#i shared this with a few select mutuals yesterday and they all loved it

[comrade-cabbage]

birthday bulge for yall to enjoy 💖

[eastwindmlk]

That little nudge helped loads! Here we are with the august @jilychallenge

My partner is the lovely @aeligsido

Our prompt:

“I’m a Disney face character and you’re my canon movie counterpart but the mutual attraction is real and it’s becoming harder and harder not to call you by your real name instead of stage name.

There are 3k of Disney fluff under the cut!

As many a morning James and Sirius strolled into the crew area arm in arm, laughing back and forth about something the other had said. Both cast a glance at their lockers, only to find that they, in fact, did not pick up wardrobe yesterday.

“So, any idea what we’re up to today?” Sirius asked, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth while the pair of them tried to figure out where their assignments would take them for the morning.

James made a questioning sound in the back of his throat trying to recall his schedule for the day and drawing a blank. “I think I am in Magic Kingdom today. But… Yeah, no. That is all I got,” he answered eventually. The two of them impatiently waited to look at the shift roster on the wall.

Sirius shouldered him out of the way, just as they got to it. His fingers walked down the list of names. “Fucking shitballs, I’m up for Gaston, again,” he complained.

James snorted, schooling his features into a mask of mock seriousness. “Padfoot, not in front of the mouse!” he scolded, his head jerking to Peter passing by, the giant mouse head in his arms. The three of them locked eyes for one long, silent moment before dissolving into side-splitting giggles and a firm back slap from Remus, who passed looking awfully comfortable in his steward gear.

The four of them met at the summer selection program and later moved into a flat together, where they split the outrageous Paris rent into a more comfortable number. It was nice having friends at the job when the days were long and more physically demanding than he had ever imagined they could be.

“I…” James turned his attention back to the stained printout, following the slightly faded ink of the perpetually low ink printer to his name. “Eric!” He finally concluded, rather relieved to not be stuck in something too warm. The heat had been stifling the past few days and Kristoff had been absolute murder. By the time he was backstage he practically had to peel the costume off his body. His under layer completely drenched.

He was utterly and completely content with his assignment when Sirius had to go and ruin it all. “Who is your redhead?” The phrasing was deliberate and not appreciated, the eyebrow wriggle was downright insulting.

James made very sure that his mate knew just how he felt about his question by mustering his sharpest, most unimpressed look. Which was mostly inspired by his GCSE English teacher, who did not share the same fondness for exploring the boundaries of creative, yet school-appropriate, smartassery. “I know what you’re trying to make me say,” he pointed out tiredly as he scanned the list once more. Looking at the character names, his fingers slowly follow the line marked ‘Ariel’ back to the names, praying that it is literally anyone but-

“Lily Evans,” he groans, his shoulders sagging as he resigns himself to a shift of psychological torment and a night of relentless teasing. “Fuck me.”

Which earned him two very distinct responses simultaneously.

“Not in front of the mouse!” From Remus.

“It would be about fucking time.” From Peter, who was the only one that withered at Remus’ glare. - It simply did not hold the same sort of heat that the other two were used to. Private school privileges, they’d once called it.

Sirius draped an arm over his shoulder, making use of the half an inch height difference. - they’d measured – his silver eyes glancing around as a smile curled onto his lips. “If you need a moment to… relieve yourself before your shift, I’ll collect wardrobe,” he teased with a wink, earning himself a firm elbow in the ribs, which did nothing to stop him from laughing loudly at his friend’s predicament.

“Very funny,” James repined, his hand jumping to his hair, trying to smooth out the frizz, inwardly cursing the humidity for making it untameable. Well, more untameable than it usually was. “She just…”

There was a collective groan. Remus ducked out with just awkward finger guns to announce his departure. “Yeah, I need to get to Studios, Kingsley is always early. So… imma dip too,” Peter announced, glancing down at the head his his arms before hurrying off.

James peered after them a slight hurt look fading in his eyes, his lips pressing together into a thin line. “I think I scared them off,” he said with a disappointed huff.

Sirius just nodded slowly, placing a wet kiss on his cheek. “You’ve been mooning pretty hardcore over Evans the past few weeks.” This information was new to James, who had been certain that he had contained himself. He knew for a fact that he more than once, or twenty times, stopped himself from mentioning her.

He pushed his hand under his glasses and groaned. “I am such a goner, am I not?”

“That is not the word I’d have chosen, but yet.”

“What-”

“Canard.”

James peered out from over his hand with a deadly glare which only resulted in Sirius shuddering dramatically and grasping his chest for his amusement. “Maybe you make a point. I resent the point because I am not just blindly waddling after her, but I guess. Maybe. Have you seen her, though?”

Sirius’s tongue darted out of his mouth the way it always did when he was stalling and he did not have the patience for it today. “Just spit it out!” James grumbled, letting out a sharp breath before adding a reluctant “Please.”

“Well, she is lovely. I really cannot disagree with you there,” Sirius started and James could just feel a ‘but’ coming up. He sunk his hands into his pockets, waiting for his friend’s judgement. Trying to look as casual as he could as he strolled alongside him. “However,” -There it was. - “You’ve been down bad and she’s clearly not reciprocating your advances. We’re worried.”

James’ eyebrows slid upward in surprise. “There is a ‘we’?”

Sirius nodded, shoulders putting up nonchalantly. “Basically just the gang. Since we’re subjected to your endless lionising-”

“Lionising? Nice one, Pads,” he interjected, offering a half-mocking, half-exparated look.

“-Merci, anyway. Your endless lionising over this, albeit, lovely woman that does not even give you the bloody time of day. Is she still ignoring that drink's invitation?” James laughed, a single, awkward bark as his hand jumped to his hair and his lips pressed together into a slightly pained smile. “Yeah…” he started to say, his eyes not quite meeting his friend’s when he rushed through the rest of that answer. “That might be because I never actually sent that text.”

He met Sirius’s glare with an apologetic grin and let his shoulders sag when Sirius groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose that does the trick. Just so you know, I turned down tickets to a really good cabaret singer in solidarity and I am miffed, maybe even a little peeved”

This time. James did actually shrink away from him, genuinely feeling bad for not actually having worked up the nerve to ask her out. “I did ask her in person, sort of,” he said, his tone doubtful.

“Care to define ‘sort of’?”

James pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth for a moment, clicking his tongue as he nodded slowly. The more he considered it, the stupider it sounded. But Sirius was not the type to let this go. So, he kept his eyes on his shoes. Scuffing his converse on the linoleum floor of the backstage while admitted. “I asked her, in passing, if she wanted to come for drinks,” he muttered, risking a glance up at Sirius. “She…uh. Asked for a rain cheque because she had a jujitsu class.”

Sirius’ expression went from expecting to unamused. “So, you asked again, right?” His head tilted forward, wordlessly pressing the question. “Right?” Sirius repeated, this time a little louder and a little firmer.

“Right…” James repeated his voice sliding through half an octave, which should be telling enough. And sure enough, he could hear the impact of his friend’s palm against his forehead and the frustrated exhale.

They fell silent for a moment, the only sound between them was the sliding of metal hangers of the clothes rack, trying to find their costumes for the day. The tension mounted while garment bags were pulled and styrofoam heads with wigs were clamped under arms.

“It’s not like I intended to never ask again, but she also didn’t bring it up herself either.” James continued their conversation once they were out of earshot of the biggest gossip on property. Rita, their dedicated wardrobe attendant and custodian of their personnel paper. Which was gossip disguised as noteworthy crew news.

They knew better than to give her even the smallest of sound bites if they wanted her to stay out of their business.

“Look, mate. I know that she makes you nervous-”

“-Terrified, really.”

“Alright, terrified then. That has never stopped you from doing anything before. Still doesn’t-” Sirius paused to give a warning to James not to interrupt as they sat down at their stations. “So, why can’t you relocate some of that courage to ask out a girl who is actually into you.”

James’ eyes narrowed for a moment, trying to gauge how much of Sirius’s words were bullshit. Or rather, encouragement. He did not really see the difference in this case. Before heaving a dramatic sigh. “You can’t know that,” he accused, his voice nothing more than a mutter.

Sirius leaned over, an arm wrapping around his shoulders as he squeezed him close. “James, my dear, clueless friend. I know. I have been her prince too. She sure as hell does not look at me that way.” His shoulder received a shove and when James looked at Sirius again his back was turned, silver eyes gazing over his shoulder. “Now, be a darling and braid my hair?”

His fingers combed through the silky, black locks while he twisted them together in a tight plait. “Are you sure it is affection though? Because watery eyes might just be… allergies? I think she mentioned grass pollen at some point.” James was sure that if he had not had Sirius’s hair in his hands, his friend might have turned around to glare at him.

“She’s into you, I promise!” Sirius vowed while he wound the elastic around the end. Letting it drop between his shoulder blades for Sirius to pin it in place. “Just try it!”

James trusted his best mate, of course, he did. He just could not help but wonder, what if he was wrong? What if it was really just allergies or acting and what if she didn’t really have a jujitsu class? She could just as well have been avoiding him and that is why she never asked again. Clearly, she had no issues asking people if she’d asked Sirius to a show.

Now that he thought about it, maybe she liked Sirius. Which was when he started to spiral. Or spiral worse than he had. Or worse.

By the time that Sirius' flick to the forehead snapped him out of his thoughts, he was fully convinced that she had severe allergies, her main one being a severe aversion to one James Potter. But she humoured him because she was actually in love with his best mate.

“Oi! James protested, rubbing at the spot before shooting Sirius a half-hearted glare which his friend returned with such vigour it made unease crawl down his spine. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Then don’t think stupid things,” Sirius shot back instantly, making James bristle indignantly. How could he even know what he thinking? As if he could hear him, Sirius answered that question too. “Because you’re my best mate.” His expression softened and a hand gripped his shoulder reassuringly. “It is also written all over your face.”

At that James made an attempt at composing his face and wondered if there was any point to it. Sirius just had a way of knowing. Fixing the mark Sirius’s reprimand had made in his make-up, James contemplated. Doing his best to actually consider his friends’ opinions instead of letting himself be tempted by the spiral.

He was fixing the wig, plucking at the synthetic strands to have it sit just right when James finally gave in. “ Fine, I’ll ask her the moment we get backstage, okay? One last try.” It couldn’t hurt, right? His fingers ran nervously along the collar of his shirt, his eyes closing while he took a moment to really feel the character. Mentally preparing himself before the mere sight of his princess would render him completely useless.

“Break a leg!” Sirius encouraged him. From behind his hands grasped him firmly by the shoulders and steered him out of the door to where he knew they would be meeting. His heart thumping against his ribs, his entire body tingling with excitement. Or maybe it was nerves/ He could never really tell.

Regardless of how unhealthy it might be, the sensation was exhilarating. Just what he needed to get him pumped for hours of smiling and interacting with guests. He often joked that this feeling must be the magic of the mouse. Usually, when he said this, his friends would call him a dork. They weren’t wrong.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a swish of sea foam green, a cascade of copper curls and his heart skipped. She was beautiful, she always was. But he could not help but resent the costume. The make-up covered up the light dusting of freckles along her nose. The wig could never quite capture the charm of her natural auburn locks.

His princess was beautiful, but the woman underneath outshone her a thousandfold.

“Lovely of you to show up,” Lily told him teasingly, fluttering her lashes at him. “Ready, my prince?”

James drew in a deep, steadying breath and offered Lily his arm with a brilliant smile. “For you, my princess, any time,” he replied, glad to hear his voice was steady as they walked down the tunnel that would lead them right to the gates of The Magic Kingdom. All the while listening to the easy chatter between her and Sirius.

Normally he would mix himself in, and join the conversation. But normally he was also not working up the courage to ask Lily out. Actually, ask her out this time. No hiding behind after-work drinks or casual hang-outs.

Even though Sirius insisted that Lily liked him, he couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius was just as blind. The way she smiled at him just felt flirtatious and she had asked him on a date. The final nail in the coffin was the way Lily blew him a kiss before they parted ways.

Without Sirius there to stop him from overthinking this, all James could do was focus on the work. Not on the words that spun in his head. ‘Pick me, choose me, love me.’ But he wasn’t some medical drama heroine. He was just… Him. Chances were that he would sound creepy rather than romantic.

The words spun in his head until only the last two remained and every time he looked at her they bubbled up to the tip of his tongue where he had to force them back. Now was not the time or the place. Not to ask her out and certainly not to shout ‘love me!’ at her.

He doubted that it would ever be the right time to do that. Shouting his feelings off the rooftops might just need to stay proverbial.

James was glad for the busy day, with lines of people waiting to meet them. Priding himself on making people blush and fluster as they posed and chatted. Only occasionally falling silent when he would catch a glimpse of Lily, ethereal and charming while she mentioned fins and dinglehoppers. Hugging crying, snotty little boys and girls with the grace of a princess.

It was in one of these moments that someone caught him looking. A boy, maybe twelve, not that he could tell anymore. For all that he knew this boy could be anywhere between eight and seventeen. Regardless, this one was observant. “Are you in love with her?” he asked and completely took James by surprise.

For just a moment, he fell completely out of his role. Hazel eyes lingered on the captivating form of Lily, looking angelic while she pushed her curls over her shoulder. “Very much,” he breathed, a longing smile on his lips. “Lil- She is my princess, after all. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.”

His eyes landed back on the boy, who beamed at him. “Do you think everyone gets a princess?” The question coaxed a soft chuckle from his lips. James crouched down, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, I think there is a princess, or prince, out there for everyone. As long as you are brave enough to go and find them,” he said resolutely and watched proudly as the boy nodded. “Just remember to be smarter than me, alright? When you find her, don’t let her go back to the ocean first. Sea witches are rather nasty business. Ask her.”

The boy nodded so eagerly, that James worried he might hurt his neck. “Alright then, you go ask the lovely lady with the mouse pin about the very special necklaces and pick one you think she’ll love.” James winked at him as he nudged the boy towards their steward for directions. Only caught a glimpse of him dragging an adult towards Main Street as the next person stepped forward.

For just a moment, James turned to look at Lily at the same time that she sought his eye. Her smile was almost shy, eyes darting away as if caught. In that moment, James wondered two things. One, if maybe Sirius could be right and two, how insufferable his friend would be when he was forced to admit that.

That was something to deal with later. After he finally asked his princess to the ball.

[coreene-simblr]

Get to Know Me - Sims Edition

Thank you all so much for tagging me @papermint-airplane @treason-and-plot @hazely-sims I feel so grateful to have wonderful mutuals like you guys!

Answers are under the cut!

What’s your favorite Sims death?

I play Sims 3 the most so I'll answer it for that one. There are so many cool deaths in Sims 3, unfortunately I only experienced a few and in those my favourite is definitely the meteor one. I got this only one time in my 10+ years of playing. I remember it like yesterday, I had just made a new sim, was planning on playing a legacy and sent her to university. I shit you guys not she got hit by a meteor on her first class activity. As that was my only sim, the game was over xD

Alpha CC or MaxisMatch?

Ahh, hard to answer. You kind of have to go with Alpha hair in Sims 3. I remember I used a lot of Alpha cc for sims 2 back in the day. Before MM was this popular. I really do not like alpha cc in clothes for Sims 3 though. I guess a bit of both?

Do you cheat your sims weight?

I never actually felt the need to do that. I personally like exercise and my sims usually are on the active side as well and they keep good shape. I certainly don't mind seeing sims who are a bit on the heavier side around town.

Do you move objects?

Probably not as often as other simmers, tbh. I do build but I don't like clutter. If I feel the need to use it I will, but it doesn't happen often.

Favorite Mod?

Definitely Nrass MC. It just makes it so easier to fix some of the quirks this game can have. Also being able to just makeover townies, is a must for me. Even though I carefully select my randomizable outfits I'll still take them to cas for a touch up.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

Ah, hard to remmeber. I think I had open for business in Sims 2 as my first expansion but the first one I specifically saved up money for was Late Night for Sims 3.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

Alive.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Kara Down, had a post dedicated to her a few weeks back and it's here xD

Have you made a simself?

Eh, not on looks exactly like myself but definitely on traits, Kara is pretty much me/my alter ego. I made her when I was 12 and didn't know how much I liked dancing or clubbing xD Realized it after I grew up and got to do those things, haha

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Hmm, there was this hair mutation my only 4 generation legacy had. It was a very nice shade of blonde, I liked that.

Favorite EA hair?

For Sims 3 it's this hair Karen has in this post.

For Sims 2, harder to choose. I love all these ( 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ) my favourite is gonna be the Bella hair.

Favorite life stage?

Always gonna be YA. In every iteration. Loved university stuff in Sims 2 and I love that stage in all other games.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Well, I like building the lots my sims play in. A lot of the cc lots out there have too much clutter and I do not like clutter. Whenever I download a lot I'll end up deleting all those decorations anyway so why bother. Adding the fact that I'm an architect in RL, I just notice, specially in residential lots, some no-no's we were thought in school.

Short answer is, I build them for myself to play in and share just in case if people would like to add my things to their games.

Are you a CC creator?

I haven't dabbled with creating meshes but did some recolours, tattoos, lots or whatever. Am I a cc creator tho? Nah, I just share the stuff I make for myself.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

Sim Squad? No. Simblr friends? I would like to think, yes. I consider people I chat regularly under posts as my simblr friends :D

Do you have any sims merch?

nope

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

nah

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I am in more control of the town but less in control of my sims these days if that makes sense? I try to do what they would wish to do and leave certain things to their autonomy.

What’s your origin id?

Do not use origin. I have the games on discs and I created their disc images long time ago. I use the no-disc crack for them now as I couldn't set the disc image to work for Sims 3 on this laptop.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

I do not have that much cc for sims 3 but first people that comes to my mind are @sweetdevil-sims and @simlicious. Love their edits to simple maxis clothes and simlicious' patterns. They are out of this world in quality! looking at @aroundthesims for some objects I find myself looking for also.

How long have you had simblr?

I think I have been sharing my lots on @simsitecture since 2017 but haven't interacted with the community much back then due to my main blog being something else. I changed this blog to be a simblr I think about a year ago and since then I've been more active here.

How do you edit your pictures?

I have a few actions for brightness and saturation in PS. I use those on images I think that are too dark etc. Nothing else.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite?

Sims 2: Nightlife

Sims 3: Late Night

Sims 4: Get Together

Hmm, think there is a pattern there...

I think most of you guys have already done this but I'll tag some people I haven't seen share this yet. There is no pressure to do this and also if you want to do it and haven't been tagged consider this your tag!

Tagging @simstryingtheirbestok @zergula @ts3strayastray

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,

Chapter 10

Reunion

8th September. Kerry looked at her phone again, reading through the last message from him. He’d be here tomorrow. Ever since he’d started messaging, she’d hoped she might be able to see him again, maybe they could talk again about their feelings. She knew now that she loved him, that she couldn’t just be friends, it was pointless denying it but maybe he’d moved on. But he was coming all the way to Cornwall to see her, that had to be a good sign right?

“Come on Scout, walkies – I have got to get some fresh air through my brain!”

