#I mean strictly speaking that's probably the Second-Favorites window

[peterman-spideyparker]

Sweet Caroline (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Work has been super busy lately, but I got ahead of schedule this week and I listen to music at work and everything kind of fell together and I wrote this. It's not the best I mean TBH it's probably very crappy, I know that, but it's cute and sweet. I hope you enjoy! :)

Summary: The rivalry between Boston and New York is deep-seated and long-standing, but you're proud of where you come from—just smart enough to not announce it from the rooftops in Hell's Kitchen, or to your friends. Turns out, no matter what—through years of friendship, marriage, and everything that follows—there will always be the rivalry to some degree.

Suggested Listening: Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond

Warnings: Fluff, Boston vs. NYC rivalry, not proof read at all, really

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 1,046

Moving from Boston to New York City is a cardinal sin. It doesn’t matter that it was for law school: “You couldn’t get in to Harvard? Suffolk?” “Oh, too good for Boston, now, are ya?” The kind of comments go one and on, especially once you made the decision to stay, having met your two best friends and deciding to open up a law firm with them. You can just imagine the similar sort of comments you'd get in Manhattan if people heard that you're from Boston. Therefore, you keep that part of your background on a strictly need-to-know basis, only free to wear your Boston attire and drink your Dunks in the comfort of your own apartment. The first nice spring day in the city means that your Bostonian nature is out in full force in your home—some windows cracked, a pot of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee brewing, and your favorite hand-me-down Red Sox t-shirt you’ve had for years comfortably situated onto your body.

Your freeze when you register a knock on the door.

“Knock, knock!” you hear Foggy call through the old wood. “We’ve got pizza and case files!”

“Just a second!” you call, putting down your mug of coffee and making your way over to let them in.

“Traitor!” Foggy shouts almost immediately.

“What?” Matt asks, his face scrunched in utter confusion. 

“Oh, Fog, c’mon,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I am being no such thing!” Foggy defends. “This is a proportionate reaction for the situation!”

“I think you’re both forgetting that one party in attendance is blind,” Matt chimes. “Can someone please fill in the details?”

“(Y/N)—if that’s even her real name—is wearing a Boston Red Sox shirt.”

“I will not accept Bostonian slander in my apartment, so if you boys—.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Matt rushes, putting a hand on your closing door. “You’re from Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Why’d you never mention it?”

“Never came up.”

“Lie,” Foggy interjects. “The day we met, we asked where you were from.”

“You said the city,” Matt adds. “We understood that as New York City.”

“That was a misinterpretation on your part. Boston is a city, and I did grow up there,” you clarify. “Hence, I’m from the city. You are at fault for not inquiring further.”

“It feels like I don’t even know you,” Foggy sighs.

“Okay, goodbye, drama kings,” you say, trying to close the door once more, only for both of your friends to slip in.

“Seriously, why’d you never just tell us?” Matt asks.

“You act like I told you I had a secret family or I was Daredevil or something!” Foggy has to help steady Matt—Matt's clumsiness is starting to get more concerning. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react as through and through New Yorkers. I’ve heard everything in the book about Boston while I’ve been here. I didn’t want to hear it from my friends, too.”

“(Y/N),” Matt says, the tips of his ears bright pink. “We don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you mean it? How else and I supposed to take it?”

“You blend so will with New York,” Foggy says.

“Now I’m insulted.”

“No—it’s just that you’re a natural, really. That’s why we’re shocked. That, and you don’t speak like—.”

“—like I want to park the car in Harvard Yard?” you question with an exaggerated accent, making them both laugh, albeit nervously.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” You pick up your mug of coffee from the counter, taking a sip. “What case files did you bring?”

“Sweetheart, she smells so good,” Matt hums in delight as you both rest with your newborn in the hospital room.

“I know, Matty,” you smile. "Or are you forgetting that pregnancy made me have super senses, too?”

“Yeah, but that’s nature at work.”

“Mm,” you hum, taking another sniff of her head. “She smells so new.”

“Is it weird we’re this enamored with sniffing our newborn?”

“No. We made her. We have the right to sniff.”

As you continue to fawn over your daughter, you hear a gentle knock on the door. You notice Foggy and Karen peeking their heads through the crevice, gifts and balloons in hand. 

“Is now a good time?” Karen asks.

“Well, you are interrupting our baby-sniffing time, but I guess an exception can be made  for you two,” you say.

“I’m gonna ignore the baby-sniffing comment because I’m too excited to meet my niece,” Foggy beams as they enter the room and get closer. “Oh, wow. That’s a cute baby. I mean, of course she is, look at the gene pool she got to swim in.”

“She’s precious,” Karen whispers in awe. “Great job, guys. More so to you, (Y/N).”

“Thanks,” you breathe, resting your head against Matt’s.

“Does she have a name yet? Or is she still Baby Girl Murdock for now?”

“Well, Matt had a suggestion,” you start.

“Caroline,” he finishes, smiling sweetly at your daughter.

“Aww. Caroline Murdock. It’s so pretty,” Karen hums. “She looks like a Caroline.”

“Caroline?” Foggy asks. “Like . . . Sweet Caroline?”

“Foggy, how long has it been since you found out that I’m from Boston and you’re still on this?” you chuckle. 

“No, it’s not that! It’s nice. It’s a real show of love for a New Yorker to name their kid after the anthem of the enemy city.”

You look down at your daughter, the picture of relaxation as she rests in your arms.

“Sweet Caroline, bum, bum bum,” you begin to sing. “Good times never seemed so good—.”

“So good! So good! So good!” Matt adds on.

“Traitor,” Foggy smirks.

“You’re gonna be my little cute Boston fan, aren’t you?” you say softly.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Matt tries. 

“You don’t even like sports!”

“It’s the principle of the thing! And you don’t like sports, either.”

“It’s the principe of the thing,” you mock.

“Yeah, but I love her.”

“I do, too.”

“So, Caroline? Is it official?” Karen asks.

“How about Caroline Josie Murdock?” you offer. “She does need a middle name, after all.”

“It’s perfect,” Matt hums, kissing your temple.

“A perfect marriage of Boston and New York,” Foggy smiles. “Just like her parents.”

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[elainemorisi]

.

[fangirlings-things]

The Border Control Project [Part. 2]

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x female reader

Summary: you're Tyler's next mission and turns out, you need him more than you want to

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: curse words, violence and mentions of kidnapping

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @thoresque

A/N: thank youuu so much for all the feedback guys!! I was so happy to know that you liked the story so here I am with part 2, hope you all enjoy it!!

Part. 1

Theme song: Shameless, Camila Cabello

Right now I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for you

Not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

In a matter of five days, Tyler had learned a lot about that (Y/N) (Y/L/N). The file he had asked for had been delivered with not less than sixteen pages and a pen drive. There, the intelligence people had gathered everything they could find on social media and informations passed to them by the family. With that intel, he was supposed to know her even before he actually did. 

He found out that (Y/N) had been born in Chicago, on the 4th of July. The bloody fireworks of independence day were blowing up in the sky while her mother finally gave birth after a 13 hours labour. Through all her childhood, she went to private schools and had the best education a kid could possibly have. She graduated high school with excellent grades and went strictly to the University of Illinois at Chicago, to study History. 

She loved coffee and was fascinated by ancient artefacts and events. Her favorite movie was Star Wars. She was a great fan of Queen and even had a Freddie Mercury poster at her beedrom back in Chicago. Books were a passion of hers, she had read over forty at the age of 18, when other teens would probably be causing trouble around and getting themselves into the life of alcohol and sex. But that didn't mean that that girl didn't knew how to party as well. 

She frequently attended to parties, drank just enough to the alcohol in her system to make her happier and would dance through the night with her friends. Tyler saw some pictures and a video and in all of them, that girl seemed to have no worries at all. She smiled, laughed, passed her hands through her hair and closed her eyes to feel the beat of the music that was ringing in her ears. The thought that she might never smile like that again after what was happening, kinda disturbed him. 

It took some watching through surveillance cameras, intel and study of some rotes of the city, but the team Nik had putted up together called a meeting with everyone who was out after exactly a week since they had first gotten there. They had found (Y/N)’s location. 

She was being kept at a incredibly large house for Guadalajara's standards. That part of the city was one of the richest and yet, that place stood out.

With it's enormous extension, the odd distance from every other building in a raid of three miles, metal huge gates and the two heavily armed men guarding the way in, it pretty much seemed like a fortress. A place where important people would probably hide in troubled times. Although in that moment, it was being used by a total different goal.

Such goal placed Tyler just where he was, on the inside of an old '75 Chevrolet, driving smoothly and calmly while heading to the adress he had watched for a day and a half from the woods near by. He had gone there with questions, and came back with it's answers. How many men? At least twelve, plus the two at the gates. Who went in? Not a single soul. Who went out? Two men in a black SUV. Probably the driver in the front and the big boss, whomever that was, in the back. He didn't get a clear visual on any of them to get facial recognition. Which pretty much, pissed him off.

Tyler had gotten into his head that he wanted to figure out who was behind that shit. Who wanted to shut down the Border Control Project and had gone far enough as to kidnapp the daughter of the Senator. Nik had been right before, when she said that a lot of people could have done it. Dealers, traffickers, corrupted politicians, dirty cops. A bunch of them could go down with that project's approval. Whomever it was, the odds weren't good for (Y/N). But well, that's where he came in. To improve those odds. To fucking rescue her and get his money.

When Tyler made a turn to the left and the house he was going to invade showed up in his sight, he took a deep breath and instantly began to slow down the Chevrolet, making the velocimeter drop quickly, until he stopped right in front of the metal gates. 

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" the smaller of the two men guarding the gates was quick to approach the car with his ACR firmly between his hands, a stern expression on his face. 

What are you doing. Tyler putted on his face the best surprised and scared look he could, while taking his hands out of the wheel and then raising his hands in the air. He kept his bright eyes locked on the gun the man caried, trying to make him see the fake fear he was showing. 

“Salga del coche, cabrón!” again the smaller of the guards spoke up, just as Tyler reached for the window of the car that was closed. The fact for itself seemed to piss the guard off, because now from up close Tyler could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the ACR too tightly. “Vamos, vamos!”

“No habló español! No hablo español!” Tyler placed as much accent as he could on those words, eyes still on the other's gun. Get out of the car, of course he understood. But oh, he wasn't going to do that. Not before the other guard came closer as well. 

“Step out of the car” translated the taller man, doing exactly as Tyler predicted, taking a few steps towards the Chevrolet. 

Tyler nodded, keeping the frightened expression in his face. Slowly he opened the door and got out of the car, stepping in front of the two men with as much causality as he could with his hands in the air again. The smaller one kicked the door of the car closed and held his gun straight to Tyler’s face, as the taller one came even closer and analyzed Tyler up and down with a uninterested look.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the taller guard asked, calm but yet, as dangerous as the other one. He had his hands on his gun, but just for protocol. His grip wasn’t that tight in the metal beneath his fingers. His mistake, Tyler thought to himself.

“My name is Jeffrey, I’m a tourist” Tyler said with the best worried voice he had, keeping his eyes locked on the one who could speak english. “I lost my turn on the road and don’t know how to get back to the city. Please, I just stopped for information”

The taller man squeezed his brown eyes, thinking about his words. Deciding if he should believe him or not. After minutes that seemed like hours, he bought the story and nodded for the other to lower his weapon. His second and last mistake.

Tyler acted like a lightning. Too quick. He elbowed the smaller one that was closer, kicked him in the legs and made him fall, hitting his head on the ground. Just before the taller one could grip his weapon firmly enough to shoot, Tyler grabbed it and took it out of his hands after throwing him a punch. Two shots, the taller one was gone. He turned around to shot at the smaller one and was surprised to see that he had already gotten up and charged forward, aiming the gun to his face again. Tyler pulled the trigger four times. The blood wet the ground and he was alone.

“The front gate is clear” he said, after pressing the wire in his right ear so that the team could hear him clearly. Leaning down, he inspected the smaller one’s pockets and after finding nothing, went to the other dead man and found the keys to open the gate in his back left pocket. The keys he had seen they use while he was on watch.

“Well done, Jeffrey” Nik’s voice seemed to come from inside his own head, like she was his consciousness. As he smirked for a moment for the childish thought, he couldn’t deny, that would be a good thing for him. To be rid of his bloody consciousness, if he had one at all.

“I’m going in” he twisted the keys on the gate and heard the lock click, opening. 

Instead of entering though, he stepped to the side and leaned against the big walls. As he expected, the men from inside had heard the gunshots and went to the gates. Now, they were stepping outside slowly, with their guns held high and strongly.

Tyler took a deep breath. Feeling excitement run through his whole body in the form of pure adrenaline, he started to pull the trigger over and over again.  

            • ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You woke up to the sound of gunshots. Endless gunshots. They scared you and ringed in your ears as if they were coming from millimeters away. You thought if some of the men had began a fight between themselves. You had heard some of them arguing before, but they never got violent. Until now, anyway.

The idea that they could be distracted occurred to you and you found yourself realizing that that would be the best moment for you to escape. To try and get out of there without being noticed. Even the man that guarded your door, Juan, as you had heard other call him, was gone. Probably to inspect the origin of the firing.

Pulling against the restrains with enough force to scratch your skin you tried desperately to be free, not allowing yourself to make a single sound behind the gag. Oh no, you wanted them to continue forgetting that you were there and that you were now alone.

The gunshots stopped after so much time that now the sudden silence felt weird. The quiet made you panic, because you were very aware that your chance to escape was slipping away from you. Your only chance.

You started to scream from frustration behind the gag, crying and pulling so much that your arms ached and hurt as if they were being cut open. The door then was kicked open and that was when you really started to scream.

That man, you had never seen around the house you had been taken to. He was really tall, blond. Wore a blue shirt that had the same color of his eyes and old jeans. He was covered in blood. So much blood. In his face, arms, boots. Blood everywhere. The sight made you sick with fear. Was he the one sent to finally kill you? The moment he pulled out a knife from his waist, you got the confirmation you needed.

The tears wet your face and you made one last, useless attempt on the restrains. He got closer to the mattress, towering over you like a fucking building. You closed your eyes and took one last deep breath, finally accepting your fate as he kneeled on the floor beside you.

And then the restrains were gone.

Opening your eyes, you felt his rough hands touching your skin as he took the ropes completely out of your arms and then reached for your gag. Instantly, you kicked him in the legs making him fall on his side.

You ran out of the room, your hand flying to your own mouth and taking the gag out. You tossed it aside and forced your legs to work as without any orientation you tried to find your way out of that place. You ran as fast as you could, but you only made it to two corridors until you found yourself falling to the ground with a heavy weight upon your body. That man’s body.

You screamed and kicked, pushed and punched. Freedom was so close. You just had to…

“Stop fighting!” the man spoke for the first time, turning your body towards his and grabbing your hands when you tried to punch him in the face. He pressed your wrists with an iron grip to the ground. You continued trying to kick him, and that made his grip get harder. “Listen to me, (Y/N)! I’m here to save you!”

That made you go still. Frozen in place. None of the men there before had used your name. Never. You had the feeling that they didn’t even knew who you were. They were just tools, used to keep you under control under the command of someone much more important.

You stared into the man’s eyes, analyzed his expression. It was serious, dangerous. Some of the blood from his face fell on yours as you just stared at him and thought of the odds of him being actually telling the truth.

“If what you say is true then get the fuck away from me” you growled at him, every word hurting your throat as you spoke again after so much time in silence.

“Will you run if I let you go?” he asked fiercely, staring deeply into your eyes with such intensity that it made you nervous. Only when you denied with your head, he complied to your demand and released you, getting to his feet.

You got up slowly, without taking your eyes out of his for even a moment as you did. Your eyes went down to the knife that was back at his waist. You swallowed dry and tried to run again, but he seemed to have predicted that for the way he grabbed your forearm before you could get even a few steps away.

“Listen to me!” he grabbed both of your arms and shoved your much smaller body into the nearest wall. “Your father hired me! The Senator! I’m here to get you to safety but I cannot do that if you keep trying to run from me!"

“And I am just supposed to believe you?” you looked up at his face, the dry tears on your face now were mixed with blood you had gotten from him. “How can I believe you?”

“Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” he said firmly, his grip still firm. “Your mother is Eleanor and your father is Charles (Y/L/N)! You love coffee, you were born in Chicago! Your best friend’s name is Maggie! Your favorite movie is Star Wars and you study History at college! Your first cat was named Thomas, he died two years ago!”

You just stared at him in complete shock. It was true. Everything he had just said about you. He new everything. Stuff no one could know unless they had spoken to your family. He was telling the truth.

“Y-you’re telling the truth” you said in a weak tone, trying to wrap your mind around the fact. After such time being a prisoner, you couldn’t believe it.

“I am” he seemed calmer now that he could see you believed him, but his eyes were still dangerous. Still completely alert. “Now let’s go. We have to get out of here before whomever kidnapped you notices what I did and sends reinforcements”

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

tag list: @posiemax ; @annaallicce ; @alievans007 ; @imiiimargo ; @chickensarentcheap ; @fangirlsarah16 ; @innerpaperexpertcloud ; @ri-wantstorunaway ; @keikomia

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 15

pairing: mob!steve rogers x reader

synopsis: y/n is an exhausted bio major. steve is danger with a capital danger. she thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. he thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. l he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: Hi! I changed my url I was lovemeterwrites. I know it’s been a long time so sorry for the wait!

MASTERLIST

A Very Manly Heart to Heart

Your fingers were intertwined with his. 

They’ve been all night. 

At first, his touches were subtle, shy, nudges hinting of wanting something more. Something only you could give him. And as the night unravelled, you gave into his gentle pleas. Your hand slipped perfectly in his while waiting in line at the boba shop. 

It caught him off guard at first. He whipped his head towards you with wide eyes flitting back and forth between your clasped hands and you perusing the menu on the wall. You acted like it was nothing. As if it's always been like this. Fingers crossed against his, palms pressed against each other like two puzzle pieces with a perfect fit. 

And when you pulled him along to find a table, his footsteps felt lighter, his insides felt like jelly, and the world seemed a bit brighter. 

Tonight it was boba. The night before it was coffee at the bookstore. The night before that was milkshakes at an old diner. 

It had become the routine for the past week. He’d come to pick you up after class and take you somewhere new with the sole subject of your conversations being each other. Your likes and dislikes. The never-ending debate about the arts and sciences which usually ended in harmless insults. Then when you felt like you’ve had your fix for the night, he’d drive you home. That was your favorite part of the night. 

Your fingers would be loosely intertwined with his. Your thumb brushing against his finger periodically. Eyes glued to the window, watching the city at dusk twinkle underneath the moonlight or rushing by as blurred lights. The windows would be turned down just enough to let in a winter breeze, just enough to cool the heating blush scattered on your cheeks. Neither of you would speak, only listen to the words of your heart dancing along to the murmurs of a sweet melody on the radio. 

“What are you going to do now?” Steve asked, walking down the hall to your apartment. 

You shrug. “Oh, probably study something,” you thought aloud, “rewrite notes, maybe.” 

Your tone is melancholic, expressing the dread that’s beginning to fill you at the thought of all the things you had to do. 

“Do you really study?” he asks with a chuckle when you stop at the door. He leans against the wall next to you. “Or are you just saying that to keep that perfect student image you got going?” he teases. 

You raise a brow paired with a sassy smile. “And what do you think I do with my freetime?” 

Steve’s lips contort into a sly smirk. “Think of me,” 

You rolled your eyes and slapped him on the chest, slightly pushing him away. “Oh, you are so full of yourself!” He laughs, falling back. “Do you though?” he asks with a soft smile and even softer eyes. 

Your expression mirrors his. You look down bashfully then back up to find him still looking at you. “Sometimes I do,” you confess shyly, “But then I realize that it’s a waste of my time and I’d rather do better things," you scrunch your nose. 

Steve groans loudly. “You’re so mean to me.” 

You shrug while lifting your nose in the air. “Someone’s gotta bully the kingpin. Might as well be me.” 

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he stands straight. He takes your hand in his and dips his face into your space. “Maybe I can come over and help you study?” he suggests. Although it sounds more like he’s tempting you. “Read your flashcards for you?” 

You chuckled. “We’ve done that before and you did horrible.” 

“I’m practicing,” he whines, his voice lilting with his words. 

You bite your lip, thinking of what to do. He’s making that stupid puppy dog face and maybe if he did it a few weeks ago you wouldn’t give in but things were a bit different now. "You can only come over if you're not a distraction." 

Steve beams. "I promise to be on my best behavior,” he says to make you chuckle. He comes closer until his lips catch yours in a simple kiss. 

The door to your apartment opens suddenly. You jump back from Steve, completely startled to find Quentin standing in your apartment. 

He isn’t happy. His lips were twisted into a hard frown. His soft blue eyes were shooting you disappointed looks. He decided to keep his focus strictly on you because he knew the minute he looked in Steve’s direction he was going to lose it. 

"Quentin!” you yelled. “What are you doing here?" 

“I’m supposed to be here,” he retorted. “Remember?”

You stay quiet. Quentin knew about the key under the rug and you had no problem with him being over, but you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

He huffs deeply. “Did you really forget what today is?” his shoulders drop with a sad pout. 

Silence. 

“It’s Friday.” 

“Wow he’s so smart,” Steve compliments, “Does he do tricks?” 

Quentin grumbles. 

“Steve,” you hit him on the chest with the back of your hand. 

“It’s Overwatch night!” he exclaims. 

“That was tonight?” 

“It’s always Friday night!” he waves his hands around. “More importantly, do you know how worried I was?” he questioned. “You didn’t pick up any of my calls.” 

Your brows knitted in confusion. You take your phone out of your coat pocket and check it.

10 missed calls from yours truly.

Oh, I'm in trouble now. 

“My phone’s on silent,” you chuckle nervously, “sorry about that.”

Quentin isn’t laughing. 

You stop laughing and try to pry away from his glare by looking at everything but him.  

Overwatch night was a serious matter. It was a tradition that the two of you did together and only the two of you. Because that’s how it’s always been. Just the two of you. But nowadays, he hardly ever sees you. And it feels like you’re slipping out of his fingers.   

“Well I guess Overwhatever night is cancelled, so you can go home now,” Steve chimes in. 

“It’s Overwatch,” he replies sternly.

“I don’t care,” Steve says indifferently. 

“Me and you need to have a talk,” he directed at Steve. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” 

“Well, I do, so let’s go,” he grabs him by the arm and pulls him along. 

