#the lack of kissing really stands out SO much when compared to them even just 6 months ago

[bugsbenefit]

i'm still hung up on how El and Mike didn't kiss in s4 anymore after the peck in the airport (which was also cut off by Mike shoving flowers in front of him and telling El to back up so she doesn't squish them). like. yes that is a Statement to make for any couple on a show... but that's also just genuinely insane for them, by Their standard

it completely subverts their relationship dynamic we've seen. had this been any other couple on the show it would still be a bad sign for them but it wouldn't stand out so much. but they made out on screen Twice in s3. on Two Separate Occasions. so this was clearly NORMAL for them. people Complained about them just kissing even the Audience did, it was kind of a running joke back then. but then come s4 and neither of them even try to initiate it anymore? not even before they get into their fight? does kissing just not do it for them anymore? why? (they're both ga-)

Mike got that Horribly uncomfortable kiss he didn't want at the end of s3 and went "okay, so that was enough of that forever now😁👍"? and El Also didn't bother anymore? she might have been mad about the "From Mike" thing but she still wanted to have a cute date but kissing clearly never came up regardless

they don't try to initiate anything. not even when reuniting in the desert, which would feel like the most Natural moment to kiss, from relief, closeness, being separate for a while, etc. but no. neither of them leans in. neither of them seems to have interest in kissing each other anymore

pressing their foreheads together and hugging is enough. that's the closeness they want. kissing doesn't even seem to cross either of their minds there's not even a millisecond glance down to lips at any point

s4 was the final nail in the coffin for them. but the fact that the season already Started with the downgrade form making out as the opening of s3 to quick peck on the lips sometime in e2 that Mike stops and neither ever try to repeat... okay

[misctf]

i don't get it, why are the jocks nice to me? No one else notices me, the socially outcasted and alone BC I don't fit in anywhere , I'm. Not smart, athletic or real hot, all I do I quietly draw

But the jocks, along with the cheerleaders come up to me and chat, they seem like really good ppl, a lot of the times they all show up in their football kits and cheer uniforms,

Idk how I got into this situation, how am I ? The so not special guy, hanging out with the most popular ppl in the school.

There all so hot, athletic and nice to me, if only I could play football to any extent, so I could play with them 😅

“Dude, sick drawings. You an artist or somethin’?”

When Chet approached you in your college’s library, you were initially surprised. As someone not used to the attention, you were taken aback by the muscular hunk in front of you. His tank-top showing off his impressive arms. The shit-eating smirk plastered on his handsome face, conveying his confidence. You blush and meekly replied that you liked to draw. His dumb chuckle fills the room.

“Fuck bro, you’re talented.”

That was a few days ago. And ever since then, you couldn’t help but notice all the attention you were getting. A few of the other jocks on the football team approached you, all clamoring about your artwork. Even a few of the cheerleaders came up to you, gushing over your art and how cute you were. It didn’t make much sense to you, but you weren’t complaining. If anything, it made you want to get closer to them. Besides, it felt nice. And for the first time in a while, you felt special.

When Chet sent you a text asking if you wanted to hang out, you felt nervous. Even if they were nice to you, the idea of hanging out seemed like a huge next step. You initially declined, but he practically begged you to come by. Although somewhat anxious, you agreed. And before you knew it, you were standing outside his dorm room. When he opened the door, you were initially taken aback by the musky smell. And it became all too obvious that he hadn’t showered, or done laundry in weeks. But you were a bit more focused on his exposed torso. His meaty pecs and abs on full display. The outline of his cock shamelessly displayed in his grey sweatpants. That same smirk plastered on his face.

“Fuck yeah dude! So glad you could make it.”

You look around his relatively empty room. Besides the beer cans, dirty clothing, and gaming set-up, it was pretty plain. There were a few Chemistry textbooks messily scattered on his desk. Odd, you think, he didn’t really seem the type. But also on his desk were a few drawings. Or at least attempts. They weren’t nearly as good as yours, but it looked like he was trying.

“Yeah man, you inspired me.” He chuckles, “But I ain’t no artist.”

That much was evident. You reassure him that practice makes perfect and laugh awkwardly, but he just stares at you. His eyes glisten with a hint of mischief. And before you know it, he crushes his lips to yours. Your eyes widen as he passionately kisses you, and you can taste the beer and protein shakes on his breath. He breaks the kiss and smiles.

“Come on, let’s see what you’re packin’.” He says, helping you remove your shirt.

His hands roam your body. Compared to him, you lack muscle. And years of avoiding the gym and eating whatever you want has certainly given you some pudge. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He continues to feel your body, and you moan at his sensual touch. So caught up in the moment, you fail to realize the impact his touch is having on your unimpressive body. How your fat begins to dissolve away, leaving you thin and lean. But not for too long. You grunt as your muscles come alive. Contracting and relaxing rapidly. Building on themselves. You wince as your biceps pop into glorious existence. Your triceps follow quickly and you lean into him as he caresses your new arms.

“What’s happening...”

“Don’t worry.” He reassures.

He kisses you again, and this time you feel a heaviness in your chest. Your pecs expand rapidly, forming two bouncy muscle tits. He squeezes your hardened nipples, sending a wave of pleasure through your growing form, and you nearly pass out as he gives your pecs a firm squeeze. Abs pop into existence soon after. And you groan as your already hard cock expands further, adding at least an additional 5 inches.

“Almost there.” He continues.

And this time, when his lips collide with your new cock-suckers, you feel something is wrong. It’s as if he’s sucking something out of you. Draining you. But as your mind continues to dim, you don’t really seem to care. You lean into his kiss willingly. And when you do, your eyes glaze over and become half-lidded. Any intelligence you may have had is gone. But it’s so much more than that. Your skills as an artist are quickly stolen from you. Any potential you had, stolen by the handsome jock in front of you. And when he finally breaks the kiss, he can’t help but grin at the dumb, vacant look in your eyes.

“Fuck bro, that was great.” He says, wiping some drool from your lip, “Thanks for that. Who needs art lessons when you can just take it, right bro?”

You nod and chuckle, more drool falling from the side of your mouth. You look down and bounce your pecs, totally enamored by your hulking body.

“Huh, usually we’d let ya join the team.” Chet says. He snaps his fingers in front of you, without getting any reaction, “But, I doubt you have the brains to follow even the most basic instructions.” He smirks, “But I’m sure I can find another way for you to play.” He slaps your muscular ass, “What do ya say, waterboy?”

So maybe you don’t get to play football with the team how you wanted. But the team certainly enjoys playing with you. After every game, they’d find you in the locker room with your ass up. Ready to help them wind down after a tough game. Rest assured, they certainly still think you’re special. And they still give you plenty of attention. So have fun, bro.

[n-agiz]

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHTㅤ boyfriend! fushiguro toji x fem! reader — smut [ 0.7k+ wc ] cws public sex + risky sex + exhibitionism + creampies + lots of bickering, pls don't take this too seriously bc i didn't either lmao ! MDNI

ㅤtoji's ideas were more often than not odd, but you had to admit that even through his craziness, the man knew how to give you a great time.

you avoided going out with toji as much as you could — not because you were ashamed of your boyfriend in any way, but because he had a chronic lack of common sense.

“toji stop for the love of god! there’s people around” you half whispered half screamed, pushing his built body as far away from you as the cramped cubicle allowed you to. they were designed for one person to stand inside them while trying on clothes, not for two people to be inside, and this was the first time where that fact became painfully obvious in your eyes.

“i don’t believe in god sweetheart, you know that” toji said through a grin, putting way less effort into trying to conceal his voice to a lower tone, especially when compared to you.

“that’s not the point”

“then what is the point?”

“that we can’t fuck with this many people around!”

toji laughed at your attempts to hide your hysteria, watching as you resigned to half shouting instead of letting your voice rise to the volume you would usually allow it to while reprimanding him, all while also having to focus on getting dressed and pushing your boyfriend away any time he tried to touch you.

“it’s more fun that way though, you know i’ve always wanted to fuck with an audience”

“today is not the day we’re gonna do that, i’m sorry to break it to you”

“you sure about that?”

and exactly because your boyfriend was most definitely the incarnation of some demon to at least some degree, not more than a few minutes were necessary before he proved you to be completely wrong.

“look at me and tell me this doesn’t feel good, angel. just try to do that”

your arms burned from holding yourself up with your palms pressed against the wide mirror in front of you, legs shaking and knees buckling all while your eyes grew glossy, their corners burning as you bit harshly into your lower lip, keeping in any moan that attempted to escape.

how toji managed to stay so put together all while making a complete mess out of you was absolutely beyond you — but one thing you were sure of, he was driving you insane all while so effortlessly making you feel as if you had finally found heaven on earth.

“not gonna bicker with me anymore? weird, you’re usually more feisty than this”

“shut the fuck up toji before i slap you and your naked ass out of this dressing room”

“really? i wanna see you try to do that” he replied, fingers digging deeper into where they held at your hips while delivering a particularly hard thrust, grunting lowly against your ear, eyes staying glued to yours through the reflection on the mirror facing you both.

“fuck you”

“you already are!”

toji’s enthusiasm and smirk annoyed you, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully care, the snap of his hips into yours and the pleasure it gave you entirely too entrancing. the drag of his cock in and out of you was heavenly, and the constant reminder that you needed to stay quiet so you wouldn’t get caught was surprisingly arousing, more of your slick gushing out any time you reminded yourself that the only thing separating you two from complete strangers was a thin curtain.

how you managed to stay up long enough to not only reach an orgasm but also be able to feel toji filling you up was something you weren’t sure off — you just knew that by the end of it you were not satisfied like supposed, instead feeling greedier than you were at the beginning.

“aren’t you such a naughty girl” he grinned, one hand on your waist while the other found it’s place between your thighs, stuffing two fingers inside you to stop his cum from spilling out, humming as he felt you kiss down the side of his neck, pressing your chest into his.

“this is all your fault”

“it better be, wouldn’t want my girlfriend all horny in a dressing room over some random guy”

“just shut up toji, you talk too much”

“but also fuck you better than anyone ever could, so are you really gonna complain?”

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[loveliestlovelygirl]

one of his girls

finnick odair x gn!reader

synopsis: stuck in a long elevator ride with finnick odair himself, he promises to save you a dance at the capitol party. with him, you become the center of attention instantly. the guests watch in envy, most of them wishing they were you. but finnick has his own motives for his pursuit of you.

w.c: 2.2K+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, implied sex trafficking, alcohol, capitol party, social hierarchy, sexual content, lack of aftercare

Finnick’s suit jacket is navy but darker. Something like a midnight blue. The fabric is shiny, so shiny that you can faintly see your reflection on his bicep.

“Pretty.”

Startled that he would speak to you or even notice that you were standing beside him. You are a nobody compared to him. “T-thank you,” you stutter. His voice is enticing in a way. Not deep. But unapologetically masculine and yet soft at the same time. It haunts you. Any reply you could fathom would be but nonsense.

He chuckles. His smile is big. “Oh, I meant my suit.”

Suddenly, the elevator you are riding in together seemed even smaller. You can’t escape your embarrassment. It suffocates you entirely. Completely mortified by your assumption, you hang your head to hide your building tears. Why do I have to be such an idiot!

The hundreds of people at the party above would kill to be in this elevator with him. And you choose to act a fool.

When Finnick turns your way, you glance up just enough to really view his outfit. His shirt is made from a sheer black fabric, and his jacket is left open. You can see every ripple along his abdomen. You curse yourself for noticing.

“You are too though.” He leans down a bit to meet your eyes. “I just like this suit, don’t you?”

“Yes, it… becomes you.”

Finnick gives you a satisfied smirk. “Ah, my first compliment of the night.”

You cover your mouth to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be drowning in them by the end.”

“If only that weren’t true,” he notes, leaning against the back wall. “It’s hard being loved by all.”

You laugh again. While everyone goes on and on about his incomparable beauty, they’ve never mentioned his humorous side. But you wonder if maybe there is some truth to his statement. Maybe he doesn’t like being in the limelight so often. He’s always a main attraction at Capitol parties. Everyone tries to go home with him.

You admire Finnick’s makeup. The coal liner that brings out his green eyes. And the gold flecks on his pink cheeks, matching his golden hair. “You really do look pretty, Finnick,” you say to him.

He nods. “I have to. The scandal I would cause if I were underdressed. You know me, always the attention whore.” He says that with a hint of disgust that maybe he didn’t intend for your ears.

The elevator comes to a stop before you have a chance to ask what he meant by that. Finnick waves to you.

“I’ll save you a dance, darling.”

Everyone fiercely fights for Finnick’s attention through the batting of eyelashes, assaulting him with compliments, and insincere kisses to his golden cheeks. You watch him accept their adoration with gracious elegance that only he has. When they flirt with him, he flirts back flawlessly, without skipping a beat. From this outside view it seems to come so naturally to him. It looks like he thrives when he’s adored. Most people wouldn’t know how to handle the attention. They would suffocate from the weight of it all. But not Finnick Odair. You figure he’s seen so much in his life that nothing phases him. Nothing at all.

While he’s in the center of the room, you draw near to the sidelines. You nibble at the food and sip white wine. Finnick has been too busy the entire night entertaining guests that he has no time for enjoying a meal. You hope he ate before.

From the dessert bar, you watch him dancing with a loudly dressed man with green hair. The way their bodies move together is fluid. Finnick can dance. In fact, he’s very skilled with the way he controls his partner all in the rhythm of the music. Perhaps your envy causes you to avert your gaze, and you walk around to the opposite side of the bar so that you no longer have to watch. You know that your encounter in the elevator meant nothing to Finnick. His calling you pretty means nothing. He flirts with everyone he can.

You lose yourself to chocolate and your self-effacing thoughts. And you don’t notice when he sneaks up behind you. When Finnick’s hand touches your shoulder, you nearly jump.

“Hello, Finnick,” you mutter, not turning to look at his face.

“I noticed you were watching me.”

You shrug. “Everyone was. He seems… fun.”

“I don’t care about everyone.” He steps around you and wedges himself between you and the bar. “Are you…” he leans in, staring at you suspiciously, “jealous?”

“Of him?” you balk at his presumptuousness. “You—”

“He’s obsessed with me,” Finnick scoffs. “And I hate him. But…” his lips ghost your ear, “he’s close to our beloved president.” He steps away from you after he says that. “But that’s just between you and me.”

A little stunned that he would share a private detail of his affairs with you, you’re caught at a loss for words. “I have no one to tell.”

His fingers slip between yours. “Don’t you? You frequent these gatherings.”

Quickly, you remove your hand from his. “My mother insists that I make an appearance. She’s working on marital arrangements for me as we speak.”

