#i had to assume their heights sorry about that one champ

[splattercamp]

i'm sorry you guys but i got bored

[renaroo]

Super Brothers (2/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: This is almost late and I apologize. I have no excuses other than my brain is turning into as much mush as everyone else’s. But I really am enjoying where the future of this story is going and am really excited to get there. But, first, we have to reach some difficult places first. 

Before we go further, I must say this: TRIGGER WARNING. There is overt child abuse and child harm in this chapter. It’s not super detailed and it gets cut off, but I do not want people to get upset from it without warning. So please take care of yourself first and foremost.

I’m blown away by the support this fic is getting so far and I appreciate you all so very much! Special thanks to the lovely comments and promotion from @secretlystephaniebrown, @spiralcass, @noartificialfruitjuice, @fred-astairs-dark-impulses, @karagordon, and elietrope on AO3 and tumblr!

Chapter Two: Pay in Full

Damian isn’t surprised when he is the lone attendant of breakfast the following morning. His wrists are still bruised up and a little painful from his restraints, but he ignores them under the cuffs of his school uniform and is the picture of polite society and manners. He eats confidently and alone.

It isn’t unusual, only disappointing.

Fortunately, Alfred is nothing if not an excellent reader of the atmosphere and does not force conversation or dullness on Damian that is unwarranted. He leaves the youngest Wayne to a peaceful meal.

The quiet makes it easier for Damian to overhear Alfred conversing just a step or so into the hall.

“Ah, Miss Cassandra, it is unusual to see you up and about at such an hour,” Alfred’s voice carries with a genuine mix of praise and surprise.

“Yeah, um,” Cass mutters, speech slurred with sleep, “can you, um, take me? Soon? He wanted to talk to me.”

“But of course. I can take you as I take Master Damian to the academy this morning.”

Starring toward the door, Damian lets his oatmeal slip off of his spoon and carelessly plop back into the bowl. He doesn’t even pay attention to the splashes of oats which end up on Alfred’s meticulously cared for table runner. He’ absorbed by the implications of the conversation happening in front of him.

After an encounter with Professor Pyg which ended as eventfully as his did, Damian anticipated some negative news getting to either his father or Grayson. And while Damian didn’t want for Dick to hear about Damian’s poor performances without him, there was at least some trust.

Grayson would be annoyingly supportive and want to use the entire event as some sort of learning experience.

Father is something else entirely.

After a few moments of subconsciously holding his breath, Damian glances down to his oatmeal and finds it suddenly subpar.

He pushes out from the table, chair legs protesting loudly, and tosses the handkerchief from his lap onto the table. Damian is on his feet and in the hall before Cassandra even has time to leave Alfred and redress herself for the day.

“Alfred, I do not need to attend the academy today,” he announces.

The butler tilts his head slightly and raises his eyebrows minutely. “I believe the education system would disagree with you entirely.”

“I have things to discuss with Father,” Damian elaborates stiffly. “Important information that outweighs any supposed social-developments I am pretending to make.”

Cassandra scratches at her jawline and frowns at Damian. She’s assessing him, her dark eyes boring into Damian’s soul and evaluating every tremor of his muscle.

Which makes it even more annoying that her choice of commentary is to say, “Bad at it. Pretending,” she jokes.

“Silence, you,” Damian hisses ferally. “The entire first year I lived here, I had to listen to everyone talk about you and never once did they mention your sass.”

She offers a half-shrug. “Forgot the best part.”

“Tt, more like the worst,” Damian teeters, hands on his hips.

For a moment, Cassandra seems to be ignoring him as she looks over Damian’s head at Alfred and rotates her shoulders. “Maybe shouldn’t go to school,” she offers, surprising Damian entirely.

Alfred seems just as taken by the suggestion and looks at her suspiciously. “Why so, Miss Cassandra?”

“Had a bad night,” she explains. “Probably does have important stuff to say.”

Heat flushes into Damian’s face. His eyes glaze into a distinct red hue and his shoulders tremble as he clutches his hands into fists by his side. There is almost certainly steam coming off of him as anger overtakes him in a way that it hasn’t for ages now.

“How dare you!” he roars.

All too casually, Cassandra glances down to Damian and raises an eyebrow at him. She doesn’t say anything with words.

“How dare you assume so much about me! You don’t even know me!” Damian continues, bringing his fists up as if ready to brawl. “Perhaps what I’m going to do is while you wish to tattle to Father, I’ll tell him the truth about how you are nothing but an interference here in Gotham! That you do not deserve to trespass on my affairs! And that absolutely everyone wishes you would bugger off again so that everyone can go back to the way things were!”

“Master Damian, that is enough!” Alfred says coolly. He never raises his voice, but he never needs to.

Despite himself, Damian snaps his jaw closed. But he doesn’t stop glaring into Cassandra’s face, her eyes. His anger is still boiling over, no matter how much he’s contained it.

Cassandra looks back at him, her face drawn and unreadable.

It makes Damian even more upset.

“That is no way to speak to anyone, certainly not family,” Alfred reminds Damian. “Considering your injuries—“

“I am not injured that gravely, Pennyworth!” Damian sputters again.

“—I can see the benefit to a day of recuperation from school, so long as we do not continue this theme habitually,” Alfred persists. “We will leave for your father’s office as soon as Miss Cassandra is ready to leave. And we will not leave a moment sooner than that.” He looks to Cassandra and pats her shoulder. It’s the only thing that gets her to pull her gaze away from Damian. “I encourage you to get ready for the day at your leisure, my dear.”

After that, the conversation is over, and Damian ends up sitting in the foyer waiting for the better part of an hour as Cass does just as Alfred insisted.

***

“There he is!”

Jon is still wiping at his eyes as he stumbles through the apartment. It’s difficult, in these early mornings, for him to focus on appropriate amounts of strength, so he shoulders into furniture a touch too hard or bangs into the doorframe with enough force to send pictures lined down the walls tumbling down.

Some things that are less natural to him since his coming into power, like flight or his special types of vision, take more effort and alertness. Not his super strength, however fortunately or unfortunately.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen, his feet padding over the shift from hardwood to tile. He can smell the scrambled eggs before his dad even set them on Jon’s prepared plate.

At the table across from Jon is his mom, already in a beautiful silk top with a gold necklace of large geometric squares. Her chin-length hair is curlier than usual which means she hasn’t straightened it. Her lashes are long, nearly swooping down to her cheeks as she looks down to her iPad as she reads. When she takes her cup away from her lips, a dark purple lip stain is left behind on it.

Jon admires her for a moment, scooting into his seat but not pulling up to the table.

“Good morning, honey,” his mom says full of affection. Her violet eyes glance up to his face.

“Good morning,” Jon says back, smiling brightly.

“Leave walking room, champ,” his dad says from behind. Before Jon can even think, two massive hands close in around the edges of Jon’s backrest, then his whole chair is lifted and scooted up until Jon’s chest nearly bumps the table.

“Sorry, Pa,” Jon says automatically, sparing a glance as his father moves over and plants himself in one of the two chairs between Jon and his mom.

Even in a collared shirt and sweater vest, Jon can see what a massive shadow his father leaves for him. He is broad-shouldered and firm, even with his softness. He has a body that exudes power and strength. It’s only with folded in shoulders and deflated presentation that Clark Kent can convince the world there is a difference between himself and Superman.

At home, among family, as Pa, Jon knows his dad is unmistakably Superman.

When Pa’s large hands reach for his cup of orange juice or poke at scrambled eggs with a fork, it makes Jon look at his own hands.

They’re thin, nimble hands. Soft.

Mom has said on more than one occasion that with fingers as long as his, Jon needs to either learn piano or practice keyboard typing. And Jon is certain he has no ear for tunes.

“I almost came to get you a second time, young man,” Pa says between bites of eggs. “I warned you before about staying up late. I know there are plenty of things an eleven-year-old boy thinks are cooler than sleep.”

Curling his nose, Jon shifts uncomfortably. “I’m almost twelve now,” he reminds them. “You said I could push curfew when I turned twelve.”

“And you’re still not twelve,” Mom says, closing out the tabs on her iPad. She looks very seriously at Jon. “And it doesn’t matter what age you are, my mother’s intuition tells me you’re watching scary movies with the Wayne kid again.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Jon squeaks. “I promise I wasn’t!”

“You had nightmares last night, Jon. We share a wall with your room,” Pa says, face the picture of sympathetic. “And it’s okay to have nightmares sometimes, but you’ve been having them a lot lately. Something like that would usually require something scaring you.”

“Like movies,” Mom adds, still eyeing Jon suspiciously. “Is it Gotham? Maybe we shouldn’t let you go to Gotham so much. Especially this time of year. I hate that stuck-up little island, Clark. No wonder he’s scared.”

“Wait, no, it’s not anything to do with Gotham or movies or Damian,” Jon argues emphatically.

Both of Jon’s parents stop and do the thing Jon has come to hate most during their meals. They look up, toward one another, and seemingly carry out an entire conversation with each other through micro expression alone.  It would be adorable if they weren’t his parents.

Jon decides to take the time to begin shoveling in his eggs. His dad’s cooking may be simple but it’s always filling.

“Do you want to talk about these nightmares you’re having, Jon?” Pa asks gently. “You and your body have been put through a lot of changes very quickly over the past year or so. You’ve gotten your own powers, you’ve moved schools twice, your mother and I both are back at full time. That’s a lot.”

He chews over his father’s words for a long moment and considers them.

For most of his young life, Jon Kent has been able to tell his parents positively everything on his mind. They are loving, supportive good people. The best people. Whether they’re superheroes or super reporters, they make Jon proud with almost every second of every day.

But his nightmares make his throat fill closed and tight in ways that are impossible to express. He likes to think they could know, but it feels like they couldn’t.

They couldn’t know how certain words or certain looks or certain things make him feel like he’s crawled into someone else’s skin. Like he’s been lying to everyone on accident this whole time. That what people see him as is undeserved.

What could he ever say to explain that?

Not to mention, explaining that he was patrolling in Gotham and got captured by some madman like Professor Pyg is probably worth far more trouble than simply admitting to scary movies with Damian.

“I don’t remember them,” Jon lies through his teeth.

“That can happen,” Pa says warmly.

When Jon looks up, it’s unsurprising to see that his mother’s face is fairly neutral. She looks at him worriedly and unconvinced.

If she plans on saying anything, however, the moment eludes her. Her iPad lights up simultaneously with the default ding of her phone. She glances at them both before getting to her feet. She’s a full inch taller in her heels and wearing Jon’s favorite skirt of hers.

“Clark, are you going to take Jon this morning?” she asks. ��I can use it to excuse you from any early bellows from Perry.”

“Of course,” Pa says, leaning back and tilting his head for the optimal kissing angle.

Mom comes around the table and ducks down, holding back her hair delicately as she kisses Jon’s forehead. “Have a good day, hun, I love you.”

“Bye, Mom, you look beautiful,” Jon informs her as she leaves.

He watches her go and takes a breath. His gaze is only broken when his dad holds his glasses out in front of his vision.

“Don’t forget these,” Pa reminds him.

“Oh, thanks,” Jon mutters, taking the thick frames. His motion is stopped, though, as his father doesn’t let go. He glances back up to Pa and raises a brow.

“Jon, do you know how polygraphs work?” Pa asks, still not letting go of the glasses.

“Um, not really,” Jon admits.

“They measure your heartbeat, because if someone’s not a good liar then they will increase their heart rate, and the machine records it,” Pa explains as he finally lets go of Jon’s glasses.

Despite himself, Jon’s heart picks up its pace. He glances down to his lap. “Do you always listen to my heartbeat?”

“Since before you were born,” Pa says softly, running his broad hand over Jon’s hair. His thumb strums the locks affectionately. “And you thought I was the easy parent, huh?”

“I just don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet,” Jon explains worriedly.

“That’s okay,” Pa assures him, letting go of Jon’s hair. “But I’d appreciate you not lying to me or your mother.”

Jon frowns. “I won’t, Pa, I promise. Sorry I did.” He glances toward his mother’s seat and notices her coffee mug sitting where she left it. Her purple lipstick is still staining the side. “Do you listen to mom’s heartbeat?”

“Practically since the day I met her,” Pa laughs, picking up both of their finished plates. “I always listen out for the hearts of the people I love. It’s,” he pauses in thought before continuing his walk to the sink, “it’s comforting to know everyone’s safe.”

Humming some, Jon puts his chin on the kitchen table and focuses. His mom should be in the elevator on her way down. If he uses his x-ray vision he could even watch her. But instead, he listens. It’s hard to focus on the beat alone, to isolate it. It could give him a headache until he’s better at it. But Jon can do it.

It’s one of many things he can do, he can be because of his father — a polygraph.

But as he listens for his mother’s heart, Jon wonders if there are more things he can do and be because of his mother.

“Pa, it’s a good thing to want to be more like mom, right?” Jon asks before he can stop himself.

His pa lets out a deep laugh over the running water in the sink. “Jon, everyone wants to be more like your mother. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

And that, Jon decides, is comforting.

***

Lor-Zod learns through the sunstones in silence. His eyes are transfixed on their histories and piloting and mathematics, but his mind is distantly occupied.

His mother has stood vigilant at the door, unmoving, the entire morning. She has not greeted him yet, has not introduced herself to him. Standing, quietly, scathingly.

The moment Lor finishes his aeronautics lesson, he feels his mother’s hand close around his wrist. He is reaching for the next lesson, but she is suddenly upon him, stopping him. Her face is mere centimeters from his own. Her nose snarls.

“You are summoned, Lor,” she tells him, as though he should already know.

“Where, mother?” he barely has air in his lungs to ask before he is jerked into the air and guided through the halls of their palace.

As they travel swiftly through their palace, Lor notices for the first time that he has not seen servants or even heard servants all morning. That is beyond unusual, and it makes their giant crystalline halls even more empty than normal.

Something sits unsettled and worrisome in Lor’s chest. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“What are we doing, mother?” Lor attempts again, voice tight with fear.

“Is a child to speak out of turn?” she asks angrily, her brown hair whipping across her face as she looks over her shoulder.

Lor obediently shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

“Then you have no turn,” she informs him. When she looks ahead once more, her fingers tighten around his wrist. “There is a lesson to be learned today.”

Silence overtakes Lor as they reach the grand hall and entrance of their palace. There still are no servants to be seen, and there is also no sign of the general. Every hair on Lor’s body stands on end as he realizes just how wrong everything is set up to be.

But he cannot even force himself to speak. He knows better. His body knows better.

As they bound out of the giant doors to their palace, Lor realizes that they are opening up to an enormous gathering. There are purple-skinned Jekuul natives for as far as Lor’s unaided vision can see. They all face forward, toward the intimidating staircase to the palace’s entrance. And to the general.

General Zod does not even turn his shoulders toward Lor and his mother as they come to his side. He is facing forward, over the crowd.

Lor is positioned harshly, stood in front of his mother. She swiftly shifts her hand from his wrist to his shoulder, her other hand matching it. They grip him fiercely, nails clicking against the Kryptonian armor beneath.

When Lor looks up to his mother’s face, he can only see her chin as it faces the general obediently.

Then, when Lor follows her gaze, he lets out a soft gasp.

They are not the only ones standing on the stairs. There is also a familiar, tiny purple girl in his father’s grips.

“Ti’ahl? What’s she doing here?” Lor asks before his mother’s grip becomes even more constricting. He feels his chest freeze up, his heart pounding again.

“You are out of turn, child,” she hisses down at him. “Watch.”

Swallowing, Lor looks back to the General.

The General seems satisfied after Lor falls silent, and he begins speaking out in a tongue so strange but familiar. His voice booms and echoes over the silent crowds below. He’s speaking in Jakuul, Lor knows that much, but still not what his father is saying.

For a moment, Lor tries. He tries desperately to understand what is being said, but none of it makes sense. There aren’t even the familiar possibilities of understanding like he had with Ti’ahl just the day before.

Thinking of Ti’ahl, Lor glances down from his father’s face to where Ti’ahl stands trembling in the General’s grip.

She looks paler than yesterday, her purple skin lighter in the face and almost blue in her cheeks. Her big, dark eyes are tear-filled and sunken, her hair messy. It occurs to Lor that she is wearing the exact same clothes that he last saw her in.

Only at that moment does Lor realize she never made it home last night. But he can’t imagine why.

Deep down, Lor wishes to speak to her, to comfort her, to offer his cape once more, but she doesn’t even have it now. Lor wonders, idly, where it might be.

The General’s voice picks up in fervor, growing in a tempo as the crowds below become unsettled.

Lor doesn’t know what to think, what’s going on when he sees his father wrench Ti’ahl’s arm back and up into the air at a frightening angle. It makes the little girl scream in shock and begins crying, tugging.

Not sure what is going on, Lor opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

With a flick of his wrist, the General turns Ti’ahl’s arm completely upside down and a hideous snap echoes through the hot Jekuul air.

Stunned, Lor stares at his father and at the little girl he played with yesterday. The air erupts with high pitched squeals and sobs from the crowds below. Ti’ahl herself hangs limply unconscious, only held up by the General’s tremendous grip on her arm.

His mother holds him down with so much force, Lor feels as though he will sink through the stairs. He can’t look at her, can’t hear her past the thundering pulse in his own ears. He stares only at his father who is happily soaking in the shock and awe of the crowds.

Then, Lor snaps.

All he can see is red and then his father’s shoulder is smoking, singed.

And, for the first time since the night before, General Zod looks at Lor.

“I am disappointed, Faora,” the General says angrily. “You assured me that our child was being raised in the traditions of Krypton. Are those traditions not that punishments are handled by the mother?”

“They are,” Lor’s mother says, aghast, before yanking Lor into the palace doors.

Lor hits the floor before he even sees the smack coming. And it is only the first.

He hardly feels any of it, numb to everything with the sound of that crack echoing throughout his whole body.

