreckage of the rig. Having bugged the inn, the Zygons reveal to Harry that they use the psychic imprint of humans in order to mimic their form. He sees the likes of Sister Lamont, Caber, and the Duke, stored in hibernation chambers, maintaining a link to their Zygon counterparts. They use Harry's form to slip back to the inn where they may fetch the emitter. But he is intercepted by Sarah who is concerned by his odd behaviour. She chases him into a barn where they scuffle in a manner that had me weirdly thinking of “Super Vixens.” Russ Meyer's Doctor Who is not something I ever expected to imagine. After a bit of trouble, Zygon Harry falls from a hayloft onto his own pitchfork, killing him instantly and revealing himself to Sarah as a Zygon. However, the crafty Zygons completely evaporate his remains to hide any evidence. I wondered why they didn't just do the same thing to the emitter in the first place, but I guess the answer is "it doesn't do that." Ok, sure, whatever. Now free from his psychic link with the Zygon, Harry is able to sneak about on their ship unabated.

After realising the Zygons were working from the shadows, the Doctor assumes they must have bugged the inn somewhere, so the lads go about searching the place from top to bottom. I love Angus' indignant response to the idea that his inn might have actual bugs. Angus Lennie's performance as Angus is a true highlight in the story. Afraid of the humans discovering that the goofy stag head must be the bug, the Zygons decide to send the Skarasen to rid themselves of these tiresome humans. After figuring out the secret of the emitter, the Doctor draws the Skarasen away from the village only to find it has fused itself to his hand. But Harry's meddling with the ship's systems allows the Doctor the ability to toss the emitter in the path of the Skarasen, destroying it in the process. 

The Doctor and friends meet up and go to Forgill Castle to ask permission to drop depth charges into Loch Ness, the source of the signal. Their hope is to draw the Zygons out. Meanwhile, the Sister Lamont Zygon goes to fetch the stag head and fights with Angus in the process, killing him. It's a sad ending for one of the more likeable characters, but it's also kind of wonderful in its simplicity. I never quite understood why the Zygons needed to turn people into electric balls of something I might pull out of my hairbrush, as they did in "The Zygon Invasion." If anything, I much prefer the updates they received in Mark Morris' "The Bodysnatchers." Using venom from their suckers matches their physiology far better than superpowers. Morris really fleshed out the Zygons in a way I wish the show would. Seeing them in their initial incarnation using brute force seems far more practical to me. I think sometimes, more is less.

After discovering a way into the Zygon ship, they save Harry, but the Zygons flee with the Doctor still onboard. The Doctor gets a wonderful opportunity to match wits with Broton in a speech that includes my all-time favourite Fourth Doctor line- "You can't rule the world in hiding. You've got to come out on to the balcony sometimes and wave a tentacle." Evidently, that line was ad-libbed by Tom Baker, only further solidifying my love for the man. He makes a good point though, the Zygons have mostly been working from the shadows, in secret. The Zygons fly away, masking their trail from UNIT, still hiding. I must admit, it's not abundantly clear what their plan actually is. Sure they intend to use the Skarasen against earth's weapons, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of explanation as to how the oil rigs play into everything. There's mention of turning the Earth into something more habitable for Zygons, but I'm honestly not sure. I asked my boyfriend what his impression was, and he couldn't quite figure it out either.

There's a lot of what happens at this point in the story that seems like happenstance. The UNIT crew and Sarah end up going to London, which also happens to be where the Zygons have set their next target. They plan to swim the Skarasen up the Thames to wreak havoc on Westminster Abbey. In my review for "Castrovalva," I mentioned how the Fourth Doctor's super-heroics were oftentimes overstated, and what comes next is nothing shy of extraordinary. After rigging some ventricle type wiring from within his cell, the Doctor uses his own body to complete the circuit, allowing UNIT to see past the Zygon's scramblers and pinpoint their location. I loved that it was Benton that did this, by the way. This was twice in one story where Benton got to play hero. They pinpoint the ship's location to be a disused quarry, which made me ugly cackle. Classic Doctor Who used quarries so often to make up an alien planet, that the idea of them saying "This actually is a quarry," seemed almost cheeky. Broton, thinking the Doctor has died, uses his Duke disguise once more to go plant another emitter in Westminster. After releasing the human captives aboard the Zygon ship, the Doctor sounds an alarm and sets off the self destruct killing the remaining Zygons onboard. Yay, murder!