Finnick nods. “I see. I suppose it was a little self-assured for me to believe you came for me.”

“Plenty do.”

Turning his face toward the crowd, he watches them dance and laugh, drink and eat. “It’s true. They know they might get something from me.”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

He looks back to you and centers his gaze upon your eyes. “You don’t act like them. You don’t gorge yourself on extravagant pleasures as they do. You’re not from the Capitol, are you?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m from a lesser district. I was adopted.”

“I pity you. You would have been better off back home.” Finnick reaches behind you and grabs a drink. He leans back to swallow. “I count down the days until I can go back to mine. But… it’s uncertain when I will be allowed to go back.”

You look at him quizzically. “Allowed?”

He smiles cheekily, acknowledging that you heard him correctly. He means for you to know that. “You should dance with me,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. He grabs your wrist with his big hand, his grip so strong that you could never overpower his might. His strength is god-like, a formidable weapon in a fight. But with you… he uses his strength gently.

There is no use denying him his wishes. Finnick pulls you along to the middle of the dance floor where you both quickly become the center of attention. The faces that never bothered to give you a second glance are staring at you unashamedly. But it’s all because of the man who holds you in his arms.

They’re jealous of you… for once.

Finnick leads you in the dance, both arms about your waist and holding you close to him. His cologne warms your senses. His scent is potent and tempting, and you only wish to get closer to him. But with where you stand right now, that’s quite impossible without taking off all your clothes.

You hold onto his neck as you sway to the beat of melody filling the room. He moves your body in time with his. You follow his lead completely. Being in the spotlight magnifies every flaw you can conceive of for everyone to see and tease you for. The blinding light of Finnick’s stardom no doubt makes it worse. No one looks pretty standing beside him.

You press your face against his suit jacket to hide yourself. You can’t take it anymore, looking all around the room and seeing all those judgmental expressions directed toward you. Holding onto Finnick keeps your grounded. He makes you feel safe. As you dance you begin to understand why so many obsess over his attention. Regardless of whether or not it is genuine, it feels that way. Every touch, every look feels real. And it makes you crave more. More of him. And it’s disgusting how quickly he’s made you harbor lustful feelings towards him.

Every time he looks down at you with his mesmerizing gaze, he gives you fuck me eyes. Every single time.

Like now.

You pull at the collar of his jacket and giggle. “Finnick… you can’t look at me like that.”

He lifts your chin. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” His tone is playfully cautious.

“You might make me fall—” you stop, shaking your head, backing away one step to put distance between your bodies.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. Tonight. I’m all yours.” He pulls you back in a spin, leans in close to your ear, lips grazing. “A favor you might… repay one day.”

“What kind of favor are you asking for?” You can’t believe you’re considering his offer. But there’s something about him. How can you resist the pull? You’re only human.

“I know who you are. I know you have a house in your district 7. I need a haven and transportation to the location. Until the storm blows over.” Finnick tells you these things with a big smile on his face.

“Storm? What storm?”

“I’m leaving the capitol. Very soon. You’re the last piece of the puzzle.”

You laugh at him as if he’s crazy. “Why would you want to leave the Capitol, Finnick? You can have everything you want.”

He turns serious for a moment. “I don’t want everything. I just want to go home. I have a connection in your district.”

“Okay,” you say. “I can make arrangements for you.”

Pulling you in closer, Finnick’s eyes drift over your lips. “So shall we head upstairs?”

You interlace your fingers in his and give him a nod. This is not how you expected the evening to turn out. Not at all. Your little interaction with Finnick in the elevator wasn’t meant to lead to this. But he pursued you… and his reasons are clear to you now.

When you’re alone with him in one of the upstairs rooms designated for illicit activities, you look around the four walls that surround you. You’re here while they’re stuck beneath you. You’re where the rest of them long to be.

Alone with Finnick Odair.

He pours you a drink and brings it to you. You sip at the sour liquid while he watches you.

“Look into my eyes, sweetheart.” He’s looking into yours, his irises almost as dark as emeralds in the dim lighting. Rolling back his shoulders, his suit jacket hits the floor. You see his skin through his sheer shirt. You’re sure that’s the point of it. He wants people to look at his body.

It worked on you. Easily.

Under the glitzy chandelier, crystal droplets catch the light and enhance his glow. Finnick slowly reveals himself to you, undressing to please you. The darkness in his eyes is alluring, and it draws you to him. The low lights, the incense burning, and the alcohol in your hand are meant to seduce you, as if having Finnick all to yourself is somehow not enough.

His expensive clothes are left behind when he approaches you. His long arm pulls you close, and he holds you against him, his body warm and comforting.

“My drink,” you say, “it spilled.”

Finnick takes the glass from your hand and drinks what’s left. His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He tosses the glass somewhere, and it lands in a crash.

“Someone will clean that up,” he notes, taking both your hands and leading you across the room. “Just focus on your desires.” He grins ear to ear. “Focus on me.”

With the way he looks tonight, that’s the easiest thing in the whole world. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you throw yourself into his arms, and Finnick gracefully catches you. And for the first time, you share a kiss with him, two worlds colliding for a moment and an eternity all at once. You feel hazy in wonder. The maneuvering of his mouth pulls and demands the greatest pleasure from you. Never have you been kissed this way before. From the rumors you have heard, few rival Finnick Odair as a lover.

Together, you collapse on the sofa, your body on top of his, your lips never breaking contact. You kiss him all over his face, leaving lipstick prints on his cheeks and forehead. Finnick turns swiftly and pulls you under him, holding you down with his bodyweight and warmth. His skin against yours feels so right somehow, despite the situation. The excitement sparks across your skin, every place he touches with his hands, his fingers, and his mouth as he sucks on the pulse point of your neck.

He unzips the back of your outfit and traces down the ridges on your spine. At the same time, you pause to gaze into the other’s eyes. In that moment, you know you’re thinking the same thing, and soon you find yourself tangled in silken bedsheets.

You’re naked under him. This is the first time you’ve been intimate with someone you barely know. But you feel safe with him. He’s gentle, warming you up first before he truly makes a move. It’s skin on skin, two beating hearts, nails digging into flesh and leaving red marks. The echoes of his smooth voice reverberating in your ears, over and over. Over and over. When he’s inside you, you suddenly discover an insatiable side to your own desires. Passion takes over your body, and you can’t get enough of him and the little freak he’s unraveling in your soul.

The bed shakes and creaks, and in a fleeting glance, you look out from under him, you wondering if the pictures on the wall would crash down over you.

You grasp at his skin, the sheets, the headboard, in attempt to hold out, to let this last a little longer. To enjoy him because it’s unlikely that, once he makes his escape, you’ll see him again. Not like this, at least.

You cry when it hits. That rush, crashing into you like a wave. Finnick backs off soon after, giving you space. You’re not even sure if he felt the same.

You lie there for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling. And eventually he leaves you without another word or loving touch. You know that this was all a favor, but you can’t help but fall a little for him. Everyone does.

But you’re just one of his girls. A means to an end.

add yourself to my taglist!! @jaanefitoor @minniluvs @parkersvogue @marvelxhrry @motherphoebe @marcyss @hasalazzo @shaysevxx @miserablebl00d @junoxstevens @heroinhchicblog222 @hoslunix @ellenonesblog @theycantseeus @arxtixmonkeysxxx @lingerologist @mistyyrooms @scoliobean

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤmike schmidt x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, pwp

word count: 1.8k

summary: mike is in some dire need of control in his life, and you're prepared to give that to him.

warnings: soft bondage, unprotected piv, oral (mike receiving), dirty talk, good girl, mike thoroughly enjoying you begging, creampie

a/n: i've been thinking about this man's tie for way too long, i had to do something about it. i also blame @cupofjoel for fully dragging me down this new hyperfixation. You can thank her for reminding me that Mike has a squeaky bed 💜

**divider made by @saradika xx

You sit patiently on top of Mike’s squeaky bed. It’s a gray morning. Clouds hover thick above the city, soft rain droplets hitting the window panels. You look out, observe each and every drop that trickles down. You miss him. It’s been a rough month, his new job at Freddy Fazbear’s really hammering the fact that Mike’s not well. His guilt and grief heightening with every passing night. Which was why you offered that Abby should stay with your roommate, at least for one night, and Abby adored staying at your place. You had even bought her a brand new sketchbook and a new set of crayons. 

Finally, the door creaks and without even meaning to you jump. The sky is darker than ever now, the rain getting heavier by the minute. Your eyes shift to the entrance of the bedroom, only to see a tired Mike staring back at you. 

“Hey,” he greets you, voice hoarse from lack of sleep. “Sorry, I’m late.” 

“Long night?”

“Yeah.” 

He shuts the door behind him and makes his way to you while loosening his tie. Your eyes linger over his hands, his neck. Mike swallows thickly, and your mouth dries at the sight of his Adam’s apple moving. You part your legs and he drops to his knees between them, he cradles your face so soft that your heart stutters a bit. His thumb draws lazy circles over your skin before he brings you to his lips, tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you. “Missed you,” he gasps, following the confession with another kiss. 

Mike drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin, a breathy moan escapes your lips. “Missed you too,” you answer. Your fingers move down the fabric of his tie, you twist your wrists, circling the smooth and cold material around your skin. “Use me,” you whisper into his mouth. “Show me how much you missed me.” 

When you’re as desperate for control as Mike is, it’s hard to resist such a request. 

He tugs at the tie, it slips away smoothly from underneath his collar and finds its place around your wrists. Not too tight and not too loose. He makes a hurried knot, the type that you know he’ll be struggling to loosen when all of this is over. 

Mike stands and takes a step back, his forefinger hooked around the tie, he pulls you along with him. Your breath catches as you fall to your knees. His cock strains against the fabric of his pants and all you can do is stare. Arousal builds between your legs, your thighs helplessly moving against each other for some kind of relief. Lips parted, Mike pulls down your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and then follows the outline of it. 

“So pretty,” he says. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes.” 

His lips press together with a curt nod. You can see the muscles in his jaw tensing, the veins in his neck more visible compared to how they usually are. With one hand he unzips himself, your heart beats rapidly as the same hand slips underneath the waistband. His pants slip down a bit, exposing more skin. Pulling out his cock, he strokes himself only inches away from your face. Precome gathers at the tip. The head a beautiful shade of red. You try to remember when was the last time you got to enjoy each other this way and you can’t. 

Mike lifts your arms by the tie, “Open your mouth.” And you do. You stick out your tongue as he slips into your wanting mouth. He thrusts shallowly in and out, teasing you, using you just like you asked. Your eyes flutter, his cock going deeper down your throat, his head falls back. 

Your fingers twitch and you desperately want to touch yourself. Your underwear dampens with slick, your nipples rising with attention. Mike buries himself into you with fervor, hips snapping into the heat of your mouth. You finally close your lips around him, sucking him hard as the bulbous head of his cock makes you gag around him. 

“Fuck—” He holds himself deep inside, your nose buried in the curls, your nostrils flare as you try to breathe. Your body shudders. Come and saliva drips from the corner of your lips, a mess that goes down the column of your neck. “Feels so good baby. . . look at me.”

You do but barely. Your eyes tear up as you meet his heavy gaze. The brown of his eyes looks almost black. His brows knit together and he pulls out, only to shove every bit of himself inside, he moans with his eyes still fixed on yours and you choke. “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck fuck fuck. Why do you always have to feel so good?”

Suddenly your mouth is left empty and you gasp for air. Your arms fall limply on to your lap. Mike hastily kicks off his boxers and pants, his cock wet and glistening. 

“Get on the bed,” he orders. “On your side. I want to see you when I fuck you.” 

Very clumsily, you get to your feet and move to the bed. The springs squeak at the added weight, the sound nearly buried by the noise of the rain but not quite. Mike rips of his shirt and your stomach bottoms out. His hands squeeze your ass before he tugs off your sweatpants and panties. You gasp at the sudden cool air. Body both cold and aflame. His cock presses against the base of your spine while he gets behind you. His hand nudges between your thighs, lifting one leg over his waist. He feels how wet you are. Feels how badly you want him. With two fingers he plays with your puffy clit, lazily stroking the sensitive nub until a fresh gush of wetness coats him. 

“That’s it. . .” he coos, warm breath fanning your ear. “Such a good, obedient girl.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimper. Your hips roll back, blood rushing to your ears, a hum fills them. You need him so badly that it hurts. Too long. It’s been too long. 

“Mike. . . please. . .” 

“Please,” he mimics you, amused. “God I love the sound of you begging. And actually listening,” he kisses the space right behind your ear. It tickles. “Just one more time, what do you want? Ask very nicely.” 

“Please fuck me. Please.” 

He makes a sound of approval, you feel the press of his forehead against the back of your neck without a word, he fills you to the brim. You’re so wet that he slides in with ease. Your back arches, your jaw grows slack. Pleasure washing over you and licking the base of your neck. His cock throbs balls deep inside of you. 

“Mike,” you whimper. “God, Mike—” 

He takes hold of your chin and forcefully twists you enough to meet his gaze. His one hand slides up your shirt and grabs your breast as he crashes your lips together. His tongue moves eagerly, hips rocking into you. The bed creaks with his every thrust. But you’re too far gone to care about the neighbors. He fucks you until all the air exits your lungs and you part away from his lips, he keeps your head turned to him, watching your eyes become glazed as he hammers into your deeper—harder. 

“Touch yourself,” he says into your mouth. “Make a mess, baby.” 

Another moan drops from your lips when his cock hits you just right, your body quivers and you can barely register what he’s saying. He pinches one of your pebbled nipples and your cunt tightens around him. His pacing slowing down into a leisure roll of hips. 

“If you don’t listen I’m going to stop,” he says, a threat made with the softest of voices. “You don’t want me to stop now do you?” 

“N—No. . .” 

“Then touch yourself.” 

Sniffling, you move your tied hands between your legs. You start to draw tight circles around yourself, your body clenches and your eyes flutter closed. Feels so good. Your cunt flutters around him and his lips touch your cheek, a choked groan made into your skin. 

Mike resumes the pacing of his thrusts. The springs of the bed protesting loudly at the force of his hips. His hand trails down to your stomach and squeezes the soft flesh, the drag of his cock along with the sloppy fingering of your clit makes your head spin. Wet squelches echeo in the room. You’re so close—So damn close—

You cry out, his name dropping from you lips over and over like a chant. You cunt clamps down around him, gushing as he fucks you through it. Your hands ball into fists, your body pushing against his thrusts. He shoves his tongue between your lips and ruts into you, he whimpers. You feel the swell of his cock, his muscles growing taut. 

