#iso x f reader

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [End]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

Words: 3k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer.‎ 

Note: Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked.

We're done with Iso!! As per the vote, I'm moving on to Yoru once everything's ready. And man is he as painful to write as I remember haha

‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Spring, present day.

ㅤㅤ

It took you a long while to decide on whether that was one of the worst or best months of your life.

On one hand, you came back with a quarter of the harvest you were supposed to get, and you had to wait for a while until your lemon trees would bear fruit once more. That, and working with only thirteen lemons turned out to be much more difficult than you thought when it comes to baking.

And on the other hand, it was fun attempting to come up with workarounds with Ying. That, and you woke up the next morning with a new sensation that wrapped around you like a clingy lover. And it wasn't anything like the miserable pessimism you hauled around, or like the apathy that…

No, no. It was apathy. 

But a more positive kind of apathy. One that beckoned you to come to terms with many dilemmas in your mind. One of them being that winter was just... winter. A season. And like every other season, it had its ups and downs. It wasn't some omnipresent being out to get you, or whatever.

And quite frankly, this apathy was the best feeling you've ever had in a long... well, in your entire life. You woke up looking forward to the day, with a desire to actually get things going.

And that's exactly what you did.

You spent the past three months selling those plants back in your apartment at that nursery, you made friends with that lady who recommended you do such a thing, and now you were back at Yu’s house to check in on your growing orange trees. Heck, Yu’s neighbours even started greeting you whenever you came by.

They definitely saw you carrying the baskets of fruit and wanted some. Maybe you should use this wealthy neighbourhood to your advantage, you mused.

ㅤ

Ying called you earlier and mentioned discussing the state of her café with you since she had ‘more important matters to get to’. And you didn’t really mind, despite still being a mere barista, but she said she’d discuss the details by afternoon… But the location? Yeah, she promised she’d get back to you on that after she’d decided.

You moved down the short corridor, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the strong rays that poured through the windows of the doors. The darkness around you did not help ease the pain of such a bright light. But even then, you wrapped your free hand around the handle and forced the door open, allowing the brightness to finally balance itself out.

You noticed something yellow out of the corner of your eye. And you would’ve dismissed it if you hadn’t turned to look at what it was. It was… inside the basket. There was one Meyer lemon, probably from that harvest months ago that the two of you missed. It kind of made sense that you’d forget it. You haven’t really visited this house after that day, not with the ongoing streak of snowstorms. And, you know, Ying’s persistence on keeping you safe.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of a nearby mosquito. And immediately, you dropped the watering can and crushed the bug, instantly killing it. Now that you considered it, the one good thing about winter was the lack of annoying insects. That, and the fact it helped plants rejuvenate after a harvest, and that it kept earth’s temperature in check, and… 

No, nevermind. You didn’t want to be warming up to winter. Pun intended.

You moved back towards your growing orange trees and observed their shape for a moment. And like the row of lemon trees right behind them, they looked as otherworldly as they were. The white flowers on it looked even prettier under the sunlight’s strong glare. Much prettier than in the winter, but they both had their charm. Super photogenic.

Just as you grabbed the watering can up from the ground, your phone vibrated with an embarrassingly loud ringtone, and you pulled it out of your pocket only to discover that Ying was calling. At the worst time as well, you thought as you answered and held up the device to your ear.

ㅤ

"Hi."

ㅤ

"Y/N, I've decided!"

ㅤ

Her voice took you by surprise more than the ensemble of loud chirping birds around you.

ㅤ

"Decided?"

ㅤ

"We're going to meet up on the bridge. Do you remember it?"

ㅤ

You kept the phone held up against your ear with your shoulder, grabbing one branch and gently pushing it aside so that the water from your can could reach every crevice of the tree.

ㅤ

"The bridge...?"

ㅤ

"Yes! I was told it looks ethereal in the spring, and it truly does! Ah, and it's closer to the train station than I thought. We can use it as a landmark for when we leave. What do you think?"

ㅤ

You continued watering in silence for a moment. It looks ethereal in the spring? Who the heck told her that?

Whatever, it wasn’t your job to question everything.

ㅤ

"That can work. When do I come by?"

ㅤ

"Actually, I'm already here."

ㅤ

You immediately stopped watering.

ㅤ

"Already? Ying, the least you could've done was give me a heads up."

ㅤ

“I’m sorry, but I have something scheduled for sundown! I’ll see you there, okay? I promise you, it’ll be worth it!”

ㅤ

She closed the call before you could retort.

She was probably going to promote you or straight up just hand you the café. What with how busy she was starting to get and how much she disappeared, it wouldn’t surprise you if it turned out to be actually that. You didn’t really mind taking control of the café, now that you thought about it… Oh, but the idea of dealing with your co-workers’ minute problems sounded like pure torture.

You sighed and continued watering your plants in silence, quickening your pace so that you’d be able to make it to her in time.

ㅤ

ㅤ

It took you a while, but eventually, you made it. And the only guidance you used was the pitter patter of the children’s feet as they ran around and cackled, alongside the melodic chirping of the birds. The bus left a trail of smoke as it sped off, but this one mild inconvenience was immediately drowned out by the sight before you.

Ying was right, the place looked like paradise on Earth now that it was spring.

The waters were crystal clear, the trees were full of life and the grass on the ground vibrated with an enigmatic amount of cheerfulness. Almost like they were harmoniously swaying to a tune you couldn’t hear. Had someone taken a picture of this place, you would’ve convinced yourself it was just editing and that there was no way Earth would look like this.

But it did, you mused as you approached the bridge.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at a comfortable spot and rest your arms on the warm railing. Thankfully, despite your short height, the railings weren’t too tall and your loose clothes allowed you maximum flexibility to peer through to catch a glimpse of the waters. Short enough for you to be able to comfortably lean on it, but not so short children could fall down.

Your eyes were firmly fixated on the lake. And for the first time in so long, you felt... content.

You still didn't know what your goal in life was. You still didn't know why you should keep going, among many other questions like that. But all you knew was that the path your life headed in... Well, you didn’t want to change anything about it.

What would tomorrow look like? You pondered with a fond smile, holding up the Meyer lemon just above the lake and allowing the sun's light to shine in on it. And it beamed. It beamed with celestial beauty unfathomable to the human mind. 

This was your harvest.

You put down the lemon with an even wider smile and stared at the lake instead, the fish that swam by. Tomorrow sounded amazing, now that you thought about it.

And you looked forward to it.

ㅤ

"Y/N?"

ㅤ

A soft voice promptly came up from behind you. You sighed and stuffed the lemon back into your pockets, before turning around to meet her gaze.

ㅤ

"What took you so long? I thought you were in a hurry–"

ㅤ

The moment you locked gazes with a familiar pair of lilac eyes, your breathing hitched, and time stood still. 

It took a moment to comprehend that this person wasn’t Ying. It wasn’t Ying at all. It was… You felt your heart drop as you rapidly looked the figure up and down.

Broad shoulders, purple eyes, black hair, tall stature…

It was Yu. He stood only a few feet away from you; and he donned a meticulously designed hoodie with collars tall enough to conceal the lower portion of his face. One you had never seen before.

The words were lodged in your throat. Scratch that, no, your mind went completely blank, and the world felt like it started breaking apart.

ㅤ

“Yu…”

ㅤ

"Y/N, I..." He took a step forward, the floorboards audibly creaking under his weight. "I'm so sorry."

ㅤ

His voice had a sombre undertone. Slight and drowned out by the mirth that surrounded the both of you, but it was still telling. It was one that successfully let you know that he drowned in regret, all without saying a single word.

And yet, you still weren't sure how to feel about this. Sad? Happy? Furious? The second option was the most obvious one in your mind, but for the love of God, you just couldn’t form a single thought in your head. Heck, you couldn’t even comprehend the situation in general. All you knew was that Yu was here. And that was… No, wrong wasn’t the word.

His hand gently clasped your shoulder, and a familiar warmth landed alongside it.

ㅤ

"I'm sorry it took so long, but I- I was caught up in so many things, and it all just..."

ㅤ

He then pulled you into a hug. Your cheek slammed against his chest, the impact only cushioned by his thick hoodie.

ㅤ

"I missed you."

ㅤ

You didn't react.

For a few seconds, you stood there with a stiff posture as you stared into space, unsure whether you should return the hug or just stay silent and not do anything. This whole situation felt unreal. It felt like one of those hyper realistic dreams your brain would conjure up whenever it decided it wanted to escape your pitiful life, but that sprinkle of hope always scattered the moment you woke up. But it wasn't. In fact, he stood right there, the familiar scent of lemons taking over your nostrils on account of how close he was.

Yu was here… He was present. He came back.

Though you shut your eyes as hard as you could, tears still formed against your will, and they were quick to stream down your cheeks.

ㅤ

"Where..." you started, "Where were you...?"

ㅤ

You weakly pulled away, but Yu still kept you in his grip. And you immediately took this chance to observe him all over again despite your incredibly blurry vision. It was as if those years had never passed given his features. He still had that same enchanting face, and those pretty lilac eyes that always tore away at your stress with just one glance.

ㅤ

"After all this time..."

ㅤ

You held his cheek and caressed it. His pale skin yielded under your touch, and the palm of your hand outlined the sharp structure of his jaw. The softness of his skin, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes juxtaposed to his stony expression… All of it was all so familiar.

ㅤ

"Why did you leave me, Yu?"

ㅤ

"I'm– I'm sorry, Y/N. It wasn't my choice. If I could take it all back, I would–"

ㅤ

"Why did you leave me?!"

ㅤ

You burst into tears and clutched his hoodie, burying your head in his chest.

ㅤ

"I thought you were dead! I– I thought that– I thought... I thought I lost you...!"

ㅤ

Out of pure instinct, Yu was quick to bring you closer and tightly hold you in his arms.

ㅤ

"I'm here, I'm here, okay? Nobody's dead."

ㅤ

"I thought you died, Yu! I thought you were dead, I– thought you were..."

ㅤ

Your sobs and nonsensical babbles continued. It was all the same repetitive questions about his well being, and more specifically, how you thought he was dead. Each sentence you managed to complete felt like another blade plunging his heart, only further drowning him in guilt.

And unfortunately for him, the only thing Yu knew to do in this situation was hold you and gently caress your back.

ㅤ

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I– I should've explained it all from the beginning. But I... didn't want to lose you if I ever did."

ㅤ

He knew how stupidly soft you made him. How he'd stutter when speaking to you, and how wide his smile had gotten when you two first hugged, your arms squishing his thick white hoodie just to reach his form. The same hoodie he spent hours washing blood off of the night before.

Maybe he should've told you.

ㅤ

"I thought you were dead, I– I thought... that gun, you–"

ㅤ

Though you followed these loosely strung sentences with a curse, one specific word successfully pierced his bubble.

ㅤ

"Gun? What gun?"

ㅤ

This question seemed to bring you back as well. You pulled away, and just the sight of your red cheeks and shimmering eyes, aching with raw emotion, all of it was enough for him to understand how much this impacted you.

ㅤ

"I saw that gun. N– next to that medallion." You furrowed your brow, the sun sharply highlighting your tear-stricken face. "Is that it? Are you in a gang, Yu? Is that what you couldn't tell me?!"

ㅤ

"No! I– I wasn't in a gang, Y/N. It's..."

ㅤ

Yu's gaze fell. Unintentionally, he instead eyed your trembling hands.

He couldn’t hide this anymore, could he?

ㅤ

"I– I'm... Look, as unbelievable as this sounds, I– I was a… I was a hitman."

ㅤ

"...You were what? A hitman?!"

ㅤ

"Yeah. I… That’s the truth."

ㅤ

You narrowed your eyes. It really was unbelievable. How could someone like him be capable of killing someone? No, not someone, but people? And for a job?! You would’ve labelled him a liar if it weren’t for that blasted gun.

Then, a name popped up in your mind, one that seemed to support this idea.

ㅤ

"Iso...?"

ㅤ

He went blank for a moment.

ㅤ

"...That's, uh, no, that's a code name. I switched to a profession less... suffocating. That's what they call me now."

ㅤ

"Ying was in on this?"

ㅤ

Yu's face blanched. But quickly, he held your hand and firmly kept it in your grip.

ㅤ

"She was my only way of knowing you were alive! There wasn't any– Y/N, look, none of this should've happened, I know I should've been honest from the beginning, but I didn't want you to leave if I ever told you!” His eyes darted elsewhere. “Ying wasn’t happy when she found out, but I–"

ㅤ

"I’m not like her! I never would've gone anywhere! You could've been the devil and I still would've stayed because I wouldn’t have kept going if you weren’t there!” You furrowed your brow. ”But that's not the case anymore. I still love you, but I know what I deserve, Yu. I know I deserve a relationship that isn't... one-sided..."

ㅤ

You suddenly choked on your words. Yet, he was quick to respond when he could.

ㅤ

"But we can have that, Y/N! We can start anew, no more secrets. Nothing between us, okay? Nothing but the truth. Just, please..." he squeezed your trembling hand, "give me one more chance. I promise I'll make you the happiest woman on Earth."

ㅤ

Tears began to flow once more, tracing the same path as the ones that had dried out mere seconds ago.

For a moment, your eyes slammed shut, and you used this pause to both catch your breath and comprehend the situation. It was hard to make a decision. Sure, you were unbelievably mad at everything. At Ying, at Yu, at the world, and especially those people who held Yu hostage, if his words were to be believed.

But, Hitman…? It sounded so unbelievable. Yu was just way too kind and pacifistic to commit murder. It sounded impossible.

Almost mechanically, You rested your head on his chest, lying limp as he wrapped his arms around you. The lack of aversion on your side registered as permission for him to hold you. Not that he still didn't remain incredibly cautious.

ㅤ

"Happiest woman on Earth..." 

ㅤ

You muttered ponderously to yourself. You were already happy. But you knew you’d be happier with him. Even after everything that happened, you missed having him by your side again. You missed his curious little questions about things you considered mundane, and that endearing look of realisation as you explained it to him…

Then, a smile lifted your lips.

ㅤ

"I missed you, Yu." You hugged him back. "From now on, you’ll be honest with me. About everything."

ㅤ

Being this close to him, you felt the jump in his palpitations as he registered these words.

ㅤ

"I will! I will. I promise."

ㅤ

You closed your eyes, allowing the familiar scent of lemons to enter your nostrils and put your mind at ease once more. The two of you stayed like this for a second. It felt like this embrace’s sole purpose was to make up for how much you two missed each other. Of course, he knew he would’ve lost a bit of his sanity had he not known about your whereabouts, but he also knew that saying that probably… Maybe it’s best to keep quiet. Thank God for Ying’s updates…

Then, his eyes shot open at the mention of the healer.

ㅤ

“Hey, let’s go home. I have so much to tell you.”

ㅤ

You pulled away and wiped your cheek once more, noticing the eagerness etched on his features. You nodded.

ㅤ

“I’d like that.”

ㅤ

With that, he held your hand and helped you stand up, and the two of you began walking away from the bridge. His thumb promptly began tracing the lines on your palm all on its own. And of course, you couldn’t help but wistfully smile at this familiar

Despite everything, you couldn’t truly hate this man, no matter how much you knew you had to. You just wanted to know how this gentle giant was supposedly a hitman.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you moved.

[luvlyycy]

h a v e f u n . . . . ! !

next page . ->

ONE PUNCH MAN — (active)

Aftermath, Garou fingered you so hard his wound opened.

MHA — (extremely active)

Dabi's face when he cums.

um, idk questionable stuff?? :

Tomura has cameras in your dorm room.

How Tomura dates you.

college!au:

Late night cuddling with your boyfriend, Tomura.

Tomura's first kiss.

Taking care of Tomura.

Tomura's mommy kink.

Cuddling with Tomura after he games.

Dabi loves giving you princess treatment.

Jacking off Tomura in class

Face-Sitting with the college loser, Tomura.

Maybe that one pathetic guy, is kinda hot. Tomura, right?

— — ☆

Tricking Keigo into buying food for you !!

DEATH NOTE — (semi-active)

Light helps you understand, killing yourself isn't right .

VALORANT — (semi- active)

Iso N Yoru boyfriend hcs ! (sfw!)

Vampire ! Agents Series —

¹ Yoru — ,

ONE PIECE — (semi-active)

Law n his fucked out gf

Sleepy Bath Sex with Zoro <3

Cocky Law..

Ace makes his gf squirt for the first time .

Sanji barks for you.

'Helping' Zoro work out.

Backshot King : Ace .

Zoro's a ruff fucker .

Sanji loves boobs .

Sanji Eating Pussy Trilogy : 1 , 2 , 3

Mihawk loves to spoil you .

Law cums soooo much .

Katakuri's cock is extremely big .

Ass Eater Ace.

Soft Sleepy Zoro ..

Law fucks like he hates you !

Nami n Robin threesome [wlw]

Zoro Loves the number Three .

Zoro n Sanji eatin u out !

Law Is kinda Pathetic .

Happy Birthday, Sanji .

Sanji Can't keep his hands to himself.

————ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Law scolds you for eating chocolate.

Law is ugly .. in a pretty way.

Sanji's got a crush,, but you're like him?

Kissing Zoro on the ship.

Ace plays with you hair.

Sleeping with Ace is so frustrating.

Zoro confesses !

JUJUTSU KAISEN — (semi-active)

Yuuta's breeding kink (short)

Nyasty Sugu (short)

Jacking off Ino Takuma <3

God, Suguru— It won't fit !

Satoru: The pussy kisser.

Her or Him?? [TojiKuna x Reader // pt 1.]

————ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Comfort me, Sukuna.

What do your tats mean, Kuna?

Show me your piercings, Kuna?

Why do you wear rings, Kuna?

Face Masks, Kuna?

TEKKEN — (non-active)

What being loved by Lee Chaolan is like.

Claudio .. how I love.

Lee loves pussy.

Eating pussy headcanons .

BLEACH — (active)

college au ! :

Ulquiorra meets you at a college party.

-------------

Ichigo eating pussaayy

Ichigo with a daddy kink is unrivaled, i fear.

Renji with a girl who yaps !

STREET FIGHTER — (semi-active)

A.K.I is good at what she does . .

Ed : Breaking your back.

Sheeshhhh, Ed !

Ed is so damn fine .

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

2000's Night at the club with Ed!

Ed dating a pink girl .

HOYOVERSE — (semi-active)

Arataki Itto fingers his lil sister !!

Stupid, Childe.. stop teasing.. [college!au]

Nasty, pervert brother — stupid, Childe!!

Sampo n Aventurine: Pussy Killers .

Sampo can't stop eating pussy !!!

Big Bro!Gallagher fingers his lil sister..

Blade's thick cock .

Ugh, Step-Bro!Childe..

Wriothesely n his bimbo .

DC UNIVERSE — (semi-active)

Arkham Knight!Jason jacks off.

Hate-Sex with Jason Todd.

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Chubby!Reader x Jason Todd <3

Jason 'Brat Dad' Todd.

Jason comes home at 3AM

MISC — (randos..)

KOF Men × Smutty Scenarios

Domon Kasshu's ears turn red when flustered.

League of Legends Kayn : Backshot Demon .

Hidan's dirty talk.

Having sex with Hidan includes...

Toxic Pokemon Men : Piers , Raihan .

———— ᵔ ∇ ᵔ

Venom loves you too.

Miguel O'hara being your chew toy.

Maybe Miguel has a biting kink..

Like what you read? Nice , here's some cake ! 🍰

You have a request? Here's my rules , 🍪 , now you can request here , 🍩 . Thank you !

(ﾉ^∇^)ﾉ !! nonnies !! — , 🐦‍⬛, 🍪 , 🥥 , 🫀 , 🩰, 🪼 !!

[headfarintheclouds]

heyyy i heard ur taking requests for iso 👀

can u do headcanons for iso x reader who isn't a radiant or even a part of the Valorant protocol at all?

Hello ! Of course I can ! Thank you for the request <33 I hope you like it ! Sorry if they are all over the place ^^"

VALORANT Iso x F!Civilian! Reader

Just because you're not a part of Valorant dosen't mean he won't spend as much time with you as possible. Heck he even tried to convince Brimstone to let him keep you in HQ for your own protection. This man is smitten with you and it pains him so much whenever he can't see you, especially during missions !

He tries to teach you Chinese, not much just some simple phrases. He was aware of how hard his native tounge was. In turn you teach him how to cook, so he dosen't live off of instant ramen etc. He's a foodie but that guy would burn water into a crisp if it was possible.

Guard dog Iso, that dosen't let you get too far away when the two of you are in public. Especialy if it's late at night. If the two of you go out clubbing, you can expect him to put his arm around you when you make your way back home. What you never saw was the way he looked at strangers, his beautiful purple eyes glowing in warning at anyone he deemed a threat.

God bless him when you're sick. Poor baby would stop whatever he was doing to get to you asap, but he won't know what to do. Asks Sage for advice or will Google it. "Princess, it says you need to go to a hospital !" he'll panic about his results. While you just roll your eyes at his antics. Being sick made you more grumpy than usual. "Oh for fuck sake, just give me some Ibuprofem !"

He'll start leaving some of his stuff around your house. It was an amusing scene to come inside while you danced around the kitchen in one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. He loved the way you looked in it. 100% would take a picture of you.

Speaking of pictures. He was at least three albums on his phones dedicated to you. Something other agents will tease him about to death but he dosen't care. He's happy and in love ! His favorite foto of you was the one he took during your guys second date. It was a selfie you insisted on, you were grinning at the camera pearly whites on full display and diples in your cheeks. He saved it as his wallpaper soon after.

While you do know about him being a part of Valorant and a Radiant you hadn't had the slightest idea of how good he really was. It showed during one of your dates to an amusement park. You know those stals where you have to shoot a target to get a prize? Yeah he absolutely dominated those. Your bedroom was full of stuffed animals now !

He will show you his arena albeit not willingly. But he couldn't really say no to you, especially when you used puppy dog eyes on him. It was super cute to see your eye glow in amazement at his creation, his heart skipped a beat when you admitted how amazing it was.

He wants you to call him by his given name. But let's be honest you only used it when you were mad at him (which wasn't often mind you !) Most of the time you just called him baby or big boy.

Your nicknames for you ranged on how you felt at that time. From baby and love, to good girl and baby girl. He'll call you some cute names in Chinese as well !

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Pyke: Pt 3

League of Legends | Pyke x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego | Pyke: 1 - 2 - 3

Read the whole thing on AO3 here

SFW

He’s on deck tying nets. It's simple work, but time consuming. Over, around, cinch, repeat. Shanks is chattering to him about something or other, but Pyke's long since started tuning him out.