She did her best to keep occupied as she waited. Luckily she had the cottage to clean on Friday morning for a couple who had booked it for a long weekend. That meant she could put all her fears into energetic scrubbing, polishing and vacuuming while the hours counted down.

She had just sat down with a cup of coffee in her kitchen when he appeared at the open door.

“hey” he said tentatively

Her face broke into a wide grin which he matched.

“Come ’ere”

She went to him, a little cautiously, still wondering how this was all going to play out. To her delight, he gave her the biggest bear hug, whispering into her hair

“boy did I miss you!”

“Me too”

He let her go and they just stood for a few moments, smiling and drinking each other in.

“Pub and a fish finger sandwich?” Kerry volunteered.

“Yeah that sounds just the ticket”

They walked down to the harbour and got a table outside in the late summer sun.

Over lunch she caught him up on her publishing news – she finally had a deal and was currently working with an editor to select the stories that would go in her first collection. Then she also had a novel idea so she was excited to be pushing on with her writing ambitions finally.

He told her about his latest projects and what he’d been doing in London.

“So I saw Cariad yesterday ......” he said, a secret smile on his face at having this surprise to share with her.

“Oh my god, you did it? The Griefcast?”

He nodded

“Yup and you were right, it WAS good for my soul. It won’t be out for a while but I’ll give you the heads up. I guess you’re subscribed anyways right?”

She nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“Wow, I’m so pleased you did it. So it was OK right? Not too painful?”

“I did almost lose it, quite early on, but then we got into it and, it felt, errr, really good to remember them both and tell someone else about them. I hadn’t expected that. Cheryl thought I’d gone off my rocker when I told her I was doing it!” he chuckled at the memory.

Kerry laughed “I bet she thought you’d been taken over by aliens or something”

“Pretty much!”

They chatted on, the conversation light and factual, then with lunch done, they settled the bill.

“Do you want to go down to the beach?” she asked

“Err, no can we just head back to yours? I’d like to talk to you, somewhere private”

“Oh, OK”

As they walked up the hill, he dared to take her hand in his. She looked down at their intertwined hands then back up at him, a small smile on her lips.

Back at the house, she poured them each some ice tea and they went outside to her courtyard and settled in her swing seat.

“So” Keanu began

“So?” she queried

“So, I wanted to tell you a bit more about when I went home, not just what I’ve been doing but how I’ve been feeling”

Kerry swallowed hard, wondering where he was headed with this line of conversation.

He took her hands in his and held her gaze.

“You see, the thing is, uh, the minute I was heading home back in June, I wanted to turn around. I wished we hadn’t left it, left us as a lost cause. I wished that we’d found a way to be together. And once I was home, my friends all said I was like a lovesick puppy! They told me to get my sorry ass back down here and tell you, sweep you off your feet, whisk you away but I don’t know if it’s just me who feels this way I don’t know what you want. I mean, I’d move here in a heartbeat if that’s the only way to be with you! Is there Hope Kerry? My beautiful Sweet Kerensa, please say there is!”

His eyes were soft and pleading, not to mention glassy with unshed tears. Kerry stifled a sob and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face there, breathing him in. His arms came around her and held her tight but she still hadn’t said anything and his heart fluttered with worry.

Even when he pulled back to look questioningly in her eyes, she didn’t declare her feelings but rather stood up and said “wait there”

She was back quickly, holding something made of dark grey fabric. She sat down next to him again on the swing seat and handed it to him.

“This is yours”

He shook it out, revealing a grey Arch Motorcycles T-shirt.

“I found it balled up under the bed after you left. I’ve washed it, but only yesterday. Before that, I was sleeping with it every night breathing in your scent and wishing so hard we hadn’t left it the way we did. So yes, Keanu, there is hope. I’ve missed you so much - I fell in love with you back in May and I do want to be with you. I just don’t quite know how we’ll make it work but I know I want to”

He silenced her then with a kiss - only this time no one had to stop just as the fireworks started - their tongues danced together and he moaned, pulling her tight against him, hungrily drinking her in. Eventually, he pulled back smiling broadly then giving her contented little pecks on her lips, cheeks and forehead.

“So” she asked “what do we do? Have you thought about what you want, what might work? How we can do this?” she gestured between them.

“Well, you know, before I came, I kind of played out the different scenarios in my head, you know a) I declare my love for you and you say “sorry but I realised after you left it was just infatuation” or b) before I even declare myself, you introduce me to your new boyfriend” Kerry snorted at that

“as if”

“or finally c) that it would be ok and the feelings would be mutual” she gave his hand a squeeze at that.

“So when I let myself run with option c) I imagined that we’d go back to Tresco, where I really started to fall for you and what I imagined is talking there, you know, about how we make it work and, more importantly, actually doing all the things I dreamed of doing with you when we were there before.”

“Like?”

“Like holding your hand, like putting my arms around you, like kissing you, like making love with you……”

Kerry blushed, hiding her face against his chest “so before I came I made some arrangements, you know, living in hope”

“You did?”

“Uh huh, so I hope this is ok”

“So tell me”

“Well I spoke to John, and he’s going to look after Scout for a few days and sort out the cottage after the weekenders go, and tomorrow at 11 we’re flying out to St Mary’s (I decided not to put you through helicopter hell this time!) and then we’re going back to the New Inn only this time I’ll be free, I trust, to show you what I wanted to do so often when we were there in May. Is it OK?”

Kerry looked up and into his eyes, a warm smile playing on her lips. She held her hand against his cheek

“Yes Keanu, it’s very, very OK.”

Then she kissed him softly slipping her arms up around his neck They kissed for a while before she pulled away “How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“I feel the same”

Later they walked Scout along the beach and had an ice cream then went home to pack their things ready for the morning and have a light supper. By 10pm, Keanu was yawning.

“You’re probably still jet-lagged aren’t you?”

“A tad maybe. Uhm, where shall I sleep?”

“Err would you sleep with me? Just sleep I mean.” Kerry rushed to clarify “It’s not that I don’t want you but, err after your speech about Tresco, I really want our first time to be there. Is that silly?”

“No, not silly at all. I want that too”

“wow a man who’s prepared to wait!”

“I’m an old man remember, not a horny teenager, well I am horny, just looking at you makes me horny. “ Kerry giggled.

“But I still want to wait”

“Well ok then, glad we’re on the same page”

They locked up and went to her room where they were both proud to say they just slept, Keanu spooning behind her, his hand gently cupping her breast through her pjs.

Kerry woke at 8, feeling Keanu’s warm breath on her neck. She wanted to pinch herself. When he’d said he was coming, she had felt some hope but how things had unfolded was beyond her wildest dreams. She started to move, then felt his grip tighten and a low moan rumble against her before he planted a soft kiss on her neck then whispered:

“don’t go, you’re so lovely and warm”

“I have to shower and dry my hair and we’re leaving in not much more than an hour”

“Ok, just 5 minutes more then I’ll take Scout round to John. Is the food still in the utility room?” (Keanu had looked after Scout himself once when Kerry had a meeting in London whilst he was renting the cottage.)

“Yup”

Kerry turned in his arms and gave him a kiss

“I’m so glad you’re here”

“Me too” he grinned and kissed her back before throwing back the covers to get on with their trip preparations.

@fortheloveoffanfic @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @paperplanesandwallflowers @patric9

[purplesurveys]

529

Trigger warning for the entire survey lols

hows your life at the moment? Tough. Not great. My friend passed away. I see him in everything; every song is about him; all my thoughts are him. There isn’t a day I haven’t cried since finding out. I miss him, and nothing can heal this grief for the meantime. what are you doing? This, remembering Nacho, staying up, on the phone with my girlfriend. who was the last person to call you? Gabie is on the line with me at the moment. is there anyone that you love and hate? No. do watch funny tvshows like family guy and south park? South Park was never funny to me, but there are references in Family Guy that have made me crack up in the past. It’s very select, though. The two aren’t really my type of comedy.

what color are your toenails at the moment? I never paint my toenails. < have you ever had a close friend move away? Yeah, Aubrey suddenly moved to the US in senior year of high school. We had gotten really close when we were juniors so it was a real sucky shock when she dropped the news to me and told me she only had a few weeks left in the PH before leaving forever. what was the last thing you said aloud? I was telling Gab how unfortunate it is that I always seem to be wearing more shabby outfits whenever I see our mutual friend who dresses very well. I saw her at Starbucks today and lo and behold I had a lazy outfit on HAHAHAHA. Oh well. how many friends do you trust fully? I trust all of them. It’s when they abuse it that I can easily cut off that trust. who was the last person to hug you? Jo. I was surprised she reached in for a hug this morning considering SHE HATES THEM. But then again Nacho passed, and everyone’s been giving everybody hugs lately in the college. have you let someone down recently? I feel like I let Nacho down. I hope I didn’t, but that’s between me and me now. I just wish I did something more. has someone let you down recently? Me lmao are you upset about anything at all? If the overarching theme of this survey isn’t clear enough yet - YES!!! what are you looking forward to? El Camino on Netflix, bitch. That’s the only good thing I have going for me. Oh and finishing part uno of my thesis.  quick lyrics from the last song you heard.. I forget what the last song I listened to was at the moment. have you ever had a friend choose their bf over you? Yes, but I don’t mind. I would typically do the same, unless said friend is in an emergency situation or genuinely needs me. when was the last time you took a shower? This morning before heading to class. who is your favorite female celebrity? Kristen Stewaaaaaart. were you nervous on your first day of highschool? I think I was, but I’ve mostly forgotten freshman year. three words to describe your bestfriend: Gab is intelligent, insightful, and ambitious. Angela is approachable, generous, and hilarious. what is your latest reason to be mad? Our President (yes, Duterte) attended Nacho’s wake and halted the entire wake for an hour just because of his appearance. It became all about him and no one was allowed to either go in or out of the room for that period of time - not even Nacho’s friends who came to see him and say goodbye. There was a huge barrage of police all over the damn place and it pissed everybody beyond belief - even Nacho’s fucking mom was barred from seeing her son and she was forced to be at the back of the room along with everyone else just because of this dipshit President who felt the need to have an entire security team with him to go to the wake of someone who completely fucking despised his guts when he was still alive. who have you talked to on the phone today? Just my girlfriend. what color shirt do you have on? Navy green. are you literally afraid of anyone? Rapists, I guess. where are all of your friends right now? I’m sure they’re all at home/dorms. Either that or studying in a coffee shop. what is today? Wednesday. who was the last person to tell you a secret? Kate. make a wish. right now. anything. I want Nacho back. do you know who harriett tubman was and what she did? Yes. what kind of mascara do you use? I dunno. It’s been a while. do you own a pea coat? I don’t need any in this climate. which team are you going for in the super bowl? Nope. if you had to live at one of your bestfriend’s houses, where would u live? Angela’s. Her family treats me like family already, anyway. how are you on this fine day? Day 4 of grieving. It’s not getting any better, especially when everyone else is just as sad. The week kind of came through by giving me all the deadline extensions I mentally asked for, so am thankful to my profs for that haha. Still shitty nonetheless. My girlfriend’s great-grandmother passed away too. 2019 is out to give everybody a harder time before ending, I guess. who did you last take a picture with? Kate. who was the last person to comfort you? Jo. who was the last person to unsurprisingly disappoint you? My mom, lmaoooooo. who was the last person to get on your nerves? Filipino drivers. who was the last person you saw? Chesca. sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare? Hehehehehe I appreciate the Beyoncé reference, thanks. are there any stressful situations in your life? Right now? Stressful is a bit of an understatement. what are your plans for tomorrow? Do thesis, do other homework, study for next week’s exams. are you missing anyone at the moment? Way too much. if you answer a question wrong in class, does it embarrass you? Yes, it’s why I don’t recite - so I don’t have to be wrong lol. can you love and hate someone? It’s possible, but I myself am incapable of doing that. It’s one or the other, for me. I can love someone and be disappointed in them, but never love and hate at the same time. what was the last movie you watched fully? Hello, Love, Goodbye. are you currently hung up on anyone? Nope. single ladies or constant relationship people? ??? how many missed calls do you have on your cell phone? Within the past week, two. do your parents annoy you? My mom does. what color looks best on you? Black, navy green, maroon. are you jealous of anyone? More envious than jealous. what’s your favorite Lady Gaga song? SPEECHLESS Favorite Lady Gaga lyrics? Anything from Speechless. Seriously. Way underrated. where was the last place you went? Starbucks, to study for a few hours. what was the last thing to make you laugh? We were sharing stupid stories about Nacho yesterday to lighten up the mood, like how he was dressed up head to toe in Uniqlo in his casket HAHAHA. We’ve also come to develop our own conspiracy theory for laughs that Nacho actually just moved to Germany so he can finally achieve his dream of becoming fluent in German and that the person we saw in the coffin wasn’t him, and that he’s not actually gone. I found comfort in that and it’s helped me cope with the loss, and I’m sure it’s helped others too. He would’ve found the jokes funny, anyway. is letting go hard for you? Yes. any last words? I’m exhausted. I miss you, Nach.

[ladysaraholt]

Request for Aid

Hello, mutuals, followers, and my various RP families. Sara’s mun here.

The past several weeks have been incredibly emotional, so if you guys aren’t interested, I’ll add in a break for those who would prefer to scroll past. For those that stay, even a reblog to help share this would be incredibly appreciated...

A few weeks ago, my mother called me to inform me that my grandfather had a heart attack, and that he was staying at the hospital because of built-up fluid in his lungs. Over the course of 48 hours, the doctors ran a myriad selection of tests, which led them to discover that he has End Stage Metastatic cancer in his lungs. After finding it there, they ran more tests to see if it was elsewhere. It was confirmed positive in his lymph nodes, adrenal glands, and bones, with a test pending to confirm whether it was also in his brain. They gave him approximately 6 months to live.

A few days later, my mother called me again, anxious and in tears because he was being so combative with the doctors that his heart rhythm was highly erratic, and exacerbating the fluid that kept building up in his lungs. At this point in time, they were also still waiting on the brain tests for confirmation of cancer presence. Everyone was sitting on pins and needles, hoping he would cooperate long enough to get his first round of chemo-therapy (which the doctors told them would ONLY be for quality of life improvement, not for added longevity).

Three days later, another phone call from my mom in hysterics saying that he had gone home the night before only to take a turn for the worst and get rushed back to the hospital. The particulars were not given to me (though the cancer had been confirmed to also be in parts of his brain), but it was bad enough that she put my dad on a plane from where they live in GA to MI where his parents live.

He ended up staying with my grandparents for six days. By the time he went back home, grandpa was stable and cooperative enough to go back home (for the second time). His first round of chemo was scheduled soon, and everyone was looking optimistic that he would remain with us through his time left in relative comfort.

For four long days, I heard nothing from my parents. I hoped no news was good news, and even managed to keep busy enough at work for the days to go by relatively quickly. Then on Thursday, I received a tearful call from my mom. My grandpa was back in the hospital - his cancer had now spread to his liver. The doctors had - by this point - tentatively shortened his time left to the end of January, and (according to my mom) that was being generous.

After a lot of back and forth conversation, I determined that I wanted to try to have my nuclear family (myself, my husband, and our 8-year-old son) travel to Michigan for Thanksgiving this year to ensure my son would get to spend one more holiday with his great grandfather (which we had done once a year up until this year [we went to Easter family get-together with that side of the family every year until this year - we weren’t able to make it this year]). I agreed to do everything in my power to ensure I’d be able to take time off work to make this trip happen for us, and for my parents, and for my grandparents.

But the fun of that day wasn’t quite over - about an hour after my initial phone call with my mom, she called me back to inform me that the doctors were now giving my grandfather approximately two weeks, give or take a little, to live. The acceleration of his cancer, it seems, had been incredibly aggressive, and they did not expect it to slow down at all. With that in mind, they now planned on stopping all treatment once my grandfather was stable, sending him home, and getting him set up with hospice care to make him as comfortable as possible.

On Sunday, my mom called me to let me know that they got him home and set up, with everything in place. He seemed to be comfortable and stable, for now. The one thing the doctors have reveled at in all of this is that my grandfather’s pain levels have been minimal throughout this ordeal. That alone still gives us hope that he will remain stubborn enough for us all to see one another at Thanksgiving in Michigan.

And this brings us to yesterday. Somehow along all of this, my mother had not been made clear that my intentions were to go to Michigan. Once she heard that was my hopeful plan, she went to see about plane tickets. Thanks to her long-standing good reputation with Delta, she managed to get a quote for the tickets for the three of us: $1100. My mother’s initial offer (knowing that money has been tight for us) was to cover two of the three plane tickets so that we would only need to pay for one. In order to lift some stress from my mother’s shoulders (despite not having a plan in place for it), I offered for us to pay half of the total instead of just for one ticket. While this helped my mother relax, the two hours I spent frantically trying to figure out where to come up with $550 dollars was quickly wearing my nerves away (all while I was at work, too).

On my lunch break, I had to run to Target to pick up a few cleaning supplies for work when my mom called me again. She was getting the plane tickets booked in my ear, while my husband was trying to find a way out of fronting $550 we don’t have in the other ear. I was incredibly hesitant, and vocalized it, only for my mom to stop me. She then informed me that my grandmother - who was infinitely grateful that we were trying to plan to come visit for Thanksgiving - had told my mom to buy the tickets and that the cost was covered. It was more than my heart could take. I broke down in tears, in the middle of the day in a damned Target, trying to think of something to do to pay my grandmother back. She’s been through more than everyone, and yet she was sweeping in to the rescue anyway.

That being said. I am opening emergency commissions for sketchy headshots, jewelry concept art, and handmade scarves. My goal would, ideally, be to make the full $1100 to pay back my grandmother. Regardless of whether my grandfather makes it to Turkey day or not, we will be making the trip to Michigan, and that’s not something I get to do very often (a con to my job, which typically blacks out the months of November and December from any and all holiday travel because it’s the busiest time of the year for us).

If any of the below interests you, please send me a message and we’ll get the particulars figured out. Here’s what I have to offer:

$5-$20 : Jewelry Concept Sketch (traditional artwork)

For those who might have an idea for a canon item their character may or may not carry with them, I can help give your trinket dimension. The more details / complexity, the more this would cost. Can add digital color for an additional $3. Seen below are a mix of requested designs for tumblr and concept art drawn by me at work.

$15-$45 : Character Bust Headshots

While I usually need a faceclaim or inspiration in order to create these, if you have a general idea (or give me creative license based on the info you give me), I can likely create it with little trouble. Line art only takes the least amount of time. Shading is midline. If you want color, I need screenshots / references, and it would be the most expensive. Armor is not something I’m strong at, but I would absolutely try to include some if it is wanted.

$25-$55 : Handmade Scarves

I have a self-taught talent for creating scarves of various sizes and styles. The ruffly scarves are good spring / autumn scarves - lightweight and fashionable - but still provide a light amount of heat retention; they can come in pretty much any color of the rainbow (availability would have to be confirmed, but I do have a bunch here at home already). The thick fluffy scarves (middle image and bottom left image) are a combination of 2-4 yarns interwoven together to create a very warm winter scarf that can either be traditional or infinity-style and provide heavy heat retention; they too can come in myriad colors (subject to availability), but it should be noted that multiple colors are more expensive. I also will put a disclaimer here that I will only provide a scarf to those who confirm they are not sensitive to wool products, as all of these are wool-based.

