#her interactive (rip) had an official tumblr

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | aizawa, part two.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part two bc tumblr formatting weird (also it's formatted the texting sextions oddly. pls be patient). Part one here.

Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.

Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.

~38k overall. ~18k for part two.

The semester trudged on.

It ripped you apart, interacting with Aizawa in class as if you were the same as every other student, when you knew what he ordered at his favourite hole-in-the-wall ramen place, what he looked like shaving in the morning, what type of cat treat Konpeito preferred—the trivialities were stacking, and you savoured each one.

YOU

i had a dream about you

SHOUTA

Should you be texting during class?

YOU

Yamada-sensei has abandoned his lesson

YOU

in favour of recording noises for put your hands up radio

SHOUTA

Noises

YOU

bleep bloop

YOU

hey ya howdy doodle doo

YOU

etc.

Present Mic knew about the soulmate bond, as you’d suspected. While you’d been grading for one of Midnight’s underclassmen classes, Aizawa conveniently had been in the faculty lounge at the same time. You still had to be careful, hanging out, because it’s a tenuous boundary to walk, and you never know who’s watching.

For example, Present Mic.

He’d walked by at the same time Aizawa had mumbled a sorry about that in regards to how ill-stocked the faculty lounge was to preparing coffee, and Present Mic had only heard what he wanted to hear.

“OOOH,” he’d shouted, and he’d dropped everything in his arms and contorted his back over the arch of Aizawa’s leather office chair to hang upside down. “ARE YOU STILL GROVELLING FOR BEING A LITTLE BITCH, LOVER BOY?!”

You’d also felt like screaming.

“Don’t call me that.” Aizawa had whacked Mic’s face away, but he’d kept hanging around and slapped his hands to his cheeks.

“OH, HO? SHOULD I SAY LARGE BITCH, THEN?! YOU SHOULD TELL HER HOW HARD MIDNIGHT BLEW INTO YOU FOR BEING A HUGE DICK.” Present Mic had slithered farther into Aizawa’s seat and nearly into his lap.

Aizawa’d reached for his sleeping bag. “Midnight…was pissed at me for treating you the way I did,” he’d said, tucking his feet in and yanking the yellow fabric up around his hips, and he swatted at Mic again, who slinked his way into the sleeping bag, too. “What she’d heard from you—”

“SHE MADE HIM RIDE HER THIGH,” Present Mic had said, somewhat muffled in his headfirst descent into the sleeping bag, “TO GET RID OF THAT SEX QUIRK. SHE SAID IT’D BE ESPECIALLY HUMILIATING AND PATHETIC IF HE CAME WITHOUT HER HELP.”

Aizawa had upturned his sleeping bag to dump Present Mic out of it, and, muttering under his breath, he’d zipped himself in and rolled over to the faculty couch, curling up underneath the coffee table.

Present Mic had spun Aizawa’s chair twice before sitting in it, and he’d propped his chin on both fists. “So! How are you doing? Does he know about your contraband cat yet?”

YOU

he’s trying to bribe dark shadow into bellowing the opening jingle

YOU

i think i’m gonna throw up

SHOUTA

I’ll intervene if the lights pop out again

YOU

rolling around in a sleeping bag is not the fastest method of travel

SHOUTA

Ground yourself. Head between your knees, if you have to

YOU

(◕‿◕✿)

YOU

thanks i’m cured

YOU

but yes back to dream about you

SHOUTA

It isn’t explicit, is it?

It was still all frustratingly platonic and professional from his end. You understood, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hate it. Sometimes you trained with him and Shinsou, but that was all that you could officially schedule. Everything else had to fall as a tired coincidence.

It meant being in the same area of the library doing work, at tables far from each other. Casually bringing him tea when you’re making your rounds through the faculty offices for Midnight. Joining the regular rotation of Eri’s babysitters—but only if Togata or Monoma couldn’t make it that day, and oh, Midoriya’s out, I guess I need someone else who’s not doing anything right now?

(Babysitting meant that Aizawa would be out, but Eri liked you, especially since you brought Dango over to play with Konpeito. If Aizawa had noticed the different type of cat hair on his shitty couch by now, he hasn’t said anything.)

SHOUTA

Don’t put that sort of thing in writing

YOU

of course it’s explicit. how could i tell you any details if it’d been vague and nebulous

SHOUTA

Pedant.

YOU

you love it

SHOUTA Debateable

YOU

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

YOU

anyway so in dream we’re at some sort of outdoor awards ceremony

YOU

and the ground is covered in dead wet leaves

Just like Ito said, there’s been an increase in romantic clichés in your life—but, as you discovered (and reported back to both Midnight and Ito), you have to lean into the cliches for them to happen. A backburner signal goes off in your brain when the opportunity for a romantic cliché arrives, and you apparently have the option to ignore it. Which is nice, because the signal only bleeps (more of a gut feeling, really) at what could be a first step, without elaborating what situation might unfold.

You found you have the most energy for the first step signals surrounding coffee shops, and those have been very stare-at-each-other-from-across-the-room-in-unvarnished-lust (although, one time, you were handed an application to work there. You declined). What turned out to be a forced-to-be-roommates cliché brought about the destruction of your dorm room, and only your dorm room, by a training accident and your first step of opening your window overnight, but the whole cliché was subverted, because not only did Aizawa refuse to let you choose his flat over one of your friend’s dorms, but Cementoss and his team repaired your dorm by bedtime.

YOU

we are alone at the shittiest, kind of broken table at the back of the venue

YOU

and there’s still pressure to keep our relationship secret bc people are weird about professor/former student stuff

SHOUTA

Nice to hear you plan on graduating

YOU

sensei (derogatory)

YOU

and you let me scoot my chair as close to you as possible and h*ld your h*nd. intertwining our fingers. letting me k*ss them. you positioned yourself so that no one else would see

YOU

(notice how i censored the sexual parts. yer welcome)

YOU

you had your hair half-up half-down, some of it pulled back in a bun. v v v sexy btw, you should do this irl more often

SHOUTA

I’ll see what I can do

YOU

and you let me play with your hair a bit, with you leaning into my touch. we shared a very sugary pear that i had to fight Yamada-sensei at the buffet for. v v v v v warm and intimate

YOU

the sharing of the pear. not the fight. obviously

YOU

i swear, not knowing what kissing/physical romantic stuff feels like makes my brain come up with the most intimate shit on the planet

YOU

so yeah i dreamt some damn this bitch lonely hours about you

YOU

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

YOU

…shouta??

YOU

you’re not in class rn, right??

SHOUTA

You tell me that you subconsciously devised an act so fondly intimatewith me adn hagve the nerve to say yo’ure fuckngi lonely

SHOUTA You’re going to rip me apart

Aizawa still hasn’t touched you in any way that matters. The soulmark flitted from behind your ear to your fingertips, your forearm, the back of your hand, and carefully back into its hidden place behind your ear. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said a word. You’ve been careful.

(The terribly, awfully, evilly romantic touch that made your head spin when it happened [and now when you think back on it] hadn’t even been skin to skin. It had been, in a small group of people, his hand flattening and lingering on the small of your back for just a bit too long, in congratulations for getting selected to student-teach a stealth section of a class for hero-course first-years.

Because you know it was an intentional decision to touch you like that. He could’ve just clapped you on the shoulder, like he would’ve done for any other student.

But he chose to spread the warmth.)

YOU

funny. that isn’t on the itinerary until after graduation

SHOUTA

You’re on thin fucking ice

YOU

and if i fall in??? whatcha gonna do, rescue me???

One of these days, when you shift in your sleep to his bed, you’re going to wake up with his arm around you. You can feel it.

***

The academic situation the week before graduation was a joke.

Less than a third of the seniors bothered to show up to class, and those who did sat through classes on their phones and with their friends instead of in the dumbass seating arrangement. Sero, honest to God, brought his switch to class and played Mario Kart with Todoroki and Kouda, and that was the most intellectually stimulating conversation unfolding.

You attended, because Aizawa had to. You figured you could lighten the mood, and the odds of you shifting to be next to him were significantly lower if you were in the same room.

The lax attitude permeated Sakura Grove, too. Ito was incredibly receptive to all rehabilitation efforts, accepting everything thrown at her with enthusiasm, so long as she got to have access to some way of watching hot people. She was easily coerced into tough recovery shit purely through the promise of BTS interviews and josei manga.

She was even allowed to have her home collection of josei and shoujo manga shipped to her, usually in a care package from her aunt. It wasn’t worth the effort it took you to go through them to approve their contents, but you still scrutinised and logged everything according to Grove standards.

Hell, the candy you were sneaking out of your backpack right now was from Ito. You were eating a goddamn villain’s sweets from home, and it wasn’t even the first time. Ito’s aunt apparently confused her flavour preferences with her sister’s, so you got the flavours Ito didn’t like. And everyone, including Midnight, was strangely okay with this.

(Midnight tried some, too, the first time Ito offered, after the bag had been put through the fucking rungs. Days of processing to ensure its safety, and the moment Midnight put one on her tongue, she spat it back out onto her desk, where it rolled off into the carpet and picked up fuzz. She ended up asking the on-site translator what the fuck the Dutch label said, because when you expect caramel and get salted liquorice, it’s a shock.)

Ito hadn’t wanted these little lemon-lime-flavoured bitches, even though Jungkook was beaming into a bouquet of daffodils under the logo, so here you were, a semi-hard green ball surreptitiously stowed in your cheek as you struggled to bite down (they had a bizarre inside texture. Interesting enough to keep eating them despite your caution, because something deep in your gut told you to keep eating them. Signs of addiction, anybody?). Your book splayed open on your desk (actually yours in the seating chart, since it was the closest to the door and therefore sweet, sweet freedom), but you were half-reading it, half-scrolling through your phone in your lap.

The sleeping bag slowly rose and fell from its place lying across the teacher desk, the only indication that Aizawa was awake at all being the sluggish deflation of the applesauce packet he was sucking on. The end of the sleeping bag dangled off the edge of the desk, with his boots mutedly knocking against the metal side when he exerted enough effort to take a deeper breath and thus upset his oh-so-delicate position lying on his back. Cosy little bastard. The instant you graduate, you’re climbing into that thing and sucking the soul out of his cock.

Nothing was happening online, and you were pissed at the protagonist in your book, since she was getting to go on a date with her hotboy emo assassin boyfriend, and you weren’t. And Todoroki’s sudden screech at losing again really kept you from concentrating, but, y’know, it’s not like anything’s going on… You checked the wall clock. An hour left, and then there’s only two more school days until you’re out of here.

You cracked the candy in half, caught a strange, flaky texture against the roof of your mouth, and swallowed it down before sneakily reaching for the next one. Out of here. Out of U.A. Now, that’s actually debatable for you, and it left a weird feeling in your stomach. With the work you’ve been doing for Midnight all these years and what Present Mic and Aizawa have shown you about the academic process, you were doubting yourself: you’ve always planned on being a pro-hero, but (cringe) teaching was actually really fucking appealing. Yes, parents were insane, and emails were the devil, but teaching itself was a goddamn delight. The way those first years’ faces had lit the fuck up as they connected things you’d taught them in the stealth section was the best thing you’d seen in a long, long time. And they were as excited about it as you were.

You low-key hated how much you liked it. Because if you stayed on at U.A. to teach (and Nezu has hinted that he’d be interested in hiring you), you’d never escape the professor/student status with Aizawa, even though you’d be his peer on staff. Because everyone around you would remember, and everyone who didn’t know would connect the dots.

If you taught somewhere else, you wouldn’t get to see him much at all, and you might not even get to teach hero-course-relevant material.

Your tentative plan, agonised over in detail with Midnight, was to keep sidekicking under her at Sakura Grove as a steadier job with more routine, especially since Ito would probably be approved for parole soon, and to work as a pro-hero somewhere else as well. You’d groaned and she’d laughed when you came to the conclusion that, with your skill set, you’d be most useful working as an underground hero like Aizawa.

It was both shitty and gratifying that everything in your life seemed to point towards him.

God, this class was dragging on. You willed the hands to spin around the clock faster as you sucked on a fresh piece of candy, determined to suck down to the centre to see what the odd inner texture was about instead of chomping down again like Ito into a picture of Suwabe Jun'ichi.

Maybe you should play a round of Mario Kart. Might take your mind off things. I bet I can run Todoroki into the lava first try, you thought as you swirled the increasingly porous ball around with your tongue.

Yeah, that sounded brain-numbing enough. Shutting your book, you slid it to the corner of your desk and started to get up, giving up and swallowing the damn candy.

But you’d evidently gotten past the hard-candy coating to something large and dense blooming rapidly right as it hit the back of your throat, and you were choking, loudly, drawing the attention of even a Shy-Guy focused Sero, and after coughing up an embarrassing amount of yellow-green spittle, you unceremoniously hacked up a surprisingly realistic daffodil blossom, unfolding to its true size as it lay in your thickened saliva.

“Eurgh,” you said, testing, and you cleared your throat again, prickly and grating. You had only closed your eyes for a second, but Aizawa was standing in front of you, eyes widened in horror at the flower you’d coughed up. How had he gotten out of his sleeping bag so—?

Before you could get a word out, Aizawa grabbed you by your (bare) forearm and rushed you out of the classroom, arm sliding around your waist before he even shut the door behind him. The pink ink smeared down your arm as he led you to the closest empty hallway, where he skidded to a halt and clamped his hands on your shoulders, looking directly at you with the most serious expression he’s ever shown you.

“I haven’t been kind; I haven’t been honest,” he began, all apologies and concern and a desperate sort of tenderness, “I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been selfish and have wanted so hard to do this right, because I don’t deserve anything as good for me as you, and you don’t deserve anything thoroughly fucked up like I am.” Aizawa’s obscenely large hand cupped your face, taking up your entire cheek with his fingertips grazing your earlobe and neck (oh, man, choke me about it), the pad of his thumb hovering over your lower eyelashes; he jerked you towards him, his gentle grip trapping your arm between your bodies.

What the fuck?

I mean, you’ll take this. You’ll take it.

What the fuck’s he on? Those applesauce packets have addled his brain.

He must have read your complete bewilderment as encouragement, because he kept going like he had to vomit up these words or else get shish-kebabed for Mic’s end-of-the-year barbecue. “But now that you’re fucking dying—God, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had—plans. For you. But now—Christ—you should know that I haven’t thought of you as a stu—”

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, your jaw dropping in the smuggest fucking grin and shaking your head, “Oh, my God. Shouta.”

He was flushed and panting, but he stopped to listen. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

(Oh. You’ve never said his name aloud before.

You made a note to tease him about that later. You have something worse to make fun of.)

“You are the dumbest fuck alive,” you said with a shit-eating grin, reaching up to finger-comb his hair out of his face, “I was eating in class. I swallowed a piece of flowering candy at the wrong time. Hanahaki disease isn’t real.”

Aizawa untangled himself from you and took a step back, and then another. “Neither are soulmates,” he said carefully.

“Okay, okay, I can see the logical jump,” you conceded, holding your hands up, “You may continue with your sordid confession now.”

Aizawa blinked, weary again now that the adrenaline was draining away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, fluffing up his capture weapon to cover most of his face.

“Oh, you—you prick! You’re going to hell.” You grinned, poking your tongue into your cheek. “It’s two more days until graduation, and the minute I’m off that stage, I’m yours. C’mon. You can bend your rules with two days left.”

For some reason, he sank more into his scarf. “Let’s go back to the classroom before Todoroki lights something on fire.”

***

You’re vibrating out of your metal chair at the commencement ceremony. Glassy-eyed, you went through the motions of the walk, the pictures, the handshakes, sad goodbyes that aren’t even real, because people were going to the same places and agencies that they’ve been working at for the past few years. Just as pros.

Aizawa’s right there, and his hair’s slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit, and he’s avoiding your ravenous gaze like a good professor should, instead bowing to parents and entertaining the small but constant group that swarmed him.

Hiss, hiss. Back off. He’s yours. You've waited.

When Jirou asked about the twitch in your left eye, you decided it was time to leave. You’re driving yourself insane, watching him like this.

You sat on the front steps of U.A. with Shinsou as the sun sank past the horizon, jovially engaging with your friends who stopped to talk before going out to celebrate. He didn’t ask after whom you’re waiting for, though it was clear you were killing time.

When the night chill swept through the courtyard, Shinsou stood, his hands in his pockets. “I’m beat.” When you didn’t join him, he continued. “D’you wanna go get ice cream, or something, before turning in?”

Aizawa’s still inside. “I’m okay,” you said, stretching, bones cracking, “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. You go ahead.”

Shinsou stared at you oddly for a second, but he nodded. “Right, then. I’ll go.” He jogged up a couple of stairs before calling back, “You shouldn’t wait out here too long.”

You waved him off.

Eventually, a night wind came that had you pulling down on your sleeves, hunched over on the stairs and rubbing your upper arms. You dug out your phone—no messages—and called him.

He answered after a few rings, his voice groggy and hoarse. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Where am—I’m in my bed. I’m sleeping,” said Aizawa, yawning distantly (he must be tilting his speaker away). He sounded a bit more awake when he asked, “Where are you?”

Fury overtook you. “Where am I? You dense mother—”

You’re straddling his hips in his bed, layers and layers of blankets between you and him.

“—fucker.” You glared down at him, hair mussed up and splayed on his pillow. You hung up your phone and tossed it off the bed; you grabbed his and flung it into the wall. “I waited for you to come out of that building,” you said, planting your hands on either side of his chest to loom over him in what was hopefully a threatening way.

Rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, Aizawa said, “I hoped you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be out with your friends? You’ve graduated. You’ve completed a tough stage of your life.”

“Correct. But aren’t you omitting,” you said, bunching up the fabric of his black henley in a burst of courage (though you didn’t know whether to put your weight on him or not, so you just kind of hovered), “that I’m not your student anymore? I’ve graduated, Shouta. I’ve waited. It’s time. We can start our lives together for real. Aren’t you—aren’t you going to kiss me about it?”

Aizawa’s chest rose and fell underneath your fist, and when he didn’t respond, you released his shirt and sat back with all of your weight on his legs. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” You crossed your arms, uncrossed them in a nervous fidget, and crossed them again so that you wouldn’t touch him in any way that grossed him out. Though every cell in your body shouted not to, you climbed off of him, kneeling at his side instead. “What’s,” you started, hesitating, “Is anything wrong that you haven’t told me? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Barely perceptible in the crack of moonlight through his partially drawn curtains, Aizawa gave you a sad smile. “There’s something fucked up about waiting until graduation to kiss you, isn’t there?”

“Goddammit,” you said, crumpling and burying your face in your hands, “I get it. I get it.” You ran your tongue over your lower lip. “I hate you.”

Aizawa reached out to brush hair out of your face, not that you really needed it. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” you said back, shaking at his cool touch sliding behind your ear to fix the soulmark.

***

The next ten months of your life were a blur.

In an attempt to not feel so terribly lonely, you buried yourself in work, Sakura Grove during the day and moonlighting as an underground hero after dark. You had to be a pro to be a professor at U.A., so you pushed yourself not just to be good but good enough. Hopefully, you’d be firmly established as a pro before you went back.

Nezu had discussed that with you in an unofficial job talk that last week of school. You’d also taken the opportunity to confide in your soulmate situation, and God bless Nezu for being so discreet and understanding. He promised to keep your student ID active so that you could still scan into doors on campus and that you could leave without hassle when you shifted to Aizawa (it did tons for your self-esteem when Nezu suggested going ahead and upgrading your student pass to a faculty one; you’d walked out of that meeting positively glowing).

You haven’t been shifting to Aizawa as often. You figured it was because you were suppressing your desire to be next to him as much as you could—still fucking difficult, since it crossed your mind every day. You kept it as low-stress as you could—you most often shifted to him in your sleep, so you could sneak out before the bastard woke up.

(You didn’t want to think about how he’s keeping to one side of the bed, using bedding and blankets instead of his sleeping bag now. You continued to leave nothing but your indent on the pillow.)

(You could count the number of times he shifted to you [that you were aware of] on one hand, but once, as you blinked away sleep, he was scratching Dango’s neck in what appeared to be a familiar way.)

The ache made its home in your chest again.

***

Then came a mission.

To quell the PLF action outside of Mustafu, a team was going undercover to PLF bases throughout Japan to extinguish them. And hey, who do we know who has amazing track records, already work well together, and aren’t too well known by the public and thus are able to go undercover?

Class A reunited in the back of a rented-out, hole-in-the-wall ramen place (Class B was the other team and met in a different location). The cook waved at you, having recognised you from the times you and Aizawa have picked up takeaway, and you shuffled into the back room, dimly lit, private, and pungently smelling of broth.

Aizawa’s surrounded by the half of the class already present—Mina’s showing him a video of a dance she taught primary school kids; Kirishima, hair ungelled and loose around his shoulders, was asking for advice about perpetually split fingernails; Asui’s handing him a juice box with the straw already popped in.

When Aizawa wrapped his lips around the straw, he locked eyes with you, dance routine video playing on without an audience. He’s looking painfully handsome in a black turtleneck and long coat with his hair pulled back, and he only got prettier when he gave you some semblance of a smile: more around the eyes than the mouth.

The moment was broken when Kaminari slammed into Aizawa in a hug, knocking him off balance, so you were grinning when you neared him.

Recovering, Aizawa grasped Kaminari’s shoulders. “Put someone in your own agency as your emergency contact.”

“But Daaaaad,” said Kaminari, his whine eliciting a few giggles from Yaoyorozu and Jirou, “You’re gonna take care of it better than anyone else.”

“I am no longer your professor and am therefore exempt from responsibility. The last two times I was called during class,” said Aizawa, setting his juice box on a booth’s table, “It’s nearly impossible to find a substitute at the last second.”

“But you did.” Kaminari shoots him a double thumbs-up. “You’re the best, but sure, I’ll add someone else to the list.”

“Ooh, during class—there is a new Class A that you’re latched to,” Mina said, turning off her phone and stowing it, “They’re not as cool as we are, right?”

“They’re certainly less trouble, at the very least,” said Aizawa, and he glanced over the former students who had arrived. “Why don’t you work on pushing the tables together?”

They scattered. You stayed.

The ache lessened now that you were near him.

You bit your lip. “Is it okay to hug—”

“C’mere,” he said, and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling deeply the scents of pine and sandalwood. You had to step out of his embrace hastily, since anyone could notice something off, but the soulmate warmth had flooded your system like a sugar rush, especially with the observation that he’d pulled you close by your waist, as opposed to when he’d gawkily hugged Kaminari around his shoulders.

You stepped out of his personal space, clasping your hands behind your back. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but you smell incredible.”

“Thank you,” said Aizawa, picking up his juice box, “The shampoo you’re using is particularly nice, too.”

“Thanks,” you said while he slurped, “Is Eri doing okay?”

“She’s doing well. She misses you,” he said, and after a beat, he smirked. “She wants you to bring Dango the next time you shift.”

You sucked in through your teeth. “Ah, ha, you know who Dango is?”

Aizawa was really and truly smiling now, eyes half-lidded and soft. “Eri told me about how you would bring Dango over to play with her and Konpeito. I’ve known from the start.”

“I can’t believe I now have beef with a primary schooler,” you said, “She promised not to tell.”

“She also didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bring Dango during a shift,” said Aizawa, leaning back on the table and tilting his head, “You’ve been leaving before she even gets up. Does your work at Sakura Grove start earlier than regular businesses? It’s a long commute, sure, but you leave earlier than it takes to be on time. I’d told you to stick around, if you wanted. You seem to have forgotten that since you graduated.”

“Oh.” You stared blankly, and you blinked. To fill time, you joined him in leaning against the booth table, the hands between the two of you almost touching. “I, uh. Huh.”

Aizawa leant closer to your ear, a strand of his loose hair tickling your skin. He spoke quietly, in that infuriatingly rumbly voice of his. “If you’re distracting yourself by overworking, I advise you to ease up.” The tips of his fingers grazed yours, exploding in pink. “You haven’t been answering my calls; you’ve been sneaking out in the morning. Midnight called me to ask if you were all right, and it was shameful that I couldn’t answer her.” Your jaw quivered at the brush of his hot breath against your skin, but if he noticed (and he probably did, that perceptive bastard), he didn’t say anything. “If you work yourself to the bone, you won’t be any good at your job, and you won’t grow. You don’t have to push yourself. You don’t have to prove yourself. Stop rushing. Take your time.” He leant back, sitting upright. “Linger when you shift to me.”

You tapped your pink fingers on the table; it was a relief seeing the mark, instead of just knowing it’s behind your ear. He’d been rather close rather quickly, saying all of these caring, helpful things with an undertone of innuendo, and it was a lot for you after the long dry spell, so there wasn’t anything left in your brain besides looking up at him full of yearning and saying, point-blank, “I’m in love with you.”

Aizawa kept soft eyes on you while covering your hand with his, clumsily lacing fingers together. “I know.”

Your friends erupted in a wild cheer when the last stragglers, Bakugou and Midoriya, finally pushed their way through the double curtains, with Midoriya waving brightly as he joined them and Bakugou ducking his head and averting his gaze.

You jumped out of your skin at the noise and placed a hand over your heart when you realised what it was—and Aizawa was fucking laughing at you. His fingers curled more tightly into yours while he covered his mouth with his other hand, unable to conceal a terrible sort of wheezing laugh and a wide grin.

He’s beautiful.

Tempted to ask if he were having an asthma attack, you instead pouted, pursing your lips. “Hey, you know that when you’re doing hero work at night, you have to be alert for any sort of unusual sound—”

“Correct,” said Aizawa, trying to reel himself in, “but you may want to work on having a work mode and relaxation mode, with clear boundaries. If you’re on guard all of the time, it drains your energy. I’d like you to have the space to live.”

Jirou called the two of you over now that everyone was present. Aizawa stopped you from joining your friends at the end of the table, subtly pointing at the chair beside him.

Knowing that everyone would want to catch up, Aizawa announced he’d be waiting until after their food arrived for the debriefing. While you talked with Shinsou, seated at your other side, Aizawa examined the menu but ordered the same thing he always did.

Aizawa ate his ramen faster than normal and pulled a manilla file from his long coat, quieting most of the table with the gesture—it reminded you how careful you have to be in your actions, your inflections, because all of these people instinctively paid attention to him.

“You all have been split into sub-teams based on the size and structure of each Paranormal Liberation Front base and your individual abilities to infiltrate them. The majority of you are going to Tokyo, but to those going to less urban locations, your job is just as important in quashing extremists.” He passed the file to Midoriya, on his right. “Take the envelope with your name and a moment to read it before getting in your group. No, Iida,” Aizawa said before Iida could gesture more, “Midoriya is only involved in the planning stage. As he and Bakugou are the most well-known by the public, they will be staying here to maintain a sense of normalcy.”

Shinsou handed the file to you, and you took the last envelope while Midoriya took over explaining to the table. With Aizawa watching you in his periphery, you ripped open your envelope.

Hero commission stationery. Cute. Secrecy of mission, dedication of self…You’re going to Tokyo. Great, you’ll have to burn your city-grimed clothes at the end of each day.

“Who assigned these teams?” you whispered to Aizawa.

He finished his bite of noodle, swallowed thickly, and tucked loose hair behind his ear. “I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My team is you.”

“It’s only logical,” he said with a sly smile as he reached for his drink. “Keep reading.”

You scanned the rest, the soulmate trope signal growing in your gut. “Since when does the PLF have connection with the yakuza?”

“Since the families in opposition to Chisaki bolstered their defences against heroes. Keep going.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Their headquarters is in a club?”

“Beneath it,” said Aizawa, and under the table, his knee nudged yours. “So, tell me: what would be the purpose in sending two underground heroes there?”

You took a deep breath, bouncing your leg. “Heroes specialising in stealth would be trained already in how to infiltrate a place unnoticed. They would be accustomed to reading people, to recognising the details that betray intention. And they’d be less likely to be recognised by their faces. Well, goddamn,” you said, reading over your letter again, “Logical. But again: why am I going to a club? I’ve never been to one and have never wanted to.”

“Because you need to grow.” Aizawa tucked that loose strand into his ponytail. “You’re not at your best in large, social situations. Your crowd work needs to improve.”

“So, you’re sending me to a fucking club—”

“Not sending you,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Pedant,” you grumbled, secretly pleased that you’re rubbing off on him. “Seriously, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Aizawa shook his head. “I do.”

***

You were teeming with envy for your classmates sent to rural PLF bases when five o’clock brought vast hordes of businessmen and freshly released workers onto the train to uptown Tokyo.

You have a firm stance on personal space; you’re not used to touching people or being touched, so you grew more and more visibly flustered as more people packed on. A faint call of the soulmate signal echoed in your gut, and you panicked—is it a romantic cliché to get fucking groped?

But before it can escalate to a true panic attack, Aizawa set his duffel on the floor and reached for your waist—you jumped at his touch but relaxed when you saw it was him. He guided you in front of him, unbuttoned his long coat, and wrapped it around both of you, pulling you back against him with his arms hugging your waist, large hands covering more of your body than you’d imagined. Back against his broad, warm chest. Feeling tucked in under the coat.

Tilting your head back to look at his tired eyes, you mouthed Thank you.

Aizawa nodded, and when you settled into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of your head.

***

The A/C in your hotel room conked out an hour before infiltrating Club Magenta.

“There’s a pin that the yakuza has issued to PLF members for club access,” called Aizawa from the bathroom, the door cracked to let out steam, “It’s a visible marker for who’s safe to confide in, since PLF members haven’t been sworn into the yakuza.”

You pulled the fan chain through its cycle of settings again, and no, that was the highest it could go. “Wait, a pin? Would either of mine look like it from a distance?”

“Unless you’re coincidentally wearing the eye of Horus—” The bathroom door slammed open, steam and light outpouring. “Why are you wearing pins on a mission?”

“It’s to contribute to my I-am-open-and-not-hiding-anything vibes by providing more information about myself than necessary,” you said, kneeling on the bed, crawling off of it, and being slapped with 80 psychic damage at the sight of Aizawa’s clubbing disguise.

How annoying. He’s got on this unbearably irritating all-black ensemble (though that form-fitting button-up peeking out from underneath that stupid leather jacket was more of an ashy-grey-black than straight black), but a flash of his socks revealed neon kittens—if you could get past those funky, leather boots with flowers painted on. He’d shaved away all but a shadow of stubble, and his hair was up in that half-up, half-down bun style that was horribly, horribly attractive.

You had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Aizawa strode over to you, squinting down at the pins near your left shoulder (the tips of his boots parted your legs where he stood). The expected wave of disappointment washed over his face as he read Good Pussy Gang and experiencing sensory overload—both in pastel, the latter with cartoon frogs.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Aizawa, unconsciously edging further between your legs.

“Well, the other options for pins up for borrowing from the girls could imply some things that could turn out badly for me in this situation. There was my sun sign is cocaine, but then what if I were offered cocaine? I don’t wanna do that,” you said, grinning, “And the one that said don’t bully me; I’ll come was a little too close to home, and you’ve taught us to never be that vulnerable about our true selves when undercover. Fuck Nasty wears its joke out quickly. It was tough choosing, though. Runner-up was crab rangoon.”

Narrowing his eyes, Aizawa plucked at the charm on your necklace. “And this, I presume, is the entire clitoral gland?”

“It’s a wishbone,” you said.

He set the charm back against the hollow of your throat. “Figures. Just—just what the hell are you wearing?”

“You’ve seen me in a dress before.” It’s really not that bad: also all-black, long enough to feel safe—but since you’ve been informed you have nice boobs, it’s also got a square-cut neckline to show them the fuck off.

“No, I meant—” Aizawa hooked a finger underneath the leather strap on your shoulder and yanked, pulling you upright and rather close; you laid your hands on his chest to balance yourself (oh, hohohohoho, his chest! You’re successfully touching it).

“That,” you said, biting your lip as his hooked finger ran down the strap from your shoulder to the side of your boob, “is called a harness, Shouta. You seem like the type to know a lot about—”

“Not the point,” he said under his breath, his hands resting at your waist (!!!), just below the leather going across there, thumbs rubbing at your sides. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and then cleared his throat. “Enlighten me. Why do you have a harness?”

(“Because it pushes your boobs up and together, and men are weak,” Mina had said.)