Across the deck, Iso laughs. He glances up without meaning to. She's talking to the wind mage, Addison; they need to stay on deck while they channel the breeze, and they like company. She tucks her hair behind her ear, blown loose by the wind, and he watches for a moment as she mimes something to accompany whatever story she's telling. He's never been the type to get distracted by a pretty face, but something about her draws him in like a fish on a line. Always has, ever since that first day when he realized she was one of the few honest things about a dishonest town.

He notices a suspicious silence. He glances to the side to see Shanks watching him, or rather watching him watch her. There's a grin on the other man's face he doesn't like. “So, when you finally pop the question, am I gonna be your best man?” Shanks crows, elbowing him in the side. Pyke lets his unimpressed glare be all the answer he needs, and Shanks leans back, hands in the air. “Alright, point taken, you scary motherfucker. God, you're the only man who could ship out with a real bed and a beautiful, talented woman to warm it and still be as sour as an old fucking lemon, y'know that?” He doesn't bother to respond to that. Over, around, cinch. Shanks presses on, undeterred. “You are gonna ask her to marry you, right? Truso’s gotta be paying you enough to afford a nice ring.”

His hands pause on the net. “Never thought about it,” he grunts, and that's true enough. Pyke's never been good with sweet words or grand gestures, not unless she wanted him to kill a giant fish for her. She's never mentioned wanting to get married. Was it even the same, where she's from? He's never asked, and she gets antsy when her past is brought up–he would too, if answering the wrong question had him coughing up glass. He looks at her and thinks my wife, and that's a pleasant enough thought. Never thought he'd be much of a husband, though. Never thought he'd find anyone he wanted to stick around for in the first place, either.

“Unbelievable, you are!” Shanks scoffs. “Haven’t thought of it, Bearded Lady’s hairy tits, man. How’d you land her, anyway? Certainly wasn't with your shining personality.”

Good question. Shanks is a pest, but he's not wrong. He shrugs. “She picked me.”

“C'mon, gotta be more to it than that,” Teal, another harpooner, plops down on the deck next to them. He makes no move to help with the netting. “How'd you meet? Bar?”

“He'll tell you if you help with the bloody net,” Shanks offers in what he probably thinks is a tantalizing voice. Pyke shoots him a glare, but Teal picks up a rope and starts working, and his knotwork is respectable so he supposes letting them pry into his personal life isn't the worst trade.

He sighs. “Buddy down at the slaughter docks nearly had his arm taken off, heard her clinic was good at stuff like that. She gave me a decent price, so I came back when I busted my leg. Lost my purse, but she offered to let me work it off porting for a personal project. Gig was decent, so I kept it on the side.”

There's a moment of silence. “That's it?” Teal says expectantly. “Nothing else?”

He thinks back. “We played cards a lot?” He says hazily.

Teal squints at him. “And she just, what, randomly decided to jump you one day?”

Over, around, cinch. “Pretty much.” Not that he hadn't been just as surprised. Plenty of looks linger on his arms and his muscles, he's not blind. He's got a mean face and a sour attitude to go with it, though, and not many women want to stick around for that. He'd been pleasantly surprised by her interest, but if you'd told him then she still wouldn't be sick of him in a years time he'd have thought you were full of shit.

“You motherfucker, I had money riding on this,” Teal hisses. “I thought for sure there would be alcohol involved.”

“I mean, why you?” Shanks laments. “Just why?”

“Because he's loyal and considerate and handsome, and if I hear this question again I'm going to start disinfecting wounds with vinegar,” Iso says mildly, her arms crossed. The other two were so focused on him they didn't notice her walking up. Shanks startles so badly he almost goes overboard, and Teal ducks his head in shame. Pyke staunchly continues his work, though that's really not a combination of words he would have expected anyone to apply to him.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Shanks says sheepishly, Teal mumbling the same. She nods, gives him a smile, and walks off.

“...you know we're just giving you shit, right?” Shanks says a moment later. “We're happy for you, really.”

“Shut up and tie the line,” Pyke sighs.

---

They collect more sea-beasts than they can store and start heading back a day ahead of schedule. No Jaull-fish yet, but you refuse to let your guard down until you're both safely back on shore.

You've thought about asking him to quit before. You're comfortable enough without the money. Seeing him out here changes your mind; this is his element, and he's worked damn hard to be here. You can't ask him to give that up for something that might not even happen now.

(Putting aside if he even would, just because you asked, but you don't want to think about that)

A week out from home, you're woken in the middle of the night by yelling. You push yourself up off of Pyke's chest muzzily, and he makes an irritated noise. There's a bell going off in a rhythmic pattern; Pyke listens for a moment before groaning “Pirates.”

You clamber to your feet and quickly start changing into your day clothes. Pyke, likewise, sits up and starts shoving his feet into his boots, grumbling. Despite being such an early riser, he hates being woken up. He shrugs on his cloak and passes you your knife belt, before rolling his shoulders and trudging out the door.

The deck is lousy with sailors running to and fro, getting ready to receive the ship plowing towards you. “Iso, good!” Truso catches you by the shoulder, stuffing what has to be far too many flintlocks in his belt. “I don't know how comfortable you are in a fight, but–”

“Pretty comfortable,” you say easily. He sags in relief.

“Perfect, as you were then,” he gives you a thumbs up and then immediately spots someone with a keg of something they shouldn't and strides off, yelling.

“Doc!” A sailor you vaguely recognize appears by your side. “If someone gets hit by a cannonball, how much of them needs to be in one piece for you to fix em?”

“Why?” You ask warily. He points at the railing, where Shanks is swinging a pair of bolas wrapped in a wet cloth.

“He reckons he can land it in a cannon barrel before it goes off, so it backfires,” he explains.

You look at Pyke in wonder. “How the fuck have you not died already?”

He shrugs.

—

“I get it now!” Shanks announces, huddling behind a crate as he frantically reloads his pistols. “She's with you because she's fucking crazy!”

Pyke barely spares him a glance. Any second now this bastard shooting at them is going to have to reload, and then Pyke is going to yank him onto their deck and stab him in the face–

Iso goes launching onto the enemy ship, using the crate they're covering behind as a step up. Love of his life plunging headfirst into active gunfire aside, he's not one to waste an opportunity, so he stands and launches his harpoon into the gunners shoulder and drags him against the railing Iso has just landed on. She doesn't even spare him a glance, just kicks him hard in the temple and moves on. Pyke doesn't make the conscious decision to go after her, but nonetheless finds himself halfway across the deck.

“That's what I'm fucking talking about!” Shanks yells as Pyke scales the rope still stuck between gunner and the railing. “Crazy!”

She moves like she has no concept she could even get hurt. He crests the railing in time to watch her throw knife after knife, hilts to throats and skulls and eyes. Two men approach from her side–he rips his blade from the body and throws it at the furthest one's knee, piercing it from the side, and pulls the rope taut to trip the other. She turns and launches a knife into his head before he even hits the ground, but in her distraction another pirate pulls a sword on her. He yells before he even registers the warning leaving his mouth, and she turns in time to take the blade through the shoulder instead of the throat. She kicks, sending the man stumbling back, and then rips the blade out of her shoulder and cuts him down. There's barely even blood on her shirt, how fast she healed herself. No pause in her movements from the pain, just focus in her eyes as she moves to the next target.

“Iso!” He yells, voice harsh with anger and adrenaline and a bone deep fear he's never quite felt before. The next pirate between them gets his blade to their throat, and he doesn't stop to look as he rips it out of them, just keeps heading her way. She glances at him as he approaches, and it's like she doesn't even recognize him for a moment. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She blinks, and the fog clears, like she's coming back from somewhere far away. She glances down at the tear in her shirt where the blade was like she's only just noticed it.

“I liked this shirt,” she says mournfully. Someone swings at her, and she ducks under it and plants a knife in their gut.

“Stop getting stabbed, then,” he suggests tersely, catching a sword swing on his harpoon blade. “There's no fixing dead.”

She has the audacity to snort at him as she knifes the wielder of the blade he's fending off. A tide of sailors floods the deck, heartened by their charge. He sticks close behind her, watching her back and creating opportunities for her to strike, and together their knives cut bloody swathes through the pirates. He's never had much problem with fighting pirates, but there's a new viciousness in him with her on the line. It's a swift battle, but brutal, and they come out on top.

After, Iso fixes up their wounded, and Pyke watches her. Not for the first time, he's struck with the sensation that he's caught a glimpse of a ghost, that someone she used to be rose to the surface for just a moment. She fights like a pit rat, like someone who's been doing it so long that fighting feels like home. Her hands are soft and she doesn't have any scars to speak of, but she fights like she ought to. She has a past, and he won't ask because she can't tell, but he wonders.

She tucks her hair behind her ear as she sends the last of the wounded off, and blood smears on her cheek. He frowns. He knows where she keeps the clean cloths, at least–she’s particular where she puts things back home, and it's the same here. She gives him a soft smile when he kneels down and starts cleaning her hands off.

“You scared the shit out of me out there,” he tells her. She looks sheepish, at least. “I know you can fix yourself, but that doesn't make watching you get hurt easy.”

She shrugs one shoulder uncertainly. “I just…I’m used to it, I guess. Didn't have much choice, back when…” and she pauses, swallowing, feeling the edges of her curse.

He wants to ask, but knowing her she might just try to answer, so he doesn't. He folds the cloth over and wipes the blood from her cheek. “Goes both ways, y'know,” he says instead. Her brow creases in confusion. “You die, I'm gonna kill you.”

She laughs. “You don't have to worry about that.”

A knock on the door frame. “Cap wants you, Pyke,” he glances over to see a sailor, one of the men who prepares the sea-beasts for transport. “We’re stealing their grog and sending the survivors off with enough to get to land.”

Iso perks up. “There are drinks on the table?”

—

He forgot Iso is a lightweight. She doesn't tend to drink much at home, though most drinks in Bilgewater are watered down piss anyway so he's never thought much of it. The tipsiest he's ever seen her was at a going-away party for one of her regular patients and his old crew mate, a newly-wed couple off to try their luck in Piltover–to be fair, he'd also probably had too much to drink, because his only clear memories of that night are arriving, a cask of Freljordian mead, Iso trying to jump him in the back, and then trying to walk home carrying her while she mouthed at his neck and did her level best to wreck his tenuous self-control. This is probably as bad.

She's singing a shanty from her home, and aside from the fact that he's never heard of a place called France, it's hardly any different from the ones he's heard. She bellows the last line, and someone else picks up with another song as she catches her breath. She turns to look at him, eyes bright, and the way she smiles at him does something funny to his insides. He's not exactly sober either, he'll admit. She makes her way across the galley to the corner he's claimed–he’s not one for being the center attention, and everyone wanted a piece of hers after the stunt she pulled.

“Pyke,” she croons as she reaches him, half falling against his side. She rests her head against his chest and looks up at him through those pretty lashes of hers. He winds an arm around her waist, and she’s so soft that sometimes he feels like he's committing some sort of sacrilege just by touching her. His hands are made for bone and salt and blood, not softness or sweetness. “I can't believe your name is actually Pyke. I thought that was a nickname. Cuz of the, y'know,” she mimes throwing a harpoon. “Although I don't know what it'd be short for. Pycheal!” she says, then bursts out laughing at her own joke.

He frowns down at her. “That's like saying Iso is short for…” he pauses, struggling with his limited vocabulary. “Isometric?” He's pretty sure that's a word he's heard her say before.

She laughs. “Fuck, I dunno, maybe it is. I just picked it.”

He looks at her curiously. “Not the name you were born with?”

She shakes her head. “Wasn't allowed to use my old one, when I came here.” She gestures at her throat and he nods in sudden understanding. “I dunno why. Most of the rules make sense, but my name? Why the fuck does that matter?” She looks off into the distance, frowning. “All the Voidspawn have weird names. Maybe it's just important for them.”

He blinks. His understanding of the Void goes as far as that it's a big problem somewhere far away from here. “What does that have to do with…” he pauses, then shakes his head. He doesn't need to know, and she probably shouldn't answer.

She looks up at him again, this time with an odd look in her eyes. Remorseful, almost. “Sorry I got stabbed. And for jumping on the pirate ship. People kept calling me crazy and I realized that that's because that was a crazy thing to do, and I thought that if you did something crazy like that I'd be pretty mad at you, so. Sorry.”

He must be drunk, because the next thing out of his mouth is “D’you wanna marry me?”

She blinks at him. “Like, now?”

It's not a no. He swallows, trying to conceal the way his heart is flopping in his chest like a beached trout. “Sure.”

She squints. “Do you have a ring? Do people even use rings here?”

“Doesn't have to be a ring,” he says. “Buhru tradition is a trophy from a hunt. My ma got a shark tooth."

She blinks up at him, then pokes one of the shark teeth he wears on his belt. “Okay. Give me that one.”

He looks at the tooth she's pointing at. “What, just that one? You don't want a…special one?”

“That one is special, it's yours,” she says earnestly. “Some big fucking fish tried to kill you, and you said no. Just keep doing that, keep coming back home to me, and I'll marry you as many times as you want.”

He's not good with words, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth, so he just reaches over and snaps the tooth off its chain. She beams as he hands it to her, and he watches in bemusement as she bends down and undoes one of the leather laces for her tall boots. She fishes a knife out and cuts it halfway, and then sets the tooth against the wall and strikes it in the center as if her knife was a chisel. It cracks into two halves, the edges slightly jagged where they fit together, which she binds up as pendants with her improvised leather cords. Her creations complete, she stands up on her toes to loop one around his neck.

He swallows harshly as the bone settles against his skin. She hands him the other and turns around, pulling her hair out of the way, and he’s never been so careful about tying a knot in his life. When it's done, she turns to smile at him, and there isn't a thing on this earth that could stop him from kissing her in that moment.

—

You wake up with the worst headache you've ever had. You groan, throwing your arm over your eyes to block the light.

“Not even magic fixes hangovers, huh?” Pyke rumbles. You decide that wedging your face in between his arm and his side is much more effective means of blinding yourself.

“Aren't you supposed to be doing, iunno, sailor stuff?” You croak.

“Cap’n gave us a honeymoon off,” he says. His fingers trace up and down your spine. “May have had a few words with him about my wife getting stabbed under his employ.”

Oh yeah. That happened. Vague memories return to you about necklaces, and then Shanks insisting on doing a ceremony, and then a lot more drinking. “Do you think Shanks is actually a priest?” You wonder aloud. He claimed very loudly to be, but by that point he was also insisting he had personally executed the pirate's captain, so.

“Does it matter?” he asks.

You suppose it doesn't. It's Bilgewater–not like there's a marriage registry. Laws are only laws insofar as anyone can be fucked to enforce them. If Shanks said he was a priest, then fuck it, you may as well be married now. You lift your head up and rest your chin on his chest, next to the pendant. He cracks one sea-glass green eye and looks at you, not quite smiling but as at peace as you've ever seen him, and you think no, it really doesn't matter. You're happy right here, right now.

—

“Tell me again,” you grit out.

The captain–no point remembering his name, he's a dead man walking anyway–shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. “There was a Jaull-fish. It almost sunk the ship. Pyke was already in the water, and the lines snapped–”

“Don't fucking lie to me,” you snap. “You cut the lines.”

He flinches, and tries to cover it with a scowl. “Ma’am, I know it's tough to hear, but I don't appreciate what you're insinuating–”

“I'm not insinuating anything,” you hiss. “You know what you did, and if you weren't already as good as dead I'd kill you my fucking self. Now get out of my house.”

“Ma’am–” he tries. You hurl a knife at him, and it embeds itself in the wall next to his head. He gets the message and leaves.

After, you sag against the floor. Stupid. Stupid, stupid man got himself eaten by a stupid fucking fish, and you were a stupid idiot for thinking that he wouldn't. It wasn't even the Terror��when he left, he said it was named something stupid, something to do with Guppies. Why was it still a Jaull-fish? What changed? What didn't change? What the fuck do you do now?

You scrub your wet eyes, trying to reign your breathing in. Fine. So he got eaten by a fish. He'll come back. With a list of names being manipulated by fish from the bottom of the world, sure, but he'll come back, and you'll fix him. You just have to find him first.

—

“Wh-what do you want with me?” The sailor asks, after he wakes up. One convenient thing about being a doctor is no one thinks much of you buying chloroform.

“Me? Nothing,” you say, watching him struggle against the rope. “But Pyke does, and I've got some strong words to have with him.”

His eyes go perfectly round. “P-Pyke’s not…he's dead, lady, I-I’m sorry, but he is, I saw him go down myself–”

“I know,” you say grimly. “That's why you're here.”

—

“Pyke?” You say cautiously. He looks up at you as he rips his blade from the sailors throat. You're not broken up about it–you’d followed the man for weeks before you got a chance to nab him, and he was a real piece of shit.

Pyke turns to look at you, and it's like seeing double. That's your husband, the man you've grown to love over the last two years, and it's the corpse you were expecting to see ever since you met. He looks almost the same as the day he left, except there's a trifecta of scars running across his face and his eyes glow with an unearthly blue. You already miss his eyes, the sea-glass green, the warmth in them. Now he looks at you like a stranger. “Pyke, it's me,” you urge, willing recognition into those awful blue eyes.

His eyes narrow. “You look…familiar. What's your name?”

“Iso,” you prompt, cautiously approaching with your hands up. The list is already in his hand from the last guy, but surely he already knows the names on it–was the Deep manipulating it already? Was he ever after the crew that got him killed? He glances it over, then frowns and shakes his head.

“That's not…” his voice is thick with confusion and his eyes are hazy. Then he glares at you. “Tell me your real name.”

You blink, an awful strangling feeling between hope and despair straining your voice. “How do you know that? Think, Pyke. You know I can't tell you.” Another step.

His eyes go to the list again. “Iso…Iso?” He mutters under his breath. “I don't know an…” he shakes his head furiously, clutching it with a groan. You wait with baited breath. For one glorious moment, there's a spark of recognition in his eyes–and then it fades, fogging over. He tilts his head, as if he's listening to something you can't hear, then shakes his head. “You're not on my list,” he says.

You're close enough. You launch yourself at him, sweeping his legs out and pinning him to the dirty warehouse floor. You feel him trying to come apart under your hands, his edges going damp and indefinite with seawater that isn't quite there, but you grip his time tight and force it back, back–until you can't anymore. It's the same feeling you got when you tried to rewind yourself back home, that something had changed so fundamentally that what you are and who you were are only connected in your mind, that the past was so far away nothing could ever bring it back. That the man you know is the gone.

“No, nonono,” you plead. Pyke looks up at you with blank, uncomprehending, blue eyes. “Give him back, you piece of shit. Give him back to me!”

“What are you–?” You can stop him from turning to sea mist under your hands, at least, wind him back to solid. He's trying to leave. Fucker. “Get off me.”

You grip him by the collar and pull him up, searching his eyes for something, anything. “Can they hear me, your new bosses? Can you hear me, you fish fucks? I'll kill you. I've killed bigger and worse and you picked the wrong man to take.”

He hisses under his breath, apparently giving his newfound ocean powers up and resorting to good old fashioned violence. He swings, and you duck back in time to avoid taking a fist to the face, but as your balance shifts he surges up and throws you off him. For a moment he looks at you, obviously torn, and then he vanishes.

“You motherfucker,” you seethe into the empty night.

—

You hunt him more intently than any bounty hunter. You don't really stop him from killing anyone, mind–near as you can tell everyone he kills makes Bilgewater a better place, but honestly in a town like this you could throw a knife in any given direction and accomplish that. You don't know where he goes when he's not on the hunt, but he only seems to come up in proximity to a dead body. Still, you dog his every step like a bloodhound. He doesn't quite try to kill you, but you obviously unsettle him, and he does everything in his power to avoid you short of giving up a kill.

“Who are you?” He demands, after the third time you track him down. “Why won't you fuck off already?”

You fish your pendant out of your clothes. “I'm your wife, you ungrateful fuck, and when you finally get your memories back in that thick skull you're gonna feel like a real asshole.”

His fingers go to his cloak, where his matching one would rest underneath the fabric. “A wife? No, I don't have a…” and this is the part that shits you off the most. That moment of clarity where he almost, almost recognizes you, and then it slips away. He clutches his head, and there it is, the cusp of understanding dragged away by whatever voices drive him now. He looks back up at you, and there's something oddly desperate in his voice when he grits out “You're not on my list. I don't know what you're trying to do or who you think I am, but you're wrong. Leave me alone.”

“Not happening,” you hiss, even as he turns and dives into the water. He's right, though, as much as you hate to admit it–this wasn't working. Being around you wasn't jogging any memories, and if it was, the Deep smothers then back down. Maybe you needed to go directly to the source, then.

—

“This is new,” you note. Pyke's blue eyes stare at you from the reflection of the water. You were only on this pier to drink your woes away–he's never sought you out before, and despite yourself, hope rises in you. “Is it cuz I killed that Jaull-fish?”

“You what?” He says, confused.

You sigh. “Guess not. Didn't help, by the way. Don't know if you've ever tried to negotiate with a giant murder fish, but they don't fold easy, even when they're drowning.” You rewound miles of ocean to before it was ever a sea just to air-drown a fucking fish, and it still got you nothing but a raging headache, a week comatose, and some increasingly exaggerated rumors about yourself, courtesy of the boat you paid to bring you out there.

He's quiet for so long you would've thought him gone, if not for his reflection in the water. Then, he sits heavily next to you on the docks, his blade in his lap. “Deep calls to me,” he says slowly, like he's not sure how to explain it. “In a thousand voices, all of them wanting blood. You make them go quiet, and they don't like that.” He presses his thumb to the edge of his blade. “They don't like that you call to me, too.”

You slide him a sideways look. “Do you even still have it?” You ask tiredly. “The pendant?”

He hesitates a long moment, as if he's struggling to focus. Then he fishes it out from under his cloak and looks at it, brow furrowed. You sigh. “You made me a promise, on that tooth. You said you'd come back home to me. But you're not home, and you're not even you, and I don't know if you'll ever be again.” You scrub your face with your hands. It's been months since he died. You're so, so tired. “I don't know how to fix you, Pyke, and I…I don't even know if I can.”

“I don't…” he says slowly, then shakes his head. “My head’s not right, I know that. Things keep changing on me, and most of the time that doesn't matter to me, but with you I feel…” he trails off.

“Feel what?” You prompt.

“When you're drowning, it starts to feel like home, like peace. It's breathing again that hurts the most.” That burbling echo in his voice goes distant, and you don't have to look to know he's gone.

You drink alone on the pier.

—

You haul your equipment out to the hill again. Hiring another porter seems like a pain in the ass, and you made a lot of money off that Jaull-fish, so you buy the land and build a cottage on it. Clinic gets less traffic now that people think you're some kind of sea-god, anyway.