[sethrine-writes]

Devil-sitter May Cry, Ch. 1

Pairing: Dante x F!Reader, Vergil x F!Reader (Undecided)

Words:  1888

Warning:  Some cuteness

Story Summary: Low on cash and desperate for a job, you reply to a flyer for a babysitting position. Little did you know that the opportunity to watch over two special boys would bring your life so much mayhem and adventure...and, perhaps, a chance at a family of your own.

A/N: After months of going back and forth on if I really wanted to start this new thing and finally saying “Well, why the hell not?” I bring to you this babysitter au, of sorts! I’m still undecided with the final pairing, so we’ll see how things go before I make a definitive decision. I really hope you guys enjoy!

As a side note, this fic will, eventually, get rather angsty. Keep that in mind before getting too attached!

------

Chapter 1 - Searching for Purpose

-Need some extra cash?

Flexible with your hours?

Good with kids?

Then this is the job for you!

In search of a babysitter - Weekly pay!

XXX-XXX-XXXX, ask for Lady-

The flyer had stuck out to you like a sore thumb from the community cork board of the complex you lived in, the job offer printed on brightly colored paper, a stark contrast to the other flyers and cards offering other sorts of odds and ends.

You had been on the hunt for another job for over a month, having applied to at least a dozen places and having only heard back from a few that, ultimately, diverted to hiring someone else.

Your fridge was almost empty, and rent was past due, though your landlord had been kind enough to extend the date for another couple of weeks. That deadline, however, was fast approaching, and with no new job, things were starting to look real dicey.

Desperate for cash didn’t even begin to describe your situation.

It was practically a no-brainer to apply for the position. You adored children, anyhow, knew how to handle them well, and even if the job ended up being a temporary accommodation, you hoped that you could at least make it long enough to pay your rent for another month while you searched for something else.

So, with nothing to lose, you called the number and left a voicemail, not expecting a reply, but hoping for one, all the same.

You were beyond surprised to get a call back not but ten minutes later, and after answering some necessary questions -some were a bit more personal than you expected, but you were desperate enough, perhaps even stupid enough, to go along with it- you were asked to come by for a final hands-on evaluation.

And just like that, a new course in your life was set in stone - you just didn't realize exactly to what extent.

---

The place was easy to find, though when you arrived, you had to second-guess the address you had been provided by Lady, staring down the building from across the street.

Devil May Cry.

You had heard of the place before and only knew vaguely of the services that were offered. The guys who ran it could, apparently, be hired to get rid of some unwanted pests, though not the normal rats and bugs and whatnot that plagued some households. Their specialty lied more in the...supernatural department, demons and otherworldly creatures that popped up from time to time and wreaked havoc on the city as well as unsuspecting victims.

If you remembered correctly, the guys who ran the place were brothers, both rather skilled in their field of work as well as private about their individual lives, considering there wasn't much else you knew of them.

Even demon hunters started families, you supposed, and with your train of thought having come to a stop, you quickly made your way over to the place of business.

The building itself looked pretty well maintained, perhaps even remodeled at some point in the past few years. It was brandished with a tasteful neon sign of the business' name, Devil May Cry, above a pair of ornate double doors that almost looked out of place, but they were nice, all the same.

You took in a deep breath as you climbed the small set of steps leading to the entrance and let it out in a huff to rid yourself of your nervous energy, reaching for one of the handles and praying to whatever deity above that you could make a decent impression.

The door you had reached for burst upon suddenly with surprising force, enough that you were just a tad too late in pulling back before the hardwood collided with your hand. You pulled back as your other hand wrapped around your aching fingers, glancing down at the barely there damage before your gaze was taken by the sight of a man rushing out from the building.

The chime of childish cackling reached your ears, and you were suddenly aware that the man was chasing after a child, a little boy, by the looks of it.

The man had been quick to scoop up who you could only assume was his own son before he could even make it ten feet down the sidewalk. The kid, sporting a shock of fuzzy white hair and the biggest, happiest grin you had ever seen, screamed in delight at his own capture, throwing his hands up as his father held him in the air for a moment, chuckling and shaking his head.

"You're lucky you're cute," he said, "otherwise, you'd be in so much more trouble than you are."

"Aw, I didn't do anything!"

"You made quite the mess, inside," the man explained as he lowered his son and held him against his side with one arm while walking back toward the building, "and you nearly ran this poor woman over."

You blinked suddenly as their attention shifted to you, feeling simultaneously out of place and put on the spot.

The man was ruggedly handsome, you noted, smile kind and charming and his lovely, lovely eyes full of mirth. His son was too cute for words, looking every bit the kind of child that liked to play a little on the rougher side.

"I think you hit her with the door," the man explained gently, not accusing, simply stating. You were aware that you were still holding your fingers to your chest and let them go quickly, the full ache having been receding little by little with each passing second.

Big, baby blue eyes had seen the action, anyhow, and the boy was suddenly bashful and hid himself in his father's neck, an odd juxtaposition to his rowdy behavior moments ago that just endeared you to him even more.

"What do we say, hm?" the man asked, giving his son a little bounce in his hold.

The boy wiggled for a moment, but remained quiet.

"Nero," the man murmured, smile fading and voice holding a stern tone.

There was another bout of silence, but the boy, Nero, finally shifted his head enough to flash one narrowed eye your way grumpily.

"M'sorry," he grumbled, and just like that, the man's smile was back in place, his gaze looking to you almost expectantly. Luckily, you caught on quick.

"Oh! Thank you for apologizing," you spoke up with your own smile, holding out the previously injured hand and turning it from side to side while wiggling your fingers.

"I'm alright, see? Nothing to worry over."

Nero's visible eye widened a fraction before he was burying his face once more against his father, earning yet another huffing chuckle from the man.

"Good job, champ. See that? All's forgiven. Now, go on and help V clean up the mess you made."

He knelt down to place his son back on the sidewalk, giving him a little nudge back toward the doors before standing to his full height.

Nero was pouting, looking every bit a child scorned as he stomped back up the steps. He was sure to skirt by you with a gentler step, however, turning to give you one last peek of those big baby blues before rushing the rest of the way to the doors and, with a bit of effort, pulling one open to disappear inside.

"Sorry about that," the man said as he approached you, "kid's got a knack for getting into trouble without meaning to."

"It was nothing to worry over, really," you assured, your smile gentle. "He seems like a sweet kid."

"Rambunctious little terror, that one, but he has his moments" the man grinned as he eyed you up curiously, reaching a hand out. "Name's Dante."

You were quick to reciprocate the greeting, giving your name before pulling away.

"So, you looking to have some unwanted visitors booted out?"

"Oh! Um, actually, I was sent here by Lady, and-"

Dante gave a sudden scoff as he looked off to the side, most likely thinking back to something you weren't privy to. Overall, not a good sign.

"Lady. Of course," he muttered, his eyes turning back up to catch your gaze. The apology was as clear as day, and you could already feel the rejection coiling tight within your chest.

"Look, I'm not sure what she promised you-"

"The flyer was for a babysitter position, ah," you took that moment to reach for your pants pocket, pulling a folded, brightly colored piece of paper from within, "this, right here."

Dante took the flyer, unfolding it to read its contents. Another scoff, slightly more amused than the last, escaped him as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Of course she made flyers," he said aloud, folding the paper once more and pocketing it himself. He still retained that apologetic look in his eyes, and you were already preparing for the rejection.

"I'm sure you're great, and all, but we're not exactly looking for-"

"Please," you interrupted, taking a step closer in your sudden burst of desperation, "please, just...maybe you need a secretary? Or someone to clean around the place?"

Dante's brow rose, perhaps confused by your emboldened plea, or maybe bewildered by the stranger begging him on the front steps of his business for a job.

"If you're looking for something steady-"

"It doesn't have to be for long," you countered, surprising yourself as you continued, "a week or two, a month, if you can swing it. I just...I really need this job."

You continued to give Dante a hopeful, pleading look, though his own expression had become scarily neutral, in turn. Just when you were about to give up and apologize for the inconvenience, Dante sighed heavily, eyes closing and hand coming up to rub at the back of his head.

"Damnit, you're really pulling all the stops, huh?" he said, question more rhetoric than actually calling for an answer. He then crossed his arms, giving you yet another once-over before shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright, sure."

You blinked, not really believing you had heard him right.

"Sure? You mean...really?!"

"Hey, you're the one begging for a chance," Dante mused, "and I trust Lady's judgement, for whatever good that does me. If she sent you here, then she had good reason for it."

You were, quite frankly, dumbfounded.

"Oh, wow! Uh, th-thank you," you stuttered out, excitement replacing the anxious rejection within your chest in a whiplash of a change.

"Only a month," he then proclaimed, holding up a single finger to drive the point across. "One month, just to see how things go. I can't really promise anything more than that."

"That's all I need," you assured confidently, having to restrain yourself from clapping your hands together giddily. "Seriously, thank you."

"Eh, we'll see how you feel once you acquaint yourself with the brats," Dante mused, moving up the steps and pulling open the door. He then looked back at you and motioned for you to come in with a tilt of his head.

"So, you ever babysat before?" he questioned as you stepped through the entrance, turning to watch him follow you through.

"Many times, actually," you answered as the door shut behind you, sealing your fate for whatever lay ahead of you. "I love children."

[lilhemmo]

i’ll risk it

send me two au’s from this list + a ship/character

a/n: not sure how i feel about this? but feel free to request more! 

You’ve been a teacher at Riverdale Elementary for six years now.

It was easy, once you heard about the Southside school system shutting down, you knew you had to help. You were working at Ronnie’s, living off your dead parent’s trust fund money while you went out to find yourself, or something like that. But, it all changed the day that news spread aired.

You volunteer, you serve, you teach, you do a little bit of everything. You tutor for the math club, you help with the chess team, and you even help coach the girls’ softball team.

And every time, when the Winter Solstice Dance rolls around, you’re first in line to volunteer as chaperone.

It’s adorable to see children ten and under dress up in poufy ball gowns and tiny tuxedos complete with a bow tie. You don’t mind service fruit punch and peanut butter sandwiches cut into snowmen because you get to watch little girls giggle and little boys blush.

Also, Sweet Pea is always on the chaperone list too.

You’ve spoken to him sparingly, when he comes to the school to volunteer or when you bump into one another in the hallways. He’s recently become more involved, and you’re wondering if it has to do with the seven year-old boy he’s escorting to the restroom.

Toni Topaz teaches second grade and she swears that Sweet Pea is single. Betty Cooper, an office administrator and part-time English teacher tells you in passing that he’s got a thing for you. Even Vice Principal Lodge swears that Sweet Pea lingers in the halls when he’s picking up who you presume to be his child, waiting to see if you’ll emerge from your classroom.

It’s not your fault that you haven’t approached him yet. He’s tall and muscular, and a little scary with the snake tattoo spread across his neck. On the other hand, he’s really handsome and you’ve never heard him raise his voice or cop an attitude with his kid when they’re late to the pick-up line or forget something in their classroom and he has to park the car and wait for him to come back.

Again, kind of scary, but in a handsome way, and unapproachable to the max. It’s not your fault you don’t speak to him; nobody does.

And then it feels like the universe is laughing at you when a certain tall, muscular, handsome-in-a-scary-way man bumps into you at the punch bowl.

Apologies flow from both of your lips and you straighten your dress before looking him in the eyes, “I am so sorry. I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“Well,” he chuckles, trying to right himself and keep the blush off his cheeks, “I don’t think most of the other guests here tonight would have bulldozed you over. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

You shake your head and offer him your hand, “No, uh, we haven’t. I teach kindergarten, it looks like your boy is a bit older than that.”

You exchange names and then he does a double-take, “I-I’m sorry. My boy?”

“Yes, your son,” you supply, gesturing to the short, dark-haired seven year-old across the dance floor. He’s currently trying to convince an eight year-old that he doesn’t have two left feet. “He’s cute. I’ve seen him in the halls a couple of times, and only heard the best reports from his teachers. You’ve raised him really well.”

Sweet Pea’s face goes bright red and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped. You bumble through a few apologies, reaching out to press your fingertips to his forearms. “I’m so sorry. Again. It’s not my place to talk about your son like that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sweet Pea covers your palm with his own, sending a bolt of lightning through your bones. “It’s just, that, well – he’s not my kid. He’s my nephew.”

You’re speechless now, only because more apologizing seems like it would be nothing short of annoying. You roll your lips and try to come up with something to say, but end up empty-handed. You shake your head and try your best to look him in the eye, craning your neck skyward.

“My fault for assuming,” you nod.

Sweet Pea manages a smile, retracting his hand after realizing he was still touching you. “It’s okay. Fogarty is in the military, so he’s gone for long periods of time. His wife died in childbirth, so I take shifts of helping the kid get where he needs to go, and giving him a place to sleep.”

The universe is howling in laughter at you right now.

You lick your lips, “That’s rather noble of you, I think. I’m sorry to hear about his mother.”

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. When he speaks, it sounds smoother than before, like honey rolling off his tongue, “We’re Serpents, we band together when things go south. We’re a family.”

“Sounds exactly like something he would need in a time like this,” you supply, noting the way that his eyes track your every movement. “We really appreciate your help chaperoning. The PTO board can’t ever get enough volunteers, and most teachers would rather be anywhere else other than spending more time at school.”

Sweet Pea reaches out and touches your shoulder with his hand, opening his mouth to speak, but interrupted by a tiny pair of hands yanking on his jeans.

He raises a brow and looks down at the boy you thought thirty minutes ago was his own flesh and blood, “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

“I’m ready to go home,” he whispers, trying his best not to let you hear.

You chuckle and take a step away so he feels more comfortable talking to Sweet Pea without you overhearing. Sweet Pea ruffles Charlie’s hair and nods, “Sure, kiddo. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

He stands to his full height once more and you’re overwhelmed by his stature. You look up at him, admiring his height and muscle. Sweet Pea catches you staring and a smirk graces his full lips, forcing a pink blush onto your cheeks. He reaches out and circles your wrist with a gentle touch, “I’ll see you next time?”

“Next time,” you echo, forcing the words from between your teeth.

Charlie tugs on his arm one more time, and you swear you don’t watch him every second until he walks out the gymnasium doors.

--

Betty and Toni show up at your doorstep the first night of Spring Break, and you swear you want to punch both of them in the face.

“How do you guys even have any energy?” you whine as they toss you around your bedroom, throwing clothes at you that you didn’t even think you had. You catch a sparkly shirt and throw it on, knowing that you’ll either do it willingly, or they’ll force it onto you.

“Listen, ever since the Southside has been shut down, the Wyrm has been operating secretly – only the true Southsiders know that it’s up and running. We’re going to go out!” Toni bites her lip as she takes in your appearance.

“And what if I see parents there?” you ask, raising a brow.

Betty smirks, “Well, just means that you saw them too.”

And just like that, they’ve got you tossed in the back of Toni’s truck and on the way to The Wyrm.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the Wyrm. Life just got too hectic and you became too busy with school planning and grading to even have a social life.

It smells the same as always when you three crack the wood doors open – like cheap beer and disappointment.

Betty claims a pool table while Toni grabs your first drink order of the night. It’s easy, falling into step like this with your girl friends. Honestly, you’ve missed having a life.

You’re definitely not tipsy enough when a group of three guys approaches the table, all wearing smirks and mischievous expressions.

Toni laughs, “Oh, Jones, what’s the big deal?”

“Fogarty, Pea, and I just wanted a quick game, is all.” The one you recognize as Jughead Jones saunters around the table to take a spot beside Betty. You blink, trying to remember where you’ve heard the name Fogarty before.

A hand presses to your shoulder and you look up to meet the hazel eyes of none other than Sweet Pea.

“Wow, hey,” you muster, a grin tugging on the corners of your mouth. You set you drink down on a coaster and pull him in for a hug, praying that it’s not too weird and that he’ll just go along with it. He does, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tight enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“We’ll team up,” the only one left, Fogarty, says as he bridles up next to Toni. She rolls her eyes but sends him a wink, “You picked the winning team, Fangs. Let’s get another round of drinks before we crush the competition.”

The pair walk towards the bar, engulfed in conversation, effectively leaving you practically alone with Sweet Pea, given that Betty and Jughead are knee deep in staring into one another’s eyes.

“So,” he starts, leaning against the pool table. His plaid shirt hands off his shoulders nicely, tight around his biceps and wide around the collar, exposing his collarbones. “I guess now is the time to tell you that I’m the reigning champ of pool, and if you screw this up for me, I will never live it down.”

You roll your eyes and swallow the thick lump in your throat, trying your hardest to appear cool despite the utter fear that has settled into your bones, “Well, then I should let you know that I’m practically a beast with a pool stick, so you have nothing to worry about.”

He bites his lip before looking you in the eye, a smirk playing on his mouth. He grabs the chalk and brushes it against the tip of the pool stick, dark eyes never leaving your face.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he answers in a deep voice, tossing you the chalk as he racks the pool balls.

Jughead throws the first game and Fangs throws the second, leaving you and Sweet Pea in first place two games in a row. Toni has been practically wasted for at least an hour, and Betty has been making bedroom eyes at Jughead since the third round of shots arrived.

“Ride home?” Sweet Pea offers, watching as Fangs exits with Toni, and Jughead stalks away with his arm around Betty’s waist.

You nod, chuckling, “Yeah, I guess so. My ride ditched me.”

“Yeah, Topaz isn’t always the best at paying attention,” Sweet Pea laughs. He helps you clean up your nearby table, stacking dishes and putting away the pool table equipment. You shrug, “I don’t mind. Usually I just Uber home.”

Sweet Pea guides you with his hand on your lower back, effectively pouring metaphoric hot lava down your spine. You force yourself to hold in a shiver due to nerves alone as he holds the door open for you and walks you to his motorcycle. It’s a short walk, and yet it feels like you’ve been running a marathon with the way your heart is beating and your breath is leaving your lungs.

