#so I can just toss a link without burning out all my energy & then stressing out again adgadgfdgh

[boyfrillish]

What all kind of platforms are there where you can low-effort and low-pressure share stuff? I know there’s for fanart because I see artists on twt use them, but are there for fanfic? Because that’s what I need I feel... Just a low-effort, low-pressure casual place where I can put my very rough and unbeta’d silly little self-indulgent word strings and toss a link out when I get an itch to share (because I may write specifically what I want to read but hey, someone else out there might like that)

Sharing from docs is not it, ao3 takes so many ressources from my brain to post anything and also kind of makes me want to die from anxiety and stress out, reviving my old ffnet would be same ... so where do I go I’ve been trying to figure this out for months now dgadgddg

[gamerbot-22]

Feel like we need to ramp up the angst so when you can piggybacking off of my last request, M6 when MC has a horrible flare up ft. a lengthy bout of high fever + memories/hallucinations of being burned at the Lazaret. For a lil fluff the first thing they do when the fever breaks is call for the M6.

Tumblr user dameschnee123 your thirst for angst has been feeding the little Angst Beast that lives in my soul and for that I thank you

I also decided to go the mini-fic route this time instead of a list of hcs and since that’s kind of long I’m gonna do this in batches! The tracks I listened to while writing each story is linked beside the names.

Arcana LIs Tending to Red Plague Trauma Flashbacks (Part 1: Asra & Nadia)

DNI

C & TWs include:

All: Angst, sad/bittersweet endings at best, discussion of trauma/traumatic events. Asra: minor su*c*dal ideation, unreality, implied mass death by burning. Nadia: needles/injection, poor bedside manner, trauma-induced panic attack.

Part 2 | Part 3 (WIP)

🔮 Asra (x)

He hears the screams from all the way down the street. Without a moment's hesitation they duck out of the conversation he had been having with the baker and makes a mad dash for the shop you share.

A few people have already gathered outside of the house, their faces all plastered with fear as they mutter amongst themselves. Asra doesn't care about their muttering as he barrels into the shop.

As they run upstairs to the apartment he reaches into his bag, letting Faust slither up their arm and rest over their shoulders. "I'm coming, MC!" He yells once they reach the top. Grabbing the wall, he swings around the corner and into your room and their stomach drops.

When he left earlier, they had just brought you to bed for a rest. You had a flare-up that morning at breakfast and he had to basically beg you to stay behind while they did the shopping for the week. Last he'd seen you, you were all tucked up and getting ready for a nap.

Now, the sheet was completely off the bed, scattered across the floor. The pillow under your head is drenched with sweat, and your hair tangled from tossing and turning. One of your hands clutches at the mattress beneath you with a grip so tight Asra is surprised the sheet hasn't ripped yet. Your other hand is wrapped around your throat, grasping as if you're suffocating.

Asra steels himself, rushing to your bedside and taking the hand on your neck in theirs and bringing it to his chest. "MC! MC, it's alright, I'm right here!" they try to make himself heard over your agonizing screams, but it's a useless effort.

They press his free hand to your forehead and recoils near instantly. You're hot as a stove to the touch, and instantly everything falls into place in Asra's mind. You're hallucinating, and you're hallucinating bad.

Asra wracks his brain for something to do to help. They could go downstairs and get water to try and wake you up but the shock might just make it worse and even then he didn't want to leave you alone again like this. They try desperately to think of some kind of solution but he can barely hear their own thoughts over your cries of anguish. It feels as though your cries could split his head in two.

That's when the idea hits them. Quickly, he lets Faust slither off of their shoulder and onto the headboard behind you. Faust curls over herself tightly, tucking her head between the loops of her lavender body and letting only her nose stick out for air.

"Stay there, Faust, I'll be right back." Asra assures her before mustering up all the courage and magic he can get a hold of and pressing his forehead against yours.

Instantly Asra's consciousness is thrown into your own. The energy around him is frantic and red with stress, zipping every which way, trying desperately to form some sort of image to go with the pain searing through your body. Asra steps and turns from side to side, trying to avoid getting hit by the fragments of memory flitting about him like a swarm of flies. An especially large fragment manages to clip Asra at the hip, sending him ass-over-teakettle backwards.

When they land, he’s greeted with the familiar texture of sand, but the sand isn’t still like it should be. As they brush the sand off his face they notice how the sand seems to jitter in place, like each individual grain is a wild animal tied down with some invisible chain. He raises their head and looks around to try and make sense of where he’s landed.

The entire world is trembling like the sand beneath their feet. He can make out vague outlines of Vesuvia in the distance, across a sea of tempestuous dark water. They would recognize the view from anywhere, once he turns around, it confirms it. This is your final memory before you died. When you were sick on the Lazaret in quarantine.

Asra sets to patrolling the beach. Their feet keep slipping in the sand, threatening to give out, but his sheer determination to find you keeps them from falling. A few meters from where he started, Asra sees the outline of the hospital building past the line of dark trees and brambles, and their heart starts to pound in his ears. You must be back there, inside the building.

They push through the trembling black brush of the Lazaret, following the pull of your energy further into the island. As he approaches the old hospital the world around them becomes more and more abstract. Trees become gnarled black shapes reaching towards the blood red sunset and the ground beneath his feet feels like it could give out at any second. A primal terror creeps at the edge of Asra’s senses, but they force himself right to the front steps of the building.

Asra scrambles up the stairs and throws themself against the heavy door, nearly landing face-first inside. Instantly he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of fear. The pressure of it alone brings them to his knees in the entry way, their heart pounding even harder in his chest now, almost like it’s preparing to tear itself out and save itself from the horrors that lie inside the hospital.

“M…MC…” he wheezes, any courage in their body completely drained from his spirit. The logical part of their brain is begging Asra to turn around. To leave your mind and save himself before they dies here, too, but the other part of him knows that they can’t leave you here alone. Not again. Trembling, Asra brings a hand forward, clutching at the floor and dragging themself further inside. His chest feels like it’s going to collapse into dust as they slowly creep along the floor. Tears of pain blur his vision and pour down their cheeks, and the muscles in his arms sting with effort despite not moving that far.

Asra begins to feel his consciousness slipping as they desperately crawl towards the dark doorway at the back of the room. Voices from nowhere in particular begin to ring in his ears as they gaze at the void on the other side of the doorframe. The only words they can make out in the babbling are “sick,” “others,” and “downstairs.”

Vibrations travel through the floor closer to Asra’s weakened body, and before he can turn to see what’s approaching, they’re suddenly grabbed by the ribs and thrown over someone’s shoulder. The shock of the movement temporarily shocks lucidity back into his body. Immediately they meet the eyes of a tall, humanoid figure in front of his face. They see that the figure is dressed completely in white and through the blur of the world, Asra can distinguish that they have their hair covered and tied up in two cones like the horns of The Devil itself.

“Quickly now, quickly!” The figure tuts, steepling their fingers and following close behind as Asra is carried straight to the dark doorway. “There might still be time to toss this one in with the others.”

“V…Valdemar..?” Asra nearly chokes on the Quaestor’s name as recognition seeps into his head.

The figure is too blurry to make out an expression, but Asra can feel the wicked smile coming from them beneath the growing layer of static.

“Hang on!” A deep voice rings out from behind Asra’s head. It must be the voice of the person carrying him; it echoes and rattles inside the magician’s skull taking up space he doesn’t have. “We have one more!”

“Bring them down!” A higher voice responds from past the dark doorway.

Asra clutches at the doctor’s uniform, their fingers barely able to close all the way around the scratchy white fabric. “Please… just… MC…” he sobs, “I need… home…”

The doctor carrying him ignores the pitiful cries of the magician, crossing the threshold of the doorway and starting down a steep staircase. Valdemar only watches with growing gleeful malice from the top of the stairs, absentmindedly tapping the handle of one of the surgical tools on their belt.

The scattered voices from before grow louder the deeper down Asra is taken and the darkness overtakes his vision completely until they make it to the basement. A menacing red light casts long shadows against the wall. Asra can see the shaky outlines of people swaddled in cloth holding tightly onto each other or themselves. He scans each shadow, looking desperately for your silhouette against the stone walls.

Their search is interrupted as he’s thrown to the ground near the source of the red light. The wind is forced out of their lungs on impact and his vision goes blurry as the crushing fear threatens to overtake them completely. The scattered questions and quiet panic of the figures around him pierce through their heart and he can’t even find the strength to call for you once more. They came all this way to find you, to soothe whatever terror had come back to haunt you, but it was all too much to get through. Tears grow once more in his eyes as they curl up on the stone floor, surrendering completely to the hopelessness of the Lazaret. If he couldn’t even protect you from a memory, how could Asra ever keep you safe from anything else?

“…ra? …sra?”

Suddenly the darkness seems to wash away. The heat of the red light cools into an autumn breeze, and the only pressure Asra can feel is a hand in his. Slowly, they open his eyes.

“Master.”

They’re back home. He’s in your room, sitting beside you on the bed, clutching your hand tightly in theirs. Air fills his lungs once more as they meet your eyes. You’re still covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck, and your voice is hoarse when you speak.

“Master, what happened?”

Asra blinks for the first time in what feels like ages, and he feels two large tears run down their face. “N-Nothing, MC,” he lies through their teeth, “You were having a nightmare., that's all.”

You don’t seem to completely buy it, but you don’t say anything. “My head’s killing me…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He shakily rises from the bed, but stumbles once they try to put weight on his legs.

“Master!” You cry, sitting up straight now.

“Fine! I’m fine.” They quickly reassure you, thudding back onto the mattress. “Sorry, just a little light-headed.” For a moment he considers correcting you, but you've been through enough already without them getting annoyed at the title.

He tries to remember all of what they saw in your head, but the memories all twist and turn in his psyche and won’t give a clear picture. The only thing they can remember is that overwhelming sense of fear that overtook him at the end.

Asra’s brought out of their thoughts when he feels your head against their shoulder. Faust follows suit, slithering down from her perch on the headboard and up Asra’s arm to rest her cool scales against his neck. Carefully, Asra runs their fingers through your hair, carefully detangling any knots that snag on his fingertips.

The three of you sit in silence together for hours, not moving an inch or speaking a word. Eventually sleep works it’s magic and settles you all into it’s comforting embrace, and you’re blessed with dreamless rest for the rest of the night.

👑 Nadia (x)

The two of you are out on the veranda together, enjoying the cool but sunny Spring weather. Normally on rough days like this, you're inside in bed, but Nadia thought it would be nice for you to get some fresh air to help calm your nerves. You both sit on the most comfortable lounge chairs in the palace, with a soothing local tea well within arm's reach.

Nadia has been regaling you with stories from the court, the current tale being a recount of an incident involving the Praetor, Vlastomil. “…and of course we couldn’t proceed another moment with the meeting until he finished dumping his worms back into their bowl. I’m well aware that those creatures have their place in nature but I’m quite sure that place isn’t on my carpet.” The Countess sips her tea as you chuckle to yourself from across the table.

She smiles proudly to herself as she drinks. A part of her is glad she can still make you laugh even if you aren’t feeling your best.

“Nadia, do you feel hot at all?”

The Countess sets her teacup carefully on its saucer as she turns her head to look at you. “Not particularly, no.” A small twinge of panic strikes her heart. “Do you?”

“A little, yeah.” You brace an arm against the table and lift yourself from the couch. The tabletop rattles slightly with the pressure and sends a painful bolt through your skull. Instantly, you cradle your head with your free hand, groaning in response to the pain and rising heat.

Nadia quickly rises from her seat, gathering her skirt in one hand as she rounds the table to your side. “Come, along, MC, let’s get you inside,” she speaks softly, remembering how the doctor told her to remain calm during flare-ups, no matter how frightened she might be.

The Countess reaches to take your arm but her fingertips barely touch you before you retreat. “Don’t touch me!” You raise your voice, the sudden shift in tone taking Nadia aback. Your retreat from her causes you to loose balance and send you to the floor of the veranda in a heap, your hand knocking your teacup down with you as it slides across the tabletop.

Nadia’s heart lodges in her throat. You’ve never raised your voice to her before, and it was filled with a frightened venom she had never heard come from anyone in her life. “D… DOCTOR!” She cries over her shoulder as she kneels beside you, hurriedly swiping the shattered teacup away with a hand before you roll onto any of the broken pieces.

“I-It’s alright, MC, I won’t leave you here by yourself.” The Countess’s voice trembles despite her efforts to sound calm. “T-Try to breathe, now.”

“Don’t… no..! Let me go, no!” You struggle on the floor, too weak to stand and run away when Nadia tries to cradle your head off of the floor.

“Please, gods— DOCTOR, HELP!” Nadia cries again into the palace, not moving from your side. “Someone will come, I promise.”

Nadia sits beside you, helpless as you cry and scream with a pain that cuts through the Countess like a knife. Tears begin to well up in her own eyes before she hears the sound of footsteps on the tile behind her.

“You called?” chimes a raspy voice from behind the Countess. Quickly, Nadia wipes away the welling tears and looks back over her shoulder. By the table stands the Quaestor Valdemar, an amused expression spread across their face like a mask.

The Countess’s heart sinks at the sight of the courtier. “Where’s Doctor De Luca?” She had hired him specifically to avoid whatever Valdemar called “treatment," he was supposed to be available at any time for this.

“Pre-occupied in town.”

“No, no..! Stay away, no!” You shriek upon hearing the Quaestor’s voice, “don’t… not again!” Desperate, you cling to Nadia’s arm and shake, continuing to yell and plead to be left where you were despite the throbbing pain in your head.

“Seems someone has a rather awful fever, don’t they?” Valdemar’s head cocks mechanically to one side, as they approach you and the Countess on the ground. They bend forward at the hip, their face only a foot or so from yours.

You cower against Nadia, clutching onto her sleeve to try and pull yourself up and away from the menacing gaze of the Quaestor. Nadia quickly wraps her arms around you, holding you against her chest. “You will step away this instant!” Nadia orders, her courage returning.

Valdemar flashes a frown before returning to a stock stiff upright position. “I apologize, Countess, I thought my abilities would be quite useful here. After all, fevers like this don't just go away on their own."

Nadia's stomach drops. They're right, of course, but the intense reaction you have to the Quaestor's presence isn't exactly comforting. Then of course, you didn't want her to touch you either but that changed the moment Valdemar appeared and goodness how long has you voice been hoarse from the screaming now?

"I'm sorry, my love," Nadia relents, holding your head against hers. She fights back more tears as she shifts her sharp gaze to the councilor. "Do as you must, Quaestor Valdemar."

"With pleasure." They grin. Valdemar stiffly reaches into the pocket of their apron, instantly producing a large brass needle with a glass window on the side. Valdemar flicks the side of the syringe and pushes the plunger forward a notch or two, letting the gaudy red medicine inside spurt a few viscous drops onto the tile of the veranda.

Nadia holds you tightly by the shoulders, watching Valdemar intently as they grab the arm you raised to strike them away with. "And three, two!" on the implied "one" they jab the needle into the vein running from your wrist up your arm. You squirm and beg against Valdemar's grasp but they hold your arm tight and still as they inject the medicine into your vein. "Just a sedative, nothing to worry about."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nadia mutters against your hair, trying to keep you from rolling out of her arms and onto the floor. "It's over now, it's over." Her tone is soft but her red eyes burn like fire, never leaving Valdemar as they withdraw the needle from your arm and tuck it back into their apron.

The Quaestor's spine cracks as they stand up and step away from you and Nadia. With a content roll of their shoulders and neck, they steeple their fingers and smile to themself. "They should be fine now, but bring them back inside. Who knows what else the cold air could do to them."

The Countess watches Valdemar leave until they're completely out of sight, then her attention is completely back on you. You're still trying to struggle against her, but whatever was in that sedative was working fast and you're unconscious in Nadia's arms in less than a minute.

She sits with you for while, maybe an hour or so, before calling for Portia.

"M-Milady! What happened?"

"A fainting spell, nothing to worry about," The Countess reassures her handmaiden a little too quickly. "Please call for someone to bring MC back to their chambers and wait with them until assistance arrives."

"Yes, Milady, right away." Portia nods, rushing back into the palace. After a few minutes she returns to take Nadia's place as your guard while the Countess marches inside, her skirt gathered in her left fist to keep from tripping.

She doesn't bother to change out of her lounge wear as she makes her way to the Quaestor's office. Nadia stops outside the door, pausing for a moment to listen for any signs of life on the other side of the carved mahogany. A soft humming on the other side confirms that Valdemar is indeed working, and without so much as a knock the Countess enters.

Valdemar is standing behind a worn-out desk, bent at the hip over an armful of old looking scrolls. The desk's accompanying chair is propped up in the corner with a stack of papers on top of the seat. Their vacant red eyes instantly meet the Countess', and she notices a small glint in their pupils. Of pride, possibly?

"Hello again, Countess." Valdemar hums, signing one of the scrolls without looking. "Is something the matter with our patient?"

"They're resting in their chambers. I myself saw to it."

"Good, good..."

"MC is not your patient."

Valdemar stifles an even wider smile, but their eyes don't wrinkle up like they're supposed to when someone smiles that big. "I would have to disagree, Countess, considering I just eased a rather nasty fever that Doctor De Luca wasn't present for."

The Countess narrows her eyes, leering down her strong nose at Valdemar. "Your assistance was a single instance in an emergency, and for that I thank you, but do not think that you will be privy to MC's health going forward."

The corner of Valdemar's lip twitches, but the smile remains. "If you so insist, Countess Nadia."

She nods her head firmly before turning on her heel and exiting the office back into the hallway. She pretends not to hear the Quaestor's muttering.

Nadia sighs as the door shuts behind her, letting her shoulders relax and her jaw unclench. She was unsure of why she felt so strongly about Valdemar tending to you, but she knew first hand it was best to trust her instincts on these things.

Slowly, she makes her way back to your room. You're still unconscious, but Portia is standing by your headboard, watching diligently for you to come to.

Nadia rests her hand on Portia's shoulder, startling her slightly. "Did I frighten you?"

"Oh, not at all, Milady," Portia sighs, letting her head tilt back behind her shoulders as she recovers, "I just didn't hear you come in. Would you like a chair brought in for you?"

"I'm alright, thank you." Nadia pars her handmaiden's shoulder before gently waving towards the door. "Leave us now, if you would. I'll watch MC while you rest."

"Yes, Milady," Portia nods. She looks down at you one last time before leaving, the light from the window reflecting off a dried tear track that runs from her eye to her chin. Carefully she steps around Nadia and slips out of your room into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Nadia braces her right arm against the bedframe, reaching with her left to remove her sandals. She's halfway through the laces on her second shoe when she hears you stirring under the covers. "MC?"

"Nadia? What happened..?" Your voice is groggy and your eyes stare vacantly at the ceiling having not found the energy to focus on anything in particular yet. "Did I pass out?"

Nadia bites her tongue, trying to decide if she should tell you the details of your panic attack. It feels awful leaving you in the dark, but she decides against it. For now at least. Once you're doing better she'll tell you everything. "Yes, I had you brought in to rest."

"I see..." You shift under the covers, bracing yourself and sitting upright. Your posture slouches forward and you prop your head in your hands. "I promise your story wasn't that boring."

Nadia snorts. It's relieving to know you feel well enough to joke after that whole experience. "If ever a tale is that boring, please just say so."

She sits on the mattress beside you, brushing your hair out of your face. "I promise," you smile, leaning into her touch. "Sorry if I made you worry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for!" Nadia assures you, a little scandalized at the idea, "it's not something you have control over. Now... if you would move over a little, I would like to lay beside you a while."

You wordlessly oblige, smiling as Nadia takes off her untied sandals and settles in over the covers beside you. Once she's comfortable you lie down and lean against her. You can feel the Countess' heart beating next to your ear, gently lulling you back to sleep as she holds you safely in her arms.

[darling-i-read-it]

And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them 

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this? 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif)

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well. 

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded. 

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases. 

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded. 

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.” 

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply. 

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you. 

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said. 

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file. 

“Thought you might have some ideas.” 

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh. 

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it. 

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.” 

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words. 

-

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her. 

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented. 

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window. 

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you. 

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana. 

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented. 

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet. 

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder. 

“And Jack was counting on it.” 

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife. 

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels. 

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled. 

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out. 

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.” 

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically. 

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.” 

-

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.” 