“Quentin!” you followed behind him, ready to argue. 

“No, you stay here,” he ordered with a pointed finger. 

“But—”

“I said in, young lady,” he pointed inside. You sigh while watching the two walk down the hall. Steve looks back with a goofy smile and a shrug. You mouth him a “sorry”. He shakes his head with a chuckle as he enters the stairwell behind your friend. 

You just hoped they didn’t kill each other out there. 

“Sooo,” Steve drawled as he stood against the wall of the apartment with Quentin a few feet away from him as if he had the plague. 

“I hate you,” Quentin deadpanned. 

Steve chuckles sadly with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Gee, I wouldn’t have guessed that.” 

Quentin clicks his tongue at him. “You know what I hate the most about you?” 

“That Y/N likes me more than you?” the blonde jests. 

“No, it’s that fake face you keep showing her.”

Steve’s brows knit in confusion. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Quentin stated, rooted in his position. “I know about guys like you. You act all sweet when you’re really not. You might have Y/N fooled but not me.”

“I swear you’re a genius,” Steve says with a roll of the eyes. He takes another long drag of his cigarette. 

Quentin’s jaw clenches tight. “I’m not playing around. There’s nothing pure and wholesome about a mobster. You guys are lower than scum.” 

Steve’s head whips towards him and he grabs a handful of Quentin’s sweater. He tugs him closer, his eyes shooting daggers at him.  “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Quentin stands unashamed and unafraid. His eyes are just as firm as his stance. Steve had to admit he had the guts to stand tall after insulting the kingpin. “Or what? I’m not afraid of you.” 

Steve lets go of him with a light push. “The only reason why I haven’t pounded that pretty face of yours yet is because of Y/N,” he states, pointing his finger at him. “I don’t give a shit if you hate me or not. I’m not here for you, it’s for her. I care about her.” 

Quentin snorts. “You care about Y/N?” he repeats with disbelief. “If you cared about Y/N, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” 

“Putting a target on her head.” he dropped on Steve, making him go silent. “They’ll hurt her to get to you. Have you ever thought about that?” 

Steve exhales through his nose and his shoulders drop along with his lips. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it for a long time,” he confesses. 

Quentin can hear the clarity in his voice. Either he’s really good at lying or he’s being honest. He’d like to believe it was the first but he had a feeling it was the second.

“I asked her if she wanted to leave and she said she wanted to stay. I gave her that option. I didn’t want her to be forced into it and I will never force her into anything. When I said I cared about her I mean that. She means more to me than you'll ever understand." 

Quentin shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shakes his head. “She means a lot to me too and I just wanna make sure she’s okay,” he whispers, looking down. He kicks the sidewalk with one leg, grazing the sole of his shoe against the concrete. “She’s been through a lot. She grew up alone. She had no one and didn’t trust anyone. But she opened up to me, and I take our relationship very seriously. I love her.” 

Steve’s ears perk at the end. He turns his head to look at him. Two pairs of blue eyes catch sight of each other. One filled with worry and a slightly murderous intent. The other pair exasperated. 

“Not the way you do so don't blast my head off, I see her as a sister, alright?” he deadpans. “But I just worry for her sometimes,” he turns soft again. “She’s good at hiding how she feels and making it seem like it’s all good when it’s not. All I want—all I really want is for her to be happy and safe,” he confesses. “I don’t care if it's with your dumb ass or someone else as long as she's really happy, I'm happy." 

"You're a good guy,” Steve replies awkwardly. 

"I don't need to hear that from you." 

"Damn you're annoying,” Steve grunts. “Just take the stupid compliment will ya?" 

Quentin chuckles quietly, "Alright thanks.” 

The two men stand at the curb, each one turned slightly away from the other, watching the lifeless street quietly. The cold nips at their cheeks and begins to sink into their bones, but they don’t mind it. The strong scent of smoke from Steve's cigarette twists around the two. Quentin takes a step away. He hated the smell of smoke. It always brought back memories of when he lived with his dad. 

He wiggles his nose and rubs it with his fingers. 

“You really like her?" Quentin breaks the silence. "Like you're not doing this just to pass the time?" 

Steve chuckles with a smile. He drops his cigarette and crushes it under his shoe. 

Thank God. 

"Would it really matter if I answered yes or no? Cause at the end of the day, you're still not gonna trust me." Quentin grumbles with an irritated expression painted on his face.  

Steve smiles at him before looking up at the night sky. Not a star in sight and yet it seemed brighter than before. 

"I've spent a lot of my time alone. I've seen a lot of people I cared for leave, some without even looking back. Some of them, not even getting the chance. And I made up my mind I didn't need anyone anymore. I'd live by myself–for myself," he looked down with a sad frown. 

Steve rarely spoke of his feelings. With the job he had, emotions were just an inconvenience. You can’t really cut a guy’s fingers off if you felt pity on his pregnant wife at home. It’s hard to do the things he did if he felt something. 

But here on the street next to a guy he barely even knew, that he hardly even liked, it felt easy. And maybe it was that uncertainty that came with a stranger that made things like this easy. He wasn’t trying to prove his worth with some heartfelt bullshit. This was real. It was raw. These were thoughts he had for the past few weeks. What he thought about on the way home from dropping you off. When he sat in his office with Lucky in his lap, and a fire crackling in the hearth. The things he was thankful for.

"But then I met Y/N, and at first I was just intrigued because she was different. Maybe ordinary to everyone else, but she stuck out to me,” he says, "And maybe at first it was just to pass the time but it turned into something more. The more I thought about her, the more I liked her. The more I wanted to know about her and become a part of her life,” he smiles softly at the ground.  “Maybe I'm being selfish, but it's been so long since I've really felt something and when someone like her drops into your life–you'd be stupid not to take the chance,” he turns to look at the him. 

Quentin knows he’s being honest. He can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. 

“I don't know what's to come in the future but as of right now, everything I feel for Y/N, everything I show her is real,” he places his hand on his chest, rubbing the sweet ache in his core. His features soften and his eyes gloss over. "She makes even scum like me feel human." 

Quentin looks away, cheeks a bit red from the cold. He sighs in defeat, his hot breath vaporizing in the cold air. His facial features are hard to read, firm like a father’s, but his eyes are soft. 

"Promise me you'll keep her happy?” he asks. “That you'll never let her feel alone. She means the whole world to me and if I ever find her hurt or crying and I learn it's your fault? I'm kicking your ass to the sun." 

Steve laughs from the belly and it takes Quentin off guard. "I'm actually somewhat intimidated," Steve smiles at him for the first time that night. "you wanna job in the mob?" 

"Yeah, no thanks,” Quentin quickly denies. 

"I promise you. I'll keep her happy,” he replies with a nod.  “In all honesty, I'm still trying to figure out why she likes me." 

It’s Quentin’s turn to laugh. "Trust me you're not the only one.” 

Steve lips twist into a scowl. "Jerk." 

Quentin’s lips twirl into a smile. "Asshole." 

"So it went well?” you asked Quentin with hopeful eyes. 

"Kinda,” he shrugged, plopping down onto the squeaky couch. "We uh came to an agreement.”

"And what's that?" you sat next to him. 

"Confidential,” he replies, creating a frown on your face. "Now movie time?" he asks, waving the remote. 

"Yeah," you nodded. You cuddle on the couch next to him and rest your head against his arm. He puts on a random movie on Netflix and gets comfy. 

"So you like him?" you asked, looking up at him from the side. 

"No." he deadpanned. "But I'll bear with him for you,” he chuckles quietly and turns to look down at you. 

"Yeah?" you sit up with excitement. Quentin’s lips curl into a languid smile by the way you're beaming at him. 

"Yeah." 

You hug him from the side practically toppling him over, quietly cheering to yourself. "You're great, you know that?” 

Quentin smirks. "I know,” he says nonchalantly with a smirk. 

If you’re happy. He’s happy. 

“How’d you like the movie?” Steve asks, exiting the theater with you beside him. 

“Personally, I think there were way too many old white men in that movie,” you comment. 

Steve chuckles. “You wanted to watch it.” He tucks his hands in his coat pockets and creates a hoop with his right arm letting you slip your arm through and hold onto him. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you reply. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like Little Women.” 

“I like anything you like, sweetheart,” he grins and leans in for a peck on the lips that has your insides melting and a giggling mess.

A gentle breeze flows through your hair while walking towards Steve’s car. 

“So where to now?” you ask. 

“Wherever you want, I’m free for the rest of the day—” Steve cuts himself off when he looks up to see a man leaning against a random car. You tilt your head slightly in curiosity when he stops and catch sight of the man. He’s a bit short with a strange beard. The blonde grumbles. 

Of all the days. 

"Tony, what the hell are you doing here?" Steve asks pointedly.  "You lost or something?" 

Tony chuckles and stands straight. "Actually no, for once I'm right where I need to be,”  he replies, "Spent all day looking for you. All your guys keep telling me you're busy,” he says, "And I guess I found the reason why."  He chuckles, eyeing you down dangerously. Steve pulls you closer to him. 

"What d'ya want?" Steve snaps at him, sharp and firm. Tony’s eyes flit back to Steve. Two minutes and Tony had it all put together. He cocks a brow and his lips twist into the infamously famous cocky grin every man in the underworld knew all too well. 

"I'm in a bit of a bind,” Tony states smoothly, “I've also heard that you're in a little trouble." 

Steve laughs, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm fine,” he denies his statement and walks on, pulling you along with him. "See ya ‘round then,” he waves goodbye. 

Tony grabs a fistful of his coat and pulls him closer (down) to him, "Don't play stupid with me, Rogers,” he jeers, face all up in Steve’s. "I know what you did to the Gambinos and I know Hydra's after your ass." 

Again with all the names you don't understand. 

Steve keeps his composure, he looks down at Tony’s hand grabbing onto his coat, $650 dollars worth of Gucci, and looks back up at him. And you could’ve sworn you saw the other man flinch under his cold stare. "I think you forgot who you're talking to,” His voice was dangerously calm and it had shivers trickling down your spine. "Want a reminder?” 

Tony snorts, letting go of Steve with a gentle push. "C'mon you're not gonna punch me in front of your girl,” he eggs him on. 

"I mean he's done it before," You deadpanned and shrugged, returning Tony’s attention to you. 

Great. 

"Quick question. What's a pretty girl like you hangin' round this thug?" he asks. 

"Fuck off, old man,” you snarled. 

"Oh ho, she's feisty too,” he snickers. Sidestepping Steve, he stands in front of you. A bit too close for your liking. “How about you ditch blondie and spend the rest of the night with me?" he offers. "Come over to Manhattan, baby, you'll be seeing stars when I'm done with y–" 

CRACK!

Steve’s eyes grow wide and his lips part into a circle. He’s left speechless, trying to comprehend what he just saw. 

"Fuck!" Tony shouts. He hunches over in pain, covering his nose with his hands. "You broke my nose!" "You'll pay for that bitch!" 

"Look me in the eye and say that,” you hissed, fist still tight. Tony whimpers in pain, wiping the blood from his nose. Steve starts to laugh at Tony’s expense. “I fucking dare you." 

"See ya around, Tony," Steve bids him farewell. 

Steve tugs you along with him for Tony’s sake. "Wait, I'm not done with him,” you growl, taking a step back.

"Yes you are," he smiles with a tug, "Let's go for some ice cream. Gotta cool you down." 

“I’m fine.” 

“Really, baby? You’re all red,” he places his hand on your forehead with a chuckle. “You’re getting kinda hot.” 

You push his hand away. “Piss off, blondie,” you stomp off towards the car. 

Quality Mrs. Rogers Material 

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @ashwarren32 @siriusement @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha​ @calwitch​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @captainchrisstan​ @thirstybunz​ @littlebees-things​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @miraclesoflove​ @harleyscheekheart​ @allegra-writes​ @iced-capsicle​ @eliza5616​ @bookgirlunicorn​ @fckdeusername​ @booktease21​

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Ok y’all, I have gathered enough nerve or something and here it is :D

This is kind of the description and then I’ll put the reference photos and the first part under the read more thingy.

Roman is a mob boss and is played by Ewan McGregor (he’s 100% a hopeless romantic and wants someone to cherish, when he finds that person he will literally do anything to keep them, not afraid of much), Erica (She wants to be loved despite her Asexuality, she is afraid it’s impossible, and she isn’t willing to do much to make it happen because she’s convinced it’s impossible) is his girlfriend. Butcher is basically Kronk from the Emperor’s new groove (because he’s enormous and adorable and I love him).

Second part here

Ok so top is Butcher, he’s probably 6′5 in my mind or more? Probably has tattoos, I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Second is Roman (who is Ewan obvs but this is about the age I picture him). Third is Erica, I picture her between 26&28 and Roman 30 or 32, so there is an age gap but it isn’t more than 4-6 years. She’s 5′11 and Roman is 5′10, that’s a surprise tool that will help us later, and yeah I think that’s about it.  Story below :)

Oh– Warnings?: Talking about coming out, Erica yells a sentence or two but she’s frustrated, silly self-indulgence? Excessive tooth-rotting fluff

*************************

(The song he sings is Your Song from Moulin Rouge)

Roman’s been deep in thought in the back of the car the entire ride and Butch has finally had enough.

“Somethin’ going on boss?”

Roman sighs, “Erica texted that she wanted to talk to me instead of doing dinner tonight.” He pauses before evidently deciding to give Butch the whole story, looking at his feet as he does so. “I asked her at dinner two days ago if she wanted to be official and now, I’m wondering if it was too soon. Did I scare her off?” Roman’s eyes come back to Butch’s as he asks and for a moment he’s at a loss, thankfully Roman continues before he has to answer. “I know I tend to..” his eyes go to the window, eyes searching it as if it holds the right words “..do things a little old fashioned. Commit to each other, take care of each other, do people, not do that anymore?” He asks the question desperately and Butch ponders a moment before responding.

“Maybe not out there, but if anyone would want a little old fashioned, I think it’d be Ms. Erica.” They’ve been dating a month or so now, strictly dinner and walking in the park type dates, she had come to the pent house once, but only so Roman could give her a one month anniversary present; a necklace (it had been simple but elegant, Butch had helped pick it out).

Roman’s eyes make their way back to him, “What do you mean?”

Butch pauses, tilting his head and looking down before answering “She’s got an old soul, and she’s not the kind of woman you could get away with not treating her right.”

Roman had nodded his assent before opening his mouth but the stop of the car cuts him off.

Butch waits till they’re both out of the car before speaking again. “Do you want me to follow you up?”

It’s a matter of protocol, some days Butch sweeps the penthouse before Roman goes in, just to be sure, but at this moment Roman is pretty sure there could be snakes in his house and it wouldn’t be worse than the thought of Erica leaving him. Its early to be so attached, he knows this, but she’s so lovely and wonderful and one-of-a-kind that he hates to see her go so soon, when there’s so much he hasn’t gotten to say to her. He braces himself inwardly though, putting on a brave face for Butch.

“No, I’ll be alright, I’ll let you know if we decide to go for dinner after all.” He tries to smile but knows Butch sees right through it. Butch pulls him in by the shoulders for a hug before holding him at arms-length.

“Don’t go getting all mopey before she’s even talked to ya, maybe she’s already made dinner and that’s why.”

“It’s much too early for that, I hope she doesn’t think she has to—”

Butch is turning him and shoving him towards the door.

“Go on lover boy, face your music and don’t be a wimp!”

Roman drags himself up the stairs, feeling like a glutton for punishment at this moment, straightening himself up before opening the door. He almost regrets forgetting to knock before remembering this is his house and choosing instead to call out.

“Erica? Darling? I’m a little early, didn’t want to startle you.”

She appears in the entryway that leads to the living room, looking a little nervous herself.

“I-“ She takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving him “Thank you for having them let me in, what I wanted to talk to you about is a more personal matter.”

Well. That certainly didn’t sound like a precursor to a break-up.

“Of course” Roman responds, trying to sound as at-ease as possible. “Can I get you anything?” His eyes sweep her figure and upon realizing she’s abandoned her shoes he begins to toe off his own, leaving them next to hers in the doorway.

She’s shaking her head when he looks up. “No, thank you, I brought some cookies I made, they’re in here.” With that she turns back to the sitting room and begins to walk away. He hurries after her but tries to allow her space still. He takes the moment to look at her. She’d looked ill at ease in the foyer, a large OD green sweatshirt (that had probably seen better days) that said ‘Property of Middle Earth’ in worn white letters nearly swallowing her, hair down and falling in her face, she’d pushed it behind her ears twice as they walked. She’s wearing the black jeans she says are her favorites, everything seems to point to her dressing for comfort. She pushes the sweatshirt sleeves up to her elbows before sweeping the container off the coffee table and holding it out to him.

“I remember you said you liked macadamia nut, it’s my first time making them though.”

He nods, taking the box, also taking care to brush his fingers against hers as well as he can without raising suspicion. He takes off the lid, taking a deep breath before looking up to her in awe, “These smell amazing!” He smiles before looking down again, grabbing one to hold it out to her. “Share?”

She smiles thinly, shaking her head again, (Roman doesn’t think he’s ever seen her shake her head this much) before answering “No, I’m alright. Not very hungry anyway.”

Erica knows its not a convincing answer but what can she say? She’s been dreading this conversation ever since she started having feelings for Roman and when he had asked her to think about being officially together, she’d known she couldn’t put it off any longer. She looks at the floor again, remembering that she’s wearing her favorite sweatshirt and that if anyone from Middle Earth were here they’d be encouraging her (maybe not Sauron but he wasn’t really the encouraging type) and probably giving her an awkward thumbs up from behind Roman’s couch. She smiles at the comforting thought and looks back up at him. No matter what his response was, she’d handle it. She’d come this far. She sits down (albeit a little rigidly) on the couch behind her, and Roman follows her lead, sitting in the chair diagonal from the coffee table.

She takes another deep breath, this is it. “I’m just going to come right out and say it—”

“Do you want to break up?”

Roman’s on the edge of his chair, gripping the container and looking at her with, fear? Dread? She isn’t sure but it isn’t a positive emotion that’s etched into his face. He’s not the only one.

“No,” she says it carefully, deliberately, before continuing past what she knows is the point of no return. “But you might”.

It feels like a bomb went off. Roman actually leans back in the chair before blinking rapidly, attempting to process. “Did–“ he supposes ‘cheating’ might be too strong a word if they’re actually not even together but he isn’t sure what else they would split over.

“It isn’t something I did. It’s something I am.” Erica is resisting the urge to cry now, it doesn’t matter how many times she talks about it, it doesn’t seem to get easier when you care what the other person responds with. She’s looking at the floor when she hears shuffling and feels the couch dip next to her. She looks over to find Roman seated on the far end, reaching slowly to hover a hand above her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. It’s not as if anything is irreconcilable.” He pauses and Erica really is bracing now, nearly wanting to get up and run from the room in preparation for the inevitable.

“Unless you’re actually an orc. Or you like eating hummus. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

He says it as if it were obvious and she smiles, shaking her head before breathing out shakily. “It’s, well, its neither of those things.” She says, finally looking him in the eye, reaching up to guide his hand down to her shoulder. If nothing else, she’ll enjoy these last few minutes of comfort he offers before it’s all over.

“I’m asexual.”

Its out. And while it does take a weight off her chest, she isn’t sure it’s gone for good.

Roman blinks, tilting his head, “Tell me what that means?”

It’s a request. Not a demand, he didn’t fill the air with his assumptions, he just asked. That’s a new one.

“Well, it um,” Erica takes another deep breath, reaching out to grab his other hand in both of hers and fastening her eyes to them before spitting out the rest in a rush, “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

He’d already started stroking the fingers he could reach when she took his hand hostage and he doesn’t stop when she finishes. She doesn’t move though, she’s waiting for it to sink in. Either he’ll tell her to get out, tell her that that isn’t a thing, or that he can fix her. She’s already got a plan for all three.

“Ok.” He says it as if she’d just told him it was cloudy outside. “How do you want me to respond?”

She brings her eyes back to his slowly, mouth agape. She can’t even be bothered to close it either, somehow, he’s managed to say the one thing she never expected.

“How do I want you to respond?”

“Well, I know that I don’t know exactly what you need or want to hear, so I’m asking.” He says it all so gently, as if he were trying to comfort her, as if he could sense how hard it was to say this, could he? “I want to support you” he says with conviction, “Sometimes you might have to tell me how.”

His gentle tone never fades, if anything it only sounds more genuine as he continues, moving his hand to hover next to her cheek. She leans into it, sniffing softly and closing her eyes against the tears. It’s hardly the time to cry now. Gathering herself she opens her eyes.

“You need to understand sex is something I might not ever be able to give you.” As sweet as he is, she won’t let him commit to something if he doesn’t even understand what it means. “I’ve, had,–“ now her eyes are back in her lap, withdrawing her hands from his, “experiences, but, I didn’t like them. And since I don’t have the desire anyway, it’s possible I’ll be like this forever.” She’s painting it bleakly but what else is there to say? She’s never been supported by any partner or friend and she isn’t sure she’d even know how to handle it if she was. Part of her does want to break up with Roman now, end it all before he can, give herself control of the situation before it gets any more uncomfortable.

“Why do you say it as if you were broken?”

Shock. That’s what she’s feeling, bringing her eyes up to look at Roman as if he’d grown two heads. Opening and closing her mouth twice before finally blurting out

“Isn’t that what you think?” She’s standing now, words falling out of her mouth in a rush of fear and anger, “Isn’t that what everyone thinks?! Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say? That I can’t be anything other than a robot if I don’t want” she gestures fiercely “that!? As if I wasn’t a whole person without it?” Roman is standing now but she can’t stop “As if there was no way two people could be together without doing it??” Her voice has somehow been getting louder all through her rant and everything’s getting blurry as the tears start “As if I were making the whole thing up?” He’s closer now, and she stumbles back, yelling a final, “AS IF I WASN’T A REAL PERSON BECAUSE OF IT??” before she collapses into his arms. She’s sobbing in earnest now, gripping onto him as tightly as she can. This has never happened. Every other time she’s always handled the rejection, the teasing, the downright harassment before calmly leaving and never coming back but, somehow, it’s Roman being kind to her that finally causes her to break. All the frustration, hurt and confusion finally pouring out in her tears. He’s just stroking her back with one hand, the other cradling her head against his shoulder. Between the sobs she can hear his voice, but he doesn’t seem to be saying much other than ‘its alright’ and telling her to let it out, saying that he’s here and he’s not leaving. It helps.