As if the universe is still laughing at you, when Sweet Pea revs his motorcycle, you squeak and tighten your arms around his waist. He laughs, and you can’t bear to look at him so you just bury your helmet-covered head in between his shoulder blades and don’t move until the motorcycle has stopped in front of your house.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he speaks up as he juts his heel into the kickstand.

You shake your head, pulling the helmet off and cradling it in your hands, “No, it’s fine. My head is in the clouds, it feels like. I haven’t been up this late in so long, it’s pathetic.”

“I get what you mean,” he answers, stepping off the motorcycle. Sweet Pea reaches out and helps you down with his hands on your waist. “I’ve had Charlie the past couple of weeks, Fangs just got back from a couple weeks away, and the kid is having a hard time the older he gets with his dad being gone.”

You step closer on reflex, with his hands on your waist, “I couldn’t imagine…that must be so hard.”

“No kidding,” Sweet Pea chuckles. He reaches up with one hand to rub the back of his neck and you’re not sure if it’s the remaining buzz talking to you, or the night air that settles like a balm on your skin, but you reach up and tuck a stray curl behind his ear.

The moment your fingerprint presses against his skin, his irises connect with yours and a quiet falls over the two of you.

Before you can retract your palm from his face, Sweet Pea circles his fingers around your wrist to hold you still. His gaze is intense and his touch is hot; you’re not sure where this is going or if you even want to get there. All you do know is that his skin is soft and his lips look really full and your heart is running rampant in your chest.

Sweet Pea takes your hesitation to mean that you don’t want him to advance, and so he steps back and starts apologizing for being too forward. Before you can think too far into it, you push yourself up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his lips.

As you settle back down to the soles of your shoes in the gravel of the front yard, you feel a certain weight of fear settle in your stomach. You barely have time to breathe before you’re swept up into his arms and cradled against his body as he walks towards your front door. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and hold on tightly to his shoulders as he walks up the steps and fumbles through the bag on your hip for your keys.

Sweet Pea sets you down on the nearest countertop, his hips never straying far from your own. He hooks his hands around your thighs as he looks up at you, trying to figure you out as you bite your lip and stare down at him.

“How long?” he asks simply, breaking the silence.

You cock your head to the side and he repeats the question, but now you’ve pulled yourself far enough out of your haze that you can process his question.

“Seven months, I think,” you answer. “I noticed you probably three years ago, but wasn’t sure until the start of this school year when I saw you at Orientation.”

He smirks and dips his head to your collarbone, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of your neck. Your breath hitches and you instinctively clutch your knees tighter around his waist.

Sweet Pea’s voice is gentle as it echoes against the shell of your ear, “I think mine has been close to two years. Saw you with Topaz and knew that you were good people if she was hanging around you.”

You can’t hide the surprise in your voice when you confirm that he said two years by echoing the words back to him. He chuckles and tilts his head back so he can look you in the eyes, “Pathetic, I know.”

“No, what’s pathetic is that for the past three years, I’ve wanted you to ask me to dance.”

He pulls away to tug you down from the counter, “Well, I finally have the guts to ask you.”

Somehow he manages to get the perfect song playing on his phone as he gathers you up in his arms, one palm on your waist and the other threaded through your own fingers. He sways with you, your bodies pressed to one another as the song progresses.

“Doubt this would have been appropriate at a children’s dance,” you murmur, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to become enamored with the warmth of his body.

Sweet Pea nudges his nose against your temple, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He cranes his neck and you feel the start of a breath against your lips, but you push yourself upward and meet him halfway in a surge. You wrap your arms around his neck and your teeth bump as your kiss hastens.

He chuckles against your lips, “Yeah, technically boys have cooties.”

“I’ll risk it,” you whisper, slotting your mouth to his before he can interrupt you again.

-

a/n: let me know what you think!

[mysticpenguincreation]

So I’ve watched (partially) leaked episodes of American Gods and there is no way I’m not gonna post about it.

Clear and explicit spoilers are under the cut, so read away at your own risk.

YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

This is going to be mainly about the one and only, my love #1 Mad Sweeney.

Before I get down to business, I have to make some points clear.

1. In my opinion, AG is one of the BEST shows to grace our screens in many many long years, because:

It’s based on Neil Gaiman novel.

Storytelling is compelling.

Have you seen the editing? The lights and colors? The camera work?! This shit is AMAZING. There are few things I like more about the shows than good editing and visual aesthetics. And this right here? It’s pure pleasure.

The casting and acting is mind-blowing.

2. I know better than fixate on only one character, because the whole plot, the story in general is so much more than fate of one character (even if they’re the lead).

With that being stated in advance, I would like to clarify that AG is a complex story created through crossing paths of many different characters. It’s not about Mr. Wednesday, it’s not even about Shadow Moon and it’s sure as hell is not about Mad Sweeney.

But the latest was the reason why I was renewing AG and his tags this whole fucking week. So when THREE episodes (INCLUDED the one dedicated to Sweeney) were leaked in my country at three in the morning, I, tired from work and lack of sleep, naturally decided to give middle finger to my master’s thesis and watch them.

Unfortunately, I am no god and have basic human needs, so I’ve only watched parts regarding Sweeney, but I’m sure as hell watching whole episodes later.

And finally to the points:

Episode 2x05.

Sweeney thinking at first that Laura was an angel made me laugh so hard.

She was so fucking jealous of him, when he was flirting with this blonde girl! And then he looked right at Laura!!! He knew what he was doing and it was working!

He was so fucking jealous when this voodoo couple started to get sexy with Laura! Oh how he didn’t like it!

Let me tell you, this scene made me hot all over. He’s savage, huge and built like a brick wall. I’d climb this fine piece of fairy-godlike king any day any time.

At first I was disappointed because ‘THE HELL! So it was JUST the Horde and Sweeney’s deepest desires?! They’re gonna go and fuck different people’. I’d ideally prefer them to fuck each other, at the lack of better option this happening in an orgy, but to become swingers without actually having sex even once? C’mon guys! But my fears were in vain, eventually everything happened the way it should have happened.

Laura is so smol and Sweeney is HUGE. They’re outing my (enormous) size kink / height/built difference kink.

This scene was what I was anticipating since midseason 1 and I FINALLY GOT IT GODDAMIT!

First few seconds of ‘the morning after’ were just too damn hilarious.

Sweeney is not good at dealing with his shit, but Laura confirmed that she is way way worse. She didn’t know how to deal with him, this situation and her (or his for this matter) feelings anymore. So she fled and hurt my ginger giant bb in the process.

Episode 2x06.

There is no Laura or Sweeney in this one, so I skipped through it in like 5 min and understood next to nothing.

HOWEVER! This ep. featured my beautiful love #2 Tech Boy (a sight for sore eyes). In one of his recent interviews Bruce said that Tech Boy is a God of Technology, but technology can be many things. Like for our ancestors a sharp stone fixated on the end of the stick was already a technology. So maybe Tech Boy’s purpose is to renovate and update himself in accordance with the change of times. Maybe ithat’s what let him pass as the “New God”, when in reality he might be one of the oldest of the “Old Gods”. It’s an interesting theory and a glimpse of it is shown in ep. 6 through Tech Boy and Wednesday’s (!!!) common history, but in order to understand it I had to watch it, and now I have to prioritize and simply don’t have time for that. Though, my beautiful Tech Boy, I’m glad that you can show up at the most of unexpected of times and give me feels, when there’s not even one Sweeney within a mile.

Episode 2x07.

WHERE TO BEGIN!

In order to write this AND get some sleep I had to skip some parts of Sweeney’s story too, so please forgive me for any misunderstandings.

Of course I read all the theories based on what was in the book and how it correlated with the story in the show now. I was impatiently waiting and dreading this episode at the same time.

This ep. Sweeney was all about destruction and madness. More so than usual. He was unhinged and I loved him about it.

So much self-loathing. It was so brilliant I couldn’t watch it.

The fact that Sweeney couldn’t remember his own story was just plainly terrifying. When people loose faith in you and forget you it’s one thing. But when you loose faith in yourself so much that you can’t remember who you are anymore is depressing and legitimately scary.

He must have been freaking out of his fucking mind cause of constantly seeing Banshees. He might have told Shadow not to interfere, but he instantly knew that this time these women were crying for him.

I was happy to see that once, long long time ago he was loved. He knew what true happiness was. Even if we had to watch him fall so far (NOT HIS FAULT BY THE WAY).

I loved every single verbal drop about Sweeney caring for (possibility being nuts deep in love with) Laura:

How he couldn’t get it up for hot redheaded voodoo queen until she called him out on it.

How he was broken and laughing madly under this bridge about Laura leaving him AGAIN.

I hate Wednesday guts, but he saw right through Sweeney with this one eye of his. ‘She fucked you, broke your heart and left you’. Cruel, but hit too close to home.

Conversation with Salim. Sweeney: ‘It’s his fight, not yours. You don’t have to die. Just go and leave it all behind’. Salim: ‘No, I’m staying with him’. ‘Why?’ ‘I guess it’s what love is’. ‘Would he have done the same for you if the roles were reversed? What if someone ordered him to kill you? Would he have done that [while loving you]?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Ugh, nothing. Forget it’. Like come on!!! This conversation takes place RIGHT AFTER Wednesday orders Sweeney to “finish his job” and kill Laura for good. Sweeney and Salim are talking about love and loved ones and what they would/wouldn’t have done for them! Sweeney’s implying Laura and love in one sentence! It’s the most explicit articulate closest to confession thing that we got from Sweeney aside from multiple defensive Fuck you’s said to different people and longing glances when she isn’t looking.

Little side note: Salim might be the sweetest person in the world but I wanted to punch him in the face so hard, when he said that it’s pointless to explain the concept of love to someone who’s never felt it. I know that Sweeney was never nice to him, but it’s rich coming from human to go and assume something about a creature that’s walked this Earth for centuries. You don’t know him well enough. So, please, kindly shut up.

(8) The bloodbath scene from times when Sweeney was a god once was just poetic cinema. I was SO looking forward to it when the trailer came out. Barbaric, savage, courageous, spear-throwing, ripping-out-throats-with-bare-teeth, crushing-skulls-with-bare-hands. Just the way I like them👌

(9) Sweeney with ass long red mane dressed in next to nothing but blue paint is the image that burnt into my mind and the reason I was living for.

(10) They fucking did it. They killed him. THEY BROKE ME.

Regarding Sweeney’s death I have QUITE A LOT OF THINGS TO SAY:

I knew it was coming but still hoped they wouldn’t go through with it. As much as it hurts, I respect this decision. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do and cut the cord. Sweeney’s death was in the book. It’s what was necessary for the story to move forward (see point 2 at the beginning of the post). It’s better this way than for his character to be dragged around the story just for fan service (as much as it pains me to admit it, BECAUSE I WANT THIS FAN SERVICE GODDAMIT!).

As far as I know in the book Shadow was indirectly involved in Sweeney’s death. It was honestly the redhead’s fault only. The way he went out was pathetic, so I’m glad that they changed it according with the development of tv character.

Shadow. You fucking gave your word. Not. To. Interfere. Fine, I get it, you’re Wednesday’s man, you have to protect him (even after Sweeney reveled the whole truth, seriously, Shadow?!), BUT DON’T GO POKE AT PEOPLE WITH A GIGANTIC POINTY STICK IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO ISE IT!!! I know it was an accident, he didn’t truly MEAN it, but maybe it even makes it worse.

This ‘I’m sorry’, I can’t even discuss it. Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Shadow!!!

I know that people say that Shadow’s speech at Sweeney’s wake is a beautiful part of the book, but with the way things turned out in the show, I don’t think that Shadow deserves to make this speech.

Sweeney, my bb went out like a fucking champ. Ruining old fart’s plans and taking the spear somewhere he can never reach it anymore. My hero ❤️ I hope Wednesday didn’t foresee it and it wasn’t another grand part of his plans. I want Sweeney to fuck him up good. He died because he didn’t want to be Wednesday’s bitch and I wouldn’t want him to be that especially in his death.

I wish Laura could see it with her own eyes. The last big FUCK YOU from Mad Sweeney.

In conclusion:

Mad Sweeney was barely on Old Gods’ side, I bet he would have gone minding his own business if it wasn’t for Wednesday’s debt.

With Sweeney gone now, fuck the Old Gods, I’m going to the New Gods’ side.

But at the same time Tech Boy is “deleted” or “fired” or whatever.

So basically now, I don’t really give a shit who wins now and who loses. They can kill each other until no one’s left, for all I care.

AG is still great and moving forward.

I’m still interested in the story, but I can’t bring myself to be invested anymore.

SIDE NOTES:

I know better than to hope, but I need a reaction out of Laura regarding Sweeney’s death.

It’ll probably never happen, but I hope Laura will crush Shadow’s nuts.

And spears Mr. Wednesday.

I wonder how Laura’s undead state will be affected now with Sweeney and his horde and his magic gone. Will his lucky coin work the same?

Laura is capable of surviving and protecting herself. She needs no one to do that for her. But Sweeney was ready to run to her, do anything for her as soon as she snapped her fingers. How much will it affect her? Will she appreciate him now?

I might have had some other notes, but I’ve tried for 2,5 hours to carefully and logically arrange this post without insulting any character TOO MUCH and now my brain’s exploding.

Please, feel free to talk to me about the FEELS, because I’m heartbroken and don’t know how to deal with it.

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 30: Challenge Accepted

Some of the last pieces for Clash of Champions are put into place. The Reader wants Dean to help her out with a little experiment she’s running.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence

Word Count: 2080

Total Word Count So Far: 89,730

Note: Or as I like to call this chapter, ‘poke the title week’! I do it way too much in this chapter, but I feel like it’s the best way to rile someone up. Who doesn’t dislike getting poked? And I have a total count for the chapters! There’s going to be 50, so we’re over half-way through! If you’ve been enjoying the series, please let me know with a comment or a message sent to my inbox. I’d greatly appreciate knowing your favorite bits. Have fun reading this chapter too!

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 29: A Dangerous Road

Monday Night Raw – December 3, 2018

Balor Club welcomed their leader as he made his way to the ring. Finn made sure to lean deep on the ropes, showing off his red and gold championship. Then he stepped through the ropes and accepted a mic.

“Last week was… interrestin’.” He started. “And Seth, I bet you have to agree. So why don’t you get out here so we can talk about it?” Waiting patiently, he smiled as the crowd cheered ‘burn it down’ and may have joined them. Just a little bit.

Seth strutted into the ring with a smile. “What’s there to talk about, Finn? We were doing what we do best, fighting to be the best man, and then our, uh,” he rubbed the back of his head, “our partners decided to flip the play.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Finn said. “They tried us, then we continued to do what we do best, and be the workhorses of this company. The best men. The ones worthy of the gold we carry. ”

Smirking, Seth had to agree. “We did good. Heaven forbid we ever get the tag titles in our sights. Or, sorry Balor, hell forbid.” But he shook his head. “Don’t let last week go to your head. We may be friends, but come Clash of Champions, we will be opponents.”

“I wouldn’ want it any other way.”

They both paused, looking each other over. Somewhere, someone tried to start a ‘hug it out’ chant, but it didn’t have the chance to run as Finn raised his microphone to his lips.

“I would have beaten you.”

Seth shook his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“It’s not my sleep you should be worried about.” Finn circled him. “I have a feelin’ I’m not the one tossin’ and turnin’ because of how close some of those counts got. You may be the Intercontinental Champ ‘round here,” he stopped. Seth turned around to face him, flinching as Finn tapped the title on his shoulder, “but I’m the Universal Champ. The people’s champion. And I bet t’at just eats you up inside. Knowin’ I am more worthy of this title than you will ever be. T’at’s what I wanted to tell you. See ya at Clash of Champions.”

He nodded on last time, then stepped through the ropes, leaving Seth behind and not turning his back until he was up the ramp.

***

The next round of the women’s tag team tournament was the first official match of the night. Mickie and Alicia came out to the ring, ready to throw down and win their spot at Clash of Champions. Alexa Bliss came with them, dressed in a sharp suit to be their ring-side accompaniment. Bayley came out next. She laughed to see Alicia already mocking Rhonda’s punch-n’-bounce. But Rhonda Rousey music didn’t hit. Sasha Banks’s did.

“What!” Corey shouted. “How can Bayley trust her? After all the times Sasha has stabbed her in the back.”

Renee took over while he sputtered. “Maybe that’s why this could work. Bayley isn’t going to give second chances, and Sasha’s not going to be preoccupied with coming up with a back-stabbing plan. No plotting or looking over their shoulders. Just the goal at hand.” She hummed. “It might just work.”

They continued to debate the ability of Bayley and Sasha as their opponents did everything they could to break them apart. But the trio was so focused on distracting them, that they were distracted themselves. The friend-hate duo played into every trick, but in such a way that drained Alicia and Mickie. By the time the women realized it, Bayley had flipped Mickie out of the way with a Bayley to Belly, and Sasha had Alicia locked in a Bank Statement. Alexa couldn’t get into the ring in time to keep her from tapping.

Standing on either side of the ref while he raised their hands, they gave each other guarded smiles. The plan had worked… this time.

***

Backstage, Seth spoke to a techie, who pointed further down the hallway. “Thanks. Ambrose!” He quickened his steps to catch up to Dean. “Hey, man, do you know where your cousin is? She wasn’t in her office and I need to ask a favor.”

Dean finished off taping his hands. “She was coming back from a situation in catering.” He smirked. “Finn got under your skin again, didn’t he?”

“No.” Seth fiddled with his wrist straps. “Fine. Maybe. But I’m just as deserving of the Universal as he is and just as much of a people’s choice.”

“Alright, alright!” Dean held his hands up in defense, chuckling when Seth’s shoulders deflated.