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?” 

Will nodded.

“Just us.” 

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked. 

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded. 

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi. 

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?” 

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside. 

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families. 

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?” 

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside. 

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life. 

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?” 

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?” 

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood. 

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely. 

“Will?” 

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.” 

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

-

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him. 

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered. 

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.” 

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this. 

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.” 

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.” 

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

-

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage. 

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart. 

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.” 

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.” 

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm. 

“Does Will know you’re here?” 

“No. I didn’t tell him.” 

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?” 

“Better. No people in the diet these days.” 

“Pity.” 

-

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.” 

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked. 

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried.  When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her. 

  “Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully. 

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?” 

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked. 

“A complicated one,” you said sternly. 

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

-

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding. 

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.” 

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.” 

-

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room. 

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.” 

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.” 

It was his turn to take in the information. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself. 

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. 

 -

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone. 

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath. 

3x10

[stardusttrashed]

Meet the Bakugos

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Y/n convinces Katsuki to take her to meet his parents and Katsuki isn’t quite sure how to handle it

Bakugo knocked on your dorm room door impatiently. His fingertips sparked as his palms began to sweat from his nervousness. “Well don’t you look all doll up,” he smirked, taking in your red and black flowery dress that landed mid-thigh. Seeing you in a dress was a rare occasion for him. It was a nice difference, not that he could get himself to admit that to you. At least not yet. 

“Shut your damn mouth Katsuki,” you rolled your eyes before walking back into your room. Bakugou took it upon himself to walk inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“When’d you get that,” he asked as he plopped down in your desk chair. “Been holding back on me?” He busied his mind by tidying the already clean desk, shifting your knick-knacks a little. His hands settled for fidgeting with the stress ball lying on your desk.

“Asked Momo to make it for me.” You slipped on some shoes. “Well, technically Ururaka asked her for me after she found out what we’re doing today. She asked her to make this too,” you informed him before tossing him a red short-sleeved button up top. “They thought it’d be cute for us to match.”

“You told them?! Damn blabbering woman! Why’d the hell did they need to know?” Katsuki set the ball down to examine the shirt, scoffing quietly. 

“Cause they’re my friends and I wanted them to know we’re dating! Plus I’m gonna meet your parents, that’s kinda a big thing dummy. Now cool it and put the shirt on bakubitch.” You walked over to him and playfully shoved him only to have him catch your hand. 

“Not gonna happen… baku’s bitch,” he laughed cockily, pressing a quick kiss to your newly formed fist. He laid the shirt across your desk as he stood up. 

“I hate you, idiot,” you huffed, sending him your best pouty face. You watched as the resolve in his fiery eyes slowly dissolved, giving in to your wish. With an annoyed grumble, he began to strip off his shirt, grabbing the shirt from the back and over his head. Your eyes feasted upon the ripples of his muscles. Sure, you’d seen them countless times at this point, but he was always a sight to behold.

“Happy now,” Katsuki asked sarcastically, his fingers working on the final button of the shirt. He tried to maintain his look of annoyance, but your shy smile made it hard to do anything but smile back. “You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“Guess that’s why we get along.”

You walked with a distance between the two of you as you made your way out of the dorms. Never mind the fact that the whole class of 1-A probably already knew you had been dating Katsuki for nearly two months. Honestly, they probably thought you two had been dating longer than you actually have. There was always that energy between the pair of you, but nothing ever happened- not in front of others anyways. That was just how you and Bakugou did things. Training together and the occasional movie night cuddles were the extent of your PDA on campus. Katsuki kept most things private, determined to savor every moment with you without having to share. You were his and his alone. His hand found its way into yours the moment you stepped foot out of the UA gates. 

You leaned over, gently pressing your lips to his soft skin. You could feel his already sun-heated cheeks grow slightly warmer under your lips. You couldn’t help yourself. The way his skin glowed under the golden light made him look like a god. Yet here he was, all yours. “Oi, cut that out.”

“I couldn’t help it,” you giggled, doing it again. “You just look really cute.” You teased your fingers through his hair, trying to push straggling stands out of his face. “My cute little sparky porcupine, love you.” Once again you pressed your lips to his cheek before giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“You keep this up and we’re going back to the dorm,” Katsuki snarled, dropping your hand. It quickly made itself a new home, wrapping around your waist, tugging you closer to him. There was little space left between you, barely enough for a cup. His thumb traced along the curve of your waist teasingly slow. His crimson eyes burned into yours as he rested his forehead on yours, cockily waiting for you to challenge him. It was a part of you that he loved seeing the most. Watching you stand up to him despite always being so quiet. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little.

“Like I’d let you. I won the bet fair and square,” you huffed. “And if you don’t, believe me, I’ll happily kick your ass again,” you smirked, poking your finger into his chest.

It was a little game you two liked to play to up the stakes of training. Whenever you’d spar there had to be something to fight for. It was typically just something like the winner gets to be the little spoon later. Yesterday’s sparring match’s stake was a little different though. How you got on the subject of meeting each other’s parents you didn’t really know. Either way, Bakugou had proposed that the loser has to take the other to dinner with their parents. He thought he could easily win, but you proved him otherwise. Twice. 

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Katsuki mumbled, rubbing his nose against yours. “We could go back and cuddle.” 

“Do you really not want me to meet your parents that bad?”

“It’s not that, it’s just- my mom can be kind of a hardass. You’d be the first one to meet her-.”

“I thought I was your only girlfriend so far?”

“You are, idiot. I meant out of everyone… well except Deku. But, you’d be the first friend, and girlfriend, that I’ve introduced to her and my dad.”

You cupped his cheek in your hand before kissing him softly. “It’s okay to be nervous, I am too. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Besides, we’ve taken on villains before, she can’t be as bad,” you tried to cheer him up, only to earn a half-amused scoff. “I’ll manage suki, for all you know me and your parents could become better friends than you and I.” You pulled away from him just enough so he could take in all of your brilliant smile. 

“Please stop,” Katsuki grimaced at the thought. “You belong to this Bakugo and I don’t feel like sharing.” He could see the smart alec reply already forming, just waiting to jump off of the tip of your tongue. He pressed his lips against yours in a quick attempt to keep you quiet. “Come on, the food’s gonna get cold.” Taking your hand in his, he led you to his home. 

The walk was shorter than you thought. Between Katsuki’s heat and the warmth from the hidden sun you felt like you were wrapped in a blanket fresh out a dryer. You lost the number of times one of you would break the link between your hands to wipe the claminess off of your palms. 

“Wow,” you gaped at his home, stopping at the gate to admire the architecture. “Its-.”

“It’s alright,” Katsuki shrugged it off. He stood there awkwardly with you, giving you time to do what you wanted before continuing towards the door. 

You brought his hand to your lips despite the sparks flying. “Relax Suki, we’ve handled worse.” You fixed the stray stand, pushing them back together. You chuckled softly as you turned your attention to his shirt, “So much for tough guy Bakugo.” You gently fixed the fold of his collar, allowing your hands to follow the curve of his shoulders back down to his hand. “It’s cute.”

“Where is that kid,” Mitsuki barked as she opened the door, causing you to let out a squeal in surprise. “Oh. I was getting worried something might’ve happened to you two,” she continued in a more gentle voice. She forced herself to ignore Katsuki’s eyeroll.

“Mom meet my girlfriend, Y/n.” His grumbling did nothing to deter the butterflies going bezerk in your stomach. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Mitsuki stepped aside, making room for you and Katuski to walk inside. “When he brought you up I thought he was making it up. Not that I didn’t think he could find a girl.”

You quickly cut off Katsuki, who was growing more irritated by the second. “I know what you mean, but he’s all bark and a little bite.” You nudged him with your elbow, “but between you and me he’s a big softie.” Katsuki clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to refrain from saying anything.

Mitsuki smiled softly at your comment, “Is he now? Can’t say I’ve heard that from many people.” She looked back and forth between you two momentarily. It was a sight to see, Katsuki standing in front of her with nothing short of a sweetheart. “I’m going to check on the food, Katsuki why don’t you show her around.”

“Didn’t realize I was giving home tours,” he muttered in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“Stop your bitchin’,” you fussed at him quietly, forgetting Mitsuki was there for a minute.

“The hell did you say?!”

“You heard me sparky.” You turned back to Mitsuki with a smile, “Need any help in the kitchen, Mrs. Bakugo? I’d- we’d be glad to help out.” Ignoring Katsuki’s mumbled ‘like hell we would’, you continued to smile softly. 

Mitsuki laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “That’s alright, I’m sure Masaru and I can manage. And please call me Mitsuki.”

You watched as she walked into the kitchen, waiting for her to disappear before you slapped Katsuki’s arm. “Would it kill you to not be an ass. I know they’re probably used to it, but still.” You hung onto his shoulder as you stood on your toes, “Please Suki.”

“Being cute will only get your ass so far.” He gently held onto your hips, steadying you as he searched your begging eyes. His eyes fell to your lips and back up to your own. “Come on then short stack, let’s get the grand tour over with.”

You followed closely behind him as he showed you around his childhood home. “Aww look at baby Katsuki’s room,” you squealed, squeezing past him into the room. “It’s so neat, like out of a magazine. Oh my goodness! Look at that AllMight stuffie.” You hurried over to his shelf, holding the plush in your hands. 

Sure, you knew your boyfriend’s favorite hero was AllMight. It’s just you never pictured him as much of a stuffed toy fan. At least not until your eyes landed on a familiar toy of yours that had gone missing. Sitting on his bed was a little green triceratops, resting dead center. Excitement quickly filled your eyes. 

“It’s the only place you wouldn’t find it,” Katsuki shrugged, walking over and picking the toy up. Kirishima had stolen it from your room during a baku squad movie night months ago and passed it onto Bakugo. It was a game of keep away that was only supposed to last a few days. He had every intention of giving it back, but when he realized it smelled like you it seemed nearly impossible. He had even spent a couple of nights with it tucked under his arm as he slept, not that he’d tell you. 

You watched as he absentmindedly played with the horn of the dinosaur with a loving smile on your face. You faked a cough to cover a quick, “softie.” 

“Katsuki, Y/n, food is ready,” Masaru called, saving you from Katsuki’s wrath. 

“Coming,” Katsuki snapped back. He turned to you with a mischievous smirk, “come here, princess.” He stalked towards you like a lion after a gazelle, his eyes piercing through you. 

You looked down at his sparking hand and back up to his eyes with a nervous laugh. “Don’t you dare.” You inched backwards, waiting on him to make a move. “Stop it,” you chuckled, holding your hands out in defense. A few quick steps made by him left you running to the entrance of the kitchen giggling like a child. “Smells delicious.” You scurried over to the chair across from Mitsuki, plopping down as Katsuki walked into the room. You shot him a victorious grin before beginning to make your plate. 

“Thank you,” Katsuki said politely as he sat next to you, pulling his seat closer. He lowered his hand under the table, careful not to draw any attention to himself. With one smooth movement he activated his quirk, popping you on your butt and causing you to squeal.

“You dickhead,” you exclaimed, completely forgetting about Katsuki’s parents. “I swear if you messed up my dress I’ll kick your…,” you trailed off, finally remembering you were around his parents. “I’ll kick your butt. Sorry.” You smiled apologetically at Mitsuki before stuffing your mouth with food to keep from saying anything else. 

Katsuki’s hearty laugh filled the room and if it weren’t for your embarrassment you probably would’ve joined him. You wanted to wipe the smug grin off of his face and get back at him. 

“Your outfits are cute,” Masaru chimed in. Katsuki’s laughter quickly died down, replaced with an annoyed look. “I assume it was your idea,” he continued in a questioning tone. 

“Of course it was her idea,” Katsuki spat, “why would I want to do something this stupid.”

“I ask myself that about you everyday,” you said snidely. “Also do I need to bring up-.”

“Damn it, shut up!” He proceeded to stuff his mouth, his chewing somehow as loud as if he were chewing into a microphone. His red eyes grew darker with irritation, yet he kept his mouth closed. 

The rest of the conversations consisted of the usual questions, typically answered by you. How long have you known each other? When you started dating? How’s school? Not that you could hear the conversation fully thanks to Katsuki chewing angrily. Sure he put on an irritated facade, but you could tell his father’s comment brought more embarrassment than anything else. And dealing with being embarrassed was not one of his strong suits. Every now and then you’d try to cheer him up with a quick rub on the back or by nudging his leg, it barely worked. 

“So, uh, how serious would you say it’s getting? Have you two…?” Masaru trailed off, assuming everyone at the table knew where the question was going. 

“What the hell?! The hell ya askin’ that for,” Katsuki quickly exploded, raising from his seat and nearly knocking his chair over. You reached over and steadied the chair, your eyes focused on your now angry boyfriend. 

“Katsu, please sit back down,” you asked him quietly. You slid your hand into his, giving it a loving squeeze. 

Mitsuki shifted, clearly trying to hold her tongue. “Actually, how about we go to the living room.” Her voice was calm and smooth, almost a little intimidating. “I’m sure the boys can handle cleaning the kitchen.” She rose from the chair after sending Katsuki a hardened look. You nodded and followed behind, kissing Katsuki on the cheek before walking into the living room.

You sat on the couch, the cushion sinking a little beneath you, as Mitsuki walked over to a shelf. “I was worried he’d never find someone to cut down some of that ego of his.” You weren’t quite sure if she was talking to you or just aloud. “Everyone seems to be too scared or too amazed by him to say anything,” she continued as she pulled out a book. “Can’t say I blame them with his smarts and quirk.” She strolled over and sat beside you, handing you the book. 

The picture of little Katsuki from what you assumed was pre-k on the cover immediately caught your attention. You smiled softly, your heart melting at the sight of his huge smile.  “He is pretty amazing,” you admitted. “His quirk, intellect, heck even his personality is amazing. He’s not so intimidating once you take the time to know him. And don’t even get me started about his work ethic.” You knew you were speaking, but it didn’t feel like you. Your heart poured itself out as your mind focused on the pictures in the scrapbook. “He’s gonna be an awesome hero one day, after me of course. But he knows I’ll kick his ass any time of the day, pardon my language.”

 Mitsuki’s giggle loosened your nerves you hadn’t even realized you still had. She watched you with admiration in her eyes, “I’m glad you feel that way and I’m glad he has you. He’s happy with you and I can see why.” You looked up at her, already hearing Katsuki’s teasing and grumbles about this later. “Masaru and I want to know you’re always welcome here.”

Before you could stop yourself you had flung your arms around her, taking her by surprise. As you were about to pull away you could feel her enveloping you in her warm embrace. 

Katsuki walked into the room with a dumbfounded expression on his face. His eyes shifted back and forth between you and his mother, taking in the scene before him.  He obnoxiously cleared his throat, “It’s getting late, we should head back before curfew.”

You reluctantly released Mitsuki and stood up, smoothing out your dress and handing her the scrapbook. “Thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” Katsuki trailed behind you as you made your way out the door, muttering his thanks and byes.

He walked quietly beside you for a while, holding you close to help provide you whatever heat the setting sun lacked. “Think it’s safe to say your parents like me,” you broke the silence only to receive an eyeroll.

“Too bad, I don’t plan on sharing you often.”

“Okay Mr. Grumpy Pants,” you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Not my fault the Bakugos seem to like me so much. I just have that effect on everyone.”

Katsuki let out a sound that was a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “Hope you feel this happy when I do the same to your parents next weekend.” You slapped his chest with a laugh. “You’re not the only parent charmer, I can get them to like me more than you do.”

“Not possible, idiot. I don’t just like you, I kind of, maybe, sort of love you.” You could feel Katsuki’s chest rumble with laughter at your confession before he stopped in front of you. His muscular frame towered over you.

“I guess I might love you too,” he teased, making your cheeks flush. “How ‘bout we hurry back to the dorms so I can show you how much.”

“Lead the way.”

[justahopelessssromantic]

Perfect

Part 11

Part 10

A/N: Hey guys finally have the next part out for y’all! I’m going to tag the parts a little different and just link the one before this because it’s getting a little tedious 😅. Anyways I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all the continued love and support! You all really mean the world to me! 💖

*gifs not mine*

Warnings: Angst, violence

A few weeks had passed and with each one you saw less and less of Angel and more of Matt. It wasn't your intention, Angel just wouldn't come around as often, avoided you the best he could whenever you were at the clubhouse, and was going on more runs than usual. He was trying to stay busy, to keep his mind busy.

He was waiting for you to blow up on him about the text but you never did. A few days after he sucked it up and came into his father's shop while you were working.

"Hey," he greeted you with a nod of the head. If you were going to say something about it now would be the time. He was ready for it.

"Hey," you smiled back at him. "How are you doing? I saw your text." You said gently.

"You did?" He assumed you did but you never said anything until now. Here it comes, he thought. Holding his breath he waited for you to explode, but you didn’t.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't reply I didn't see it until later and when you didn't show up I just assumed you weren't coming, that maybe club shit came up." You understood that the club would always come first and naturally if you didn't hear from him that was the reason. "I appreciate it though, you wanting to check on me. Thank you."

"Didn't think you needed me," he complained, "You seemed just fine with Matt there."

Now you realized why he hadn't stopped and you let out a sigh. You could just feel the stress headache coming on already.

“What’s the problem, querida?” He leaned onto the counter closer to you, his cologne strong and intoxicating bringing you a sense of nostalgia as he continued spitting words better left unsaid, “Didn’t want me to find out? He stay the night too? Fuck your pain away?”

“That’s your thing, not mine.” You spat back, your jaw clenched. “Remember?” You internally scolded yourself for letting him get under your skin, again. Stepping back from the counter closing your eyes you rubbed your temples. “How many times are we going to keep doing this Angel?" You asked before opening your eyes and looking back at him. 'Aren’t you tired of it?” You were feeling incredibly burned out and tired, tired of going round and round in the same circle over and over again. You couldn't understand how he couldn't be tired as well. You didn’t have the energy for this fight again, especially not today. “Because I am. I'm so very, very tired.”

Angel laid his palms flat against the counter top looking down at the packages in the display case below him as he let out a sigh. He was tired just like you, maybe even more so, but he couldn’t give up on you. He couldn’t let you go. You held his heart and there was no one in the world he could ever give it to again. It belonged to you just like he did. It pained him to know how bad you were hurting to see how now that you were back everything was weighing down on you once more but this was a fight he couldn’t give up on. “Yeah, I’m tired too.” He said, looking up and meeting your eyes, getting lost in the familiarity of them. “I’m tired of not waking up next to you, tired of not being the reason behind your beautiful smile, tired of being the reason for the pain I can see so clearly in your eyes, mi dulce.” He swallowed trying to keep his emotions in check, which was almost nearly impossible when he was around you, “ And most of all I’m tired of missing you.”

“Angel I-”

The soft sound of candy spilling out of a box alerted the two of you to the presence that was now in the shop with you. You were so caught up in each other you didn’t even hear the man enter. Turning your attention to the man you watched as he plopped a couple of the Candy & Licorice candies he had into his mouth.

Angel tensed up beside you immediately holding himself taller. No one had said anything yet but you could tell by Angel’s reaction to the man that he was not a friend.

He slipped the box of candy into his pocket before returning his gaze back to the two of you. “Trouble in paradise?” he finally spoke up with an unsettling smile, “Please continue.” He motioned towards the two of you. “Don’t let me interrupt your little lover’s quarrel.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Angel spoke up stepping closer to the man.

“Meat of course. What other reasons would there be for someone to stop into Carniceria Reyes?” He said almost challenging Angel. Smiling once more he turned his attention to you and stepped up to the counter. “Forgive me. Where are my manners?” He said extending his hand out to you, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Lincoln Potter.”

Angel’s glare burned through Potter’s back. He didn’t like him being here, sniffing around you. It did nothing but add on to the stress and anger piling up inside him.The last thing he wanted was for Potter to involve you in any more of their shit then you already were.

His phone buzzed from within his cut and as much as he didn’t want to leave you alone with Potter he knew he had to take the call. He pulled the device out, “Yo.” He answered, walking towards the window.

You kept most of your attention on your new acquaintance, Lincoln Potter but were also very aware of Angel and his reaction to the man and did your best to be aware of any silent signals Angel may give you as well. He was ordering a roast and you smiled politely taking his order but you knew that wasn’t why he was really in the shop that day.