When the sobs subside to hiccups she wraps her arms a little tighter around him and takes a breath before sniffing.

“Can I have a tissue?” She says it as softly as she can, she doesn’t really want him to leave but she’s starting to worry for whoever does the wash. He seems to pick up on her reluctance to separate, instead taking the arm from her back to reach behind and down for the box on the coffee table. He fumbles in the awkward position for a moment, causing them both to huff in good humor before standing straight and holding it up by her face. She takes it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you.”

She mumbles it without ever moving, choosing to reach over his shoulder to wipe her face, if he’s willing to keep holding her, she isn’t going to make him stop.

He goes back to petting her hair softly, answering in the same tone, careful to keep his voice low. “Don’t apologize. If someone said those horrible things to me, I’d be upset too.”

She sighs quietly. He must not understand still.

“But everyone thinks they’re true. That’s the problem.” She says it matter-of-factly, her arms loosening a bit to rest on his shoulder blades before he suddenly grips her tighter.

“Not everyone.”

It’s a small thing, and it shouldn’t mean anything to her, but it does. It means the whole world.

They stand there holding each other for heaven only knows how long, Erica not wanting to leave the comforting embrace that Roman is offering, and Roman content to hold her as long as she needs.

More time passes before she hears him humming, well she feels it first but then she hears the soft notes next to her ear and feels him shifting back and forth slowly. Swaying them both. Then he’s singing to her. Quietly, barely above a whisper but his voice is like honey.

“My gift is my song, and this one’s for you” he nuzzles his cheek on the side of her head before going on, still whispering gently to her and swaying softly “and you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words,” he gets a little louder then, more confident, “How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

“Elton John?” She asks, voice still a little wobbly, only slightly teasing.

“No, well, yes, but I was thinking of Moulin Rouge.”

She frowns, slowing their swaying slightly, “I thought Elton John wrote that?”

She hears a small ‘ah’ followed by “Moulin Rouge is a film, have you not seen it?”

She shakes her head against his, muttering a ‘huh uh’

“Hmm, well, then let me finish serenading you and then we can watch it, how does that sound?”

She pulls away then, wanting to look him in the face even if she doesn’t necessarily want him to see hers. “You want to stay? With me?”

He nods, brushing his thumbs across where they’ve come to rest on her waist. “I’ll admit I don’t understand it all yet but I can learn. And if you promise to never start liking hummus then we seem to have an agreement.” He finishes with a smile and somehow Erica finds herself smiling with him. Somehow, she has hope again.

“I think I can promise that.” She says, taking another shaky breath in before muttering ‘eskimo kiss’ and leaning forward to brush her nose against his, he bumps their foreheads together and then they’re both giggling. He hasn’t ever kissed her lips yet but it’s moments like this that make her certain he’ll wait till she starts it.

****************************

[naughty-noodles]

The omega and Alpha thing with Toby was fucking awesome- Could you do a part two when you have time? Like Toby kidnaps the omega and kinda forces themcto like him. You're writings really good ☺️

Y/n awoke groggily, head pounding like a motherfuck. The light from a nearby window shone directly on their face, making them move to pull the blanket up. Confusion knit their eyebrows tightly as they realized their arms were restrained beside them.

Y/n's head shot up to see the leather cuffs that kept them from moving too far. Their feet were free to their relief but that emotion quickly faded when the events from the night before came flooding back.

"HELLLLP!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!" They cried, thrashing their feet and pulling against the restraints. Y/n fell back onto the bed with a thud, realizing their efforts were fruitless. They were alone and likely well hidden.

After Y/n caught their breath, they began looking around. The walls were made of logs so it was probably a cabin located in who the fuck knows where. The light coming in from the window was bright and direct. Depending on their direction, it was either early morning or late evening.

The bed smelled like mothballs as if it hadn't been used since its last wash... whenever that was, and the only other furniture in the room was a small dresser and a nightstand.

Y/n laid there, listening to a ticking clock in the hallway until the exhaustion set back in and pulled them back into unconsciousness.

A door slamming shut caused y/n to jolt back from their sleep moments later. Scraping footsteps and a groan made their heart pound fast.

"Can't do anyth-thing right, can they?"

That voice struck fear into y/n's chest as they struggled against the restraints more.

"Oh, hey. You're up."

The masked man had peered his head in. Y/n laid there too fearful to say anything. The killer removed his goggles and pulled his hood off but kept his face guard on. With a huff, he knelt by the bedside.

"Look... I know you're a-afraid... but I'm not going to hurt you. What yo-you saw was strictly business." His eyes crinkled, showing a weak smile.

"Why..." y/n coughed, their voice strained from the yelling from earlier. "Why do you stutter like that..?"

A maniacal laugh erupted from the killer.

"Of all the things y-you could say to- to me first, you ask about my f-fucking t-tourettes?!" He fell to the floor, seemingly amused by the question. After his laughter subsided, he stared with a bemused look at the omega in front of him. "You're a weird one"

He got up and shut the door before pulling out a pocket knife. Y/n's eyes widened at the sight, breath hitching in fear.

"Relax, omega. I said I'm not going to hurt you." Toby reached for the restraints and began sawing at their bindings.

"The name's T-Toby. I had to restrain y-you while I was g-gone so don't take it personally. Also..." he turned and gave them a look. "Don't try to run when these are off. I'm stronger, faster, and f-from the turnout of l-last night... smarter. If y-you are to live, then you a-are to live here."

Y/n nodded quickly.

"I'm serious, d-despite these f-f-fucking tics" he struggled to get out. "Don't be stupid."

When the bounds were removed, Toby helped the omega sit up, warning them to move slow to avoid getting too dizzy. He seemed more gentle now, not wanting to terrify them.

Y/n rubbed their sore wrists with a wince.

"I'll get you some water. S-Stay here. You won't be f-fit to walk yet."

He left the room, leaving the door cracked. If y/n had said the thought of bolting hadn't crossed their mind, they'd be lying. With how weak they felt and how sure they were of being killed if they tried, it was best that they listened.

Toby had returned shortly with a glass of water. He had even put ice in it, which y/n was grateful for.

"Drink slow."

The cold water had soothed their dry and sore throat. Despite trying to hide it, a relieved hum left their lips. Toby chuckled and took the glass when they finished. He didnt want to risk them shattering it for a weapon, as little as the risk seemed.

Smart little omega, he thought to himself.

A moment passed before y/n dared to speak. "If you're so certain you could kill me if I escaped... then why dont you take your mask off? I mean, if I'm to stay here or risk my life... then can't I at least see my captors face?"

"Captor?" Toby snorted in amusement. "Well if we are b-being tech-technical then I guess that's true."

After a moment of thought, he reached behind his head and began untying it. "Just... prepare y-yourself. It's pretty gnarly."

The mask fell off with ease, revealing a large gash in his cheek. Y/n could see his teeth and gums with how wide it was. They scooted a bit further away with a grimace on their face.

"Told ya."

"How...how did that happen? I've never seen anything like that..."

"Along with tourettes, I also hav-have this thing called CIP. I can't feel pain. It doesnt h-hurt but as a kid, when I got n-n-nervous, I'd chew on my cheek. Only the p-pain wasnt there to stop me."

He removed the gloves on his hands and held them up. Each had was riddled with scars and teeth marks.

"Also developed a n-nasty habit of chew-chewing on my hands.."

Y/n frowned and shakily raised a hand to trace the scars while Toby sat with a blank look on his face.

"You think I'm s-some sort of mo-monster, don't you?"

The omega's eyes shot up to meet his brown ones with shock. "No...no... it actually makes you seem more human, really..." y/n gave a weak smile "I mean, killing everyone else in that bar and threatening to kill me then keeping me captive is scary but honestly, seeing your flaws kinda... puts me at ease."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "You... are taking this surprisingly well, omega."

They shrugged. "Trying to make the most of my current situation seeing as if I leave, I die. No offense but i still dont like you."

Toby frowned. "Understandable, I guess." After a moment he stood up. "You should get some more sleep. That pill had en-enough dosage to take down a m-man twice your size."

A week had passed and y/n was beginning to lose all hope of a normal life. Toby was rarely at the cabin and the isolation was beginning to make the omega crack. It got to the point where the omega was excited for the mornings he'd return from what he called his "job".

They rarely went outside, despite being allowed the privilege of staying within 20 feet of the cabin. Toby had trusted that y/n would stay but only for one reason. He had showed them a picture of what resided in these woods if y/n had ventured too far. A creature he called the rake.

The mere sight of it was enough to keep y/n indoors. If they did go outside, it was only to the cabin porch with the door open to allow easy access back inside. Some nights, the omega could swear they heard the creatures cry of agony at not being permitted near the cabin.

Toby had told them that the only thing keeping that creature back was due to the nature of his job and the man he worked for. It made the omega shudder, thinking that someone was that powerful enough to control the beast.

Toby had another residence where he stayed at more often to keep up appearances. When asked if they could go with one day, he gave a firm no. He had told them the place was full of other alphas, and some were so messed up and bloodthirsty that the thought of an omega in their midst would drive them more wild.

The more respected of the bunch each had their own cabin where they were permitted some privacy. No one was allowed over unless invited. The lack of trust was obvious but the mutual gain was enough to keep them from tearing at each other.

So y/n remained where they were, cleaning, cooking, pacing, and finding whatever ways to amuse themselves while the time passed.

Toby had attempted to win them over with gifts, their favorite foods, and a basic level of trust. Slowly but surely, he was winning.

Everything slowly became second nature... until y/n's omega nature kicked in and they began nesting. Every blanket and pillow in the cabin was taken. The closet was emptied and replaced with every comfy piece of cloth the omega could find. Not a thing was out of place, just how the omega liked it.

But once they snuggled down to rest, they became irritated. Something was missing. Something vital. And the omega in them would not rest until they found out what.

Y/n searched the entire house, sniffing every couch cushion and curtain but nothing was right. They began pacing and biting at their nails. By the time the door opened, the omega was nearly pulling out their own hair.

Toby stopped at the door and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Um... what are you doing?"

"Its missing something." The omega grumbled right before their nose caught onto his scent. The whipped around to face him.

"Um??"

"Jacket. Now." The omega glared.

"Excuse me? T-The fuck?"

"Jacket." The omega walked forward and grabbed at it. "I need it."

Confused but slowly becoming more amused, the alpha complied. "Have at it, I g-guess?"

Y/n snatched it and ran toward the bedroom to their closet. Toby attempted to follow but only got so far as the bedroom door before the omega growled. It was then when it got through Toby's thick skull. They were nesting. He's only seen it happen twice. Once when his sister was beginning to present and again when Jeff's brother Liu chose a place to nest at the mansion.

He decided it was best to leave them alone.

The omega began placing the jacket in its correct spot before plopping down, purring happily. An hour or two passed before they began to get antsy again. Something more was missing and the omega begrudgingly knew what. With a small growl, they went back to the living room where Toby lay on the couch, eyes closed in rest.

His eyes opened when he sensed the omega's presence. Pouting, y/n grabbed his hand and began pulling.

"Can I help you?" He chucked, getting up.

"Come." The omega dragged him toward the closet and pointed to their nest. "You go here."

Confused, Toby obliged.

"Okay, 'mega. Now what?"

"Now we sleep." Y/n plopped beside him, now content again. Toby remained at a loss for what to do. The omega stared at him expectantly.

"Well...?"

Racking his brain and wondering that the fuck it was the omega could be wanting, he lay there confused. Until it hit him. Omega's often seek approval of their nests. Without another Omega here to approve, he had to fill that role.

"Its comfy. I like it."

With a happy hum, the omega snuggled up beside him and drifted off while Toby lay there dumbfounded at what he got himself into.

Until he realized. After nesting, comes heat.

.....fuck.

[treeni]

Heartache

Chapter Title:  Illogical Desires

Sequel to: The Limitations of Initial Responses

Ch 1/2

Lomoceit,

Wordcount: 7991

TW: Swearing

Summary: Janus and Logan are both dating Patton, but not each other. Patton’s a tiny bit pushy in the most well-meaning of ways, Logan’s been... inexplicably sweet and Janus is trying to balance his confusing new feelings, his relationship with Patton, and the slight edge of jealousy he can’t quite stifle.

Takes Place During the events of “Flirting with Social Anxiety”

*Note that while this chapter has no spoilers for the episode, the second chapter will.

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taglist: @our-bloody-mari666 

Patton wandered out of his room that morning, bleary eyed and relieved to stretch his legs after a full night of stillness as he walked down the hall. He was in a time crunch after all. As he meandered, the common space had a hushed peacefulness to it that was so rare to find during the day in the bustle of many bodies who all had things to do. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Patton’s mouth when he confirmed that no light streamed from the anxious side’s room. Patton was glad that Virgil had eventually made it to sleep that night.

The fatherly side wouldn’t disturb him.

He smiled more fully when he could see from the back window a figure already sat waiting for him. Patton quickened his steps and rushed out the door to the deck that overlooked his little garden. Off to the side of the deck was a multi-seat padded swing. It was gothic looking with black iron decals and deep grey cushions and stood out against the rustic, natural wood and fairy-tale like atmosphere that Roman had slowly built up over the years. While it didn’t necessarily look as if it belonged in its surroundings, Janus lounged on one side of the swing, swaying gently back and forth as if it were made for him. In truth, it probably was. The furniture piece was just there one morning, the day after Remus happened to be out most of the night and found the couple perched on the deck rails together. Most things that Remus made either looked incredibly modern or was so old looking that it was decayed in some way. This however? Looked very much like something adjacent to his dark style without quite matching it as it had a somewhat antique, classy form to it that seemed completely devoid of any degeneration.

As Janus and Patton had first begun to watch the sunrises together, Patton had contemplated asking Roman to create something for them, but hadn’t dared to actually request it. The emotional side’s relationship with Roman was still... complicated. On the surface things had gotten better, Roman smiled at him and shared jokes with him and pretended everything was fine, but none of the joy reached his eyes when Patton was around. Virgil didn’t even try to put up a pretense. He made it clear they were still strictly in ‘I still love you, but I am upset with you,’ nebulous zone.

Patton found it was a little bit exhausting constantly worrying about two people who were clearly trying to avoid him. The self-deprecating disappointment felt like it was eating him alive sometimes. He had tried so hard to be what they needed, to know what was right, but he didn’t. He could only hold true to what he thought was right, even if it didn’t necessarily feel that way. He had tried to be the strength they all needed in their doubts and ultimately? He had failed them. It wasn’t their fault, really. He could have been more honest in his uncertainty and had more poise against rebuttals, but he acted rashly. He wasn’t designed to work alone. Once upon a time, it had been him and Janus who always worked together, balancing each other. Then it became him and Logan as the pair tried desperately to fill in the gaps left behind by the missing sides.

Patton tried frantically to get someone else to take the lead from him. He had longed for Logan’s physical presance, and had tried to give over control even to the “digital version” of his then friend, but when the logical side had disagreed with him? Morality panicked.

The unfortunate truth was, that Logan was, not always, but usually right. However, his disagreement at that time meant that Patton was probably wrong and if he was wrong, then he had robbed Roman and Thomas of their dream. In that split second decision that he has long since regretted, Patton couldn’t face that possibility. In trying to repress his own fears, he had silenced Logan and it wasn’t fair.

Patton sometimes wondered how that day would have gone had Logan just shown up in person rather than reducing his own input to factual asides.

It seemed like Logan was trying to move past it all. Sure, Patton had regrets, but a lot had transpired in the time since then. Patton certainly hoped that Logan hadn’t begun their relationship with feelings of resentment. Logan had always been surprisingly understanding for someone who pretended to be devoid of feelings. His anger tended to burn brightly for a short time, but once it dissipated he was quick to forgive. A quirk of the logical side was that while he appreciated honest apologies, he usually forgave before even receiving them after having quietly considered the others’ perspectives on his own terms. In addition, Logan seemed to have his own regrets about how he handled himself recently against Janus and with Patton. If there was one person the mind didn’t forgive easily, it was himself.

Maybe they were all just messes deep down.

Big messes who made mistakes and were all just trying their best.

Speaking of doing their best....

“Good morning love,” Janus murmured with tiny sleepy half-smile on his face, having seen Patton wander his way. “I didn’t make your favorite.”

Read More Here

[peremadeleine]

JCS: The 50th Anniversary Tour

My dad and I just saw the touring 50th anniversary production of Jesus Christ Superstar! We both grew up with the music and know it like the backs of our hands, so frankly our expectations were high.

It was...amazing.

A long, detailed, scene-by-scene discussion under the cut!

As the overture stars to play, the lights come up slowly and you realize that you can see the band--the actual rock band--on the second level of the set. They weren’t highly visible, not intrusive, but we both thought that was so cool. True to the spirit of what is, after all, a rock opera.

The cast came out, during the overture, from two of the audience doors in the orchestra and began hopping up on stage. Also very cool--we weren’t the only ones leaning forward in the balcony to look!

Full disclosure, Judas is my favorite character, so “Heaven on their Minds” is a make-or-break moment for me. Didn’t love all of his delivery, but Judas still sold it. (He clearly took a lot of inspo from Carl Anderson.) He was trying to reach Jesus both emotionally and physically without being weird and clingy (a la the terrible 2000 movie).

Ciaphas and Annas were both Perfect. Annas was an annoying little shit who sounded a lot like Geddy Lee--the lead singer from Rush--and Ciaphas had a deep, menacing, beautiful baritone just right for the part.

Though Simon’s performance was not quite as passionate as I would’ve liked, his voice was wonderful. Probably the best strictly vocal rendition of “Simon Zealotes” I’ve ever heard.

Really liked the way the Temple scene was set up...I would’ve liked it more if they’d given Jesus some prop to interact with/throw around, but the glittery/seedy feel of the scene contrasted perfectly with the low-key, muted set design up to that point.

This was the first scene where Jesus actually caught my attention. His delivery of “my Temple should be a house of prayer!” was a real show-stopper--as it ought to be.

The Lepers sequence was clearly overwhelming/stressful for Jesus without being too unpleasant (that’s always how I remember it from the ’73 movie) for the audience. As with “Hosanna,” though, I would have liked a slightly bigger ensemble to magnify the power of the scene.

Mary’s voice was lovely. She played “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” a little bit delicately, and there wasn’t much for her to do--Jesus was sleeping way off to side of the stage--so I think it could’ve been just a little more powerful, emotionally speaking, but again, her voice was very pretty.

When Judas, beckoned forward by Ciaphas, takes his reward for betraying Jesus from a chest at the end of “Damned for All Time,” his hands become stained silvery-white. As the show progressed the silver paint crept up his arms almost to his shoulders. A small prop would’ve been hard to see, anyway, so the Lady Macbeth-style staining of his hands was easily visible from our seats as well as perfect visual symbolism.

During the Last Supper scene, the apostles re-purpose the cross-shape platform in the middle of the stage as a table. They all froze in poses reminiscent of Da Vinci’s painting (as in the ’73 film) while Jesus sang his solemn lines about consuming his body and blood.

This was the scene that most explicitly explored the bond between Jesus and Judas. At the beginning of the scene, Jesus comes up behind Judas and wraps him in a cloak. Later, an obviously-distraught Judas kneels at the edge of the stage and gazes with desperate hope at his friend, even reaching for Jesus’ hand with his stained one. He wants Jesus to stop him, to keep him there--but of course, he’s sent away to betray him.

More disclosure: “Gethsemane” is my favorite song from the show. It’s raw, it’s angry, it’s powerful. I watched a video of the actor playing Jesus performing an acoustic version in a studio and was not impressed, and so far I was on the fence about his on-stage Jesus, which lacked a little bit of the “drama queen” (or, I guess, the “superstar”) element I expect from JCS!Jesus. tl;dr This was THE big make-it-or-break-it moment of the show for me...

Oh, ye of little faith, Luth! All the hesitance and just-good-enough vocals went out the window; he sang with passion and power and conviction, improving steadily as the song reaches its climax. He didn’t try to imitate the vocal wizardry of Ian Gillan, but he hit the high note (“see how I die”) and held it.

At one point he ripped off his shirt and threw the microphone stand against another set piece in his anger, fear, and despair, which I thought was a nice visual for the audience.

I realized, by the end of the song, when the audience erupted into cheers/applause and my dad leaned over to whisper “He nailed it!” that there were tears in my eyes. I was actually crying! And I was so happy, despite my tears, because this Jesus had finally overcome my months-long misgivings and now I could enjoy the rest of the show for what it would be,

Pilate is usually played by an older man, sometimes in over-the-top flamboyant (often purple) costumes. Not so here. This Pilate was the image of a punk rocker in black leather, and he was young, and he was a certifiable rock star! What a voice!  He was the only one my dad “whooped” for at the curtain call.

Confession time...I’ve never truly seen the need for “Herod’s Song,” catchy as it is. But seeing the show live, the audience was into it. They clearly needed one wacky comic number. And boy was this one wacky. Very well-done, kind of had a cabaret aesthetic with Herod in a silver leotard and sparkly black boots.

Everyone clapped between Judas’ confrontation with the priests and his reprise of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” which meant the slow, sad beginning of said reprise was drowned out a little. Boo. It’s one of the most moving songs in the show. (“Does he love...does he love me too? Does he care for me? Oh!”) That said, the tension in the audience was palpable (or maybe it was just me) when Judas climbs the stairs and strings up his rope. Just the rope dropped as the lights went down, so it was tastefully done, but all I felt was dread. Which is the point, I imagine.

The ensemble did a great job of realistically haranguing and guilt-tripping Pilate until he abandoned his logical stance that Jesus had done nothing deserving of death and gave into their demands. The best use of the ensemble in the entire show.

I always skip the 39 lashes when I listen at home. They did it very symbolically--throwing “glitter bombs” of a sort at Jesus every time Pilate counted a lash so that he was covered in gold tinsel by the end of it--and it made it bearable to watch, though still tense.

When the instrumental hook of “Superstar” plays after the trial and before the actual song “Superstar,” Judas comes back out on stage and places the crown of thorns on Jesus’ head. An interesting choice. It certainly got me right in the feels.

Would have liked a bit more one-on-one interaction between J&J during “Superstar,” maybe a new costume for Judas, but otherwise a good performance of that, too.

That’s where I always end my listen...but of course the show ends with the crucifixion. Of course that’s never going to be a pleasant scene, is it? It was, again, fairly tastefully done, with Jesus ending up back-lit on the cross.

The final image of the show was also the single-most powerful one:  the rest of the stage was still dark, with Judas* sitting at the foot of the cross gazing up at the still-backlit Jesus. Reader, I wept.