All payments will be taken via PayPal (which we will discuss via dms), so please be respectful of this.

Thank you for taking the time to read through everything. It means a great deal to me. Any and all small donations are incredibly appreciated (I’ll be trying to put something together for those as well). If you cannot purchase or donate, please help me out by reblogging this to share it. I’ll be reposting a shorter Commission post later this week for proper reblogging, after work is done for the week.

I love and appreciate you all for your time, and hope there is something I can offer to each of you.

(( to my various RP families: @blackbay-wra @holtandthornetradingco @householt @the-wyrmrest-sanctuary ))

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 11.1)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1-10 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual content.

Song referenced is linked in text.

Switches POV but it’s noted.

Word count: 3.4k (this part)

-||-

Your alarm goes off and you shoot out a hand to mute it. You aren’t going to fall back asleep; you just don’t want to wake him. Carefully, you slip out of bed and pad into the kitchen, turning the stove on and opening the fridge.

You’re almost finished, you’ve moved the pan from the hot surface to a cool one and turned off the stove, when you hear him coming down the hall and you turn, inhaling sharply. He’s slipped into his jeans but has left them unbuttoned and unzipped, and that’s all he’s got on. His hair is mussed and he probably wants to shave, but he looks so sexy right now. He blinks a few times so his eyes focus on you.

“Holy shit baby, what are you wearing?” He reaches out for you and you step into his arms. You’ve slipped your panties back on and grabbed his button-down off the floor and have the middle button closed. He runs his hand down your side appreciatively. “I’m guessing this is why I couldn’t find my shirt,” he muses, and you nod. He fingers the one closed button, looking over you. “And no bra and those panties I got off you with my mouth, hmmm?” You nod again and he kisses you hard. “So sexy.” You lean into the kiss and he slips a hand inside your - his? - shirt to thumb over your nipple. When you finally break, he blinks slowly. “Something smells really good.”

You grin, and turn back to the stove, sliding the pan’s contents to a large plate and grabbing a fork and knife. You pass it to him and he groans. “Please tell me this is-“

You cut him off with a smile. “Bacon-stuffed French toast? Yes.” His whole face lights up. “Come on Urie, back to bed.” You set off for your room and he trails after you.

“Aren’t you worried about syrup and stuff in your bed?”

You shrug. “I’ve gotta do laundry anyway.” You laugh a little to yourself. “Last time one of us said that, I ended up making you come in your pants.”

He sneaks a bite of French toast and moans. “I wouldn’t rule out a repeat performance, honey. This is amazing.” You smile and you both settle back into bed, his arm around your shoulders. The plate in his lap, he stabs a piece and feeds it to you. You spend the next 30 minutes feeding each other, whispering and giggling between syrupy embraces.

At one point, when the plate is technically cleared, he leans over to check the clock and looks at you longingly. “We’ve got a few minutes before we have to shower,” you tell him and he rolls over on top of you, unbuttons the single button, and, after dragging his index finger through the plate, coats both of your nipples and drags a sugary path down your stomach.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” His mouth is on your neck and he slots a thigh in between yours, knowing what you want. As his tongue slides down your neck and chest, you grind wantonly on his upper thigh, gasping as his lips close around your nipple, sucking hard. “Yeah, baby, make yourself feel good,” he whispers, switching to your other sticky breast and pushing his thigh up against you.

Your room is silent except for the suckling sounds of his mouth and your soft moans of pleasure. Regretfully, his thigh leaves your grasp when he moves to lick over your stomach and you cry out in frustration, hips still moving, searching. “Don’t worry honey, we’ll finish this in the shower.”

And finish you do. He backs you up against the wall and drops to his knees (you’re proud of yourself for getting that foam bath mat), tongue tracing between your folds and flicking out over your clit. You cry out and he looks up at you, the question in his eyes. “Fuck, Brendon, fingers,” you whine and he winks before sliding two fingers into you roughly while his other hand grips his leaking cock and starts stroking hard. You look down at him, on his knees, pleasing both of you, eyes shut in concentration and bliss, and you can’t help it; your climax rocks through you and you come hard on his fingers and tongue.

With a groan, he gives one last thrust through his fist before his own orgasm is spurting over and dripping down his fingers. “Fuck baby, hope that wasn’t too fast,” he whispers, kissing your thigh and you shake your head.

“It was perfect.”

By the time you’re both cleaned up and out of the shower, it’s only 5:30. “Fuck, if waking up early means I get to start my day like that, count me in,” he mumbles as he kisses your cheek.

As you’re getting in your separate cars so he can go home and change, a roar of thunder rips through the air and the sky opens up. He texts you - “looks like we’re not going to have band outside today.”

-||-

Brendon’s POV

The storm has been raging all day but the thunder has nothing on your drumline. The kids are exhausted from practice yesterday - it was extraordinarily hot for September, and they worked hard, so you decide to take a break from show music.

“Alright guys, grab a seat real quick.” They settle into their chairs and look at you expectantly. “I want to work on sight reading, so I’m going to pass out some unmarked music to each section. The parts are labeled; the pieces are not. It’s your job to work as a section and figure out a) what piece this is, and b) how to make it sound right.” You pause. “And yes, there is a prize for the section that can get their part right the fastest.” You hold up your hands to ward off questions. “All prizes revealed after winners are selected.”

The kids waste no time dividing the room into domains, huddling with their sections, fingers flying silently over instruments and eyes squinting in concentration. Even Marissa has joined her original section, the trombones, and is studying the piece. Everyone is deeply invested, except Emily, who is sitting with her flute across her lap staring into space. You catch her eye. “You okay?” You mouth, and she shakes her head and bursts into tears. Fuck. “Come on,” You gesture and she stands up, setting the instrument down and crossing the room. You open the door and gesture for her to step out. You follow and, leaving the door cracked, sit on the floor. “What’s up?”

She sighs, crossing her arms and sitting down too. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’re upset. You’re allowed to be upset.”

She sniffles and looks up at you. “This is embarrassing.” You look at her steadily. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, so David and I have been texting a lot and I thought he liked me because he sat with me on the bus coming home from Invitationals and Friday he bought me a cookie at lunch and NOW -“ she cuts herself off with a tight sob, “he’s ignoring me and sitting with - with - with JASMINE.” She looks at you desperately, tears streaming. “I told you it was stupid.”

You shake your head. “And I told you it isn’t. You like the guy and you thought it was mutual and now he’s giving you mixed signals. Who wouldn’t be upset?” She sniffles and shrugs. “Emily, listen to me.” She looks up at you, eyes watery. “I’m not gonna say anything bad about him because first, he’s my student too, and second, you don’t need my thoughts and feelings in your head. So listen. You are a smart, talented, beautiful young lady. If he doesn’t see that, that’s his loss. Honestly. I know it hurts now; I had my fair share of emotional distress in high school, but I promise, you’re going to be just fine. I survived, and I’m not half as great as you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

You shake your head. “I’m not. I got out of high school with a 2.5 GPA and it was music that got me through. I had like 2 close friends I hung out with regularly.” She frowns a little, considering. “Seriously. You’ll be great. Now, you can call David out, just please not during class, or you can let it go, but either way, you’re gonna go back in there and be fine. Don’t let him get to you. And remember,” you pause to make sure she’s listening. “High school boys are dumb. They’ll catch up to you, maturity-wise, in about 4 years. Tolerate them for now, but focus on what’s important. Graduating and college. Yes?” She nods with some confidence and you pat her on the shoulder. “Good. You ready to go back inside?” She nods and you both stand.

Before you go back inside, she stops you. “Thank you Mr. Urie. You’re a good listener. Ms. Milton’s lucky.”

You stop and look at her. “What do you mean by that?” Your voice is cautious. She laughs a little.

“We all think you’re together. I mean, we can’t prove anything but...I don’t know. We all think you should be, if you’re not already.” You think about this.

“Who is ‘we,’ when you say ‘we all think’?”

She shrugs. “Everyone in band. Except some of the freshman girls but,” she gives you a knowing look. “You know how they are.”

You can’t help it, you start laughing. “I really don’t.”

She looks at you with wide eyes. “Mr. Urie, they’re like in love with you.”

You snort. “Yeah, okay Emily.”

“They are! But yeah the rest of us think you’d be super cute together.”

You grin. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Why are you grinning? We know you guys had dinner together last night. Why are you grinning?? Did something happen? Did you kiss? Ohhhhh I bet y’all kissed.”

If she only knew. Your mind wanders back to the night before, being tied down in her bed, licking over her - no. Focus. Not the time. You walk back into the room where the trumpets are getting close to figuring out the melody and the drummers have given up and are throwing their sticks at the ceiling.

“You guys look done. Are you done?”

You built Emily’s confidence up too much. She looks around the room. “Show of hands, who thinks Mr. Urie should ask Ms. Milton out again?” You protest and she gives you a look. “I’m proving my point.”

You groan and are surprised when almost every hand in the room shoots up, except for, as Emily essentially predicted, a cluster of freshman girls in the flute and clarinet sections. She looks around the room again. “Why?”

Josh raises his hand. “Because when he’s with her, he lets us go home early.”

Marissa rolls her eyes. “Great leadership attitude Josh,” she teases. “But really, because she’s nice and pretty and you always look happy when someone talks about her - like right now.”

Emily has uncapped an expo marker and is listing people’s reasons on the board behind you. “...looks...happy. Okay what else?”

You groan. “Really guys, this is how you all want to spend class time?”

The drumline gives a resounding “yes,” and you give up.

“Alright, I give. Convince me why I should date this woman.” The class is arguing loudly now about ranking her qualities and you wander back into your office to shoot her a quick text. “Come to the band room after school. I’ve got something to show you.”

She replies immediately. “Is it your dick? Kidding. Kind of. I’ll be there.”

You walk back out and are stunned. Marissa has joined Emily and together they’ve almost filled the board with the class suggestions that are being yelled out at random. “Wow guys, you’re really putting in work on this,” you laugh and they nod enthusiastically.

“We really like her.” I really like her too. “What would you do if we brought her down here to see this list?” Emily looks a little smug.

“Don’t do that.”

Marissa folds her arms and makes a frustrated sound. “Fine.”

The bell is about to ring and they start packing up when Emily grabs the eraser. “No, don’t.” You stop her and she turns to you with a grin.

“You’re gonna bring her down here yourself, aren’t you?”

“No. Maybe.” She claps her hands ecstatically and grabs her bag and flute case, bolting from the room.

“Aghhh! Yay! Good luck!” She throws open the door and comes up short. “Oh hi Ms. Milton! I was just leaving. Bye!!” You hear Emily’s feet flying down the hall and Y/n laughing.

“What was all of that ab- what is this?” She stops, staring at the board. You hold out your hand and she crosses the room to take it. You pull her into your arms, her back against your chest, and kiss her cheek.

“These are all the reasons my students think we should be together.” She gasps a little and steps forward to read them. You watch her pace the board and she turns to you, eyes brimming with tears.

“This is incredible,” she whispers, hugging you tightly.

“You’re incredible. And they see it. They see how wonderful you are and how happy you make me.”

She stands on her toes to kiss you and you wrap your arms around her, holding her tightly. “You are wonderful,” she whispers into your neck, “and you make me so happy too.”

You smile, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I’m going to take you home now,” you tell her and she nods, slipping her hand into yours and letting you lead her out the door.

-||-

You’re curled up on the couch, dinner plates on coffee table, her head in your lap. Your hands are stroking her hair and she lets out a soft sigh before sitting up and flipping around so she’s facing you. “My ex and I were together for five years,” she tells you, taking your hands. “He was the first guy I dated who treated me well and was nice and I thought that meant he was the one. We had a lot of issues but I brushed them aside because he was nice to me.” She looks up at you, voice shaking. You pull at her hands lightly and she crawls back to your lap, resting her head on your chest. “He was gone a lot of the time, and he didn’t put our relationship first. I spent a lot of time alone, defending him to my friends and even to myself. He didn’t spend time with me, he was rude to my friends, and he told me I was stupid for teaching. He’s the one who ended it. He told me I was emotionally manipulative, that he felt trapped by me and stifled and crowded. He had wanted to leave for a long time but didn’t know how to tell me so he just went through all of the motions until one day he just snapped and started screaming at me. It was over after that; I moved out and after maybe 2 weeks, he wanted to get back together. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t be with someone who had said those terrible things to me. I thought I was okay when I moved from Austin, but like I said, he started showing up and hanging around and I told him I couldn’t, I just couldn’t and wouldn’t be with him. He called me horrible things, a tease, a slut, a manipulative bitch - and I just couldn’t stay. So I ran again.” Your grip around her tightens; you’re furious. “So yeah. That’s my ex, and that’s why I’m, deep down, weird about relationships and commitments. I’m sorry, I just - seeing that board made me realize how strongly I feel about you and you deserve to know about the last guy who had an impact on me.”

You take a deep breath and kiss the top of her head. “First of all, I’m proud of you for leaving; for not going back to him. I know that was hard, especially after he felt like a safe person, the first safe person, for so long. Second, you know you’re none of those things, right? You’re not any of those horrible things he called you. He’s insecure and afraid of his own flaws so he’s projecting onto you. Finally, you’re not weird about relationships or commitments. Not as far as I can see. You openly refer to yourself as my girlfriend and we’ve spent many nights together, each of them magical by the way. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect, okay?” She lifts her head and you kiss her softly. “You’re perfect and you’re safe and I’m not going to hurt you. You mean so much to me. I hope you believe that.”

She nods. “I do believe it.” She sniffles a little and hugs you tightly. “Can we watch a movie and have a drink?”

You laugh, kissing her forehead. “Of course baby. I’ll grab the wine if you want to pick a movie.” You come back into the room, two bottles in your hands and glasses hooked into your fingers, a bar of dark chocolate wedged between the glasses. She looks at you in surprise and you laugh a little. “No, we’re not drinking both of these - unless you want to. I just didn’t know what you were feeling.”

“I think the red. Is Dirty Dancing okay?”

You nod. “Absolutely.” And with that, you uncork the wine, pour your glasses, and settle back into place, breaking off bits of chocolate and passing them forward for her to pluck from your fingers with her teeth.

The movie ends and she’s drowsy in your arms, but she stirs when the credits roll. “Mmmmmm. I feel much better,” she purrs, stretching and arching her back. “You should take me to bed.”

“Yeah?” You nuzzle the spot behind her ear and she melts back into your arms, nodding and turning her head to kiss your neck. “You sure?” You whisper and she nods again, her lips ghosting over your skin. “Okay then.” You both stand and she willfully allows you to scoop her up and head for the stairs.

She’s clinging to you, and you’re halfway up the stairs when she starts kissing you fiercely, moaning and whimpering against your lips and tugging at your hair. Suddenly she pulls back and looks at you. “You have an office here too, don’t you?” And when you nod, she grins. “Let’s go in there.” You can’t say no to her; you’re nudging open the door and she gasps, looking at you. “I didn’t know you played piano!” You shrug modestly.

“A little.”

“A little! This is a baby grand! No one who plays a little has a baby grand. You play a lot. Play for me?” Her face is flushed and her lips are stained from the wine and you look at her, captivated.

“Yeah, okay.” You find the keys and start, eyes focused on your fingers as you sing softly. “The day I first met you, you told me you never fall in love,” she elbows you playfully, and you wink. “But now that I get you, I know fear is what it really was. Now here we are, so close, yet so far...Haven't I passed the test?” Her head is resting on your shoulder, and you pause, finding her eyes. “When will you realize, baby, I'm not like the rest?” Your hands still as she kisses you softly. You whisper against her lips, “don't wanna break your heart, I wanna give your heart a break,” and she moans into your mouth and crawls into your lap, kissing you harder now and cutting the song short. Your lips part as her tongue slips into your mouth and you grab her hips and pull her closer against you. “Should I take you to bed, honey?”

“No. We should stay right here.”

“Do you want me keep playing?” Your hands curve over the keys, waiting.

“Only if it’s your tongue playing with my clit.”

Sweet Jesus.

11.2

[mamacyno]

The Possibility of Love

When it’s Day 15 of #RenewTimeless watch and the Timeless Writers are kind enough to shower the fandom with deleted scenes, new fics happen.  That’s just the way life is.

Here’s my take on episodes 2x01 and 2x02 (including the deleted scene) from Wyatt’s perspective.  This was also partially inspired by the Lyatt Meta that I posted yesterday. (See shameless plug link here.)  Enjoy!

Also on AO3

GIF Credit: @lyattgifs

“You’re in love with Lucy.  Just admit it.”

Wyatt hears Rufus say the words, but his mind immediately rejects the suggestion.  This mission wasn’t about saving a woman he loved, it was about saving their teammate.  So, sure, saving the world sucks sometimes, but that’s the job.  And to do that job, they need their historian.  Still, his friend didn’t voluntary enlist for this life like he did, and he is genuinely sympathetic to Rufus’ situation.

“I’ll admit the road sucks,” he offers not wanting Rufus to dwell any longer on everything that was going wrong back in the present.  The mission isn’t over, yet, my friend.  We need to stay focused.

Hours later when they finally locate the Mothership, they stop in their tracks when they realize that Lucy, Emma and her mother are already there.  They quickly find cover behind some bushes and watch the three women heading toward the ship with a man on a gurney.

“Damn it,” Wyatt curses under his breath.  “There goes the plan of blowing it up.”  He studies the area between their hiding spot and the ship, calculating the best tactical options to spring his attack.  He suspects that only Emma is armed, but without knowing how much of a Rittenhouse true believer Lucy’s mother is, he doesn’t want to take any chances.

“Wyatt, look!” Rufus whispers nudging Wyatt hard.

Suddenly alert, Wyatt looks up.  His heart skips a beat when he sees Lucy standing between the muzzle of Emma’s gun and two nurses behind her.  What the hell is she doing? he asks himself immediately rushing from his hiding spot toward the scene.

Out of fear that taking a shot at Emma would result in Lucy or the nurses getting hit in the cross fire, Wyatt fights his soldier instincts and instead goes for the hostage option. Aiming his gun at the injured soldier’s head, he calls out to Emma, “I can.”

It takes everything in Wyatt’s body to keep calm when Emma grabs Lucy and points the gun at her head. Please be a good mother and tell Emma to let her go, he silently begs Carol as he doubles down on his gamble that this zombie on the gurney is more important to them than Lucy.

Wyatt finally exhales when Emma pushes Lucy toward them.  Mission accomplished.  He’s ready to tell the team to start backing away when Lucy begins pleading with her mother.  His heart breaks for her when Carol rejects Lucy’s entreaty to go with them, but he remains focused on getting them out of harm’s way, especially when Emma taunts her about Amy.