“I’ll be there.” You heard Angel say before hanging up his cellphone. You finished wrapping the produce and turned back around meeting his eyes. You gave him a little nod to let him know you would be okay before he ducked out of the shop, the bell dinging behind him and you turned your attention once more to the task at hand.

After that day you didn’t see as much of Angel. He’d ride by every once in a while to make sure Potter wasn’t giving you trouble and each time he would it seemed Matt’s truck was always outside his Pop’s shop. Eventually he couldn’t handle it anymore and stopped altogether. He was trying to give you space, trying not to lose his cool and if that meant he had to avoid you then avoid you he would.

Or at least he’d try.

But like you had said that was impossible. Everywhere he went if he wasn’t seeing you or Matt he was hearing all about you from the people of Santo Padre. And if it wasn’t you and Matt it was Coco and Matt, even sometimes the three of you. He understood now more than ever why you up and left him and the small town you held dear in your heart.

But Angel couldn’t run away so instead he found other ways to release some stress. Like after he saw Matt at your place again he took it out on the old piece of shit car that had been sitting at the scrapyard. He swung the crowbar over and over, shattering the glass, denting the car up beyond repair before tossing the crowbar to the side without paying any attention to his surroundings. The only thing on his mind was rage at that moment.

“Shit,” Gilly said, jumping away from the flying object. “Damn Angel, watch what you’re doing.”

Angel ran his hand through his hair. He turned his attention to his brother, completely out of breath. “Fuck, sorry hermano.” Angel pulled his pack out of his cut extending a cigarette Gilly’s way.

Gilly took it, flipping a couple of buckets over creating a seat for him and Angel. He sat down lighting it up watching as Angel did the same. The separation was rough on Angel but this was so much worse and Gilly was starting to really worry about his hermano. None of the guys knew what to do. They felt like they were walking on eggshells around him just waiting for him to explode, so they let him take his frustrations out as best they could. “What’d old Matilda ever do to you?” He tried to tease Angel nodding to the beat up junker.

He should have known better though. Angel hadn’t been much in the teasing mood for a long time. He just started ahead with his cigarette dangling between his fingers getting lost in the damage he had created both physically in the car before him and in his relationships.

Gilly missed the old Angel.

When Angel wasn’t beating the shit out of inanimate objects he was taking it out in the ring. Every opportunity he got he’d be busting it out in there, taking whoever it may be who would be willing to be his punching bag that day. The guys knew it wasn’t personal and all took turns taking the brunt of it just trying to help in any way they can.

“Alright,” Angel said, approaching the table of his fellow members, “Who wants to have a go in the ring?”

The men all groaned internally. Gilly sipped his beer, Riz pretended to be very involved in the current card game before him, Creeper acted as if his phone held something very important and EZ stood up making some excuse about needing to clean the bar up.

“C’mon,” Angel whined, “Really? None of you fuckers are gonna be man enough to take me on?” He said, trying to play at their egos.

The truth was they were all exhausted. They could only go this way for so long and it seemed that Angel never got tired, he was always ready for another fight. It wasn’t normal and sure as hell not healthy.

“Fine,” he spat, grabbing a beer off the table. “If you need me I’ll fucking be out back!” Beer in hand he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Another method Angel used to distract himself was running. Every morning he would wake up at the crack of dawn, throw on some shorts and sneakers and head out the door with no destination in mind, just letting his feet take him. It was like he was training for a marathon that no one knew about.

Unfortunately though his feet were always taking him to your place where he’d stand across the street staring at the dark house before him. You were always sleeping so you would never know he was there but he’d be there a good twenty minutes before he’d suck it up and move on. If he wasn’t finding himself at your place then it was the park where you had your first official date. He’d stop and sit on the swing for a moment catching his breath as he remembered all the picnics you had shared there together, the birthdays, anniversaries, and just lazy days when you’d get the day just for the two of you.

Every place in this town held a memory of you, a memory of your time together as a couple. He really couldn’t escape you.

All these things provided him a momentary release but it wasn’t enough and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. Everyone could see that and were anxiously waiting for the moment to come only hoping there wouldn’t be too many casualties in the fallout.

Each day at the Carniceria got a little easier. You started to notice Angel’s lack of being around a little less and tried to push him to the back of your mind.

Matt would come by often, bringing you coffee or lunch. You’d take your breaks with him enjoying the food he provided and taking a nice stroll in the fresh air. He was easy to talk to, you never shared the deepest parts of your life but anything else was always on the table. There was nothing you felt like you couldn’t share with him.

He felt just as comfortable around you as well and would tell you about his mother who practically raised him all alone after his father split. His dad was a drunk so he nor his mother ever missed him once he was gone. He told you about his days serving with Coco and all the shenanigans they would get up to. His stories were always so detailed you could picture them vividly and you’d get lost in them.

When you were with Matt all your worries would go away, you felt free and the time would fly.

You were wiping down the counter as EZ browsed his father’s bookshelf looking for something new to read. Unlike Angel he was always stopping in, offering a hand and checking up on you and his Pops. He even would talk to Matt when he’d stop in. EZ liked him, he seemed decent and no one could deny how his presence seemed to lift your spirits, get you excited again.

It was nearing one in the afternoon, the time that Matt would usually come in and you’d close shop for your lunch break. You finished your cleaning, tossing your gloves in the trash bin and then removing your apron and hanging it up on the hook.

You stepped around the corner looking over at the shelf next to EZ as he pulled out a title and examined the back. “Find anything yet?” You asked.

“Yeah,” EZ grinned holding up the book and turning to you. “You know he likes you.” EZ said changing the subject.

“Who?”

“Matt.” He said. He chuckled noticing how you began fiddling with your hands. You might not want to admit it but he knew you liked him too. “He’s a good guy, makes you happy. You deserve that (Y/N). You should give him a chance.”

“I don’t know EZ..” you tried to protest. You did like Matt and he was a great guy but you still couldn’t fully comprehend him liking you back and even so your heart always tugged towards Angel.

“Just try,” EZ encouraged taking your hand in his. “I know you still love Angel but there’s a lot of pain there. Maybe Matt’s what you need right now, a fresh start.” EZ hated himself a little for telling you these. He knew Angel would kill him if ever found out but from how things were going right now your relationship together was toxic. Maybe this was what was best, to let go of each other. He just wanted to see the two of you happy again, to see you stop hurting one another.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You said leaving it at that. Sure you dated one guy since Angel but that was different. It never went farther than just a few dates and one kiss before you ended things knowing you didn’t feel for him the same way he did for you. You just couldn’t get Angel out of your head, constantly comparing the poor guy to him. With Matt however it was different, Angel was still in the back of your mind but it was easier to forget when you were around Matt. You never compared him to Angel and you couldn’t deny that he made you happy, or was easy on the eyes.

A few days later Matt was in the shop again. You had just had lunch together and he was getting ready to head back out as you resumed your position behind the counter.

He was headed out the door when he stopped himself just short of it. It was now or never he thought. He turned back around stepping up to the counter. You picked your head up smiling at him. Your smile would always be enough to take his breath away, he thought. “Would you like to go out with me? Like on a date?” He asked. On the outside he seemed cool and collected but inside he was more nervous than he had ever been. To say he was rusty would be an understatement. He hadn’t been on a date in forever let alone ask someone on one but you were special. You made him feel like he could have someone to come home to, someone to care for who also cared for him. Like he could have a family one day.

You felt like a silly teenager again, the butterflies swirling inside you. You had hung out plenty of times but never for a date which naturally made you a little nervous. If it wasn’t for EZ’s comment earlier you would have been completely caught off guard but thankfully you were a little prepared. “Okay, yeah.” You decided, giving him a smile before adding, “But only on one condition.”

“Deal,” he said maybe a little too quickly. He grinned back at you loving the way the corner of your eyes crinkled slightly when your smile grew.

“I haven’t even told you the conditions yet,” you laughed lightly at his eager response.

“Whatever it is will be worth it if it means I get to have the evening with you.”

You felt your face flush as you looked down. You met his eyes looking back at him, “Come to my place. Friday, eight pm sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied grinning. He nodded his head before stepping back. “I can’t wait. See you then (Y/N).” He said before stepping out of the shop and down the street.

Friday night and all the men sat around nursing their beers while they played a hand. The day had been fairly relaxed and everyone was enjoying having the day off.

Coco walked into the clubhouse seemingly just having ended a phone call. He nodded at Bishop getting his attention from the table. Bishop stood up excusing himself from the game and walked into Templo with Coco behind him.

“What’s up, Coco?” He asked once they were in the room.

“Just got off the phone with Matt, he’s on the other side,” Coco explained as Bishop listened carefully, “He’s in a bit of a situation, needs help getting back over.”

“Go,” Bishop told the younger Mayan, “We shouldn’t need you.”

“Aight,” Coco nodded, turning back around to head out.

“Coco!” Bishop called out getting his attention. “Take Angel and EZ with you, you’ll need some backup.”

“No offense, Bish.” Coco addressed his president, “But that sounds like a terribly fucking idea.” They all knew the situation between Angel and Matt was tense, more so with Angel.

“Doesn’t look like Matt’s going anywhere,” Bishop said, stepping closer to Coco, “They have to work this shit out, Angel needs that to get through to him. It’ll be good, for everyone.”

Coco nodded once more before turning back around and out. “Yo Boy Scout, Angel!” He called out. Getting their attention the two Reyes brothers followed him out and to van.

The ride to the tunnels was long and quiet. This was the last place Angel wanted to be but he sucked it up. At least in this way he felt like Coco still needed him even if it was just to save his other fucking best friend. Once there they made their way through and into the vehicle waiting for them on the other side.

They found the location Matt had shared and walked into the building. Matt sprung up aiming at the men causing them to draw their weapons as well before they all lowered them upon the realization of who the other was. Walking over, Matt pulled Coco in for a quick hug a young girl following behind him. “Thanks brother.” He said, patting his back.

“Who’s that?” EZ asked about the young girl. She looked frightened but at least wasn’t injured.

“Don’t need to know,” Matt said plainly. That’s all he could tell these men even if they were trusted friends.

“We come all the way over here to save your ass and you won’t even tell us why?” Angel spoke up, pissed. They were risking their tails without a clue to how dangerous the situation is and he didn’t like being in the damn dark.

“Angel!” Coco scolded. This wasn’t the time for this petty shit.

“I’m just saying we have a right to fuckin’ know! I’m not risking my life for-” Angel’s next words were interrupted by gunshots flying into the small room.

The girl screamed as Matt pushed her under a table to protect her from the bullets raining down on them. “EZ!” Matt called out getting his attention, “Watch the girl.” He ordered before stepping out and shooting back at the men who had ambushed them.

EZ ran over taking guard and cover near the girl shooting at anyone who came near. The four men took out the small team fairly easily. Bodies laid everywhere as they took in the carnage before them.

“Fuck!” Angel shouted, turning towards Matt. “What the fuck was that?! We almost got fucking killed!” He charged towards Matt when one last man who must have been hiding jumped out and tackled him to the ground. Matt, Coco, and EZ watched as the two tussled starting with Angel getting on top and pinning him down.

Angel was living for this. This man was just what he needed, someone he could best the shit out of like he wanted to do to Matt. He landed blow after blow to the guy's face before he managed to get the upper hand himself and got Angel turned around so he was on top with him in a tight choke hold. Angel fought the man taking a little longer than he would like but he knew he could take him down, that he’d kill him.

The fight was taking too long and they didn’t have time for this. Matt pulled his glock out and shot the man point blank in the head finishing the job and ending the struggle.

Angel gasped for air as the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears while he pushed the man off him and wiped the blood from himself. He caught his breath standing up and glared at Matt.

EZ came over in an attempt to make sure his brother was okay but Angel didn’t care. He only had one thing on his mind.

Angel was fuming as he stomped past EZ and up to Matt. “What the fuck was that?!” He barked. Adrenaline coursed through his body from the previous scuffle and his hatred towards this man who was stealing his life away. His chest heaved rapidly as he readied himself for the much needed release of shit that had been building up for too long now. It wasn’t enough to take it all out on everything and anything else around him. He needed to take it out on the root of his problem, Matt.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass back there?” Matt wasn’t having this crap today. He had put up with Angel for too long now. He just saved his ass, and all Angel was doing was being an ungrateful little shit.

“I had it fucking handled!” Angel defended himself. He didn’t need Matt swooping in and saving the day. He could handle himself, could hold his own and that kill should have been his not fucking Matt’s.

Matt looked Angel up and down only adding to Angel’s irritation. “Could’ve fooled me. Looked like the fucker was going to kill you so I took him out, saved your life. You’re not going to hear an apology from me so if that what you’re waiting for I suggest you walk away and not waste anymore of my fucking time.”

“Right cause you have some big date tonight with my girl!” Angel spat. Yeah he knew about it, EZ had mentioned it to him after you had told him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The day was long enough as is and as soon as they got back he’d just be stuck thinking about that damn date that should be with him not Matt. He should be coming back from this shit show to your comforting embrace not Matt. That should be him. “Don’t act like you were doing me some big fucking favor. You did that for yourself! So you could play hero and brag all about it to (Y/N) so you can get in her fucking pants! I see right through you Matt, know what guys like you do.” He was lashing out now, hoping to get under Matt’s skin just as deep as he had his. There was no way he was as perfect as he seemed. “You’re just going to use her and then you’re going to throw her away once you get what you want. You’re gonna fucking break her heart, and when you do I’ll be there to clean up the mess.”

“You mean like I’m doing for you? I think we both know that you’ve already handled breaking her just fine yourself.” Matt said stepping up to Angel, the two men’s chests were practically touching by now. “I threaten you Angel, I get that. You’re scared that she’s going to find everything she needs in me. That I’m going to take care of her, respect her,” he spat, “like you should have and she’s going to realize she is much better off without you, that she deserves better.” He snarled. “You know that, I know that, and deep down she knows that too. It’s time you let her go.”

Angel’s eyes darkened with each word that was spat out at him. If steam could physically be coming out of someone’s ears it would be happening to Angel right now. Everything finally was bubbling up and over with actions winning over more words. Without missing a beat he grabbed Matt by the shirt swinging a right hook straight to the side of his face, his large metal rings cutting up his skin with the force of the punch.

Matt staggered back just a little before catching himself. He rolled his jaw, spitting the blood to the ground as he snarled at Angel. Before Angel could react the wind had been knocked out of him with a fierce blow from Matt.

EZ perked up ready to jump into the fight when Coco held his hand out keeping the young Mayan back. He shook his head, “They need this Boy Scout , he needs this.” He told EZ nodding to Angel.

Angel hunched over unable to breath as Matt held him up and pushed him back against the nearest wall. His voice was rough and hushed as he growled into Angel’s ear. “You know I’ve been real patient with you Angel, more so than you deserve, but you know what? You’re right. I did do it for her, not you, because for some reason,” he tightened his hold on Angel pulling back his face so he could look him in the eyes, “for some reason she still cares about you, and I care about her. That’s what you do Angel, when you care for someone. You put their needs above your own. And yeah I’d like more than anything to beat the ever living shit out of you right here and now but I won’t, for her.” It was difficult for him but if he started he may not be able to control himself. He wasn’t going to let Angel push his buttons, wasn’t going to let him feed that monster within. Turning his head to the side he spat more blood out from Angel’s hit, the cut on his lip stinging from the movement. He was done tiptoeing around Angel. He looked back at him challenging the man in front of him. “So Angel, tell me, do you really care about her? Are you going to put her needs for once above your own?”

Angel could finally breathe again as he regained his voice. “What? And that’s supposed to be you?” He snarked.

“Why don’t we let her decide for herself.” Matt said before pushing off Angel. Turning around he headed towards the exit of the building grabbing the girl on his way out. Coco shook his head looking at Angel now hunched over with his hands on his knees before jogging after Matt and catching up beside him patting his shoulder.

EZ walked over helping his brother up. “You okay, Angel?”

Angel wanted to shrug his brother off but he didn’t. He watched as Coco caught up to Matt the betrayal stinging him even more. “Yeah lil bro. Just fuckin’ peachy.”

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[roseydeloom]

Gremlin Izuku

Ok so this is a continuation of this post that @lovelyflowerlov and I are working on. It started as a shitpost and now we’re here and living our best lives. I’m making this separate just because the other is getting too long to scroll through. Click the link for context on the AU

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Before some more Battle Trial stuff (which I will get to later) I thought about what exactly Izuku’s quirk and appearance is.

Quirk

Possible Quirk names: Gremlin, Unhinged, Energize

Because we’re having Izuku be a Gremlin Boi™ and thus have, in the words of flower, “Teeth that are even more sharp than a shark, Amazing Bouncy Skills™, never ending enthusiasm, a night owl, and Bastard™ Energy” I say that his quirk is the ability to inhibit the body’s inborn limiters. You know, the things that make it so you don’t tear your muscles from bones everytime you use them. A common example being how your jaw is strong enough to bite off your finger, but your brain prevents you. Mainly basing this off hysterical strength and this video. Izuku can consciously turn this limiter off, both on himself and others. He could chomp his fingers like carrots if he wanted to. But it’s not just muscle limiters

You know that little voice in your head that tells you not to do or say stuff? The social conventions you know to follow, and thus what to do or say? The things that limit your actions? Ya, Izuku’s quirk prevented him from getting that. Though he does kinda have the opposite of it, explained later. He has to actively think about what he can and can’t do in a situation, and sometimes he just forgets or doesn’t understand that there are unspoken “rules” he needs to follow or behaviors he shouldn’t express. When activated on another person, they no longer feel pressured to act a specific way. His quirk also encourages reckless behavior; acting without care for possible harm to self. Izuku has grown up with this urge so he has learned how to fight it off, and actually has remarkable self control to not do 90% of the stuff his quirk tells him to. Not so much the case for people who have this pushed onto them for the first time. Kinda like Trigger and making people act differentenly :)

Example: during the Entrance Exam when he saw Uraraka trapped under gravel and the 0 pointer coming closer, his first instinct was to destroy the robot. To him, the rubble wasn’t the immediate threat and instead the robot that was walking towards her was. Shinsou was the one to convince him to try getting the debris off her first, and go from there. Only after that failed did Shinsou let Izuku enact his insane plan of eating the 0 pointer’s wires (which Izuku then teased Shinsou with the fact it worked and we should have just done that first, Hitoshi)

Because he can use all his muscles whenever he desires, his body naturally has a higher glucose stockpile than normal people to make up for the fact he will use more ATP working a higher volume of muscles (since muscle contractions use energy and glucose is the first energy storage the body burns through). However, he also needs to burn through that energy or else he risks damaging his nerves because of too much glucose in the blood (reason for nerve damage in diabetic people). Thus, he naturally has a higher energy level than other people so he jumps jumps jumps, has never ending enthusiasm, and always likes to be doing stuff. Tapping his foot, twirling his pencil, humming, analysising and writing in his notebook. This does infact burn his energy; mental fatigue is a thing my dudes. This also makes it so he loves to cause chaos, mischief, create pranks, and generally be a little nuisance, since it requires careful planning and energy running around to set it up, but that’s mainly just him being a little Bastard™

Appearance

So I definitely like the idea of him having sharp teeth and being shorter than cannon. I also think this boy would have BIG BONES to make up for the extra stress his quirk puts on them when his muscles are used. This translates into Izuku being a bit more on the chunky side, along with the natural ability to grow big muscles as, once again, a defense mechanism against his quirk. Sum up: he’s that dude that has always been on the bigger side and won’t get stick thin no matter how hard he tries, but when he flexes his arms turn into pure muscle and he can jump over your head from a standing jump. So basically chubby bulky

[Sources: 1 and 2, 3. These images are close to what I’m thinking]

Also I thing he would be darker skinned since he runs around outside in the sun constantly to burn off energy, so he got at least a tan from all that

Quirk Apprehension Test

So once Flower mentioned that we totally just forgot about this part of the plot, I proceeded to laugh for like 5 minutes over the fact we did. I totally forgot this existed until you mentioned it. My idea is as follows

Aizawa: This test is to gauge your abilities, quirks, and potential to be a hero. You are to use your quirks during the test to increase your scores

Some idiot: This sounds fun! We get to use quirks!

