#nah I’ll post the whole sketch too

[princekaiofstars]

A lil sketch of something I’m working on for @huntinglove a bit of fanart if you will. Also Omg I never use this blog hello I’m Khai

I think Simon and Ocean Princess are pretty cute together, anyone who can guess the song reference for the drawing gets 10 cookies from me

But yeah, enjoy the sketch til the lined piece is complete.

Full version of the sketch.

Ocean Princess belongs to @huntinglove

Art itself belongs to me @princekaiofstars / @princekaistar don’t rob me guys. I’m fraile

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

[mell-bell]

Running from the Past - Part I

Luke Patterson x Reader

Words: 1982

Series Summary: You and Luke became close friends months before he played the Orpheum with Sunset Curve....will he meet you again?

Chapter: 1/?

Part I / Part II  / Part III

TW: Mentions of abuse

Author’s notes: Ngl Julie and the Phantoms is the cutest show ever and I just want all the boys to be happy okay - next part will be post-hotdogs aka time jump

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had met your fair share of bands. Rock stars. Up-and-coming singers. Women who claimed they would make it big. Boys who wanted to be the next big boy band.

You helped your uncle manage the bands that played in his night club. And tonight, the club had booked a new up-and-coming band that had been making the rounds around town. But the lead singer was nowhere to be found. Your uncle sent you to hunt him down, which was why you were running around backstage breaking through door after door trying to find some wanna-be rock star teenager.

“Luke!” You yelled as you slammed yet another door open. A woman in the far back of the room glared at you as she wiped a makeup smear off a young lady’s face.

You mumbled your apologies, slowly pulling the door shut behind you, before taking off down the hall once again. As you rounded the corner, you ran headfirst into someone, both of you shrieking as you slammed to the ground in a jumble of limbs.

“Woah!” The shaggy hair boy in front of you exclaimed as he pulled away from you, stumbling ungracefully to his feet.

He offered you his hand, but you ignored him as you stood slowly.

You squinted your eyes as you looked him up and down. A smirk formed on his face as he watched you look him over. Just as he opened his mouth, probably to say something smart, you shoved a finger in his face and the smirk slipped off his face.

“Luke?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded.

Without wasting another second, you grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him down the hall. The boy stumbled over his feet as you pulled him along behind you.

“Where are we going? Damn your grip is hella tight. Could you maybe let up?” He stopped as you threw him another glare, “....no? Okay.”

He managed to remain silent as you continued down the hall until you both passed by a grinning Alex, who had just stepped out of your uncle’s office. Luke reached out to him for help, but the blonde boy just held up his hands as you passed.

“Not cool, Alex!” Luke yelled. Alex’s laughter echoing behind you.

You finally made it through the door of your uncle’s office and shoved Luke right in front of your uncle’s desk.

“Oh, you found him! You can go help the stagehands set up now!”

You sighed, your head and feet throbbing from searching for rock star for the past two hours. Turning on your heel, you started out the door but skidded to a halt when Luke stepped right in front of you.  

“Wait, can I get your name?” He said, offering you a lopsided smile.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He said slowly, “That’s pretty- I...wait!” He stammered as you walked right around him and out the door.  

He stuck his head out the door of your uncle’s office, “I’ll see you around!”

“No, you won’t!” You yelled back.

“Yes, I will!”

You smiled as you rounded the corner. Maybe one day you would see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months passed and you arrived at your uncle’s club earlier than normal. It was too early to set up the stage, so you wandered around aimlessly backstage. As you rounded the corner, you tripped over something, slamming hard to the ground.

“Crap sorry!” The man scrambled to his feet and helped you up, “Y/N?”

Your eyes widened as you met Luke’s green eyes, “Larry?”

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand, “Luke.”

“Nah, I like Larry better.” You shook his hand quickly before taking a step back and running a hand through your hair nervously, “You playing here again?”

The boy nodded, a grin lighting up his whole face. He looked at you as if waiting for you to say something.

You stumbled over your words, “Um - well I should....” You pointed behind you and started to slowly back away.

“Wait! Keep me company until the rest of my band gets here?” He begged, pouting his lip out.

A smile pulled at the corner of your mouth, and with the roll of your eyes you motioned for him to sit back on the ground. He did. You plopped down next to him, settling yourself up against the wall.

“So you work here?”

You shook your head, “I help my uncle, I don’t really like staying at home, so he allows me to help out around here.”

Luke’s eyes grew darker as he nodded knowingly.  

You both continued to talk and before long you were laughing as he stood in front of you, guitar in hand, trying to write a song that rhymed with your name.

“It’s not going to work.” You chuckled.

“It will. It will. Hold on I’ll get it.” He strummed the guitar again, his mouth wide open, but no words came out, “Okay, maybe not.”

“Y/N!” A voice echoed down the hall, “Your uncle needs you.”

Sighing, you stood up, brushing off your jeans. You hesitated for a second, turning to face Luke, “I’ll see you around?”

Luke smiled as you walked away and just before you rounded the corner he called out, “Hey if you ever need a place to stay that’s not here, we have a pretty comfortable couch in our studio.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month passed and you saw Luke more than you thought you would.

You were friendly, but you tried to keep your distance. There was a reason you didn’t have many friends. And you didn’t want to drag Luke into your family drama.

When you heard footsteps around the corner, you curled in on yourself hoping whoever it was would ignore you. Your pencil continued to scratch lightly over the paper as you continued to sketch.

When the footsteps sounded closer, your shoulders stiffened as you saw Luke step up beside you.

You shot to your feet and darted away. But he followed after you, his puppy dog eyes wide as he tried to get your attention. When he lightly grabbed your arm, you turned your eyes flashing at him.

He took a step back.

You sighed, “Sorry.”

“No,” He stepped back a little more, “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall, “It’s just...”

“You don’t have to tell me.” His voice was soft.

You sank to the ground, burying your face in your hands as you took deep breath after deep breath. A few seconds later you felt him settle beside you.

Luke began to speak, probably to apologize when you abruptly look up straight into his eyes, “I don’t have the best home life I mentioned before. It’s gotten worse and I don’t....”

He grimaced as your once bright eyes began to darken as bad memories were pulled to the surface. Your eyes glazed over as you turned to stare at the wall opposite you.

Luke was quiet for a few minutes before moving closer to you. He gently took the sketch pad that you held tightly to your chest.  

He began to speak, softly and slowly about how he ran away from home because he and his mom had a horrible fight. And he wanted to go back because he missed her and didn’t want to disappoint her, but he needed to prove to her that music was his thing. As he continued speaking, you began to relax in his presence. Everything he spoke of was in a way similar to what you were going through.

As the weeks passed, you both grew closer and you began to trust him more and more, telling him more about yourself and your family. He was easy to talk to and you felt safe telling him your secrets because he had secrets of his own. He listened without judgment and offered support without forcing it on you.

You didn’t know how different everything would be after this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked up to the garage hesitantly. Alex’s parents had explained where the studio was in the back of the house, and that you should just follow the sound of the music.

You gripped the strap of your bag tighter and raised your hand to knock on the door. But you froze. Sighing you turned. But before you could walk away, the door creaked open behind you.

“Y/N?”

You froze and turned around slowly, refusing to meet the boy’s eyes.

Luke was looking at you confused, his eyes darting to the packed duffel bag on your shoulder, to your downcast face.

“I...um.” You swallowed hard, still looking at the ground. You took a hesitant step back.

But before you could run, Luke stepped up to you, his hand raising, gently lifting your chin. Your eyes darted to the side, so they didn’t meet his.

His own eyes darkened when he saw the bruise on your cheek but knew better than to breach the topic.

“Can I stay here for a few days?” You said faintly.

Luke’s eyes roved your face, and for a moment you thought he would refuse. But then he pulled the bag from your shoulder, slinging it over his own. His other arm lifted to wrap around your shoulder as he led you into the studio.

“Boys! We have a guest!”

Alex and Reggie looked up, both smiling widely when they saw you. They ran over, about to pull you into a group hug, when Luke raised his hand causing them to skid to a halt. They both froze at the sight of your bruised face.

You cringed, waiting for the bombardment of question. But instead, they led you over to the couch and Reggie began a long rant about the new Star Wars that was supposed to come out in a few years, until you were giggling on the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You snuggled into the couch, wearing one of Luke’s sweaters you had “confiscated” a few months ago. It was big on you and hung down below your knees. You had the sleeves rolled numerous times yet they were still long enough to fall over your hands.

“Y/N? I need opinions on what to wear for our Orpheum performance tomorrow night and- is that my sweater?”

You didn’t bother looking up as you continued sketching a new Sunset Curve Album cover, “That it is.”

When Luke didn’t say anything, you raised your head to look at him, your brows furrowing, “Are those my slippers?”

“Yes. Can I ask why you’re wearing it?” He said softly.

You tilted your head, confused at his statement, “What?”

“The sweater. My sweater. Why are you wearing it?”

You definitely blame your sleepy brain for your next response, “It makes me feel safe.”

After a beat of silence and a slight quirk of Luke’s mouth, you realized what you had said. Stumbling over your words you frantically spit out, “Nope, I didn’t say that. Ignore that.”

Luke’s smile took up his whole face. He looked you up and down before his eyes widened, “Wait.  Isn’t that the sweater I was looking for months ago?”

“Well…”

“Y/N!” Luke exclaimed, “I asked you for weeks what happened to it! I can’t believe you had it all this time. Have you taken anything else I’ve been looking for?!”

You scoffed, lightly blushing, “What no of course not why would I ever do that….?”

Lies. You always wore his clothes. His shirts to bed. His pants during cold days. His sweatshirts. You loved his shirts and sweaters the best. They smelled like him. They made you feel safe. You loved being able to cuddle up at night tucked in something that reminded you of him. You loved falling asleep surrounded by his scent. Especially if you were feeling particularly down or sad, his scent would wrap you in a cocoon of safety until you relaxed.

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 1

Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,500

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Eventual Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: The teeniest bit of swearing, slight food mention, Remus is mentioned briefly

______________________________ 

Summary: “Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

(Don’t miss the notes I have at the end of this post if you’d like to hear some additional details! There is a prologue to this story by the way, be sure to check it out!)

______________________________

The alarm blared loudly from across Virgil’s room. He tried hard to the best of his abilities to ignore it but he did make it loud for a reason.

One of those reasons being that he knew himself well enough to know that he would ignore it if he could and shut it off and go back to bed if he couldn’t. Going across the room to get it had always proved to have a higher chance of success in his experience so he had gone for that option last night.

The second reason though was because of today. Virgil shot up upon remembering and went over to his phone charging across his room, squinting at the screen.

“Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

The first day of high school in fact, the event of the decade that he and Roman had been waiting for in anticipation. Well, that was being generous but either way, they were both anticipating it for different reasons as they always seemed to do.

Virgil was not thrilled at the prospect of a new school. He would be required to learn a new campus, new classrooms, new classmates, and new teachers. Within the first week, he knew he’d be accustomed to at least the rooms for his classes but the other ones could take some getting used to. He knew that either way, he wasn’t going to get along with a majority of his classmates and he’d be too nervous to get to know any teachers or do much more than answer the occasional question or take role until they’d learned their students’ names. The campus was another issue too. Where would he be waiting in the morning? Where would he eat lunch? Did he and Roman even have the same brunch schedule? How was he getting home again? What time did his day end?

After shooting a text to Roman about one of those questions, namely in terms of the schedule, he got ready. After pulling his hoodie on over his head, he brushed a hand through his bangs to push them back before frowning at his reflection, letting them fall over his face again. He didn’t look better per say but he could see less which was always a plus in situations he was dreading. His mom had come in at some point to make sure he had actually gotten up and he was out of the house with his backpack and phone as soon as Roman bounded up his driveway.

“Virgil, it’s finally happening!” his best friend squealed, linking their arms as Virgil was tugged along down the route to their new school. “Finally, we’re high schoolers now, can you believe it?”

Virgil snorted, feeling a weight lift off his chest. One of them at least. “Can I believe it? Yeah. Do I want to? Hell no,” he muttered out with an edge of grumpiness to his voice only to have Roman laugh.

“I promise that I’ll be with you as much as I can the whole day! We’re going to have brunch and lunch together too and then I’ll take you over to my place after school!” Roman explained. He honestly made it sound so simple but really, he usually did. It even usually was, at least when Roman told him so. He just always knew how to make awful situations... easier.

“Eh, I guess I’ll take it. Though I’ve gotten a horrible end of the deal for compensation,” Virgil jeered a little, laughing to himself as Roman gasped and shoved him with an obvious smile.

“Shut up, you love me and you know it!”

Virgil’s smile came easily as they kept walking. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say,” he snorted.

Roman talked about theater, asking what productions Virgil thought they should put on, how he hoped to get some good roles this year, and then listed off some of his personal favorite musicals that he hoped he’d get to do at some point. Virgil filled in the gaps and spaces of the conversations and Roman did the rest. It was comfortable, it didn’t seem like this year would feel so bad now with things going just as they always had.

The day started off pretty alright honestly, much better than Virgil would’ve expected. Luckily he’d done a walkthrough of his schedule during registration so he knew vaguely where to go and he made it to his second period class early.

A lot of them were standard class introductions, icebreakers, and syllabuses. It seemed like exactly what he was used to in junior high, just at a different school. Some of his classes seemed pretty boring but he knew he didn’t have much of an option on the basic ones he had to take. He texted Roman between classes to see how he was fairing. He wasn’t very surprised that it was going off without a hitch.

It was a relief by the time that Virgil got to his English class right before lunch, the one class he and Roman shared together. Roman rushed in right as the bell rang and collapsed into the seat next to him, breathing out with a smile.

“Cutting it close, huh?” Virgil whispered.

“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied,” Roman merely offered as explanation before the teacher got up and started talking, cutting their conversation short.

“Man, I am so excited for theater today! I can already tell it’s going to be so amazing!” Roman chattered excitedly as they walked out of English, making their way over to one of the more secluded areas of the campus Virgil had been able to find, setting up to eat lunch.

“Yeah, totally didn’t see that coming,” Virgil said with a slight shake of his head, smirking a bit. “It’s not like you’ve been talking about it all day. Oh wait! You have.”

“Alright alright so I will admit that I might be a little more excited than one would expect!” Roman relented, shrugging. “But! It’s just so amazing, I got into 7th period theater, Virge! I’m going to be in the actual productions!! That’s a big deal for a freshman, usually people don’t make it until maybe sophomore year, you know?”

“Well the director would’ve been an idiot if he didn’t want to put you in them, yeah? I think so anyways,” Virgil said as he took out his sketchbook.

“I suppose but still, I’m just...” Roman laughed to himself, bouncing in place. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to meet all the new people there,” he giggled.

Virgil nodded, starting a sketch of Roman which Roman immediately posed for, knowing the drill.

“Soooo, have you met anyone interesting today?” Roman asked as Virgil was working out the shape of Roman’s nose, their eyes making contact for a second before Virgil was back to sketching.

“Nah, not really. Though somebody just kinda... Gave me a cookie during art. He said I looked like I needed it. He’s my table partner now so there’s that, you know?” Virgil said with a shrug. “He’s pretty cool I guess. Liked one of my drawings of you.”

“And you didn’t strike up a conversation? C’mon Virgil, you could be set on baked goods and a person with great taste for the rest of your life!” Roman exclaimed, shifting out of position as he threw his arms out to which Virgil gave a half-hearted glare.

“You’re dumber than I gave you credit for if you believe I can talk to people.”

“Well I may be dumb but I take it with pride like a Prince should!”

“Your brother is the smarter of the two of you,” Virgil mused.

Roman pouted. “He is not!”

“Pretty sure he is,” Virgil hummed out.

As the two conversed a little more, Virgil didn’t feel up to eating anything.

Lunch ended and the day finished up with Virgil waiting outside the auditorium for Roman to be done with theater. The two walked home with Roman going on and on about the rest of his day, telling him about all the people he had met and all the things that he had gotten up to. Apparently there was already some idea of what the fall play would be so Roman talked about it at length.

“But seriously Virgil, it was so nice of them! Two of the juniors gave me a card to welcome me, it had my name on it and everything, I can’t wait!”

Virgil merely nodded as Roman continued.

Virgil didn’t have much to say at that point, just letting Roman keep going. Virgil just listened on, focusing silently on his best friend as they made their way home.

______________________________ 

A/N: Hey hey hey guys, here is the first official chapter of Prom Queen! I don’t have an especially strict schedule for this story but I do try to post every other day and it works out fairly well! I’ll try not to make it be more than a couple weeks between chapters but life might get funky so if anything happens, I’ll try my best to handle it and get more chapters out!

That being said, I hope you are enjoying the story and are excited for future chapters! Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglists, either this one or my writing/art taglists in general and I’ll catch you guys next time!

______________________________ 

Taglist: @spookijam, @its-the-cat-queen, @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars

[daveyjacobss]

meant to be made into art

jack kelly x davey jacobs (freshman college roommates au)

summary: davey might like his new roommate more than he was expecting to.

a/n: hi @faded-dragon-flys !! i’m your secrect santa for @newsies-secret-santa !! this is being posted a little later than i wanted so i’m really sorry about that but i hope you like it!! i hope you’ve had a happy holidays and that you have a wonderful new years :)

masterlist

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College was....okay. It wasn't that Davey wasn't excited to have more freedom and to finally be able to pursue his interests, but the entire experience was incredibly nerve-wracking. Classes and coursework were enough stress on their own, but the addition of living away from home for the first time in a new place with a stranger for a roommate wasn't exactly ideal. Not that his roommate wasn't fine, he was —mostly. He had a horrible sleep schedule and he was a little messy and he sometimes listened to his music too loud, but Davey had many of the same flaws. So, yeah, Davey could mostly handle Jack.