The UNIT soldiers dispatch Broton after a fumbling fight scene between him, Harry, and Sarah. All the while, the Skarasen is working its way up the Thames. It's a brilliant little bit of puppetry mixed with stop motion animation that I found completely charming. Even if it does look a bit naff, it's effective enough to be a suitable set piece to end such an episode. It's very much within the tone of the story to have the Loch Ness monster stomping through London. The Doctor manages to trace the emitter and toss it into the open jaws of the Skarasen. It nom nom noms the emitter into nothingness, causing it to lose all interest in the Abbey. The Doctor casually supposes that it will most likely return to its home of Loch Ness. I loved that the show kept the Loch Ness mystery intact. After all is said and done, "Nessie," may still be out there. It wouldn't have felt right killing off a beloved cryptid that brings so much wonder to many. Such feelings of wonder are what Doctor Who thrives upon. Sadly, while we got to keep Nessie, we say goodbye to some regulars. This marks the last regular appearance of both the Brigadier and Harry. With the Doctor no longer relegated to the Earth, UNIT begins to play a much smaller role in the story. And Harry, now back in London, hasn't a lot of need to continue travelling with the Doctor. It's an almost unceremonious end of an era for Doctor Who.

All in all, I really enjoyed this story. While I feel like it somewhat falls apart in the final act, the mystery and intrigue in the first few episodes really draw you in. Even my boyfriend, who is a casual fan, was drawn in by the atmosphere. You can see the beginnings of what was to become the more horror-themed stories such as "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," or "The Horror of Fang Rock." The Zygons are, for me at least, a classic baddie. They may not be as popular or iconic as the Daleks or Cybermen, but I think they work as their own kind of threat. Bringing them back has also proven to be successful. The Big Finish audio "The Zygon Who Fell to Earth," is well worth a listen. There's a lot of care put into this story that I think makes it stand out from others. Geoffrey Burgon's beautifully haunting music was a nice change of pace from Dudley Simpson's usual work. The track "A Landing in Scotland," is particularly memorable. The Zygon ship interior being organic was a unique touch that we rarely see in Doctor Who, save for maybe "The Claws of Axos," and the model work was also pretty damn charming. Having recently been to both Loch Ness and Ben Nevis, it really added something to the experience as well. There is a surprisingly low amount of episodes that take place in Scotland, which is unfortunate. If there's anything this trip has taught me, is that Scotland has a lot to offer. There are so many peaks and valleys covered with lush greenery and deep dark waters. It's easy to imagine that somewhere, something is lurking down below. Hats off to Robert Banks Stewart and Robert Holmes for seeing this potential, and turning out something magical.

[penny4yourthot]

Broken Stranger-Part 8

utSummary: Torri (O/C) needs to escape her life in Seattle because of her abusive husband. When she ends up in Charming things don’t go as planned.

part-1/ part-2 / part-3/ part-4 /part-5/ part-6 / part-7

I woke to the sound of the alarm buzzing loudly on Chib’s nightstand. He smacked the button and pulled me in closer placing a soft kiss to the top of my hair.

“G’morning, Lass.” I felt a shiver run down my spine from his warm breath tickling my head.

“‘Morning,” I said as I lifted my head up and placed a kiss on his cheek. The moment was cut short when a wave of nausea hit me.

“Dammit!” I yelled and ran to the bathroom, flipping the toilet lid and throwing up what little I had in my stomach. Chibs ran behind me, held my hair with one hand and placed his other around my stomach.