“It’s from Momo’s failed Attack on Titan cosplay,” you said, truthfully, “She got the placement of the horizontal strap wrong. See, it’s supposed to go here.” You drew a line across the tops of your boobs, watching his pupils follow. “But she made it here, under the boobs, like an underbust corset. She was going to throw it out, but I thought it looked good on me.”

He rubbed his thumb over the leather one last time before dropping his hands. “It does,” he said in a sort of croak.

You soared on the high of that croak the entire uber ride to Magenta.

Tinged pale pinks and greens under spotlights, the line outside stretched around the block and into the night. Bit embarrassing how Aizawa’d had to explain ratio to you, and a couple of eavesdropping woo girls thought it was simply adorable that it was your first time in a club and agreed to latch onto you two to be let in. The bouncer talked to Aizawa, not you, but let you pass, stating that first-timers at Magenta need to stay on the first floor unless otherwise invited.

“Can everyone just look and me and tell I’m a virgin?!” you hissed into Aizawa’s ear as you were led down a pitch-black corridor. “How come no one’s talking to any of the other women like that?!”

Harsh drops in the music coming from somewhere shook the walls more and more as you walked farther into the dark, and a heavy, steel door (with a glow-stick around the handle) opened onto a pulsating sardine can of a dance floor coated in way too many people, all writhing and twisting to the beat. The floor sectioned into a panelled grid, with each panel somehow lit from underneath, flashing pinks, greens, and black. The ceiling was similarly gridded but only with white light, from the view below, and you could see the silhouetted footsteps of dancers on the floor above.

Aizawa guided you to an edge booth before going to the bar; you, keeping an eye out for the Magenta pins, camped out and shazam-ed the incomprehensible electro-pop song currently vibrating the chairs away from a nearby table (the table was bolted down, but the chairs weren’t).

When Aizawa slid into the booth with drinks, you dragged him close to you, pressing your face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply. “Thank God,” you said, refreshed by the pine and what was apparently new leather, “Too many people are vaping for me to breathe. And it’s so fucking humid in here.” You popped up, accepting the glass of fancy-as-fuck pink lemonade as he skidded the glass across the table to you (you’d decided ahead of time that you weren’t drinking on the mission tonight). “I’m glad Mina told me not to rely on makeup too much due to the sweat, but fuck, this is kind of awful.”

“Yet the humidity’s from crowds of young people dying to experience this flavour of awfulness,” said Aizawa, the glass of some sort of whisky-based drink eclipsed by his hand (big hand…big hand could hold you…), “Seen anyone interesting so far?”

You cupped your hands around your glass, savouring the cool condensation. “Perhaps. Mostly I’ve been acclimatising myself to my surroundings—”

“Spoken like a true hero and a huge nerd.”

“—and I haven’t seen an eye of Horus pin, or any pin, for that matter, but I’ve seen a couple of people, I think, not dressed for a club leaving through a different door. Just there,” you said, raising your glass in that direction and to your lips. “And I happen to like being a nerd, thank you.”

Aizawa’s knee touched yours under the table when he turned in to speak more quietly. “The bartender was wearing an oversized jacket with pin-holes in the lapel.”

“So, not her jacket. Bartender doesn’t qualify?”

“Suppose she doesn’t have to. Only has to deal with the alcohol and kitchen, not crime. Though the price of their scotch comes close,” said Aizawa, taking a sip—and the chokehold his Adam’s apple has on you when it bobs, yikes. Oof. He leant in closer, his breath grazing your neck, to say, “And trust me, if anyone knows you like being a nerd, it’s your sensei.”

Your life flashed before your eyes (lots of reading, lots of yearning, not enough telling people to shut up). Your face felt tight from suppressing a reaction. “Incidentally, didn’t you say you could handle alcohol well?”

“Correct,” he said, smugly taking another swallow, and the soulmate signal erupted in your gut.

Not…the greatest sign.

“If you’re going to try to harass me about how well I can hold my liquor, which is perfectly well, then allow me to make another extrapolation about you.”

You nervously took another swig of your lemonade. “Go ahead.”

No mercy in his expression. “You have a book in your purse, don’t you?”

“Well, fuck,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Is my not-like-other-girls complex showing?”

“I don’t know what that means, but since it flusters you, yes.”

You tried to down the rest of your lemonade, but the glass was really big. Whatever. You pushed on the table to stand. “I’m gonna go dance. I have no idea how, but it’ll be a learning experience, right, fuck-o?”

Holding his glass in from of his smile, Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see if there’s anyone out there wearing the pin who doesn’t fit a stereotype and get to talking. See if there’s any more exits,” you said, successfully finishing your lemonade this time and slithering out of the booth, “You stay here, being effortlessly, excruciatingly handsome, and watch the flow of traffic, yeah? See if anyone approaches. Is the soulmark in place?” You spun around (with a bit of traction from the beer-soaked floor) and gestured to your ear.

When he didn’t touch you, you faced him again. Eyebrows raised, Aizawa was frozen, his glass an inch from his lips.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on? C’mon, Sho, you’re the most beautiful creature alive, and you know it. I wanted to drop dead when you walked out in your slutty little outfit earlier. You’re playing to my exact weaknesses, you cunning little fuckslut. I already want to quit the mission and make out with you, but I know you won’t allow that, so let’s get the ball rolling so we can finish, yeah?”

He set his glass down with a loud clink. “Right.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Let me fix your soulmark.”

After that, you fucked off onto the dance floor, a bit discombobulated from the nearly-strobe-but-not-quite lights from the floor panels, but you guess the advantage would be if anyone saw you embarrassing yourself, they wouldn’t be able to get a good look at you.

Dancing was out of your comfort zone, but making people laugh? All too easy. All you had to do was compliment a woman on her heart-shaped nipple stickers, and she invited you over to her friends’ dance group. You elected to lean into the everyone-can-tell-this-is-my-first-time-in-a-club bit, and by being honest and awkward within the boundaries of your mission persona, the more experienced club-goers delighted in teaching you some basic club dance moves.

Yes, the music throbbed through your skull as you pulled questionable moves in a dense, sweaty pack of bodies—but hey, your mission persona’s new bestie said that everyone besides professional dancers fake knowing how to dance, so you do you, girl. Besides, Haru was fishing out her phone to show you pictures of her cat, and Kisa was shouting over the music the premise of her PhD dissertation that she was defending next month (she invited you to the defence, and though you won’t have any good questions about the usage of prosthetic limbs as moral denotation in English Victorian literature, you genuinely planned on attending).

(No pins, no outsiders, no one not young and exceedingly drunk—)

“I think you’ve got it!” Haru yelled, her features illuminated in pink, “I think that’s all the basic solo moves! Do you know how to grind? Should we move on to grinding?”

Outward shouts of agreement from the group. Internal screaming on your part. How do you say my ass belongs to my stupid soulmate undercover?

All too quickly, Haru introduced you to Kazu, who waved politely and offered an honestly endearing smile, but you were pressed up against him way too quickly, with too many people touching you, with multiple pairs of hands on your hips trying to guide their movement, and hey, is that an eye—

When Aizawa yanked you out of the cluster, you could breathe again.

“Oof, ouch, I’m sorry; we’re sorry, sir. We didn’t know we were swarming her,” Kisa was saying while you were reorienting yourself, “She should be just fine, though! Nothing bad has happened to her since she’s been with us, and until now, it’s just been us girls—”

More of that language. Assuring Aizawa, like you weren’t even there. And, like, these were women! Some of whom were in academia and medicine, and shit, fighting the good feminist fight! Why were they talking about you like you were—

“They think I’m your dom,” Aizawa said as he steered you towards a roomier part of the floor, “They want to ensure you’re not in trouble with me.”

You turned to face him. “Shut up. No, they don���t.”

Aizawa didn’t have to say anything—just let his gaze sink to your harness.

“Oof,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bounced on the balls of your feet, and you met his eyes. “Am I in trouble with you?”

“No,” he said evenly, “but you’re not going to learn to grind on anyone but me.” He closed in on you, body heat mingling, and looked down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Do you seriously not know? Do those books you read teach you nothing?”

Aizawa took mercy on your headshake no, spun you around, and grasped your hips, his thumbs digging into the swell of your ass.

(He’s touching you, and it’s lower on your body; it’s intimate. You need to go lie down to think about this. You can already feel you’ll be processing this touch for a long time—)

Aizawa jerked your ass back against his pelvis, and your brain emptied.

“Now,” he said, his voice low in your ear (though you’re already sweating, a different heat started to build in you), “The first step is to relax. The movement will be smoother if you’re not wracked with tension.”

“How can I relax when you’re—” Realisation seized you like a sailor grasping for a fish flopping around on deck. “You’re drunk, Shouta,” you said, sighing, chest heavy with compassion and disappointment that he wasn’t flirting with you entirely deliberately, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands. “Let’s go back to the booth and wait it out. I’m going to take care of you.”

He snatched your hands away before your fingertips could even turn pink. “No, little girl,” Aizawa hissed, forcing you around and pinning your hips against his, his splayed hand pressing down hard on your lower stomach, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You would like pink lilies at your funeral.

“A step-by-step lesson, since you’ve managed to make it this far being so woefully ignorant. Some people say grinding can be for fun and nothing else, but for you, since you’re with me, grinding is always sensual.” Aizawa took your twitching hands in both of his, and he dragged your hands up your thighs, plucking at the hem of your dress before trailing them up to your waist. “Usually, your goal would be to get me hard. Luckily for you—”

Grunting, Aizawa ground his erection (?!) against you, rolling his hips from top to bottom to make you feel everything from the tip to his balls, putting so much pressure on your hip and stomach that you grew aware of your goddamn hipbones (this man is bringing up your skeleton, among other private, inner things you don’t want to think about, and it’s just a dance).

“—I’m already there. So, you don’t have to worry about any responsibility. You just sit pretty and let your sensei teach you, hm? I know you’re a quick learner. You’ll catch on.”

Aizawa tapped the back of your knees, making you bend them when you flinched, but he motioned for them to stay bent, doing the same himself. “Move your hips to the beat, matching my speed. Some songs call for moving your hips in a figure-eight, but most work better if you’re moving them in a circular motion—”

“Circular how?” you asked, swaying along to the beat just barely, not even realising you were doing it, “Like, are we talking circle on the y-axis or the x-axis?”

Aizawa scoffed into your hair. “Fucking—it’s not that simple; it’s not two-dimensional. It’s,” he said, raising a hand in front of you to make a flattening gesture, “There’s another plane intersecting. Not just the y- and x-axes. God, what is it called when there’s a third—forget it.” He huffed and nuzzled against your neck. “Think of the movement as Saturn’s rings.”

You looked back at him, grinning. “Are you Saturn?”

“Cheeky,” he said, and he directed you to face the front again by sliding his thumb along your jaw, “or should I say brat. Jesus, am I Saturn—no, sweetheart, but I’m losing my patience for you. Pay attention.”

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

You have the mental image of popping champagne while Midnight and Ito throw confetti.

You’re almost too overwhelmed by the new and very good and oh? to keep absorbing more information and observing more sensations, but the only way out was through.

So, Aizawa taught you the right way to roll your hips, to adjust to different songs, what to do with your hands, with every point of contact along the way feeling like a lit sparkler, and you’re a light that won’t go out.

Both present and far away, you couldn’t keep it together (maybe you were experiencing sensory overload). Being so close to Aizawa, with him wanting to be near and nearer to you, unfurled a heady thrill up your spine as he slid his hands over your hips and ass and waist, tugging back on the harness when your back strayed too far from his chest. The way your bodies moved together, slowly, sultrily—his hips twitched involuntarily against you.

“Let me look at you.”

Grabbing your chin again, he turned you towards him, and your hands trembled under his as he encouraged you to run them down his chest (half of his features highlighted in a flash of pearl green, he smirked at you when you lost your nerve and broke eye contact, gathering the fabric of his shirt in a frustrated fist before noticing you were grazing his abs and let go). But he kept you close.

Head swimming, you hooked a finger into his belt loop and yanked to close the scant space between you. You found yourself saying nonsense, like your sentences were rice-paper butterflies that couldn’t float off your tongue and into the dark fast enough. “I want to take a nap inside your ribcage. I want and love every part of you, even the ones I don’t know yet, even if you want no part of me. I’m always yours, in every iteration of me, in every timeline, forever. I don’t care if everyone else forgets me or hates me so long as you know me. I’m going to make you pancakes in the morning. I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. I’m going to eat you alive. I’m also possibly experiencing sensory overload and may pass out, so we may need to rain-cheque the mission and leave soon.”

Nodding, Aizawa leant in to kiss you.

The music and lights and people faded away, and you were weightless, in freefall, with a spark of yet more heat kindling low in your stomach.

(From there, the details escape you—and that kills you when you look back at this moment, because it’s your first kiss. But you don’t remember if his lips were chapped or how it tasted or sounds, or anything [possibly because of how bombarded your senses had already been], but you remember how he made you feel: like you’ve been exploring an endless garden, searching, and then seeing him when you turn a corner, his back to you as he waters greenery, and how blinding his smile is when he turns to you.)

***

The mission. Right, the mission. Really hard to care about it once you’d kissed Aizawa.

It went fine. You returned to the booth and read aloud from your book to him until he decided he was sober enough to continue, and you’d scouted some pin-wearers and sneaked downstairs. The PLF stragglers split you and Aizawa up during the fight, so it thrilled you to bits when the soulmate bond made Aizawa shift to you when he couldn’t get loose from multiple yakuza holding him down. Good shit.

Nothing happened when you made it back to the hotel, because Aizawa passed the fuck out within a minute of unlocking the door, which was fair.

You’d been summoned to aid Hagakure and Kirishima at a base just outside of Tokyo, so you’d taken care of that and were now driving back home.

(He’d told you he’d rented the car because he didn’t want to risk your feeling overwhelmed on the train again. Magnanimous fucker.)

Unfortunately, most of the car ride had to be spent reporting to a hero commission employee and then listening to the next step of the plan on speakerphone. You found yourself nodding off, despite the hard copy of the mission report in front of you waiting to be filled out.

The hero commission had to hang up abruptly (something something Best Jeanist?), and the second Aizawa hung up the phone, it rang again. Groaning, he answered it, turning on speaker again and replacing it in his cupholder.

“Eraserhead speaking.”

Crying out, you hunched over in the passenger seat, the soulmate signal cutting so suddenly and severely that it was as if your stomach had been sliced open with a blunt knife.

A hand flying to your shoulder, Aizawa slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

“…been trying to reach you all morning,” the voice on the phone was saying (another hero commission employee, from the legal side, it sounded like), “but I haven’t been able to get through.”

Shaking your head, you held up a hand to Aizawa to let him know you were okay, that it would pass. Still, his jaw tensed, and he slid his hand from your shoulder up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“—because it looks you left some of your financial agreement blank; did you mean to indicate that yes, your wife should be paying child support for Eri?”

Aizawa dropped his hand from your cheek and stared blankly at the phone in the cupholder. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Child support for—”

“No, hold on,” said Aizawa, gesturing and shaking his head even though the other person couldn’t see, “Actually, before we—listen, I don’t have exclusive custody of Eri; she’s under the care of U.A. as an institution. She happens to be near me the most because she bonded with me first. You must have inaccurate—inaccurate information.” He shot a questioning look to you, and you shrugged, excitement bubbling in your gut.

“Allow me a moment?” Mouse clicking was heard. “Okay, well, I’ve got you and your wife’s bank account information pulled up here—”

“When was a quirk incident form for me last processed by your system?”

Aizawa shot you a warning glare while you proceeded to silently lose your shit, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. You unbuckled and reached over the console to pepper pink kisses all over a sulking Aizawa’s face while the speaker rattled off an apology for the delay in processing hard copies of paperwork when they’re used to digital, ultimately confirming that due to a mistake in filing and your little jokes on paper, you two have been married for eight months now.

Running your fingers through his hair (sandalwood sandalwood sandalwood), you pressed your forehead to his, and while the speaker was still apologising for the error, you whispered, “I am going to give you the most egregious road head.”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, making a horrible sort of snrking noise, and he slipped his hand over his own mouth to cover the wheeze in his laugh. You kissed the tip of his nose and leant back to your seat after giving his hair a final, gentle tug.

Steeling himself, Aizawa the pink-nosed reindeer cut the hero commission employee off. “I understand, but I’m still in the field right now. Please forgive me, but I’ll have to call you back later.”

The moment you hung up for him, Aizawa let out a loud groan, tilting his head back and sinking down in his seat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he said over your burst of open laughter, “You got what you wanted, I suppose.”

“Ohhhhh, no,” you said once you got a breath in, “I’m married to the person I love more than anyone, boo hoo. Do you—” A harrowing thought sobered you. “Do you not want this?”

Aizawa peeked from under his hands, and he dropped them to his lap with a sigh. “Well,” he said, sitting upright again and turning the key in the transmission, “It’s certainly not how I wanted to propose.”

Your throat ran dry, and you smiled through it. “Can’t be helped, I guess. Would it make you feel better if we went to pick out rings?” you asked, not quite joking but not quite serious.

You got to see the way his cheeks and ears tinged bright red as he checked behind you to merge into incoming traffic, and he tucked his chin into his scarf, as if he didn’t want to be seen. “The ring’s already at home.”

***

You were to take over teaching Midnight’s classes. Your duties at Sakura Grove would taper off as other employees learnt how to replace the both of you.

You were also to give her eulogy.

As her former student, close friend, and only sidekick, you were the natural choice. You didn’t want to do it, but you knew if someone else did it, they’d fuck it up.

You deliberately didn’t look at anyone in the crowd (students, heroes, and civilians whose lives she’d affected) and instead focused on the clock on the far wall. If you looked Yagi or Yamada in the eyes right now, you’d crumple.

So, you started talking. You have control over the jokes, this way, over the stories, by doing it yourself. You were doing fine, speaking in a disconnected way, until you noticed, for the first time, that Nezu was sitting on a couple of bibles to see over the pew.

For some reason, that made your grief-stricken brain lose the last threads of composure at which you were grappling, and the first fat tear trickled past your waterline.

And you shifted right into Aizawa’s lap, in front of everyone.

His wheelchair was parked on the outside of the second pew (he wasn’t even supposed to be out of the hospital yet and didn’t yet have a prosthetic), so those attending could see the shift without even having to turn their heads much. Gasping, you were straddling/kneeling in Aizawa’s lap with your arms around his neck, his chin almost in your boobs, and he looked just as taken aback as you did.

You ignored it, instead standing, wiping the tear, and continuing where you’d been cut off mid-sentence as you returned to the podium.

You shifted four more times during the course of the eulogy.

So, Midnight celebrated romance even in her death: amidst condolences came the curious congratulations on finding your soulmate.

***

You woke up in his bed.

When the bed creaked and a warm, muscular arm draped over you, there was no scrambling off of each other. No panic. He grumbled something against the back of your neck and tightened his grip around your waist, curling into you.

You woke up in his bed.

“What—why are you leaving?” came Aizawa’s rasping morning voice, his hand emerging from under the covers to grasp your wrist. “S’not daylight yet.”

“I know,” you said, putting a knee back on the bed to lean over him, and you brushed hair out of his face, trails of pink following. “But I can’t go straight to Sakura Grove like this; I need stuff from my flat. One of my replacements starts training today.”

“Mm.” Aizawa blinked blearily up at you, a sleep smile growing as he held your palm to his cheek. “Take some shoes for the commute, at least.”

“I was planning on it. Is my pair of All Might socks still here?”

“Yeah. I washed them,” said Aizawa, and with a grunt, he moved to sit up.

Hands on his chest, you pushed him back down. “No, baby, stay in bed. I’ll get them. You need all the rest you can get.”

You woke up in his bed.

It’s empty, so you followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen, where a shirtless, pink-sweatpants-ed Aizawa stared into a mug with amorphous cats that Eri painted.

“You’re adorable,” you said, opening the cabinet next to him and scanning the mug selection.

The slurp he made was monstrous. “Eri misses you.”

“I miss you, too, Shouta.” You selected a #1 Dad mug from Kirishima, and Aizawa poured the steaming coffee into it for you. “We’ll see each other more when school starts again. The next time the teaching certification test is being offered is late next month, and then I can start orientation here.”

Aizawa nodded, resting his elbow next to you on the counter, grazing your fingers cupped around your mug. “I know you’re still working the fifth district at nights, but is there a chance you could take a leave of absence for this weekend?”

“Hot date?”

He hummed into his coffee. “If only. I’ve got a short mission out of town, and there’s no one I’d trust more to watch Eri.”

You smiled at him, with Konpeito rubbing against your legs. “Of course.”

You woke up in his bed.

“Thank God,” said Aizawa, rolling on top of you and burying his face in your neck.

“It’s only a few more weeks,” you said, wriggling in his hold when his breath tickled you.

“No, I mean—the ring’s finished being resized,” he said, sitting up, “and I’ve been desperate to see it on you.”

Aizawa retrieved the box from his bedside table and slid it on your finger: white gold with an emerald embedded, all strategically designed not to catch on anything—made with your hero work in mind.

You wiggled the fingers on your left hand, the emerald catching the morning light. “I’m going to throw up. It’s gorgeous.”

“Hold your nausea for when you hear Hizashi’s latest ideas for our ceremony.”

“Oh, fuck,” you said, plopping back down onto the pillow, “Does he not understand simplicity? Or not being a fucking tool?” When Aizawa shook his head, grinning down at you, you lifted your hand to run your thumb over his lower lip, and his tongue darted out to meet it. “All right, my love. Lay it on me.”

You woke up in his bed.

Dango had jumped on you and meowed loudly, because she didn’t understand that the feeding schedule was a little different now that she lived in Aizawa’s apartment.

(Dango had pre-emptively moved in before you, because the sooner Dango and Konpeito bond, the better. Eri got so upset when they play-fought.)

You woke up in his bed.

“Shouta,” you said, rolling over towards the lit lamp, “What are you doing up already?”

He crossed out something in red ink. “I’m reworking some of the written tests for my new curriculum. I meant to do it last night but went to bed early instead, and I’d rather do it now than this evening.” Aizawa slid his glasses down his nose, his good eye glinting at you playfully. “Nothing’s come up? You can still come over tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said, scooting over to feel his body heat, “I haven’t seen Shinsou in so long, either, so I’m glad he’s coming over to dinner, too. You aren’t going to keep him busy long, right?”

“We’re setting up the room at the end of the hall for a new tenant, so we should be done by the time you get here.” Aizawa rolled his shoulders back before setting his papers to the side, and he folded his glasses to set them atop them. “What, are you planning something with him to get back at me?”

“Nah,” you said, rustling the sheets as you sat up, “I just need his phone at some point. It’s really fucking weird that my best friend is my soulmate’s, like, ward-mentee, because Shinsou’s got my contact name as Mommy. With a little heart.”

Wincing, Aizawa guided you into his lap, his hands light on your waist.

“I’ve got to change it back to my name,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck to sink into a hug. You pressed your lips against his neck—not really a kiss, but more of just resting them there. “Who’s moving into the room at the end of the hall?”

Kissing the side of your head, Aizawa stroked your back through your sleepshirt, his fingertips trailing heat down your spine. “Well,” he said, his voice morning-gravelly, “Let’s say it’s another ward-mentee. U.A. wants me in charge. You’ll see.” You felt him smile against your ear, and he kissed it before biting the cartilage gently. “When are you moving in?”

“School starts next Wednesday,” you said, “so how does this weekend sound?”

You woke up in the bed you shared with Aizawa, slammed the alarm clock off, and flipped back over, spooning Aizawa with your nose smushed between his shoulder blades. He laced his fingers back through yours and kept them over his heart.

***

On a weeknight two weeks into the school year, you’re dangling your legs off the top of a water tower, forehead pressed against the railing, watching cars pass under streetlights below.

Being a teacher was tough. Being a teacher and an underground pro-hero at night was tougher. You now understood Aizawa’s need to carry a sleeping bag around. You hadn’t caved and done the same, but you kept a pillow at your cubicle in the faculty lounge because it was just too damn hard to stay awake during your off period.

(At least things with Sakura Grove were wrapping up. You’d stay in their contacts as a consultant, especially for Ito, but you didn’t have to go there anymore. Sad that that part of your life was ending, but it scooted over on the couch for new beginnings.)

You’re dancing around the point: because of your endless exhaustion and the difference in your and Aizawa’s schedules, you’re still a goddamn virgin. It’s stupid as fuck. The longer you put it off (which you’re not even doing intentionally!), the more of a stressful event it’s going to be.

“Sleeping on the job?”

You jolted awake, cold indent of the railing cutting into your forehead, and your head whipped around in search of him. “Dozing,” you said, tilting your head back far enough to watch Aizawa slide down from his crouch atop the water tower, “Too shallow to be real sleep. You don’t even get to R.E.M.”

“All of that to say that you want to go home,” said Aizawa, and he nestled up behind you, placing his legs on either side of yours and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your back to his chest. He pressed his cold nose to your neck (you yelped) while the ends of his capture weapon trailed onto your lap.

“I guess, but I only have about half an hour more of my patrol,” you said, covering one of his hands with yours (pink didn’t blossom there, probably because he kept brushing his lips where your neck met your shoulder), “I can wait it out.”

“Mm, if you say so. Right now, I’d rather have you in bed. I miss you too much.” He inhaled deeply before placing one final kiss behind your ear and said, “I have something for you.” He took a moment to riffle through the pouches on his utility belt, and your heart dropped into your stomach when he reached around you to retrieve the knife hidden in your boot (oh, my God, the intimacy of knowing where on your body you kept your weapons). Aizawa brought his arms around your waist again, this time with a brown-sugar-coated pear in a brown paper sleeve cupped in one hand, the other cutting into the soft flesh of the pear.

He held the blade to your lips, which you closed around the slice of pear, the brown sugar grains melting on your tongue. He fed you another slice before cutting one for himself.

The pains and care he took for you compounded and curled on your chest like an overweight cat, and you cracked in half: you started fucking crying.

As soon as the first tear track shone under the streetlights, Aizawa, brow furrowed, turned your chin towards him (you automatically took the pear and knife to hold them in your lap).

“What’s—”

Taking in your weak, shaky smile, he took on one himself. “I see.” Aizawa finger-combed some of your hair out of your face and rested his curled fingers at the roots of your hair at the back of your neck. “Still,” he said, swiping away a fresh tear with his thumb, “I can’t have that—not my pretty girl crying.”

No matter how thoroughly he dried your face, it didn’t matter: it started raining on the way home. Both of you were soaked, grinning as you scanned into U.A. under the torrential rain funnelled from the awning where faculty entered, dripping onto the floor when you checked in on Eri for the night (All Might had put her to sleep earlier), and just fucking dropping your wet hero support items to the tile in the kitchen, your shit tangled up in his capture weapon and knocking against his goggles.

A low rumble of thunder shook the windowpanes as Aizawa kissed you, opening his mouth before you even kissed back, the edge of the kitchen counter smarting against the small of your back while you breathed in your soulmate in the dark.

Parting to breathe, you managed a grin as a flash of lightning illuminated his ruddy cheeks and soulmate-pink lips. “I feel like if I go to bed tonight, I’m going to die in my sleep,” you said, panting.

“Good thing sleep’s not on the agenda,” said Aizawa, and his lips seared into yours (fucking peach chapstick, you were of sound mind enough to note) as he fumbled for the zipper on the back of your wet costume.

It plopped with a squelch to the floor, and the chill of the A/C sweeping over your bare skin made you huddle into Aizawa’s chest—but you swore and flinched away, since his body temperature didn’t really help with how wet his clothes were.

Scowling, you kneed him away and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Take this off,” you said, plucking at his jumpsuit, “It’s fucking frigid in here.”

Lightning lit his smirk this time, and Aizawa started undressing, the sodden splat of his socks hitting the tile first.

“You gonna let me wear your clothes this time, pretty boy?” Watching him strip, you shivered for more than one reason. “Last time, you only gave me towels.”

Aizawa scoffed. “That’s because if I’d had to see you wear my clothes, you wouldn’t’ve made it farther than the bedroom.” His jumpsuit made a weird noise, and he fished his utility belt out of the belt loops to set it on the counter.

When you gestured towards his boxer-briefs, he shook his head. “Not yet. Yes, they’re cold, but I want to focus on you right now. Leave your underwear on, but go ahead and leave your wet hero costume in here. They can drain in the sink,” he said, tossing his socks in.

“Okay,” you said, doing the same, “but please at least change into dry boxers, or something—”

“I will,” he said, undoing the rest of the buttons on your pants once you’d done the first, and he fucking lifted you onto the counter, kissing you, to drag them down your legs before putting them in the sink. “You with me?”

You nodded and pulled him in for a hug—skin still slick-moist but warmer now that body heat mingled together, and his breath heated your neck while he sucked a wet mark onto it. “I’m with you, Shouta. I love you.”

Grunting against your throat, Aizawa hugged you tighter. “Oh, I love you, too, sweet girl. So much.”

He eased you down off the counter, and you flinched again at the cold. “Oof, ah, I have to get out of this wet fucking bra; it’s too fucking cold in—”

“Want me to go adjust the thermostat?”

“No, it’s fine; it’s fun. I just,” you said, kissing his shoulder on impulse, “need you.”

His eyes fell to half-lidded, and a roll of thunder nearly masked his low chuckle. “All right, then. If you’re sure.”

Aizawa led you to the bedroom, hardly space between the two of you while running his hands over your arms and waist to generate heat, his voice rasping in your ear the whole way (so much louder than the constant sound of raindrops assaulting the windows as the wind picked up). “That time you shifted into my shower—the image of you is burned into my brain,” he was saying, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot so his hands wouldn’t have to leave you, “You were so confused but keen to do what I said. I was trying so hard to be good, noble, like you said, but the part that stings above all is that I liked the handprint on your back. I liked having my mark on you, on display, in such a large way that anybody could see. Killed me to have to cover you up. Lights on?”

“Let me open the curtains instead,” you said.

“Good. I’ll change into dry underwear so that you don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t look,” he said, releasing you from his hold.

You drew back the first set of curtains and fiddled with the pullstrings to raise the blinds. “Are you telling me you beat yourself up-slash-off about the way you thought about me?” you asked, smiling at your own dumb joke, “I get it. I do, but c’mon, baby. You’ve made a home in my heart and in my own damn blood. What’s the shifting into your bed while I’m dreaming been besides my body calling out to you?” Oh, fuck yes, the blinds went all the way up this time. You crossed to the second window. “What’s my—hey, nice ass. Very cute.”

The elastic waistband snapped in that final rush to pull them up. “I told you not to look,” said Aizawa, frowning as he joined you in tying away the opposite curtain, “Are you really gonna be a brat this early in the—” He cut himself off, slapping a palm over his eyes as he stepped back from you (successfully raising these blinds on the first try!). “No. No, I shouldn’t. Not for your first time.”

Closing the distance, you took the hand over his eyes and held it against your cheek. “You could a little.”

His thumb loosed itself from your fingers, falling to your mouth, and you kissed it, parting your lips to lick the pad just barely.

He swallowed visibly. “Get on the bed.”

You did, and you wormed your arms around your back to unhook your wet bra (fucking frigid half-dried in the A/C, plus you were betting the feeling of your nipples grazing his chest was fucking stellar), whipping it off the bed before he could even join you.

“Notice I didn’t say you could do that,” Aizawa said, laughing through his nose, one knee on the bed. “But that’s all right for now. I like how vulnerable you look, how needy, how—” Aizawa crawled over you, eclipsing you. “—how out of touch with anything but me.”

His lips were warm, soft (peachy), and more consuming than when you’d met them earlier that night, and when his tongue brushed the roof of your mouth, he secured an arm around your back to arch you closer to him, boobs pushing into his chest and held like you’re something precious.

“I’m sure you know this,” Aizawa said, thumbing into your mouth and dragging the spit down your neck (cooling in the night air), “but you have absolutely perfect breasts. Whenever I’ve felt them against me before, I’ve gone fucking crazy—and now I get to—” He kissed you again, giving a firm, final bite to your lower lip (smiling when you tried to suck his tongue back into your mouth but shaking you off anyway), before pulling back to look at you, his wet thumb trailing down between your boobs and then circling up around one of them, pausing when you tensed up before he touched your nipple.

His eyes were dark when he glanced up at you again. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything I’ve got,” you said, feeling your heartbeat pulse in your lips now that the pressure of his was gone.