“Gonna—gonna come—” He hisses through grit teeth, his hips jerk once, twice and by the third time he’s spilling inside, teeth sinking into your neck as he moans loudly. The sounds he makes accompanied by the squeaking bed. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your entire body loose and pliant to his touch. Your breath hitches. Your pussy still squeezing and fluttering around him as he continues to come. He peppers your skin with soft kisses, licking the salt of your skin. 

Mike pulls out with a groan and flips you to your back, he unties your hands, “God, you gotta stop me coming inside,” he huffs, albeit a bit unheartedly. He spreads your legs, watching your glistening cunt overflowing with come. With a heady faze, he pushes it back inside. “You do look good like this, can’t deny that.” 

“Happy that you’re enjoying the view,” you smile. “Now, come here.” 

You spread your arms and he lays on top of you, nuzzling your neck. You hold him tight as his hands lazily caress your hip. “Do you feel better?” 

“I do,” his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, the long night finally catching up to him. Rain still hits the windows, lulling you both into sleep. “We should take a shower,” he mumbles.

“In a bit,” you say, playing with the messy strands of his hair. “I’ll wake you, just rest a bit for me alright?” 

“Yeah. . . okay.” 

It doesn’t take him long to start snowing softly into your skin. Very slowly, you manage to pull a blanket over you both, his come sticky between your legs. Lighting strikes, the room filling with a sudden burst of light. The following roar of thunder doesn’t bother you. 

Seconds later you also fall into the sweet embrace of sleep. The promise to wake him soon forgotten as the two of you find solace in each other’s arms. 

[television-overload]

What Really Happened

(an NCIS fanfic)

September 2024. Tali has some questions about her parents' trip to Paris nearly fifteen years prior, and she's determined to get the details.

Written for the September 2024 Tiva Fic Challenge! This month's prompt was "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?"

Read on AO3

For as long as Tali could remember, her father had told her a story. 

Twenty-four hours in Paris. A whirlwind trip, romantic and magical. The thing is, every time he told the story, it was different. Details changed, dialogue was exaggerated to unbelievable proportions… What it lacked in detail, it made up for in sentimentality. 

“And then I told her she was the most beautiful thing in the city, even prettier than the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles.”

“Did you kiss?” Tali would ask, eyes twinkling.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Now will you go to bed?”

Tali could see, now, he just told her whatever would get her to sleep the quickest. While she hadn’t understood back then, it couldn’t have been easy to be so suddenly thrust into fatherhood with no warning. But it never mattered to her. He was her Abba, and he was the best dad she could have asked for.

“No, tell me more!” she’d demand. “What did Ima look like?”

He would adjust the frame on her bed stand, gazing wistfully at the picture within.

“She looked like an angel, just like you.”

Only a few things stayed the same with every retelling, as far as she could figure: Her mother and father together in Paris, a quaint cafe not far from the tourist sites, and a Vespa scooter that they rode around the city together. 

That all may have suited her just fine as a bedtime story when she was little, but Tali was almost eleven years old, now. She could tell she wasn't being told the full truth, and she had a feeling some of the details he would recite were entirely fabricated. She'd done the math, compared the story with what she knew of their lives before she was born—what others who knew them then had told her. Oh yeah, she had sources.

It just didn’t match up.

Time to test out those detective skills to get to the bottom of it. Surely those were genetic?

There was a box in her parents’ closet. It had been there as long as they’d lived here, shipped over from the U.S. when they first moved. Mostly, she figured it held boring stuff like paperwork and whatever else had been in her father’s desk at NCIS before he quit. But maybe there was more. Maybe it contained all the answers to every question she’d ever wondered about her parents.

Or maybe not.

Kneeling on the floor of the closet, she surveyed the contents of the plain cardboard box. It was a mess of papers. Considering the journey it had taken across an ocean and later from their old apartment to their new one, she wasn’t surprised. There were a few other items mixed in, a colorful stapler with a cartoon mouse on it, a few dusty looking service awards…

And an envelope. Now that looked promising.

Reaching in, she pulled it out, growing more and more certain that what she held was a stack of photographs. Photographs of what, she could only guess. Had she found clues that might explain what her parents had been doing in Paris years before they would ever move here? If not, what other pictures might her father have kept in his desk at work?

She held her breath as she opened it, carefully plucking at the corner of one of the colorful prints as she pulled it from the stack.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tali jumped, only narrowly avoiding throwing the pictures across the room in reflex.

“Ima!” she squeaked, wondering if it was too late to hide them behind her back. The box wasn’t off-limits, per se, but it did have a sort of mystical quality that made digging around in it feel like a breach of some code. It was from a time long past—a time her parents didn’t talk about much, at least when she was around.

But there her mother stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest as she fixed a suspicious glare in her direction.

“I was just—”

Her words trailed off as her mother’s expression quickly shifted from suspicion to curiosity. “What do you have there?” she asked, her folded arms falling to her sides as she made her way across the room, glancing down at the box splayed open in the closet.

Tali held out the envelope. Well, this had been a mission failure, she thought—at least the stealthy, ninja-like aspect of it. It remained to be seen if she had in fact found what she was looking for. 

“Just some pictures, I think,” she mumbled, handing them over reluctantly.

Her ima slipped them out of the envelope and flipped through them, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a wistful smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice singsonged from the entry hall, echoey and distant. 

Her dad. 

He’d started saying that when he got home from work as a joke, but now he did it unironically. It got old pretty quick, but she did find it endearing, in a way. 

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, his voice getting louder and clearer with proximity. Before long, he was peeking his head around the doorway. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?” he asked, taking note of the box at their feet. “I swear I threw out those old magazines before we moved.”

Tali briefly wondered what magazines he could possibly be talking about, and why he would have a physical copy of a magazine in the first place, but she was much more interested in the photos her mom was holding.

“Look what our daughter found,” her ima said, waving the glossy prints in her father’s direction.

“Not the… in California…”

Her ima laughed. “No. Not those ones.”

Her father looked somewhat relieved. “Ah, then it must be the ones from my brief stint as a travel photographer,” he mused aloud, setting his briefcase aside and approaching their huddle by the closet. He took one look at the photos in her hand and grinned. “I still think that’s my favorite picture, by the way,” he said, nodding down at the one she held separate from the others, then dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“I didn’t actually get to see them,” Tali pouted, crossing her arms with a huff. “Ima took them away before I could see what they were.”

Her mother shared a look with her father, communicating in that infuriatingly wordless way they always did. What were they smirking at?

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch in the living room and we can look through them together, my love,” Ima said at last, flicking off the light in the closet. 

Tali supposed that was agreeable. Whatever she had found, she could at least now be certain they were photos from her parents’ past. She followed them out to the sofa, taking a seat between them on the cushions.

“You know what these are?” her mother asked, finally granting her a peek at what she had unearthed from the box.

It took all her self control not to whoop in excitement when she spotted familiar streets and buildings in just the first few photos. 

Jackpot. 

“Dad told me,” she said, smiling as she came across one of Ima looking through postcards at a shop. That must be her father’s favorite. “You guys came to Paris.”

Her mother nodded. “We were sent here for work, that’s right.”

Wait, go back a second.

“For work?” Tali asked, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “Dad never told me that.”  

“He—” Ima’s head slowly turned in her father’s direction, fixing him with a meaningful glare. “What did he tell you?” she asked, her tone light and inquisitive, but Tali could sense the undercurrent of tension her comment had sparked. Dad was in troubleee.

She glanced at him quickly before answering. “Well… It all sounded very… romantic,” she spoke. To her left, her father looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, an awkward grin pulling at his lips. 

Oh, Abba, surely you knew this would one day come back to bite you?

“Tony!” Ima shouted predictably, smacking him in the arm. “Why did you lie to Tali?”

“I didn’t lie to her,” he asserted, chuckling nervously.

“You told me that you kissed her on the Eiffel Tower!” Tali said, adding fuel to the flame. Ima's jaw dropped, and she shot him a look. It was funny to watch her dad squirm. Only Ima could make him do that.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I may have embellished a little,” he acknowledged.

Her mother grabbed the nearest throw pillow off the couch and used it to wallop him in the face, all the while concealing a smile. A woosh of air from the attack blew Tali’s hair back, and she giggled uncontrollably, falling back into the cushions.

“Tony, you have never kissed me on the Eiffel Tower,” she countered irritably.

“I haven’t? Well, we should go fix that,” he said, pretending to get to his feet to leave.

Tali rolled her eyes. “Daaaad.”

He sat back down. “Alright, another time,” he acquiesced. “To be fair, what happened in Paris has always been a bit of a secret between your mom and I. I distinctly remember you lying to Nora on that plane, sweetcheeks.”

“And you lied to McGee,” her mom fired back without missing a beat.

“I knew it,” Tali whispered. Okay, so she knew a little more than she was letting on. Uncle Tim will be delighted that she got a confession out of them.

“I’ll admit it,” Dad started, getting serious once more. “The bedtime story version wasn’t quite the truth.” 

Well yeah, that was obvious. 

“The truth is, we were on assignment for NCIS,” he continued. “Not very romantic, huh? I guess the way I told it is how I wish it had happened. How it should have happened, if I hadn’t been such a coward.”

This brought a fond, slightly sad smile to her mother’s face, and Tali could feel an arm drape over the back of the couch behind her.

“I wouldn’t say it was entirely unromantic,” Ima said, her fingers playing with the short hair at the back of her dad’s head. “She is old enough to hear this story, yes?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree with her.

“Most of it,” he answered, breathing out a laugh. “I think she can live without the knitting needle incident until she’s a little older.”

“Agreed.”

Tali crossed her legs on the couch, looking back and forth between her parents. She waited with bated breath for the story to begin, but they sure were taking their sweet time.

Sometimes this happened. They'd just go silent and stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces until someone or something snapped them out of it. It was annoying.

“Hello?” she said, hopefully reminding them of her presence. “You were saying?”

Her dad was the first to break eye contact, reaching out for the stack of photos and flipping through them.

“Right,” he started. “Do you want to start, or should I, sweetcheeks?”

“You go,” Ima said with a nod. “I want to see if you are capable of remembering this correctly.”

Dad opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tali, with the gift of foresight, distracted him with a question before he could start.

“So, what was the assignment?” she asked, blinking up at him imploringly.

“Protection detail,” he answered, shifting his attention back to her. “A witness who needed safe passage back to the U.S. for a trial. Nora was her name.”

“So you just went there to pick her up and that was it?” Tali asked, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. How boring would that be? No, she knew they had fond memories of the trip. There had to be more than that.

“Pretty much,” her dad answered. “But we flew in the day before, so we got to explore a little bit.”

“Tell me!”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head at Tali's eagerness.

“Your father wouldn't stop making movie references the entire time we were in the city,” she said. “I think as soon as we stepped foot in the airport, he thought we were on some kind of grand adventure. I had to remind him we were there on business, and that we needed to check into the hotel before doing anything else.”

“You should have seen McGee's face when the Director picked us to go,” her dad said with a laugh. “Oh, it was priceless.”

“What happened next?” Tali implored.

Her father crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, your mom convinced me that we needed to go drop our stuff off at the hotel first, so we caught a taxi. Secretly, I think she just wanted to freshen up, fix her hair and makeup and all that after being stuck on a plane for so long. She had a crush on me back then, you know.”

His eyes met her ima’s here, one eyebrow twitching upward teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Ima said, rolling her eyes.

“It's true!”

“Not a crush, that was earlier. This was something different.”

“Looove?” he singsonged, his grin infectious.

“Nooo,” Ima sang right back, matching his tone. “I do not know. Maybe. I do not think even I knew what it was at the time.”

“Well I was pretty in love with you,” he responded, practically radiating heart eyes in her direction. “Obviously.”

“You were not so obvious. I thought you were just being a goofball,” Ima spoke.

Any easy mistake, Tali thought.

“I was trying to flirt with you, but clearly I didn't succeed,” he corrected. “You know, Tali, your mom refused to go sightseeing with me.”

Tali turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Why?”

“We had a mission, I was trying to keep things professional,” she said in her defense. “It was in the best interest of our witness that we get a good night's rest and stay on task.”

Yeah, but that sounded boring.

Her father, evidently, agreed. “You're no fun,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I went to dinner with you, didn't I?” Ima asked.

He begrudgingly nodded. “She did go to dinner with me, I'll give her that.”

“And was the dinner not romantic?”

“Hard to find somewhere to eat that doesn't fit that description in this city,” he countered.

Ziva waved her hand in the air with finality. “There you go.”

Tali couldn’t help but feel that they’d gotten a little off track, but it was still fun to hear about their time together before she was born. She tried to picture them, younger than she’d ever seen them and probably a little wilder, too. She wanted to know more.

“So you went to dinner,” Tali summarized, nudging them to tell the rest of the story. “You didn't go anywhere else?”

Ima jumped in next. “Well, your father… He had rented a scooter—you know about the scooter,” she said, referring to the one in the picture Tali still kept on her nightstand. Tali nodded emphatically. This was one element of the story that had remained consistent throughout every retelling. Her mother continued, “He got us so lost on the way back to the hotel after dinner, that eventually I had to tell him to stop so I could ask someone for directions.”

At this, her father looked highly pleased with himself, his small smile concealing an even wider grin. 

“Can I let you in on a little secret, sweetcheeks?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where we were the whole time.”

Ima’s jaw dropped open, and Tali thought her dad was lucky that Ima was all out of pillows on her side of the couch that could be used as ammunition.

“Tony! We drove around for at least an hour!” she chastised. 

“Exactly! How else was I going to take you to look at the pretty lights around the city, or to all the big tourist sites?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“Come on, you loved it,” he said knowingly, tilting his head at her. “You got to put your arms around me for a whole hour.”

Ima raised an eyebrow and Tali could tell she was determinedly resisting the urge to laugh. “Are you sure that was not your motivation for it, then?”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he answered easily. “If that was the only time I'd get to feel your arms around me, I was gonna make the most of it.”

Blegh, Tali thought. That was one thing that made her different from most kids in her class. Her parents really really loved each other. And they weren’t afraid to show it.

“I did enjoy it,” Ima admitted. “I liked that cologne you used to wear.”

“Well, that's good,” he said, smiling, “I practically drenched myself in it whenever I knew I'd be working in close quarters with you. I think maybe I hoped it would be like some kind of magic potion that would make you fall madly in love with me.”

“I guess it worked,” her mother teased with a shrug, which her father got a kick out of.

“I guess it did,” he said. “Though I hope you love me for more than just the way I smell. That cologne went out of production years ago.”

Ima’s eyes shone, equal parts charmed and amused. “I do. You know I do.” 