“Sorry.” He looked Dean up and down. “What are your plans for Clash of Champions?”

He ran his tongue over his lips and tilted his head. “Dunno. Might just sit back and watch this one. Maybe I’ll text Renee notes on her commentary. Maybe… I’ll pay you and Finn a visit during your match. Haven’t held the Universal yet… and I’d love to have my Intercontinental back.”

Seth stepped back from Dean’s fingers ready to tap at the belt. “Don’t you dare,” he said with a grin. “We’d both kick your ass.”

“Ha, assuming I wouldn’t kick both of yours.” He shook his head. “But weren’t you looking for the other Ambrose?” He punched at Seth’s unoccupied shoulder, then twisted away, leaving Seth to once again stand alone.

***

As the runners-up for the guy’s tag team number one contenders, the B-Team had challenged the Revival. They wanted to prove that they could win on their own, and then take care of any distractions that might come up. The Revival was more than happy to answer the call, and they kept the B-Team on their toes. The longer the match went on, the more the Revival noticed something. If Curtis was in the ring, Bo was reaching for a tag. He was watching the ramp and the back of the ring. And vise versa.

Neither was paying much attention to their present opponents.

It cost them the match. Dash and Wilder rolled their victims out of the ring so they could have their arms raised in an empty ring.

***

Charly Caruso rounded a corner and almost bumped into her next interviewee. “Braun, sorry. Um, could you tell us why you’ve joined up with the man we used to know as Bray Wyatt? You’ve been a dominant figure here on Monday Night Raw. What do you gain by teaming up with Dr. M?” She held up her microphone, patiently waiting while he thought over his answer.

He gently took the mic from her so she didn’t have to reach. “For the past several months, my goals have been just out of my reach.” He crossed his arms, one giant elbow wrapped in a black bandage. “My best, my rage, it hasn’t been enough. Even though it got me so close. Now I’m a tag team champion.”

Charly nodded and moved to take her mic, but he held it up out of reach. She motioned for him to continue.

“Bray or Dr. M, he’s… healed whatever problems I’ve had focusing on how to get what I want. I’ve got another goal in mind. And I know he’s going to help me get that one to. In time.” He finally returned Charly’s equipment, then continued on his way.

***

“You want this.” Natalya watched herself on the Titontron standing toe to toe with Nia from last week.  “And you know what, I want to see you try. Next week. I’ll see you there, and I’ll see you fail.”  The video ended and Natalya focused her attention to the stage. “Well, Nia. I’m here. You want this?” She nudged her shoulder, raising the title. “Then come out here and get it.”

A minute later, Nia did just that. When the bell rang, they circled each other. They both froze as Ember Moon’s music sounded, and she walked out onto the stage. She made a show of walking just to the top of the ramp, then turning back towards the announce table and joining them. “Hey Corey, Cole, Renee. Thought I’d drop in and give my input on this match, if that’s alright?”

In the ring, the women went back to fighting each other. Nia had a height and strength advantage, but Natalya had the champion’s advantage. She dodged most of Nia’s attacks. And she rolled out of the ring, making the other woman fume and rage.

“Are you worried about this match at all,” Corey asked. “Nia’s got this opportunity because she and Tamina beat you and Dana last week.”

“Nope. Not one bit. “I may not have made it into the tag title match at Clash of Champions, but I am still going to have a title before the year is out. I don’t care if I have to beat Nia or Natalya for it.”

Natalya moved out of the way at the last second, making Nia run into a set of steel steps. She rolled back in the ring and motioned for the ref to count. By nine and a half, Nia was just getting to her feet. He made it to ten before she could reach for the ropes. They glared at each other as Natalya accepted her title from the ref.

As Nia went up the ramp to leave the arena, Ember passed by and gave her a little wave and a smile. Ember joined Natalya at the ropes, the champion not giving her the room to even enter the ring. No matter. She shrugged and lightly ran her fingers down the red and white belt.

“Clash of Champions. I’ll see you there.” Then she hopped off the apron and left with her head held high.

***

Dean bounced into your office and waited a second for you to finish an email. “Did Seth find you?”

“Yes he did, and I was able to help.” You shrugged. “And Jose found you, so I could talk to you too.”

He smiled, then clapped his hands so he could rub them together. “Who you got for me this week, Ladybug?”

“Well… are you okay with being a guinea pig?”

He stepped back and squinted at you, unsure. “Sure.”

“Great. You have a match with Drew McIntyre tonight.” Before your sentence was finished, Dean had cocked his head and leaned towards you.

“What’s the catch?”

With a deep breath, you bit back a grin. “I want you to push his buttons. Can you do that?”

Dean grinned for you. “Hell yeah, I can.”

“Win, and there’ll be a surprise for you next week.” You giggled as his eyebrows shot up.

“Oh?” He rolled his shoulders back and forth. Wiggling, even though he always said he doesn’t wiggle.  “And what would that be?”

“I can’t tell you, or it wouldn’t be a surprise.” You scoffed, “don’t you trust me?”

“It comes and goes.” You both laughed. Dean patted your shoulder before heading out.

***

He did all that you needed and more. If there was one thing that Ambroses were the best at, it was poking the proverbial bear. Dean just had the fighting skill to back it up. And the forethought to do it when the ref wasn’t looking.

This bothered Drew McIntyre to no end. He tried moving faster, hitting harder. But each time, Dean got right back up and did it all over again like only he could. The ref had to pull the Scottish Psychopath away from the ropes where Dean had dodged out. Behind his back and right into Drew’s glare, Dean smirked.

“Not all that without Dolph doing the dirty work for ya, huh?” He rolled completely out of the ring before Drew could swing a punch. He ran as he was chased and slid back into the ring. Drew tried to follow, but Dean left again, circling the other way, much to the amusement of the crowd. But Drew didn’t take the hint and had a chair ready for him as Dean came around the corner.

Before the first hit even landed, the referee was calling for the disqualification and naming Dean the winner of the match. Once the bell had rung, Dean turned on his own dark side and beat Drew down to the mat surrounding the ring.

“How’s that for pushing buttons?” he asked, walking backward away from the ring.

   Part 31: Sending a Message

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @southsidebucky @tinyelfperson @zuni21798

WWE/Series Tags: @a-home-for-stray-stories @amballins-priestess @top-1-percent @mother-forker @neversatisfiedgirl @racheo91 @roman-reigns-princess @secretagentfangirl @thetherianthropydaily @wwe-smutfics @scuzmunkie @likeisaidwhatever @cait-kae @ramsaypants @sony-undead18 @brianaraydean @st4yingstrong @dopeybubbles @crystallizeme @jessica91073 @denise8691 @stalelight @kenyadakblalock @1dluver13xx @lauren-novak @lunatic-desert-child @littledeadrottinghood @livelifewondering 

[swanderful1]

Duplicity: Ch 3/?

Summary: Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Notes: Hiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!! Back with another update, here’s chapter 3! Hope you like it! Also special shoutout to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta and @shady-swan-jones for the artwork!!!!!!! 

Word Count: ~6300 

Disclaimer: All rights to OUAT, I own nothing. 

The rest can be found on AO3 and ffnet 

Two days after Killian had first met with Emma Swan about her backyard he began his first phase of work there. It was early Wednesday, the sun was quite literally still rising, when he pulled his truck in front of the house. Another email from Neal Gold had given Killian a specific timeline of when he wanted to work to be done, and it really was not long at all.

Some sort of party was being thrown at the house in the end of May, giving him just under two months to frame the structure with the appropriate landscaping. For any other house, it would be a simple task. But it was during the height of his busiest season and the yard was quite large. So there was a good chance it may not get done in time.

That and he also had other motives for being there.

He unloaded his truck, slipping on his work gloves so no one would see the prosthetic that replaced his left hand. Killian felt himself being extra quiet as he unpacked, hoping that he wouldn’t wake Emma and her resting husband. But just as Killian was heading to the backyard he noticed Neal Gold exiting the house, it was rather early to be headed to the office, he thought.

“Morning,” Neal said, giving Killian a half-assed wave from the driveway.

“Morning,” he said back. The man, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Killian made in a month, got into his Range Rover and drove off.

As Neal drove out of sight Killian couldn’t help but envy him a bit. Here he was, living in this massive house. Driving an expensive car. Set to be the heir of the largest construction company in the north east just because he was born. Sleeping in bed each night with a beautiful woman.

And, to Killian at least, it did not appear as though the man appreciated any of it. He certainly had not missed the way in which Emma regarded Neal’s management of the project the other day. As much as he knew it was none of his business what she thought of Neal, he still found himself wondering.

He shook off his jealousy, it was entirely uncharacteristic of him to envy the kind of life he had seen so much of in his years in the business. It irked him that, for once, he was picturing being the person in the house. But, it did him no good to pout. Killian didn’t have the luxury of an inheritance nor a wealthy family.

“Good morning,” said a voice from behind. Killian jumped, not expecting anyone to be awake this early. He spun and saw that Emma Swan was standing on the empty back porch, holding a white mug of what he could only assume was coffee. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi there,” he said with a smile. “It’s quite alright, I just didn’t think anyone would be awake this early.”

Killian softened a bit, setting his handful of tools down. Despite the early hour, her face was wide awake. Her green eyes bright and her hair tied back off of her face. As she stepped down off of the porch and walked toward him, he tried not to get distracted by the way her clothes clung to her curves and instead focused on what he still needed to get from his truck.

“I’m a morning person,” she said, pulling the mug to her lips with both hands. The rising sun caught the light of the diamond ring on her finger, serving as an ever present reminder that she was completely untouchable. For so many reasons. “I was just about to go for a run. Did you need any help with anything before I go?”

He looked at her quizzically and determined that she wasn’t just offering to offer, she genuinely wanted to help. She was quite different than any of the women he had worked for in the past and he was starting to regret the shallow assumptions he had made about her at first glance. It was a force of habit, and people rarely surprised him in a good way.

“No thank you, love, I’ve got it covered,” he replied.

“Alright,” she said, gulping down the rest of her coffee until it was empty. Killian felt his eyes widen at how quickly she had drained the mug. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

With that she took off, headed toward the front street where he heard her chatting with someone else. Another woman it sounded like, and then soon their voices drifted away. With no more distractions he set to work.

Living in Maine meant warm summers and cold winters. This also meant that Killian did his best to select plants that could grow back after cooler temperatures, so that it wasn’t like starting from the bottom each spring when the weather shifted.

In order to fulfill her wish of a natural looking landscape, Killian would have to get creative.

He had drawn on his sketch pad the layout of the yard. He had accounted for the essentials, factored in the property line. Since the entire back was a plot of dirt plus an empty pool, he had no trouble using a can of orange spray paint to outline where he would be putting things.

When Liam was alive, he had been able to talk to people. Quite easily, which was why everyone was so quick to hire him to work on their yards. Killian well, not so much. He could be charming when he wanted to be, especially with women, but he rarely wanted to be when it came to work. Especially when it was something he could lean on his brother for. Killian knew his strengths. He was the worker, the muscle, the perfectionist. And despite only having one hand, he executed things precisely. So well that none of the people who had hired him in the past fifteen years had a clue he was missing his left hand.

Killian was just about done with the front yard when he heard the chatter of voices behind him.

“Thanks for the run, Emma,” said one woman. Whom he could assume to be Mary Margaret, Ruby’s friend who lived across the street.

“Sure,” replied Emma, her breath ragged presumably from the run. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Sounds good!” he heard her say back, before the sound of footsteps carried Mary Margaret away. And then his ears listened for the sound of Emma coming closer.

“Can I get you some water or anything?” she said when she was about halfway up the steps to the front door. He looked up at her from his work on the lawn and noted that she was covered in sweat like she had been the other day when he came to meet her. Killian wondered if she would get into the habit of leaving him alone at her house to go for runs.

“That’s alright, I have some in the truck, and I’m just about done here.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “It’s pretty warm out, I for one am parched.”

“That’s because you’ve been running and I’ve been walking in circles,” he joked.

“What’s the spray paint for?”

“It’s to outline where everything is going to go once the sprinkler system is in.”

“Do you mind taking me on a tour?”

“Sure.” He smiled, and she stepped off the porch. Close up, she was about a head shorter than him, and was thinly built but muscular. Her breath was still ragged but somehow it all worked in her favor.

The backyard wasn’t much at this stage of things, so he found it hard to describe to Emma what everything would come together to look like. He felt himself more than a few times at a loss for words. But if she noticed she didn’t say anything, just followed him around and politely waited for him to talk.

“I know I said I didn’t want too many flowers…” she said after walking around the perimeter of the space. “But there was one thing I was wondering if there would be room for.”

“What’s that?” he said turning his head toward her.

“The rose bushes I saw at the mayor’s house the other day, you did those right?”

“Aye.” Killian nodded. The blasted things had given him migraine after migraine. To make sure they were to Cora Mills liking was a particular challenge that more than tested his patience.

“Well, it might not be so bad to have some of those here… maybe tucked away where the gazebo is going to be?”

As much as he hated putting them in and maintaining them across the street, when he looked at Emma’s expectant face, he couldn’t do anything but smile and nod.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“I just thought that they were nice to look at…” she paused as if deciding whether or not to add the next part of her statement. “I wouldn’t mind being able to have fresh roses in the house every once in a while.”

“Then that’s what you shall have,” he said, making note of the change in his sketch. “I’ll be in another neighborhood the rest of the week but I can bring by some floral samples from the greenhouse this weekend.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” she smiled at him and shifted on her feet.

“I’ll be doing some work next door for Granny Lucas on Saturday morning, I can come by then if you’ll be home?”

She doesn’t need your whole bloody schedule, Killian corrected himself.

“I’ll be around,” she said looking up at him. For a second their eyes lingered, before she broke the stare to walk toward the house. His eyes followed her as she walked up the steps, a confident stroll. Her hips swaying in a way they hadn’t before, he was sure of that.

Killian had a feeling. A brief one, that just barely tugged on his conscious mind. Something that felt like he wanted to give Emma Swan whatever it was that she wanted.

On Friday night Killian plopped himself down on his usual stool at The Rose and the Thorn. After a long week of work he felt he had earned a cold drink. Robin poured him two fingers of rum on the rocks and Killian tossed it back immediately.

“Easy there, champ,” said his best friend.

Killian rolled his eyes, ordering a beer. He wasn’t planning on getting obliterated tonight as he normally did on the weekends. He had a full day tomorrow, part of his itinerary included a visit with Emma Swan. And while there was absolutely no concrete reason why he would need to be on his best behavior around her, he felt himself wanting to be anyway.

“A beer?” Ruby said entering the bar. Bringing over a crate of clean glasses to stack. On weekends she tended bar with Robin to make extra money. With her grandmother getting older, eventually all responsibility would fall onto Ruby financially. She had lost her parents at a young age as well, luckily for her, Granny had been around to raise her.

“Taking it slow tonight, Red,” he said back, sipping on the frothy liquid.

“Any particular reason?” she poked.

“A lot of work tomorrow. So I’m trying to make a good decision,” Killian said snarkily. Now it was Robin who rolled his eyes.

“I hear one of those tasks is making a special house call to bring rose samples over to my new neighbor,” Ruby said leaning across the bar. Her elbows resting on the surface. She was looking at him funny, like she could see right through him.

“It is.”

“Who’s your new neighbor?” Robin chimed in.

“Gold’s son… well and his wife,” said Ruby still looking at Killian critically.

“He has a son?” Robin asked.

“Yes, he’s just about our age,” Ruby commented. “And his wife is….”

“She’s nice,” Killian cut her off, taking another sip. He did not want to get into it with these two.

“Oh I’m sure she’s very nice to you,” Robin smirked.

“Her husband is about to inherit one of the biggest construction businesses in the north east. Forgive me for wanting to stay on the good side of that family.”

Even as the irritated words came out of his mouth, the irony in them was not lost.

“It also doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous,” Ruby said backing up to resume her glass stacking.

“Ah the trophy wife type, very nice,” joked Robin as he mixed drinks for a few young men at the end of the bar.

“No.” Killian had immediately said, but realizing how suspicious that sounded he tried to back track. But somehow seemed to make this conversation worse. “She’s uh, very much so her own person.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Killian Jones?” Ruby asked incredulous to his response.

“Go easy on him, Red, maybe this is a sign he’s finally growing up,” said Robin.

“I just think she’s lonely, alright?” Killian said.

It wasn’t a lie. But he began to think that the reason he was drawn to her was because of the reflection of that loneliness he saw in himself.

“I won’t disagree there, moving to Storybrooke was clearly not within her control,” Ruby interjected. Finally. “Mary Margaret and I spent some time with her this week. Otherwise she would be all by herself in that big house all day. Her husband barely comes home.”

“Sounds like the picture of idealism,” Robin remarked. It was no secret that the three of them hated the suburbs.

“Besides, I don’t think the mayor likes her very much,” Ruby continued. Out of the corner of Killian’s eye he caught Robin’s hand freeze just the slightest at the mention of Regina Mills.

“What makes you say that?” Killian wondered.

“We all know she’s not exactly a girl’s girl….” Ruby alluded to the fact that as each one of the women moved to the street Regina had essentially frozen them out. Again Robin fumbled with the glass.

Killian remained quiet, knowing that Ruby was unintentionally treading on thin ice with this conversation. Between Killian and Robin there were two secrets that only the other knew. For him it was Milah, Robin had known at the time what kind of trouble she was in before she died. For Robin though, it was the mayor. The mayor who was now engaged to the chief of police.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Ruby asked Killian, not noticing how Robin was just about to squirm.

“Eh… probably this, why?”

“Mary Margaret asked me and Granny over for dinner but Granny can’t come because of her book club.”

“Who is going to be there?” he asked, his eyebrow shooting up.