With a wry grin, Aizawa tilted his head. “Yet you’re not relaxed. I’d say you’re a bundle of nerves, but…” His eyes flicked down towards your crotch, and you rolled your eyes at the dumb clitoris joke (hell, yeah! You’re rubbing off on him).

“I’m trying; I thought was I doing good so far—”

“You are. But let me give you a little task so that you’re not concentrating on feeling nervous, yes? One you can handle.” He kissed your cheek and waited for your minute nod before continuing. “I want you to keep your hands by your head,” he said, moving them on the pillow where he wanted them, “You’re not allowed to move them. I get the feeling you’d like them to be tied there, but we’ll save that for another time, yes?”

You arched up to meet his lips, and he let you, moving his against yours, letting your tongue cross into his mouth before breaking away again.

“Good. You’re so good for me, and sweet. And another thing,” said Aizawa, squeezing your wrists to draw your attention back to them, “I want these hands open. Palms up. You’re not allowed to make a fist, sweetheart.” At your baffled expression, he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Just an extra challenge, but I know you can do it.”

You huffed, pouting (and he laughed over it, that horribly endearing, wheezing laugh). “Sure. Yeah. You want me to relax, so you give me what suspiciously sounds like a test. And wow, we know that I have some sort of stupid complex about being the best and getting the approval—”

“And you can get it so easily, should you do this well enough for me.” He shuffled down your body a bit, fingers sketching around your nipples before squeezing your boobs (crazy insane maniacal ridiculous how his hands cupped them perfectly…).

“Oh, you’re evil,” you said, shaking your head.

“You have no idea,” said Aizawa before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue flicking and swirling around it, languidly, heavy with saliva—careful, dark eyes scanning every reaction from you.

Jumping at the contact—but no, don’t bend your fingers even a little. Flat. Flat against the pillow, where he put them. Okay. Okay, we’ve got a handle on it. The initial shock was just—

“Fuck!”

(No, no—keep them against the pillow; sink them into the down if you have to—)

Aizawa’s teeth had ever so lightly grazed you, and his smug little laugh through his nose burned you up inside, so you refused to look at him. Though anger wasn’t the only reason for heat: it was starting to coil in your lower stomach, too, spreading as your thighs clenched—oh, yeah, you have legs, so you rubbed your thighs together in what was hopefully way he wouldn’t notice (but fuck all if he noticed, though, because at the rate your breath was hitching and how frequently you were twisting away from his mouth, any shred of your remaining pride would be crumpling into nothing before he even made you—)

You were writhing, arching your back, eyes scrunched shut, at the moment Aizawa both closed his lips around your other nipple and pinched the first one, and he kept at it, circling it with his tongue as you came back down, stilling.

“Holy shit,” he said, eyebrow raised, pulling his mouth away with a wet puck, “Are you getting off already?”

Aizawa was reaching for your face, but (there’s a split second where you wanted to bury your face in your hands, but the man liked his technicalities) you screwed your eyes closed again and hid yourself to the side in the pillow. “I’m sorry I’m such a stupid virgin who gets worked up easily. I didn’t mean to upset—”

“No, no, no—open your eyes, darling,” he said, hands cupping your face, wiping away the tiny bit of sweat that’d broken out at your hairline, “You’re fine. You’re perfect. There’s nothing to apologise for. Open your eyes. There. That’s my good girl. Thank you.”

You, biting the inside of your cheek and scowling, dug your head out of the pillow to face him, but you kept your eyes averted, still not looking at him.

(Unfortunately, you were not immune to good girl.)

“I’m not upset. How could I, when I know my pretty little wife is feeling so good?” Aizawa pecked your forehead. “You’re just more sensitive than I anticipated. And that’s good. That’s fine. That’s fun for me.”

“Oh, my God,” you said, wincing, trying to sink farther into the pillow to get away from this beautiful man, “You’ve got to shut the fuck up. You keep hitting me with these lines that knock it out of the park. It’s too much.”

Thunder shook the windows, the bedframe rattling with it.

He grinned, and you wanted to punch him. “Is that so?”

“Shut up, holy fucking shit. Just fuck me already.”

And Aizawa was frowning. “Are you—I don’t think you’re ready enough—”

“Oh, come off of it,” you said, gritting your teeth and averting your gaze again, “I’ve already come once, and you’re so overwhelming that I’m going to pass the fuck out just from you talking. I don’t care if I come again; I just wanna get this o—just penetrate me, I guess.”

Scowling. Scowling now. Grimacing, even. “You don’t really want me to do that.”

“Yes, I fucking—”

“You’re not wet enough,” he said with a growl. “Yes, you’ve orgasmed, but you’re not ready for me.”

“You can’t be that—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, a hand sliding down his stomach (holy shit, he’s got muscles) to hook into his waistband, snapping it, “above average, sweetheart.” When he said the word, his voice teemed with scathing condescension, and your stomach dropped. “When I say you’re not ready, I know you aren’t.”

Your cheeks began to feel blotchy, but you weren’t going to cry. “Would you—please—try? I think I might be overwhelmed already, and I want you to feel good.”

Aizawa sighed, and he crawled back over you, reaching towards your hands flat on the pillows to lace his fingers between yours. “It’s not about me right now. We’re focusing on you, baby.”

You lifted your cheek, leaning into the kisses he was pressing onto it. “I know,” you said quietly, “but I think I would feel good knowing you feel good, so, ish, in a fucked-up way—would you try? Please?”

His lips met yours again, just briefly, and he said, “Okay. If you hurt, we’re stopping.”

“Well, hey, that’s pretty much guaranteeing that we’re—”

He cut you off with an exasperated look while he tossed his underwear off to the side, not bothering to unhitch his prosthetic leg.

Aizawa was pushing into you, beginning to stretch you open on his cock, and he’s only gone just barely what could be considered shallow, not much more than a squeeze around the swollen tip of his cock, and you’re clenching down around him, clamping down tight, and you didn’t even notice your eyes stinging with tears for the strain in your cunt.

But Aizawa did. He pulled out before they overflowed down your face, and he’s kissing them away in apology. “We can stop here. I won’t mind. You’ve already done so, so well for me. Thank you for trusting me.”

After a bit, you managed to get a hold of yourself, and you moved to—well. That first, you supposed. “Shouta,” you said, wiggling your fingers interlocked with his on the pillow, “may I move my hands? I’d like to touch you. Just a bit.”

“Go ahead.” He released them.

You placed your palms on his tits/pecs and instantly felt better (not cured, or anything. But definitely better). “Okay,” you said, scratching him gently, “I’ve had a moment. I’m not as overwhelmed anymore. Fuck you for being right about—about wetness.”

“Thank you,” he said, similarly scratching your head while sliding a calloused hand to your waist.

“Listen, Sho. I was scared that if I didn’t make you try to get in me then, you’d try to make me come again beforehand, and I’m scared that I’m gonna pass the fuck out if I have three orgasms as good as the first one you gave me.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to come if I eat you out, even though I’d like you to,” said Aizawa, smiling at the way your eyes fluttered when he scratched a certain spot, “I can simply go down on you to stretch you out. Everything’s fine. All that’s happened is that you’ve come earlier than expected—which, I assure you, was fucking hot—and now you need different preparation to take me. You’re fine. We can stop here, or—”

“Would you be cool with going down on me?” You bit the inside of your cheek and averted your gaze again. “Or, or, actually, you don’t have to do that. You can just—”

“You’ve got to stop overthinking, baby,” said Aizawa, grabbing your chin to kiss you again, which he did deeply and so hard that he was gasping when he broke away, “because I have been breaking myself over the thought of tasting you. I’ve been—please don’t think that I don’t want any part of you, because I want even the things you don’t like about yourself. Whatever you want, I also want, enthusiastically and desperately. This soulmate shit has reduced me to freshly popped edamame whenever I—”

Aizawa cut himself off at your laughter, sitting back on your hips and crossing his arms.

“Oh, babe, Shouta, that’s,” you said, grasping at his hands to drag him over you again, “I appreciate the effort. I do, really. But that’s a bad metaphor. Doesn’t fit the tone of the situation. Plus, I would argue that edamame bursts instead of pops. It’s a bean, not a pea.”

His ears were tinged red. “Whatever it takes for you to laugh again, you fucking pedant,” he grumbled against your neck, and his fingers trailed between your boobs and down your stomach, took a moment to curl into your pubic hair (tugging), and sliding between your folds, spreading what wetness was already there.

You eased your laughter to a smile, and you plopped your hands, palms up, on either side of your head again. “So, are you gonna make me wet or not, Shouta?”

“And you say I’m evil,” said Aizawa, grinning and shaking his head, and after another kiss, he slithered down your body, kissing and licking as he went, eyes dark and fixed on yours (his good one, anyway), even as he spread you and pressed his lips to your clit for the first time.

He’s right. He’s right. He’s always right: the task of keeping your hands flat and in one place distracted you from getting worried about how you looked or tasted or whatever, and you were laughing at yourself for how hard you were finding it to keep from forming a fist—but that’s the impulse, apparently, when the goddamn love of your life is sticking his tongue as far as he can go into your cunt and moaning like a whore about it in that stupid fucking rumbling way.

“Sweet girl,” he was saying as he licked the inside of your thigh, his scruff scrabbling pleasantly against your skin, “Are you with me? You look a little unfocused.”

You shook yourself and glanced down at him. “I’m good—”

“You are.”

“I mean, I’m with you,” you said, heat flooding your cheeks the fastest it ever has. “You’re very good. As well.”

“Is it all right for me to add a finger into this? All right, sweetness, relax,” said Aizawa, and he dragged his middle finger over your clit, circling it before drawing it back up, this time knuckle-side down, and it’s that finger that first slid into you with a soft wet noise—barely there, but still audible—and dragged and pressed inside you, aimlessly feeling you out, totally unrushed.

Your own fingers strained to lie flat.

After more licking and prodding, he added his index, and the suction on your clit lent a distraction from the stretch when he parted his fingers inside you, though there’s a soft wince from you, regardless. Under your assurances, Aizawa continued, working more space between his fingers though you clenched around him, and the third made your stomach burn, your hips chasing his fingers as your insides wound tight. He’s kissing and sucking your clit, keeping watch over your expression and the growing squelching and spasming of your cunt, and you, a bit dizzy, whimpered without meaning to when he started to pump his fingers in and out of you. You felt his smug grin against you as it reformed into a pucker to give your clit a particularly harsh suck, and you’re falling apart just a little, but it’s cool, it’s fine, and you found yourself coming, again, but this time it’s gentle, a smaller crest, under the careful watch and tongue of your husband—and when he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt complained the whole way, leaking and squelching around them.

The smug-as-shit bastard waved his fingers towards you, strands of arousal connecting them and seeping down into his palm. “If you want a taste, this is all you’re getting,” he said, touching your lips for barely a second, “because the rest is mine.”

Your head emptied at the way his tongue slathered the rest of it up, sliding between his fingers.

“I believe you’re wet enough for me to fit,” said Aizawa, still licking at his fingers.

“Hold up! I didn’t get to see you earlier,” you said, sitting up, “Do whatever. I need to see your cock.”

And you immediately saw red, because this motherfucker? Stupid. Stupid as hell. Stupid and hell and handsome and above average, my ass. You were insane for not wanting to prep much earlier. You’d gotten some of what he looked like when Serendipity’s quirk was affecting him, but you’re going to die. You’re going to die and then be able to talk to Midnight about her friend’s cock (too soon? You shook it off), because he’s infuriatingly pretty, and it just isn’t fair.  

Jolting, your hand flew to his wrist when he thumbed over your clit again, circling it.

“You told me to do whatever,” said Aizawa, nudging your thighs a little wider apart.

You shot him a look before returning to trying to fucking grasp (figuratively) his cock. You’re shaking your head at it, sucking in through your teeth. It’s fucking stupid—tilting a bit to the right, a little veiny (artery-y?), flushed a dark pink at the tip, and absolutely fucking weeping for you, cum dripping for the first time onto your thigh and the mattress.

Your hand darted out, hesitating, to touch the trail of dark hair on his abs leading to his cock, and once your ring finger grazed half of that maddening v, you retreated, scooting back an inch or two on the bed as you jerked at his brushing against your clit.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow when you looked up at him, wet fingers stilling.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said on impulse, wide-eyed.

Aizawa opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked and after a beat, said, “All right. Not the most encouraging thing to hear in reaction to my dick.”

“Yikes. I mean,” you said, cringing and biting your lip, “Maybe you’d ought to prep me more?”

At the very least, you’d expected a burst of laughter from him, but to make matters worse, he took you seriously.

“Noted,” he was saying, kneeling again to put his mouth on your clit, “When I was feeling around inside you, I was thinking that I’d have to work to open you up to take me. You have such a tiny little cunt—”

“Oh, my God, never mind,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “You’re a menace. I’m leaving. I’m leaving forever.”

Laughing to himself, Aizawa peppered kisses over the backs of your hands. “I’m only joking, love. I said it to fluster you.” His hand cupped you, fingers rubbing in slick while you kept spasming every few seconds. “I know you’re ready to take me,” he said, and (your life began and ended in a second), he started slid his cock up and down your folds (swollen from coming twice already), covering it with your slick and dripping pre-cum onto you.

When a choked noise escaped your throat the first time his cockhead caught on your clit, you clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but a gently smiling Aizawa released his grip on one of your shaking thighs to uncover your mouth, with his smile twisting into something darker when he put your hands flat on the pillow again.

“Oh, you are the worst.”

“It’s just for a minute more. Then you can touch me. I promise,” he said, watching the way your cunt was trembling erratically when he wasn’t even inside, “You’re probably gonna come the moment I get seated inside you, yeah? Look at you twitch.”

Adjusting your legs around his waist, Aizawa took your hands in his as he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts. “Easy,” he said, when you grappled with his hands, almost thrashing, to squeeze them harder, “Easy, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

Lightheaded.

And very, very warm.

You might be holding back tears. You’re not sure.

But you’re certain you’re taking deep breaths, as instructed, and you shook your hands out of his to wrap your arms around his chest, to feel him close and warm and over all of you, grabbing at him blindly to hold more (a small voice in the back of your head hoped you were scratching him up).

Aizawa struggled to breathe as well, but he gritted his teeth, his face and heaving chest fucking flushed. His hands shook as they travelled down to your waist, unable to still your shuddering hips underneath him. “And here I thought you were soft all over,” he grunted out, “Turns out that you’re softest inside. Fuck.” He screwed his eyes shut. “My lovely little wife. My soulmate.” Aizawa carefully exhaled before opening his eyes again. “Is it okay if I move a bit more?”

At your nod, he rolled his hips shallowly, keeping a careful watch on your face for any minor reactions that he couldn’t hear, and each time he thrust into you, the further away from any reality but Aizawa you got. You blanked, feeling nothing but how you strained around him, spasming and pulsing, and how your muscles were seizing, how—how it wasn’t feeling like you were full, or that you and he were overlapping, but that hey, this is how it’s supposed to be, soulmates—you and him, together. And separating yourselves just didn’t make sense, in the way that you can’t separate the hydrogen from oxygen and still have water; to have you or Aizawa, you needed the both of you. Package deal. Bonded pair.

And wow, the tears you’d been holding back now flooded down your face, pausing at the resistance from each time his hips met yours before continuing down your cheeks and neck, and you’re out of it, out of anything besides Shouta when you cup his reddening face in your hands (pink handprints blinking before the next thrust) and manage to whine, “Sensei—”

Aizawa broke, expression flashing pure vulnerability, and he kissed you before you could say anything more, and he smushed his hips against yours, hitting you more deeply as he finally circled your clit again. The orgasm was torn out of both of you, but it’s torn in the way that the wind tears a kite away from its flyer.

When you opened your eyes, the bedroom was filled with floating, pink dust, glittering when lightning struck. You had to encourage Aizawa from his spot, buried in your neck, to see it, and the two of you watched it shimmer and dissipate as the storm picked up again, rain audibly hitting the glass.

“Do you think that happens every time?” you asked as Aizawa helped you out of the bed.

Aizawa turned the knob to the bathroom and flicked on the light. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”

He had to help you walk, since your legs were shaking so badly. Luckily, you had a good laugh about it. Aizawa set you up (or rather, down) in the shower, telling you to warm up while he changed the sheets and that he’d join you soon.

By the time the two of you were out of the shower, the soulmate dust had vanished. Aizawa got into bed first (and he had to take a moment to calm down when he saw you wearing his pyjamas), and you climbed in after him. After some brief experimentation, you found that, if you shaped your hands just right and pulled them away all at once, you could leave a soulmark in the shape of a heart. So, you did, just over his real heart, and you leant back, pleased with yourself.

Aizawa glanced down at his chest and grinned. “Adorable. But I’m afraid it won’t stay for long, my love.” He held his hand mere inches from your head, wiggling his fingers in a taunt. “I doubt I can go for long without touching you.”

You caved without hesitation, leaning into his touch as a chuckling Aizawa ran his hand through your hair. “That’s fine. That just means I can constantly make it anew.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Aizawa, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you close, snuggling into you. “Go to sleep. You can mark me again in the morning.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

[bronx-bomber87]

The rewatch continues! Onto 1x02 ‘Crash Course’ we go. Once again will credit all gif creators at the end of this review. Thank you for all you create. Tumblr wouldn’t be around if not for you. Off we go.

This ep starts for Tim in the hospital. Makes me sad to see Tim at the hospital so disgruntled and alone. Truly not expecting anyone to come pick him up or care. Surly af with the nurse. But it’s not a glow up if we don’t start at the bottom. ‘Started from the bottom now we here’ is a prominent thing for a reason in character growth. Starting at the ground floor with him emotional scars and all.

He is so genuinely so surprised Angela and Talia come to get him. He wants the help but sure as hell isn’t going to ask for it. He’s clearly been so shut down since Isabel. He’s lost trust and faith of those around him. So them coming to get him shocks him. Being s1 Tim though he can’t let them see that. How much this actually means to him. That there are people out there that still care about him. My poor broken boy.

Annnnnd the need for his approval and praise from Tim begins. She’s so excited thinking he was so proud of her and what she did in pilot (she did save his life and protect them both under duress) only to be disappointed by Wrigleys ‘No..’ Her eyes light up only to be crushed by disappointment. You’ll get there Lucy it’s just gonna be a bit ha

Tim dropping by the diner he conveniently ‘lives by ‘ and getting his pickup. Aka a Lying liar who lies. Really just dropping by to check in on her and his current test. To see if she’s losing her mind being a slug or she misses the action already with Tim. Clearly it’s the latter. Regardless of where Tim is emotionally and how she’s his charge. This is a little bit of a work flirt for him. Man took time out of his recovery from a gunshot wound to come see and her give her shit LOL She of course is ready and eager to prove herself even when he’s not officially her T.O. He’s clearly enjoying himself too much though haha

On the surface this is just a test is to see if she wants to be a real cop or a slug. We all know with her future UC predilections she loves the adrenaline. I do think on a deeper level, part of this test is truly to see if she’s gonna stick it out with him. Or if she going to bail on him which is the current state of mind he’s in.

Expecting that abandonment. He’s in fight or flight mode most of s1 cause of Isabel. Legit Survival mode really. So he’s going to distrust everyone around him for little while especially someone with promise like Lucy.

Alas we get to the end of ep for them both. Best part of this gif set is the utter look of confusion on Lucy’s face. Fairly certain she didn’t think Tim Bradford was capable of laughing let alone smiling LOL

What I love most about this scene is one it shows how sharp Lucy is. Telling him she figured out he had her purposely assigned to Wrigley. Two, This is also Lucy’s first moment of challenging him. Standing up to him by calling him a pain in the ass. When he says it’s ‘his job’ It’s her first strike into those walls of his. By insulting him with her little jab. Developing that rapport. We get the first Lucy induced smile from him. He’s actually proud of how she handled herself the entire day with Wrigley. Not half ass-ing it and he’s beaming.