“Stop making yer mum sick, wee one.”  His words caused a smile to form on my lips.

“Shit.” I grabbed my lower abdomen.

“Ye okay?” Chibs asked turning my body around so I was facing him.

“Just a couple bad cramps, ill be fine,” I replied as I felt another shock wave of pain run through my abdomen.

“Ye sure?” he questioned. I could see the worry in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll go make breakfas’.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before heading out of the bathroom.

I got up and pulled my pajama bottoms and underwear down to use the bathroom, worry running through my mind as I saw blood on my panties. Shit.

“Chibs!” I yelled, my body begginning to shake in worry. Maybe something was wrong with my baby. I was only ten weeks. I remember learning about complications of pregnancies in nursing school and most things that could go wrong happen within the first twelve weeks.

“Wha’s wrong Lass?” I heard his footsteps running towards the bathroom in a hurry. He stopped directly next to me as he saw the blood.

“I don’t know if this is normal, with the cramps, something must be wrong. Right?” I questioned him, hoping he would have an answer for me.

“Get yer clothes on, let's go see Tara,” he said as he pulled his phone out, leaving the room.

I walked into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and grabbed my purse. Chibs was already outside waiting.

It was an odd sight to see Chibs in a car and not on his bike, but with me being pregnant I was sure we would be taking the car that Gemma gave me more often than not.

I sat in the front seat of the car and Chibs hand instantly went to my thigh gently rubbing in an attempt to comfort me. The contact was all I needed to break down and cry. Worried that I may lose this baby, It was such a shock to find out I was pregnant but the idea of having a baby grew on me greatly in the last few weeks.

“What if I lose the baby?” I sobbed. The dam that was holding my tears back broken.

“I'm here fer ye, Torri, No matter wha’ happens,” he said as he backed out of the driveway and headed towards the hospital.

“I'm sure the little lad or lass is going to be jus’ fine,” He added. I knew I needed to calm down, working myself up this way wasn't going to help anything.

It only took a few minutes to get to the hospital but it felt like a hell of a lot longer. Chibs quickly parked the car and opened my door for me, he grabbed my hand and walked with me into the front doors. We made the familiar walk to Tara’s office and explained what happened. She stood up from her desk and had us follow her to one of the exam rooms.

Chibs gave me a hand as I climbed onto the exam table, pulling my shirt up and preparing for the ultrasound I knew she was going to do.

The thoughts running through my head were quickly interrupted by the cool gel that Tara had put on my abdomen.

“So how long has he bleeding been going on?” Tara questioned keeping eye contact until she put the prob on my stomach.

“I just noticed it this morning right after I felt some pretty intense cramping.” I searched her face as she looked at the ultrasound screen moving the probe slightly to get a better look.

Chibs held my hand as he stood next to me, he must have noticed the doctors face; a look neither of us could read.

“Something wrong with the wee one, Doc?” Chibs questioned, trying to figure out Tara’s face.

“No, well, I mean nothing is wrong with the baby, but there are two of them.” She turned the screen towards me as she spoke.

“T-two baby’s?” My voice shaking from shock

“Yeah, sometimes 8 weeks is too early to see twins so I didn’t catch it on the last ultrasound. The cramping is from your uterus stretching and growing more due to having two fetuses in there,” she started looking back at the scene and capturing a few pictures. “Now the bleeding could be a couple of things, one of the babies placentas could be covering your cervix, but I don’t see that here,” she continued looking back at the screen confirming what she was telling me. “Your cervix could just be irritated. Have you had sexual intercourse recently?” She looked back over at me and then to Chibs and then to our hands that were connected over the top portion of my abdomen.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I looked over at Chibs.

“Yea last nigh’, why?” Chibs asked. I’m glad that he isn’t afraid of telling the truth.

“Sex can irritate the cervix and sometimes cause a small amount of blood. I’m going to recommend being on bed rest for a week then coming back for another check up to re-evaluate.”