Aizawa: Fun? How about this: whoever comes last gets expelled

Class: *shouting*

Shinsou: *worried because his quirk doesn’t help him physically*

Izuku, manic grin spreading across face and turns to Shinsou: *whispers* I have an idea. I’ll use my quirk to help both our scores

They then proceed to complete the test with Shinsou getting better scores than he should be able to get. Aizawa knows this since, while he doesn’t read the entire file on students so he can form his own opinions, he does look over the basic info of name, photo, and quirk name/description. Shinsou shouldn’t be doing this well, and he also acts differently once it’s his turn to preform. Aizawa sees Shinsou and Izuku being more comfortable with one another than they would be if they just met, and in addition to the fact they were together during the Entrance Exam, he guesses that they’re friends and Izuku is using his quirk to bost Shinsou. During Shinsou’s turn for the ball toss, Aizawa cancels Izuku’s quirk so Shinsou no longer receive its effects and throws the ball a lot shorter than everyone expected

Aizawa, glaring at Izuku: I knew it. You’re using your quirk to help your friend

Izuku, turning and smirking: And? What about it?

Aizawa: I could expel you both right now for cheating and interfering with results of a test

Shinsou: *face deadpan but shitting his pants, hoping Izuku will weasel their way out of this*

Izuku, gremlin smirk forming: No you won’t, Eraserhead. If you were doing this test you would have used your quirk to cancel your clasmates’ quirks to put you on a even playing field. I’m doing the exact opposite and helping. Plus, you only said “use your quirks during the test to increase your scores.” You didn’t forbid using our quirks to affect other people’s scores, nor saying we could only increase our own score.

Aizawa, cheshire grin: So you are related to your brother. Alright. Shinsou, throw the ball again and Midoriya, you can use your quirk

Shinsou, thinking: how is always able to pull us out of repercussions for our actions?

Battel Trial

Finally back to what this whole things should have been about! Jeez that took forever and I’m starting to get sleepy typing

Based on the pros and cons you gave and also what amusing me the most because I’ve writing this for 5 hours is that the Villains (Shinsou and Uraraka) should win.

Once Izuku gets over the fact he’s having to battle his basically second brother, Shinsou calms him down and tells him it’s fine, just pretend we’re sparing with Tenko again, he gets pumped af to brawl. Maybe a little too hyped up, since it makes his energy levels twice the ridiculous amount they were before and makes him even more jumpy and animated. Iida interprets this as him not taking things seriously and chastises him for it, which pisses Izuku off because he is taking it seriously. It’s just not being expressed in the way Iida expects it to be expressed. So, he’s definitely not as helpful to him as he could be while in the planning phase, and might have made things a bit harder than they needed to be when explaining the blueprint, just to annoy him.

Shinsou and Uraraka don’t have this problem and quickly come up with the idea to put the bomb on the roof. This is so Uraraka can use her quirk to send things high into the sky with only her nausea as the limit instead of the ceiling, and they’ll bring some more ruble and boxes up there too so she has ammo. She’ll try to stay as quiet as she can to guard and hide the bomb while Shinsou is a few levels below to make the heros think the bomb is there.

A trick they have up their sleeves is that Uraraka noticed that the blueprints had really weird airducts (something only she would notice because it’s so minor) and when they went to check it out, the airducts were actually tunnels disguised as airducts. So now the villains have a way of getting around that the heros don’t, and won’t be seen. With Uraraka directing him from the blueprints, Shinsou has his own private hallways! He can definitely use this in combination with his voice changer :)

I’m not too sure how the fight would go down, but some parts I think would happen is Shinsou trolling them from inside the tunnel with his voice changer. I don’t think he would spring the mind control on him just yet, Izuku taught him to have Fun™ afterall, and would switch between Inko’s and Tenko’a voices while messing with him. I just want my baby to create some psychological torture ok Another thing would be them finding the bomb on the roof and when Izuku’s about to grab it, that’s when Shinsou uses his mind control with AFO’s voice. I’m guessing they had some family videos with him in it so that’s how we knew what his voice sounded like.

Like you said when Izuku got controlled he was in a jump so when he fell he breaks out, but at that point Uraraka had moved the bomb and Shinsou is dealing with Iida. They’re running out of time so Iida and Izuku are starting to become a little desperate, so Iida yells at Izuku to use his quirk on him to make him extra fast so he can grab the bomb. He does, but Iida doesn’t expect it to be so powerful since the other times in the exercise Izuku used it on him he was holding back. Iida becomes a knockoff Sonic and shoot towards the bomb way faster than he expected. He didn’t expect to go the speed of Retro Burst without trying, so he overshoots it and ends up falling off the ledge near Izuku. He’s able to catch himself on the roof, but he’s not able to pull himself up without help and he’s starting to slip. Izuku has to pick between the bomb and Iida, and he decides to save Iida. While pulling him back up the timer goes off and the villains win.

Iida thanks him for saving him while Izuku just kinda goes “Duh, I wasn’t gonna let you get badly hurt if I could stop it. Annoy and inconvenience maybe, but not hurt. Of course I picked you. Anyways gotta go bug Hitoshi”

Just because Izuku is a dramatic bitch, while they’re walking back Izuku jumps unto Shinsou’s back and starts rambling to Uraraka and Shinsou about how cool their plan was, asking about the voices in the hallway and Shinsou’s new mask, clarifying some parts of their plan he didn’t get, and just generally being very animated and his talkative, analyzing self. Iida starts to think that maybe he was too quick to judge the green bean

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 6

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Phobias

Summary: When Wei Ying wakes, they have a long-overdue conversation.

Note: See end.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

———

Lan WangJi stirs naturally at mao shi, confused by the feeling of someone against him at first. Wei Ying is still curled in his arms, his face pressed against his chest, one hand fisted in his robes. 

When he tries to disentangle himself, it’s more difficult than expected. He finds Wei Ying’s other hand is clinging to a lock of his hair, and both fists tighten at the movement.

Then Wei Ying stirs, jerking back immediately and yelping, “Dog!” as though still trapped in his panic of the night before.

Lan WangJi finds himself pulled part way with him, as Wei Ying neglects to release his hair.

“Eliminated, Wei Ying,” he says softly, watching the bleariness of sleep slowly fade from his eyes.

Thankfully, the remnants of last night’s panic fade with it, and Wei Ying lets go of his hair, wincing in sympathy as he realizes he’s pulled it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“There is no need, between us,” Lan WangJi gently reminds him. “I did not realize you were afraid of dogs.”

Wei Ying flinches, and he realizes the fear is strong enough that he reacts to just the word.

“Wei Ying?”

He keeps his tone soft, a request, but one that can be ignored if he so wishes. Instead Wei Ying sighs, and reaches down to pull up a leg of his trousers, revealing flesh marred by old scars.

“The other one is the same,” he says. “And they go higher. Living on the streets means fighting dogs for food. You learn pretty quick they’re mean.”

“How long?” Lan WangJi asks, trying to keep the horror from his voice. 

Wei Ying shrugs, rolling his trousers back down. 

“I don’t remember. A few years. I didn’t keep much track of time. Too young when my parents died, and no one really knows exactly when that was.”

He can see Wei Ying shiver, and wraps the blanket around him.

“It’s only mao,” he tells him. “You can sleep longer.”

That gets a grimace. “Not likely to sleep. Even if you got rid of that damn thing. I’m surprised it didn’t give me nightmares.”

“Of your childhood?”

Lan WangJi knew he had cried out about dogs in his fevered sleep, but that was during a fever. Though, perhaps, after trauma…

Wei Ying shakes his head. 

“I never told you. In Nightless City, when Wen Chao took me for ‘questioning’...”

He trails off, his mouth a thin line, and draws the blanket around him tighter.

“When I didn’t have information on the missing Yin Iron he put me in qi-suppressing chains and tossed me in the dungeon, in a cell with a very hungry dog. So big its teeth were level with my face.”

Wei Ying smiles, but it’s without mirth.

“Said if I was still alive in the morning, all would be forgiven.”

Given what had happened only hours ago, Lan WangJi doubts Wei Ying, even with his qi, could have fought effectively. Wen Chao wouldn’t have known of his crippling fear, but had not expected him to survive regardless.

He remembers that morning, the blood on Wei Ying’s skin, the rips in his clothing, and his show of flippancy. But he also remembers he had been quieter after that, putting on a mask of carelessness, but also careful to toe the line.

Suddenly Wei Ying’s fear of dogs in the delirium of fever has a new context.

“You survived,” Lan WangJi comments.

Wei Ying laughs shortly. 

“Only thanks to Wen Ning. He knocked it out with needles, and gave me energy boosting medicine and herbs to stop the bleeding. I was able to save some of the herbs. That’s why I had them in the cave.”

For a moment, silence stretches between them, and Lan WangJi reflects on the scene Wei Ying had caused at the banquet, his anger and grief at Qiongpi Path. Wen Ning, who had also saved Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao after the fall of Lotus Cove, who had sheltered them.

Wen Ning, who the Jins and many of the other sects would, and had, happily killed. Just as, he suspects, they would Wei Ying, particularly with the prize of the Stygian Tiger Seal. Jin Guangshan’s obsession with it bothers Lan WangJi, with his zhiji now unprotected by a sect, alienated from the cultivation world.

“I would have died in that dungeon,” Wei Ying comments, “a warning to all of you to behave, if he hadn’t stepped in.”

Lan WangJi tries not to imagine it, but he can, all too easily. Instead of Wei Ying joining the line at indoctrination and complaining of hunger and boasting of his glorious scars, his corpse being dragged to be dumped in front of them.

Wei Ying’s death would have crushed him, he thinks. With his brother missing and father and uncle injured, his sect decimated, the promise to Lan Yi broken… to lose Wei Ying at that point would have destroyed what was left of his sanity.

Lan WangJi, too, owes a tremendous debt to Wen Ning.

“But maybe they wouldn’t have attacked Lotus Pier, then.”

It’s barely a whisper, one so filled with grief and guilt Lan WangJi is reaching for his arm, gripping it through the blanket, before he realizes it, imaginings of Wei Ying’s bloody body in various states of brokenness on the steps of Nightless City haunting his mind. He can feel the tension in his body, as though Wei Ying is on the verge of shattering.

“Wei Ying. They would have attacked regardless.”

“They were just going to make it a supervisory office at first. If I was punished.”

Lan WangJi isn’t sure he wants to know what that entailed, but he asks anyway.

“Punished?”

Wei Ying shrugs. “My hand. It would’ve prevented the massacre. I think Madam Yu was going to do it, too. But then they mentioned Lotus Cove becoming the supervisory office.”

He feels a chill at the idea of Wei Ying mutilated like that, of having never heard him play the dizi, of the pain he would have accepted for the sake of others. This image, so quickly on the heels of the previous… He knows Wei Ying would have given his core anyway, even with such an injury. 

“Wei Ying, they only would have started with your hand,” he says softly. “They would have come back and wanted more.”

He receives no response, and he knows nothing he says will convince Wei Ying that the fall of Lotus Pier, the deaths of the disciples and Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan, perhaps even the war itself… None of it was his fault. Worse, he knows Wei Ying would feel any loss on his part would be acceptable, that Wei Ying always feels thus.

But he can’t help himself, and can only try anyway.

“You lost enough in the war, Wei Ying. Wen RuoHan was to blame for the fall of Lotus Pier, not you. Likely he was only defeated because of your contribution and sacrifices.”

Wei Ying had been avoiding looking at him, but his gaze lifts to meet his finally. His eyes shine as though he is on the verge of tears, and there’s a tightness in his jaw. He had this look months ago, during the hunt when Jiang YanLi defended him publicly against the ugly accusations of Jin ZiXun. He truly isn’t used to being defended, to being valued.

Lan WangJi takes a moment to collect himself, to find words. 

“I wish you had not suffered as much as you did. I wish you did not suffer still. You do not deserve to suffer, Wei Ying.”

Normally he would expect Wei Ying to be flippant, to make light of everything, but for once his zhiji has let himself be open. Lan WangJi can only hope it means he has regained his trust, but it could simply be the early hour and weariness following the panic of the dog spirit. 

“‘A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up.’” He tightens his hold on his arm. “You cannot shoulder the burdens of the world yourself. Let me help you.”

Silence stretches between them for a short while.

“Lan Zhan, do you think you can help me?”

A year ago, the question would have been asked in a hard voice, defensive. Now, Wei Ying’s voice is so small, as though he wonders if anyone can help him. It tears at Lan WangJi, reminds him of how very late he is, reminds him of when he asked Wei Ying to let him help before, and failed to see it through.

He can find no words to answer; instead, he decides to let his guqin speak, let the music speak, and hope his zhiyin truly understands. He lets go of Wei Ying’s arm and manifests his guqin, begins the gentle melody of “WangXian.”

Wei Ying relaxes by increments as he plays, easing to lean back against the wall of the cave. Lan WangJi runs through the song twice, then stills the strings, dismisses the instrument, and waits quietly.

“I remember where I heard that now,” Wei Ying says, breaking the silence left in the wake of the music. “The cave. After we fought the XuanWu. You sang for me.”

“Yes. You were ill from your injuries, from infection.”

Wei Ying hums softly, his eyes closed as though remembering.

“I think I asked what it was called, but I don’t remember the answer. I must have passed out.”

So he truly hadn’t heard; his behavior upon his reappearance had been unconnected to what Lan WangJi had thought was his confession.

“You were delirious with fever,” he tells him, hedging. “Do you know the significance of the Lan forehead ribbon?”

Wei Ying frowns at him, clearly confused by what appears to him to be a change of subject, peering at him through the dusky gloom of the cave.

“Something about restraint. No one’s supposed to touch it.”

Lan WangJi sighs softly.

“‘To regulate oneself,’ more precisely. Only family and cultivation partners are permitted to touch it.”

There’s a minute change in Wei Ying’s expression, but he can’t quite see well enough in the dim lighting to tell what it is. He pulls a talisman from his sleeve and activates it, lighting the candles that line the cave on small juts in the stone.

“Do you remember the Cold Spring cave?” he asks, pressing on, watching his face.

Wei Ying is silent, but his brows knot. It takes less than a minute for him to realize, his lips parting in shock.

“We bowed,” Wei Ying whispers, his voice hoarse. “That was a handfasting? I didn’t know. You never said.”

Lan WangJi doesn’t know how to reply, so says nothing.

“Why didn’t you?” Wei Ying looks confused now. “It’s not… We never… You can have it annulled.”

He tries to find the words, anything that would help him convey what he means, but speaking is not his forte, especially with Wei Ying trying to point out the marriage is technically not valid because it was never consummated, which isn’t the path his mind needs to embark on at the moment.

“I did not wish to,” Lan WangJi finally says. “I still do not.”

Wei Ying stares at him, looking frozen, as though the words have paralyzed him. He still looks confused, uncertain. Lan WangJi returns to the music.

“The title of the song is ‘WangXian.’”

Wei Ying’s reaction is a small intake of air, almost a gasp. Emotions flit across his face too fast to decipher, before he hides it in the blanket.

“Lan Zhan.”

His voice is muffled and rough.

“I can’t cultivate to immortality anymore, Lan Zhan. The resentful energy… you were right, when you said it harms the body and mind. I don’t know if I’ll even… if I’ll even have a mediocre lifespan. I’ll leave you.”

Nowhere in what he has said, Lan WangJi realizes, is a rejection. Rather, it’s an attempt to convince him that Wei Ying isn’t good enough, isn’t worthy. To remind him that Wei Ying accepted a shorter lifespan and pain to help his brother. As though his selflessness would ever make him unworthy. 

Lan WangJi reaches out, grasps Wei Ying’s arm under the blanket again. It is still painful to be reminded of the fleeting time they’ll have, but at the same time it makes what he has to say more important, makes the idea of wasting any more devastating.

“Then I will find you again in your next life, and every life thereafter if necessary,” he promises.

He recognizes the sound Wei Ying makes in response as a choked sob, and pulls him close, into his arms.

“You deserve better,” Wei Ying mumbles against him, still hiding his face. “I’m not—”

“Wei Ying,” he interrupts, not willing to hear his zhiji put himself down. “I want only you.”

Wei Ying’s breath hitches, and he finally looks up, his face wet, his lips trembling. Lan WangJi abandons decorum, reaching to card one hand in the hair below his ear, curling his fingers at the nape of his neck, and leaning in to kiss him.

This first kiss is clumsy, as he isn’t quite sure what one is supposed to do with one’s lips, and it doesn’t seem Wei Ying is entirely clear on it either—but Wei Ying is reciprocating. He’s reciprocating, and Lan WangJi’s heart sings with the understanding that this is truly not rejection.

When he pulls back, Wei Ying looks startled, flushed, maybe even shy. But he doesn’t seem to be crying anymore, which Lan WangJi counts as a win.

He finds himself relieved when Wei Ying softly teases him, that he’s moved away from the brooding and seriousness that has plagued him since they woke. He’s been pulled out of his melancholy depression, and there’s a kind of power there—Lan WangJi did that.

“You stole my first kiss,” he murmurs, his voice almost coy. “You’ll have to take responsibility.”

“Mm,” he agrees. “I did when we were fifteen.”

Wei Ying’s startled laugh is like music to him, and he pulls him gently down onto the pallet to kiss him more.

All else can wait.

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

AND THEY WERE HUSBANDS. I’ve been thinking about this chapter for a couple weeks now. Glad it’s finally written.

“A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up” is a Chinese proverb I felt fit in this situation.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through III

Chapter: 3/16

Rating: M (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

John had hurried towards Spike with Ringo tailing behind him somewhat reluctantly, the money already gripped tightly in his hand - how much John had spent at this place Ringo didn't want to know. Spike had changed from his earlier outfit, although being completely nude couldn't really be classed as an outfit, into the tight black shorts that most of the 'waiters' were wearing with purple suspenders stretching across his bare chest and over-the-knee leather boots. Ringo took a sharp inhale at the sight, his eyes following every curve and sharp edge of Spike's body. He was almost hairless, quite the contrast to Paul's body hair, and the smoothness of his skin spilled perfectly into the shorts. Ringo wished he could've continued staring at him from a safe distance but before long John was whispering into Spike's ear and passing the money into his hand. Spike then looked over to Ringo and gave him a small grin which already made Ringo's stomach stir, this wasn't a good start at all, and after that he began leading Ringo to one of the corners of the club where many curtained sections sat. As Ringo passed John, he gave him an encouraging slap on the back which only made him feel all the more awkward.

It was difficult not to watch the sway of Spike's hips as he walked, the way his arse moved in the painfully tight fabric which couldn't have been very comfortable. Spike hadn't said a word to him, just smiled and beckoned Ringo with his finger then began to walk. Were they supposed to talk? Ringo felt himself stressing over the strangest things as he was willingly led away into that dark corner. He started to worry about how he looked and his eyes darted around in search of a mirror but he couldn't find any; unsurprisingly the last thing the majority of the sleazy guys here wanted to see was their own depressed face looking back at them.

Once they arrived at the partition of one of the empty spaces Spike turned slowly and ran his hand up the velvety material of the curtain and tilted his head to signal Ringo to step inside. It wasn't the most normal sequence of events Ringo had experienced, as Spike closed the curtain behind him and the only light left was the dim glow of pink strips of neon light. Spike looked even more beautiful in the low light, the shadows on his gaunt face and tracing over his bone and muscle made him look almost otherworldly.

There was a fixed pole in the centre with plush seating surrounding it, coloured pink to match. Ringo felt himself stumbling as he walked, he'd like to say it was due to the relative darkness but he knew it was his nerves. The silence was bordering on deafening, the low thumping of the music from the main room seemed to have been replaced by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Why was he so nervous? It was just like John said, he just had to watch him dance. He didn't just have to, he wanted to, very much so. Ringo took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he internally ordered himself to calm down and to enjoy himself. Opening his eyes to see Spike looking right back at him expectantly didn't set him off at the best start, but if he couldn't handle eye contact he supposed he might as well get out of there before anything actually started happening.

Ringo sat himself down in the space closest to the exit, he didn't want to look rude but he figured it was best to be prepared if there was a repeat of what happened the last time he'd seen Spike dance.

"I don't bite." Spike broke the silence "I'd have to charge a lot more for that." He punctuated his sentence with a grin which revealed his sharp teeth that looked extremely fit for that purpose.

Ringo laughed nervously in response, he was gripping the fabric of his trousers "Your, erm- Your guitar playing was really great. The singing too." He found himself talking without thinking, like someone trying to remove the awkwardness in a lift, and he would've cringed in embarrassment but managed to suppress it.