His lips pulled back in a smile and he leaned forward, meeting Ima’s lips with his own right in front of Tali. She was practically squished between them, forced to endure their display of affection at close range.

“Would you two like to sit next to each other?” she asked, unimpressed. “I feel like I'm not even here.”

Her parents withdrew, her father suppressing a laugh. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Dinner,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he started. “Well, before dinner, we walked around for a bit, looked at all the little shops. That's when I took this picture of your Ima,” he said, holding out the one of her at the postcard stand. “Pretty good, huh?”

“I still think it would look better in black and white,” Ima spoke, looking at it with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could get a copy made, hang it on the wall,” her father offered, which elicited a chuckle.

“Now, I would not go that far.”

“Did you buy anything?” Tali asked, wondering what someone who didn’t live in the city might want to take home with them as a memento.

“Just some souvenirs,” Dad answered. “And a postcard for McGee. ‘Wish you were here!’”

Ima smiled. “Then we sat and ate dinner.”

“You looked so beautiful that day,” her father mused, gazing fondly at the photograph in hand. “I really do wish I had kissed you. I drove you right by the Eiffel Tower.”

“Which was nowhere near our hotel,” she reminded him.

“Pretty sure we've established that I was being sneaky.”

“What happened when you got back to the hotel?” Tali asked.

Ima looked suspiciously at her. “You are being very nosy today, motek. Why the sudden questions?”

Tali shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Ima narrowed her eyes, not fully accepting that as an answer, but eventually, she continued. “Well, we actually had a nice hotel to stay at, for once. Usually when we traveled, at least in the States, NCIS would book us rooms at the cheapest motels they could find.”

“But not this time?”

She shook her head. “Not this time. They wanted us somewhere close to the embassy, where we would be picking up our witness.”

“Wow.” Their jobs sounded so cool, sometimes. Of course, she knew there was a lot of un-cool stuff they hadn’t told her, but what she did know sounded fun. She still sometimes had a hard time believing her boring old parents were once gun-toting federal agents, chasing down bad guys and saving the day. It seemed even more improbable that her Grampa Gibbs had done the same.

“You're skipping over a very important part of the story, Zee-vah,” her father said smugly, bringing her attention back to the tale. “Tell her what the front desk lady said when we tried to check in!”

Ima rolled her eyes and huffed. “Tony, I can tell you want to say this part, so why don't you just do it?”

He grinned excitedly. “Fine. I will. So we walked in this huge, beautiful lobby, right? And I went up to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am. There should be two rooms under the name DiNozzo for us, please.’”

“Two rooms?” Tali asked.

“We were just friends back then, you see,” her abba explained. “Actually, we had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Friends might have been pushing it.”

Ima was quick to correct that. “You were my friend, Tony,” she said, looking at him kind of sadly.

He gave a nod. “Friends, then. But not together. And since we were there for work, it was agency policy for two agents of opposite gender to stay in separate rooms.”

That made sense, Tali supposed.

“But then…” Ima started.

“Hey, you said I could tell this part,” her father whined.

“Alright, then get to the point,” she waved him on.

“But then,” he repeated, “the woman at the desk said there was some misunderstanding with our reservation, and they only had one room for us.”

Misunderstanding? Or mischief on Uncle Tim's part as some form of payback for not getting to go to Paris, Tali wondered. She made a mental note to ask him the next time she talked to him.

“Would you have gotten in trouble?” she asked instead.

“We probably would have gotten a slap on the wrist from H.R., and a slap on the head from Gibbs. But no one ever found out,” her father answered.

From what Tali had heard from Uncle Tim, he knew something about what happened. But the specifics were out of his reach too. That’s where Tali came in.

“God, I was so in love with you,” her abba said, gazing lovingly at her ima. “It was pathetic. I don't know how you could have missed it. That mixup with the rooms was like my wildest dream coming true.”

“Tony…”

“I'm sorry if I drove you crazy that night,” he continued, ignoring her attempt to stop him. “I think I was a little drunk on the wine we'd had at dinner still.”

“You were not drunk. I know, because I let you drive us home. You were just… Tony.”

“Mm. Just me, huh?” he asked, smirking at her with a pleased look on his face. 

“I found it endearing. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.”

“She offered to take the couch,” he informed Tali. “I told her that she was being ridiculous, that the ginormous bed was big enough for the two of us to share, but she tried to insist. Eventually, I threatened to take the couch myself, and she came to her senses.”

“If I had given up the couch to you, you would have complained about your back the whole flight home the next day,” Ima pointed out.

“Would not!”

Tali had to agree with her mother, here. “Dad, that does sound like you,” she said.

“Now you're ganging up on me! That's not fair!”

“Your father was the perfect gentleman that night, Tali,” Ima continued. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Not even one joke about our situation.”

Her dad seemed shocked at this information as well. “Really? I didn't make any jokes at all?” he asked.

Ima shook her head. “None that I can remember.”

“Huh,” he said. “I was probably too nervous myself to say anything.”

“Why were you nervous?” Tali asked. 

“Because,” he started, draping his arm over the back of the couch and over Ima’s shoulder, “sharing a bed with someone—especially someone you're secretly pining for—is a very intimate thing. You kind of lose your sense of personal space. Whatever mask you put on during the day comes off, whether you want it to or not.”

“You guys wore masks during the day?” Tali questioned. She pictured superhero masks, or maybe the kind you wear when you’re sick.

“Not that kind of mask,” he corrected. “I mean the emotional kind, when you don't want other people to see how you're really feeling, so you pretend to feel something else. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and not quite as wise as I am today.”

“As did I,” Ima agreed.

Tali’s face screwed up in confusion. Everything seemed so simple. Why did they make it seem so complicated? 

“Why didn't you just tell each other the truth?” she asked.

This time, her mother answered. “We did, more than we told others at least. But that was a very difficult time for your father and I. We were just learning how to trust each other again.”

“Didn't you always trust each other? You were partners!”

Dad’s knee bumped companionably against her own. “You have to understand, Tali, our jobs were very difficult. I don't think you’re ready for the full story quite yet, but your mom had just been through something horrible and scary, and part of it was my fault.”

Ima’s face fell, and she shook her head. “Tony. It was not your fault,” she said.

“At least some of the blame was mine,” he insisted.

“No. Tony, do not think that way.”

He gave her a small, placating smile. “Alright, we'll agree to disagree,” he said. “But the point is, Tali, it was a very strange time for the two of us. Being completely honest with each other wasn't something we were particularly good at.”

“But we got through it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He smiled, eyes watering as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Yes. Yes we did. We just danced around a lot of things we probably should have discussed much sooner.”

“Like the fact that you loved each other?” Tali offered.

Her dad gave a dry chuckle. “Oh yeah. That was the biggest one of all.”

“We were not ready for that conversation yet, motek,” Ima said, running a hand through Tali’s hair.

“But that didn't stop you from getting all cozy with me that night, did it, sweetheart?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing her playfully.

“I think that is probably enough for one day,” Ima said, trying her hardest not to smile at his antics. Her cheeks blossomed pink.

“No, let's keep going!” he said, spurring her on. “Look at you blushing, I can't believe you still get embarrassed talking about this!”

“I am not embarrassed, Tony,” she countered.

“You aren't? Could have fooled me. When I brought it up in the morning at that cafe, I thought you were going to strangle me for mentioning it in broad daylight.”

Tali giggled at this back-and-forth that they were so good at. It wasn’t often that her dad managed to get under Ima’s skin in this way, it was usually the other way around.

“I thought there was a mutual agreement never to speak of that night again,” Ima responded, her voice low.

“Well, I never agreed to any such thing.”

Things just got curiouser and curiouser, Tali thought, intrigued. “What? What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, we started out the night happily keeping to our own sides of the bed,” her abba explained. “A nice, sensible space between us.”

“I was asleep, Tony, I cannot be held accountable for–”

“But then your ima, here, decided that I made a much better pillow than the one she was using, so I got a face full of Ziva hair.”

Tali laughed, her mother’s indignant attempts to correct him striking her as utterly hilarious.

“If you were awake, you could have very easily pushed me off you,” Ima argued.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because, Tony, we were supposed to be keeping a respectable distance!”

“Counterpoint: Your hair smelled really good and, oh yeah, I was super in love with you.”

Ima huffed, having no comeback for such a line. “So you have mentioned.”

“Anyway, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had,” her father finished. “Ziva?”

“What?”

“Would you agree?” he asked.

Ima blew out a breath, thinking it over. “Well, at the time, I often dealt with nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… You just want me to admit that I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't go back to my side of the bed, don't you?” Ima stared accusingly at Dad.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, yes, I did. I was comfortable, and the dreams weren't as bad as usual for some reason.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that reason was,” Dad said sarcastically, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. But then he looked at Ima again and smiled, his expression melting into one of adoration. “I wish you would have told me all this back then,” he said. “Could have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

“No point in dwelling on it now,” Ima surmised, and he gently rubbed her shoulder before pulling back.

“When I woke up in the morning, she was still in my arms, conked out and snoring like a freight train,” he continued his tale.

“What a lovely sight that must have been,” Ima said sarcastically.

“It was!” he said. “I could have laid like that forever. I guess, now I get to.”

More mushy stuff. Great. “Okay, I get it. You love each other. Now is that it?” Tali asked.

Dad shrugged. “Pretty much. The next morning your mom got all awkward and tried to pretend we hadn't just spent the night cuddling in the most romantic city in the world,” he narrated.

“Meanwhile, your father woke up in an unnervingly pleasant mood and hurried off to go sightseeing, while I headed to a cafe for a late breakfast.”

Tali turned to her father. “What did you go see, dad?”

“Well, the embassy isn't too far from here, actually,” he spoke, glancing toward the window in their living room. “I drove around for a bit, past the Louvre, saw everything in that area. Took lots of pictures.”

“And then we met up at the cafe for a little while before it was time to pick up our witness,” Ima finished.

“That's when we got that picture taken. The one in your room.”

Her dad told her, sometimes, about the moment he realized she knew who he was. How that picture had been her connection to him before they met, and how it later connected her to her mother while she was away.

Their family’s story was a strange one. For a long time, she hadn't known the particulars, of course. But she was the only kid at school whose mom was off who-knows-where hiding from who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. Not that she was allowed to talk about any of that. She only picked up bits and pieces when her dad would talk to Pop Pop after she'd gone to bed, and her memories of those conversations were pretty fuzzy.

She also never fully grasped the significance of the lack of pictures from when she was a baby, or the fact that she had been born in Israel, while her father lived in the U.S.

But now, she had begun to piece some things together, and it made her a little sad. She wondered if she would ever fully understand what had happened. Why, until she was six, they had never been a family together, all in one place.

The fact that her parents had been so close, and yet so far from their happily ending back then… Almost fifteen years ago, now…

“Is that why you wanted us to live in Paris?” she asked her father.

“I guess so,” he said, reaching for Ima's hand. “Part of me, I think, hoped we'd find her here right away. Like maybe that picture frame in your bag had been a message telling me where to meet her. But also, yes. We had nothing but good memories here. Seemed a good place for a fresh start.”

“The same cannot be said for the airplane we took back to America with our witness,” Ima joked, lightening the mood.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Dad agreed. “If I wanted to experience mortal peril on an airplane, I would just watch Liam Neeson in ‘Non-Stop.’ But then, that movie hadn't come out yet. Come to think of it, I feel like we should have been contacted for our expertise by the studio that made that movie. Do you think they could have given us writing credits?”

Tali sensed that the rest of the story would have to wait for another day. Most of their case stories were like that. Just a couple more years, then maybe she’d be old enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, interrupting her father’s rambling about movies.

“Of course, neshama sheli,” Ima said, placing her hand on her knee.

“Anytime, kiddo. This was fun.”

“And?” Ima prompted.

“And,” he continued, “I’m sorry for making up stories when you were little. I should have told you the truth.”

Tali looked at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. She leaned into his side, and he lifted his arm, welcoming her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I liked your stories. They were like fairy tales.”

He sighed. “If only it had really been like a fairy tale.”

“It is, though!” Tali said seriously, leaning back to face him. “You got your happily ever after, right?”

Dad’s eyes lifted to meet Ima’s, and they shared a smile, another one of their silent conversations.

“You are right, Tali,” Ima said, eyes shining with some deep emotion. “Maybe we had a fairy tale ending after all.”

-.-.-

Tali waited until her parents had gone to bed before sneaking out of her own room and into the kitchen. She found the phone out on the countertop where her father had left it, and quickly navigated to the right name in his contact list.

She pressed the call button and the phone rang. While she waited, she tried to mentally count backwards and estimate the time it was in D.C., but that was entirely too much math for this time of night.

Eventually, the line connected with a click.

“McGee,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Uncle Tim!” Tali said in a whisper.

“Hey, Trouble!” he greeted jovially. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tali’s chest bubbled with giddiness, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting the answer.

“Uncle Tim, they told me everything!���

-.-.-

Tags <3 @tiva-fic-challenges @benedettabeby @butwhenthesuncameup @earanemith @hopeless-nostalgiac @indestinatus @loudlooks @mrsmungus @nicolem194 @putthekettleon @slippery-soapbox @tivafanfic @tivajunkie @tonysziva @whoa-myninja

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Unexpected Encounters

Here you go @zutaralesbian!! I hope it's what you're looking for!

///

“I found a love, for me....” 

Under the dimmed lights, standing nearby the open bar, Fiona Gallagher let out a soft sigh as she took a drink from her beer. On the dance floor, Ian encircled his arms around Mickey to hold him tight, swaying to the song. As if no one else existed, the rest of the world fading away, there they were; it was only them, eyes closed to take in this moment, reveling in the start of a new chapter in their life. 

And it was fucking beautiful. 

For so long, she’d been searching for that kind of love and each time she thought she just might, it was viciously taken from her in some way. Bitter memories of Jimmy-Steve and Sean came to the surface, to which she drowned them out with a large gulp of beer. 

Nothing seemed to be going for her. Not with her love life, not with her life in general. 

Moving out to Florida was supposed to be a fresh start for her. She’d envisioned so much, only for it all to fall short. The felony on her record made it difficult to find a good paying job, let alone her lack of college diploma. She’d found a decent apartment to live in, the first night giving her this sudden feeling of loneliness that hit her. 

Little had changed in her life other than not not taking care of a house full of kids. 

And the thing is, she assumed she’d be happier that way. In some was, she was; it was easier to live, easier to breathe when she didn’t have five kids dependent on her, worryin’ about how she’ll pay the bills or if they’ll have enough food to eat. But in other ways, she didn’t know what to do with herself. It wasn’t like she wanted all of that responsibility again. It was just really fuckin’ complicated. 