It had been a bit of a shock the second week when he had been up at an ungodly hour writing for one of his classes and Jack, who he had assumed was sleeping somewhere else for the night, had returned from one of the school's art studios splattered with paint. From the look on Jack's face, it had been a bit of a shock for him, too. But after the initial surprise had passed Jack had laughed quietly and Davey's cheeks had flushed the lightest of pinks because, oh, Jack had a really nice laugh. Davey had laughed a little, too, once he got his faint blush under control, and they had stayed up a little longer to talk before going to sleep. There were plenty of late night encounters in the following weeks, but that first one lingered in Davey's mind — the way the paint on Jack's face had accentuated his jawline, the way his smile had spread across his face so easily. His laughter had been soft but, with the quiet of the room, the sound of it had wrapped itself around Davey so firmly that he had felt it in his chest.

That happened a lot — more than he would have liked to admit. Jack would laugh, or he would sing along with his music, or he would just talk, and Davey would feel it reverberating in his chest and quickening the pace of his heart. Though, to be fair, the sped up heart rate also happened whenever Jack changed his shirt in front of Davey or walked into the room after a shower in only a towel.

So, maybe he couldn't actually handle Jack that well. Or, rather, he couldn't handle the way his face warmed every time Jack looked at him and his heart jumped in his chest anytime Jack touched him. Every time he talked to Sarah on the phone she would ask about his cute roommate, and every time without fail Davey would make a little choking noise and, if Jack was there, a swift exit. She had seen him when she was helping Davey move into his dorm, and he spent every day grateful that she hadn't gotten the chance to actually talk to him.

Sarah was better at making friends than Davey was, she always had been. Where she blossomed in social situations and could easily command a room, Davey floundered for what to say and criticized every word that came out of his own mouth. He was awkward, and people tended to give him strange looks rather than friendly smiles. Jack was the same way as Sarah, from what Davey could gather. He had plenty of friends back home and he had had no trouble making friends at their university, never eating alone in the dining hall and always having someone in each of his classes to text about assignments. Davey could understand it, the way people seemed to fawn over Jack and melt at his smile — after all, he did the same things. Jack never really brought his friends back to their dorm, though, and it warmed Davey's heart to think it was out of consideration for him.

The only real friends Davey had made since arriving on campus were Jack and a girl in his english class named Katherine, who sometimes scared him but he still adored all the same. Katherine had caught onto his growing feelings for his roommate so fast Davey had briefly wondered if she was psychic. Jack had seen them sitting together while they ate dinner and came to say hi, and Katherine had clearly not missed the way Davey had simultaneously brightened out of excitement and shrunk down out of nervousness. Thankfully, she didn't say anything until Jack had left, but then a teasing smile had spread across her face and Davey knew he was a goner.

"Don't think I didn't see that," she had said, nonchalantly flipping her hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief as she looked at him.

"See what?" He had asked, trying to appear as unbothered as she was. He failed miserably.

She hadn't responded, only going back to eating her salad, but she had been poking fun at him about it ever since. It didn't help that she insisted Jack had a crush on Davey, too. She would tell him about how Jack's smile was different for him and he rarely looked away from Davey when they were in the same room — but Davey just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Believing it would let in too much hope, and with too much hope came the inevitable bone crushing weight of heartbreak.

Even just the little bit of hope that had crept into his chest after Katherine's constant reassurances of Jack liking him as well left him stealing glances at his roommate while perched on his own bed and making half-assed annotations in his textbook. Sometimes he felt creepy, always watching Jack when he wasn't looking (thought he probably spent an equal amount of time averting his eyes for his own sanity), but every once in a while Jack would catch him and he would just smile — so Davey never felt too bad about it.

He watched as Jack hunched over his sketchbook, his lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed. Jack always looked breathtaking when he was concentrating on his artwork. He ended up in strange positions that looked like there was no way they could ever be comfortable, but his body was as relaxed as it was tense. Sometimes his tongue would slip out between his teeth if he got really into it, and it always made Davey smile. Jack's control over his face in general seemed to disappear when he was working on his art, every emotion clearly written in his expressions as he cycled through them. Once, Jack had brought Davey to the art studio with him so he could have company while he painted. It had been one of the smaller rooms in the art building, and they were the only ones in there. The way Jack had loosened and opened up was incredible to watch, it was like as soon as he picked up his paintbrush his whole being clicked into place and was brought into focus. The painting was beautiful, as was every piece of Jack's, but it was the painter who Davey had watched come alive in vibrant colors.

"What are you working on?" He blurted out, startling even himself as Jack looked up from his sketchbook. His roommate's face relaxed a little as his eyes fell on Davey.

"Just some warmup sketches," he answered easily. Everything Jack did seemed to come easily.

"Any particular subject?" Davey pushed his textbook off his lap, his notes forgotten in lieu of a much more important subject (Jack, of course). For a split second, he swore he saw panic flash across his friend's face.

"Not really, I just like to make sure I draw a bit everyday." He smiled at Davey, closing his sketchbook. "What class are you working on?"

"Oh, this?" Davey gestured to the several colors of highlighters and pens scattered across his bed with his textbook. "It's just stuff for my intro to philosophy course. The professor gives us, like, never-ending readings. It's nowhere near as interesting as your art." He was blushing by the time he finished talking, not having expected himself to turn his answer into praise for Jack (...again). But Jack scoffed, bringing himself and his sketchbook over to Davey's bed. He plopped down next to him and their knees knocked into each other, Davey's heart missing a beat.

"Nah, if it's interesting to you than it's cool. You don't have to downplay it or justify it to me." Jack caught Davey's eyes while he was talking, locking in so that Davey couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to (he didn't). There was something so simultaneously comforting and exposing about Jack looking right at him, all of his attention focused on Davey. He was so caught up it in that it took a second for his words to register. But, when they did, he found his chest warming and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering their wings — not the harsh, violent flapping that happened when he got anxious, but a gentle soothing rhythm that could have lulled him to sleep. Not knowing how to respond to such a warm act of reassurance, he tried to redirect the conversation.

"Can I see what you were drawing?"

It was Jack who finally broke their staring contest, dragging his eyes down to look at his sketchbook resting in his lap. He glanced between it and Davey, biting his lip.

"Tell you what, I'll show you some of these sketches if you finally let me read one of those short stories of yours for your fiction writing class, deal?"

Davey's eyes widened, feeling himself shrinking back without actually moving. He was retreating from the warmth Jack was radiating and it left him cold and regretful, but he didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he could let Jack read one his stories, let him look that deeply in Davey's mind. Sure, his professor and his classmates would read his stories for workshops to help him revise it, but this felt different. They were reading it for the sake of constructive criticism and helping him improve it, Jack would be reading it just to read it. Jack would be reading it and in doing so he'd get the biggest peek into who Davey was that he would probably ever get. Even Sarah hadn't been allowed to read his stories yet. But —

But Jack was there. Jack was sitting there in front of him on Davey's bed, offering up a part of himself, too. Davey had watched Jack paint, but he had never had the privilege to look into Jack's sketchbook. Even when he asked he had been expecting a playful dismissal, a kind brush off. Jack's other friends, Davey knew, weren't allowed to look at his sketchbook. He had confided with Davey that even his foster brother back home had only been allowed to glimpse a few pages. And if Jack was willing to show that part of himself, to reveal that to Davey, how couldn't he offer up the same in return?

"Okay," he said, looking Jack right in the eye again and watching as his lips turned upward. "Deal."

Jack grinned fully before spitting on his hand and holding it out as if for a handshake. Davey scrunched his nose as he looked down at it. "That's disgusting."

Jack laughed, pulling hand back to wipe it on his pants. "Sorry, force of habit."

Davey's phone vibrated on the bed beside him as he was giving Jack a slightly bewildered stare. He picked it up without really looking, pulling up the text notification from Sarah. His face flushed at her message, quickly putting his phone face down on the bed to make sure Jack couldn't see it. It was Jack's turn to give Davey a bewildered stare.

"You alright there?"

Davey laughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, I'm good. Sorry, it's my sister. She won't stop asking me about my cute roommate." He froze as he realized what he had said. "Uh! Her words, not mine. She won't shut up about it."

"That so?" Jack asked, smirking. He was so smug and so boyishly attractive that Davey's brain didn't even give him a second to think before he was talking again.

"Well, you know, you are." And holy shit he did not just say that. Holy shit he did not just say that. Jack's jaw dropped just slightly, but Davey was more focused on the panic making its way through his entire body and forcing even more words up his throat. "I mean—like, uh, objectively, ya know? Like, your face is, uh — it's, like, aesthetically.... pleasing?"

He wanted to die. He wanted to throw himself out the window and die. He could not believe all of that had just come out of his mouth. He continued to stutter for a few more seconds without any real words coming out, Jack's eyes still fixated on him as he blushed and fidgeted. Then, suddenly, he turned away as if to hide his face — but he didn't turn enough. Davey watched in muted shock as Jack lips spread into a broad grin.

"For what it's worth," Jack's voice was soft and gentle, slipping out from behind his smile, "I think your face is pretty aesthetically pleasing, too."

Davey's entire body shut down. Oh. Jack thought he had a nice face. Okay. Yeah, definitely not something he could handle — definitely something he would need to deal with and process when he was alone and could express the proper amount of freaking out over it.

"I actually, um—" Jack was turning back to him, opening his sketchbook to his most recent pages. "I think you have a really nice face, Davey." He held the book out to Davey and he took it with slightly trembling his hands. In front of him were two full pages populated entirely by sketches of Davey. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at them, at Jack's beautiful handiwork. He made Davey seem more breathtaking than he was, than he could ever dream of being. And, more than that, he made Davey seem like the kind of person worth paying attention to.

When he turned to look back at Jack, his gaze was softened and his mouth was stilling hanging open slightly. Jack looked like he was holding his breath, his eyes hopeful as they met Davey's.

Oh, Davey thought again. Oh.

While he had been sneaking glances at Jack, Jack had been doing the same. While he had been romanticizing every detail of Jack, Jack had been doing the exact same thing to Davey in his artwork. He made Davey feel like he was the kind of person who deserved to be romanticized, like he was the kind of person who was meant to made into art.

Oh.

Davey gently placed the sketchbook down on the bed, feeling more calm than he had since he moved into their dorm. The butterflies in his stomach were fluttering, his heart was beating out his chest, his face was practically burning, and yet everything felt peaceful. Jack's eyes widened as Davey reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

But he melted into it when Davey kissed him. He grabbed at Davey, his hands scrunching up the fabric of Davey's shirt as he pulled him closer, smiling into the kiss. Davey felt like he had literally ascended to heaven, curling his fingers in Jack's hair.

When they eventually pulled away Davey's nerves returned in full force, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. But Jack just smiled at him and kissed his forehead before lacing their hands together. And, yeah, Davey could make do with that.

"What do you say we go grab some dinner and I read one of your stories when we get back? Then we can have a movie night or something," Jack offered, standing up from the bed and pulling Davey with him.

No fear came with the idea of Jack reading his story that time, not after having seen Jack's sketchbook. Not after Jack had revealed himself so openly to Davey — it was only fair he do the same. Plus, he found that he wanted Jack to see that part of him. He wanted to know what Jack thought of his writing.

"Yeah," he smiled, squeezing Jack's hand. "That sounds good."

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tag list: @isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod @abovethyfold @mycollectionofnuts @gayrightsansa @dorkydavina

[leandrafoxxo]

So I came up with a dream..

And it changes the scenes that I showed you earlier in a way that rather than editing what I posted I wanted to rewrite it. Most of it stays the same but there are significant changes now and I think it’s much better with the dream added in.. so here you go. ____________________________________________________________

"Hey, Chidori."

Junpei scratched his neck as he looked down a tad, but his gaze was caught by hers again, which was directed at him curiously, waiting for his response.

"Ah, I was just wondering, you know, whether you've got some time to spare.. like, on Sunday?"

She nodded in reply.

' I do.. why is it you ask? '

"Well, I thought we could.. you know, only if you'd like, but.."

- Ahw come on man, say it already! - he thought by himself before gathering his courage.

Under her curious gaze he finally managed to ask her.

"Would you like to uh.. catch a movie with me? They have some good ones at the theatre nearby.. Or anything you like, really, I'm not picky."

Just as long as he could spend more time with her.

Chidori kept looking at him for another second, then averting her gaze downwards, blinking, smiling a tad before she looked up to him again.

' I'd like that. ' she finally gave for an answer, which made Junpei smile alongside her in relief.

"Sweet! Sunday’s still okay, right?”

‘ If you don’t mind it being in the afternoon, yes. I wanted to go visit the old lady that keeps the flowershop, she wanted to have a cup of tea with me. ‘ she explained, seeming very happy that she would have so much good company.

“Ah, the old lady you’ve been telling me so much about? I’ve gotta meet her some time, too, she seems great!”

‘ She is. ‘ Chidori showed an earnest smile as she said that.  .

Junpei smiled back, getting a little more sheepish again. “So uh.. Wanna go back to the dorm again? We can think up something good for Sunday while we’re at it.”

‘ That sounds good, it’s getting a little colder again. I’m okay though. ‘ she said before Junpei could get worried. And so they carried on their conversation on their way back to the dorms. _____________________________________________________________

Chidori was sitting on that very bench next to the flower shop at the Port Island Station.

It was a little early for her to be sitting there waiting already, yet she sat there, at some point growing tired of sketching flower bouquets.

As beautifully arranged as they may have been, somehow she just felt tired in general.

And as she drew, her thoughts drifted off and the flowers became more and more abstract, as though she'd be seeking to capture something entirely different.

Like that she closed her sketchbook and placed it to her left, directing her gaze towards all those wind turbines, eventually losing it in the sky and drifting off to sleep.

At first she was sleeping calmly before slowly all of those pictures came up again.

Pictures she couldn't define, such that would only leave her with one feeling.

Longing for something.

But after a while all of those pictures faded into nothingness again and soon she drifted into a beautiful dream that brought her a kind of peace that felt so familiar and entirely new to her at the same time.

After a while she would wake up, the serene feeling staying with her, but.. no, it felt different now.

The sun stood much lower than before, but alongside that...

' Jun..pei.? '

Chidori found herself leaning against Junpei, closely cuddled up to him.

He seemed to have fallen asleep right there, with both of them supporting their weight onto each other.

Puzzled and a tad flustered she looked up to him.

However, as she watched him sleep serenely, something became clear to her. _____________________________________________________________

"Alright, alright.. You got this. You're da man. Just.. keep their advice in mind and don't screw this up, that's all." he mumbled to himself, on his way to Port Island Station.

As he got out of the train he adjusted himself and got down the stairs.

Like that he reached the bench, but..

He checked the clock.

No, no he wasn't late at all. Good. But still..

He looked over at Chidori, who was fast asleep right there in front of him.

To be frank, he didn't really know how to deal with this situation.

But, to be frank, he genuinely liked that sight.

And thus he kept watching her for another moment before he sat next to her, carefully, as somehow he just didn't want to disturb her sleep.

So he was waiting.

Then, after a couple of minutes she grew to be restless.

At first he thought she'd be waking up and he was already thinking up something to greet her with before he noticed that she was still caught in her sleep.. was she dreaming?

But he wasn't left alone long enough to finish this thought, as he saw how his lady shifted around a tad before her balance changed in a way that would've sent her lying flat on the bench.

That is, if Junpei wouldn't have given up on the polite distance he kept at first.

Like this she leaned onto him now, even snuggling up to him a little before she got calmer.

Junpei on the other hand gathered all his mental power to stay still, blushing a good tad as he thought about just how incredibly glad he was that he just took a shower.

So like this, somehow, he actually managed to calm down, though he was still incredibly stoked about the situation.

After all, it's been so long since he last...

Nah, he didn't want to overthink that, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with her.

Hence he carefully - very carefully - leaned onto her just a bit more to catch some of her scent, gently leaning his head onto hers, trying to push back the feeling of just how badly he wanted to hold her now, watching her just a little while longer before he closed his eyes.

In this serene moment, he drifted off to sleep. ______________________________________________________________

It's bright and wonderfully warm and the whole city spreads out below them. The many cherry blossoms that colour the city, her long froly hair, and the cloth of her dress are swept by a fresh but gentle wind as she looks around, mesmerized by the sight. As she turns to look back at him her eyes are shining and she is full of life, showing him a beautiful smile and the sight in front of him captivates him entirely until his body reminds him that he should breathe some more and he has to agree. He steps towards her some more and takes her hands into his, trying to put what he feels into words and failing hopelessly. He lets go of her hands gently, but only to pull her closer and into a tight hug that she returns after a moment of surprise, gently whispering his name into his shirt. And like that they stay for what feels like an eternity and neither one of them minds staying like this forever. ______________________________________________________________ ' Junpei.? '

Somewhere inbetween sleeping and waking he heard a gentle voice calling his name.

' Hey, Junpei. '

Someone was trying to wake him, and eventually she succeeded.

Amber eyes looked up to him as Junpei looked back at her, just studying her for a moment.

"Huh.. I'm not dreaming.. now am I?" he mumbled towards her.

Chidori smiled and shook her head, snuggling into him a little more.

He blinked for another second before he turned a lot more red, sitting up all straight before he started to talk really quickly.

"I-I'm sorry! I, you were sleeping and -" ' Hey.. ' "- I just really didn't want to disturb you but, you, you know, all of a sudden -" ' Hey, Junpei.. ' "I mean I didn't want you to fall and get hurt and -"  ' Junpei, please calm down! '

Despite calling out to him her voice was still gentle.

As she finally had a calmer Junpei next to her, looking at her in wonder, she began to chuckle at his sight, blushing.