Wyatt follows Lucy and Rufus into the darkness regretting not going against his word and killing Emma then and there.  He only realizes later that he was afraid to, because then the secrets of what Emma meant about forever preventing Amy’s existence would die with her, and he couldn’t do that to Lucy.

 *******

Upon their return to the present, Wyatt hangs back near Lifeboat while Jiya and Agent Christopher help Lucy get settled in her and Jiya’s room.  He happily lets her shower first while he makes her a sandwich and cup of tea.  She didn’t say much on the walk back to the Lifeboat, but he could tell that she was thinner like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.  He could relate given that he himself had barely eaten or slept in the past six weeks.  But that was over now.  The team was back, and they would need their strength.  He can’t help but smile as he takes a bite of his own sandwich en route to his room to get ready for his shower.

He passes Lucy walking out of the bathroom.  She’s wearing sweats that are much too big for her which only further emphasizes her smaller frame.   Her damp hair leaves wet spots on her shoulders, but the hollow look on her face shows that she doesn’t care.  Wyatt immediately recognizes the numbness with which she moves. He’s seen it a million times as his fellow soldiers return from battle.  Confident that he’ll be able to get her over the hump once again, he tells her that he made her something to eat, and that it’s waiting for her in the kitchen along with a cup of hot tea.  She gives him a weak smile and appreciative nod, but she continues walking silently toward her room.

After his own shower, Wyatt dresses quickly to check on Lucy.  He heads straight to the kitchen and finds the food he left for her untouched and the tea cold.  Sighing, he picks up the mug of tea and walks to the sink to dump it out.  Rufus walks by on his way to join the others near the computer console. Not wanting the food to go to waste, he offers it to Rufus, who immediately accepts it with a muffled “thanks” after taking a huge bite of the sandwich.

Wyatt nods back at him and walks in the other direction in search of Lucy.  He finds her standing in her room looking completely lost in her surroundings.

“It’s not exactly what you were expecting to come home to, huh?” he says from the doorway.

When she tells him that she wasn’t expecting to come home at all, he immediately becomes concerned.  That’s not the reaction he expected.  Most soldiers, including prisoners of war, are relieved that their hopes of coming home have come true, and rarely do they admit that they had ever given up hope.  

He takes a seat across from her and listens to her confession to killing an innocent man that day. He assures her, as he would a fellow soldier-in-arms that survival means making difficult choices.  She laments how she lost hope thinking that he and Rufus were dead.  In a lapse of better judgment, he asks Lucy if she’s sure that her mother wouldn’t have let Emma kill her, and through her reaction he is once again reminded that in this team he is the only true soldier.  Not only was he trained to be physically tough, but emotionally, too, and he regrets forgetting that as he watches Lucy break down before him.

Wyatt rushes to her side to comfort his teammate and friend.  Remembering how he never gave up hope that she was alive, he offers a promise that fueled him for the past six weeks.

“You haven’t lost me.”

He holds her tighter as her body shakes and heaves and tears threaten to fall down her face.  He’s willing to stay by her side all night until the tears stop and all memory of her willingness to die for their mission fades. He is surprised to feel her hand on his neck and cheek.  The sensation makes him suddenly conscious of the feel of her forehead and hair against the other side of his face.  He hadn’t realized their faces were so close to each other.  He feels her pull head away slightly, and he looks down to try and get a glimpse of her eyes to see what she’s thinking.  

In the time that they’ve known each other, they have developed a level of understanding.  They can communicate through their eyes and how they say each other’s names when they call out to each other in panicked moments or otherwise. But they have not yet learned to communicate through touch, so the sensation is confusing to him.

He looks down, but he can’t see into her eyes, because they are looking at his mouth.  He takes a breath and finds himself looking at her mouth as well.  Her hand continues to rub his neck pulling him incrementally closer to her now parted lips.  Unsure that she herself is aware of what is happening, he looks up once again searching for her eyes, but they are now closed.  In the nanoseconds that follow, Wyatt questions if this is what she really wants.  He knows he wants it, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of her compromised emotional state.

Before he can give in though, the decision is made for them when Jiya appears in the doorway.  He and Lucy immediately pull apart, but he keeps his arms around her, rubbing her bicep reminding her that he won’t leave her. They look at each other briefly before standing up to follow Jiya to rejoin the others.

A few hours later after the team finishes speculating further on Rittenhouse’s plans and just how many sleeper agents they have left scattered in history, Agent Christopher leaves for home and, Connor retreats to his room in the supply closet with a bottle that he thinks no one sees.  

Jiya and Rufus suggest watching a movie to help get their minds off of the doom and gloom talk of Rittenhouse sleeper agents changing the course of history without their knowledge. Lucy understandably declines and retreats to her room for some rest.  Wyatt resists the urge to follow her and offers to make the popcorn while Rufus and Jiya argue over which movie to select.

Halfway through the film Wyatt begins to feel like a fifth wheel as the movie’s main characters share a passionate kiss and the two lovebirds on the loveseat beside him snuggle closer.  Wyatt stands up with an exaggerated stretch and tells the others he’s going to turn in for the night.

As he walks down the hallway toward his room, Wyatt thinks of Lucy, who hasn’t left his mind since their almost kiss. He feels his heart warm as he remembers the feel of her breath on his mouth and the anticipation of what was meant to come next.  

But was it really meant to happen? He asks himself.  He can’t deny that his feelings for Lucy are growing, but he refuses to let his mind even consider the possibility that it’s mutual.  He’s a broken human being, she’s not, or at least, she wasn’t.  His heart aches remembering how desperate Lucy became while she was held prisoner. She was practically suicidal, and he will never forgive Carol Preston for bringing her daughter to that point.  

In that moment he swears to himself that now that his mission to save Lucy was successful, his next will be to save her from following the same dark path he has gone down. He shudders at the thought of her becoming as reckless and closed off as he is.  She’s better than that.  She deserves more than that.

He stops walking and finds himself a few feet from the doorway to Lucy’s room having walked past Rufus’ and his own while deep in thought.  He’s about to make a U-turn when he notices under her closed door that her light is still on.  Just looking in the direction of her room reminds him of what transpired earlier that day.  He lifts his hand to the left side of his neck recalling the feel of her soft skin and the smell of her hair.  He wonders if he imagined the urgency with which she pulled his face toward hers.  

There’s one way to find out, he tells himself as he walks swiftly to the door and knocks softly before opening the door louder than he intended.  He stops himself from calling out her name as soon as he sees her sleeping form lying on her cot.  He exhales a deep sigh, grateful that she’s getting some sleep which she needs as desperately as she needs food.  

He can see in the dim light that she has kicked off her covers or was perhaps too tired to pull them up over herself.  Feeling a draft in the room, he walks up to her bedside to pull her bedsheet over her body. Seeing her sleeping peacefully fills him with calm and hope that she will soon be back to her old self.  He bends down to take a closer look at the face that he’s missed for six weeks.  He gently brushes a stray hair from her forehead and leans down to press his lips to her brow.  

This small act confirms for him that she is in fact here within his reach.  He hopes that knowing she’s just down the hallway will help him to finally get a full night’s rest himself. But he knows that the thoughts that threaten to keep him up tonight will be visions of what would have happened between them had Jiya not walked into the room.

Deep down he hopes he didn’t imagine the want he interpreted in her movements, but he worries what it could mean if there’s even a chance that she wants the same thing that he does.

Rising to exit the room he remembers what Flynn read to him from Lucy’s journal back in that dusty hotel room in 1972:

“Wyatt’s obsessed with his wife’s death.  He needs to let go, move on.”

After failing to save Jessica last year, Wyatt began to come to terms once again with the fact that there was nothing he could do to erase the guilt he carried for causing his wife’s death.  He cursed himself for giving into false hope that having a time machine at his disposal could change that.  It took over half a decade, but he has finally reached the final stage of grief and accepts her death.  He would even go so far as to say that he’s no longer “obsessed” with it either.  Yet knowing how he failed to love and protect her the way she deserved will forever haunt him.  

But he knows he can protect Lucy – and Rufus, and for now, that’s enough.  Any possibilities of love in his future will take a backseat to making sure that Lucy is okay and able to recover from whatever hell her mother and Rittenhouse put her through.

 *******

A few days later Wyatt sees Lucy lying on the uncomfortable sofa in the common area reading pages from the Rittenhouse manifesto they found in 1919.  With Rufus and Jiya in the hangar busily working on the Lifeboat and Agent Christopher and Connor sitting near the computer console, he decides to take a chance at getting Lucy to talk to help her get over this particular hump.

Wyatt had asked Jiya during breakfast how well Lucy seemed to be adjusting to being back and these rather unique living quarters.  She told him in confidence that she could tell that Lucy wasn’t sleeping even though she was trying hard to hide it.  Jiya explained that she is naturally a light sleeper, and every time she turned to her side, she could see her roommate lying on her back with her hands folded across her abdomen and staring at the ceiling.  

Feeling only slightly guilty for breaking this confidence, Wyatt uses the information to try to coax Lucy to tell him what happened to her while she was held prisoner.  He is hesitant to hear the full story, because he knows it will only cause the anger to rise in him, but he had made the promise to himself to help in Lucy’s recovery.  

He attempts the same counseling techniques used by all of the shrinks that talked to him upon his return from the Middle East.  He validates the concern with facts.  He reminds her that it’s the team’s worry and concern that is driving the question.   She, however, is not on board with this plan, and she reacts the same way that he did once upon a time.  She dismisses the subject, stands up and walks away.  

That’s our stubborn professor, he remarks to himself, but before he can follow her, the Mothership alarm blares throughout the bunker.

A few minutes later when she suggests going to Flynn for help with finding out what Rittenhouse is doing in 1955 South Carolina, Wyatt becomes convinced that she is still courting danger.  Eventually everyone accepts the fact that she’s right, because she is.  There are no better ideas available to them, and Wyatt can’t help but to admire her resolve in convincing them.  And there’s our bossy know-it-all, he thinks feeling slightly relieved to see some signs of the Lucy he thought they lost.

*******

When they arrive at the race track in Darlington, Wyatt can’t contain his excitement.  He knows his fanboying is distracting them from the mission, but he honestly can’t help himself.  He also doesn’t’ miss the humorous reaction in Lucy’s face while she watches him gush and fawn over the cars.  If this temporary break from being the mission-focused soldier brings that smile he misses back to her face, it’s completely worth it.  

This is by far Wyatt’s favorite mission.  Finally, they have travelled to a time and place where he gets a chance to meet his childhood heroes not to mention walk among a sea of genuine stock cars.  He even gets to impress Rufus and Lucy for once with his history knowledge.  So, this is what it feels like to be the brains on a mission, he chuckles to himself.  But it’s not just NASCAR history that he shares with the team, but inadvertently his own personal history.  First about his misspent youth as a teenage bootlegger and then the story of his tumultuous past with his father.  

With the exception of the time he told Lucy about his Grandpa Sherwin, Wyatt never voluntarily talks about his past.  It’s not that he’s trying to keep secrets from anyone, it’s more that he believes personal stories like those have a time and a place.  He knows why he opened up to Lucy about his grandfather, but he’s not exactly sure why he felt compelled to tell Wendell about his past.  Perhaps it was a tactical move to build a rapport with their new ally, but he’s sure it was more than that.  After years of trying and failing to prove to his father that he was worthy of his love, Wyatt had begun to look back on those years learning how to fix cars as a waste of time and effort.  To finally have someone appreciate and admire his skills was like finally hearing his old man say the “Good job, son” that he longed to hear as a kid.  

Hiding in the cramped trunk of a bootlegger’s car, however, wasn’t exactly what he had in mind as his reward for fixing Old Rusty.  But at least they were heading in the right direction to finish their mission.

Wyatt’s protective instincts piqued again when he noticed Lucy’s uneven breathing, but that didn’t stop him from teasing her a bit to try to get her to relax and loosen up.  Recalling how his embrace seemed to comfort her before, Wyatt offers to let her hold on to him again.  There is no hidden agenda in his offer, but as he breathes in the smell of her shampoo once again and feels her warm skin on his neck, it takes effort on his part to keep his own breathing even.

“Is all that stuff you said about your dad true?” she asks.

Wyatt tries to beg off the question with a silent exhalation. As Lucy continues talking, he quickly realizes she’s not asking him for more details, but rather seeking advice for how to deal with her own parental issues.  Knowing how his relationship with his dad affected nearly every decision he made for years, he feels compelled to be open and honest with Lucy in hopes to spare her the pain that he endured alone.  

He tells her that pretending that he didn’t love and admire him was futile, because it wasn’t true. A child will always love their parent even if the parent doesn’t love them in return or does something unforgiving like hit them or kidnap them.  He tells her that it’s natural to blame yourself for the lack of love you receive in return.  But the most important thing he tells her is that once you know for sure that you’re not to blame, it’s okay to move on.  “Nothing ahead but the open road.”

They feel the car slow to a stop signaling that they have arrived back at the track, and it’s critical that they remain quiet and still.  As they lay there still holding each other even though there are no more potholes and bumps in the road, Wyatt focuses on the conversation happening on the other side of the metal chassis.  His mind wanders slightly as he admires Lucy’s strength and resilience in the aftermath of being kidnapped by her mother.  It took him decades to get over his father, and here less than two months later, Lucy is showing signs that she is able to begin to move forward and leave her past in the past.

I could learn something from her, he tells himself as his words about the “open road” echo inside his mind.  Maybe there’s an open road ahead of me, too. Ahead of us even.  

He is literally shaken from this thought as Old Rusty lurches forward, and he rolls atop of Lucy. With the tension of being discovered gone, they both laugh heartily. As their bodies still, he feels a familiar pull on his neck.  It’s not as firm as the last time, but rather a gentle, coaxing pull as if offering him the option to resist without hurting her feelings.  The thought of pulling back never crosses as his mind as he instead turns toward her so that he can look into her eyes.  This time he wants to be sure that this is what she wants, he needs to be sure, because if he wasn’t expecting the car to lurch just seconds ago, he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Lucy moves her hand to gently caress his cheek.  She returns his gaze confirming the silent wish in his heart.  Assured that this what they both want, he leans in, and their lips part.  

And then they are both blinded as light streams into their private sanctum.

 *******

Back in the present, Lucy walks into the kitchen area running her fingers through her still damp hair. She finds Wyatt sitting at a table staring at a laptop screen with his back turned to her.  She clears her throat as she approaches and sees that he is scrolling through a Wikipedia page about Wendell Scott.

“Shower should be free shortly,” she tells him.  “I think Rufus is just changing his bandage.”

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbles.

“What’s wrong?” she asks taking a seat in the chair beside him.

“Nothing,” he says looking up at her pushing the laptop toward the middle of the table.  “I just hoped that history might have changed for the better for Wendell after we left.”

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I’m afraid it will take more than one NASCAR racer to change hearts and minds in the south in the 1950s.”

Wyatt nods leaning back in his chair with a frustrated expression on his face.  He puts his hands on the edge of the table top to push his chair out so he can head to the showers. Before he can stand, however, Lucy places her hand over his.

“Wyatt?”

He sits back down turning his hand so that he can enclose hers in his.  He looks at her but doesn’t say a word.

She glances down at their hands, and he can see a faint blush rise to her perfect cheeks.  He uses his free hand to place his fingers under her chin and tip her face up to look into his eyes.

“What is it, Lucy?”

She smiles and nervously tucks her hair behind her ear with her own free hand.  “It’s just that we’ve had a couple of – umm – close encounters, if you will,” she begins, “and I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed – umm -- hesitant.”

Wyatt returns her smile and with his hand still under her chin, he leans toward her.  “I just want to be sure that this is what you really want,” he whispers to her.

She gives an almost imperceptible nod in reply and meets his lips with hers.

The feel of her lips on his is more liberating than he had anticipated.  It’s as if suddenly all of his doubts that he could love again and fears that he was worthy of love from someone as perfect as Lucy Preston dissipates in the air around them.

As Wyatt moves his hand to reposition it so he can pull her closer to him, the door alarm sounds triggering an immediate reaction for them to separate without a single body part touching any longer.  

They both listen closely as they hear Connor and Agent Christopher’s voices approach from the entrance.  Recognizing that they are about to be rudely interrupted yet again, they exchange frustrated smiles once more and burst out laughing.

“One day,” he promises.

“One day,” she agrees. 

[thezodiaczone]

June Forecast for Aries

Spread your wings, Aries. The Sun is flitting through Gemini and your social third house until June 21, putting you in communicative and convivial spirits. Synergies will appear at every turn, and you won’t have to go far to find them. The third house rules local activity, and with the energizing Sun here, RSVP “yes” to barbecues, casual hangouts and industry Happy Hour events. It’s the best time of year to meet like-minded people whose skills complement your own.

Who knows? You might team up on a trial project to test your chemistry, especially around the June 13 Gemini new moon. This is an excellent day for brainstorming, creative work (especially if it involves writing, media or teaching) or pitching one of your dynamic ideas. Put the word out! Through mutual friends and colleagues, you could meet the coding genius who can build your e-commerce concept store or the dream DJ who will spin at your neighborhood cleanup fundraiser.

Has rivalry riddled a relationship? Your bond with a sibling or close friend could also turn over a new leaf at the Gemini new moon, which presents an opportunity to heal any rifts. With la luna in your communication center, you’ll have to talk this one through—and patiently. Try the Imago dialogue technique, a four-step exercise in which one person speaks uninterrupted, then the other mirrors the message back (“What I HEAR you saying is…”) until you both feel thoroughly heard and validated. It’s amazingly effective, and one that we (as twins and business partners) employ often.

Intentions planted at the Gemini new moon will unfold in the coming six months. Send out pitches, proposals, budding ideas. Reach out to an influencer or a person you admire with a DM on social media or by contacting them through more formal channels. Ask a mutual friend to introduce you or spread the good karma yourself by playing superconnector and hooking up two people you think would be compatible. Just get their permission before you go surprising them with a “Meet each other!” email or group text; make sure everyone is briefed ahead of time.

Father’s Day is on June 17, and if you’re celebrating, try to keep it fun with minimal drama. The moon is in Leo this year, so an over-the-top gesture might actually work. We’re not talking about anything flashy and bank-breaking (unless that’s how Daddio rolls)—more like meaningful and heartfelt acts that speak to a cherished memory between you and your favorite father figure(s). A video montage, an autographed artifact from a favorite artist or athlete, even a handwritten card expressing your gratitude could get your dudes misty-eyed this year.

If you gather with loved ones, leave the disruptive divas OFF the guest list. Peaceful Venus is forming a close opposition to combative Mars, dialing up the tension. Those attention-seeker types could be hellbent on making Dad’s special day all about them.

The rest of the month takes a different tone as Neptune and Mars turn retrograde, bringing the total retrograde planet count to five by the end of June. (Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto are already in their slowed-down cycles.) The mood gets a bit more somber and sensitive, especially once the Sun starts a four-week voyage through watery Cancer on June 21.

