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omegaremix · 6 months ago

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Pandemic Blues (Spring).

When Dad passed away, I knew it was a new era. No more of his presence meant things would change on the inside and out, for better or worse. He almost had hit the U.S. average of male life expectancy by a pinch (78.54 years to his 78.19) so he’s had about his money’s worth. God couldn’t have cashed him out at a better time.

To start 2020, I took two weeks off from work for the first time in the six-plus years I’ve been with the company. I’ve met friends I haven’t seen in ages. I’ve abandoned non-successful projects in the name of self-care. I’ve re-wrote my diet for the better now that Dad wasn’t pumping me with free food ‘round the clock. I’ve also become the store champion in revenue for the year once again, and learned how not to get stress get the best of me. I had only one sunny day out of the twelve off in February which was extremely disappointing. As all you devils know, heading to New York City never leaves my mind. I promised myself that I’d make a visit to both Modern Pinball and Sunshine Laundromat, visits I’ve been waiting three years for. I came close. I did visit the city in early March for a check-up and visited Central Park as I called up my Godmother Laura to make Easter plans, leaving only after a half-an-hour when it started to get dark. By then I’d started to receive inklings of pending changes. The coronavirus was only in the back of my mind, and you normally don’t think of these things unless it pertains to you. I dialed up my aunt Theresa and she told me that the city schools and offices were contemplating closing down. I brushed it off like it was nothing, until…

It was a weekend at work like any other. A regular Sunday. Then it started. A customer asked me for nine mid-range laptops for himself and his co-workers to work from home. I sold them all to him. That’s a $3,100+ ticket. Another older man came in looking for five printers and ten monitors for his business. I could’ve hit the jackpot if only we had enough but we didn’t, but we piece-mealed whatever we could from other stores and that was another $1,500+. More customers and business owners came in to buy buy buy whatever they could to work at home with no limit and we now had a weekend clearance sale we never planned for. Every man and woman for themselves rushed in to save their jobs and tried grabbing whatever they can. When the weekend was over, they wiped us out of all our essential stock. Webcams, budget laptops, and monitors went clean off the shelves. We were fucking bewildered.

One outstanding memory I had of last year’s outbreak was seeing someone eye-ing over all-in-ones. After twenty minutes of no one asking him for assistance, I finally got him. He already had as much time under his belt deciding which way to go: Windows or Mac? He had lots of questions for me, and took me on a world tour of my own department to see which of three units he wanted to take home with him. Fine by me, because being in the presence of his brown-eyed peanut-butter haired daughter was all that mattered. Imagine Jessica Chastain in her late twenties and neck-length hair wearing a green St. Patrick’s Day shirt with a beige clover on it and blue jeans. Somewhat conservative and reserved but she was nice 100% all throughout. That’s more I could say than most people on the island or in my life I’ve met. An hour later, her dad finally decided on a high-end unit. “Wrap it up” he said. “Thank you for your time and purchase” I say, and it’d be the only time I would ever see her. Eventually, I noticed more customers coming in wearing masks. A different father-and-daughter pairing didn’t get it right wearing theirs under their chins, a half-assed way to at least fend themselves from the poison going on. Later on, two young female best-friends asked me for a Nintendo Switch. When they saw I had the Animal Crossing version, they suddenly asked for two more. Done. Knock yourselves out.

Within one week our store changed operations on a near-daily basis. We shortened our hours, then limited our total number of occupants to appointments only. By mid-week our store was closed to the public and it was all phone-orders and curbside pick-ups. Salespeople became impromptu warehouse and back-end runners. We couldn’t believe what we were experiencing. We were literally witnessing the slow gradual death of our traditional operating model. Corona- finally arrived and everyone was on edge not knowing what was coming next. Then we got the call from corporate: “all New York stores to be shut down indefinitely until further notice. Pack it up and go home. Expect a call from us in a few weeks”.

This was unreal! Our positions were in limbo. It felt like we were let go yet still employed otherwise. Meaning: furlough. We’d be fortunate enough to hold our titles and be kept on the payroll while we were mandated to stay home. Later as I learned, the ‘essentials’ as deemed, still had to work on through as a necessity to others; pegged to deal with the public who had no foresight as to how serious it would be. Before heading home indefinitely, I walked next door to the market. Never had I seen meat and paper shortages. Bare shelves of canned goods, frozen vegetables, pasta, and rice like the world was ending. There was no timetable for lockdown or how it’d last. I was now in competition with everyone else to stay alive. Count my high cards that an long-term food shortage was not the case.

27, 47, 81.

If only Dad would’ve lived long enough to see this unfold. He’d be forceful enough for me to stay home with him like some early exits from my location did. I can imagine that even if my bro- didn’t yell at him to stay home, Dad would say “hey, fuck you!” and drive out to see his friends. He literally fell of heart failure, and if that didn’t get him, would the -virus? Could he survive it with his expiring health and the spectre of death on impatient delay? Since Dad fed me almost daily, he’d feel very sad and broken if he couldn’t bring food home for me. He’s not here on this Earth anymore to do that, so it was time to change it up. The haunt of immuno-compromization had me thinking to cut the crap and go healthy.

245, 332, 417.

My ex- Yenny, the most cautious person in the world, sent me directions on how to make my own mask which I did out of old worn-out tees. Welcome to the new real dystopia. The first aesthetic of the pandemic was in the form of this makeshift cloth mask dampened with my own carbon-monoxide emanating the smell of damp stale cotton. Back to the neighborhood Chop N’ Drop I go. I stockpiled on fruits, vegetables, broth, anti-oxidants, juices, dark chocolates, nuts, and seltzer water. The moment of spending money on real food was the moment I started making real meals; the mixture of Idaho and sweet potatoes, celery, carrots, and vegetable broth aerated a distinct spring of fumes forever tied to these months in isolation. A daily carousel of apricots, oranges, cauliflower, tomatoes, and green peppers were a wonderful much-needed addition I had to have from now on. Visits to Bullseye had plenty of food, albeit the shelves were disorganized and the essential workers were overwhelmed. Idolatry was only steps away and to stock up on whatever non-perishables I could find, then threw them on the belt where the young silent Spanish girl who didn’t feel like being there was waiting for me at the register.

I noticed all around me that things were a little…different. Most of us were given things we never imagined. You’d never think of being home for months to have the opportunity to catch up on a life they once had no time for. People finally caught up on cleaning, pursing through personal belongings, old photos and memorabilia, reading lists and vinyl records that piled up. Imagine all the things said about not having to travel to work, or staying home to work, or not working at all. They were right. No such thing as stress. No managers shoving daily quotas or finding faults down your throat. No awkward moments, lack of courtesy, rudeness, or interruptions. No immature adults turning into bus-ride children competing for your attention or older women stamping their feet when being reminded of how out of line they were. It was total bliss.

486, 548, 753, 819.

Most of us had all the time in the world to shit ourselves in our front-row seats for what we were seeing. It’s all happening next door in New York City, fatally crowned the epicenter of the worst pandemic of our lifetimes. We were The Death Nation. The deaths came at such an expedient rate that literal dead bodies were lined up outside the city’s funeral parlors. By then, restaurants closed. Businesses closed. Stadiums, theaters, arcades, bars closed. Schools and universities were canceled. Even Easter, the next social holiday in line…closed. The nation’s unemployment rate spiked high as 15% as people pounded on the doors on a broken system to have their unemployment benefits or loans in hand as soon as possible. No meta-game suffered distinctly than the music and venue industry. Artists, operators, and promoters had their livelihoods taken away from them in an instant; forced to make a living improvising on live-streaming. They just lost their selves overnight. Now, they held on tight for their own stability and sanity; hoping to reach for that brass ring while riding on a lagging carousel engulfed in flames.

Over at WUSB, the show still had to go on. Our general manager disallowed any further staff to enter the studios. As most planned to live-stream from their homes, I opted to send my shows in. For the entirety of spring (and summer) I’d hand my shows in our engineer’s at-home automation for broadcast. Saturday 10:00PM Eastern Standard Time on the dot, no error. I had all the time in the world to post on Ω+, my portfolio VMFX, and get Our Lady Omega finally up to speed without worry of deadlines, distraction, or needless interruption. It was when I rifled through many auditions burning on the hard drive. Cleaners From Venus’ “The Jangling Man” couldn’t have come at a better time, signifying a cancelled Easter intended to be spent with my Godmother now at home. I never heard it ever but it yet it sounded familiar before. The cassette fidelities and a certain ‘89-’90 recorded feeling that took me back to my Nintendo youth becomes a new forever memory. Shoegaze and post-punk cuts such as Ing’s “Closet”, Milly’s “Talking Secret”, Es’ “Hidden Track”, and Miserable’s “Loverboy”, to name a few, have indisputably defined the pandemic era’s soul.

But enough of that for today. Down comes Mario, my five year-old nephew who’s yearning to play. Dad / Pop is no longer here, so it’s me he’s looking forward to seeing every day to try and win me on Uno or Candy Land while ginger-superior Madelaine Petsch / Cherry Blossom or Hayley Orrantia were on the flat-screen. We had nights where he’d chose a deck from my collection and we’d make separate piles out of suits. He’d play some good ones, too: the “Junior” of Hearts, the “Mom” of Diamonds, and the “Dad” of Spades he calls them. Aces were “sooper!” and the jokers had their own narrative: a clown on the unicycle was riding to 7-11 to get some Slurpees for us. (Once in a while, a horse-head or the word “MAVERICK” in cowboy caps- for those wild ones.) What kind of an imagination is this? And he loved Monopoly, too. We played so much that it inspired another aesthetic forever tied to the pandemic. Solid oranges and sky blues against the CRT’s, and Monopoly symbols of trains and utilities helped create sets of icons for a series of graphics templates I’ve made.

800, 814, 1036.

Red bottles with blue and red labels of now-discontinued blue liquid soap. Blocks of green and white cleanser cubes cased in plastic. Bulbs of blue and purple diffusing liquid. Cucumber sanitizer. They’re all symbols of cleanliness. All the time in the world posting, sound-editing, and layouts prove exhaustive at times. It’s 1AM Eastern Standard Time in New York City / Long Island and an open window allows the smoky cold chill of a 50°April breeze to vacate downstairs. It’s an invitation to step outside and admire the clear moonless skies. No clouds, only the stars above. I sit in my backyard to hear near-total silence emanating from the expressway. The asphalt rushes were a bare minimum because no one had a reason to travel. The utmost quiet was enough for the nostalgia to vacate right in. The cold, clear, quiet spring Saturday and Sunday nights spent with my Plainview circle of friends. We’d talk shit about everyone we knew, what our favorite Green Day, The Offspring, Collective Soul, or Nine Inch Nails songs were, and matching up with the alternative girls I never met before. The post-dinner April starlights spent shivering with Cath- off the busy Sunrise Highway admitting how much I missed her and how it felt when she succumbed to the heroin demon, the drives down random gas stations to save her ass, or the rare night rides from campus to take her home after my Wednesday radio stint. The temperatures also matched the experience of visiting Central Park for the very first time while an essential contact was in the back of my mind, her text asking how my day in New York City waited for me when I arrived home. It kills me that these are rare moments I’ll never have back. To this day that I’m still paying emotional interest on them.

142, 103, 101.

Rinse, repeat. For two months there was no place to go. No work shifts, classes, ballgames, weekend traffic, or Sunday dinners demarcating the days of the week. Saturdays were Tuesdays. Sundays were Mondays. No one ever humanly experienced a blur of time where every day was literally the same. Then a phone call. “Operations are re-opening. Be here Sunday and ready to start packing.” What my manager should’ve said to me: “be ready to be crucified”. I told myself it’s the last week of May. Three days to get back into it. The spoils of staying home from work once again with financial security and benefits intact will end. Slowly but surely things will pick up again. The floodgates will soon open and here come the entitled Karens, ugly kniving fishwives, dumbshit Tony’s From Brooklyn, and whatever unkempt messes who somehow still manage to breathe will tug my shirt for attention or see me as a whipping boy for their insignificant grievances I never asked for.

If the quarantine made many lives a nerve-wracking unbearable hell for some people, then what happened next would be the breaking point: footage posted of Minneapolis police murdering George Floyd sent people into the streets in an outrage, and rightfully so. Short-Term Memory America didn’t learn and repeated their mistakes once again. No surprise there. The unnecessary needless precursory murders of Breonna Taylor and Armaud Arbury led up to the state’s latest nationwide collapse of unrest.

It took the latest event of racism and murder for everyone to finally come outside since the start of the pandemic and show what they were hiding for the longest time. Frustrated adult-male mouth-breathers acting out like total jerkoffs throwing their childish ignorance and building blocks in more reasonable mature people’s faces, and unattractive vanilla pig females turned into cartoon versions of themselves as they yapped multitudes of n-bombs and were damn proud of it. Cutting noses and spiting their own faces; doing whatever it takes at all costs to preserve their personal right and false constructs in treating people-of-color like garbage. Bulletin-board bruisers and ultimate keyboard warriors finally brought it out for all of the world to see. Others, however, had enough of their friends, family, co-workers, and fellow human beings being shot, beaten, or killed based on the color of their skin. They came to protest, picket, fight in the streets, and set it all in flames because enough was enough…enough of a corrupt racist celebrity president who’s done absolutely nothing except write off white supremacists and dismissed the coronavirus as a hoax. It all came down to this after living in an irrational anything-goes backwards presidency, all because the Fascist-in-chief cared for no one but himself, his family, and those who pledged their allegiance to him.

If the last four years provided us some out-of-this-world ridiculousness, what else would’ve been possible? We’ve experienced a hell like no other. We genuinely lived in fear that we could reach the point of no return. No one had any idea what was in store for us or how bad it could’ve been; during an election year, nonetheless.

Where I’m heading is another story. I drive home down Rt. 25 and there are clusters picketing on the side of the road. One supporting Black Lives Matter, one for Tr*mp 2020. Summer’s on her way and the new heat was here; the allegory of pent-up frustration and emotion which everyone was feeling exacerbated by the pandemic. The possibilities were spring-loaded in the back of my mind and made me on edge, not knowing what could happen.

All I, and us, could think about was when this would all end, and when we could go back to life as we knew it. We were holding out on all hope that something had to give. When will we be open for business again? When would be all go back to what it used to be, or what would ‘the new normal’ be? Will we change course and advert a national crisis, or will be dig ourselves a totalitarian grave so deep we won’t crawl out of? Will we have reason, rationality, science, humanity, and common sense back again, or will we have hatred, nastiness, cruelty, and contempt kept in place for tradition’s sake and have it rammed down our throats until we die sick of it?

It was the three most surreal months of my life. True uncharted territory; no map, no compass. And Spring wasn’t even over. Not just yet. As everything was unfolding and unraveling, something else was headed my way. A season that was anything but normal was going to end on an even more bizarre and curious note. Not in the form of more shutdowns, sickness, emptiness, or despair; but of someone who reached out to me.

(To be continued.)

Cleaners From Venus “The Jangling Man”

Damp “Death, Sex & Arby’s”

Ing “Dust”

Crumb “Ghostride”

Future Islands “Day Glow Fire”

Lisel “Digital Light Field”

Milly “Talking Secret”

Stardeath & White Dwarfs “What Keeps You At Night”

Miserable “Loverboy”

Districts “Cheap Regrets”

Snarls “Walk In The Woods”

Es “Hidden Track”

Strobobean “Keep It Together”

Katie Tempest “People’s Faces”

Penelope Isles “Round”

Shopping “All Or Nothing”

#omega #music #mixtapes #playlists #personal #Long Island #racism #Cleaners From Venus #Ing #Crumb #Future Islands #Milly #Miserable #Kris Esfandiari #Districts #Es #Strobobean #Kate Tempest #Shopping

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terrence-silver · 1 year ago

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I have a Terry McCain headcanon to share: we know he is Irish Catholic, and I see him being superstitious as well. Always making sure to knock on wood, throwing spilled salt over his shoulder, etc. What do you think? And do you have any headcanons about how his background might affect his personality, quirks, or everyday life?

---

Oh yes, Terry McCain is a definite practitioner of Old World Irish superstitiousness.

Overall Irishness in general too.