And whilst his heart jumped a tad, she closed the distance that he’d put inbetween them as he was startled and patted his shoulder gently.

' Don't worry.. It’s okay, really. I.. I didn’t mind being with you like that. ' she replied, surprised how she was able to say that without getting terribly sheepish, but she really meant that.

His eyes got wide and he blinked at Chidori another second before he scratched his neck with a big smile on his face.

"Heh, you really think so?"

There she shared a bench with a genuinely happy man.

As their gazes met the moment was broken by a clock signalizing how time had passed on in the background. It has gotten late, as the night was not yet there, but the sun stood rather low.

"Ah- the movie!"

' It's almost over, huh? '

Junpei shrugged in reply, but then spoke up.

"Hey, uhm.. I know it could get later than we said, but, uhm, would you like to spend some more time with, I mean, doing something else.? Like, there's this nice cafe over at the mall. It'll probably get dark, but I'll make sure to keep all those thugs away from you on the way back!"

He tried to look all tough for her, trying to chase away the awkwardness, posing a little, which made Chidori smile.

And he couldn't say it wasn't part of why he did that, as he smiled back at her.

' Let's do that, then. ' she said, as she picked up her sketchbook, got up, and pulled at Junpei's sleeve gently.

She didn't need to tell him that twice, that was for sure.

They had to walk over there, but it wasn't that long and neither of them minded the other's company.

In fact something seemed to have changed.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[moonlady9]

I checked out your wip list and I'm really curious: how do you decide which wips to work on? I noticed you had a lot of projects listed but I personally have a problem where if I start too many I have trouble finishing others, and yet your updates are always so consistent and you've finished so many oneshots!!! How do you manage it?

Thanks for the question Anon! ❤️

This is going to be long....

To be honest, being creative and actually creating is all about diligence. I can’t wait for inspiration to strike, or my muse to come around. If I did that, I would hardly ever write, draw, or paint. I am a person that likes structure so I have a schedule for myself where I allow myself to practice my creativity and create something. What I post is a result of me practicing. 

I may not always feel like following a strict schedule so I give myself permission to do something else instead. Like, if I was supposed to work on Candy but I don’t feel like writing angst and feel more like writing something fluffy, I’ll work on Epistle or Land of Fire instead. It’s why my chaptered stories have different tones. If I’m really not in a writing mood, I’ll draw or paint. The point is to exercise my creativity so its easier for me to call on my muse or harness that lightning strike of inspiration when I need it. I have control of my inspiration, the thing that is out of my control is usually energy or time.

There are times that I do become possessed with an idea and get consumed with it and I will write for three days straight and 40k words later I have a rough draft (this happens often, especially with my chaptered stories). My trick here is that I don’t post it all at once. I hold on to all those words and then I’ll schedule in when I work on it to clean them up and post updates. I have created a cushion for the times I don't write anything but still want to have something to post.

Of course sometimes life happens and I really can’t be creative and create, it’s times like those that I fall back to my prewritten stories and polish them up. It's easier to go back and edit, rewrite, and change more quickly than if I had an empty page. This also helps to restart my creativity, to warm it up, like a muscle, until it’s up and running again.

For one shots, it maybe that I have a scene but don't want to write a whole story and doesn’t fit the tone of any of my wips. One-shots can also be a away for me to test readers interests or even my own. If readers don’t seem engaged in a one-shot, I won’t continue to post it, if I’m not interested I’ll just leave it as a one-shot. The rewards system in my brain needs some validation, hence why I crave engagement, as do other creators.

One-shots are also a nice mental break to write something completely different. It’s a new exercise to add some variety and not get bored. Also, I might write a rough draft of a one-shot and not post it, and then when I feel like finishing it, I will come back to it. I have many half written or outlined stories so that if I haven’t gotten that lighting strike of inspiration, I can still create. I do write for myself a lot (as you can see from the wips list, and those are just the ones I’m sharing with you guys, trust there are more that will never see the light of day)

This is just how I work and my system. Everyone has a different way of working and creating, but my production really changed when I finally realized, inspiration isn’t something I need to wait for. I went 10 years without writing because I was just waiting for that fabled strike of inspiration, thinking I wasn’t meant to be a writer because I hadn’t been chosen by the gods. Nah, creating is just practice and diligence. Now, I can control it, I can jumpstart it by doing something small like an outline, a sketch, a rough draft, a writing or painting exercise, even a walk with my camera but doing it with intent to find something interesting. 

It won’t be good more than likely, and that’s okay. The goal isn’t for it to be good, I have no plans on writing the next great American novel, or painting the next Mona Lisa. I just to get my inspiration jumpstarted so I can enjoy the process of creating. And every piece I complete, it’s never perfect, there will always be room for improvement but I don’t hold it against myself, I just learn from it and do it better next time. I share my creations in the hope at least one person likes it or likes to see my progress and that's enough for me. Engagement helps me grow and improve and that great too. I have accepted that perfection is unattainable and not only is that okay, but exciting.

Wow, I know this is really long, but I hope it’s helpful to someone out there. Be patient and kind to yourself.

Much love and stay safe!

[kitty-chan-art-den]

update

I was tempted to post the ACTUAL logo, but nah

don’t want people stealing it

anyway!

yes, I have a proper logo now! I’m planning on making some...changes. I’ll be updating my commissions sheet again soon, once I have another piece or two of my work that isn’t just a plain sketch for reference. I’ll be opening up commissions soon enough here, sorry I’ve had such a long hiatus from doing those! the last few months have been...really rough, not gonna lie.

recovering from a recent B12 deficiency scare and still processing everything with OSDD, it’s been a long few months. but now I’m properly vaccinated, so hopefully things will go up from here.

YCH commissions will open; they’ll be temporary, but I’ll have at least three slots open; humans, furries, scalies, etc., I’ll be accepting of any body type/character type, though mechanical ones will be a bit trickier ones (inquire about complexity).

I’m slowly changing things to make sure I have a PROPER brand for my work, not just random avatars I update once in a blue moon. I’ll keep my old name, kittychan, but the 17985 part has been ditched (except on my main blog), in favour of going with kittychanlegit on my Twitter and Discord.

now that I have a more consistent sense of style, I’m hoping to get a little more recognition for my work, something that screams “kittychanlegit”.

Angel will remain a mascot of sorts, I draw her too often for her to NOT be my mascot lol.

so! stick around to stay updated, and thank you to all of the new followers, we’re at 372(?) now! thank you all for following me and enjoying my work. even if I inspire only one person, I’m just so happy to have anyone following and enjoying my work as a whole, even if the fandom switches around a lot.

thank you all. 💙💛

[my-arlington-academia]

The main 10 cheering up a crying Scholar (Y/N) finally part 2!

Here are Neha, Raquel and Tadashi! I had to cut the last 5 in 2 posts because tumblr doesn't allow more than 250 blocks of text... But anyway! I finally did it! It's been 84 years... though I feel like those are not really headcanons anymore. They're all so long that it would be more accurate to say that they're scenarios. Sorry! It's probably gonna be really annoying scrolling up and down.

Neha

- crying is a really good way to let your emotions out and it always worked out for you

- whenever it's all too much you make yourself cry to feel better afterward

- one day, once you finished crying your phone rang

- it's from Neha, she's inviting you to her room

- oh boy.

- when you moved into the dorms Karolina did say that the previous owner of the room would put loud music on and they would hear it

- 'did Neha hear me cry?' God you hope not

- When you knock, the door immediately opens as if Neha was right in front of it waiting for you

- She pulls you in and starts taking your measurements

- "I've decided to use you as my model for my next outfit."

- "W-what?!?"

- now you're almost sure that she did hear you, or else why would she make an outfit just for you when she's got Karolina?

- surprisingly a few days later the outfit is done! Does it really take that little time usually? You're pretty sure that Neha already had the design ready in her sketchbook

- during that time though, everyday until the "outfit" was ready she would go out of her way to talk to you everyday even though she's usually either busy or with Karolina

- she knows that it annoys her but even when Karolina was around Neha would still come and chat with you for a bit

- You're guessing that she didn't want you to feel like you're alone in your hard times

- when the outfit was done she called you over again

- "Here, try it on!"

- there's more excitement in her voice than usual and it's really freaking cute

- "You mean right here, right now?"

- she keeps staring at you in silence before coming back to her senses

- "Oh, right. Sorry. I'll turn away while you change."

- but then while you're taking your clothes off the door flows open

- "Neha, did you see my-"

- Karolina looks at the both of you and while she's trying to process the scene all that she gets from the situation is: you taking your clothes off in their room, and Neha waiting for you to take them off while facing away?

- "N... Nevermind. Just do your thing I'll come back in one hour. Or uh, two hours. Actually."

- She closed the door in a hurry. Welp. She probably misunderstood.

- Neha kept on facing the wall but you could see her ears getting red

- that little accident is quickly forgotten when you've put the outfit on

- it's so elaborate and classy. it's making you feel self-concious

- Even though Neha was the one who made the outfit she blushed when she saw you in it

- "You look so lovely- uh. I mean the dress! The dress looks lovely on you, obviously, since I'm the one who made it."

- her bashfulness is making you blush too but you tell her that you can't pay for it

- "Are you kidding? It's a gift I've made for you. No one else in the world owns this and won't own it because I won't put it on sale. It's a special outfit only for you."

- She takes her sketchbook and rips out a page, it's a sketch of the outfit and... you're the one wearing it on the drawing!

- "To be honest, I had already heard you crying a few times in your room and I didn't know how to help. So uh... I guess what I mean is. I've been planning this for a long time but I wasn't brave enough to ask for your measurements until recently and um..."

- She's rambling and rambling, you've probably never heard her talk this much

- "Basically... when you're sad come over. Or ask me to come over, whatever. Our rooms are right next to eachother so whether you cry in your room or here I'll hear you anyway so you might as well be with me."

- this was maybe not the best way to phrase it, but you got the feeling she was going for and that's all that matters

Raquel

- Noticed that you weren't feeling good right away

- but more in a "are you catching a cold?" kinda way

- but it didn't have anything to do with your health

- You actually wanted to explain what happend as soon as it did but when you tried to, tears came down immediately from the very first sentence

- Raquel grabbed you by the shoulders

- "It's okay! You can tell me later if it's too hard."

- The next day when you were getting ready to go to school Raquel came to your room dressed in casual clothes

- "Hey Y/N! Let's skip today."

- You tell her that you can't because you're a scholarship student and all but she ends up convincing you anyway

- "It's all fine, it's just for one day! Everyone thinks that you're a really hard-working, punctual and honest person! They'll believe whatever you say."

- "Raquel... I am a hard-working, punctual and honest person..."

- "Exactly! And that's why you can take advantage of that and no one will doubt you."

- Oh well...

- it's not like you were looking forward to that math test anyway

- you sneak around and get out of the school through Raquel's knowledge of... blind spots?

- you feel a little guilty about it since you'll have to lie to the teachers later about "not feeling well"

- Raquel makes you forget that pretty easily though

- "Okayyy! Now let's go have our breakfast, I know a place."

- "Ah, cool."

- "You don't sound really excited... But you know, the both of us sneaking out of school to go on a date: isn't it a little bit like we're secretly lovers during war time between two kingdoms in a movie?"

- Wait, this was a date?? You had no idea

- You spent the whole day just walking around town in different fast foods, parks, and shops

- everytime you wanted to buy something Raquel would try to buy it for you

- You refused everything except the food, she was being extremely pushy about paying for the food

- on the way back you decide to tell her about your troubles again, this time hopefully you won't burst into tears

- She's incredibly understanding and doesn't let you downplay your feelings

- anytime you say "it may sound stupid"/"maybe I'm being too emotional" she's like

- "No! Fuck that! There's a reason why you feel this way and it's not dumb."

- You get a little bit teary eyed and before you can even think about crying Raquel hugs you

- then she whispers in your ear

- "Did it hurt?"

- "Uh... what?"

- At first you thought she meant your feelings because obviously it did hurt, you just spent like 20 minutes explaining what had happened

- but then you understood

- is she seriously trying to cheer you up with pick-up lines?

- "So did it hurt or did it not?"

- "You mean, when I fell from heaven?"

- She makes the biggest grin before replying

- "No, when you fell for me."

- You're trying your best not to burst into laughter

- "Nah, not really. It was a quick fall."

- Oh no, you outsmarted her lame pick-up line

- you guys end the day with the most stupid pick-up line fight

- little do you know that Raquel will shoot a ball in the face of a certain someone for hurting you

- maybe multiple times if she feels like it

Tadashi

- To be honest he didn't really notice at first

- maybe it was one of your "bad days", Tadashi knows what it's like so he totally gets it

- but then when it's been 3 days in a row and you're still in that state?

- he cancels all of his work and assignements for the day

- calls you over in such a professional manner that it's kinda scary

- he literally asks you to meet him in the student council's room

- tells you to "please sit down" in front of him

- Honestly, this situation is making you really tense. Did Tadashi figure out that one time, 3 months ago, when you stole a smoothie from the cafeteria?

- "Look, I'm sorry okay? I was just really thirsty and I needed sugar. Also, it's not like I wasn't allowed to get one! There was no one at the counter so I figured it wouldn't hurt to..."

- Tadashi IAmConfusion™ looks at you

- "Why are you talking about that now? Don't worry, I know."

- Now it's your turn to get confused

- "You mean... you knew and you didn't give me detention?"

- Now he looks a bit frustrated

- "Come on Y/N, I'm not that mean. I won't give you detention just because you came 5 minutes late to our meeting."

- This is most likely a misunderstanding...

- "This is what you were talking about just now, right? That the reason why you came here late is because you were drinking a smoothie. I figured you were probably busy doing something so no need to feel so guilty about it."

- "Oh. Oooohhh... yeahh... totally. Sorry."

- Now that this is out of the way, he asks you to tell him what's on your mind

- At first you hesitate a little but, if there's someone with whom you want to share this with, it's Tadashi

- he's listening really closely to what you're saying without cutting you off but sometimes you can see his eyes getting a bit darker

- Like, you're not being specific enough about a detail or something and he's probably taking notes of all the questions he has so that he can ask them when you're done

- At some point though, you become really emotional and your voice starts cracking when you're talking

- You end up crying and your tears fall on the desk

- Tadashi jumps out of his seat, his chair falls down as he panics

- "Hey! Y/N?? Err... Um..."

- Takes you in his arms carefully, like he's not really sure if that's what he's supposed to do when this type of thing happens

- "It's okay! I'm here... I'm here so... d-don't cry Y/N I'll do something about it no problem!"

- when you've calmed down he puts down his wallet on the desk

- "Uh... what?"

- "You can use it."

- "You mean your money??"

- "What else?"

- he explains that you can take all the smoothies and premium food in the cafeteria with this

- "Are you kidding? I can't use your money for that."

- He's literally trying to cheer you up with money which is obviously not the way to go about it

- He sees that you're not convinced so he pulls out his phone and shoves the screen on your face so closely that you have to take a step back in order to read what's on it

- It's Tadashi's to do list, probably the place where he writes all of his tasks for the week

- The spot on number one is you. It reads "1. Y/N"

- when you look at him Tadashi is furiously blushing and looking away

- this is incredibly sweet until you notice how wrong this sounds

- "Wait... Tadashi?"

- "Yes?"

- "I'm first on your... "To do" list? Seriously?"

- "What's that's supposed to mean? Of course you're number one on my- Oh god..."

- he just understood how wrong it sounded and took the phone back before rewriting the list

- He's making it so easy for you to tease him

- the poor boy is literally begging you to stop it but you can't until he shows you his phone screen again

- this time it's written "1. Make Y/N smile again", you're literally his number one priority. This is so sweet to the point where you can't tease him anymore. It would be too mean.

- As for Tadashi, let's just say that he's about to get "really mean" with the person you were talking about just now and he's not going to hold back

[makeste]

why Kaminari Denki is not the U.A. traitor (and why the traitor is actually Hagakure)

thank you, anon! okay first off, my opinion of the Kaminari Traitor Theory is: nah, he ain’t. but as requested, I will break this down and refute the various arguments point by point.

this is a big compilation of various “Kaminari is the traitor” posts from 4chan (general warning btw for 4chan being 4chan), which I got from this reddit thread. some of these are clearly shitposts, but on the whole it seems fairly comprehensive, so I’m gonna use this as my primary source for theory arguments. if there are any major arguments for this theory that I missed please let me know.

also! a huge part of the reason why I don’t subscribe to this theory is that I am 1000% sure that Hagakure is the actual traitor. so the second half of this post will consist of a detailed explanation as to why I’m all-in on that theory to the point of dismissing any and all other theories. I feel like that’s worth clarifying a bit more.

so! here goes.

“his proto design is that of a villain”

lol I’m trying to think of how to put this diplomatically. this is something I see a lot, people using Horikoshi’s prototype sketches and notes as evidence for various theories. the thing is, this is shaky ground at best. there’s a reason why these are proto designs and not the final product. Deku’s proto design had emo kid hair, and proto!Katsuki was an obnoxious prep school kid lol. plans change, and thank fucking god for that tbh.

but that aside, “he looks like a villain” is not in any way a solid argument to begin with. Horikoshi has made a point in the actual story of showing that people’s preconceived notions of what heroes and villains “should” look and behave like doesn’t always line up with reality. and in this case we’re not even basing it on behavior, but solely on how he looks, which is really kind of discriminatory. by that logic, one could look at, say, Shouji, and be all, “well he’s clearly the traitor.” just because someone looks scary at first glance doesn’t mean they actually are. all in all, I don’t buy it.