"Oh. Thank you." Spike was stood at the farthest corner fiddling with a battered phone which looked like it was plugged into the speakers "You seem like you know your music, anything in particular you wanna hear?"

Suddenly Ringo had forgotten the name of every song he'd ever listened to in his entire life "No, no you can pick." He paused between almost every word and he cursed himself for appearing so nervous.

"You don't come to places like this often, do you?" Spike laughed quietly and Ringo only hoped he was laughing with him rather than at him.

"What gave it away?" Ringo matched his laugh and it helped ease the nerves somewhat.

Spike didn't respond, instead he put the phone down as 'Love My Way' by The Psychedelic Furs began to play. Shit, this was it. All the anxiety that Ringo had lost in those few seconds came back in abundance as Spike began to walk back over to him, a predatory look in his eyes.

"So where do you want me?" His voice had lowered a little, the huskiness in it coming out more "The pole, or your lap?" He paused in the middle of the sentence and Ringo struggled to swallow.

Ringo felt like someone had just asked him how he wanted to die: painfully or very painfully. The pole would give a considerable amount of distance between them but that somehow made it worse, he'd be very aware of his presence sitting alone in that chair very visible to Spike. Yet with a lap dance he was risking a repetition of his previous fleeing escapade, but Ringo couldn't deny he'd love to see that look Spike had given him: the devilish and sultry glance over his shoulder.

His mouth felt too dry to speak but he managed to squeak out "Lap, please."

Please? Was he a child asking if he could stay up past his bedtime? He cursed himself once again, he wondered how many times he'd done that since he walked in here. Spike let out another quiet chuckle as he closed the space between them. Ringo braced himself to be completely undone, which was probably a little contradictory but he was in far from the right state of mind right now. The music was barely audible over the pounding of Ringo's heart, for a split second he worried it might actually explode.

Spike looked down at Ringo through his dark lashes, a faint grin still spread across his lips, as he slowly slid himself down so that he was once again hovering above Ringo's lap, he ran his hand down his thigh as he did and the sound of friction against the leather boots made Ringo twitch a little. He began moving his hips slowly, picking up a pace that met with the beat of the music. Ringo's hands were balled in fists at his side, one playing with a button in the seat to ensure he remained at least somewhat conscious. As Spike circled his hips a hair's breadth away from Ringo's groin, he became very quickly aware just how tight those short were, particularly in the front. Was he hard? Surely it'd be a little weird if he was hard, or maybe it'd be weirder if he wasn't. Either way he couldn't stop looking there, at it. There was a definite bulge in the shorts but with a fit so tight it'd be almost impossible to avoid one, but it looked rather present to not be erect. Before Ringo could come to a conclusion about this pressing question, his mind was distracted when he felt a dreadfully familiar sensation. Now he was hard. Fuck. How long had be been staring at Spike's cock? It must've been long enough because when Ringo dragged his eyes away to look upwards, Spike was looking at him extremely knowingly. Ringo couldn't help letting out a sound which was a mixture between a laugh and a scoff, one which said 'Well shit'. Ringo imagined he must've looked pretty pathetic in that moment, he wished he could explain that the massive virgin energy he was giving off wasn't accurate in the slightest.

Spike seemed to enjoy it, at least that's what the gleam in his eyes suggested but it was very difficult to tell, it could've just been him figuring out he'd be able to wrap Ringo around his little finger with ease. He began running his hand over his chest, toying with one of the suspenders but as he pulled it down he switched his position so that his back was to Ringo. Ringo knew that this was supposed to be teasing, that he was supposed to expect to be able to drool over his chest only to be presented with his back instead as though it was some sort of downgrade. But it was far from it. Spike slid the second suspender off his shoulder and Ringo watched hungrily as the muscles in his back flexed and his sharp shoulder blade protruded outwards. The fabric fell loose at his sides, hitting against Ringo's legs which were strategically - and painfully - pressed together tightly. Spike then ran his fingers down both suspenders and gripped the ends tightly, spinning it so that they wrapped around his thin wrists. Was this supposed to be some kind of bondage thing? Ringo wasn't entirely sure, but he was sure that he liked it very much. Spike stretched them outwards as far he could, clenching his fists and moving them up to his chest then quickly released his hands so that they snapped back downwards loudly. Ringo swore he gasped but his mind was getting so hazy at this point that he could hardly tell.

One of the suspenders was removed, not without Spike making a show of his slim fingers rubbing over his bare skin or fiddling with the mechanism, then tossed onto the floor behind them. The second came off too but this one wasn't discarded, rather he took hold of each end and turned back to face Ringo. The mischievous smile returned while he placed the fabric behind Ringo's head so that it pressed against the back of his neck, then he tightened his grip on both ends and began thrusting upwards, throwing his head backwards and opening his mouth slightly. This alone was enough to melt Ringo entirely, he was constantly swallowing and licking his lips and his eyes darted all over Spike's body, but then something else happened. It was only for a moment, so quick that Ringo wasn't even certain that it happened, but as Spike rolled his hips back he brushed against Ringo's erection ever so slightly. The wanton noise Ringo let out was pathetic to say the least, but he was past caring at this point.

No touching was the one rule Ringo thought he understood about this whole thing, it was probably the only thing that stopped him from going absolutely insane as he knew that no matter how irresistible Spike looked at least he wasn't going to touch him. Apparently he'd even been wrong about that. Ringo had been so out of it that he hadn't realised Spike had thrown the other suspender somewhere, what snapped him out of his daze was the feeling of Spike picking up his hand to press against his bare chest. Ringo was very glad that Spike didn't let go bcause he didn't feel like he had any control over that hand in the slightest. Spike hissed a little when the cold metal of Ringo's rings pressed against his skin, it definitely didn't go unnoticed. Ringo looked up at him a little helplessly, more so than anything because he couldn't really cope looking at his own hand touching him. His skin was smooth and warm; it was far from the first man he'd touched but it may as well have been with how intense the sensation was.

Before his brain could even compute what was going on, Spike lifted Ringo's hand away to set it back down. Just before he let go of it completely, he held it for a moment and ran his finger over each of the rings, circling his finger over the gem on one of them. This shouldn't have affected Ringo as much as it did, it's not like they were even a part of his body, yet he still inhaled sharply as he did it. As his hand fell back to his side the palm felt like it was burning.

How much time had passed? Another song was playing, was this the second or the third one? How much longer did he have? Ringo's brain was in overdrive while also being strangely sluggish.

Ringo thought the two of them couldn't be much closer but then Spike slid himself onto the seat, raising his thighs upwards so that he was practically straddling him. As he did this their groins rubbed together again, and this time Ringo failed to hold his tongue.

"Fuck." He breathed out harshly which resulted in another chuckle from Spike.

Thankfully he didn't stay so close for very long, one more grind like that and Ringo would almost certainly explode, but the alternative wasn't any more forgiving. Spike lifted his hips upwards, spreading his knees out farther so that his crotch was level with Ringo's chest. Part of Ringo felt like he shouldn't be looking so shamelessly, but there was almost nowhere else to look even if he wanted to. Spike's hand began tracing over his torso once more, Ringo couldn't help thinking about how the skin had felt under his own fingers, then ran down to the top of the shorts. No. Surely not. Ringo felt his eyes widening as Spike's other hand mirrored the first and both thumbs dipped under the material. There had to be something underneath, there had to be. After all John had said this place wasn't like that, but maybe Ringo's first mistake was trusting John.

Gradually inch upon inch of skin was revealed, the sound of the leather unsticking shouldn't have been sexy but Ringo was coming undone all the same. The position was difficult, Ringo was very quickly realising why this was a well paid profession. The urge to reach his hand up was becoming unbearable, but the last thing Ringo was going to do was cross that respectful boundary without permission. Much to his relief, and slight disappointment, the straps of underwear underneath were revealed as Spike pulled the shorts off. Straps was the only way to describe them, the material was minimal to say the least. The whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion, right up until Spike slid the leather past his cock, and suddenly everything was going a mile a minute. It sprung out from the tight restraint and Ringo's mouth dropped open to let out a frustrated whine.

His mouth didn't stay agape for long as Spike ran two of his fingers alongside the bottom of Ringo's jaw to position it slightly higher - and probably to restrain him somewhat - as he began thrusting upwards once again. Yet another of his senses was being overwhelmed at this point, as if sight and sound weren't bad enough now he could smell him. It was a mixture of sweat and light perfume, and Ringo breathed in the scent like he was starved for oxygen. He wondered whether Spike had been watching him the entire time or if his eyes just wandered about the room with little interest, but all Ringo could do was wonder since hid eyes were glued to the spectacle in front of him.

In a fairly swift movement Spike then climbed off of him, sliding from the seat elegantly and removing the shorts entirely all before Ringo had even recognised he was moving. Once again he turned his back but he did it slowly this time, turning on his heel to reveal the extreme lack of material covering his arse. Ringo didn't even think they made thongs for men, but he was very grateful to whoever came up with the idea. One slim band of fabric ran down between Spike's two cheeks, his arse was very tight and petite. It didn't really matter that Ringo couldn't touch him because Spike was touching himself, and that was far sexier. His slim fingers spread out over each cheek as he bent forward slightly, then he threw one hand into the air only to spank it down hard onto the skin. It let out a harsh sound and Spike let out a quiet moan, Ringo was almost certain he was putting it on but that didn't make it any less arousing. He spanked himself again, once, twice and a third time, every time his moans got a little louder. On the final spank, he gripped the flesh tightly and left imprints in the redness that was beginning to show.

Spike then straightened his back, tensing his muscles as he stretched upwards slightly which Ringo watched with great interest. He began to walk around the seats so that he was behind Ringo, then placed his hands flat onto Ringo's chest and ran them downwards. When they reached his belt he stopped and circled his fingers for a moment or two before swiftly removing them entirely. He ran a single finger across the back of Ringo's neck and let out a satisfied hum.

"I'll leave you alone to collect yourself." Spike's voice sounded booming considering nobody had spoken for a while, and it shook Ringo harshly back to reality.

Ringo could hear rustling behind him as he could only assume Spike was putting on what little clothes he'd started in, he never saw it for himself as by the time he'd turned around to look Spike was already gone. He couldn't help feeling a little unsatisfied, only because he'd been so intensely satisfied for so long with no real conclusion. Wasn't this supposed to help with his sexual frustration? It seemed to have done the exact opposite if his aching erection was anything to go by. His heart was still pounding, it had never really stopped.

This whole ordeal felt like a one night stand condensed into about fifteen minutes, complete with the hasty collection of clothes, except without the release of actually having sex. Ringo cursed John, he cursed himself but mostly he cursed Spike. How dare he be able to toy with him so easily, to turn him into a whining mess without much of a word or a touch. It was utterly deplorable, and Ringo needed more of it.

But first he had other matters to attend to, namely disowning John and finding a new best friend that wouldn't dare to punish him this way.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below, Masquerade, Part 8

[Part 8 is here, There will be blood, and in a comical fashion!  If you’re just here for the blood, scroll to the part where you see the GIF with the Red Button, but if you do that, you have to comment and share!!!!    ]

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Dawnseeker was standing at the front of the room where he had previously been standing when he addressed the crowd of party guests just a mere hour ago.  He was still wearing his Silvermoon colors; eyes that burning fel flame, while the ones he had discovered all kneel before him in the space between the large performing stage in the middle of the room, and himself.

Siida, Verzatea, Marseille, Zalra and Sunwood were all bound in a collective rope of green fel magic that wrapped around there bodies in that particular order.  They were linked only at the wrists and ankles, but were arranged; kneeling before the grand Magister and his party.

Brightsong, Dewdrop, Sunvale and Goldencrest stood as the four remaining Magisters who still threatened the family.  They were all positioned directly behind Dawnseeker with their eyes glued on the scene.

Sennaris had raced down the long corridor which led out of the Ballroom and through the entire manor.  She was panting heavily and trying to go as fast as her slender legs could carry her.  She had already abandoned the heels that she wore for the evening beside the still sizzling corpse of her former ‘Master’, slumped in a pile by the door.  Like the trash he was, at least as she was concerned.

“How ever should I deal with this little situation.  Considering the following, I have a living heir to a house that will surely be crumbled fully by morning.  Several spies who work for said individual.  A former confidant turned traitor and. . . his wife who turns out is not even his spouse.”

Dawnseeker was smiling but it was not because he was happy when he spoke.

No the smile was purely vindictive and filled with malice.  He took great joy in watching these individuals struggle and beg for their lives.   Though sadly, it seemed not a single one of them appeared to be begging.  Save for Sunwood who was a blubbering mess.

The Compellor raced with her arms swishing along the sides of her gown.  Her mouth agape as she gasped for air struggling to race through the halls toward the front gate.  Her one hope was that the gate, would not be closed.

“I take no satisfaction in knowing any of this.  I would just like you all to know that.” Dawnseeker continued to pace as he peered down at the row of prisoners he had gotten.

The only reason he had been able to actually weed them out in the first place was because of the incident with Verzatea and Marseille. One by one he would take her by the hand, and force her to speak about what she knew.  And one by one, the others would be discovered.

“Let them go then. . .” Siida said softly as Dawnseeker paced with his back to her.  He would suddenly spin around at her voice. “Keep me. . “

“And risk everything?” his slithering tone crept into her ear slowly. “You don’t think I would actually do that. . .do you?”

“Dammit!” the voice of the timid Compellor echoed in the open airway which was blocked by the portcullis being sealed tightly and locked.  She would try and find a way to break the switch but it was also protected with a magical barrier.

“Dammit!” she screamed again as her hands shook at the gate.

Just then, Vari came rushing up to the gate.  The sounds of fireworks had all but led most of the people in the court yard where the carriages were to where they could see them.  She raced up to the spot Sennaris was standing.

“Sennaris.. .What!?”

“Vari! They outed them.  Verzatea, Marseille.. . .Brightsong is an empath. . .I don’t know how we missed this but he has been influencing Siida and extracting the truth!”

“No. . .I will not sit and lie, and tell you I am satisfied here.  But I will admit, I am proud that I have been able to see through this little game you have tried to put together here.”

Dawnseeker closed his fist tightly and the chains around the arms and legs of the prisoners would squeeze and tighten against their flesh.  The sounds of helpless, painful screams echoed in the chamber.

“I should have known you were trouble since the day I found you Siida.”

Her eyes narrowed, chin lofting as the rest of the magic began to wane. 

“W-what do you mean. . .” she cooed, catching her breath and peering toward him intently.

“Gods be damned! I knew this was going to happen!  I fucking knew it!” Vari slammed her shoulder plate against the portcullis as she tried to break through. “Move. . .I am going to freeze it, I’ll rip that fucking door from its hinges.”

“Vari!”  Koltun shouted as his leathery wings cut through the sky as he descended. “You know if you do that you’ll alert every guard from here to the Capital!”

She snarled and slammed her shoulder against it again.

“We don't have time to worry about that, they have her!” Vari yelled and beat her plate gloves against the iron bars. “All of them!”

The small sounds of feet padding across the stone floor soon came from behind Sennaris.  Westley waddled over with his hands in his pockets, peering toward the three of them.

“What is-th all this-th racket?”  he said whistling softly and waving.

“Dawnseeker. . . “  she said as her tone grew more and more intense. “What do you mean by that!”

The lead Magister slowly paced further as the group around him waited for the next phase of his plan.

“Who to begin with. . .” he said suddenly as he turned around and charged another one of those beautiful glowing green orbs of chaos magic in his palm. “The pastry chef. . . or the traitorous adulterer.”

“Dawnseeker, let them go! It is me you want!” Siida belted out again.

“Don’t you get it!”  he said as he raced toward her and grabbed her by the chin with the same hand previously holding the magic.  He allowed it to fade before touching her but he squeezed her against her cheeks.

“This has nothing to do with you!  It never did!  Your brother, your family. . . The House Kash’ebahl is a plague on our city that I am going to cleanse!”  he yelled out as he tossed her face aside.

Marseille wrenched against the fel chains as his eyes flared.  He was shed of his SIn’dorei disguise and the pale flesh of his shirtless body allowed the tattoos that covered him in the arcane ink glowed with a fury as strong as his love for the young girl.

“Oh-ho-ho...what have we here?” the Magister snarled while passing and turning around. “Do you wish to take her place?”

“I would gladly choose to go first, and gods allow, return shortly after to drag you back with me into the dark abyss, before I ever let you lay another hand on that woman of pure perfection. . .” the pale old elf spat back, hoisting himself onto his knees and pointing his chest out toward the Magister.

“Marseille...stop...please.” Siida begged peering around Verzatea to look at him. “I will not have you dying to protect me.”

“It makes very little difference, you’re all going to die here this evening.  The question was who goes first but. . .” Dawnseeker said fiendishly as he charged himself with more fel energy and motioned his open palm toward the Shal’dorei.  

“And I think we have a volunteer. . .”

“We have got to find a way in there. . .if we don’t then we are going to lose them all.” Sennaris said as she peered from face to face.

“Can you somehow get this open Westley?”  Pyravari asked through the bars as she peered down at the gnome.

Waddling as fast as his short little gnomish legs could carry him, Whistletorque would walk toward the gate device and begin looking at it.

“Maybe if I had more time I could whip up s-thomething, but not now. . .not like this-th.”

Vari slammed her fist against the gate again.

“What about a window? Somewhere we can go up and over?” Koltun said as his clawed against the bars desperately trying to come up with a way in.

“No time and besides most of them are magically sealed off, Honeywell didn’t want anything going wrong. . .I . . .” Sennaris paused, looking back down the hall. “Wait. ..there is a guest chamber on the third floor.  Honeywell was preparing to use it for his consorts.  We may be able to get you all in through there.”

“Good. . .yes, that will work.”  Vari said backing away from the gate.

“Uh. . .guys-th.”  

“I’ll take her up, we’ll meet you there with the rest of the guard.”  Koltun added while he too backed away.

“Guys-th. . .”

“Sennaris, get up there and make sure that entry is open, Koltun and---”

“Turn around slowly. . .lower your weapons and do not try anything!”  the voices of several guards behind them soon echoed own the open airway.

“My only concern is that you think of me as a tyrant, or some sort of monster.  I am not.  I am only doing what is best for our people. . .” Dawnseeker said softly as he stood before the waiting Marseille.

“Don’t try and justify this. . .your a murdering, petty, insufferable prick. . .you’re doing this simply to capitalize for your own good,  from the shoulders of others who worked to get where they were.”  Siida spat, trying to incur his wrath to spare Marseille, at least for now.

“Oh little Siida, so naive.” he said in response as his fel laced hand danced across the pale flesh of the elf.  “That’s politics...”

“That’s weakness! You’re just a coward!  All of you are going to be next!  Look how easily he dispatched Honeywell!  And Sunwood here. . .how can you trust him!?” she howled as her soggy eyes locked on the four magisters in front of her.

“They obey. . .because they will forever profit from the events that took place here this evening.  It will trickle down, and they will sample the sweet nectar that is your house’s demise.  And once you are gone, I will take control over every last inch of land, real estate and trade your house ever owned.”  he said glancing over his shoulder at the collective group.

“What are we going to do now!”  Sennaris yelled as she watched Vari and Koltun race into combat.  Her golden orbs peering down at the gnomish scientist.

“We have no other choice S-thennaris. . .It is-th time to initiate Operation: Mus-thic Box!” he squealed happily, ripping a small grey remote with a large red button in the center from his inside jacket pocket and letting out a maniacal cackle.

“Doctor. . .that was. . .” she thought back toward the conversation a week ago.  That was their point of no return.  It was thought to have just been a comical way of allowing the little gnome to put in a fail safe which they probably would never use.   But her eyes peered back down to him.

With an eager grin that spread from ear to ear, and a waggle of that little remote as he stretched up toward her, he could be heard making that little sound of ‘Ehhhh? ehhh?”

“Do it. . .”  she said suddenly.  Her head nodding.  If they were going to meet their fate in that room, let her be torn apart later for making the call.  But she would turn to the gate and yell. “Get up to that window quickly!”

And off she ran.  Whistletorque was holding that remote control outward, and when Sennaris gave the order; his little chubby finger hovered over the button.  He would attempt to rejoin her, peering back at Vari and swooning as he could just see her through the bars ripping guards to shreds with her runeblade.  A sigh of affection quickly turned to serious when he snapped back into reality.