Cancer rules your fourth house of home and family, making this your annual time to dial down the ambitions and reconnect with your roots. Slow down, spend more time with your clan or let your lesser-seen domestic side have a few weeks to play. Creativity is heightened now because you’re so emotionally receptive, making Cancer season ideal for working through any complex feelings. You might find catharsis through reading novels, DIY and art projects, decorating or cooking—or in some way turning your nest into a sanctuary. Women will play a prominent role now, and you’ll crave quality time with the nurturing people in your circle. Your own “maternal” side could make a strong showing now too.

As for those retrograde planets, foggy and imaginative Neptune is the first to start its backspin on June 18. Neptune will reverse through Pisces and your twelfth house of closure and healing until November 24, a transit that happens around the same dates each year. Neptune rules compassion and creativity, but it also reveals where we can be gullible and easily deceived. With the fog thinning, you may actually see MORE clearly now, making the summer ideal for ascertaining who’s a trustworthy member of Team Aries.

Use this cycle to do forgiveness work, heal from a heartbreak or mourn a loss that you haven’t wanted to deal with. Neptune retrograde can be a numbing agent—kind of like when the painkillers kick in after surgery. But rather than check out or go into denial, be brave and delve into places that were too tender before.

On June 26, your ruling planet Mars—the arbiter of ambition and assertiveness—turns retrograde until August 27. Mars makes this U-turn every two years, and this time it will largely backtrack through Aquarius and your eleventh house of teamwork and technology. A digital or collaborative venture could hit a pothole, or you may have to navigate some in-fighting with a group (whether at work or socially).

It’s a good time to develop projects behind the scenes and to work out the kinks—then go full-force in the fall with your big debut. Impatient Mars wants everything yesterday, but you’ll have to grit your teeth and wait it out. With Mars retrograde, some of the people involved in your endeavors could be maddeningly out-of-sync, yet you won’t be able to bypass them or just do it all yourself. Set aside that Aries urge to seize the wheel and take over dictator-style. That will only burn bridges and tarnish your reputation for the long haul.

A sobering moment could arrive on June 27, when the confident Sun forms its annual opposition to cautious and constricting Saturn. With the Sun in Cancer and your emotional center head-butting Saturn in your career sector, you could have a moment of doubt that shakes you to the core. Perhaps you open your heart or share an idea that you’re all lit up about only to be met with a chilly reception from someone you hoped to impress. A creative idea could seem to be blocked by bureaucracy, and in frustration, you may consider abandoning the project.

With the Sun and Saturn in your “parent houses,” some mommy and daddy issues could surge up—hello, repetition of a childhood wound! Remind yourself NOT to take it personally, hard as that will be. This is a short-term transit, and the pessimism it brings WILL pass. If you’re thinking of pitching an idea, you might want to choose another date—or at least know that you might not hit a home run on your first at-bat. Come prepared with facts and figures, not just enthusiasm, and know that you may have to wait for a decision.

Luckily, some of this will be offset by the Capricorn full moon the next day, on June 28. This once-a-year lunar lift will land in your tenth house of public recognition, career and success. Saturn’s strain will still be felt since the moon and the ringed planet are in close cahoots. A potential upside: You could land a leadership opportunity or a job that comes with greater responsibility and long-term benefits. The catch is that it could be a weighty role that will demand a LOT of your time and energy if you step into it.

The tenth house rules men and fathers, and this full moon could bring a sobering moment with an important guy in your life. You may need to summon serious maturity and do some “adulting.” It’s an excellent day for clarifying your boundaries and priorities. Working with a mentor or leaning on a wise and experienced guide can help you navigate anything that feels daunting now.

Love & Romance

Thanks to amorous Venus parked in Cancer and your sentimental fourth house until June 13, you’ll be in high spirits—and fine flirting form! The first couple days of the month are especially heart-opening. On June 1, the love planet forms a flowing trine with optimistic Jupiter in your eighth house of merging, and the next day, she fist-bumps enchantress Neptune in your twelfth house of fantasy and surrender. You might reach the conclusion that being in control is overrated—at least for now, under these receptive skies. From mind-body-soul connections to mind-blowing intimacy, you’ll be tingling right down to your marrow.

But don’t give away ALL your power! You may have second thoughts about someone or something on June 5, when Venus spins into her annual, one-day opposition to domineering Pluto in your tenth house of boundaries. Don’t let the wall go back up!

Meantime, lusty Mars is touring Aquarius and your social eleventh house all month, turning retrograde on June 26 until August 27. Not all your friends will be supportive of your relationship or dating choices, so be selective about whom you share juicy deets with.

On June 13, Venus cranks up the action when she vamps into dramatic Leo and your flamboyant fifth house. Regardless of your relationship status, this is sure to heat up your romantic life as well as the glamour quotient. Venus will stick around until July 9, so get some fun plans on the books, ideally things that include serious playtime and maybe some music festivals, since this realm rules creativity and the arts.

But note: There will likely be a few choppy moments along the way as Venus collides with less lighthearted planets. On June 14, the love planet faces off with unruly Uranus in Taurus, bringing up the issue of stability and security versus freedom. On June 21, Venus opposes Mars, adding to the tension. And then on June 25, Venus will clash with expansive Jupiter, which could leave you questioning someone’s integrity. Navigate your way through this obstacle course and you’ll come out with a clearer idea of where you stand.

Key Dates

June 5: Venus-Pluto Opposition Your emotions may go on an extreme seesaw ride today. Part of you wants to connect on a deeper level, yet old buried fears—of abandonment or vulnerability—could form a wall around your heart. Feel your way through this; you don’t want to project YOUR issues onto loved ones.

Money & Career

Teamwork makes the steam AND the dream work this month, as fiery Mars continues racing through Aquarius and your eleventh house of group endeavors and technology. A collaboration or online project that began heating up in May could gain even more momentum as June rolls along. Your influencer status is on the rise, and the public may embrace your cutting-edge ideas. With clever Mercury in Gemini and your articulate third house until June 12, you’ll be wit and charm personified, whether in a morning meeting or as a social media feed favorite. The June 13 Gemini new moon is especially favorable for putting your concepts out into the world, signing up for a class or teaming up with a kindred-spirit type.

That could come to a halt—or at least downshift noticeably—starting June 26, when Mars starts its once-every-other-year retrograde backspin until August 27. The red planet will reverse through Aquarius and your future-forward eleventh house until August 12, then it will crawl backward through Capricorn and your career sector until it turns direct (forward).

A summer slowdown doesn’t sound like what you had in mind, Aries, and there could be some frustrating obstacles to navigate, especially when other people are involved. Your first impulse might be to lean in to your independent side and break from the herd. But taking a rash “I’ll just do it myself” stance will not only burn YOU out, it could burn bridges and earn you a rep as a reckless renegade who doesn’t know how to be a team player.

As a straightforward Aries, you really don’t “do politics,” but learning to play the game could turn out to be an invaluable lesson from your retrograde ruler. Rather than damage key relationships during Mars’ retrograde, work on team-building and strengthen any weak links in the chain. Retrogrades are a perfect time for reflection, repair and rethinking. Use the time to course-correct so you’ll be ready for a big splash in September. With Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto and Neptune all retrograde by the end of June, making careful and well-planned moves is in your best interest.

On the flip side, if you’re the kind of Aries who teems with brilliant ideas that you never give voice to, Mars retrograde is a time to move past those insecurities and start sharing openly. When the year’s only Capricorn full moon illuminates your tenth house of ambition and success on June 28, you could rise into a leadership role or finally make a long-desired career change. Since full moons can signify transitions, you might change paths or leave a role that no longer satisfies your soul.

Key Dates

June 27: Sun-Saturn Opposition Sure, it would be nice to have it all, but this once-a-year cosmic clash of the dynamic Sun and cautious Saturn brings a needed reality check. You can load up your schedule as much as you like, but that doesn’t mean you’ll actually get to enjoy any of it. Choose quality over quantity. Less can definitely be more!

Love Days: 17, 21 Money Days: 11, 29 Luck Days: 8, 26 Off Days: 19, 23, 6

[seashanties-and-tales-blog]

So happy you liked my mute necromancer Uzuka. I couldn't help but giggle at your analysis for a possible love triangle between her Kirishima and Shinsou! Since you have graciously opened your ask box for the holidays could I ask you to take a crack at that idea? I cant help but want a snowy day kind of theme and fluffy as possible. Of course just as a reader insert so everyone can enjoy. Have a good day lovely!

Ahh is this a love triangle for Kirishima and Shinsou then? Hope this is what you intended.  And thanks so much! ^^ I’m really happy you liked it! 

Ever since Shinsou has been accepted into the hero course,you’ve gotten to spend more time with him. You were friends before, though youdidn’t get to spend  much time with oneanother considering you’re in class 1A and he was in general studies. Afterlots of hard work and dedication, Shinsou finally made it – and you two arecloser than ever.

He was thankful to have a friend upon joining, Midoriyasomewhat included. You’d always been there for him, a great support along theway. Perhaps you’re also more than that – a crush.

Yes, Shinsou totally likes you. It’s hard for him not too,and he isn’t the only who’s fallen under your spell.

“(Y/N)! Sit with me!” Kirishima calls out, patting the emptyspot on the bus beside him. That big, toothy grin makes it hard to say no – butyou do.

“Sorry, Kirishima, I told Shinsou I’d sit with him!” Yourespond sympathetically.

Kirishima groans in disappointment, pouting as Kaminari sitsnext to him saying, “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll sit with you!” As if that fixesthe problem.

Yes, Kirishima likes you too. He’s liked you since the firstday of class when he first laid his eyes on you. What gave you the right to beso pretty, he doesn’t know. To smile and laugh and make his heart ache, toalways be so cute when you admire his manliness, to just… be the way you are.

He’d been hoping that, during the heroics department’swinter trip to a ski lodge and resort, he’ll be able to grow closer to you. Perhapsshare some hot chocolate, catch you under the mistletoe, warm you up when youcome to him begging ‘Eijiro-kun… I’m so cold… please warm me up with your big,manly, sexy muscles.”

Then he would say, “(Y/N)-chan… allow me to be your hero. Iwill gladly warm you up.”

Then he would take you into his arms, and it’s then that youwould pronounce your love for him and slowly lean in and-

“Hey, Kirishima, you okay?” Kaminari waves his hand in frontof Kirishima’s face.

The red head blinks his eyes, coming back to reality. “Huh?”

“You were totally zoned out there! What are you thinkingabout? It has to do with (Y/N), huh?” Kaminari asks the last part a bitquieter.

Kirishima’s cheeks tint ever so slightly with red. “N-no! It’s…something else.” He laughs nervously, but the truth is obvious.

“Yeah right it’s something else! All I ever hear you talkabout is (Y/N) this, (Y/N) that! Man-up and say something to her already,dumbass!” Bakugou kicks the back of Kirishima’s seat, and the red head quicklyjumps up to try and quiet the angry blonde behind him so you wouldn’t hear.

From where you sit, near the front of the bus with Shinsou,you hear your name spoken by an angry Bakugou. Or is that just his regularvoice? Either way, you turn your head to try and figure out what’s going onbefore your seatmate catches your attention again.

“They’re probably talking about you.” Shinsou says.

You start to blush, turning back around to face Shinsou. “Huh?”

Shinsou only gives you sight of his profile for a fewmoments, starting straight ahead before sighing. “I think Kirishima likes you.”He finally looks at you when you’re silent for a few seconds, hoping to gaugeyour reaction.

Good. You don’t seem particularly thrilled, however you don’tseem weirded out either… you don’t actually like him back, do you? Shinsouhopes not.

“You think so?” You ask. Bashfully, you brush your hairbehind your ear, leaning back against the seat. Just knowing that you’re beingtalked about by them in this context is a little embarrassing – yet oddlyflattering.

Shinsou shrugs his shoulders, perhaps because he’s afraidthat he’ll encourage you if he says yes. “Don’t know. Here,” he holds his phoneout for you again, showing you the screen. “Pick the next song.”

You scoot closer to him so that your shoulders and thighsare touching, a proximity that no longer makes you nervous. It did at first,but now it’s just comfortable. As you’re scrolling through the selection, oneearbud in your right ear while the other is in Shinsou’s left, you’re stillthinking about the Kirishima thing.

“…What if he does like me? Are you going to be worried he’llsteal me away from you?” You tease, nudging Shinsou’s side.

He looks up into your eyes for a moment before a wide grinstretches on his face. “I’m not worried about that.” His voice is low, faceperhaps dangerously close to your own. “I’m not letting anyone steal you awayfrom me anyways.”

What was supposedly said all in good fun, as friends do,meant more to Shinsou than you would have thought. Still, you went on and chosethe next song and, some hours later, you woke up with your head rested onShinsou’s shoulder and the lavender-haired boy with his head against your own.

Your mutual slumber was interrupted by the stopping of thebus and Aizawa tiredly announcing your arrival. When you blinked open youreyes, you were welcomed by the warmth of Shinsou’s body, which becameespecially welcome considering how cold it is at this elevation.

When everyone exited the bus and gathered their things, youpulled your large suitcase out from the storage container located on theoutside of the vehicle. Struggling a bit with it, especially with your snowboots buried in the inches of snow, you huff a tired breath.

Kirishima sees his opportunity.

“(Y/N)! Here, let me help!” The red head joins you, eagerlytaking your suitcase by the handle and hoisting it up. “Come on, I’ll carry itin for you!”

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny that smile. He’s socute, eager to help you out, that you just nod and join his side.

Shinsou had been gathering his own bags as this happened,unable to offer help before Kirishima. When he looked over and saw you walkingaway with him, Shinsou scoffs, his breath forming in the cold air before hismouth. Kirishima probably isn’t aware that this battle includes more than justhim.

As the students of class 1A and 1B trod through the heavysnow, Kirishima talks to you excitedly about, well, anything that came to hismind. What he ate for dinner yesterday, his excitement about the winter trip,how fun it will be to go snowboarding. You smiled and went along with theconversation, his enthusiasm contagious.

The moment everyone entered the expansive, wooden resort,the unanimous ‘woahs’ and ‘wows’ flowed throughout the students. This place ishuge. Giant lobby with multiple seating areas, a restaurant, and multiplefloors. Outside is a ski lift, and in the yard there is a heated outdoor pooland sauna. A shared one, mind you, so that means no nudity allowed.

“Okay, the girls are staying in rooms 401 to 405. The boysare staying in 406 to 410. You can figure out the sleeping arrangements howeveryou’d like, but no more than 6 to each room. And, for the sake of my sanity,don’t be too loud.” Aizawa says, handing key cards to every student in 1A whileBrad King hands out cards to 1B. “You’re free to do as you please untiltomorrow. I’ll be waking you up at 8 AM for team training.” Then, with a waveof his hand, everyone disperses and runs up to their rooms in excitement.

“This is pretty cool, huh?” Kirishima says to you as youwait in the elevator together.

You nod your head quickly, a big smile on your face. “I’m soexcited! I can’t figure out what I want to do first.” You begin to list off allthe things that you have in mind first, like swimming or skiing or eating, andKirishima watches you contently.

He likes the way you talk about things that make you happy,the look on your face as you do so. Kirishima only stops staring when you reachthe fourth floor. “Well we can do it all! Uh, maybe together, too!”

“Sure!” You say happily, stepping out of the elevator.

Score. He took achance there and he was successful.

Kirishima follows you to your room, both your bag and his intow since he insisted on bringing it all the way for you. Once you’re there thegirls and boys are already familiarizing themselves into their rooms, and sinceeveryone is on the same floor, they’ve begun to intermingle as well.

“I can take it from here. Thanks so much Kirishima, youreally didn’t have to do that.” You say, taking your bag from him.

“Oh, no problem! I wanted to.” His grin falters a bit whenyou begin to walk into the room, and he realizes that he should take his chancenow before he loses it.

“Uh, wait,” he shoots his hand out, grabbing your arm gentlybut firmly enough to make you stop.

You pause, looking up at him curiously. His apprehensiveexpression reminds you of what happened in the bus earlier. That he may, forwhatever reasons, like you. You begin to feel your own heart race as well. “Yeah?”

“Well, uh… I think it’d be cool if we could go to the-“

“Hey, (Y/N), you ready?” Shinsou walks over, interruptingKirishima. He glances down at the hand that’s on your arm, wanting to remove ithimself but knowing he isn’t within his rights to do something like that.Besides, he’s not the confrontational type.

“Oh, hey Shinsou! Um, yeah I’m almost ready. I just have toput my stuff away.” You smile at Shinsou, who nods his head upward once, beforelooking back up at Kirishima. With an apologetic smile, you say, “Sorry, Ipromised Shinsou I’d check out the outside with him…” You pause for a moment,looking between both boys. Kirishima’s disappointed face tears at yourheartstrings. “But you can join us! Right, Shinsou?” You look over at him,smiling.

Shinsou doesn’t look very pleased. However, he doesn’t argueabout it. Instead, he lifts a hand to the side of his neck and shrugs hisshoulders, offering Kirishima a casual grin. “Sure.”

“Awesome! I’ll be right back, okay?”

After you leave to put your stuff away, an awkward silencefills the air between Shinsou and Kirishima. As moments pass and no one speaks,Kirishima is first to say something. “Man, this trip is gonna be a lot of fun,huh? Haha,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Somehow even Kirishima,the one who is so oblivious and unsuspecting, has noticed that there’s tensionbetween Shinsou and him. Perhaps it has to do with the way Shinsou is glaringdaggers into his soul.

“Yeah, it is.” Shinsou’s lips curl into a wide grin. “Whatare you most excited for?”

“Well I guess the-“ What?Why can’t Kirishima respond?

“Hey, I’m back! Let’s… hey, stop it!” You hit Shinsou’schest and he chuckles, breaking the control he had over Kirishima. “I can’ttrust you two to be alone with each other for even 5 seconds!” You huff,walking away from them.

“Not cool, man,” Kirishima says, figuring out what hadhappened over the last few seconds.

Shinsou sighs, watching you walk away toward the elevators. “Yeah,sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m not ma-“

“…oh come on.”

Eventually both boys join you downstairs in the lobby, whereyou’re waiting for them. You see that Kirishima’s eyes aren’t glazed over,meaning that Shinsou is no longer using his quirk on him. You know that nomatter what, Shinsou would never use it to harm a fellow peer. Still, pettyjealousy does get in the way of logic and even Shinsou isn’t above it.

As for Kirishima, he’s so forgiving and so gullible that he’llprobably fall for it every time.

“Done fighting?” You ask, arms crossed under your chest.

They nod their heads and you let out a sigh of relief. “Good!Now we can go join the snowball fight outside!” You stand between them, takingboth their hands in yours as you excitedly run outside.

Shinsou and Kirishima both follow you, however withdifferent reactions. Kirishima is rather excited whereas Shinsou is… exasperated.He isn’t letting that stand in the way of spending time with you though, whichis why he goes along with it anyways.

Thus began round one of the battle between Shinsou andKirishima, with the prize being your affections. The snowball fight.

[clamsuup]

November 1st

I did officially lose another friend. I didn’t plan on writing this since it is a bit personal, but heck all the previous posts have been just as if not more intense. It's also because my therapist suggested that I write about this specific event. So here it is. 