Now here she was, back in her childhood home, crashing on the couch until she could find a place for herself. All while her younger siblings had moved on with their lives, coming out more successful than she was capable of being. 

She blew out a breath, eyes shifting to see Vee and Kev at one of the tables, laughing with some other guests. She’d been meanin’ to to tell her that they needed to catch up soon. Fiona missed her best friend a lot in the time that she’d been away. Down in Florida, Fiona had some acquaintances, maybe even a couple people she’d call friends. But nothing ever compared to what she and Vee had. 

Fiona shook off the nostalgia that came over her. There was no use in dwelling on it, especially today. This was about Ian and Mickey, and she’d be damned if she let herself ruin this occasion for her brother and brother-in-law. 

Brother-in-law. It was hard to comprehend that, to think that the very same boy who used to terrorize the Southside was now married into the family. 

Her lips tugged up into a smile as the song came to an end. Ian and Mickey were holding onto each other’s faces as they had been earlier, leaning in for a kiss. 

She was happy for them. There’d been times she was unsure about Mickey, hell, even times she thought he wasn’t good enough for her little brother. But Mickey had proved himself and shown just how much he cared for Ian, going above and beyond what she’d expect from anybody when they dealt with Ian’s bipolar diagnosis together. 

As a new song came on, one of the tables closest to her was empty, so she took a seat, leaning back with her legs crossed. Her eyes flittered around the room, catching sight of her other siblings. In some ways, it was kind of sad to see them so grown up, engrossed in their own issues and having their own lives when she still remembered their bright eyes, chubby cheeks and sweet smiles. 

And where did that leave Fiona? They didn’t need her like they used to. Hell, she couldn’t even find herself needed elsewhere. To some extent, it felt like they all moved on while she was stuck behind, trying to claw her way out and make it in the world. 

Out of her peripheral, a figured moved closer to her but there were lots of people around so she didn’t think too much of it until the person was right there, his hand on the back of one of the chairs. 

“Ay, you mind if I sit here?” Iggy Milkovich asked her, and it was the very last person she expected to see there - at the wedding and asking to sit at the same table as her - so she did a double take. 

Fiona knew very little of Iggy Milkovich. At one point in time, they were in the same grade, dropping out for different reasons. She’d seen him around the Southside here and there but it’s not like they’ve ever really had a conversation. 

It came as a pretty big fucking surprise to Fiona that he was here. She certainly didn’t expect any Milkovich, well maybe besides Mandy, to attend a gay wedding. But here and there were scattered relatives of Mickey’s around the venue; Colin was doing his best to sweet talk a girl on the other side of the dance floor, Joey and Jamie were swiping frosting off the back of the cake with their fingers - and by now Mickey had noticed, reaching into his pocket for a knife that Ian swiftly plucked out of his hand - while Mandy was dancing with Sandy and Debbie. 

What’s more, though, was that Fiona was struck by how roguishly handsome he looked. He was dressed nice with the tie in disarray, hair that was neatly combed and for once, didn’t give off the impression that he was high. 

“Iggy,” she said, surprised. 

“Hey, Fiona,” he was grinning, holding onto his own beer. “Thought I saw you around here earlier.” 

“Yeah,” she pushed back some hair off her shoulder, suddenly remembering what he’d asked. “Have a seat,” she gestured towards the chair. 

He plopped down in it, one arm hanging off the back. “Thought you moved outta here,” he said, taking a swig of his drink. 

“I did,” she nodded, trying not to feel too disappointed when she thought of it, “it just didn’t work out.” 

“So you’re back now?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m crashing at the house for now until I can get my own place.” 

“Ain’t Mick and Red stayin’ there too?” 

“Yeah,” she grimaced at the amount of times, too damn often, when she’d overhear them fucking. 

 Iggy was looking past her, right at Ian and Mickey. “I feel sorry for anyone that's gotta hear them two bastards going at it. Had to listen them fucking for a while when we lived together.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she laughed. She understood his pain. The Gallagher house had thin walls, too fucking thin if she could hear the damn names her brother and Mickey called each other in bed. God, just the thought made her want to shudder. 

Iggy was grinning some more. That could’ve been from the situation or he was just drunk. “Walked in on them once too. Thought Mickey was gonna flip his shit.” 

“Oh, God,” Fiona could just imagine that. She drank some more beer to rid herself of any images that might be conjured up. 

“Wasn’t my fault, though. Mick left the door unlocked,” Iggy shrugged. “Course, he didn’t care. Probably woulda tried to knock my teeth in if Gallagher hadn’t stopped him.” 

“Can’t be any worse than when Lip walked in on them,” Fiona remembered that one. Mickey had been murderous. Lip had been pinned under him with his throat covered by Mickey’s hands. 

Lip hadn’t been pleased with the casual tone in which Ian spoke in when he’d called his husband off of him. 

Iggy snorted. He was watching them again. “Can you believe those fuckers made it here?” 

“No,” she said honestly. She let out a breath. “But I’m happy for them. They deserve it.” 

“Yeah,” Iggy said. “I remember when Gallagher was living with us. Mick was so protective of him.” 

“Same way at our house,” Fiona remembered those days. He would’ve broken somebody’s kneecaps if they uttered a single word against her brother. Even now, now that she’s back and seen their love first hand again, he would do anything for Ian and vice versa. 

Silence came over them both. Fiona repositioned herself, crossing the opposite leg this time.  Strangely, though, she didn’t have this urge to get away like she would have assumed from being near a Milkovich. 

“I’m kind of surprised you’re here,” she admitted. 

He turned to her, blinking. “Why?” 

She raised a brow. “Do you really have to ask?” 

For a couple of seconds, he stared at her with this dumb expression. Then it dawned on him. “Oh, his gay thing. I don’t give a shit where he sticks his dick. Kinda suspected ‘bout him anyway.” 

“Really?” Fiona couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah. Never used to talk about tits and shit with us and was all secretive about his porn,” Iggy replied. “Figured it out pretty quickly when I saw ‘em kiss.” 

“You saw them kiss?” 

“Yeah, the day Mick got shot in the ass. Don’t think he ever found out I saw ‘em.” 

“And you never told anybody?” Fiona said, blown away. 

“Course not,” Iggy said with a shrug. “I ain’t stupid. Terry woulda killed him. Mick woulda definitely flipped his shit. I just had to pretend I didn't see anything. Course, then the dumbass decides to say something in front of the whole damn bar. Nearly did get himself killed.” 

He sounded fondly exasperated, a feeling she’d felt from time to time for sure, not anything she’d expect from a Milkovich, especially concerning his brother’s sexuality. 

Maybe she was wrong about him, about the family- some of them, anyway. 

Iggy kept Mickey’s secret when he didn’t have to, not to mention willingly lived with them for a while. Plus, his siblings and a couple of his cousins made it here today. Would they really have done it if they were anything like Terry? 

Iggy was oblivious to what she was thinking, just drinking the rest of his beer without a care in the world. 

“So,” she said, to which he looked back at her, “what are you doing these days?” 

Jesus, that was lame as fuck. 

Iggy didn’t seem to think so. “Not much,” he shrugged. “Gotta find me a new job. My PO’s gettin’ pissy about it.” 

“I have to find one too,” Fiona sighed. “I was working in a hotel down in Florida but I can’t see myself doin’ it again. Too many bitchy customers.” 

Iggy snorted. “Fuck that. Would’ve quit the first time that happened.” 

“I considered it some days,” she said truthfully. There was only so much she could take of being screamed at and unfairly blamed for things that weren’t her fault. “But I have to take what I can get. There’s not a ton of places that want to hire felons.” 

She used to feel bitter over it. Used to feel consumed by such anger towards herself for how she’d so carelessly endangered her little brother and ruined her life in a blink of an eye. 

It wasn’t something easy to share either. Unsurprisingly, the one guy she decided to be upfront about it and explain to him, he thought it was better if they went their separate ways.

Iggy didn’t blink an eye. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said, unfazed. “You know, I had to work at a fuckin’ flower shop once cuz my PO couldn’t find me anything else. Should’ve heard this bitch telling me I couldn’t bring any fucking weapons inside. This is the fuckin’ Southside. I’m supposed to walk around without my glock?” 

“You mean the one you’re not supposed to have while on parole?” She smirked. 

“Ay, what my PO don’t know won’t hurt him,” Iggy said dismissively.  

She snorted. “Good point.” 

Flashes of multi-colored shadows fell over their faces, bouncing away the next second. Iggy’s eyes strayed away from where they’d been glancing to look at her, keeping her under a watchful gaze. 

“You want another beer?” He said unexpectedly. 

“Sure,” she said. 

When he brought it back, he said, “Ay, let’s go outside. It’s getting too damn noisy in here.” 

This was where under any other circumstances she would’ve declined, but Fiona found herself not completely put off by the suggestion. “I would,” she said, “but I don’t know where my jacket’s gone...” 

She wasn’t lying. Fiona had taken it off when she arrived and now it was nowhere to be found. 

“I got you,” Iggy said. Fiona wondered how he was going to manage that when he hollered at the top of his lungs - though the music was still loud enough that it drowned him out somewhat. “Ay, fuckwads! Get her-” He pointed straight at Fiona, who muttered out, “Oh, Jesus,” under her breath, “a jacket before I start cracking skulls.” 

“That’s really not necessary- oh,” Fiona was thrown a black suit jacket by someone she didn’t recognize. 

“You’re welcome,” Iggy said, chugging one of the beers in his hands. 

“You couldn't have just given me yours?” Fiona said mildly, a teasing smile on her lips. 

“Fuck no. I’m not freezing my ass off,” Iggy scoffed. He smirked, though. 

Abandoning the reception, they went past the doors and out into the cold. Fiona shivered, folding her arms across her chest. They stayed within the parking lot and there was just something about that reminded her of when she used to sneak off with a couple of friends she had many years ago, just hanging around and feeling carefree before everything went to shit. 

For now, neither one of them said anything. It wasn’t that Fiona was feeling shy or anything, that wasn’t like her, but it was just different that's all. 

So she spoke up first. 

And it just so happened to be her going down memory lane. 

“Do you remember that fucking awful English teacher we had freshman year?” She said suddenly. “Mrs- fuck, what was her name? Mrs. Melvin or whatever. God, I hated her.” 

“Wasn’t she the bitch that quit halfway through class?” Iggy said with a grin. 

Fiona laughed. “Oh my God, I remember that. Nobody was listening to her and she threatened to send us all to the office if we didn’t shut up.”

“Ay, yeah. Had a fuckin’ fit when that one guy, Rubin, shot a spit ball at her,” Iggy said, paused and added, “The fuck kinda name is Rubin anyway? S’fuckin’ stupid.” 

They both laughed, and when it died down, Fiona was marveling over the fact once again that here she was, socializing with a Milkovich and she was having a pretty nice time. 

“Do you-” Fiona thought about what she was asking, deciding to go on with it, “do you ever think about what you would’ve done if you graduated?” 

She had no idea why she chose to bring this up here right now. The question had been on her mind lately, not just this second, wondering just how different her life would be if Frank and Monica were decent parents, if she didn’t have to be the one to step up for her siblings. 

“No.” 

“No?” Fiona repeated, surprised. 

“Nah. Wouldn’t have mattered. Terry woulda screwed it up anyway.”

He was honest about it, resigned, and didn’t sound upset. It made Fiona stop and think, making way for an ache in her chest, about how none of them were ever given a chance to be something, to make something of themselves. They were constantly held back by their shitty parents, shitty situations that they shouldn’t have had to deal with at their age. 

“What about you?” Iggy’s voice brought her back to the present. 

“What?” 

“You ever think about it?” He sounded curious, not just him asking out of polite obligation. Than again, she couldn’t really picture him or any of the Milkovich’s acting out of politeness. 

“Sometimes,” she smiled slightly. Dropping out of school was the hardest decision she had to make for herself, even though it was ultimately what saved them. Though, she couldn’t deny that for weeks after, she’d been plagued with a bone deep sense of sadness. She’d used to dream, used to hope of getting out of the Southside someday with a degree tucked under her belt and a decent job. Those dreams never looked unrealistic until she finally realized the depth of Frank and Monica’s bullshit. 

While other people her age were out partying, rebelling against their parents or figuring out what they wanted to do in life, Fiona was preoccupied in other ways; whether they’d have enough for the bills this month, how they’d get food on the table for all of them, whether Frank or Monica were going to come home when they left for long stretches of time. 

Iggy lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She took it, her smile still intact. 

“You know, I thought I had everything going for me at one time; grades were good, I was doing track. And then it was just gone,” she sighed. “I thought if I got out of here, things would be different. Seems like the bullshit just followed me.” As Fiona was passing back the cigarette, she had an oh shit moment. Was she really spilling her guts to him? “Shit. Forget I said all that.” 

He shrugged. “Where’d you run off to anyway?” 

“Florida.” 

“Ay, at least you got out. S’more than most can say.” 

She supposed that was true. “That’s surprisingly insightful,” she was teasing, only gently. 

He puffed up his chest. “I can be that way if I wanna.” All kidding aside, he knocked into her shoulder with his own. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with comin’ back.” 

“Even with no job and I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” She deadpanned. 

“Been there,” he said, then considered, “Course, I usually find some chick to shack up with.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I slept out on those streets one night and it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Haven’t been there yet, thank God.” 

“Like all those Gallaghers would toss you out,” Iggy piffed. She had to agree. “Course if they do, left side my bed could use some warmin’.” 

He winked at her. 

Fiona turned her body to face him, plucking the cigarette from him. “Is that right? Who says I wanna be the one to warm it?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Gallagher,” Iggy was closer now, having invaded her personal space. “Saw the way you were looking at me earlier.” 

The cigarette was dropped to the ground, put out by the bottom of her shoe. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fiona said slyly. 

Just a second later, her arms around his neck and his on her waist, Fiona was engaged in a fucking hot makeout with Iggy Milkovich. 

It was needy, full of fire she’d been searching for. God, even Iggy’s touch was making her weak. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered. He grinned cockily. 

“You seein’ anyone right now?” 

“And I’m if I’m not?” She said instead of answering his question. 

“How ‘bout you come to my place tonight?”

Fiona grinned. "Better be a damn good bed. My back's been killing me on that shitty couch."

She didn’t come here expecting to find herself in a Milkovich. 

But Fiona was damn glad she did. 