Doesn't even try to hide it particularly, because why should he? Is this something to be ashamed of? Quite the contrary! If anything, he's very much in-tune with his heritage. His colleagues on the force, for example, know all about it, because he's just that forthright about it it bleeds into his professional life, as well as his private one. On Birthdays, anniversaries and holidays they all about just know what to get the Detective and yeah, clovers with four leaves and thematic green ties and scarves for St. Patrick's Day are items frequently passed around the Station (both as an inside-joke and legitimate picks) because there's no way to go wrong with those choices where Terry McCain is concerned. Does his desk end up decorated with a cheesily endearing 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' Leprechaun coffee mug at one point, surrounded by all his paperwork, folders and files? Yeah, possibly.

But, superstitions, eh?

He believes in them as much as he believes in God.

In a left mean hook.

He believes that if his nose itches, it signifies a fight or a physical confrontation to come and he isn't above vocalizing it. 'Don't provoke me,' he'd say 'my nose is itching for it.' Same case with money; if one's palm's scratchy meaning he'll either get some or lose some, but Terry's admittedly infinitely less excited about that one than the possibility of a good punch out.

He believes in Omens. Magpies and bad luck. Crossing forces unseen. Fairies. Curses. He believed in it even as his colleagues got picked off one by one and he proceeded avoiding near death experiences several times in the row. What was that if not a case of luck? Someone somewhere looking out for him, in ways his coworkers weren't quite as fortunate? Of course while he's on the task of vigilantism and taking revenge to those he feels hurt his people these quirks come into practice. He relies on his guns, sure. His fists. His fighting ability. His stubbornness and conviction in going out and fixing things. In what's just and right. But, he goes out into the streets, looking for the down and dirty places of Chicago to take order to all while wearing his shirt backwards under his coat and scarf. You know --- for luck. Just in case. Nobody has to understand it but him. He expects nobody to understand, although he is more than likely to explain.

Very ardently.

Rain at funerals meaning at a departed soul is happy? Terry McCain is entirely likely to quietly stand in front of the cemetery grounds, hands in his pockets, looking for signs of a downpour even as his colleagues get buried and once he doesn't get it and the weather proves to be dry, he internally knows what has to be done; he knows he's got some scores to settle so his friends can rest in peace. Again. Nobody has to get it but him. The same way nobody has to get that he thinks that when you're sent a gift, you're supposed to take it; he trusts in this idea even as he adopts that kitten intended for him. That animal is there for a reason. People of ancient Ireland believed that cats operated somewhere between the mortal and spiritual realms. They viewed them as guardians of the gates of the Otherworld; a link between humans and the Otherworld. That, or he just overall doesn't want to jinx himself by not adopting a homeless cat given to him in a box with his literal name on it and he does purely because he wants to. Because he's a good man as much as he is a man of superstitions and a set of believes all his own.

He may or may have not have attempted the apple test.

You know --- to discover the first letter of his love's name.

Hey? What!? C'mon! He's allowed his indulgences!

Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Might've done it idly, at work, for example, or at the bar afterhours on a weekened, where nobody even figured what he was doing or why. Lunch break at the police force or perhaps McCain leaning on a patrol car, peeling himself an apple idly as a snack, watching out to avoid any skin breakage and create a long strip, trying to decipher what shape the remains resembled and truly taking the letter he saw closest represented in the peel as something meaningful, secretly on a lookout for that special someone with a name starting with a, oh, I don't know, letter C. or a letter S. or a letter O. or a letter B. This could've been a habit he had since he was a very young boy and the habit simply carried on as he aged. If it is nonsense, why have people don't stuff like that for centuries? Why does stepping into a circle of mushrooms (Psst! Fairy forts!) feeling innately wrong regardless where they are encountered? Why does Terry instinctually bypass them even without thinking, out in some park or a patch of soil behind a jazz club after weeks of rain? One doesn't need to be in Ireland to find Old World things. Encounter them in day to day life.

You better believe in ancient magic, because it sure believes in you.

#terry mccain #excessive force #excessive force 1993 #supersitions #irish folk beliefs #character analysis #the supernatural

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spiritual-activity · 1 year ago

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Headcanons pt 6 (Sam & Jay)

The last major part of my CBS Ghosts Headcanons! I will still be taking requests, so don't worry! (I'm actually working on like 4 different requests at the time of posting this- feel free to send more!)

*Sam*

She picked up a lot of skills (and other mannerisms) from the ghosts! A lot of the new skills were taught to her by Hetty while a lot of her new phrases come from Pete.

Embroidery. Something new that Hetty taught her. Since then, Sam discovered that the likes to embroider flowers onto her shirt collars.

She cannot cook. Sam has tried on multiple occasions and even Jay has tried to help her. It has just been decided that she can't cook.

She has a schedule for the ghosts so they don't disturb her as much during certain times (unless in an emergency). Mainly the morning and evening hours she has set for just her and Jay.

Tries not to swear around the ghosts. Ends up hearing Trevor swear once and just gives up. Still tries not to swear as frequently.

Likes to go all out on holidays. Yes, even the minor ones such as St. Patrick's Day and Fourth of July (with some restrictions). Outfits have to be coordinated with them.

*Jay*

Has his favorite recipes listed in order of type of dish. The categories consists of soups, different types of meat, sandwiches, and other ones.

His wardrobe only consists of video game shirts, a few fancy ones, and tons of button ups.

Eventually found a few people in town to start a small D&D group. They meet on Thursday evenings for a few hours for smaller sessions.

Owns an original SNES that still functions somehow. Doesn't know how it still works, but it does. It never has a speck of dust on it.

Figured out how to have a conversation with Pete. It took a while since Jay had to learn Morse code. However, now they can talk without Sam having to translate!

Very allergic to wasps and bees. When they were first renovating the mansion, he would not step foot near the nests. Sam had to be the one to get rid of them.

Took a while for me to complete the mainline headcanons, but they are done! I can start doing BBC Ghosts next week! Like I said, I will still be doing requests for more headcanons for CBS Ghosts!

#cbs ghosts #cbs ghosts spoilers #cbs ghosts season 2 #cbs ghosts season 2 spoilers #cbs ghosts headcanons #tagging spoilers just in case #cbs ghosts sam #cbs ghosts jay

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21incognito · 2 years ago

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"A Little Bit of Sugar"

“Tell me again why we’re in the specialty isle in this grocery store. Isn’t it out of your way? I mean, you usually shop at. . .”

Murphy cut me off, absently muttering under her breath, “I need some things I can’t find anywhere else.” I told you you could have stayed in the car.” She glanced back at me, not quite embarrassed but not willing to talk about whatever was going on. “Sorry, Harry. I appreciate the ride, really I do. My car was supposed to be out of the shop yesterday and I’m kind of on a deadline.” She grabbed a couple of things off the shelves, made a beeline for the dairy section, picked up some expensive butter and headed for the check out line.

“Whoa, no problem.” I waited up front and away from the cash registers while she paid and we headed back out to the Blue Beetle. I was trying to work up enough courage to ask her who she bought the specialty items for but instead just made small talk until I pulled up in front of her house. The double take I did while parking almost snapped my neck. Murphy’s mother, Marion, was waiting on the small porch. “Think something’s wrong? Your mom is-”

“Early. Damn, I knew I should have done this yesterday,” she said as she looked out the windshield Murphy turned toward me, half smiled and said: “Harry, thanks for the ride and making the extra stop. I’ll talk to you later, OK?” She was out of the car before I could say anything, patted the front fender lightly on her way to the porch, and that was that.

I had about a million questions I needed answers to, but Murphy expecting her mother for a visit wiped all of them out of my mind. Theirs was a special relationship and I hadn’t figured out how it worked yet. I drove by Mac’s on my way home, bought beer and spent my evening working on potions while I contemplated what might be going on at Murphy’s.

When I dropped by SI the next afternoon Rawlins passed me on his way to the break room. I had a background report for Murphy but he told me she wasn’t there. “Gone for the afternoon. She usually takes a half day off on St Patrick’s Day.”

“Ah, gets an early start on the celebrations I guess,” and cracked a big smile as I pictured Murph doing an Irish jig. Apparently I pictured the wrong thing if Rawlins’s face was any indication. I got serious again. “What have I missed here?”

“St Patrick’s Day was her dad’s birthday. She usually spends a little time at the grave site; kind of a wake, I guess. Marion goes, too. About the only day of the year they make it a rule never to argue.”

“Oh, maybe that explains yesterday.” He just stared at me. “Her mom was at Murphy’s house when I dropped her off. I couldn’t figure it out.” I felt kind of tongue tied but that didn’t stop my mouth from running. “I’ve seen them together, at a family picnic a while ago. It was when Murph found out about her little sister and her ex. . .”

He glanced at me sympathetically, sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s been complicated since Murphy joined the force and that kind of family stuff didn’t help.” He paused, seemed to consider the matter for a bit, then told me where I might find Murph, IF I was inclined to look for her later.

I did a little research after leaving SI and hoped I was on the right track when I pulled into a small but neat gravel parking lot. Marion was on her way out of a small, walled . . .park? as I walked toward the little iron gate, so I hung back to let her leave. She glanced up, gave me a somber smile, looked over her shoulder toward the treed area inside the low wall, turned back toward me and went on to her car without saying anything. That left me wondering if I ought to just leave. But, I told myself, I didn’t put on my only green shirt and buy the small pot of shamrocks to run away now, so I soldiered on in to the little space where Murphy sat on a wooden bench near a stone marker. She didn’t look unhappy or mad, just quietly contemplative.

“Hey, Harry. She never looked up. “How did you find this place?”

“PI, remember?” She half turned toward me, snorted slightly, and waved me over to the bench.

“Talked to Rawlins, right?”

“Guilty as charged. He didn’t give me much info so don’t hold it against him, OK?” I looked around. It was kind of peaceful under the trees, not at all spooky the way graveyards tend to be. Resting on the marker near the bench was a green paper plate with...cookies piled on it. I raised an eyebrow and risked a look at Murphy’s face.

She sort of smiled at me then and held out a little green box filled with more cookies. “Go on, you can have these.” When I hesitated, she took a cookie and bit into it. “My dad didn’t like cake much, but he loved the sugar cookies my nan used to make. Before he. . .died, we used to make the cookies every year. He said they were easier to share with all of us and no one needed a plate.” She laughed a little at that. “I think he knew cookies were easier to hide in your pocket if you snuck one when you weren’t supposed to. My brothers crumbled them over the ice cream; we used to stick a candle in Dad’s bowl so he could blow crumbs all over us when he blew it out.” Now she actually laughed when she looked over at me.

I bit into the cookie, a swirl of green against white. “Oh, these are excellent! THESE are why we stopped at the store yesterday? Your mom came over to make cookies with you for today.”

“Yeah. We do it every year unless something’s really wrong. My dad’s idea of a joke on both of us, I think; hard to be angry when you’re making something that tastes this good. Mom is great with baking but Nan only gave the recipe to ME. So, at least ONCE a year we do something together in his memory. That’s why I needed very specific things from the store .” Now she actually grinned. “You don’t mess with Nan’s recipe. Ever. Pretty sure she’d come back to make that clear.” She dusted a few crumbs off her green sweater and stood up. “Come on, Dresden, time to go.”

“OK.” We walked to the parking lot, empty now except for the Beetle. “Hey, how are getting home?”

“You’re giving me a ride.”

“What were you going to do if I hadn’t turned up?” I asked as we got in. Not as easy to ask the question as you might think; my mouth was full of sugar cookie.

“Some things you take on faith” And she was laughing at me. Again. “You keep telling me you’re a PI; I knew you couldn’t help looking into this little mystery.”

#Dresden Files #St Patrick's Day Murphy #Harry

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cagenewman · 2 years ago

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A LIL ABOUT ME…

What is your character’s full name?: Cage Lucas Newman.

When were they born?: St. Patrick’s Day (March 17th), 1986 in Merrock.

What are their parent’s names?: Jason (father, deceased) and Victoria (mother, deceased).

Do they have any brothers or sisters?: Cage is the middle child, with a younger sister, Clementine, and older brother, Kellan.

What kind of eyes do they have?: Startlingly blue, light eyes that he’s very good at using to get what he wants.

What kind of hair do they have?: Right now, it’s very dark blonde, almost brown, and wavy, a few inches long.

What is their complexion like?: Like worn sandpaper; he has nice skin, but it’s definitely rough and callused. He freckles in the sunshine, and has a number of moles and scars.

What body type are they?: Stocky, for the most part. Athletic and strong, but he’s built in a sort of ‘stacked’ way.

What is listening to their voice like?: Traveling down an old dirt road in the countryside. His voice is so deep that it’s surprising at times, but it’s very soothing, and has been called a little sexy, too.

What do they hate most about themselves?: He wishes he was a little more disciplined about his physique, for sure.

Do they have a favorite quote?: “It doesn’t hurt to feel sad from time to time.” – Willie Nelson.

What sort of music do they enjoy?: Country, but old country – 70s, 80s, 90s, the stuff his dad liked to listen to. He’ll listen to just about everything, though, isn’t really picky.

Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?: He’s never cheated on a partner, no. He’s been in open relationships or flirtationships or whatever they are called, but has never cheated.

Have they been cheated on by a partner?: To his knowledge, no.

Have they ever lost someone close to them?: Yes. Cage has lost both his father and his mother at this point.

What is their favorite sound?: Nature. There is no one sound that he loves more than any other, anything that reminds him of being outside, being around the people that he loves in the middle of a field on his farm.

Are they judgmental of others?: Nah, Cage is very live and let live in his life. Why bother to spend that time judging someone who doesn’t care what you think?

Have they ever been drunk?: Far too often, although he doesn’t tend to overdo it now in his ‘old age.’

What are they like when they stay up all night?: His crew knows if he’s stayed up too late the night before because he’ll be in his office, door closed, lights off to catch up on paperwork… or sleep on the couch. If he’s on a job site, he’s absolutely chugging coffee to stay awake.

Have they ever been arrested?: He’s been hauled into the drunk tank a couple of times. And although never formally charged, he did get taken in for a bar fight once.

What evokes strong memories for them?: Blueberries and high school football games.

What do they do on rainy days?: Rainy days are the ones that he spends working in the work shop, catching up on projects. If he’s at home, he spends his time watching TV or movies, normally with Colton.

What religion are they?: Raised Catholic, Cage attended church as a kid, but once he got older, he lost his faith. Namely when he lost his father as an adult. He hasn’t been to church much since then.

What word do they overuse the most?: “Colt!”

What do they wear to bed?: Flannel pants and not much else; he tosses his sweatshirt on the chair near his bed to throw on in the morning, though. Too chilly sometimes.

Do they have any tattoos or piercings?: No, neither.

What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?: Jeans, a plain white t-shirt, a flannel plaid shirt unbuttoned and work boots.

What is their most disliked food?: He’s not super into asparagus.

Do they have any enemies?: Not really, no. Although he does have a hard time being nice to McMansion owners.

What does their writing look like?: It’s not as bad as someone would expect, but it’s definitely kind of fitting for someone in construction who writes on 2x4s most of the time.

What disgusts them?: Those fucking McMansions.

#merrockdevelopment #all about cage

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winchester-girl67 · 3 years ago

Text

Meet The Parents

Summary: The reader takes Dean home for a traditional Irish dinner on St. Paddy's day, but the food doesn't sit well with him.

Requested by Anonymous: "could you do a dean winchester x reader? they celebrate st patricks day together. like the readers parents invite dean to an irish dinner or something."

Pairing: Dean x reader (established relationship)

Square: Free space @j3bingo

Word Count: 2,891

Rating: Teen

Warnings: language, drinking, sick!Dean, mentions of vomiting, overbearing parents, arguing, pinching, a little angst, kissing, fluff

A/N: My first request, I hope you like it Anon 🍀

_____

"What are you wearing?"

"Uh.. no good?" Dean questioned, smoothing out his red shirt. The one you'd always told him you loved him in.

"Um, I mean you look great but, are you sure you don't wanna wear green? It is St. Paddy's day and my mom can be a little aggressive about some traditions." You warned, gesturing towards the forest green top you'd finally decided on wearing after hemming-and-hawing for a half hour while Dean was in the shower.

"I was going to, but I got toothpaste on it so it's in the wash. This was all I had left." He shrugged.

"It's fine," you said after a moment of thought, "-it'll be fine. You're a guest, I'm sure she'll be on her best behaviour."

You were more trying to convince yourself than your boyfriend. Somehow, you seemed to be more anxious than he was.

"Y/N." Dean tried to draw your attention away from your worrying mind. It was the first time he was meeting your parents and you were a little nervous. "Sweetheart, they're gonna love me, okay? Don't worry, I'm gonna be my usual adorable, charming self and I won't mention that you're still hunting."