This friend was someone I met earlier this year and to my surprise, we clicked immediately after hearing many stories of one another from our mutual friend. Let's just call that mutual friend, D. (I've stopped being her friend a couple months ago because she had shown me her true colors. Oh the pettiness.)

This friend was someone who was incredibly sweet, caring, thoughtful, and so spontaneous. He understood my situation and did not mind covering for expenses since I was (still am) still searching for a job. As months go by, our friendship only grew in such a way that I have never experienced this kind of friendship before- that even when personal boundaries were crossed from both parties, we still remained platonic friends. However, since a week and a half ago, this friendship slowly dissipated. 

He asked me if I could talk and I made a quick assumption that something was wrong and he needed my ears. I dropped important matters from work to be by his side. When we got to the destination, he brought up all these issues that were actually about me. The way he brought it up was absolutely ridiculous as I thought more about this later in the night. I'm not going to go into details with this part, but let's just say this so-called friend brought up about past incidents that were not relevant to the current situation and I immediately (subconsciously) felt defensive. Why? I absolutely do not tolerate pettiness from those I call, "good friends." 

Now, this went on for a good hour or so. I let him speak while I sat there in anger. Fuming in anger to be correct- while my anxiety heighten. I had to step outside to calm myself and refrain from interrupting. This person continued, but the way he spoke, my god, his tone was just blatantly awful. By awful, it's one of those moments when someone addresses an issue to share about but the way it was delivered centered around one thing: blaming. 

Yes, I was wrong for raising my voice quite loudly when it was my turn to speak. I really should have stepped outside one more time to compose myself but to be even more honest than I already can, I usually can keep a calm demeanor with many people whom I come into conflict with (with the exception of significant others and family members). But with this one, I could not contain and so I spilled. I certainly was not yelling (this person interpreted that I did), but I was speaking very loudly of my thoughts and feelings. After explaining everything and even apologizing, this person did not say a single apology at all. So much for saying, "I know I have my part in the doing." 

The Following Day I called this person to meet up because I needed to "say some important things." Look, I'm that type of person who has to say everything on my mind in order to find a solution and to give myself a peace of mind. Unfortunately, for the most part, I become misunderstood because of this. That I try to win every argument or I just want to be right. Those who actually know me (and that's counting only 3 people) would know that I don't have the intentions of attacking or be hurtful. Shoutout to those three people in my life. 

Well, on this day I spoke again and ended up being the one who talked the most. I basically was repeating myself again, something I usually don't do and absolutely hate doing. As I explained and expressed that I felt blamed for all of this person's own doing, he did not get it. I could see right in front of my very own eyes that everything I said in a non-attacking way just kept flying past his face. When it was his turn to speak, he repeated a few things that were completely unnecessary and quite honestly, did not make sense. It led up to the point that he confessed that he liked me and felt he was just "one of the many other guys." Quite entertaining, isn't it? I clearly stated numerous times over the past months since the start of the friendship that I had always seen him as a friend. I really thought he understood that and I thought our friendship became more meaningful- but no. 

Throughout the conversation, there were three main repeating themes: he was not actively listening, he talked about things that did not make sense or relate to one another, and lastly, blaming on the other person. Again, I brought up the same issue that I felt like I was being blamed for this person's own doing. As for him confronting his feelings for me, it was absolutely ridiculous, especially when he said, "I was so angry yesterday that I told myself 'she doesn't deserve the truth'".  This person completely did not make any sense at all because I didn't do anything disdainful to be withheld from the truth. Ridiculous. Moving on, he mentioned that he felt "finessed" and the conversation kind of left off there since he had to leave. I did say that I need space and with that, I felt he just did not take this seriously. Especially when he smirked and smiled here and there throughout the conversation.

I was furious and livid over the weekend the next four days. I was tempted to contact him to further resolve this situation, but I made myself wait. So I waited- until Tuesday night after my presentation. 

Tuesday Night

I met up with him later than expected and brought along all the things that he had given me as "trinket and treasures" as he called it, and the guitar he lent me. When I returned his things and retrieved my book, I stated that there was still something I had to say. I brought up about the fuming anger I felt the past four days and I suppose that caused him to become defensive. 

I don't want to go into great details on this, but let's say that I repeated the same points I was trying to get across from both times I had met him. In return, these were amazing things he said to me: 1. "You know what? You are a self-centered person, C. I was just too blind  to see."  2. "You are a shallow, self-centered, selfish, and cold person." 3. "You have so much hate in you, C."

All of this sounds so familiar. It is so familiar that it is all so laughable, and it really is. All these statements came out of his mouth while I was telling him how I was feeling in both a calm tone and also raised tone (different times of course). The first line is so amusing already because I am very transparent with all my friends. I tell them what kind of person I am and you know what? I’m way pass that point where using my weakness against me is really going to hurt me. Please dear, I've had enough of that from my previous significant other and my own family members. This girl has grown skin that is tough like fucking Browser's shell. 

It's just disappointing and pitiful that this person said awful things and made attempts to use someone's weaknesses or flaws to hurt them just because he was hurt. That does not give anyone- anyone validation as to why they say hurtful things the way they do. But he did. The last part was really great too. To tell me I have so much hate in me, I actually find this all so amusing aside from feeling very frustrated. Furthermore, he had the audacity to say I had painted a bad image of him. I redirected the conversation and pointed out that it's funny because he was the one who was painting ME as a bad person. In response, he said this: "No?! I never said that." You awful person. You telling me all those already is painting a bad image of me. 

Now lastly, there was a part when I literally repeated something he had said minutes prior. I said the same exact line and directly asked him if he agrees with what I said that he had said, yes or no. That prompted him to immediately say, "Wow. Wow... you're really good. You are REALLY  good, C. You're so good at twisting words around."

Amazing ladies and gentlemen. Amazing. Once again, I have been misunderstood. That I came with the intention to just express everything on my mind in a non-attacking way and in return, I received an attack from an immature and ignorant 34 year old child. To quickly conclude this, I couldn't handle it anymore because I suppose my subconsciousness knew that this will just go in a circle where this stupid shit will only talk back using anything against or accuse me. I was opening my car door to leave and I said something very hurtful: "No wonder why you are the tomorrow guy." (I messed up on the saying, it's supposed to be "not the tomorrow guy"). I hear through the muffled glass while he was laughing, "You messed up the phrasing."

Let me tell you something. I had tried to understand him and I even said in one of the days we talked that his feelings are completely valid. Obviously, EVERYONE Is driven to feel something and it always takes TWO. But the moment I pointed out that I was being completed blamed, he constantly attacked me. He repeatedly said that I just love to have the last to say and went on to say very malicious things with full intent. 

This. This is why I am incredibly selective with people. This is why. And to end this on a more optimistic note, I'd like to share a quote.

"Love is understanding we have the power to hurt one another, but we are going to do everything in our power to make sure we don't."

- Rupi Kaur the sun and her flowers

[seriouslyhooked]

False Alarms (A CS AU) Part 11/12

Modern AU where Emma is a Boston police detective and Killian is a firefighter. They both get called to a fire in progress but it ends up being a false alarm, however there can be no denying the sparks between them. Includes fluff and my usual attempts at humor as well as a touch of fake-dating and meddling friends. Inspired by the song ‘False Alarm’ by Motoma and Becky Hill. Rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten ; On Fanfiction Here.

A/N: Okay all so thank you for being so patient in getting here. I am so happy that I’ve finally written this AU’s wedding, and it comes bearing not just my usual fluff but also some honeymoon smut as well. After all, I need more scenes of tropically bound CS enjoying each other and a break from the world, and what better time to have that than in the final chapter of a fic like this? Anyway hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

As far as last minute shifts in wedding days went, Killian couldn’t imagine stumbling upon a better one for him and Emma. Everything had come together in the less than twenty-four hours since Emma made her decision to move up the ceremony, and through the hard work of so many people who loved him and his bride to be Killian was standing in the midst of a fully formed and actualized wedding that he knew Emma would love.

Every element had manifested today so effortlessly, from the weather that was mild with only enough clouds in the sky to make for a gorgeous sunset in a few minutes time, to the change in venue that had to come with the sudden shift in plans. Despite trying her best to reorganize with the owners of the club where things had been planned for months, Emma’s mother hadn’t been able to bend things to her will, but it felt almost divinely crafted in the end. For now, after some ingenious planning on both Mary Margaret and Elsa’s parts, Emma and Killian were getting married at Anna and Kristoff’s Arendelle Estate and tying today back with the first date they’d shared many months ago. It was incredibly poetic, and somehow perfect even though none of this would have happened were it not for the twist of fate they’d faced yesterday.

In the times before when Killian had visited here he’d always admired the beauty of this piece of property and the lushness of this land so near the sea, but he never could have imagined it as it was now. In a matter of hours the place had been totally transformed and now the spacious grounds bore not only delicate floral designs and twinkling lights under a huge white tent for the reception, but a tasteful and elegant setup on the beach for the actual ceremony to take place. This would be the sacred spot Killian would always think of when he reflected on the day his whole world changed, and in just a matter of moments it was where Emma and Killian would be saying ‘I do’ in front of all the people here to wish them well this evening.

The thought that those vows were closer than ever and that soon enough he and Emma would be man and wife meant everything to Killian, but it was arguably even more powerful given everything they’d gone through yesterday. It was impossible for Killian to not still be effected by what had happened, and though he’d had hours to spend with Emma since then and a night wrapped up in her despite the old tradition of separation most couples kept, it wasn’t quite enough to wash away the memory of the fear he’d felt.

“I’m here, Killian,” Emma had promised him more than once as her hands roamed over his body or her mouth trailed kisses along his skin. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

It had taken a little time to believe that despite Killian’s constant ability to trust the woman he loved, but finally it did sink in and his heart was secure enough in her safety to let go of most of the pain, but the memory of it would always remain with him. For though Emma might have been the one to take the hit of that bullet, Killian felt the impact of the trauma right down to his bones in an undeniable way. This was because for all intents and purposes their lives were already tied together, and a risk to one was a risk to both that could injure unlike anything else in the world.

Words were simply inadequate when it came to the descriptions of how it had felt to go through such a moment, and there was nothing else Killian had ever faced that could compare to the horror of believing his Emma was hurt. Not even in moments when his own life was in peril had Killian ever known fear like that, but in the light of a new day, and with the proof ever increasing that Emma was truly okay and that she would soon bear no physical scars of that day at all, he was slowly returning to that center of calm. Emma was proving, as always, to be his anchor, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he depended on her. His life had swiftly become something better than he could ever have dreamed of because he had her, and so he’d been more than ready to side with her thoughts that they shouldn’t wait to cement their commitment any longer. No matter what the cost or what the process, the two of them wanted to be married, and thankfully they were nearly there with only a few more minutes left to go before they could truly be on their way to a forever spent together.

“I hardly have to ask given the look on your face right now, but I will anyway… are you sure you’re ready for this, little brother? It’s a big step getting married. Best to be totally certain.”

The implication from Liam that somehow Killian didn’t want to marry Emma and to spend his life at her side was equal parts ridiculous and comical because of how wrong it was. There was truly nothing in the world Killian wanted more than to be with this woman, and there had never come a moment since he’d known her where there had been any doubt on that count. Was he certain? No, he was so much more than that. He was undeniably devoted to the irrefutable truth that Emma Nolan was the one woman in the world for him and that he was a better man for having known her and loved her. But while Killian would have no problem stating that plainly for Emma, he didn’t feel the need in this moment of jest to give his brother the satisfaction of a grand profession.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” Killian replied without hesitation, casting his gaze from the aisle where soon Emma would be appearing to find a look of total and complete amusement on Liam’s face and on the faces of Graham and Will, Killian’s two other groomsmen present today.

The expressions his brother and friends touted were more than smug, and for a moment Killian regretted having even selected a group of mates to stand here with him at all. This teasing was hardly new, and in fact Killian had been saddled with it all day between everyone poking fun at his impatience and then goading him on with the tiniest hints of how Emma was doing without granting him with any substantial intel. But underneath all of that there was real love and friendship from all of them, and on a day as special as this one Killian couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have by his side than these three men.

“Gotta tell you that’s good to hear, mate,” Will joked easily before nodding his head towards the seats in the front row that were reserved for Emma’s parents. “I don’t think the Chief would be at all amused with cold feet when it comes to his daughter.”

“It wouldn’t be the Chief Killian had to worry about,” Graham said with total seriousness. “He’s not the one packing heat. He leaves that to the missus.”

“Wait she’s armed?!” Will asked in total shock, his eyes scanning the crowd for Mary Margaret who was dressed as any mother would be for her daughter’s wedding, and the completely serious reaction had the rest of them laughing.

“No she’s not armed, you maniac. God, have you always been so gullible?” Liam asked before looking to Killian as if to say ‘what’s with this wanker’?

“Will’s typically a bit dense to be sure, but I think the quickness to believe is more thanks to a certain bridesmaid than anything else.”

Killian tried to muster as casual a tone as he could when he hinted at Will’s growing and totally obvious infatuation with one Belle French, but it was hard to keep the smile from his face. After all Killian had pretty much had a front row seat during the previous weeks of preparation to Will’s reaction to Emma’s friend from the station, and it had been anything but collected and calm. In fact it was almost shocking how little game Will seemed to have when he was really interested in someone, and though Killian wasn’t going to tell Will, he knew Belle was somehow receptive to it all the same. The attraction, luckily for Killian’s mate, seemed to be mutual, but what would be the fun in putting Will out of his misery so soon?

“You better keep your eyes off my wife, Scarlet,” Liam warned sternly and somewhat randomly given Killian’s purposeful implication, but when Killian and Graham realized what Liam was on about they both laughed before Graham filled in for Liam’s momentary obtuseness.

“He meant Belle, Liam. Don’t worry, no one’s looking to die today.”

Killian waited after Graham’s more blunt declaration for some kind of response from Will, and though his eyes remained cast in the direction from which Emma would be coming, Killian was surprised not to hear any push back from his friend. This was the moment when Will should be posturing or calling them all idiots. Instead he was surprisingly quiet which spoke volumes to just how right Killian and Graham’s observations had been.

“What’s the matter, Will? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re trying to save up your words for your girl. You could have used them the last time she was talking to you. I mean that was just terrible,” Graham joked and though Killian heard the scuffle of Will shoving Graham’s arm and the whispered threat to ‘bugger off’ Killian was immediately pulled from that jesting by the sounding of the string quartet across the way as they began to play the wedding march.

“This is it, brother,” Liam said jovially, slapping Killian on the back before stepping slightly farther away. “Get ready for the best times of your life.”

There was no way that given his sudden surge of eagerness and excitement that Killian could respond. It felt like his whole world had suddenly spun back into its proper orbit, and the fleeting rays of light cast around them felt warmer and more prevalent now than ever. The sweetness of the music lilted over the beach, complimented nicely by the very subtle splash of waves at the shoreline, but then Emma’s bridesmaids stepped into view one by one and Killian’s hammering heart overpowered all the rest of it. He was so damn ready for Emma to be there, and it took everything in him to stay rooted to his spot when all he wanted was to get to her sooner.

Finally, after what felt like a small kind of eternity, his Emma appeared and words escaped him in that second when Emma finally came into view. It felt like the rest of the world was not so slowly fading away, like it was merely a distant memory of another time and place that didn’t bloody matter. The only room in his heart and mind was dedicated to the stunning woman walking down the aisle towards him on her father’s arm, and the rush of love and hope in Killian’s chest at the sight of her was almost more than he could bear, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything the world over.

A vision in white, that’s what Emma was right now, almost as if an angel had fallen just for him. She was at once delicate and graceful in the ivory lace of her gown, yet somehow she was strong and sure too, and though from outward appearance she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, it was the brightness of her smile and the warmth of her love that shone through more than anything. It added a sparkle to her brilliant green eyes and it felt like all the light in the world was made for her and of her somehow.

All Killian wanted, all that he had ever wanted, was to feel a part of that light and right now he did more so than ever. It was unlike anything Killian had ever experienced before, this pull of complete and total bliss as he gazed upon his future wife, and all the promise of happiness and joy that charged the air around them crackled even more forcefully to life when Emma was just before him and her father placed her hand in Killian’s.

“Take care of my girl, Jones,” David said sternly, and it took everything in Killian to look away from Emma and provide her father with the respect he deserved. Killian nodded quickly, hoping to convey the sincerity he felt as he did.

“Always, sir,” he vowed before adding a truth that shouldn’t be forgotten. “Though I dare say Emma can handle anything herself.”

The Chief seemed to accept that answer, kissing Emma’s temple once more before returning to his seat and taking his spot just beside his wife, leaving Killian and Emma together and alone. Well except for the crowd of onlookers and the justice of the peace of course, but if it weren’t for Emma’s keeping him in the moment, Killian would have ignored all that and laid it all out on the line right then. Every word he’d thought up for his vows was on the tip of his tongue as well as so many more, and his instincts told him to pull this woman close and never let go, ceremonial structure be damned, but he couldn’t risk dulling the brightness in Emma’s eyes in any way, and so he contented himself with holding her hands in his and watching her through every part of the ceremony, soaking her in in all of her splendor.

Finally the moment came when most of the formalities and greetings had been completed and it came time to make their promises to each other, but it still required some waiting on Killian’s part, for his wife had requested to gift him with her vows first. At the time Killian had hardly considered that a problem, but then in the face of Emma’s words he was so overtaken that the vows he’d thought up himself seemed to fly straight out of his head, replaced instead with hers that he’d hold so much closer than any other words he’d ever received.

“Killian, I don’t think there are very many stories that start the way ours did, and if there are then I have never heard of them. The fairytales I read as a kid never said I’d find my one true love on a fire escape in the middle of a ridiculous false alarm, and they definitely didn’t stipulate that my mother and the mayor would meddle the way they did…”

“I didn’t meddle, I just pushed them together a little,” Mary Margaret said from the few feet away she was, pulling an eye roll from Emma and a smile from Killian.

“It’s alright, honey. Whatever you did it turned out all right in the end,” David promised, seemingly appeasing Emma’s mother and allowing Emma to continue on.

“But looking back on what we’ve found and all the good that came from those seemingly random and mostly crazy moments, I wouldn’t change a thing about any of it. Everything we’ve been through, every up and down has led us to this moment, a moment I never believed I’d see because I was too afraid to go there. Love and me had never been something that worked before, and though I always had my parents as a guide for what could be, I didn’t actually think it could happen to me, until I met you. It took meeting a man who was kind and gorgeous and loyal to the end to trust that love like this could be real, and I know in my heart that I needed you, Killian, and I will continue to need you always.

“Maybe that’s not the strongest thing to say but it’s true all the same, because the fact is I am stronger when I’m with you. I’m a better me with you by my side, and I’m a surer person because I know your love and I feel it every day without fail. I can do anything when we’re together, Killian, and I promise to always try and be the same for you. Whatever dreams you have, they’ll be our dreams together, and wherever life may take us, know that you’ll have me with you always.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Killian that in her vows Emma would have found perfection. Every word and every sentiment pierced through him almost to the point of pain, but in a glorious way, and with the truth of her feelings shining so bright, Killian knew she had to mean every word.  But now somehow he had to find words of his own, and though he’d headed into today prepared and believing that he had it all figured out, he spoke from the heart instead, granting Emma the same genuine affection she’d given him and hoping she’d feel them as much as he’d felt hers.