*it occurred to me that it MIGHT have been Mary--the stage was dark, and our seats were pretty high-up...but I prefer the symbolism of it being Judas.

The set was very minimalist, with two unadorned two-story platforms on either side of the long, much shorter protruding cross-shaped platform. It worked for me. (Much better than the weird “industrial” look they went for in the live TV special.)

The costumes were hit-or-miss, but I did like the simplicity of the design. It was quite monochromatic, with Jesus and the apostles (and Mary) mostly in white or beige, Pilate in black, and Judas appropriately in gray. (There were some much-appreciated pops of color during the Last Supper sequence, when the apostles wrapped themselves in red and blue cloaks; and some glitter/sparkle added visual interest in the Temple, Herod, and Trial scenes.)

I could probably say more, including about what I didn’t like as much--there were a few things!--but I’ll save that for another post. Bless you if you actually read all that.

As sad as I am that I didn’t get to see the 2012 Broadway revival, I’m so glad I got to see this.

If you are a fan of Jesus Christ Superstar and have the means, I HIGHLY encourage you to check out the tour if it comes to a city near you. It may not be the greatest production of this show ever staged, but it’s very entertaining, respectful of the material, musically excellent--and it blows that televised one from 2018 out of the water! All in all, just a wonderful tribute for JCS’s 50th anniversary.

[welllpthisishappening]

All the Subliminal Things (2/3)

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn’t make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David’s friend before Regina and Robin’s wedding. This guy doesn’t believe in soulmates either.

She’s intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

------

Rating: Teen Word Count: Still around 5K’ish AN: This is really just five-thousand words of flirting and emotional backstories. And then more flirting. Kevin Jonas got married at the same castle Regina and Robin are going to have their wedding. So, I’m really sticking with the theme here. As always, I am floored and a little stunned by any response to anything I write, but this has just been delightful and you are all very nice. Thank for clicking and reading and sending very nice comments. I hope you guys enjoy this part too. And make sure to tell @resident-of-storybrooke​ how fantastic her cover art is. It’s fantastic. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. 

------

“Ok, favorite movie?” “No one is going to ask you that.” Killian shrugs. They’re in a different coffee shop, some unspoken agreement that they’ll only meet in public places, and his legs are stretched out impossibly far, arms crossed lightly over his chest with a shirt on that is making it very difficult for Emma to concentrate.

Honestly, it may be that stupid piece of hair behind his ear.

“You don’t know that,” he argues. “And, strictly speaking, my interest in being fake soulmates with you has no bearing on my interest in knowing what your favorite movie is.” Emma’s pretty proud of her distinct lack of reaction. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t groan. She makes no noise whatsoever at fake soulmates despite the certainty that the words actually cut their way through her.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” He shrugs again. It makes his shirt shift slightly, a patch of skin just above another pair of ridiculously tight pants and maybe he’s actively trying to drive her insane. Maybe the world just hates her. That seems more likely.

“It’s certainly how it was intended,” Killian says, taking a drink of another fancy coffee order. He got a latte this time. “And you’re avoiding the question, love.”

Emma reacts at that. That’s disappointing.

She can feel her eyes bug, tongue darting between her lips because, at some point, she’d started breathing through her mouth and the flush that creeps up Killian’s cheeks is as nice as it is unexpected.

“Swan,” he mutters, like he’s correcting himself or reminding himself. Of something. Emma has no idea of what. “The movie. Favorites only.” “Ok, but that makes it seem like I have more than one favorite movie. That doesn’t make any sense. By definition.” “Do you think you were an English teacher in another life?”

“Was that a Bye Bye Birdie reference?” “Absolutely not. And Dick Van Dyke was supposed to be the English teacher. Are you Dick Van Dyke in this scenario?” “He did have an overbearing mother.” “Are you suggesting Mary Margaret is is your overbearing mother?” Killian asks, a smile tugging at the end of his lips. Emma needs to stop staring at his lips.

“Nah, it’s definitely David. The whole thing is gender swapped you see.” “Ah, of course, of course. Ok, so no more Bye Bye Birdie references.” “Why were you aware that was something I could have been making?” “Swan, this is still not answering the question.” She widens her eyes on purpose that time and they’ve been doing this for nearly two weeks now – coffee...meetings that very clearly aren’t dates because they very clearly aren’t soulmates, but it’s nice and good and comfortable and a few more adjectives that are several thousand times more emotional than that.

Emma’s fairly sure she’s at, like, twenty-six on the scale of how absolutely not fine this is.

“Killian,” she prompts when he doesn’t answer immediately, and his head snaps up like it’s on a timer. She can see the muscles in his throat move when he swallows. “Are you secretly a Broadway aficionado from the 60s?” “Only because it was forced upon me.” “Sounds violent.” “Nah, the opposite. A comforting force.” “You’re beating around something,” Emma accuses, and it’s only been a few weeks. Not even a full two. Technically, speaking. That’s barely any time. Her mind doesn’t care. It’s picked up on cues and ticks and little things, every tiny twitch and multiple moments and she’s got some secret stash of thoughts and feelings and how much she wants to know everything single thing about it him.

It terrifies her.

Because she’s absolutely setting herself up for disappointment.

“Only because it’s incredibly depressing,” Killian says. “And you’ve done a very good job of avoiding my question. But, uh…”

Another shrug, a little self deprecating and as depressing as advertised and Emma reaches forward on instinct and, maybe, magic she can’t control, resting her hand on the prosthetic at the end of his arm. They’re going to get kicked out of this coffee shop when their eyes both fall out of their respective heads.

It will probably make the news.

“My mom,” Killian whispers, eyes glancing down towards Emma’s hand and she doesn’t pull away. “Was very big on all that. Had ancient cast albums and a record player that only kind of worked and she used to play them when she cleaned the apartment.” Emma knows that tone. She’s felt it and experienced it, lived it more times than one person ever should, and it’s not something she’d ever wish on anyone.

Especially Killian.

“When?” she whispered.

He smiles. That feels like something important. An understanding. “I was ten. Very quick, very sudden, an even quicker ship off to the system.” “What?” Emma doesn’t quite bark out the word, but it’s very close and their eyes will not be able to cope with much more of this. “What do you mean, what?” Killian asks, clicking his tongue in frustration when he realizes he’s out of coffee. “That’s---I mean, my dad was an absolute dick and never around and Liam wasn’t--” “How long were you in the system?” She’s honestly impressed by how quickly he understands. It’s barely more than three seconds, a flash of his eyes that makes Emma wonder a whole slew of things she shouldn’t even be considering. They’re friends. She thinks.

She hopes.

She’s not great at that either.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk and, now, a pessimist.

“Until I was eighteen,” Killian answers. “Liam wanted to get me out before then, but that’s expensive and there have to be lawyers and have you ever heard of soulmates that aren’t romantic?” Emma nods. “Elsa and her sister.”

"Well, Liam tried to do that, but it didn't work and who is Elsa, exactly?" “She’s a public defender. We’re friends.” “You’re a cop and friends with a public defender? Isn’t that against the rules?” “Nah,” Emma objects, but that’s kind of true too and it’s not fair how easily he can read her. “David was a little scandalized at first, but he gets along with Elsa’s sister anyway and Ruby said it was ok, so…” “And Ruby is?” “Is this an interrogation? I thought that was supposed to be my schtick.”

Killian grins. It’s distracting. She’s going to bring scissors to the next coffee shop they go to. “Genuine curiosity, love.” He does it on purpose. She’s positive. That’s...something.

“Ruby is the reason I’m here,” Emma says. “She grew up in this tiny little town in Maine. Grandmother owns a diner there. And I ended up there--maybe ten years ago? They let me stay there for awhile, then Ruby left for the great, big city and somehow met Mary Margaret.” “David’s Mary Margaret?” “You know a lot of other ones?” Killian shakes his head, eyes darting every few seconds to the hand Emma’s never moved. “Anyway, Ruby heard about an opening at the police department, the need for a few of us interested in preserving justice and told me I didn’t have any choice. There was no reason not to.” “No?” “No,” Emma echoes, a finality to her voice that grates on the inside of her throat. But they’re treading close to suddenly emotional territory and admissions she doesn’t want to get into in a coffee shop, apparently, a few blocks away from Killian’s apartment. “No reason to stay in Boston when there’s so much opportunity here. That’s, like, the New York slogan, right?”

He nods so slowly it’s barely a movement, lips parted slightly like he’s trying to come up with the right word and--”When did you get out, then?” Emma isn’t going to answer. She’s not. It’s too much and not enough and trying to be friends with your soulmate is much harder than she anticipated.

“Seventeen,” she says softly. “I ran away.” “To Maine?”

“Yup.” “And Boston right after Maine?”

“You’re very curious,” she says, and it comes out like an accusation. Killian purses his lips.

“Yes, I am. Piqued, even.” “I didn’t get to Boston for a couple of years. And I wasn’t really there very long. It’s expensive there, you know?” “I do,” Killian says, and maybe she’ll be better prepared for the never-ending string of surprises eventually. “Best cannoli?” “Mike’s, don’t even joke about that.” Killian chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Anything else is blasphemy. I’m sorry you ran, Swan. It shouldn’t have been like that.” “Ah, a lot of things shouldn’t be the way they were.” “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He takes a deep breath, licking his lips and there are definitely strangers staring at them. They’re far too close to each other. “Rear Window.”

“Is that code?” “That’s my favorite movie.” “Oh my god, why?” “It’s good.” Emma blinks, scoffing slightly and laughing a bit and her smile has become something like second nature in the last few weeks. Not even two weeks. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. ” “Are you kidding me? Last Crusade is so much better.” “I didn’t critique your choice,” Emma argues, more curious stares cast her way. One of them comes from Killian. She’s poking her finger into his chest now. He is impossibly solid. “I mean, kind of, at least.” “At least,” he echoes. “Why that one, then?” “I like the rolling ball thing. I always wanted to see that show at Disney World.” It’s not the most emotional thing they’ve said all day, but it somehow feels like even more and then some and Emma is not even remotely prepared for the force of Killian’s answering smile. “Disney World, huh?”

“People go there.” “They do,” he agrees, and she’s not sure why it sounds like some kind of promise.

“You have a favorite Disney movie?” “Nope.” Emma shakes her head. “Nah, c’mon, everyone does. You just don’t want to admit it.” “That is not true at all,” Killian counters. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a Disney movie.” “Oh my God.” “When have I had time, love?” She supposes that’s fair. Everything else is absolutely not, but Emma’s only barely keeping her grip on her sanity at this point, so she doesn’t want to rock the metaphorical boat as it were. It’s started to feel...feelings.

Real feelings. Not just because she’s memorized every shift in his voice in the last two weeks. It’s been two full weeks now, of coffee on their lunch breaks and smiles when he texts her to make sure she gets home alright and the flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach whenever Emma sends him the same gif every morning. It’s LMFAO. From the Shots video.

She’s honestly such a catch.

“That’s fair, I guess,” she admits. “Just like...never in your life?” “Nope.” “You’re trying to be annoying.” “Nope,” he says again, but that one comes with a smirk and a quick twist of his eyebrows and the butterflies threaten to fly out of Emma’s mouth and take over the world. She likes him. Even without the soulmate thing.

It’s problematic.

And not. 

Mostly because of the soulmate thing. 

But he's kind of funny, in a stupidly thinks he's charming sort of way, and she's noticed that he scratches the back of his ear when he's nervous, and seems to have an assortment of button-up shirts with increasingly ridiculous patterns. There haven't been fireworks. It's more a...soft simmer, like falling back into something calm and easy and Emma supposes that's why it has to be wrong. 

God, she's so bitter she's surprised her tongue doesn't rot. 

“I’m being honest with you. That’s a good thing, right?” The butterflies turn to ash.

“Sure,” Emma mumbles. “What if...what if we watched a Disney movie?” “When?” “I’m actually off this weekend.”

His whole body changes, eyes brightening and spine possibly stretching and Emma’s gasp is ridiculous as soon as his lips press against her cheek. They both freeze, looking anywhere except each other. “All weekend?” Killian whispers, and Emma hopes whatever nod she makes in response is actually audible. “You or me?” “You speak in these codes and I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Do you want to come to my apartment or should I come to yours?” Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Yours,” Emma says before she can regret it, but letting him into her apartment seems like a line she can’t come back from and this is fake. They’re just friends. She’s the only one with a soulmate. “That’s---I’ve got no food anyway.” “Neither do I,” Killian laughs. “But I can get something. Or we can order things. Multiple things, even. Good stuff.” His voice picks up, excitement obvious in every letter and the weight of his smile. Emma’s pulse doesn’t know what to do with that. “I’m going to expect good stuff, then.” “That’s fair.” She shows up on Saturday afternoon with a bottle of whiskey and he must have ordered from every place in a ten-mile radius. The counter is covered with food and more alcohol than one person could ever possibly be expected to drink, his gaze more than slightly cautious when Emma freezes in the doorway.

“Too much?” “No,” she says, pleasantly surprised to find she means it. “You want to start at Snow White and work our way through?” “Deal.”

Emma falls asleep somewhere in the forgotten period of 1970s Disney animation, a skip-ahead in the timeline because she’s always hated One Hundred and One Dalmatians and The Sword in the Stone used to freak her out after that one time she saw it when she was six. She wakes up to hear Killian mumbling under his breath about how historically inaccurate Robin Hood is. He only stops when Emma points out that the protagonist in question is also a fox.

They only get off the couch to get more to drink and more egg rolls because Killian must have ordered a dozen egg rolls and Emma has no idea how he knew she’d want a dozen egg rolls. Good guess, or something.

And it’s way too late by the time she’s realizes it’s late, curled against Killian’s side with his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on her back in a familiar sort of way that should be absolutely impossible. Emma doesn’t want to move. She has to move.

This is the worst.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk and so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it.

“You don't have to go,” Killian mutters, fingers stilling.

“I should.” “Whatever you want, love. But--” She can feel him take a deep breath, chest shifting under her cheek. “You’re comfortable.” Words should not be...this. They should just be words and be finished and there should be far less angst in fake dating your soulmate. Only this whole thing has kind of felt a hell of a lot like a date and Emma’s starting to wonder if she’s just drowning.

At all times.

In the middle of Queens.

“Ok.” Killian’s fingers start moving again. “Ok.”

“So,” Mary Margaret says pointedly, a few weeks out of the wedding and Emma’s finally buying a dress. It’s because she’s been dreading this conversation. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Killian recently.”

Emma doesn’t groan. It’s the most mature thing she’s done since she first started hanging out with Killian. She still hates that string of words.

“Yup.” “And?” “And what?” Mary Margaret makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Nothing. I'm just observing.” “Are you just?” Emma laughs, glancing in the mirror and this dress looks pretty good. Everything's felt pretty good in the last three weeks. Like the world has settled on a new axis that’s more efficient with a better rotation angle.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Mary Margaret promises. “Just..a thought. About how happy you are. You should get that dress.” “Yeah?” Emma doesn’t mean her question to be two-fold. That’s how it comes out anyway. Mary Margaret totally knows that. She can’t keep a secret, but she might be omniscient. “Yes,” she says with a smile. “It’s just...it’s good that he has someone to talk to who isn’t David or Locksley or the bar.” “The bar is talking to him?” “Emma.” “I’m serious. Where are you going with this?” Mary Margaret sighs softly, like she’s at war with herself over what to say next. “I’m just saying it’s good. After everything that happened in Boston and--” “--When was he in Boston?” “That’s where he was before he got here,” Mary Margaret says slowly, clearly surprised Emma doesn’t know that. That’s fair. It’s probably the first thing a friend should ask. “He’d been there for a few years.” “With Milah?” “He told you about Milah?” Emma nods, the unspoken lie heavy on her tongue. “Yup.” “Well, it’s not my story. But, like I said, I’m just glad you’re happy. Both of you.”

You can’t keep sending me the same text message every morning, Swan. Eventually you’re going to have to get more creative.

I’m not creative. This is as good as it’s going to get, buddy.

It’s good.

Yeah? Yeah. Be safe later, ok?

I’m not doing anything. Just following up on that lead with David.

Safe, Swan. Please.

Ok. I’ll call you when my shift’s over.

Good.  

 “You need to go further up on the right.” Killian groans, but does as Emma instructs, moving the sign and glancing over his shoulder expectantly. Emma grins. “That’s good,” she nods.

“Good because I think I dislocated both my shoulders doing that.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re the most dramatic man in the world.”

“Not even the Tri-State area.” He flashes her a smile, shaking the hair away from his eyes and he asked her to come see the bar that afternoon. His shirt is sticking to his arms.

Emma really wants to kiss him. She texts Ruby that later.

The audio file Ruby sends back is fourteen straight seconds of her very loud laughter.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Emma startles at the question, curled into the corner of Killian’s couch with her head propped up on the arm and another Disney movie playing in the background. It’s a thing. Apparently.

“Well, that’s a question,” Emma mumbles, Killian’s expression turning almost regretful. “Why do you ask?” He shrugs. It looks like a lie. It feels like a lie. “Just wondering.” “Yuh huh. Well...Mary Margaret can’t actually keep a secret so...do you know about Neal?” “Should I?” “I’m surprised you don’t,” Emma says, nerves churning until she’s certain they’re burning the back of her throat. Emotional acid reflux. “Neal was...a guy. A guy I met in Boston. And it was good for awhile. Comfortable and normal and I thought--well, a lot of things I shouldn’t have.” “No?” “No.” “And what happened?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” Killian hums. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to Swan.” Emma considers that – rehashing past pains and almost theres and she’d really thought Neal had been it. She’s not sure if it’s worse now that he isn’t. Mostly because it is sitting across from her with wide eyes that are obviously interested and too blue to be fair and she takes a deep breath before she actually decides.

“I thought Neal was a good guy,” Emma explains. “He was nice and charming and not always on the up and up, but I was doing bail bonds, not actual police work and I didn’t really care as long as I got the paycheck. Anyway, I knew he was into some shady stuff, but I liked him. He liked me. We were good. Until we were very not good.” Killian’s expression darkens slightly, concern almost palpable. “How not good is not good?” “Almost jail not good.” “What?” he balks, and that’s an emotion Emma is not entirely prepared for. The muscles in his throat shift when he swallows, eyes narrowing until they’re not much more than slits and his chest heaves when she rests her hand there.

“Take, like, eight-hundred steps back. I obviously didn’t go to jail. But it was--well, it was close. He was fencing this stuff, watches or something and I showed up before I was supposed to. There was a raid and lots of stun guns and have you ever been tased?” “Someone tased you?” “It’s not something I’d suggest experiencing.” “Fucking hell, Swan,” Killian breathes, fingers wrapping around her wrist. “That’s insane.” “Yeah, turned out he was not that great of a dude. He got off from any major time. Community service and a fine, because he’s dad’s super rich and the justice system is a joke, so…” “His dad is super rich and he was still fencing shit?” Emma nods. “He said it was kind of a thrill. You know, sticking it to the man or whatever.” “What an ass.” “Yeah, in retrospect. But, uh...I was kind of mad about everything still. The whole childhood thing leaves just this gaping hole of bitterness and one family in Ohio said I was, wait for it, too testy to be adopted.” “Testy?” “That’s what they said. On the official report.” Killian clicks his tongue, anger turning to disbelief almost visibly. “That’s not true, Swan.” “No?” “No,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. Her heart grows, the feel of it pressing between each one of  her ribs and several different internal organs until she’s almost concerned for the state of her spleen.

She probably doesn’t need her spleen.

She’d probably give up her spleen if he kept looking at her like that.

“You are…” Killian adds, “the opposite of that. Determined and a little stubborn, with some very strong opinions on Chinese food--” “--Those egg rolls we got the other day were garbage and you know it!” “So you mentioned, Swan. The point I’m making is that even if you hoped this asshole might have been something more than what he was, he still would have been the world’s biggest dick for ever thinking you deserved to get lied to.”

Her spleen hurts. It’s ridiculous.

“Thanks,” she whispers, not nearly enough. She can’t come up with another word. Killian smiles. “That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Ever.”

She can feel the heat in her cheeks, heart hammering against her chest. And she hasn't, actually, come out and answered his question. "So, um," Emma mumbles, "that's it, I guess. I just--I thought, Neal was something or could have been someone and I really did love him and--" She shrugs. It's depressing. Killian's eyes are still impossibly narrow. "Well, it wasn't the moment, I guess."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Had a moment?"

"God, I hate that. It's such a dumb name."

"Yeah, it is," Killian agrees, clearly noticing the bitterness in her voice and Emma can almost see him staging his retreat. "I'm sorry. That's, I shouldn't have--"

"--I thought it was Neal," Emma cuts in. The words are sharper than she intends them to be, but they also feel like they're doing permanent damage to her lips and Killian worries enough while she's at work. She can't imagine what he'll do if she starts bleeding from metaphorical knives on his couch. 

"He wasn't."

She freezes. 

Every single one of her muscles tenses. 

It is equally the single worst and best thing she's ever experienced in her life. 

And Killian's mouth is hanging open, eyes staring straight at her with an intensity that does something else to Emma's muscles and several different biological systems and it's entirely possible her spleen has just fallen on the floor at this point. She kind of feels like she's crumbling apart anyway. 

"He wasn't," Killian repeats, softer, but just as determined, a certainty in every single letter than Emma can't wrap her mind around. Yet. She assume she'll think about it on loop for, at least, the next forty-eight hours, though. "He...he couldn't have been. The whole soulmate thing is a mess, Swan. It's--" Another shrug. She's counting now. It's absurd. "Everyone's got a different way of knowing and they all want it, but it's...it should be more than that, don't you think?"

"Sure?"

"Swan."

"I'm just not sure where you're going with this."

"It's not forced love, but it's--well, it's supposed to be easier, right? And there's nothing wrong with people who don't have soulmates."

"You're genuinely not making any sense."

Killian scowls, leaning forward and Emma isn't sure if he means to do that. "I know, I know, I just..."

“Why do you order such ridiculous coffee every time we go out?” He chuckles, a quick press of what may actually be his lips to the bridge of her nose. “That same bitterness as you, I suppose. And a distinct lack of money or anything except, sometimes, the clothes on my back. I can do it now, so I’m going to get extra foam. Why don’t you get better coffee?” “That’s just a very pointed judgment regarding my coffee order.” “And not an answer.”