“Kaminari is the only one who could have told the villains where the camping trip was being held since he’s pretty much a walking GPS”

I present to you a panel from chapter 83:

literally any one of the students could have used their phone’s GPS to pinpoint their location and send it to the villains. they weren’t on any kind of communications lockdown, and even if they were, there was no practical way to enforce it. so this argument doesn’t really hold water for me. even if Kami’s quirk did work that way, which we don’t really have evidence of aside from one weird line in the USJ arc that has never since been expanded on, that doesn’t really work as evidence of him being the traitor when there are 39 other kids who could have done the exact same thing without a quirk.

“his dumbness is fake”

this is honestly the one aspect of this theory that I least understand. the thing is, this isn’t a theory. this is a what-if. it’s as if it occurred to someone one day, “lol what if he was just faking” and then this entire elaborate conspiracy headcanon was built up around that and eventually evolved into what we have today. this just doesn’t make sense to me at all. is there any evidence of him actually faking it? I feel like people just went “omg that would be such a cool twist” and then started arguing why it could be canon.

anyways I personally think Kaminari is 100% certified organic dumbass, and frankly I love him for that. where is the respect for the dumbasses of the world. Kaminari is still a great character even if he’s not secretly a JUST AS PLANNED double agent. you don’t need to make him evil for him to be interesting.

“look at his sneering face here, though”

okay yeah but hear me out: he’s a little shithead, lol. I mean, do you also think Bakugou is the traitor or.

“I edited this picture to make him look more evil, look”

okay??? lol, what. I think we can just move right along from this one.

“he didn’t bother with a costume, this must mean he doesn’t need help controlling his ability”

this I don’t get at all. a lot of the kids went into hero school not having a clear idea of what kind of costume features would best suit their quirks. that’s only natural; they’re still inexperienced. it is in no way any kind of indicator of any deception on their part. Kaminari is extremely powerful, but until recently he hasn’t had the guidance he needed to help him figure out how to harness that power better. and seeing as he has now made several modifications to his costume since starting at U.A., this argument is out of date.

“it’s scary how much traitor kaminari would make sense”

a lot of these really are just shitposts, huh? maybe I should have picked a better source. but just, like. what even is the logic here? “if he’s actually not stupid THEN HE MUST BE EVIL”? I really am trying to give this theory a fair shake you guys, even though it probably doesn’t seem that way. but this is just leap after leap. I keep thinking that I must have missed something crucial but as far as I can tell this is it.

“Monoma’s gonna copy his quirk and figure it out”

I do want to see Monoma copy his quirk, but only because seeing him go all “wheeeey” would be absolutely amazing tbh.

“reminder that kaminari thought stain was cool”

this one is actually a reasonable point. but listen, you have to keep in mind that Kaminari is a sixteen-year-old boy who gets easily swept up in the latest crazes and memes and fads. he’s naturally curious, and very open-minded and accepting, even when he perhaps shouldn’t be. but it’s as much a strength as it is a weakness, if not more so. those same traits make him the friendliest member of class 1-A (with the possible exception of Kirishima), allowing him to get along well even with a sentient cactus like Bakugou, and to stubbornly befriend Shinsou all of fifteen minutes after Shinsou announced that he wasn’t there to make friends lmao. he’s very unprejudiced, and when you put that together with how excitable he is, you can see how that might make him a bit more susceptible to getting caught up in stuff like the Stain hype train. it doesn’t make him evil. hell, even Deku had a kind of begrudging respect for Stain. I personally can’t stand Stain at all so I don’t get it myself lol, but it seems to be canon that he had a real charisma which many people were swayed by even if they didn’t agree with his ideals.

“>hanging wrist watches on the wall  - Who the hell does this”

you know what that’s a fair point too.

“his room is tacky and shows no personality”

okay in seriousness this is barely worth addressing because it’s so far of a reach, but fine. the thing is, Kaminari’s core personality is that of a typical teenage boy. that’s his role in the class. he’s just a normal guy, because you need to have some normal people around to balance out this cast of extravagant weirdos. and anyways, if we’re accusing people of being evil simply because their rooms lack personality, Ojiro and Shouji’s rooms are right. there. I’m just saying.

“he was in remedial too [on the school trip]. avoiding combat”

so were Sero, Kirishima, Mina, Satou, and Monoma. what’s more, they didn’t know that the remedial kids were going to be barred from participating in the test of courage. most of them were devastated to realize that lol. anyways so yeah this isn’t really proof of anything.

“[the night] before the attack Kaminari is clearly missing”

this is referring to this panel from chapter 75:

however, there’s actually a whole chapter in the second light novel about Iida going around in the middle of the night checking on his sleeping classmates (which is actually very sweet) while also trying to find his glasses, and said chapter establishes that Iida is in fact the one missing in this scene. because he’s wandering around tucking people in and shit. Kaminari is actually the one under the pile of pillows.

anyways, this is getting long and I haven’t even gotten into the real meat of this post yet, so I’ll just address a couple of the remaining arguments real quick.

but if he’s really that stupid how did he get into U.A.” - he studied!!! also he’s not really that stupid! he can be very bright, he’s just easily distracted.

L pose – as others have pointed out, this...

...is very likely just a variation of his finger gun pose, as seen here:

but even if it’s not, my rebuttal for the Stain argument applies here as well. my boy loves his memes. this would have been right in the midst of all the Deika City coverage, and the PLF probably took the opportunity to throw a few poses in there. it’s probably the trendy thing on Instagram right now. in any case, what it is not is proof that Kaminari is the person who broke into the U.A. offices and stole the staff schedule in order to facilitate the League’s planned invasion of USJ. nor is it proof of Kaminari being the one who gave away the training camp’s location. 

and segueing into the second part of this post now, this, IMO, is what so many of these traitor theories are missing. if you’re trying to identify who the U.A. traitor is, these are the two incidents you need to look at. I feel like a lot of people get swept up in what-if speculation, and forget what sparked this whole notion of there being a mole at U.A. in the first place. it’s specifically because of these two attacks, which could not have been planned without the assistance of an inside person providing information to the League from within UA. therefore, if we’re trying to identify who the traitor is, these are the only two questions we actually have to answer:

who, if anyone, had the opportunity to steal the staff schedule during Shigaraki’s break-in in chapter 12, and

who was it that gave away the training camp’s location and allowed Dabi and co. to invade and kidnap Bakugou?

that’s it. this, IMO, is what the focus should be on. and here’s the thing: while we still don’t have a definitive answer for the second question, we do have an answer for the first, and Horikoshi gave it to us all the way back in that same chapter.

but before I get to that, let’s back up and revisit that memorable incident. recall, if you will, the events that took place on the day of the break-in. class 1-A voted on a class president, and afterwards, during their lunch period, the security alarm went off as a result of Tomura doing this to the door and allowing the press to swarm the school:

initially, Rat Principal speculates as to whether a villain might have taken the opportunity to sneak in. but given the later incident at the training camp, as Present Mic rightly points out, it’s far more likely that there is a traitor in their midst instead. someone who had both the means and opportunity to take advantage of the chaos caused by the press, and somehow steal a copy of the staff schedule from right under U.A.’s nose.

given that this same person is almost certainly the one who later on gave the training camp info to the villains as well, this narrows down the field of potential suspects to either one of the teachers, or a student from class 1-A or 1-B. obviously if it’s a teacher then it could be any one of them, so there’s really no point in trying to narrow it down. the same goes for 1-B since we’re not even introduced to them until the following arc and we have no idea what they were doing during this incident. so for now, the question becomes: which, if any of the class 1-A kids had the opportunity to steal the schedule during chapter 12?

and for the answer, we need only revisit the class president voting records:

incidentally, this is something I can’t take credit for, because it was Viz’s translator Caleb Cook who originally pointed it out on his Twitter. but anyways. just in case this isn’t clear, the results are as following: 

3 votes - Deku (himself, Ochako, and Iida)

2 votes - Yaomomo (herself, and Shouto)

1 vote - Jirou, Tsuyu, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugou, Sero, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Mineta, Satou, Kouda, Mina, Shouji, and Aoyama

for anyone doing the math, that is... nineteen votes.

curious, for a class consisting of twenty kids. and downright suspicious given the events that take place less than an hour later. assuming that each student voted for him or herself as implied, what this means is that every kid in class 1-A is accounted for on the day of the break-in, except one. and it’s not Kaminari.

it’s Hagakure.

Hagakure is not featured in any of the panels before or after the vote, either. true, she’s invisible, but she should still be wearing her uniform at the very least. but she is very distinctively the sole 1-A student unaccounted for during this chapter. Hagakure, whose quirk is invisibility. Hagakure, who could have easily slipped into the teacher’s office during the press onslaught and taken a copy of the schedule unnoticed. Hagakure, who is also one of only two people (the other being Aoyama) whose whereabouts are also unverified during the subsequent attack:

now this is where it gets really interesting. why would Hagakure’s location be deliberately withheld? especially since later on she says that she was actually with Todoroki the whole time:

unlike Aoyama, whose whereabouts remain a mystery because He Is Just Like That, Hagakure freely discloses her own whereabouts. the thing is though, if it wasn’t actually a secret, then why did Horikoshi go out of his way to omit it in the first place? there are other characters whose locations we only know because Horikoshi put them on the map. specifically Tokoyami and Kouda, who are never actually shown battling once they get warped away (at least not in the manga). yet despite this, their whereabouts aren’t a secret. it’s a deliberate choice by Horikoshi to not confirm where Hagakure actually is, and coming on the heels of her also being conspicuously MIA in chapter 12, this IMO is a huge red flag.

anyway, so now let’s fast forward to the training camp arc. now here, we do know where Hagakure ends up. specifically, she gets KOed by the gas along with Jirou. this makes her one of only two U.A. students who are not actually involved in the fighting either at the forest, or back at the lodge with Vlad. at first glance, that might appear to make her less suspicious. and it’s true that unlike the USJ arc, there is no evidence here that directly ties Hagakure to this particular invasion (though the same is true for pretty much everyone else as well). however, there are two things I would like to point out. the first is Hagakure and Jirou’s position in the test of courage lineup:

directly behind Todoroki and Bakugou (a.k.a. the League’s target). this would have put her in a good position to signal to the League when to attack. note that the attack didn’t commence until Baku and Todo had reached the midpoint of the trail, which results in their decision to press forward through the forest rather than turning back toward the start.

this is suspiciously good timing on the League’s part. it’s not confirmed they knew exactly when to strike -- they could have just gotten lucky -- but it’s something worth taking note of. 

and the second thing is that being so close to the League’s target would have made it difficult for Hagakure to escape without having to fight the League. and since she wasn’t alone, she couldn’t just run off and hide like during USJ. so it may be that she made the deliberate choice to let the poison gas take the two of them out instead, especially if she knew in advance that it wouldn’t actually be lethal. this gives her an alibi for the attack without putting her in the awkward position of potentially having to fight her own allies. all in all it’s making the best of a tricky situation.

lastly, here’s the thing that really clinches the whole theory for me, and it takes place a couple of days later. now remember, the purpose of this whole attack was for the League to kidnap Bakugou. they go to all that trouble, even losing three of their own members in the process. and what happens afterwards, barely two days later? the heroes track down the villains using Momo’s homing device and Naomasa’s fortuitous tip, and are able to get Bakugou back, albeit at great cost. all of that meticulous planning, only for the League to end up on the run, and with Tomura’s mentor taken captive to boot.

this seems like a huge oversight on behalf of the U.A. traitor if they knew about the heroes’ attack and didn’t think to warn the League. and the thing is, we know for a fact that every single member of class 1-A did know in advance, thanks to Kirishima and Shouto. every member that is, except two.

hmmm.

so, to reiterate. Hagakure Tooru:

has no alibi for the incident in chapter 12 during which someone stole the staff schedule as confirmed by Kurogiri in chapter 13

has no confirmed alibi for the USJ invasion

had the means and opportunity to pass along the training camp location to the villains, assuming she had a phone with GPS

is one of only two 1-A students who did not know that the heroes had tracked the villains’ location, and thus would not have been able to pass along that vital bit of info. we know that the villains were caught unawares by the heroes’ raid, so this is huge

so that’s three incidents (not counting the training camp location which admittedly anyone could have done) in which Hagakure is singled out as one of only a handful of people with no alibi during a critical moment. now granted, there are a handful of other candidates who could possibly fall under suspicion for same reasons. Aoyama’s whereabouts are also unknown during the USJ invasion, and Jirou was also knocked out during the training camp attack. however, Hagakure is the only one who lacks an alibi for all three incidents. and, crucially, she is the sole 1-A student who did not vote in the class president election, something which is never explained or even brought up but which is hidden in plain sight.

for these reasons, I pretty much have to conclude that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. it just lines up. and for me, the difference between the Hagakure theory and the Kaminari theory is that the evidence for the former is based on actual events in the canon, whereas the Kami theory seems to mostly just be speculation about whether or not he’s secretly evil. and look, I have no idea whether or not Hagakure is evil. I have no clue why she’d be doing this. she seems nice (although it’s worth pointing out that we have no idea what she actually looks like, who her family is, or even how old she really is for that matter. her quirk is awfully convenient for being a spy). motive is definitely a big question mark here. but the fact remains that all of the evidence we have thus far points to one candidate, and that’s her.

anyways! so that’s the end of my post about the Kaminari traitor theory, I guess! basically, he is not the traitor for many reasons, but the most compelling one is that the actual traitor has already been confirmed in my book. anyhoo, this plot has more or less been on hold since chapter 98, so it’s been quite a while since we’ve had much to speak of in terms of new evidence. but as of 242 it looks like things may finally be on the move again, so that’s exciting. regardless of my opinion on the Kami theory, I’m excited that people are talking about this again, and I really can’t wait to see how things develop from here.

[alice-in-gingerland]

Axel/Roxas - Beauty and the Beast

So, I’ve been out of the writing game for roughly ten years, since university killed my spirit. But lately I’ve had this idea playing around in my head and wanted to see if I could still write. So I am slowly writing my Akuroku retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Posting the first chapter draft of chapter one here and hope people can give some feedback and maybe some ideas. Let’s see what happens!

________________________________________________________________

Namine sighed heavily, torn between slamming her face into her palms or shouting at the ragtag team in front of her.

‘You literally could have just taken a horse each!’

Sora raised his eyebrows in confusion, a cookie still raised partially to his lips.

‘But we only had one rope between the three of us.’

‘Plus, dwarves are too short to ride a full sized horse alone,’ added Riku, gesturing to a nodding Kairi. 

‘You didn’t even need a rope once Kairi’s character subdued them,’ Namine exclaimed.

Kairi giggled at her sister’s obvious exasperation but chose not to let it go just yet, ‘but you can’t control a horse like that, it’s not realistic.’

The whole group were beginning to laugh at the absurdness of the situation, even Riku was trembling slightly, trying to hold back his amusement at the normally calm dungeon master who was turning vaguely pink with frustration.

‘Why do you guys always have to make big events out of tiny situations, we’ll never get to the main parts of the quest if you keep doing this.’ She slammed the book in front of her closed with an air of finality, causing Sora to pout.

‘Ah Nams, you never let us mess around, that’s half the fun of DnD!’

Riku tilted back in his chair to check the clock on the kitchen wall, ‘to be fair, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably finish up and head home.’   

‘Let's make camp for the night, I’ll tie up the horses. We’re only a few kilometres from the town so will be good to rest up in case there’s a fight,’ said Sora, his eyes darting over the colourful map that covered the majority of the dining room table they sat at.

Namine rubbed her forehead tiredly before beginning to carefully pack away her books and pens. 

Sora was decidedly less careful, using his forearm to sweep his dice, notebook and other odds and ends into a waiting cardboard box, causing Riku to wince.

‘Before we head home, what’s the plan for Halloween this weekend,’ Kairi queried. She stretched out her back to loosen her muscles after a few hours being confined to the table, her russet hair almost tickling the small of her back. Namine tapped one of her colouring pens against her dusky pink lips, debating how she would like to spend one of her favourite holidays of the year.

Riku snorted, still leaning back dangerously in his chair and obviously in no hurry to assist with the clean up. ‘Aren’t we getting a bit too old to be trick or treating?’

Sora stuck his tongue out at the older boy, following up with a nudge to his chair. Riku’s azure eyes widened in panic as he struggled to stop from toppling backwards; he managed to right himself and gave Sora a victorious smirk.

‘Just because you turn fifteen soon doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stop enjoying ourselves,’ retorted Kairi, swiftly linking her arm through Sora’s.

The young brunette posed thoughtfully as he lent into his best friends supporting frame.

‘He does have a point though, maybe we could do something a bit more, I dunno, exciting this year?’

Namine’s brow dipped in concern, knowing from experience what Sora meant by exciting. Kairi nudged Sora with her hip. 

‘By exciting, I think you mean dangerous…’

The boy glanced to his right, a mock hurt expression crossing his face, ‘ well it doesn’t have to be anything bad, just maybe something scary. You know, to frighten Mr All Grown Up.’

Namine clapped her hands together in excitement, startling the three other teens who turned to her in puzzlement. The young girl’s features were alight with excitement, her usual cornflower blue eyes darkened with intent.

‘I think we should go to the old Wildwood House.’

Sora and Kairi almost bounced in excitement. Sneaking into the old Wildwood House had been a tradition for the teenage population in their town for at least the past two decades. The old manor house had been empty for over one hundred years, allowing multiple rumours to circulate regarding why no one had bought it; tales varying from gruesome murders to alien abduction. It didn’t help that the house sat imposingly upon the tallest hill in the area, surrounded by a dense pine wood that was often enveloped in thick mist due to the multiple hot springs the territory was known for. 

Namine beamed at her sister and Sora’s reactions as she began to twirl her ash blonde hair between her finger tips; her usual habit when dreaming up artistic ideas.