“Well obviously Mary Margaret and David, then you and I… Neal Gold and Emma…”

“I suppose I could escort you.” It wasn’t the first time Killian had filled in as Ruby’s plus one to an event and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “What time?”

“Around 7ish? Will you be done with work by then?”

“Yeah, Red, I’ll be done by then.”

Luckily a group of people walked into the bar in search of drinks which pulled Ruby’s attention elsewhere. He would have to sit at a dinner table with Emma Swan and her husband. Should be interesting.

Among the group of people infiltrating the bar were a few women, one of whom was eyeing Killian. She was pretty, dark chocolate colored hair and romantic eyes. She was precisely his type.

He smiled politely at her before returning his attention to the half consumed beer and in front of him. On any other night he would have sent a drink her way, used it as an opening for a conversation. But he felt himself retreat and instead continue to nurse the drink in front of him, twisting the base of the glass on the black bar napkin.

It was a while before Robin came back over, the bar was full of people. It was a Friday night after all. The sound of chatter drowned out the music that played over the ancient speakers. Killian’s one beer was almost entirely gone now as his friend set down a tumbler of amber liquid, ice clinking against its sides.

“This is from the lady at the end of the bar,” Robin said. His head shifted toward the woman who had smiled at Killian earlier. He nodded in her direction before sipping down the strong liquid, ordering two more and sauntering over to her.

For as long as Milah had been gone, he had never had an issue with seeking out a random stranger in a bar and taking her to bed with him. Killian had done it time and time again in the five years she had been dead. Not once did he ever second guess the choice to cozy up to someone else also looking for company.

“I’m not a fan of being indebted to people,” he said, handing her the drink. She smiled at him a tint of red hitting her cheeks.

“I don’t usually do that…” she said, sipping the drink, her red lips wrapping around the straw. “But you just looked so lonely sitting there I had to.”

“Ah, I see, so it was a pity drink?” he toyed, his eyebrow raising at her.

“Not entirely.”

Her body leaned toward his in the crowded space. The smoke in the air filling his nose. Killian could be charming when he wanted to be.

But by his third round of drinks with the pretty brunette his mind wandered elsewhere. The deep fissures of his brain opening to reveal that his most pressing thought was that, if he was awake early enough, he would have more time to spend discussing roses with Emma Swan.

And for whatever reason, that seemed to be the most appealing task in the world.

Emma’s first week in Storybrooke had been relatively pleasant given the circumstances. Her situation that she was trying desperately to make the best of, was playing out well. It was early Saturday morning when she heard the sound of an old truck pulling up in front of her house. Since the day was nice, Neal and his father had already left to play a round of golf with the mayor’s fiance, Graham. It was interesting to Emma how all of these major roles in the town were filled by people who essentially lived on one street.

When Neal kissed her goodbye she was still in bed, tucked among the white linens.

“I’ll be back in the evening, Em,” Neal said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be at the country club if you need me.”

“Don’t forget we have dinner at the Nolan’s tonight.”

“We do?”

“Yes. I told you last night before bed.” A hint of irritation lingered in her tone. You probably weren’t listening, she wanted to add but didn’t. If she picked a fight each time something she said went in one ear and out the other she would never stop screaming.

As much as Emma was beginning to feel like she was perpetually being abandoned by Neal she didn’t want to start an argument first thing in the morning. She swallowed her comment and made a mental note to call him later to remind him of their dinner with the new neighbors. God forbid the Nolans weren’t the mayor or the chief of police or the superintendent of the schools or anything that could in some way self-serve Neal and his father. Emma glanced at the clock. It was already 8 am, so she instead focused on the fact that Killian would be here to pick out the roses for the backyard.

The day was a comfortable temperature, the blue sky above setting the tone for a nice morning. Emma’s back porch was still bare, except for a stack of collapsed boxes from the move. She could hear the faint sound of birds and cars driving past. The sound of children running around because it was the weekend and no one had school. A crew of three men were working in her backyard to get the sprinkler system installed by Monday before the grass would go in. Two cups of coffee were steaming in white mugs next to Emma and the gardener. She was on her second cup, he had barely touched his.

“Now these are heritage roses, they’re relatively sturdy and don’t require a ton of upkeep,” said Killian as they sat on her back porch comparing the several blooms he had brought over. “Baronne Prevost.”

“They’re what?” she said looking from the pink flower in her hand to him. She was clearly his first stop of the day, as his shirt was white and unstained. His gloves were clean. His pants were pressed. For a second her gaze lingered on his blue eyes. “I thought roses were just roses.”

“That’s the name of the type of rose, love,” he said kindly. If he noticed her eyes ogling him a bit, he remained unreadable.“They would grow on a bush about 5 x 5 in height and width.”

“They’re beautiful,” Emma said focusing again on the flower. Attempting to shift her wandering mind.

“Aye, they are,” he said coolly. “I would imagine they would look rather nice on a kitchen table.”

“Huh?” she said.

“You had said the other day that you thought it would be nice to have fresh roses in the house… these will be ideal for that. They bloom several times per season.”

Emma looked up at him again, knowing that it was his job to remember what she said she wanted, but still grateful that small tidbit stuck enough in his head. She felt her skin flush a bit, probably similar in color to the pink rose in her hand.

“Would you like to see some others then?” he asked.

“No, no I think these will be perfect.”

“Well that was easy,” he said, removing his right glove to write something down in his notepad he always carried with him. And maybe it was from not being able to see his left hand, or her current preoccupation with other people’s lives, but she found herself wondering if there was a wedding band on his left hand.

“I like to think I’m decisive,” she replied.

He had to be married. Or at the very least have some sort of serious partner. He had to, he was gorgeous.

“That’s a nice quality in a client.”

“Yeah, because it makes your job easier.”

“That may be true,” he said with a smirk. But neither of them stood up. A tension lingered in the air as neither said anything else for a few seconds.

“Emma!” called a voice from the yard. It was Mary Margaret.

“What’s up?” said Emma standing from her spot on the deck. Peering over the bannister she could see her newest friend walking toward the porch. As she did, stepping out of whatever orbit she had just fallen into, a part of her felt like she had been caught with something.

“I just wanted to see what you wanted for dinner to-... oh! Hi Killian!” said the cheery woman as she rounded the bend and realized Emma wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Mary Margaret,” said Killian, rising as well to collect his things.

“I didn’t realize you two were working on something, it’s good that I have you both here,” Mary Margaret said. “What would you prefer for dinner tonight, a roast or Italian?”

“You’re going to be at dinner?” Emma looked at Killian who was now standing next to her.

“Aye, Ruby asked me to go in lieu of her grandmother.”

“Oh,” Emma looked away from him, realizing that of course he was dating someone like Ruby. And then internally scolding herself for even remotely minding that he would be there tonight with someone else. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s relatively last minute,” he said quietly, almost like he was only saying it to her.

“Anything you make is fine with me,” Emma said taking her eyes from Killian to Mary Margaret.

“Same here,” said Killian.

And if anyone noticed how uncomfortable Emma had suddenly become, no one said a thing.

That evening, as Emma sat at the breakfast bar of her kitchen, she sipped a glass of Chardonnay she had poured herself. The tall stemware was a Christmas gift she had bought last year when she realized all of her wine glasses were mismatched souvenir cups.

If ten year old Emma could see twenty eight year old Emma, she could only imagine the conversation they would have. She had spent 18 years in the foster system, which meant living out of a backpack. Especially as she aged beyond the cute baby years and into her preteen years when it was a lost cause to be permanently adopted.

As she looked around her new house, she couldn’t help but think about how this had been all she wanted growing up. The big two story entryway with the skylight. The dining room with a big, oak table to have Thanksgiving dinner. The all white kitchen, that had a breakfast nook and bay windows. The living room with big comfortable couches and artwork she had collected over the years.

Beyond all of that though, was the pressing fact that she had essentially assembled this home on her own. Every couch, every picture frame, every glass was there because she had put it there. When they had moved into their first apartment together, when she was 18, Neal had helped every step of the way. Sure, it had been a tiny studio apartment over a laundromat and most of its contents were from second hand stores but still. When they had nothing between the two of them he was there… but now, where was Neal?

Checking the watch on her wrist it was 6:50 and they were due to be at the Nolan’s around 7. She was getting worried.

At 5 before Emma had hopped in the shower, she had called to remind him of the dinner. No answer.

At 5:30 when she was done drying her hair, she had called to remind him of the dinner. No answer.

At 6 when she was ironing a shirt for him in their walk in closet, she had called the country club to see if he was still there. The woman at the front desk had said he had left an hour ago.

At 6:30 when she put the finishing touches on her outfit, simple dark jeans and a cream colored sweater, her usual jewelry, her hair in loose curls she sent him a text. No answer.

The ticking watch on her wrist taunted her, clicking along, minutes going by. All the while hoping he would just call. At the very least, just call. She put up with a lot from him. But how hard was it to call?

Then at 7:05, just as Emma was about to smash the glass in her hand, he walked in the door.

“Em…?” she heard him call out from the foyer.

“In the kitchen,” she said back, her voice an unmistakable monotone.

“Sorry I’m late, we went to dinner in town after the round,” he said, kissing her forehead. What she smelled on him though was the thick stench of bourbon.

“Are you drunk?” Emma sat up in her seat, tugging away from his embrace.

“No.” He stepped back, setting his clubs on the tile floor. The one thing he managed to unpack during the move. “Lighten up, Em. It’s a Saturday.”

“Yeah, well, we’re late for dinner. The one that was actually planned,” she said tightly getting up from her chair. She grabbed her red jacket and threw it over top of her sweater. If she went in on him right now, there would be no making it to dinner.

“We could just cancel.”

“No.”

“Can I have a few minutes to change?” he asked, treading lightly around her.

“That depends….” Emma crossed her arms. “If you go upstairs are you going to magically disappear for 9 hours?”

He gathered his things, pushing past her to walk upstairs. How did we get like this? She wondered while she waited. They hadn’t always been this disconnected. There was a time when he was just about her everything, the only consistency she knew. More so now than ever she felt herself clutching to those memories. But when he started working for his father four years ago, that had all slowly started to change.

By 7:30 they had made their way across the street to the Nolan’s, Emma apologizing profusely for their lateness. When she saw that Killian and Ruby had already arrived, she did just about anything to not be near the two together. So when Mary Margaret suggested a tour of the house, Emma jumped at the opportunity. The woman, being very proud of her home, took she and Neal through each room.

It was very different than their house across the street. The Nolan’s were far more practical than they were. All of the floors a dark, sturdy wood that wouldn’t show dirt. Eclectic, comfortable furniture. The rooms all open to one another so that everything flowed evenly. Pictures everywhere of David and Mary Margaret on trips, from their wedding, from college. Pieces of art made by her students and given as gifts. Books were scattered on just about every surface and candles were lit all around giving the house a warm glow and a lovely smell.

“When we have kids, I want to be able to see them in the backyard from the kitchen,” said Mary Margaret as they finished the tour, looping through the back half of the house. The kitchen was where they ended, the soft brown and beige colors of the counters and cabinets making it feel so homey.

“But for now her being able to watch the dogs is sufficient,” David joked as he handed Emma and Neal glasses of wine. He was the local veterinarian, and according to Mary Margaret, brought home more animals than money. At the moment there were two dogs in the house plus a cat. Which made it feel even more inviting.

“We built this house knowing we wanted a big family… I just didn’t imagine being outnumbered by the animals,” said Mary Margaret. She was the quintessential elementary school teacher. With her sing-song voice, kind face and patient temperament.

“I like to bring my work home,” David said bringing his wife into his embrace. The two leaned against the back cabinets and smiled.

“It’s a good thing I don’t, we’d have twenty two 8 year olds running around.”

Everyone laughed at that, and suddenly it felt a bit more easy to be here. The Nolans were at glance the ideal young couple. But aside from that they were just nice people, and Emma liked that. They were certainly not the worst neighbors she could have.

The dining room off of the kitchen held a modest wood table, filled with different steaming pots of food.

“I hope you don’t mind, I went a little overboard,” said Mary Margaret as they all sat down at their seats. Each place setting with a handwritten, elegant tag.

“Wow you guys are like real adults,” Ruby said as they sat at their assigned seats. David and Mary Margaret at either head. Then in the middle sat Ruby and Killian to the left, Emma and Neal to the right. If her fiance, at all, had a chip on his shoulder about having dinner with the man who was his landscaper he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he was the opposite of what Emma had predicted he would be.

“Everything looks great,” Neal said. He had suddenly become Prince Charming now that they were in front of people.

“How are you two enjoying Storybrooke?” Ruby asked once everyone had begun eating. The light lull of conversation carrying through. Emma looked at her sitting next to Killian and decided that they made an attractive couple. What with their dark hair, angular faces and big eyes. Though hers were green and his were the same striking blue that kept catching her attention from across the table. Something she was probably imagining.

“Well, I enjoy it here, it’s where I grew up,” Neal chimed in. “So it’s always been home to me.”

“I guess I’m just a bit harder to please,” Emma said, hoping that she hid the bitterness in her tone.

“Where did you grow up, Emma?” the well-meaning David asked.

“Foster care,” she said back matter of factly. The quiet that filled the dining room was somehow still deafening. No one ever knew how to respond to that, which meant Emma was always able to recover from the statement quickly. “So living in a place like this is a dream come true for me.”

She grabbed Neal’s hand that rested on the table, and everyone seemed to simultaneously breath. People loved a happy ending, especially one where the baby left in a basket on the side of the road ended up living the American dream. Outwardly at least. It was a story people were relieved by, just like right now at the dinner table. Except that when Emma’s gaze drifted to Killian she realized he was the only one able to look her in the eyes. And she was most definitely not imagining it.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Neal somehow recovered from his drunken day on the golf course and charmed the pants off of the new neighbors. Telling stories and commanding the room. While glass after glass of wine was poured. All the while Emma sat back and watched him dance. He knew he was in deep with her. She would give him that credit, he always worked overtime to make things up to her.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Emma said, while everyone was gathered in the kitchen, distracted listening to a story about Neal’s round of golf with the police chief today. Something about a gofer… she didn’t really care. All she knew was she needed some air.

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t realize you had come out here,” Emma said when she noticed Killian leaned against the pillar of the front porch.

“No, it’s okay, I should get back in there anyway.” He slid his phone back into his pocket, he had excused himself a bit ago to take a call.

Emma could still hear the the conversation going on inside and promptly closed the door behind her.

“Some fresh air, love?” he asked with a half smile, the porch was dim but she could still make out the angles of his face.

“Yeah. The room was a bit… loud for me in there.”

“He’s quite the talker that one,” Killian said, and that made Emma smile. That she wasn’t the only one who was tired of having one person take up all the oxygen in the room.

“Yes, he is,” she said. She knew she should go back in. But for whatever reason Emma just didn’t want to. Instead she plopped herself down on one of the rocking chairs near the door.

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, only listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. Kids getting called in for the night, a car or two driving past, the light breeze that made her curl her arms around herself. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable though, it was like an unspoken understanding. She watched him a bit as his back was turned to her. He wore a pair of jeans and a long sleeve navy blue sweater, it was the first time she saw him in anything other than his gardening attire. Then her eyes shifted to the front of her new home.

It was utterly still, the house, massive but stale looking. True no one was home but it was hard to make the comparison between their house and Mary Margaret’s. Mary Margaret’s was designed to be a home, Emma’s was designed to be a statement piece.

“My brother raised me,” he said finally and Emma turned to where he was leaned against one of the railings, but he was looking out toward the street. She could just barely make out the profile of his face. The tightness to his jaw.

Emma stayed quiet, surveying what his goal was by saying this to her.

“I lost both parents very young. But he was old enough to be my guardian.”

“You were lucky to have him.”

“Aye.”

As Emma looked toward Killian, she noted his body language. His facial expression. And deciffered that his past was not something he tended to share a lot. She didn’t press him though, he wasn’t telling her so they could have a long discussion of their respective parental abandonment. But knowing about it did make her feel like less of an idiot for blurting out her past at the dinner table.

“There you are,” said Ruby as the front door opened. Her green eyes looked toward Emma who was sitting in the rocking chair still. Turning to Killian she said, “I need to get back, I have an early morning tomorrow at Granny’s.”

“I’ll walk you home then,” Killian quickly offered.

The others came out onto the porch through the wide open front door. David, Mary Margaret and Neal filling the space. A mix of goodbyes and thank yous were exchanged between the six people as they all went their separate ways. Emma’s eyes shifted toward her neighbor’s house as she and Neal walked back. While she promised herself it was just to ensure Ruby got into her house okay, she knew deep down there was something else she was watching for.

And when Killian said goodnight to Ruby without anything more than a hug; an unwarranted, undeserved sigh of relief filled her body.