"Oh my gosh, why did you have to bring that up?! You know they would lose their shit if they knew I was still a hunter, not to mention dating one." You sucked in a deep breath, fanning yourself with your shirt to stave off the stress sweat; you didn't want to take another shower.

"Baby, calm down. I talk to your mom on the phone all the time, I'm telling you we have a good rapport and the hunting thing won't even come up." Dean promised, kissing your temple and rubbing your back.

"I'm not worried about you, De." You assured him, calming a bit when he tugged you into a hug and squeezed you in his arms. You loved the grounding feeling he gave you when he did that. "...My parents can be a little overbearing."

"Sweetheart, do you know who you're talking to? I'm the king of overbearing parents, I'm sure they're not as bad as you think." He insisted, kissing your cheek.

You turned your face into his and caught his lips with yours. Sighing when you pulled away and glanced up at his loving green eyes. He had no idea... but he was going to find out.

You stopped at the small grocery store near your parents' house to pick up an apple pie and a bottle of whiskey. Usually you would've gotten a bottle of wine for a dinner party, but it was St. Paddy's day after all.

"You must be Dean," your mother cheered, pulling him in for an awkward hug on the front porch. He jumped when she reached around and pinched his bum, nearly dropping the bottle of whiskey he held.

"Whoa!" He yelped in surprise and she released him with a laugh.

"Mom, seriously? I thought I asked you not to do that." You whined, glaring hard at her.

"Oh relax, Y/N, I was only teasing him. You should've told him to wear green, especially today." She said as if it was a right of passage to pinch someone not wearing green on St. Paddy's day.

"You could've warned me," Dean hissed at you when your mother walked ahead of you into the house and towards the kitchen where your father was preparing the meal.

"I told you to wear green and I texted her from the car, but she never listens." You explained, following after your mother, Dean tagging behind.

You placed the apple pie on the empty spot on the counter, making room for Dean to set the whiskey down as well. Your father setting the food to simmer before embracing you in a warm hug.

"I hope you two are hungry, we've got all the basics for a traditional Irish dinner." Your father said, greeting Dean with a hardy handshake.

"Tr-traditional- You didn't?" You gulped, taking a peek into the large pot on the stove. "Can't we order a pizza instead?"

"Y/N, your father has been cooking all day preparing this dinner. Besides, you used to love this meal as a kid." Your mother scolded.

"Yeah... back when I didn't know what it was..." you muttered quietly to yourself so Dean couldn't hear.

"Smells delicious," Dean complimented, flashing a lopsided grin at you.

Poor guy didn't know any better.

_____

"This is great, what did you call it again?" Dean asked your father with a mouthful.

"Beef tripe stew." Your father answered proudly as Dean sucked down another spoonful.

"S'really good," he hummed, looking at you and smiling. "What is tripe?"

"Don't ask," you warned, shaking your head and picking at your food.

"So, Dean. What is it you're doing now?" Your father questioned out of nowhere. You coughed on a bite of potato and quickly took a sip of water to wash it down.

"I fix up old cars," Dean said, catching a worried glance from you, "you'd be surprised what people would pay for a mint condition vintage vehicle. I just finished fixing up a sixty-nine Camaro and you wouldn’t believe what this guy paid for it."

"Neat," was all your father said. "And what are your intentions? -with my daughter."

"Dad," you warned, but he just glanced at you for a moment before returning his questioning gaze back to Dean.

"Well, you've been dating for over a year now and I want to know if I should be expecting good news in the near future." Your father insisted.

"Dean and I are happy, isn't that enough?"

"I'm just curious, I am your father and I'm allowed to ask." He stated, sharing a look with you that made you feel like a teenager again. It's no wonder you rebelled and got into hunting just out of high school; following in your grandparents' footsteps.

"Not the first time you meet him in person you're not." You shook your head angrily.

"Y/N," your father tsked as if he was telling you to stop arguing.

"Just stop giving my boyfriend the third degree, okay?" You glared up from your food.

"Sweetheart, it's alright. I understand, they just care about you. We're on the same side." Dean said, patting your leg and giving your knee a squeeze. "To answer your question, sir, I intend on sharing my life with your daughter and to be perfectly honest, other than that, I don't really care if we ever get married. I'll do whatever she wants as long as she wants me. I love her and I believe she loves me back. At least, this morning she did but the look she's giving me right now says I'm in for it when we get home." He laughed.

"You know I love you too, dork." You admitted, softening your gaze and lacing your fingers with his hand still on your knee.

You just found it a little awkward in front of your parents, though Dean didn't seem to mind. He was more of a fan of public displays of affection than you. And though it made you uncomfortable sometimes, you would never discourage that affection; you still craved it even if it made you blush.

"Sounds like you got yourself a keeper," your mother beamed, but your father seemed a little put off.

"Why not get married if you love each other?" He questioned, dropping his spoon into his bowl and giving you his full attention. "Neither of you are getting any younger. What if you want a family-"

"It's just not the right time, Dad. Dean's asked me many times but I'm just not ready." You said, cutting him off and pushing around your food with your spoon.

Your relationship had a rocky start to it, but you and Dean had finally settled into something that worked for the both of you and just like you told him, it was too soon. With hunting and his tendency to pull away when times got rough, you didn’t want to stir things up when you were, at last, in a good place. That didn’t mean you were opposed to getting married in the future, but you knew you'd be rushing it if you agreed to one of his whims. The last time he asked you being during your vacation with Sam and Eileen in Vegas. But you rather not get hitched by an Elvis impersonator.

"Back in my day, you were supposed to ask for the father's blessing before proposing." Said your father who was obviously in a mood.

"Yeah well, that was a long time ago and as much as we'd like your blessing, we don't need it to get married. All that matters is that I love him and want to spend my life with him-"

"It's a matter of respect, Y/N."

"Alright you two, enough! We’re supposed to be having a nice meal." Your mother demanded, slamming her open palm on the table, making you jump and a couple of dishes rattle. "...Dean, can I get you some more?"

"Yes, please." Dean beamed, holding out his bowl as your mother scooped out another serving for him. "We gotta get this recipe from you guys. Right, sweetheart?" He said, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"Mm," you hummed, poking at your food again. You were starving but not enough to eat tripe.

The heavy air around the dinner table cleared as Dean told the story of how you first met. You always loved the way he told it, but interrupted a couple of times when he purposefully exaggerated; nudging your arm and smiling at you to get you out of your funk. It always worked, he knew that you had a soft spot for that damn smile of his. The one that showed off his pearly teeth.

After dinner, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom where you splashed some cold water on your face while Dean helped your parents with the dishes.

"Hey, where's Dean?" You asked, emerging from the bathroom and drying your damp hands on your jeans.

"Outside, getting some air." Your mother said, starting the dishwasher.

"Why? What did you say to him?" You narrowed your eyes and turned your attention to your father.

"Nothing, I gave him the recipe for the stew, is all." He shrugged, going back to stowing away leftovers in glass containers.

"He looked kind of pale, maybe you should check on him." Your mother worried and you nodded turning for the door.

He knew.

You found Dean on the front porch hanging his head over the railing. He barely acknowledged that it was you until you placed a palm on his back and rubbed up between his shoulder blades.

"How you holding up?" You asked the only man you'd ever known to have an iron stomach, up until now. He just glanced back at you, emotionless and very pale. "What?"

"Tripe... It's stomach lining, Y/N, and you let me eat it. I thought you loved me." He grunted, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his forehead.

"Don't be so dramatic. You liked it up until you knew what it was." You said, scratching the short hairs on the back of his neck, trying to relax him.

"So?"

"So, I've seen you eat worse." You chuckled. "Like that time you ate that brownish paste from the-"

"Y/N, please." Dean groaned, holding his stomach.

You could see the nausea in his expression as he swallowed the lump in his throat and you rushed to comfort him. Giving him a side hug and kissing his hair as he continued to brace himself on the railing. You rubbed your hand up and down his back until a bit of colour started to return to his cheeks and he straightened up, turning to face you.

"Did you throw up?"

"Mhm, yeah, over the railing. I think I got your mother's Daffodils." He pointed and you shushed him.

"That's okay, I'll hose them down before we leave." You said, gently pulling him into a hug that he quickly melted into, draping his arms around you.

"Did you really grow up eating that stuff?" He asked into your hair, his sour breath on your neck, though you didn't mind.

There were plenty of times he cared for you when you weren't at your best or most attractive and he never made you feel less than beautiful. You could do the same for him.

"Uh-huh, figured out what it was around high school and refused to eat it ever since. The trick is to eat around the tripe; potatoes, carrots, peas, and then dump the rest in the trash when they're not looking." You explained with a shrug, it was something you'd been doing for years.

"Your father hates me," he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does. I can't blame him though, I took you away from them." He muttered, tugging you back into himself and holding you close when you tried to pull away to look at him.

"Dean, I was on the road hunting when I met you. You didn't take me away from anyone." You insisted, hearing him sigh. "Still think your parents are worse than mine?"

"We'll call it a tie, for now." He laughed softly.

"Come on, let's go back inside. I'll get you a stiff drink." You said, patting his back but he wouldn't let you go.

"Do we have to?" He whined, nuzzling more into your neck, just breathing in your scent. You'd come to realize that calmed him, especially in more mundane settings where he didn't need to uphold that tough guy facade.

"Yeah," you sighed, "you left the car keys inside on the counter."

"Damn, too bad." Dean joked, still holding you tight.

"Hey, you're the one that made these plans with my mom." You reminded him, having been opposed to the whole idea simply because you knew things would work out this way.

"I know," he nodded, "you don't have to say it."

"Say what?"

"...-'I told you so'."

"Well... I did." You grinned, clearly teasing him.

"I'm aware, sweetheart." He said and you turned in his arms so your back was against his chest.

He continued to cling to you, embracing you with his hands resting on your stomach and his chin on your shoulder. You laughed and he chuckled as he awkwardly waddled behind you as you walked towards the front door. He gave you another squeeze and planted a wet kiss to your cheek before you opened the door to join your parents back inside.

"Here," you said, filling a tumbler with an obtuse amount of strong smelling amber liquid. "It’s whiskey. Trust me, you'll feel better in no time. Or you'll be so buzzed that you won't care."

"Getting me wasted isn't gonna work, sweetheart. You owe me. Big time." He whispered against the shell of your ear so only you could hear.

"I'm sure we can work some sort of arrangement out." You kissed his cheek and handed him the glass. "You feeling up to a slice of pie?" Dean's face lighting up. You chuckled, he always did bounce back fast. "Ice cream?" He nodded, licking his lips.

Dean helped you dish out a piece of pie for each of you, adding a couple scoops of ice cream to each plate before you handed them off to your parents who settled in the living room.

"Hey, Y/N/N. That other thing we ate, dris-heen, do I wanna Google that?" Dean questioned while it was just you and him in the kitchen.

"No, honey." You shook your head.

"It's something just as gross, isn't it?" He asked, poking his fork into his slice of pie.

"Uh-huh," you nodded, you weren't about to tell him that drisheen was a type of blood sausage. Him and his stomach had been through enough for one night.

"I think I'm gonna need another drink, you okay to drive us home later?" He said, polishing off the large glass of whiskey you'd given him.

"Yeah, I'll be designated driver, you've earned it. Thank you for being so great." You stood up on your tiptoes to peck a kiss to his lips just as he took a bite of pie, Dean smiling into it as he tried to swallow.

"Sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you hummed, licking the sweet stickiness that lingered on your lips from his.

"If you ever doubt how much I love you, do me a favour and remember tonight." He said, staring deep into your Y/E/C eyes as he surprisingly ignored the combination of pie and ice cream he'd set down on the counter next to himself.

"I can do that," you promised, pressing your lips to his again a little firmer, distracting him as you slid your hands down to his ass, pinching him hard enough to bruise. He grunted into your mouth, "I'm sorry, I had to. You didn't wear green." You giggled into another kiss. Dean chasing your lips when you pulled away.

"Just wait 'til we get home, sweetheart." He warned, gazing down at you with those long lashes that brushed against your cheek and tickled your skin.

"Uh-oh, am I in trouble?" You bit your lip playfully.

"Big time."

_________________________   Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack

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fashionsfromhistory · 2 years ago

Text

"I was sent to Vivienne Westwood's famous shop World's End in the Kings Road in London by a friend of mine when I was 19 and living there for a while. It was 1987. He wanted one of those belts that were very popular in the late 80s that had metallic buckles that had letters in them. While you could buy "Boy" ones from the shop BOY London, at World's End they custom made them. It was then I was seduced by the clothes that seemed to have no comparison anywhere and the shop that was like something out of an Enid Blyton story with its clock that ran backwards, its tiny size and sloping floors, with walls adorned with bustiers and crinnies and rocking horse shoes. I was quite intimidated but I really was hooked from that first visit and I don't recall having even tried on any clothes. I obviously did get back and the crinnies and Statue of Liberty tops and rocking horse shoes made me feel incredible and did the most dramatic things to my body. I felt and looked different than I ever had. I came back to Melbourne and moved to St Kilda with a new friend that I had made while working at Galaxy, a clothing shop in Chapel St, South Yarra, run by Sara Thorn and Bruce Slorach who were fashion designers. I went out to night clubs, studied at uni and worked part time. I met my partner at the time, Oleh Witer, at a party on a boat. We were both wearing Westwood, so had at least one thing in common. At the time he was in a band that he started called Big Pig. They had a few hits in the 80s - Hungry Town, Big Hotel and Breakaway that made it as title track of the hit movie Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Oleh had been wearing Westwood for years, and had some fabulous pieces including some original shoes that Patrick Cox had made for Westwood, an original rope t-shirt and bondage trousers, amongst other things. He and his ex-partner, Jane Francis ("Minnie") had spent a lot of time in London and had had market stalls near Ben Westwood's (Vivenne's son). Oleh had also modelled for Vivienne in the 80s in one of her fashion parades. Minnie ended up working for Vivienne for many years, mainly in accessories and particularly jewellery. She apparently had one of the most incredible collections of pristine Westwood too, that had never been worn. Over the late 80s and early 90s when I was 19 years old to probably around 22-23 years old, I didn't wear anything else, I just couldn't, nothing was quite as avant-garde, attention-grabbing or fun and beautiful to wear. It suited the things I did, and the crowd I hung out with who worked in fashion, music, film and television. Over this period, I travelled to London a number of times and bought more clothes whilst there, or had clothes sent over. Also, during this time, Vivienne had a major exhibition in Canberra and Oleh and I drove up from Melbourne to see the show and hang out with Ben, his girlfriend, Yasmine, and Minnie who were traveling with Vivienne and Andreas, her husband. We spent a few days with them swimming in their hotel pool, eating bags of cherries from Oleh's parents' tree (they lived in Canberra) and sampling oysters from the NSW south coast which we visited with them. The night before the opening we spent time trying on clothes that they had bought from London, Vivienne choosing outfits for all of us. It was at this time that she gave me the blue rose print swimming costume. The night of the opening I wore a draping toga type dress that was gorgeous, and I didn't get to keep. I was photographed in it and my pic was in Vogue's coverage of the event with a close friend of mine, Matthew Flinn who also wore a lot of Westwood and recently passed away. During this time, there was a tribe of us that all wore Westwood with healthy competition. We were all obsessed and usually wore nothing else. I can't tell you why exactly, but for me, her clothes made me feel special and different from other people, and of course, fashionable but in a way that didn't really follow fashion, that is her clothes felt fashion-forward. I believe Vivienne Westwood is fashion-forward, she is doing her own thing and that most other designers are influenced by her work some time later. Her clothes were sexy and bold, and you had to be brave to wear most of them. They were certainly not for wall flowers, certainly not the ones I generally chose. My collection of clothes is the best representation of my life at the time I wore them, think the infamous Razor club of Melbourne, the crazy Daisy Chain club in London that Leigh Bowery used to frequent, most commonly in his naked woman outfit or the one with lit lightbulbs on his head, the Kings Road of London with Westwood and Katherine Hamnett, dance music - house and acid, making lavish music videos directed by Richard Lowenstein (Dogs in Space) and Paul Goldman (Australian Rules)."

Natalie Elliot to a Powerhouse Museum curator on her Vivienne Westwood pieces, donated 2006

#vivienne westwood #quotes #powerhouse museum #i thought this was very interesting so i'm sharing

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pixla · 3 years ago

Note

hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

#fear street #fear street 1978 #fear street 1994 #fear street 1666 #tommy slater #simon kalivoda #fear street x reader #tommy slater x reader #simon kalivoda x reader

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sylvies-chen · 3 years ago

Text

Call Me That (Your Dad)

Summary: Makayla wants Adam to come to her class for a daddy-daughter dance at her 2nd grade graduation party.