“Wait for me!”  he squawked after her, and slammed his finger into the button. “Showtime!!”

“I will be sure to give your Brother the news of you untimely deaths.  Before granting him is.”  Dawnseeker said as the bolt of green energy started to swirl around his hand. “When this is all through; we will find him, and he will suffer far greater than any of you every will for organizing this ridiculous stunt.”

“Forgive me for my inability to keep you safe, Siida Ray Kash’ebahl.” Marseille said as his eyes peered over to meet her own welling sockets.

“No! Please. . .” she begged, trying to get to him but ultimately being blocked by Verzatea who held her in check with her shoulder.

“Do not worry my dear, you will be reunited soon enough.”  the lead magister let out a horrible cackle before the room grew quiet again.

His energy forced into his hand, each on of the magisters behind him watching on with anticipation to see their master in action.  The sick and twisted grins on their faces indication of how they all were far too pleased with what transpired.  

It was dead quiet, save for the low sound of energy rumbling in his palm as it pressed directly to the chest of the pale elf, burning a swirled vaporous pattern against his skin.  He struggled to hold back his yells, and was determined not to let this man have the satisfaction of hearing anything but the cold dead quiet around him.

(If you have never seen Shrek, you will not get this reference.  But  the hyperlink to Youtube will allow you to hear the tune and substitute the words below for the lyrics in the song.  I had fun writing this part.   Fourth Wall unbroken! Go go go go go!)  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X81AoBcVnaA    

But that silence would not last long, it was broken by a small sound of ticking.  It slowly bellowed out from somewhere in the room.  But the exact location would not be known until it grew.  It sounded like a clock, but perhaps it was something else.  

The sound of wheels turning and the gears grinding would grow faster and faster until suddenly the ticking became so loud that everyone turned their attentions to that odd group of animatronics centered in the room just behind them.

“♪♫♪  Dum dee dee♪dum dum dum ♪♫♪”

The band suddenly chimed out.  They came to life in what appeared to be the most inopportune moment.  Each one of them rattled around little bit as the sound of circus type music started to echo around the room.   There was a thump, followed by several latches being released as the center of the stage collapsed to reveal an oscillating turret head on a large mechanical gear.  

Marseille took this opportunity to slam his shoulder into Verzatea, thus causing her to fall to her left bumping into Siida, and that in turn would pile all three of them into one another on the floor.  Zalra took that same approach and rolled to her right, taking down Sunwood in the process.

It was not until after the music began to play and the prisoners dove to the floor did Dawnseeker realize what was happening.  And he would have no idea what to do about it.

“♪♫♪ Who astounds the world ; with his awesome charm.   Who lives to perform ; to find hearts to warm.  He has class  ; he has flare ; he can style your hair.  Whistletorque, that is his name. ; He can cut through the sass ; make you smile ; grab your. . . hand.  Whistletorque! Whistletorque! Westley Whistletorque M.Deeeeee! ♪♫♪”

As they played their music the gear would turn.  And every few seconds that would cause a smaller gear to move, which in sequence allowed that rocking turret to sweep from left to right unloading a magazine of hundreds into the several magisters who had no idea it was coming.

A swarm of bodies lay scattered across the ground, peppered with the bullets of the large turret that was now simply rotating and clicking without having any more ammunition left in its chamber.  There was a record needled softly jumping off its location as if it was skipping because it had met the end of the song.  And suddenly, a flash as a C.A.M.E.R.A shutter went off and a picture of the onslaught slowly came dispensing out and falling to the ground into a pool of blood.

The room was a horrific nightmare of limbs that had been splintered off from the shredding barrage of bullets that came zooming out of the still churning turret.  Moans of the Magisters who had not had the fortunate benefit of being killed when they were struck rang through the air.   Three of them had lost their legs, knees were broken from the shattering metal, and one of them was killed instantly after falling and meeting a slug face to face.

The smoke that poured from the now glowing orange barrel had filled the room with the smell of iron and sulfur.  It was a haze of dark grey and white which billowed outward from the still smoking tip.  

Luckily for the people in this room who still lived; which were only the group of prisoners who’d managed to duck out of the way, the sounds inside were easily drown out by the exploding explosions outside.  The fireworks display that was happening simultaneously was the perfect means to cover what had just happened.   Perhaps all along this was the plan of the little gnome?

To be continued... In Depths Below:Masquerade,Part 9

[buckysgoldenheart]

Unprofessional: Part 3 Seb Stan x Reader

Summary: Starring in the same movie meant feelings between any two actors was not allowed.

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Note: 3/?

Warnings: Cursing and stuff. Probs some spelling mistakes. Same old, same old. Self-Body-shaming? Small chance that this is written weird and I just cant tell anymore.

Words: 2105

Hope you guys like it. Comments are appreciated!!!!

Part 3:

Seb P.O.V

Chris paused after taking a sip of his beer from his relaxed position on Seb’s apartments couch. “So, was it good? Or not good? Or what? Cause I don’t know, I feel like I wouldn’t be as upset as you’re are right now, but maybe I’m crazy.” He shrugged.

“You’re not crazy.” Anthony confirmed from his own spot next to the blond. “Seb is crazy.”

Blue-grey eyes flew wide at the blunt comment. Crazy? How am I crazy? “I’m crazy?! How the fuck am I crazy!?”

Anthony’s eyebrow rose an inch up his forehead, clearly saying without saying how idiotic of a question that was. “For complaining! Jesus man, did you see this girl!?” He whipped his phone out from his back jeans pocket, pulled up your picture from a website praising the upcoming film and the actors cast in it, and shoved it in Chris’s face.

Chris made no move to get a look, only nodded and took another swig. “I did, yea I know, she’s definitely hot.”

“HOT, Seb!”

Then the smartphone was turned face-front to Sebastian and extended as far as possible by Anthony’s long arm as if proximity would further prove his point.

Seb rolled his eyes, crossed his arms at his chest, and sighed in annoyance. “I know what she looks like.” It’s not like I could forget her if I tried.

“Are you sure? Cause you are not acting like a man who just kissed this woman a couple hours ago. You’re acting like a man who thought he was kissing this woman only to find out that it was actually a large dog once he opened his eyes.” Anthony slightly chucked.

“Oh, that was funny.” Chris grinned at his friend, who smiled back with pride.

“Thanks ma—"

“No, It wasn’t!” Seb yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “Guys! What. Do. I. Do!?”

“What do you mean what do you do? You do nothing. You’re gonna have to make out a lot before this movie is over.”

“Chris is right, Seb.” Anthony agreed, before a sly smirk took over his face. “Besides, she probably didn’t feel anything. Like kissing cardboard, I bet.”.

“I hate you.”

“Can’t hate us too much. If we’re gone you won’t have anyone to complain to about your ‘problems,’” The brown-eyed man curved his fingers in the air in the shape of a quote. “that every other living, breathing man would consider a blessing from the big man upstairs. I mean, she must have a lizard tongue or something. That’s the only conclusion I can come to as to why you would complain about this woman putting her mouth on yours.”

Chris made a face at the image that scrunched it unattractively, but chuckled. “Yea Seb, does she have a lizard tongue?”

“No, she does not have a lizard tongue! She’s--her tongue is…” Seb groaned and dropped his head in frustration. “…it’s fucking perfect.”

“Oh, well then I totally get why you’re so upset then.”  Anthony’s sarcastic tone once again rang out much to Sebs exasperation.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What could you do?” Chris chimed. “You have to start filming tomorrow. Just do your job, man. She’ll do hers.”

“We are gonna have to kiss again.”

Anthony laughed, making Seb very nervous for his friend’s next words. “If it were me, I would just fuck up the scene every time, then I’d get to kiss her all damn day. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the sex sce--”

He immediately snapped his mouth shut at the glare directed his way that, with enough effort, could’ve burned a hole through a wall.

“You have no idea how close you are to death.” Seb said. If he thought he wanted to punch Anthony before, it was nothing compared to what he wanted to do to him now.

“I’m just saying…”

“Well stop ‘just saying.’ I took it too far, guys.”

Chris cleared his throat, drawing his friends’ attention to him. “Do you think she could even tell that you weren’t acting? The director basically asked you to kiss each other.”

“He asked us to get to know each other, but does what I described to you sound like a get-to-know-each other kiss?”

Though a sarcastic question, Seb wanted the answer to be ‘yes,’ hoping maybe Chris had similar experiences in the past; that this kind of kiss wasn’t unheard-of between co-stars or known to cause any problems between them.

“Maybe.” Chris replied, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You told her it would be a good idea to make it as accurate as possible for the sake of the scene, so where’s the harm? You did what you said you would do.”

The harm?! The harm is that she’s beautiful and funny and nice and sexy and kisses like a damn angel with a sinful side. “The harm is that I felt something I shouldn’t have.”

Anthony and Chris’s eyes blew wide and a moment passed as the men soaked in that information. They clearly knew Seb enjoyed kissing you, but feelings?

“Ok,” The blond said, drawling out the word. “The way I see it, you have two options: talk to her and see if she felt something as well and then figure out a way to put it behind you or ignore it completely.

Seb rubbed the back of his neck, his white t-shirt threatening to rip at the seam around his bicep. “I don’t know. Those don’t seem like helpful ideas.”

“How is that?”

“Because neither will make me forget what happened so I can do my job right.”

“Yea well, being wiped like Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly happen in the world we’re in…I don’t think.” Anthony’s eyebrows scrunched together as he contemplated his statement. “Look, take it as a good thing. You guys have chemistry. That’s certainly not a curse when you’re acting sex scenes out with another person.”

“It would be a good thing if it was acting chemistry, but this is not that.” Seb fisted his fingers in his hair and tugged. “This is just bound to fuck me up. We kissed and I felt something and then she ran and now I’m fucked.” He said, almost sounding like he was getting ready to laugh; like he couldn’t believe he got himself into this situation.  

Anthony’s jaw dropped open. “She ran? What did you do?”

“Nothing, I don’t think.” Seb sighed, running a hand down his face. “Maybe I did. I have no idea. She just…left, like broke apart from me, pushed me away, and ran out the door; and now--”

Chris nodded in understanding and smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was meant to be a comforting smile made just for his friend but didn’t exactly cut it. This situation was going to be more of a problem than he initially thought. “Seb, I get it, she’s beautiful, she really is, but you shouldn’t freak out over some, some…thing you feel that you don’t even know how to describe. That’s a waste of time and energy.”

“You don’t think I know that; that I don’t know how crazy I am sounding?” Seb pressed his palms into the pits of his eyes, forcing dark spots to cloud his vision. “Kissing her made my brain explode a little, Chris.”

“How does something only explode a little?” Anthony mumbled, and Chris swatted him across the arm as he listened Seb; watching as the brunette let his arms drop back to his sides.

“I didn’t want to stop.”

“You need to talk to her; get a sense of what she’s thinking. I know I said an option was to ignore it, but I you’re in deeper than I thought.”

Seb blinked a slow blink, his eyes staying closed for an extra beat to take in the words of his friend, his annoyingly, wise friend. “How are you always so damn sensible?”

Chris finished his beer and put it off to the side on the table, then chuckled. “It’s not like it didn’t take practice.”

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

Y/N P.O.V 

Securing your purse at your shoulder, you walked across the dark pavement to the studio where you would have to have sex with Se—do your job, and you just wanted to run back to your tiny, safe Subaru and drive home. Your first day on the job, while supposed to be nerve-wracking and a little stressful, would not be for the reasons most were used to. There would be no scary boss or overwhelming amount of paperwork; no fear of mean co-workers or possible offending of customers.

Nearly at the door, you sensed some heavy footsteps from afar that quickly turned into a slight jog as they got closer.

“Y/N!”

You heard it somewhere behind you; the end half of your name louder and nearer than the beginning, but you didn’t turn until a strong hand was gripping your forearm with surprising softness and turning you to face its owner.

“Hey, I was calling you; you didn’t hear me?” Seb asked, his lips stretching into a sweet smile, but your face remained impassive, though not on purpose. After yesterday, you were just kind of out of it; awake all night, tossing and turning as you thought about this man’s lips, his perfect perfect lips on yours, the feel of his arms around you and his abs through both of your shirts when you pressed your bodies together.

“Uh, n-no—” You stuttered, because that’s what you only seemed to be able to do when he was around.

“I was hoping we could talk, just for a second.” His eyes were pleading and you didn’t want to deny him, but you had a feeling it was either about the ‘sex’ you would have to have today or the kiss you had yesterday. Who am I kidding, it’s about today. He probably never gave that kiss a second thought.

“Look, about yester—”

“Alright kids, you were supposed to be inside five minutes ago, so let’s get a move on. Get in there and strip. I want you on set in ten.”

You let out the breath you had been holding since those eyes linked to yours, while ‘Thank fuck for our director’ ran through your head about a million times in the ten seconds it took for you to turn from Seb and hurry towards the door, leaving him to stand there, disappointed.

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

Naked…just great.

You held open the small silk robe that barely covered your thighs and studied your body in the full-length mirror with dissatisfaction. They could make up your face and curl your hair until it looked just sexy enough to turn on any man, but…

What will they do about my body? CGI editing, or something?

Stretch marks and small scars and little red spots around your bikini line from shaving with the cheap razors you bought last week.

Women sexy enough to sleep with Seb, or any of his characters, do not have marks on their bodies.

However, you weren’t likely to develop silky, smooth skin within the next two minutes, so you tied your robe, sighing, and stepped outside the dressing room into a crowd of way too many people for you to be comfortable.

And there he was, just standing there like he wasn’t almost completely naked while a member of the crew placed something over his crotch so that what lay underneath never touched you. You shook your head to yourself for being slightly upset that that wouldn’t happen.

Then, a small woman with a headset appeared before you. She rushed out a string of words that you couldn’t comprehend as she ushered you towards the set. You did however, hear her tell you to slip off your robe to get prepped for the scene before she walked away and left you to wait for someone to help. You looked around at the scurrying people and at the giant bed you would have fake sex on, never noticing Sebs eyes grazing all over your barely covered body.

Five minutes later, you were standing a foot from Seb, thankfully with your robes back on, while the director explained the way the scene would go.

“So Y/N, you already admitted that you love Seb and the scene will start off with him kissing you against the wall over there,” He said, pointing to the far left of the set. “before you end up on the bed. Everybody got it?”

“Yea.” Seb said, but you only nodded. Luckily this wouldn’t require you to speak, just act.

“Ok people, robes back off please.”

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[archerwindsor]

How to Up Your Skincare Game when you don’t have hundreds to spend

affordable skin care

It’s January: time for “out with the old and in with the new,” particularly for those of us glow-getters who buy the latest and greatest affordable skin care products–on the Daily. If you watched my recent YouTube video on resetting for the new year, you’d know I’m all ears for a fresh start. And what better way than to start with your skin!? Its the perfect month to refresh our mountain o’ beauty products. You know, the ones that once made us blush with anticipation?

Remember how excited you were when you bought that one awesome cream?  Taking it out of its crisp, beautifully branded box, dabbing a bit under your eyes or on your cheeks, and making it your No. 1 go-to elixir for the week? Wow. It held so much promise! It was “micro” this and “macro” that and triple detoxified the sh*t out of your face. Until, of course, the next dewy balm in killer packaging grabbed your attention, and then, the poor forgotten product became wedged behind the toothpaste and Neosporin in your bathroom cabinet for the next year–or more. I mean honestly, when was the last time you checked the expiration date? OK, skin queens. Let’s refresh. We need to ditch those outdated, and often over-priced products and give your daily skincare routine a boost with some amazing affordable skin care products that are on our radar.

We get it. There is a seemingly endless array of lotions and potions for us to slather on fine selves. But girl, we have foraged the beauty landscape to identify some awesome and affordable skin care products that we think are gonna dazzle your dermis. These pillars of skin care address all of our beauty concerns ranging from hyperpigmentation, dry skin, oily/combination skin, and sun care  — and girl, they include some super affordable skin care products, made mostly from all-organic ingredients! Together, we are gonna regenerate that damaged skin without wrecking your wallet.

Indoor Sunscreen?

And let’s talk for a sec about all the things that wreak havoc on our skin. Topping the list is too much screen time. Yeah, this past year of intermittent lock-downs and Zooming didn’t do us any favors to reduce exposure to all that blue light.  Yup, concentrated sources of blue light energy from phones, indoor lighting and computers stressed our skin right on out, causing photo-aging and hyperpigmentation. There’s this chemical in our skin called flavin and it absorbs blue light. This produces free radicals that damage our dermis. Obvs we need to step up our game to repair and hydrate our skin because, damn, we don’t need yet another age-y thing! Well, we found a mineral sunscreen to help both indoors and out!

C’est Moi Gentle Mineral Sunscreen Lotion Broad Spectrum SPF 30 ($14.99 on Amazon) is an affordable skincare product and super effective! While gently nourishing sensitive skin types, this fragrance-free lotion delivers moisture and hydration while guarding skin from free radical damage.  

We also love Cerave’s Broad Spectrum SPF 30 tinted mineral sunscreen because it’s 100% mineral and has a great blend of ceramides, niacinamide, and hyaluronic acid to keep skin hydrated and protected ($15.99 on Amazon). And it also gives you a lovely glow without a white cast.  

Cleanse + Purify

If you’ve ever looked at your skin super up close (like in one of those magnifier mirrors), you might see some gnarly stuff hanging around your pores. Imagine putting product on top of that? Eww. Starting your skin routine off with a good scrub down really helps purify your skin and allows other products to glide on easier — and absorb better. We recommend Aveeno’s Positively Radiant daily scrub ($5.64 on Amazon). Made with natural soy extract, this cleanser is great to use on the daily to wipes away impurities for softer brighter even-toned skin. 

And if you’re prone to acne, we recommend a product with salicylic acid like Neutrogena Oil-Free Acne Fighting Facial Cleanser ($15.72 on Amazon) This affordable skin care product helps fight breakouts while cleansing your skin.

Seeing spots

One of the worst things about aging skin is hyperpigmentation. UGH. This happens when we have an excess production of melanin — that’s the pigment that gives skin its color. But sometimes due to sun exposure or hormones, these unsightly blotchy spots start to surface on our hands and face as we get older.  

Neutrogena Rapid Tone Repair Dark Spot Corrector Face Serum with Hyaluronic Acid, Retinol & Vitamin C ($17.96 on Amazon) is da bomb when it comes to eliminating unsightly pigmentation. The daily facial serum helps make your skin oh so bright and even-toned and helps ditch those stubborn dark spots and skin discoloration. Because who wants their skin looking like cowhide?

Another amazing serum you might try to maintain your skin’s buoyant appearance is The Ordinary’s Buffet ($14.80 on The Ordinary website). Their ‘Buffet’ serum is a peptide serum for morning and night use to target multiple signs of aging at once. We love how it takes on all annoying signs of damaged skin with bona fide technology… including “Matrixyl

3000 peptide complex!” Color us impressed.  I mean a lot of people in lab coats researched the heck out of this one so you can continue to look fab. #Grateful

Hydrate your thirsty skin

We’re always telling you babes to hydrate. Well, guess what, that means your skin, too. Using a good basic hydrating lotion is a must in your affordable skin care arsenal in fighting against aging skin. One of my favs is the Paula’s Choice Replenishing Moisturizer ($29 on Amazon). This moisturizer fits the bill for an affordable everyday moisturizer with a proprietary blend of plant- and vitamin-derived antioxidants and other ingredients for instant and lasting hydration for dry skin. It’s even good for those with sensitive skin and those who have eczema. You might get all cheeky when you drench your dermis with this because your face will feel as soft as a baby’s bottom!   

Puffy Peepers

When we look tired, one of the main culprits is dark, unsightly circles beneath our eyes. A good eye cream does wonders for smoothing away wrinkles and brightening the skin under our peepers. Because crepes belong in the kitchen, not on our face. 

A good eye cream can be an investment. We like La Roche Posay’s Redermic C Eyes Anti-Wrinkle Firming Moisturizing Filler ($49.99 on Amazon). This all-in-one eye cream addresses dark circles, free radical damage, fine lines and wrinkles, crow’s feet and firmness. That’s what we call multi-tasking! Sure, it’s a wee pricier, but a little goes a long way, and also it’s French, so. Yeah.