When she watches his retreating form she looks so confused and slightly annoyed at his happy demeanor. But she also doesn’t hate it either. She has no idea she’s started her slow burn with him. That massive wall of his has the smallest crack starting to form. He’s so pleased with himself he doesn’t realize it’s happening either. He’s just happy with himself and how interaction went down. They’re so cute I can not. Eric and Melissa’s chemistry on full display. We had it from the jump with them.

~~~~~

Side notes for this ep. Talia was pretty damn funny in this ep. With all the property/city damage Nolan does haha Them getting kicked into the old school cop car.

The captain ripping those cocky detectives a new one. I always enjoyed her scenes especially ones where she’s mentoring the newbs. She was always so calming to listen to. So sage in her advice.

The Nolan/Lucy scenes continue to make me cringe but they have their purpose even if I dislike them haha

That wraps up ep 2. This will definitely keep me pre-occupied till we can get s6. Try to do few eps a week depending on life/work haha please feel free to like/comment I enjoy it so❤️

Gif credit to

chenfordsbee

tim-lucy x2

Thesweetnessandthesarcasm pain ass my job

relentlessescapism

Chenford source

[maehemthemisfit]

MUTUALS

This is a LOT and probably half of it doesn't make any sense and looks like gibberish but yk what thats fine. Sorry I couldn't fit everyone!

@clovers-garden-co - my first ever moot, my one and only, bae, love of my life, my beloved, and the person who helped me make this blog so BIG SHOUT OUT to them!! ALSO CHECK OUT THEY'RE BLOG THEY DESERVE SO MUCH LOVE 💕💖💘

@fitzkn - my dawg, my guy, my fam, he's canonically a cat and part of the menace society. If you ever see me rb a convo with him, 9 times outta 10 it's gonna be something... idek how to explain it but you might laugh, you might cry, you might log out and rethink your life on this app. Conversations can range from genshin to a lawn mower don't ask me cause I have no words. He's also a talented writer an artists but will never admit it. If you're a fan of angst and genshin, I recommend digging through his blog and finding a fic called butter knife... I was in tears. HIS OTHER WORKS ARE CHEF KISS TOO MWAH

@some-stale-bread - we don't interact much but they're one of the OGs who welcomed me when I first started my blog. They're really cool and they're a good artist so check them out some time!

@senjusonlygirlfriend - we go way back, though we didn't interact much in those early moments. They're an amazing writer and friend and I love chatting with them <33

@path-of-yaksha - we also been moots for a while but I got hella confused bc you changed your url. They're a pretty chill system even though we don't interact much

@y-umiko - fell in love with their blog aesthetic <3 wish we interacted more. They like genshin and TR so it's a yes for me

@mansplain-manipulate-malewife - I don't know how this happened, but it did and I don't regret it. I feel like im falling through portals from rick and morty whenever I open their blog. It's a nice change of scenery. Hii Alex, hope you're doing well

@official-megumin - The best wizard in tumblr so powerful I had to follow. IDK WHAT CHECKMARKS MEAN AND WHY IS THERE MORE THAN ONE??? EXPLAIN??? She's cool, though I rarely see them when im active

@oddshroom - MY GURL, MY G, MY SHROOM- MUSHROOM? HAMVKTIRLOE. ANOTHER ONE PART OF MENACE SOCIETY. They're an awesome person, really sweet, amazing writer, we also speak in code 🦞 but you'll never know what we're saying. They gang fr doe 💅🏾✨

@dorothy-rainbird - WE DONT INTERACT ANYMORE *sobs* or have we ever? I see you in my notifs a lot though so you're part of the misfit gang. RESPECTT. Wish I seen you on my dash more tho :')

@vellichxrr6782 - HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU. You're really sweet and I wish we talked more <33 I wish you the best my friend

@cross-crye - ANOTHER AMAZING WRITER HELLO??? They bouta put me on twst fr im this 🤏🏾close into falling down the simp rabbit hole. HELLO SETH I ALSO WISH U THE BEST

@omori-1 - daily reminder that I need to finish watching omori... I PROMISE I WILL AJUFKRI. VIRGO GANG. TALENTED CREATOR GANG. IF I COULD EAT THEIR BLOG I WOULD. Put it inna air fryer and drizzle some sauce on afterwards yum. Another one part of menace society. LOVE YA CHAI, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND THEN SOME

@xiao6ao - My love. My life. My will to write. MY LOVELY EDITOR. MWAH MWAH I LOVE YOU. She's my life support for real and also deserves the world and good fortune and just Nbhvgtdikmk This world shall know pain if anything happens to her. AMAZING WRITER YET ANOTHER ONE WHO DOESNT ADMIT IT. Grammarly 2.0. Always come in clutch. Menace society CEO. AHH I LOVE YOU PLEASE TAKE CARE

@atskas - MY FAM. TALENTED AUTHORS ALERT. TIMEZONES SUCK FR BUT I STILL LOVE THEM. Another one locked in, in the menace society, rip their sleep schedule. HI ARII ILY- HIARIILY... That actually looked like one word- GIRL I WISH YOU THE BEST MWAH

@lunartcmpest - it's always the aesthetic blogs that melts my heart. TALENT WRITER ALERT BEEP BEEP BEEP. GO CHECK OUT THEIR BLOG RN OR IM SNATCHING YOUR ANKLES. Wish we interacted more but it's all good. She's pretty cool tho. SHOUT OUTS TO YOU KAIRI, WISH YOU WELL

@alhara - AUTOCORRECT BE DAMNED. HELLO HARA. SHOUT OUT TO ANOTHER UNDERRATTED WRITER. Wish you the best

@albed0kreideprinz - They haven't been active in a min and I hope they're okay, but here's an amazing rp blog for all those interested. They're amazing and really sweet and I hope the world treats them well <3

@araranas - aka @primojade aka TALENETED WRITER aka AMAZING PERSON aka MNJNJENKI I LOVE YOU. TIMEZONES BE DAMNED

@ventisweetheart - IF ONLY I COULD HUG SOMEONE THRU THE INTERNET! You're so sweet and I'm glad we're moots and I always look forward to our interactions

@micheya - I dont know why and dont ask me, but if I could squish you like a gummy bear I would... IT MIGHT BE THE AETHER PFP IDK. We don't interact much but <333

@1eaf-me-alone - This year, I think you should turn a new 1eaf... g-get it BECAUSE MUYGITKR,ICRLT. Forgive me, I had to. PFF S,MUTFR THEY'RE REALLY COOL CHECK THEM OUT. HI HELLO HRU. I love our interactions please dont block me for my Cyno jokes, I'll 1eaf you alone if you- AUMSUFKRDE IM SORRY I CANT HELP IT!!

@scaranya - the fact that I had to basically type your full name out because scaranation is so big on tumblr... N E WAYS, RECENT MOOT HERE. Love to see your comments <3 Please stay safe and well!

@qingxin-dream - ENVIOUS OF YOUR WANDERER KEYCHAIN GRRR GRRR SUNYUFKRIKRCF. Another great writer here, please check them out!

@sweet-almonds - COMFORT WRITER BC ANGST BREAKS MY HEART. SHE'S AWESOME AND SWEET AND I ADORE YOUR BLOG

@enassbraid - Yall with these url changes. I HAVE BAD MEMORY OKAY! She's lovely okay and deserves the moon and back

@wanderersbell - WWEEEE WOOO WEEE WOOO TALENT WRITER ALERT, YES OFFICER? RIGHT THERE -> YOU'RE LITERALLY SO AMAZING AND FUN TO TALK WITH IM SO GLAD WE CROSSED PATHS EEEE PLEASE I FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING EVERYDAY I WISH U THE BEST

I KNOW IM MISSING A FEW AND IF I CAN I'LL ADD THEM LATER BUT MY HANDS ARE GETTING TIRED AND SORRY IF SOME OF THE THINGS IVE SAID WAS REPETTITIVE I TRIED MY BEST

@cynotical - RECENTLY BECAME MOOTS BUT IVE BEEN A FAN FOR AWHILE ✨✨✨ Another talented writer please check them out as well as their other blog!!! THEY'RE AWESOME AND SUCH A LOVELY PERSON TOO

@sonder-paradise - idk how but their writing manages to break me down and put me back together again every time like— UGHHH I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. Talent writer alert x20. Should have 2 novels and an ongoing series already because wth

[ofsappho]

Treehouse ask:

Two quick things!

1. I love how Morpheus is out of touch with humans yet he knows what all the girlies (non-gendered) want: a nice bathroom with all the fixings. Like I'm sorry but if he every took a look at my Pinterest boards and recreated that. I (who is a commitmentphobe) would propose.

2. I am so excited for their wedding!!! Just because I know you're going to add so much detail and symbolism to it!! If they do have one because you know Morpheus is going to go all out to display his beloved to the Dreaming.

Rip I wrote a whole answer and then tumblr deleted it

Thank you for the question anon, and for enjoying the fic ❤️❤️❤️

Throughout the story I have wanted to demonstrate how strong the connection is between Morpheus and Reader. Not just externally where we see them talking and interacting, but also subconsciously. Morpheus is the collective human unconscious, so as he spends more time around this human and falls in love, he is able to access her unconscious and some of her thoughts and reflect them in himself. His in canon jadedness/cynicism very much parallels similar trends in human attitudes, particularly after world wars and multiple financial crises. But the way Reader sees the world and the little things Reader enjoys have a positive effect on him (just as when things are going bad for humanity, he becomes more negative). Even when she’s angry with him, she still sees wonder and goodness in his actions. If Morpheus is a mirror of people, it makes sense to me that he wants to choose to mirror an outlook that values who he personally is, that is full of hope and strength and the potential for change.

I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE WEDDING. Im already planning it. I have a Pinterest board for Reader’s wedding dress and I’m picking songs that thematically support the wedding.

Just as a fun sneak peek: one of the songs that I put on the official treehouse playlist (you can find it here) will be the main theme of the wedding arc.

Aapki Khushi by Jasdeep Singh Degun and Ashnaa is an original song that was composed by Degun for British opera company Opera North’s production of L’Orfeo, an opera about Orpheus and Eurydice by Claudio Monteverdi.

Opera North’s production of L’Orfeo (you can watch them perform Aapki Khushi here) combined Indian and Western influences in their interpretation of this Italian opera (based off Ancient Greek myth). Eurydice and her family were Indian and Orpheus and his family were Western. Everyone sang in Hindu and Italian. Persephone sung in Tamil. The opera had traditional Indian musicians on stage with Western musicians. Orpheus wore a traditional Western suit and Eurydice wore traditional Indian bridal dress with words embroidered around the edge of her veil.

Aapki Khushi was composed to fit into the Italian opera score while supporting the Indian influences Opera North added to their production. The title translates to “your joy is my joy.”

This is something I am hoping to bring to the wedding between Morpheus and Reader - a combination of Western culture and international culture, taking people/cultures/customs that are often excluded from Western fantasy stories and including them, adding more beauty and color than would have existed without them.

(And of course, anything related to Orpheus gets a mention in treehouse. I think that if Morpheus saw this production of this opera, it would make him mournful yet happy with how it celebrates Orpheus.)

(This is another aspect of what I meant when I said that Orpheus’s presence will be felt throughout the story. By picking this song for the wedding arc, I (as the author) felt like I was getting Orpheus’s blessing for his father’s second marriage.)

[stomp-that-ho-regard]

Now, as a continuation from my previous twitter rant...

While I was doing my digging, I found out that beau/jes is the same person I screenshotted in my 'FJ was weird in the reunion' post. Here's the tweet link. (I was genuinely surprised. I tend not to remember handles once I gray them out in a screenshot.)

They're apparently 'new'. Like, started last year, new. Along with most of the people they interact with.

The thing about them, as evidenced by their complete dislike of FJ, is that they're actually NOT a complete dumbass. They genuinely ship BJ, list it as their #1 ship (over BY), and agree with our gripes about how BJ was handled...

Along with a bunch of other stuff. (Even their mutual in this screenshot is talking sense.)

That's why it boggles my mind how a person with seemingly this much sense, can still have such a dense take on such a casual comment.

But now, here's where my general gripe with new fans comes in...

'Canonically lesbians from ep1' WRONG

In the very beginning, people kept going back and forth on whether Beau was gay or bi. Because of the slightly odd way Marisha was playing her at the time. I still remember the confusion and the speculation that followed Beau's interaction with a male captain. (I'm blanking on which ep this was, if someone can help me out, that'd be great. I think the party was talking to some soldiers on the road. That's not the best hint but it's all I've got.) Later in the ep, when Beau and Jester were having 'girl talk', Beau asked Jester about the guy and asked her if she thought he was 'checking her out' or was 'into her'. People were very confused, myself included. She didn't seem to be asking because she was bothered by it. She seemed... intrigued? It was fucking weird.

Much later in the campaign, there was an episode of TM, where Marisha received a question about the fandom calling Beau a 'disaster lesbian'. And all Marisha said was, "Yeah, that seems accurate." And it was only UNTIL that moment, that we had gotten any kind of official confirmation that Beau was for sure gay, and not possibly bi. (It was a very lazy confirmation, but a confirmation nonetheless.)

As for Yasha, well, I addressed this in the retcon post. She was also not confirmed as even being into women UNTIL the wife reveal in ep46. FORTY-SIX! Even then, there were people saying, "ok, but she could still be bi." And for all intents and purposes, she could've been. At the time, she was still not really responding to Beau's advances, and she never gave any hints on where her general interests lied.

So, what the fuck are these people talking about? That BY were 'canonically lesbians' since episode 1? Where does it say that? Who told them that?

It's impossible for me to take new fans seriously on most of their talking points, because they weren't here while it was happening. They have NO CLUE about all the conversations, and speculation, and drama over this shit. These people have never watched TM either. They don't know about any additional information that was disseminated or gleaned from that show that clarified some things and added depth to others. (And now, unfortunately, they never will, because CR took down all of the episodes. With good reason of course, but still, it sucks. Unless someone had the sense to rip the episodes from YT, then all we have are the little snippets/clips on Tumblr and twitter.)

So these people's takes are very often warped. Filled with either misinformation or missing context or both. A lot of the in-fandom stuff are things that you'll never find on a wiki page, or YT highlight reels, or official 'recaps'. That's why when I find a person who was not in the fandom when all this stuff was going down, yet feels bold enough to start speaking on developments in the show or fandom drama, and pontificating over what's right and what's wrong, and policing how people should feel about certain things (i.e. BJ not going anywhere), it makes my blood boil.

This has happened in almost every fandom I've been in, but it was worse with this one. Especially when we had such a large influx of new people just before and after the hiatus. And it was obvious the BY's had gotten to them right out of the gate, because these people immediately boarded the BY train, while simultaneously boarding the BJ hatewagon. They were turned against us as soon as they showed up. That misinformation I mentioned, no doubt came from BY's. As we all know, BY's LOVE to misinform people.

They're the ones who are constantly making up stories about our fandom. About the kinds of people we are. About the kinds of lives we must be living. Claiming "If they're saying this, [insert idiotic assumption here]: "they've never been in a relationship before" or "they must be straight" or "they just hate gay women being sexual" or "they must be virgins". Then there's the two most prevalent ones: BJ's are biphobic, and BJ's are TERFs.

Again, I can't take these people seriously. I cannot stand them.

Last thing... there were at least two people in the replies (of the 'heteronormative' tweet) calling BY butchfemme. In what universe is BY butchfemme?

They'll say wild shit like that but expect not to be mocked for it.

[klonoadreams]

Well, considering that I'm coming out of not being able to move my dominant hand for a long time (I couldn't draw cries), I'll ask questions.

Also-ran Will Brie have interactions with other characters? (I'm talking about characters like Red, Blue, Gold, Green, etc.)

Publicity is important, and considering that she wears clothes from a brand originating from Paldea, would they invite the little changeling to Paldea so she can talk about something? I could also give talks to children who feel abandoned (something quite common, but not said, at least in the anime, Brock and his brothers are a great example, even if that is in Kanto)

At some official gala/event she said "what the hell" to the repercussions and just took off her shoes?

Considering everything about how people try to imitate her idols, what have been the waves in the population in trying to follow her and be equal to her? (the girl is feral, she is made differently, even if they managed to give her a life outside the forest)

How would she behave if she went to Alola? (her parents are pokemon, and Alola is one of those who most see pokemon as equals)

Into the wild Do you know the "El Macho" meme from Despicable Me? is that Volo? (he has a son with what I think is one of your wildest ocs, she fishes with her teeth!)

The Wisteria Does she also show her love with bites? (like when cats get affection overload)

What would her future relationship with Shinjuro be like? (because, you know, alcoholism, even though he left it that's how she met him)

Does the Cat stay with the Owl? What is her ship name?

Would she plant a tree like the one she had in the backyard of the house? (because of the symbolism and familiarity)

Gone Fishing I feel like I know her but at the same time I don't, any information about her?

Will she be one of those who hides or will she send everything to hell with her and not care how people look at her because she is proud of her? (because, you know, racism)

I feel like her clothing style is that of a surfer and/or swimmer, I also feel like she dresses like Nani from Lilo and Stitch? (Also, Nani is a goddess, she gave everything for her sister, and David is a loving person, I also adore him)

I'VE BEEN STRUGGLING TO ANSWER THIS ASK BUT TUMBLR MOBILE HAS BEEN SCREWING ME OVER BY GETTING RID OF MY STUFF BEFORE I HAVE A CHANCE TO SAVE FOSKFNNF

ANYWAYS.

yes, brie will have her interactions with others, and as a reminder, Alola Noa and Scarnoa are also in this same continuity, so...lmao :V

Sawyer might pop up, I need to cook more with her first before I come up with an answer. And Punch Baby Akari definitely did exist, her bloodline continues lmao

She'd get along with the Pokemon of Alola so, so well, especially qhen interacting with the Tapus.

AND YES I KNOW EL MACHO, LMAO, yeah that sounds about right.

Andou does show love through bites, watch out. And the Cat and Owl shipname would be idk, Sunflower?? That sounds cute.

Andou sticks around close enough, though she will move in with Himejima, she just bounces from one place to another for training and socialization.

Shinjuro needs to pspspps for kitty to warm up to him. It'll take a while, but eventually. And yes, plant tree for Fujisaki house. :V

Mako is still a babbu, but she is very feral and a brat kid who drives her papa up the wall. But she is love and cherished. And also pretty fucked mentally since she's matured wayyyy to quickly for anyone of her physical age (its the discrimination and injustices)

Also yes, she'd vibe with Nani wear, tho she mostly sticks with comfy clothes.

At least until Nami and the others get to her, so she goes from shorts and t shirts to haltertops at the least, brought to you by Nami growing tired of her dorsal fin ripping the back of her shirts lmao.

She's the ship dress up doll at times lmao.

Otherwise, she keeps to herself unless otherwise. She checks for the right timing, if she sees it, she'll take it and say whats on her mind

Mainly when she knows she isnt alone to face the backlash lmao

[sheepwithspecs]

CarvRhos Fic List Masterpost

A handy list of every Carvallain / Rhoswen fic I've written to date, divided into handy categories for your viewing pleasure! This list will be updated periodically (read: when I can remember to do it).

Multi-Chapter Fics:

Surrender

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Completed: ✅

Author's Info: I like femdom.

Summary: 7 chapters of enemies/rivals to lovers written for those who crave unresolved romantic tension, angst, and un(requited) yearning with a happy ending. Takes place during the latter part of 5.x MSQ.

Read on: Ao3

Holding the Rhotano

Rating: Mature 🔞

Completed: ❌

Author's Info: I had this idea before Island Sanctuary and it made me so giddy to see that Merlwyb really would pull this kind of stunt.

Summary: Merlwyb pits the Maelstrom against the pirates in an attempt to see who will fare better when left to the mercy of the elements. Of course, these begrudging teammates will find common ground and maybe... bathe together? Scandalous.

Read on: Ao3

Playing to Win

Rating: Mature 🔞

Completed: ❌

Author's Info: This was originally for the ffxivbb but I ended up dropping out due to time constraints. I still love the premise so why not keep working on it, right?

Summary: Enemies/Rivals to lovers fic that takes place during 6.0. Carvallain deals with the events of the Final Days while also coming to terms with his burgeoning feelings for a certain loudmouthed corsair.

Ao3

Oneshots

Anniversaries

Rating: Teen

Author's Info: I couldn't stop thinking about Carvallain giving her flowers but refusing to tell her what they mean. Would Rhoswen even like them? Would she care?

Summary: From the first awkward encounters to decades-old lovers, a study of how pirates celebrate their "official" anniversaries.

Read on: Ao3, Tumblr

All Bets are Off

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Author's Info: Don't ask me what they were betting on or even why they were betting on it in the first place. I don't really know, and I'm almost afraid to ask.

Summary: After losing a bet, Rhoswen is forced to indulge Carvallain's whims for a single bell. Fortunately for her, he's not in the mood for torturous mockery. Unfortunately for her, he's something of an amateur voyeur (say it five times fast).

Read on: Ao3, Tumblr

Bewitched

Rating: Teen

Author's Info: What good is the Anchor Yard even for these days... they should put more quests there (or more NPC interactions :3)

Summary: Two pirates being a general nuisance by making out on the Navigator's Mark for no good reason.

Read on: Ao3, Tumblr

First Light

Rating: General

Author's Info: I love the idea of them being middle-aged lovers who are so comfortable with one another that they want to be emotionally available, but genuinely don't know how to be.

Summary: Hurt/Comfort fic where Charlemend dies (RIP). Despite being well-spoken, Carvallain finds himself at a loss for words.

Read on: Ao3, Tumblr

Ficlets / Drabbles / Misc.

"Almost Kiss"

Rating: Teen

Author's Info: If I'd had more of a word count he'd have ended up on his knees for sure.

Summary: Kabe-don?

Read on: Tumblr

"Rivals"

Rating: General

Author's Info: I love the thought that Rhoswen and Sicard get along in the way an older sister occasionally indulges an overly energetic brother...

Summary: Carvallain is jealous of Sicard for encroaching on his territory as the #1 pain in Rhoswen's arse (not that he's even trying)

Read on: Tumblr

"Blind Date"

Rating: General

Author's Info: Despite her being a classic tsundere "tough girl" I headcanon that Rhoswen is secretly a little fashionable and probably has at least one really nice shirtwaist she doesn't get to wear often.

Summary: A'brohka and Gerald pull off a master plot to get their captains together on a blind date at the Bismark... and then run for their lives.

Read on: Tumblr

"Only One Bed"

Rating: Teen

Author's Info: If you ask me (which you didn't) the Firmament Quests will end with Carvallain coming to see firsthand how his father has changed only to find that Rhoswen has followed him in the fear that he might actually want to stay in Ishgard.

Summary: Let's face it, that inn room in the Forgotten Knight is NOT retaining heat.

Read on: Tumblr

"Friends with Benefits"

Rating: Mature 🔞

Author's Info: Probably the most accurate fic on this list, tbh.

Summary: Post Round 1; Pre Round 2

Read on: Tumblr

"Love Hurts"

Rating: Mature

Author's Info: Yum, delicious pining and unrequited feelings and guilt and shameless desperation-

Summary: What if Carvallain was just going through it™ ?

Read on: Tumblr

[mmikmmik2]

If you were to sort the Infinity Train cast(s) into the Major Arcana a la the Persona games, which Arcana would you give everyone?

anon I had SOOOOO much fun thinking about this, thank you so much for sending me this. I sorted all the major characters, plus a few other entries, based on a mix of Arcana symbolism, Persona series character archetypes, and general vibes. I came up with answers I feel pretty good about for all but four of the Arcana. (Was really tempted to say Strength is every human character who doesn't board the train because they can handle their problems on their own lol.) This is going to be a long-winded post, so I thought I’d post just the list as an image (which hopefully won’t be too blurry!) rather than wrestle with Tumblr formatting trying to make a short list, and put a big text wall under the readmore talking more about my picks.

If this list does end up illegible, the same info is under the readmore as text! Plus some characters for Magician, Strength, Justice, and Death that I didn’t want to add to the “official” list because they’re more based on headcanon. (Although my reasoning for some of the “official” picks is pretty weak lol.)

One-One as 0. The Fool

Oh my gosh, what am I?

IT is great at fleshing out character backstories and families, so One-One at the beginning of S1 is one of the few characters who really feels like a blank slate. He's got a lot of his baggage back by the end of the season, and I think One and One-One are more similar than they seem at first glance, but S1 does seem to have been very formative for One-One and how he thinks about what he's supposed to be doing and how he relates to other people. So it does kind of feel like his fool's journey.

Alrick Timmens as I. The Magician

The magician begins the journey... by beefing it on a dirt bike, dying, and sending his wife flying off the deep end. Rip.

Alrick was an engineer like Amelia, so I could see him suiting some of the themes of the Magician, like conscious thought and manifesting ideas. His apparent playfulness and insecurity are similar to the Magician characters in Persona.

Kez as II. The High Priestess

“We can’t make this decision for you, Kez.” “You know what to do.”

I thought really hard about making Kez the Magician because just like every Magician since Persona 3, she's dumb, horny, and insecure dlkjasfdkl

(and also her showing up at the start of the story arc and being helpful but also super needy is very Magician)

But the idea of "intuition" really does suit Kez. Sometimes her intuition is as bad as her conscious reasoning, but I think that's a lot because she's so confused about what happened with Jeremy, and Morgan making Kez feel like she did a bad thing by helping him.

Tuba as III. The Empress

She made me feel like I was warm all the time.

Tuba's a mom. Sorry, this one's not that deep, haha.

Simon Laurent as IV. The Emperor

Highest number! I'm the leader now.

Simon has a lot of issues, but the one that felt the most prominent to me was his unhealthy relationship with power, authority, dominance, and rules. Another quote I considered using here was what he said in Grace's memory of meeting Amelia: "I never thought I'd get to see the Conductor with my own eyes. He's perfect! Everything finally makes sense again." In his emotional crisis, he thought everything could be fixed just by the existence of a huge, scary, powerful, male authority figure, even if they weren't doing anything helpful or informative.

Atticus as V. The Hierophant

I like to think that our stones are sturdy and handsome, like the Corgis that crafted them.

Atticus is a figure of traditional authority who deeply loves the history, society, and culture of his people. He often provides spiritual wisdom and encourages Tulip to get out of her own head and engage with the world around her. Also in Persona, Hiero is the Dad Arcana so it's very funny to me (a) to make the little dog be Hiero and (b) that the little dog really does have the strongest Wholesome Dad Energy of the whole cast.

Jesse Cosay as VI. The Lovers

Don't tell me what to do. I'm not going to be a part of anything like this, on or off the train.

This was my first and easiest pick lol, Jesse is sooooo Lovers. Like, the focus on choice and personal values and relationships? Yep, that's Jesse. It works on an "actual meaning of the Arcana" level and a "vibes with the Persona characters" level lol... popular, upbeat, and having such an identity crisis.

Lake as VII. The Chariot

I'm my own person, who is getting off this train!

I don't know if Chariot captures all the ways Lake grew over the course of S2, but I feel like they had the most externally focused conflict of all the IT characters, which suits Chariot. They've been fighting to stake out their personhood from start to finish, and they took action and used their willpower to achieve that goal. Also they have at least a little jock energy which is a prereq for Chariot tbh.

Frank as VIII. Strength

I dunno, I kinda imagine him as a simple man and easily underestimated, but with a lot of heart. The Cat may say they're keeping things casual but I don't think she'd take him with her on her private vacation unless he had some kind of inner toughness that would let him stand toe-to-toe with her.

Morgan as IX. The Hermit

I need to be alone right now. Kez... maybe... we can talk later.

I like that Morgan embodies toxic self-isolation and stonewalling and rejection, but that she seems to be moving towards the positive aspects of Hermit and taking some time to calm down and process and think. I like it when characters can embody the best and worst of their Arcana.

Tulip Olsen as X. The Wheel of Fortune

We have to adapt to the changes in our lives. It's the only way things can get better.

Tulip has a lot of themes and conflicts, but this one is a clear standout as the most important. I also like it for Tulip because, while she has to handle a lot of difficult and even traumatic situations, some of the change that challenges her isn't as unambiguously bad as e.g. the death of a loved one. It really is just change itself she's struggling with, and that's Fortune babey. Also, from the perspective of the train itself and lots of other characters, by reversing Amelia and One-One's positions again and changing how One-One administrates the train, Tulip is the one giving the wheel a spin. That's fun.

Lucy as XI. Justice

One of my friends once described the Justice characters in Persona as "the ones the player character is ultimately accountable towards", and I like to think of Lucy as kind of being that for Grace (...since Hazel has excused herself). Lucy is the Apex kid we see Grace interact with the most, the first Apex kid Grace admitted to herself that she had harmed (see Grace very briefly showing distress and then regret when Jesse points the harpoons at his face and she stops him), and the first person to confront Grace when she came home in The New Apex.

Min-Gi Park as XII. The Hanged Man

I don't know if we'll sell a single album, but we'll figure that out as we go.

Min-Gi sacrifices his "realistic", "sensible" goals for a more personally (spiritually, even?) enriching life that's beyond his control and outside of the expected norm. Like the Hanged Man, who dangles foolishly upside-down, but as a deliberate choice and in a state of serenity and enlightenment. I also think this arcana suits a reading of Min-Gi's character development as starting off going slower as a way to stall and live in denial, but then going slower with deliberation. Compare his arrogant insistence on refusing to act in The Astro Queue Car to his patience and care in The Castle Car and The Train to Nowhere.

Jeremy as XIII. Death

This isn't about the death of his family - I'm thinking of his reluctance to admit his number was going down. He cared about Morgan and Kez, and it's possible both that he may have really wanted to stay with them despite his exit and that that might even have been a healthy choice - they're real ass people with feelings and everything, not holodeck characters. But I also think Jeremy was using his life with them to avoid moving on out of that fog (because it was hard and it hurt and he didn't want to think about what that would mean for him and Morgan) and Morgan was enabling him.

Ryan Akagi as XIV. Temperance

Maybe the experience is the point. I wasn't just rushing you. I was rushing myself.

I think this one speaks for itself. Also, the other quote I considered putting here, from The Art Gallery Car: "You told me I can't appreciate the song without taking in the rest of the album. I need the whole package."

The Cat as XV. The Devil

I always do the right thing.

Honestly, this is one I really wasn't sure about. The Cat isn't a great pick for a lot of the meanings of Devil. She is definitely consumed by material comforts, and the short-term rewards of ignoring her issues at a long-term cost, though. This is more of a "vibes with Persona characters with this arcana" pick... Devil characters tend to start off being somewhat exploitative or even antagonistic towards the player character, and gradually showing a more conflicted and genuine side.

Amelia Hughes as XVI. The Tower

There's a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be.

Amelia's life is defined by catastrophe and upheaval - both those she's suffered and those she's inflicted on others.

Hazel as XVII. The Star

I'm going to keep loving you like you're still here.

When I think of "The Star" as a small but inextinguishable light in the darkness, Hazel seems like the obvious choice. Although we left her deeply wounded, I think she still has a flicker of her hope, faith, and purpose.

Grace Monroe as XVIII. The Moon

But it's unfair for me to tell you how to understand yourself. I mean, I don't even fully understand me.

Grace is probably the most complex and dynamic character on the show and hence one of the most difficult to place. I considered Empress, Strength, Devil, and Judgement for her... I think ultimately, lies and illusions are the most unifying theme of her character arc. Also, from a Persona angle, her pursuit of status out of a lack of true self-worth reminds me of Ai and Mishima.

Alan Dracula as XIX. The Sun

Brought together by the majesty of a superpowered deer!

I'm sorry dkjasfklads this is largely because I thought it was funny to have this completely inexpressive dead-eyed deer as Sun akfk but also... like... it kind of works okay!!! Think about the genuine joy and comfort and positivity he brings to Lake and Jesse (and me)!

The New Apex as XX. Judgement

"Then what are we gonna be?" "Guess we'll have to figure it out?"

This is kind of a Persona mythology gag again because of Judgement being a group social link near the end of the narratives of P3 and P4, when the protagonists have pierced through the lies and actually figured out who the villain of their game is and are ready to really start making progress.

0 as XI. The World

Ah, train does it again!

It's an ending and the completion of a journey, but also the beginning of a new one. And the world is literally what the passengers receive at the end of their train journey. Welcome home.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 2)

CHAPTER 1

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Y/N seemed to already have a spot in the house, and also a feverish feeling inside her heart. Totally unwavering and in distress. Geralt could feel it happening again as he could feel his heart soften at the woman who'd pop out of nowhere, thus; he doesn't know if her arrival has been a good thing or can be considered as ill-fate for him. 

Warnings: Modern references because reader lives in modern day era in earth. Geralt and Jaskier banters, non-stop. 😂 Just a filler chapter but also considered important because we can see how frustrated and scared the reader is and not being happy in an instant? 😂 Kinda fluff with Geralt and Y/N’s interaction? 

Words: 4,500+ (IT'S DAMN LONG. I'VE BEEN TOO HAPPY WRITING THEIR BANTERS 😂)

A/N: 2nd chapter for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT! 😊 This will prolly consist of 15-20 chapters or less! 😊 TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE IN THIS SERIES, POTATOES! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS FIRST PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters and said monsters aren't from moi as well. (Gif down below is from witches-ground)

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots! 

You sat on the dusty, creaking wooden chair that they owned. Eyes studying your surroundings as Jaskier moved around to get a pale of water while Geralt stood a meter away from you; leaning on a wall with his muscular arms across his chest, silently watching you like a hawk.

The stares he have been giving you were completely tangible for the naked eye or it was probably because you were conscious of his incomprehensible gawking. You noticed their roof was also thatched. Adding a burning furnace which also utilizes as their stove and heat for the night.

Your face frown at the realization that they didn't have any refrigerator nor a stove but noticed two rooms sat together. You've heard ruffling from the far back and liquid being poured down the bucket as your eyes landed on the man watching you in silence. Abruptly, a soft, vindicated smile raised your lips as you leisurely shook your legs left to right to suppress the consternation tingling your nerves, "Thank you," a quiet, sincere whisper was all Geralt heard amongst the oak wood burning in the background.

No answer was given other than having to take a gander as you sat away from him; a little bit recherché with that look in his eyes, "Thank you for saving me, Geralt." you repeated to utter out a word from the man himself. From the moment you've heard his voice; surprisingly, it was rather soothing to your anxious nerves. Frightening thoughts run over cars after cars inside your brain as you didn't know what the future holds.

You didn't even know how to go home. They've been avoiding the question as to where you could find the airport.

Geralt's name that rolled off your tongue sounded unfamiliar and thoroughly anomalous. But, you would probably get used to it once the dream reaches an end.

Technically, that was the problem. You didn't know if it was entirely a dream because it felt so real.

Shifting were heard and you've come to realize that Geralt had lifted himself off the wall, taking heavy steps close as you guiltlessly gawked at him. He fairly lifted the hem of his black long-sleeved shirt, giving you a slight view of his jutting torso. You've anxiously cleared your throat and avoided his pretty glowing, golden eyes keeping under scrutiny.

God has been testing your forbearance since you've woken up in the forest. Adding more inclinations to probably torture you till you wake up from your utter deep sleep.

Much to your inattentive state and your eyes shutting tightly; asking the heavens to wake you up in that instance, Geralt stopped before you; giving much space for you to breathe and seeming to be standing on your side rather than in front because it would be a very nubile sight to be in face with his leather-clothed crotch.

Damn you and your short genes.

"You are awake," he suddenly distracted you from your distraught. You were completely engrossed on wishing out loud for whoever to just kick you on the bed so you could be awakened.

Geralt dangled a piece of cloth in front of your face. Minimal blood dots containing the cloth on his hands. So that's what he was doing when he'd tried to give you a sneak peak of his chiseled torso. He ripped the piece of a long white clothing used for his wounds that surrounded his body.

There was blood. It simply means he's really human and not anything part of a pack of wolves.