Emma sighs. He’s right. And very good at understanding. “I don’t want to overstep,” she mumbles. “Get more than I deserve.” “That’s not how it works, Swan.” “Tell that to my brain.” He leans forward slowly and for one crazy second she thinks he’s actually going to kiss her. She wants him to, desperately if she’s being honest, but that’s him and not her and the lying is getting harder. “That’s not how it works, Swan,” Killian repeats, pressing the words to the crown of her head.

She feels her smile spread across her face slowly, settling there. For posterity or something. “That was ridiculous.” “You believe me?” “A work in progress.” He definitely kisses her hair. “Good.”

The bar opens. A week before the wedding, which Emma thinks is absolutely insane, but Killian just flashes her a smile and it makes a little more sense after that.

He’s standing behind the counter, a towel draped over his shoulder and there are several pieces of hair she’d like to do something about. Brush away. Slowly. Possibly romantically.

She feels a little drunk already.

“What’s your poison, love?” Emma’s laugh is far too loud. It soars out of her, makes her body shake and forces the edge of the counter into her stomach. She’s leaning over the counter. “You can’t use that when you have actual customers, you know,” she says. “They’ll walk out.” “That’s a legitimate question.” “No, it’s not. That’s a bad pun used in, like, movies from the 70s.” “Ah, we haven’t really focused on movies from the 70s, yet, have we?” Emma stops laughing. Her lips feel very dry. “No,” she mutters. “Not yet.”

“And, strictly speaking, it was really more of a rhetorical question, than anything.” Killian grins again, crouching to grab a glass and his eyebrows do something absurd when he flips it. And catches it. “Also, are you suggesting you’re not an actual customer, Swan?”

She hopes her lips don’t actually crack right there.

That would be gross.

Super gross.

Not appropriate for a bar opening with all their friends around gross.

Emma shakes her head slowly, tongue flashing between her lips and he’s still smiling at her. She’s having a difficult time breathing. Which is also impressive since her mouth is hanging open. “I’m just, you know--” “Right,” Killian says, nudging a glass of whiskey towards her hands. It’s filled to the brim. “You are my favorite customer. Bar none.” “Was that also a joke?” “Not intentionally.” “Impressive, then.” He hums, another twist of eyebrows. “Right? You want to watch me throw glassware again?” “Do not throw glasses,” Robin calls from the other side of the bar. Emma laughs again. And Killian’s smile softens, eyes falling back to Emma when his hand tugs on the hair behind his ear.

“I’m going to throw more glasses.” “Oh, I know you are,” Emma says, and it sounds like a promise.

He only breaks one, a fact he’s quick to point out, hours later, tucked into the corner with his arm around Emma and her head on his shoulder.

She doesn’t notice anyone else staring at them.

 “You kiss him yet?” Ruby asks, perched on the edge of Emma’s desk the day before they’re supposed to leave for the rehearsal dinner. “Get off there.” “Yes or no?” “No.” “You want to?” “Obviously.” Ruby chuckles, but it’s almost sympathetic. “Yeah, I figured. He’s probably going to die when he sees your dress.”

“How many shoes are you bringing?” Killian calls from the other side of the apartment and Emma’s not sure when she just started coming there consistently, but it must have been after the Disney thing and he really liked Tangled. She can’t even make fun of that.

She really likes Tangled.

“Uh…three?” “Three?” “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

He leans around the bedroom door, skepticism painted on every single inch of his face. “Three? Should I be bringing three pairs of shoes?”

Emma waves her hands through the air, and she’s going to have to leave soon. She’s got to get up to drive out to some castle on Long Island and of course Regina is getting married on a castle on Long Island. There’s going to be so much weekender traffic heading East.

And she’s not entirely sure why she’s being asked these kinds of questions, but everything has been so easy and hanging out isn’t that, so much as it’s just existing in each other’s spaces.

Like they’re supposed to.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk, so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it and an incredible over-packer.

Three pairs of shoes is entirely unnecessary.

“Your heels, sneakers and flats?” Killian lists, still twisted and the door frame must be pressing into his liver.

“Nah, two pairs of flats.” “That was my second guess.” “Sure it was. What time are you going to leave tomorrow?” Emma asks. She jumps off the couch, swinging open the refrigerator door in a familiar way and he’s started buy vanilla coke zero. He never drinks it.

Emma averages two cans a day.

“Killian?” she continues, flinching when she feels a hand curling around her shoulder. “God, don’t sneak up on me like that. I definitely could have punched you in the face.”

He laughs, the feel of it brushing against the side of her neck and that one very specific spot behind her ear and Emma knows there are goosebumps on her skin. She bites her lower lip. “I really doubt that, love. Think of all the damage you could inflict.” “Far too confident in your own good looks.” “Undoubtedly.”

She doesn't giggle. She will tell herself that for several hours later that night, she’s sure. She does, at least smile, head falling back without her explicit permission. Killian doesn’t flinch. “What time?’ she asks again. “There’s going to be so much traffic on the Expressway.” “We’ll take the Northern State.” “Oh, that’s even--wait, did you say we?” He spins her, quick enough that her socks squeak on the linoleum floor. The tips of his ears have gone red. “A thought,” Killian murmurs. “More efficient. Something about our carbon footprints. And I just--I thought maybe we could talk.” “You don’t want to talk now?” “How much whiskey have you had?” “Not a ton,” Emma sputters, but Killian is impossibly good at reading her and she’s honestly the world’s worst liar. “How much rum have you had?” “Enough.”

She narrows her eyes, suspicion fluttering at the base of her skull. "What are you thinking?"

"How do you know I'm thinking anything?"

"You're doing that thing with your face." And for how narrow her eyes were, or, maybe, still are, Killian's widen to a near-comical size, taking up half his face and Emma grits her teeth. Hard. It makes her jaw ache. "I just..." she stammers, waving her hands in the air. That is not making it less awkward. "Well, you have a face."

"I think you may be drunk."

"You wan to talk about secret things!"

Killian sighs out a sound that isn't quite a laugh, but may just be the audible version of very real nerves and Emma continues to ignore the fluttering. It's not quite suspicion anymore, so much as it's...fear. That's absurd. She's got nothing to be scared of. This is fine. It's fine. They're going to drive to a castle and fake everything and lie to several people if they ask and she assumes Cora only stocks her open bars with top shelf liquor. 

So, that's, like, a very real positive. 

And yet. 

She's scared and nervous and scared, again, just for good measure. That this very real, very good thing, that is also the most positive anything she can remember having in forever is about to blow up. Right in her face. 

Emma wishes he weren't actually her soulmate. 

It'd be easier that way.

"Not secret, love," Killian mutters, and she hasn't been breathing. "Important. That's--" His teeth find his lip, fingers tugging on the back of his hair. "--I think we should both be pretty sober for it." “Ok...so you want to drive out to the castle--” “--Oheka,” Killian interrupts. “That was on the invitation, love.” “Please, like you’ve done anything with the invitation except glare at it for costing too much.” “It’s Oheka. It’s very fancy. Very famous. I can pick you up tomorrow. I don’t mind driving.” Emma nods. “Or, um...well, my stuff is already in my car. I threw it in there today so I didn’t have to worry about it tomorrow. I figured I’d leave early so I’d beat the traffic.” “You brought all your stuff here?” Killian asks, and the hint of hope in his voice feels cruel and unusual. Emma’s a cop. She knows how that works. She’s torturing herself though, so that’s probably different. “Stay here then.” It’s not a question. It’s a hope and a want and she finds herself nodding again, the whiskey in her veins thrumming with the magic of everything and she needs to tell him. This is such a bad idea.

“Ok.” “Ok.” They spend no more than five minutes arguing sleeping arrangements, Emma rolling her eyes dramatically and Killian huffing and it’s pointless because she’s pretty positive they both want to sleep in the bed and, well...they do. It’s the best she’s slept in years, an easy rest that feels deeper than REM and like the start of something and everything and she moves her car into Killian’s spot after he grabs her bag out of the backseat.

[final-fantasy-mama]

A face like a Goobbue

Emet Selch X WOL

This is backstory for Amaurot, non canon, just me playing around with ideas and trying to build a story. This is the official first chapter of my fic and all other chapters will follow a general plot line and the main story of SHB. It probably sucks but meh, enjoy! Again I will say this is non canon so if small things are different than the game dont kill me. Im using the title of Altima (ultima, virgo) for the wol just because thats my zodiac and my favorite summon from ff12.

************************************** 

"Before the sundering there was one world. A world that knew naught but peace and prosperity. Until it was faced with a crisis. Unprecedented. Terrifying. Civilization found itself perched upon a precipice, staring into oblivion." ~ Emet Selch

"You weren't impressed I take it?" Hythlodaeus asked as he and his companion walked down the darkened streets of Amarout. A city as grand and opulent as Amaurot never truly slept and even at the wee hours of nightfall people could be seen going to and fro, couples joined in hand for a moonlight stroll, folks walking in and out of pubs and eateries, and beings like Emet Selch and his friend Hythlodaeus returning from another long winded convocation meeting. This one had gone on longer than needed but much was needed to be covered and introduced as it was not every day a new member was added to their elite ranks. The moon was high in the sky and gave enough soft light for them to walk about unbothered.

"Hmmmm." Emet grunted beneath his mask. "Considering how they spoke not more than 5 words during the whole meeting and seemed to be seated just for decoration, I would say I’m not so much unimpressed as I am simply disappointed. The convocation made it seem like our 14th member was something to be astounded by and yet all I saw the entire session was some meek mewling lamb shaking in their robes. The title of Altima is not given freely nore easily so on earth did they earn it?"

His friend had to chuckle, and they trotted along under the lamp lit streets of their great city, the tall buildings and spires filling the skyline against a dark blue sky. Their robes gently swept the ground as they moved at a steady pace in the direction of home. "It is just as you say, the title of Altima is not given easily so shouldn't you give them the benefit of the doubt? It was their first day, mayhap they were nervous? Goodness knows the state of affairs in the world right now would make anyone feel awkward."

"Awkward enough to call on someone who obviously lacks experience...What do you imagine they look like under that white mask they wear?" Emet suddenly pondered in a mocking way.

"Like any other of our kin." Hythlodaeus shrugged.

"Like a Goobbue I'm sure." He mocked and then suddenly stopped. Across the street in a darkened area sat a rusty gate covered in ivy and morning glories. The lot had been vacant for a while with an old mansion on the grounds, unable to be resold as most people regarded it as condemned or unlivable. Now though, the old mansions murky windows were lit, and a pleasant sound drifted from its inner gardens. Someone was living here.

His friend noticed how intently he stared at it and mentioned, "Oh looks like someone finally moved in. A blessing to be sure, that mansion was in need of repair."

A burst of light from the garden and wave of Aether made them both gasp and look at each other. "Who purchased this residence?" Emet asked suspiciously.

Hythlodaeus shrugged and adjusted his grey mask accordingly. "I'm not too sure. It must have been recent if neither of us have heard rumor of it."

Emet eyed the garden beyond the gate. "Creation magic that powerful shouldn't be used willy nilly in a public space."

Again, there was another burst of light and Emet crossed the street with his friend running to catch up. "What are you doing?!"

"That sort of Aether output should not be so hap hazardously used in such a setting without any supervision, I'm going to see what this perpetrator is up to!" Emet huffed.

"First off you're not one to make judgements like that due to your own tarried record!" Hythlodaeus scolded. "Second, you are breaking and entering!"

Emet rolled his eyes. "Then stay here if it frightens you so!" and gingerly opened the gate and stepped inside.

"Have you lost your mind!?" His friend hissed and then threw up his hands. "Do as you like but I’m not going to face any charges for your reckless snooping!" He turned on his heel and stomped away as Emet untangled himself from the ivy of the gateway and carefully made his way towards the garden.

Music gently filled the area as he turned the corner of the mansion as was greeted by a large open courtyard filled with trees and flowers of all species and colors. They sprang out of the ground in no particular order, completely at the will of nature making the are seem more like a jungle than a courtyard. Lanterns hung off the tree limbs casting soft light over everything as a gazebo sat in the center of it all and in the center of the gazebo sat a person, hunched over a small table and scribbling furiously into a large notebook.

Their back was turned to Emet Selch so all he could glimpse was the provocative expanse of bare back and the trailing ruffles of a white nightgown, its wearer so consumed by their scribbling they scarce noticed the intruder. A gramophone played soft music next to them as they looked up from their book, snapped their fingers and a burst of light filled the area. Emet hid himself in the shadow of the nearest tree as something chirped and landed on the back of the creator’s chair. From the light a winged creature kin to a bird but with an absurdly large beak, gray feathers and a rather grumpy face appeared. It flapped its new wings a few times from its perch as the creator patted their head affectionately.

Then the figure stood up and stretched long feminine arms over a head full of long silky hair, looking up at the moon in the sky and reaching for it as if they could pluck it from the expanse, before turning in a way that Emet could see their features. In the privacy of her own home, her face was barren of any mask or covering and when she turned in his direction fully, he felt his heart stop in his throat. A beautiful face with glaringly sharp eyes and soft features looked directly at him.

Time seemed to stop for him as this white dressed goddess took a step forward, her soft nightgown hanging loosely off her shoulders and dragging on the ground behind her as if it were a wedding gown. She raised a graceful hand and pointed a finger at him before shouting a command and something struck Emet hard behind the head. It sent him flying forward and onto the ground face first. He didn’t even manage a shout as he rolled onto his back and a long leg and dainty foot planted itself hard enough into his chest he grunted in pain. The woman in white stood over him, a scowl on her face, hands on her hips as she dug her foot in deeper.

"You'd better have a good excuse for being here!" She growled as a small black cat raced up her leg, around her chest and rested on her shoulder. She had used her creatures to attack him whilst he was preoccupied.

He tried to speak but her foot on his chest made it difficult so he croaked. "Madam you misunderstand!"

"Misunderstand what?!" She exclaimed. "You're trespassing in my garden and spying on me like some....some pervert!"

"Creation magic used outside the security of the hall of concepts is strictly prohibited! Only members of the higher echelons and the convocation are allowed to create outside those restrictions. You have a lot of nerve calling me a pervert when you are so openly disobeying sacred law!" He snapped back.

"Frankly what I do on my own property is none of your business." She said matter of factly.

"I am of the convocation! Now would you kindly take your foot off of me so I may further explain myself!" He growled, finally losing his cool under the circumstances. He slapped her foot off as he stood up and dusted the grass off his black cloak.

She looked him up and down before saying. "If you're on the council then you should know better than to go sneaking around a lady's home in the dead of night."

He huffed as he straightened himself out and bowed rather begrudgingly. "Emet Selch, the Architect, at your service."

She paused and stared so hard at him she might have bore holes through him. "Oh. You." She said simply as if it was no matter.

"What do you mean, Oh you? Accosting a council member is so uncouth one would have to ask where you acquired your lack of manners!"

She smirked. "Not as uncouth as a man staring a girl down in her nighties."

He felt heat creep up his neck. "I was investigating the misuse of creation magic! Nothing more! I was most certainly not admiring your lithe form beneath the moonlight...uh, that is I was not admiring you at all!"

She giggled, the atmosphere turning instantly to something mirthful while she walked back to the gazebo. "I've heard of you Emet Selch and rumor has it you're not a paragon of justice and order, in fact I heard you and Hythlodaeus are quite the troublemakers." She waved for him to join him at the table and he did reluctantly as she snapped a tea set into existence. After pulling up a second chair for him and sliding a hot glass of tea his way, she sat back down herself and pushed her large notebook aside. Emet could see that it was filling with drawings and diagrams, all hand drawn in dark pencil. The current page she had been working on had a drawing of the bird that sat at her back and under it a name. "Shoe bill".

"You're concepts?" Emet asked as he calmed himself down on tea.

"I never create anything unless I’ve drawn it out first and written myself detailed instructions. As you say, the misuse of such magic is costly and dangerous, so do good fellows like yourself need not be worried about little old me." she smiled and put a few lumps of sugar into her own drink.

"And you are...?" He dared to ask.

Emet watched her as she drank her tea down and noted the subtly bobbing of her lovely throat as she swallowed. She was without a doubt the most enchanting creature he had ever seen and when she told him her name, he wished he could go back in time and take back everything bad he said about her, for he had never been more wrong in his life. Oh, Emet sometimes you need to put your mask where your mouth is, this was one filly you needn't mess with.

"We met earlier today. I am Altima, the 14th member of the convocation...and probably not as Goobbue faced as you imagined. You and your friend should speak more quietly when in public, you never know what manner of creatures might be listening in on you." She smirked as she rested her chin in her hand.

[closetspngirl]

I dare you.... ALL of them. Yeah... I said. All. Of. Them. hehehe

Just remember...you asked...

If anyone else is even remotely interested in reading some/any/all my answers to all 100 questions, see below. For the rest of you, I hope the keep reading tab works...

1: is there a boy/girl in your life? Yes

2: think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? Not sure yet

3: what do you think of when you hear the word “meow?” A cat?

4: what’s something you really want right now? Well a couple things...pick a coast...

5: are you afraid of falling in love? Sort of. I’m currently watching it crumble before me...and I’m not sure I can do that to myself again.

6: do you like the beach? I love the beach!

7: have you ever slept on a couch with someone else? Yes

8: what’s the background on your cell? A black and white of Jensen playing the guitar. My lock screen is a digital painting of Genevieve’s Ruby.

9: name the last four beds you were sat on? Umm...huh? Mine, my coworkers...a family friend...and I guess my mom’s?

10: do you like your phone? I do.

11: honestly, are things going the way you planned? I mean...no? But they’re looking up.

12: who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? One of the sales ladies at work.

13: would you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler? Neither. 

14: which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? Probably emotional. I’m a total empath so I can be super sensitive. 

15: would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Depends on what art exhibit is going on.

16: are you tired? Yes. I got 3.5 hours of sleep and this is your cruel way of keeping me awake for at least another hour. lol. It’s a good thing you’re cute. 

17: how long have you known your 1st phone contact? As long as I’ve been at my current job, just over a year.

18: are they a relative? No.

19: would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? Fuck. No.

20: when did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? Uhh...like 30 minutes ago (when was the kiss is a WHOLE other question)

21: if you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? If I knew that that was it for either of us, yet. 

22: would you kiss the last person you kissed again? I mean...maybe on the cheek in a ‘have a nice life’ kinda way

23: how many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? One

24: is there a certain quote you live by? Oh wow...there’s a few that I like but I’m horrible with recalling them.

25: what’s on your mind? a lot of things...

26: do you have any tattoos? I do, three, four is getting added hopefully this year, for sure next year (or it might be five at that point...)

27: what is your favorite color? Purple

28: next time you will kiss someone on the lips? August

29: who are you texting? Does tumblr messaging count? If so, you, and the person I’m texting

30: think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch? Yes

31: have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? Yes

32: do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Yes

33: do you think anyone has feelings for you? Yes

34: has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? Yes

35: say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you? Hope she likes it...

36: were you single on valentines day? I mean...strictly speaking, no. Did I go out and do anything? No. I was working.

37: are you friends with the last person you kissed? Uhh...hard to answer.

38: what do your friends call you? By my name, or a few different nicknames

39: has anyone upset you in the last week? YES.

40: have you ever cried over a text? Yes. Both good and bad.

41: where’s your last bruise located? Oh goodness...uh...I think it’s the one on the side of my right knee

42: what is it from? Who the fuck knows...it just showed up one day.

43: last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? Yesterday, day before that, Saturday, almost every day last week...

44: who was the last person you were on the phone with? Personal phone: R. Work phone: sales department.

45: do you have a favourite pair of shoes? My converse

46: do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day? I hate hats.

47: would you ever go bald if it was the style? Never

48: do you make supper for your family? I can, am able, rarely do.

49: does your bedroom have a door? Yes, thank god.

50: top 3 web-pages? Tumblr, IG and...my portfolio currently I guess since I’m trying to update it.

51: do you know anyone who hates shopping? Yeah...me. lol. Ok, not completely true. Clothes shopping is a huge hassle. 

52: does anything on your body hurt? Yes. Head, neck, back, stomach, feet (gotta love a kitchen job)

53: are goodbyes hard for you? Depends on the goodbye, mostly yes

54: what was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? Uh...probably coffee

55: how is your hair? It’s fine, thanks for asking. HA!. j/k. It’s up in a messy bun and headband

56: what do you usually do first in the morning? Turn off my alarm, See who messaged me and get ready for work

57: do you think two people can last forever? I think it’s possible, as long as both people want it.

58: think back to january 2007, were you single?  No

59: green or purple grapes? Green. Purple grapes are too sweet for me.

60: when’s the next time you will give someone a big hug? Probably...Friday when L is back at work. Otherwise, August.

61: do you wish you were somewhere else right now? Yes. Didn’t I already answer this? Pick a coast...I want to go there.

62: when will be the next time you text someone? Later tonight

63: where will you be 5 hours from now? In my bed. Asleep. So help me Chuck if I’m not.....

64: what were you doing at 8 this morning. Uhh...just waking up for the third time.

65: this time last year, can you remember who you liked? Other than Jensen/Jared/Dean/Sam? Uhh....Oh I guess I was crushing on B a little...but that ship has long sailed. 

66: is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? Absolutely. 

67: did you kiss or hug anyone today? I hugged L. I’m surprised he’s not tired of me yet. lol

68: what was your last thought before you went to bed last night? That I really need to be better at letting shit go.

69: have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? Yes. 

70: how many windows are open on your computer? Windows? One. Tabs...? 10.

71: how many fingers do you have? 8 plus two thumbs.

72: what is your ringtone? Priceless by for KING & COUNTRY

73: how old will you be in 5 months? 31

74: where is your mum right now? South Dakota

75: why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love? A long list of really shitty reasons.

76: have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No

77: are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? Definitely

78: do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7? At 7? Let’s see...first grade...I don’t think I had a crush on anyone. I remember there was this kid Ben that I hated because he used to take my stuff all the time. OH!! There was this really cute blonde boy that I can’t think of his name right now. He was only there for that year and then left.

79: is there anyone you know with the name mike? Yes! My best friend’s dad. lol. He’s like my second father.

80: have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms? Umm...I mean technically speaking? Yes...the way I wanted it to be? No. It was more that I fell asleep with my head on them and then they nudged me off so they could roll over...

81: how many people have you liked in the past three months? HA! Well....B...R...J...three. I’ll go with three.

82: has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? Yes

83: will you talk to the person you like tonight? Already am

84: you’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? I wouldn’t do that, but if I was...probably my friend Carrie...

85: if your bf/gf was into drugs would you care? I mean...probably?