“I love you,” Killian stated plainly before diving into anything else, and the simple statement made Emma’s smile brighten even more before she bit her lip. “I love you, Emma Nolan, and before it happened, before I fell into this miraculous love with you, I didn’t truly know what those three words meant. I believed myself to be aware of what real love entailed, but you have shown me that was not the case. I was blind to so much of what could be and then one day I met a woman, a woman who was capable and fierce and too beautiful to be real who opened my eyes. You can imagine my alarm when I then tried to convince her that she should take a chance on me and she resisted my advances.”

This comment pulled a laugh not just from Emma but from most of the attendees too, but Killian continued on, his thumb running against Emma’s wrist ever so lightly in a silent reminder that these words, even if they were being aired in public, were really just for her. Emma seemed to understand him too, for her smile slid back to that attentive sort of shape it had been in before, and he felt like as consumed as he was by her she was reeling from the exact same feelings.

“You were right before when you said that the going from there was unusual, but in all of the twists and turns, there was never a time when I regretted what we have and what we are. Perhaps our path has been different than others, but I believe it led us somewhere few people ever get to – a state of love so true it has no choice but to endure and to thrive in the face of anything. And I really believe that Emma, that we’ll always endure and have this come what may. I know that together you and I can get through anything, love. We can weather every storm, revel in every blessing, and seize the moments of each day, cherishing them as two people in love should.

“As for dreams, the truth is, Emma, that you are my dream, and the rest of it, the details of the life we’ll make will all be thanks to you. All I could ever ask for is to have you at my side, but I will stop at nothing to give you the world. We’ll find our way together you and I, and I promise that it will be a life worth living. And someday, years from now when we look back on what we’ve had, we won’t carry regrets. We’ll have no what-ifs, only the certainty that this was the happiness we were always meant to find, and that nothing could be better in the world than this love, right here.”

Before Killian could double guess anything he’d said or trace back over his declarations to see if they measured up, Emma showed him just how much she appreciated them by pulling him in for a kiss well before it was time. Killian was hardly off put by that either, but though she’d let the emotion of the moment get the best of her, it was Emma who broke the kiss just as quickly, blushing a rosy shade of pink at her outburst as she did.

“I just couldn’t wait for that,” Emma whispered and Killian’s face came to cup her cheek.

“I’m glad you didn’t. That’s what all this is about – we’ve no need to wait any longer. We have everything now.”

And as soon as their rings had been exchanged, their ‘I dos’ had been stated, and the justice had cemented them as man and wife, another kiss was had out there in the setting sun of a flawless, perfect day to celebrate that fact. For the wait truly was over, and a new chapter had dawned for both of them that was destined to be even better than all the ones that had come before.

……………

Emma didn’t know exact statistics about how often people had perfect honeymoons, but it was safe to say, on the last full day of her and Killian’s trip to this Caribbean island resort enjoying the sands and surf, that they had had one.

There was not one part of this trip, not the weather, or the accommodations, or the atmosphere of this tropical paradise that hadn’t been amazing, and yet Emma had to admit that she was a little biased. After all she was riding a real high from the whole marrying her soul mate thing and it was feasible that they could have ended up in any corner of the world and she’d have loved it as long as she was with Killian.

Today though, Emma had woken up to a prospect she was hoping for all trip that was finally possible. Though her injuries had been relatively minor given her being shot just two weeks before, the bruising through her vest had been less than subtle and as such she’d been forced to cover up a bit more of herself on this vacation so far. But finally, after two weeks of rest and relaxation and tender love and care from her husband Emma was back, fully recuperated without even the faintest trace of the wounds she’d faced. As such, she was eager to share a little gift with the man she loved, and the thought of his face when he realized her intentions had Emma grinning like an idiot as they got ready for their final afternoon in the sun.

“Can you believe it’s our last day here?” Emma asked once she’d finally gotten herself together and was back out in the suite with Killian, concealed by her cover up for the time being and pretending everything was totally normal. “Crazy how time flies when you’re feeling this happy.”

“Aye, love, it’s gone by quickly, but I won’t pretend I’m not a bit eager to be getting back. Going home again holds so much more promise now than it ever did before.”

The fact that Killian could say sweet things like that and it still sent a flutter through Emma spoke volumes to the lasting power of this love that they’d found together, but the craziest part was it was totally natural to him. Killian had always been the kind of man who spoke his mind. He never hid things from Emma or tried to spin himself into something that he wasn’t. What you saw was what you got with Killian, and what Emma got was lucky when he’d stumbled into her life all those months ago and made her fall in love with him.

“Agreed,” Emma said before pressing a kiss to his lips lightly and then pulling away just at the point where he was going to take things further. Not that she would mind getting wrapped up in her husband and never leaving this room, but the promise of the moment she could have if she just showed a little more patience was too strong a call to turn down. Instead she stepped back, running her hand along his chest and smiling. “But in the meantime, I don’t think one more day of sun could hurt.”

As Emma expected, Killian was eager to concur with her and enable anything he thought she might enjoy, and she was going to enjoy this final journey down the sandy path to the little cove that was all theirs during this honeymoon. It was exactly what any two newlyweds could want, totally private and intimately romantic, but try as she might Emma hadn’t been able to get her husband to take advantage of that isolation as of yet. Each time they’d gotten riled up and close to crossing the line he’d always whisk her back to their rooms and make love to her there, but this time Emma wanted to watch Killian so overcome with passion that he couldn’t fend it off. It would be, quite simply, the best way to end this trip, and she was one hundred percent confident that she’d get her way if she played her cards right.

“All right, all things consider I admit there are some things I’ll miss about this trip,” Killian admitted when they’d finally arrived at their loungers by the shore. “Namely the warmer climates and the fact that we’ve gone two whole weeks without a single interruption to our time alone. Home hardly boasts the same potential.”

“You don’t think my parents will be interested in granting us some ‘newly married’ privacy?” Emma joked, knowing for a fact that wasn’t happening. No sadly enough once they touched down in Boston again things would largely go back to the way they always had been, and while there was certainly comfort in that fact, there was also the inconvenience that being so close to family always seemed to bring.

“I think I’m damned glad I stole back your mother’s key again. Maybe if we give her the run around for a few weeks about having another made I’ll be marginally more forgiving of her intrusions. But that’s only if I have a little time alone with my wife first.”

“Moment crashing parents or not we have more than a ‘little time,’” Emma murmured seductively. “We’ve got forever, or had you forgotten that?”

“Hardly, love,” Killian said as he pulled her back in close stealing another heated kiss that threw Emma slightly off kilter before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, looking like he was working hard to keep from giving in to the heat of this embrace and the lust brimming underneath the surface. “You could say I’m totally dependent on that forever. I’d never make the mistake of taking it for granted.”

“You are way too charming for your own good, Sergeant. You realize that right?” Emma asked as she shook her head, watching her husband’s smile tip up to one side and his blue eyes fill with the light of good humor. But it wouldn’t last as long as he was probably anticipating, not when Emma had decided this was the moment of truth and she began taking apart the wrap she’d worn, revealing the barely-there bathing suit she was donning underneath.

For a few seconds it didn’t seem to compute for Killian. That same almost roguish smile remained, and though he watched her with that same attentive level of fascination that he always did, Killian was fixated on her motions more than her body itself. Eventually though that shifted, likely because there was suddenly far more of her bare skin on display than in days past, and in the instant her master plan dawned on Killian, his smile slipped and something so much deeper was revealed in its stead.

Whatever Emma had imagined the reaction would be from Killian in the times she’d fantasized about this eventual reveal it couldn’t compare to the actual response, which was simultaneously aghast and ravenous at once. There was this almost tangible sense of worry that she was so on display right now, though not in a way that undercut her authority to do as she pleased. Killian would never call that into question, but already Emma could see the gears turning in his mind about how he could convince her not to be so blatantly revealing for (what he thought was) the world to see. But more than that vein of protectionist thinking there was a hunger that Emma craved and wanted and that outshone all the rest of it when all was said and done. That look, the look like Killian simply couldn’t control his desire for her try as he might, sent a shooting pulse through her system and heated her substantially.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed to himself and Emma bit back her victorious grin, trying to play it off like she was oblivious to his thinking and probably failing miserably in her acting like this wasn’t totally planned.

“Do you like it?” she asked, turning around and giving Killian a view from the back as she moved to drape the cover up she’d worn over the arm of one of the chairs. In seconds Killian was there, his hands coming to hold her hips and bring her against him. It sent a thrill zinging down her spine and through every nerve to feel how hard he already was and how ready he was physically to give into her tease, but Emma didn’t retreat, instead arching just the tiniest bit closer to him to show this was exactly what she wanted.

“Like isn’t exactly the word, my love. I believe I’m right between love and loathe when it comes to this particular ensemble.”

“Loathe, huh? Sounds intense,” Emma whispered as his hand moved across her abdomen, his fingers tracing just above the bottom of the skimpy white suit and leaving goose bumps on her skin from the seductive chill it sparked.

“The thought that another soul would ever see you in this does not exactly sit well with me, Emma,” he growled and Emma smiled at that before moving her hand over his and looking back over her shoulder at him. “But at the same time I’m powerless to deny just how stunning you are.”

“Good thing there’s no one here to see me then,” Emma reasoned, her voice coming out with a breathy intone that hadn’t been there at the start of this talk and that only ever came when this man’s hands were on her body like so. “Consider this a present just for you.”

“Is that what this is? And here I thought it was a challenge, and a rather blatant one at that. You’re hoping I’ll lose all control and take you right out here, aren’t you, love?”

Words wouldn’t even form at that point on Emma’s tongue, not when Killian’s lips had found that spot just behind her ear and then moved lower as one of his hands came up to the flimsy and straining tie between her breasts that was keeping the mere scrap of material on her chest at all. With deliberate slowness Killian pulled at it, and just when it was about to give he stopped, waiting for her answer and chuckling against her skin.

“Tell me what you want, Emma. Tell me how you want your husband to take you right out here in the open. You know I’ll always give you what you desire, my love. All you need to do is ask.”

Emma’s eyes closed at the command and she had to work hard to cut through that underlying hum of need and want that had enveloped her. She was feeling so much because of the undeniable mastery Killian had over her body, but it also didn’t hurt that she was helplessly in love with him. Every touch was more than just a pleasurable sensation, but an affirmation that her world was completely and totally right. Part of her swore she had to be dreaming because no one could have this level of unbridled joy, but she did – they did – and all she had to do was tell Killian what she wanted and that would be highlighted even more in the most amazing way.

“You’re actually going to go along with this?” Emma asked, stunned that she’d formed a sentence at all, but slightly frustrated at the fact that she was stalling further from all that Killian was promising with those glorious hands of his.

“Is it what you want, Emma?” Killian asked, his other hand dipping below the thin material of her bottom piece and Emma nodded before finally uttering the word aloud.

“Yes. Definitely yes.”

“Then it’s exactly what we’ll have, love,” Killian promised as he maneuvered her swiftly over to the bed-like structure that was spread out behind the loungers. It was meant to be a block from the heat of the sun with its pitched white canopy above, but Emma’s genius of a husband was going to use this more spacious spot to give Emma exactly what she’d been after since seeing this whole set up in the first place.

The dance that unfolded from there was the most maddening kind of tango between fast and achingly slow. To say that it was teasing was too mild; it was an undeniable onslaught of sensation all courtesy of a man who knew Emma better than she knew herself. Every touch and every kiss was deliberate, and when coupled with the whispered words of praise for her that Killian couldn’t seem to keep contained it had Emma’s pulse roaring with fire and want and need. She was ready for this before they’d even begun, but Emma knew that getting her way didn’t mean she was exactly leading this perusal. If anything she was just along for the delicious and tantalizing ride.

“Do you want to know a secret, my love?” Killian asked what could have been minutes or days later after spending what felt like forever riling her up with roaming hands and kisses to her neck and then down to her breasts where he’d spent so much time and meticulous attention pulling out every ounce of pleasure he could.

Emma honestly didn’t know if she had the ability to say yes as his body moved lower and he trailed kisses and nips down from her breasts along the planes of her stomach. She was so distracted and caught up in all of this, but then his eyes flicked back to hers, teasing and taunting and challenging her in a way she had to rise to no matter how much she was experiencing right now.

“Tell me,” she pleaded, her voice breathy and not bothering to conceal how turned on she was. This of course left Killian grinning and looking every part the conquering hero.

“Your gift, undeniably perfect as it might be, was hardly necessary. You see I had every intention of fulfilling your desires today plan or no plan.”

“You did?!” Emma asked, her words basically choked out as Killian’s hands removed the last bit of fabric between them, revealing her to him. “But I thought…”

“You thought I was suspect of the lack of privacy,” Killian filled in when Emma’s train of thought slipped for a moment. “And I was for the first few days. But more than that I feared giving in would mean having less time for you to thoroughly enjoy this trip. All it would have taken was one memory of having you out here as I wanted and I wouldn’t have stopped. It never would have been enough.”

Emma was trying to comprehend everything that Killian was saying, but just when understanding began to dawn on her it shattered as his mouth came to her sex. Then all thoughts were lost and the only thing left was fireworks and the throbbing, electrifying bliss of his talented tongue working its magic. In truth every part of it was so fantastic that Emma fell into her climax before she even thought possible, shattering into what felt like a million pieces only for Killian to put her back together as he made his way back up her body to look into her eyes.

“Truth is, Emma, resistance when it comes to you is futile. It’s almost as if your will is my command, probably because we both always want the same things.”

“So stop resisting,” Emma replied as her hands moved down the defined slope of his chest and then lower, feeling the taut muscles that spoke to his barely restrained need. In this moment Killian had finally stilled long enough for Emma to have some kind of upper hand, and she wasn’t fool enough to waste it. Instead she took advantage of the opening and flipped their positions so Killian was beneath her now, looking like he was seconds away from caving fully as she came to line herself up with his hard, waiting length. “Give in with me.”

Killian didn’t need to be told twice, and Emma was fully ready to take charge of this union, bringing them together over and over again as the pressure inside of her built. It was slow at first, building to something so much stronger, but soon it gave way to hard and fast and finally they were both teetering over the edge and into a release so sweet it outshone everything else, leaving Emma spent and sated and totally content.

“That was… well I don’t even think there’s words for what that was,” Emma said, swearing there shouldn’t be a high so good but thankful that there was and that she’d found it with Killian. People didn’t get this lucky, but somehow they were and it was almost like magic in how rare all of this was.

“Aye, love, I think we’re in agreement on that. Perhaps I shouldn’t have denied you all those other times. Clearly you were onto something,” Killian acquiesced, pulling a smile to Emma’s lips as she snuggled in closer to him.

“I think you just more than made it up to me,” Emma teased and Killian chuckled, his fingers tracing shapes along her bare back as the vibration of it ran through her.

“You mentioned our return home before, Emma, and I just want you to know that whatever happiness we’ve had here isn’t going anywhere. We’ll carry it with us always. No matter where we are, no matter what we face, we’ll always have this. We’ll always have us.”

Emma knew that was true and as she looked up into her husband’s eyes, she saw glimpses of that happiness they were going to have. After years of seeing something similar with her parents, Emma knew what a marriage built with the foundations of true and lasting love looked like. It wouldn’t always be easy, but it would always be worth it and Emma knew she and Killian were both determined to give this there all. They’d walk through life together and face each triumph (like starting the family they both wanted), and each set back (which were bound to pop up given their jobs and the risks they came with), and though it might not always be sunshine and smooth sailing, it would be the best part of her world and one of the greatest things she’d ever done.

“I love you,” Emma whispered as her hand ran across Killian’s jaw, grazing the spot where flesh met the stubble of his beard and taking comfort in that rough scratch that she’d grown so familiar with.

“And I love you, Emma. For this day and all days still to come.”

With those precious words and another kiss, Emma and Killian set out to enjoy the last fleeting hours of their honeymoon before returning back home soon after and finding that Killian was absolutely right. The joy did last, and their love grew ever stronger as weeks turned into months and months to years. Eventually the family they dreamed of came to be too, and with it came a stronger understanding of just how much they’d found together. It was a gift Emma and Killian would never trade for anything, and to have all that while still having the work that the two of them loved made for a wonderful kind of balance that facilitated a truly beautiful life.

And in the end, despite the odds being stacked against them, and despite all obstacles the world might through their way, the love of these two people remained constant and endured. Because for Killian and Emma Jones there would never be anything more important than love and fighting for it always and forever.

Post-Note: So to say this has been a fun little fic for me to explore is an understatement, and as long as I’ve been writing CS I’ve always wanted a story with Emma as a detective and Killian as a firefighter. It’s a trope I’ve always enjoyed, and because of that it’s bittersweet to have this story ending. As of right now this is the last chapter of the fic (though I intend to craft an epilogue sometime later this summer) but I went out I believe with my usual brand of fluff and cuteness. I hope that you will all agree, and I appreciate all the kindness and support you guys have sent my way during this project. It’s been delightful and I really enjoy seeing what you guys think. Anyway hope you have great rest of your day and thank you all very much for reading!

[clairekatswritingcorner]

By Your Side

ANS Self Insert One Shot

Word Count: 1,933

Summary: Zinnia is resigned to the medical wing after getting injured on the job. During her stay she receives an unexpected visitor.

*Author’s Note*: This is another idea I've been thinking about for a few days, to be honest I love it. I already ship these two so hard (I mean, Zinnia was kind of made for him wink wink) but I’m worried I keep portraying Izana how I see him instead of how he really is. I know he’s more of a subdued personality but when I hear that I just think “simmer/slow burn” kind of emotion and then I just make him really straightforward and intense. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sorry if this interpretation is too OOC but it's how I interpret him and I’m sticking to it, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

(Read on Ao3)

“Ugh, how much longer…?”

Zinnia flopped her arm over her face, heaving a sigh. The medical wing was hushed, it’s silence only disturbed by the whisper of the wind against the windows or the movement of a guard passing outside. Even with her face covered she swore she could feel the moonlight on her skin; perhaps her restlessness was just that overwhelming. It hadn’t even been a day since she’d been bedridden by the injury she received on her last outing. The image of that rogue’s arrow barreling towards the prince had burned into her brain; it made her blood boil, and she clenched her fists as the memory resurfaced in her mind. She pounded the mattress, gritting her teeth as tears started to well up. She was stronger than this, she should have been able to face that attack with ease, and yet…

She sat up, instantly regretting such a decision as a stabbing pain shot through her body. She clutched her side, groaning, afraid to look and see just how bloody the bandage had become. It couldn’t be too bad considering whose care she had been entrusted to. She also knew it wasn’t becoming of a soldier to be so queasy, and she had faced worse situations before. But something about her own injuries, her own pain, made it hard for her to detach herself from the severity of the situation. On the contrary, it seemed to make her more panicked. Maybe that’s what self preservation really meant.