Word count: ~4K

Warnings: Fluff that will rot your teeth

A/N: This was inspired by the dance with Al and Lexi in 1x04 during my rewatch of PD but I tailored it a little to fit Adam and Makayla. It’s unedited so apologies in advance. Also, if you listen to “Piece by Piece” by Kelly Clarkson when you read this, you’ll cry. It is absolutely inevitable :)

AO3 link

********

“We need to talk.”

Adam’s unpacking the takeout breakfast he picked up from Yolk when he hears the words come out of Kim’s mouth. It’s supposed to be a regular Sunday brunch with his two favourite girls but those words, strung together in that exact order, can never mean anything good.

Things have been going well recently. Really well. He and Makayla get along nicely— in fact, he’s not sure he could love that little girl any more than he already does— and things with him and Kim are… Well, he has no clue. They’re the same as they’ve always been, he supposes: in a wonderfully confusing grey area. There’s this middle zone they always seem to fall in, a no man’s land of relationship ambiguity. He doesn’t mind it though, really, which is why he’s been able to go about things as normal. This big round thing they’ve created for Makayla is comfortable; it’s rewarding. He doesn’t quite know what he is to either Kim or Makayla in terms of labels and specifics, but for the first time in a long time, he’s content not knowing. That’s why Kim’s worried look and her ominous request to “talk” comes as such a surprise.

“Uh oh, this can’t mean anything good.” He continues unpacking pancakes and syrup from the paper bags and putting them down on the counter, then turns his attention to Kim again. She’s sporting one of his flannel shirts and a pair of baggy sweatpants as he usually does during their lazy weekend mornings with Makayla, but when it comes in a combo with furrowed brows, a lip being gnawed at, and studious eyes as if sizing him up, the outfit is the last thing he notices.

“Makayla’s 2nd grade graduation party is coming up,” she starts, with a voice that’s trying too hard to be breezy and ends up coming out all wobbly.

“I know that,” he confirms with a kind (albeit confused) nod. “It’s been marked on that little calendar of yours for three weeks now and I promised you I’d be there. Booked the day off and everything.”

“Right. It’s just…” Her voice hesitates for a second when Adam pops open the lid of pancakes. The sound echoes momentarily but when it stops, she continues. “Well, it’s supposed to be a nice little party in the gymnasium with the Makayla’s teachers and all the other parents-- y’know, the kids get all dressed up, they get to show off their artwork around the school, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I’m excited for it. Mak’s been working so hard all year. I still remember that near meltdown she had when they had to make St. Patrick’s Day cards and she crumpled up her paper clover. Girl’s a perfectionist, hard working. Just like her mom.”

Adam gives her a wink, thinking maybe a compliment will ease Kim’s nerves. It does for a moment when she blushes and gives a wide smile in response, but her laughter is short-lived. “Yes, well there’s also a father-daughter dance that’s supposed to happen too at one point, just something the teachers thought would be nice. Anyway, I talked to her about it when I got the email from her teacher and, uh… she wants you to do it with her.”

Never has Adam’s body frozen in pace so fast.

His hands stop midway through opening the next lid as his muscles don’t dare to move an inch. He can even feel his eyes go wider and wider as he slowly responds, “She said she wants me to dance with her?”

“Yes.”

“As… her dad?”

“Well I was going to let you guys talk about the label and everything but yeah, I think so,” she confirms, a small smile spreading across her face-- at the idea of Makayla officially calling Adam her dad?-- as she nods. “You don’t have to agree to it if you’re not comfortable with that yet but--”

“No no no,” Adam interjects immediately. “I’d love to do it.”

“Really?” Something hopeful glimmers in Kim’s eyes and she perks up immediately at his words, her ponytail doing a little bounce when she does.

“Of course,” he confirms. “It’d be an honour.”

“Great! She’s going to be so excited,” Kim exclaims. She moves to finish the unpacking of the brunch food, pulling lids off eagerly as she beams from ear to ear. “And are you sure you’re cool with it? Choosing to do a father-daughter dance with her can bring on some confusion if you don’t actually act like, you know… her father.”

Adam considers it for a second. He may not know where he stands with Kim exactly, but he knows for sure he’d like to explore where he stands with Makayla. They’ve been doing this routine of theirs, the three of them, for quite some time now. He’s been avoiding a discussion with her about it for almost just as long. There’s no more putting it off though. Every time he does, every time he starts to walk out the door after saying goodnight and Makayla asks why he isn’t staying like Kim is, it gets a little more confusing for her. That’s on Adam. It’s on Kim too, but mostly on Adam. Besides, he has a shitty, unreliable father. So did she, at one point. All he wants to do is show Mak that a father can stay. So yeah, he thinks. He needs to clear the air with her on what they are to each other. Because even though his relationship with Kim is cloudy, he knows it would still be an honour to call Makayla Ward Burgess anything resembling a daughter.

“Well we’ve been doing this thing with her for a little over a year now, I guess it’s about damn time we start talking about labels with her before she gets too confused. Tell you what,” he posits, “why don’t I pop into her room and ask her? I can have a talk with her about it and then tell her the breakfast is here.”

“And in that order,” she reminds him with a wagging finger. “If you let her know her favourite chocolate chip pancakes are out here waiting for her, she’ll be bolting out that door before she can remember to put on pants.”

“Right, got it,” he chuckles, already taking a few steps backwards and then turning around to head towards Makayla’s room.

He can hear Makayla humming a little tune to herself before he even enters the room. It’s a familiar tune, the song “How Far I’ll Go” from Moana that he’s had to listen to over during their hundredth rewatch. Kim mentioned something about Mak getting dressed though, so he knocks on the door first. “Hey kiddo, it’s me. You decent?”

“Yep! Come in!” She calls out from behind the door, cutting her own humming short.

The door creaks when he opens it and he makes a mental note to himself to fix those rusty hinges soon. When he does enter her room, Makayla’s humming to herself again as she pulls her last sock on. She finishes, then hops off the bed and barrels into him. Her head practically rams itself into his stomach as she wraps her arms around his torso, a soft grunt escaping his throat at the force of her hug. It still doesn’t stop him from rubbing circles on her back and smiling because even when she gets older and bigger and her hugs inevitably develop the ability to tackle him to the ground, he’ll never refuse a hug from her. How could he? She hugs him like he’s about to die every single time. It’s adorable.

“Adam!”

“Hey there, kiddo. Looks like you’ve got a lot of energy today,” he points out. “I love it.”

“I like Sunday brunch,” she shrugs simply, pulling away from the hug after one last squeeze.

“Right, yeah. Me too,” he agrees. “But hey, why don’t you sit down on the bed here for a minute so you and I can talk?”

Makayla doesn’t seem to think much of it, just complies immediately by sitting down on the edge of her bed and says, “Okay.”

Adam takes a deep breath as he sits next to her, awkwardly waiting for the words to come to him. How does he start a conversation like this? It’s not something he’s ever had to do before. It’s new and confusing and wonderful and awkward. Did he mention awkward?

“So listen, you’ve got a pretty awesome graduation party coming up,” he says, figuring it’s best to start out small and work his way up to the main point.

“Yeah! You’re still coming, right?” She looks at him with hopeful, gleaming, expectant eyes. It’s that same sweet puppy dog look Adam knows she learned from Kim, because he never could deny that look.

“Heck yeah, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s not every day you finish second grade,” he assures her with an affirmative nod. She gives a little toothy grin at that, and he keeps going. “Anyway, Kim mentioned there’s a father-daughter dance that you wanted to do with me.”

“Uh-huh,” she nods, her brows now furrowing in confusion.

“Well first off, I want to say that I’d love to dance with you.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, definitely! You’re my best girl, you know I’d pick you as my dance partner any day.” He affirms, then leans in and adds in a whisper, “Just don’t tell Kim.”

That earns a bright and cheerful giggle from Makayla and the moment’s so nice that for a second he considers just leaving it at that. But he’d kick himself later if he doesn’t continue now, so he does just that.

“But I just thought you and I, we should talk about that, y’know?”

“Ok,” she agrees, still confused. “Why?”

“Look, I love you. Kim loves you. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for you. But if I go to this daddy-daughter dance with you, I’d be going as your…well, your dad. And I worried that might be a little confusing for you, or that you might not like that.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it? There’s no one else I’d want to dance with,” she shrugs simply.

“I don’t know,” he utters awkwardly and pauses before finishing. “I just figured if I was your dad for the daddy-daughter dance, you might want me to be your dad all the time too. Me personally, I’m more than okay with that, but are you?”

“Am I cool with you being…my dad?”

“Yeah,” he confirms hesitantly. God, his hands are sweating. Why is he so nervous asking this sweet little girl to be his daughter? It’s not like it’s official, they’re not signing adoption papers or anything. He’s her custodian but she’ll find that even more confusing. No, it’s either this or nothing. He’s either her dad (in every way that actually counts, not biologically or legally) or he’s just plain Adam. And that scares him a little. It scares him a lot.

“I always thought my daddy was gone,” Makayla points out quietly— not to him but to herself, Adam thinks. She looks down at her feet, her legs dangling freely off the edge of the bed as she wiggles her toes.

“Well I thought I could be sorta like your new dad, and that you and I, we’d look out for each other. And for Kim, of course. She would like that,” he adds with a wink. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d like that,” she nods vigorously as her head snaps back up, then adding, “But if you go as my dad, and if Kim goes as my mom, how come you and Kim aren’t married?”

Oh boy. This blunt little six year old is really asking all the tough questions, isn’t she? “Uhh, well…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “Listen, kiddo, Kim and I are two people who love each other very much. Maybe it’s in the same way that other moms and dads love each other, maybe it’s not. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this: we do both really love you. And that’ll never change, regardless of what she and I are to each other. We’ll love you always.”

“Always,” she parrots with a pensive nod, digesting Adam’s answer before coming up with another question. “So is there a difference between being a dad and what you’re doing now?”

Adam thinks about it for a moment. Really, there wouldn’t be much of a difference. He’d be around a little more often, although he’d been around a lot ever since Kim got shot last year. Maybe a few more responsibilities like driving her to school and dance rehearsals instead of only showing up for the recitals. But he’s already been doing all of that so really, the change of pace would be minimal. “I guess there’s not much difference,” he admits to her bashfully.

“Okay, cool,” Makayla nods simply. “Then we’ll go do the daddy-daughter dance at my class party.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. It’s a date,” he agrees while blinking in surprise, taken aback at the simplicity to her air. To her, it seems like such an obvious thing. To her, he and Kim are just the people in her life who love her and who’ve helped her heal, so labels mean nothing.

Sometimes, he wishes he could live in that little girl’s beautiful mind. Maybe then, all life’s problems and all his confusion over Kim would melt away into the easiest of explanations.

“Yay! I can’t wait to show you all my art projects,” Makayla continues, brushing past the subject unbeknownst of the weight she just lifted off of Adam’s shoulders. “And I have a nice new dress for it too. It’s purple and sparkly and I picked it out all by myself. Wanna see?”

“I’d like to but I think there’s something else you might be more interested in doing.”

“Like what?”

“Like coming to the kitchen with me to eat pancakes,” he tells her with a wink.

Her face lights up like a Christmas tree at that, the adorable gap in her teeth showing and her smile sparkling. “Breakfast is here?”

“Yep, came just a few minutes ago,” Adam explains with a chuckle.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Come on, let’s go!” Makayla leaps off the bed and grabs Adam by the hand, struggling with the bedroom door for only a moment before dragging him excitedly down the hall. And sure, he’s about 110 pounds heavier than she is and could easily stop dead in his tracks if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. All he does is let her drag him towards the kitchen, where chocolate chip pancakes and a glistening sensation of family are waiting for him.

********

Makayla’s 2nd grade graduation party finally comes around the following week.

He wears a suit. Not all of the other dads are wearing suits, but there’s a dance and he’s a gentleman when it matters so screw it, he can dress up nice for an afternoon.

Makayla holds him and Kim by the hand the entire time. She drags them through the rows of desks in her class, moves to each wall and excitedly points to the various pieces of artwork. He’s seen ones like them at home but is still just as impressed. They’re damn good drawings for a girl her age, so he nods along and listens to her explain how she did each one and smiles with silent pride. The eager ramblings become quieter once the classroom fills up with other kids and their parents but she continues anyway, this time fidgeting with the hem of her purple dress in between her pointing. He notices she’s much shyer around her classmates than she is with them, although the panic attacks she had during her first few weeks at this place that Kim described to him probably didn’t help her come out of her shell. That fact alone makes his grip on Makayla’s hand tighten ever so slightly out of protectiveness. But when he does, she smiles at him, and then at Kim, and then turns back to her drawings and powers on.

The teacher brings all the parents and kids together after a little while, giving a routine yet genuine congratulations to all of the students for getting through the year and some kind words about all of them. It’s more for the parents than for the kids, really. He stands there, feels his heart race when Kim tucks herself in by his side and wraps her arms around his torso as they listen to the teachers talk, and it then dawns on him that being here is an honour and privilege. This moment, this act of being here as a parent, with Kim and that sweet little girl they love, this means something.

And if merely standing in this classroom holds this much weight then man, this dance just might crush him.

The dance part comes later on, when the night is inching closer and the sun teases the horizon. The scene before him becomes almost comical, the gymnasium filled with skimpy little streamers and paper cups with Paw Patrol characters on them. There are strobe lights displaying some kind of technicoloured array though, and some nice music to top things off, which he thinks is kind of nice. For a party celebrating finishing a seemingly unimportant grade (compared to, say, Makayla’s actual graduation, which he’ll be a blubbering mess at) it’s actually not so bad.

Then, half an hour into the dance when he’s filling two paper cups up with fruit punch for his two girls as they goof around on the dance floor and bust out the most adorably awkward dance moves Adam’s ever seen, he hears Makayla’s math teacher, Ms. Mendham, begin to make an announcement.

“Attention parents and students,” she starts politely, tapping the tip of the wireless mic she’s holding and waving to get everyone’s attention. “This next song is dedicated to all the fathers and daughters in our little class. Dads, we invite you to take our favourite girls onto the dance floor for this next one and enjoy!”

From across the dance floor, he can see Makayla’s face lights up. Kim leans down to whisper something in her ear after throwing a glance in Adam’s direction. Makayla giggles at first but ultimately nods and then gets that look in her eye she always gets when she’s on a mission. Kim starts to casually leave the dance floor and Makayla does too, but less casually as she waddles over to him in her black buckled dress shoes.

And goddammit, if he’s not the cutest thing she’s ever seen, with her dress swooshing around with every waddle and her big sparkling eyes. He’ll admit he used to be a total bachelor. All he cared about was beer and poker and his job. (And Kim. Always Kim.) But now, with this magnificent little creature coming up to him and smiling at him like he hung the moon, his priorities have shifted massively.

Before she can ask him to dance (undoubtedly what Kim had whispered in Mak’s ear), he beats her to the punch. “You look lovely tonight, Princess Makayla,” he tells her cordially, extending a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Ok,” she replies with a beaming smile, her excitement causing her to let out an involuntary giggle.

Her tiny hand finds his, fits perfectly in the palm of his hand as he guides her towards the dance floor. Kim’s the one watching them from the sidelines now, gnawing her lip to fight back a smile and winking at Adam as she watches the whole thing go down. God, that look in her eye is almost as bright and loving as Makayla’s is right now. How did he ever think anyone else could be meant for him?

“Oh no!”

Makayla’s exclamation pulls Adam’s attention back to her instead of Kim, the soft sounds of Kelly Clarkson’s “Piece by Piece” playing in the background as he looks over at Makayla worriedly.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I don’t know how to dance slow,” she confesses, letting go of his hand to bury her face in her palms. “What if I mess up?”

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he hushes comfortingly. “Here, you can stand on my feet. I’ll do all the heavy lifting, you can just hold onto me tight and I’ll guide you through it. You won’t have to worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’.”

He normally reserves that nickname for Kim but Makayla’s an extension of Kim— and, now, an extension of himself too— so he makes a special exception. Just for this once. Just for her.

“Are you sure?” She asks hesitantly.

“Absolutely. C’mon, have I ever let you down? I’ll always be there for you, Makayla.”