[kjthenbee]

On the lack of major "heart eyes" moments from Ed this season

So one thing that I've been noticing this season that kind of bothered me at first, but that I now think may be intentional acting on Taika's part, is that something about the way Edward has been behaving around Stede since they reunited strikes me as being much more distant compared to S1 Ed. Like Rhys is out here playing Stede as the most genuinely head-over-heels in love we've ever seen him, meanwhile Edward "Heart Eyes" Teach seems very emotionally reserved around Stede, and you can see it in his face.

Like yes, Ed still clearly gives Stede affectionate looks, but he isn't giving him those blatant heart eyes like he did all of S1. Like I especially don't think we've seen him look at Stede in the same way he did post-S1E9 beach kiss yet. We've gotten some moments close to it, such as after the "I love everything about you" conversation in S2E4, and when Ed is watching Stede run into the forest in that same episode. But during the moonlight kiss in S2E5, he seems pretty reserved emotionally, and when you see that last shot of Ed before Stede closes the curtains in S2E6, he doesn't look very thrilled.

Interestingly, the one time I noticed where Ed did give off a very similar "god I genuinely love you so much" look was not even with actual Stede - it was when he saw MerStede in the gravy basket.

Overall, this lack of Edward "heart eyes" moments has made a lot of the romantic scenes post-S2E4 feel just a tiny bit off to me, and I think that's the point. It makes sense that Edward still seems distant and guarded around Stede. He was hurt very badly when Stede left him, and he still needs time to truly trust him again (hence "taking things slow").

Another thing I'd like to add is that in both S2E6 and S2E7, Stede and Ed refer to each another as "my friend" (Stede to Ned Low, Ed to the people at the crab shack). Sure, other people refer to them as boyfriends, but they don't refer to each other as boyfriends. My husband and I were just talking about this, and he thinks that this is one hundred percent intentional on the writers' end. Stede and Ed may have talked in S2E4, but they still haven't talked enough. They're still not being mature about their relationship. They were "together" again for a bit, yes, but were they ever actually together? Like did they ever have a conversation to establish the nature of their relationship? Stede even said that their relationship could be "whatever they want it to be" during that last argument in S2E7, which struck me as odd, because it just makes their entire relationship sound very vague.

They both need to come together, talk, and be honest with each other. They love each other deeply, yes, but Edward has been hurt and is still recovering, while Stede is focusing on becoming the badass pirate that he thinks everyone (including Ed, as we saw from Stede's dream in S2E1) wants him to be, even though it's not who he really is at all, nor is it the person who Edward originally fell in love with. They need to come to an agreement that their relationship is a committed one, and they need to recognize that true love requires compromise, communication, and listening to your partner to truly stand the test of time.

SPOILERS FOR S2E8 (talking about brief clips shown in the teaser + clips seen in some BTS ads)

The heart eyes actually do seem like they are going to make a reappearance in the season finale based on some of the clips of Ed and Stede we've seen from S2E8 - particularly the ones where Ed and Stede are holding each other on the beach. The way Edward is looking at Stede in this scene actually does look like a genuine Edward "Heart Eyes" Teach moment to me. Just something I thought was interesting.

[penultimate-step]

One thing that interests me about Koyomi and Tsubasa's relationship, especially early on, is the contrast between how much they care about each other and how little they really understand each other. From their first meeting, their relationship begins with a complete lack of understanding.

All through Bake, Hanekawa is talked up extremely highly by Koyomi. In his eyes, she's the one who knows everything, the one who is always right. Her own catchphrase might be "I just know what I know," but this is in response to Araragi complimenting her about knowing everything. He rarely thinks that she can possibly be wrong - which makes it almost funny in retrospect to realize that he holds this opinion of her despite the fact that one of the first inferences he every sees her make is massively misreading his own issues.

In Kizu, spurred by the day's sense of melancholy and the sudden absurdity of Hanekawa's skirt situation, Koyomi briefly opens up and is emotionally honest with Hanekawa. (Given that we as readers learn most about him from internal narration, this is bigger than it seems: this is one of the moments when he shares the most about himself out loud to others in the whole series.) It's not his whole deal, not by a long shot, but he gets across the basics: his strained concept of the value of friendship and human connections, his sense of nihilism, and his desire not to have to live as a human: "I want to become a plant," he tells her, "so that I wouldn't have to talk or walk." Honestly I'm not sure what a good response is to someone you are only now having a first conversation with telling you all about his depression, but Hanekawa chooses to reject it. She tells him that normally people would dream of becoming something like a rock, but in his case, since plants are a form of life, "You still want to be a living thing." Subtextually: "You don't really want to kill yourself. You aren't suicidal." To this, Koyomi basically thinks, Huh, never thought about it like that. Maybe you're right. and moves on.

….20 pages later, Koyomi chooses to kill himself for Kiss-Shot's sake, stating, "There isn't a single reason for me to bother staying alive." Kizumonogatari is in large part about Araragi's suicidal depression. Hanekawa, I love you, but you misjudged this one.

Even at this early stage of their relationship, Hanekawa thinks highly of Koyomi, much more than he deserves. As such, when confronted with something she considers a weakness, like his supremely low self-worth, she tries to justify why this isn't actually a trait he has.

Much later, by the time of Neko White, she's gotten a better chance to get to know him and become familiar with his him as a person, including his flaws, enough that she and Senjougahara can list them for hours. But that doesn't necessarily mean she understands him or his motivations - because she cares for him so much, she ends up idealizing his bad traits and his personal weaknesses into charm points and strengths. She says at the book's start that she admires him because of his confidence in his own identity, describing him as a person who doesn't hesitate over questions of who he is as a person or what he should be and do moving forward and comparing herself unfavorably to her own lack of sense of identity.

Readers, having read his narration in Kizu and Neko Black know this is far from true; that he spends a huge amount of page count trying to reflect on where he stands in life. The climaxes of both those books are great examples. In Kizu, Koyomi has a huge internal crisis after seeing the death of Guillotine Cutter. He tells Hanekawa that he is unsure if he is human or monster, worrying even that he'll eat her. He is unsure if he is going to oppose Kiss-Shot or not. And on top of that, his own guilt is eating him alive, causing him to question the worth of all his actions in the book so far. There's no way that this can be called a man sure of who he is, and it is Tsubasa herself who snaps him out of it. He relies on her presence as a guide to move forward. She has first hand experience seeing him experience deep uncertainty as to what kind of person he wants to be, but her narration in Neko White claims the opposite - that his consistency and surety is a trait she admires. A similar kind of struggle happens in Neko Black's ending, though given her own stresses and struggles at the time its very understandable that she didn't catch this one. Time after time Tsubasa is the one to see Koyomi's doubts and greatest moments of weakness, but rather than harm her view of Araragi, if anything it seems to have raised her opinion of him. In her Neko White letter, she admires what she calls "confronting his own weaknesses." She talks about falling in love with him when she saw that he was crying as he saved Kiss-Shot, comparing it negatively to how she showed no emotion and smiles through both suffering and aid. She basically says this outright in the letter: to her, all of Araragi's flaws becomes positive. Moments of self-doubt become moments of self honesty, to cry while acting is to remain true to oneself, and so forth.

Not that Koyomi is a genius at understanding her, either. While he admires her, for most of Kizu a lot of whats going on between them is going on in his head - he's projecting his own issues onto her and he deals with her more as what she represents to him than an equal friend, as he will come to treat her later in Bake and beyond. Neko Black, taking place between these two points, shows him in the middle of this transition.

I feel like there's less to say on his side though, just because Neko Black is much more explicit about Koyomi's failure to understand Tsubasa than Kizu is for the reverse. When she feels obligated by friendship to tell Araragi about her struggles with her family, in a reversal of their first conversation from the start of Kizu, he has this to say about it:

Despite having been friends for a month by then he realizes he has still been seeing her more as an ideal than a person. However, his reaction here, in contrast to when the situation was flipped, also illustrates that his way of misunderstanding is subtly different from the way Hanekawa misunderstands him. Rather than a direct dismissal, Koyomi, while originally ignorant, does come around to understanding What Tsubasa will do. However, he does this while blocking out any understanding of Why she would act like this. He can grasp the actions and emotions, but not the underlying causes.

As an example, near the end of Neko Black, after Koyomi has had some time to internalize his new understanding of Hanekawa, he is able to predict her words to her father before Meme tells him, then later develops a plan to deal with the Cat based around predicting her actions well in advance, first luring her out and then baiting her into attacking him. However, despite all this, he seems to have no knowledge, or perhaps is intentionally blocking out, the motivations behind her actions. Theres a reason she calls him "the worst" when he offers to give his time and energy to deal with her stress. (And much like when he healed her injury earlier, this is him dealing with symptoms rather than the true problem.) Because he's totally misjudging what she actually wants.

A similar pattern can be seen in the Cat chapter of Bake, when he first sees the cat. He realizes this means she's stressed, and can guess at how this will make her act and that things might get dangerous, but has no idea what set her off this time, not until the Cat tells him outright why things got to this point.

Koyomi views Hanekawa so highly, almost like she is incapable of making mistakes, despite having personal experience from the get go that she is very capable of making mistakes and that sometimes her inferences are wrong, and that she is often wrong about him, specifically. Hanekawa is wrong about Koyomi because she does the same thing, and views him so highly that she dismisses and glosses over his faults that she has seen personally. Together, they both consistently fail to understand each other because they place the other on a pedestal without meaning to. And yet, the book is clear that despite this gap in understanding, the friendship is no less for it. The care between the two is real, as is the effort they take in each other's lives.

[foolishpensandidioticink]

Harry Potter Characters + Love Languages

I recently saw a theory which posited that we receive affection in the form we lacked during childhood and that we express love the way we received it. It made a lot of sense to me and I thought it would be cool to do something with it. I recently saw a theory which posited that we receive affection in the form we lacked during childhood and that we express love the way we received it. It made a lot of sense to me and I thought it would be cool to do something with it.

Part II

Fred Weasley

Expressing

Quality Time

The Weasleys spend a lot of time together. Like, a lot. In fact, Fred sometimes thinks it's too much!

Because of this, though, he wants to be around you as much as possible.

Very clingy. He's the type to hug you and not let go for the next fifteen minutes, and an innocent kiss on the cheek from you can turn into an hours-long makeout session. If you're stupid enough to cuddle him you will not emerge until the next day, if then. He will literally wrap himself around you to prevent any chance of escape.

He will force you to attend his quidditch practices, and he will force you to wear one of his Gryffindor sweaters.

Shows off ridiculously whenever you attend a practice.

After practice, Fred swoops down on his broom to where you're sitting in the stands. "How's it going, gorgeous? Your champion has returned," he grins. You smile playfully at him. "Champion? It looked to me like George was doing most of the work." Fred gasps with indignation. "Your accusations wound me!" "Forgive me, Freddie," you say sarcastically, "Whatever can I do to make it up with you?" "Come for a ride with me. We can be like on of those old witches and her cat. You can be the cat," he adds. You roll your eyes. "Fine, but if you drop me I'm telling your mum.

Receiving

Words of Affirmation

As we know, Molly and the twins have had a *complicated* relationship.

She compares them to their siblings quite a lot, and I see that becoming a problem for them.

In Fred it manifests as excessive bravado covering low self esteem and/or insecurity about his intelligence.

This is why I think he melts a little when you praise him.

He'll put on a smug face but inside he kinda wants to cry.

It doesn't even have to be a lot, one day you nonchalantly go, 'Nice work, Fred. You get it right every time.' and he fucking passes away.

"You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for." Fred stills over his latest gimmick. "What?" "Feels like you don't appreciate yourself enough sometimes," you reply, not even looking up from your book. "You're so creative, and I think it's cool." He swallows hard, and it takes him a moment to come up with a suitably cavalier response. "You're right. I should have a bigger ego."

Hermione Granger Expressing

Acts of Service

We don't really get to learn much about Hermione's childhood, so we can't draw conclusions there. However, we can look at the way she treats her friends for clues.

She does Ron and Harry's homework a lot, and she makes Ron a schedule without any reason to, other than affection. She also spends hours in the library researching things in order to help Harry.

I like to think that Hermione would find out your specific learning style and then meticulously craft a study schedule suited to your precise needs.

Constantly checks up on you. Have you had something to eat? Have you drank water today? Are you warm enough? A little overbearing, but in the best way possible.

"Hermione, I'm fine," you grumble. "There's no need to be worried." "I'm not," she protests, face heating up. "I'm sorry if I'm irritating you, I just want to make sure your cold doesn't get worse." "It won't even have the opportunity," you assure her. "Not with you taking such good care of me. I appreciate it, truly I do." "Best start acting like it," she sniffs, turning away huffily. But you can tell, behind that cloud of golden-brown hair, she's smiling.

Receiving

Words of Affirmation

This one seems kind of obvious, right?

For the first three books, Hermione is described as plain and a bit of a pain. She also has a mildly abrasive manner which I think causes most people to feel ill at ease around her.

To summarize, I don't think Hermione receives many compliments, at least not from her peers.

So if you were to praise her, she would be putty in your hands.

She reacts in a very salient manner, stumbling over her words, false and performative annoyance, refusing to make eye contact, fidgeting.

"Ah, here she comes, the brightest witch of her age," You exclaim as Hermione comes down the stairs towards you. "Miss Granger, sorceress supreme, enchantress eximius, tell me, how does it feel to be near divine?" "I-that's not-no-I-Oh, you," she sputters finally. You give her a shit-eating grin. "There's another thing I love about you: your ability to form coherent sentences." "Oh, shut it," Hermione says, taking your arm. "All this sweet talk and not even a shred of intelligence." "Not a one," you reply. "I leave it all to my gorgeous genius of a girlfriend." With satisfaction, you watch her come undone again.

Draco Malfoy

Expressing

Giving Gifts

Another very obvious one.

The Malfoys are rich and, in rich people fashion, probably spoil Draco horrendously. As we see in CoS, they buy him anything his small ferrety heart desires.

Expensive gifts. I'm talking silk house scarves, jewelry encrusted with precious stones, miniature replicas of your favorite animals done entirely in diamond.

He will constantly try to give you money. Like all. The. Time.

You can try to get him to stop but he'll just ''anonymously'' leave money around. You have no idea how he even gets it into your dormitory, but there's always a random stack of coins somewhere on your property.

He'll deny it too, but he's a terrible liar. He somehow still thinks he's slick.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Why on earth would I want to give my money to an ungrateful brat like you?" "Excellent question," you say. "Why are you giving money to an ungrateful brat like me? And how did you even get into my dorm?" He rolls his eyes. "What makes you think it's me?" "Because you're always trying to give me cash or something expensive? Because you want to do nice things for me? Because you're a big old softy?" you suggest. Draco colors violently. "I am NOT a softy, and I resent you for suggesting such a thing." "Who would have guessed it? Draco Malfoy is nothing but a teddy bear," you crow. "Shut up," he hisses. "To think I was about to buy you another suit." "Oh, Draco," you exclaim. He looks at you expectantly. "How very soft of you."