86: what was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? Well...I can’t even remember the last movie I went to go see...I think it was maybe Brooklyn, with my mom. So not a lot other than watching the movie. 

87: who was your last received call from? Work

88: if someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? Only if it was already dead. Otherwise, no.

89: what is something you wish you had more of? energy...?

90: have you ever trusted someone too much? Yuuuuup.

91: do you sleep with your window open? When I can.

92: do you get along with girls? I do

93: are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? Am I keeping a secret? Yes. Do they need to know? No.

94: does sex mean love? No

95: you’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? Uhh...it’d be boring AF

96: have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? No

97: did you sleep alone this week? Yes. Have been for months now.

98: everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you? I’m working on it. I’d like to think so.

99: do you believe in love at first sight? umm...maybe? not entirely sure

100: who was the last person that you pinky promise? Oh lord...I don’t even remember. lol

Thanks for the challenge!!! xoxox

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

ᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇʙ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ -- Peter Parker fanfic (1/of many)

A/N: As you already know, MCU sometimes could be confusing so I'm doing my best to adapt the story to what happened in the movies. The story happens before Civil War and I'm not planning on ending it ٩(^ᴗ^)۶The main character has a name but c' mon it's fanfic if you want it to change it to yours, feel free, also that goes for the physique as well. 

They say that the first five seconds when you wake up you don't know who you are, your mind is blank, there are no worries, no memories... but in my case... I always know who I am

Wake up at 5:40 am

Brush teeth and change to yoga pants

Do at least 30 minutes at the treadmill

Shower in less than 12 minutes and change

I started applying some light makeup when the tablet my dad gave me started beeping and flashing blue lights, I touched it and a hologram appeared with a photo I took of my dad eating Doritos.

"Dad?"

"No Miss Stark, it's me, Friday" her calm voice emerges

"oh! good morning Friday... why you have that photo of my dad?"

"good morning Tannie, your father asked me to remind you of today"

"today? what's today?"

"he wants to watch a movie with you while eating dinner"

"Great! yes, thanks for the reminder... wait... what movie?", I said while putting my earrings and some bracelets

"he told me to tell you that it's one of the best movies in the history of cinema"

"I hope he's not talking about The Hangover or The Hangover 2" I took my small purse ready to leave and have some breakfast

"If it helps he never told me the name of the movie Miss Stark"

I stopped in front of the tablet "Friday, don't be so formal with me please I told you to call me T, Jarvis used to call me like that too"

"I'm sorry, formality is integrated into my system, I'll change it"

"Thanks, oh and mom is still asleep?"

"let me check" I waited some seconds "yes, I detect a thermal figure in the bed"

"Thank you Friday" I exited my room and went to the kitchen

I prepared some scrambled eggs with toast, I took the overnight oatmeal I prepared and chopped some fruit, the complex seemed incredibly quiet without the cavemen and with cavemen, I'm referring to Thor, Steve, usually Sam, Clint, and even my own dad. I heard one of the doors open and my mom came with a sleepy face.

"Mom, hey!"  I speak quietly "I prepared coffee for you"

She gratefully smiled and grabbed it and walked close to me "thank you honey" she yawns and gave me a kiss on my temple  "you even prepare breakfast?"

I just smile in response and offered her a plate for her to start eating, I started eating too.

"so... what are you doing today?" she grabbed the newspaper, flickering her eyes and started reading the headlights

"not much actually, in an hour I need to go to Midtown to bring in some papers for my file and I need to speak to Morita as well"

"why? is everything okay?" her drowsy voice stops and she lifts her eyes to me with a concerned expression

"yes, it's because I want to join a club and I need more info about it"

"club? dance? drama?" she smiles showing her subtle dimples

"mom... no, I mean yes... I do love dancing and drama but that's not my path. It's robotics lab's club" I proudly smile at her

"wow, honey, you'll do amazing I mean it!" she smiles and holds my hand  "actually I'm not surprised, I mean since you were this tall you spent hours beside your dad just looking how he built all of his stuff"

"yeah he is partially responsible for me liking robotics and I believe that I can build something that helps society" I felt my exciting going up just thinking about it

"oh dear, your eyes just lit up just saying that...just like your dad" she stared at me and then went back eating

"by the way mom, where is everyone? is seldom quiet?" I quickly started eating

"ha! I know right? I believe they're at the gym? or maybe saving the world?"

"well wish them luck...mmm now I have to go but I'll be here in less than two hours max" I kissed her cheek and place the dish in the sink, with a final wave I walk to the lift

"bye baby!" she yells

I patiently waited to be downstairs, when I got to the street I saw Happy already waiting... probably my mom texted him I was going out, I saw my bike, that I never use,  just on the other corner and tiptoed to it...

"Tannieeeee" Happy says with a warning tone, I stop in my track and spin to look at him

"hey, Happy! how are you today you seem happy" I winked at him and he chuckles but quickly his lips are a fine line

"what are you doing? huh?"

"I'm going to Midtown and taking my bike" I innocently smile at him fluttering my lashes

"good try Tannie but you can't do that" he points a finger at me and I roll my eyes

"please geez, Happy, it's just going there and returning here I can even send you a text when I get there"

"what's your name?" he suddenly asks

"what? Tannie..."

"your whole name..." he now rolls his eyes at me

"Tannie Maria Stark," I chant without a clue of what he's talking about

"oh! yes! Stark! the daughter of a billionaire man who happens to be Iron Man and best friends with other Avengers, right?" he exclaims and I sigh in defeat

"a'right got your point Happy, happy?" I step into the car feeling the leathered seats and Happy closes the door behind me

"very much so, yes" he says when he climbs inside the driver's seat

The drive was fast given how the traffic is on New York, Happy left me in front of the school and he made me swear for my whole family that I'll be careful returning to my home and that I need to send him a selfie proving it's me who's texting him. I waved goodbye and looked around, the school without the hormonal teenagers is better, I mean, I'm a teenager, yes, but given the context I was raised in, and probably my mother's genes (not my dad's) I'm more mature than most of the students in Midtown. I entered and walked to the administration office, I quickly gave my documents and walked towards Morita's Office.

"Principal Morita? may I come in?" I knock twice

"please, yes!" he excitedly says and I opened the door seeing him with a tropical shirt and two bags by his side "And Miss Stark, so punctual as always, have a sit please and forgive this dress code but I just returned from THE MOST relaxing place and I still keeping the vibe but I know the vibe will vanish the first day of school, therefore... tomorrow" I kindly smile at him

"so! you wanted to talk about registration to a club?"

"yes, I... want to enter to the Robotics Lab's club and I just wanted to see if I need to submit any previous work or any mmm letter of recommendation?"

"well, Miss Stark let me say I was hoping for the day of you joining and yes a submission of previous work is required but let me tell you that the projects students submit are like machines who feed automatically their pets or back scratchers and I know you are in another level... and letter of recommendation? your own name is the green pass"

That's what I thought...

"well I know but, with all due respect Principal, put yourself in my shoes... I don't want to enter just because of my name..." I confess

"very well, no favoritism I see, tomorrow at the auditorium there are going to be tables each one for each club and you can talk there to the president of the club and put your name on the list" he smiles, the corner of his eyes wrinkled

"perfect, thank you very much that was all I needed" I shake his hand and leave, I see the hallways and sigh, tomorrow will be chaos.

When I left school I breathe the fresh-ish air and started walking to my house, I closely watched everything street life has to offer and suddenly in front of me a man inside a building crashed into the glass window, it seemed like someone pushed him quite hard, I jump back and froze, he quickly grabs his gun and I immediately  hide between a car and a parking machine.

"come here, spidey boy!" I se how he's holding a backpack and suddenly he's kicked again by a flying... no, swinging figure... Spider-Man, I saw one of his videos last week

From where I am, I can only see his back and how he's confining the other man into a tiny corner

"please!- " he punches the man "be nicer " he punches him again "and never steal something!" he finally knocks the man down  "Police is coming! they'll deal with you" quickly he throws a web and literally as a modern Tarzan swings away, I closely watch him... who the hell is that guy?

I quickly stride away from the place and strictly went home, I knew Happy was right, my name is double-edged, I can be easily a target but I do need freedom once in a while. I arrive at the tower and see Happy waiting outside so I checked with him I was alive, of course, without mentioning the incident with the spider-ling thing, he sighs of relief and walks to his car to leave.

-------

Until 6 pm I binge-watched series and prepared some outfits for tomorrow, no sign of the Avengers nor my mom yet, so I grabbed a book and started reading when a smell of food being cooked woke my stomach, I entered the kitchen and smile when I saw Steve's broad back, every single time dressed as an old man... Jesus, help him.

"Hey Tannie! how was your day?" he smiles at me and I walk beside him peering inside the pan

"to ordinary actually, what about you? you left to early and you came so late?" I question him

"yes, some meetings with everyone, nothing else" I sense he was hiding something, these years with him and the others actually helped me to read their body language... well, I'm still trying with Nat... but probably it's for my own sake not to know about it

"well... glad you're here know, my dad is...?"

"at the living room," he points with the spatula

"Thank you and let me say that whatever you are cooking smells wonderful" I playfully grabbed his arm and he laughs and blushes  "Oh my god your arm is so fat, I mean, so fit!" I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room where my dad is talking through the phone

"yes, I know... I'm gonna talk to him okay? yes, bye-bye" he hangs up "My kid! my genes or half of them! How are you?" he loudly exclaims and I giggle throwing my arms to the air

"My dad! the provider of half my genes! I'm fine!" I continue with his joke and he chuckles

"oh, Tannie" he sits on the couch "the fact you share my sense of humor and my sarcasm makes me happy" he touches his arc reactor dramatically

"so... you wanted to watch a movie?"

"yes! yes, I want to!" he cheerfully claps and grabs the remote control to turn the TV on

"please tell me it's not The Hangover... or the second one.." I plea with puppy eyes

He rapidly turns to me with an over-exaggerated sad expression "what is with your hate for those movies? they're a Masterpiece of comedy and total drama!"

"I hope you are joking dad," I settle on the couch and his silence ends the little debate, I watch the screen and see how he's searching for something

"let's enjoy it, shall we?" he settles comfortably on the couch and my eyes dart again to the screen

the black background soon fades to a fast motion of a city"Welcome," a woman's voice says

"you're about to step into a wonderful journey of knowledge that will give you the best advice for having a healthy and harmonious life"

What hell is this?

I turn to look at my dad expecting some answer or saying he chose the wrong movie and with the corner of my eye I see Steve walking towards the TV to check what we're watching and his face changes, he winces. On the other side of the open room I see the big figure of Thor, then Sam, and Clint approaching too.

"Hello, kids! I'm Captain America and I'm so happy to talk to you face to face about some things you need to know about life"

Images of a woman and a man holding hands and kissing appear, my cheeks start to feel hot

"Human relationships are normal and at your age, you start generating hormones that can provoke you some changes, physically and mentally and you need to be prepared! just like I was when I drank the serum!"

Holy shit... it's a sex ed video...

"seriously dad?" I spin my head to him with a red face of embarrassment

"what? shhh, the next part is important" he ignores me so I stand up and walk in front of the TV, avoiding Steve's face

"that? seriously dad? c' mon really?  I... I don't need this video!"

"Okay, we can look for another one but let me tell you... this is the most liberal one" he points out and Steve gently slaps his shoulder

"no! I seriously don't need any kind of video. I totally know everything" I bring my hands to my hips

"oh, really missy? everything? how? huh?" he questions and the eyes of everyone falls on me

I sighed and roll my eyes "mom talked to me during this summer break and she never showed me a video by the way"

"oh ok! that is checked on the list on how to raise a daughter, your mom's the best" his face changes to the 'everything's good in this world and that includes me'  look

"but seriously dad, you really needed to put the video of Steve talking about sex?" I point to the paused video and see how Steve scratches his jaw

"well, I thought it will make you feel comfortable, right? like you are always seeing him and you sometimes play scrabble with him..."

"no, Tony, I don't think that's how it works" Steve steps in  "but come on Tannie, your dad has a point"

"yeah he does kid," Clint says  "I'm rehearsing for when I need to talk to my kids as well... especially Lila"

"I don't know what to say, I never had this on Asgard and look how I turned out!" Thor happily smiles at me and I just shake my head

"well, this is awkward," Sam whispers

"listen T, tomorrow you are starting Sophomore year, parties are wilder, boys are in need of girlfriends and like Cap said! hormones are everywhere, I'm a little concerned here, I'm a very devoted father you know?"

"Okay devoted father... now let me relax you... I have a curfew for parties, I don't drink, I don't have time for boyfriends and I don't need one right now, I have better things to do"

"like?" Sam quickly asks

"I'm joining the robotics lab's club"

"ha! nerd!" Thor starts laughing and Clint slaps his bicep

"yes! there you go, Tony! no need to worry about your daughter... now I'm going to eat because I'm starving" Cliny raises his hands in victory

"see ya! hey Steve save me some" Sam exits the living room and Thor and Steve too, I sit beside my dad

"robotics?" he huffs and smiles "pffff, I'm very proud of you T, seriously, you are like the perfect adolescent"

"thanks?...." I hug him "now please dad just burn that movie, pleaseeeee"

"yes! immediately! on it!"

--------

I finished my day eating cereal in the living room and playing charades with the teaming with Clint and Sam, and beating the sh... and beating Steve and Thor, who are new to pop culture, Finally, I went to sleep or tried to because I'm excited to learn new things... geez, Thor is right I'm a nerd.

A/N: hope you liked it! Also available in Wattpad! https://my.w.tt/sw2CZNdCv1

[kusunogatari]

[ Plague || Chapter Two ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Blood, vomit ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ Previous || Next ]

A few more hours’ travel sees them reach the designated village. It’s nearly nightfall, but the village head hurries out to meet them. “You are the medic from Konoha?”

“Yes sir - do you have someplace we can speak without being overheard?” Best to avoid panicking the populace.

“Yes, yes of course - this way.”

Fubuki on her shoulder, Ryū and Kakashi follow into the man’s office, declining an offer of tea. “What did Tsunade-sama tell you?”

“Only that the illness is spreading, must be quarantined, and that you would be coming. Is it...just one of you…?”

“I’m here to get a grasp on the situation and report back - depending on the severity, Konoha will be sending more medics as they are able. We have reports of cases spreading across Hi no Kuni. We have to ensure the areas most affected receive the most help.”

“Of...of course. Um...we have a population of about three hundred. Of that, we’ve had seven cases...so far.”

So, about two percent… “And where are the patients now?”

“They’ve all been taken to the clinic, and regular patients are being seen elsewhere. We didn’t want to risk it spreading.”

“Smart,” Ryū praises. “Thus far, we know the illness spreads through bodily fluids - typically blood or saliva, the latter of which occurs the most through bites as the illness increases aggression. So as soon as someone starts exhibiting symptoms, they should be isolated for their and others’ safety.”

The elder gives a quick nod. “I’ve had our local guards keeping an eye on things. If anything seems suspicious, they let me know immediately.”

“May I see the patients?”

“Yes, though...I must warn you, many are very, uh…” A pause. ��...angry.”

“I’m prepared.”

They cross the street and head down a ways before reaching the small local clinic. Within is another medic, who bows in greeting.

“Are you the attending physician?”

“In…a manner of speaking. I haven’t had the formal training you lot in Konoha have, but...I’m the most knowledgeable here. I mostly deal with herbs and old practices without chakra. I’ve, um...I’ve been recording what I’ve found.”

That gets Ryū to perk. “Good - the more data we have, the quicker we’ll hopefully find a cure.”

“You really think this can be cured…?”

“I certainly hope so...or at least I’m hoping for a vaccine to stop the spread. This particular illness is dangerous and lethal. We need to curb its progress as soon as possible. If you don’t mind, I’ll take your notes and the information the clinic has of the population and send a note to Tsunade-sama right away.”

“Y-yes!” Fumbling for a folder, the local medic hands it over along with several others. “The records from the last few months. Our first case was about two weeks ago...and it’s been steadily increasing from there.”

Nodding, Ryū lets the village head lead them to some temporary housing. “If you’ve need of anything, please just let us know. I’ll have a supper brought for the pair of you immediately.”

“Thank you.” Turning on a lamp, Ryū sits and begins going over the notations. To her frustration, there’s not much to it...and almost nothing she wasn’t already aware of from her own research in Konoha. “...that medic is right...she’s lacking training. It’s clear she’s missing things...but overall, it follows the same pattern as what I and the others in Konoha observed.”

“...is that good or bad?”

“...good. For now, we have consistent data from multiple pooling points. So far, that means it probably hasn’t mutated, or not very far as to present varying symptoms.” Taking down copies of key parts of the notes, Ryū then seals them in a tiny scroll along with her note explaining her own thoughts thus far. Tying it carefully to the white owl’s leg, she murmurs, “Fly fast.”

“Of course.” Let through a window, Fubuki quickly disappears into the night.

By then, rations are sent, and the human pair eat in silence.

“...so, what do you think will happen here?”

After a pause, Ryū swallows. “I...embellished a bit.”

“...oh?”

“I need to get back to Kusunokizan and tend to Obito. I can still collect research on him, and it might actually be easier with a single individual, let alone in such secluded, consistent conditions. And for that to happen...Tsunade needs to send at least one more medic here to take my place.”

“...did you tell her you want to leave?”

“I did. I said we ran into a man in the wilderness with the disease, and that I sent him home for further study by my teacher...and that I’d like to continue my own research there. I don’t know if she’ll agree, but...either way, I’ll be leaving once they send another medic.”

A silver brow perks. “...and if they don’t?”

“They will.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

Ryū nods, finishing another bite. “At the very least, they’ll want a second set of eyes and hands.”

“...won’t that be a moot point if you leave?”

“I’ll still be working. Just not here.”

Kakashi can’t help a snort at that. “...true. So…I take it I’ll be going with you?”

“I’d assumed you’d want to, given who he apparently is.”

“You really had no idea?”

“I’d never met him before my trips to Suna, and he never revealed anything troubling. I had no idea he was even Uchiha. All I knew was that I was supposed to call him Tobi. I never saw a cloak...he always appeared without it - he just had traveling gear. I thought he was a mercenary, maybe a low-rank missing nin given I don’t really know the Bingo book...but I never thought…” Her tone trails into silence.

“...well, I’ve got no reason to doubt you. It’s going to be...tricky, not letting this slip. As of now...we’re withholding valuable information from the village about a pivotal enemy.”

Something in Ryū’s face hardens. “...I’m not turning him in.”

“Oh…?”

“He’s…” A sigh. “...it’s a long story.”

“And we’ve got nothing but time.”

Silence for a time. And then, “...he’s never done anything to hurt me.”

“Even terrible people can play favorites.”

She shoots him a look. “...how many people have you killed, Kakashi?”

“Honestly? I can’t say. Between war time, my stint in ANBU, and just...regular missions...probably hundreds by now.”

“And how many of them were just serving their village like you serve yours?”

“...Ryū…”

“Every shinobi kills. Every shinobi does terrible things to people just because they live on the other side of an imaginary line. Sometimes even people of their own nation! I don’t want to make that judgment yet...not until he tells me the truth.” Ryū’s jaw sets stubbornly. “...back in the third war, Iwa shinobi massacred my entire village. Others were razed to the ground, too. But that was because they had people to protect. A land to defend. A Kage to serve. Did Konoha really never do anything as gruesome?”

His silence is telling enough.

“...Akatsuki nin are killing people. And it’s probably for an ideal they have. Just like all the other factions of shinobi.” She pokes at her food, expression soured. “...my clan never paid attention to borders. We traveled everywhere, healed everyone. Because when push comes to shove...all shinobi are the same. They just fight for different reasons. They kill. They torture. They destroy. And most come back to families. Husbands, wives, children, parents...and they keep living. But that monster is always just beneath the skin. A monster I’ve never been able to understand. And probably never will. But I do know that, if a shinobi can love just as they hate...then there’s still enough good in them to be worth saving.”

A lengthy pause, and then she whispers, “...so...if he can love me, then...there’s good in him. I know it…”

Kakashi heaves a sigh. In truth, he wants to argue her naivety, but...she’s seen war firsthand. Maybe not the same way he has - victim as opposed to soldier - but...she still knows life and death. Love and hate. Loss and joy.

Maybe her hopeful view is just as valid as his cynical one.

“...well, for now, keep up your work...and we’ll see what Tsunade says. Until then, our hands are a bit tied.”

“...I’ll see the patients tomorrow. See how far they’ve all progressed. And see if I can learn anything from some blood and saliva samples.”

“Understood.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy for either of them. Curled on her side, Ryū does nothing but worry. About Konoha’s patients, those here...and Obito. It’s so strange to address him by another name, but...well, she’d always suspected it was a monicker. She just...didn’t know why he kept it from her.

Now she knows. Someone supposedly dead, from a nearly-extinct clan...and part of a gang of criminals. Surprisingly...she feels rather...calm about it all. Probably because, to her, in the end...shinobi really are all the same. Sure, some have better morals than others, but...they all have blood on their hands.

Blood she enables every time she heals one.

It’s been a moral debate within herself from the day she arrived in Konoha. Part of her, still, is afraid of them. Part of her, even now, considers leaving and shifting her practices. Whether strictly to a civilian village, or just back home.

And yet...and yet…

Sighing, she buries her face under the blankets. Now is not the time for psychological dilemmas. Now is time to rest, and get ready for what will likely be weeks solid of work. Maybe no different than her typical schedule...but this is far, far more pressing. A world full of people driven to madness with hunger and pain is one she cannot allow.

The rest she can debate once this is cured.

Come morning, she throws herself out of bed and gets to work. Kakashi follows. Her mind shifts into work mode, expression a practiced neutral as she listens to the local medic, observing her patients.

...it’s not pretty.

The most advanced, two weeks infected, is hardly even human anymore. Slamming hands against the locked door, he peers wildly through the small window in the metal. Blood stains his front and face. The same condition as Obito, perhaps another week or so in advancement.

The rest are tapered down from there, the most recent of which begs to be released. “P-please, I...I’m not that sick! It’s just a fever, a-and some chills! Really, I -!”

“I’m sorry, sir - we have to take every available precaution,” Ryū explains softly.

Tears well in his eyes, defeat plain in them. “...am I...am I gonna turn into one of those...those things…?”

“We’re doing everything we can to find a cure and vaccine. Until then, we’ll do all we can to make you comfortable, and keep you safe.”

...they feel like such empty words.

She hates herself for it.

...but what else can she do?