—

Sometimes you see blue eyes watching you from the dark. He never comes close, and you don't either. He made his choice.

—

You find it. Your world, or something that looks so close it makes your heart ache. You project it onto a full-length mirror frame and you watch the world that used to be yours go by, until the sun fully sets and the crystals in your telescope dim and your world slides out of focus again. The mirror shows nothing but your own reflection, slumped to your knees before it. You hadn't realized you were crying until you see the tear tracks on your face.

You sit there, in the dark, for a very long time.

—

Pyke stays gone, until you turn around one day and he's right there. “Fish finally convince you I need killing?” You ask dryly. It's the only reason you'll let yourself think of for him being here, and they're about to be real fucking disappointed if that was the case.

His wide eyes, which were fixed over your shoulder, fly to you. “No, that's not…” he shakes his head, and then drops his knife, holding his empty hands up imploringly. “Don't go. Please.”

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you follow his gaze to your mirror–he’s arrived just as the sunset hit your telescope, as the light cast a window to your world into your home. It probably said something about you, that for all that you've watched that mirror every day for the past month, your chest burning with grief, the second he shows back up you completely forget about it. You turn back to him slowly, heart in your throat. “Pyke?”

He takes a step towards you, and then pauses like he's not sure he should. “I remember now. The Kraken Priestess, she did something to me, and I…I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know my head still isn't right but I…” he looks at you pleadingly. “I’m here. I came back home to you.”

“Took your fucking time,” you say, voice tight, and throw yourself into his arms.

—

After you're done crying, and then punching him in the arm, and then kissing him senseless, you curl up on the couch in front of the fire.

“I don't know if it's the same, if that's really back home,” you explain softly, your head on his chest. He doesn't have a heartbeat anymore, but somehow he's still warm, still smells like the sea. “Looks like it is, but honestly, even if I could figure out how to actually get there without opening a gaping hole in this reality, there's no guarentee it'd be where I came from. And that's putting aside that it's been decades since…” you trail off, your curse at the cusp of burning in your throat. Honestly, nature of parallel worlds being what it was and with your fucking luck, you'd probably end up in the KDA universe or something stupid like that.

“I wouldn't blame you, for leaving,” he says, voice rough and low. “I'd hate it, but I wouldn't blame you.”

You glance up at him, at his blue, blue eyes. Then you swing yourself up to sit in his lap, cupping his face between your palms. He wraps his arms around your back, letting you turn his head this way and that, examining his face. The well-healed ridges of his new scar, and the glow of his eyes–they make his gaze seem much more piercing than before, like a shark. He's gotten paler, too–not much sun where he spends his time, you suppose. He still looks like him. “Why are you back now?” You ask softly. “What changed?”

He's quiet for a moment. “What Illaoi did…put a new voice in my head, one that wasn't the Deep demanding blood. The Mother Serpent is a thing of flow, of moving towards what you want, and after that anger was gone…what I wanted most was you.”

You make a reminder to yourself to heal every Buhru you meet for free. “Is it gonna stick?” You ask, voice thready with uncertainty.

He glares at nothing in particular. “It will. I'll make it. They want me to do their killing, I'll do it on my terms.”

“How do you know they won't just…stop keeping you alive?” You ask hesitantly. Your fingers trace over his chest, next to his pendant, where a heartbeat would be if he had one. It scares the absolute fuck out of you, that your powers can't help him.

“Don't think they can, not anymore,” he shrugs, careful not to upset your balance. “Whatever I am now doesn't belong just to the Deep, Mother Serpent saw to that.”

You hesitate a moment. “I don't care, about the whole…Blood Harbor Ripper thing,” you tell him. “I mean, maybe I would if those people weren't complete fucking scumbags, but apparently the fish have morals, so whatever. It's just…you know those people you kill aren't what you think they are, right? They weren't there when you died.”

He's quiet for a long, long moment. “I know. At least, sometimes I do. Deep gives me a reason to hunt, but I've never been much fussed about killing people who deserve it anyway.” He looks up at you, frowning. “I'm…crazy, I know that much. I know I'm not what you married, anymore.”

“You are,” you insist. “I knew…I mean, I didn't want to admit it, and by God did I try to stop it, but…I knew this could be you, and I married you anyway, and I meant what I said when I did. I don't care about…fucking eldritch murder fishes, or their hitlist, or that you're only breathing when you need to talk. As long as you keep coming home to me, that's enough,” you tell him earnestly.

He lets out a soft breath, and a rough hand comes up to cup your cheek. “I love you. You know that, right?”

You lean into his touch. “Obviously. I love you too.”

He chuckles. “Good, ‘cause I haven't told you that I'm going to the Shadow Isles to kill Gangplank yet.”

You blink again, this time in confusion. “Wait, what? Why? Didn't Fortune already kill him?”

He shrugs. “Apparently not. Deep wants him dead, Nagakaborous wants him dead, I get to renegotiate my contract if I kill him. Everyone swims away happy.”

You frown. “I'm obviously coming with you. And before you get all fussy, I can take care of myself, I literally can't die, and I'm not letting you leave me again."

He blinks. “You…can't die," he repeats.

“Did I not mention that? I swear I mentioned that,” you say sheepishly.

He looks at you, blue eyes searching yours, and then sighs. “Not like I'm in any position to doubt. Besides, Fortune’s probably gonna be happier to see you than me.” You give him a confused look, and he shrugs. “Swimming to the Shadow Isles would take too long. Fortune wants him dead, Nagakaborous wants me to kill him, Fortune recruited Nagakaborous' priestess to help her kill him. And she has a ship."

“So you were gonna just show up and ask to join the murder party, because she hired someone whose god hired you to help kill a guy who should already be dead?" You summarize slowly. He nods. “Well, okay, yeah, Fortune probably wants Gangplank dead more than she cares that you're a wanted murderer. Wait, do the fish want you to kill Fortune?”

He shrugs again. “She's near the bottom of the list. I don't work overtime for free.”

You can't help it. You laugh, dropping your head against his shoulder. “What, like you're getting a salary? A benefits plan? You should unionize.”

“I'm their only employee, I've got all the bargaining power in the world,” he says easily. He cups your cheek, turning your face to his so he can kiss you softly. “They're not keeping me from you again, I swear it.”

You lean into him, feeling him warm and solid and here, him, finally just him. Your husband, the man you love and the man you've dreaded him becoming since you met and the man you knew deep down he was always going to be. You don't know what exactly the Deep wants with him, or where the wind blows from here, but you know you're going to face it together, and that's enough for you.

[piotrtymcio]

A Beautiful Cruise by Steamboat.

Fujiflim X-T3, XF 35mm F1.4 R; f/8, 35mm, 1/50s, ISO 320; 16/01/2023

[ENG] Okay, it's clear right away that this is not a steamboat. My Polish readers would immediately associate the words with a song if the title wasn't in English. These are photos from the Węgorzewo port during renovation. The boat in question is a tugboat used to push the visible little island onto which an excavator drives and shovels the edges of the canal. That's the kind of renovation that took place in my city. Maybe it's still ongoing? I haven't been to the canal in a long time. It's probably time for a walk.

[PL] No dobra. Od razu widać, że nie jest to żaden parostatek. Moi polscy czytelnicy od razu skojarzyliby słowa piosenki gdyby tytuł nie był po angielsku. To zdjęcia zaś z Węgorzewskiego portu w trakcie remontu. Łódź zaś to holownik używany do pchania widocznej przed nim wysepki na którą wjeżdża koparka i skarpuje brzegi kanału. Takiż oto remont odbył się w moim mieście. A może dalej trwa? Dawno nie byłem nad kanałem. Czas chyba się przejść.

[kingkatsuki]

Epiphany | Aizawa Shouta x Reader

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲 - 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

@httptamaki​ Ahhh hihihi! I’m your secret santa for this year. I am hoping you didn’t work out it was me!! I got super excited when you said you loved Band AUs but I’m so sorry if I butchered one of your faves. Happy holidays my lovely💕 (I stole one of my own Bakugou WIPs for this so if you heard me talking about this idea before no you did not-)

Summary: You’re a photographer working for one of the biggest musicians in the world, Eraserhead. It should be your dream job, but unfortunately life is not that easy. Enemies to Lovers (one-sided!), Band AU.

Pairing: musician!Aizawa Shouta x photographer!f!Reader

Warnings: 18+, soft soft sex, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie.

Word Count: 8.3k.

The roar of the crowd rang out over the heavy bass of the speakers on either side of the arena, drums sounding from the back of the stage as the band played into their first song. This was the place you truly felt alive, the flashing lights contrasting against the darkness of the crowd as you angled the lens towards the frontman. Snapping picture after picture as you tried to catch him in the most iconic poses, before turning to focus on his bandmates. As the heavy guitars pounded through the speakers you couldn’t deny they put on a great performance, the crowds roaring behind you as you had a front-row seat to the show. Being Eraserhead’s photographer wasn’t easy, but gigs like these allowed you to forget about the baggage your job came with.

Recognising the song Duality was coming to an end you took the opportunity to change the settings on your camera, balancing the ISO to counteract the change in lighting as you focused back in on Aizawa. Knowing that he was about to speak to the crowd as a roadie ran out on stage to hand him an acoustic guitar. The rest of the band went backstage as a simple microphone stand was placed in front of him. Knowing the setlist like the back of your hand, you were excited for him to begin performing your favourite song.

Before you’d secured the job working for Eraserhead, you couldn’t deny you were a fan. Each LP sat proudly near the top of your Spotify most played, and you were certain you’d worn his CDs down the number of times they played in your car. But it’s true what they say, you should never meet your heroes because usually, they turn out to be assholes.

And Aizawa? He was the biggest fucking asshole you’d ever met.

It didn’t help that you seemed to be one of the only people that noticed his superiority complex and his warped sense of entitlement, being in such close working proximity to him gave you the pleasures of witnessing it firsthand. Watching after the shows when hoards of fans would fawn over him as though he was some sort of messiah, trying to get close enough to snap a selfie or get an autograph. And he played the role perfectly, smirking at the cameras held in his face and asking their names as he signed anything they placed in front of him. It was hard to deny that you would’ve been one of those people, one of those fans- if you hadn’t started working with him first.

“What’s taking so long?” Your manager snarled over the phone as you paced back and forth like a caged lion inside the studio you’d hired for the afternoon. Your eyes glanced towards the hair and make-up stylists that were waiting around with you, along with the rest of Eraserheads band.

“Uh- he’s not here yet,” You mumbled into the phone, worrying your lower lip between your teeth as you anticipated the reaction before it came.

“What do you mean ‘he’s not here yet’? Where is he?” You could hear the tension rising in your manager's voice as you tried to remain calm, taking a deep breath before replying.

“I don’t know.”

“You mean to fucking say I spent all this time and money putting together this shoot for you and you couldn’t even get him to show up on time-” You wanted to bite back, you really did. How was it your fault that a grown man hadn’t shown up to his own photoshoot? But you needed this job, it had taken months to secure it, and you didn’t want to go back to taking baby photographs in the mall, this was your dream. “This is the fourth shoot this month you’ve managed to ruin, the magazine is going to be furious.”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Don’t give me any more of your bullshit excuses, I’ve had enough. Either get me those photographs of Eraser for Guitar Weekly, or I’ll find someone who can.”

The line went quiet as your manager hung up the phone, bringing the cell down from your ear as you tried to hold back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall. Aizawa was always doing this, forgoing his obligations and leaving you to pick up the pieces. Holding no regard for anyone else or their time, completely self-centred as he constantly put himself first. Your fingers angrily jabbing at your phone screen to open up your recent calls list, clicking the name beneath your managers as you called Aizawa.

The phone rang a couple of times before his tired voice flowed through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You growled, trying hard to bite your tongue to stop yourself from unleashing a frenzied attack on him.

“It is-” He paused as you heard his voice go quieter, “2.34pm.”

“And you were meant to be here at eleven.” Your nostrils flared in anger at how nonchalant he sounded, he really did only care about himself.

“I already told you I wasn’t coming.”

“Yeah, and I told you that you didn’t have a choice. Do you realise how important this shoot is?” You had to stop yourself from ending that sentence with “for me”. Your manager had been trying to organise this for months, a full photoshoot to fill a four-page spread in the magazine, as well as the prized front cover. This could’ve been the pinnacle of your career, and something that could have you finally moving out of the dingy apartment you currently occupied.

“I’m writing new songs.” He replied simply, and the unbothered tone of his voice is what sent you over the edge.

“I know you’re so preoccupied about being this world-famous artist but have you ever stopped to think for a second that the world doesn’t revolve around you? This is the fourth shoot this month you’ve blown off and you’ve no idea how much bullshit it’s got me in.”

“Didn’t realise that snapping a few pictures was so hard, maybe we should switch?”

“Fuck you,” You spat, the cocky tone of your voice had rage building inside you as you had to stop yourself slapping the cool smirk from his face.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset over it, you should be happy you don’t have to do any work and you still get paid.” He shrugged, practically able to hear you seething through the call.

“Cause you don’t give a fuck do you? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” You hung up the phone, rage building inside you as you tried to calm yourself down. The entire shoot was a complete bust as you felt your phone vibrate again, signalling an incoming call from your manager. Heaving a sigh as you tried to quell your anger before pressing the answer button, already hearing the shouting on the line before you’d even raised the phone to your ear.

“How could you fuck this shoot up again? You promised everything would be perfect-” He blew up before you even had a chance to say hello.

“I know, I’m sorry,” You mumbled, “I was trying to-”

“You know what, I don’t even care.” He snarled, “My office. Now.”

You woke up sometime in the afternoon after sleeping all morning, not having work today gave you absolutely no reason to get out of bed as you slinked into your kitchen. Deciding on a healthy and nutritious breakfast as you pulled open your freezer in anger you reached for the quart of ice cream that sat in there for these situations.

Ben & Jerry’s yet to let you down as you grabbed a dessert spoon from the drawer, trying to force it into the still-frozen ice cream as you made your way into your living room. Flopping back onto your sofa as you turned the television on, groaning when the first thing you saw was Aizawa’s face staring back at you as he performed live on The Day Show, angrily jabbing the remote to change it to another channel as you picked a movie to watch, dropping the control on your coffee table as you dug another spoonful of ice cream out, shovelling it into your mouth.

You’d honestly had enough after being berated in a meeting with your manager for over an hour while Aizawa slinked in to get praised over his latest album sales.

“Just go, we’ll talk about this later.” Your manager waved you off as they began talking animatedly to Aizawa about the next album drop, talking numbers as he acted as though you were no longer even in the room, “And don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”

Growling in frustration as you picked your camera bag up, storming out of the office with a glare on your face. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands as you shook with rage, sick of being made to feel incompetent because of that asshole.

If you’d have looked back you would’ve noticed Aizawa’s eyes following your frame out the door.

The dull vibration of your cell phone broke you out of your agitated trance as you raised it to check the message.

Aizawa [3.24PM]: meet me at peninsula park in 30. Bring your camera.

It was probably another way for him to get you to take some photographs of him that he could use for his new album art, once again selfishly putting himself first.

You [3.25PM]: why?

Aizawa [3.26PM]: I thought you needed pictures of me for the magazine cover?

Oh, now he suddenly wanted to care. On one hand, you were absolutely furious that once again everything was being done on his terms, but on the other hand, you really wanted to keep your job. Letting your fingers hover over the keyboard as you thought about your response.

You [3.31PM]: I’m not working today.

Aizawa [3.32PM]: I’ll make sure you’re paid for your time.

You held the top of your phone to your chin as you tried to debate whether to even bother showing up, you were certain that you’d lost your job after your previous shift at work. Your manager making absolutely no effort to contact you today, it would probably be a waste of time to even meet him. Although, if it was your last day working, you’d definitely need the money.

You [3.36PM]: Fine. But you better actually show up this time.

You[3.36PM]: And don’t forget your guitar.

Aizawa [3.37PM]: I’ll be there.

True to his word you stepped into the park thirty minutes later and he was there. His guitar case propped against the side of a bench as he sat back against it. Hands shoved into his pockets and the collar of his coat pulled up around his chin to either stay as inconspicuous as possible or shield himself from the cold winter chill. You trudged through the snow to meet him, as fresh flakes continued to gently fall, leaving pretty speckles against your clothes as he looked up to watch you coming closer.

“You actually came,” He sounded surprised as you came to a stop in front of him.

“Of course, I came. You’re the one that never shows up.” You snapped, a pout on your face as you felt the winter chill biting at your cold nose.

“I brought you coffee, a peace offering?” He held up a large paper cup to you, taking it in your hands as you were surprised to feel it still warm. Taking a slow sip as you tasted the drink on your tongue, it was oddly similar to your usual coffee order but it had to be a coincidence. Watching as Aizawa sat up from the bench, swinging his guitar case over his shoulder as he picked up his coffee cup.

“So why here?” You murmured, falling into step beside him as he motioned for you to follow him along the path.

You couldn’t stop your heart from hammering against your rib cage at the sight of him, there was something about the way he looked against the white backdrop of the park that made your entire body feel warm even in the frigid temperature. Thumbing the lid of your coffee cup as he guided you towards a popular viewpoint, the area almost desolate, probably due to the unfavourable weather. The only people out seemed to be taking shortcuts through the park on their commute home, or walking their dogs.

“I like coming here sometimes, it’s a welcome change of pace.” Aizawa smiled as he took a sip of his coffee, “I’ve actually written quite a few of my songs here.”

“Really?” You couldn’t imagine him sitting alone in a park writing his lyrics, picturing him in a large music studio in a plush, comfortable chair.

“Why's that so surprising?” He smiled.

“I just imagined something.. else,” You thumbed the top of your coffee cup, playing with the plastic lid.

“Like a recording studio or something? Or maybe on my yacht?” He smirked against the rim of his cup.

“You have a yacht?” Your eyes widened slightly, you knew he was an asshole but he definitely didn’t seem like the yacht type.

“No,” He chuckled, “But I could if I wanted one.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you took a sip of your coffee. Letting him lead you through the snow as you tried not to slip on any ice.

“I just find it peaceful here, it’s easier to think about my muse.”

“Your muse?” You glanced up at him as he turned to smile at you.

“Yeah, my muse.”

He led you through a rose garden that you presumed would be beautiful in the summer, the trestle now covered in a sheet of snow as you wandered through the archway, coming out the other side to find one of the park's vantage points.

“What do you think about here?” Aizawa asked gently as you let your eyes roam over the view, higher than the lights in the city as the sun began to lower over the horizon. The area gave you the perfect view of the sunset.

“Uh, what?” You raised a brow as he placed the guitar case down on the bench.

“The view.”

“Oh,” You felt your cheeks heat up as you looked back at the setting sun, the snow continuing to fall, “It’s beautiful.”

“So tell me where you want me, I’ll take as many photos as you want.” He smiled, holding his guitar up as he shrugged his coat off, leaving him clad in a plain black hoodie. A similar aesthetic to the other musicians that appeared in the magazine.

You readied your camera as Aizawa allowed you to photograph him, following every instruction perfectly as you slowly moved around him. capturing him from a variety of angles to be sure there would be the perfect magazine cover, along with some extra shots for the interview spread. Surprised at just how compliant he was with you, not once talking back whenever you asked him to change position, and even offering some up to you.

You couldn’t help but admire how good he looked, especially in this setting. The falling snow made everything around him look brighter, extenuating his features. His strong jawline and the dark stubble that decorated it, moving your gaze towards his dark eyes as you felt them piercing into your camera. The scar on his cheek made him appear far rougher than his serene persona.

“Did you get all the shots you needed?” Aizawa broke you out of your trace, fumbling with your camera bashfully as he smiled over at you. Standing up to pull his jacket back on, rubbing his hands together before blowing into them to warm them up as you checked through the small screen on the camera.

“Yeah, I think I got loads.” You smiled, “For someone who hates me taking his picture you sure are photogenic.”

Aizawa let out a genuine laugh as he sat back down on the bench with his guitar, strumming the strings as he began to tune it.

“Did you want me to take a few more?” You asked, noticing he didn’t put his camera away.

“I want you to film me playing a new song,” He smiled, not looking at you as he continued strumming softly.

“Okay?”

“If you upload it to your account it should blow up,” Aizawa glanced up at you, noticing the look of confusion, “It should make up for all those other missed shoots, yeah?”

“Why would you do that for me?” You raised a brow, after all the times he’d made you get in trouble at work now he wanted to help you?

“Why not?” He shrugged, strumming the guitar gently.

You smiled as he settled against the bench, looking up at you before asking “Ready?”

You nodded your head silently as he began playing the first few chords. His voice softly sang out as you watched him through the small camera screen, he looked so natural when he was performing. The times where you were reminded why he was one of your favourite artists, not the conceited asshole you had to work with on a daily basis.  

Listening to the lyrics you were unable to stop the butterflies from swirling inside you, the song a lot softer and far more passionate to his usual songs about heartbreak and failure. Watching as the sun crept behind the skyline and the moonlight slowly took over, changing the contrast against the screen as he played the final few chords.

Ending the video as he smiled up at the camera, his dark eyes focused on you as he held his palms out to you, “Well?”

“It was good,” You smiled, “Is that going on the new album?”

“Maybe,” He hummed, “It’s quite a personal song, so I don’t know if I want it on the album.”

“Only on the internet for the whole world to see instead?” You smiled as he turned to put the guitar away.

“Just for you,” He smiled, shutting the guitar case before picking it up. Moving to fall back in line beside you as you made your way towards the exit of the park.

“Why do you never show up to my shoots?” You murmured, “I thought you were scared of having your photo taken.”

“It’s not that,” He smiled, looking down at the path in front of him as you trudged through the snow, “This was never the part I signed up for.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just like making music.” He shrugged, “When I got discovered playing in a dingy dive bar I thought this was it, the thing I’d been thinking about my entire life. The way my friends and I used to talk about getting out of our shitty town and making something of ourselves, following our dreams. But I just didn’t think about all the shit that came along with it- the expectations for you to fall into this category or make everyone else happy. I love my fans, they’re like my family. But this job makes it seem like they’re an afterthought.”

“Everything just seems so obtuse,” You mused, “This was your dream, and now you’ve got it you don’t want it.”

“There’s no need to call me obtuse, I know you don’t like me,” He smiled, nudging into your side with his arm as you made your way back through the park. The snowflakes still continued to fall around you as the path was illuminated by the simple lampposts, giving the flakes a magical glow as they fell through the air.

“I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve got me in shit because you didn’t turn up to my shoots.”

“I’m sorry about that,” He said genuinely, turning to give you a small smile, “I just don’t agree with some of the stuff our label is making us do.”