Receiving

Physical Touch

I know, I know. It sounds crazy, but that's exactly why it works so well.

I mean, think about it. Draco's constantly surrounded by adorers like Pansy Parkinson, and I'm sure people are constantly sucking up to him in to get on the good side of his father's money, so words of affirmation would likely have little effect on him.

He's used to getting gifts and likely thinks of it as a given. The same goes for acts of service.

He clearly has a close relationship with his mother, meaning that he didn't really lack for quality time growing up.

So, by process of elimination, physical touch!

He'll fake irritation when you try to hold his hand or hug him, but Merlin forbid you try to let go of him, because all hell will break loose if you do.

Melodramatic ass bitch.

"If you want to break up with me just say so." You glance at him, startled. "What?" "Just break up with me already," he says sourly. "I'm obviously not enough for you anymore." "Draco Malfoy, what in Merlin's name are you on about?" you ask in consternation. "You threw my hand out of yours ten minutes ago, and you haven't tried to put your arms around me at all," Draco responds haughtily. "If you won't perform your stupid acts of affection anymore, you may as well admit you're tired of me." Your mouth opens and closes in shock, and then you burst out laughing. Draco flushes angrily. "What's so funny?" You shake your head. "Nothing, nothing. I'm sorry, Draco, come here."

[ailendolin]

was wondering what your thoughts are on the prank alison played on thomas? Cuz on one hand, yeah, it was wayyyyy more harsh than any of the pranks played on the others and was the only one that was deliberately designed to strike him where it hurts especially since she knows about his history with isabelle

but on the other hand, i think she just likes everyone else more than thomas? and who can blame her when he's been disrespecting her boundaries for years. Kitty can be needy but its different with a younger sister type character who just wants affection vs thomas who has been hitting on her for years even though she's very clearly happily married

im not sure where i stand on this

Thank you for this ask, anon! I've actually been meaning to make a post about the prank in 5x01 so this is the perfect excuse to finally get around to writing it.

But before I do that, I just want to stress that my opinion is just that - an opinion. I've been getting quite a few Thomas asks recently and while I do appreciate that very much because I love to talk about him, my interpretation of his character is just one of many and it's perfectly fine if you or anyone else sees things differently. My take on him doesn't hold more weight than any other.

With that being said, here are my thoughts on the prank and Thomas's vs. Kitty's behaviour - long post incoming:

I'm probably in the minority here but I found Alison’s prank on Thomas downright cruel, especially when you compare it to her other pranks. It wasn't some harmless fun - that prank was designed to hurt him, and I think that crosses a line. Because Thomas, for all his annoying habits, for all his ridiculous love declarations and inability to take a hint, has always backed down when Alison told him to. He hasn't stopped altogether (which technically speaking is partly Alison's own fault because of the, "I could kiss you," line and not just his for lack of trying) but whenever she gets fed up with him, he actually listens and shuts up - which I think is something people often tend to overlook.

Also, Thomas's 'love' for Alison is a theoretical thing: something for him to fixate on that is safe because he knows nothing will ever come of it. It's why we only ever see him 'fall in love' with living women who are, by nature, out of his reach. Thomas doesn't really want to be with them. It's why he downright panics when Alison seems to return his feelings in 5x01. He likes the idea of taking a walk with her in the gardens and holding her hand; the thought of kissing her under the mistletoe - the romantic ideal of it. But 5x01 makes it quite clear that he never expected it to become real, and that he isn't as keen on physical intimacy as he sometimes pretends either. I don't think he's ready for the vulnerability that comes with loving someone and being loved in return, and him dying alone and unloved plays a huge role in that. Because that's how he ghosts too. And I don't mean that in a romantic way. Thomas isn't particularly close to any of the other ghosts, not like Julian and Robin are, or Fanny and the Captain. He doesn't have a best friend because he's always the butt of the joke and no one takes him seriously or even pretends to like him. Is it really a surprise he clings to a love that is safe because it only exists in his mind?

That doesn't change anything for Alison, of course. But I'll go so far as to say she never even tried to understand him. The way she treated him when he came to her to talk about his death showed that. If she'd been as gentle and understanding and patient with him as she was with the Captain during the therapy session and actually listened and talked to him, the whole 'love' thing could have probably been resolved early on. But as was mentioned here, there are moments when she even encourages his behaviour and seems to miss his attention. That's sending very mixed signal to someone who is desperate for love, and makes her prank even more cruel. Given the circumstances, it's obviously understandable that out of her ghostly family she likes him the least as you mentioned (I think her listing him as a con for staying at Button House is pretty much proof of that) but it just feels like she's never really made an effort when it comes to him and just like the ghosts, never gave him the chance to open up. Instead, she uses his deepest pain against him with her prank, once again not taking the hurt he felt over his death seriously, and that's just not right.

On the matter of Kitty: it's interesting that you use the phrase "disrespecting boundaries" for Thomas and the word "needy" for Kitty because I'd actually say it's the other way around. People always regard Thomas's behaviour as creepy because his love for Alison is (seemingly) of a romantic nature whereas Kitty's love is regarded as sisterly and thus deemed acceptable and even sweet. But I've actually gone through every episode of series 1 once to note down all the times the ghosts cross lines with Alison and you know what? It's Kitty who does it most severely (along with Mary). The most Thomas does is phase through Alison's bedroom wall once without being invited in and looking through the bathroom door while Alison is showering (where the others are present so this was clearly part of the plan to haunt her for which Thomas, predictably, volunteered). Kitty, however? She's in Alison's bed twice and watches her and Mike sleep another time. I don't know about you but I'd rather have someone walk into my bedroom once than wake up with a stranger in my bed or in my room.

But maybe that's just me. So let's take a look at Kitty's 'sisterly' behaviour. The biggest difference between her and Thomas is that Kitty doesn't back down on her own. If it were up to her, Alison's life would revolve her. She doesn't accept that Alison has other friends (the tantrum at the party Alison and Mike threw) or god forbid another sister. She is very vocally against Lucy from the start and only stops when Alison calls her out on it (which parallels 4x02 when Alison told Thomas to stop - though in that case Alison is merely fed up whereas she is actually hurt by Kitty's behaviour). Kitty demands and expects Alison's attention in a way Thomas never has. He's always been content to love her from afar whereas Kitty inserts herself into Alison's life as best as she can and throws a tantrum when she doesn't get her way and often manages to guilt-trip Alison into giving in (the phone call at the party).

Kitty's obsessive behaviour got tuned down in later series but it was there and it was not cute. I found it very off-putting, to be honest, and I never understood why people thought it was cute. Obviously, these are just my personal thoughts and feelings on the matter. I know a lot of people will disagree with me on this (cue anon hate in 3, 2, 1...) because they love the idea of Kitty as this young, sweet, naive girl. But I think if you're calling Thomas out for his behaviour (which you should because as much as I love him, he shouldn't romance a married woman, no matter the reasons), you shouldn't ignore Kitty's actions just because her love for Alison is platonic rather than romantic. That doesn't make what she does okay.

[summersmithlatinxgyatt]

So I always say Summer follows the opposite of unconditional love and this is proof. Even if her reaction is at her 'friend' being lesbian, this applies so well

-Her mind is locked on the fact she's popular, still. She sees this as more important

-She then freaks out and ESPECIALLY when she hears this has been ongoing

-Freaks out at the kiss

This relationship was already healthier than anything Summer had because it had build-up and chemistry

I keep mentioning Hemorrhage and I even rewatched Rickmancing the Stone today. Summer gets with him very quickly and stands her ground when they argue, saying she always WAS a monster and is the only one who cares about not caring

She gets with people on a whim and abandons them on a whim. She dated Hemorrhage for a reason I honestly still can't pinpoint and she doesn't see it as a fault of her personality

Christina LaCroix is proof that Summer CAN hold a long-lasting relationship but she can't because of a lack of support from her parents

Also, the Summer of THIS dimension says this is NOT THE FIRST TIME

Which explains this line as well. This is probably the happiest Summer and she commonly has to deal with this stuff. Hence her pepper spray she had on standby

It would also shock Summer to find out she's really broken inside compared to this other Summer and how her life can be much better with genuine love. But again, it's also because this Summer is dangerous. I've mentioned before how Summer is a monster when she's close with her Rick - this version was clearly trained to be ready for this stuff

Anyways this kinda went off-topic but I hit every mark. Just keep in mind she's much happier in a slower and unconditional relationship. I imagine she goes after anyone on a whim (friends or dates) because she'll take any chance to be happy NOW and assume it's forever. Her character is known to cut corners and be a bit lazy, after all!

[academyofbrokenhearts]

You Touched My Face and All Life Was Erased

Suna and Kaya's first kiss, and what brought them to that point.

Author note: I planned to write this every since I watched the kiss scene, but it took me a while, because I wasn't quite sure how to approach it. But here it is finally. Hope it will make it up somewhat for the lack of canon KaySun this week.

Title inspired by HIM's "Resurrection". Lately it seems like all my favourite songs are KaySun coded.

AO3 link here.

Neither Suna nor Kaya give it a second thought until the moment İfakat opens her mouth, putting in words something neither of them was willing to confront.

the attraction that they feel for each other

Suna's initial reaction is disbelief, because she wears the scars of a lifetime of silence and solitude, always being treated as an afterthought, a quiet, withdrawn girl whose opinion does not matter, and never will.

and her dreams were always fractured to the point where she actively suppressed them, because useless hope can be worse than resignation

Kaya looks at İfakat, knows that whatever game she plays, can't be in his interest, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go along with it, if it will get him one step to the revenge that seems to be the only way in which he can calm the storm that rages inside of him. Also, if İfakat thinks she can play him, she better think again.

and somewhere deep down inside, even if he is unwilling to admit it, he does have a bit of a soft spot for the beautiful girl who is not afraid to criticise him, and is not afraid to apologise to him either

*

Can he be her rescue? Suna wonders, when the aftershock has passed, and İfakat's words have started to settle in a bit. Or is this just another door that opens to a wall?

and what other option does she have, except submitting to endless humiliation, to the point that she will be nothing but a broken shell?

Is it worth it? Kaya asks himself. Sacrificing his freedom just to wildly bet on an outcome that might not even be in his favour at the end?

but was he ever really free? and would it be so bad to take this risk?

*

Suna thinks and thinks.

She believed she had found a shelter before, through a love that was at one point the only source of joy in her miserable life, a love that is still unfinished, drowning in bitterness and more pain than she thought she would be able to handle. She's here, still standing in spite of everything, locking down her pain and pretending, in order not to collapse.

But she doesn't know how long she is going to last like this. What word will destroy her completely. What pain will finally be too much.

Part of her still doubts that Kaya is affected in any significant way by her. The spare, the girl who always gets ignored. How could this ever happen?

It's not possible.

And yet...

what if it is what if it is what if it is what if it is

*

What exactly did she do to him to be dragged into this twisted game of revenge? Kaya muses.

And of course, the answer is nothing. Nothing at all.

She bears no responsibility for the rage that boils inside him, threatening to spill over and destroy everything in its path. She has no fault for the dark shadows that loom around him, for the insecurities that he would never acknowledge out loud, for the fear that he will always be left behind, that he will never be good enough.

He does not know her that well, but he did pay attention to her a bit, he noticed some things. She's living her own special kind of hell - what use is it to add his own on top of that?

It would be bad.

And yet...

maybe not that bad maybe not that bad maybe not that bad maybe not that bad

*

In spite of herself (don't dream, Suna, don't you dare), her heart flutters when he compares her to a water spirit.

he doesn't know that she cannot fly because they cut off her wings until there was barely anything left anymore

He does try to keep his distance. Says he won't come to her sister's celebration because he does not want to cause any more tension, but she insists.

she doesn't know that something in him warms up when hearing her words, because he sees himself reflected in her eyes, and it's almost like he's a human being, and it's almost like he matters

*

She can't go to his room, she can't, she won't. She already risked more than she could possibly imagine by leaving the mansion with no permission to go with him at the market, she can't take one single step further.

But İfakat insists that she should, because he got in a fight and got wounded because of her, so she gives in. And really, a part of her might have been on board with it all along.

She should be afraid. She saw his anger, the way it exploded almost unprovoked. She should be, but...

but this is her choice, hers and no one else's, and it might result in heaven or hell, but it's the first time when she feels she might be in control of something, when she feels she's more than a simple pawn

He thought she would be scared of him, but she's not. Quite the contrary, she surprises him by knocking at his door and offering to apply some cream to the wound he got when fighting with those guys in the market.

It goes against everything he knew, or he thought he knew, about her upbringing, about who she is as a person. She either likes him that much... or she is just that desperate.

Neither option is good, and he should put a stop to everything before it's too late.

it's hard when she is so close he can smell her perfume, the sweetness of her breath when she blows over his eyebrow, where they hit him, and if only someone could heal all of his wounds like that

He tells her they should stop. He tells her it's too soon. He tells her she's not sure of her feelings.

She freezes, mortification taking over her entire being. Of course she interpreted all of it incorrectly. She bet on an illusion and lost again. And she knows she will never be able to look properly into his eyes again, and tells him as much.

Oh, and it's so familiar to him, the way tears suffocate her voice, the effort she makes to keep her head high, to not crumble. He knows it. He lived it.

He only tried to be kind, the way he knew how to be, at least, but his kindness hurt her.

She's brave, the way she tries to stop crying, the way she tells him nothing happened, like she's trying to convince herself.

this is another nightmare and then she will wake up and she will lock everything down and she will survive because she has to

He stands still, looking at her, understanding in his eyes.

he knows, he sees her now

With measured steps, he approaches her, the decision taken before he can even be properly aware of it. She could step back, get out, but she does not. Brave girl.

There's nothing tender in the way he grabs her face, but his fingers wiping her tears feel gentle on her skin. She closes her eyes, breathes in, breathes out, and reaches out to him, touching his cheek with her hand, his own hand immediately moving to cover hers. Like he's not allowing her to let go.

Like they are the only remaining living beings in the entire world.

Then he kisses her.

he tastes like hope and dreams and desire and everything she never dared to wish

she tastes like salt and desperation and want and everything he never knew he needed

*

it turns to hell two seconds later

but when all is said and done and after all the tears and commotion, there are no regrets to speak of

[awakefor48hours]

What about Azulanette for the ship classification....

Ask Game

ANON I AM KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH (or whatever form of intimacy you're comfortable with).