“And you're sure there are two babies in there?” I asked one more time, still shocked.

“Yes, here is Baby A’s heartbeat,” She said just before turning the volume on, “and here is baby B’s heart rate. Both completely normal.” A smile formed on her face as she looked over at me and Chibs.

“So I see you two have gotten close.” She chuckled a bit, “Jax told me you guys were staying together but he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on”

“Aye, I would say we have gotten rather close,” Chibs replied with a smirk to which I jokingly slapped his arm lightly.

“Any questions?” She asked as she took the probe away, wiping the cool gel off my stomach and biting the print button sending the pictures to the attached printer at the bottom of the cart.

“Nope.” I pulled my shirt down and sat up.

“Okay, if you need anything, feel free to call. Make sure to rest, I’ll let Gemma know you won’t be able to work this week.” She grabbed the pictures and handed them to Chibs as I fixed my shirt.

“Thanks for all this Tara,” I heard Chibs say.

“No problem,” she replied as she walked to the door and closed it behind her as she left.

“Twins. I’m having twins,” I quietly said, more so to myself then to Chibs.

“Aye, two wee ones in there.” He smiled as he placed his hand over my stomach.

“Listen, I know this changes things, double the money needed double the time if you want me out I’ll...”

“The only thing this changes is that we have two babies to love instead of one,” he reassured me with a genuine smile on his face. “Like I said before, I want you with me. I don’t want you taking care of these babies by yourself,” he continued, still smiling at me. “And I love having you around,” he added, helping me off the table then wrapping his arms around me pulling me close.

“Thanks so much, I honestly would be so lost without you,” I whispered, nuzzling my head into his neck.

He pulled away and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll always be here fer ye, Torri,” he softly whispered against my lips before pulling me in for another kiss.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you guys think! if you would like to be tagged in the next part let me know =)

Tag list: @gemini0410 @genius2050 @utterlyhopeful

[lenfaz]

Sea Squad, ch. 3 (3/14)

Summary: Killian Jones has always managed tough spots in his con life… but never like this one. His brother is out of jail and convinced the only way to win his name back is to heist the casino of a major Vegas mogul, leaving Killian to do the planning. He now has to deal with a half-brother desperate to gain a name of his own, an ex-fling that carries her own torch against the casino mogul, his brother losing his mind over his ex-wife,  his former mentor’s depression and the one woman he can’t get out of his mind giving him chase. Ocean’s Eleven AU

Rating: M

Content warnings: semi-explicit sexual content, law-breaking (they are thieves, liars and con men), mild violence (someone will get punched), mention of former relationships (for the main pair) and cheating (but not for the main pair)

Chapter warning: Milah is a character in this fic.

Banner (link to banner post) and art by the amazing @clockadile Go check her art tag for the fic here!

This fic would never exist without the wonderful @sambethe who convinced me to do over hot chocolate on one cold Chicago afternoon and virtually held my hand and betaed this fic for months. thank you SO much for everything you do.

A/N: A long time ago there was talk about Hook & his sea friends and a few collective posts shaped the idea of a Sea Squad. This fic is the attempt to bring that creativity to life. Tagging @queen-mabs-revenge   @thesschesthair   and @jvosketches as they were part of that initial thinking back in the day. If a few things sound familiar, it’s because they are based on the movie.

Link to  FFnet & AO3

on tumblr: 1 2

What a bunch of misfits.

That was the first thought in Liam’s head as he contemplated the people gathering on Nemo’s patio, filling themselves with appetizers and passing drinks between each other.

Some of them traveled with style: Poseidon had arrived in a rented and sober black car, his suit impeccable and his face unreadable. He first hugged his daughter and was now catching up with Nemo, the two of them commanding all the attention of the patio with their poise.