[fivecentimeterspersecond]

under the cut: a feelings-dump over figure skating at the 2018 olympics, a week later!

these olympics have been such an emotional roller coaster honestly if not for my heart rate tracker i would not have known just how deeply i was invested into this entire event. i have anticipated this all year and yet i still have no idea how i made it through (shout out to my friends who watched with me as my emotional support either in person or via video chat). although not every event went exactly as i wanted, overall compared to the mess that was the sochi olympics, i’m pretty satisfied. but while the events are still relatively fresh in my head, i just wanted to get down a bunch of my final thoughts on each of the events. 

pairs:

my beloved sui/han - what more can i say except for the fact that i absolutely ADORE them and i think these olympics have officially boosted them into favorite pairs team of all time (even above shen/zhao). i was (and still am a bit) absolutely devastated that they lost out on the gold medal by less than half a point, i have a lot of respect for the team they lost to (i think i was more sad about how devastated they looked afterward). i still think they were lowballed in PCS in the SP (it really should’ve been a WR), which is honestly my favorite pairs short of the season. but i think if there’s anything that runs true about chinese pairs it’s their longevity and dedication to hard work. if they could come back after such severe injuries to accomplish what they did (becoming world champs in 2017, olympic silver, not finishing below 2nd in any event since their comeback), they will be a force to be reckoned with for the next quadrennial. mark my words, i will be there in 2022 to cheer for them even if i have to swim to beijing.

savchenko/massot - all i can say is that while she was never my favorite coming into any olympics that i’ve followed (2010, 2014, 2018) i so respect her perseverance and she is 100% deserving of the gold medal. this season’s FS is my favorite free skate she’s ever done; it’s a masterpiece. if i had a criticism: i only wish that she was still with her old partner (robin szolkowy) because she and bruno still never look like a cohesive unit when they skate together, and i honestly feel like the judges give PCS based on aljona not bruno. 

duhamel/radford - as much as i really dislike meagan’s air positions in her throws and jumps (they make me cringe EVERY TIME) i was really happy for them when they won the bronze. they were so elated and meagan’s sportsmanship is really admirable. i’m so glad they went back to hometown glory instead of their muse FS from earlier in the season, and they also prevented a russian team from making it to the podium so that’s always a +1 in my book.

tarasova/morozov - honestly with that candyman program they were absolutely doomed to fail. i don’t know how and why it happened, but while i still think they were massively overscored in PCS in the short program, their classic russian style still suits them much better. i still remain curious of what a clean FS would have been scored as, had they delivered it here. 

men:

YUZURU HANYU - has there ever been a more captivating skater in this generation? he is truly an angel sent from heaven to grace us with his existence. i have been dreading/anticipating the olympics for the past year because of this man and the STRESS he constantly puts me under. despite a nearly career-ending injury, he still managed to put together two solid programs (did he deserve the WR in the short? fuck yeah) and in the process nearly stopped my heart from beating (seriously, my heart rate went up to 188 bpm during his short program). i am just so thrilled that his most iconic programs got their deserved olympic moments. yuzu is the epitome of what it means to be an athlete and an artist - he stops at nothing to reach his goals and yet wears his heart on his sleeve at every moment. his future is uncertain for now (i’m begging you please withdraw from worlds) but as of now i would be more than happy to just watch him do crossovers for the rest of eternity. 

shoma uno - i am SO excited for what’s to come with shoma. what he lacks in height he really makes up with his presence on the ice and his skating! once yuzuru retires (cries) he will surely leave the future of japan’s men’s skaters in good hands. i absolutely love his short program this season, but i just really hope he stops making my heart clench when he jumps. thank your knees after every competition, shoma. he’s definitely the most well-rounded member of the sQuad skating-wise and will be a force to be reckoned with in 2022. 

javier fernandez - my sentimental fave. in the beginning of the season i was really not feeling the charlie chaplin SP but as the season progressed i felt myself falling for the charm of that program. it’s just so fun and javi has so much personality. i don’t think anyone skates character programs as well as him, and i am so sad that he is retiring but at the same time i understand his sentiments. absolutely thrilled that he got the first figure skating medal for spain! 

nathan chen - i truly believed that this olympics was just one cycle to early for nathan. i know a LOT of people said that this was the perfect time for him since his body is in peak form for doing the quads, but i really didn’t think he had the maturity to both handle the pressure of being a top figure skater nor the artistry or skating skills to match the top men yet. but he’s just 18 and it’s only his 2nd year as a senior. although i am really sad that his SP never got an olympic moment (it’s a fantastic vehicle for him when he’s clean, kudos to shae-lynn) i am thrilled that he got his redemptive FS (what a moment!), but i hope that he learns that changing jump layout from competition to competition is probably not the best strategy going into the olympics (or worlds). in four years i’m sure he’ll be the full package - with the artistry and technical capabilities. 

patrick chan - i’ve got complicated feelings about patrick, only because while i felt sorry for him in sochi and i appreciate his beautiful skating skills (seriously, he glides across the ice like a feather) he has a habit of putting his foot into his mouth during a lot of his interviews and they’ve unfortunately soured my impression of him as a skater. i never really bought that his comeback was about skating for himself, i always just thought it was because he still thought he could compete with everyone and win. whether or not that’s true doesn’t really matter in the long run, but i’m happy that he was able to land a 3A in his final performance and got that gold medal he desperately wanted.

boyang jin - i love how emotional he got when he finished his free! while his FS is still a little gimmicky to me, his SP truly shows off how far he’s come in the past 2 seasons wrt his skating. for all that the media likes to bash his lack of transitions, he’s not the only one who lacks them and it makes me so sad that he’s the only one that gets criticized for it. he def still has a lot of work to do but i think that he can definitely make the podium in beijing if he continues to improve. he still has the most hilarious mid-jump faces. 

vincent zhou - i was not prepared to cry at his reaction at the end of his free skate! to be honest, i don’t really feel much when he skates to moulin rouge (mostly because i’m so used to tessa and scott’s version, but also because of the lack of transitions) but you could tell after he finished his last jump that he was skating with so much freedom and really enjoying his olympic moment. especially after all the pressure he must have felt after making it on the team over ross miner, he probably wanted to prove that he deserved to be in pyeongchang and he definitely did, landing in 6th place. he really needs to work on the spins and the footwork (and learn to use his arms more effectively) but he’s just 17 and he’s never been to senior worlds yet. give him time. (and please stop hiring new coaches)

ice dance  

virtue/moir - i was really worried that they weren’t going to be able to pull it out because of the judging situation but at the end of the day the stars just aligned in all the right ways for them to win. it’s amazing to me that after 2 years of not competing they’re in the best form they’ve ever been (their 13-14 season was pretty awful competitively). but if anything, v/m have always been able to deliver when they need to. truly one of the best and i will miss seeing them compete, assuming that they’re retiring.

papadakis/cizeron - my heart broke for gabby in the SD when i saw her wardrobe malfunction. that being said, i think they were massively overscored in the SD, which is just bad judging. i think that this silver was honestly the best thing that could’ve happened to them, because if they had won over tessa and scott they probably would have to face judging controversies and shit like that. their FD is such a thing of beauty but you could tell that the audience didn’t quite get it, unfortunately. but they’ll be there in 2022 - that OGM is just waiting for them

shibutanis - ARGUABLY THE RESULT I WAS MOST EXCITED FOR IN ICE DANCE. i’m still mad as hell about that lvl2 rhumba but it’s fine because i was so excited for them that they skated 4 clean programs at the olympics since their last two competitions had been a bit of a struggle for them. i was worried that the past mistakes would prevent them from skating free but they really let it go in that final minute of their individual FD. i’m not even a huge fan of their FD but they skated their asses off to it and you could tell that they were super invested in it and they ultimately convinced me in the end. the fact that they got on the podium despite constantly being lowballed for being a sibling duo speaks volumes about what they’ve accomplished here. so so proud of them.

chock/bates - i’m gonna be honest, i was really never into any of chock/bates programs in the past 4 years. but my heart really went out them when they fell and you never wish for that kind of mistake on anyone. not much else to say.

weaver/poje - i fucking love je suis malade and i am so excited they brought it back for the olympics. kaitlyn looked stunning in her SD dress and i’m so sad that they never made it back up in the world rankings in this quad but they really skated their heart out in both programs (even though i held my breath during those twizzles)

bobrova/soloviev - honestly i’m glad that they’re not skating together anymore (i think) bc i have really nothing good to say about them lmao

ladies 

alina zagitova - while the judging of this event was completely wild, i want to protect her so much bc with all the new young talent that’s coming up she’s probably going to get passed over soon like all of the russian girls that never make it past puberty. she’s such an angel and while i hate her backloaded programs and i hate that she’s crazily awarded PCS there’s absolutely no denying her technical mastery. don’t think she deserved the gold but PCS was judged wildly this entire event so i absolutely don’t blame alina at all. and the mental fortitude it takes to tack on a 3Lo to her 2nd 3Lz after the first combo attempt was landed poorly is so fucking impressive.

evgenia medvedeva - my heart absolutely broke for her because this was supposed to be the crowning moment of her amazing 2 last two seasons but it just didn’t happen. the grace she showed after she saw her score and realized she was silver was just awe-inspiring and it makes her even more admirable. 

kaetlyn osmond - i personally did not like her fp this season at all but kaetlyn REALLY held it together during the free skate where she usually messes up and for that she has my kudos. her jumping is super impressive but definitely makes me hold my breath because she REALLY LAUNCHES herself into her jumps but they could go either way. luckily for her they went pretty well and the judges were ready to reward her if she skated clean. 

satoko miyahara - THE BRONZE MEDALIST OF MY HEART. she is the ONLY skater whose sp and fs i really loved and the fact that she was SO undermarked in PCS is just criminal! the nuances of her arm movements! the depth of her edges and the intricacies in her choreography were so underappreciated and it drives me absolutely wild, and it’s definitely bc her jumps are so small. the fact that she spins in both directions is so impressive and she switches so seamlessly that you can’t even tell she when she does it. i was SO proud that she got full credit on all of her jumps in her FS and she was so close to the podium. i hope she sticks with lori bc she had some real masterpiece programs this season. 

kaori sakamoto - she has so much potential and i’m so excited to see how she matures as a skater! her jumps are so powerful and she has a lot of musicality but i just feel like her programs here weren’t a good match for her. i hated the moonlight sonata edit (why do ppl change the key in classical pieces!! drives me insane, as someone with perfect pitch) and the miming choreo in the amelie program was giving me bad eteri-skater flashbacks.

mirai nagasu - i was so proud of her amazing skate in the team event but i definitely feel like she lost steam in the individual event :( yeah some of her comments after her bad performance were a little messy but i mean c’mon everyone makes excuses after bad performances. men say shitty things all the time after they do poorly idk why it’s so important to keep going after mirai

karen chen - SUCH GORGEOUS SPIN POSITIONS but gaaaaahhhh the jumping consistency!!! they’re so powerful and impressive when she hits them but they take the wind out of her when they go wrong. i know she was having boot problems before the free skate but this is not the first time this has happened to her and i really think that should’ve been addressed. nathan had boot problems at worlds last year and he brought like 3 pairs to PC. karen has a lot of musicality but when she botches the jumps i feel like it just takes the wind out of her and she loses that spark in her performance.

bradie tennell - i honestly don’t know what to say about her. she did pretty solid in the team event and placed just about where everyone expected her to even with a clean skate. she just skates with a very juniorish vibe and i admit that she did shock me when she fell but this is only the 2nd major international competition i’ve ever seen her at so i’m like...should i be this surprised??? the SP drives me nuts bc she clearly has never seen the movie where the soundtrack is from and the FS drives me nuts bc i feel like i’m watching disney on ice. i will be curious to see how she fares internationally from here on out, bc i will admit that her technique is really pristine, but i think she needs like a dance coach or a choreographer like lori or shae-lynn to help her mature artistically.

[wrestlinghasmelike-blog]

Monday Night Raw review November 27th, 2017

Hi everyone! Sorry I was super inactive last week and didn’t post a ton, I was house-sitting for my Aunt and I couldn’t connect to her WiFi at all. I’m back for Raw tonight, and it feels really nice to have WiFi again! 

Please let me know what you thought of this review, and feel free to leave any kind of feedback! Also, let me know what you thought of the show! I always want to hear what you guys have to say and what you thought of the show.

Roman Reigns Opening the Show 

Of course he was starting off the show tonight, he just won a title! He got a pretty good and mixed pop tonight, and there were more cheers than boos, which is what he normally gets. People seemed pretty pleased that he is the new Intercontinental Champion, which is a surprise to me since it was my understanding that no one really liked Roman. As I’ve said before in my reviews and posts, I’m not a huge fan of Roman, but I think he’ll do great things as IC champ, and I really liked what he was saying about the IC title deserving respect. I believe that should be said for every title, and after Roman’s run as US Champ, this is a better mindset for him to be in. The Miz-tourage fooled me! They came out to Miz’s entrance! The entire weekend I thought Finn would be challenging Roman tonight since they teased it on twitter, but I guess it’s Elias now? Good for Elias, I’m sure they’ll put on a great match later, but as a Finn fan, he should be in this spot. 

Seth Rollins vs. Cesaro

Wait, what happened to the “burn it dowwwwwwnnn” lyric in Seth’s entrance music?? Why did they add it to just take it out again? I think the Shield and The Bar have put on some really great matches as of late, especially the match at No Mercy where Cesaro knocked his teeth up into his jaw, but after they have another title match, it’s time for another team to come into the picture. I’m done seeing these guys wrestle match after match. Let another team have a shot! This match had some really great moments! The first sequence with the little flip that Seth did in the beginning was sweet, and it had me instantly tuned into the match. Booker T had a line during the match where he said, “They can wrestle, and then they can turn it into a fight.” I totally agree with Booker here. I think Seth and Cesaro, and even Sheamus and Dean (even though they aren’t here) can really bring it all to the table and put on a show. This match had high energy the whole time, and even when there was a commercial break, you saw that the energy was still there. There was a great moment where Seth was trying to lock in an abdominal stretch on Cesaro, but Cesaro reversed it with a hip toss! A very powerful looking hip toss! This match could be a main eventer, why is it so early in the show? Seth had a great leg drop on the apron onto Cesaro, but he made it look like a different leg drop because he like, flipped in the air and then dropped. Cesaro was going for the neutralizer, and I don’t understand why, but he “cracks” his neck before he goes for it? It’s a weird move that I don’t totally get. Seth got the “W” with a superkick and a knee to the face, which seemed like a weak finish for a great match like this one. Seth’s post-match interview with Charlie was weird, and I didn’t know he could bring up Renee and Dean being a couple? After next week, I hope we see a change in the tag division.

Samoa Joe vs. Titus O’Neil

When was the last time we saw Titus put on trunks and wrestle? And are we just dropping the Joe/Finn feud? That was a great idea, but hopefully they’re saving Finn for Brock so he gets his rematch. Titus went right for Joe, and that shows everyone that these two came to work to fight tonight. Titus was being really aggressive the entire time, which you need to do when you face Samoa Joe. Joe hit an overhead kick to Titus in the corner, and I love that Joe has this move in his arsenal because not a lot of big guys like him do any high kicks. Joe hit the coquina clutch, and I’m not surprised he won, but this was a good match and I’m impressed!

6-Woman Tag Team Match

I had a feeling that this match wasn’t going to happen, which is a bummer, but I knew they weren’t going to put Paige in a match this early. Paige is really good on the mic, and it seems very natural for her to be this heel character. And she’s right, she pretty much was the starting point for the Women’s Revolution, but I don’t think anyone forgot, at least her fans didn’t. During this segment, and I don’t know if it was just my TV, but it seemed like the crowd was edited out and some parts were changed around? While Sonya and Mandy were talking is when I noticed it most, but I could be wrong. The name Absolution sounds cool, but I need an explanation for it before I can decide whether or not I like it. I know she won’t, but if Sasha joined with Paige, it would be an interesting heel turn for her. I think I’d like to see that.

Bray Wyatt vs. Matt Hardy

Bray is just gross, but it just really works for who he’s trying to be. Bray is another person who’s great on the mic, and he looks like he believes in what he’s saying. He’s crazy, and that’s the only thing I like about him. His whole, “You’re all dead!” slides past Vince and is over with him but Finn apparently isn’t okay okay (if you aren’t sure what this is, check twitter) It’s so great that Matt is getting TV time since Jeff is gone. With Jeff being gone, it’s really hurting Matt’s chances of getting anywhere in WWE again, but I hope he gets to break out in his character more, and then they can bring Jeff back in when he’s cleared. A win for Bray, but are we possibly seeing the start of Matt getting into the broken character?! Let’s hope so because it’s what everyone has wanted to see since he came back.

Cruiserweight Fatal Four Way

Again, maybe my TV is acting up, but this match and the crowd felt like it was super edited while it was going on. I thought Tozowa and Swann had a great sequence of flips and pins in the beginning that impressed me, and this match overall was really impressive. There were two great suicide dives and a lot of great top rope spots. During the match, Michael Cole brought up Starcade, which happened over the weekend, but it was a live event only, so I don’t think a lot of people got his reference. Just a weird plug, Cole. The Phoenix splash that Swann did to get the win was great, a little messy at the end, but still really cool! I’m glad that this match impressed me, I hope this division does it again!

Roman Reigns vs. Elias

Wow, I’m surprised that this is not the main event. This was a great match actually! I hated how much time it took to start because Elias had to do a song, but the Miz-tourage with the harmonicas was actually pretty cool. I don’t know if they were actually playing them, but that was at least a good moment. Both Roman and Elias were looking great, but Elias did really well! He had a lot of good moves, especially that huge elbow drop he had over Roman! Great height and great impact! I think because of the guitar, people assume that Elias doesn’t know how to wrestle, but he does and he’s good at it! Elias had a great sit-up powerbomb, but it wasn’t enough to get him the win, but I would say that this was my match of the night! Samoa Joe came and attacked Roman afterwards, so I guess I know what’s happening next week.

Asuka vs. Dana Brooks

I’m sorry to these two women for the waste of time and bad match that they were put in. Asuka especially doesn’t deserve this booking, and I guess Dana’s mother had surgery today and they made her miss it for this 3-second match? Paige and the Absolution came out at the end, but even that wasn’t worth it. 

Jason Jordan vs. Kane

Never ever give Jordan a mic again, I hate hearing him talk. This match didn’t last either, so I guess Braun and Kane are going to hash it out. Again, I feel like Jordan is favoring different knees each week, but maybe since I don’t like Jordan at all I’m not paying him any attention to what he’s doing. OH WAIT IT’S FINN AH MY BOY THE BOY! I was waiting for him to show up, and I hate that I had to wait so long! Finn doing his entire entrance is so extra, and it shows Vince and the entire WWE that he is 100% over and deserves his rematch for the Universal Championship. Now I love that this turned into Finn vs. Kane for the main event. This is much better than Jason Jordan. No, not the chair! I know that wrestling is fake and everything and this is just acting, but good god I hate seeing Finn in pain. It hurts my heart. Oh god Kane put Finn’s head in the chair he’s gonna jump. OH BRAUN I’VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER TO SEE HIM. This Kane/Strowman idea isn’t something I cared for at first, but I’m happy with it now, and I can’t wait to see what they do next week with it.