You walked back in comfortable silence as you pondered his words. It was never about making things difficult for you, he didn’t really hate you, he just hated the position he’d found himself in.

“Hey, you know that song back there?” You nodded your head, “I wrote it about you.”

You couldn’t believe his words, your entire body freezing as you stopped moving. He’d written it for you? Recalling the lyrics, remembering the words. Did he like you?

“You just drive me crazy,”

He placed his index finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes as he gave you a small smile, “Don’t hit me, okay?”

Aizawa leaned down to capture you in a soft kiss, his lips cool against yours from the cold evening chill. His nose nudged against yours as his tongue swiped against your lips, feeling them part for him as he slowly delved inside. The snow continued to fall around you both as he moved his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, holding you tight as you let yourself fall into him.

Breaking away as your warm breath came out as wisps of smoke from the cold, smiling shyly at him as he moved his hand into yours, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

Even in the freezing temperature, you felt warm in his presence, certain he could hear your heart beating against your rib cage as he stood close to you, “So why didn’t you?”

“Honestly? I thought you’d hit me,” He chuckled, “I really thought you hated me.”

“Lucky for you I don’t,” You smiled as he kept your hand in his, leading you back towards the exit, “But you were on thin ice.”

A genuine laugh left his lips and the sound of it made your heart burst. There was something different about him now, a side that you hadn’t seen before. As though he’s allowed you into a part of him that most people didn’t get to see, searching beyond that musician facade that he carried around. Everything started to make sense, why he would spend hours with his fans after each show, forgoing any interviews or after-parties that made him appear to be pretentious. Spending hours alone in the recording studio instead of promoting his new music, his PR team controlling his social media. Aizawa cared about the music, cared deeply about his fans. He didn’t give a shit about the politics, he cared about the music.

“Do you need a ride home?” He motioned towards his beat-up Mustang, your eyebrows raising at the choice of car as you looked towards the cold bus stop you were going to wait at.

“That would be great, actually.” Climbing into the warmth of his car as he leaned forward to jab the keys in the ignition to start the heater before going to the back of the car to dump his guitar in the boot.

Climbing in beside you as he pulled out of the parking lot as you directed him towards your apartment.

“How’s the video doing?” He glanced over at you for a moment as you scrolled through your Twitter account, watching the likes and retweets steadily increasing on the acoustic video you’d recorded of Eraserhead.

“It’s blowing up.” You smiled, noticing you had six missed calls from your manager. Deciding to ignore them for the moment as you put your phone onto ‘do not disturb’.

You were unsure when you’d become quite so bold as you invited Aizawa in, watching as he locked his car before stepping into your home behind you. Politely leaving his shoes beside yours at the door as you both stepped into your apartment.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” You smiled as you made your way into the kitchen, reaching up to grab two mugs from the cupboard as Aizawa followed in behind you. Leaning against the counter as he watched you busy yourself with the tea.

“Is that my CD?” Picking up the CD box as he held it up towards you, a smile on his face, “See, I knew you liked me.”

“I like your music,” You smiled coyly.

“No, I think you like me too,” He teased, stepping closer to you to bridge the distance.

His palm came up to cup your cheek, feeling the subtle hint of the cold outside against his fingertips as he brought you into a gentle kiss. Feeling yourself falling into him as your lips moved against his, tilting your head to the side as you felt him swipe his tongue against your bottom lip, parting to allow him inside. Your arms reached up to wrap around his neck as you stood on tiptoes, using your grip to pull him closer to you, wanting to feel every part of him. Aizawa followed your silent plea, his body towering over you as touch became bolder, letting his palms smooth along your sides before coming to rest on your hips. The tips of his fingers were dangerously close to your ass as he pulled you against him, deepening the kiss as he captured your moans between his lips.

“Aizawa,” You murmured, breaking away for air as you blinked away the white spots that clouded your vision. The bright lights of your kitchen blinding as your lashes fluttered.

“Shouta,” Aizawa spoke against your cheek as his lips began peppering chaste kisses along your jaw, moving towards the curve of your neck as his stubble tickled your skin.

Keeping your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself as you felt his teeth latch onto your pulse point, biting down on the supple skin as he pulled a sultry whine from your lips. His tongue salved over the mark he’d left against you as the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue, groaning as the sound vibrated against your skin.

“Shouta,” You mimicked, testing the way the name sounded on your tongue. You’d never called him by his first name before. Opting to stick to Aizawa, it was so formal, business as usual. But this? This was intimate, raw, visceral.

Your fingers threaded through his messy black hair still damp from the falling snow outside as you pulled him back into you, your lips meeting in another desperate kiss. This time it was far more primal, your nails scratching against his scalp as you rolled your hips against him, feeling his hardness straining against his jeans as the sensation filled you with desire.

He wanted you, needed you.

The realisation lit a fire inside you that burned hot, your entire body felt aflame as you slid your hands along his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his clothes as you ventured lower. Tugging at the hem of his hoodie as you moved to pull it up and over his head without breaking the kiss, Aizawa’s hands were quick to join yours as he wrapped his large palms around your wrists.

“Hey,” He spoke breathlessly as he pulled back from the kiss, your lips moving to try and recapture his as you stared up at him with your pretty eyes, “I don’t want you to think I’m just here for this… because I’m not-”

“S’okay,” You pecked his jaw as you stared up into his eyes, “I didn’t think that.”

“I’ve liked you, for a while now actually.” He continued, noticing your look of confusion as you tried to decipher the new information.

He’d liked you for a while? He’d never shown the slightest hint or inclination that he did, trying to look back through your strained work relationship to see if there were any clues you’d missed.

“I- I had no idea,” You felt butterflies erupting inside you at the realisation that he liked you too, surprised that a guy like him would ever like someone like you.

“That song in the park?” He spoke softly, “I didn’t let you record it just so you could post it on social media.”

“Oh? Then why did you let me record it?” Your nose crinkled in confusion.

“Because like I said before, I wrote it for you.” Aizawa replied simply, “You were the first person I wanted to hear it.”

Remembering the lyrics, he loved you. All this time, it had been you.

Somehow he’d managed to make you want him even more, tugging the bottom of his hoodie again, this time without any obstruction as he helped you pull it over his head. His shirt stuck in the fabric as you discarded both carelessly to the floor, leaving them in a messy bundle. Immediately reconnecting your lips in another fierce kiss, your hands moving to explore the newly revealed territory as you stroked absentminded patterns against his skin. Reaching up to tease your fingers against the hardened peaks of his nipples as you felt him groan into the kiss.

“Bedroom?” You whispered against his lips as Aizawa allowed you to pull him along the hallway to your room, immediately wrapping his arms around you as you stepped inside as he pressed himself against your back.

Def fingers slipped towards the hem of your shirt as he pulled it over your head, letting it fall to the ground as he reconnected his lips to your neck, teeth grazing against the mark he’d left on your skin moments earlier as he rut his hips against you. Involuntarily bucking your hips back against him as his hands found purchase on your breasts, massaging them gently through your bra as you let out a soft moan.

“Shouta,” You hummed as he thumbed your stiffening nipples through the sheer fabric, reaching your arm up to go behind his head as you pressed him harder against your neck, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He hummed as he tugged the straps of your bra down your shoulders, moving the cups so your breasts bounced free. The calloused pads of his fingers from years of playing the guitar reached up to tweak your sensitive nubs as you cried out for him, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Sick of his teasing you pulled out of his grasp, moving your hands to undo the clasp of your bra as he watched with keen eyes as you let the fabric drop to the floor, exposing you completely to him. His hands immediately found your hips as he guided you back towards your bed, his hands pooling beneath the swell of your ass as he dropped you onto the bed. A smirk on his face at the way your body bounced as you were splayed out for him, climbing between your parted thighs as he brought your lips to his in another hungry kiss.

His lips were quick to begin a pattern along your exposed skin, placing gentle open-mouthed kisses against your neck and collarbone as he travelled lower. Making a line along your sternum until he met the valley of your breasts. Dark eyes gazing up at you as he circled his tongue around your darkened areola, watching goosebumps appear on your skin before taking your nipple between his teeth. Sucking it gently as he rut his clothed hips against yours, giving himself some much-needed relief as he switched to the other neglected breast. Mimicking his movements as he pulled more pretty sounds from between your lips, feeling you arch your back into his touch as he moved a hand up to palm your other breast.

“Does that feel good?” He hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the underside of your breast as his stubble tickled your skin.

Watching you nod in response as his lips curled into a smile, pressing more soft kisses against your skin as he travelled lower. His nose nuzzled against your belly button as his fingers moved to unbutton your jeans, sitting up just enough to pull the denim down your hips along with your plain black panties. Your face flushed in embarrassment as you noticed how completely naked you were in front of him now. Trying to close your thighs together to hide your slick heat but Aizawa’s reflexes were quicker. Strong palms catch your knees as he mutters out a soft “don’t”, slowly easing your legs apart as he reveals your naked sex to his warm eyes.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” He murmured, moving back down to settle between your parted thighs as he hooked his arms beneath them. His hands splayed on your hips as he gazed up at you for any signs of hesitance before he leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to your clit.

“Fuck,” You whined, your entire body jolting at the simplest of touches.

“That good, eh?” A smirk appeared on his lips at your reaction as his tongue slipped out to lick a long stripe along your slit.

“Don’t be so cocky-oh,” You gasped as he lay the pad of his tongue against your clit, lapping at it gently as your hands moved to thread through his messy black hair. Nails grazing against his scalp as you rolled your hips into his touch.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Aizawa groaned as he greedily began slurping at your sex. Long languid licks at your cunt as he dragged his tongue through your sloppy folds. Dipping the tip of the wet muscle into your fluttering entrance, feeling the way your body clenched around him as though trying to suck him in deeper. His fingers dipped into the softness of your hips as he held your writhing body steady, his nose nudging your clit as he began to push his tongue in and out of your tight hole.

“So pretty,” He hummed against your cunt, moving his fingers to press against your entrance, slipping his middle finger inside to the hilt as he watched your eyes roll in pleasure, “My pretty girl.”

“Sho-,” Your walls throbbed around him as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking against the sensitive nub as he continued pumping his finger in and out of you.

Your body eagerly moved into his touch as the coil inside you began to tighten, gasping as Aizawa slipped another finger inside you, scissoring them softly as he deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you. Focusing his attention against it repeatedly as he continued to lap his tongue against your clit. His other hand deliberately moved to press against your pelvis, the palm snug against it as he used his thumb and index finger to spread your lips to pull the hood of your clit back so he could lash his tongue against the sensitive nub.

The increased stimulation heightened your senses as you felt yourself tumbling into your release, your body quivering as you came undone. Crying out his name as your orgasm surged through you in harsh waves. Your toes curled as you tried to control your breathing, harsh pants leaving your lips as your thighs closed together to try and stop Aizawa from his ministrations. But all it served to do was cage his head against your cunt as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you as you rode out your climax.

“S’too much, Shouta. Please-“ You gasped for air as your body convulsed, feeling the sensitive throb of your clit as he worked you towards another climax. Eyes focused on you between your thighs as you caged his head against your body. Shamelessly pushing his tongue back between your folds to press against your clit as your body began to buck against him, “Oh, shit.”

“That’s it- good girl,” Aizawa groaned as another tremor coursed through your body, whether it was another orgasm or an aftershock from the last you were unsure as your thoughts were replaced with white-hot pleasure. A jumbled mixture of his name spilt from your lips as he worked you through your second bout of pleasure.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” He groaned, moving his fingers soaked in your slick up to his mouth to clean them off. Groaning at the taste of you on his tongue as you noticed your essence glistening against his jaw. Smiling at you as he shamelessly rubbed the back of his hand against his face to clean it off, grunting when he felt your hands reach out to palm at his cock through his jeans.

“Fuck,” He watched as you busied yourself with the belt, pulling it out of the buckle as you tugged it roughly. Letting it slip from the loops as you dropped it to the floor.

Your fingers moved to the button as you tried to open it with rough hands, a desperate sense of urgency in your body as you tugged his fly down. Mewling in annoyance when Aizawa stood from the bed, already feeling the distance was too far between you as you watched him tug the black denim down his hips. Leaving him clad in a simple pair of black boxer briefs as you took in the outline of his cock through the fabric.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never checked out this part of him before, clearly visible in plenty of the photographs you’d taken of him before. But of course, if anyone asked it was all a part of the job. Although, the thought alone of how big he really was underneath his clothes had plagued you on more than one lonely night. Your fingers touched yourself as you imagined how he would feel buried between your folds instead. But from the pictures you had taken of him, you knew he had to be big— and it looked like you were right.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He murmured as you reached out to him with grabby hands, trying to pull him back into you.

His knees dropped onto the mattress as you immediately reached for the bulge in his pants. Your fingers wrapped around a pair of heavyset balls before sliding towards his impressive length. Squeezing softly as you watched his eyes roll and thick lashes flutter, his lips parted in a low grunt as he rut his hips into your touch.

Your fingers curled into the hem of his underwear to tug them down just enough to free his aching cock. The length of it hanging down from the weight of it as you set it free, your eyes immediately enthralled by the sight of him. The head was a swollen red as it dripped with a fresh bead of pre at the tip, the moisture glistening against his pelvis from how pent up he’d been pleasing you moments before. He wasn’t too thick, the forking veins along his cock making him seem bigger and more intimidating than he was, but the length? He was long. Your cunt clenched at the thought of him trying to fit the entire thing inside your fluttering walls. Your hand immediately reached out to wrap around him as your thumb pressed against his slit, smearing his pre along the length before he reached out to grasp your wrist.

“Stop.” He growled, his chest concaved as he took a deep breath.

“W-what?” You stared up at him with wide eyes, frightened you’d done something wrong as he held your hand away from his cock.

“If you do that I won’t last,” He groaned, pulling your wrist up to his lips to press a soft kiss against it, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long fucking time.”

Your cunt throbbed at his admission, enamoured that you had that effect on him as he tugged his boxers down more to sit below the curve of his ass. Pulling your thighs over his as he wrapped his palm around his cock, gently slid the leaking tip between your folds as he coated it in your slick. Deliberately nudging against your clit just to pull more pretty sounds from your lips. Letting it slide through your wetness until his tip caught against your tight entrance, watching you feebly trying to pull him into you as he teasingly slid back towards your clit.

“So needy,” He smirked, feeling you wrap your thighs around his waist as you pressed your ankles against his ass to try and push him inside you.

“Please, Shouta.” You mumbled, your hands splayed on his chest as he leaned over you.

Lowering his body over yours as the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, his eyes focused on your face as he slowly began to push his cock inside you. The stretch created a slight burn between your thighs as you felt him give a few shallow thrusts inside you, pushing himself deeper with each cant of his hips.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Taking my cock so well,” He hummed, his girth stretching your velvety walls as he inched himself inside you.

Your hands clawed at the sheets as he pressed his palms on either side of your head, feeling his balls snug against the curve of your ass which confirmed he had bottomed out inside you.

“You’re so tight,” He groaned, feeling your walls throb around him, “So tight.”

He pulled his hips back slowly, watching your lips curl into a silent ‘o’ as you felt every inch of him leave your body before he pushed forward, giving an experimental thrust of his hips as he began a languid pace. Each roll of his hips had his length dragging against your inner walls perfectly, the thick veins on his clock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each movement that had you crying out for him.

Your hands moved to grasp his forearms on either side of your head as you felt the muscles in them clench with each thrust, the sound of skin against skin filling your room as he fucked into your pliant walls. Cherishing each glorious sound that left your lips as he kept his pace.

This was even better than you had imagined, never in your wildest dreams thinking that you would be able to experience bliss like this. Especially not with Aizawa Shouta. The look he was giving you was one of absolute adoration as he leaned down to press another sloppy kiss against your lips. Your nails left crescent-shaped moons on his skin as the pleasure slowly began to build inside you again.

Your hands moved to wrap around his back, suddenly overcome with the desire to have him closer, to feel him deeper. Tugging at him as he moved down onto his forearms above you, his forehead pressed against yours as his hair framed his face. Spilling down around you as you gasped from the change of angle, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your clit with each forward motion, only adding to your pleasure.

“Takin’ me so well.” He rasped, pressing his lips against yours as you felt his warm breath fan your face.

Euphoria flowed through your veins with each thrust of his hips, his weight pressed comfortably against you as he poured every ounce of emotion he felt for you into his movements. Clinging to his back as your nails left red lines along his back with each pronounced thrust, your lashes fluttering as you felt the tension continuing to grow in your pelvis. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, every precise thrust had you gasping for breath as you let out a sultry moan. Desire thick in the air as you felt him pouring out all of his feelings and channelling them into his actions.

“Shouta,” You whined, making his hips curve into a smile as he began to press searing kisses against your cheek. Tilting your head to the side to try and catch his lips in an impassioned kiss, capturing your moans of pleasure in his mouth as he continued thrusting into your core.

“You close, sweetheart?” He whispered against your lips, feeling the telltale signs of your release as your walls began to tremble around him. His cock brushed against the spongy spot inside you with each roll of his hips, each motion heightening your pleasure as he worked you closer to your end, “I can feel you squeezing my cock.”

“Yes,” You managed to gasp out as you selfishly searched for your own release, angling your hips as you wrapped your thighs tighter around his hips to get him to nudge the same spot inside you deliberately with each rut of his hips.

“‘m so lucky.” He whispered huskily, staying on his forearms as he held your face with his large palms, “Look at me.”

You gasped at the intensity of his gaze as your eyes met his, your cunt clenching around his cock as you teetered on the edge of your climax.

“That’s it, pretty girl. I know you wanna cum.” He cooed down at you, peppering kisses against your jawline, “Do it, cum for me.”

You gasped, your head pressed back against your pillow as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure. Crying out his name as your cunt began to clench around his cock, euphoria clouding your mind in a foggy haze as your climax rolled through you in intense waves. Aizawa’s strong body above yours kept you from thrashing away from him as he continued pounding into your cunt.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clenching around his cock as your body tried to milk him of his release, “Cum all over my cock.”

Your fingernails left reddened welts against the skin of his back as you rode out your orgasm, Aizawa’s pace becoming sloppy as he neared his own end. Pressing a final kiss to your lips as he muttered against them, “I’m gonna cum.”

He moved to pull out of your quivering walls, but you tightened your thighs around his hips before he had the chance to move back. The heels of your feet pressed against his ass as you trapped him inside your scorching heat. Making his eyes roll back as he fisted the sheets on either side of your head, allowing himself to succumb to his own pleasure.

“Oh, fuck.” His hips stuttered as you kept him deep inside you, clenching around his cock as he finally came undone.

His balls emptied his seed inside you as he coated your inner walls with white, hot suppers of his cum. Continuing to languidly roll his hips against you as he rode out his high, cherishing the final moments of your walls throbbing around his cock as it pulsed inside your wet heat. Dropping himself on top of your spent body as a thin sheen of sweat stuck both of you together. Your hands stroking his black hair back from his face as he lay his head against your chest. Feeling your lips pressing gentle kisses against his forehead as you lay together in comfortable silence.

You felt him shift against you a few moments later as his softening cock slipped from your warmth, pulling a soft keel from your lips as his cum began to trickle out of your fluttering hole and dribble down the curve of your ass. Aizawa smirked as he let one of his fingers drag through the moisture to press it back into your quivering walls, your overstimulated body shrinking away from him as he let out a soft laugh. Flopping down on the bed beside you as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“So you really wrote that song for me?” You hummed as you laced your fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently as you slung one of your thighs over his hips.

“I’ve written a few songs about you actually,” He hummed, letting his hand stroke absentminded patterns against your lower back, “But that was the first proper love song.”

“No heartbreak,” You smiled.

“No heartbreak.” He repeated with a grin, squeezing your hand back as you lay in comfortable silence.

You woke up a few hours later to Aizawa sound asleep beside you, his arm slung over your hips as he pressed himself snug against your back. The desire to stay snuggled into his warmth was strong, but the need to use the bathroom was stronger as you slipped out of his grasp.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and a shirt as you made your way towards your bathroom, already missing the heat of him as you made your way back via your kitchen as you prepared yourself a cup of warm tea. Your throat was sore from your earlier activities as you noticed his hoodie lying neglected on the kitchen floor where you’d left it. Unable to resist leaning down to pick it up, holding it to your nose as you surrounded yourself in the scent of him. Pulling the fabric over your head as you let it drown your body, basking in him as you waited for the kettle to boil.

Your back to the door as you unlocked your cell phone, expecting the onslaught of notifications from your manager about where you were and why you hadn’t replied to any of their messages. Scrolling through the most recent email as you felt a pair of arms wrap around you.

“This is where you are,” Aizawa pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he lay his chin on your shoulder, “This looks far better on you.”

His hands slid into the pocket at the front of the hoodie as he held you against him, swaying together to imaginary music playing in your heads as he nuzzled your skin.

“What's that?” He asked, noticing you reading through one of your emails.

“I just got offered a promotion,” You smiled, “Looks like it’s thanks to your viral acoustic performance.”

“You’re welcome,” He laughed, “You finally got to put those camera skills to good use.”

“I turned it down.” You replied simply.

“Wait, what?” Aizawa turned you in his arms, moving you to face him as he stared down at you in confusion, “Why?”

“Because I already have the perfect job in the world, working with you.”

[kassies-take]

She’s Home

Summary: Reader and Lena haven’t seen each other in almost a month due to different work schedules.

Warning: Fluff

A/n: Lena Luthor deserves this

Lena Luthor x Reader, Baby Danvers

Word Count: 1350

“I miss Lena,” you melted on Kara’s couch. Your back parallel to the floor.

Alex kicked your hip and you fell into the floor. “She left for Germany two weeks ago, she’s coming back today.”

“I know but I haven’t seen her in a month. I was in Japan. Andrea insisted I should be the photographer to cover the events in Akihabara with Obsidian North’s launch there. And when I came back Lena was leaving.” You sat up messing with the Uno cards in your hands.

“Lena tells me you FaceTime her everyday,” Sam placed down a blue skip.

Sam transferred back to National City to help Lena at L-Corp, with the addition of getting tea from the rest of Superfriends. Ruby didn’t mind the move. She loved being with a family that loved her and welcomed her and her mom, Metropolis was really only her and Sam. Ruby however opted out of New Years wanting it to celebrate with her friends.  

“Yeah but that’s different than getting to hold her and -”

Alex threw a pillow at your head. She pointed with a glare and with her hand that held a beer bottle. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“I was gonna say kiss her,” you threw the pillow back onto Alex’s head “but now that you’ve said that I mean hearing her moan my name as she digs her nails into my back.” You smirked and raised your eyebrows at Alex.

Alex groaned and downed the rest of her beer. J’onn and Kelly laughed as Nia cheered. Kara squirmed in her seat as Brainy sat confused.