“Ok,” she concedes, letting go of any embarrassment or tension she was previously holding. Adam takes her hand again, his other hand finding the small of her already tiny back. Her purple dress has glitter and sparkles on it so the fabric is rough to the touch but still, he doesn’t dare move it. Makayla’s other hand ends up finding his upper arm. They look down at the ground for a moment as Makayla hops onto his feet. She weighs surprisingly more than he thought he would and he already starts dreading the day she’ll be too old for this.

The music keeps playing as they finally begin to sway. Makayla smiles, and when she looks around at the other parents and kids doing the same thing, goes, “Hey! We’re doing it!”

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees with a chuckle. “You having a good time so far?”

“The best,” she replies quietly, arching her neck back to look up at him. That regular sweet, toothy grin she gives him makes his heart melt even more.

Maybe it’s the tender lyrics of Kelly Clarkson. Maybe it’s the fact that he finally feels how much he’s grown up. Maybe it’s just that Makayla’s possibly the cutest kid he’s ever seen. But that moment, that small little smile she flashes him as they awkwardly sway, moving back and forth with Makayla’s whole weight on his feet, that moment is enough to make everything clear.

If he wasn’t sure of it before, he’s definitely sure of it now: Makayla Ward Burgess is his daughter.

So they’re not related by blood. Big whoop. He’s not related to Kevin, or Jay or Hailey for that matter. That doesn’t make the unit any less of a family. Same goes here. And he’s baffled that he ever thought the specifics didn’t matter, because a label like that— like “daughter” and like “family”— is just goddamn priceless. What he has, not just with Makayla and not just with Kim but with the three of them together as a family, that’s something so completely rare and untouchable that it almost makes him dizzy for a moment. (Or maybe that’s just all the swaying and rotating, he doesn’t know.) Now, here, with the two most amazing girls he could ever dream of, he finally knows what it’s like to feel a love so large and so deep that it’s indescribable.

Eventually, as the song slows them down into a gentler lull, Makayla leans into it and snuggles her head into his solar plexus. Instinctively, his head tilts down to rest gently on top of hers. It means he can’t see her face but he swears he saw her start to close her eyes as she leaned in. They keep swaying, ignoring the distant sounds of Kim’s camera clicking as they dance. And then, Makayla utters the two words that, when put together, destroy him in all the best ways.

“Thanks, Dad,” she mumbles through her happy and dazed fatigue. A small, content sigh escapes her lips and he feels it on the fabric of his suit. For a moment, he’s actually glad she’s growing up so they can have more of these father-daughter dances with each graduating year. Maybe then it’ll make the actual growing up part more bearable. But for now, he puts those thoughts aside and gets to dance with one of the most important girls in his life. His…well, his daughter.

Thanks, Dad. What a fucking beautiful world to live in where she can call him that.

#chicago pd #makayla ward burgess #adam ruzek #kim burgess #fanfic #light burzek #mostly father-daughter feels #fluff #inspired by 1x04 of PD #cíara tag

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mrsluthordanvers · 4 years ago

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Day 13: Lucky

Read on AO3 + my kofi

It’s a stupid bet. A stupid, stupid bet. Lena’s positive that Sam and Jack rigged it so they’d win and now she’s stuck wearing this stupid shirt to this stupid bar.

It couldn’t be worse.

She hasn’t been left alone since she stepped in the door. But that’s what she gets for agreeing to wear a t-shirt that’s one size too small for her chest and says Kiss Me, I’m Irish. And on St. Patrick’s Day of all days. In her defense she was sure she would win, and she would spend the night watching Jack happily kiss every man that approached him.

She needs new friends she thinks as rebuffs the fiftieth guy that offers to buy her a drink and leans in for a kiss. Grumbling when Lena says no.

“Excuse me.” The voice is much too close to Lena’s ear for comfort.

“Not interested.” Lena huffs as she turns around with a tray full of fresh drinks, almost hitting a tall blonde woman behind her.

“Oh gosh!” The woman sways backwards as she tries not to collide with Lena’s drinks.

Lena stares at the woman, blinking a couple times as she takes her in. Eyes grazing over long blonde hair partially tied back, bright blue eyes with two matchings streaks of green paint below them, down to the abs peaking out between the tassels hanging from a bright green crop top.

“I’m sorry.” Lena breathes, peeling her eyes away from the flexing abs. “I thought you were another guy trying to hit on me.”

Lena motions down at her shirt.

They stay quiet for a moment before Lena finds herself, shifting her tray to protect it from the bustling crowd. “I’ll get out of your way so you can get your drinks.”

“Right.” The woman nods but doesn’t move as Lena tries to switch spots with her so she can let her get closer to the bar.

“Umm…” Lena shifts awkwardly, boxed in by the woman in front of her scratching the back of her neck. Her eyes fleeting up to the arm muscles suddenly on full display. Lena licks her lips before she forces herself to look back at those big blue eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yes.” The woman’s shoulders slump as she looks around the bar as if seeking help before she looks back at Lena. “I…lost a bet.”

“Did Sam send you?” Lena raises an eyebrow.

“Who’s Sam?” The woman pauses with a furrowed brow before she collects herself again. “My sister is really drunk, and yet surprisingly still better than me at pool. And if I lost, I had to try and convince a girl at the bar to kiss me.”

The woman blushes as her eyes dart down to the shirt, and motions at it weakly. “She probably picked you to try and make it a little bit easier on me. Or harder, I never really know with her.”

The woman must notice Lena’s eyebrows shooting into her hairline because she’s standing on her toes as she points at a table near the back. The crowd parts long enough Lena can see a group of friends watching, a couple making obnoxious kissing faces.

“You really lost a bet?” Lena asks as the woman winces.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. They are really drunk.”

“Well, I am a softie for a woman with muscles.” Lena sighs as she pushes the woman backwards a little way so that she can put down the tray of drinks on an uncleared table.

“What?” The woman flounders as she lets herself be moved. “You really don’t have to- I don’t want to make you-“

“Kiss me.” Lena demands as she wraps a hand behind the woman’s neck but doesn’t pull her any closer. She waits as blue eyes watch her for a moment before they flick down to her lips. Lena can see the moment the woman makes up her mind, her muscles tensing before she surges forward, their mouths slotting together.

When they pull apart for air, Lena sighs as the woman tilts her head in the other direction, noses brushing before they kiss again.

“Wow.” The woman breathes. “Is this what they mean by the luck of the Irish?”

Lena can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in her chest, her cheeks burning under the gaze of twinkling eyes.

“I’m Kara by the way.” Lena laughs again, as a hand is wedged awkwardly between them. Neither of them moving back to make proper space as Lena’s hand wraps around hers.

“Lena.”

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorptober2020 #nemo writes #fanfiction #i think this is my favourite one so far #please leave me a comment/kudos on ao3

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suchanldiot · 4 years ago

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It’s St Patrick’s day and Regina isn’t wearing green. Emma can tell because she has eyeballs and they have roamed the entire expanse of the former Queen’s body and no, no green.

Before emma even makes it even remotely close to her, regina’s back turned, some paperwork being shuffled through in her hands, she’s stopped by her rich, raspy voice with a mild hint of a threat in there.... and something else. (Whatever it is, Emma stops, pouts).

“Pinch me, Miss Swan, and i promise i’ll destroy everything you hold dear.”

Regina might joke that Emma is slow on the uptake but shes quick with her response. “Plan on destroying yourself, then?”

Regina pauses. Huffs, flustered.

Emma continues, “but, you’re not wearing green.”

Regina turns then, eyes raking down Emma’s fit form (dark green button up shirt, tucked into blue jeans that are sinfully tight, brown belt...) before raising that perfect eyebrow at the blonde, “arent I though?”

Emma gulps. Looks at Regina’s attire again. “i don’t... see....”

Regina had been saving it for later but of course her blonde counterpart always puts forks in her plans, eyes rolling Regina turns and discards the paperwork on her desk before turning back around with her fingers already clasped around that evil button, undoing it.

Emma gulps.

A flash of green satin on ample olive skin graces emma’s vision.

“You were saying, Sheriff?”

Emma has seen Regina in just a bra, and topless obviously, numerous times, but each time is like a revelation to her. Even just a flash of it her bra sends her gaping. The more she gapes, the more confident Regina gets.

“Yep, that’s green.”

“indeed it is. Now, obviously we didn’t have St. Paddy’s day in the enchanted forest but i’ve spent enough time in this realm and with henry to learn a little about its history. Wearing green, people using it as an excuse to drink green ale until they’re blacked out, pinching people who don’t wear green, leprechauns and pots of gold,” she steps closer to emma, predatory in her walk, “luck.” She moves those fingers down to the next button to undo, “Are you feeling lucky~ Emma?”

Emma’s eyes are glued to the green bra and the fingers dancing near it, but she nods.

“Then how about instead of pinching me, as you see now that i AM wearing green, you put your fingers to better use, hm?”

Emma swears, “Regina....”

“Lock the door.”

https://twitter.com/alicialsgay/status/1372276985557307395?s=21

#can you tell the hyperfixating is real?#enjoy!!!#happy st paddy’s day!#swanqueen #swan queen #sqfic #mine

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honeytama · 4 years ago

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St. Patrick

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: ‘St. Patrick’ by PVRIS goes really well with this fic, enjoy!

Commission for @dittomckiddo

Summary: It’s a miracle that you had been saved from an oncoming car. Plus, it also led to you meeting the guy of your dreams, one you’d never expect. After offering your services as a masseuse to him in return, you both end up growing close and come to realize the purpose in each other’s lives.

Warnings: Smut (18+), cussing, reader has a vibration quirk, meet cute, strangers to lovers, first time, tending wounds, praise kink, body worship, oral (giving/recieving), double penetration

Word Count: 7.5k

The cement of the sidewalk crunched under your work shoes on your way to the luxury spa in the middle of the city. The sun is just about to come over the horizon to break in the morning. Even though it was early, many people in your area usually came to open their stores and restaurants. Every morning you’d pass by the familiar donut shop owner who turns on their Open sign to start their day. Lugging your bag over your shoulder, which contains your spa uniform and toiletries, you walk block after block while half asleep.

You’ve always been in love with your job having the quirk that you do. It has made your life rewarding to be able to help people through your birth given trait. However, walking alone before sunrise to prepare the spa for clients every morning can feel redundant.

You walk along the same trail, the same path… make a right there, make a left here, and cross this street. Nothing ever changes, you think as you step out off the curb— Honk!

“Ah!”

“Ain’t watching the road, asshole?” the man holding you yells at the trunk of the speeding car escaping down the street.

You push yourself back into his chest into a hug with your arms thrown around his neck. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you. You saved me,” you squeal. “I can’t believe I wasn’t watching.”

Pulling away, you notice the flustered look in his expression as he looks around the rest of the block for something or someone. He mumbles something about “the morning” before trying to walk away.

“Uhm, wait! I feel like I need to repay you somehow.” The zipper of your bag is swiftly opened and you rummage through your belongings while he turns back to you.

He tries to stop you by placing a hand on yours but quickly pulls it away. “No, no, I don’t need your money—,” You pull out a small white slip of card stock from the bag and hold it out for him to take. “What’s this?”

“My business card! My name's Y/N, I’m a masseuse at the spa down there,” you point near the end of the street at the glass doors to your store. “I’d like to give you a free massage in return for helping me out.”

“You want me to call you?”

“Yeah, we can set up a session.”

“Fine.” He slides the card into his back pocket. “Just, don’t get hit by any cars on the rest of the way there. I gotta go.” He pulls his hood further down his face and shoves his fists into the front of his jeans.

“I won’t! Bye!” You watch as he quickly makes his way to a nearby alley.

—

The most gorgeous girl flung herself into my arms… and in front of everyone. I can’t believe I didn’t ask her name myself or give her my number. But, I had to get out of there. Damnit.

He reads off the business card you’d handed to him while laying in bed the same night you had met, F/N L/N, Professional Masseuse for the City Spa. Phone number and email...

Fuck it. It's a free session, she was nice to me, and my body hurts like hell.

You lay watching a movie and mindlessly scrolling through your phone near midnight. Tapping through your different social accounts, your phone vibrates and your screen darkens. The Caller ID ‘Unknown’ is written in white lettering across the top.

You tap on the answer button quickly, silently hoping it would be a call from the interesting man you gave your card to earlier that day.

Bringing your phone up to your ear, you wait for a moment in silence before speaking up yourself. “Uhm, hello?”

“Uh, hi, hey.” A deep, gruff voice comes to your ear. ”It's the guy you gave your business card to earlier today. Sorry, I was kinda nervous to call.” He explains. “Call me Shuichi, by the way.”

“Hey! It’s no problem, Shuichi. How has your night been?”

“Uhm, good?” He questions. “I just wanted to call to let you know I’d like to take you up on your free massage thing? It might be an inconvenience, though, uh I can't really— I mean, I don't really like going out. That’s why I left you so quickly this morning.”

“Oh! Well, it’s fine. I understand. The whole point of my job is to make people feel comfortable, so how about we do the session at your place? I can bring my massage table and everything else!”

Fuck. “No! No, uh, I mean. I have roommates and, uh, I don't know how they would feel about me bringing in a stranger.” Yeah, that's it.

“Hm, well I wouldn't mind you coming over to my place then? If you're fine with that?”

“Yeah! Good, that sounds good. Uhm, do I need to bring anything?” Her place?

“Nope! Just bring yourself on over. How does tomorrow evening sound? I can send you the exact time and place through text.”

“That sounds good then. I'll see you, uh, Y/N.”

“Great! Goodnight, Shuichi. Uhm, thank you… again.”

“That was nothing but, uh, you're welcome. Have a good one.”

The soft crackling ambiance of his location and voice cut out as he hangs up. You sigh before pulling the covers over yourself and getting really to rest up for tomorrow’s venture.

—

You had set up the massage table in the living room that morning. Right now, it’s about fifteen minutes until your new ‘client’ Shuichi would arrive at your door. You scurry around your apartment preparing warm face towels and pulling his robe out of the drier. You’d spent your time creating the right amount of mood lighting in the space you have using lavender-scented candles. You dressed in a clean pair of the usual massage uniform you wear for work. It’s a white top that wraps with a tie in the front and a pair of comfortable white linen pants.

Your stomach turned over on itself several times waiting for him to arrive. You want to make his session as amazing as possible, even though it's for free. He had saved your life.

You roll up the warm towels on the decorative side table in your living space and fold the plush robe to place on the sink in the bathroom. You check your phone seeing you have five minutes until he could show up at your place.

The second you pocket your phone in your pants, you hear three knocks at your front door. “He’s early.” Ok, relax. “Coming!”

You rush to the door from the bathroom and brush down the front of your shirt before opening the door with a smile.

Shuichi stands there with his elbow against the door frame with his head covered with a hoodie. When he notices you standing there, his arm falls from the door nearly knocking him out of balance.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey! Come on in,” you wave him inside to lead him to the small foyer. “You can take off your shoes here.”

“No problem.” He stumbles trying to take off his sneakers and you just watch him in awe. “Uh, wow, you have a great place.” He throws the gray hood off of his hair and light pink, voluminous locks fall to his shoulders. You didn’t get a good look at him the other morning, and now you can already tell this will be a long night.

He catches you staring at him and averts his eyes to admire the living room and its furnishings.

“Well, thanks! I, uh, spent the day setting everything up. The massage table is over there in the corner, and then I have some warm towels and candles set up just for the occasion.”

“Smells good.” His snout twitches a bit as he tries to catch the scent. Again, he catches your eyes looking at him as if you’ve never seen someone like him before. He clears his throat, “Uhm, where do I—?”

“Oh yeah, I left a robe in the bathroom for you to change into. Then you can come back in here and lay on the massage table face down. Just pull the sheet over your back, to uh, cover up. I'll be waiting in my bedroom until you call me back in here. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he rubs the back of his neck and follows you towards the bathroom past the kitchen.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” You point finger guns at him before walking quickly into the back hallway toward your bedroom.

Pacing around the room, your mind splits to tens of questions and thoughts about the man you’ve brought into your home. How did you not notice how attractive he is? He’s sure different from anyone you’ve met before, but you’re so intrigued? And he’s in your apartment. Getting completely undressed in the room beside you. Being a professional, you’d never thought about having a relationship with a client. But, he’s not a client, right?

You feel slightly embarrassed about your reaction to seeing his full face. You hope he wasn’t offended by the way your eyes trailed along his features.

You hear him walk out of the bathroom in the slippers you had provided him and wait patiently for his call out to you.