Milah had arrived dressed in leather pants and a silk shirt, her legs looking long and graceful as she exited her vintage red Porsche. She and Ursula sat together at a table on the side talking, and from the way they were stealing not so subtle looks in his and Killian’s direction, Liam was quite sure what the topic was about. Milah winked at him as he glanced over at them for the third time, blowing him a kiss from afar as she did.

Most of the rest of the group had arrived together in a minivan from the airport, all of them sharing laughs and old stories as they caught up. Ariel and Eric remained glued to each other, the passion still strong between them, forcing Liam to make a mental note to remind them about being alert on the job. It wouldn’t be the first time they got carried away by the throes of passion during recon. And while it wasn’t a big deal on smaller jobs, the one in front of them required absolute and careful attention.

Smee and Henry were talking to Killian, both of them looking at his little brother as if he were the most amazing thing in the world. It wasn’t news when it came to Smee, the man truly worshipped his brother, but Henry was a new addition as far as Liam was concerned. He wondered how exactly Killian had come to know about Henry, and what had since passed between them. But it would be a mystery that he’d have to solve later.

For now he had old friends, good food, even better alcohol, and everyone was having a good time.

That was everyone except LJ, who’d arrived alone and on foot, with a scowl on his face and nothing more than a backpack and small rolling suitcase. He was still sporting a frown as he stood in the corner, all by himself, shoulder against the wall, looking at the entire thing as if he didn’t belong.

And he didn't. Not just yet. But Liam was going to make sure he did by the end of it all. Family was family and if there was something he’d learned the past two years in jail, it was that you needed to be with the ones who were yours. No matter the cost.

He sighed… it was his time to steal the spotlight and start in the plan in motion. Killian may have assembled the group, had charmed his way into getting all of them to come and join them - Liam still didn’t know how he was able to get Poseidon to agree - but now it was his turn. This was his moment.

Showtime.

He cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the room. “Ladies, gentlemen, what a wonderful moment it is to see you all again. Some of you know one another and some we’re just welcoming into the family, but I hope you’ve all have enjoyed the food and drinks that Nemo has laid out for us.” Pausing for effect, he took a moment to seek out his brother, holding his focus once Killian’s eyes met his. “The mission we’re about to embark on is highly dangerous, but if successful it will be highly lucrative, both monetarily and personally for some of us. Now, none of you are locked into this yet. If you feel that you simply don’t want to take part, now’s the time to walk. Feel free to grab another drink and head on your way. No questions. No hard feelings.” He tilted his head and raised his glass as he turned his attention to their host. “Though, not you, Poseidon, you’re not allowed to leave,” he teased, drawing laughter from those gathered and lifting the mood, all while reeling them in for what would come next.

“Gentlemen,” Killian drawled as he stepped forward, his most charming smile in place, “and you lovely ladies, if you’ll join us inside.”

Everyone grabbed their drinks and followed in his wake. Everyone, that is, but the one person they were desperate to have on board.

LJ remained on the patio, his eyes scanning the place while steadfastly not meeting their eyes. Killian took a step in his direction but quickly stopped as they both watched Nemo make his way towards him instead.

“LJ, is it?” he asked, an affable expression in place and using his most amicable tone of voice.

Liam instantly recognized that expression. It was the same Nemo had used on him and Killian each time he met them while they were lads surviving on the streets. Tears threatened to escape his eyes as he watched LJ shake Nemo’s hand.

“I - we - are so glad you were able to join us. I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I’ve been impressed with your talent.”

LJ shrugged off the compliment, backing away slightly as he crossed his arms,  clearly uncomfortable with the praise.  “It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that lives up to the standards of the Brothers Jones, I’m sure,” he said,  pronouncing their name with a quiet reverence laced with just enough regret and bitterness that it broke Liam’s heart. Perhaps if they had known about him sooner, maybe they would have found a way to bring him here with them, perhaps…

Nemo’s booming laugh interrupted his thoughts. The older man was smirking, patting LJ’s back.

“Do you really think these two were perfect all the time?” He stole a quick glance in Liam and Killian’s direction.  “Pleaaaase, the first time Liam tried to roll loaded dice, he almost got beaten up to a pulp. I had to jump in and get them out of that situation really quick.”