“I don’t get it, what does Lena have to do with scratching your back, I have some spots I can’t reach.” Brainy looked around the room.

“Let’s end this conversation please. I do not want to hear my baby sister and my best friend,” Kara fiddled with her glasses and cleared her throat.

“Yeah well Alex started it.”

Alex raised her middle finger up to you “At least I can hold and kiss my girlfriend.” She said as she kissed Kelly.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“With what shutter speed?” Alex mocked.

“With ISO and burn your damn eyes!” You threw your cards at Alex.

The plane dinged alerting its passengers. We will be landing in 30 minutes, it is currently 14:13 and 59°F/15°C in National City. Thank you for flying with United Airlines and welcome to National City.

You were excited to be home and a little bummed that Lena would be flying out to Germany. Once the plane landed you immediately ran through with your camera bag and passed the baggage claim area knowing you could get your luggage later. 

You and Lena had taken a few trips together for you to know where her private plane would be boarding. Unfortunately the exit that led to Lena’s private jet was not accessible without confirmation.

Your girlfriend was so well put together. You could see the bun on her head that you knew pulled on her scalp. She wore a red blouse with black dress pants, a blazer matched with Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses and her red lipstick.

You knocked on the glass hoping she would spare a glance your way. Fortunately that caught her attention as she walked onto the stairs to the private jet. You blew multiple air kisses towards Lena’s direction and finished with a shimmy and a heart above your head.

The CEO threw her head back and held her stomach. Her eyes immediately grew wide as her arms reached for the rails to catch her balance. She had a hand on her heart, smiled genuinely and moved to blow you a kiss.

You waved until the private jet doors closed behind her. You immediately received a text from your girlfriend reading

Beautiful 💕:I’m sorry we couldn’t physically be together before I left but I’m glad I got to see you. I love you so much.

You: I love you too beautiful. I miss you already.

Beautiful 💕: Kara’s waiting for you outside. Welcome home love.

Your’s and Lena’s apartment was lonely without the other. When you were in Japan, Lena stayed with Kara and while Lena had been away , you stayed with Kara.

KNOCK KNOCK

Kara lowered her glasses and turned towards you. I think you should get it.

“Why?” You asked as you stood up.

You didn’t get an answer when you opened the door and was met with the most beautiful woman in the world. The second of shock quickly disappeared as you pulled Lena into a hug and spun her around.

“You’re home!” You placed several kisses on her cheek. “God I missed you,” you whispered and kissed her lips.

“I missed you too,” Lena whispered back and kissed you once again.

“So glad you’re home, I would’ve been stuck kissing a pillow like Kara at midnight.” Lena laughed as a pillow flew towards your head.

“Okay annual New Years tradition. One thing you are thankful for this year, what you are looking forward to for next year.” Alex cracked open a beer. 

You pulled Lena towards Kara’s kitchen island and poured her a glass of wine. The green eyed beauty already settled into her spot on the corner of the couch. You made your way over and heard the little snippet from Sam. 

“I hope she isn’t a full teenager next year.” Sam sighed.

“She’s turning 16 next year?” You questioned. 

“It’s so fast, definitely looking forward to teen angst next year.” Sam said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. 

“We can help with that when we can,” Kara smiled. 

“I’m sure Eliza had a handful with Alex and (Y/n).” J’onn chuckled. 

“Nuh-uh just Alex, all I wanted to do was to take photos whenever, where ever.” 

“I recall you moved out and stayed with me for a month because mom wouldn’t let you get a camera.” Alex smiled.

“I’m sure you all had your rebellious teen years but no one beats mine,” Lena smirked. “Should’ve seen Lillian’s face when I dyed my hair, got piercings, tattoos, and listened to punk rock.” 

“You all are making this harder on me,” Sam groaned. “Lena you go next.”

“Well I know I say this every year but I am really thankful for all of you. Luthors don’t have good relationships with family and we certainly don’t have friends. You guys make me feel like I’m home.” Awws echoed around the room as everyone stood to enclose the Luthor in a hug. “I am looking forward to more vacations.” 

“Woah, Lena Luthor taking vacations!” Nia cheered. 

“I think we are all grateful for each other,” You said and received hums in agreement. 

“And what are you looking forward to?” Kelly asked. 

“Is it a little selfish to wish it all stayed the same. I have the girl of my dreams,” you kissed the crown of Lena’s head. “an amazing family, a new amazing job.”

“New job?” Brainy questioned. 

“Oh! I’m taking a break from Catco for a bit, I got a job as DP in a feature film called ‘Control’.” 

Kara screamed. “RAO! THAT’S AMAZING! THAT IS LITERALLY YOUR DREAM!”

“Is filming going to be here in National City?” Alex asked.

“Most of the shooting will be done in Vancouver and some other places as well.”

“OMG! Is that why Lena is taking so many vacations?” Nia squealed. 

Lena blushed. 

“I told her before I went to Japan.”

“Of course, I will still be able to work, I think it’s nice to just enjoy being with my girlfriend.”

“I will cheers to that,” Alex kissed Kelly.

“I don’t mind either, home is wherever Lena is. She’s home.” 

Superfriends continued to celebrate their achievements the past year and to opportunities the next year brings. By midnight everyone, including Kara, was drunk or at least a little tipsy. Everyone was on their feet counting the last seconds of the year. When the ball dropped, Alex and Kelly kissed, Brainy and Nia kissed shortly, and you and Lena kissed while Sam, J’onn and Kara hugged each other. 

[seatosomert]

Street Photography...my New therapy.

Now you guys who've been here a while will already know about my love for Street Photography.

Just of late I've been dealing with some significant work stress.

I'm meditating and getting outdoors. I usually exercise regularly in the gym but I've not been for a week now.

I've needed something else to immerse myself into and take my mind away from the stresses at work.

I've chosen to throw myself into more Street photography.

I've been reading what I can only describe as one of the best self help books I've read. I'm sure the author Sean Tucker intended this book for other means, yet I say self help because it is self help for creatives.

In writing this book Sean has helped me to do some real soul searching and I've made some discoveries along the way.

I've leapt out of a creative rut, discovered my photographic Raison D' Etre and I've started to connect with my photography in an entirely new way. And it feels great.

I've let go of my, probably unhealthy connection with Social Media for a more casual relationship. I've started to invest more time in helping others by getting back into coaching again.

In essence I've completely fallen back, head over heels, in love with my photography again. But this time without the baggage that has us doubting ourselves or comparing ourselves to others too often.

We all do it.

The book is a mix of philosophical narrative, which Tucker presents with a gentle, non-patronising delivery. He writes with an honesty and degree of vulnerability that allows the reader to truly connect with his story. One which some of us share in many aspects.

However, where this book differs from all others about improving your photography let's say, is that it's applicable to all creatives.

Indeed it doesn't focus on photography, but instead talks about just being creative and the struggles we can all face. Then he begins to unwrap some of this and gives you some suggestions on how to unpack your creative blocks let's say, re-organise your priorities (pretty much you as a person really) in a conversational manner rather than a list of what to do and what not to do.

It's also a bit of an auto biography for Tucker. And what an interesting and varied life he has led.

Anyway. I tell you this not to try and sell you his book (although I can HIGHLY recommend it), but instead to explain to you how I have refocused my creative attention and some of the tools I've used to do this. It's got me into a much better place creatively. This book was the significant catalyst.

Zone Focusing...the street photogs secret weapon.

I've gone back to shooting on the Sony a6300 for now when shooting street scenes. The articulating screen is great for this genre and as I have been using some 7Artisans manual focus lenses (25mm f/1.8 and 55mm f/1.4) I've been using the superior Peak focusing in the Sony a6300.

However. Today I was using zone focusing. This is where you set your aperture and focus point so that you have. A zone within which any subject entering that zone will be in acceptable focus.

The advantage of this method is that you set your focus and aperture then you shoot. You can also preset your shutter speed and just switch ISO to auto and then just focus on what's going on around you and composition. It's the fastest possible way you can shoot. Yes, it's even faster than the fastest AF, because you see, you shoot, you move on. That's it.

It's a truly liberating way to shoot and before anyone even notices you you're done and gone.

It's great and I highly recommend it.

If anyone wants me to go into this more and talk through how this is done, comment on the post and I'll sort something for you guys.

So here are some more shots, all of which have been shot with the focus zone method.

I have to say, I went to meet a pal for lunch today and so went to the city an hour early and shot for an hour before our meet.

It was easy to fit in and it was so therapeutic just pointing my fully manual semi pro (some might say) Camera as a point and shoot, but a point and shoot that I had complete control over the metering etc and firing away. I didn't do any chimping. Just shot and moved on.

I managed to hit focus about 98% of the time I have found when I examined the images at home. It was great.

And the important bit...I was feeling complete overwhelm with stress a couple of days ago. I couldn't be arsed doing anything.

I knew that was totally not me.

Getting out to shoot in this way, no stress shooting basically, allowed me to just completely immerse myself and be present in my environment and just to shoot for the sheer pleasure of it.

So my gratitude goes out to Sean Tucker for writing what is a truly amazing piece of work and to photography for saving me from complete burn out.

So this last image was taken yesterday by my amazing wife who managed to catch a rare image of me with a genuine smile.

(Love you babes 😁x)

So that's it guys. Comment, like, share follow and hit me up for any observations, any questions and feel free to share your stories in the comments if you've had a similar experience to the one I describe here.

See all in a bit.

Kind regards.

Neil.

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [6]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

TW: Heavy depression, implied suicide ‎ ‎ 

Words: 5.8k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer.‎ 

Note: Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked.

Heya! So I planned on doing this after I finished this story, turns out the scenes were too long and I need split it in two. Anyway, while I was tidying this, I couldn't decide on who the protagonist for my next x reader should be. So I'm making a poll! I'll be posting it within the next few days. I'm REALLY leaning towards Clove, but I thought it would be better if you guys chose instead. Thanks and have a good read!

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Ying immediately rushed to her car when you shut the call and sped towards Yu’s house with only a coat to keep her warm.

Her neighbourhood’s location didn’t allow the haze to obscure too much of the residents’ vision. It was a good amount, but not debilitatingly blinding like your area unfortunately was.

And to her relief, the storm had abated by the time she had finally arrived at Yu’s house. For a moment, she was led to believe that you weren’t there yet, but all of that hope quickly dissipated once she saw faint footsteps imprinted on the thick snow just in front of her. Even with the storm that was still ongoing at the time, the rapid snowflakes weren’t falling fast enough to fully cover them.

This let her know you arrived way before her, all in the middle of a blizzard.

Ying slowly stepped out of her car and hugged herself in an effort to keep herself safe from the cold. It wasn’t much, and she wasn’t exactly built to stay warm with just her hands, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

She took out her spare keys and scrambled to open the front door, all while struggling to ignore the stinging cold temperature of the handle she so desperately pulled on. With one final click, the door swung open, and she was swiftly allowed an entrance to a house as lifeless and miserable as the atmosphere that engulfed her. With a deep breath, she rushed right through, swallowing all her fears with her.

‎ ‎

Everything was dark; the air was heavy… It all felt so constricted and suffocating. The windows were shut, and the lingering smog and rapid snowfall effortlessly blocked any sun rays from entering. But despite all of this, the house still felt unbearably cold from the inside. That, and there was still a considerable amount of misplaced light coming from... Her eyes promptly fell on the source, and it didn’t take long for her to come to her own conclusion.

The doors to the backyard were ajar, and this freely let in the cold and the snow without concern for the consequences. It was easy to tell that you pulled them open and rushed outside as fast as you could.

A sigh escaped her, and she moved through the vast yet smothering living room.

‎ ‎

“Y/N?”

‎ ‎

She called out, the echo of her voice only forcing her to outline the shakiness of it, how concerned she was. Even her muffled steps weren’t spared from the mocking reverberation around her as she slowly marched towards the double doors. And with each step, the higher the possibility was that you had died. Hypothermia at the absolute best. But at worst? Even if it logically made sense, she wanted to do anything but consider it.

It didn't take long for her to finally arrive in front of the two doors, her bare fingers slowly wrapping around the handle.

‎ ‎

“Y/N, are you out here?”

‎ ‎

Ying asked sheepishly as she pulled it wide open. But immediately, she fell into silence at the sight.

In front of her were the very trees that were so lively and vivid just a few weeks ago. Their hypnotisingly green leaves, and especially the white flowers she found so pretty. All of it was missing; it was violently ripped off with little regard. Now, the only thing all of the dead branches were capable of lifting was the very snow that killed it, all signs of life having scattered within mere hours.

There were no flowers. There were no leaves. All that remained was the filthy aroma of death and a few lemons that swung hopelessly in the wind, all dangling under the mercy of the second incoming blizzard. Only one more push from the merciless winds was all it took for them to disappear as well.

Ying's eyes then fell on your figure. You were on your knees, not too far away from the decaying trees you were facing, hands on your lap, shoulders slumped, silent, and... unmoving. Still like a statue. It's not that she wasn't beyond grateful that you were alive; she absolutely was, but this... this stasis, so to speak, immediately flooded her with concern.

At least when Yu was in a state somewhat similar to yours, Ying could tell that he was alive. You looked no different from a dead body.

‎ ‎

“Are… Are you okay…?”

‎ ‎

Ying slowly moved down the steps concealed by snow, her feet digging through inches upon inches of it before finally reaching solid ground. You had already processed her presence by the time she got close.

But even as she placed one hand on your shoulder, you didn't react. You couldn’t. Once she leaned closer for a better look, only now could Ying just barely dig out the empty expression on your face through the small openings in your pitch-black hair. The pure, unalloyed sense of detachment etched on your features, and that dreadful empty glare. Even though it was quite a laughable expectation considering who you were, she had assumed there would be tears, or… for you to scream, something like that. Somehow, this was much, much worse.

She stopped and knelt right beside you, unsure how to ease your sorrows after such a loss. Not when you were so silent and gave her absolutely nothing to work with.

‎ ‎

"Y/N, I'm– I’m so sorry..."

‎ ‎

Ying earned naught of a response from you.

You didn’t bother to note just how stiff and numb the tips of your fingers felt. It could be bloody frostbite for all you care, but that did little to shift your concerns. It was nothing in the face of what had just happened. It was hard to convince yourself not to chop down all of the trees again and call it quits. Drop gardening and rot in bed all day. Just like last time.

It took you years to build up the courage to plant again, let alone enter your dead boyfriend's house and spend more than two minutes there. Just a few years ago, the thought of your parents' and Yu's favourite fruits would nauseate you.

You thought you had come so far, only for this to happen. And in your mind, there was one concept that had now become clear. Everything you ever work for, everything that could ever make you happy, winter will be there to wash it all away in the blink of an eye… for no reason. So really, why bother? You mused to yourself, ignorant to the snow that surrounded your now-numb legs. Why bother plucking the last few lemons that dangled from the branches? They'd rot anyway. Or something would be wrong with them. Infested with some fungal disease you missed, probably. They'd wither away like everything else.

Your parents, Yu, and now this.

You felt all of the misery that used to swim in your mind return. And in this situation, it was the only thing that felt familiar. The familiarity of the heaviness in your body that would prevent you from moving, and the familiarity of vehemently refusing to see a tomorrow if Yu wasn't within your vicinity. The familiarity of depending on others for a better state of mind.

…

Ugh. 

Ying flinched once you stood up all of a sudden and moved forward. She immediately followed your lead, placing one hand on your shoulder to stop you.

‎ ‎

"What are you doing?"

‎ ‎

"I'm taking those lemons."

‎ ‎

"What? No, it's too dangerous. Let's just head back inside, I–"

‎ ‎

"Go inside– are you kidding? So I can mope when the blizzard inevitably takes it all away? I'm not going to do that anymore."

‎ ‎

“Y/N, it’s too dangerous!”

‎ ‎

You ignored her.

But just as you took a step away, you felt a firm hold on your wrist that forced you to cut your path short. You angrily met Ying's gaze in response, but she was quick to speak before you could.

‎ ‎

"Listen to me! We can wait for the blizzard to pass, plant another tree, and start all over again. Anything. Please just listen to me, Y/N. This is suicide!"

‎ ‎

"I've had enough of this! I'm not going to be passive anymore! Don't you dare drag me down!"

‎ ‎

She furrowed her brow.

‎ ‎

“These trees can die, Y/N, we can always plant another; but what if something happens to you?!”

‎ ‎

“Let go of me! You’re wasting your breath.”

‎ ‎

You attempted to pull away, but Ying kept you firmly in her hold. So much so, you were sure she could cut off your circulation with a bit more pressure. Since when was she this strong?

‎ ‎

"I understand that winter took everything from you and put you in depression. But, please, don't let it take you away as well!"

‎ ‎

"Winter didn't put me in anything, Ying. I let winter do this to me." You clenched your fist. "And I'm fed up with it! I don't want to be happy because Yu is with me, or because the trees are still standing, or– or because of something else, I want to be happy because I want what’s best for me!" 

‎ ‎

You narrowed your eyes. 

‎ ‎

"I finally care about the woman I see in the mirror, Ying. And winter can take that when I'm six feet under!"

‎ ‎

With her mind overwhelmed, you managed to escape her grasp in the midst of your words. And immediately, you took your chance and moved towards the trees. Ying, in panic, called out for you,

‎ ‎

"Wait, wait I–" she quickly followed, "let me help you, okay? Let me help you."

‎ ‎

Her hand was placed on your shoulder instead. And immediately, this forced you to stop as you looked at her once more.

‎ ‎

"Your determination is admirable, Y/N. And... if you're so adamant about this, then I'd like to support you in the process."

‎ ‎

You stared at her for a few prolonged seconds, attempting to deduce whether or not she was serious. And she was. Ying, the woman who undeniably had more of an incentive to stay alive, desired to help you under the threat of another blizzard.

Once this realisation dawned on you, a weak smile played on your lips.

‎ ‎

"Thank you, Ying."

‎ ‎

She met you with a smile a lot wider and more natural than yours. Then, with a subtle gesture, both of you moved towards the trees and aimed to pluck the last few remaining lemons and make sure you used them to their absolute fullest potential.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

Six trees were planted, and you only managed to harvest about thirteen Meyer lemons. Which was embarrassing, since you would've usually come back with no less than six baskets stuffed with the golden fruit if it weren't for the blizzard. The urge to call it a pitiful harvest and toss it all perked up, but doing that would be giving in and crawling back to the prison of misery you tried too hard to escape from. You were so close. You couldn’t give up now.

The doors were slammed shut behind the two of you, and you quickly set down the mostly-empty basket. But before you could recount them, the gloves you wore were forcefully snatched away from you, and Ying immediately took your hands in hers.

‎ ‎

"Look at how blue your fingers are! Any longer, and you could have these amputated."

‎ ‎

Her soft fingers intertwined with yours. And somehow, the longer she kept this embrace still, the weaker the blue tint would be. Warmth shortly began enveloping your hands.

‎ ‎

"Ying, is there any reason for this?"

‎ ‎

"For what?"

‎ ‎

You used your eyes to point at what she was doing. And as per usual, it took her a moment to realise what you meant, a titter escaping her once she finally caught on.

‎ ‎

"Oh, the– uhh, the warmth from my hands, it– it helps, that is all."

‎ ‎

You stared at her with a raised eyebrow, accompanied by an unamused expression. That's one magically warm hand, you mulled whilst the blood returned to your fingers. But you were too exhausted to actually make that comment. And instead, you opted to wait for her until she was done holding you.

It only took a few extra seconds until Ying allowed you to finally pull your hands away. And once you did, you squeezed your index finger, taking in the sensation of being able to feel your limbs again. Thankfully, the heaviness was gone... both physically and mentally.

‎ ‎

"Thank you, Ying. This should make things easier–"

‎ ‎

The words were lodged in your throat once Ying suddenly forced you into a tight hug.

A sigh escaped her, almost as if the two of you had just escaped a life-threatening situation. Maybe to her, sure, but it didn’t really matter to you.

‎ ‎

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N. You've come so far." She pulled away. "I– I don't condone you risking your life, and please, never, ever do this again, but I commend you on your bravery."

‎ ‎

"Thank you...?"

‎ ‎

"Oh! I almost forgot, are you free this March?"

‎ ‎

You were confused about how to feel about her compliments, but this question, combined with the whiplash, was all it took for you to completely forget about what she said. Besides, how many times has she asked this now?

But, to be fair, she never really received a direct answer from you. From what you remembered, anyway.

‎ ‎

"Yes, I am. What is it with you and March?"

‎ ‎

"That's because we're visiting Yu's grandmother in the spring!"

‎ ‎

"Spring? But the lemons–"

‎ ‎

"We'll bake them into lemon bars! Something with a texture so soft, it’ll be exactly like biting into a sweet cloud! What do you think?"

‎ ‎

She inadvertently held and squeezed both of your hands to emphasise her words. And by God, you couldn't help but smile at her excitement. Even you couldn’t deny how cute it was to see her like this.

You escaped her grasp and held her wrist instead, moving down the dark corridor so you could lead her to the kitchen.

‎ ‎

"I'm sure she'll love it, Ying."

‎ ‎

With a beaming smile, your boss quickly snatched the basket on the way and continued following you. You could tell by the grin on her face that she was daydreaming about the day you'd both finally take the train to Yu's grandma again, to visit her after so long. And, admittedly, you couldn't help but do the same.

March is definitely going to be a fun month when it finally comes around. Besides, Yu’s grandmother always preferred softer foods, didn’t she? If, again, your memory served you correctly.

‎ ‎

❤ฺ·。

‎ ‎

Winter, two years ago.

‎ ‎

Why don't you just break up with him?

Seriously, what was the point of any of this? The stress of dating a man who shamelessly kept so many secrets from you? Honesty is supposed to be one of the pillars of a relationship, isn't it? And yet, it was nowhere to be seen in this one.

That's what ran through your mind for an entire day.

You've been dating Yu for a while now, and it felt like your relationship had been progressing at an adequate rate. He showed you many details about his life, including his house… but he refused to even disclose who the woman in the picture was. And this time, as opposed to how patient you've been for the past few years you've been dating him, you saw red.

Why didn’t he tell you about her? What did he have to hide? Was there something you just weren’t meant to know?

But... you stayed quiet. You acted like nothing was wrong for the rest of the day. The anger instead built up until it spilt at work the next day, and your co-workers had the pleasure of hearing about the turmoil in your seemingly peaceful relationship for the first time. So they planted a few ideas in your head. 

And you believed them. In fact, no, you didn't just believe them, you also began adding on to them once your shift was over.

He didn't tell you who the woman in the picture was; he didn't tell you who his parents were; how he managed to buy a whole house at the age of fifteen (oh, but apparently his grandmother 'helped him'); and he didn't even tell you why he had to be so tight-lipped or why his bloody eyes were purple.