"What's this for?" you've observed the piece of clothing hanging in front of you. Brows in a tight twist as you winced from the itch on a part of your soot-filled face. Geralt left no reply and gathered his hand on yours, the sudden gesture making you jump in your seat because of the sudden touch. His hand giving you some kind of tepid, amiable warmth that made you believe that everything was real and true as you catch a sight of his passive expression.

You've felt a soft cloth fall on the soft center of your palm, "--For the grime scattered all over your face and body," As quick as he'd grabbed onto your hands, he was fast enough to leave them hanging in front of you as he turned his booted heel. The width of his abnormally burly shoulders giving you a view as he strolled around their cozy home, locking your gaze on his overwhelming presence.

"You don't have to...." a trail of thoughts protested out loud as he'd crouched before a leather bag, thus hearing a clothing being ripped after. There was a Lute sitting beside the bag and you've took notice of it and focused on the instrument instead, wondering if Geralt owns the string instrument. Geralt rose to his feet and situated himself in front of you again to dangle another set of torn, clean white cloth, "---and for your wounds,"

The smile you sent was thoroughly cordial and unnerving. Geralt was supposed to turn away and mind his own business until you've peered up at him like a cat asking for attention. The powerful looking man had to emit an evident sigh; cursing beneath his breath that questioned your sanity as to why he was already kneeling before you; eye to eye and probably trying to enchant you as it bear into your mind that magical things have been happening since the moment you've woken up.

Yes, you debated with yourself and believed in your hunches that his effect with you had something to do with casting a spell for you.

"Do...you have a name?" he grumbled with a slight drawl to his words. His unorthodox eyes were much clearer against the fire and thoroughly fetching. You've had to blink to ruin the spell he'd tried to cast upon you and took your time in understanding what he have asked.

"Ughm," you mumbled like an idiot and played with the cloth in your hand, gaze fixated on the ball of cloth scrunched on your palm, "Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,"

Geralt was attentive of your palpable and otherwordly scent. It was completely out of this world and he probably meant that literally because of how mystifying and strange you were around them. The latter could also hear the fast beating of your heart, taking to account that the effect of it was rather much a mental struggle he didn't know. Howbeit, the other half was another piece he wasn't familiar about.

He'd given you that captivating look as you continued to stare at your fidgeting fingers, "Are you a princess?" at that declaration and inquiry, your head snapped, fast enough to give you whiplash. A scrunch of your nose telling him that you've found his question rather uncanny, "What--as much as I'd want to be a princess, I think I'd rather suit to be a queen,"

You've bunched the cloth in your hand and restlessly cough onto it, looking anywhere except for that stare he was giving. What were you even saying? 'Where was Jaskier?' the voice inside your head spoke for your nerves.

A side of Geralt's lip involuntary lifted into a smirk, "You'd suit to be a midget," he paused, golden eyes glowing in amusement, "---A grimy, naive midget,"

His opinion suddenly struck a gut in you, snapping your head to meet his mischievous golden peepers, "EXCUSE ME?" you exclaimed, rather offended.

"Y/N of Novigrad? Vizima? Brokilon--" Geralt started telling peculiar names of places, and you were quick to object his options, "No! Y/N from State farm,"

There was a long minute of silence. His forehead creasing because of the bafflement that was accountable to your words. Geralt has never heard of that kingdom. If so, the kingdom had a bizarre name out of the ones he'd visited. State Farm didn't sound frightening to him if there were even beasts he could kill. Other than that, those beasts in State Farm rather had creatures like Hirikkas or Sylvans.

Entirely harmless for an unknown person like you, if you were still alive by now.

"Kingdom of State Farm," he lowly grumbled, keeping the name of the place in mind as a hum followed through, "Hmm,"

Your mouth momentarily went ajar as he nodded to himself, giving credence to the pun that was shared. The joke seeming to be rather irking than funny because of how convinced he appeared to look like.

"What do you mean hmm? It was a joke! You actually believed it--oh my! This is depressing!" you crowed with a finger to your temples, giving them a massage. Geralt guiltlessly cocked his head to the side, watching you rant and rave like you were close to having your patience blown.

He continued to stare you down with chaste; utterly childlike innocence, making you ogle back at him because he really had no idea what it was. Geralt seemed to wait for your vexation to stop and you couldn't help but bite the insides of your cheeks, feeling guilty for being frustrated when the man himself didn't actually know what it was.

"---I'm from...earth," your voice turned a volume lower, only for him to hear as you were close to melting from those blazing eyes.

You've raised a finger just before his chest, pointing your index at him as you couldn't help the tender beam growing on your face despite of how much problem you were experiencing.

"E.T vibes,"

Geralt eyed your finger in bewilderment. You high-spiritedly wiggled your finger for him to connect; a soft giggle baffling him to the extent as he watch you waggle your finger in front of him. Much to your disappointment, he distractedly grabbed onto your finger and shook your finger like he was shaking your hand.

Your giggle died down and so a disappointed frown was about to appear when the crash of a door opening resonated in the house. Jaskier tumbling in with a bucket of water as he gave off a set of exasperated breaths.

Geralt continued to shake your finger wrapped around his palm, never minding Jaskier who marched towards where you were and his gaze fixated on the connection at hand.

Jaskier dropped the pail of water beside you, breathing in a long breath before giving you both a double-take of his surprised expression, huffing out the rude awakening that startled out his breathing.

"What am I just witnessing?"

His Witcher of a friend instantly ceased from shaking your finger, dropping them like he'd been cauterized and languidly turned his head to peer up at Jaskier who has his eyebrow up in a sassy state.

"You treat her wounds, Geralt."

He gave the Bard a glare and a tight grimace.

They've continued their stare down contest and made you smile to yourself. Their friendship seemed to be pretty much earnest from how they playfully bantered at each other. More passionate than what you had back at home. Thus, you continued cleaning yourself; after saying your thanks to Jaskier and he seemed to smile a smug one at that before going back to narrow his eyes at the man before him.

"What? Don't you give me that scowl! I've already fetched a bucket of water for the grimy lady,"

"---You've also ruined my nap for this woman!" Jaskier retorted back even though he'd only gotten an unpleasant hum from the latter.

"Her name is Y/N Y/L/N," Geralt deeply chided as you continued wiping your filth-filled face and neck. Glad to know that he wasn't looking and gave his friend the attention he needed.

"Greetings, Y/N of Y/L/N." Jaskier started rather confidently, humbly and acknowledging you who sat in front of Geralt.

You've squeezed the cloth out from being drenched as you felt much squeaky clean than earlier. Once you've realized its done as you've essentially washed the dirt away from your wounds, you dropped the cloth Geralt has given you inside the bucket, fishing out the set of new clean cloth hidden under your leg, "My name is Y/N and Y/L/N is not a place--"

Your thoughts were ceased as Geralt pulled the long cloth out of your hands. The flat part of the bandage being wrapped around your wounded knee. Your heart was jumping in utter madness and you tried to softly pull it back, apprehensively looking into his eyes as he gazed at you in question. "I-I can do it on my own, Geralt. It's fine,"

He seemed to be reluctant at first, staring at you with no words said before humming to himself about his approval of leaving you to it as he stood on his soles.

The proximity was undeniably giving you an edge of one's seat. So, it was better to avoid the warmth at all cost until you haven't shaken up from your dream.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes on the cloth on your hands, seeming to recognize the bandage. His eyebrows raising in displeasure. "Is that..Is that a piece of my clean under-tunic?! You've ripped it off, didn't you?!" he snapped his head towards the Witcher and had his brows in a twist.

Geralt only gave him a small smirk as he brazenly stood tall before the bard, crossing his arms across his chest.

The bard started to reiterate again, jotting down points after points in bullet form as to how unreasonable it was to cut a piece of precious clothing just for it to be wrapped around for a wound, "I've bought it from a beautiful merchant named Albreda on a marketplace--"

"You've bed the fuck out of her in exchange for the Tunic, Jaskier."

The haughty tone in Geralt's voice made Jaskier groan; not because he was wrong but his friend was also right and he was frustrated because he was feeling guilty of nothing in particular, "Oh, gods! This is obnoxious! You're lucky I treat you as a friend!"

"Simmer down, you're going to wake Ciri." Geralt continued to grouch and nodded his head to the door beside his own bedroom.

"Oh, no you don't get to include Princess Cirilla in this defense of yours, Witcher!"

You were completely unaware of their banters. Though, you were certainly curious as to what has Jaskier been calling Geralt like it was established and a brand named for him. Your ears perked at the name been said.

"Witcher? You're a witch?"

Both men refrained themselves to continue their repartee. Eyes glued to each other before giving you a glimpse and saw the agog in your eyes, wishing for an explanation or answer.

You've scanned the whole house, searching for a cauldron and anything that could sense he was a witch, yet none. "Where's the cauldron where you cite spells or anything?"

Geralt subtly shook his head, "That's not my job,"

A wag of understanding was given; thinking that maybe you got it all wrong based on the video games you've managed to finish back at your home with your Playstation. Jaskier stepped a foot close, a cordial smile carving his lips, "That small rat, is a mage, a sorcerer or a wizard you are saying,"

He stepped another as he let you continue to wrap the wounds on your knees with his ripped clothing. The frustration suddenly thrown out in the sky as he cleared his throat, raising a hand to Geralt's chest to stop him from even saying anything, "Let me handle this Geralt, I'm downright absolute at this---"

His nose flared at where the topic was going, Geralt knew what was he pointing out and how his poetic wits could get him enthusiastic and utter clumsy, "Your endeavor makes my head hurt to its extent," he bleated with a deep groan sent to the latter.

"I can sing you a song to give you knowledge about Witchers--" he cut his friend off with a deep scold, "Jaskier,"

"What?! Every villager loved it! They've also learned to be accustomed by your presence whenever you're around!" he elaborated, straightening his back with a gesture of his hands as he twirled it around to prove his point.

"Well, your singing is like eating a pie and finding it has no filling,"

With that witty comeback, Jaskier dramatically clasp his hands on his hips, mouth forming an 'O' as he pointed at his friend like he has been deeply insulted below the belt; repeatedly shaking his head as he couldn't accept his opinions, "The audacity! Your character development is declining in such a repugnant way tonight, Geralt!"

Thus, all of a sudden; you've been included in their random retaliation as Jaskier pointed a finger at you, "This is her fault! She ruined your nap!"

Geralt gave out a fascinated hum, "You're just mad because you were frightened by an Alghoul,"

Jaskier shut his mouth at that, mouth hanging mid-way before closing like a gold fish. He cleared his throat for the second time around and nodded to you as you looked up at him after bandaging every wound you have that were sensitive and rather deep. A small smile at how satisfied you were with your work and at both of their foolishness.

Jaskier blinked as he saw you be all smiles despite of your problem at hand. Their banters surprisingly calmed your anxiety away for the moment and you couldn't help but be entertained by whatever they were talking about. He tightly shut his mouth before looking at Geralt and seeing him already taking a good look at your twinkling smile. He'd given you both a once over, a skeptical look flashing before his eyes and ignored the Witcher beside him and setting his bright blue eyes on you.

"You'll have your explanation of Witchers next time, small, adorable maiden. Geralt over here is just stingy about the whole ordeal because of certain pasts that he doesn't want to hear,"

Another exonerated beam was given to Jaskier which made him nod to himself because of how much radiance he had been receiving from your merry self; simultaneously followed by a nod of understanding that came from you.

"You need to sleep," Geralt gave away on the spur of the moment. Golden eyes still on you as you could feel the heat crawling on your skin for the third time this night.

Jaskier hummed a yes before responding and sublimely bummed to see that Geralt wasn't actually pertaining to him; but to you, "I know I do---" he shut his mouth before adding humiliation to the abrupt blissful feeling he'd felt after looking at you.

"---My bed is unattainable," the bard changed his sentence as he tried to read his mind. Nonetheless, he was contemplating that maybe Geralt would give his own bed to you or maybe not. "---Also, she needs to change into a much comfortable set of clothing," Jaskier stated the obvious as he took in your soiled clothes that you were wearing.

Geralt just gave him a look and with just one glance he was sure at what he wanted to say despite of not opening his mouth.

"You've already ripped a part of my under-Tunic, Geralt. I'm not having it,"

The Witcher cussed beneath his breath and gave him a glare. Jaskier's will unwavering, "Fuck," before strutting to his room and shutting the wooden door closed.

You and Jaskier looked at each other in utmost peculiarity; shrugging both of your shoulders at the sudden exit of the man himself. He was quick to come out of his room with a rather large looking black, thin, Tunic buttoned top which seemed to be fitted for him and rather short.

Geralt handed the shirt and you wholeheartedly accepted the clothing in a heart beat, "This is...Thanks," it was much better than having no clothing to change as you realized there was no shorts or underpants included with the simple long sleeved shirt, "Turn around, please."

Both of their foreheads creased with only Geralt having the desire question your point.

"Why?"

You raised a skeptical brow at him, standing on your seat with the single clothing you were holding, "Unless, you want to watch me get changed then..."

Jaskier scoffed at that, also hearing a perceptible snort as he gave his friend a look of mischief; with Geralt already having a tight scowl on his face, his friend wanting to add more tightness to that scowl he was having, "Maybe Geralt would want that based on how grouchy he is tonight! This Witcher needs to bed a woman after a month of great abstinence--Ow!"

The bard has been smacked on the head by the Witcher which made Jaskier stumble from the weight. Geralt snaked his heavy arm around his shoulder, never forgetting the nerving smile he has given you before turning them both around to give you your time to change.

"Shut up, Jaskier."

Jaskier gave him the stink eye, rubbing at his head because of how heavy and painful it was. His abilities could get Jaskier in bruises because of foul play.

You changed in haste, not wanting for them to see you in your unpatterned undergarments in the midst of it all because they were impatient enough and that you were taking too long.

"I can..take the chair and the table," you dubiously started to inform them that you were done. Geralt's shirt on you stopped just below your thighs, leaving your legs bare but enough to cover the decency you wanted because it was huge.

They both turned around and studied you from head to toe, a groan rumbling out of Geralt's chest as his eyebrows seemed to draw closer. The bard gave him an unimpressed tone of his voice, "That’s your kind of comfortable?"

“It’s kind of...freeing. Believe me,” 

They’ve shared another minute of death stares before you smiled to yourself. 

You shook your head to tell them that you were thankful of their help, giving them both another beam which reached from ear to ear as you pointed to their wooden table which seemed to be rather quite feeble as well as the chair that came with it. Four chairs surrounding the table that peaked your curiosity as to whom was living in the house aside from Jaskier and Geralt, "I can rest my head down on the table, I think it could suffice for now,"

"---Besides, I think I wouldn't stay long enough. I'll probably find a way to...an airport or something," you added, smile now wavering because you could feel your heart dropping because of the thought of never going back again.

Geralt stared you down with that subtle slant of his head, watching you speak, "As long as we're in earth," you tried to get an answer out of them, yet their silence says that they didn't know what you were really talking about, "---please do tell me we're in earth,"

Geralt exhaled a sigh, making your nerves stutter from the scary demeanor of his that was back again like the curtains has been opened. He didn't know what to say nor explain to you whatever it is that has teleported you in their dimension because he certainly had no idea that it was even possible from the start.

He was sure of the portals made by wizards and sorceress' that can only reach a certain depth of dimension, not thoroughly a dimension where their world couldn't seem to connect with each other. A portal only exists and can be opened through witchcraft and not having one partial entrance.

Though, why have you suddenly pop out of nowhere in middle of the far north forest of Kaedwan when you've originally lived on earth?

"Get some sleep, Midget." was the only answer as Geralt left without a smile, walking to his room and leaving your heart bothered at the fact that your questions were unanswerable by them and even you, yourself.

Jaskier have managed to rummaged a piece of clothing as a pillow for you to sleep on. Technically, he only has one and you've objected when he wanted to give it to you because you knew laying on the floor with a thin looking carpet seem to be uncomfortable in the eye and physically itself.

The cracking of wood was the only sound you've heard other than Jaskier's shifting on his side of the room. He was twisting and turning, completely distracted by your fourth attempt in sighing out loud as you've held onto your full battery phone that strangely didn't even had the clock on. It was simply four dashes which has been unable to tell the time back in your country.

You were staring on your phone, seeing the battery level go down to ninety-nine percent and you've decide to take the battery off, so you can use it for emergency purposes in the future.

The battery was off in just one lift of the recharge-able bank. Thus, in the middle of being eaten by your own pessimistic thoughts, Jaskier turned around as he laid on his bed, looking at your hunched form, your arms on the table and fingers holding your temple, "I...I....You seem to be in a distress," the latter stuttered, finding the correct words to comfort you.

He continued with a hushed timbre of his voice, "---I don't know what to say because this world is filled with magic and monsters," pause. "Geralt can only be the person to help you in going back home,"

You've taken a proper look at him, tears forming your eyes by how you were thinking that there was no going back. The knot in your throat making you swallow hard because you didn't want to cry in front of a stranger no matter how much of a softie you are. The fire emitting a rare sight of Jaskier's face glowing under the flames, "---That is if you really aren't from here and you've just hit your head on a rock or something,"

There it was, the tears starting to fall before you've immediately gathered those tears with the pad of your fingers. The utter hopelessness and sadness suddenly weighing on you like a boulder. Jaskier couldn't see you from his perspective, though he could hear the tiny sniffs coming from the other side of the house.

"---Maybe after getting some sleep, you'll get to go back home and magically pop back to where you came from, Y/N."

You've breathed out of your mouth and fumbled with the hem of the sleeves that covered your hands, solemnly looking at Tunic that the Witcher has let you use as your own. The cloth seeming to be wonderful for some snot and tear catching expeditions of yours.

There was no answer sent to the Bard as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He did eventually as you continued your weeping in the middle of the night, thinking that nobody will be able to hear it.

Though, you were wrong because you were unaware of Geralt's heightened senses as he sat on his bed and contemplated as to why your scent was indistinguishable from Yennefer. Entirely greater, stronger. Yet, with you; there was no magic involved.

Chapter 2 for WITCHER OF THE NIGHT is here now! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE FEEDBACKS WHEN YOU DO LOVE IT! Thank you, tater tots!

[sunsetcurbed]

i’ll keep us together (whatever it takes)

Pairing: Alex/Willie  Words: 9,237 Rating: T  Warnings: none read on AO3 

Summary:  “Willie,” Julie’s voice sounds.  “Hey, Julie,” Willie greets. “I—uh—“ “Can Alex not see you?” she whispers. Okay, so… right. Right. This is a thing. (*) (or: alex has changed, and he's all but taken away from willie. willie doesn't settle for that.) I found out that apparently tumblr doesn’t post link posts in the tags unless they get a lot of notes so I’m reposting this as a text post and also posting the fic here on tumblr as well! Fic under the read more. :) 

(*)

"Hey," Willie cheers, watching as Alex walks into the garage, head hanging down. Alex doesn't look up, just walks over and flops dramatically on the couch. Willie laughs at his boyfriend, and follows over. "Hey, hot dog," he calls again. Alex still doesn't look up. Furrowing his eyebrows, Willie crouches down next to him and reaches out to shake Alex's shoulder.

His hand passes through.

Willie draws his hand back quickly in surprise, and stares down at it. He reaches again, and again, his hand passes through Alex.

He scrambles to his feet and looks around. Something's wrong. Something—he's not sure what's going on, but something…

He steps back, and back, and back, until he's standing in the middle of the studio, and rushes through the open door. He stands in the driveway for a minute, struggling with his thoughts, until—

"Willie," Julie's voice whispers.

His head snaps up and he sees her walking down the pathway from her house. They found out last year that Julie could see all ghosts, and that her power extended beyond they band in that aspect. Unfortunately, Willie didn't share their powers in becoming visible when playing an instrument, which was one of the first things they tried, right after trying to rid Willie of Caleb's stamp. Neither had worked.

"Hey, Julie," Willie greets. "I—uh—"

"Can he not see you?" she whispers.

Okay, so… right. Right. This is a thing. She already knew about it, which—

"No. Why can't he?"

Julie walks towards him and offers a smile. But it's—it's a sad smile, one that Willie knows is accompanied by bad news. Suddenly, he regrets asking. "He's alive."

What?

No, seriously, what?

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know… unfinished business. Does… do you know if 'crossing over' means back to the world of the living?"

"I—I-I don't know? I wouldn't think so? I've never see someone cross over. I just thought…"

"We did, too," Julie says. "But the guys… we signed today. With a record label."

"What? That's awesome!" Alex had mentioned Destiny Management but he hadn't said they were officially signing.

"It is," she says, but her voice doesn't sound like it. "After each one of them signed, they came back to life, though. Heart, blood, eating, sleeping, everything."

Willie shakes his head. "But they should have…"

"We always thought that when they did their unfinished business, they'd… go to heaven, or whatever. But apparently crossing over, at least for them, meant crossing over back to the living."

"So Alex…"

"He's not like me," Julie frowns. "He can't see you."

"Fuck," Willie curses. There's a noise in the studio, and Willie turns around and sees Alex through the window, walking towards the driveway. "I—I gotta go," he stammers, and then he's gone from there and landing in the sand on the beach, where he had thought he and Alex would spend their time tonight.

Fuck, he thinks. All the pain the last year and a half has brought—the battle with Caleb for his soul, the fight between them all with Caleb, defeating the man who'd held him captive for years, and finally getting to be with Alex, stress free—all that pain and stress were for nothing, weren't they? Because Willie doesn't even have Alex anymore, the person who inspired him to fight back. The person who made it worth it. The person who was there to hold him after Caleb's hold on him broke will never be able to hold him again.

Not unless—

Willie's got work to do.

(*)

The next time Willie sees Alex is at the skate park, three months after it happened. Alex is leaning on the fence, staring at the bowl with sad eyes. He watches the people in the park fly up and down the ramps, and clings to the fence with a tight fist. Willie skates out of the park and passes through the fence to stand next to Alex.

"I miss you, too," he says, knowing that Alex can't hear him. "I mean, I haven't gone to Julie's studio looking for you like you're here, but. It's different when I can see you. You're living with the memory of me. I'm living with the reality of seeing you and hearing you, but not being able to interact."

Alex looks away from the skate park and towards the beach. His fingers curl tighter around the chain link fence until his knuckles turn white.

"I'm trying for you, man," Willie says, his voice high and tight. "I don't even know if I'll become human again like you did, but it's worth a shot. Even if I don't become human, at least I'll cross over and I won't have to be alone anymore. Maybe? I don't actually know where I'd go if I didn't become human again. I might still be alone. There might not be anything waiting for me. That's not as scary as having to live for an eternity without you, though. Or, not without you, but. Like this. Having you but… not really."

Alex draws in a shaky breath, and Willie poofs to his other side to get a glimpse of his face. His eyes are wet and he's chewing his bottom lip. He's doing everything he can not to cry, and that breaks Willie.

"I'm sorry," Willie whimpers. "I know I meant it way back when, when I said we never should have met, but that was because I almost got you guys killed. Once you were better, I didn't think I could ever feel that way again. But maybe I was right, even beyond that. Maybe it would be better if we'd never met. It'd be better for you." He reaches out a hand for Alex, but quickly drops it back to his side when he remembers he can't make contact anymore. He draws in a deep breath, but it hitches involuntarily. "But we did meet. We did, and now you have to live with the consequences of that. Is that what they are? Consequences? I guess so. I wish I could undo this all. Not—not you getting a second chance at life. You deserve it. But… I wish I could undo us."

Alex releases his grip on the fence and walks forward, right through Willie. Willie spins on his heel and watches Alex take a seat on a bench a few feet away. He looks up and around and finally, the tears fall from his eyes. Willie feels sick.

"No, I don't," he says in a rush. "God, I wish I wished I could undo us but I could never willingly give you up, Alex. No matter how much it hurts. Even though you're hurting I know you'll move on. That's how it works, right? God, we were only together for a little over a year, we only knew each other for a year and a half. That's hardly a lifetime love story, right? You'll find someone better—someone alive, and… and…"

And Willie can't do this anymore.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, taking in one last look at Alex's tearful face before poofing away.

(*)

The next time, he finds Alex at his grave. At Alex's grave.

See, Alex had asked him to go with him back in January. He'd needed to see what his tombstone said (Alex Mercer / December 18th 1978 – July 21st 1995 / Your song will live on forever.) and come to terms, fully, with his death. Willie had been more than happy to go with him, to hold him through his tears as he saw that his parents had actually put something dedicated to him, even if it was as small as an acknowledgment to his music. Ever since Alex crossed over, Willie has come here a few times a month to talk to the boy, because it's easier talking to a grave than it is to a person who won't respond.

When Willie reaches the grave, Alex is just standing there, staring at the headstone. He doesn't say anything, and neither does Willie. Instead, Willie looks around for another tomb with flowers on it. When he finds one, he plucks a single flower from the bouquet and walks over to Alex's grave again, and lays the flower down on the headstone.

Alex gasps. "Hello?" he murmurs. "Is… Willie?" he asks hopefully.

Willie doesn't have the heart to ignore him, so he picks the flower up again and hands it to the boy. Alex takes it reluctantly. "I miss you," Willie says, even though he knows Alex won't hear him.

"I miss you," Alex says, and Willie blinks. "God, I—I'm not even allowed to be upset about crossing over because I… I get to be with my band, and I'm, Willie, we're fucking going on tour. We're only opening, but we're touring. They think we'll be headlining our own tour in the next year or two. How am I supposed to be upset about that, right? But I—but I am. Because I have to do it without you and that's—that's not fair. That wasn't part of the deal, right? We were supposed to be fucking ghosts together. Not… God, I feel so ripped off. Julie said she could still see you, she didn't want to tell me but didn't think it was fair to keep it from me. Why can't I? Why the fuck can't I? I was a ghost and I can't see you anymore? Just because—just because I have blood in my veins again? You made me feel alive. You brought me back to life. And now I'm in this weird pseudo life phase where I'm actually alive but I feel just like I did when I came back as a ghost. Before I met you."

He shakes his head and Willie takes a step closer. He reaches out, but before he can try to lay a hand on Alex's arm, he remembers. He drops his hand.

"Reg says I'll move on, used that stupid 'you'll never forget your first ghost' line again, but that only worked when we'd known each other for two weeks. Two weeks and I was already moping over you, and then you were taken away after an entire year, after I—after I—it's not fair," Alex huffs. "I sound like such a child but it's not. Julie and Luke got their happy ending. Fuck, even Reg has someone now. Of course it probably won't last—after all it's his third relationship in five months, but. But he has that option. And I—Ray's making us go to school to finish off senior year and this kid from chemistry asked me out but—I'm not ready for that. God, I'm scared I'll never be ready for that. Luke told me to go for it, that maybe I need to be with someone to get my mind off of you, but I know that all I'll do is compare the two of you."

Tears are falling freely from Alex's eyes, and Willie wants nothing more than to reach up and brush them away, just like he did the last time they were at this grave together. He takes the flower from Alex's hand, plucks a petal off, and uses it as a towel to wipe Alex's face dry. Alex tosses his head back and laughs.

"Thank you," he says. He's quiet for a long moment, and Willie thinks he said everything that needed to be said. But then he draws in a deep breath. "I… I think one of the worst parts is that I never got to say goodbye. That I'll never get closure. Did you get as much out of our relationship as I did? Was it worth it to you? Are you hurting, too?" He pauses. His voice drops in to a whisper as he asks, "did you love me like I loved you?"

Willie frowns, and hands the flower back to Alex. Alex wraps his fingers around the stem, and toys with the petals with his other hand.

"See, I don't even know what you're trying to say, here," Alex admits. "I'm hoping you're saying yes, but maybe you're not. What if you're not even Willie, just a kind ghost who noticed I needed someone?" Willie grabs the flower out of Alex's hand, raises it up, and bonks Alex's forehead with it. "Okay, maybe not," he says, and there's a laugh in his voice, but there are tears in his eyes. He laughs then, but it comes out as a sob instead and he stumbles back. "Fuck," he says slowly.

Willie twirls the flower between his fingers and watches as Alex just… stares. He's just staring at the flower, disbelieving.

"I… God, I'm so relieved you're here, but it hurts so bad that I can't see you, you know? But—do you have it any easier? Being able to see me and hear me but knowing I can't see or hear or feel you? I feel like that'd be just as hard. I remember how helpless I felt when I was a ghost. This isn't—this isn't fair. Last year we had eternity together. And—that just gets ripped away? Do you even care—" Willie hits him with the flower again. "—okay. So you do. We both cared. So much. And… now look at us. I'm essentially talking to myself, on the verge of a panic attack, and you're… You're visiting my grave. I'm visiting my grave. Fuck this is all so fucked. I miss you."

Willie hands the flower back to Alex, hoping that he'll pick up that Willie misses him too.

Alex stares at the petals and draws in a breath. "I just wish—"

"Hey, mijo," a new voice comes in. Willie whips around to see the approaching figure, a tall, slim man with greying hair. He recognizes him as Julie's dad, and while he's never directly interacted with the man, hanging around with Alex and the band so much last year meant he could at least pick him out of a crowd. Julie's dad walks up beside Alex and looks down at the head stone. "Wow, that's really you."

Alex laughs. "Yeah. I really died. That's why I come here. To remind myself my entire experience as a ghost wasn't some weird fever dream. That it…" he looks down at the flower and holds it up to Julie's dad. "That it was all real."

"That'd be some fever dream," Julie's dad chuckles, clapping a hand on Alex's shoulder. For a moment, Willie expects the man's hand to pass right through, but when it doesn't, he cringes. Yet another reminder. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yeah, thanks for coming to get me. Can I just have one more minute? I'll meet you at the car?"

"Of course, mijo."

Julie's dad walks away and Alex stares at his headstone. "I miss you, Willie. I hope you run into me again," he says with a light in his voice, and Willie is taken back to their very first meeting. He reaches for the flower and takes it from Alex, bopping his face one more time. Then he passes the flower back, and Alex looks at it with wonderment on his face. "Bye," he murmurs, and then turns to walk towards the parked car waiting for him.

Willie waits until Alex slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door before drawing in a shaky breath and poofing away.

(*)

He can't stay away after that.

He knows Alex is living with Julie now (the Molinas, according to the painted stone next to their porch) so he stops by after school hours to just… see him. Alex, of course, has no idea that he's there, at least not at first. But then Willie starts to get bolder.

Alex will be sat at the dining room table doing his homework and Willie will see him answer a calculus problem wrong. When Alex walks away for a snack, Willie will take a piece of notebook paper out and redo the problem(s). When Alex gets back he looks around with a frown. He clearly isn't sure if it's Willie or not, and Willie's not sure he wants him to know, not until a few weeks in when he finds Alex crying in the studio. He's clearly on the verge of a panic attack, something that Willie'd seen many times, and helped him through multiple times. He's never felt so helpless, watching Alex breaking down and not being able to do anything.

He can, though, he realizes.

He goes into Alex's notebook and grabs a pen.

Hey, hot dog.

Alex drags in a shaky breath when the pen starts moving by itself, and once he reads the message he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Willie," he whispers.

What can I do to help?

Alex smiles at the paper. "Nothing, you're—you being here helps."

Do you need to do breathing exercises? You can follow the pen.

"No," Alex shakes his head. "No, I'm good. Just—just talk to me?"

Can't talk. How's writing?

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I meant, asshole."

Guilty.

"How have you been? Where have you been? Why is this the first time you're—that you've actually contacted me?"

I've been around. I'd say correcting your calc homework counts as contacting you. It's me saying "wow you suck at math, which you've told me in the past but now I have hardcore proof."

He can't tell him that he's been trying to work out his unfinished business. He can't give Alex hope where there might not be any—not when there's no promise that Willie will figure out his unfinished business, and not when there's no promise he'll come back to life. He wants Alex to know he's trying—trying for him, but it's not fair. None of this is fair, but that'd be… really unfair to Alex. Especially if he's sitting here hoping for Willie to come back to life and one day he realizes it's been months since he's heard from Willie and Willie has no way to tell him that he's crossed over, but not to the living. It's all… it's too complicated. Willie doesn't even think he'd be able to put it into words.

"Hey, I've been doing pretty good in calc!" Alex yells. "I have a B, thanks."

"Thanks." You're welcome. I'm the reason you have a B.

Alex opens his mouth, then shuts it. "You know, you're probably right. You working out those problems is actually really helpful and helps me understand what I did wrong."

I've always needed to see someone do the math before I got it, maybe you're the same.

"Probably." Alex sighs, running his hands through his hair. He's stopped crying, but his face is still red and puffy, and his breathing is still labored. "How have you been though? I… you can see me, I can't see you. Are you okay?"

I miss you, but that's to be expected.  Life  Death has been a lot lately. I'm  surviving  okay though.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Alex asks, voice genuine. Willie bites his lip. God, he—this is why he fell in love with this boy. Even on the verge of a panic attack he wants to help someone else.

No. You being here helps.

"Hey, that's my line."

I'm stealing it.

Alex laughs, and his breath evens out a little bit. "Should have known, you can't be as smooth as me."

I'm sorry, who had the gay panic when we met? And every time we saw each other for literally the next four months? Who RAN AWAY after kissing me? You want to talk about smooth?

"Those were very weak moments in my life, I ask you to forget everything before we started dating and only remember me as charming."

Oh, trust me, the gay panic was very charming, too.

"See, maybe it was all a ploy. My gay panic was me being smooth."

I wouldn't take it that far.

"Too late you already admitted it."

Willie laughs and reaches for Alex's hand, forgetting for just a moment. It passes through the other boy and he grimaces. He draws his hand back and tucks his hair behind his ear, and stares at the paper in front of him.

So what's it like recording an album? Everything you ever dreamed of?

"Oh, man, it's so cool," Alex gushes. Words fly out his mouth so fast that Willie struggles to keep up, but he just lets Alex's voice wash over him. The switch has been flipped—Alex is no longer panicking, and Willie's loneliness has ebbed.

It carries on like this for nearly an hour, Willie fills up two and a half sheets of paper, and Alex is careful to fold each one and stick it in his pocket. Willie knows he'll be storing them somewhere in his room. It's what Willie would do, anyways, and in certain regards, Alex and Willie are very similar. He's careful not to reveal too much to Alex, though. He doesn't want Alex to feel guilty, or to cling to hope, or…