He motioned for LJ to approach him. "Come here, m'boy. Join us and let me tell you all about it."

LJ smiled, the first real smile he’d given all evening, and let Nemo steer him inside the house.

Liam released the breath he’d been holding.

Everyone was in. All was well.

For now.

/-/

The projector screen flashed an image of their target. From the corner of his eyes, Liam watched as Milah momentarily squirmed in her seat before Ursula laid a comforting hand on hers. He gave Milah a quick smile before he pointed to the screen. “I assume everyone in here is familiar with the Gold, the Baelfire and the Dagger.”

Everyone in the room nodded along and Liam continued, “They all have a thing in common.”

“They belong to the same scumbag?” Milah interrupted, drawing some laughter from the room.

“That and they all feed into one vault, and one vault only. The vault of the Baelfire is located below the Strip, underneath 200 feet of solid earth.” He gave another pause for effect. “And that is our target.”

“So a quick in-and-out, huh?” LJ interjected, his dry humor proving once again that he more than belonged to this family.

“Just a tad more complicated than that,” Killian replied from where he’d spent most of Liam’s introduction perched on a stool.

Liam pushed a button and the screen changed to display an animation of the vault access. “This is courtesy of the casino’s new dealer, Tina Smith.” He pointed to Ursula, who tipped her head in a small salute.

“Your mother always loved Tina,” Poseidon said with affection as he squeezed his daughter's hand.

“And we have Mr. Smee to thank for the simulation he created based on the information Ursula has gotten us,” Killian pointed out and Smee gave the room a sheepish smile while Ariel and Eric slow clapped at him.

“As you can see, this place has a very tight security system,” Liam continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “It won’t be easy to break. We’ll have to get into the cages -”

“Here, here, and here,” Killian pointed out, ever so helpfully.

Liam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Which all of you know takes more than my smile and my brother’s combined.” The simulation continued, and Liam pointed out the next difficulty. “Next come the doors, each of which require a different six-digit code that is changed every twelve hours. Once we’re past those then comes the tricky part: the elevator won't move without a scan of authorized fingerprints -”

“Which we can’t forge,” Killian explained. He’d ditched the stool and was now standing next to LJ, feigning nonchalance.

“And vocal confirmations from both the security center within the Baelfire and the vault below -”

“Which we won’t get.”

Liam buried the scowl he wanted to give and instead leveled his most dashingly threatening smile at Killian, but after three decades his idiot brother seemed immune to it. Killian was on a roll today, a burst of sunshine intent on deadpanning all the roadblocks. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair before continuing.

“Which brings us to the elevator -”

“The shaft of which has motion detectors,” Milah offered with a sigh. “If you - we - were to attempt to manually override the lift, it will lock the exits and we’ll be trapped.”

Everyone turned to focus on her, and she just shrugged nonchalantly. “What? You’re not the only ones who can show off, gentlemen.”

Liam bent his head to hide his smile. “Good news is, after that, is a walk in the park - two guards, some Uzis, and the most complicated vault door conceived of by men.”

“Actually, it was a woman who designed it, but carry on,” Milah corrected and circled her fingers for Liam to continue.

“Questions?” Killian asked brightly cutting off Liam again.

“Tunnels?” Henry asked, rolling a keychain back and forth over his knuckles.

Liam’s eyes darted between Milah and Killian. “Which one of you two show-offs want to take this one?”

“Ladies first,” Killian bowed towards Milah with a salacious smile.

She grinned. “With you, Jones, always,” she said, causing a communal chuckle before she looked at Henry with a big, genuine smile. “Gold has scales monitoring any movement in the ground for at least a hundred yards in every direction of the vault. Anything more than simple drilling on the street and he’ll be on to us and at our throats.”

Henry nodded and stared gloomily at the screen. His expression was pretty much echoed by the rest of the group.