What reason did you have to believe that Yu loved you in the first place? That he wasn't some sort of– actually, no, what if he also had other women on the side? You knew that someone with a figure like that would be able to make any girl swoon over him if only he ditched those massive hoodies. 

But it worked. It fooled you, of all people.

These thoughts, unchecked, started growing in your mind until they formed practically a whirlwind, one that only grew at the sight of Yu, who was ready to escort you back home for the day. You were a ticking time bomb at this point, ready to explode at him should he make the mistake of saying one wrong word.

You were still grieving your parents. You had many more things to be worried about than some two-faced snake. So why–

‎ ‎

"Y/N?"

‎ ‎

"What?"

‎ ‎

He was caught off-guard by your aggressive tone.

‎ ‎

"Are you... okay?"

‎ ‎

He couldn't help but notice just how quiet you were during your whole journey back home.

Your gloominess wasn't anything new by any means. But this misplaced wrath definitely was. He could tell that, just by the way you carried yourself, the heaviness in your steps, your furrowed brows, and your clenched fists, something was wrong. Very wrong.

You averted your gaze to the mounds of snow obscuring the road instead.

‎ ‎

"Yes."

‎ ‎

The atmosphere was unbearably still. But, nevertheless, the two of you moved through it for a few more elongated seconds. And, to Yu, it felt like walking through an ocean of honey. Sans the sweetness of the liquid, much to his misfortune.

The only thing that broke the tension was the chirping of a few nearby crickets, the clicks of both of your boots, and the loud thoughts that gnawed at your mind.

His soft voice felt like such a farce. A mask he put on. It explained a lot, too, especially why his expression was usually blank, and his eyes were the only emotive parts of his face. Sure, it somewhat mirrored yours, but at least you were open about how much you loathed living.

He placed one hand on your shoulder, only further angering you.

‎ ‎

"Hey, why can't you tell me what's bothering you?"

‎ ‎

"What then?"

‎ ‎

...

‎ ‎

"What do you mean?"

‎ ‎

"What would you do if I told you?"

‎ ‎

"I'll... uh, I'll do my best to fix it. Whatever it is."

‎ ‎

You sighed and instead stuffed your hands inside your deep pockets. Your fingers brushed up against the earbuds he lent you the night before, the same ones you had completely forgotten about until now.

‎ ‎

"We'll talk at home."

‎ ‎

His heart skipped a few beats at this statement, but you didn’t pay him any mind.

‎ ‎

“I need water. I’m stopping by a store.”

‎ ‎

You said. And Yu was quick to pick up on how you phrased that sentence. Nevertheless, he averted his gaze, pulling up the collar so it could conceal the lower portion of his face.

‎ ‎

“Okay.”

‎ ‎

That was all he said before the two of you fell back into silence.

This neighbourhood was incredibly shady. The buildings themselves were coming apart, and the sidewalk was so disjointed that you were sure an earthquake must’ve occurred that they couldn’t be bothered to fix. Not only that, but the two of you were alone. But at least Yu had a large enough silhouette to scare off anyone.

Whatever. Getting out of here was the one thing you needed to do right after getting your drink.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

You entered the one store that was open– well, you were lucky you even found a store to begin with. But just as you thought you could feel safe, the bulletproof glass with the bullet lodged in it worried you.

Only two people were here. A young cashier and a customer wearing all black, muttering stuff to him. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, looked you up and down, then went back to his conversation. Weird, you mused, but you quickly brushed it off and instead marched towards the aisles.

‎ ‎

“I’ll wait for you here.”

‎ ‎

You responded to your boyfriend with a hum before disappearing into the crisps section. Not that it concerned you too much. Besides, the cashier was there.

You suddenly remembered the argument from yesterday as you continued searching. The thought of breaking up with him was just so seductive at this point. Really, what was the difference between him and the men who’d say anything to please you?

You stopped by where the juices were stocked. Only a foot away, and you’d find exactly what you needed. But you instead took out the earbuds in your pockets. Your fingers tightly wrapped around the case, your thumb successfully concealing the logo. Breaking up with him would ruin a ton of things for you. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Okay. That was it. You’d do it.

‘We’re done.’, that’s what you’d tell him when you see him outside the store. You’d give him the earbuds, break it off, and go back home. Nothing personal, but you weren’t a doormat who was going to take this treatment.

A sigh escaped you.

Then, you pocketed the earbuds, grabbed a water bottle, and moved towards the cashier.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

You emerged from the stocked aisles with your boyfriend’s name at the tip of your tongue. However, you weren’t met with him loitering around the automatic sliding doors like you expected. In fact, the entire area was empty, both inside and outside.

He was… gone.

‎ ‎

“Yu?”

‎ ‎

You audibly called out, but you earned nothing more than your echo in response. Where the heck was he? There’s no way he’d leave you alone in an incredibly dangerous neighbourhood like this.

You quickly moved towards an area that would give you a clear view of each and every aisle. And as you slowly walked across the store to observe every single one, you still couldn’t find him. Actually, you couldn’t find anyone aside from the cashier, who gave you a weird look whilst you paced around.

Maybe he was in the bathroom? No… this store was way too small to have a bathroom. But what if he was outside?

Yes, you’d check there, and call him if you couldn’t find him.

With this plan in mind, you stepped through the doors with your bag tightly clutched in your hand, and stepped towards the sidewalk, careful not to stray too far away from the entrance. You turned your head left and right, but all you were met with were the rows of streetlights that prevented the pitch-black darkness from swallowing you. And… your heart dropped to your chest.

Where was he?! He couldn’t have left. He just couldn’t.

With no time to waste, you took out your phone and rapidly began texting him, moving back through the doors and entering the store once more. It was a struggle to type out any comprehensible words, what with how shaky your hands were.

You texted and texted. But a response was naught. Your eyes widened, and you clutched your phone with unfathomable tightness.

There’s no way Yu would leave you out here alone, right? Even with the animosity between you, this could mean life or death. You could be hurt out here, what on Earth was wrong with him?

It’s okay. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Maybe he just left for something. Maybe he just took a quick stroll since you took a while to pay? Maybe he’ll be back. He’ll be back. Or maybe your coworkers were right. Maybe he realised you were flirting with the idea of a breakup and decided that this was his act of revenge.

You heaved a sigh.

This was it, huh? Just like that? You should’ve expected him to take the coward’s way out.

Just as you slid your phone back in your pocket and went further inside the store, however, you huffed once you bumped into someone. All relief immediately dissipated the moment you looked up.

It was that scruffy-looking man from earlier, the one who was talking to the cashier. He stood in front of you. Uncomfortably close, and seemingly eager to block you from further entering the store past the sliding doors. You couldn’t help but notice how everything on his body was jet black.

‎ ‎

“Hey.”

‎ ‎

Terror immediately coursed through you as you took a step back. Your phone was promptly shoved back in your bag and swiftly zipped up, however.

Why was he still here? You thought he’d left by the time you went to check-out on account of his sudden disappearance. Apparently not…

‎ ‎

“It’s rude not to say it back to me.”

‎ ‎

“…Hey.”

‎ ‎

His ‘greeting’ was anything but friendly.

And if that wasn’t enough for him, it was impossible not to notice that he also had one hand deep inside the pockets of his hoodie. Crap. 

‎ ‎

“I… need to go.”

‎ ‎

You immediately stepped to the side, but he swiftly moved in front of you.

‎ ‎

“You don’t wanna talk to me?”

‎ ‎

“I’m– I’m in a hurry, I need to…”

‎ ‎

“Don’t be like that. All I need is somethin’ quick.”

‎ ‎

You just couldn’t get to the cashier, not when he kept stopping in front of you and blocking your path. What was worse was that his hand kept digging deeper and deeper into his pocket. And for the love of everything holy, you couldn’t find your voice to tell him off. Then, he lifted his chin to look down on you.

‎ ‎

“Your headphones look sick. Let me see them.”

‎ ‎

“Headphones…?”

‎ ‎

Your heart jumped out of your chest once you saw a gun emerge from his pockets, and he took a few steps closer to you, forcing you to back up again. You were unintentionally pushed out of the store and into the empty streets.

‎ ‎

“Don’t play dumb with me, woman! It’s in your pocket!”

‎ ‎

He shouted as he kept rushing towards you.

But your back suddenly pressed up against a large pole, and escape seemed hopeless in a place like this. There was nobody around. Not even cars that sped down the road. And even if you tried to run or scream, you were sure he’d gun you down before you’d get anywhere.

So you immediately lifted your hands in surrender.

‎ ‎

“Okay! I– I’ll give it to you!”

‎ ‎

“Good!”

‎ ‎

He pointed his weapon at you as you struggled to dig your hands into your pockets. But even here, you could tell he scrutinised you as if you were a mannequin dressed in apparel he really wanted to purchase. He snatched the earbuds once you held them out for him, but he used his chin to point at what you didn’t realise was your neck.

‎ ‎

“Hand me that sweet scarf while you’re at it.”

‎ ‎

He promptly pocketed the device.

This demand only further engulfed you in panic. But that’s not where it ended, he very clearly continued observing you for anything else he wanted. You were okay with handing him your belongings; it wasn’t worth losing your life because you were too stubborn to do so. But those earbuds were Yu’s. Not yours. Nevertheless, without second thought, you clutched the scarf on your neck with both hands and fumbled to rip it off.

An arm shot out from behind the robber and promptly wrapped itself around his neck. The grip was then firmly tightened to an impossible degree. His gun dropped with an audible clank as the robber desperately clawed at the figure’s considerably large arms in a vain attempt to free himself. It only took a few seconds for his movements to stop.

Then, he was dropped to the ground, revealing a very familiar figure behind him.

You didn’t get a good look at his unmoving body or said figure, however, not when you were forcefully pulled close and tightly held in the man’s arms. The scent of lemons swiftly invaded your mind. Somehow, it successfully pulled you out of your state of panic, and you leaned into his comforting touch.

‎ ‎

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

‎ ‎

Yu’s voice was such a soft juxtaposition to the harsh silence he cut through. It was as if all the fury you felt towards him melted, all within a picosecond.

‎ ‎

“I’m… I’m fine…“

‎ ‎

He placed one hand on the back of your head and brought you closer to himself.

‎ ‎

“I– I should’ve known they would’ve pulled something like that.”

‎ ‎

“Was he…”

‎ ‎

“I left to throw something; the cashier wasted my time. Stopped me from going back.”

‎ ‎

The petrifying shock seemed to have seeped through the both of you, judging by how quiet and flat his voice sounded. But you were more shocked at what he’d done to the man. You couldn’t even peer through his thick hoodie, which obscured your vision, since he held you so tightly against it.

‎ ‎

“Is he– Yu, did you kill him?!”

‎ ‎

“He’s fine.”

‎ ‎

Yu held your wrist.

‎ ‎

“Come on. Let’s go.”

‎ ‎

He walked you a few steps, far enough for you to be unable to look back. Not only that, but he used his size to his advantage to block you from seeing the criminal’s unmoving body as he moved further down the sidewalk.

Then he placed both hands on your shoulders, now able to meet your gaze more clearly. He couldn’t help but notice just how blanched your face was.

‎ ‎

“Did he take anything?”

‎ ‎

“Only your headphones…”

‎ ‎

You muttered, and he nodded in response.

‎ ‎

“Stay here. I’ll be fast.”

‎ ‎

He pushed you out of sight for good measure, before moving back down the path you both marched on. And you immediately hid your face in your hands.

Your voice was beyond shaky, and you could hardly understand what on Earth had just happened as sweat dripped down your chin. You weren’t sure where Yu came from. Was it from inside the store? If so, how could you not have noticed the doors slamming shut? But… Your brain hyper-focused the robber. Especially how he writhed like a bug as Yu mercilessly choked him.

Being so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t even realised your boyfriend had returned with the earbuds until he placed one hand on your shoulder.

You hesitantly looked up. But this time, Yu could see something awry in your expression. Concern. Directed at him.

‎ ‎

“Did you… kill him?”

‎ ‎

“I only knocked him out.”

‎ ‎

“But how? How did you know how to…”

‎ ‎

“I… I didn’t. I acted on instinct.”

‎ ‎

“Are you kidding? You knew what you were doing back there! Are you trained in self-defence?!”

‎ ‎

Yu... wasn't sure how to respond to this.

‎ ‎

“It’s just the adrenaline, I–”

‎ ‎

“I can’t believe it. You could’ve run away; you could’ve saved yourself. Yet you…”

‎ ‎

“Run away? What– why would I leave you?”

‎ ‎

“I don’t know, it… I assumed you’d pull something like that…”

‎ ‎

“Why would you think that about me?!” 

‎ ‎

You paused for a second.

‎ ‎

“I– I don’t know.”

‎ ‎

“Y/N, please, tell me, did I hurt you? Did I make you upset? I– why would you think that I’d leave you in a place like this?!” Yu shook his head. “Something’s been bothering you since yesterday, right? Please, just tell me what it is; I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I'll do everything I can to make it right, I–”

‎ ‎

As he spoke, you zoned out and instead observed him. The worry etched on his typically vacant features and that glimmer in his eyes that screamed shock as he tried to grapple with the very concept of upsetting you. He was terrified at the prospect of losing you. Very obviously terrified.

Your thought process was interrupted when he cupped your cheeks in his hands. He held onto you as if you could disappear any second, like some kind of fleeting spirit.

‎ ‎

“I could’ve lost you, Y/N. Something could’ve happened to you…”

‎ ‎

You blankly stared at him for what felt like a few minutes. His words went in one ear and out the other, and all you could focus on was what Yu did to the robber. He choked him. Knocked him out in seconds. This man, the very man who seemed troubled at the sight of the mauled corpse of a pigeon a few years back. You remembered that moment too. You were walking home, and he… saw it. On the side of the road.

…

You didn’t bother fighting the smile that played on your lips. Then, this smile morphed into a grin, and the grin morphed into misplaced giggling. You began laughing. Loudly. 

Yu blinked.

‎ ‎

“I thought you left,” you said in between gasps of air, “I thought you deserted me. I thought you wouldn’t come back! Can you believe it?”

‎ ‎

He watched you wipe away a tear as you continued,

‎ ‎

“But you knocked him out. He had a gun, Yu. Did you know that? He could’ve killed you. You could’ve died because of me!”

‎ ‎

“Why–”

‎ ‎

Yu flinched once you clutched his wrists and forced them away from yourself. 

‎ ‎

“Because of those secrets. I thought you had other women on the side. And you know what? I knew you were gone the moment he pulled that gun on me.”

‎ ‎

His eyes widened.

‎ ‎

“I was wrong. I was so wrong. You care about me, don’t you?”

‎ ‎

“Of course I care… What kind of question is that?”

‎ ‎

That answer was just as instinctual as his actions back in that alley. And it wasn’t hard to tell that he spoke without thought, his dull tone screamed his intentions behind those words. And you were delighted to hear this.

Yu flinched when you pulled him into a hug, your head buried in his chest.

‎ ‎

“Then I’d be the stupidest woman on Earth if I left.”

‎ ‎

For a few seconds, he stared unresponsively at the brick wall in front of him.

‎ ‎

“Oh– I…”

‎ ‎

He looked down.

Although he needed a few seconds to realise it, Yu finally rested his hands on your back and gently returned the hug. It would take him longer than a few minutes to comprehend most of what you just said. Heck, it took a moment for Yu to even realise you had forgiven him, let alone the fact you pulled him into an embrace. And it felt… like the knot in his stomach had disappeared.

Once he had finally stopped mulling over your random laughter, Yu couldn’t stop himself from smiling like an idiot, a tinge of red painting his previously pale cheeks.

‎ ‎

“Thank you.”

‎ ‎

He muttered.

Yu cared. He truly cared about you, you thought to yourself. Maybe those secrets were kept for a reason. Maybe… Maybe his hands really were tied. But you could wait until he was ready to share them with you, right?

Yeah, you definitely could.

[avengerscompound]

Birthday Wish

Birthday Wish: A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1236

Warnings:  PTSD, but mostly it’s just fluff

Synopsis: Steve isn’t having a great birthday until he comes home to you.

Birthday Wish

Steve slumped through the door.  Today had been awful.  More than he had predicted and he’d set himself up for the fact that it was going to be bad.  It started well.  Waking in your arms, the slow lovemaking.  The shower together.  The resistance to leaving and the promise that he could shirk of his duty and just stay in bed.  That you’d make it worth his while.

As much as he had wanted to spend his birthday just with you he knew he couldn’t.  His birthday had stopped being about him the moment he took the super serum and put on that ridiculous red, white and blue suit complete with booty shorts over tights.  He had a duty, and if this made people happy he’d do it.

Not all of it was terrible really.  Getting up to find Bucky and Sam had made him breakfast was nice.  The fact that the others had come to join him for it was touching too.  Though by the 18th joke about his age he was more than a little over it.

The parade was too much.  Way too much.  It was too loud.  The screaming of the crowds managed to hit that exact spot that he was taken right back to the ISO tour and feeling like a dancing monkey.  Plastering that fake smile on his face as he waved to the crowd made his stomach knot and it felt like he had a heavy weight pressing down inside him.

He actually quite enjoyed talking to veterans.  He would have enjoyed it much more if he’d actually been able to spend the time to talk to them properly.  Share some stories.  Maybe a drink.  Make some meaningful connection with them as human beings and not just pause briefly to say a few words before he was ushered onto the next person.

Then there was the whole ceremony thing.  Sitting on stage while people he didn’t know gave speeches.  More jokes about his age.  Some kind of plaque.  A god damn statue that was being placed in Brooklyn like that was ever what he fucking wanted in his life.  He gave a speech.  Thanked people in false words.  Spoke about Nazis and the state of the country.  Not that anyone even listened anymore.  He shook hands with way too many people.  To the point that it started to feel like it wasn’t even him doing it.  Each time the men squeezed his hand hard like they were trying to assert their strength on him.  He understood.  He’d been the little guy once too.

Then it was a party.  Thrown by Tony of course.  He tried to relax and enjoy himself but drinking did nothing and the room was full of strangers still, most of them wanting their own piece of him.  His friends had tried to help.  Pulling him out of long awkward conversations.  Getting him to play pool.  It still wasn’t what he wanted.  He just wanted it to be small.  Dinner and cake and maybe only one or two mentions of how he’s a hundred and then everyone moving on from that particular joke.

There were more speeches.  A giant cake in the shape of his shield with layers inside of red, white and blue cake because of course, that was all there was to Steve Rogers.  The American flag and a shield.  Then the fireworks had started.

That was when he’d excused himself.  It was one thing to have to pretend to be having fun when he wasn’t.  It was a totally another thing to pretend that he wasn’t hearing gunfire and mortar shells exploding with each flash of color.

They were still going off now and he set his jaw, trying to just make it to his room so he could bury himself under his pillow.  When he opened the door he had not been prepared to find a blanket fort set up around his bed.  He chuckled and felt himself relax just a little.  The tightness in his jaw released as he laughed and he felt his shoulders loosen and drop just a little.

He could see light radiating through the blankets from fairy lights and he approached the bed and popped his head in.  You were lying on your stomach watching a movie on the TV that you had encompassed into the fort  Piles of pillows were stacked all around you and you had a plush blanket draped over your body.  You looked up at him and grinned up at him.  “What’s going on in here?”  He asked.

“Thought you might be a little done with the festivities.  Made you a place to hide.”  You said.  “Can’t tell there are fireworks in here.”

He climbed in with you, already feeling light.  There was a tightness in his chest and all he could think was how lucky he had been when you came into his life.  “What are you watching?”  He asked.

“Wizard of Oz.”  You answered sitting up cross-legged.  “Want me to start it over?”

He shook his head.  “No, it’s okay.  That’s an oldie.  One of my favorites.”

“Yeah.  I know.  I guess I have a thing for classics.”  You say and lean in against him.

“That’s the one you get.”  He said kissing you on top of the head.

“Been getting a lot, my love?”  You asked looking up at him.

“Just a bit.  You could say that.”  He replied.

You sat up and scrambled to the edge of the bed and when you returned you had a cupcake with a single candle on it and a lighter.  The cake was chocolate and had bright yellow frosting on top.  You lit the candle and held the cake up to him.  “Happy birthday, Steve.”

“The frosting is yellow.”  He said.

“Mmm…”  You hummed.  “Thought you might have gotten sick of red, white and blue.”

He smiled and cupped your jaw for a moment looking deep into your eyes as he ran his thumb over your cheek.  “I love you so much, you know?”

“I know.  I love you too.  Now blow out the candle and make a wish.”  You answered.

He took a deep breath in and blew, the candle flickered and winked out.  You took the candle out and tossed it in the trash before lifting the cake to Steve’s mouth.  “What did you wish for?”  You asked as he took a bite.

He chewed and swallowed, sucking on his lip to clean the sugary frosting off.  “I didn’t.  I’ve got everything I want right here.”

“That is so sappy.  I can’t even.”  You said and smashed the cake into his face.

“Oh, now you’re in for it.”  He said, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.  You squealed and kicked your legs as he tickled your sides.  Slowly he stopped looking down at you.  You gazed back up at him and bit your bottom lip.  “What is it?”  He asked.

“Nothing.  Just thinking about how much I love you.”  You answered.  “And also you have some frosting, right…”  You brought your lips to his and kissing him deeply, your hands running up over the muscles of his back.  He pressed his weight down against yours and hummed contentedly against your lips.  You pulled back gently and smiled up at him again, ruffling his hair.  “Happy Birthday, Steve.”

He kissed you again and realized maybe it was after all.

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 3

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego doesn't follow you while you're in public. That's probably a good call, considering his past, and especially considering you've found yourself in Bilgewater. You finally tracked down Ryze, and he had approximately fuck all useful to say. You spend the week trying to decide whether you should just steal the World Stones and hope they magically give you some insight on how the fuck to get out of here, but you're also pretty sure taking those things out of this world would end it, and you're not that far gone. That doesn't mean you’re not so miserable about the decision you spend the next few days drowning your sorrows in the most moderately priced swill Bilgewater can offer. If there's anywhere a girl can get bed, board and booze for a reasonable fee, it's here.

After Viego showing up almost daily for the last two months, you kind of miss him. Maybe that's why you get shit faced drunk on overpriced wine alone in your tavern room that night, instead of going to a bar like you have been. You have no idea if Viego has some way of knowing what you're up to before he shows up, but you're halfway through the bottle by the time his boots appear in your periphery.

“What are you doing?” He asks dryly. You blink up at him.

“Is it not obvious?” You drawl, taking a sip from the bottle before offering it to him. He stares at it, brow furrowed. “Oh, don't tell me you've never tried getting drunk, either.”