Overall I thought this was a decent show! Again not the best, but I’ve seen worse! Match of the night was definitely Roman and Elias, and I don’t think I’ve ever had Roman be in a favorite match for me! I’m glad that Finn eventually came out, too. I’m glad the crowd was super into it as well, that always helps the show. 

Stay tuned for Smackdown tomorrow, and other posts throughout the week! 

-Casey 

[altonroederer]

RockBar - part 3

ALL PARTS HERE

No, we didn’t get it on. Frankly I knew even then there was a chance that Hunter was husband potential and I didn’t want to get sloppy; we were both pretty buzzed.

And it didn’t even matter; Hunter was such a good cuddler. 99% of the time I’m big spoon, but his extra inches in height just fit perfectly around me. I slept like a baby.

When the sunlight came in, I woke up to really see the room for the first time. Football jerseys everywhere, piles of rugby shorts, a lacrosse stick. Ugh, such a bro.

I must’ve stirred because he grunted and woke up. He stretched, yawned and then pounced on me. Hunter may be a rugby god, but I swear he was a golden retriever in a past life. He burrowed his face in my neck, tickling me but I couldn’t get away because he was squeezing me tight. My god, his arms are the size of my legs, and I’m pretty fit.

“I’m really glad you stayed over” he said as he rolled over, still not releasing me. “Listen, there’s something I wanted to say last night, but I wanted to wait until we’re sober.”

“Oh?” I questioned.

“Look, you grommr guys, you’re definitely into some specific stuff, but it’s not actually THAT weird. At least not as weird as you make it out to be. You call me a civilian so I guess I can’t judge, but I really don’t get why you’re all so secretive.”

That did it. I was so sold on him. I wanted to have all his babies, and I’m a top. He was right, I really could be more out- should be. I had spent all of last night helping him feel more comfortable, but now he was doing the same for me.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just took a leap of faith and kissed him. The kind of passionate, sloppy, awesome kiss where you don’t even care about morning breath any more. I grabbed the back of his head, that luscious, grippable hair and pulled him into me. The kiss was electric, we both went into pure animal instinct mode.

I rolled him over and then he rolled me back, but we got somewhere stuck in between and either didn’t notice or care, each just attacking each other with our toungues. I was hanging onto his luscious bubble butt for dear life when I realized he was doing the same to me. I felt a finger tap at my back door and said “Woah, woah buddy, what’s that?”

“Wait.. you’re? You’re a top too?”

Oh shit. What’re the chances? I laughed. “Really?”

“Really” Hunter said. “I’ve actually never bottomed before.”

I was lying on my back with both hands behind my head. “Sorry, I just assume everyone’s a bottom, it’s a problem. Well, we’re already making you fat, you can try some other new stuff too.”

I had gotten too smug. He flashed that killer smirk again. “Oh no, buddy. If I’m going to try something new, then you’re going to transform too. It’s only fair. Besides, I’ve already got two fingers in and you don’t seem to mind.”

I looked down. Busted. Not only did I not notice (or rather, didn’t mind) his second finger slipping in, but my heavy boner was at full attention and drizzling precum.

“Now,” he said, resting my ankle on his shoulder while lubing himself up, “I bet you’ve got a lot to teach me about how to get big.” He leaned forward to kiss me, and I could feel his head poking at me. “But I think I might be able to teach you a thing or two as well.” He nibbled and kissed all over my neck and my brain just powered down. I could feel pressure “down there” but the sensations all over my neck were overwhelming. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

After a minute I tried to say something but it was just gibberish. He pulled up to smother me with another kiss, probably to shut me up, and that’s when I realized he was in me. “See how that works, babe? You’re already taking it like a champ.” he winked. So cocky.

I tried to talk again but there was nothing to say. This was uncharted territory for me. He leaned back and closed his eyes to focus. His whole body rippled with each thrust. His body was so defined I could see muscles that I’m pretty sure other people don’t have. It was as if he transmitted his intensity straight into me, and all I could do was gulp and remember to breathe. There was something so comfortable, so natural about taking him there in his sunny bedroom that morning. It felt right.

He opened his eyes and studied me, still thrusting. I felt so exposed - not becuase my legs were in the air and a guy was in me for the first time since college- but because I could tell he was studying me, figuring out exactly what I loved, which speed, which angle. He probably already knew more than me.

Hunter lowered himself down again to lean in and kiss me. Just before he reached my lips, when I was embarrasingly already eyes closed and tounge at the ready, he stopped. “So you’re gunna make me big, aren’t you?” I nodded, instantly hardening at the idea. My dick twitched, but so did my ass- I forgot about that how that works. “Woah, someone likes that idea, huh?” he smirked. I love that he could feel me twich on his dick. Two boys can’t get any closer than that.

“Well listen, Nick. We may have a problem then..” he kept thrusting. This was a new side of him.. coming from a dark place. “Cause if I get a big gut..” another twitch “then one day there’s not going to be enough space for me to pop up your legs and fuck you like this.”

That was it. I exploded. Both my cock and my brain. The first squirt sailed straight over my head and hit the wall. Hunter saw that and rammed all 9 inches deep into my guts and pumped out the rest of my load. I cum pretty heavy as it is, but this one took more than a full minute and by the time I was done, all the squirts on my chest had joined into one big pool covering my whole chest.

Hunter surveyed the mess I had made and looked very satisfied with himself. “Good job, buddy!” he said as he held his arm out for a fist bump.

I gasped for air. “You’re a monster” I grunted, only half joking. He chuckled and smothered me with another distracting kiss as he pulled out of me.

I lay on the bed assessing the situation, confirming that my legs still worked and trying to remember my name. Hunter was already up. “You’re not going to cum?” I asked.

“Nope”, he said as he snapped shut the elastic band on his Under Armour compression shorts, tucking away his shrinking boner. “I’m a pleaser top” he said, handing me a towel. “We don’t need to get off; what I’m into is seeing you explode while you’re under me.”

I tried to wrap my head around it. “Hey-“ he stopped me, “you’re into your thing, and I’m into mine.”

Fair enough. “You’re making me big and I’m gunna make you.. a big ‘ol power bottom.” He grabbed my nose like a little kid. “But I think you’re gunna enjoy yourself” he said, raising his eyebrows at the embarrasingly large pool of cum in my chest.

[yowamushi-pedal-imagines]

How about a scenario where the reader asks out Sugimoto?

you’ve got it, nonnie! ;D—You swallowed hard, mustering your courage. There you stood in front of the Sohoku’s biking club room - aka the glorified shed - with a confession letter in your hand. Finally you entered the room, the courage almost escaping you when every head turned your way.“Oi, Hotshot - looks like another person has come to confess to you.” Naruko shouted, snickering. Hotshot? You blinked and watched one of the taller ones shake his head and turn red. “A-ah, no. Um…I’m not here–” before you had time to let them know who you had come to deliver the letter to, you watched Naruko shift from mischievous to incredulous. “Wow, not Hotshot? Well it can’t be the Old man…No girl would be into that guy.” Naruko laughed, to which you heard a ‘watch it, you bean’ from across the room. It was almost like a bear was growling from deep within a cave. How scary.“Alright, let’s see. Oh! Maybe it’s Onoda-kun?” Naruko asked thoughtfully. “He was the champ, after all. No one can resist a winner.”Now you were amused by this. You laughed and shook your head. “No,” you said, trying once again to explain who you were there to see. Similar to last time, you were cut off.“Is it me?!” Naruko guessed, eyes wide. “I mean…I would have assumed me first but I wanted to give Hotshot and Onoda-kun a chance too-” he moved closer, putting his hand up as if to stifle his voice, “I mean…have you seen Hotshot? Yeah, he looks good but he’s so awkward.” You laughed again and shook your head. “No. Not you either, I’m afraid.”“Ah! Then it has to be Makishima-san…or Perm-senpai. Can’t be Quiet-senpai unless you’re into that sort of thing?” Naruko tapped his chin, almost a little offended that it wasn’t him. “No! I have no idea who the Perm-person or the Quiet-person are…” You said with a little smile, “but I’m actually here for Sugimoto-san…” As you admitted that, you turned a little red from embarrassment -  especially when everyone stared at you in shock.“M-me?” Sugimoto stuttered and then straightened up, playing off his original shock. “I mean…of course it’s me. I am an experienced lover.”To that you couldn’t help but laugh. It had come out wrong given you looked like you were laughing at him. From what you had seen and knew of him, he was not someone you would call ‘experienced’…yet you really liked him for some reason. You liked him ever since the two of you had been in the same class together. “S-sorry,” you said, wiping a tear from your eyes. “That was rude of me. Please accept my feelings and go out with me?” You asked, handing him the letter with both hands. Your cheeks were red from laughter but you were honest about your feelings regardless. “Y-yes!” Sugimoto didn’t have to read the letter to accept your offer for a date. He watched you leave promptly and just stood there, a stupid smile crossing his face.

“Dude!” Naruko jumped at Sugimoto, giving him a congratulatory slap on the back and forceful noogie - which took a lot of effort on his height-challenged part.

[mayardsale]

Two weeks in Europe was unnecessary. I’m sorry that my clients drag me around the world at the spur of the moment. You deserve better and I plan to make it up to you. I know you think it’s par for the course but I don’t like being away from you for this long. Yes, we talk on the phone and text and email but I’m a bit more selfish about our time. As always I appreciate the tastefully erotic photos and naughty thoughts you send but hotel lotion and your photo are good for that first week. But by the second week every ass that passes by me has me wanting to get on a plane immediately. I can barely have a conversation with the female staff at the venues without wondering if they knew how to suck dick as well as you. Horribly sexist, I know. But ten days into the trip I devolve into a pig. Of course it doesn’t help that you knowingly push my buttons by asking which lawyers have the softest calves or which models are the height I like. You’re such a bitch. You should be guilting me into believing that my deviant sexual thoughts have no place in modern society. Instead you ask me if Parisian accents would be sexier than Italian accents if you they were muffled by my dick. Not cool. I’m guessing most folks would assume your line of innuendo was meant as an invitation to act on those random perverted thoughts. I’m pretty that you would view an episode on the road fair as long as I was totally honest about it and we discussed it beforehand. Maybe you’d really be okay with it. Or maybe it’s your coping mechanism in case I actually I do decide to fuck that Ethiopian photographer at the London studio. On the other side of the coin you might get turned on by hearing about the handjob the matronly VP gave me in the Berlin limo. Maybe you want to open the door for both of us to get our beaks wet during those long trips. But I’m not a mind reader so I don’t really know what to do with how your fucking mind works. I don’t think you know either. Swallowing me while my driver waits at the corner is a wonderful goodbye but we know that memory will fade in 3 days. Okay 5 days. So I will do what I do after every long business trip where every curve is intended to get my dick hard. I’ll get to our house around 9PM to find you unimpressed by my return. You’ll talk to me about the bills and the car and our upcoming vacation while I drag my bags up stairs. The stench of last nights closing party that finished in the airport lounge means I’ll need a shower. You’ll keep talking about tomorrow’s brunch plans and how nice the weather was while I wash away Europe, but I know you just want a glimpse of me as I disrobe. Unconsciously you’ll continue the one-sided conversation as my monosyllabic answers convey my interest and apathy at the same time because I know you’re pretending that the warmth of my skin against yours isn’t what you’re waiting for. By the time I finish scrubbing my body you’ll have left for the bedroom to get your pajamas on and wrap your hair for tomorrow’s busy day. But after I dry off I won’t bother with deodorant or lotion or pajamas. I’ll simply climb into the bed with the freshly laundered sheets and plant a loving kiss on you while you faintly protest as if you’re surprised by my nakedness. “Did you miss me or something?” you’ll jokingly ask as I pull down your pajama bottoms. Your pussy will be freshly groomed but you know it wouldn’t really matter. You’ll fake a protest as you turn off the lights and enjoy my mouth discovering already moist pussy. You’ll shudder shudder because you forgot to touch yourself during my trip. But there will be no time for foreplay because you’ll purposefully push my buttons by poking at the lack of control over my animal instincts. “All this for me?” you’ll ask as I spin you over to your knees in front of me so your round ass rubs against my rock hard dick. “There must have been some beautiful women at last night’s party.” I’ll be turned on and offended by your assertion as I glide my dick into your dripping pussy. Every feminine curve and voice and aroma from the past two weeks will fly through my brain as I begin to thrust into you. The smacking from your cheeks against my thugs will be deafening as the thrust go from me fucking you to you bucking me. If you were as tired and disinterested as you’ll pretend to be you’d be on your stomach talking dirty hoping I’d come quickly on your ass. But you’ll be on your hands and knees grinding that pussy against the dick you missed while my hands grip your hips and ass. You’ll be fucking me like a champ until I push deeper into you while I reach around to grab your breast. Then it will be over. You’ll buck uncontrollably and my dick will drown in your movement until we both come with a shaking violence indicative of how pent up our kink had been. I’ll sit behind you while you remain on all fours unable to come down from your high. Slowly rocking to and fro you’ll finally sink into the freshly dampened sheets. You won’t be able to see me smile as I stare lovingly at the only ass that occupies my brain when I’m about to come. But you know I’ll be staring so you’ll welcome me home with “I missed you, too.”

[sapphireillustrations]

Meant to be Yours CHAPTER 6 (Ereri/EreMika)

Levi glanced Erens way when a loud slurping sound reached his ears, the kid did love his slushies, that's for sure. Usually, the sound would irritate him but, with Eren, he found it kind of... Endearing? Almost calming in a strange way.

What the Hell was this kid doing to him? He barley knew him and yet he was thinking about these stupid little things and he still couldn't get those damned ocean eyes out of his head by the end of the day. This was supposed to part in his 'adventure' he called life in which that only the scenery changed but everything boringly stays the same, wasn't it? Why didn't it feel like that? With every move his Uncle put him through, it was the same shit, just in a different city.

He needed to put a pause on his train of thought before he collapsed in on himself. Levi sighed and took a big sip of his own slush, taking the intentional brain freeze like the champ he was. He was a veteran when it came to stopping his brain from overthinking, freezing it in its tracks before he went insane. He was thankful for every 7/11 slushie machine he grew dependant on in every place he was made to move to. He would live there if he could, anything would be better than living in different houses with Kenny and starting over every fucking couple months.

"Woah, don't inhale it. You'll give yourself brain freeze." Eren warned, looking to the shorter male almost in amazement as he casually sipped his icy joy

"That's the point." He faintly smirked

"Wait, you're tying to do that? Do you have any idea how much that freaking hurts?..." He blinked, looking almost completely dumbfounded.

Levi wanted to laugh at Erens expression, he did this on that much of a regular basis he was surprised he doesn't suffer permeant migraines by now, he supposed it was the most innocent form of self-harm. In a way.

Levi was about to come up with some smart comment in response to Erens question when he paused, holding his cold cup tighter for a moment as an image flashed before his eyes suddenly. It was one that always haunted him for what felt like forever, but in reality, he wasn't sure how long it had been sine the... Incident. He felt his eye twitch a bit as he quickly clasped a hand over his mouth at the sudden sickening feeling in his stomach. He averted his gaze, rubbing his head and closing his eyes for a moment after the sickness subsided. Eren playfully nudged his arm and laughed slightly "See, I told you. Those things will kill you if you keep that up. Doesn't your Mom tell you to not have too much of those?" Eren teased

Levi sighed and smiled slightly sadly, shaking his head a bit "Not anymore."

Eren paled slightly, horrified at the reaction he got from his thoughtless comment and internally facepalming harder than he did before as he pieced it together. Never before had he felt this much regret over saying something so carelessly. "Ah, shit.. I'm sorry, that was stupid.. I just assumed-"

"It's fine. You're as clumsy with your words as you are on your feet. Bet you'd suck at topping too." He smirked slightly to himself

Eren blushed darkly and bit his lip slightly as he kicked himself further, noticing Levis voice missing its usual harsh edge to it now, unsure if he even noticed. His voice was actually kind of soothing when it turned soft like this...

He shook his head, now wasn't the time for distracting thoughts he'd most likely think about later when he was trying to sleep at night. But maybe he could make a start in finally decoding the mysterious Levi. There was so many notes about him he wanted to write down already.

"Do you wanna talk about it?..." Eren lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, setting his slushie down on near by counter in the store. God knows why they hadn't left yet, Eren had only ever usually been in and out after completing the goal of getting what he needed, and these stores weren't exactly big either. And he defiantly noticed Levi lingering around the aisles, seeing his hesitation to leave straight away.

"What is there to talk about?..."

"Anything and everything. I mean, you're still sort of a stranger to me and well, everyone else in town for that matter."

He sighed "Why are so infatuated with me...?"

Eren simply smiled a bit, pulling himself up on the counter and grabbing his slush again to quietly drink it, signalling he was all ears and that he wasn't moving until he got at least some information out of him.

Those fucking eyes...

Levi pulled himself up on the counter next to him and sighed heavily, taking another large sip of his slush and letting the cold work it's magic on his brain, closing his steel eyes for another moment. Eren blinked, slightly surprised. Sure, he was shorter than him but he made that look too easy for someone of his height. He shook his head, disregarding any thoughts of what Levi may look like under his shirt as he went back to focusing on the dark raven.