“Uh, Y/N, I’m ready!”

You breathe out and leave the bedroom to meet him. Coming out from behind the corner, you see him lying on his stomach with a white sheet laying gracefully on his backside.

You stop at the side table to grab your bottle of massage oil and a moistened towelette you throw over your shoulder. “I was planning to focus mostly on your back, but it looks like you work out a lot, huh?” You smile down at him.

“Oh, yeah, whatever you think is best,” he shimmies his full body making himself more comfortable.

“Of course, I’ll lead through all I'm doing. Please let me know if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable, alright?”

“Sure, yeah,”

You can’t help but gaze at the deep divots that cause muscles in his back as you warm an amount of oil between your palms. You cock your head slightly at the long and short scars that are sprinkled down the length of his exposed back. The green tint is slightly lighter than the rest of the forest shade of his scales.

“Getting started, now,” you place one hand on either side of his back and massage in small circles. You usually don’t try to talk too much during your professional sessions at the spa, but maybe talking with him will calm your nerves. “So, I see you work out a lot? Is it a part of your job? Or a hobby?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess you could say that. I practice sword-wielding and, uhm, self-defense?”

“Ohh, that sounds really cool. You’ve definitely got a nice physique.”

“Nah, that's just what everyone looks like in my line of work.”

You hum as his denial of your compliment. He has a body he should be proud of; he needs to care for it a lot better than he has, especially under such stressful work conditions.

You bring your hands to his lower back and decide to finally use your quirk. Energy pushes down your arms to the expands of your palms and fingertips. Your hands start to vibrate at a low speed as you run them back and forth away from your stomach on his back.

“Is that your hands? Doing that?”

“Yeah, it’s my quirk, it got me into the line of work at the spa,” you explain.

“Feels... good,” it almost sounds like he doesn’t know if he should be feeling good.

“I have to say I’ve never met anyone like you before, Shuichi, your scales are so damn cool. You have an awesome quirk.”

He huffs at your comment. “No need to butter me up.“ Silence floats around the room while he thinks about the unfamiliar kindness you’ve shown to him. “I guess… I’ve learned not to think about myself in that way.”

“How come?” You keep your hands moving along the muscles in his back. The energy from your quirk continues to work at the tights knots underneath his shoulder blades.

“I just want to be seen for all of me, exactly as I am. I don’t admit it to many people but, I sometimes don’t like just being known as the guy who looks like a lizard. I do so much more— I wanna be so much more, than that.”

“Well, I see you. And, I’ve only known you for a day. I'm already intrigued by who you are as a person,” you reassure him softly. “Even if no one else respects you, know that I do.”

“That’s… that’s really nice of you,” he says with breaks in his voice.

“If I pried too much, I—,” you start.

“No...Sorry, I’m just not used to respect. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you smile.

You spend the rest of his session massaging him in silence after that.

After you finish, he’s directed back to the restroom to get changed while you wait for him in the foyer of your apartment.

You shuffle around near the front door with butterflies in your stomach. It didn’t occur to you that you’d end up feeling such strong things by the end of the night. But, now, you’re pacing in some slippers while trying to find the right words to ask him out.

“I think I should get going,” Shuichi says, startling you.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I hope you enjoyed the massage.”

“I did,” his toothy smile warms you up.

You watch him retrieve his sneakers and sit on the arm of your sofa to put them on. Now’s the time.

You clear your throat. “I was wondering… Would you like to go out sometime?”

He shoots his head up, “A date?”

“Mhm,” you nod while wringing your hands nervously.

“I— Yes. I’d like that, Y/N.” A blush sweeps across his snout and cheeks. Your heart squeezes seeing this for the first time.

“Cool!”

“Cool,” he repeats. He points to the door. “Well, I gotta get home before my roommates suspect somethin’.”

“Oh, yeah!” You open the fort for him to go. Your meeting ends with a nice wave goodbye before he disappears again.

—

Over the past two months, Shuichi and yourself got to know each other through long phone calls, picnics in empty parks, and movie nights in the living room of your apartment.

One week ago, you spent an hour building the most comfortable pillow fort with him before watching his favorite action movie. Shuichi came to your door with your favorite take-out meals, a portable projector, and a pack of fairy lights in hand. You had given him the biggest hug after praising him for remembering you had dreamt of setting up this sort of date before. However, you had the gut feeling to ask where he had gotten those things. The urge to question him about it was stamped out by the immensity of your excitement to share the night with him.

You used all the blankets and sheets you had in the house to create a canopy over the couch and a couple of bar stools. The projector sat on a tower of books and faced one white wall of your living space. The ground was covered by your bed comforter and pillows were propped comfortably against the bottom of the couch.

That was the first time he had the courage to pull you into his chest as you cuddled on the floor. The remnants of your meals were scattered at your feet as you both enjoyed the film. He had watched you caress his chest with your fingertips.

By the third quarter of the movie, you both were all over each other; exploring one another’s bodies for the first time felt like nothing you had ever experienced. You had your first kiss early on, but you could tell he was nervous to get even rougher with you. After you made out and felt each other up for another hour, Shuichi left your apartment in the late of the night with a kiss to your cheek.

Even sitting alone in your apartment tonight, you had regretted not convincing him to stay with you. You sit on your couch watching your favorite show eating a bowl of pasta. You had checked your phone several times today waiting for a call, or even a text, from Shuichi. Your mind wandered to the worst thoughts all day. Was he just using you for your quirk? The massages? To keep you around until you put out for him? Though you know in your heart that something is there between you two.

You stare mindlessly at the television until your phone starts buzzing to your side. You’re pulled from your thoughts and you grab your phone expecting his name to be on your screen. You sign, realizing instead that it’s a message from the city you reside in. You tap to play the automated voice message:

“Citizens, by our information, we are currently aware of the presence of the League of Villains in your residential area. Please, stay inside and stay safe. There are currently heroes handling the situation.”

“What?” You grab the TV remote and turn the channel to the news. The luminescent screen shows streets burning in blue flame and people run for cover. You watch as heroes search the roofs and alleys for the League’s members; the commotion maybe only ten blocks from where you live. Nothing like this has ever happened this close to you before.

A hard knock at your front door pulls your attention away from the distressed news anchor. Even with this situation, you hope that it’s Shuichi coming to check on you, to see if you’re alright.

You rush to get up and open the door. And to your luck, he’s there leaning against the door frame in the same manner as the first time he came over. But. he falls into your chest the second he realizes you’ve let him in. With his chest against yours and his arms thrown around your waist, you can feel exactly how labored his breathing is.

“Shuichi, oh my god, are you ok?” You rub his back comfortingly.

“Y/N, I—I’m so sorry,” he groans against your neck.

“Look at me,” you pull away to pick up his chin from your shoulder. Facing him head-on now, you see the raw gashes on his forehead and bicep. “Holy shit, did you get caught in all that?” You point to the chaos demonstrated on the TV.

He walks over to the remote sitting on the armrest of the sofa and clicks the TV off. “I’ve got to explain something to, Y/N.

—

“You’re part of all of that… the League of Villains,” you repeat him. “And they call you Spinner? When were you going to tell me?

“I—I tried convincing them not to come to this area,” he laments. He sits in front of you hunched over your knee, distracting himself with the material of your pajama pants as you tend to his wounds. “Ah,” he hisses as you dab his forehead with a rag dampened with hydrogen peroxide. “I understand if you’re mad at me, Y/N. If you never want to see me again—,” he huffs.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me right away,’ you whisper. “From now on, can we promise to tell each other everything, no keeping secrets?”

“From now on?” He looks up to face you. “You want to keep this going?”

“I really like you, Shuichi, I don’t want to let go of you after this,” you kiss his cheek to reassure him.

A deep blush rushes to his cheeks. “I—I really like you, too. I’ve liked you since you said you liked my scales,” he laughs. “So, yeah, no more secrets, I promise you, Y/N.”

“Good,” you smile and take his hand to help him up. “I’m gonna run a bath for you.”

He watches your hips sway as you walk to the bathroom to set up the tub.

—

With the bath filled with a layer of fluffy, lavender bubbles blanketing the surface, you call Shuichi in from the living room.

He peaks into the bathroom before smiling at your kind gesture. “Are you gonna stay in here, while I—uh, ya know?” He stammers while pulling at the edge of his shirt.

“I was thinking I could give you a massage to help you relax. If that’s ok?” You watch as he pulls his top over his head in one fluid motion. His arm muscles ripple with the smooth movement. He drops it to the floor and then combs out his lilac hair with his fingers.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Uhm, could you maybe—?” He cocks his head to the side while rubbing the nape of his neck.

You giggle at his modesty before spinning around toward the wall. You hear him drop his pants and disrobe from his arm wrappings and eye masks. The costume he came to you with today was much more sinister than the cozy ones he usually wore.

The water splashes a bit as Shuichi gets into the tub. He settles himself to the side of it for you to get access to his shoulders. His mind silently thanks you for adding the bubbles prematurely.

You turn and he’s leaned back against the glossy, white porcelain of the tub. You run your fingers along the skin of his shoulders and he shutters as the surprise of your touch. You set both of your hands flat on his swelled shoulders and activate your quirk. He immediately lets out a breathy, relaxed noise. You move your hands back and forth and delve deep into the muscles of his arms and neck in a circular motion.

“Mmm,” Shuichi lets a pleased groan go out of his throat. He lets his head rest against your chest and takes note of the beat of your heart against his scalp. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you say softly. Leaning down, you give him a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. You move your kisses to his jaw and cheek next. You watch as the water moves from under your lashes. Under the water, he rubs the tops of his thighs with his palms.

He clears his throat before stammering out, “Do you wanna, maybe, get in?”

You perk up at his offer. “You sure?”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” he confirms.

You deactivate your vibrating hands and stand up completely to take off your shirt and bottoms quickly. All of your shredded clothes form a puddle on the tile floor of the bathroom. You hook your thumbs to pull off your underwear and let them fall to the floor. It’s not cold in the bathroom at all, but you can feel your limbs shake slightly as you walk towards the edge of the bathtub. Goosebumps coat your bicep and neck as you carefully step into the water while grabbing the edge in order not to slip. Lowering yourself into the water, Shuichi faces away from your exposed body. A blush paints over his cheeks and snout. You sit across from one another, but he’s still so close.

“Hey,” you smile while flowing your arms through the water trying to get used to the temperature.

“Hey,” he responds. Shuichi holds out a hand out for you to take. “C’mere.”

You take his hand and he leads you to sit in front of him against his chest. You settle yourself between his thighs and clench your own legs to your chest.

“Can I tell you something?” His tone feels as warm as the water pooling up the middle of your chest. The soft fragrance of the bath relaxes you the most you've ever been in a long time; you melt into the cushion of Shuichi’s chest.

“Mhmm,” you hum while letting your eyes fall closed.

“I—uhm,” he stammers before taking a deep breath that you could feel against your neck. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” he says with a smile. “I didn’t have anyone to protect… to look forward to seeing before you came into my life. I’d be happy if just being here to save you from incoming cars,” he chuckles.

“I said it wouldn’t happen again!” you laugh and throw your hand back to press into his shoulder.

“Mhm,” he smirks, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“I’m glad to have met you too, handsome,” you turn and smile up at him. “You’re so sweet to me.” You lift yourself just enough to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Stop,” he shakes his head.

“But, you look so good,” you sing.

“I look good?” he laughs. “You’re the girl of my dreams.” You feel both of his arms wrap around your midsection and his thumbs massage small circles underneath your chest. He leans into your ear to kiss the crest of it before whispering, “I’m sorry to have worried you, baby”

“Are you going to make it up to me?” you softly say.

Shuichi’s eyes widen as you turn your body in full to face him. If he wasn't already involuntarily sporting a hard-on with your body pressed up against him, he definitely is now. He catches a glimpse of your glossed nipples and watches as water cascades down the valley made between your breasts.

“Fuck,” he places his hands on your hips to guide you to straddle his lap. “Look at you.”

You rest your hands on his firm shoulders before leaning into his exposed neck.

He holds his breath and holds onto your body tightly, his nails starting to dig into your flesh anticipating your soft lips against his scales. His neck is tickled by your tongue giving hesitant kitten licks to the side of his neck. Shuichi feels himself melt into your body further yearning for your lips to close over his muscle.

You both moan as your lips begin to suckle on the prominent segment of his neck stuck out for you to ravage upon. The scales that coat his entire body create overlapped edges that you can feel as you drag your tongue along in small circular motions. You pull at him with the suction of your lips and then give soft kisses to the darken spots you leave along the way. “Just kiss me already,” Shuichi concedes. He takes your chin between two fingers and brings them to his lips. He holds back for a second to admire the clouded, sultry eyes looking at him from under lashes before pushing through the wall of tension to kiss you greedily.

You feel Shuichi’s hand on your hip start to guide you deeper into his lap, but the sudden movement makes you pull away. The shallow sweep of his strong thighs against your aroused center makes you yelp against his mouth. Eager for more, you lift yourself slightly before starting to grind against his thighs his time of your volition. The bathwater moves around both of you in shallow waves. They splash against your back in a similar tempo to your motions.

“Mmm,” he groans against your lips. His hands leave your body before returning in front of your chest in front of him. “Can I?”

You nod and put both of your hands on the side of the tub to the sides of his head. You feel his fingers for the first time on your tits and only a second passes until you're completely comfortable. He explores your skin and nipples as you both kiss passionately; with his eyes shut, he searches for your nubs to roll in between his padded fingertips.

“Y/N,” he pulls away breathless.

“Mhm?” You continue to softly grind on his thighs and he starts to speak.

“I’ve never done this before,” he stammers. You quirk an eyebrow at him with a sly smirk plastered on your lips. “Y/N, not like that.” Shuichi shakes his head with a laugh. “I want to ask you… Would you—will you be my girlfriend?”

You can't help but stop in your tracks to give him the tightest hug possible. “Yes, of course!”

He blushes at your immediate response. His hands caress your back and slowly run down the length of it towards your thigh and ass cheek. “Your skin is so soft,” he squeezes the flesh between his fingers and palm.

“Spinner,” you let his secret alias slip from your lips as a moan while massaging the section between your rear and thigh.

“Shit.” It feels so good to finally let his hidden life be free, but how was he to know you would use his identity against him in this way? He feels himself pulsate underneath the surface of the bathwater.

While pulling away from his embrace, the hardened tips of his cocks brush against your lower abdomen. You hear his throat catch at the minuscule touch. “You—your, uhm—.”

“Yeah…,” he sighs, covering his face with his palm. “I know it’s weird. You don't have to—.”

“It’s not weird!” You reassure him while pulling his hand away from his face and towards your chest. “I actually,” you run your opposite hand up the top of his ridged thigh. “I think it’s really hot.”

He gulps once he feels your thumb run over the smoothed tip of one of his cocks. “Seriously?”

Looking in his eyes, you bite your lip and nod. “I want you,” you whisper while leaning into his chest until your tits press against his skin.

A guttural groan rumbles in his chest before he grabs your wandering hand lightly to stop you from going further. “C’mon,” he offers in a low voice. His scaled hand rubs the globe of your ass and then squeezes. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

He helps you up from your sitting position in the tub to standing. The lavender foam sticks to his thighs and abdomen as he steps out onto the bathmat. Your breath catches at your first sight of his perfectly sculpted ass. The speed of your heartbeat quickens as you watch him saunter over to the counter for two fresh towels.

Once he turns around, Shuichi can’t help but permit himself to catch glances at your exposed breasts. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he smirks while handing you the towel. You feel the heat of a blush come to your cheeks while you wrap the towel around yourself. He offers you a strong hand to help you out of the tub. “Careful.”

Unwrapping yourself, you dry your limbs quickly while hoping to get back to being pressed against his strong body again soon. Once dry, you both throw your towels into the hamper.

“Alright, c’mon!” Your waist is pulled into his side and you feel your body being lifted in one fell swoop.

“Ah!”

Shuichi holds you against his chest with an arm hooked underneath your thighs and an arm holding your back. You swoon at his ability to carry you bridal style without breaking a sweat.

Once in your dimly lit bedroom, you're set down to stand on the carpet. Shuichi spins you around and walks against you until you both reach the end of your bed. Your lips lock together and you pull him by the neck to meet you on top of the soft duvet.

He settles himself between your spread legs and kisses you in fervor. You feel one of his hands roam back to your tits and he uses the heel of his hand to knead into you. Another hand grips the curve of your hip and his thumb rubs the skin above the bone there.