He rolls his eyes and takes the bottle. “I have. It didn't work.” He drinks, then grimaces. “What is this swill?”

“Maybe you just didn't have enough?” you suggest, ignoring his other comment. Of course he'd have opinions on wine, the elitist. He drinks again, so it can't be that bad.

“What I meant was, what are you doing drowning yourself in cheap wine?” Viego reiterates. You make grabby hands at the bottle, and he passes it back to you empty. Bastard.

“It was not cheap,” you insist, and then have the bright idea to rewind the bottle to full. “Aha!” You crow when it succeeds.

“Iso,” he says, in a tone that is attempting to be patient.

“I'm just–” you stop, take an excessively long swig, and then slump back against the wall. Your cramped room doesn't have anywhere to sit save for the bed. Maybe you should've gone to a bar. “I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this shitty world and I'm never going to get back home because no one fucking knows anything and I have tried everyone. I've tried the mages, the Voidspawn, the chosen of the fucking gods, I've tried you–” you gesture agitatedly at him. “--and no one knows a single goddamn thing that can help me! And even if I could figure out how to get back into the Void and survive a second trip, I'd probably just end up in some other shitty fucking world!” You fail your arms out emphatically, and Viego takes this opportunity to snag the bottle from you before you spill it.

“How did you come to be here?” He asks. “In this world?”

Your lips thin with discomfort. “I can't tell you,” you say reluctantly.

He looks almost offended. “You have been inexplicably aware of my most painful and humiliating moments, even ones I myself do not remember, and you refuse to share your own story?”

“That's not–” you cut yourself off with a frustrated noise. “I mean I literally can't tell you, it doesn't…” he looks like he doesn't believe you. You sigh deeply. Maybe it'd work this time. It's not like he's alive, after all. “Alright, have it your way, but I'm only trying this once. I was–” and there it is, the burning, stabbing pain rending your throat into ribbons. You gag on your own blood, and Viego lurches towards you as you begin to cough up the shard. His hands are on your arms as he drops to his knees before you, looking so fearful you almost feel bad for him, even though you're the one eating glass right now.

It passes quickly enough. You grimace as you wind your timeline back to before your little demonstration, the blood and pain vanishing in a heartbeat. Only the mirror shard remains, which you cast aside with disgust.

He looks stricken. “I–are you injured? What was that?”

“I'm fine now,” you assure him, a little sheepishly. “It's just…my powers have rules. That's one.”

He lets out a breath, hands lowering from your biceps to rest on your forearms. “Do not do that again,” he orders harshly. “I do not care what the circumstances are.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” you say with a shrug.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Don't I? Why in the name of good sense would you possibly do that, simply because I asked?”

You shift uncomfortably. “I thought it might work this time,” you say, and your voice sounds small. “And if anyone could understand what I went through, it'd be you.”

He just looks at you for a moment, but you can't quite bring yourself to meet his eyes. Then, he stands, only to throw himself onto the bed next to you. The wine is in his hand again, though you have no idea where it went before. “Have you tried writing it?” He suggests.

“Doesn't work,” you say morosely, only to squint incredulously at his big armored boots. “Boy, get your fucking boots off my bed.”

He blinks at them like he's only just remembered he's wearing them. “Apologies,” he says, passing you the wine. The whole armored shin debacle is apparently held in place by a few buckles, and somehow seeing Viego's socks is more surreal than the fact that he's here at all.

“Have you considered wearing something that isn't what you died in?” You suggest, poking at a frayed lapel.

He blinks at said lapel, picking at the tattered clothing with a frown. “Is that what happened?”

Right. He didn't remember. “I mean, I assume you weren't rocking the half shirtless look for fun,” you say, poking him in the exposed midriff. He's not cold like you were expecting–save for being as pallid as a ghost, he feels perfectly human. You do it again, because huh, he's actually built, which you knew because of the shirtless thing and the abs and all but it's a little different when his abdomen feels like a fucking rock–He catches your hand, and you realize that oh yeah, you're drunk and should probably be thinking better of harassing the guy with the giant sword.

“Iso,” he says warningly. That's a new look on his face–Viego is no stranger to inner turmoil, but this time he also sort of looks like he can't believe this is a situation he actually has to deal with. Which, same.

You pull your hand back with a shrug, sipping your wine instead. “Just saying.”

He gives you an unreadable look, then demands the wine with an imperious beckoning gesture. “I must be able to summon the Mist unimpeded in battle,” he says before taking a sip, gesturing to the pitch cavity in his chest.

“So we bring you to a tailor who can make you a titty window,” you say easily. Viego chokes on the wine and then on his laughter. He's handsome when he's happy, you note.

He's looking at you oddly, his expression somewhere between strained and flustered. “I said that aloud, huh?” You note.

“How much of this have you had?” He asks, holding up the bottle and swishing its contests. You're grateful for the change of subject.

“Uh. Most of it?” You shrug. “I don't hold my alcohol well, historically.”

“Can't you just…” he makes a spinning gesture you realize is meant to evoke a clocks hand.

“If I wanted to be sober I wouldn't have gotten drunk,” you point out. To prove your point, you snatch the bottle back.

He does a little mouth shrug. “A fair point.” For a moment, he just looks at you, and hell if you've ever known what goes on in Viego's head but he looks almost discouraged. “Is it so bad, staying here?”

You slump. “I…” you don't know how to answer that. You scrub a hand over your face, trying to find an answer you're allowed to give. “The only thing that's kept me going is getting back to them. To my family. Everything, the pain and the endless fighting and all the times I thought I couldn't get back up again and then I did, it was for them. And now I…” your breath catches.

“You don't know how to live without a purpose,” Viego says like he understands, and you guess he would. “Without someone to live for.”

You rub your face. “I just…what was the point of it all? Why am I still here at all, if I can't go home?”

“There is no point,” he says calmly. “Life is cruel and senseless, and there is no reward for enduring the pain it so keenly inflicts on us. But we are not yet dead, so we must go on.”

You slide a sideways glance at him, at the hole in his heart. “I don't think I can die,” you say morosely.

He gives you a crooked half smile. “Then I suppose you and I will just have to find something to live for, hm?” He reaches for the bottle, and then grimaces. “Starting with some better wine.”

—

You smuggle him into a wine shop, using an oversized cloak (turns out he can turn the magic crown thing off, but he does not like it and will not specify why beyond making a face) and a pair of sunglasses you picked up on a whim in Piltover (“What are these things? Iso, I cannot see.”). Once you get to the shop, he spends the next forty minutes trying to explain the difference between a dry and sweet wine to you. He then spends another twenty arguing with the sommelier about trying to pass off a Malbec for Merlot. You're pretty sure his shitty disguise does not hold up for the time he spends leaning over the counter emphatically gesturing at the man, but this is Bilgewater, and if the sommelier knows who he is, he doesn't give a shit beyond the fact that he's trying to haggle.

You walk back with Viego at your side, still grumbling about the sub-par availability. You point out that they are under constant siege not only by huge murderous fish, but also by undead armies, which probably affects trade routes. You ask whether that's something he can, y'know, stop, and he sighs.

“The mist is as alive and hungry as the rats in that gutter,” he says, nodding at said gutter. “It is outside my control, unless you want me to usher in another Harrowing and make things worse. I'm very talented at making things worse, you see.” He spreads his arms with a self depreciating grin. The bag of bottles he's carrying clinks concerningly.

“Can't you, iunno, command the wraiths to chill out or something?” You try.

You can't see his eyes past the ridiculous sunglasses you have him in, but you're sure he's rolling them. “Can you command the gutter rats?”

You shoot him a reproachful look as you open the door to your inn room. Luckily, it faces out to the street, so you don't have to go through the attached tavern. “Hey, have some respect. They're trapped in eternal undead torment because of your fuckup, remember?”

He seems abashed for a moment as he follows you in. “I did not mean…” he sighs, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the table. “If you took the rats and put them in, say, someone's house, they would panic and start biting, yes? Because they are scared and hungry and all they know how to do is to hurt or to run. It is the same with the wraiths. I can bring the mist to a place, and the mist brings them, but I can only directly control a scant few from a horde.” He gestures up at his crown, which he apparently rematerialized when you were distracted. You suppose that's how the possession thing worked in the game, too. He hesitates a moment, then continues in a reserved tone, “I know their plight is because of me, but I have no way to undo what I have done, for them or myself–” and then he pauses, fingers on the clasp of his cloak, staring at you.

“Can I help you…?” You say slowly as the silence drags on.

“Yes,” he says. “I think you can. When we met, you made me human.”

Your eyes widen. “Is that…something you want?”

He pauses as if he's not sure how to answer that, then shakes his head. “Not for me, for the wraiths. If I bring their souls to you, can you restore them?”

“I…” you pause, considering. “I guess? I mean, it'll be harder the longer they've been like that, but if it worked on you I don’t see any reason it wouldn't on them.”

He nods sharply, and all of a sudden Viego is on one knee in front of you with a beseeching look on his face. “Come back to the isles with me.” You stare, and the look he’s giving you is almost pleading. “You were looking for a purpose, and I am looking for redemption. We could find it together. Please.”

“Why?” You say, blunt as anything.

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, why?”

You lean forward, looking him dead in the eye. “Viego, the Shadow Isles are ancient and the dead are countless. What you're asking of me will take years, and making them human again doesn't undo all of the suffering they've already been through.”

“Do you think I don't know that there is no fixing this wretched mist?” He shoots back, clearly affronted. “You restored my humanity, once, and my heart ached no less fiercely for it.”

“So why? For Isolde? Do you think she'll somehow forgive you, if you ‘undo’ what you did?” you persist. You know you're pushing too hard, but somehow the thought of him asking this of you for her irritates you.

“Isolde is gone!” He snaps, and you realize he's trembling. “She is gone, and every day my traitorous heart forgets a little more of the pain of losing her. I know there is no forgiveness for what I have done, in the dead or the living, but is it so wrong to do as she would have wanted in her memory?”

“I–” you realize, looking at his shaking hands, that you're being an asshole. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. You…you know you can't be mad at yourself for moving on, right?” You ask gently. “You’ve grieved for long enough. Not hurting when you think of her doesn't mean that you didn't love her, that you don't love her still.”

He looks up at you for a moment, gaze oddly vulnerable, and then rests his forehead on your knees. “I know this in my heart. It is my mind that thinks it is a betrayal.”

“Well, stop it,” you say, and he gives a laugh that is almost a hiccup. “If you're betraying your wife by being happy then I'm betraying my family by not suicidally flinging myself into the Void on the vanishingly slim chance that I'll end up back home.”

He rolls his head to the side so he can give you a narrow look. Incidentally, this also means his head is now fully resting on your lap. “That's ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” you say. “But if you're going to hold yourself to an insane standard of authenticity in pain then you're going to have to hold it against me too, so checkmate.” He smiles ruefully, and before you can think better of it you card your fingers through his hair. It is insanely soft, and you can't help but be jealous because there's no way there's hair care products in the Shadow Isles. Does that mean you'd have to import some? Wait, why are you assuming you're agreeing? You had some great ethical standpoint about this a minute ago–oh, right, not letting him use you for free moral absolution. “Tell me again. Why do you want me to come with you?”

His eyes, which at some point closed while you were playing with his hair, slide open. “Because it is within our power to help. Because they were my people and my responsibility, and I failed them. And, to be very honest, because having you with me eases my heart, and I am at my core a selfish bastard.”

You laugh disbelievingly, and he smiles hopefully up at you. Maybe it's the look in his eye. Maybe it's the lingering wine in your system, or the fact that he's right and you have nowhere else to go. Maybe it's just that you inexplicably have a soft spot for him. Whatever it is, you say yes, and he smiles so brightly you instantly understand why Isolde married him on the spot.

Then he insists on trying to educate you on wine, and you get through 3 out of 4 bottles before he is forced to admit you simply have no taste.

(You also get so shitfaced drunk that you fall asleep on his chest, trying to see if he still has a heartbeat. He must also be, because he lets you.)

—

You give Viego a week to find a dozen of the most recently reaped souls, while you make other preparations. It's difficult to convince any ferry to come to the Shadow Isles, but you need a way for the freshly risen to make it back to civilization. You agree that he'll wait offshore for a day, and when you light a lantern he'll come to shore for the passengers. He makes you pay half upfront because he thinks you'll die.

When you appear at Viego's castle, he is instantly by your side. “Iso,” he greets, as if he's relieved you came after all. You think he's made some sort of effort to clean up, because he shows you to a room that is downright nice. He's clearly gone to some effort to find furnishings mostly unravaged by time and the Ruination, including the bed you restored; if the lost kingdom of Camavor had one thing going for it, it was apparently talented carpenters supplied with good quality wood. He assures you that he'll provide everything you need to assist with your work–he still has access to the coffers, after all, and Bilgewater merchants don't ask questions if there's gold on the table. He doesn't know what kind of food you like, but if you let him know he'll do his best to acquire it. His posture is ramrod straight and his accent is out in full force, and you are inexplicably reminded of coming over to a friend's messy apartment while they scour through their pantry looking for something edible to serve because they're too embarrassed to admit they've been getting takeout for a week.

“Viego,” you interrupt his stream of courtly assurances as you walk back to the main hall. “What are you so nervous about?”

His nose wrinkles, affronted. “Nervous? Me?” He repeats skeptically.

“Iunno, whatever you want to call the fussing,” you say, waving a hand at him.

“Fussing–” he repeats, offended. You give him an unimpressed look, and he relents. “I…suppose I might be a little on edge. If I had hosted such an important guest with such poor hospitality when I was a prince, I would be a laughing stock.”

You mutely point at yourself, baffled. He rolls his eyes, and there's the Viego you know–haughty, single-minded, and a little bit of a bitch. “Yes, of course you. You are healing the wound I made in the world for no reward but the deed itself. If the kingdom of Camavor still lived, you would be lauded as a saint and courted as an asset to the kingdom.” He pauses, looking into the middle distance. “If I am remembering correctly, I believe father would probably have tried to marry us.”

You blink, utterly unsure of what to make of that information. “He would've?”

Viego shrugs. “I was quite charming then, and seducing you would be a convenient way to secure your allegiance to the kingdom.”

“What, implying you're not charming now?” You tease.

He stops and turns to look at you, and you almost run into his shoulder. You brake in time to avoid a collision, but it leaves you much closer than anticipated. When Viego looks down at you there's an oddly searching look in his eyes, but it quickly vanishes from view as he leans down to murmur in your ear. “Should I be, to keep you by my side?”

You shiver without meaning to and hope he doesn't notice. “Alright, point taken, heartbreaker,” you say, quickly stepping past him and praying to any god who will listen that he doesn't see the flush on your face.

---

The first lot of souls Viego summons for you aren't hard. You lay your hands on the filmy substance of their being and spin their time back, back, to the sharp rending tear where they became something else. There is a strange ripping sensation you can't describe as their physical bodies snap back into place around their souls, summoned from whatever flotsam graveyard they were in at Bilgewater, and then there is a trembling woman in front of you. She immediately begins to weep, thanking you profusely and begging incoherently to be allowed to go home, and you cast Viego a deeply uncomfortable look.

He looks no more at ease with the situation than you are, but he steels himself and says in a far gentler voice than you expected, “You are safe now. No harm will come to you here. I cannot give back the time and pain that was taken from you and for that I am sorry, but you will return to your home and your family unharmed.”

She looks up at him, voice choked and shaky. “Y-you're him, ain't you? The Ruined King? Y-you’re letting us go?” Her eyes flick to you, and a realization flashes in them. “T-then you must be the Queen he was looking for! C-congratulations, your majesties, I'm happy, I'm truly happy for youse–” and she dissolves into hiccuping sobs that you don't feel comfortable interrupting just to say ‘no, actually, we're just friends’. At the same time, you're stricken with the completely inappropriate realization that that wouldn't even be entirely true if you did say it, because if he wasn't grieving his double-dead wife you probably would've tried some horrendous pickup line on him by now.

None of those are thoughts you're ready to deal with however, so you turn and restore the next soul.

—

After the shaken crowd is delivered to a shellshocked ferryman, it occurs to you that he didn't correct her, either. You ask, over a dinner of roast meat and veg (he's very remorseful about you cooking your own food, but you flat out refuse to leave it in the hands of a wraith he's pretty sure used to be a chef).

His eyes slide away from yours uncomfortably. “I thought it might be easier for them to believe in my intentions that way.” He looks down, idly pushing a wedge of potato with his fork, which is very unlike him because Viego usually has impeccable table manners. “And it is true, in a way. I am a changed man, because of what Isolde said to me, and because of what you have done for me.”

“What, are you gonna propose to me?” You joke, your mouth running ahead of your mind in a desperate attempt to break whatever this strange tension is.

He blinks at you. “Would you like me to?”

You try for a smile. “I’m joking, Viego.”

“I am not,” he says evenly.

You squint at him, trying to figure out which of Viego's insane personality traits you're up against now. Maybe he just didn't know how to have close relationships that weren't, in one way or another, legally family? Then you recall your conversation in the hallway earlier. “You don't have to marry me to get me to stay, calm down. Plus, can you imagine trying to get a priest out here?” You try for humor, and then belatedly remember that you should probably track down Yorick while you're at this ‘freeing the damned’ thing. Though he's been dead for a long, long time, and he could probably wait until you've found everyone who still has living relatives. “Wait, is that even how weddings work here?”

“Yes. At least, it was in Camavor. A priest and a ceremony and a grand party,” he says, looking almost wistful. “What does courtship look like, where you are from?”

“I mean, the same as here, I guess?” You hazard. “You meet someone, you spend time with them, go on dates, y'know, get dinner and walks in the parks and stuff like that?” He seems oddly unsatisfied by that answer, and you shrug. “I wasn't exactly royalty, so my relationships were probably a little more casual than whatever you were imagining.”

He raises a brow. “I have had my share of casual relationships in the past, you are aware?”

You almost choke on your food. The smile on his face is almost rogueish, and when you look at it like that, you can perfectly picture him flirting his way through the castle staff. “So you were perfectly capable of being normal about it, but you just decided to immediately propose to Isolde on the spot?”

He shrugs. “I know my heart, and I knew I wanted to give it to her. For now it, and all the weight it carries, is mine alone once more.” You're about to ask about the for now part, but he looks up at you seriously. “You know that they will not all be so receptive, the wraiths. There will be those who are angry and vengeful, and those who have been so broken by the mist for so long that they will not know how to be any other way.”

“I know,” you say. “I did think this through before I agreed to it.”

“You were also very drunk, and reportedly part of your reasoning was that I am ‘cute when I'm begging’,” he makes air quotation marks to ensure you know that he is directly quoting you, and his wolfish grin lets you know exactly how much he's enjoying your obvious dismay.

You blanch. “I said that part aloud too, huh?” He responds by laughing at you. You groan. “Look, be that as it may, I had a whole week to change my mind, and here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees, and there's something so terribly affectionate in his voice you think you must be imagining it, but it's there in his face when you glance at him too. Gods, he really is handsome.

You hurriedly return to your food, before you can say anything stupid like, say, suggesting he show you the other other blade of the Ruined King. Viego is your friend. Viego’s defining personality trait is being a widower. Viego is not someone you can casually proposition, even he's decided that teasing you is a form of high entertainment, the fucker. God, maybe you just need to get laid–spending all your time around the near-shirtless ghost king was doing numbers to your psyche.

—

You do not find the opportunity to seek a no strings attached hookup, because your time is taken up either sleeping or restoring the souls of the damned. Viego was right when he warned you–in the next lot, a burly man waits long enough to get used to having limbs again before throwing himself at you with a howl. You barely have time to blink before Viego intercepts him, blade at the ready. He swings, and you cringe, expecting a spray of blood, but at the last second Viego glances at you and twists his blade so that he strikes the man with the flat of it instead. It's still an incredible amount of force behind solid (ghost?) steel, so the man goes sprawling, wind knocked out of him.

“You will show her respect,” Viego hisses, standing over him. “I understand your rage and your hate towards me, and I cannot blame you for that, but she has saved you from damnation and you will not raise a hand against her.”

The man spits at his feet. Viego lets out a hissing breath, but otherwise doesn't react as the man picks himself up–only to once again throw himself at Viego, who easily bats aside his wild swing before grabbing him by the throat. “I do not want to do this, but if you cannot behave yourself–” Viego says in the approximation of calm, mist curling up and around the man's head into a glowing crown. All at once, the man stops struggling, and as Viego releases him he complacently goes back to his place in the crowd. The others look at him nervously, an uneasy whisper circling through them.

A woman in a heavy woven shawl steps forward. “Um, your majesties,” she begins nervously, because apparently something about you and Viego just screams ‘married couple’ to the newly risen, “Is he…okay?” Her eyes flit between the crown on the man's head and Viego’s sword, as if she's not sure which is more worrying.

“He will return to himself after you leave the Isles,” Viego explains placidly. You nudge his side and give the sword a significant look, and he glances at it like he forgot it was there before vanishing it into mist. “I will ask the ferryman to keep an eye on him, do not worry.”

She looks at the man for a moment, then ducks her head gratefully. “Well, I thank you for your graciousness. I'm sure he will too, after he comes to his senses.”

After that, he stands a little closer to you while you raise the shades.

—

“How does it work?” You ask, after Viego has seen the risen off to the ferry and you've had a chance to stop swaying on your feet. You like to sit in the gardens, and Viego thins the mist enough to let a soft glow of sunlight through. Viego sits next to you on the stone bench, so close you're almost touching. He’s by your side pretty much constantly these days, save for when you're sleeping or bathing–though, you also wouldn't be surprised if he watched you sleep just to have company. “The whole…possession thing?”

Viego looks up at you from the book he was reading. “It simply does.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “What, that's it?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “I cannot explain how I summon my sword or compel the mist to move, and the crown is the same. I wish it to be so, and so it is.” You squint at him, and he shuts his book with a soft sound. It always boggled your mind that he perfectly remembered what page he was on without any bookmarks. “How does your manipulation of time work?”

You open your mouth, and then realize he's got you cornered, because you're not sure how to explain that either. “You could find out,” you challenge instead.

His brows knit. “You don't mean…?”

“I do,” you confirm.

He frowns. “No.”

“What, you'll marry me but you won't put a crown on my head?” You joke. “C'mon, I'm giving you my explicit permission.”

“That is not–” he begins, then shakes his head. “Everyone I have used my crown on seemed quite distressed by the experience. I would not do the same to you.”

“Was that because of the crown, or because of the sudden and unexpected loss of bodily autonomy paired with you using them to try and kill people?” You say dryly. He frowns, but doesn't answer. “Look. I'll admit, I'm curious, but more importantly…if I'm unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, and we need my powers, I want you to be able to use them. So, please.”