He doesn't want to tell Alex he loves him on a sheet of paper. He can't do that to either of them—that'd be giving Alex too much to cling to, and it'd be taking away Willie's dream of telling him face to face. So when it's time for them to say goodbye (Alex looks at the clock, frowning. "The band is gonna be here in ten minutes for practice.") Willie simply scribbles down I'll see you around, hot dog. Alex's face goes soft, and Willie can't stop staring at it.

He wishes he could stay for band practice, but he can't face Julie. He can't, not when it'd break him to be able to talk with her and not the one person he really wants to talk to. He also thinks it might be too hard on Alex, to see Julie see Willie, and know that he can't. It'd be too hard on both of them, so once Alex says goodbye, he poofs away. He ends up on the streets of Hollywood and looks around. He sets his skateboard on the ground and skates off, aimlessly.

He has nowhere to go, nowhere to be.

(*)

Willie keeps correcting his calc homework, but now Alex knows who it is and starts thanking him. They have a few more half-written, half-spoken conversations over the next few months, but Willie tries to limit them so Alex doesn't get too attached.

(He laughs as he thinks that, understanding that Alex has always been attached, and interacting with him is only encouraging that. But Willie can't stay away, okay?)

He sees Luke and Reggie some, after all, the boys spend a lot of time in the studio together, especially when Julie is hanging out with Flynn. Willie never talks to Alex at these times, but sometimes he'll speak out loud, answer parts of the conversation that the guys are having, even though he knows they can't hear him.

(Yeah, okay, he's dangerously attached, too.)

He avoids Julie at all costs, he doesn't want her to know, and he knows Alex hasn't told any of them because Alex has said he hasn't told any of them, so. Willie believes him and knows why. Because Alex knows Julie would ask Willie to let Alex move on, and… honestly, neither Alex or Willie are ready for that.

"Technically you're still my boyfriend," Alex says one day. "We never broke up."

It's almost our two year anniversary.

"Yeah," Alex nods. "Two more months. God, it's been nine months without you?"

Not technically without me. I've been around a lot.

"It's been nine months since I last saw you," he amends. He rubs his eyes. "That's too damn long."

It's been nine months since I've held your hand. :(

Alex shakes his head. "I always felt bad for Julie and Luke, but… I never… it never clicked how hard it must have been before she could touch us. At least she could see and talk to us, though. Why can't I have her powers?"

Would her powers really be worth it? Because I can tell you that it SUCKS being able to see you but not being able to touch you. It's torture.

"Maybe you only say that because you've never had to sit alone talking to a piece of notebook paper before," Alex shoots back, but he's smiling.

He's been doing that a lot lately. Smiling. Willie knows it's because of him—he knows Alex and it's not hard to put two and two together. It's hard to miss the way Alex physically brightens every time he knows Willie is there, and the way he reaches for calculus homework before anything else, and leaves his calculus out sitting next to him when he's working on all of his other homework, as if calling for Willie. It works, too, most of the time. When Willie's not out trying to resolve his unfinished business, he's around the Molina household, avoiding Julie.

That had created an issue—Alex quickly realized that Willie disappeared whenever Julie came around, so he stopped hanging around Julie as much. Julie had tried apologizing for "whatever I did, Alex, I'm so sorry." Alex had to patiently tell her that it was nothing—he was just dealing with some personal problems and he ran away from the guys, too. She had tried to offer help, but he said he dealt better with problems on his own, which Willie laughed at when Alex recounted the conversation because Alex was helpless dealing with his issues alone. He told him as much and Alex flipped off the air in front of him.

This piece of notebook paper is offended. What's so bad about talking to notebook paper?

"I can't kiss a sheet of notebook paper," Alex points out. "Well—technically I could. Don't think it'd measure up to kissing my boyfriend, though."

Willie grins. It's impossible, and he knows he can't let it go on like this for much longer—it's been nine months of trying to figure out his unfinished business and he feels no closer than when he started—but it feels so good to be Alex's boyfriend still. He puts the pen to the piece of paper, and then picks it back up because—no. He still can't tell Alex he loves him. He's planning to leave Alex a note once it hits a year, telling him goodbye and asking him to move on. He'll be doubling his efforts to try and solve his unfinished business in the mean time, but he thinks—how cruel would it be to leave Alex with the knowledge that he lost someone who loved him, too? Because Alex has said he loved Willie—back Alex's grave he had asked if Willie loved him too and.

You wouldn't be able to kiss air, either.

"I could certainly try."

Willie shakes his head fondly, and then hears the studio door open. Alex lunges forward and grabs the pen out of the air, but it's pointless because when Willie turns around, it's Julie standing there. Her eyes are wide and her jaw is dropped.

"Hey, Julie," Alex greets. "What're you doing?"

"I left a song out here that I wanted to show Flynn," she says. "What are you doing?" She aims her voice like she's talking to Alex, but she's staring at Willie.

"Homework," Alex answers.

"Really?" she quirks an eyebrow.

"What else would I be doing?"

"I don't know, care to tell me?" This time, it's one hundred percent directed at Willie, and he flinches.

Alex frowns, still playing the part. "I don't—"

"Not you," Julie cuts Alex off.

"Julie…" Alex sighs. "Just leave him be."

"Can I talk to you outside?" There's no question who she's talking to.

Willie gets to his feet and walks out the door. Alex glares at her from where he's sitting on the couch, and flops back on to the cushions, crossing his arms in a pout.

Julie turns around and marches out to the driveway and whirls on Willie when he gets out there. "This isn't fair to him."

"None of this is fair, Julie," Willie says. "We're dealing the only way we know how."

"He—he said he was moving on. He said he was doing better!"

"He… technically is doing better," Willie says. "Maybe not moving on, but—"

"Willie, you need to let him go," Julie frowns.

"That's not your choice to make," Alex's voice comes from the studio doors. He pushes the door open and steps out. "I get you want to help, but leaving me and Willie be would be the best thing you could do to help."

"Alex…" Julie whispers. "It's not fair to you."

"You think I don't know that? You think the fact that Willie is dead and I'm alive has escaped my notice? Because it hasn't. I have to talk to a sheet of notebook paper to have a conversation with him. I have to guess when he'll appear, and hope each day that he will. I don't get to see him smile, or look at me, and I can't hold his hand, and I can't feel him against me. But despite that, I'm happy with him. Isn't that what you should be focusing on?"

Julie sucks in a breath. "Alex—"

"Julie," Alex cuts her off. "I understand where you're coming from. The amount of times I told Luke falling for you was a horrible decision, but he reminded me it wasn't a decision. You can't pick and choose who you love, and… I'm willing to go through this for Willie, okay? You can't protect me from everything, and I'd never ask you to. I am asking you to leave this be."

She looks away from Alex, and turns to Willie. "Are you really okay with how this is going?"

"I… For now," Willie answers. "I've been trying to figure out my unfinished business to see if I'll come back to life, too. It's all I've been doing when I'm not with Alex for the last nine months. If I can't figure it out within the year since Alex came back to life I am going to stop this, okay Julie? I don't want him to hurt. I'll tell him to move on, I'll tell him that I can't do it anymore, but until then, I want to be there for him. These may be our last months together," Willie whispers. "Please don't take that from us."

Julie sighs, long and loud, but her shoulders drop. "Fine," she says, throwing her hands up. "Whatever. I—I just don't want you guys hurting."

"If you think Willie being here hurts me, clearly you don't remember you and Luke in the early days."

"I do, though. I remember how much it sucked when I reached out and my hand went right through him. I remember thinking that we could never be together—even once I could touch you guys, it still… sucked. Alex, I do remember the early days, and that's why I just… I just don't want you hurting. And… falling in love with a ghost when you're human… it hurts."

"But it's also worth it," Alex reminds her. "You turned down Nick, even when you couldn't touch Luke. Because you knew it was worth it. Even thinking you were going to lose Luke, you still chose him. And I'm choosing Willie, even though I know I could lose him. Even though it sucks that he's a ghost. Willie is worth it."

Julie looks at Willie. "Is this worth it?"

Willie nods. "I might have to say goodbye soon, but it's not like we're making bad memories. Alex and I won't live to regret the time we had together if this doesn't work out. And it might take us time to move on, but this will never not be worth it."

Julie narrows her eyes. "Does he know?"

"Know? About the unfinished business?" Willie asks. "No. I don't want to get his hopes up."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Keep what, what way?" Alex demands, looking between Julie and the space of air she's looking at.

"Something I can't tell you," Julie says, still looking at Willie. "Willie wants to keep it quiet, too. Hopefully I can tell you one day, but until that day comes, it's mine and Willie's secret. It's for the better."

"Didn't we just decide you don't know what's best for me?" Alex huffs.

"Not in this case," Willie says.

"Willie says 'not in this case,'" Julie translates. "Just… be careful both of you, alright? You know I love you both, right?"

Alex leans back against the studio door and crosses his arms, frowning. "I know, Jules. I love you, too. And I appreciate your thoughts and wanting me to be okay, but, really. We're fine."

"Yeah," Willie says. "If I can't figure out my unfinished business I'll stop by and say goodbye to you, too."

"Alright," Julie nods. "Let me just grab that song and then you two can get back to your… date."

Willie smiles at her. He can feel on his face that it's not a full smile, that it's sad, and that it's not reaching his eyes, but… he is sad. Vocalizing his plan, to Julie no less, has made it permanent. He really only has three months to figure out his unfinished business.

It doesn't feel like enough time. Looking back to Alex, he knows it's not.

He'll never be ready to say goodbye.

(*)

His time is up.

It's been an entire year, almost to the day (he gave himself one extra week) since Alex came back to life, and Willie is here to leave Alex. He's kneeling next to where Alex is sleeping on the studio's couch, looking so relaxed and content, and Willie… he's glad he prepared beforehand. He pulls the piece of notebook paper out of his pocked and places it on the table, Alex's name in bold pen on the top.

He wrote his note before he came to see Alex, knowing that he won't have the courage to write it down when he's looking at the other boy. Especially not if Alex is watching him. No, that's… he could never do that, not when he could see the look on Alex's face. So, the idea is, in and out, leave the note somewhere for Alex to find, and never look back.

The last part is going to be the hardest.

However, he's promised himself that he won't go looking for Alex or the others anymore. Not after tonight. He's letting Alex move on, but he needs to let himself move on, too. Alex will find someone else to love, and Willie… if nothing else, he should give himself the chance to find someone else to love. Not that he'll ever really feel confident again, knowing that one of them could cross over at any minute, leaving him just as heartbroken as he is now. But… it was worth it with Alex. He can't imagine how it ever wouldn't be worth it, even as he has to say goodbye now. Alex will always be worth it, and he can't be sorry for holding on as long as he did. The time he got to spend with him has given him enough courage to say goodbye… just… there's one more thing he wants to say, that he couldn't say in his note.

"I love you," Willie whispers, reaching down to stroke Alex's hair, but freezing before he could. He's not in the right mindset to have his hand pass through Alex, not again, not right now, when he feels the cramping in his chest from the pain of this moment. Not when it's been over a year and he still hasn't figured out his unfinished business. Not when he doesn't think he ever will. There's so much he's tried, so much he's done, and he's not sure what more there is to do. He's held on to this for far too long, and he thinks it's time to let go. He doesn't want his last memory of Alex to be his hand disappearing through the boy's body. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do better for you."

There's a clench in his stomach as he thinks about all he's gone through this past year. Practicing all the moves he wanted to perfect before he died. Returning to his childhood home and making connections with his family, apologizing for leaving them, apologizing for not being a better son. Visiting his older sister who ran away when he was younger. Tracking down the person who killed him from all of the newspaper articles and forgiving them. Going to his college and sitting in on all of the classes that he skipped out on when he was a student. Going back to Caleb's club and apologizing to all those he led there. Visiting the graves of all of his family members that he never got to say goodbye to. Visiting his grave and forgiving himself for his mistake.

Yet here he stands, still a ghost.

Truthfully, he didn't care if he crossed over to the living or crossed over to heaven. He just… didn't want to be here anymore. In this limbo between the living and the dead. Skating the streets of Hollywood was fun, but with Caleb gone, with the Ghost Club in his past, with Alex living… skating was all he had, and it wasn't enough to hold him to this… "life" that he was living. He just wanted it to be over—he just wanted to move on. He doesn't care what that means anymore. Just… not like this. Not this. He can't be stuck like this for eternity. He can't.

He shoves himself to his feet in a rush and walks to the door, forcing himself to not look back. It's time to move on—time to let Alex move on. Like Alex says, it's not fair, and Willie's just making it harder on both of them. If he hasn't figured out his unfinished business by now, he's not going to. Maybe he already missed his opportunity, maybe it's something that's waiting for him in the future, maybe it's—

Ow.

Willie looks up from where he landed on the floor, and sends a glare at the door. There's a noise from up in the loft and Reggie's laugh sounds through the studio. "Dude, did you just walk into the door? I know you can do dumb things when you just wake up, but come on."

Willie looks up at the loft and blinks.

Wait.

He walked into the door.

"Reggie?" he calls tentatively.

The boy pops his head out of the fence in the loft, jaw dropped. "Willie?"

"You can—you can see me?" Willie breathes, turning around on the floor and looking between Alex and Reggie. Thing one: he couldn't walk through the door. Thing two: Reggie could hear him walk into the door. Thing three: Reggie could see him.

"Alex!" Reggie screeches, throwing a box of picks down from the loft and at the couch. "Alex!"

Alex flinches when the box of picks lands right next to his head and groans. "Dude, what the fuck?" he asks, picking up the box and looking at it. "Why the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, but you're going to love me in a second because sit your butt up and look at the door."

"What are you talking about?" Alex demands as he sits up and rubs at his eyes. He looks up at the loft first, but Reggie's head peaking down at the door must interest him, because Willie looks away from Reggie at the same time Alex does, and their eyes meet. "Willie?" he whispers.

"Alex," he breathes out with a laugh. Alex is up and off the couch and striding towards him in one motion, dropping next to him with a loud thud of his knees hitting the concrete. Willie reaches towards him cautiously. He curls a hand around Alex's face, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb and laughs. "Oh my god."

Alex lunges forward and tackles Willie into a hug, holding him tight as they both start to cry.

"Hold on, hold on!" Reggie wails, footsteps thundering as he rushes down the loft stairs. "Remember, I can't poof out anymore, and I don't want to see what's going to happen next, just give me a minute to—okay, carry on," he finishes, and then the studio door clicks shut and Alex crashes his mouth to Willie's with no hesitance.

Willie gasps, and takes a moment to adjust to the feeling of Alex's mouth on his again, but after a moment, he pushes back into Alex and gives back as good as he's getting. It's easy to fall back into this, really. It's not like Willie forgot how Alex kisses, and he highly doubts Alex has forgotten how Willie kisses, so it's easy for the two of them to give and take, to push and pull. There's no learning involved, just coming home.

Alex's breath hitches and he pulls away quickly, shoving his face into Willie's neck. "Oh my god," Willie hears him whisper. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Please tell me I'm not dreaming?" he begs.

"You're not dreaming," Willie grins, holding Alex tighter.

"Yeah, but that's something dream you would say," Alex says, pulling away from Willie's neck and looking into his eyes. Alex's eyes are red and the area around them is swelling, and Willie swears he's never looked more beautiful. He lifts a hand and cups Alex's face. "Punch me."

"Wh—babe, no," he laughs, wiping the tears from Alex's face. "Punch yourself."

He's not expecting Alex to pull back and smash his fist into his forearm. "That wasn't hard enough, you've gotta—wait. My knees. The concrete hurt them. Can you dream pain? Is that a thing? Oh my god, I don't know enough about dreams, I—"

"Alex," Willie murmurs, leaning forward. "You're not dreaming. You've always trusted me, yeah? Trust me now." He presses his lips gently to Alex's, and feels Alex's lips quirk up in a smile.

He pulls back. "If I wake up from this you're so dead."

"Well, technically, if this was a dream, you'd be completely right. But right now I'm so alive." Willie pauses. "I think? I couldn't walk through the door and now you guys can see me and touch me and—"

Alex cuts him off with a kiss. After a few seconds he releases Willie's lips and sits back and closes a hand around Willie's wrist, pressing two fingers to where Willie's pulse point would be. Alex stares at his hand in amazement, and another smile spreads on his face. "You're alive."

"I am?" he asks, breathless.

"Yes, dude. What was? What was your unfinished business?"

"I don't—I don't know. The last thing I did was visit you. I've been trying to figure it out for the last year but nothing worked. Then… Wait."

"What?"

Willie feels blood rush to his face and wow isn't that a feeling. But, no. Not the point right now. He twists his wrist in Alex's hold and slips his hand down to hold Alex's. "The last thing I did was, um, tell you I love you."

"Falling in love was your unfinished business?"

"No," Willie shakes his head. "Otherwise I would have come back like, two years ago. Unless—did I really have to say it?"

"Unfinished business is weird, we were technically signed with Destiny Management for two months before we actually signed the papers, but I didn't actually come back until I signed the legit contract," Alex explains. He smiles at Willie, and then his expression drops. "Wait. You're in love with me?"

Willie feels his face soften. "I've been in love with you."

"Was it—was it you at my grave? A few months ago I—I know I could have asked you when you started writing to me but I was so scared—"

"It was me," Willie nods. "I can't believe you tried to suggest I didn't care—"

"I didn't—I couldn't—I just—everything sucked, I was doubting everything and the further I got away from you the more I was convinced that you didn't feel the same. I mean, you hadn't come to visit once—"

"I saw you at the skate park before that." He squeezes Alex hand. He lifts up their entwined fingers and presses a kiss to the back of Alex's hand. "You looked… you were so sad, and it hurt so much to talk to you. At first I thought it was better for both of us if I didn't… encourage it. I lost that plan, though. I was trying to figure out my unfinished business but I just wanted you to be happy."

"You make me happy."

Willie grins. "You make me happy too, hot dog."

Alex blushes and goes back to hiding his face in Willie's shoulder.

"Hey, have you tried hot dogs since you came back to life?"

"No," Alex laughs, then moves his head up to press a kiss to Willie's collarbone. He leans back, away from Willie's body so he can look him in the eyes. "I don't think I ever will."

"Yeah, well I'm stopping at every cross walk, even if the walk sign is on," Willie says. "What kills you makes you reevaluate your life choices."

"What kills you makes you smarter," Alex grins.

"Then why did you need me to help you pass calculus?" Willie teases.

Alex rolls his eyes and shoves at Willie, who reaches forward to grab Alex's bicep to stabilize him. "What are you doing here, man? You haven't been here in almost a month. I've been waiting for you."

Willie bites his lip and looks at the ground. "I was here to say goodbye. I gave myself one year to figure out my unfinished business and then I'd let us both move on. That—that's what I told Julie that night. That's what you couldn't know."

Alex breathes out, staring at Willie without blinking. His eyes start filling with tears and he lets out a mirthless laugh. "Well thank fuck you decided to tell me you loved me."

"Yeah," Willie nods. "Thank fuck."

(*)

They walk into the Molina household hand in hand, Alex murmuring things along the way, and Willie just listening, but mostly reveling in the feel of Alex's hand in his again.

"Ah, mijo!" Julie's dad exclaims happily. "Just in time, I was about to send Reggie out—who's this?"

Alex shifts, squeezes Willie's hand, and draws in a breath. "Ray, this is Willie. He's—do you remember how we told you I was dating a ghost before I came back to life?"

Ray (apparently) nods. "I do."

"This is him."

Ray's eyes narrow. "He came back to life, too?"

"He did. And he doesn't have anywhere to go right now, could he stay, at least in the studio? We'll find his family soon, but—"

"Alex," Ray cuts the boy off. "Of course." He looks to Willie. "Do you like tacos?"

Willie nods slowly. "Yes, sir."

Ray shakes his head. "None of that 'sir' stuff, Willie. Just Ray works. Let me go find another chair, and you can join us for dinner, bueno?"

"I—thank you," Willie says, genuinely taken aback by Ray's openness.

"Alright, the rest of the family is in the dining room, why don't you two go join them, I'm just going to grab a chair out of my office," he tells them, and then disappears around the corner.

Alex squeezes Willie's hand and smiles down at him. "Ready?"

Willie laughs. "For what?"

Alex grins and walks forward, tugging Willie along behind him. They walk through the kitchen and Willie can see the entire group as they make their way to the table—Julie's little brother (Carlos, he thinks) is sitting at the head of the table, talking rapidly with Reggie, who is sitting with his back to Willie and Alex. Julie's friend (Flynn, he's sure of that one) is sitting next to Reggie and he can tell from her posture that she's bent over her phone. Beside her, there's an open chair squeezed into the small space which Willie assumes is meant for Alex. Across the table, with their heads ducked together and talking in quiet tones are Julie and Luke, completely unaware to their presence. At least until Alex clears his throat.

Everyone looks at them, then. Reggie and Flynn turn in their seats, and Julie and Luke look up, confused. Carlos stares at Willie with a calculating look, and—

"Oh my god!" Julie screeches, shoving out of her chair so fast that she knocks it back into the window. She runs around the table and into the kitchen before launching herself at Willie. "You did it!"

Willie laughs but once Alex drops his hand, he holds on to her tightly. Despite being able to interact with her face to face for the last two and a half years, he's never got to touch her. She became one of his closest friends, but he'd never been able to give her a hug, and they're both tactile people. The entire group is, really. So he squeezes her tighter and breathes in her scent and savors in the feeling of being hugged by her. "I did," he says into her hair. "Thank you for giving me the chance."

"Of course," she says as she pulls away, but her hands don't leave him, just slide down to hold on to his forearms. "What was it?"

Alex grins from next to Willie and leans in to Julie's view. "He had to tell me he loved me."

"It took you guys two years to say I love you?" Luke says, and Willie notices him standing a few feet behind Julie. "Dude—"

"Not all of us say 'I love you' after the first date, Luke," Alex shoots back.

"But two years?"

"We were separated for one of those."

"But two years?"

"Leave them be," Julie tells him, finally dropping Willie's arms and spinning around to face her boyfriend. "It still took you months to work up the courage to ask me out. Willie asked Alex out as soon as he was free from Caleb." Willie wants to tell her that Alex had actually kissed him and ran away before Willie asked the boy out, but with a glance at Alex, who was glaring at him knowingly, he decides to save the story for another time. "At least they've got that sorted out."

Luke rolls his eyes and steps around Julie to clap a hand into Willie's. He bumps their shoulders together and grins, a trademark lopsided Luke grin. "I'm glad to see you, man."

"Me too!" Reggie cries from in back of the group. "Sorry I ran out of the studio on you guys, but I didn't—"

"You knew?" Julie gasps.

"Well, yeah? Why'd you think I ran in from the studio?"

"Considering you grabbed food, we thought you wanted a snack," Flynn says, and Reggie looks like he's considering her words before he shrugs. She turns to Willie. "I'm Flynn. Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Same," Willie says, leaning forward to shake her hand. "We've technically met, but you never got to see me."

"So you were a ghost, too?" Carlos calls from where he's still sitting at the dining room table. Ray is sitting at the other end now, too, having squeezed in another chair on the side where Julie and Luke had been sitting. It was a wheelie computer chair and as soon as Flynn saw it she dove for it with a cry of 'dibs,' sending her and the chair flying back into the wall.

"I was," Willie confirms, following the rest of the group as they make their way back to the dining room.

"Cool," Carlos breathes.

"Yeah, super cool," Julie rolls her eyes, ruffling her brother's hair. "Dying is so cool."

"Hey, he's alive again," Carlos shoots back. "So I can say it's cool."

"Can't argue that logic," Reggie grins.

"I also agree it's cool," Alex says, and sends Willie a soft smile.

"Yeah, yeah, we know, you're happy to have your boyfriend back," Flynn waves her hand through the air as she scooches back to the table. "But can we get to the tacos now?"

"I hope you like tacos," Luke says, reaching for a hard shell with one hand and the taco meat with the other. "Because they're gonna be your first taste of food in—wait, when did you die?"

"Seven, eight years ago. 2015."

"How old are you?" Julie asks.

"With or without the ghost years?"

"Without. That's what's going on your birth certificate."

"I was a month shy of turning twenty. I was born a month before you three," he says, nodding at each of the boys individually, "died in '95."

"It's a good thing we died, then," Alex says, waiting patiently for the rest of the table to make their tacos before he makes his own. "Never would have met you, otherwise. Or if I did…"

"We don't think about that," Luke says. "Otherwise we have to talk about how much older I am that Julie and that—that doesn't work."

"How much older than Julie are you?" Carlos asks.

Luke turns a mock glare on the kid. "Did you not hear what I just said? We don't think about that."

Reggie leans towards Carlos and stage whispers, "twenty six years."

Carlos looks absolutely gleeful. "Ha! Dad, did you know that?"

Ray sighs. "I did, Carlos. Eat your food."

"You're old," Carlos hisses at Luke.

"You're a child," Luke taunts back. Even through their tones, Willie can tell this group is a family. Luke is Carlos' older sister's boyfriend, yes, but his role as a pseudo brother to Carlos is just as important as his role as Julie's boyfriend. Reggie clearly adores the kid and Willie's sure their relationship is even closer than that of Carlos and Luke's. He looks at Alex, who is looking down the table at Carlos with fond eyes, and realizes that even Alex is this kid's brother. Alex is Julie's brother. He's Ray's son. He's not just living here, he's a piece of this family, and Willie is at a meet the family dinner, even if he already knew more than half of them. His eyes flick to Ray and suddenly he wants to make a good impression.

Alex must be able to feel him tense up, so he reaches over and lays a hand on Willie's thigh. He leans in. "What's wrong?"

Willie looks at him, looks around the table again, and settles on Ray again, who is giving him a look that's nearly as concerned as the one on Alex's face.

It's been ten minutes and he thinks he's a part of this family, too.

He smiles at Ray, who returns it, and then Willie turns to Alex. "Nothing. I'm good. But hey, I love you."

Alex smiles. He presses a kiss to Willie's cheek. "I love you, too."

[kittyprincessofcats]

RWBY Volume 8, Episodes 8-12

All caught up with RWBY now! (Except for the premium only episode.)

So, two things first: 1. From now on, my blog will no longer be spoiler free for RWBY! I don’t have premium access, so no spoilers for that, but beyond that, I might now reblog spoilers for everything that’s been released to the public. Blacklist “#RWBY spoilers” if you don’t want to see them.

2. I was going to ask what the spoiler policy in this fandom in general is when it comes to premium access. From what I’ve seen, Youtubers usually wait a week before uploading their reaction videos, which I appreciate – but here on tumblr almost no one seems to hold back. I saw a spoiler for “Creation” before it was released publicly. The day episode 13 was released for premium access, I had to unfollow people for posting untagged spoilers for it. And when I went into a RWBY-related tag for one second, I saw a really big spoiler that put me in a very sour mood because it also happened to be very aggressively worded against fans of a certain character (basically, along the lines of “I’m glad X bad thing happened to Y character because I hate them and their fans”). So, that scared the shit out of me and I ended up looking up more specific spoilers about what exactly happened because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep otherwise. So, from what I’ve seen, this fandom’s spoiler policy is just “fuck anyone who doesn’t have premium access” 😒. Always nice to see people being so considerate.

With that said, let’s get into my thoughts on episodes 8-12. Under the cut, because unlike some people, I try to be considerate of others who might want to avoid spoilers.

- So, the Hound really was a person. Specifically, a person with silver eyes and that’s probably what happened to Summer. THANKS, I HATE IT. This is exactly what I feared it would be and what I didn’t want it to be. (I don’t want Ruby and Yang to have to fight and kill their grimm-ified mom, that’s too sad, okay?)

- I love that Whitley really came through and came up with a plan for evacuating everyone! He’s a good bean after all! And that he managed to press that button on the computer before running from the Hound? Amazing.

- Willow Schnee being one hell of a mama bear and summoning a thing to protect Whitley was epic. She was so close to breaking down before that, but then her child was in danger and she just jumped into action right away. Protective mom instincts ftw!

- Blake’s talk about how she looks up to Ruby and how she herself lost the youthful optimism Ruby still has was SO sweet! (Also, Ladybug is an underrated ship/friendship and I really don’t get why people say they never interact? Have you all just forgotten volume 1 and how Bumbleby’s first meeting happened because Yang was trying to wingman Ruby who was trying to befriend Blake??)

- Penny fighting the virus from the inside was amazing, she did so well! I also loved seeing Nora encourage her (and echo Blake’s earlier words back to her).

- Unrelated to these episodes specifically, but I tried to think about who my favourite RWBY charactes even are right now, and I find it super hard to narrow down because I love so many of them, but if I tried to somewhat narrow it down, then (in no specific order because don’t ask me to also come up with an order): all of Team RWBY (though Blake is a personal favourite), Ilia, Penny, Salem, Cinder. (But then again, I also love Winter and Qrow and Robyn and... you get it, it’s hard to narrow down. Oh, and of course Pyrrha, but... you know.)

- “Witch” was honestly my favourite episode of the bunch. That one was just so full of epic stuff. (And now I’m wondering if Salem being one of my favourite characters has anything to do with my love for witches. I used to be obsessed with witches as a kid. In every story I read that had a witch, the witch was always my favourite character.)

- Yang and her team sure found a way inside that whale fast! Also, really handy that Ren’s semblance evolved just in time for when they needed it. But hey, I don’t want to complain about convenient plot stuff too much. Sometimes the heroes are allowed to have a little bit of good luck.

- Hazel listening to Oscar and deciding to get both him AND Emerald out of there was amazing! He really does have a soft spot for kids and wasn’t kidding about not wanting more kids to die – we love to see it! I also think it makes for an interesting parallel that Hazel decided to do this right as Ironwood was sending students to fight on the front lines and Marrow was calling it out.

- I really liked Ren telling Yang she doesn’t have to hide her fear behind jokes. Ren being able to see emotions is going to bring about so many more good moments, I just know it!

- Emerald and “Hazel’s” talk with Salem gets so much better when you know “Hazel” is actually Oscar – Emerald has gotten so much better at illusions and fooled Salem herself! That’s impressive!

- It’s really practical that Ren could sense Emerald’s fear. But also, the group really didn’t have the time to discuss if Emerald was trustworthy – they needed to get out of there asap.

- The way Salem spits out the word “semblance” when she talks to Emerald shows again that she not only underestimates these “new humans” and their powers, but also considers them inferior. It’s a nice little detail how just her tone when she says that word says so much about her worldview.

- Yang straight-up running up to Salem and blowing her up was epic. It didn’t last of course, but it was still a super bold and epic move. I’ve talked before about how cool Yang is and she just keeps getting cooler.

- Yang calling Salem out was amazing and epic, too! And when she referred to Summer Rose as “my mom” that made me tear up just a bit 😢. (I really don’t like Salem’s smile when she says “her again”, though. I don’t want grimm-ified Summer, I really don’t want it, okay? keep it far away from me where I won’t have to see it.)

- I’m a bit sad about Hazel’s death, but it was a really fitting end for his character and a really cool way to go out. The way he looked at all of those kids in danger (proving again that that’s what it’s about for him), whispered “No more Gretchens” to Oscar, punched Salem in the face as she was about to hurt Emerald, injected all of those crystals into his skin (which looked epic, by the way), told Emerald to go, fought an epic fight against Salem and then grabbed her and set himself and her on fire, burning her like a witch – it was epic stuff! RIP Hazel, you died as a hero and went out in an incredibly epic way!

- Hazel’s sacrifice must have been super tough on Emerald. He died protecting her (and JOYR) and it worked. She got away from Salem, but only because someone else, a friend, died for her. Not only must it be awful for her to lose Hazel, she probably also blames herself. (And, as I’ve seen others point out, it was probably the first time in her life an adult did something to protect her. Wow. Someone get this girl therapy, please.)

- The whale getting blown up was an absolutely epic moment. From the music to the cinematography, I loved everything about it. (That said, I will miss the whale. RIP coolest villain lair ever.)

- I loved Watts’ speech to Cinder – and I’m saying this as someone who became a huge fan of Cinder this volume. I love her, but I also love roasting her, and a lot of what Watts said was stuff she desperately needed to hear. I honestly didn’t even like Watts before that moment, but that speech might have made me like him just a tiny bit. The way he just laughed when she dangled him from a building, the way he spelled it out for her that her methods haven’t been working and threw her failures in her face, the ending with calling her “a bloody migraine” – Like I said, I’m a fan of Cinder, but that was glorious and cathartic and beautiful to witness. But what makes it really perfect is Cinder’s reaction: The fact that you’d expect her to kill him or at least scream at him, but instead she spares him and just sits down and cries. I really love what they’ve been doing with Cinder this volume and that they’re finally showing her as someone way deeper than just a power-hungry villain.

- In general, let me quickly talk about Cinder, because even without having seen the last two episodes I can already tell you that she’s my standout character / favourite character of the season. (It was Ilia for Volume 5, Salem for Volume 6, Penny for Volume 7 – and now it’s Cinder.) I said back in my post about Volume 5 that I wish they’d do more with her because after becoming rather interesting in Volume 4 they just went back to making her a pretty flat villain – and I officially have to eat my words and apologize to RoosterTeeth right now! This volume proved to me that they know what they’re doing with Cinder and explained so much about her. I’m sorry for ever doubting the writing. I now want to go back and rewatch the whole show while paying more attention to Cinder and I can’t wait to see where her arc goes from here (yes, I want an eventual redemption, and what about it?). This volume is obviously setting up something big for her – I just have no idea what it is. And at the end of the day, she’s still the Maiden of Choice. She’s the key to the Beacon relic, and that’s going to become important eventually.

- Oh, and can I mention, just by the way, that I think Cinder looks amazing? I don’t understand all the people who say they miss her red outfits when this is clearly her best look yet. The black eyepatch, the cape, the earrings, the short hair, the high boots, the shorts instead of a dress, all the black – this is her absolute best look, period.

- I’ve also noticed that the scene between her and Watts is the first time Cinder has referred to Penny by name. She’s always referred to her with phrases like “some toy” or “Polendina’s creation” before, but this time she just called her “Penny Polendina”, then “Penny” again, and asked Watts how she’s supposed to take Penny’s power “if she’s dead” (not “destroyed”, which is what Watts said, but “dead” – something you say about a person, not a machine). I think somewhere down the line, Cinder has started to see Penny as a person and respect her as the Winter Maiden. Maybe it’s because of how Penny won the fight at Amity, or maybe (though this might be wishful thinking on my part) it’s because Penny questioned why Cinder serves Salem and showed her and Emerald mercy.

- Also, side-note: While I loved Watts’ speech, it sure is bold of him to call Cinder entitled when his own villain origin story is getting overlooked for a science project.

- Neo is an amazing little troll and I love her. From stealing the lamp and skipping along the ruins of the whale happily to those texts to Cinder, all of her moments were brilliant and hilarious.