“Shuichi,” you moan against his cheek. “Feels good.”

“So… gorgeous…,” he peppers kisses along your collarbone and chest. “I want you so badly, Y/N.” He lets himself slide down your body while giving kisses to every piece of skin available to him. He ends up on his stomach with his head between your thighs. You rest your hands in his hair and watch as his lilac locks get wrapped in your fingers. “You okay with this, Y/N,” he mumbles against the muscle of your inner thigh.

“Mhm, please,” you whine. “You look so good with your face between my thighs.”

He groans at the sight of your already wet cunt spread in front of him. He quickly realizes it might be okay to be rougher with you; taking your physical arousal as a signal that you’re actually into him. You feel a nip at your thigh and it only makes you want him closer to your core even more.

Shuichi lets his tongue lull out of his mouth before licking a thick stripe against your thigh. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine and your pussy clenches in anticipation. “Who would have thought you’d be such a tease— ?” All of a sudden, his tongue explores your soaked folds and then latches onto your puffy clit. “Oh my, God,” you whine.

He groans at your sweet taste on his tongue. The vibrations of this sound travel straight to your sensitive nerve endings. You pull his hand to come back to one of your breasts as he continues his precise movements. You move two of his fingers to pinch your nipple and he obliges by rolling the peaked nub.

“Your tongue feels so good,” you whimper as you begin to grind on his tongue while tugging hard on his hair in your hand. “Shuichi?”

“Mmm?” He hums with his tongue pressed against your clit.

“Have you— ever used both?” you stammer. Your toes curl as you try to focus on his response.

His crimson eyes widen at you from between your legs. “Both?” he mumbles. “I haven’t.”

“I—I want to take all of you,” you feel heat rush to your chest as you admit to him the fantasy you've had since finding out what he’s been packing.

He hums deeply against your clit again before using a finger to pull one of your folds to the side. “I need to prep you real good for me then, baby,” he says proudly.

You nod and brace yourself for him to prod at your tight hole. Since dating you, he started to trim his claws down in fear of accidentally scratching you, and now that fact is even more important in this situation.

The suddenness of one of his thick, ribbed fingers enters your cunt easily with the amount of arousal built up. You gasp at the abrupt fullness of his long digit inside of you. The roof of your cunt is massaged by him slightly hooking his finger and pumping slowly.

“I’m gonna add another, you’re taking this too easy,” he says gruffly before nipping your inner thigh.

Shuichi pulls out and enters back in swiftly with an extra finger and continues to pump your pussy in a more quick pace. The soft padding of his fingertips hit the ridged, spongy section of your cunt repeatedly and it's like nothing you've felt before. You can’t help but bring your other hand down to help get you closer to your release.

He watched you bring two fingers to your hooded clit and turn on your quirk. The vibrating digits sound like a buzz in his ear, but how could he mind when you’re lewdly pleasuring yourself right in front of him. “Holy fuck, yes,” he retracts his tongue back into his mouth to allow you to handle your sensitive nub while his pumps into you vigorously. “Touch yourself for me, beautiful.”

That feels amazing,” you stammer. “Please, right there,” you whine. You rotate your pulsating finger in small circles.

“So fucking hot,” he says roughly. “Keep going, baby,” he attempts to encourage you towards your first orgasm of the night.

“Spinner, I can feel it,” you grind on his thrusting fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Shit, baby, cum for me,” he adds another finger effortlessly. “Cum all over my fingers.” The tips of his fingers move together as one to knead the squishy flesh of your cavern.

“Mhmm,” you moan loudly as you feel the build of your climax being reached within you. All of a sudden, you feel it coming. You bite your lip as your legs start to shake; you fight through the intense feeling to pursue rubbing yourself to maximum pleasure. “I’m coming, fuck!”

“There you go!” He watches as your chest rises and falls quickly. The muscles of your cunt clench hard on his fingers. “Such sweet sounds.”

“How many—How many fingers was that, babe?” You breathe out with the air you have left.

He holds up four, glistening digits and pulls them apart to watch your arousal drip onto his palm. “That was super sexy, babygirl.” You watch him take his soaked hand to his cocks and stroke himself languidly. “Could I do down on you?”

“Yes—yeah, sure,” he says enthusiastically. You help him switch to the position you were in on the bed. He lays back against your pillows stacked against the headboard. He relaxes his brawny arms behind his head and spreads his legs slightly for you to settle yourself between.

You sit back on your calves and admire the ripples of his muscular form all laid out for you. The tips of your fingers trace the divots formed by his prominent abs; you drag your fingers tantalizingly down the lines that make a V to his phallus.

You observe him from underneath your lashes as you lean over his leaking cocks. Holding his heavy package as one in your small hand, you pump them in tandem.

“Is this ok, handsome?”

He’s focused so intently on your motions that all he does is a nod in response.

Two clear beads of precum perch on the outside of his cockslits. As your first move, you lick the beads away from his tips and let your tongue move in a circle over the two heads slowly.

“Oooh.”

You smile at his content before widening the O shape of your lips to take his cocks into your ready mouth. Letting saliva drool from your lips, you use your hands to coat his cock while moving your wrist in a twisting motion. You wrap your lips around his combined cockhead and drag your tongue along the sensitive slits.

“Fuck, you’re lips feel so good around my cock,” he whines. His muscles flex involuntarily as you suck hard on his cocks. The stimulation of his nerve endings send mini shocks to all places of his body in response to your movements. To pleasure what you can’t take between your lips, your hands pump him in upward, winding actions. You decide to turn on your quirk in turn for not being able to take his package completely into your mouth. Your tongue buzzes against his heads and your hands jitter while stroking him in full. The intense stimulation makes him create large amounts of precum; it drips and oozes from your lips down his shaft.

You hum against his hot muscles pleasingly, the taste of his sweet precum mixes with your saliva and coats the expanse of your mouth. You watch him as his eyes widen at the lewd use of your quirk, but he thanks the heavens that you could do this at all for him.

“Baby,” he says lowly. “I don’t want to cum just yet, I’m getting too close— too fast,” he groans.

A soft pop of your lips comes when you pull off of him. Proceeding to stroke him in one hand, you lift yourself to place a hand on his firm chest. Leaning down to meet his gaze, you whisper, “Do you want to cum in me?”

His eyes widen at your offer the second the words fall from your lips. “Yes, yeah, baby.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his snout before straddling his waist

“I promise to make you feel so good, Y/N,” he groans against your neck. “I’m so turned on by your body, you have no fucking clue.” He holds your legs to his waist and rolls with you until your flat on your back against the mattress. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him spread your legs to the side. “Are you ready, Y/N?”

“Mhm, please,” you whine. “Fuck me, Spinner,”

“You got it, baby,” he holds his two, large pricks together in one hand. You hold the creases underneath your things and pull them as close to your chest as possible. He presses a hand into one of your thighs as he hovers over you. He rubs his cockheads over your clit and slit to collect the residual arousal before pressing softly into your tiny entrance. You both moan at the first touch.

“How are you— still so tight?” He questions. “Mmf,” he groans, attempting to push himself further.

“Oh, I’m a virgin,” you explain. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Wha—what?” He exclaims. “I thought you said we weren’t keeping secrets?”

“I thought it was obvious,” you laugh while playing with your breasts innocently.

“And, you wanted to take both of me? First try?” He brushes his hair from his face.

“Yes, Shuichi, I want you as you are,” you say sweetly. “I wanted to at least try.”

“I can’t even believe you wanted to spend your first time with me,” he admits.

“Of course,” you hold his cheek in your palm. “I actually have some lube in the drawer. We can use it,” you smile sweetly up at him.

“Ok, baby,” he kisses your nose and crawls to the night table before returning with a clear bottle. “I said I’d make this amazing for you, but now I promise it.”

You nod and hold his biceps in your hands as he settles by your thighs again. Repeating his process, he rubs the lube from his cock onto your slit and presses down onto your thighs so they go to your chest. He presses into your cunt all too easily this time.

“Oh my, God,” you moan together.

“You ok?” He asks.

You nod and Spinner pushes his hips deeper into yours. His cocks stretch your pussy slowly as he slides all the way in. “Feels—so good,” you squeak out. Your boyfriend starts his thrusts once he feels the back wall of your core.

“Damn,” his hot breathe hits your face. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he moans.

You bite your lip as tears form in the corner of your eyes from pleasure. His hips rock slowly, but the girth and length of him are able to hit every perfect spot inside of you. “Please, go faster, Spinner,” you plead.

“God, you look so gorgeous under me,” he praises.

“You look so good,” you compliment. “I love your cocks, Spinner, please.” He smirks before grabbing your hips with his strong hands and pistoning into you at a more quick pace. Your breasts bounce as you’re pulled into him continuously. “Fuck, thank you, baby, thank you-,” you whine.

“Take my throbbing dicks, baby, good fucking job,” he encourages. “Your cunt is amazing. Clenching so nicely for me,” he says roughly.

“For you, baby,” you say as a moan. You hold your breasts in your hands and roll your nipples with vibrating fingers.

“Are you gonna cum on my cocks? Just for me?” He groans.

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you plead loudly. “I wanna cum all over your dicks!”

“Then do it, babygirl,” he foments. “I wanna feel you clench on me all over again. You’ve got it in you, huh?”

Your eyes widen as you realize his words have triggered something inside of you. Electricity rushes to your center and you can’t hold back. “Fuck, I’m— coming!” Ecstasy encases your entire body as your eyes roll back into your head. You try to push your arm down between you both to use your hand as a vibrator for your clit and the base of his cock as he continues to trust into you with fervor.

“Ugh, fuck, me— too,” he grunts. His thrusts come to a slow before he releases his load into the back of your cunt. Ropes of gooey cum spurt into your cavern and coat your walls completely.

Shuichi rolls onto his back beside you and lets an arm fall over his eyes. Your heart beats loud enough for you to hear as you both lay together in silence for a moment.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Yeah,” your voice is small and your throat feels dry. “Spinner?”

“Hey, don't pull that on me again,” he laughs. He gets up from the bed to go retrieve his clothes from the bathroom.

You giggle at him and crawl to the end of the bed to meet him before he leaves the room. “I was wondering, would you like to spend the night?”

“What?”

“Honestly, we don’t know the current situation out in the city right now, and I’m kind of nervous to let you go. I want to be able to protect you, too.”

“I’d love to stay here with you,” he smiles. “Wanna protect me from my own crimes, huh?”

“Just come back to bed, please,” you whine.

“Ain't gonna get in without my pants, baby,” he taunts. “Unless you want your second time, now?”

“Shuichi,” you cover your face with the sheets. “Can you at least bring me my underwear too?” You plead. He nods and walks out of the room. You lay there alone in the dimly lit room for a minute. All you can do is smile to yourself at how lucky you feel.

Shuichi comes back and the mattress bounces as he hops into bed with you. You put on your undergarments quickly and then snuggle up close to your boyfriend.

“Goodnight, Spinner,” you say into his chest.

You earn a quick kiss to the forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

Tag List: @knifeewifee @lilli-chae @thedreadthreadanomaly @ivymemnoch @beauty-in-ferality @cannibalchan @bnhabookclub @bakatenshii @gallickingun @hawks-senseis @royal-after-dark @wakaoujisenhime @shinsotired @lovelusional

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spinner #mha spinner #honeytama commission #spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner #shuichi iguchi #spinner smut #shuichi iguchi smut #lov #league of villians x reader #league of villians #writing

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

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Save Me

Hey my Tumblr Lovelys!

In honour of St. Patrick’s Day and ya know having another story finished, I am going to post it today instead of at the weekend!

This is follows on from where the last story left off and continues on the Robyn and Taron series.

Hope you all enjoy!

Suze xx

“Do not only think about it, but feel about it, also, before taking appropriate action.”

Taron jogged to his trailer, trying to stay out of the rain quicker by running to his base while filming in Belfast. Once inside he ran his hands through his growing hair, sighing that he was still pretty wet even with his rush from set. He loved being in the North of Ireland, not only because he was closer to Robyn and still in the same time zone, the change of scenery had been good for him and now six weeks into filming he was getting more use to the script, the words he had to say, the scenes he needed to act in and although at times it was a struggle, he was slightly more contented in his role and as he said he would to his mother and Robyn, he leaned on Matthew for emotional support as he filmed.

The only thing that was working against them was the weather and another day of rain meant that as he arrived back to his trailer for a late lunch call, he needed to change out of his shirt. It was so strange to him that there was such a difference in the weather between England and Ireland and while London was bathing in daily June temperatures of twenty-five, Belfast and as he had learnt from Robyn, Kilcreen, was nestled in a low fifteen and sixteen degrees, days of rain replacing blue skies and sunshine that were across the Irish sea.

He moved to the bathroom to grab the towel from the rack, roughly drying his growing hair, trying to get most of the wetness out, walking back into the living area of his trailer so he would have some more space in his movements. It wasn’t the smallest of trailers that he ever had, but his space was limited though he didn’t mind. It had been perfect for when he needed silence to read over lines, grab a quick nap or just have some head space and privacy. Hearing the knock on the door, Taron walked the four steps to the trailer door and opened it, smiling as he saw one of the director’s assistants with a coffee cup.

“Hey Taron. For you.”

“Joe you legend. Thank you so much.” He draped the towel over his shoulder and took the brown cup from the young assistant and sighed happily as a packaged sandwich was handed to him too. “Joe, thank you.”

“No worries. Matthew said you were headed straight to your trailer to change and asked if I could drop something over to you for lunch.”

“Thank you.” Taron hoped his appreciation was clear in his voice. Never one to expect to be waited on, he was so grateful for the unexpected delivery of some food.

“Any time Taron.”

With a quick goodbye, Joe headed back to his other duties, Taron closing his trailer door, already inhaling the scent of coffee from the warm cup in his right hand. They had ran much longer than expected while filming that morning and lunch should have been four hours ago but Matthew insisted on getting the scene just right so he wouldn’t have to revisit it and when the rain started to fall, he really pushed to finish the scene even with the actors getting a little wet in the process. The steaming hot coffee was very much welcomed, and the first sip instantly eased the slight chill he could feel. He placed his lunch on the table and went straight into the small bedroom, dropping the towel on the floor and pulling his shirt over his head as he went, shivering a little until he pulled on a dry hoodie over his bare cold skin. Making his way back to the table, he slid into the booth and took another sip of coffee, opening the sandwich, only now realising that he was really hungry. Matthew had called a quick half an hour lunch break, promising to only carry on filming for another two hours before they could have a longer dinner and it had been a long time since breakfast.

The first bite was delicious and the catering had really pulled out all the stops with their freshly made sandwiches and the simple chicken salad on multigrain bread was perfect for his grumbling stomach. Taking another long drink of his coffee, he picked up his phone from the table surprised that he hadn’t gotten a message from Robyn yet especially as it was near four on Friday afternoon and by now she normally sent him at least one message asking how his day was going. They had yet the chance to meet up, even though he was closer to her but his schedule had him working weekends, having days off during the week which didn’t suit Robyn as she worked Monday to Friday. They had to settle for phone calls and WhatsApp video calls as well as many text messages but it was strange for her not to have contacted him yet. Figuring she was just busy, he opened their chat and typed a quick message to her, letting her know that next weekend, before he flew back to Aberystwyth for Mari’s birthday weekend on June twentieth, he was free on the Saturday and she was more than welcome to come down to him for a quick twenty-four hour visit before he was back to work on the Sunday. He smiled as he thought about Mari and the further guilt she had plagued Robyn with in trying to get her to come to her birthday near the end of June and his sister had really pulled at Robyn’s heart strings especially when she took the ‘but you saved my brother’ avenue. Taron knew Robyn was due some sort of training for work that had yet to be organised but if it wasn’t the weekend of Mari’s birthday she would be there in a second, knowing Taron was free too and they could spend some time together. Taron was very much looking forward to going home for a few days to see his family and to get back to Aber just to have a break. It had been a very long time since he had been home.