Using barriers and caution, she extracts blood samples from each patient, looking into the cellular structures and trying to pinpoint what precisely is causing the outbreak...and how it changes through time’s progression.

Just as she begins, Fubuki returns, this time without a scroll tied to a leg. “Ryū-sama!”

“Did she agree?”

“Tsunade-sama has decided to send a squadron of three medics to this location,” the summon reports. “They will be accompanied by a four shinobi cell. And you will be given leave to return to Kusunokizan as soon as they arrive. She asks you continue your work here until then.”

Well...a partial victory. She’d hoped to start traveling immediately, but...given the lack of training of this town’s medic, Ryū knows that’s for the best. “Very well. You’re free to go - thank you.”

Head bobbing in a makeshift bow, Fubuki heads out to likely eat and rest.

“So, another day at best - they likely were sent as soon as Fubuki left,” Kakashi muses.

“Mm.”

Observing cell changes throughout the day, Ryū realizes something. “...I think I know what this is.”

“You do?”

“...it has to be a virus. It’s too small for me to sense...and its behavior is that of a viral infection. It’s just so tiny...I only noticed because I happened to catch a cell bursting.”

“...I’ll pretend I know what that means.”

“Viruses are extremely basic in structure. Unlike bacteria, they need a cell host to replicate. When they do, the cell is reprogrammed to create more virus...and then bursts when it’s overrun.”

“Sounds gruesome.”

“It is, on a microscopic scale.”

“So...can you treat it?”

“...well, it’s more complex than a bacterial infection. Since a virus uses the body against itself - takes over the very cells of its host - the best way to prevent it from getting worse...is to find a way to prevent it from multiplying.” Turning to face him, she leans against the counter, arms folding. “This is usually accomplished by examining the DNA or RNA - the genetic code - of the virus, and finding its weak points: ways to inhibit it from successfully passing on its genetic code into a cell, and making more virus. That allows the immune system to catch up, and the virus dies, unable to spread further.”

“...so, you’ll have to take this thing apart before you can treat it.”

“Exactly.”

“...how hard is that?”

“Depends. Given that this is the smallest virus I’ve personally ever encountered...isolating it for study with our current methods will be difficult. But once we have more people working on it, our odds will go up. This will also mean making a vaccine, too. We just...have to break the code first. As soon as Fubuki’s had a chance to rest, I can send another note to Tsunade-sama...and she can spread word from there.”

For now, she keeps observing the cells, taking down any notes that seem relevant. Kakashi, mostly taskless in such a safe environment, takes to scouting the town and keeping an eye out for anyone else that might have come down with the plague.

The next morning, the other medics arrive. Doing her best to explain quickly but thoroughly, Ryū hands over copies of her notes she spent most of the night making.

“It is a virus.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. It’s just such a small scale, we missed it. I barely caught it the first time, but once I knew what to look for, it was obvious. We have to get as many medics as we can working on getting into the genetic code. For now...I don’t think there’s much point in trying to alleviate symptoms. They advance too quickly, and the patients are too dangerous.”

The other three nod in grave agreement. “You’re heading back, then?”

“To another location with a single, secluded patient. I’m hoping I can learn more, and have a more focused regimen there.”

“...good luck.”

Ryū wastes no time in packing up her gear once Fubuki takes wing to Konoha, Kakashi always ready at a moment’s notice. “Let’s go.” Back to the road they go, eventually veering north to the mountains between Hi no Kuni and Yu.

“Don’t suppose we can get a ride in on a dragon like Obito, can we?” Kakashi asks as they trek up a barely-discernible path.

“I don’t want to risk interrupting her...besides, I need to conserve my chakra. I’m getting to work as soon as we arrive.”

“What am I gonna be doing?”

“...making sure he doesn’t kill me,” Ryū replies under her breath.

“...wonderful.”

By sundown, they make their way into the valley proper. Ryū, spreading her senses, finds both Obito and her teacher’s chakra up atop the peak in the sage’s cave. “Great...more climbing.” But she supposes that makes the most sense.

As the pair crest the stone stairs to the small plateau, they’re both thoroughly winded. The sun has set, Ryū lighting their path with a spare orb of chakra in a hand. “Okay...this way…” They trek to the right, the peak continuing to rise...and in it, the mouth of a cave. Pillars carved into the sides are lit as she approaches. “...shishō…?”

Out snakes the sage’s head. “Have you learned anything during our time apart?”

“I’m nearly certain it’s a virus. One I’ve never seen before - I’ve sent Fubuki with word to Tsunade. I’m hoping, with other medics working in tandem, one of us will make a breakthrough. For now...I’ll keep working here, and keep an eye on him. How...how is he?”

The sage snorts a cloud of vapor. “Nearly the same as when you entrusted him to me. His anger is unrelenting, as is his hunger. Terrible spasms, vomiting, chills and yet fevers. This illness ravages him. I have offered him smaller prey, which he has accepted...but much of it is lost when he expels. I fear his caloric intake may be insufficient. And he may yet be susceptible to other disease while his body is so weakened. We must be careful.”

...well, that’s not what she’d hoped for, but honestly what she expected. “...I’ll need to take blood samples to try to work on the virus’ code.”

“Not tonight. You are weary from travel. Rest, and we will speak again in the morning.”

“But -?”

“No arguments, deshi. A tired mind means unsound work. Temper your eagerness with patience.”

For a moment Ryū nearly argues...but she knows her teacher is right. “...all right. But...must we keep him up here?”

“It is safer this way.”

“Yes, but...it would be more convenient if he were in the manor. If I have to make the trek every time I wish to observe him or take another sample, it will only waste time and energy.”

Suigin’s eyes narrow in thought. “...prepare a room with proper seals to create a barrier, like that which surrounds the manor. Once that is done, I will move him.”

A curt nod. “Come on, senpai - let’s go.”

There’s a palpable relief at being home. Ryū quickly clears a guest room of dust for Kakashi, apologizing for the mess.

“Not like you were expecting company,” he offers dryly. “I’ve stayed in far worse places.”

Mind restless and body tense, she employs some therapeutic breathing once she crawls into bed before managing to sleep for a few hours. By dawn she can’t sit still any longer, and gets to work.

Finding old sealing paper, she chooses a room fairly close to her own. Carefully recreating the seals that surround the house, she erects one in each corner.

“...so, this makes a barrier?”

Glancing up to see Kakashi, she nods. “Mhm. One that draws energy from the nature around it, like sage meditation. That way I don’t have to keep it up myself. It’s slow...but should be enough to keep him contained.”

“...you’re sure?”

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on it. He’s just one person, and in all our research and observations, none of the people infected have used ninjutsu. The impairment to their fine motor skills means they can’t control or manipulate chakra. So he’ll only have his regular taijutsu to bang on this with. It’ll be fine.”

Kakashi doesn’t look convinced, but for now doesn’t argue. He’ll see it with his own eyes first.

“...there, that’s the last piece. Now to just...get him in here.”

“...you sure you’re all right with all this?”

“What do you mean?”

He eyes her warily. “...you’re not going to have issues because of how...personal this is, are you?”

“I can handle it.”

“...like you did when we found him?”

“That was -!” She cuts off. “...that was mostly due to surprise. By now I’ve had time to...process all of this. I’ll be fine.” A pause, and then, “...and you?”

“I’ve seen enough people I care about die to be ready for one like this. Between that, war, and missions...not much surprises me anymore. Besides…” His eye closes in a smile. “I have faith you’ll get this done...and then everything will be fine.”

Surprise widens her eyes for a moment...but then she gives a weary grin of her own. “...I’ll give it all I’ve got.”

Rather than make the trek back up, Ryū employs Fubuki to fly up to her teacher’s hiding place and have her bring Obito down to the manor. In the meantime, she paces nervously back and forth in the entry hall while Kakashi watches, leaned against a wall with folded arms.

“You know that won’t make him get here any faster.”

“No, but it makes me feel better.”

Twenty minutes after sending her summon, Ryū senses her teacher approaching. And with it, the subdued chakra of Obito. The dragon has henged into a human form, the unconscious Uchiha in her arms.

Lip nibbled pensively, Ryū wordlessly guides her to the room she chose. The sage then lays him atop a futon before checking the seals for herself.

“...these will suffice. Be sure to examine them regularly. They should draw enough energy to sustain under his aggression, but vigilance is of the utmost importance.”

“Of course. I’ll be careful. And Kakashi-senpai is another set of eyes and ears.”

“Yes...I am glad you do not face this alone. Though...you must tell me more about this one when you’ve a spare moment,” Suigin muses. “I am most...curious about him, and your connection.”

Ryū’s startled expression tinges pink. “Er...right.” Now, however, is hardly the time. With Obito unconscious...it’s time to take a blood sample, and get to work. Bowing to her teacher, Ryū watches her go before turning to Obito.

He’s been stripped of his outer Akatsuki cloak - surely by now the dried blood and vomit was a scent to gag even the strongest stomachs. Instead, he’s left with a body-fitted shirt to his wrists and chin, standard trousers, and his socks and sandals. Gloves cover his hands, but his mask is nowhere to be found...he must have lost it after becoming ill. Suigin, to Ryū’s relief, has also cleared the mess from his skin...but she knows it won’t be long until he’s soiled again.

For a moment, her expression softens, threatens to crack. Though her senses keenly watch his chakra for the smallest sign of him waking, she takes a moment to cup a hand along his right cheek. Teeth grit in her jaw to the point of creaking.

“...I’m going to fix this,” she whispers. “I’m going to help you...just...w-wait a little longer. I promise…” A harsh swallow tries to clear the lump in her throat. “...so don’t you dare give up…! You have to keep fighting it…! I’ll...I’ll never forgive you if you let this win…!”

Outside, beyond the door and leaned against a wall, Kakashi wilts with a light sigh, head bowing.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Ryū holds it a moment...and then exhales. Ever so carefully, she takes an arm, rolling back his sleeve and making a minute incision along his forearm. Her leg pack provides several phials she fills with blood before smoothing the wound shut. “...I have to get to work now...rest while you can. I’ll...bring you something to eat later.” She knows there’s no point in talking. Not only can he likely not hear her...but as he is, there’s no reason left to interpret her words. But it makes her feel...calmer.

Standing, she moves through the doorway, turning back to face the nearly-empty room. Hands shift through several signs before murmuring, “...bōei no kabe…!”

With a thrum of chakra, the seals ignite, glowing a bright red as the energy begins to gather and feed into the jutsu. In a perfect mold of the room, her clan’s signature white chakra forms a half-translucent barrier, like mist trapped to walls. Lifting a hand, she presses it to the shield, finding it firm. “...there.”

“...ready to start?” Kakashi murmurs.

“...yes.”

     Oh hey, look what's getting more chapters! As if I don't have enough WIPs to be working on xD      We've got more zombito! I have one more chapter written thus far, I need to proofread before I can post, but uh...yeah! This one will now be multichap as well. No idea how far we'll take it, since this is partly based on RP, partly based on ooc plotting. But for now...here's a little more! Thanks for reading!

[sebfiction]

Hey Doc!

Chapter 9

You ate breakfast together, and then said you’d see each other at the bar later that night. As you got in your car and drove back to the apartment you realized you felt ridiculously excited to see him again later. But first, you had to shower, write and try to convince Darren to not kick you out of the band for good. Though it wasn’t at all serious, having a hobby like that kept you grounded in a way, so you wouldn’t get eaten up by work like you’d been before.

“Hey, Andy!” You shouted as you dropped your keys in the jar by the door.

“Hey (Y/N)!” She shouted back, which was followed by the sound of something falling and the sound of Andy yelling “Ow!”. You shook your head and smiled at the familiar sound. Andy always said she was lucky to live with a doctor considering how often she hurt herself.

“You ok?” You shouted from the hallway.

“Yeah I’m fine, just dropped a book on my toe” she answered. “How come you’re coming home at 9 am?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you from the door to the living room.

“Oh shut it. It was a work thing!” You promptly answered.

“Oh really? A work thing? What kinda work thing has you blushing like that?” She pressed on. You gasped in shock.

“I am not blushing!” You yelled and smacked her with your jacket. She just jumped away and winked, before running away laughing. You sighed, before going to the bathroom. After taking a shower, you sat down in your room with every intention to write on your doctoral dissertation. But no matter how hard you tried your min kept slipping away from you. You sat there for nearly two hours until you decided to just take a nap instead. After all, you didn’t exactly get a full nights sleep.

—

As usual, your sleep was filled with dreams. But they weren’t the usual dreams you had. Usually, you would either dream of Yemen or your parents, sometimes work. This time however you had a nice dream. It was vague and you couldn’t remember the details when you woke, but one element was clear as day. Sebastian. He was there, saying something you forgot as soon as you regained consciousness, but his smile and his soft eyes wouldn’t fade from your mind.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Andy said from your bedroom door. “I’m making pasta for dinner, you want some?” She asked, her always kind eyes gleaming towards you.

“Oh pasta would be great” you admitted. No more than 30 minutes later the two of you were sitting in the living room chatting like usual. You’d only known each other for about two months, but Andy was one of the people who genuinely cared about everyone she met. And when she met you she basically took you in like a lost kitten and had been an amazing friend ever since.

“So all jokes aside, who is this person who has you blushing like that?” She asked, swirling a noodle around her fork.

“It’s... well it’s a coworker. Actually, he’s technically a patient, so me being blushy because of him is a problem!” You told her after a long sigh.

“Oh ok! So this is that kinda secret in the shadow romance then!” He laughed.

“Noo!” You exclaimed. “It’s not a romance! I just have a little crush, it’s not like it can ever become something!” You said strictly.

“Why can’t anything happen?” She asked.

“One: he’s technically my patient. Two: he’s a big star ok, he probably only dates other stars” you said as you shoveled spaghetti in your mouth.

“Wait he’s one of the stars? Why didn’t you lead with that!?” She nearly shouted. “You have to tell me who it is, immediately!”. You swallowed hard.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to NEVER tell anyone!” You said sternly. She nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s Sebastian Stan,” you said in defeat. Andy immediately squealed and jumped so violently you almost dropped your pasta.

“Jesus Andy, I nearly spilled my past..” you muttered but was interrupted by Andy yelling “The Sebastian Stan?” directly at your face. You winced backward from her.

“Yes... the Sebastian Stan” you answered after wiping some of her spit away from your face. “But like I said, it’s not like anything can or will happen! I just have a stupid crush” you insisted again.

“So when do you see him again?” She continued questioning you.

“I mean a few of the cast and crew are going to a bar tonight, so I suppose I’ll see him then” you answered.

“Omg please help me pick out an outfit for you!” She squealed. Andy loves dressing you up, so every time you couldn’t be bothered finding an outfit she did it for you.

“Sure, but not something to dressed up! Or too sexy! Just something casual” you demanded. She smiled and nodded.

A few hours ready you were all dolled up according to Andy’s wishes. You studied your reflection in the body length mirror in your hallway. You were wearing distressed black jeans, with a blue shirt with a Japanese flower pattern. It was the perfect outfit for the occasion. You had your hair brushed and loose, and Andy had stepped up your makeup game a notch.

“You are nearly finished young padawan,” Andy said in a funny voice as she held out your old and trusty leather jacket. You chuckled as you grabbed it out of her hand and put it on. “You are complete, my student,” she said as she bowed dramatically.

“You’re a massive dork, have I told you that?” You joked.

“I believe that’s the first time today missus” she replied. You thanked her for the help before you heard a car honk outside.

“That would be my ride,” you said, before bidding your goodbyes and bouncing out the door. Amanda was sticking her head out the window ginning wife as you approached the car.

“You’re looking awfully cheerful” you noted as you got into the passenger seat.

“Oh, I’m just excited about tonight. I’ll get to talk to Chris some more, and you’ll get to spend some more time with Sebastian” she winked at you. “Speaking of, how was last night?”. You sighed.

“Last night was... nice! And uneventful” you said, giving her a look signaling her to not ask more. You spent the rest of the drive chatting as usual. Amanda managed to steer every topic over to Chris, but you didn’t mind. When you got to the pub, which was the one you’d recommended, you saw that quite a few from the cast and crew had already arrived. They waved from their table enthusiastically. And though it might just have been wishful thinking, you could swear Sebastian waved more enthusiastically than the others. You found your seats and greeted everyone. You sat next to Arik, and Amanda sat next to you again, with Chris on her other side. You could almost feel her heart beating next to you. Anthony ordered a round of beers for the table, and before you knew the conversation was flowing. You and Arik were excitedly signing a conversation about one of his more recent flings.

“If he’s not going to go all in, I’m gonna leave. I can’t be way more invested in this than he is” Arik signed with a determined look on his face.

“I agree” you signed back. “You want another beer?” You asked. He nodded and you grabbed your two empty glasses and headed to the bar. Ali, the bartender, was someone you’d gotten to know quite well lately because your band sometimes played at this bar and he seemed to always be working.

“Hey, lovely girl! How are you?” He greeted you when you approached the bar.

“I’m great, sweet gentleman, how are you?” You replied as he started to refill your beers.

“You know, the usual” he shrugged. As he started tapping the second glass the phone rang, so he left to go answer it.

“Hey there Doc” a familiar voice that made your pulse peak spoke next to you. You turned around to be face to face with a smiling Sebastian.

“Hey Sebastian” you replied. “How’s my favorite patient doing?” You joked.

“Aaw I bet you say that to all your patients” he replied. “And I’m doing great, the Tylenol you gave me is keeping the pain at bay and my head feels great!”.

“I know I already said this this morning, but be careful with alcohol when you’re on Tylenol. Doesn’t always mix well” you warned.

“Meh, I can hold my alcohol” he shrugged. You looked at him with a doubtful look.

“Someone saying that before a night out has never ended well Sebastian” you warned him.

“Is that a challenge” he teased. You noticed he was in a good mood, practically overflowing with energy.

“That is definitely not a challenge! And I do seriously, as your doctor, advice you to not drink alcohol while on Tylenol” you pressed.

“I can’t tell you how many ER patients I’ve had that mixed alcohol and painkillers and didn’t realize how bad of an idea that was”. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“How about this; a pool match. If I win you put down the mantle of doctor for the night and just have fun, and if you win you have complete control over my drinking. Does that sound good?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, that sounds great. But be warned, just because you hurt your shoulder doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you” you mocked. Sebastian laughed heartily, a sound which made the term “butterflies in my stomach” come to your mind.

[chrismerle]

so i drew a card that let shai share a honey dream with someone, and of course they shared it with dan, and they offered to use it as a chance to let dan see something at least resembling the surface world, because dan doesn’t remember it. and @nicxan said i should write that honey dream. so i did!

i love these two, they are my favorite guinea pigs

‘Sheepish’ is not a feeling that comes easily to Shai, who infrequently has any shame to spare. And yet, such is the case as they make their offer, the honey jar held carefully in one hand. Perhaps they should check to see if drownies have started flying.

All for naught, though. Danny hardly needs to think about it before he agrees, nodding rapidly and latching onto Shai’s free arm.

“Where are we going?”

They grin down at him and start walking. “The townhouse. The upper floor is still mine to do with as I please, and I figure that will be easier than trying to get you to relax in a honey den.” Their grin turns beatific as Danny hip-checks them. “And this way I can dress down for the occasion.”

It’s a brief trip back to the townhouse; they weren’t far to begin with, and Danny is practically vibrating with anticipation and not inclined to dawdle. He only slows once they’re both inside because an urchin nearly runs right into him. The girl grinds to a halt at the last instant.

“Oh. Nev’ mind. Jus’ you.”

“That’s rude,” Shai reminds her blandly, already heading towards the stairs.

“Fuck off, Prof!” she calls after them, and Shai can hear Danny barely managing to strangle a burst of laughter into silence.

“You fuck off,” Shai returns merrily. “I will haunt you after I’m gone.”

“Ya awready do!” she hollers at their back, before scampering off again. Shai pays her no more attention and keeps walking, glancing over their shoulder only to make sure that Danny is still following. He’s a few steps behind, looking amused and perplexed in equal measure. Shai dredges up the most innocent smile they can manage and keeps moving.

Their private suite is on the third floor, right by the stairs. They lead the way through a sitting room that’s still stuffier than they would really like it to be, and into a considerably more relaxed study. There’s a desk and an abundance of bookshelves, to be sure, along with evidence that something has caught on fire in the recent past. But there’s also a couch and a daybed on one side of the room, plus a pile of cushions in a corner.

Danny’s looking around curiously when Shai grabs his shoulders and pushes him back onto the daybed. He lands with a bounce and a snort of laughter before he asks, “So, what now?”

Shai hands over the small jar and unlatches the stabilizer bands for their arms. As they do, they explain, “Pour some into the lid, and take three drops. No more than that; best not to get ahead of ourselves.”

If Danny looks a little dubious as he follows the instructions, Shai doesn’t feel inclined to mention it, instead pulling one arm off and dropping it on the floor. Danny is watching with open interest, honey quickly forgotten, but he’s fading fast already. He’s out cold by the time Shai grabs the lid of the jar.

They take their three drops and set the jar lid aside, cast one last glance at Danny practically melted on the daybed, and then lead down and catch the edge of their second arm under the edge of the couch. With a jerk, they pull their forearm from it and let the arm fall to the floor. The study is starting to go hazy at the edges, so they waste no time in getting comfortable and instead simply collapse sideways before their eyes close.

——

It starts softly, the beginnings of what looks to be a parlor materializing around them, before it abruptly bursts into multicolored sand and reforms into something else entirely. By the time the world takes shape, they’re standing in what looks to be a courthouse.

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Shai offers, shrugging broadly at the bemused look Daniel slides in their direction. Not strictly the truth, if that half-formed glimpse of a parlor is anything to go by, but true enough. Close enough for sea shanties, at any rate.

Besides, there’s a more pressing distraction that becomes very apparent as Shai’s hands settle on their hips.

“Arms,” Daniel observes intelligently, blinking at the very much flesh-and-blood arms, the hands covered only with leather riding gloves. One gloved hand flies up to cover Shai’s mouth as they burst out laughing.

“The look on your face,” they snigger, speaking through their fingers. “Yes. Arms. I still had them until I went to London, and when I’m asleep I still have them, too.”

Daniel blinks, and nods slowly. When Shai starts walking, Daniel follows.

No one notices them. No one says a word. Crowds part silently around them as they walk, as if they’re simply part of the scenery. And then they come to a door and step outside, and Daniel grinds to a halt. He has to shield his eyes for a moment; it’s so bright he swears his eyes are going to burn out of his head. Shai waits a few steps away until Daniel can lower his hand away from his face.