‘I’ve wanted to go for a while, apparently the architecture is untouched and even the original furniture and furnishings are unblemished - a paused moment in time. I really want to take some photos and maybe make a few quick sketches, but it’s way too creepy to go alone.’

The petite girl turned her pleading gaze upon Riku, who swiftly noticed all three of his friends were staring at him, silently pleading for his agreement.

‘Well if you three pansies think you’re up for it, why not,’ he shrugged, hooked his arms behind his head nonchalantly.

Sora grabbed Kairi’s hand, which she noticed was trembling slightly.

‘Oh my god Kairi, I can’t wait! Did you hear that the whole family was murdered up there by a wild axeman, and the ghosts still haunt the woods because they are buried in the floorboard.’

Kairi scoffed and argued, ‘don’t be stupid, they would have found the bodies. Everyone knows they made some kind of deal with the fairies for an immortal life and were transported to the faerie plain, they only return once a year to steal souls for the fairies.’

‘I heard that the man who lived there sold his soul to a fire demon for eternal beauty and power,’ retorted Namine. Riku let out a snicker and flicked a stray dice at the blonde. ‘Honestly, that’s the plot from Howl’s Moving Castle, you muppet.’

The youngest girl blushed and the four teenagers continued to bicker until they were interrupted by heavy footfalls and genial masculine voice.

‘Nah, the owner made a wish with a genie to be immortal, but it didn’t pan out quite the way he planned.’

Two young men appeared at the bottom of the stairs, one with a mischievous grin and pushed back dirty blonde hair, the other with an almost cherubic face; almost identical to Sora except obviously older with golden blonde styled locks, instead of a brown unkempt birdnest the younger brother liked to sport. 

Roxas pondered for a moment, nudging his friend out of the way so he could grab a crisp from the bowl on the table, ‘that’s not it either, it was a djinn. He was so set on looking for power that he was possessed by a travelling djinn.’ He popped the crisp into his mouth and almost immediately winced, ‘what is wrong with you guys, prawn cocktail, really!’ Roxas grimaced and wiped his fingers on his little brother’s shirt. 

Sora visibly bristled, shoving his brother away from the group.

‘What are you two doing down here, go away!’     

‘Snacks of course,’ Hayner countered, grabbing a handful of prawn cocktail crisps and winking in Namine’s direction. Riku narrowed his eyes and tugged the younger girl to his side; he didn’t mind Roxas, but his flirtatious friend could often be a little too forward with Kairi and Namine. The girls never seemed to mind, but Riku knew that Hayner was less than innocent and not very faithful at that. He had overheard arguments between the two older boys regarding Hayner’s treatment of women for at least two years. He’d never mention it to Sora but he had accidentally walked in on the pair of them locked in an extremely heated embrace once. The memory of their tongues and roaming hands made him nauseous and caused a shudder to ripple through his body. Hayner obviously didn’t care whose pants he was getting into as long as he was getting satisfaction from them.   

Deciding he’d annoyed his brother and company enough, Roxas gestured for his friend to follow him into the adjoining kitchen. 

‘Come on, let the kids play.’

Hayner gave a brief wave and grin before accompanying Roxas into the kitchen and closing the door behind them. 

‘Ah, that takes me back.’

Roxas raised an eyebrow in question whilst grabbing two cans of fizzy from the fridge, passing one to the other boy. Hayner gratefully accepted the can, popping it open with a satisfying hiss and taking a large gulp before answering, ‘you know, when you, me, Pence and Ollette used to come round here and play a bit of dungeons and dragons.’

Roxas rested his hip against the sideboard, his gaze turning pensive for a moment.

‘Yeah, back before it was cool,’ he laughed, ‘also before we discovered the lure of alcohol.’

Hayner slid forward and lightly caressed Roxas’s forearm, his voice taking on a heated tone ‘before we discovered other things as well.’

Roxas’s eyes flashed with annoyance and he gently but firmly brushed away the offending appendage. ‘Aren’t you seeing that guy Seifer.’

He moved away from his promiscuous friend, putting a bit of distance between them before taking a sip of his drink. Fooling around with Hayner has always been fun, but he worried it was a distraction from him finding a real and meaningful relationship; something Roxas was starting to desire more than simply sexual gratification. He wanted dedication and passion, and was perfectly aware Hayner was not capable of fulfilling those needs. He also wasn’t keen on accidentally becoming ‘the other man’ when his friend inevitably forgot he was in a monogamous relationship. 

‘I was only teasing,’ Hayner said, not looking as chagrined as Roxas believed he should be feeling.

“Anyway, me and Seifer aren’t exactly exclusive,’ he continued, picking at the side of his can, ‘pretty sure he’s crashing with Fuu and there’s no way those two are platonic.’

Sensing his friend's discomfort Roxas replied, ‘you don’t know that, you know better than I do that he fights with his Dad on the regular. He probably just needed a safe place to stay and him and Fuu have been mates since primary school.’

A small smile flit across Hayner’s face as he glanced up.

“You’re probably right, always are.’

Roxas gave the taller boy a shove and the two chuckled quietly.

Sounds of giggling and shuffling trickled under the kitchen door as the pair relaxed into an amicable silence.

“Do you remember when we went up to the Wildwood House,” Roxas murmured.

Hayner shifted, leaning back on his tanned arms, ‘yeah, it was creepy man, but only because it was old and dark and we were thirteen.’

Roxas frowned, “what about the figure I saw, and that burning fire?’

Hayner snorted and replied, ‘dude, you freaked out at a curtain, and some group who went up before us must have lit a candle to scare the next visitors. Just don’t say anything to the kids; Sora will get all hyped up then they’ll all be disappointed when it’s just an empty old house.’

Yanking open a cupboard door, Hayner extracted a bag of bacon rasher crisps and a packet of party ring biscuits and gathered them under his arm.

“Come on mate, got your fav biscuits, let’s go destroy strangers on Rocket League.’

The muscular blonde elbowed open the door and strode away, leaving Roxas to his vague memories of a slim cloaked figure reaching out to him with a palm of smokeless flames. 

[avengerscompound]

Punk

Punk: A Captain America Fanfic

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

Word Count:  2648

Warnings:  Smut (M|F, Oral and Vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers falls for the punk girl from next door. Maybe you have more in common than appearances would have you believe.

A/N:  Normally when I do a reader insert I try and make the reader as physically a blank slate as possible. Sometimes I slip up a little by saying they put on Steve’s shirt or he runs his fingers through her hair or that she blushed. But I do usually try not to do any of that so you can put yourself physically into the reader. This is not the case with this one. @abigailredgrave and I actually hashed this out for a while. Part of what appealed to both of us with this concept was huge straight-laced Steve with a tiny punk girl. So she has a lot of physical descriptors. I have tried to be racially ambiguous still. But you are going to have to pretend you’re skinny and 5′1 and covered in tattoos. Sorry if that’s off-putting. I would normally only do that with OC’s but we decided on Reader for this.

Also, this was written before Black Panther and Infinity War so it’s based on a post CW world that doesn’t exist.

Punk

Steve sits sketching at his desk.  The only light in the room coming from the dusty desk lamp next to him and the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling in the living room where Bucky lies on the couch reading.  The stray tabby cat that had decided to adopt him sitting on his chest.

They’d been on the run for several months now.  They’d settled in Canada, but even though Canada had been one of the countries not to sign the Accords, they were still playing it low key.  Not venturing out too far.  Only trusting select people.

He heard the drumbeat first and smirked.  He remembered how annoyed he was the first time that asynchronous sound drifted through the walls.  How he’d lain in bed holding his pillow over his ears, cursing under his breath.  How eventually he’d cracked and stormed next door only to be greeted by you.  5’1, spiky pink hair, arms covered in sleeves of tattoos, dressed in a men’s shirt that fits you like a dress that had ‘The Ramones’ printed on the front.  You’d been brushing your teeth and as soon as he’d asked you to turn it down you’d apologized profusely.

“Oh hey!  I’m so sorry, man.  I thought that apartment was empty.  I’ll keep it down from now on.”  You’d said as you’d stared up at him, toothbrush still in your mouth.

The following day you’d shown up dressed in a leather jacket, torn black jeans, boots and a leather collar around your neck.   You had donuts and coffee for him to apologize.  When you’d seen that Steve was living with Bucky and neither of them was fully clothed as they went about their morning routine, your first assumption was they were together.  When you’d asked Bucky had laughed at you.

“With this punk?  He’s not my type.”  Bucky had said.

After that Steve had just found himself drawn to you.  It made no sense.  You were nothing like him.  You were everything he wasn’t.  Small and fearless.  Ready to stand up for yourself and anyone around you.  Colorful and social.  He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Sounds like she’s home!”  Bucky calls out.

Steve gets up and wanders into the living room.  “I should tell her to keep it down.”  He says.

“You gonna ask her out this time?”  Bucky asks, looking up at Steve. His hand absentmindedly going to going to the cat’s head and giving it a scratch.  It flexed its front paws and started purring loudly.

Steve rolls his eyes.  “Like she’d be interested in me at all.  What do we have in common?”

Bucky bursts out laughing, disturbing the cat.  It jumps off his chest and runs under the couch.  “Steve.  If you were born a girl in the nineties she is exactly who you would be.  She is more you than you are because you always tried to act respectable and she’s just ‘fuck it, fight me’.”

“But…”  

“But, nothin’, pal.  So she has tattoos and dies her hair and she’s small.  Did you forget you were small once too?”  Bucky says.

“I didn’t get tattoos or dye my hair,”  Steve says, hunching his shoulders.

“Stop making excuses,”  Bucky says simply.  “You know she turns that music up so you go over there right?  She stopped doing it for a whole week and then when you didn’t come ‘round she started doing it again.”

“You think?”  Steve says.  He’s hopeful, but also terrified.  He hasn’t dated.  He doesn’t know how to do it at all.  Let alone in this world.  Let alone with you.

“I know.  Now go tell her to turn it down.”  Bucky says.

Steve heads over and knocks on the door.  You were waiting for him and when you open it you just launch yourself into his arms.  “Stevie!”  You squeal as he closes his arms around you, completely enveloping your tiny frame in his large one.  “Is the music too loud?  I’ve been to a concert and my ears are all blocked.  You ever get that?”  That isn’t a lie, but that isn’t why you have the music up.  You know it draws him over.

“Sometimes… not normally from music though. Once it was from aliens.”  Steve says as he lets you go.

You head to your stereo, switching it off.  “Your life is crazy.”  You say.  “You wanna drink?”

Steve chuckles.  “You’re talking so loudly.  But yes.  I’ll have a drink.”

You go take a beer out of the fridge one for you and one for Steve.  He opens it and drinks.  Sometimes he questions why he bothers.  He doesn’t love the taste of beer, and he doesn’t get the added effects most people get when they drink it.

“Hey so, I know it’s not your thing.  But there’s a club in town.  They’re having a 70s punk revival night tomorrow.  Some people put my name down on the door.  You wanna tag along?”  You ask.

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights.  He does want to go with you somewhere.  But he couldn’t think of a place where he’d be more out of place.  You take a swig of beer and assess him as he internally weighs up all the pros and cons of saying yes.

“Nah, dude.  Never mind.  It’s not your thing I get it.”  You say when the pause seems to be getting uncomfortable.

“No.  No, it’s okay.”  Steve says, quickly.  The sudden fear he’ll miss the only opportunity he gets rushing in on him.  “I’ll go.”  He takes a long drink of the beer.  “Tomorrow?”

You light up.  “That’s wicked good.  I’ll come get you.  At say; eight?  We can get food first.”

That’s how you and Steve end up on your first date.   You walk the street together towards the club.  You with your leather cuffs and jacket.  Your thick black boots and your torn black tee and jeans.  Him in his tan pants, sensible shoes, and light blue shirt.  To his credit, he’s also wearing a leather jacket, but it’s tan too.

You couldn’t look more different if you’d aimed to.

When you both get to the club you give the doorman the name and he lets you in, you’re walking through the door when Steve gets stopped.  “Where do you think you’re going, bub?”

You turn back to see the bouncer with his hand on Steve’s chest and Steve looking at you helplessly.

“Hey, what are you doing?  He’s with me?”  You snap, puffing your chest out.

“Yeah, well I guess you’re not going in either.  Because Grandpa isn’t getting through that door.”  The bouncer growls.

You shove yourself right up in the guy’s personal space.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  He is with me!  My name is on the list!”  You shout up into the guy’s face.

Steve shifts nervously watching you.  Really not wanting to make a scene.  Not being able to afford to make a scene.

“You wanna try something, little girl?”  The bouncer growls, shoving you backward.  You raise your fists about to launch yourself at him when Steve’s arms wrap around your waist and he drags you away.  You struggle, legs kicking.

“Please stop,”  Steve says, firmly.  “I can’t have the police come.  Do you understand that?”

You nod, taking a deep steadying breath.  “That can’t just treat you like that because you look different.”   You seethe.

He turns you to face him and caresses your thumb with his cheek.  “Bucky was right.”  He says.

Your breath starts to steady and you look up into his blue eyes.  “About what?”

“He said you were just like me.  You are so much like me.”  He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  You reach your hands up and put them around his neck, pulling him down to you.

“This is kinda fast for me.”  He breathes, his lips are so close to yours.  Not saying it because he doesn’t want it.  Just because he feels it needs to be said.

His words startle you a little.  You’re so used to guys just taking what the want.  Rushing you.  To hear this is not his norm is surprising.  “Do you not want it?”  You ask.

He answers by pressing his lips to yours.  You had both expected just a brief touching of lips. It becomes so much more.  Your lips part and tongues meet as they both try to access the other’s mouth.  He pulls you hard up against him and you card your fingers through his hair.

Your skin feels hot, but not as hot as Steve’s.  He realizes that in this moment he wants you.  He’s been with other women before.   But normally in the past, that happened after spending countless hours together.  Usually working.  He’d never just gone out and immediately wanted to go home again for sex.

You pull back and look up at him.  “We did dinner.  Do you want to just go home?”  You ask.

Steve swallows and nods.  You take his hand and get in the first taxi that will take you.  In the back seat, you’re all over each other.  Kissing and running your hands over each others body.  You sneak your hand to his cock and feel him, hard and straining against his pants, before he takes your hand and moves it away.

When you get back to the apartment block, you rush upstairs taking two stairs at a time.  You get to your apartment and scramble to unlock the door as Steve kisses your neck.  Once in, jackets are shed.  There is no illusion about coffee or watching Netflix, or any other reason why you should be here.  You want each other, desperately.

Steve pulls your shirt off over your head and you start unbuttoning his.  You get impatient and tear it.  Buttons pop off and shoot across the room.  Steve growls and lifts you off the floor pushing you against the wall.  Kissing you hard.  You wrap your legs around his tiny waist and he grinds his cock against you. You both moan at the friction of your pants pushing against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, Steve.  I need you inside me.”  You moan.  You head falls back and he starts sucking on your throat.  It makes you moan louder and your cunt starts to drip for him.  Steve pulls back, a mark already forming on your skin.

“Say that again.”  He growls.  His cock aches. He wants nothing more to have it buried deep into your pussy.  To feel your heat and wet squeezing tightly around him.

“I need you inside me.  I need you to fuck me, Steve.” You mewl.

Steve grunts.  No one has ever spoken to him like that before.  His cock throbs in his pants.  He carries you wrapped around him in the direction of the bedroom.  He set you on your feet and you unhook your bra and turn around to take off your jeans.  You do it slowly, wiggling your ass in his face.

Steve groans as he takes his own shoes and pants off.  But it’s not just that you’re teasing him.  It’s everything about you.  Your tiny, feminine frame.  The sleeve tattoos that continue down your back and curl around your waist, finishing at your hips only to take up again on your thighs.  How bright your hair and skin look.  With all the colors that don’t normally feature on a person naturally.

He drops his pants and boxers and steps out of them.  Bucky had insisted he take protection with him.  Steve had tried to tell him that he wouldn’t need it, he never moves this fast.  But Bucky wouldn’t stop hassling him until he did.  So he fishes the condom out of his wallet and rolls it on.

“Take those panties off,”  Steve growls.  He can’t even quite believe these are words coming from his own mouth.  You look over your shoulder and smile at him before slowly dragging them down.

Steve approaches you and starts tracing along your tattoos with his mouth.  He kisses the path they make on your back.  His tongue flicks over your skin.  As they loop back around to your stomach he turns you and you fist his hair in your hands.

He reaches your pubic mound which is when the tattoos stop, only he doesn’t.  He tips you back onto the mattress and spreads your legs.  You squirm as you anticipate what’s coming.

Steve spreads your folds with his fingers and flattens his tongue, lapping up your crevice.  As his tongue slides over your clit you moan.  He repeats the process again, getting intoxicated by the scent and taste of you.  It makes his cock throb and leaks in the condom.  He places large open mouth kisses on your pussy.  His mouth is able to cover all of it in one go.   You arch on the mattress and he presses a hand on your hip bone to hold you down.

He sucks on your clit and pushes two fingers inside of you.  You start to beg.  You beg for him to stop torturing you. To let you come or to at least start fucking you. You beg for his dick.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing though.  As much as he wants to.  As much as your words make him want to come even before he’s inside you.  He keeps sucking and biting on your clit. His tongue flicks over it.  He counters by dragging his fingers on the walls inside you.  It all feels amazing and you’re close just poised to break when he finds your g-spot and presses hard against it.

You scream out and buck violently under him.  Your orgasm tears through you.   He pulls his fingers from inside you but his tongue keeps working on your pussy as you ride out your orgasm.

He stands and you both crawl up onto the bed.  Him stalking after you.  He kisses you and you cling to him.  Your fingers digging into his back.  “Say it again.”  He whispers.  “Beg me for it.”