- Some characters not just forgiving Emerald is totally fair and realistic. But, as I said before (and as Oscar also points out), they don’t have to. People think a “redemption” – or let’s just call it switching sides instead of using such a loaded term – has to include everyone’s forgiveness, but it doesn’t. If Yang and Jaune never want to personally forgive Emerald, that’s okay. They don’t need to forgive her to recognize that she’s changed and work with her. And, as Oscar and Ren point out, Emerald’s abilities would be very useful to have on their side. So, personal feelings are fine and all, but right now they don’t have the luxury to dismiss a potentially very useful ally. (And same for Oz, by the way. It’s fine if they’re still mad at him, but they also need his help.)

- Also, have I already said that I’m very happy for Emerald? Because I’m very happy for Emerald for getting out of there! (Mercury’s and then Cinder’s redemption next, please!)

- F*ck Harriet for trying to get Winter in trouble for letting JYR go. I’m hating her more every second. And then she seriously said “Who cares?” about Ironwood’s plan to nuke Mantle? She’s the most unlikable of them all.

- Everyone’s reunions were so sweet! I loved Ruby and Yang hugging 😭. And Yang cupping Blake’s cheek and their forehead touch had me all 🥰 🥰 🥰.

- After he threatened to nuke Mantle, I hope we can all agree that Ironwood is a straight-up villain now. The most infuriating part is that he didn’t even have to do anything! Whitley and Weiss had figured out a way to save everyone in Mantle and the SDC ships to evacuate people were already there. All Ironwood had to do was let them evacuate everyone to Atlas, and then Penny would have opened the vault willingly and Ironwood could have used the staff to raise Atlas as planned. Problem solved! He should have just sat there and ate his food – but he was so pissed about things not going his way (or maybe he just genuinely hates Mantle that much) that he thought sabotaging the rescue plan and threatening genocide was a better option.

- I loved Marrow’s arc in these episodes and how you could tell more and more that his conscience was making him turn against Ironwood. First he questioned Winter when she was going to nuke the whale before JOYR were back, then he seemed shocked when he thought they were dead, then he tried to talk sense into the other Ace Ops after Ironwood’s ultimatum, and then he straight-up called out Ironwood himself. That last one was dangerous though, and he was lucky Winter was quick enough to jump in and pretend to arrest him, because Ironwood was going to just shoot him in the back.

- Speaking of, I wonder how long Winter has been planning to double-cross Ironwood. How long was she already disagreeing with him, but waiting for the right moment to make a move? Either way, I’m glad she was there to save Marrow.

- The Renora confession scene was so sweet and got me a little choked up 😢. I’m glad they sorted out their issues and told each other how they feel. But like I said before, I think Nora’s arc of trying to find out who she is without Ren is really good and important and Ren respecting that was really good and important as well. It was just a very wholesome scene. Also, I like that we got a little bit more backstory for Nora (her mom abandoned her? that’s awful), and Jaune awkwardly leaving the room was hilarious.

- Robyn telling Qrow he’s a better Huntsman than Clover because he chose to do the right thing was a really important moment for Qrow, imo. (And just a side-note: I’m sure most Fair Game shippers are pretty chill – and I’m a strong believer in ‘ship and let ship’ – but a certain subset of them is starting to get on my nerves with how they ignore Clover’s canon character and story (acting like he would have rebelled against Ironwood if he were alive as if the whole reason he’s dead wasn’t precisely because he cared more about Ironwood’s orders than doing the right thing) and how they make every new plot point about their ship somehow (Oscar’s semblance? Better be a time-travel thing so Clover can come back. Staff of Creation? Better be able to bring people back from the dead so Clover can come back.) It’s so annoying.)

- Yang and Ruby’s talk about their mom was really intense. Ruby’s been holding all of these feelings in for so long, so seeing her say out loud what we’re all fearing (that Summer was turned into a Grimm) and seeing both her and Yang break down over it – that was a lot. I loved seeing Yang comfort Ruby and tell her that her plan for Amity wasn’t useless. Their sisterly bond is so sweet.

- Penny asking Ruby to kill her was another really intense moment. The look on Ruby’s face in that moment really said it all. Ruby has been through so much, has lost Penny before, so hearing that request – even though they fortunately didn’t have to go through with it – must have still been a lot for her.

- I really loved Emerald’s cute “newly reformed villain” moments. (“You guys have been getting your asses kicked… some of that my fault” & “I’m just going to be super pissed if you all finally decide to give up the moment I switch sides.”) I’ve said before (in my She-Ra posts) that my favourite part of any redemption arc is the “former enemies, now awkward around each other” stuff, so this was right up my alley!

- “The girl who fell through the world” was referenced twice now. Between that, the image of everyone falling in the opening, and the lyrics “sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall”, I’m going to predict that someone – most likely all of Team RWBY – will fall into that void and potentially end up in a different world.

- The group’s plan to defeat Ironwood, stop the bomb, and get to the vault was amazing all-around. I love the parts Emerald and Winter got to play in it, I love how we saw the plan’s execution before seeing how they came up with it and I love how everyone got to help, even the Schnees and Klein. I also love that the hole Oscar blasted through the ground of Atlas became relevant again.

- The design of the vault and the door are really nice and now I wonder what the other two are going to look like.

- Saving Penny like that was super risky, but they really were out of options. Just the fact that Ruby had to be quick enough to use her semblance and get to the staff before the virus kills Penny… jeesh, that was close.

- Ambrosius is a super fun character! I love that he looked at Penny and said “I’d love to meet whoever did this.” Also, the staff seems more useful than the lamp. The lamp only lets you ask three questions per century, while the staff can be used as often as you want – as long as you’re okay with whatever it previously created disappearing.

- I honestly still don’t completely understand what Penny is now. Is she meant to be human now? Or is she just a being made up of pure aura? How does this work? Ambrosius only created the copy that destroyed herself, so what’s left is Penny’s aura – but she somehow also has a body now? I guess we’ll find out more about what exactly this means later.

- Also, while I wasn’t sure how I feel about this decision re:Penny at first, now that I’ve thought about it for a bit, I think it works. It fits with the Pinocchio story, and I like that they didn’t phrase it as “she’s a real girl now”, but as “this is the girl who’s been in there all along”. Also, Penny saying “wow” after hugging Ruby and then going on a hugging spree was adorable.

- Watching “herself” self-terminate must have been really traumatic, though. Even if that copy was just a robot, it was still a disturbing scene.

- Who shut down communications in the middle of Jaune’s broadcast? I’m assuming it was Cinder, Watts and Neo.

- The whole dimension with the doorways that Ambrosius created looks amazing. (A while before watching this episode, I wondered if Raven could theoretically save Atlas by getting everyone to safety with her portals. It might not have been Raven, but I’m glad I was at least onto something.)

- “Do not fall.” So, about that… they’re all falling in the opening, (and we referenced “the girl who fell through the world” twice now), so I don’t have a good feeling about that. Also, Watts has been dangled from somewhere high twice now, so the third time has to be when he actually falls down.

- And Cinder is there to ruin the plan because of course she is.

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Ch 43 The Department of Family Reunions and Ch 44: Frangipani

It has come to my attention that I never uploaded the previous chapter onto Tumblr. Oopsy doopsy!

So here’s both the old and the new chapter in one package, all yours for free. Enjoy!

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“C’mon, I’ve been waiting for over forty minutes now!”

“You said we were next in line!”

“It’s already eleven o’clock! We don’t have all night you know!”

Old Chicharron tried to ignore all of the complaints and shouts of the other restless spirits hanging around him as he marched towards his office with several heavy, ancient books under his arms. But then more came, some louder and angrier than others, and Chich’s very low tolerance for foolishness gave way. Twirling around he let out a sharp piercing whistle that made everyone in the whole department cringe and fall silent.

“All right, listen up!” Chich barked out once he had their attention. “Unless any of you still has some flesh clinging to your bones, you’ve been moved back on the list of my priorities right now! Héctor Rivera is priority number one, comprende?!”

“Ah, the Riveras have always been your favorites, cabrón!” one stupidly brave skeleton shouted back.

“Pah! Shows what you know! I don’t like anybody!” he snarled before turning his attention to the Rivera family, Leti in particular, with a warm smile. “Leticia, how nice to see you chiquita. Come on in, I have all I need to settle this mess. How’s your mamá?”

Having not let go of Leti’s hand since he had been reunited with her, Héctor was pulled from his seat as the rest of the family walked into the small man’s office. Marigold Station was huge, with several other departments and hundreds of skeletons walking and running about. But the Department of Family Reunions was where the most harried of skeletons seemed to be, trying to get to different ofrendas and fighting with weary customer service assistants. They too stared in awe at a living man walking amongst them and able to see and interact with them. But whatever wonder they had turned to ire when they realized that the living man and his family had just cut in line in front of them.

Héctor also noted that there were even more skull and bone motifs in the architecture, the wallpaper, even the floor tiles.

He was picking up a not-so-subtle theme here…

“Héctor Rivera, step up here by the desk.” Chich said grumpily as heaved the heavy books on top of the desk with a loud grunt and then took a seat. “Sorry there’s only one chair in here and it’s mine, so you’ll have to stand.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”

“No gracias.”

“You’re cursed.”

“What?!” Héctor gasped, hearing his in-laws do the same behind and feeling Leti hugging him in fear. The blunt and tactless way he received his news was like another slap to his sore face. “How? How am I cursed?!”

“Well that’s easy.” Chich said as he pulled out a thick folder and started flipping through the pages. “Dia de Muertos is a night to give to the dead. You stole from the dead.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Héctor said righteously.

“Oh really? Because the evidence is staring me right in the face.” He pointed down at the guitar still in Héctor’s grip. When Héctor looked down himself he seemed to wilt a little at that in embarrassment.

“Oh… well, I… Oh!” Héctor held up the guitar. “No no, you don’t understand! I wasn’t stealing the guitar. I was preventing my son from stealing the guitar! Very different, you see? Heh heh… heh.”

Looking around at everyone in order to get some sort of understanding, he was just met with unimpressed stares. Gaspar snorted out a laugh. “Wow, Miguel’s a thief? What kind of parenting do you do?”

“I am a good parent! That’s not the point!” Héctor whined pitifully. “Look, I didn’t mean to steal it, alright? I had no idea this would happen. So can you please undo this?”

Chich gave a fake, simpering smile and laugh. “Oho, is that so? Alright, let me fix that for you with my magical powers, amigo. Abracadabra, oh look you’re still cursed. Lo siento.”

“This makes no sense!” Héctor cried out. “How does picking up a guitar get me cursed to the afterlife? Many people have picked it up and taken it away for refurbishing over the years. Is it just because it was on Dia de Muertos?”

“No, not exactly.” Chich explained. “Sí, it being Dia de Muertos does play a big part in this but simply stealing from a grave or an ofrenda won’t get you cursed by itself. Otherwise the whole department would be swarmed with little living babies who’ve swiped a candy or a galleta for themselves. No, the real reason you are cursed is because that guitar is cursed.”

Everyone turned to look at the guitar with newfound apprehension, with both Gaspar and Mirasol stepping back slightly in case the curse would spread to them. Leti nodded slowly with dawning comprehension, letting out a soft ‘ohhh’ in understanding. Héctor was honestly… not surprised. He knew that music was a curse to him and his family, bringing more misery than good and hurting him so much. The fact that it was Ernesto’s guitar, whose memory brought a good portion of that pain, seemed very fitting.

“All right then,” he said. “So… what do I do to fix it?”

Pulling out one of the thick books on his desk, Chich absently shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?!” Héctor stared at him wide-eyed and sputtered, then immediately leaned over the desk in agitation. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Isn’t this your job to know or whatever job skeletons have?!”

“I don’t know yet, just give me a minute!” Chich barked out and shoved Héctor’s face back with one hand. He flipped through the pages quickly, scanning them over. “Living people don’t come and go through the Land of the Dead very often, you know. Luckily for you you’re not the first one, I just gotta find his file.”

“You mean this has happened before, Senor Chicharron?” Leti asked.

With a grunt and a nod, Chich didn’t look up from his book. “Si, some guy got sick and was stuck in Limbo. And then… someone in the department messed up his Limbo retrieval and he ended up getting lost in the Alebrije Forest. We got him out and back to the Land of the Living, but he ended up making artwork out of the damn things now the whole world knows about alebrijes and I… someone got reprimanded for the whole thing and had their pay docked.”

“Oh sí, Alebrije Forest.” Gaspar laughed nervously. “The only place here besides the Land of the Dead where alebrijes reside in their thick forest, with lush greenery and fertile soil that no skeleton is allowed to go to. Yep, no one goes there. Not a single soul.”

Chich shook his head in disgust. “Dios mio, everybody knows about your black-market vegetables in the forest, Rivera, and nobody cares! Case in point, I’d like some mangos next time you get some. Aha, here it is. The Linares case.” Finding his spot on the page he quickly skimmed it over and gave out another grunt. “Well this should be easy. The only way to break a curse is to get a blessing from someone.”

“A blessing?” Héctor asked, finally getting the answers he needed he smiled and nodded with excitement. “A blessing. Okay, who do I get a blessing from? A priest, a nun? I’ll take one from anyone at this point.”

“It’s de la Cruz’s guitar, so you need de la Cruz’s blessing.”

“I’ll take one from anyone else at this point.”

Everyone groaned in exasperation as soon as he said it, even Dante made a snorting huff at him. Leti looked up at him with disappointment. “Oh Papa. Why do you hate Tio Nesto so much?”

“I-uh… I don’t hate him exactly.” Héctor said. “It’s just, umm… I have a lot of mixed emotions about him, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms- Look, Senor Chicharron, is it? You seem like a nice guy, down to Earth, the kind of guy you could borrow stuff from. Is there anything else I could do to go back?”

“It’s de la Cruz or nothing, Rivera.” Chich said gruffly.

Standing up straight, Héctor smoothed out his jacket and started to give off an air of high importance. Something that did not suit him at all and he hated to do, but the situation called for it. “Uh Senor, I don’t know if you know me, but despite my appearance I am an extremely wealthy man. So here’s what I’ll do for you.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his leather encased checkbook and a pen. Scratching out the details onto the check, he pointedly ignored the way Gaspar slapped his own forehead loudly and how Leti looked up at him with disappointment in her large eyes.

“I’ll start you out with ten thousand pesos, sí? And if that’s not enough then you can add as many zeroes to the end as you want. The sky’s the limit amigo, now what do you say?”

Ripping the check out, he leaned onto the desk and held it out in front of Chich’s glowering mug and put on his best winning, charming smile that ended up looking more sleazy than anything else. It was clear to everyone in the room at that moment that while Héctor was the true musician of the two, Ernesto was the true businessman.

“Anyone ever tell you that you get stupid when you’re desperate, Rivera?” Chich asked, causing Héctor to wilt. “Look, you need de la Cruz’s blessing and that’s that. But you got to get it by sunrise and it’s already past eleven.”

“Sunrise? What will happen at sunrise?”

“Well, if you get your hand off of your attempted bribery of a public official you’ll see for yourself.”

Putting the check down Héctor saw what it had been hiding and what he hadn’t registered before. The rest of his hand was normal, but his index finger was… white. Dumbly he tried to wipe it off on his pants, but the whiteness remained. It was white and… sectioned. Also his fingernail was gone. And his… skin was gone. He clenched the finger and it responded normally, but the sickening creaking sound it made caused the blood to drain from his face.

It was bone. His finger was turning into bone.

He was turning into bones. Into a skeleton.

Bones. Skeleton. Death. Dying. Bones.

…..

“Wake up Papa!”

All of a sudden that horrible smell had assaulted his senses again and Héctor coughed and hacked at the burning sensation coating his nasal cavity. Mirasol was kneeling before him and pulling away the smelling salts from his face with Leti hovering over him worriedly. Mirasol sighed with relief. “It’s a good thing Barto gave us this. Turns out we needed it after all.”

Groaning, Héctor reached a hand to cover his forehead only to jerk it away when once again he saw the whiteness of bone on his finger. He just laid back down, wincing a little as it felt like he was laying on something sharp and lumpy like a pile of broken boards. “What happened?”

“You fainted Papa!” Leti said. “You’re eyes just rolled back into your head and you fell backwards like a tree!”

“It was the shock of it all.” Mirasol said, pocketing the smelling salts. “Honestly, I’m surprised you lasted this long without fainting.”

Héctor huffed out a short laugh. “I had good cause- Ow!” Shifting in discomfort, whatever he was laying was now poking at him in the back painfully. “Why didn’t anyone catch me? And what am I laying on?”

“Me.”

The pained, grunted out voice in his ear caused Héctor to scramble up and off his irritated father-in-law in surprise. With a grimace he took him Gaspar’s scattered form and reached out his hands to help, only drawing back when he realized he didn’t know where to start. Apparently Gaspar had tried to catch him when he had fallen, but his height and weight had been to much for the shorter skeleton and pieces of him were now strewn about the office floor. His skull lay there on his own, glowering unamused as his wife and granddaughter tried to stifle their giggling and Héctor lay hovering but not helping. “You are heavier than you look, yerno.”

Héctor chuckled nervously and gripped his forearm. “Yeah, I’m uh… dense.”

“Dense in the head too.” Gaspar grumbled as once again the bones began to wobble on the floor and magically grouped themselves together. Once he was in one piece he helped himself and Héctor off the floor, silencing his girls with a glare that spoke that this little incident was not to leave the room. Ever.

“Now that you’re done with your little nap, I have something for you.” Chich said.

Everyone turned to see Chich had gone to the other side of the room and had retrieved a large black guitar case from the corner. Pulling out the plain brown guitar and shaking out of few bits of knick knacks and trash he handed the empty case to Héctor. “I don’t trust you to keep that thing safe, especially if you keep keelin’ over like that. This way you can protect it since it’s probably your ticket out of here.”

With a nod and mumbled thanks Héctor placed the golden guitar into the case and made a move to close it but paused. “Why do you say that? I thought you said I needed a blessing from Ernesto?”

“Sí, I did.” Chich nodded. “But that guitar is probably just as important,. Because in the nine years that Ernesto de la Cruz has been dead, and the thousands of offerings he’s brought back from the Land of the Living since then… Not once has he ever brought back that guitar with him.”

Crinkling his brow in confusion, Héctor glanced at the guitar, then to his daughter for confirmation. With Leti’s solemn nod Héctor shook his head. “I don’t understand. He always performed with this guitar, even in his movies. He loved it. Why wouldn’t he have it with him in death?”

Chich shrugged emphatically and glared. “What are you askin’ me for, you need to ask him! He’s the one who can answer that. Now take that guitar to him, get your blessing, and get out of here. I’m too busy to deal with you anymore.”

Pouting Héctor closed up the case and slung it on his back. “Okay, okay. Sheesh!”

“Ay, puta de madre, one more thing: the blessing.” Chich said before they left. “de la Cruz needs to get a cempazuchitl petal and present it to you, call your name and say, ‘I give you my blessing to go home’ and then you take the petal. Poof, your gone.”

“…That’s it? I’m gone, just like that?”

“Just like that.” Chich said. “Now you can get out of my sight.”

Leti watched as he father and grandparents head out the door, pausing to talk about something that she couldn’t hear, and turned towards Chich with a smile. “You know this will be my third time helping Papa on Dia de Muertos. I don’t know what he’d do without me.”

“You should think about getting a little punch-out card.” Chich said with a smile. “Save your Papa five times and you get a free helado, sí?”

Leti laughed out loud at that, a sweet high-pitched giggle, and old Chicharon found himself smiling even more. The little girl always made him feel better, especially on a night like tonight. “You go on ahead with your Papa. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to come back. I’ll be here all night.”

With a laugh, Leti shook her head. “Well, not all night.” At Chich’s questioning brow raise, Leti rolled her eyes. “You have to go visit your family later. You always take a later shift, right? So the newer deceased can go first.”

“… Of course.” Chich nodded and rasped out a hoarse chuckle. “Of course, you know me too well niña. Well after that you can come see me, claro? Tell me all about how you saved your Papa yet again.”

“Okay! Buenos noches, Señor Chicharron!” Leti said as she left. “Enjoy your visit!”

Watching Leti close the door, Chich didn’t immediately start to get ready for the next skeleton to come in. He just leaned back tiredly in his chair with a gravelly sigh. Bringing his fingers up to his face he glowered hard and he could see the slight gray tinge to the bones. A grayness that had been getting steadily worse over the years. He could even make out the beginnings of a small crack along the index knuckle.

Then he looked down as his lunch kit, knowing that that for the first time in decades it held no offerings, no pan dulce, not even a plain piece of fruit. It was a new feeling for him: Not receiving any offerings, not having his picture put up, that angry buzzer that he had heard from a distance before now reverberating loudly and sharply in his memory. Yes, a new feeling that he didn’t like one bit.

Finally he looked around his office. How many days had he cursed that he had ended up servicing the ungrateful souls of the afterlife with little to no thanks or perks? Now he was looking around and taking note of every nook and cranny of the small room, inhaling the scents of old paper and black ink. And it made him even angrier that, eventually, he would be asked to leave this wretched job and never see this stupid room again. And that he’d miss it.

“I’ll be here all night.” He mumbled again to no one.

But for how long?

-

-

Walking outside the Marigold Station and back into the Land of the Dead, Héctor was once again blown away by the majestic sights of gravity-defying skyscrapers and strange animals, that he now knew were the aforementioned alebrijes, flying and buzzing about. There were even more crowds of skeletons dancing in the streets and selling their wares in vendor booths, laughing and yelling and singing. It was so different and yet so familiar it made Héctor’s head spin, and he couldn’t help but smile at everything around him in spite of his dire circumstances.

But nearby skeletons were staring at him and pointing again, and Héctor tried in vain to cover his face with the short collar of his jacket.

“We really need to do something about this.” Gaspar said as he glared at the crowds. “You’ve got to get to de la Cruz pronto and being stopped by these gawkers isn’t helping any.”

“Maybe we could go home and get your hat and scarf to wrap around him?” Mirasol suggested. “Or we could buy some paint and make his face like a calavera, so he’d blend in?”

Gaspar snorted. “There’s no way paint would be able to hide that protruding nose.”

“Okay…” Héctor faintly growled.

“We won’t have to worry about that!” Leti piped up, and Héctor once again found himself melting and smiling at Leti. It felt just so good to hear her voice again that it was almost painful, and he hung onto her every word. “If anyone tries to stop or stall us, Frangipani will get them off of our backs. Speaking of which, she will also be our transportation for the night. Just stay here Papá, I’ll go get her!”

Walking off into the town square with Dante panting happily behind her, Leti cupped her hands and called out to this Frangipani whoever, letting out a few shrill whistles despite not having any lips. Héctor’s chest clenched painfully as he remembered the day when he had tried to teach his children how to do just that, just the tightening of teeth over lips with no puckering. Leti had been the only one to do it, at the ripe age of four years old. He had been so proud.

“A word Héctor,” Mirasol said softly, breaking him out of his memories. “Before you two go.”

Héctor had to force himself to look away from his daughter, wincing and smiling sheepishly once his attention was turned to his in-laws. “Sorry.”

“No no, it’s all right.” Mirasol smiled. “We… know what it’s like to lose a child to death. Especially when they are so very young.”

Héctor’s eyes widened and his gasped softly. “You mean… Before Imelda, you lost-?”

“No.” she reassured him. “No.”

“My wife and I may have been the ones who died, yerno.” Gaspar said, for the first time sounding somber since talking to his son-in-law. “But we still lost all three of our children that day. Only it was worse since we couldn’t see them or protect them when they so dearly needed it most.”

“We wished so badly to be able to raise our children, and in the end we got that opportunity with our granddaughter. But… I never wanted it to be because you and Imelda and the family suffered such a painful loss. And for that I am truly sorry Héctor.”

Feeling that he may start crying again Héctor pressed his lips closed and looked towards his daughter again. Leti now looked impatient as she tapped her foot, an adorable pout crossing her bony lips. Apparently whomever this Frangipani was wasn’t coming when they were being called. It made him smile to see Leti so full of life again despite being dead, especially after seeing her as a hollow husk of her former self the last few days of her being alive.

“Well,” Héctor managed to finally say with a little hoarseness. “she seems to be well adjusted and cared for. Thank you for taking such good care of her. Imelda was right, you two are great parents.”

“So are you Héctor. You are a wonderful father.” Mirasol said, her expression sad again. “You just need to remember how to be one.”

His smile falling from his face and his eyes narrowing, Héctor suddenly didn’t like the turn in conversation. “What do you mean?”

“You know what we mean Héctor.” Gaspar said, and despite being physically twice the skeletal man’s age Héctor suddenly felt like a punk kid in front of his father-in-law by the tone in his voice. “We were there the whole night watching you blow it with your family. Making your grown children cry, making Imelda cry, and Miguel! The poor boy will be scarred forever from tonight and that is all on you! Frankly, I should have slapped you again for what you’ve done!”

Héctor’s face grew hot and the guilt that he had successfully pressed down from before came right back up, and he as he tried to defend his actions he sounded more miserable than truly defiant. “No, they… They kept secrets from me… betrayed me… I-.”

“They kept secrets from you because they love you.” Mirasol softly said, then sighed. “We may have only seen you one day out of the year during these last few decades, but we both know that this isn’t who you are, Héctor. You are sweet, full of creativity, loyal and very goofy. The same things I see in my husband, Imelda sees in you.”

Gaspar harrumphed at that. “Don’t compare me to him…”

“This downward spiral with the whole family started with Leti’s death, sí?” Mirasol asked. At Héctor’s small nod she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then go. Be with her for tonight at least. It’s high time you finally heal. And with Ernesto too. Remember: we were there that night as well, mijo.”

That night.

Héctor couldn’t help but shiver when he thought about that night. The secrets that Ernesto had been hiding from him, the fight, being knocked out and locked up by his supposed best friend. All of the lies and betrayals that all ended in a bloody smear in a crater. The fact that they were there that night, that they bore witness to that terrible accident, made all the what ifs that he had suppressed for years come back again. If only he had been more attentive to Ernesto’s well being instead of his own, if only he had successfully kept him from going on that stage. If only he had managed to reach him before he hit that final note and the bell cracked loose.

He would still be alive.

Seeing the distress her son-in-law was feeling, Mirasol drew him into a hug and rubbed his back when he stiffened up. It should have felt weird: being hugged by a skeleton. But she was somehow warm and comforting, and Héctor found himself returning the hug and feeling a little better. A hand clapped on his shoulder made him look up, and Gaspar smiled at him little. His own little way of offering comfort too. Héctor was grateful.

“Oh there you are, you silly thing you!” Leti cheerfully said, causing the three adults to break apart before it got awkward. She came up to Héctor with her hands cupped together and smiled brightly at him. “Finally! Sorry for the delay Papá, but our ride is here now. Say hello to Frangipani, my alebrije!”

Opening up her clasped hands and presenting them to him, Héctor was shocked to see an elephant in his daughter’s hands. A pink elephant, to be precise, with butterfly wings for ears that fluttered lazily and green polka dots dotting her body. The elephant was also no bigger than a mouse. Héctor’s first thought was that this was the most adorable little animal he had ever seen in his life, and he couldn’t resist reaching a finger out to pet the little thing. He smiled when the elephant made a tiny peep! and wrapped it’s trunk around his finger. It was amazing and fitting that his daughter would have such a cute ally-buh-buh or whatever it was called.

But then he recalled what Leti had just said to him about it. And it made no sense. “Our… ride?”

“Yep!”

“… Mija, I know I’m a thin guy but if I ride that thing it’ll be an elephant tortilla soon enough.”

Leti tittered a laugh and lifted a finger to lightly rub the small creature’s knobby head, causing it to toot with contentment. “No no! Frangipani’s special, all alebrijes are. They can take many forms, do all sorts of cool things that boggle the mind, and not everyone gets them. Only those who need help when they need it, a spirit guide to guide them on their journey through the afterlife. Frangipani has helped me on many an occasion, you know… Wanna see her special gift?”

At Héctor’s nod, Leti whispered into the butterfly ear and suddenly they both began to flap rapidly. The tiny pink elephant left Leti’s hands and began to float hazily in the air, a high-pitched buzzing noise emitting from the ears. Héctor laughed as it buzzed a circle around his head, shaking his head in amazement. So cute. “Aww, she can fly… Still too small to ride though.”

“That’s only one of her abilities. Here’s the other!” Leti let Frangipani rest back onto her hand, and then began to wind up. “Frangipani: Grande Grande!”

And with a mighty swing Leti flung the alebrije high enough into the air until she was only a tiny pink dot in the sky. And then, within the blink of an eye, a giant five ton elephant came crashing down onto the pavement with a ground-shaking thud. Skeletons shouted in alarm and ducked for cover when the monstrous behemoth was suddenly taking up space in the plaza, and Héctor found himself stumbling back into his in-laws once again making a sound befitting a small girl.

Gaspar shoved him away and helped him balance back to standing position, and Héctor gawked at what had happened to the adorable little animal that seconds ago could have fit in his palm. It was still pink, at least, and the ears were still that of a butterfly’s. But the colors were harsher and glowed all over, the green polka dots had transformed into tiger stripes, the tusks were solid gold and as sharp as daggers at the ends, and the trunk looked like it could squeeze the life out of him faster than a python.

Not so cute anymore.

“Ta-daaah!” Leti grandly proclaimed as she went up beside her alebrije without fear, some skeletons applauding the spectacle while others put themselves back together. “Papá, this is the real Frangipani!. She can be as small or as big as she wants! A size-changer!”

Héctor placed a hand on his chest to calm the wild beating and sucked in a breath. “I… see…”

“And guess what?” Leti smiled. “Frangipani is the same elephant that Tio Nesto brought to Matty and I’s birthday party all those years ago! Remember?!”

As the words registered in his brain Héctor’s shock and amazement instantly turned to agitation and annoyance. “…You mean the same elephant that destroyed your gourmet birthday cake that I spent a small fortune on? And then sprayed me with icing and snot? That… elephant?...”

Frangipani, for all of her grandeur, seemed to deflate slightly at that. A lame wheeze of a trumpet let loose from her, and her trunk timidly poked at the ground in shame. Leti winced and brought a hand up to soothe her chastised spirit guide. “Uy… and I thought it was elephants that never forgot…”

Héctor sighed and walked up towards Frangipani, reasoning it would be silly to be wary about a seemingly wild animal when his eight-year-old daughter was hugging it. The long trunk unraveled and started poking around Héctor’s chest, the dainty upper lip of it managing to catch a sensitive spot and causing him to laugh. Gently pushing the trunk aside, Héctor cleared his throat and straightened his face. “Ahem… So this is our ride?”

“Sí.” Leti said from above, and Héctor was surprised to see that she was already on top and positioned behind Frangipani’s massive head. “Normally I’d have her grab you by your shirt and haul you up here, but you still have all your skin and organs so that would be very painful for you. So I’ll kneel her, you step up onto her leg, grab her ear and hoist yourself up. It’ll be easy!”

It wasn’t easy.

At fifty years old Héctor was not as limber as he used to be, and in the end he had to be pushed up by Gaspar and pulled by Leti to finally secure himself behind her. It was even more embarrassing when the normally clumsy Dante was able to hop up behind him with grace and dignity, panting and smiling with pride. Frangipani was also very hard with thick skin, and it took a few moments to position himself so that he was straddling her back with the least amount of discomfort.

“Oof… Oh!... Ay… Ugh, you’d think an animal this fat would be softer. No no no, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sor-!” But it was too late, for Frangipani’s trunk came up and blew a blast of hot air directly into Héctor’s face with a giant trumpet. It took a few seconds for his ears to stop ringing and his face to stop stinging before he realized that everyone in the plaza was laughing at him. Smoothing his hair back into place he pouted until Leti spoke again.

“Okay then, let’s take to the air!”

Wait what? The air?! The butterfly ears weren’t just for show?!

“Wait wait wait wait!” Héctor cried out before Frangipani could even move her ears an inch to begin flight. “I’m fine with riding an elephant, but flying is absolutely out of the question!”

“Aw, what?” Leti complained and Dante huffed in annoyance behind him.

“I agree with Héctor.” Gaspar said. “That alebrije is not the most graceful of fliers. I know from experience. You’ll be able to walk to Ernesto’s mansion in no time.”

“We’re not going to the mansion first.” Leti said, Héctor not seeing the conspiratorial smile on her face. “We’re going to go to Shantytown. Tio Nesto always brings his portion of offerings there first before the party and concert. We’ll meet him there!”

“Mija...” Mirasol sighed. “Are you sure you just don’t want to wait at the mansion first?”

“No, I don’t.” Leti said seriously. The tone in her voice troubled Héctor a little bit, it was not like his daughter to disagree with an elder flat out. Before he could question it, however, Leti piped out again happily. “Trust me!”

Mirasol’s face gave off a series of wavering emotions, clearly hesitating over whether this was a god idea or not. Finally she sighed and nodded, giving Leti a small proud smile. “All right then.” Looking now at Héctor, she continued. “Héctor, this may be the last time we see you for hopefully a long while. Good luck, mijo.”

Gaspar gave a short wave, smiling a bit. “Adios, yerno.”

Héctor nodded and smiled. “Adios. And thank you for everything again!”

With a gentle nudge by the ear from Leti, Frangipani started to walk slowly in the opposite direction down the street. Héctor jolted a little at the sudden motion and made a grab for his daughter to keep her upright, but Leti just shook her head and laughed. Several skeletons made way for the large alebrije walking through the crowd, and Dante gave one last bark at Gaspar and Mirasol as a way of goodbye.

When they all turned around the corner and disappeared, Gaspar sighed. “Do you really think going to Shantytown is a good idea?”

“It might be.”

“You know why she’s really taking him there, don’t you?”

“Sí.” Mirasol nodded. “But it might help. Héctor needs to heal from his past wounds. And if there’s anyone here who can help him feel better, it’s Leti.”

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

“Why the heck would you want Miguel to go to business school, Papá? Are you loco?”

Héctor couldn’t help but be little offended at that. Seems like everyone, even those in the afterlife, thought that maybe some of his parenting ideas weren’t so great after all. Even Imelda had balked at the idea of business school at first before he had managed to talk her into it the night before. Though from the reactions he got from everyone else, the way they had ganged up on him about Miguel pursuing music, maybe… No.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a bad idea!” Héctor said as all three of then swayed back in forth as Frangipani weaved through the streets of the dead. “He’ll have a secure future, be able to provide for himself and his family. And besides Matty is a businessman and he loves it!”

Leti chuckled sarcastically and turned around to face Héctor. “Papá, I love my brothers with all of my heart, but Matty is a boring stick in the mud who collects coins and stamps that are, in his words, neato. And Miguel’s… not the brightest bulb in the city if, you catch my drift.”

“Oh, come on. Miguel is very smart.”