It was Ariel, though, who finally broke the mood in the room. “Please tell me there is a good reason you flew us here, Liam. Not that I don’t enjoy the chance to get married again by Elvis followed by a night in a Vegas suite as much as the next girl, but there’s gotta be some good news here somewhere.”

Liam smirked, taking a few steps from the wall with the screen and into the middle of the room. “The Gaming Commission rules are clear - the casino has to be able to cover, in cash, every single chip they have on the floor. So in this case, that means that this vault needs to cover all three casinos. On any given night, that is 60 to 70 million. Weekends? 80 to 90. But on a special night, as in a boxing match like the one in two weeks or a concert? There would be at least 150 million dollars in there.”

He stopped and let that number sink in.

Killian stepped in, owning the moment much better than Liam ever could. “Now, there are 11 of us in this room, and we will all have an equal share. I’ll let each of you do the math.”

Their faces transformed as the sheer amount of money sank into each one of their brains. Eight figures each, it would be the heist of a lifetime. Liam chanced a glance towards LJ and found his brother looking at him with awe.

We promised, baby brother.

It was Poseidon who was the one to break the awed silence, giving both Liam and Killian a skeptical look. “Ok, hot shots, let’s run this one more time. Say we get into the cage, past the doors we don’t have codes for, into the elevator we cannot move unless one of us has untraceable magic, past the overeager guards with nuclear guns and into the female designed vault we cannot open unless we sell our souls to the devil. Then what? We will simply walk away with 150 million dollars in cash? Just like that?”

Killian smirked. “Just like that. With all the poise you’re known for, Poseidon.”

“Thank you, Killian,” Poseidon said with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to pull off that minor detail. The rest of the operation seems easy enough though.”

Liam knew the sarcastic barb was just that. If Poseidon had wanted to walk away, he would have done it by now. But like everyone else, he knew what they had here was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” Killian clasped his hands together, taking over from Liam and falling into the role he was so bloody good at. “Reconnaissance. We need to know these places like the back of our hands: from rotations to dealers and personnel to escape routes. They build these bloody things like mazes to keep people from leaving. We need to know how to quickly get out. At all times. Ursula, you keep working those ears as you work the rooms. Ariel, Eric, get into those costumes you love so much and get on with it, mates.”

“Sure, sure!” Ariel clapped excitedly while Eric gave him a salute with two fingers on his forehead.

“Surveillance. We need to know what they know, if not before they know it, at least as they know it.” He turned around and faced his friend. “Start digging, Smee. We need to tap those systems.”

“I’m on it, Killian, but it won’t be easy. I need a few more days for me and Milah to look into the systems and how to break them. Also, if this night is as big as you claim, he’ll likely get additional highly trained security for the night.”

“Then we need to know who that person is and how to break them.”

/-/

Emma Swan stood in the massive library, her eyes scanning the nearly overwhelming number of wooden shelves and leather-bound books. She’d never seen such a treat in a casino before in her life, though that might also be due to the fact that she wasn’t a frequent flyer of high-end casinos. The usual perps she’d chase preferred seedier establishments with illegal poker games played on worn tables. Not the gold-covered details of places like the Baelfire.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” asked the petite brunette who stood next to her, her high heels putting her almost at Emma’s height. She wore a pleated black leather skirt and a cream crêpe shirt. Her hair fell in artfully crafted waves to her shoulders and a pair of gold earrings graced her earlobes. She looked exquisite, the picture of simple elegance that Emma, in her skinny jeans, low-heeled boots, and red leather jacket, would never be. Emma wanted to dislike her, but she had nothing but a warm smile and a friendly disposition as she spoke reverently about the books that surrounded them. In any other situation, she might actually like her. “That is how Robert and I met. He’d asked me to come help catalogue and expand his book collection.”

“It’s an impressive one, for sure,” Emma agreed.