Saggy skin sucks

OK, so that time you looked in the mirror and saw a Shar-Pei looking back at you? Aaaack. We all know you’re still gorge! But shocking, isn’t it when gravity pulls at your face and neck and you never saw it coming because you exercise, eat right and on occasion even do those strange facial exercises? Several factors can contribute to skin sag like weight loss, pregnancy & fluctuating hormones, and of course aging. We have one word for you: Collagen. 

Skin aging has been linked to the reduction of collagen production. Good news is that there are products that help us get back our skin’s elasticity. Products with collagen pack a punch when it comes to regaining our skin’s firmness. After all, it’s one of the biggest building blocks in providing structure to our skin. And kinda bad News: Collagen can also be expensive.

Algenist’s Genius Liquid Collagen ($110 on Amazon) is made with plant collagen with added Microalgae Oil beads to hydrate and nourish, among other amazing vitamins, antioxidants, and acids to plump your skin. The company says its vegan formula helps enhance skin’s bounce and resilience in just 10 days! Woah. And if you slather on their buttery sleep mask ($85 on Amazon) on a nightly basis, you wake up looking all supple and dewy.

A more affordable skin care option containing collagen is Derma E’s Advanced Peptides & Collagen Moisturizer ($21 on Amazon). Loaded with peptides and collagen, this moisturizer is a good bet for restoring vibrancy to your skin.

All around must-have salve

We always love discovering that one all-around great affordable skin care product that top celebrity make-up artists have in their stash. This year’s “find” is Green Goo ($24.95 on Amazon), an all in one natural salve for acne spots, scars, wrinkles, puffy eyes, sunspots, minor burns, sunburns, and sun-damaged skin. And… we can even use it to create a dewy look on cheekbones after we apply our make-up. Your friends will simply be green with envy!  We especially love this product because the company, Green Goo, is women-owned, family-run, and B-Corp certified! 

Babes, we hope we helped uncover some affordable skin care products that can invigorate your skin care regime without denting your bank account. Now go and check expiration dates, toss those old lotions and replenish your cabinet!  We’d love to hear how they work out for you! And let’s not stop the reset here! If you loved this blog, you’ll love my blog where I give you all the deets on what I’m doing to reset my life for 2021.

The post How to Up Your Skincare Game when you don’t have hundreds to spend appeared first on Love Sweat Fitness.

How to Up Your Skincare Game when you don’t have hundreds to spend published first on https://olimpsportnutritionuk.tumblr.com/

[comingouttarot]

The Easy Queer Holiday Survival Guide You Need

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how our chosen family preps us queer people for holiday survival. And for people like us, we might be stepping away from the safety that our chosen family brings. So I wanted to provide some ideas on how to bring that queer strength with you. Especially when you walk through the door of your blood family’s house. There’s also some good ideas in here if you’re spending the holiday’s with that one special person, you. https://youtu.be/HsQZQgutFQU

Holiday Survival If You’re Flying Solo

Personal - I like to eat out if I’m alone for the holidays. It puts me in a social situation where I’m with people, and yet treating myself. It’s a bit of self care without being shuttered. If touch is important to you, scheduling a massage or other treatment (nails, hair, etc) can do the same thing.Personal - Have a Friendsgiving or a holiday dinner with your chosen family. Just because you’re flying solo doesn’t mean that you can’t eat with your friends. This is a great excuse for a fabulous meal and a signature cocktail. Do it. And do it right.10 Wands - Perform a ritual that releases your burdens. For example: write down all the oppressive things that are cluttering your mind on strips of paper and toss them in a jar. Pull them out one at a time and read it out loud. The next step is up to you and how you work. You have two choices. 1) Burn that strip of paper in a safe space while releasing that energy to the past so you make room for new energy for the future. 2) Write down an affirmation to counteract the burden and put it in another jar. One that you can reference during 2019 when you need a boost. Then toss the old burdens while releasing the energy to the past. BONUS - you can do both.Odin - Reflect on the sacrifice you’re making by going it alone right now. You’re giving up something in order to achieve a greater purpose. That’s self care and a holiday survival technique. And though it may seem selfish to others it’s truly about creating space so that you’re able to do for another. Especially in the long run.Aeon - You’re called to a greater purpose. Use this time to discover that purpose. You might meditate, utilize yoga, connect with guides, get a tarot reading, or perform other rituals that help you along the path of discovery.

Holiday Survival If You’re With Family

Personal - Scope out a safe space. If things get overwhelming, know where you can go to decompress. That may mean having a hotel room and not staying at home. Or knowing where the nearest restaurant is so you can go have some time alone. Or like me, if you’re surrounded by forest, take a walk through the woods. But please let someone know where you are.Personal - Speaking of the healing power of a walk in the woods, you can take a walk almost anywhere. Remove yourself from a stressful situation and clear your heart and mind for a minute. When you hear the first, “that’s so gay,” and it’s a trigger - take a walk.Personal - Speaking of triggers, you may want to choose your battles. When you hear “that’s so gay” there may be an opportunity to correct them. If you know it’ll be received. Ask them what they meant by that and give them some alternatives to increase their vocabulary. And explaining why it’s hurtful to you can also reinforce the behavior change you’re looking for. ‘Cause now it’s personal.Personal - Pronouns are challenging for a lot of people. And most of the time it’s not malicious, it’s habit. If there’s no malintent, being forgiving will ensure your holiday survival. You’ve probably had years (or at least longer than the person who’s screwing up) with your pronoun. You’ve probably been surrounded by your chosen family who happily use your pronoun. Your blood family have probably had years of using the dead one. It’s habit to use. More than likely it’s not malicious, it’s unintentional. Gentle correction will keep the conversation going and go a lot further than demands. And if you’re going further than gender norms of s/he like using they/them or zir, these are foreign formations in most mouths. And if your pronouns have changed more than once, it’s confusing for people who aren’t with you every step of your journey. Bring them along with you. The more you can bring them into your life, the less you’ll blame them for not participating.Personal - Have an ally on call. There’s probably one cousin who’s your safety net. Go out for a drink together. Get away from the cray-cray. And if there’s no one close, ask a friend if they’d be on call for you so you can text or call if needed.Personal - Set boundaries for yourself. My husband taught me this holiday survival trick. TIME: plan how much time you will spend with your family. Then let them know so expectations are set. “I’ll stay one hour after dinner, then I have to get home.” It gives you and your family time to catch up and there’s limited stress or need for getting through the holiday because it’s finite. OTHERS BEHAVIOR: Prepare yourself ahead of time for what others may do. You do not need to defend yourself. Your choices are just that, yours. Ask others to respect them. I really like how boundaries are described in this article from a Chicago psychologist. Personal - Cry if you need to. Laugh when you want to.10 Wands - YES! I drew it again. YES! I shuffled. When expectations of family are too much you have every right to step away. If you know that a family party or holiday light ride in the car is going to be triggering for you, you can opt out. Plan ahead for these moments and set others’ expectations. Let them know you’re not participating this year but also let them know where you will be joining in. It puts you in control of your holiday survival!Chief Seattle - You may find yourself being an advocate for the LGBTQ community just to force your queer holiday survival. But if that’s not you, sometimes resources can be provided to your family. Send them a link and give them context.Death - This holiday season, I encourage you to discover what you can release from your past so that you create new holiday traditions for the future. Instead of feeling like you have to survive the holidays you’ll look forward to them. Before evergreens were brought into our houses, they were surrounding the bonfires during Yule and other winters traditions. To me that’s a symbol of longevity, survival, and a sign of rebirth to come. What survival recommendations do you have to share?  Drop them in the comments below or tell me on Twitter! Tweet me your survival recommendation now! Read the full article

[engekihaikyuu]

Suga Kenta and Kimura Tatsunari Livedoor Interview Translation

Translation continues under the Read More.  It’s important to note the actual interview took place about a month ago, it’s just this second part is now finally published.

Q: This will be my third interview with the two of you after the re-run “View from the Top,” and “Karasuno, Revival!” 

Kenta: Whoo! [applause] Thank you each and every time! Tatsunari: That’s right, and for this particular production... Kenta: Whoah whoah, no, too fast! [laughs] They haven’t asked us anything yet!

Q: Focusing on your characters, Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio... This story illustrates the burning youth of battling high schoolers.  From the first show, to its rerun, to the second show, it really is a high-pace series.  So for this third production, “Winners and Losers” did you know you’d be performing once again?

Kenta: Even during rehearsals for the previous show, we were already aware that there’d be another show, I think.  Moreover, the original manga is still ongoing. Tatsunari: It was obvious.  I think we definitely felt like... well, of course we’ll do another one.  Thinking about performing again with this team, and with Worry-san’s direction, I was nothing but excited to see what we’d be able to make.  How will it turn out at our current level?  Even we don’t really know. Kenta: Just the other day, Tatsunari, and Worry-san, the three of us had dinner.  Since it was on my mind, I asked them, “How do you think that scene will turn out?” but all they said to me was, “It’ll be great.” and “It’ll be fine!  It’ll be fine!” Tatsunari: Don’t people want to hear that? [laughs] Kenta: I wanted to know the specifics!  We’ve been together constantly since the first show, and lately our interactions have been a bit... [laughs] Tatsunari: During our last show, “Karasuno, Revival!” I changed the way I gave my tosses.  Because Worry-san told me, “The tosses look a bit boring, change it up.” So then I worried and stressed about it for a while.  There was a lot of trial and error even until just before our dress rehearsal, but once I finally got it, he said, “That’s not quite right... do something else.” We’re like that now. [laughs] Kenta: It sort of feels like this became a meeting about Worry-san... [laughs]

Q: From the first show, to its rerun, from the rerun to “Karasuno, Revival!” and now to this current production, you’ve just gone up step by step.

Kenta: From the first run to the re-run, we brushed up a lot of things.  Or rather, we wanted to present a truly complete play, so we did a lot to polish things up.  For “Karasuno, Revival!” it felt a lot like the first show since we had to start from scratch, and I was really nervous.  I couldn’t even imagine what sort of reactions we’d get.  And this time too, it feels sort of like that. Tatsunari: During the first show, my attitude was to crush any feelings of concern from overthinking.  But as we kept doing this, I’ve gained more confidence in my image of Kageyama.  And the play that established that feeling was the re-run.  Then for our last production, I felt that within the play and also within our cast... It’s not that he suddenly became great friends with everyone.  But more that their relationships gradually deepened over time.  Then I felt like, “This is it.”  

Q: Would you say there’s a link between Hinata and Kageyama in the play, to the relationship the two of you have within the company?  Does the play reflect the immense time that you’ve spent together?

Tatsunari: There was definitely a feeling of, “More!  We can go even further.”  The accumulation of that is more in this play, “Winners and Losers” though.  Although, it’s definitely true that I have the same attitude as in the first show for this one: to just crush all doubt.  [strained laughter] What’s the right way to do it?  That’s not something that Worry-san has the answer to, it’s the audience.   Kenta: The moment that we enter intermission for opening night, I think that’s the first time that we’re clearly evaluated.  For the audience with all of their expectations, they return to reality once during the intermission after being completely immersed in our show.  The reaction they give us at that time, that’s when we know that we did everything right.  

Q: Is that something you’ve felt for every play so far?

Kenta: Definitely.  We always end up with worries up until that point.  Then when we enter that intermission and the audience lets out their excitement, we feel it even in the wings of the stage.  And then we get a sudden pleasant feeling, and from there we feel the pressure to make sure we take our performances that far every time. Tatsunari: Honestly, we can’t even predict when people might laugh. Kenta: We want to make a standing ovation happen at the time that we start intermission.  [laughs]

Q: For this production, “Winners and Losers,” are there any scenes that you’re especially looking forward to?  Or scenes where you’re still polishing it and thinking, “How should we present this?” 

Kenta: In the manga, Hinata uses a ‘wide broad’ move, so for me personally I’m excited to see how we can express that sort of thing on stage.  After that, with regards to the play, this will be the first time I’ll be able to see things from a bird’s eye view, I think...

Q: A bird’s eye view?

Kenta: This time the story is more about the setters.  Not just Kageyama but also Oikawa Tooru and Sugawara Koushi.  We’re giving the feature to the setters who entrust the ball to the attackers.  I’m looking forward to being able to closely examine Tatsunari-san’s performance.   Tatsunari: ... [laughs]  First off, I want to really surprise Worry-san at rehearsals!  After all this time, I want to show him, ‘Look, I can even do this much!’  But he’d probably come back with, ‘Then, let’s try it this way.’  Then we gradually increase our performance capacity.  In the end, I’d like to connect all that to also surprising the audience.

Q: What does this series mean for you personally?  Could you tell us?

Kenta: For me, I have pride as a sort of “founder.”  We’re always so aware of the fact that we create something from scratch with everyone together.  I think we’re unique in the world of 2.5D stage productions, and for me personally, I think Engeki Haikyuu is neither a straight play nor a musical, it’s its own genre.  

Q: Are you saying that as an actor, this experience is particularly special?

Kenta: I feel that in the life of an actor, you get to experience things you seldom get to otherwise.  And in this past year and a half, I really feel like Engeki Haikyuu has had an influence on other stage works.  

Q: In recent years, you’ve been in the moves ‘Shimauma’ and ‘Dias Police - Dirty Yellow Boys,’ with roles including a man tainted by insanity and even a murderer.

Kenta: Hinata is a character that presents the energy of the ‘sun,’ but when I play other roles, I forget all that.  So instead, when I come back to this company after doing work on movies, there are moments of, “Uhhh?  How do I play Hinata again?”  [forced laughter]

Q: I suppose it’s a pleasant concern from being entrusted with such intense and varied roles.  

Kenta: It’s something that makes me extremely happy, but last time, I had really lost my grasp on Hinata to the point where even Worry-san ended up telling me “Your acting is like that of a Suga Kenta fan who saw the last play.”  [nervous laugh]  Even though I’m the genuine article!  I’m always saying, “I want to play all types of roles,” but in order to do that, I have to always start with a flat baseline at least--it’s a challenge!

Q: For me, I still have a very strong image of you from when you acted in the series, “ALWAYS, Sunset on Third Street” as a child.  But lately you’ve even demonstrated that you can act out some intense action scenes and other very tricky roles with your recent movies.

Kenta: I do hear from people (like movie staff) things like, “You really do a lot of different things,” but it’s true the world still has a very strong image of me from when I was a child actor.  As I thought, that’s something I have to challenge more and more!

Q: I think maybe there are things you can’t control regarding the image the world has of you.

Kenta: Age plays into it too.  Right now what I can do is move with all my might, work on these plays with everything I have, work up a sweat... that’s it, really.  I do at least think that Engeki Haikyuu is something I can only do right now, and someday when I look back on it, I think this series of productions will undoubtedly become the representative work of my twenties.  

Q: What’s this series like for you, Kimura-san?

Tatsunari: After Kenta’s spent all this time talking so energetically, I’m a bit like, what?  But for me, I’m pretty indifferent.  That might not be a great way to say it, but I feel like everything is just another page in my life.  Of course the time spent on this is very precious, and in my life, this production makes me the type of person that feels, “I’m living now in this moment...”

Kenta: Right?  Right?!?!

Tatsunari: I think that everyone in the company understands, but I really am “The man who lives his life in the moment!” I have to go in directions that I feel are fun, that strike my interest, or in which I feel possibility.

Q: So this really grabbed you? To the point where you kind of felt in your heart that you couldn’t move forward without doing this?

Tatsunari: When we’re working on it, I really do have a lot of fun.  There are times I get frazzled, but outside of the times when I feel like, “This was fun!” I tend to just forget stuff that happened even yesterday. [laughs]

Q: With that, I guess your personalities might be relatively different, wouldn’t you say?

Kenta: We’re pretty different, huh? Tatsunari: We really are, yeah.

Q: And yet the two of you have been together for this long, so could you still be kindred spirits...?

Tatsunari: During these two years, we haven’t gone longer than two weeks without seeing each other, I think? Kenta: Not just for performances and rehearsals, but all of our interviews are together. Tatsunari: We even went around Macao, Malaysia, and Singapore together for a play. Kenta: I think we travel together more than a normal couple does.  Since we go all around the country even.

Q: During that time, has your relationship subtly changed?

Kenta: Oh it definitely changes.  It’s definitely getting serious.  When we first met on Live Spectacle Naruto, we played mutual enemies.  We spent time alone among our abundant co-stars, and our personality types are different.  To think we’d end up this connected, never apart, together for so long is... Tatsunari: You know, lately this sort of question has come up a lot in our interviews?  Don’t you get even a little embarrassed? [laughs] Kenta: Oh definitely!  Especially when I then look at your face... Tatsunari: Maybe next time we should veto this question next time? [laughs]

Translation by @nimbus-cloud

If you love this blog and the content I provide including scans and translations, please consider donating!  I have a Donation button located on the top left of the blog’s main page (in browser, not mobile app).  

[duckybeth99]

The Deal (Past!Beth)

[ineverhadmyinternetphase]

In My Way - Chapter 18

AO3 link, First Chapter

Genre: Chaptered. Actor!Dan AU, fluff, bit of angst, slow burn, getting together (eventually)

Summary: Fiction. Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.

Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.

Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor   Daniel Howell.

Warnings: Swearing, Ace!Phil, Bi!Dan, slight a- and bi-phobia, discussions of sexuality

Word Count: 3000-5000 per chapter (ish)

A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay in this chapter! I’m just gonna say this once: I have M.E., a medical condition that effects my energy levels and gives me chronic pain and nasty things. Sometimes it affects my ability to write, which is why updates can be slow. But good news: I know this fic is going to be 25 chapters long, and I have them all planned exactly. I’ll update as regularly as I can ^_^

Again, giant thanks to my beta @mecaka! This is only possible because of her hard work. Go send her love if you’ve got time because honestly, she is the best thing that could have happened to me with this fic

—

Two months, it turned out, was the length of time left on the film set.

“Well, actually, it’s closer to a month and a half,” Dan elaborated from his place sprawled across Phil’s lap, eyes narrowed as he tore around another corner in Mario Kart. “And did you have to bring this up now?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it all day,” Phil grumbled gruffly. Which, in his defence, was true. Ever since the call with Tyler last week, Phil had been working up his courage to bring the subject up with Dan, and this morning he had finally done it only for Dan to distract him by dragging him out to the sofa to challenge him to a duel.

Which Dan was going to win, because this was Mario Kart and Dan was insanely competitive.

“So after the set,” Phil started again, barely even focusing on the screen and much more occupied with the warm person lying across his lap, “Are you, um, are you going away?”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Away where?”

Away from me, Phil thought, half-heartedly firing a shell. It went backward, straight off the course, completely missing Dan’s little figure that was racing far ahead.

“There,” Dan said satisfactorily as he crossed the finishing line, then paused the game and rolled onto his back. He narrowed his eyes at Phil. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing’s up with me,” Phil answered immediately. Perhaps not the best method for improving communication, or generally getting anywhere with Dan, but denial was still and would probably always be Phil’s first defence mechanism.

Thankfully, Dan had been around Phil for long enough now to recognise this, so he wasn’t dissuaded at all. Instead, he sat up, tossing his controller carelessly onto the cushion beside him, and fixed Phil with a stern look. “So something is definitely up.”

“It isn’t,” Phil insisted unhelpfully.

Dan had one brow arched at him in a perfect expression of disbelief. Practised many times for several film roles, probably, and now Phil was being subjected to it in all its realness.

“If nothing’s up,” Dan said calmly, “Then we can just carry on playing, and you interrupted a perfectly fun round for no good reason.”

“Yes,” Phil replied quickly, then stopped. “Well, no. Um. Maybe.”

“Congratulations on giving every possible answer.” Dan rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile at his lips. He flopped himself back down over Phil’s lap, arranging himself to be perfectly comfortable so he could still see the screen, and grabbed the controller again, starting up a solo level. Phil’s eyes traced Dan’s character, and he felt his heartbeat calm down a little. Watching Dan do things always calmed him down – there was a level of professional confidence about everything Dan did, as if he’d thought every action through at least four times. It was… reassuring. Especially when every aspect of Phil’s life was currently being made up as he went along.

“So you asked if I’m going away,” Dan said evenly after a few moments of silent playing.

Phil swallowed.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean leaving the country, or, like, dying,” Dan continued, and was that a hint of laughter hiding away in his tone? “But you still brought it up, so something must be on your mind.”

“Yeah,” Phil answered softly without thinking. His fingers had somehow found their way into Dan’s hair. It was comforting to have the knowledge that Dan was still right there. For now.