Leti rolled her eyes. “Just tonight I saw he and Victoria get into a heated debate on whether vitamins existed or not. And before you ask, he was against them being real.”

“Oh… I’m beginning to think I don’t know my own children.” Héctor said sadly.

Leti leaned back against him and hummed. “You used to… but think about it. Music was so engrained into our family for years. It was the backbone to our successes, helped us out through tough times. Even though I could only see him once a year I could tell Miguel was going to grow up just like you, a musician through and through. Then, all of a sudden, it was taken from him at such a young age. I guess that was when the secret-keeping started. You forbid something he loved and made him happy. Made others happy too.”

“I was trying to protect him from what happened to Ernesto!”

“Papá…”

“I was! You were there that night, right? He died on stage singing that dreadful song-”

Remember me…

Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me!

Don’t let it make you-

Héctor gasped as they passed by one of the apartment complexes on the street, one skeleton on a balcony languidly humming along to a radio blasting that song at full volume. Even worse other skeletons had heard it too and started to sing along with it as well. Once again Héctor’s insides clenched up until it was hard to breathe, his face grew hot, and his heart started pumping a mile a minute.

Shoving the heels of his palms hard into his ears and squeezing his eyes, he was able to feel that Frangipani had started to pick up speed. Leti must have urged her further to get away from the song as quickly as possible. Once they were at a safe distance Héctor felt Dante’s wet tongue lick his hands, letting him know it was safe to let his hands down again. He did but kept his eyes shut as he tried to will his body to calm down. Again Leti leaned into his chest and Héctor wrapped his arms around his daughter searching for comfort.

He was so ashamed.

“You really hate that song, don’t you Papá?”

His voiced trembling more than he wished it too, Héctor rasped out. “I… can’t stand it…”

“That’s very sad.” Leti said. “You used to love that song, especially since you wrote it out of love for Coco.”

“I can’t feel the love anymore.” Héctor whispered. “Only pain… and death.”

“… It’s because of me too, right?”

Héctor didn’t say anything. Couldn’t confirm it, or rather didn’t want to. Because it was true. Two lives taken from him because of that song. Héctor just hugged her tighter, Dante whining behind him and placing his chin on Héctor’s shoulder. They stayed that way for a few moments, just Héctor holding her, before Leti spoke again.

“Well, I rather like that song.”

The bluntness coming from his daughter was so surprising that Héctor couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, but he just kept holding her with his eyes closed.

“I remember my last day alive. I was terrified, in pain, could barely breathe. But you were all there for me, and I was so glad Tio Nesto made it to say goodbye. I couldn’t speak properly, but I wanted you to sing to me Papá. I wanted you to sing that song. And you did. You all did. It was beautiful, and it was the last thing I remembered being alive. It helped me pass peacefully.”

“I know you feel like the song took us away from you, but I like to think that it released us from our pain. You were right, I was there that night. I saw Tio Nesto was sick at heart, but he still sang that song one more time. But we’re not gone Papá, not as long as you remember us the way we were. Because now we’re not sick and dying anymore. Now we are free to FLY!”

At that word Frangipani’s wing ears spread wide open at rapid speed, and before Héctor had a chance to open his eyes the alebrije was air-born with one mighty flap and a whoosh of air.

Héctor once again made a sound that he was not proud of and held on tighter to Leti, trying in the back of his mind to convince himself that he was protecting her and not clinging on for dear life. There were many things he wanted to shout out, such as ‘stop!’, ‘I said no flying!’ and ‘wasn’t there a movie about this?!’ but all that came up was panicked screaming. Before long they were up above the lower rung of buildings and heading straight up into the air.

Gaspar was right: Frangipani wasn’t the most graceful of fliers. She had to dodge other buildings. Towers and cranes during her ascent, even ducking beneath an air trolly at one point. It was a little sickening as she looped around at all angles, and even Dante was trying to keep hold by biting hard on the back of Héctor’s jacket and clinging to the guitar on his back. And Leti just laughed and whooped the whole time.

“Don’t worry Papá!” she screeched. “We’ll be in the open air right… NOW!”

And they were. Now that there was nothing in their way the turbulence was gone and there was now smooth sailing. Héctor slowly released his death grip from his daughter, and Dante from his, when his stomach finally settled back into it’s natural position. Carefully he risked a lean to his right to look down below, and he gasped both at how high they were and how even more beautiful the city was from above. The lights from the streets illuminated the ground even more, and several more colors popped out now that they were free from the fog surrounding the flower bridges.

Amazing.

“Sorry Papá!”  Leti said as she spread her arms wide enough to simulate flying herself. “But Frangipani is faster in the air than on the ground, and you don’t have all night. Besides, it’s a much better view up here than down there, right?”

And as the wind blew in his air and he could feel the smile growing on his face in pure wonderment, he couldn’t help but agree.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[overheardatthecontinental]

Worst Fears and Dreams Come True

Originally posted on tumblr over a year ago, I finally got around to uploading to AO3.

AO3 Link

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She was always stunning, John thought, watching as Helen kicked off her shoes. But there was something damn special about the way she lit up with her feet in the sand and the sun shining on her face. She glowed.

And it didn’t hurt that her sundress was cut high on her thighs or that the sleeve that slipped alluringly off her shoulder. Her dark hair twisted in the wind as John watched her from the deck of the cottage.

It was surreal. She was surreal.

He didn’t date. He didn’t do relationships or have one night stands with strangers. And he didn’t have any real friends, let alone ones with benefits. And he had never intended on it.

But Helen Kingston had captivated him from the moment he laid eyes on her. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. John knew plenty of beautiful women. No, Helen Kingston was so much more than beautiful. It was her kindness that had piqued his interest and her genuine heart that had fucked with his head over and over.

He didn’t deserve her.

But there she was: dipping her toes into the water while he watched, sipping at his morning coffee.

It had only been two months but those two months had more meaning than the rest of his miserable life combined.

She turns back to look at the house, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

Helen smiles up at John and crooks her finger.

How can he resist?

John sets down the coffee and walks down the steps to the beach. It was official. He was going to buy the damn cottage. It wasn’t for sale but that didn’t matter. He would call the man who was renting it and make an offer. It wouldn’t be turned down.

Anything to keep that smile on her face. She looked so relaxed, far away from work, far away from the city. She would never quit her job. She did too much good but he wouldn’t stop reminding her that the world was hers.

He crosses the beach down to the water in suit pants and a crisp white button down. He only had suits and clothes for working out. Helen teased him about it sometimes but, truthfully, John had never had the need for something casual before. He had never really been shopping outside of a tailor. Helen would love it, though. Taking him to the mall, finding sweaters and casual shirts for him to relax in. That was enough to make John almost want to interact with people.

“Hey you.” She says as he approaches, a small smile on her face.

John says nothing, stalking toward her in a way that had her licking her lips.

He reaches for her face and kisses her softly yet soundly. The waves crash on the shore, the wind stirring up the sand and their hair but nothing is as loud as his own heart beating.

Helen nips at his lower lip as he pulls away. "I love you."

"I love you too." John says, still in awe that the words flow so easily off his tongue. There is no one like her. "Here is the plan."

"What's the plan?" She rests her head on his chest, staring out at the sea. The sailboats on the horizon cut easily through the waters.

"You're going to quit your job."

"Am I?"

"You are." He can feel her smile. "I'm going to leave mine and you and I are going to run away."

She hums, "where to?"

"Somewhere warm. Thailand. Belize. Somewhere with white sand, clear blue waters. We'll burn all your clothes and you can live in a bikini."

Helen snorts, "oh no."

"Oh yes." John presses a kiss to the top of her head, "We'll get a quiet, private residence and no one will find us. We'll spend every day on the beach. We'll read and relax and make love."

"Just us."

"Just us. Forever."

Helen looks up, "That sounds wonderful."

It really did, John thought. But near impossible.

Helen stepped back and out of his arms, hand gliding down so that she can link their fingers together. "In the meantime, we have right now."

"That we do." John agrees, stepping with her as she starts to traverse across the beach.

She is so serene. The calm in his storm.

Helen Kingston- she is good and kind and pure and makes him want to be a better person. It's too late for redemption and he knows that, but she has accepted him with all his flaws. Her hand was intertwined with his despite knowing what he did with those hands when she was away. She slept in his arms every night. The monster wasn't under her bed… he was in it.

"You know I would never quit my job." Helen says conversationally.

"I know." It was part of what he loved about her- the dedication to the kids she worked with.

"Days like today make me want to."

John stops, spinning her in front of him so he can hold both her hands, facing her.

"Move in with me." Its neither an order nor a question. He's not sure what it is but it feels like a plea.

She smiles softly, "it's been two months, John. What happens when you get tired of me?"

"Never going to happen. If anything, this is insurance that you won't leave me."

She reaches up and runs a hand down his beard. "Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you?"

John feels unnaturally heavy. His stomach and heart sink because, damn him, he is not enough.

"Because you're smart. You're going to figure out that I'm no good. That you can do better."

"I don't want good. And I don't want better, John. I just want you."

Her eyes narrow suddenly, her lips parting and she starts to shout, “John, get--!”

Suddenly she is launched forward, crashing into him. Behind her, far from the shore, is a boat. A sniper rifle peaks out from the side and John throws both himself and Helen to the ground, rolling on top of her to cover her body with his.

Her eyes are wide, breathing frantic. A quick look down reveals his worst fear. Dark red blooms from her abdomen, staining her dress.

"Hey, hey," John places his hands on either side of her face as another shot fires just over their heads, "stay with me, baby!"

He is unarmed, save a small knife. They are sitting ducks in the sand and he can feel her blood soak through his shirt.

He takes her hands and places them over the wound, "keep pressure, okay? I'm going to get you out of here."

She nods shakily, her eyes so trusting even as her face contorts in pain. His arms wrap around her and he moves to his feet, swinging her up while still shielding her with his body.

The adrenaline is pumping through his system. He'd been in a thousand fights before but nothing had ever filled him with terror as moving across the beach, trying to run off center but still as quickly as possible to the cover of the brush.

He hears a motor and it sounds like the boat is driving away but he can't look. He can't risk slowing yet.

He jumps down into the brush, laying Helen behind a log within the reeds.

Looking up, the boat has disappeared. But that didn't guarantee they were alone.

The shot went through her abdomen. He rips his shirt off, not giving a damn about the buttons that fly in every direction as he rolls it and pushes it against her wound.

Her head lolls back. "Come on, Helen. Stay with me!"

John reaches into his pocket for his phone. He's never called 911 before. He's never needed to but he can't wait for the doc to drive from New York.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Woman shot. It went through her abdomen. It was some kind of rifle, a few hundred feet out." He rattles off the address.

"J-John?" Helen's face is layered with sweat.

"I'm here, baby."

"Is the shooter still out there?" The operator asks.

"No. They rode off."

"The ambulance is on its way and police have been dispatched."

He does wait for her to finish, hanging up the call and dropping the phone to the ground.

"I'm cold." Helen whispers.

"I know, baby, I know. Help is coming."

"Always hurt this bad?" She says through grit teeth. "How do you do it?"

"Oh you know…" John keeps the pressure on the wound, trying not to let the fear in his heart reach his face. "Practice, practice, practice."

She tries to smile but the pain is overwhelming. Her eyes start to close.

"No, no, no. Helen!" He says her name sharply and her eyes open. "I need you to stay with me."

"Want to sleep." It's almost a sob and John fights the urge to match her.

"I know. But you gotta stay awake, baby. Gotta stay with me until help gets here."

Where were the damn sirens?

"Trying…" He sees her hands shaking on either side of her. The color has drained of her face and he doesn't know what to do.

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything." She needs to stay conscious. "Tell me anything. Something you've never told me."

Helen nods and exhales shakily, "Okay. I fucking hate your convertible."

John blinks in surprise. Of all the things she could say… say wasn't exactly news but she had never admitted to it aloud.

"It's not safe. It's too flashy."

"What else?" He asks, a smile on his face.

" Its grossly cramped and there's no back seat to fuck in."

"Make you a deal. I'll get a new car if you let me buy you one too."

"John," she whimpers but keeps a brave face despite the pain, "I was just shot. This is coercion."

"That Chevrolet is going to fall apart on you."

"Be nice. Chevy is the great American car."

Her eyes start to flicker and John pats her cheek, "stay with me, Hel. I’ll buy you whatever shitty car you want.”

Her eyes close and John slaps her just a bit harder, heart clenching as he did.

"Bitch." She mutters, eyes opening as she trembled.

He could hear the sirens now. They were getting louder by the instant

"Come on, tell me something else."

"What you want to know?"

"Something new. Something I wouldn't guess this time."

She nods, "if I live,"

"You will."

She had to. There was no other alternative.

"I'm going to marry the fuck out of you, John Wick."

The last thing she saw, as the world went dark, was John's face agape in shock.

.

Helen had been rushed from the ambulance into surgery and John's only assurance had come from a paramedic promising him that the doctors would do all that they could. His hands shake. John couldn't remember a time in his life where his hands had shaken.

His stomach turns and it takes all his self-control not to lose the contents of his stomach in the nearby trash can.

He takes his cell out from his pocket. It is stained with her blood. Trying to ignore the way it feels under his fingertips, he dials a familiar pattern.

The ringing stops as the receiver is picked up. Before they can speak, John says, "Helen was shot."

Silence.

"Is she alive?" Marcus asks finally.

"In surgery."

More silence.

Marcus had told him, had warned him. John hadn't listened.

"Where was she shot?"

"Abdomen." He leans back in the chair, "it was meant for me."

"Well, I doubt anyone would go to shoot Helen for the fun of it."

John ignores the stinging remark. “I’m at the hospital now. Can you find out if anyone has a hit on me? I need to know where it’s coming from and I need to know who has been hired.”

“It isn’t open. I would have heard if it was. But I’ll head to the Continental. See if I can find out anything.” There is a moment of silence, “Aside from me, does anyone know about Helen? Winston? The Concierge or the Executor?”

“The Executor but he hasn’t met her.”

"Of course. You know, depending on who they sent, its very possible that half of the underworld knows about Helen by now."

Fuck, he wanted to vomit.

He had tried so hard to protect her. To keep her secret from his world. Marcus was right. He should have known better.

"Please, just do what you can."

"Just focus on her. I’ll take care of everything on this end.”

And Marcus is gone, the line dropped.

John sits down in a chair and watches the clock tick on and on.

.

She'll live, the doctor tells him and John breaths again. His heart stutters in relief as he receives the rundown of her procedure.

He barely listens, "I need to see her."

"Of course. She is, still, unconscious but I can take you back."

John nods and follows back to the recovery room. She is still pale but her vitals look good. He caresses her face lightly, her earlier words still echoing in his head.

His beautiful, crazy girl was lying in a hospital bed because his enemies found them.

He hadn’t protected her and she had taken a bullet meant for him.

Gladly, John would have taken it if it meant she did not lay in front of him.

John reaches for her hand. It is limp but warm and he holds it between his. Marcus had been right. There was no way to pull Helen into their world and still keep her safe. But he could not let her go, even if he wanted to.

.

Helen startles awake and blinks in the sharp white light of the hospital room.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” John’s voice soothes, hand tightening in her own while his other reaches up and rests on her forehead. “You’re okay.”

She blinks again, “Hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

John lets himself laugh, softly. His heart still heavy with the thought he came so close to losing her. But she was there. In front of him. Alive.

Helen looks him over. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m supposed to be asking that question.”

Helen stays quiet, looking at him seriously.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” He confesses, his hand sweeping back into her hair. “God, Helen…”

“I’m okay.” She whispers, squeezing his hand in hers. “I’m here.”

John releases the support on the bed and moves to sit on the edge, beside her. “Why didn’t you duck? Why didn’t you move when you saw the target?”

“It would have hit you.”

“One more wouldn’t have killed me.”

“It might’ve.”

“It might’ve killed you!” Did she not understand? He couldn’t yell at her, not while she was in a hospital bed but she had to understand. “My life doesn’t matter. I will gladly take a thousand bullets if it keeps you safe.”

“Your life matters to me, John.”

She had said ‘I love you’ fairly early on. He believed her every time she said it. He knew she cared, he knew he mattered but there was no one else who cared for him or about him as she did. All his faults lay at her feet and rather than step on him, she had knelt down and held him.

Nothing scared him more.

Except perhaps the words she had said in what very well could have been her last sentiment.

“It’s not worth yours.” He says finally, “If something happened to you, what would I be? You blow into my life and I don’t recognize the man I was two months ago. I don’t want to think about how empty I was before I found you. Before you, I was just a shell. What would you expect me to become if you died?”

Helen reaches up, her eyes so soft and open and so not like anything he was used to. She runs her hair up his beard and around back to his hair. “I would expect you to be the man I fell in love with.” She pulls his head and John obliges, bending forward to kiss her softly. Her lips are chapped from the anesthesia but neither care.

Only hours ago, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to kiss her again.

“I love you.” She says quietly, whispering against his lips. There’s a pause as Helen pulls back, just far enough to look at him. “And I meant what I said on the beach.”

John swallows, not meeting her eyes. “I can get a new car.”

“After that.”

He feels his lips twitch up softly, “The part about me being a bitch?”

“After that.” Helen smiles at him, “Although I won’t dispute that you’re a bitch sometimes.” She wraps her arm around his neck, wincing slightly at the way her body stretches, “When I get out of here, I am going to marry you, John Wick.”

John feels his hands shake. He’s not sure they’ve done that before. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?

“Our relationship is built off of me telling you what to do.” Helen flashes him a smile, “Besides, you were taking too long.”

“I have it on good authority you aren’t supposed to propose marriage after two months.”

“Nor are you supposed to propose moving in together but you did that this morning.”

“You still have an out, moving in with me. Once we’re married, you’re stuck with me forever.” And damn him, he’s considering it. She’s already dragged into his world. The wound in her stomach is proof enough of that but to put his ring on her finger, to put his name at the end of hers? “I won’t let you go.”

“I think I’ve established that I’m serious about you,” Helen tells him, eyes flicking down to her abdomen. “I have no intention of going anywhere. Aside from the courthouse.”

“You have to move in with me.” John feels a smile creep onto his face as he strokes her face.

“A given.”

“And I’m buying you a new car.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “Fine.”

“And a beach house.” It might be his best and only opportunity to negotiate.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

John surges forward and kisses her again. She’s here, in his arms. And she is going to be okay. Marcus had told him he was going to take care of it and John was going to let him. He had more important things to attend to, starting with his fiancée.

[kaiowut99]

5D's Episode 27... with an “Uncut” Dub?! (Re-Edited 4Kids Dub/Japanese OST - Revised)

“A World Without Light -- The Dark Synchro Frozen Fitzgerald!”/”A Web of Deceit (Part 1)″

Everybody listen!

Took long enough to finish up and polish (partly because of work and activism life actually picking up a bit), but here’s a brand-new “dub-uncut” episode! With my first few takes in episodes 23-26 newly revised, I was looking forward to working on 27 and starting fresh again, lol. In case this is the first you’re hearing about my mini-project here, let’s get you up to speed:

So, the official Spanish YGO channel on YouTube flubbed a few uploads of the 5D’s dub such that they ended up uploading a few episodes of the English dub instead of the Latin American dub (21-29)–but with none of 4Kids’s background music! Which meant that I could swoop in and re-insert the original Japanese soundtrack (which I did by matching each track to how it was looped in the episode), but I wanted to do more by also tweaking the dub itself so that not only was it matching the original footage, but the dialogue was more in line with the original dialogue timing-wise (since I couldn’t salvage much of what they changed).  Hence, the “dubbed uncut” gimmick here.  To this end, I’ve also used dialogue from Duel Links where applicable, or even borrowed audio from other episodes with the vocals isolated to lend to that effect.

Check out the masterpost of episodes I’ve done here!

Check out this episode’s WIP videos! WIP #1     WIP #2     WIP #3   WIP #4   WIP #5

So, this one was fun to do particularly because overall, save for the, er... butchering that happened on explaining the Dark Synchro mechanic (4Kids wut) and the rewrite of Carly’s interaction with her Editor-in-Chief (and making Carly a “blogger” lol), the dialogue was already more or less in line with the Japanese version, which meant that I was more or less just removing a lot of the fluff as I added back the OST.  As I did in 22, 24, and 26, I added subs for the scenes where 4Kids rewrote things a bit too much for my taste (so, the scenes I mentioned above, but also the occasional line or a few), but of course these subs will be optional in the MKV I release on NAC for this.  I also added back some SFX and tried to remove the dub’s replacement SFX in most cases, though I had to swap out the SFX as Speed Warrior was tuning with Junk Synchron since 4Kids had a tendency to add some new one over the original SFX and made it too loud to work with the Yusei chant I put there.  And I translated the OP/ED credits in Last Train and CROSS GAME, revamping my singable lyrics a bit for Last Train while drafting new ones for CROSS GAME which I’ll post soon; you can see my Last Train translation in the second WIP video and CROSS GAME’s here. Full process breakdown below the cut.

Also, major thanks to yugidmx5 for providing A+ rips of the “The Day Begins/Tenpei” theme in the Carly/Angela scene, the “Vision of Tragedy” theme as Yusei and Ruka talk about the Satellite’s future, and the alternate “Dark Signers” tune which plays as we first see them and then again between the Dark Signer drones recruiting and Yusei chasing Dark-Signer!Dick down (before it transitions to the OST-released version once Yusei gets to the building under construction); I know that since these came out well, he’s working on better rips for some or most of the unreleased OST, so stay tuned there (I also drafted up a full version of the alternate DS theme, but had to get creative since they didn’t play all of it in this alternate style; will post soon).  And thanks to Tiny Spider Productions, who provided the “shock” SFX playing as Carly sees Yusei’s arm actually glowing in her car, some inspo here/there for dialogue fixes, and provided CurtisH from CastingCallClub’s recording he did voicing a line from Tanner translating the original line about the four Signers they know which 4Kids cut short.

I hope folks enjoy! Just breezing through 28 often for lines to use here, I can tell it’s going to be a headache because they did throw in a lot more jankiness in the dialogue... So, fun. 🙃 Once I handle finalizing my subs for GX 56 (and possibly 57 due to how long this took), I’ll start drafting it out; stay tuned~ 

(And if you're able to reblog for visibility, it’d be appreciated given Tumblr’s suckage with links 🙏🏽)

Breakdown, breakdown~

So, I used Duel Links audio for the twins to handle the Noteworthy/Showcased Cards bit (we’ll see if I still can in 28... And as the twins are voiced by Eileen Stevens in Duel Links but not yet in 5D’s [that happens in 65], bear with me lol), and I also translated the sign for this hardsub in Photoshop, masking in the Fitzgerald card and Rua and Ruka’s heads over it in Sony Vegas.  

Moving to the episode proper, a second was trimmed from the shot of the stadium in the TV Rally/co are using once it tunes in, and I couldn’t properly loop the “Yusei!” shouts to cover it, so I just filled in the audio with the crowd just cheering.  In the Carly/Angela scene, I removed Angela’s extra lines about her makeup and hair while Carly was getting ready, then tweaked Angela’s line on camera to remove her last name (which we never learn originally) and move her lines about “Fusei Yudo” winning to play sooner while removing Carly’s “one journalist to another” as she walks up to correct her (as this scene was rewritten, there are subs to show the original dialogue).  Looped chants of “Yusei!” to remove his internal “pointing out the obvious” monologue before the OP.

After the OP, I used the JP audio to keep the doctors moving Jack quiet (hopefully you don’t notice the chants changing lol), then as Yanagi runs over, I replaced his bit about Yusei having “a brand new enemy” in the media with “we should all get going” from 26.  The Godwin/Lazar scene stays the same since it was accurate, but I did have to put the end of Rex’s “that’s the only thing that matters” line on another track so Lazar’s gasp would play when it should (they added a second to his talking in the dub).  The Yusei/co scene in the tunnel stays mostly the same, just switched to the JP audio as the flashback to the Satellite vision happened, then as Yusei had a quick one before gasping, I recycled a gasp and a “hmm” from elsewhere to cover the commercial-inducing monologue they gave him in the dub.  For the press conference scene, I thought about removing the one “That’s right, Ted” reporter’s line since he’s quiet originally, but thought “whatever,” and then I spaced out Carly’s line as she reads her fortune to match her Japanese line’s pace and remove some of the fluff.  I switched to the JP audio after Carly asked about Yusei’s arm glowing to remove Rex’s comment over it, then stitched up a “Perhaps; still, I didn’t see that” mixing his line there with a “still” from 23.  Carly’s line as she’s excited about Goodwin dodging her question (originally just “I’ll keep moving forward too!” [she references her fortune a lot more]) was longer in the dub, so I cut out the “which means I’m onto something” for use later.  For Carly’s chat with her Editor-in-Chief, I included subs because of the rewrite, but I did shorten Carly’s line just before “bring some dirt and you might still have a job” which was lengthened by 4Kids.  Removed a lot of Carly’s fluff as she began to watch the Yusei duel footage via the JP audio, then stitched together “Goodwin tried to give me that bit but [the whole world will know what Goodwin’s trying to hide]”, the latter bit coming from Carly’s monologue as she’s running at the end of the ep, then switched to the JP audio to remove Carly’s fluff about living in her car.  Then, as we see the Dark Signers looming, because 4Kids removed the commercial break here, I kept only Demak and Kalin’s chuckling and Roman’s “lower the curtains” line over the desk shot, then looped some of his laughing from after the eyecatch to lead into it.

After the eyecatch, I made use of his “Goodwin assembled his Signers” bit, recycled a little chuckling, then cut Roman’s reference to Shakespeare to just the “tangled web” line (thanks to yugidmx5 also providing the SFX for this scene, I was able to move Roman’s laughing to play where it should after he releases his spiders).  Moving to Yanagi drawing the Crimson Dragon, I only kept his “saw it the once” line while using Japanese Rua and Ruka’s interested gasps to fill a fluff gap, then combined two bits of audio to get a [slightly] awkward “t[ail]” to fix 4Kids’s dumb error claiming he had the Head birthmark; accordingly, made Leo say “What about it?” instead of “What about the Head?”.  CurtisH’s line for Tanner comes in here, with a slight tweak or two to match the lip-flaps more, then JP audio as we see all the Signers so far to remove Leo’s dialogue.  Meanwhile, for Jack’s hospital scene, I translated the “No Visitors” sign Mikage walks past (along with fixing “Atlus” to “Atlas”).  The Dark Signer recruitment scene also gets some subs, then I used the JP audio from when we see Dark Signer!Dick walking to Yusei’s birthmark beginning to glow; yugidmx5 providing the SFX was a big help here, too.  Yusei runs out to chase Dick down, and then when he sees him inside the under-construction building, I took “Who are you” from later in the episode, but added a more question-ending “u?” to flesh the sound out a bit (since the line was “Who are you and what’s going on”).  I took “Fine, then” and “What are you planning to do to the Satellite” from 28 (which I’ll likely cut as it was added offscreen dialogue), and TSP provided a vocal-isolated cut of Dick’s line about his master (because 4Kids cut his shot short by a second or two and played it as the SFX for the zoomout as his Disk activated played).  

They begin the duel, and here I just kept “What’s going on?” from the line I noted earlier, recycled some laughing from Dick to match the JP script, then shortened his line about their being offered up “by the light” to work with the new timing.  Dick begins his turn, but I recycled an “It’s my turn now” line from later for accuracy, then his setting-a-card line is cut short at his ending his turn as Yusei looks on.  Carly, driving nearby and seeing lights from the duel off in the distance, gets her reference to the Goodwin “sheen from Yusei’s Runner got in your eye” line that I cut replaced with the “I’m onto something” I noted before.  Yusei gets a recycled “It’s my move!” line from 24 to start his turn, tweaked to remove the drawing SFX that happens in it, then to remove a dub SFX I used a Duel Links line to fill out “I activate the Tuning [Spell Card]”.  “I summon Junk Synchron” comes from 24 (and “Level-2-or-below Monster from my Graveyard” comes from his Graceful Revival explanation in episode 3), then--thanks to Arian over on NAC reuploading some HQ dub episodes--a better-quality vocal rip of his “Level-3 Junk Synchron, tune with Level-2 Speed Warrior!” line from 87, along with a better-quality rip of his “From two come one” chant and “Form the road of light!” from Duel Links.  Yusei shouts “Battle!” from Duel Links, then I slowed down his line at “[Attack his Blizzard Li]zard” to end it there (and remove the “warm Satellite welcome” fluff).  As Blizzard Lizard’s effect activates, I combined an “I activate,” “Blizzard Lizard’s special ability,” and “now” for a better line than “Blizzard Lizard’s special ability is going on.” Yusei’s lines after being damaged and realizing he damaged Dick too are spaced out to match the JP script, then I borrowed Yusei’s line on setting two cards from episode 3.  Then, when Dick plays Ice Mirror, I stitched up an explanation (since the Card Interruption does it for him) combining Call of the Haunted’s explanation with a few other pieces of dialogue (thanks to TSP for the inspo).  I cut Dick’s “Now I’ll play” line there to remove the dub’s zooming-in SFX, and then made Dick’s line about his third Blizzard Lizard end right before the split-screen with all three of them to remove the dub’s split-screen SFX.  I thought about replacing Yusei’s “three’s a crowd” line with “What’s that all about” from later, but couldn’t figure out a way to fill the line in before that, so I left it, but didn’t let Dick acknowledge it by just recycling “With that done” to replace “Well, how about [I release]”, then after Yusei reacts to his Dark Tuner, I recycled some chuckling to match the JP script and trimmed his line about its “power to extinguish;” the Dark Synchro “explanation” gets some subs to actually explain it, then I looped Carly’s panting as she runs to cover the “Goodwin’s trying to hide” line I moved to earlier, and recycled/amplified Dick’s laughing at various points through the ep to remove Yusei’s episode-ending monologue.

In the preview, I just recycled Yusei’s “No way...” and “A Dark Synchro Summon?!” while borrowing Carly’s lines about the Dark Tuner from 28, then Yusei’s line about getting his answers to end it.  I had to speed up the OST version of the preview tune to match the pace here, then trimmed it and ended it with the JP audio for the quick fade-out.

/phew

[shinahbee]

BJ Alex_Ahn Jiwon

Hello! So i've been listing some of my favorite manhwa recommendations every month and I featured this manhwa in one of them, this was listed in my November favorites of 2020, but I didn't really give a lot details about it since I was planning to talk about it here. I'll give you the summary I found online of the manhwa MANHWA SUMMARY: "Every night at 10, Dong-gyun locks himself up in his room, grabs a box of tissues, and watches a live cam boy show hosted by Alex, a BJ (broadcast jockey). Timid Dong-gyun admires not only Alex’s ripped body, but his candor in sharing his sexual experiences with viewers. One night, Dong-gyun downs too many drinks at a school networking event and passes out. When he wakes up, he’s in bed staring up at a shirtless hunk. A hunk who looks an awful lot like...Alex. " I like how brief this summary is and it says just the right amount to maybe pique your curiosity but not give you the entire premise of the story. But like the summary addressed, it is about a normal collage student named dong gyun who is in love with a Broadcast jockey ( think of it as a youtube or twitch streamer but rated R) and these streamers get donations from doing live streams of rated R things/ sharing sexual experiences, dong gyun is a fan of a particular BJ named alex who was ranked the highest and most popular BJ, so most of his time is spent on donating to him and watching his videos and interacting on the live stream as much as possible. I believe he just got back from his military service and went back to attending school, upon returning to school he meets the departments student council president ahn jiwon, who is very attractive tall dark and handsome man, he then introduces himself to dong gyun as his sunbae ( upper class man) and promises to help him in any he can since he had been away from school for so long. So that night there was a frat party and everyone in their department went drinking and of course our man dong gyun was drunk to the point of no return and jiwon asked if any of them knew where he lived but no one in their department knew so as the president he felt responsible and took him to his apartment, where upon entering dong gyun threw up on him which jiwon had to take off his shirt, after he took off his shirt dong gyun notices a correlation between his favorite BJ and this sunbae which is the beauty mark on his neck and a particular butterfly shaped birthmark on his torso, this made dong gyun  ask the question " are you alex?" and jiwon immediately freezes....dun dun dun so basically you get the gist, since dong gyun knew his identity jiwon threatens him to not tell anyone and in exchange they can become sex partners, that is only the beginning of their story but to be honest I didn't like the way he treated dong gyun at first but later it makes sense and after the second half of the story where he chases after dong gyun is when I fell in love with him, his personality and dedication took a 180 and I now know why dong gyun loves him so dearly. I'm like yes dong gyun....I get you... 

what I really like about this story over all is how it started and how they decided to end it, so pay attention to the beginning and end of the official ending ( not the side stories), it is well done and thought out. There is a lot of relationship development and not a lot of drama, it's mainly about two young college students coming into terms with their sexuality and both of which deal with it in different ways, this is also about how meeting the right person at the wrong time can eventually become meeting the right person at the right time. after dong gyun and jiwon are together they just emit this cute synergy and became a cute comedic duo which makes their relationship more endearing. so with that being said, I drew this fanart of jiwon from a illustration the creator did on her twitter a while back if you follow her then you would have seen it, i'll link her twitter account below, it was also her birthday recently , so this is like a birthday fanart I made for her, i don't have a twitter but i'll share this on my other social media accounts. I tried to make him look more sexy by dragging some of the lipstick marks and making it look sloppy, and I just drew a bunch of black roses around him cause it suits the way he looks, I think it turned out really well and I'm happy to share it here. twitter.com/_MinGwa BTW, BJ alex is completed and is licensed on Lezhin Comics, so you can support the author there by reading it, Just a warning it is 19+ cause of the explicit content so just so that you are aware and also they have a Youtube channel introductory video of BJ alex and i'll link the video below if you want to check that out. They call it review but, there was no analysis of the story and it was only like 6 minutes long so i wouldn't call it  a review. Also features Edward avila ( beauty youtuber) I used to watch joan kim's videos and that's how i know of him...was actually surprised to see him reviewing this lol. www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzRVv6… please give this a like  if you would like to see more manhwa features, if you have read BJ alex let me know what you like about it in the comments, follow me on my other social media for more updates soon! that's all for now, take care! sheena ----------------------------------------------------- SOCIAL MEDIA ----------------------------------------------------- deviantart: she-be.deviantart.com instagram: shinb_art tumblr: shinahbee