“Belle, don’t distract Miss Swan. She has a job she’s required to do,” Robert Gold interrupted, his tone clipped as he stepped forward, his floor manager by his side. “She needs to focus on securing the place, not in admiring the dusty books that are in it. We wouldn’t want any distractions.”

His words managed to chastise both women and Belle excused herself with a smile and left the room, leaving Emma with the weight of Gold’s assessing look focused on her. She knew the distraction barb wasn’t gratuitous. She’d been in this business long enough to know there was more to Gold than the casino owner and legitimate business owner facades he showed the world. She’d heard the rumors, the ones whispered into the night by lowlifes on the run, people who didn’t want to be found. People Emma used to succeed in finding, her absolute perfect record an untarnished proof that she was the best in the business, the one who could always deliver. She cleared her throat and focused on the task at hand.

“You’ll want this room to be secured and monitored as well the night of the match?”

“My security is tight, but I don’t want to leave anything to chance. After the vault, this place is the most important to secure in this casino.”

Not for the first time, Emma wondered what this room hosted besides the collection of dusty old books that only Belle French  - Gold’s friend - seemed to care about.

Gold tilted his head as if he’d been reading her thoughts. He took a few steps towards her, lowering his voice. “I can count on you, right Miss Swan? I know that your exit from your last agency wasn’t as ‘mutual agreed upon’ as you and your employer both like to suggest.” He made a tsking sound as he waved a hand in the air in a dramatic gesture, his smile turning into somewhat sardonic and deeply unreadable. “I’m no fool. If you want my help with the information you seek, then you’ll be sure to ensure no one gets near anything that I hold dear in any of my casinos that night.”

Emma cleared her throat. “You will not be disappointed, Mr. Gold.”

“Good,” was all he said before he turned around and left her without a further glance, moving onto the next item in his busy day.

Emma’s shoulders slumped as she leaned into one of the shelves for support. This job was too important. She had this one chance to rebuild her name after the Italian fiasco she had a few years ago. She was not letting anything get between her and a job now… not after paying for the consequences that time.

She’d blame it on that little Tuscan town and its sleepy early afternoons where she met him. She’d finally taken some time for herself, choosing the Italian scenery for some peace and sun, eager to simply vanish from the world for a few days until the details of her new assignment came through. All she knew was the mark was somewhere in Europe and that they were trying to track his latest alias - Hook - back to his name and get a proper description.

In the meantime, Emma was happy to simply wait under the sun on a Tuscan hillside, letting herself go completely. When she first saw him - black hair, intense blue eyes, faded jeans and blue t-shirt - he seemed to be a vision conjured from her most hidden fantasies. All the way up to and including his lilting accent.

But he wasn't. He was flesh and muscles. A heated mouth that warmed her skin with searing kisses the first night she met him. Strong arms that held her as he thrust deep into her, sending her body and mind into earth-shattering orgasms. Lips that trailed kisses against her neck as they spent the day touring the vineyards and the nights tearing each other’s clothes and making love time and again. It was then, under the moonlight that her walls came down and she’d shared her daily life and deepest secrets with him.  

It was there where he broke her heart. And her trust.

When the information came in confirming a name and photograph to id her mark, she’d been out getting a pizza for them to share back in bed. Coming back all she found was a half empty hotel room, his stuff all gone, the seal on the manila envelope that had been delivered broken. She reached for it with shaking fingers, only to find his eyes staring back at her from the photograph within.

The bastard hadn’t even bothered to hide his name, and it would be forever branded in her mind as a symbol of shame.

Killian Jones.

Sighing, she took one more look around the room, fighting against the chills that slipped down her spine, reminding her that this was not a good idea. Working for Gold was the worst idea. She was making a deal with the devil, and she knew it. But she knew she had no other choice, she needed this. Losing that last position with the PI agency was bad, but losing the connections that job would have given her was even worse. Her only alternative, if she wanted any chance of finding the information she’d spent years looking for, was to make this deal with Gold.  That and hope the man delivered on his end of the bargain.