She narrowed her eyes at the door, taking a deep breath before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Now it was the pain of her injury that brought tears to her eyes. She swiftly brushed them away, scooting towards the edge until her feet met the floor. Part of her knew this wasn’t wise, but she couldn’t stand lying here in the dark, suffocated by the wordless hum of the night and her own chaotic thoughts.

“I believe you’re violating doctor’s orders, Miss.”

His voice made her breath hitch, and as she tensed her muscles in surprise another bolt of pain struck her. She whined, trying to hide the noise in her hand, but her movement was restricted as another hand slipped into her own. His icy eyes mellowed her thoughts and even soothed the pain a bit, although she wasn’t sure if that was just a result of the relief she felt in seeing him. How pathetic, finding such solace in this person. He wasn't allowed to be there for her the way she knew she had to be for him…yet here he was. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I startled you, please, lie back down.”

She cast her eyes to the bed, a blush of defiance and insecurity blooming across her cheeks. His hand hadn’t yet released hers, and she was at a loss for what to do. She knew the proper thing was to pull away, but such a rare touch was so precious to her. She didn’t want this moment to end, although she knew even that thought was misguided and selfish. His fingers tightened as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation.

“Zinnia, please.”

“I’m so…it’s stifling,” she replied, squeezing her eyelids tighter. “In here. Alone. I can hear everything and nothing all at once, because there’s nothing to listen to, so I notice every little thing!”

He squeezed her hand.  

“I don’t want to rest. There are things I need to do--” she protested.

“I believe I suspended all of your duties until you’ve adequately healed.”

“But you’re--”

Zinnia bit her lip. Izana narrowed his eyes. He caressed her cheek with his other hand, his fingers lightly brushing her hair aside. She turned to face him, cheeks still burning and eyes still wet. Izana was always so composed, so straightforward. His earnestness and sincerity were part of what drew her to him. She knew she was serving someone who lived his life with the utmost determination and conviction. He was serious and firm, but understanding. Despite his hard exterior, he was always on the lookout for the important hidden details in situations and people, the things most others overlooked. He had a soft side, a side that glistened in his eyes now as his hand cradled her cheek. It was a side of him that she adored, a side she knew she should pretend he didn't present to her. It would have made everything so much easier.

“You know I can’t disobey you.”

He chuckled. “Since when is that a rule you’ve stood by when it counted most? Or rather, when it comes to your own best interest?”

He gestured to her side. “Like right now.”

She dropped her gaze. “You’re the most important thing to me. Regardless of my physical state, if I’m able to protect you, that’s enough.”

Izana’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing pink. He cleared his throat, blinking a few times to subdue his expression. “You’re no good to me half healed, and you know it. Right now, you’re even worse than that. You can barely move without wincing.”

His eyes hardened. “Don’t try to deny it or feed me feeble excuses.”

The tears in her eyes swelled as Zinnia absorbed the Prince’s words. She chewed her lip harder, her hand unconsciously tightening where he still held it.

“You seem to misunderstand something vital, Zinnia, so I’m going to reiterate it for you,” Izana’s tone was serious, but not harsh. It communicated to Zinnia that she should heed his words while also taking comfort in them. “I want you by my side. Your presence is a relief, not a weight. When you’re missing, I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. And it’s not just missing a bodyguard, but a person that is precious and important to me in ways I still haven’t found the words to describe.”

Zinnia lifted her face, her tears fading as the depth of Izana’s words reached her.

“You need to heal, and take the time to do so properly. You need to understand why your wellbeing is so important. Yesterday, when that arrow struck you…I can’t accurately communicate how many thoughts and feelings engulfed me in that moment. Rage was probably the most prominent, easily combatted by panic and worry. Worry for you.”

Her eyes now firmly locked with his, Izana’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “It isn’t just about not having you with me. It’s about knowing that you’re suffering while you stand there, hiding your pain from me.”

His words seared into Zinnia’s head and heart. This closeness, this connection through shared sentiment, contact, and confession…it filled her to the brim with a heat she couldn’t quite describe.

“You need not hide anything from me, Zinnia,” he spoke, his eyes shining with a fire whose color she thought matched the sensation she felt. “Likewise, I will endeavor to be as open with you as circumstances permit. I suppose right now would be a fair example.”

“But being away from you…I don't think you realize just how painful that can be,” Zinnia replied, her free hand clutching the bed sheet. “Even if it hurts to stand, being able to stand by you is what eases that pain. I’m so used to being by your side, even now…I feel a little anxious when we’re forced to part.”

Izana leaned forward, lightly pressing his forehead to Zinnia’s. The space between their faces burned with the heat of their mutual blush. But neither of them wanted to break from this comforting connection. Together, alone, their only audience was the bright and distance moon. In this light, Zinnia could have sworn Izana was a prince from the moon; his pale face and hair were washed even lighter by the moonbeams shining on them. Zinnia wanted to return his favor, to stroke his face, or even dare to kiss his cheek. She knew there was no way her heart would hold out if she went through with such a display, quickly stuffing such childish and unsightly thoughts away. What was she doing, getting wrapped up in a moment like this? Such experiences were fleeting and meaningless; she couldn't allow herself to be persuaded otherwise, to leave room for any bud of misguided hope.

“I’ll stay with you tonight, if you’d like,” Izana murmured, his words caressing her almost as softly as his fingers. Zinnia’s heart skipped a beat as thoughts of elation and comfort clouded her mind. What could he mean by offering her such a luxury? She certainly didn't deserve it, but she felt that if she stated such a thought Izana would vehemently deny it.

“If my being by your side will help you heal, I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”

“I can't be a distraction to you, my Lord,” Zinnia replied. “I can't take your time and thoughts away from things that are much more important than my recovery--”

“You are my most important thing.”

He wasn't being rude, demeaning, or sarcastic. Prince Izana uttered such words with a strength and conviction that shook Zinnia to her core. She closed her eyes again, listening to the sound of their breath falling into sync. She couldn't find it in herself to feel anything but satisfied and safe despite knowing those were the last emotions she should be experiencing. Izana was a different person when they were alone like this, and part of Zinnia wondered if what she was seeing now was the real him. Of course, he was always himself when it came to other matters, but this was a side of him she guessed only an extremely select few were able to see. When he was like this, he reminded her of the boy she had fallen in love with. Just remembering the existence of such feelings made her dizzy and anxious.

“My Lord…Prince Izana, you have to be more careful about when and how you decide to say such frivolous things.”

“Frivolous? This is what my heart would say if it could speak. Such words echo in every beat. If you listen hard enough, I'm sure you could hear them.”

He really wasn't going easy on her tonight, and combined with the returning pain in her side, it was too much for Zinnia. She slumped forward, her face now on fire not from embarrassment, but fever. Izana carefully re-situated her in bed, grabbing a cool compress that had been left out for her should she need it for numbing purposes. He placed it on her forehead before pulling a chair to her bedside, resting his hand over the compress after making himself comfortable.

“M--My Prince, you need rest. You can't--”

“Do you dare to assert restrictions on what the First Prince of Clarines is or is not permitted to do?” He teased, although his voice also reflected the rigidity of his decision. No one was going to be able to remove him from her bedside, at least not until he decided it was necessary to depart. Zinnia knew she should trust his judgement; although his affection for her was evident, he was certainly not the type to selfishly put his feelings before his duties or his kingdom. She sighed, placing the hand from her uninjured side over his.

“Thank you, my Prince.”

Izana’s mouth curved into a small and fleeting smile, a smile that disguised just how much he cherished her praise.

“Rest now. I’m here. I won't leave your side.”

[mytrumarareviews]

Nostalgia Glasses: Canaan - Part 1 (Background + Eps. 1-3)

This was one of the series that really got me into anime back when I was around 14 years old. It introduced me to the action genre of anime and got me into scenes of fluid animation for the sake of making the fights look really cool. And honestly, as far as the first few episodes go this series still holds up really well. I mean we all like things that aren’t good when we’re 14 but this was the first real time when I liked something that was really well done.

So much so in fact that two characters from this series, Santana and Hako, were major inspirations for Kali and Aria from my writing, which isn’t currently published or available for reading. I actually had to change Aria’s character to having her black as well as only having a weaponized voice when she sings because she was a bit too much like Hako. Kali’s death scene was also originally a shot for shot remake of Santana’s death scene. The death scene has been removed now that I’ve rewritten a few characters.

My first published work was in a school magazine that was sold to people outside of the school that we wrote in collaboration with the school paper. it was a Canaan fan fiction centering around Hako and her own inner monologue. it got a couple of my classmates to watch the series but was otherwise shitty, that’s actually up on my fanfiction.net account currently here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9212506/1/Tormented-Thoughts 

It was also the anime I introduced my younger brother into anime with. So it holds a special place in my heart because of that.

I also got a copy of the series on bluray for by birthday yesterday, so that’s a good reason to jump into doing this now.

Episode 1: Evil, Flood-Colored City

Going into this series I’m remind of how well it sets up it’s tone. It’s an action series and it starts off with a series of shots introducing us briefly to both Canaan (one of the two protagonists) and Alphard (the antagonist). Canaan is shooting balloons with real bullets, which serves to show that she doesn’t really have a concept of value or currency. She’s a mercenary and that’s all she’s really know. Her professionalism is shown off with the fact that she’s wearing a military cap to keep the sun out of her eyes while she shoots and by the fact that she doesn’t miss a single shot. Alphard is being taken into custody by the military, this establishes that she’s not on the good side of the law and insinuates that she’s either grown sloppy or got captured on purpose to gain a strategic advantage against the government.

We also get a monologue spoken by Andrew Love, as his character in this series. About how Canaan and Alphard came from two very different worlds and that Canaan shouldn’t be using her negative emotion to move her forward when Alphard is doing the same thing. So without even giving us an inciting incident in the first 10 minutes of the series they’ve already given us Canaan’s inner conflict; the fact that she has to defeat Alphard through compassionate means rather than hateful ones.

So enough on literally the first two minutes of the series.

On to the main characters of the first couple of episodes. Maria Osawa (which has to be a reference to the porn star Maria Ozama) and how Mino. I honestly like both of their characters. Maria is both naive and optimistic yet it doesn’t come off as overly annoying, like a lot of other overly happy anime characters come off as. Mino is a more stereotypical male character but at the same time he’s quite likable. He’s a down on his luck journalist just trying to get a good story for his paper while on a trip to China. He’s pulled into all this stuff against his will. He follows up on any lead he can and shows a great dedication to his job. And he’s doesn’t come off as a pretentious jerk like Frank West from Dead Rising.

Throughout the latter half of the episode we’re introduced to the relationship between Canaan and Maria. Whereas Canaan is merciless when fighting she shows a really soft side toward Maria because of their history together. She comes off as socially inept.

I’d actually venture to say that Canaan has high functioning level 1 autism. She’s completely capable of functioning as a part of society but doesn’t like being a part of society. It could be the fact that whenever she goes outside she gets a literal sensory overload, which is common for people with autism. Though the sensory overload is caused by her synesthesia, rather than a disability. It’s just interesting to bring up those similarities between how her synesthesia affects her and how autism affects a lot of high functioning individuals.

This is coming from an individual with autism who’s done quite a bit of research into his own disability.

Episode 2: Worthless Games

The second episode gives us a lot more information about the world this series takes place in. Alphard leading a terrorist group named Snake. The nature of Maria and Canaan’s relationship. And much more.

Throughout this episode you start to get this feeling that a lot of the terrorist attacks are linked through a common group, though you still don’t know who they are. You know Liang Qi has something to do with it but it’s not completely clear if Alphard has any knowledge about it. You also find out a lot about Maria’s past, her amnesia that doesn’t turn her completely stupid like it seems to do for every other character that falls under this trope and her relations to synesthesia and the Ua virus, a virus with a 100% mortality rate that she’s the only person to survive, due to the valiant efforts of her Doctor father.

This episode mostly serves to give us exposition and develop the characters a bit more before sending us further into the plot. it also serves to set up later events and give Alphard a reason to let herself get captured by the Chinese government. She mentions something about an anti-terrorism conference, what better place to commit an act of terrorism. Security will also be relatively lax if there’s a lesser threat of terrorism, what with Alphard being olut of the picture and her organization being without proper leadership.

Liang Qi shows that she can’t take rejection from Alphard by taking her anger out on her coworker... Well, I’d more so call Cummings her submissive even if she does act as his assistant. it’s made very obvious by that fact that he drops an important call when Liang Qi needs to take out her anger on somebody and just takes the abuse. Alphard seems to share a mutual respect with Cummings at this point and Liang Qi probably hates this.

This was also the episode where I was kind of struck by the fact that this anime still looks really good 8 years after it started airing. Anime today all kind of looks the same, and that’s not me being some grumpy old man, I’m only 22. A-1 Pictures created this face template that’s used in all of their series. That make most of the anime in Japan right now so that same facial template is in more series than it isn’t in. Seeing a stylized series that looks like it could have been hand drawn with amazing fight animation is really refreshing. Style-wise this is probably my favorite series of the last decade.

We also get to hear Maria’s inner monologue, and experience how depressed and self conscious she really is. It’s a really nice contrast between her outward and inward personalities.

Episode 3: Trivialities

So we see a more sarcastic side of Maria’s personality in this episode when they go to a cosplay bar. Yes Hako is extremely sexualized in this part of the series, but she works at a cosplay bar. We also get a comic relief scene of Mino trying to get information from Hako but failing due to being nervous, because she’s a gorgeous woman with her breasts outside of the shirt. At this point you do start to get this feeling that maybe the Japanese writers are portraying Chinese people as a bit too aggressive and going into a bunch of Japanese taboos. Though the joke about Chinese cab drivers in the last episode was actually pretty funny because of how true it is.

And then we get a scene of Canaan doing a cats cradle with copper wire. Showing her immense, yet still human, physical strength. It’s interesting to note how she’s designed as a teenage girl because she hasn’t yet gone through puberty even though she’s in her twenties, her synesthesia stops her from having a period so she can’t go through 

Liang Qi continues to show her hatred for Canaan and an obsession with Alphard. In fact, much like how Cummings acts as her submissive and takes her abuse (which isn’t good by the way), Liang Qi takes the insults from Alphard and continues to show complete devotion to her, being submissive to her while still taking her repressed anger out on Cummings.

Going further into this episode there’s a noticeable difference between the sound mixing int he prior episodes of the dub (suck it up) and the 3rd on.

And, just through her conversations with Maria I think my theory that she has autism stands a bit more ground. The lines for the other characters are written relatively normally, you can picture a normie talking like Alphard, Maria, or Mino. But Canaan’s dialogue is written strangely when compared to the other characters. She’s socially awkward, doesn’t understand more advanced social situations, and gets really excited when going out with friends. Most people wouldn’t outright say that it’s their first time having fun with a friend or rudely interrupt other people to repeat something she’d said before. I know it could be argued that she’s just weird and with good reason, but in what situation could she get a diagnosis. So she may not be diagnosed by I think she might be an autistic character. She’s sociopathic, a lot of people with autism are sociopaths, which are commonly mistaken for psychopaths (sociopaths can still feel compassion and empathy but only for a select few people). I myself an not a sociopath, as not all people with autism are, but a good portion of us are. The way she walks away from Maria at the end of the episode speak volumes about how she’s still capable of becoming emotionally hurt by another person’s actions, and her lack of understand of Maria’s own moral compass also shows that she doesn’t fully understand other people or societal norms, as most people view murder as wrong.

So that’s the first part of my Canaan retrospective, I hope you didn’t get triggered when I talked about autism and I hope you enjoyed the rest of the analysis of the first three episodes of the series. So far this series really does stand out.

[torentialtribute]

Moeen Ali’s spin in the spotlight after he fails again with the bat

The turn of Moeen Ali in the spotlight after he again fails with the bat

Ali has admitted that his confidence in the bat is lower than it has ever been

He has been asked to be judged on wickets, so he has to deliver in second innings

The 32-year-old runs the risk of trusting Joe Root lose as his arms form continues

by Richard Gibson for mail on Sunday

Published: 21 : 11 BST, 3 August 2019 | Updated: 21:11 BST, August 3, 2019

For an all-rounder, losing confidence in a suit tends to feed into the other, but England will be excused because he hopes that the two parts of Moeen Ali & # 39; s game will remain mutually exclusive to the rest of this intriguingly balanced first Ashes test. Joe Root and an Edgbaston field, expected to offer an increasing amount of turn as time goes on, Ali has put the bowler in the spotlight in a week in which he confessed to having hit a batter nudir.

& # 39; I have always been a player whose shape goes up and down, but at the moment I feel that my battle confidence is the lowest. Negative comments can affect you and they probably have. I know I take some horrible shots now and then, but when I do, I feel I'm holding on to it more than others, "he wrote in his Guardian column this week.

Ali celebrates after Cameron Bancroft's wicket on Edgbaston on Saturday

The 32-year-old has to deliver with the ball to maintain Captain Joe Root's confidence" class = "blkBorder img-share" Captain Joe Root

Ali has admitted that his confidence with the bat is bottoming after his first innings resignation

Added to that list yesterday was an inexplicable departure for an poor ball from his arch enemy Nathan Lyon that he just saw how he crashed on top of the stump. Lyon, his off-spinner rival, now has his number in eight of his last 10 innings against Australia.

Such a resignation will only contribute to the inner unrest of a player who continues to plow a hugely popular member of England but someone who frankly cannot find a middle ground between violent fluctuations in shape.

It has been less than 12 months since the failed experiment of beating the Worcestershire left-handed in the number three crisis position for a few Tests against India.

Now there is an argument to downgrade a player whose average at the start of the Ashes 2017-18 has fallen from under 35 to the current point from 29.24 to number nine, among the more reliable Chris Woakes . The concern is that the last malaise is symptomatic of something deeper.

Eventually, during the recent World Cup, he became superfluous to the demands of England after four years of automatic one-day selection.

] When thinking about losing a love of batting in print on the eve of this series, Ali asked to be judged on his wickets. To this end, it should not be forgotten that the 32-year-old has not only ensured the best spinner in England since Graeme Swann retired, but the fourth most productive in the country's history.

During the World Cup there was redundant demand but remains the best spinner in England

The 180th of his career yesterday – Cameron Bancroft scrambled a short-legged delivery – gave England a strong foundation at the start of Australia's second innings.

But what followed was reminiscent of the 4-0 defeat lower than two winters ago, when the Australian batsmen milked him more than five runs – in that series his five victims cost 115 runs each.

Last night, Root removed him twice from the attack on the city to whirl his round-arm offies

The responsibility now lies with Ali to show how effective he can be in home summers against opponents with five left-handed people in their top six. That ratio alone should be enough to encourage the selectors he is worth to sustain for Jack Leach, the slow-leaner in the wings. -spinner of match-winning potential in Test cricket, continues to have problems with his shoulder and must undergo a scan next week amid doubts about when he will come again.

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