He rested his chin on his hand and leaned forward a bit, gathering his thoughts "I've been through ten high schools, they start to get blurry I guess since I've moved around so much. My Uncle works in constru- Well, demolition actually." He rolled his eyes at the thought as he corrected himself before continuing "There's never any point in actually staying in one place or getting used to anything, or even planting roots anywhere for that matter, because one day you're there and then the next, you're easily gone and forgotten in a second. Everything I actually need fits into one suitcase that I keep packed, so it's only a matter of when." He sighed "I've never really bothered to learn or remember names or faces of anyone in any of the schools or areas I've lived in... This time, it sort of feels... Different I guess? I don't exactly know why either." He glanced at him for a moment going on "It's annoying because I know I'll just move again in a matter of six weeks or so... So, you know..." He shrugged

"That sounds... Pretty rough." Eren frowned a bit "I'm sorry you have to live like that, I mean, I'm sure you've at least made a couple friends in your travels..."

"Not one. Like I said, it's pointless. You're not there long enough for anyone to care or want to keep in touch with you and I just don't care enough to want to make friends. Everyone's always just the same stereotypical people just with different appearances."

"Well... We're friends, right?..."

Levi blinked, he never thought of it like that. Was this how friends acted together? Hanging out in a 7/11 and talking about their life story about being on the road?... "I... Um... I guess?..."

What the Hell was this abnormal feeling? And why the Hell was he suddenly feeling nervous all of a sudden?... He didn't like whatever these gross and sudden emotions were but he did like the change in pace, that's for sure. This was the one thing other than his locker combination that had changed this time.

Eren smiled brightly and Levis whole thought process stopped for a second, the phrase 'If looks could kill' Suddenly came to mind. He quickly shook it off and took another big sip of forgetfulness.

"So, um, to put myself in the position of being a possible dick again, if you don't mind me asking, I've sort of noticed you have something of an attachment  to this place, or at least that's what it looks like from how you wander around the aisles. You say you moved around a lot, have you been here before or?... What's the connection exactly?... You know, if there is one?..." Eren asked cautiously, suddenly curious.

"You noticed that, did you?" He exhaled an amused breath "This place is the only place that doesn't change. Anywhere I move to, there always been one of these places not too far. The same food, postcards, slushie machines, anywhere, anytime..." He sighed "It keeps me sane... To just forget everything that exists outside those store doors and get lost in the aisles. It might sound weird, but who cares." He shrugged

"I don't think it's weird at all." Eren smiled slightly, leaning against him a bit

Levi blinked, he knew Eren was different, but God, he didn't expect him to be... Perfect? Did something like that even exist?... "Thanks... I guess..."

"Of course. So, another thing, do you... Do you actually give yourself brain freeze on purpose or are you just a masochist?"

Levi smirked to himself "Maybe a bit of both. I live on those slushies, you know." He sighed softly "There's really just... Nothing but brain freeze in my life. I'd take that over overthinking any day. Who needs to hurt themselves or do drugs when you can get your happiness from ice-induced headaches that are so painful sometimes that you just forget everything for a split-second? I've not exactly had an easy life." He stated simply, finishing off his slushie and throwing the cup in a near by trashcan effortlessly "Why even bother planning your future when you know the world is just gonna fuck you over or take something away from you? I mean, you look pretty happy and perfect right now and I can bet that planning shit out is exactly what you're doing; That you'll study hard in school and get over-the-top grades and land an amazing job and get married to some pretty girl and have kids, but that's gonna change. All I'm saying is that you should build some walls while you're so far ahead. Don't let life fuck you over without any protection." He sighed with a shrug

"Wait, wasn't that a slogan for a condom advert?..." Eren shook his head "Never mind that, so, in other words, it's sort of like a distraction? I guess it's not causing you any real harm..." He bit his lip before he smiled slightly to himself "Maybe I can eventually get you out of that habbit, eh? I can help you stop doing it to intentionally hurt yourself maybe just by with just sharing the occasionally slushie... Um... With me?..." He blushed lightly "You know, unless you wanna keep assuming the future and outcome of my love life..."

"Are you asking me out, cherry boy?..." He smirked, raising an eyebrow

Eren blushed darkly "Maybe..." He quickly distracted himself with finishing off the rest of his slush, practically sucking it dry even after there was nothing left, simply using it as a prop, a crutch so that he wouldn't have to think about that adorable blush plastered on his face. His cheeks almost matching the colour of his cherry-stained lips.

And how he couldn't help but think about how they'd taste and what else those amazing lips would look perfect wrapped around like they were that lucky straw... Perfect. Eren Yeager was perfect for him.

"You got yourself a deal, Eren. Lastly, my point was to not let the world take away your life. Never listen to the voice inside your head than thinks giving up or even death will be an easier solution or escape. its not. Just..." He smiled faintly "Freeze your brain."

For the first time, Levi felt a genuine creeping smile threaten to crack his lips. When was the last time he felt... Happy?

"Really? That's great" Eren grinned "And I've never surrendered to those kind of thoughts before. I mean, it's hard not to right now but you know. You have to keep going to get what you want..." He shrugged and smiled

Levi slightly envied how a smile made it's way so easy and naturally onto those lips, but he was beginning to adore it. He could smile that much for the both of them.

"So, Uh..." Eren continued "Your Mom, what happened to her? If it's not too much to talk about of course, no pressure... I just want to get to know you better."

Levi blinked, that image suddenly coming back to him. His Mother in that window, just waving then...

Nothing.

He shook his head, taking a breath.

"Sorry, I should know when to quit while I'm ahead. You can talk about her when you're ready to. You just look like you're carrying so much baggage on your own... I wanna help carry some."

"I... It's fine, I don't mind..." He took a breath "Where to start... I guess when Mom was alive, we sort of lived halfway normal. I guess. Things used to be more... Bearable... With her around."

"So, your Uncle, what's he like?..."

"Unbearable..." He muttered "But Mom..." He sighed "I guess I just miss having her around, I think my Uncle was the one that sent her to an early grave..."

"You mean he...?"

"No, not exactly..." He shook his head "You've probably heard of my Uncles demolition company before, Ackerman Demolition?"

"Woah, so your last names Ackerman then? The jingle and the slogan for that commercial is everywhere."

"Yeah, it's super fucking annoying..." He shook his head "Anyway, my Mom walked into a building that he rigged to go off in only a matter of minutes while he were still living in Texas at one point, and she just goes to this open window on the second floor and waves to me, smiling... Then boom, she was gone. There was barley enough of her left to burry with the shit ton of TNT that he used... The Norwegian in the basement and the several thermals upstairs..." He sighed, now craving one of his cigarettes. "I just hope she didn't feel anything." He hopped off the counter, taking out his pack of cigarettes and putting one of them between his lips. "After her suicide/murder- Whatever you wanna call it, me and Kennys relationship just became more toxic than it already was. Not like it a great to begin with anyway, he never wanted my Mother to have a kid because it was too much of a problem, so we just never liked eachother from the start. He was more fixated on his work after she died too, you'd think he'd be the opposite since he technically killed her." He spoke with his cigarette in his mouth "So, after everything, I learned to do things myself; from cooking to paying bills. I didn't need anyone or anything and I knew that the world was never going to pay me or anyone else back of every bad thing that happens in life, so you just live with it."

Eren blinked "Wow... So you really have been through Hell then, huh? No wonder you keep to yourself.." He sighed sadly before looking up at him again "Can I have one?.."

"You smoke?"

"Occasionally. More so when I'm stressed the Hell out due to my 'Friends' or out drinking."

"You drink?" He raised an eyebrow

"Duh. What guy my age doesn't? "

"Fair enough. So do I." He shrugged, giving him one "I mean, who wouldn't drink with friends like yours..." He grimaced "I don't like your friends, they're bad people that don't even contribute anything. I've not been here for that long an even I can see that. They make everyone miserable, including those stupid ass Jocks that think they run the school"

"Yeah, again, thanks for that..." Eren sighed "I don't like my friends either you know, I'm just around them so other people like them leave me alone. It's sorta like a business trade. Not everyone likes their job. I hate mine but I get something out of it. It's sort of like our job is being popular and shit."

"So what is it they want from you exactly?"

"Forged handwriting." He sighed "I've never exactly used it for evil before, just things like skipping boring classes sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow, an impressed look in his eyes "Well, you're not as innocent as I thought, Cherry boy." He smirked

Erens face darkened "Would you quit calling me that? God..." He stuttered to which Levi found amusement.

The two walked out the store and lit up "Come on, I'll take you home." He said, taking in a draw and breathing out smoke.

"You don't need to do that" He hummed, doing the same

"You don't have a car, right?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing. We'll finish these and then we'll jump on." He said, leaning against a shiny black motorbike as he continued to smoke

Eren blinked, almost choking on his cigarette "No way, that's yours?!..."

"It's just a perk from Kennys company." He shrugged

"I'd kill for one of these babys..." He circled around the bike in awe

"Maybe it'll come down to that." Levi mused, laughing under his breath

Eren blinked and tilted his head a bit, shaking his head after a moment and brushing the joke off "Oh yeah, because I'm a killer." He laughed a bit

He swore he saw steel eyes flash something intriguingly fierce for a moment before Levi quickly savoured the last taste of his cigarette, stubbing it out afterwards and tossing it's remains to the ground "Ready to go?" His bike suddenly roared to life.

Eren did the same after finishing his cigarette before hopping onto the backseat, wrapping his arms around Levis waist tightly and leaning his head against his shoulder "Ready."

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats Tyler on your second character, Dominic Fabray! Please send us his blog within 48 hours!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: Tyler Preferred pronoun: He/his Age: 22 Timezone/Country: EST/USA RP Experience: Y'all know me~. Activity Level: 7-8/10

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Dominic Russell Fabray Designation: Switch Age: 21 Faceclaim: Colton Haynes Birthday: June 12 Orientation: Homosexual Kinks: body worship, breath-play, anything not on anti Anti-Kinks: cutting, blood, scat, vore, beating, watersports

BIO:

TW: Sexual Abuse

If there were such a thing as a King Bee, Dominic Russell Fabray would fit the bill to an absolute tee. He liked to think that he put the typical notion of a prince charming to shame. He’s handsome, wealthy, intelligent and what was more - he knows it, and he seldom lets anyone forget it. Dominic was accustomed to being treated like a prince. His mother practically worshiped the ground her walked on, his sisters adored him - at least he convinced himself that they did - and his father…well, his father is where things took a different turn. The Fabray family was remarkably traditional and conservative. Therefore, being the only son instantly put an immense amount of pressure on the boy’s shoulders - all of which was contributed by his father, Russell. The dominant man not only expected academic success, but also success in the realms of athleticism, popularity and in representing the family even potentially more so than his sisters due to the fact that in Russell’s conservative mind, he was the only one with the privilege of carrying on the Fabray family name. This excessive amount of pressure eventually pushed Dominic to resenting his father. He still went out of his way to meet and exceed the man’s standards, of course. Although he’d never openly admit it, his father’s opinion of him was incredibly important to Dominic. Despite that importance, the resentment of never feeling like he earned Russell’s approval even with his best efforts at play fostered a bratty attitude which in turn amplified the uppity way in which Dominic tended to compose himself.

Despite a rocky relationship with the man that drove his every ambition, Dominic lived an adolescent’s dream outside of the home. He was the captain of the football team and made most of his friends through the sport. As he went through his teenage years, another realization slowly began to take shape, and it was one that would end up changing his life forever. It started off innocently enough. He’d catch himself staring a little too long at his team-mates when they’d work out together. However, his admiration quickly escalated to discreet leering in the showers and an interpersonal realization that he was by no means straight. This absolutely shook Dominic to his core. He spent hours in bed, unable to sleep as he played over different, equally soul-shaking imaginary conversations he’d have with his oppressive father if he ever found out. He imagined being disowned, kicked out and eventually sent to the auctions - another outcome that was articulated to be feared above anything else by the Fabrays. For a while, Dominic managed to keep his sexuality under-wraps. It all boiled over one afternoon in the locker room, however - and it wasn’t a pleasant experience, by any means. Up until that fateful afternoon, he had assumed that his coach simply favorited him based on his exemplary talent on the field. That day would prove that there was something much more sinister to his coach’s favoritism. To this day, Dominic has recurring nightmares that are so vivid he can still feel the abrasive, forced rubbing of his coach’s beard against his neck coupled with the drowning sensation of helplessness and the scalding stream of the locker room shower. Dominic still hasn’t come out to his parents. He’s disclosed his secret to his sister’s, but that dark afternoon is still his own truth that no one knows about, and he fully intends to keep it that way.

For Dominic Fabray, Lima Heights is a fresh start. He still intends to stake his claim as resident royalty - but he now finds himself in a setting that is far away from his father’s judgmental gaze and the terrors of his past. At the institute, Dominic is free to be who he is, and even though he didn’t receive the dominant mark like he was counting on - he fully intends to embrace as much new-found freedom as he can.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What is your biggest fear and why?

I’m sorry, who gave you the impression that I’m afraid of anything? What on God’s good earth would a guy like me have to be afraid of? I guess if I had to give an answer, it’d be that I’m afraid of aging badly…but I’ve got the money to pay for anything that could possibly go wrong there - and it won’t.

What 3 objects/places mean the most to you and why?

One object that means a lot to me is my football jersey - the same one I wore when I led our team on to be state champions. I think my dad’s got it framed in his office or something.

A place that means a lot to me is definitely our kitchen back home. Don’t you dare tell anyone, but I’m a bit of a mama’s boy. Ma’d always let me cook with her before Dad got home and I actually got pretty good.

Who is the one person you’d most like to meet (dead or alive)?

Probably J.F.K. - also known as the best looking president in history. As a guy that aspires to take that title from him, I’d love for the opportunity to meet my predecessor if he was still kicking.

What is the one moment you would describe as your happiest/most excited?

Definitely winning the state champs. I think my dad told me that I “did alright” after the game. He might’ve even smiled.

[mayardsale]

Two weeks in Europe was unnecessary. I’m sorry that my clients drag me around the world at the spur of the moment. You deserve better and I plan to make it up to you. I know you think it’s par for the course but I don’t like being away from you for this long. Yes, we talk on the phone and text and email but I’m a bit more selfish about our time. As always I appreciate the tastefully erotic photos and naughty thoughts you send but hotel lotion and your photo are good for that first week. But by the second week every ass that passes by me has me wanting to get on a plane immediately. I can barely have a conversation with the female staff at the venues without wondering if they knew how to suck dick as well as you. Horribly sexist, I know. But ten days into the trip I devolve into a pig. Of course it doesn’t help that you knowingly push my buttons by asking which lawyers have the softest calves or which models are the height I like. You’re such a bitch. You should be guilting me into believing that my deviant sexual thoughts have no place in modern society. Instead you ask me if Parisian accents would be sexier than Italian accents if you they were muffled by my dick. Not cool. I’m guessing most folks would assume your line of innuendo was meant as an invitation to act on those random perverted thoughts. I’m pretty that you would view an episode on the road fair as long as I was totally honest about it and we discussed it beforehand. Maybe you’d really be okay with it. Or maybe it’s your coping mechanism in case I actually I do decide to fuck that Ethiopian photographer at the London studio. On the other side of the coin you might get turned on by hearing about the handjob the matronly VP gave me in the Berlin limo. Maybe you want to open the door for both of us to get our beaks wet during those long trips. But I’m not a mind reader so I don’t really know what to do with how your fucking mind works. I don’t think you know either. Swallowing me while my driver waits at the corner is a wonderful goodbye but we know that memory will fade in 3 days. Okay 5 days. So I will do what I do after every long business trip where every curve is intended to get my dick hard. I’ll get to our house around 9PM to find you unimpressed by my return. You’ll talk to me about the bills and the car and our upcoming vacation while I drag my bags up stairs. The stench of last nights closing party that finished in the airport lounge means I’ll need a shower. You’ll keep talking about tomorrow’s brunch plans and how nice the weather was while I wash away Europe, but I know you just want a glimpse of me as I disrobe. Unconsciously you’ll continue the one-sided conversation as my monosyllabic answers convey my interest and apathy at the same time because I know you’re pretending that the warmth of my skin against yours isn’t what you’re waiting for. By the time I finish scrubbing my body you’ll have left for the bedroom to get your pajamas on and wrap your hair for tomorrow’s busy day. But after I dry off I won’t bother with deodorant or lotion or pajamas. I’ll simply climb into the bed with the freshly laundered sheets and plant a loving kiss on you while you faintly protest as if you’re surprised by my nakedness. “Did you miss me or something?” you’ll jokingly ask as I pull down your pajama bottoms. Your pussy will be freshly groomed but you know it wouldn’t really matter. You’ll fake a protest as you turn off the lights and enjoy my mouth discovering already moist pussy. You’ll shudder shudder because you forgot to touch yourself during my trip. But there will be no time for foreplay because you’ll purposefully push my buttons by poking at the lack of control over my animal instincts. “All this for me?” you’ll ask as I spin you over to your knees in front of me so your round ass rubs against my rock hard dick. “There must have been some beautiful women at last night’s party.” I’ll be turned on and offended by your assertion as I glide my dick into your dripping pussy. Every feminine curve and voice and aroma from the past two weeks will fly through my brain as I begin to thrust into you. The smacking from your cheeks against my thugs will be deafening as the thrust go from me fucking you to you bucking me. If you were as tired and disinterested as you’ll pretend to be you’d be on your stomach talking dirty hoping I’d come quickly on your ass. But you’ll be on your hands and knees grinding that pussy against the dick you missed while my hands grip your hips and ass. You’ll be fucking me like a champ until I push deeper into you while I reach around to grab your breast. Then it will be over. You’ll buck uncontrollably and my dick will drown in your movement until we both come with a shaking violence indicative of how pent up our kink had been. I’ll sit behind you while you remain on all fours unable to come down from your high. Slowly rocking to and fro you’ll finally sink into the freshly dampened sheets. You won’t be able to see me smile as I stare lovingly at the only ass that occupies my brain when I’m about to come. But you know I’ll be staring so you’ll welcome me home with “I missed you, too.”