He presses his cock against your pussy and starts sliding it up and down. The head presses against your clit with every forward thrust.

“Please, Steve.  Please.  I need your dick. I need it inside me.”  You whimper.  “Give it to me.”  The last phrase isn’t begging, it’s ordering.  He complies and he enters you.

You gasp and arch up as your body stretches to accommodate his girth.  “Oh fuck... Fuck yes.”  You cry.

He starts to thrust, moaning at the way your pussy feels squeezing around him.  The heat and softness paired with the ridges and the way the muscles expand and contract.  Milking his cock.

Your body is almost enveloped by his.  You bite at his shoulder and wrap your legs around him as he curves his back to reach more of you with his mouth.   He kisses along your collarbone and sucks at your nipples.  You dig your fingers into him as he brings you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Steve… I’m gonna… Oh fuck… can I?”  You babble.

He looks down into your eyes.  “Of course, sweetheart.  I want you to.”

You arch back and your core clenches as your second orgasm sweeps through you.  The pulse of your pussy brings him over with you.  And he empties inside of you.

As his cock stills, he slips from within you and pulls off the condom, throwing it in the trash.  He settles on your bed beside you, and you curl into his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I told Bucky that I was absolutely not going to have sex with you,”  Steve says, kissing your forehead.  “That it would be too soon.  I am not going to hear the end of this am I?”

You laugh and nuzzle into his neck.  “From that punk?  I doubt it.”

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Seven

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Falling Leaves

She returned to him the next morning, the blouse she’d worn the day they had been taken in one hand, thread and needle in the other.

He couldn’t think for the life of him why she came back, surely she knew he was going to ask her again, but the moment she sat down, without so much as a good morning, she began to speak.

“What do you write in your book?”

“Huh?”

She glanced up from where she was pulling the thread through the eye of the needle, repeating a little more slowly, “What do you write in your book?”

“Just... What we do. Things I find.”

“Why?”

“‘cause I do.”

“Yes, but why?”

“‘cause I just do. Why do you care? It ain’t even noon and you’re already irritatin’ me.”

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips before she tilted her head, watching the needle as she started to repair the blouse. “I used to keep a journal.”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at her, scratching his growing beard.

Christ, if she thinks we’re about to talk about feelin’s...

“We had a pond on our farm when I was a child and I used to document all the toads that came and went. I named all of them but I couldn’t really tell them apart so I might have just been giving some multiple names.”

He stared at her, his hand dropping into his lap.

“You were a strange kid.”

She smiled at that, her sewing rhythmic. 

“Yes, I was. My mother wanted me to be learning what all young ladies were learning like needle-work and how to pour tea correctly and how to sit straight, but I used to run to the pond instead and converse with the toads.”

“So you were raised to be a proper young lady?”

Why was she suddenly starting to divulge information now?

“Not properly, I’d say. My mother was from a good family and had been raised that way so she wanted to pass that along to me but I was too much like my father, I guess.”

She fell silent for a few moments, probably waiting for him to ask a question about her family, but he saw his advantage.

“Annie, I’m gonna ask you again about—”

Her sewing paused and she looked up at him. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready, Arthur. I promise you I will.”

He got the sense she wasn’t a person who gave her word lightly, but it still frustrated him. What could be so big and frightening that she couldn’t just tell him outright? And how the hell did it involve Colm? Or was it just something she was simply embarrassed about? That maybe she’d been reminded what a group of killers she was with? Nah, that didn’t make any sense to him. Usually he didn’t give a shit about other people’s business, but if this involved Colm then it would most certainly become gang business.

She looked back down at her blouse and the sewing resumed.

“Now, do you want to hear more stories about how strange I was?”

“... Fine.”

He actually found that he did, and she told stories of what a really damn strange kid she’d been (collecting rocks and leaves? Rolling around in puddles ‘cause she’d seen the pigs do it? Really?) until Miss Grimshaw found her and requested her assistance in helping Mr Pearson prepare the deer for supper that Charles had just brought back.

“Deer for dinner, it must be fate,” Annie had said as she left him, a smile on her lips.

It left him feeling... strange, her warm smile and his unease at the secret she was carrying.

He spent the rest of the day thinking about it.

She went back the next morning because she wanted to ask about the article pinned near the photographs, which he told her was about the first robbery he ever took part in. After some prompting, he grumbled and told her the full story, with all the details. She sat fascinated, interrupting here and there to ask a question.

She went back the morning after that because she wanted to know how he got Ophelia and named her that. She was a Thoroughbred and he’d bought her, thank you very much, and Hosea had suggested the name. 

“Is a Thoroughbred really suited for this life?”

“Yeah, she’s got a good spirit and can go fast.”

“So you can run away?”

“So I can survive.”

She’d then asked about other horses he’d had and how he was so good with them.

She went back the morning after that because she wanted to ask about whether some of Sean’s stories were true. Most of them weren’t.

She went back the morning after that because John had told her a story about how Arthur had fallen out of a window after trying to rob a house and she had to hear it from him.

She went back the morning after that because she wanted to.

It started to become part of their routine. She would come in the morning and ask questions and he would answer them, or she would read to him a passage from a book she was reading that Hosea had given to her and ask what he thought, which usually wasn’t much until she gave her opinion on it and somehow it suddenly had more meanings that he could understand, or she would tell him about what everyone else in camp was doing, and they talked until either Miss Grimshaw came for her or she left to get on with her own tasks.

A few times he even got to ask some questions of his own.

“How’d you get that?” he asked one day, sat with his legs stretched out on the bed, a knife and a token he was whittling in his hands. “That scar on your neck.”

She briefly glanced up from where she’d been scrubbing dried red dirt out of a skirt. “I got it when my family was attacked.”

He paused, lifting his head. “When the O’Driscolls attacked you in Strawberry?”

“No, no, years before then.”

She wet her lips, something he was noticing she did when she was considering something.

“Our home was invaded when I was younger. It’s how my father died. One of the men held a knife to my throat to keep me quiet but he pressed a little too hard and it cut me.”

“Jesus Christ...” he murmured, his eyes remaining on her. “How old were you?”

“Five.”

His frown deepened as he shook his head. “Shit, Annie. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She smiled lightly. “It’s fine, though. I was so young that, you know... I didn’t really know him. You can’t really miss what you didn’t have.”

Arthur watched her, falling silent as she kept her eyes on her sewing. 

Sometimes they would just sit in silence, each getting on with a task.

During one of those silences, while cleaning his guns, he suddenly said, “Sean makes you laugh a lot.” It was a nice sound, her laugh, not grating like some he’d heard. “How come you don’t find him irritatin’?”

She snorted. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“Well, you spend a lot of time talkin’ to him.” His jaw moved minutely. “Are you sweet on him?”

She laughed, the loudest he’d made her laugh yet. 

“Oh, Christ, no.” She shook her head as she chuckled. “I enjoy his company, is all.” She smiled fondly now. “He reminds me a little of my brother. He died a few years after my father did, but... Before then he was always making me laugh, always playing with me. He never found me annoying, never wanted me to leave him alone. He was a good boy.”

“Well...” Arthur cleared his throat, returning his attention to his guns. “It’s good that he makes you laugh.”

Her smile widened as she turned the page of her book, her eyes dropping to it.

“You make me laugh, too, Arthur.”

He did make her laugh quite a bit himself, though often unintentionally. That made a faint smile tug at his lips.

Weeks passed, filled with conversations and silence, each recovering in their own way, until, finally, Arthur was deemed back to full health.

Feeling like himself again, he’d risen early and gone down to the shore, taking a seat on a chair left out on the jetty. He’d taken his journal with him, wanting to fill in a few spaces with birds and fish Annie had described to him that she’d seen. He didn’t know if he quite achieved their likeness, and he didn’t want to show them to her for her opinion because they weren’t anything special, but... One drawing he knew was like the subject it was based on was the drawing he’d started of her.

He’d suddenly begun drawing it about a week ago, fascinated with how her curls, unruly and having fallen out of a braid Mary-Beth had helped her with, fell down against her face and moved in the light breeze. He’d told himself it was just to see if he could capture that movement, a challenge to partake in until he got better, but as his pencil sketched out her lips and eyes with great detail...

You’re a fool of a man, Morgan.

He’d found himself writing about her, too, writing down what they talked about and what she told him about herself that included great detail and no detail at all. She gave greatly but carefully, to the point where he knew what kind of animals she’d played with as a child but couldn’t recall the names of her brother, mother and father. Had she even told him? She never talked about her sister or uncle who’d died back at Strawberry, either. Maybe it was too painful.

She is the most interesting and frustrating woman I have ever met, he wrote. I think I know her one minute and then she says something that completely changes my mind the next.

She still hadn’t told him her secret, and all he could do was hold on to the promise she’d made that one day she would.

“I thought I’d be buryin’ you, Mr Morgan.”

Arthur lifted his head at the sound of Swanson’s voice, closing his journal and sitting straighter with a wry smile.

“Well, not quite yet, Reverend.”

“Good. How you feelin’?”

“Oh...” Arthur inhaled a breath, glancing up at the other man. “About the same as you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the Reverend answered dryly.

Arthur chuckled, rolling his formerly wounded shoulder.

“I thought Miss Sawyer might have lifted your spirits. She’s done a mighty fine job keeping you company.”

Arthur ran his hand down his beard, nodding a little. “Yeah, she has. It’s been very kind of her.”

“Well...” Swanson patted his back gently. “Take care of yourself.”

"You, too.”

Arthur rolled his shoulder again as he heard Swanson step off of the jetty, humming to himself an old hymn. The younger man gazed out across the lake as he slid his journal into his satchel before getting to his feet, clearing his throat. It was a crisp, slightly grey morning, with dark clouds threatening on the horizon, but he felt good and the strongest he had in a long time.

“You need to cut that beard, I’m beginning to forget what you look like.”

Annie joined him at his side, a cup of coffee in each hand.

He arched an eyebrow as he accepted one from her, returning his gaze to the clouds.

“I thought you might like that.”

“Oh, you’re right, but I think Mary-Beth is beginning to be a little disappointed, though.”

He snorted as he raised the cup to his lips, taking a long sip.

Ada smirked as she glanced at him. He never had anything smart to say back to her when she brought up the other woman’s not very subtle attraction to him. An attraction that Ada was, reluctantly, starting to understand.

Understand, not feel.

That would just be completely ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Blowing on her hot coffee, Ada then looked up at him, raising her eyebrows slightly. “How about after you shave we go out for a ride and maybe some hunting? See if you’re really as better as you say you are.”

“I think I might be up to that.”

Her eyes flicked over him, a smile pulling at her lips. “We’ll see.” Raising her eyebrows, she turned away. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, Morgan.”

He watched her as she headed back into the camp, a smile lingering on her lips. Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he exhaled a breath.

You really are a fool of a man.

“Aren’t you a good boy? No, don’t eat that...”

Tugging her sleeve out of Faithful’s mouth, Ada smiled as she stroked his neck, his head turning towards her, almost nuzzling.

“You ready?”

Lifting her head, her response caught in her throat as her gaze fell on him.

One corner of his mouth was slightly higher than the other as he approached, a fresh white shirt on, a plain black waistcoat, and a black jacket that fell to just above his knees. His hat lay atop his trimmed hair, the ends of which now curled against the collar of his shirt rather than falling to his shoulders. He had cut his beard down to stubble, too, and though it was slightly patchy in some parts he looked... good. More like himself.

“Yeah,” she answered quickly, realising she’d left slightly too long a pause.

“All righ’, let’s go. I got somethin’ to prove and I’m not waitin’ on you.”

Her eyes kept drifting back to him as they mounted up, trying to ignore the heat that had risen to her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you can admit he’s an attractive man. A poor-tempered, boorish, attractive man.

Ophelia drew alongside Faithful as they rode out of camp, and once on the main path Arthur let her take the lead, content to be taken where-the-hell-ever, just happy he was out and on his horse once more.

Glancing over at her, she looked more relaxed, too, a faint smile on her lips. She’d pinned back some of her hair but that hadn’t stopped some stray curls from falling about her face, the steady breeze not helping matters. She was wearing the green blouse Sean had given her, he’d found out, and a thick black skirt, a wide brown belt wrapped around her waist. His gaze quickly lifted as she looked over to him.

Her smile widened. 

“How about a little race?”

“A race?” He snorted. “I ain’t a child.”

“You aren’t?” She grinned as she kicked Faithful into a gallop, darting past him.

“God damn it...” he muttered, urging Ophelia to do the same, racing after her.

“Where the hell are we racin’ to?”

“None of your business!”

“How about you have a little sit down while I find us a deer?”

“One of these days that smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble, Miss Sawyer.”

His low words had a smile pulling at her lips and a strange sensation running down her spine. 

She’d won their race, though perhaps it was a slightly unfair advantage to her that she knew where the finish line would be. As he’d grumbled at that fact and they’d dismounted, she’d just smiled widely.

As they emerged from a collection of trees, he realised she’d taken them to Bolger Glade, an old battlefield that lay to the east of Braithewaite Manor. Crumbling trenches, stone buildings and a church occupied it, along with rusting cannons and broken wagons. The earth was slowly claiming them, grass and plants growing over each object.

He was about to ask what the hell could be hunted around here when a dampness landed on his cheek. The black clouds that had been threatening had grown closer and rain drops started to fall, at first haphazardly then all together, pouring down.

“Ah, shit, come on,” he called to her, “We’ll stay in the church until this blows over!”

“What about the horses?” she answered, pulling a face as rain got in her eyes.

“They’ll be fine!”

They broke out into runs, dodging broken wood and rocks as she shielded her face with her hands, he grateful for his hat.

“So much for huntin’, huh? What a grand idea.”

“I don’t control the weather, Arthur!”

They entered the decaying church moments later, slowing to a halt. Pushing her wet hair out of her face, Ada then wiped at her cheeks, blowing out a breath.

“Shit...” Arthur muttered as he came in behind her, shaking his arms out.

She held her forearms against her chest and rubbed her hands together as she walked a little further into the church, staying under the cover of what had been another level above. He followed her, removing his hat and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before placing his hat back on.

“It looks like someone’s been here. Recently,” he heard her say and lifted his head.

A blanket and pillow covered a corner of an alcove, and close by was a burned out fire pit which he’d nearly stepped on. Stepping over it, her rolled his shoulder.

“We should be fine.”

He followed her into the corner of the church that gave the most protection from the rain. Leaning back against the wall, Ada blew out another breath, rather irritated that their excursion out was now ruined.

Arthur shook his arms out again, water leaping off of his jacket with the action, as he glanced through a hole in the wall. “It should pass soon, I can already see a clear sky beyond it.”

She hummed, thinking it better bloody should, the irritation still prickling at her. This was supposed to be a break for him, a bit of normality to ease him back into a routine, a bit of freedom. And rain was ruining it. If it wasn’t uncomfortable heat here, then it was rain. They stood in silence, he watching the sky, she looking at the floor.

Her gaze drifted to him after a few minutes.

God, he was a good man. Yes, she could very readily admit that, even to him. He wouldn’t want to hear it and would even vehemently deny it, but he was, she knew it. He wasn’t just considerate to her, but to everyone in the camp, always putting others before himself. There was nothing false about him, either, no masks he put on or shows; out of the two men who had practically raised him, he was more like Hosea than Dutch, and she was glad for it. He hadn’t pushed her, either, to tell her secret, and...

If you don’t do it now you never will... His patience could run out... Then what would the consequences be? 

Straightening a little, she clasped her hands in front of herself, playing with them a little.

“Arthur, I...”

His head turned to her and she paused for only a moment.

“... I want to thank you, for how patient you’ve been. I very much have appreciated it. A lesser man would have asked me again and again or made me tell him outright and I’m incredibly grateful to you for not pressing the matter.”

He didn’t say anything or move as she spoke.

“I feel like, over the past couple of weeks, we’ve...” She seemed to steel herself then, her lips pressing together. “... What I’m going to tell you, I hope you do not tell anyone else.”

He nodded, straightening and placing his hands on his gun belt. “All right, I won’t.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Your word?”

“Would it really mean that much?”

“To me, yes.”

He gazed at her before nodding again. “You have my word, I won’t tell anyone.”

She wet her lips and pressed them together, her hands clasped tightly.

“Dutch’s words about killing Colm’s brother affected me because Michael O’Driscoll was my father.”

She’d spoken the words slowly so he knew there was no chance he could have misheard, but... 

Jesus fucking Christ...

He stared at her, something in him twisting sharply.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him, watching for every single reaction he gave as, knowing there was no way of going back, she continued.

“When my father met my mother he was already halfway to leaving the gang. He was disillusioned and wanted a different life, a better one, and after meeting and falling in love with my mother, he then thought it might be possible. He told Colm that after he married my mother he wanted to leave and raise the family they would have together the right way. Colm agreed and he actually came to visit us several times over the years, with a few trusted members of the gang. He visited us nearly every Christmas, brought us presents for them and at our birthdays, ones that he promised he’d bought but we knew he hadn’t.”

A dam seemed to have broken inside her, now, because she didn’t, couldn’t, stop, the words coming out faster. 

“Then when I was five there was a bad winter and all our animals died as well as our crops. We had very little money because my father had spent it all on the farm and getting the best things he could find for us, so he wrote to Colm for help. Colm came to our farm and said he couldn’t loan him any money but my father could earn it by helping him with a job. My father refused and said he wasn’t part of that life anymore, and Colm called him a coward and said would he really rather see his family starve than be a man and they had an awful argument and in the end my father said he didn’t want to know Colm, he didn’t consider him family anymore and he didn’t want to see him ever again. Colm left and we thought that was the end of it. Then two weeks later four men broke into our house, all wearing masks, I heard them kick the door down, and my father ran out of his and my mother’s bedroom with his shotgun but they were too quick and one man pinned him to the ground.”