He goes very still, and you belatedly realize exactly what he's picturing–you, unconscious and hurt, unable to rewind your own wounds. “If I were able to deny you anything, it would be this,” he says, sighing deeply. You eagerly turn to face him, crossing your legs on the bench like a kid. For a moment he just looks at you like he's regretting all the choices that brought him to this point, and then begins to strip his gauntlets off. You're sure he could avoid stabbing you with their pointed ends, but Viego also treats you like you're made of glass sometimes.

He cups your face between his palms, and his hands are so much warmer than you expected. You're suddenly stricken with the intimacy of this pose, with you two so close. His eyes flick down to your lips, and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you–

And then a cold sensation snakes it's way into your blood, like drinking ice water. It spreads throughout your limbs until you feel numb from it, and Viego’s eyes glaze as the crown forms on your head.

“How strange,” he says distantly. “It's as if the entire world is singing a song only you can hear.”

You try to move your hand, but nothing happens. Still, you can still distantly feel his hands on your face, as if your skin was so chilled it barely recognizes the touch. You try to project the thought that you're fine, that it's a bit weird but honestly not that bad, but you have no idea if it gets through. “I can feel it, when you struggle against me,” he says softly, and, hm, maybe it's for the best that he can't hear your thoughts, because you've gone somewhere absolutely filthy with that. “I have never held a soul that trusted in me so, that did not rail to reclaim itself.” There's a strange look in his eyes, somewhere between awed and something much darker and deeper, and it occurs to you that you have willingly placed an insane amount of power in his hands. Then again, you already offered him everything you could think to give, and he said no.

Viego sits back, and unbidden your hand raises to one of the shattered pots in the garden. You feel second hand as he fumbles along its time, his brow furrowed in concentration, before slowly winding it back. When it sits whole again, the chill fades, and your body is your own once again. You flex your hands and wiggle your toes, feeling sort of like your limbs had just fallen asleep but without the pins and needles. You then realize Viego is looking at you anxiously.

“If we ever go to Shurima, you're doing that to me,” you say casually.

“Excuse me?” He says, bewildered.

“It was like going into a nice cool swimming pool,” you describe, tapping your chin as you try to find the words. “Or opening a fridge. Wait, you don't know what that is.” You frown. “Also, I hope you recognize how good I am at this time stuff now, it is not easy.”

He laughs, instantly relaxing. “Of course, my heart, I am forever in awe of your talent and grace,” he gives you an exaggerated little head-bow, and you're so busy preening that the pet name doesn't even register until a moment later. Then, you promptly find it very important to start rambling about how, you know, you should try replanting something in this garden, since it's getting sunlight anyway. The indulgent look on his face as he agrees yes, whatever you want, does nothing to still your heart.

—

“Are you sure–” Viego begins.

“Where do you intend to find a chef who's gonna come to the Shadow Isles?” You ask pointedly.

He blinks. “I'm sure that for enough coin…” he catches the look on your face, then sighs. “Very well, I see your point.”

“If you want to help, I'm not going to say no,” you suggest instead. He looks down at the carrots as if he's never seen one before. “You've never cooked before,” you realize, and he has the grace to look a little abashed. His discomfort with you cooking your own meals makes a little more sense–he must feel like he's making you do servants work, from his lofty frame of reference as literal fucking royalty. “Okay, here. Wash your hands.”

He blinks. “You want me to…?”

“To wash your hands and then help me cook,” you confirm. “I'm not a guest, Viego, I live here. I know you've got your own ideas about what hospitality looks like, but where I'm from, if you're cooking for someone they damn well better help you chop the veggies.”

He looks bemused, but complies. You gesture for him to take your place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, cut off the ends, slice them like so.” You demonstrate, hip bumping into his as you lean across to the board, and then hand him the knife.

The concentration on his face as he tries to match your cuts is rather endearing. He glances at you for approval, and your nod and smile seems to bolster him, so you start on cleaning the mushrooms. The ingredients aren't exactly the same as what you're used to, but you've managed to put together a respectable assortment for a stir-fry. Your ferryman, Captain Brigg, was very skeptical about the crates of fresh produce you procured him to haul back, but him and his crew also treat you with an odd sort of reverence now that stops them from asking questions. Still, you've got enough of a stockpile of ingredients frozen in time to last you for a few months.

You talk Viego through what you're doing, why you should cut the carrot thin and the bell peppers thick, how you're hoping this soy-sauce like substance from Ionia works the same way as what you're used to, but it's also made from a nut so you're not sure. He asks you about food from your home, and you spend fifteen minutes complaining about having to cook rice manually. He doesn't seem to mind when you automatically slip into bossing him around–your mother always said that idle hands in the kitchen were volunteers who didn't know it yet. He does stiffen slightly whenever you pass behind him, and it takes you a bit to realize it's because you're automatically putting your hand on his lower back so you can squeeze behind him–not that the kitchen is particularly small, but rather that he is not a small man. It also takes you a bit to realize that that part of his back is bare, because he's still wearing nothing on his torso but that ripped open doublet. You've long since figured out that Viego likes being touched, but maybe that was a bit much even for him.

He hovers around even after you don't need his help with prep anymore, watching you stir and experiment with the ranges of sauce you have on hand. “Okay, try,” you announce when you're satisfied, taking a spoon of your hard work and blowing it cool before holding it up to him. Viego doesn't hesitate, and you're momentarily struck with the sensation that this, spoon feeding the Ruined King stir fry you press-ganged him into helping with, is a ridiculous situation to be in.

“It's nice,” he says, touching his lips. You try not to be distracted by the motion.

“Does it need anything? Salt, pepper?” You prompt, scooping some up for you to try yourself. Needs pepper. You look at him expectantly, and his face creases like it does when he's thinking hard.

“Pepper?” He says hesitantly, and you beam at him. He was teachable, and that was better than a majority of your exes.

—

You struggle with the corset for about three minutes before you give up. “Viego?” You call, because he's never far these days. The air goes cold on the back of your neck, but there's a suspicious silence. When you crane your neck around, he's there staring at you.

“Can you help me lace this?” you prompt, gesturing at the partially done back of your corset. The dress is a deep navy color with silver embroidery on the long flowing sleeves and skirts, and the silvery ribbons that make up the back have been making themselves a true pain in the ass.

He blinks, as if just realizing you're there. “I suppose,” he says tersely, sounding almost puzzled as he examines your work. “What have you done?”

You shrug, turning back to the mirror. “Corsets weren't common in my world, and all the ones I've worn came pre-laced. I didn't think it would be this complicated.”

He hums, and you repress a shiver as his fingers brush the space between your shoulders. He's taken to wearing his gauntlets off, when you're just around the castle. “How strange. Why the change from your travelling attire, then?”

You shrug. “This might sound strange to you, but I get tired of wearing the same things all the time, even if I can keep them clean and fresh forever.” You smooth down the front of the dress, admiring the fabric. “And this is such a nice dress.”

“It was made with skill,” Viego says. You glance back at him, and he makes a tutting noise as your hair falls across your back. You do not succeed at suppressing the shiver as he brushes it back over your shoulder. “And you look lovely in it,” he continues, and you're sure you're imagining the husk in his voice. You meet his eyes in the mirror, and they're hooded with a feeling you don't want to name, so you cast around for something to say while staring fixedly at your reflection.

“I look like I'm going to a ball,” you blurt.

“This is a dinner dress, not a dancing one,” Viego says, blessedly accepting your sudden change in subject. “At least, not in Camavor. The skirt is too long and the bodice too stiff.”

You shrug. “I've never been to a ball. Can't even dance.”

He spins you around so you can see his offended expression. “Excuse me?”

You blink at him. “We didn't really have them, where I'm from? Unless you were really rich, which, I most certainly was not.”

He waves a hand. “No, no, not that. You don't know how to dance?”

You blink, taken aback. “No?”

“Outrageous. Give me one moment,” he says, and then disappears into mist.

“What–” you have enough time to say to the empty room before he reappears, this time with a dented hunk of metal in his hand.

“If you would be so kind?” He asks, holding it out. You touch it, and the tarnished metal flickers back into the shape of a music box. “My thanks. Now…” he winds it, places the box on your dresser, and lifts the lid. In it is a beautiful figurine of a bird in flight, and out twinkles a lilting melody. You stare, flabbergasted, as he dips into a very princely bow and offers you his hand. “Lady Iso, may I have this dance?”

You laugh disbelievingly, but take his hand. “Viego, I don't know what I'm doing.”

“That is why I'm showing you,” he says easily, placing one of your hands on his shoulder and keeping the other held aloft. His other hand goes around your waist. “This one is simple, just follow my steps.” It's similar to what you vaguely remember a waltz to be, except you seem to be stepping in a pentagon rather than a square and there's a lot of spinning. Still, you feel like he's overestimating your abilities, because you struggle to match his steps.

“Eyes up,” he chides when your gaze drifts to your feet. You blink up at him, offended.

“How am I supposed to see where I'm stepping?” You ask, offended.

“Do you need to look at your feet to walk?” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him, and you're so close you can feel it when he laughs. “Don't think so hard about it. Just listen to the music and stay with me.”

He's talking about the dance, you remind yourself. Suddenly, keeping your eyes on his is difficult, so you stare somewhere off his left shoulder instead. “How do you remember all of this?” You ask, brow furrowed as you try to match his steps without looking.

“I’ve always loved dancing, ever since I was young,” he says, sounding pleased he remembers the fact. “I remember my brothers would tease me, because I preferred my dancing lessons to my swordsmanship ones.”

You look up at him curiously. He doesn't talk about his family often, though you're not sure if that's because he doesn't want to or because he doesn't remember much about them. “I suppose you've had a lot of practice, then?”

He spins you, and you think that returns you to the first part of the steps. “Yes. I attended whatever balls I could, even the ones hosted by those on poor terms with the Crown.” He reels you back in with a little flourish. “My brothers teased me for that, too.”

You're about to ask more, but you trip over your skirt. Viego catches you easily, though you smack your face against his aggravatingly solid chest. “That is why this is not a dancing dress,” Viego says, and his tone is light but his expression when you look up at him is tinged with want. You realize you're very, very close, his arm still around your waist and your hands on the bare skin of his torso. Your chest is pressed to his, and you're abruptly aware of how much this corset emphasizes your cleavage. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted and looking oh so soft–

Whatever this moment between you is, it's interrupted by the dissonant click of the music box playing it's last note. Viego steps back and bows. You clumsily mimic a curtsey, and he looks up at you with a crooked smile that makes your heart ache. You staunchly refuse to examine why.

[foxmon665]

Midnight Commander Dmg

Insert key for Mac OS X: For Midnight commander it seem to be ^/Ctrl+T=Insert. The more generic Insert function is supposed to be Fn+Return/Enter=Insert, see this. Midnight Commander is a powerful and capable file manager very popular among Linux and FreeBSD users. In this archive you will find Midnight Commander deb package with support for both console. Commander One is a free dual-pane file manager for OS X, created entirely in Swift. Fast and powerful yet easy-to-use it provides full access to all files and folders - copy, move, delete, rename your Mac's content in an easy way.

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Abstract : Midnight Commander (MC) is one of the few tools I’m still using since I’ve been inducted into software engineering more than 10 years ago (for comparison I’ve changed 5 integrated development environments (IDE) ). MC is classified as “a visual file manager” but for me is something much more, it’s an engineering booster. In fact it’s my fist IDE (MCedit supports color highlighting for various programming languages). In short, MC is one of those few things that changes your world. That’s why I’m going to show you how you can painlessly integrate MC with Mac OS X bash terminal.

Goal : Configuring Midnight Commander under Mac OS X bash terminal

Midnight Commander Mac Os X Dmg Blog Open Dmg File Mac Os X Dmg Or Dmg To Elite D3 Burn Dmg To Disc Windows Chrome Installer For Mac Dmg Convert Dmg Files To Iso Free. MuCommander is an open source, dual-pane file manager available on all major operating systems. Copy, move, rename and batch rename, email files; Multiple tabs.

Acknowledgement : My gratitude goes to the open source community and especially to: Miguel de Icaza – creator of Midnight Commander, Gnome, Mono, Gnumeric (and I guess other cool stuff)

Pressing f1 will show the help. Pressing f10 will quit, like it's shown on the bottom of the ui. 'man mc' will show you the manual. Midnight commander is one of the best file management tools available for unix-based-systems. The text-based-version of course does not run seamless in terminal.app due to bugs and limitations of terminal.app, but it works perfectly in xterm, also with mouse. Brew install midnightcommander This is how easy this is. And then you may use the awesome Midnight Commander file manager on Macintosh OSX. Other Linux apps such as mpv may also be installed this way, enabling fast and sleek movie watching. Download Free Mac OS X El Capitan 10.11.1 DMG. If you looking on the internet a Mac OS X El Capitan 10.11.1 DMG Without app store So, you come to the right place now a day hares with you an El Capitan download dmg file OS upgrade is highly recommended is the latest release from OS X. It has been designed to improve the performance and usability of OS X Apple Inc.

Let’s get started!

Installation: I’m a huge fan of homebrew (thanks Max!) and I advise you to install it and work with it. In short, Homebrew is “the missing package manager for OS X”. Installing Homebrew is as easy as running the following command in the terminal prompt:

Once you have Homebrew, installing MC is exactly three words:

Side note: You may wish to install bash-completion and take advantage of the Tab key on the terminal prompt. If so, do the following:

… and ensure that your .bash_profile has the following content inside:

Note that you have to perform:

or re-open your terminal for the changes to take effect.

Mac OS X – fixing the shortcuts mess: No, I have no idea why the Apple guys have created such a big mess with the keyboard shortcuts. And yes, it’s up to you, my dearest reader, to decide if you want to fix it as I suggest. Here is what I’ve done so that I can use my Functional keys (the F keys):

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Go to:

… and make sure you have All controls checked

After that go to:

… and make sure you have Use all F1, F2 etc. keys as standard function keys checked

Next open a Terminal and go to:

… and make sure you have Use option as meta keyunchecked.

Now, every F9 will enable MC menu bar and every F10 button press will exit MC (instead of doing a complex fingers split which may not work but which will certainly hurt your hand).

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Playing with MC shortcuts: What about the cool MC shortcuts? Before I present you with some of the shortcuts mapping you should be aware that pressing two times the Esc button will close any MC pop-up or search box, and that there are three types of shortcuts:

Pressing (and releasing) Esc and then pressing another key

Pressing and holding Ctrl and then pressing another key

Using the Functional key

Here are some mappings:

Keeping working directory after exiting MC: Now, I find this MC feature really cool but of course it’s up to you to decide if you want to enabled it or not. In case you want, make sure you have the following (or similar, depending on the midnight commander version) line in your .bash_profile:

Tamil actress one day night rated. Note that you have to perform:

or re-open your terminal for the changes to take effect.

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Recently, I had a friend, a serious Linux aficionado, come over and we had occasion to sit in front of my machine while I was doing some console work. I do a lot of work under OS X using the GUI, and previously that is what had been on-screen when he had visited. This time, however, I had some consoles open to one of my web servers.

I did a few things during which he was uncharacteristically silent. During a pause in my typing, he spoke up with a note of real interest: “That’s unbelievably awesome. What is that?”

“Midnight Commander”, I told him.

Now he uses Midnight commander too. All the time. I thought I’d tell you why. Midnight Commander is a program that allows you to work at many times the rate you would if you were simply typing console commands. While you are far better informed than you would otherwise be.

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It’s a file manager for the console (if you’re familiar with Norton Commander, that’s exactly the type of application this is), but to call it “a file manager” is to understate the case dramatically. You need to understand up front that Midnight Commander is a very mature application. It is simply chock-full of useful capabilities. It doesn’t 100% replace the console, but it comes very close.

You can have multiple panes showing you different directories. You can copy and move between these directories with great ease without ever typing a file name. These directories can be on different machines using either FTP or SSL connections. You can change permissions, run arbitrary console commands at any time, even on files in the various directory panes. You can sort, view, change and otherwise variously mess with things in oodles of useful ways many times faster than you can from the command line. You can directly see and navigate inside .tar archives, zips and more. There’s a built-in screen editor you can enable that is syntax-aware and just generally a pleasure to use, or you can continue to use whatever console-based editor you prefer (but you really should learn to use Midnight Commander’s editor. Trust me.)

There’s still more — a whole lot more — but suffice to say that once you wrap your head around Midnight Commander, you’ll be a convert to it forever.

For Linux, typically you update your distribution and then use apt-get or whatever package manager you prefer to install mc — I did it this way:

For OS X, it’s a little tougher to find an easy installation, particularly for the latest versions of Midnight Commander, but there are .dmg files out there that will do it for you. It is entirely worth the effort; I encourage you to get after it right away.

Installing from source code is tough; Midnight Commander’s compilation process is riddled with dependencies. Under OS X as supplied from Apple, these are quite difficult to resolve without adding a lot of other things as well. Still, it can be done; I’ve done it.

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Some of the generalized make-OSX-support-Linux packages such as fink and MacPorts can make this a lot easier, but beware: I’ve tried both of these, and they arbitrarily change some of the system software, such as the installed Python and Perl versions.

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If that’s okay with you, then by all means, go that route. If new versions of things like Python and Perl are going to break your code, I’d advise you to go about this very carefully. Perl in particular has a tendency to go from working scripts to non-working scripts when you change installed versions.

[viabrown586]

Nva Reader For Mac

PDFZilla is a free application for reading and viewing PDF documents. It has a simple user interface wrapped around a standard explorer frame. PDFZilla supports several advanced features including multi view mode, page rotation, text copy, page snapshot and PDF printing.

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Downloading NVA Reader Free Thank you for using our software library. Use the link given below and proceed to the developer's website in order to download NVA Reader free. Description: NVA Reader is a perfect reader designed for professionals. It is optimized for their works and study. The reader will not only give you the excellent reading experience but also the comfortable feeling. NVA Reader, Inc. Review Comments Questions & Answers Update program info NVA is a format for documents similar to the more popular PDF and mostly used to store medicine-related books. NVA Reader is an eBook reader that opens NVA files. 5.0 (1 vote) 1.0 NVA Reader, Inc. Review Comments Questions & Answers Update program info. NVA is a format for documents similar to the more popular PDF and mostly used to store medicine-related books. Anyway, it has become close to obsolete, being very rarely used nowadays, so.

Key features:

The open source freeware keeps all features of 7-Zip and that makes the software more user-friendly. The Easy 7-Zip is an easy-to-use version of 7-Zip. • Free Download Easy 7-Zip • Install Easy 7-Zip by step-by-step instructions • The installation will associate ISO with Easy 7-Zip automatically • Double-click on ISO file to open ISO file with Easy 7-Zip You will see files or folders within the ISO file then, click button Extract to extract the ISO file. Adobe reader for mac os x 6.8. Easy 7-Zip works on Windows 10/8.1/8/7/Vista/2008/2003/XP/2000 (both 32-bit and 64-bit compatible).

PDF Print:PDFZilla supports PDF document printing, so you can make hard copies of your PDF documents.

PDF Multi view mode: PDFZilla supports Fit Width, Fit Height, Actual Size, Multi-page and Single Page views.

PDF Page rotation: With PDF Page Rotation feature, you can rotate your PDF documents for ease of view.

PDF Text copy: PDFZilla supports text to clipboard, so you can use your text anywhere you choose.

Overall, PDFZilla is a great little application that is easy to use and simple to navigate. The downside is it only has some basic features and lacks more advanced functionality that comes with paid for products.

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Nva Reader For Mac Free

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E-reader For Mac

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Technique & Equipment Research...

Documentary or photojournalism (as some might call it) style has quite specific needs with both the approach and equipment used. The type of work that I have produced, is not reliant on external lighting, but uses fast, fixed lenses which allow manageable shutter speeds in low light conditions, (like when taking shoots indoors).

Camera

I currently use a Canon EOS 4000D as my main camera, the reason for this is it’s the most budget-friendly, camera and the only one I was willing to pay for whilst I am only in my beginners' stage of this photography journey. It features an 18MP APS-C-size sensor. It uses Canon's DIGIC 4+ image processor which offers an ISO range of 100-6400, expandable to 12800, as well as 3 fps burst shooting. It features a 9-point AF system with a cross-type sensor at the centre.  

Lens mount: Canon EF/EF-S

Sensor size: APS-C (22.3 x 14.9 mm)

ISO: Auto, ISO 100-6400, expandable to 12800

I also used my Apple XR phone for many shots as it was readily available and quick and easy to use. Some of the technical specifics...Weight: Liquid Retina HD display. 6.1-inch (diagonal) all-screen LCD Multi-Touch display with IPS technology. 1792-by-828-pixel resolution at 326 ppi. 1400:1 contrast ratio (typical) True Tone display. Wide colour display (P3) Haptic Touch. 625 nits max brightness (typical)

Special features: 12MP Wide camera.

ƒ/1.8 aperture.

Digital zoom up to 5x.

Portrait mode with advanced bokeh and Depth Control.

Portrait Lighting with three effects (Natural, Studio, Contour)

Optical image stabilization.

Six‑element lens.

LED True Tone flash with Slow Sync

Lenses

More important than having the latest and greatest camera, (which I do not have) the lens is what adds the most to the visual makeup of an image. I have the original lens that came with my Cannon E05 4000 Canon camera which is EF-S18-55mm, I also used my EF 50mm F/1.8 STM lens which I feel produces more artistic and powerful portrait shots which is down to it having a wide f/1.8 aperture which creates sharper focus on the subject, with a soft blued background for greater impact.

Accessories

I always have my MacBook to hand just in-case I need to view images larger or edit. Along with memory cards, card readers. I have two batteries for my camera just in case one dies, I always have my battery pack to hand also. Along with my sturdy Lowprow backpack to keep everything nice and safely in place.

Memory cards I only ever buy from Sandisk or Lexar – whatever is the fastest available at the time. Never scrimp on cards. The only card failure I’ve ever had was from a cheaper brand (Transcend) and even they are supposed to be considered fairly good, this was right at the start of my photography journey and I lost every picture taken Not for me – I’ll stick with what I trust.

Summary of equipment used...

So that’s it, that’s all my kit. The priorities are speed, simplicity and portability. All my kit fits into my Lowepro LP3682-PWW Tahoe backpack, which is easily transported. I try to use my tripod when necessary, to stop camera shake, however this is not always possible when trying to quickly get your required shot. However, what I use to complete a shoot may not be required for another person, so what works for one might not work for another, it's all about trial and error. Whilst Documenting my chosen subject(s) Ive had to use a wide range of specialist equipment to gain the perfect image(s).