I know I'm definitely biased when I say I'd put Azulanette under makes sense and compels me but here's an excuse to talk about it.

First of all Marinette. When it comes to Marinette's love life she has gotten the most characters to fall for her (Adrien, Luka, Nino, Zoe, and Kagami yes, I'm counting her, I refuse to believe Kagami never had a crush on Marinette). But out of all these characters, Adrien has always been "the one" for her and Azula and Adrien do have similar upbringings.

First of all, Adrien's life has been compared to royalty (even though it's usually in a fairy tale setting) and Azula is part of a royal blood line.

Growing up, Adrien had a sheltered life and got a very thorough education (so thorough that his lowest grade ever was an A-) and part of what made Ozai love Azula more is that she was a prodigy.

*Gif taken from this video

As Adrien/as a civilian he has to be an unbreakable image that was meticulously crafted by his dad, like Azula. Everything about Azula has to be "perfect" in every way possible, no just her firebending has to be perfect but her appearance.

As Cat Noir/as a hero, he has the power of destruction and the way that Azula uses her firebending techniques are for destruction/destructive purposes.

You also have the fact that the both of them have poor social skills.

It's easier to remember for Adrien because he's usually talking to other characters (or saying the dreaded "she's just a friend") but Azula is also pretty weird/socially inept and for the same reason as Adrien (she lived a sheltered/away from other kids). The only difference is that Gabriel was trying to make Adrien "perfect" model but Ozai wanted Azula to be the "perfect" soldier (putting quotations around perfect because I don't think perfection exists).

This is another reason why I started gravitating towards Azulanette. As ML goes on, Marinette helps Adrien find courage in himself to start doing things for himself and I can see the same happening for Azula.

Along with Adrien, Marinette also helped Kagami break away from her mom's control and became her first real friend in Ikari Gozen. Then you have Zoe, Zoe was terrified of Chloe so she did her best to be Chloe's carbon copy but after meeting Marinette, she changed. Then you have Adoration, when we see Zoe finally stand up to Chloe.

If given the proper circumstances, this same thing could happen between Azula and Marinette. Azula is a child warrior who spent her life dedicating herself to a war that I don't really think she ever truly believed in. Azula deserves to have a chance to change and be better.

Also, even though there isn't much in the name of Azula's love life, the only love interest Azula has ever had has been Chan but due to her lacking social skills, she sent him away (I want to point out that having poor social skills/coming off too strong wouldn't scare Marinette).

Azula would probably be more attracted to stronger people/people who can protect themselves which is something that Marinette does well. She's the holder of the strongest Miraculous, has worn the most Miraculouses than anyone in history (and she's a kid, so she's only going to get stronger), and she's pretty clever too. I want to again point out that Marinette has gotten several different people to fall for her so Azula can be another one.

Also, they'd be toxic yuri, enemies to lovers, with a red/blue color scheme and because I'm me I love that. So I'd still put them under makes sense and compels me.

[oswincoleman]

I went to see Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons!

And I really loved it! It is an amazing and hilarious story, with brilliant performances throughout!

The rom-com between Bernadette (Jenna Coleman) and Oliver (Aidan Turner) is brilliantly, and concisely told in a lot of different scenes that only last a short time each, before transitioning to a completely different scene and point in the relationship. But even though that might sound confusing, it really isn't. It's easy to follow and presents the story in a unique and interesting way, that tells a consistent narrative, and builds over time, even though it is not chronological. It is really enjoyable to watch, and the 80 or so minutes of the play pass really quickly.

It's an intriguing concept (a law that allows everyone to only speak 140 words a day), especially in how it affects the two protagonists, and their interactions with each other. This is brilliantly showcased not only through the words they speak, how quickly they speak, how you can really see the care they put into choosing every single word they say, but also their physicality, how they interact with each other, and even in the backdrop.

It's hilarious, with numerous really funny scenes and dialogues that often lead to outbursts of laughter from the entire audience. And it is also quite political throughout, especially regarding Oliver's story. He plays a vital role in protests against the "Hush Law", and then continues trying to find ways to repeal it. Whereas Bernadette is at first not that interested in it, even supporting some of its ideas. But she is also shocked when she realises that it is actually going to happen, and tries to support Oliver in finding some way to repeal the law.

Jenna Coleman and Aidan Turner are brilliant in it! They have such a fantastic chemistry together. I really appreciate how hard it must have been to learn the lines for it, much more so than for most other plays of a similar length. The lack of linear progression of the story must have made it really hard to remember the order of the scenes. There is also often such a huge contrast between scenes, and there are scenes with seemingly random numbers and words, which must have been difficult to remember as well.

They also seem to have real fun with the play. Comparing the performance I saw with the scene they played out several times for the promotion for the play, I saw that they really tried to mix things up, do things differently, try out different ways of saying their lines, and performing their parts. Presumably, the same applies to the rest of the scenes too! There are scenes in which they get very intimate and kiss. There is a scene where Jenna jumps into Aidan's arms, and he whirls her around. But there are also many scenes where they stand far apart, to physically represent the emotional distance between them, especially in the scenes after the law is passed, when they can no longer clearly express themselves.

Here are two recordings of them performing one scene in two promotional videos of them. You might notice some slight differences between the two!

Jenna once again showcased her enormous performative range. She laughed, and cried, was exhilarant, and devastated, inquisitive and relaxed, angry and vindictive, but also supportive and kind, which she displayed through her expressions and her entire body language. As the frequent scene changes were illustrated through a very brief dimming of the lights, you could see her instantaneous change of emotions as the tone of the scenes rapidly shifted. In a number of instances, I could see her tears, but just a second later, see her filled with happiness. And vice versa. I have never seen any actor perform such an impressive rapid emotional transition so brilliantly and effectively. It was really impressive to watch, and you got the feeling that you were watching a movie, with scenes filmed on different days, rather than a live performance where subsequent scenes occurred happened in less than a second. Jenna again proved what a phenomenal actress she is!

Despite the fact that there are no props on stage, and it is just Jenna and Aidan in the same casual wardrobe throughout the entire play, they really brought the different environments and setting to light through their performances, and how they approached various scenes differently.

As I've said before, I am always really impressed by how Jenna develops a different way of speaking for each of her roles. And though her accent in this play is similar to her IRL accent, she speaks with a far higher pitch in this play than she usually does, quite the contrast to some of her recent roles when she spoke with a very low pitch. Jenna also sung on two occasions in the play. And even though both times she was meant to sing in a very casual way, both were beautiful to listen to, she has such a beautiful voice. Of particular note is that when they sang Total Eclipse of the Heart almost at the very end of the play, Jenna sang a really high part. And contrary to one of her most-told stories about singing karaoke with Charlotte Church, and not hitting that high, this time, Jenna definitely hit that high.

Another scene that I really wanted to highlight was the scene in the last minutes before Quietude comes into effect, when Bernadette and Oliver try to use their last minutes of having endless words, to say everything they had always wanted to say to each other, and do it quickly, as time is running out. We all know that Jenna can talk REALLY quickly. But this must be some new record even for her. The number of words she can say in a single minute is astonishing. But she doesn't just speak the words out flat just to be quick about it. She does a powerful performance alongside it, and puts real emotion into every single word. It is an absolutely marvelous and awe-inspiring performance.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed it, it is an absolutely amazing play. It also made me really appreciate how completely unreliable, and frankly, objectively wrong some "professional critics" are. The way some of them described the play, and the way the play actually is, could not be more different.

Or, to sum things up in two words, in the style of the play:

Lemons, lovou!

[otomehoneyybearr]

Act 12

Episode 23: The What-If Future and The Certain Now: Taichi

Working w/ Maybelle Lace, jujumin-translates, Fea

Note: As you read, you will see that some sentences highlighted in a different color, this is what they indicate.

Pink: Flashback

Blue: Characters are acting

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

Viewer A: Somehow this performance doesn't feel like God Troupe.

Viewer B: Well, it wasn't polished at all, or rather it was awkward.

Viewer A: Could it be a casting mistake

Troupe Actor: Thank you so much.

Taichi: ...Thank you.

Ensemble Member A: Seriously, just why is he in the main cast?

Ensemble Member B: He lacks charm and made a lot of mistakes during the actual performance.

Ensemble Member C: Seems like he kissed up to Reni.

Taichi: ——.

Taichi: ...Thank you for everything.

Reni: ...Is this a notice of resignation? I had given you a chance. However, I guess it's only natural since you brought on so much shame during the actual performance.

Reni: But, you’re still useful. For the work behind the scenes, of course.

Taichi: No...  I can't do stage work anymore... Excuse me.

Taichi: ...

Taichi: (It's over... I ended it off with my own two hands.)

Taichi: (Even though Reni ordered me to do it, I’ve tainted the theater name. I did something that I should never have done.)

Taichi: (I'll never be involved in theater again. I can't do it anymore.)

Taichi: (I've committed a crime that cannot be forgiven, no matter what...)

Taichi: (I risked everything just to join the main cast.)

Taichi: (Even while standing in the center of the stage I had always dreamed of, and getting so many lines to say, nothing moved me. It felt empty.)

Taichi: (I felt like I was the only one out of place, moving around awkwardly like a robot.)

Taichi: (It was impossible from the start. For me to stand in the center of the stage...)

Taichi: ...

Taichi: (Such a future could've happened, couldn't it?)

Taichi: (Back then, I really wanted to stand in the center of the stage, even though I knew I wasn't suited for it.)

Taichi: (The fact that I chose to be a mole for that purpose was the worst thing I could've done...)

Taichi: (But, because of that I was able to meet my precious Mankai Company.

Taichi: (I've regretted what happened at our debut performance many times, but if I hadn't overcome it, I might not have been able to be in this special place.)

Taichi: (If I could go back to that time again, I wonder what I would do...)

Taichi: ...Phew.

Taichi: (Since being away from everyone, I’ve ended up thinking about all kinds of depressing things.

Taichi: (Alright! In times like these, you gotta move your body and refresh yourself!)

Taichi: Hah! Hiyah!

Taichi: (It feels good to be here.)

Taichi: (I’ve stood on the Mankai Theater stage so many times and experienced important performances.)

Taichi: (Among them, I think the biggest turning point for me as the actor, Taichi Nanao, was...

Taichi: (Being chosen for my first ever lead role in the Autumn Troupe’s 5th performance, Fiery Mantou Fist.)

Banri: We know how much you've put into the Autumn Troupe an' how much this play means to you. Or at least, we'd like to think we do

Banri: That's why we believe you're more than worthy of bein' the lead.

Banri: But you don't see it yet, do ya? You still don't think you're good enough.

Taichi: ...

Banri: So, spill. Dump all those feelings out on stage.

Taichi: Dump them out...? How?

Sakyo: Isn't it obvious?

Juza: There's only one thing we could be askin' you to do.

Azami: I was forced to do this during my first show, so don't go saying you don't know what we're talking about.

Izumi: It's been a while since we've seen you do a portrait, Taichi.

Taichi: ..

Omi: We won't judge. Just tell us how you feel.

Juza: Are you kiddin' about not bein' able to compare to us? Your comedy skills blow mine outta the water

Taichi: Huh...?

Izumi: Not to mention, you're like the Autumn Troupe's ray of sunshine. You're the only one we can count on to fix the atmosphere when things get too intense.

Taichi: Izumi...

Sakyo: You've been working as an actor for longer than anyone else here. Don't sell that experience short. It's done wonders for your acting

Banri: Who cares if you've only ever been in the ensemble? You've been on stage, gettin' experience. You've worked your ass off, and it shows. That's a huge asset

Azami: While we're at it, I just wanna say you're amazing at talking to people and expressing stuff. I couldn't do that to save my life.

Sakyo: You always were bad at making friends

Azami: Shut it, hypocrite.

Omi: I can't even count the number of times your positivity and kindness has helped us, either. Don't you think that's worth something?

Taichi: You guys...

Juza: Maybe you weren't the type of actor who'd stand center stage in the God Troupe, but who cares about them

Banri: You're not a God Troupe actor now, are you? Where do you belong?

Taichi: ..

Banri: Which Taichi Nanao are you?

Taichi: Huh

Banri: Are you the Taichi Nanao of the God Troupe? Is that who you really are right now

Taichi: I mean... I couldn't even consider—

Banri: Just answer the damn question.

Juza: Tell us where you really think you belong

Izumi: It's okay, Taichi. We're listening

Taichi: I'm...

Taichi: I'm Taichi Nanao of the Mankai Company's Autumn Troupe!

Taichi: (Mantou Fist was the stage performance where I was pushed and allowed to stand center for.

Taichi: (Thanks to everyone, I was able to confidently stand in the center of the stage without hesitation.)

Taichi: (The next time I take on the lead role, I want to lead everyone with even better acting than before, with my head held high.

Taichi: (Whether it was being a lead or being a side character, I thought over and over again how grateful I was to be able to stand on stage with everyone from Autumn Troupe.)

Taichi: (Because I can stand on stage with everyone who gave me confidence, I can support the person in the spotlight with all my might.)

Taichi: (I want everyone to continue to think that it's great to stand on stage with Taichi Nanao.)

Taichi: Hah! Hiyah

Lee: ...That’s a firm, strong fist you got there.

Taichi: ——Yes! All my doubts are gone!

Lee: That's good.

Taichi: Hah, worked up a good sweat.

Taichi: I'm home

Masato: Welcome back, bro! I got your postcard for ya!

Taichi: ?

Taichi: Ah, it's from Sakkun!

Masato: What a beautiful sky

Taichi: So this is where you are now~.

Sakuya: "Taichi, how are you doing? I've been reminiscing about all the memories I had with the theater troupe while I was traveling."

Sakuya: "It was fun riding Queen Camellia together!"

Sakuya: "Taichi's idea really helped me out when I lost my pistol prop!"

Sakuya: "I want to do a play with you again soon. I hope to see you in the second part of the full bloom performance!"

Taichi: Sakkun...

Taichi: (It's like I'm hearing Sakkun's voice.)

Taichi: (A straightforward voice that doesn't doubt for a second that he will be on stage with us in the future...)

Taichi: (Maybe I should LIME him since it arrived.)

Taichi: (But even though I received a postcard, it'd just be the same as usual with LIME.)

Taichi: Mom, do you have any postcards

Taichi's Mother: I don't have any, but I can go get some if you want?

Mirai: Are you going to write a letter? I'll lend you my letter set!

Mirai: Here!

Taichi: T-This

Taichi: (Isn't this way too cutesy...? Well, I'm sure Sakkun would be happy with it, so I guess it's okay.)

Taichi: Thanks Michan.

Mirai: You're welcome!

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

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