She wasn’t looking at him now, her eyes fixed on the ground as if she could see it happening all over again. 

“I opened my door and saw him there and I called out and started to run to him when one of the men grabbed me and told me to be quiet and pressed his knife against my throat and told me he’d kill me if I screamed and then, and then a man stepped forward, a man with dark hair, and he shot my Da in the heart and he didn’t say a word and Mama screamed and Thomas cried and I couldn’t do anything and then, then they just left, without saying a word, they didn’t take anything, they didn’t rob us, they just left and Mama ran to Da and she wouldn’t stop screaming and Thomas wouldn’t stop crying and I just stood there, I just...”

She didn’t realise tears were streaming down her cheeks until she broke off with a shuddering breath. Her eyes finally lifted after a moment, meeting his gaze.

He hadn’t moved, his features expressionless.

“You’re Colm O’Driscoll’s niece?” His voice was low and quiet.

“Yes,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “My name is Adaline O’Driscoll.”

“Why didn’t you tell us your real name?”

“Because I didn’t know what any of you were like, I didn’t know what Dutch van der Linde would do with Colm O’Driscoll’s niece, even though I’m not a part of his life, I didn’t know what would happen.”

He was still giving nothing away, his eyes fixed on her.

Her heart was pounding against her ribcage and she had to remind herself to breathe.

This was a mistake—

“What happened when they took us?”

“Colm realised it was me because of my ring.” She held her bare, right hand up, dropping it after a moment. “It was my father’s, it’s a family heirloom, his father gave it to him. It’s one of a kind. And then...”

He kept silent as she paused, wiping her cheeks. 

“When he was talking to me he talked about my brother and said he’s alive, but he can’t be because when he was sixteen, I was twelve, he left in the middle of the night, we found a note from him saying he’d gone to find Colm to kill him, and my mother wept for days and we waited, we waited a year and he never returned so we knew he was dead because he wouldn’t have stayed with Colm, he wouldn’t have, but Colm said he’d told him that it was Dutch who’d done it and that Thomas believed him but Thomas wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t have left us...”

She was crying again, albeit silently.

It was as if all the pain, all the burdens she had to bear, all the secrets, all she’d had to suppress to keep her mother going, finally came out in simply being able to tell somebody about it.

“An— Adaline, what do you want to do now?”

She frowned as she lifted her head. 

“What?”

“What do you want to happen now?”

Her mouth opened and closed slightly. 

“I don’t know. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

He finally looked away from her, his hand running down his mouth as he placed his other hand on his hip.

Oh, God, he’s going to cast me out, he’s going to tell me go, and I won’t blame him—

“Colm knows you’re with us.”

“Yes.”

“For whatever reason, he’s going to want you back.”

“Yes, he said something to that effect when he took us.”

“So, I reckon... the safest thing is you stay with us.”

She ceased breathing as he turned to her. “What?”

“We can protect you. The others don’t need to know. Colm won’t come this far south, anyway, not with the law and bounty hunters around. Probably not with the Lemoyne Raiders around, too.”

He was moving towards her.

She started shaking her head, utterly confused. “Why, why would you do this for me?”

He stopped before her, and, using a finger, he brushed away her tears.

“Save people as need savin’.”

She laughed, all tension suddenly, thankfully, leaving her body, and his finger brushed down her cheek.

“I need saving, do I?”

“Like no one else I’ve met before.”

“I think I’m fine.”

One corner of his mouth rose higher than the other as he looked at her, his finger settling under her chin.

It made her already rapidly beating heart stutter slightly.

Then he dropped his hand.

“You ain’t gonna kill Dutch, are you?”

That certainly caught her off guard. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He didn’t respond for a few moments, then placed his hand on his belt, inclining his head.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone.”

She smiled as she exhaled a breath. “Thank you.”

He shifted his weight to his other foot, arching an eyebrow.

“So, I’m to call you Adaline now?”

“Yes, when we’re alone. Or Ada, actually. Only my mother called me Adaline.”

“It’s a pretty name.”

She ignored the heat that rose on her cheeks again.

“Thank you.”

“Who’s Annie Sawyer? You came up with it pretty fast,” he continued at her look.

“Our maid.”

“You had a maid?”

Oh, shit.

“... Yeah, we hired her when we arrived in Strawberry to help my mother... And a farm hand.”

“How could you afford that?”

Her stomach twisted, and she allowed herself the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “Uh... Well, you see, let me provide some context, uhm, when I said, when I first came to the camp, that my sister, mother and uncle had died, well, it was actually, my mother, our maid, Annie, and our farm hand, Adam, and... Well, we moved to Strawberry to be near my mother’s brother, my real... other, actual uncle.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Now, hold on... you said you had no more family.”

She wet her lips, her teeth slowly grazing over her lower one. “... Seeing as I’m being honest, there’s something else. My uncle is Nicholas Timmins, mayor of Strawberry.”

“Excuse me?”

She spoke quickly again, however this time just because of how exasperated he looked rather than because she was frightened. “We moved in with him after we finally admitted Thomas wasn’t coming back, that he had died. My mother wasn’t coping and he offered to look after us. He was the only one of my mother’s family still talking to her after she married my father. He was shunned by the family, too, years before she met my Da, I don’t know why. He... well, I never really got along with him. He acted like he was more than he was and we were part of his show. He had a new house built for us, gave us Annie, and Adam. I don’t know where he got his money from but he was on a real mission to turn Strawberry into something grand. I don’t think he’ll be particularly saddened at my disappearance.”

He stared at her, then exhaled a bewildered laugh. “Shit, you got any more surprises?”

She smiled, her sheepish expression lingering. “That’s the last one, I promise.”

“You sure? Nothin’ else you want to share?”

She laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing else, I swear it.”

He shook his head with a weary sigh, a smile pulling at his lips. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Ada.”

She liked how her name sounded on his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you—”

She broke off suddenly as voices came from nearby, carried by the wind.

Arthur lifted his head and moved to the wall beside them. Peering out of the hole in the rock that had once been a window, he pressed his lips together.

“Shit,” he murmured, “Seven of them. They look like Lemoyne Raiders. Probably use this as a hideout.”

The men were moving quickly, eager as they had been to get out of the rain.

“We ain’t gonna be able to get out without them seein’ us, so...” He glanced at her, looking her up and down which had her raising her eyebrows.

“Are you going to throw me to them and run away?”

A corner of his mouth lifted as he moved away from the wall and shrugged his jacket off.

“Nah, but that can be the back up plan.”

Stepping closer to her, he then draped his jacket around her shoulders and adjusted it, his hands sweeping over her shoulders and collar bones.

She felt herself becoming slightly flustered at his act of chivalry, and the fact she could feel a slight warmth from it from his body, a gentle expression of gratitude ready to break free, when he murmured, “Follow my lead, we don’t want to spook ‘em.”

Of course.

Nodding, Ada folded her arms and opened her mouth to ask what exactly his plan was, his history of them not spectacular, when he leaned his shoulder against the wall beside her and his arm slid over her stomach and around her waist. Then, his chin settled gently on top of her wet hair.

Her mouth dropped open slightly.

Before she could, again, question him, the voices of the men grew louder as they entered the ruined church.

"... Ah, shit, it’s gotten all in m’ britches, I hate the God damn rain.”

“Well, Jackie, if you had worn your...”

The man speaking trailed off as they rounded the corner, their eyes darting between Ada and Arthur.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ in here?”

Arthur lifted his head as his arm dropped from her, a warm smile on his lips.

“Woah, woah, fellers, easy. My wife and I are just takin’ shelter from the rain. We didn’t know this belonged to anybody.”

Wife? Oh my Lord...

“Are you now?”

A man with blonde, lank hair stepped forward, quickly establishing himself as the apparent leader of this group as the other men looked to him.

“Well, this here property belongs to the Lemoyne Raiders. You’re trespassin’, friends.”

“Oh, really? Goodness, there aren’t any signs.”

That mouth really is gonna get her in trouble.

Arthur’s humour quickly faded as the blonde man looked at her, arching an eyebrow, and stepped closer.

Then, he looked at Arthur. ”You need to keep your woman in check, friend.”

Arthur held the man’s gaze, knowing drawing his revolver at that moment was not a clever thing to do.

“She made a fair point, friend, but we’re not from around here so we don’t know no better.”

“Yeah, you don’t.” Arthur didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes as he smiled suddenly. “Forgive me, strangers, for not welcomin’ you properly. You see, somethin’ else you don’t know is that you gotta pay a toll to the Lemoyne Raiders to enter these parts. Did you pay a toll, friend?”

God, these people are annoyin’.

“No, I can’t say that we did.”

“Well, no trouble, friends, you can pay us right now. Ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars? That’s a high price for a shit hole of a state.”

Arthur’s eyes closed briefly.

She’s gonna get us both killed and if she don’t then I’m gonna kill her.

All seven men looked like they’d just been slapped across the face.

The blonde man stepped closer to her, prompting Arthur to shift his stance, his shoulder shielding her slightly.

“If you can’t pay that, bitch, then I’m sure we can come to some sort of other arrangement—”

His leering expression was suddenly splattered with blood as a gunshot went off, and Arthur’s gun belt felt lighter.

Oh, for Christ’s sake...

Gritting his teeth as the man fell, a gaping hole in his chest, Arthur drew his other revolver with lightening speed and shot over him, two of the other men falling, too, as bullets struck their chests and neck. In the same moment, as shouting broke out from the remaining four men and they dove for cover, Arthur reached out and wrapped his arm around Ada’s waist, hauling her to the side as he pressed his back against the wall, holding her against him.

“Are you out of your God damn mind?” he hissed, staring down at her and the flecks of blood that covered her face.

“Well, what were we going to do, pay them?” she retorted, her hand braced against his chest.

As she raised her other hand, the revolver she’d swiftly pulled from his gun belt gripped in it, and leaned away from him, peering around the wall, Arthur muttered a curse.

“Well... A warnin’ would have been nice.”

She just snorted and he suddenly held her tighter as he heard a gun shot before he realised she was the one who’d fired.

Then, she was out of his arms.

He killed an order on his tongue for her to get right back here as she darted across to crouch in the ruins, an intact section of wall covering her. Bullets fired and missed her by a wide margin.

The idiots probably ain’t even lookin’.

Nearing the edge of the wall, he joined her in firing at the four men who remained. Two went down quickly, and not because of him. He couldn’t stop himself from repeatedly glancing over at her, watching her as she made each bullet count.

So, she could shoot at what was shooting back.

He shot one man in the back as he tried to run, and she got the last man as he raised his head to call out to him.

Silence descended.

Sighing, he picked his jacket up from the floor, it having fallen from her as she’d made for new cover. She wiped an arm over her face, clearing the little spots of blood from her skin, inhaling a long breath.

"So, I guess you’re all right with killin’ now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow

She shrugged. “Well, it had to be done. They weren’t good men.”

“Neither am I.” 

She glanced at him as she handed his revolver back. “Some allowances can be made.”

He holstered the gun. “Dutch ain’t a good man either.”

She pressed her lips together, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Well...” Licking her lips, she moved past him. “Come on, let’s get back.”

Puling his jacket on, he sighed as he followed her out into the gentle rain.

He watched her that night. She danced with Sean as Javier played a song on his guitar and everyone sang along, gathered around the main camp fire. She laughed loudly at most of the things Sean said, a wide smile on her lips.

He’d admit, not proudly, that how he’d carried out his plan earlier had been with somewhat more commitment than he would have usually given. He’d done the husband and wife routine before with Karen, but he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

And he had held Ada. He couldn’t shake from his mind the feel of her pressed against him, that fire in her eyes he was beginning to crave whenever he looked at her burning bright. He wanted to hold her again. He wanted to do more, so much more.

The only reason he allowed himself these fantasies was because he knew they would never come to pass.

Exhaling a breath, he lowered his gaze to the fire as he placed a cigarette between his lips.

Sean twirled her with more flourish than was necessary before he pulled her back in and continued the haphazard waltz they were doing. The twirl had taken them away from the group and he glanced up, his gaze settling on them before it returned to her.

She was still smiling and it filled him with a decent sense of pride that he could bring joy to her.

“So...” he began, keeping his voice low so only she could hear. “... What’s with you and King Arthur?”

She blinked in surprise, her forehead dipping.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, spendin’ all these mornin’s together. Goin’ out of camp earlier. Is he payin’ ye?”

She snorted and glanced over at Arthur as they swayed. He was talking to John, elbows on his knees and a cigarette between his lips. Just looking at him, though... A strange sensation made her stomach flutter, and she swiftly returned her attention to Sean.

“Nothing’s going on. I just enjoy his company, that’s all.”

“Well, there’s enjoyin’ company and then there’s enjoyin’ company.”

“It is most decidedly the former, Sean MacGuire.”

“Because he’s too much of a dumb bastard to realise ye want the latter?”

She opened her mouth then closed it firmly, trying desperately hard to suppress the smile that threatened.

“I do not want—”

“Ye don’t have to worry about me, Annie, I won’t be goin’ tellin’ anyone. Especially not the big, old, dumb boy himself.”

She exhaled an exasperated sigh as he twirled her once more, though, again, she was smiling. As he sang along to the bawdy song Javier had started to play, she thought, not for the first time, about telling him the truth, about telling him who she really was but... That would just complicate things, and if she told him then she’d feel like she had to tell Sadie, and someone would slip up. It wasn’t a matter of trust but safety.

No, she’d keep it, for now. She would tell him someday.

—

Ada had an early dinner the next day with Sadie, Arthur and Sean having vanished earlier in the day and the girls either during chores or sleeping through the heat, taking the chance while Susan did the same. Not that Sadie was a last resort, far from it, Ada loved talking and sitting with her, and was allowing herself to become incredibly fond of her. They sat on the log on the bank, looking out across the river and sharing a bread roll with their stew.

“We should go out huntin’ later, this is just vegetables and water,” Sadie scoffed, pushing the lumps around in her bowl.

“I think I tasted something like meat but I’m not sure.” Ada wrinkled her nose as she inspected her own portion, opting to just mainly mop up the liquid with the bread.

Pearson was usually a good cook but nobody had brought in anything bigger than a squirrel in the last couple of days, either too busy with ‘business’ or just not bothering.

She’d hoped that she and Arthur would have been able to bring something substantial in but due to the shoot-out at the church they’d left quickly, and the rain hadn’t exactly provided ideal conditions. 

She couldn’t help but think about what had happened. Arthur’s touch, his closeness, his trust...

Oh, Lord...

She so wished she could confide in Sadie, just hear somebody else’s thoughts that weren’t her own that rattled around day and night in her brain. But, no... Maybe someday.

“I’m thinkin’ of going after O’Driscolls.”

Sadie’s sudden statement in their silence, cutting through her thoughts, made her still, her gaze darting up to her. Sadie just looked out across the water, chewing on her vegetables.

“Okay... I know the obvious reason but... why?”

“‘cause I can’t rest.” She inhaled a breath. “It’s all I think about. I can’t stand the thought of them out there, doin’ awful things to other people, ruinin’ more lives. I can do somethin’ about it so why shouldn’t I?”

Ada licked her lips. She was considering her next set of words carefully, not wanting to insult Sadie’s capabilities or state the obvious, when Sadie shrugged.

“I’m just thinkin’ about it, anyways. Nothin’ certain.”

“Right.”

That seemed to end the conversation, decidedly so when Sadie pulled a face and made another comment on the food. Ada took the deviation and ran with it, humming her agreement.

A gnawing, unsettling feeling began in her stomach, however, and she used the excuse of the food to stop eating.

“You’re lookin’ real nice today, Bill.”

“Shut up.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow as he approached the three men loitering by the side of the bank, his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. Micah chuckled and glanced up before raising his hands at the sight of Arthur and standing from where he’d been sat on the stairs.

“Been waitin’ for you, Arthur, it’s nearly God damn evenin’.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have kept you,” Arthur drawled.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

Micah, for once, didn’t seem in the mood to bite back. Instead, he brushed past Arthur, Sean and Bill following, and rounded the stairs to start walking down the main street of Rhodes.

“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked, following at a slightly slower pace behind the men.

“We’re meetin’ a couple of Grays over at the saloon,” Micah answered, turning to look at him with a faint smile. “They spoke to Bill about a job... needing security.”

“After the farce of stealing horses for them, why we doin’ this?”

“‘cause we need to stay in with them, and they’re payin’.”

“So, what kind’a security they want?”

“We’re about to find out, now come on,” Micah said with an air of exasperation, as if they hadn’t asked Miss Grimshaw to tell Arthur to meet them in town with no other information only an hour earlier.

“This seem legit to you, Bill?”

“Sure.”

“Dutch said we was to keep on dealing with them until we find this gold,” Micah cut in.

“Can we trust them?” Sean asked.

“Can we trust anyone?” Arthur muttered.

“Let’s just see what they say,” Micah nearly hissed.

“They said there was some big misunderstandin’ about them horses,” Bill murmured.

“And what about burnin’ their fields?” Sean added.

“They don’t know we had anything to do with that,” Micah now actually hissed. 

“Oh, that so?” Arthur said dryly.

“Yeah, they think it was the Braithwaites,” Bill said earnestly. “Listen, I know these Gray boys a bit now. This is on the level.”

“We’re stuck in the middle of some ancient feud but instead of playin’ both sides we’re bein’ used by both of ‘em,” Arthur muttered, trying to keep his voice low as they neared the Sheriff’s Office.

“They were sayin’ that Catherine Braithwaite—”

“Hey, hold up...” Arthur cut Bill off, coming to a halt and prompting the other men to do the same. “This don’t feel right...”