Cautiously, Daniel takes a few more steps, and he sucks in a breath.

It’s…colorful. The light is white and there’s a sky above, overcast and silvered with clouds but still so bright. There are glimpses of blue between the clouds, though, and it’s a shade not quite like any he’s seen before. Not like sapphires or glim or glass, and it looks like it goes on forever.

And there’s green. Grass and shrubs and trees, and so many other colors from flowers dotted amongst the green like they’re trying to show off. Ignoring the city—he’s seen a city, he knows what a city is—he takes off into the grass at a sprint.

It gives under his boots in a way that cobblestone never will, and his arms pinwheel at his sides for a second before he catches his balance and keeps moving. He hasn’t forgotten Shai’s presence, but he knows Shai will catch up in their own time.

When he finally slows to a halt, he has to double over with his hands on his knees, each breath heaving from his chest like he’s never taken one before. He knows when Shai catches up when their boots and their cane step into view, but it’s a few moments before he can straighten back up.

Shai is smiling at him when he does, soft and fond. Then they clear their throat, the expression sliding away, and take a seat on the nearest rock outcropping. “Thoughts so far?”

They’re probably expecting an answer, but instead Daniel’s attention is snagged by something growing amongst the rocks. It’s a muted magenta and yellow, almost bell-shaped, growing in a row along a long, straight stalk.

“What is this?” he asks, dropping to his knees to look at it. “I mean, I know it’s a flower, but—“

“Helleborine, I believe,” Shai supplies, leaning down to get a look. They straighten back up a moment later. “I have something more exciting to show you, though.” They plant a hand on Daniel’s shoulder for balance before levering themself back to their feet. “Come along.”

They’re walking already, and Daniel practically trips back to his feet and lopes after them. Back towards buildings and cobbled roads and civilization.

It looks remarkably like London, if he just imagines it all in shades of brown and lit only by lamplight. For one particular street, it doesn’t even taken much imagination.

The clouds are heavier over that street, and there are no lights on in any of the visible windows. There are no crowds. No trees or flowers. Just houses long abandoned. He slows, head cocked curiously to one side.

“What’s down there?” Daniel asks, staring down the lightless street. Shai settles a hand against his back, between his shoulders, and steers him along.

“That’s not a street I walk down,” they answer simply. Daniel leaves it at that.

It’s not a particularly short walk from there, and Shai’s hand doesn’t fall away until they’re approaching the end of it. After cobbled streets have once again given way to grass and stone and fuzzy yellow flowers, and past them until the ground gives up entirely. There’s a steep plunge downwards, to rocks and sand, and there’s a familiar roaring noise, recognizable even from so far above it.

Daniel stares down at the ocean, the waves crashing against the rock and the cliff-face. The water is so dark it’s nearly black, save for where it froths white at the crests of the waves. For a moment, Daniel wants to simply jump. As it is, he’s asleep. But he doesn’t understand the logic of honey dreams enough to risk it, and his hands clench into fists at his sides as he holds himself back.

There’s a storm building in the distance, far over the water, where the waves meet the horizon. The clouds gather thicker there, flashing blue and silver in stuttering increments. Too far out to hear the thunder, but he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed.

He should say something, probably, but he can’t think of anything to say other than ‘beautiful’ and even that feels like it would be a bit trite. He settles, instead, for gaping at the view in silence, broken only by the rush and the crash of the waves below and the salted breeze whipping past his face.

The zee seems so much smaller, suddenly, and he’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Danny?” Shai wonders eventually, a note of something like concern creeping into their voice. Daniel jerks like he’s coming out of a trance, one hand rising to grab at the edge of Shai’s sleeve.

“I don’t remember any of this,” Daniel muses, looking around, slow and lingering. “I mean, I doubt I ever actually came here, but just—you know what I mean.” He feels nostalgic for something that he can’t remember having, like he’s trying to remember a good dream he had years ago.

For a split second, Shai looks unsure, though that look vanishes in an instant. But Daniel knows them. He slings an arm around their middle and tips sideways just enough to shove the side of his head against their arm.

“Thank you. This was—“ He can’t think of the words to describe what it means, and settles instead for a more emphatic, “Thank you.” He gets a hum of quiet laughter in return.

Below, the sound of the ocean is fading away.

“I think we’re running out of honey,” Shai observes, as the world goes fuzzy at the edges and starts to split apart at its seams. Daniel turns in a rapid circle, just to absorb a moment more of it before it evaporates completely.

Shai curls a hand around the back of his neck and squeezes affectionately, and the dream dissolves into dust and shards of glass.

——

Shai wakes up first, and it’s to be expected, they suppose. They lever themself up onto their elbows, head falling back as they crack their neck. Blinking slowly, they lift their head to look in Danny’s direction. He’s only just beginning to stir, muscles of his face twitching before they scrunch and he cracks an eye open.

He makes a fuzzy noise—nnnnnnnnnnn—and rolls over, burying his face against the pillow. It’s only when Shai snorts out an unsubtle laugh that he actually sits up.

He blinks a few times, staring at Shai for a drawn out moment. The gears in his head are ticking almost audibly. And then he launches himself across the room like he’s been flung out of a catapult. Shai squawks in surprise as Daniel crashes into them, flattening them against the couch. They laugh helplessly as Daniel clings like a limpet, latched on like he wants to strangle Shai rather than hug them.

“Dan—Danny—Danny, I have no arms right now,” they point out, words breaking around bemused laughter.

“It’s nowhere near as weird as you think it is, shut up,” Danny answers, not letting go. Shai doesn’t really have an argument for that, so they settle for curling what they have of their arms around Danny’s middle while he continues to nearly strangle Shai.

It takes a few minutes before he calms down, and Daniel blinks down at their position as he relinquishes his hold on Shai and sits up, as if he is only just realizing that he’s basically flung himself into Shai’s lap. Shai props themself up on their elbows again, and wonders wryly, “Well?”

They sort of expect a joke. Something to lighten the mood, even if the weight is a pleasant one for a change. Instead, Daniel stumbles out, “I just—I don’t know how—I—thank you.” His voice is unsteady by the end, and he lifts an arm to scrub one wrist vigorously across his eyes.

“Danny?” Shai asks, abruptly concerned. Danny just shakes his head quickly and ducks forward until his forehead thumps against one of Shai’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “It’s just…it’s a lot. To take in. You know?”

Shai hums a note in affirmation. “We can do it again,” they point out, tipping their head to one side enough to bump their forehead against Danny’s temple. “Whenever you want.”

“Might just take you up on that,” he muses quietly, sitting up slowly. “I already said it, but—thank you.”

Shai grins and leans up enough to bonk their foreheads together gently. They flop back down onto the couch. “That’s what I’m here for. Mostly bad ideas, but occasionally something worthwhile.”

[chubsonthemoon]

sunshine boys and daisies

summary: Todoroki meets the new baker, and makes a discovery.

pairing: midoriya izuku/todoroki shouto

words: 3128

based off of this lovely art by @03xlimit!

also on ao3!

Until the day Todoroki Shouto meets Midoriya Izuku, he’s not aware that he even has a favorite kind of flower. Strange, he knows. As a florist, he’s spent his entire life surrounded by them (some dying, others blooming, but all of different colors and scents that fill the bustling Todoroki’s Garden), but a specific kind has never truly struck his fancy. In fact, when he finally informs Fuyumi of his discovery, the day after his first encounter with Midoriya Izuku, she says with a laugh, “They’re not even real flowers, Shouto. They’re weeds.”

Less than a day ago, he would have agreed with her.

(Midoriya Izuku, as he came to learn, changes a lot more than his opinion on flowers).

~

He’s opening shop for the day: unlocking the front door, flipping the door sign so that open faces the street, and stepping outside, when he notices him. There, standing bashfully in front of the store window, unruly green hair framed with early morning light, is a boy. He’s holding a bread basket full of pastries, all wrapped up in shiny plastic, and he smiles when he sees Shouto.

Shouto’s grip on his watering can slips, just slightly.

“Um, hello!” the boy says, a little too loudly. He holds up the basket awkwardly, one arm going to hold his head from behind, and Shouto’s eyes travel from his impossibly green eyes to his other arm, which—why is he wearing so many bandages? “I just, uh. Wanted to drop these off to you…”

Naturally, the first thing Shouto thinks is, we didn’t order any bread today. And then: that’s really nice of him. Finally: he’s cute, too.

He elects that none of these thoughts are appropriate to say aloud, so instead he lets the door shut behind him, the tinkling of the bell fading away as it closes. He secures his grip on his watering can before it can escape his slightly sweaty palm and undoubtedly be his downfall. “Thank…you?” he finally says, and winces internally. Social interactions…

The boy, however, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his face brightens, a radiant smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and scrunching every one of his freckles in a way that his not good for Shouto’s breathing. “You’re welcome!” he says, and drops his hand from behind his head. “My mom always says that making good first impressions with your neighbors is important, so I’m delivering little gifts to everyone on the street. I think Yaomomo and Jirou’s bookstore is next, and then Kirishima’s motorcycle shop…I’ll probably have to make an extra loaf or two for Kacchan, even though he’ll probably throw it away again…Oh! I’m Midoriya Izuku, by the way.” He says everything in a rush, words pouring out of his mouth so fast Shouto is swept away.

Shouto blinks. “Todoroki Shouto,” he says after a moment, still stunned by the life Midoriya seems to emit from his every fiber of his being; his hands are constantly moving, the bread basket swinging this way and that, his mouth animated and excited, curls bouncing slightly. “Are you from the new bakery that just opened next door?”

“Yes!” Midoriya beams. “One for All Bakery, at your service.” He holds out the basket. An invitation.

Shouto accepts. He also gives into the temptation to see if Midoriya really has that many freckles—it has to be a trick of the light—and takes a hesitant step forward, nearly tripping over his own welcome mat in the process.

Way to go, Shouto.

Midoriya, if he notices, says nothing, only moving forward to meet Shouto halfway, arm outstretched. Shouto takes the basket from him gingerly, fingertips brushing Midoriya’s, and even though Midoriya’s bandages are the only thing that technically meet his skin, Shouto swears he feels the warmth of the Midoriya’s hand beneath his own. He ignores the swooping sensation in his stomach and gestures to Midoriya’s arm vaguely. “Is your arm ok?”

Midoriya smiles, and the way he fiddles with his hands is one of slight embarrassment. “Oh, this. Yeah, it’s fine! I work around a lot of ovens, and—well, let’s just say that some of those metal baking sheets can get really heavy.”

(For a moment, Shouto thinks of boiling water and purple-blue bruises and the sharp smell of bile, and is relieved to hear that this does not seem to be the case for the sunshine boy before him). He feels something loosen inside of him.

“But yeah, that’s that. I really do need to be more careful, especially since we just moved here from our old location and we need to get business going. And all that,” Midoriya finishes, scratching his cheek. He peeks up at Shouto through his eyelashes, and—in the name of all that’s holy, why is he so pretty.

Shouto almost allows a smile to make its way onto his face, and he readjusts the basket on him arm in a way that could be taken as a nervous gesture. “Well, I wish you a speedy recovery,” he says softly. “Thank you for the bread. It looks delicious.”

The tips of Midoriya’s ears flush a faint pink, and it’s such an endearing sight that Shouto’s almost-smile becomes a real one. “You’re welcome!” he says, beginning to turn away hastily before Shouto can explain that he didn’t mean to sound like he wanted to conversation to end. “If you ever need anything, please stop by. We’re always open for a cup of coffee!” He turns around, walks a few feet quickly, then stops. He pivots and faces Shouto, ands adds, blush intensifying, but grin wide and lovely, “Bye, Todoroki-kun.”

And with that, he hurries away, leaving Shouto standing in front of his family flowershop with a basket full of hot bread and a head swimming with green eyes, green hair, and a sunlight smile.

He walks back into his own store, places the pastries and the forgotten watering can on the counter quickly, and wonders just how, exactly, he is going to survive with Midoirya Izuku next door. Fuyumi walks in from the back and finds him like this behind the register, with hands folded over his green apron in his lap, eyes staring at a pot of marigolds to his right. “Hey, did you water the plants outside?” she asks, and Shouto looks up.

“I will,” he says, before continuing with his musings. Fuyumi gives him a look, then notices the bread basket.

“Hey, where did those come from?”

“Bakery next door.” Theoretically speaking, if he says they’re always open for coffee, then lunch break qualifies as ‘always.’

“Oh, the new owners?”

Lunch, then? “Yes.”

“Ooh, nice.”

Shouto looks up and sees Fuyumi already unwrapping one of the plastic wrappers on a loaf of bread. “Is it socially acceptable to drink coffee during lunch hour?” he asks.

~

He’s standing in front of One for All Bakery with a bouquet of sunflowers when he realizes that this was probably not a good idea.

For one, Fuyumi had been way too excited than strictly necessary about this whole…situation, eagerly selecting from their best blooms so that Shouto could walk them over to the Midoriya’s. She had given him a pat on the shoulder, a whispered “good luck,” and a wink, all three of which he had no idea how to interpret.

Second, now that Shouto is actually here, red sneakers shifting on the cobblestone, he is not so sure that it is coffee he’s really after.

However, Fuyumi insisted, and he’s on lunch break right now, so. He supposes he could get a little something. Supporting local businesses and all.

Business. Right.

He pushes open the door and steps inside. Almost immediately, he smells the slightly sweet aroma of baking bread, sees the dark wooden paneling of the floor and the well-loved leather couches with throw pillows strewn artfully across their cushions, feels the comforting air of warmth that feels especially nice now that autumn is almost here. His eyes trace the red, blue, and gold painted walls and land on the glass display cases that line them, featuring cakes iced with swirling designs, dainty little cookies that seem to be woven with lace, and sweet bread bursting with crème and fruits.

All in all, the entire affair is something Shouto enjoys very, very much.

Or perhaps it’s actually the smiling face behind the cash register, freckles dotting his cheeks like stars as he places an intricately frosted cake on a glass stand. His tongue pokes out a little, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Shouto thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. At the sound of the bell tinkling when Shouto walked in, he says, without looking up from his task, “Welcome!”

Shouto steps forward, mouth suddenly dry. “Hello.”

Midoriya’s head perks up at the sound of his voice, and he flashes a smile so radiant Shouto has to resist the urge to squint. “Oh, it’s you!”

Shouto, ever a man of many words, nods. “Yes. It’s me.”

“What do you think?” Midoriya grins, gesturing to the shop around them.

I think you’re beautiful Shouto wants to say.

“It’s very nice,” is what he says instead. “I enjoy the atmosphere.”

Midoriya finishes placing the cake atop the glass display and turns his full attention to Shouto, much to Shouto’s pleasure and distress. “I’m glad! Mom said my fanboy side was showing when I picked the color scheme, but I like it, too.” He props his elbows up on the counter and rests his head between his heads. “So, may I get you anything?”

Shouto blinks, then offers the flowers as an answer. “These are for you,” he says. “As a…welcome to the neighborhood thing.”

Midoriya removes his hands from his palms to form a V over his mouth and gasps softly. “For me?” he asks, eyes wide. “They’re beautiful.”

Shouto wills the flush in his cheeks to go away. “Well—” for your family he means to say. “Yes,” he says. “They reminded me of you.”

There is a pause.

His mouth seems to be acting separately from his brain today. Fantastic. To cover up his panic, he jerkily holds out the flowers to Midoriya, willing him to just take them, please.

Midoriya blushes all the way to the tips of his ears. “T-thank you,” he stammers, reaching out to take them from Shouto. “I—I’ll go get a vase for these!”

He dashes somewhere into the back storage room, and just beyond, Todoroki can see a glimpse of the kitchens. He is left standing there for approximately one minute and nine seconds with nothing but his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, and he now understands why Fuyumi wished him good luck.

Before long, Midoriya has returned, a pretty glass vase in hand. He places the sunflowers in them carefully, with as much focus as he had the cake a few minutes earlier. While he rearranges them, Shouto tries to calm the butterflies in his stomach, with limited success. “Thank you so much, really,” Midoriya says while he moves a stem over gently. “You didn’t have to.”

“No, it’s ok,” Todoroki mumbles. “I—we—wanted to.”

Finally, Midoriya deems the arrangement satisfactory, then looks up at Todoroki, their height difference made more apparent by the counter between them. “As my thanks, you can have anything you want on display, free of charge!”

“But you’ve already given us the bread,” Todoroki protests. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Midoriya waves his concerns away. “It’s my treat. Really.”

Todoroki debates whether or not he should argue further, but the conviction in Midoriya’s eyes is almost scary. “I think—alright,” he says reluctantly. “What do you recommend?”

With a grin, Midoriya moves a little further down the counter, and procures a slice of red-and-white colored cake. “One of my personal favorites has always been the strawberry shortcakes,” he says, holding up a slice for Shouto to try.

Shouto breaks a piece off with his finger and slips it on his tongue. It’s delicious.

“It reminds me of you,” Midoriya adds with a wink.

Shouto feels himself begin to spontaneously combust.

Midoriya laughs a little breathlessly, red cheeks betraying him. Shouto isn’t much better off. “Just kidding! Here, let me get you a box…”

He places the nibbled slice on a paper napkin, and then, to Shouto’s shock, bends down to remove the entire remaining cake from the display and set it into a large paper box. Shouto begins to shake his head. “Midoriya, please, there’s no need for that much—”

Midoriya slides the box over to him, a ribbon already tied on top. “No, really, please take it. As a thank you.”

Shouto looks helplessly at the cream-colored container, then at Midoriya, who stands resolutely with his hands pressed on the counter. Blue and black eyes meet green, one pair unsure, the other unwavering. He swallows.

“Ok,” he finally says, because he’s a sucker for sunshine boys who give free cake and smiles like it’s nothing, and takes it gratefully. “Thank you,” he adds again, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

Midoriya flashes him that grin that makes Shouto’s heart do cartwheels. “You’re welcome.”

He’s spared from saying anything stupid or helplessly enamored when the door opens behind him, and he hears a group of customers making their way to the register. Midoriya’s eyes shift to the newcomers, and Shouto lets out a breath.

“Thank you,” he says, one last time.

Midoriya’s lips curve into a smile, and he nods. “I’ll see you around, Todoroki-kun.”

Shouto leaves All for One Bakery feeling very faint.

When he returns to relieve Fuyumi for her lunch break, she raises an eyebrow at him. “You just keep bringing back free food,” she notes. “Any reason for that?”

When he doesn’t respond, she laughs, eyes way too knowing for Shouto’s taste.

“Holy crap, there’s a whole cake in here!” she exclaims a little while later, after opening the box. Then, while Shouto very pointedly prunes some stray thorns off their newest shipment of roses without responding, she says, “You should really consider marrying the new baker boy.”

He accidentally shears off an entire rosebud.

~

Finally, the day ends. Shouto is exhausted. An hour before they were going to close, they had received a massive rush order for a client’s wedding, and there was still so much work to be done. He locks the front door with a sigh (Fuyumi had gone home ahead of him to prepare dinner for Mom). First thing tomorrow, he would have to contact their second supplier, because their first choice didn’t do deliveries on Sundays. Then he’d have to figure out if he could call Iida’s Express to help him deliver, because there’s no way he’d be able to do it alone…unless he could somehow haul a thousand flowers by himself across town…maybe Yaoyuzuru and Jirou would let him borrow their truck…

“Todoroki-kun?”

He nearly drops his keys, and turns to face none other than Midoriya Izuku, for the third time that day.

“Midoriya,” he says, trying not to let his surprise show. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Midoriya says, voice a little rushed. His hands are behind his back as he speaks. “I just wanted to thank you again, for today. So many people complimented your gift.”

Shouto coughs slightly. “Midoriya. I gave you some flowers. You gave me an entire cake and a basket of bread. I should be the one thanking you.”

Midoriya shrugs, as if it had been nothing. “No, no. I actually,” he says, beginning to turn a shade of red that resembles the potted amaryllis hanging in flower baskets above them. It makes the green in his eyes stand out even more, which isn’t fair. “I also wanted to just…” He moves his hands in front of him, and there, in his palms, is—

“I don’t know much about flowers,” he says, self-conscious. “But these grow in the yard behind our place, and I just thought they were nice. I know they’re probably weeds.”

He presses a crown of woven daisies into Shouto’s hands. “For you,” he says, flushing even darker.

Shouto blinks. Midoriya shifts from foot to foot, looking like he’s waiting for something. Shouto figures it out a second later, and slowly places the crown atop his head in a daze. “I…this is…”

“I know, I know, it’s cheesy,” Midoriya smiles sheepishly. “But my friend Ochako thought I should find a way to talk to you again, without free food, and you run a flower shop, and I thought you would look really pretty with daisies in your hair, and I was right—oh wait. Did not mean to say that out loud. Wow, ok. Wow. I’m sorry.” His eyes are wide and his voice very high. “I’ll just leave now.” He begins to turn away.

“I love it,” Shouto blurts. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Midoriya freezes mid-movement and glances at Shouto out of the corner of his eye. “You must have never gotten any good gifts before,” he says, voice tentative, but slightly teasing.

Shouto looks at him—and he means really looks—and makes a decision. He removes the daisies from his head, taking care not to jostle them too much, then walks forward. He places them on Midoriya’s crown, fingers brushing his curls. They’re just as soft as it looks, he thinks in wonder.

Midoriya’s lips part, his hand moving to touch the petals gently. His eyes are inquisitive.

“I wanted to see how you looked, too,” Shouto explains, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Midoriya lowers his head and slowly smiles back. “And?”

Shouto looks at his head haloed in the evening sun, a mirror image of this morning, at his right arm still wrapped in bandages; how Midoriya, standing this close, actually has freckles that run down his jaw and kiss the tips of ears, how his laugh is so bright Shouto wants to reach out and taste it, like leaves to the sunlight.

“Daisies are actually my favorite kind of flower,” he finally answers, and Midoriya’s tilts his head just a tad bit to the right. A question. The flowers shift slightly with him, endearingly crooked in a mess of beautiful green curls. Shouto is glad to see that his face isn’t the only one burning.

“Really?’ Midoriya asks, a head crowned with daisies and eyes full of light.

“Really,” says Shouto.

~

The next day, Midoriya brings two cakes, much to Fuyumi’s delight.

Shouto gently places a white-and-gold flower behind Midoriya’s ear as thanks for his troubles, and Midoriya's shy smile after he does so is more beautiful than any bouquet Shouto has ever seen.