He got to his feet and took the few steps to the small fridge in the small kitchen area, opening it to take out a can of Coke. Having finished the coffee, he knew the extra caffeine would keep his energy going until dinner and settling back into the booth, picked up the other half of the sandwich and happily munched as he scrolled through his phone, enjoying the break in filming. Even though it was going to be a very quick one, it was needed. It wasn’t the normal method Matthew used when filming, to continue on set for such a long period of time, preferring to give short breaks in-between completed scenes, giving the actors a chance to re-group and breathe a little but with the complicated sequence to be shot outside from various different angles, he wanted to keep the momentum going, the energy he could feel as they shot it thoroughly in one go. Taron was definitely feeling the efforts he was putting into the longer filming and gave his shoulders and neck a long roll, his mind thinking how nice it would be right now to have Robyn’s hands on the back of his neck, rubbing his tired muscles. He smiled as he imagined her behind him, her hands working up into his hair, knowing she would be delighted to feel it growing, although maybe a little disappointed to know it was going to have to be cut once again for consistency in the scenes next week, not even getting a chance to see it a bit longer for herself. Elongating his neck again, Taron’s smile stayed on his face. Any thoughts of Robyn always left him smiling and he took another bite of his lunch, going back to the home page on his phone so he could open up his gallery.

He jumped a little as the phone rang in his hand before he got a chance to access his photos but frowned when it was a number he didn’t recognise. Every now and again, his phone would ring with a private number or one that was unfamiliar to him and he was about to cancel the call when looking closer to the number, the country prefix was one he recognised. The zero zero three five three was the Irish country code and he only knew this because it was how he was able to call Robyn on her number by using the prefix. Taking a chance, he answered, still highly suspicious but willing to chance his arm.

“Hello?”

“Taron?”

It was an Irish accent on the end of the phone and one that seemed somewhat familiar to him. “Yep speaking.”

“Hi Taron, it’s Emma.”

Taron was only aware of one Irish Emma he had met and that was Robyn’s manager. Immediately he sat up in the booth. “Hey Emma.” He tried to keep his voice steady, worry already settling into him. “Robyn? Is she ok?”

“She is fine Taron.” Emma heard the sigh on the end of the phone. “I am so sorry for calling you. I had your phone number in my call list from the last time Robyn went to visit you and she used your phone to call me.”

“That’s ok Emma. How can I help you?”

“Well, I had a bit of a favour to ask you and I know you are incredibly busy filming but just thought I would chance asking you.”

“Emma, just ask me.”

“I am sure Robyn has been talking to you about the training this weekend.”

“Training?” Taron asked confused.

“Of course she didn’t.” Emma sighed. “We have organised for a first aid refresher course this weekend for our staff. A lot of the staff need their certificates and training updated and we organise it in the creche where an instructor comes into us and we spend a full day on the course. It’s normal procedure to ensure all of our staff have the adequate medical training when working with the children.”

“Sorry Emma. I am a little confused.” Taron was wondering if Robyn had told Emma about his CPR campaign he did last year, maybe looking for some posters or a video or something he could send to her.

“Robyn has her training tomorrow too.”

Taron’s whole body sank back into the seat of the booth, his free hand running down his face.

“I take it from your silence that she definitely didn’t say anything to you Taron.”

“I had no idea.”

“I figured as much. Typical Robyn.”

Taron nodded his agreement. “She never said a word. Has it been organised long?”

“The week of her birthday. Before she went to see you.”

“Robyn…” Taron let his head hit the back of the seat. The terrifying nightmare that had left her really shook was beginning to make more sense to him. “Things are suddenly becoming a little bit clearer for me now.”

“The dreams?”

“Yeah. Thanks for giving her the time off.”

“I was very happy too. I know you two went through something terrible and can only understand what it was like, needing the time together and here is where my favour comes in Taron. I know you are working and probably up to your eyes but Robyn has just been so distant today and completely froze when one of the girls asked her for a cold compress, for her help with a very simple first aid situation of a bloody nose. It is not like her at all and she was pale as a ghost when she came back to the office. Her mind is completely on the course tomorrow and having seen her react so to a nosebleed, I am so worried what the refresher course is going to do to her, especially the CPR. It is such a long shot and like I said, I know you are so busy but if there was any way possible that you could manage to come to Kilcreen tomorrow evening for when she has finished the course, I know it would mean the world to her. I have a feeling she is really going to need lots of extra support and as much as me and her friends are there for her, I don’t think it can compare to what you have been doing for her. I just thought I would try and ask you. God loves a trier, right?”

Taron listened, his heart breaking at what he was hearing, how once again Robyn was out to sabotage herself, a little disappointed that she didn’t tell him about her course and it broke him even more when he knew how hectic his filming day was tomorrow. “Emma…”

The tone of his voice was enough for Emma to interrupt him. “It’s ok Taron. I knew it was such a long shot. Robyn has told me how gruelling your schedule can be. I just thought I would ask and see. I will be there for her tomorrow no matter what.”

“Emma I would give anything to be there for her. I know how hard it was for me do the first aid course back in October and I don’t even remember the CPR so I can’t imagine how difficult it will be for Robyn to re-enact the CPR that saved my life on a mannequin. It will be extremely testing and even more so with how close August is to us.” Taron’s heart felt so heavy. “I wish she had of told me.”

“She is doing that thing again where she closes herself off, trying to deal with a situation by herself. I really thought she had moved on from doing that.”

“Me too.” Taron knew well Robyn hadn’t told him because she was once again protecting him from his own dread and memories of the 7/11, not wanting to upset him but instead she was putting herself through unneeded pain and distress. “Emma leave it with me.”

“Taron please don’t put yourself under any pressure. I am sorry I asked you. I don’t want you to panic over it.”

“Absolutely not Emma. Thank you for contacting me, letting me know.”

“Taron please don’t tell her I rang you. She will be so mad at me.”

“I won’t say a word to her. I promise.”

“Taron…”

“I will do nothing to let her know I know about the training. She hasn’t messaged me at all today anyway. I know why now. She does such a wonderful job of looking after me or others but still struggles with the little things, to take care of herself and she won’t be mad at you. I am glad you rang me and like I said, leave it with me.”

“Please don’t put yourself out Taron. I know what Robyn will say when she finds out.”

“You let me worry about Robyn, Emma. We have been though a lot together but sometimes she just needs a little push and I know she doesn’t mind when I push her that little bit harder.”

“Well rather you than me Taron but then you have been able to get under her skin.”

Taron found himself smiling a little. “I won’t say a word to her Emma about you ringing me, I promise. I won’t even mention it. Let me talk to my director. When it comes down to it, Robyn is very special and important to me and let’s face it, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that training she has. Let me see what I can do Emma. Robyn has always been there for me, no matter what.”

“Thank you Taron. She speaks so highly of you and I know she loves you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual Emma.”

After he ended the phone call, he stared at his half-eaten sandwich and open can of Coke, both of which made his previously hungry stomach turn, his coffee now swirling uncomfortably as he felt slightly sick. Although he was very upset at Robyn’s actions, how she blatantly avoided telling him about her CPR training, he still found himself loving her more as once again she put his needs before hers but this was one time Taron was absolutely sure Robyn would crumble on her own, no matter how strong she always seemed to be. As much as he struggled with the fact that CPR had saved his life, it was Robyn who actually performed the delicate technique and having to relive the whole process was going to be so hard for her.

Without a second thought, Taron picked up his phone and made his way out of his trailer and back into the rain which had gotten heavier over the last fifteen minutes and headed towards Matthew’s trailer which was four down from his. He knocked on the door and once he heard Matthew’s voice telling him to come in, opened the door, hopping up the three steps inside.

“Taron, come on in.” Matthew looked up from the pile of papers on his table, giving him a smile. “I am just looking at our schedule for tomorrow. I think we might be able to fit one more quick scene in before it gets dark especially if this rain keeps up. It will work perfectly for the mood of the scene too.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Taron asked coming into the trailer a bit, closing the door on the cold and rain. Matthew’s trailer was a little bit bigger than his and where Taron could only fit two at his table, Matthew had enough room for four.

“And I think maybe if we even push a little more this evening, we can really try to film the gutter scene too.” Matthew tilted his head towards his lead actor. “Shouldn’t you be on lunch?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Taron asked back taking some steps closer. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Have a seat. What’s up?” Matthew was used to Taron coming to have a chat with him throughout the course of the filming over the last few weeks, as he looked for some advice and reassurance on the scenes, the emotional needs of the script testing for the younger actor and he immediately turned his attention to him, dropping his pen on the script pages in front of him.

Taron eased himself into the booth opposite Matthew. “I know we are keeping to a very tight schedule but may be a little ahead.”

“Just a little bit.”

Taron had a feeling Matthew didn’t want a repeat of what happened during the filming of Kingsman so was really driving the cast forward with some demanding long days, trying to take advantage as best he could with what scenes he could. “I just wanted to ask a favour.”

“What kind of favour?”

“So, Robyn…” Taron looked to Matthew.

“Robyn. My favourite fiery Irish woman.”

“Yes, that one.”

“Taron you know she is welcome to come to set whenever she wants. I have the access lanyard for her.”

“Yeah, I know that but this isn’t about Robyn coming to me. I need to go to her.”

“Taron?” Matthew was prepared for a pep talk, ready to tell Taron he was doing a great job with the script, really pushing through some difficult emotional filming and was more than happy to have Robyn come to set but he honestly wasn’t expecting Taron to say he needed to go and see her.

“Robyn has her CPR training tomorrow and she never told me. Her manager just rang me to tell me. Typical of Robyn not to tell me. Always trying to protect me.” He tried to read the older man’s face, who sat looking at him with his head slightly tilted. “I erm, well I just wanted to see what the chances were of shuffling some things around for filming for the weekend so I could go and see Robyn tomorrow.”

“To go and see Robyn tomorrow?” Matthew repeated.

“Yeah.” Taron ran his right hand over his head. “I know it’s a lot to ask Matthew especially when we have only just started filming but it is Robyn. She has always been there for me when I needed her and she wants to go headfirst into this first aid training tomorrow. I know how hard I found it when I did the campaign last year and I don’t even remember the CPR but Robyn does and I just can’t let her do this alone. Her manager rang me to tell me about tomorrow, worried Robyn was already feeling the strain from the upcoming training because she was so off in work today and she hasn’t even started it yet. It is something I have to be there for but I know I signed my work contract but Robyn…”

“… Is one of the most important people in your life.” Taron had avoided looking to his director but had to glance his way. “When is her training again?”

“Tomorrow, first thing. It’s a one-day refresher course. Even if I could finish a bit earlier so I could make my way to hers for when she was finished.” His whole face fell when he saw Matthew shake his head. “Matthew…”

“Let me shuffle some things around Taron so you can leave early tomorrow to be with Robyn as soon as you can.” Matthew picked up his pen and moved some pages to find the schedule for tomorrow.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He looked Taron. “That woman means everything to you and I know you love her and wouldn’t be asking me to leave the set unless it was important to you. I am sure I can re-arrange the whole weekend so we can concentrate on the scenes you aren’t in. Like I said earlier, we are ahead of schedule. I can look at moving some scenes to next Saturday instead. I know you had the day off.”

“Matthew, thank you. That would be great. I will put the extra hours in next weekend. Really. An all-nighter if you need it.”

“Taron…”

“I just need to be there for her tomorrow. I cannot let her do this training alone.”

“Taron…”

“She is already starting to have nightmares about Florida again and I know if I was there with her, it would mean so much to her and...” He stopped talking when he felt a hand on his. “Sorry.”

Matthew gave the very worried and fretting man in front of him a supportive smile. “No need to say sorry. It’s no problem Taron. She’s a wonderful woman and I wouldn’t want her even trying to go through something like that on her own. Let me look at it during dinner later and we can figure something out for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Go back and finish your lunch or at least try. We have about two more hours in front of us and then dinner where I will have more time then to look at a plan for the weekend.”

“Thanks Matthew.” Taron got to his feet and headed out in the rain, slowly walking back to his trailer not even bothered by the large wet drops falling on his head. He threw his half-finished lunch into the bin and then poured his can of Coke down the sink, no interest in eating anything, his earlier hunger long gone. Taking the steps in the bedroom, he fell forward onto the bed, his legs dangling off the end, a long sigh causing his body to rise and fall. He couldn’t have been more thankful for the kind understanding of his director who without a second thought wanted to help him out in leaving set tomorrow so he could get to Robyn but even with the relief of getting to go to her, frustrated was only one way to describe how he was feeling right now as well as slightly let down by Robyn and her incessant need to block everyone out when things got tough for her. After her time with him for her birthday and how quickly she let him in, he was taken back at how swiftly she had taken on to keeping everything in again, but then she hadn’t even told him about the first aid training and knowing it was happening the whole time during her birthday weekend, it was another obvious clue as to why her nightmares had started to return. When Taron thought he had finally gotten through to her, to figure her out, she just closed off to him and he felt let down by her actions. Always telling him she was there for him, when he offered her the same courtesy, she preferred to shut him out and it hurt him deeply.

His head turned when there was a sharp knock at his door and a loud call of his name, his call that lunch was over and he had to return to set.

“Be right there!” He yelled back.

Groaning he pulled himself up from the bed and to his feet. He was trying to keep his emotions from turning, from letting his building annoyance cloud his mind especially when he knew it wasn’t the mood he needed right now as he was due back on set. He shuffled out of his hoodie and picked up the slightly wet shirt from the floor, slipping back into it, shivering as the cold met his skin. They were carrying on from where they had left off before Matthew called for lunch, a new scene but in the same clothes and he needed to get back into the shirt he been wearing, despite the fact it was still a little wet. Leaving his phone on the bed, Taron headed out of the trailer and back into the rain, walking towards the closed set, turning his attention to his work but in the back of his mind thinking about how he was going to be there for Robyn as he told her he always would be, but also desperately needing to make her see that she couldn’t keep hiding these things from him.

To help give Taron extra time with Robyn, Matthew was true to his word and re-organised their filming schedule so he could have the whole weekend off. Though it gave Taron very little time to prepare for the additional scene he was given to film late that night but it worked in his favour though as the script called for an uncertain and nervous atmosphere for the character he was playing as he faced his scripted father who strolled in drunk in the early hours of the morning from a bar. Matthew was happy with the adlibbing he ended up with when Taron stammered through dialogue he couldn’t quite remember, his fear of forgetting his lines, mingling well with the fear of facing another on screen beating, calling cut just after two am, thanking all for working later than expected, giving everyone a late start the next morning.

Tired and further emotionally drained from the unexpected filming, thinking the tough scene was going to be worked on next weekend, just after three in the morning Taron was throwing some clothes into a backpack, not really watching with what he was picking up, heading into the bathroom of the flat he was staying in to grab some toiletries too. He was so thankful to Matthew for organising for him to have the whole weekend off and before he tried to get some sleep, was packing a quick bag for his visit to Robyn. Matthew had even prearranged a ride for him to Kilcreen though had to try very hard to convince Taron that leaving at six am was a ridiculous plan when he needed to sleep and Robyn would more than likely still be in bed and he couldn’t just appear on her front door step just after eight in the morning. So, having to wait until the car arrived for him at nine, he was ordered to try and get some sleep but instead of trying to lay down and rest, he jumped into the shower, hopping around a little as the water scalded him until he managed to get the temperature right and just stood, letting the stream flood his face, his eyes closed tight. As much as he knew he wanted to there to support Robyn and help her through her training, he was so nervous about facing the CPR again. He struggled through it last year but now with how close he had grown to Robyn, how much he had grown to love her, how he fallen in love with her, it was going to be particularly difficult watching her battle with the reason he was still alive. He could only imagine how she was feeling knowing she was going to have relive every movement of going through the motions of those terrifying moments when her hands were the only thing keeping his blood pumping.

After he gave his hair a quick wash, his body an extra-long soap using the same lime shower gel Robyn always had in her home, he quickly dried off and pulled on a pair of boxers and climbed into the bed, flicking off the bedside light before crawling right under the covers, dragging the pillow with him so he could get comfortable tucked into himself. He had forgotten his fleece throw that Robyn gave him and he missed it terribly knowing exactly where he had left it, folded neatly on the end of his couch in London. He had left without it, not even thinking to pick it up as he was on the phone to Matthew on the way out to catch his lift to the airport and as it always helped him sleep, now he longed for the comfort it brought him at the end of long day on set. He shuffled a little further into the bed, tucking the duvet right up to his chin and where before he was aching for Robyn’s hands on his neck, now he was desperate for a cuddle, a warm body to snuggle into. He had already set an alarm for eight and the glow from the clock on the bedside locker told him he would get a little longer than four hours of sleep if he actually managed to sleep. His mind was running in troubled circles and knew nothing was going to soothe his worried thoughts until he saw Robyn tomorrow or rather in a few hours and give her the hug he knew she was going to desperately need and him too.

#Love #Friendship #Anger #Worries #Broken Trust #Emotions #Emotional Distress #Upset #Hurt #Robyn and Taron

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