The street was quiet, far, far too quiet for the morning. They’d passed a few men on their walk but now... It was completely empty.

Sean snorted as he turned to them, arching an eyebrow. “Now it don’t feel right? I could’a told you that—”

A bullet tore through his head, silencing him. Sean died before he hit the ground.

“Shit—” Micah hissed.

“What the hell?!” Bill shouted.

Men suddenly appeared everywhere, on roofs, in buildings, from alleyways, firing at them and they instantly started to fire back.

“Get down!” Arthur yelled as they ran for cover, drawing his revolvers.

“Damn it...”

“Sons of bitches...”

Arthur and Micah ran the same way, Bill the other. Crouching behind a barrel, Arthur couldn’t stop to think, just firing back at whoever was shooting at him. 

“What the— God damn it!” Micah was furious. “I can’t believe you shot me, you bastards!”

“You okay?” Arthur called out, knowing Micah was behind him somewhere but not wanting to take his eyes off the attackers to look.

“I’m fine!”

There were many of them, but he and Micah were better shots. They fell one after the other, but they also kept coming, and Arthur felt and heard bullets whizzing over his head and past him.

“Is Sean dead?”

“Look at him, of course he’s dead!” Arthur yelled, though he couldn’t look at the body. “How could you not think this was a trap?!”

He turned, finally able to look at Micah as he started to shoot at the men on the other side of the town. Blood was running down his arm but Micah was firing back with all he had, rage twisting his features.

“You sure you wanna talk about this now, Morgan?” Then, he lowered his guns, his teeth gritted. “The cowards are in the gunstore! I’ll get the front, you take the back!”

Before Arthur could even think about protesting, Micah was already storming up onto the porch. Cursing, Arthur darted behind a wagon and paused for a moment before moving up the back steps to the door. As soon as he passed through the door, a man appeared, his eyes wide.

These fools are in over their heads.

Arthur knocked him down to the ground and struck him across the face with the butt of his revolver. 

“None of these bastards gonna walk out of here!” He heard Micah yell from the porch as he fired a bullet into the man’s head.

Straightening, Arthur watched Micah as he entered, killing the two men who were cowering on the other side of the shop.

“You’re gettin’ sloppy, Morgan,” Micah drawled as he reloaded his guns.

Arthur clenched his jaw as he strode across the shop, pressing his back against the space of wall beside the door. 

“Do you see that window in Sean’s skull? Don’t talk to me about sloppy,” he snarled.

Leaning forward, he fired out of the broken window, killing a man outside of the general store.

“They’re in the gunsmith’s!” he heard someone yell.

The man was soon silenced by Micah.

Moving out onto the porch, Arthur fired at three men starting to ride down the street on their horses, knocking them off. The horses rode over them, breaking out into gallops as the sounds spooked them.

“I want them dead!” he heard Micah yell over the gunfire as he joined him on the porch.

“You sure about that?”

Suddenly, the shooting ceased. Breathing hard, Arthur quickly scanned the street, his eyes darting from building to building for any sign of movement. Was this another trap?

“See that? Those cowards are runnin’ away!” Micah called out gleefully, exhaling a harsh laugh as they watched a few men jump up onto horses and gallop away without looking back.

“Looks like most of ‘em,” Arthur answered, rolling his shoulder as he stood, sliding his revolvers back into their holsters after a moment.

“Not all of them,” Micah murmured darkly, his guns still drawn as he headed down the steps.

“Sheriff Gray...”

His jaw moving, Arthur followed after him. Looking over his shoulder, then frowned, slowing a little.

“And where’s Bill? Where the hell’s he?”

“We’ll find him later, come on.” Micah was already striding ahead, his mind focused on one thing only. “Sherrif Gray! You need to get a hold on this town, it’s going to hell!”

“Who do you think you are?!” a near-hysterical voice called back from within the Sherrif’s Office. “A bunch of two-bit thugs from God knows where?!”

Micah and Arthur came to a stop outside the building, Arthur’s hand hovering over his guns.

“You’re so dumb to think we don’t know what you been doing!” Sheriff Gray continued.

“Come out, Sheriff!” Micah demanded, a definite taunt to his tone. “It’s over!”

“We put down far worse than you! A hundred times over! This is the Gray’s town. Always has been, always will be!”

Micah laughed harshly as he gestured around. “Only Grays I see left around here is you!”

“You want us to come out? We’ll come out!”

The door suddenly burst open and Bill Williamson muttered out a curse as he was pushed out, a gun held to his head.

“Ah, Bill...” Arthur hissed, gritting his teeth.

“Guns on the ground now!” Sheriff Gray called out as three of his men came out behind him, their guns trained on Micah and Arthur. “Both of you!”

“Don’t do it!” Bill ground out.

“You know we can’t do that,” Arthur replied, “You put the gun down, Sheriff!”

“I’ll blow his brains out!” the Sheriff retorted, an arrogant confidence overtaking him now.

From the corner of his eye, before the Sheriff had even finished his sentence, Arthur could see Micah raising his guns. Grabbing his own, he raised one to the Sheriff and one to the man to his right. He shot them both in the head as Micah also shot at the Sheriff and the two men to his left.

They all fell with choked sounds and Bill grunted as he automatically crouched, staring down at the Sheriff.

“Shit...” he marvelled.

Arthur pressed his lips together and holstered his guns.

What a God damn fucking mess... And it’s only goin’ to get worse.

Turning away, Arthur looked to the ground.

A few feet away lay the body of Sean MacGuire, blood drenching his face and chest. Kneeling beside him, Arthur shook his head slightly, his chest tightening.

“He was a good kid,” he murmured.

“Well, how the hell was I to know?” Bill grumbled, staggering down the steps and towards Arthur.

“Let me see...” Arthur began as he straightened, his jaw tight as his grief turned to rage. “They set us up once before, they didn’t like us, we destroyed their farm, should I go on?!”

His voice had risen to a yell as he’d advanced on Bill, the other man stepping back as he clutched his shotgun.

“Go easy on him, Morgan,” Micah’s voice came from behind him, cool as mountain water. “He was out tryin’ to find a lead, same as you, same as Hosea. All you do is complain when things don’t work out. Except when it’s your God damn fault—”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Arthur seethed, turning on him now. “You don’t give a damn about nobody but yourself!”

“Oh, you act so high and mighty but you’re no better than the rest of us!”

Arthur had already turned away, leaning down and picking Sean’s body up as carefully as he could, placing him over his shoulder.

“I’ve ridden with you boys close on, what,” Micah continued, “six months now? And all you ever done was complain! And you can fight but you can’t think.”

“You can’t do either,” Arthur muttered as he strode past him, holding Sean’s body with a hand on his back.

Micah laughed as he and Bill followed, Bill watching for any more Grays. “Okay, cowpoke.”

They need to leave before I kill him.

Striding towards their horses, Arthur headed for Bill’s.

“Bill, take the boy’s body. Bury him proper, someplace quiet.” He carefully lifted the body onto Brown Jack before he stepped back. “Micah, best you and I don’t speak for a moment.”

Micah laughed again as he mounted his horse, and Arthur’s fingers twitched to reach for his gun.

“I’m just so frightened by you.”

“Get outta my sight...” Arthur hissed as he mounted Ophelia, hearing Bill and Micah canter away behind him. “... pair of God damn fools.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he surveyed the town, an uneasy sense of dread settling in his stomach.

What a God damn mess we’re makin’ of things.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat​​​​​, @sistasarah-sallysaidso​, @ntlmundy​

[strawberry-sundaze]

I saw the matchup thing and what to give it a try!! I have light brown/blondish color hair; I’m 5’2, I’m not a big fan of crowds (it kicks up my anxiety really bad) and can get very Impatient at times; i love to sketch a lot or play video games to past the time; plus when meeting new people I overthink and feel like they are judging me (I don’t know how the matchup thing works, so have at it!!)

Hi!!!! Okay this is super exciting because I HIGH KEY stalk your blog 🙊 all the time... and I live off of all the Shiggy things you reblog/post. I’m a shameless Tomura worshiper simp, smh. I’m trying not to be biased because I know you really like Shigaraki, so I got a second opinion from someone unfamiliar with your blog (thanks @endeavwh0re) and they agreed. It’s canon. You’re stuck with Shiggy now <3

**Honestly, this is a bit of a strange combo, yes, but I picked people I think you’d be compatible with for reasons listed below. Here we go!

Starting with the (aged up!) UA Student we have...

Fumikage Tokoyami!

Chivalrous, daunting, and understanding, Tokoyami is a book waiting to be opened and read. Not many people are close to him or know him well, but he has proved himself time and time again to be one of the most unique people you’ll ever meet.

Much to your delight, Tokoyami is a homebody. He won’t try to drag you all around town or take you to big events; he hates crowds too. He would prefer to spend his days at home (with you). He would LOVE to play video games with you, watch you sketch, and he may even draw something for you, too. He’s not even a sore loser! “You won fair and square. Nicely done!” This is random, but I think Tokoyami might sketch really edgy pictures that seem to burn holes into a notebook, or spend his time working on an intricate scenery painting. It’s hard to say which, but he seems like he’d be artistic. That being said, he would have an eye for art and admire anything you created. No matter if it was something simple or something elaborate, Tokoyami would be your number one fan. He DOES have mad guitar skills, so there’s another fun thing to do at home.

Fumikage is one of the least judgmental people at UA, maybe even in all of Musutafu. While you may not be able to tell what he is thinking based on his facial expressions, his open, calm presence would help you feel at ease and less worried about whether or not he dislikes you. Spoiler alert though: he would really, really like you. Affectionate in subtle ways, this boy would keep you on your toes and wanting more (but never too much; he doesn’t want to worry you any because he’s considerate™️ like that).

The best part about Tokoyami is that he would not keep you waiting. He likes to be early when he is supposed to be somewhere, and he likes to plan ahead (he’ll order food to be ready at a specific time so you don’t have to wait). He’s patient when you’re impatient, although he knows and tries his best to keep you out of situations where you’d have to wait. He’d treat you like royalty, that’s just how it be. No waiting for his s/o, nope.

Alright! A pro hero for youuuu!

Your pro hero is match is...

Taishiro Toyomitsu! (Fatgum)

He is SO damn lovable. Wow. What a guy. Where do I even start? Taishiro is a bit more outgoing than your first match, but that’s okay! Here’s why he’s such a good match for you:

He may be a hero and therefore constantly in the spotlight, but Taishiro would want to keep those he loves safe. The best way to do that is most likely by not exposing you to public events (though he’d love to show you off if he could) and keeping his circle of people who know about you tight. He constantly worries about your safety and health. Would always, always check up on you, making sure that you have everything you need and more; Sugar Daddy™️

You like to play games? So does he!!! Well... he’s no pro gamer or anything, but he’ll put forth his best effort. He’s SO down and enthusiastic about your interests. Sketching?? How amazing!! He’d love it. High key would put all your art on the wall or frame anything you drew for him, even if it was something childish and silly, like a cartoon dick.

Please, don’t ever worry or feel anxious as long as he’s there. He is honest and at times a bit blunt, but never would he ever be judgemental. He is used to being judged; why would he do that to somebody else? Actual king. The sweetest. He is also very patient. Would NOT make you wait or hold you up, and would throw hands with anyone that gives you a hard time. He cares too much about your feelings. He would also be so generous- physically, verbally, emotionally, ask and you shall receive. Cuddles with Taishiro would be heavenly. He would shower you with kisses, hold your hands, just... wow. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

This is it... this is the moment I mentioned several hours ago ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Your villain matchup is none other than the infamous

Tomura Shigaraki!!

oh, you lucky, LUCKY tumblr user. SKSKSKS

The villain king himself would choose you. Maybe it’s because of how much of himself he sees in you (that just means you have things in common... calm down, Tomura), or maybe it’s because he tolerates you more than most people. Either way... buckle up, buttercup.

Tomura is not one that trusts easily. In fact, you would have to break through a figurative wall that’s *almost* as thick as the prison ones holding in AFO. But once you’re in... you’re stuck. There’s no escaping Shigaraki’s grasp. He will hold on tight and expect you to do the same.

Now, why on earth do I think you might actually be GOOD for this man? First of all, as I mentioned earlier, he could relate to you. He hates everything, but he really despises crowds and lots of unnecessary people. The fact that you feel the same way makes him kind of comfortable with you. You also are a bit shorter than he is, so he’d probably enjoy standing next to you. What? It makes him feel powerful. It’s totally not like he thinks it’s cute. Nah.

Y-you like... video games? That’s like, his only legitimate hobby aside from plotting to topple hero society. If you’re any good at video games, he’d want to play together. If you aren’t, Tomura would try to avoid playing the super intense competitive games with you to lessen the hostility he’d feel towards you if he lost. Sorry, he’s a sore loser. Good luck with that one. He would enjoy playing less intense video games, too. Minecraft? He’s down. Animal crossing? Sure. Honestly I could see the whole LoV playing something like Jackbox Games on Shigaraki’s Xbox and having a hella fun time.

You both are impatient. While it would irritate most others, you two have a special way of subtly (or not so subtly depending on the situation) expressing your annoyance *together*. It may even help lighten the mood.

Shig: “I never should’ve asked that bozo to run an errand for me. Next time, I’ll do it myself. He’s taking far too long.”

Y/n: “Yeah. I’ve been sitting here starving while he’s probably trying to schmooze one of the waitresses. Dabi can suck a lemon.”

Shig: “...huh?” Confused Tomura is slightly less irritated. Good job :)

Show 👏 this 👏 man 👏 some 👏 love. Please. He honestly needs it. Shigaraki would never say it, but he would probably love some affection. Just a little. Kiss his face and touch his hair; give him a hug or two million. He’d be really careful when it came to his hands, but after he gets all buff™️ and has wardrobe upgrade, he doesn’t have to worry about it as much. After that, you can expect him to grab you more and touch you more in general, and his hugs would feel so full. If you continue to follow his lead as his trusted companion, then maybe someday, he’d trust you enough to rule by his side.

[fcarher]

        ↪ @skyvar​ ☕️ blog hoppers, multis with short, unfinished or lack of about pages, ppl who seem to lose often their starter calls, rp blogs who never manage to get a thread past 10 notes, rpers who use their blog more for ooc stuff and rarely if ever rly manage rp stuff, free art short gratitude, have fun

【Send ☕️ + an rp topic I will give my honest thoughts and opinions on it 】

blog hoppers

i don’t really care for them, meaning that i won’t follow people who constantly move from one blog to another without putting effort into writing; i just don’t see myself interacting with them because while shorter threads & first meeting threads are fun, they often become boring quick if it’s all the same. if you have many blogs & put effort into those ?? congratulations; you’re fucking amazing & i honestly look up to you. (shoutout to @veliminate​ because wow, finn i’m amazed that you’re putting so much into so many muses at the same time ! it’s so great c: )  but if you just constantly make new muses with new blogs just BECAUSE ? nah, it’s not my cup of tea, sorry. 

multis with short,unfinished or lack of about pages

it depends ??? if i know the mun, muse, etc. i don’t mind it as much if i’m going to be honest but if i don’t & you follow me, i’m gonna be hesitant about following back in all honesty. i love reading the about sections about every muse, no matter if it’s an oc or a canon muse; they’re all different & i love it, so, even if you think it might not be THAT necessary to have one; i think it is. like i said; i don’t really follow a lot of them back if they don’t have one, at all. unfinished ones ? i think they’re alright if the muse is new & they provide info with headcanon, lore, meta posts. but yeah, still picky, ngl 8′) 

ppl who seem to lose often their starter calls 

i don’t really understand it ? call me stupid but i don’t understand how you can lose a starter call ? i mean, the post is most def there & the notes should also be there, so what’s the matter ? if anyone wants to educate me on this, please do because it never happened to me, so i don’t really understand it. in the past, a few years back, i had some blogs doing it & i just thought that they were re-doing their starter calls because people liked it with whom they didn’t enjoy writing as much 8′) yeah but guys, keep an eye on those starter calls or i’ll have to do it  👁️ 👄 👁️  

rp blogs who never manage to get a thread past 10 notes

i never thought of this but just one question to those; how ??? i see the fun in having many threads; most of them go unfinished, that’s a given, but not getting them past ten ? i don’t know; i mostly follow people who really put a lot of effort into their writing & when i see something like this, it’s kind of discouraging because i always have the lingering feeling that they’re going to drop the thread anyway; it’s just meh. 

rpers who use their blog more for ooc stuff and rarely if ever manage rp stuff

this kind of ties in with what i wrote before; i don’t really like it because, in all honesty, i’m mostly here to write & explore yuna. it’s your blog, do what you may desire; i won’t police you or anything but don’t expect me to follow you back. it happens rarely that i interact with blogs who mostly post ooc stuff, unrelated to their character. it’s just not for me; i’m not a huge social media person, so i often just view tumblr as a writing site. the only exception is when i know the people behind the blogs & they’re my friends; i don’t mind it as much, but i’m just hesitant about following new blogs who do the same. 

free art short gratitude 

thIS BUGS ME SO MUCH !!!!! you don’t have to write a whole essay on why you love this piece of art i created for you but some nice words with some perspective of what you liked about it, would not only be hella encouraging but also REALLY REALLY nice !! it’s just always nice to know that the person really appreciates what you have done for them; NO MATTER WHAT IT IS !! i don’t care if it’s a doodle, a sketch, a whole colorized & stylized full body piece of art; i love it all & honestly, if someone were to gift you any of those, you should be, too.  there’s so much negative shit in this world & i think, being grateful & expressing the gratitude towards someone who does something without expecting anything in return, would make this hellsite, at least, a little bit better 8′)