“So what is it?” Dan asked again after another moment of watching his character easily cruise the level. Dan really was insanely good at Mario Kart. How did he even have time to practice as an actor?

Phil gave his head a small shake. He shuffled around a bit, until Dan made a noise of complaint, and then went very still with his fingers still curled in Dan’s hair.

Phil just didn’t want to lose this.

“I suppose,” he started slowly, “I mean what your roommate said in the call.”

“Tyler?” Dan sounded surprised. He had no idea at all, then.

Phil gathered his courage and said, “Yeah. When he said he was getting you back. That means… that means you’re leaving me, right?”

The words sat heavily. Phil winced as soon as he realised their full meaning. He hadn’t meant it quite like that, but… but therein lay his fears, really.

Dan squawked. He dropped the controller, not even bothering to pause the level this time, and rolled around to face Phil just as his character made a squealing noise as it fell off the course.

“What?” Dan asked, staring at Phil, a picture of surprised disbelief.

Phil shifted awkwardly. “Tyler said he’d be getting you back.”

“Yeah!” Dan narrowed his eyes. “And you think that means I’m leaving you?”

Phil bit his lip. He considered for a moment. “Um. Well. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Leaving… me.”

“No!” Dan sat up properly then, giving Phil the full extent of his glare. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No, not at al! I just—” Phil paused, realising he’d done an extremely bad job of explaining himself. He deflated in place a little. “I just – don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Dan answered after a moment of silence. He shook his head, sitting back a little on Phil’s sofa cushions so he could draw his knees into his chest. Defensive, Phil realised. He’d made Dan go all defensive again.

Desperately, Phil tried to salvage the conversation and make it go back in the direction he’d originally intended. “What I’m trying – very badly – to say is, you aren’t staying here forever. In Manchester, I mean. Are you?”

Dan blinked. Slowly, comprehension started to show on his face, and Phil thanked every lucky star he’d ever wished on for it. But there was also fear tugging at Phil’s stomach, because he’d brought this up now. They were going to have this conversation, to face the issue that had been itching at him all week.

“No,” Dan answered slowly, his tone cautious, his eyes fixed on Phil’s face. “No, I’m not staying in Manchester forever.”

Phil’s heart plummeted.

“But you knew that, right?” Dan added, leaning in a little bit closer. “I’m only here for the set. That’s over in a couple of months, then I’m going home. You knew that, right?”

Phil swallowed. Dan said home so easily, and he was referring to a place where Phil wasn’t. That shouldn’t hurt, they’d hardly known each other four months, but somehow Phil’s idea of home already had a Dan in it. “And then back to London. And Tyler. Right?”

Dan didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he tilted his head, regarding Phil closely with something warm hiding in his eyes. “I mean, yeah. London is home for me.”

Phil nodded once. He kept his face clear of expression.

After a moment, Dan asked, “Does that bother you?”

Phil shifted, considering the question for a moment. He reached out to grab Dan’s hand, smiled a bit when Dan gave a startled movement that settled into a small smile. He squeezed Phil’s fingers.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” Phil answered slowly. “I mean, it’s your home. Tyler seems nice.”

“He is,” Dan agreed, his gaze still intent on Phil. “My best friend.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you have a best friend.” Phil glanced at Dan, tried not to let jealousy slip into his tone. “How did you meet him?”

“Oh, I met him years ago,” Dan answered with an easy smile and went on to tell Phil that Tyler had met Dan on Dan’s very first set. Dan had been a nervous wreck, unsure of everything around him, and Tyler was his make-up artist. He’d taken one look at Dan’s pasty face and gone Oh no, we can’t have that. Dan at first thought he was being mocked – it turned out Tyler was just very exuberant and exacting in what he wanted.

After that, they’d become fast friends. Tyler was new to England, and so Dan took it upon himself to show him around the main sites. After a year, they’d decided to move in together, and when Dan hesitantly stuttered out that he was maybe attracted to boys as well as to girls, Tyler had embraced him in a warm hug and welcomed him to the party. (Tyler was as gay as a pink elephant, and as exuberant about it as he was about make-up).

“So he knows?” Phil interrupted, surprised.

Dan nodded. “He’s the only other one who does. You and him.”

“Not even your family?” Phil asked without thinking, and then winced. “No, wait, you don’t have to answer that.”

Dan’s eyes had tightened up a bit, but he hadn’t removed his hand from Phil’s. Dan glanced downwards, at where his fingers linked up so easily with Phil’s. “I just – I didn’t want to risk the exposure. You know. If the press ever got wind of it…”

“I get it,” Phil spoke into the silence quickly. “Honestly. That’s not what I meant.”

Dan sent him a tiny, grateful smile.

Phil fidgeted for another minute, then reached out to pull Dan into a hug. Dan muffled a chuckle as he leaned into Phil, speaking into his shoulder, “You can’t solve everything with a hug, Phil.”

“I can try,” Phil said adamantly, and then added, “I just… don’t want you to be gone.”

“I won’t be gone,” Dan murmured, his own arms slotting easily around Phil. “Not really.”

“But London is far away.”

Dan tilted his face up until he was looking right at Phil, and suddenly he was very, very close. “I’m not in London now.”

Phil was frozen, immobile, still taken aback by these moments of intimacy. But he was very sure that was happiness bubbling up inside him, so he leaned closer at Dan’s invitation and kissed him lightly.

Dan smiled, kissed him back, and for a moment everything was perfect. Things like this got easier every time they did them, and Phil was growing in confidence every time, more and more sure that yes, he liked this. As long as it didn’t go too far, and Dan was wonderful and soft and never pushed him.

When Phil pulled back, Dan didn’t complain at all. He didn’t even look insecure, which Phil always worried about because he had a feeling that Dan would kiss for longer if it was up to him. But Phil always started to feel weird after a few minutes, and he was endlessly grateful that Dan never brought it up, but just smiled happily every time Phil pulled away.

Dan was smiling happily at him now, and then he whispered, “You could always come with me.”

Phil blinked. His voice squeaked a bit. “Come with you?”

“To London.” Dan’s eyes were bright, but a bit guarded. He didn’t look away from Phil’s face. “When the set is done with. You could come back to London with me.”

Phil’s eyes widened. He’d never even considered that as a possibility – that Dan might ask him to go with him, that maybe there was a solution that didn’t involve Dan staying in Manchester forever.

Dan couldn’t stay in Manchester. He had a job, and friends. Obviously.

But Phil still felt the tiniest tug of disappointment. Manchester was his home. He’d deliberately moved back here after doing his undergrad in York, because York felt too far away.

It was closer than London, though.

Dan was still looking at him, but that guarded something in his eyes had grown. He was shrinking back a bit, shrinking into himself, behind all those walls that Phil had started to break down.

Phil grabbed for him again. “I want to be with you.”

Dan brightened up again immediately. “So you’ll come?”

“I’ll…” Phil took a breath, bit his lip. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. London is… far away.”

Dan’s eyes had clouded over again. Phil hated that, wished he could banish it away in an instant and have Dan happy and smiling again, but… but he’d learned not to dive straight into scary things. He needed to think, to process.

And they still had time.

“There’s a month and a half left, right?” Phil added almost desperately. “There’s time to… to think. We can figure it out.”

Dan nodded slowly, his gaze clearing a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, we can figure it out.”

Phil smiled back at him, and really, really hoped it was true.

---

A few days later, when Dan was away at the film set and Phil was sitting at home half-heartedly tapping away at his thesis, the idea crossed Phil’s mind again.

Moving to London.

It didn’t seem quite possible when Dan mentioned it. Like a dream, something to be imagined but never to be lived, at least not for someone like Phil. Dan’s world was full of glittering lights and camera flashes and interviews – hell, that was why they never went on proper dates outside. Phil could still remember with a shudder the day a camera had followed Dan back to Phil’s bookshop.

That was Dan’s world, not Phil’s. And if he was honest, Phil wanted no part in it.

Except… except he did want to keep Dan. He really did. To the extent that thinking about Dan going away to London without him had Phil’s chest constricting until his breathing was difficult.

This was crazy. He’d only known Dan a handful of months, and the majority of that had been spent trying to avoid him. Phil had hated Dan when they’d first met, he was sure of it – he remembered that arrogant smirk, the way Dan had looked down on him.

Knowing Dan as he did now, Phil could see that had been because Dan had believed Phil snubbed him deliberately. But he hadn’t. Phil was just a bumbling mess, he always had been, and he probably always would be.

Dan shouldn’t even want him around anyway.

Phil shook away the thought with a sad little frown. He was staring blankly at his thesis document, on its way to finished with a month left to the deadline, and then his course would almost be over. Just another month after that until his official graduation. His mum had already invited everyone over for the celebration – Phil the Doctor, Phil the smart one, he’d always been the brains of the family, she’d proudly say.

But then what?

There’d be a big celebration, and then… then what? Phil had never been one to look at the future too hard, never been one to wallow in worrying. He’d just enjoyed what he did without thinking too much about where it would lead him. But now… now, he was facing a gaping hole with no more education to fill it.

And he didn’t want to face that alone.

So Dan. He had Dan, he wanted to keep Dan, and miraculously Dan wanted to keep him. That had to be worth all the worry, right? All the stress? There had to be something worth holding onto in the feelings he had for Dan, in the feelings Dan had shared with him.

He hadn’t had a text from Dan yet that day. Phil had messaged him in the morning but hadn’t heard anything back. That wasn’t too unusual. The film set was getting busier every day, with the closing deadlines looming. Then everything would be moving down to London.

London, where all the post-production work would be happening. Phil’s speciality. Phil’s favourite aspect.

If only…

Phil chewed on his inner cheek, having a staring contest with his laptop, until he relented and pulled up a new internet tab.

Post-production film jobs in London.

Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of results. Phil trailed through the first few, registering some of the company names, recognising some. There were a lot of internship programmes that he’d be eligible to apply for.

He didn’t have to make any decisions yet. But it was an option.

Just then, his phone buzzed against his desk. Phil snatched it up to see a new tweet from Dan: literally starving at the set @amazingphil where is my coffee

Phil snorted. They were still being publicly open on Twitter, and while they’d never explicitly stated the exact nature of their relationship (Phil still got a fuzzy little feeling whenever he remembered that Dan was his boyfriend), it was a good thing. Having Dan happy with them being public, even in this tiny way – it gave Phil hope.

Hope that this was actually ok.

Definitely a possibility, Phil decided as he glanced at the results on his laptop, and then bookmarked it before answering Dan’s tweet with another public one of his own.

@amazingphil: @danisnotonfire on my way right now

---

The days continued in their easy pattern, but the time was constantly being eaten up. Without even meaning to, Phil found himself subconsciously counting down the days to their deadline, the deadline when Dan would be leaving.

He’d visit the set with coffee for Dan and think, only five more weeks of doing this.

Dan would crash into the bookshop during Phil’s shift and regale him with stories of the day’s filming and Phil, in between fits of laughter, would find himself saying, “Not much longer left, now.”

Dan’s eyes always went cautious. He answered carefully, “No. Not long left.”

Phil tried not to think too much about the way Dan’s eyes lingered on him, as if he was waiting for a response, for something more from Phil. Something more that Phil wasn’t sure he could give.

They’d be curled up together on Phil’s sofa, or cuddled under the blankets on his bed watching Netflix on Phil’s laptop, and Phil would stay silent but the thoughts running around his head were full of not much longer, you don’t get to have this for much longer. He tried to quiet the doubts, knew that Dan moving away was very different to Dan breaking up with him, but it was still hard.

He tightened his grip around Dan and buried his face in Dan’s hair.

Dan made a questioning noise and wriggled a bit, so Phil batted at him until he stayed still. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to face the questions that he knew Dan was going to want to bring up. In all honesty, Phil just didn’t want to face the future. He wanted this present to extend forever, with Dan in his arms and something easy on TV and blankets and cuddles and nothing else more complicated going on.

Why couldn’t he just have that? Phil didn’t think it was too much to ask for.

It was when there were only three weeks left that Phil came home from a shift at the bookshop to find Dan sitting on the sofa on Phil’s laptop.

Phil blinked, and then let out a heavy sigh. Coming home to Dan invading his flat wasn’t exactly unusual, not since Phil had given him a key, but still. There were privacy limits. Weren’t there? Or shouldn’t there be?

Dan grinned at him impishly, and then pulled Phil’s laptop further into his lap. “Mine for now. Sorry.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I guess I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.”

“Probably not,” Dan agreed, already buried back in whatever he was doing. As long as it wasn’t another skype call to Tyler that Phil could embarrass himself in front of, then Phil didn’t really mind. It was an excuse to forget about proof-reading his thesis for a bit, after all.

“Hot chocolate?” Phil offered on his way into the kitchen.

“Mm, please!” Dan called back, and Phil’s smile was widening before he even realised it. Having Dan around just made Phil feel… buoyant. Like there was something under his skin lifting him up, making his feet hardly touch the ground. It didn’t quite feel real, except when he could feel Dan in his arms, breathe in his scent, see the possessions he’d slowly left scattered around Phil’s place. Honestly, Phil didn’t even know the last time Dan had actually spent long periods of time in his hotel room.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dan said when Phil returned with two steaming mugs. He curled his legs out of the way, making room for Phil to join him, and grabbed eagerly for the mug.

“Don’t spill that on my laptop,” Phil warned him, but otherwise settled in happily. He cast Dan a slightly worried look. “Also, that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not bad, exactly,” Dan hedged, casting another quick look at Phil. He grimaced. “I just – I saw a car.”

Phil arched a questioning brow.

“A black car,” Dan elaborated, “Um, outside.”

“Wow, amazing, anyone would think we were in a main city.” Phil grinned. Some of Dan’s sarcasm had rubbed off on him.

Dan kicked at him delicately. “No, you idiot. Outside here. Outside your building.”

Phil blinked, taken aback. “…Oh?”

“Yeah. It looked like a journalist to me.” Dan was looking steadfastly at the laptop screen again, not meeting Phil’s eyes. “So, um. They might have seen me, and my guess is they could call you at some point."

Phil’s stomach dropped.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dan added in what was clearly a carefully researched speech. “You can just refuse to comment if they badger you. And if they do it too much, threaten the police, it’s harassment.”

“The police?” Phil asked a bit faintly.

Dan shot him a look, then bit his lower lip. He shifted a bit closer to Phil. “I did try and warn you this might happen.”

Phil remained silent. That didn’t help very much. Sure, he remembered when Dan was first trying to get closer to him, that Dan warned him what his lifestyle meant – but Phil wasn’t anyone interesting. He hadn’t really given much thought to people bothering him, or what he was supposed to do or say. He was far too awkward for any of it.

And it wouldn’t even matter soon, with Dan going away.

Phil shook away all those thoughts, a crease appearing in his brow. Dan reached out to smooth it away with his thumb, a sweet gesture he’d started doing whenever Phil was stressed or worrying about something. “You don’t have to say anything, Phil.”

“I just,” Phil started, and then turned to look straight at Dan. “Do you want me to say anything?”

Dan blinked. He looked startled for a moment before casually schooling his expression back into a careful blank. That was the problem with Dan being such a good actor – when he didn’t want to show his emotion, he really didn’t show it.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Dan answered delicately.

“I don’t,” Phil agreed, “I mean, not if you don’t want to. I just. Does that mean you want it to be a secret?”

Dan looked a bit pained. “That isn’t a fair question.”

“What do you mean?”

Dan squirmed, but Phil pressed him, leaning in a bit closer. “What do you mean, Dan? Communicate, remember. Talk to me.”

Dan made a face at him. He took in a breath, slowly, and then let it out. He closed Phil’s laptop and slid it onto the floor, and then made grabby hands at Phil in a gesture that Phil had come to realise meant come closer, need to hold you.

Phil obliged, and let Dan wrap him up in long arms, hold him against his chest. He laid his head comfortable on Dan’s shoulder.

“Saying something would mean that this is something that’s going to last,” Dan eventually murmured into Phil’s hair.

Phil’s mouth went dry. He froze.

“I don’t mean that would be a bad thing,” Dan hastily continued, “I mean, like, it would make it official.”

Phil managed to unstick his mouth enough to say, “And that would be a bad thing?”

“No, no, I don’t mean anything like that.” Dan let out a cross little sigh. “I mean – um – it would mean we’d both face a lot of questions about it, and if you’re… if you’re in Manchester, and I’m in London, um. We’d have to face them alone.”

Phil took in a careful breath. The weight behind Dan’s words told Phil that he’d thought about them a lot, probably been thinking about the coming month just as much as Phil had, in fact. Maybe if they’d talked about it sooner, Phil wouldn’t have had to do as much worrying on his own.

“I mean,” Phil started, and then stopped again.

Dan nudged at him. “What?”

“I mean, we might not be apart forever,” Phil answered quietly. He felt Dan quiver against him, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know if now was the time to bring this up, or if there would ever even be a better time, but Dan sounded worried and Phil didn’t like Dan being worried.

He leaned back enough to look at Dan, right in the eyes, and the worry he saw there made Phil want to dispel it immediately. “I mean, London is a thing.”

Dan smiled briefly. He didn’t look away. “London is indeed a thing.”

“I’ve been looking,” Phil confessed quickly, “There are internships. Places that do the kind of thing I’d want to do.”

“Really?” Dan was obviously trying really hard to keep the hope out of his voice, but he wasn’t quite succeeding. That warmed Phil. He was wanted, obviously, desired by Dan Howell, and that still didn’t quite make sense in his head.

“Not yet,” Phil warned him. “My PhD doesn’t finish until two months after you’ve gone back to London.  I have to be here for that.”

Dan wilted a bit. But he nodded. “I’d expected something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been working for ages on your degree, I’m happy for you.” Dan smiled at him, the expression a little shy, a little vulnerable. Phil felt his heart give just a little bit more. He loved this man – he really loved him, and that was still hard to come to terms with.

Phil smiled back. “But after that – after that, well, I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”

Dan was staring at him almost disbelievingly. Phil didn’t like it much when he did that, but his options to make Dan happy were still fairly limited. Phil just wasn’t very good at it, much as he’d like to be.

Phil leaned in, pressed a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “It’s a possibility.”

Dan’s cheek had gone red. That was nice. He also still had his arms around Phil, which was also nice, and he was smiling a bit as he answered, “To be clear – are you saying you coming to London with me is a possibility?”

Phil thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded a bit hesitantly. “After my degree. Maybe.”

Dan’s eyes were a little wide and a little wild. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Well,” Phil amended, “I’m thinking about it. It’s not something to rule out.”

Dan kept staring at him for a bit, and then he was grinning and holding Phil tighter. “Good enough for me.”

---

There was hope, but there was also sadness, because time was running out on them too fast and Phil still hadn’t made a decision.

Three weeks disappeared like sand rushing through Phil’s fingers. It didn’t matter how much he tried to grab onto it, the time just went faster and faster, rushing on and inexorably on until he was left standing alone and forlorn in his own apartment with boxes of Dan’s stuff gathered up all around him.

All the things that had collected in Phil’s flat over the past few months, every little memory of Dan being here, was wrapped up carefully and packaged and taped and shut away, all ready to be moved out. Including Dan himself.

Phil felt sick to his stomach.

Dan stood opposite him, an awkward distance away, playing with the ends of his sleeves. He wasn’t looking at Phil, seeming to find it easier to study his carpet instead. The air between them felt charged. The last bag was sitting packed by Dan’s feet.

“It just makes more sense to leave tonight,” Dan was explaining, still steadfastly studying the carpet. “The cars are leaving the hotel really early tomorrow. I don’t want to disturb you in the morning.”

You wouldn’t, Phil was desperate to say. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet, except for the ringing in his ears and the slightly wild thud of his heartbeat.

The boxes were moved, one by one, into the car waiting outside Phil’s flat. They did it together, woodenly, not talking but not staying far apart either. Phil treasured every brush of Dan’s elbow, every minute left in his company. They were rather rapidly disappearing, after all.

The last box was in the car. Dan was hovering awkwardly on the pavement, one hand on the car door, his eyes fixed on Phil.

Phil should turn around and go back inside. They were in public, and even if they weren’t, Phil was bad at goodbyes. This was why he’d always returned home. He couldn’t deal with last times, with never-seeing-people-agains. He left everything open-ended, and always came back to the place that meant the most to him. He didn’t do well at leaving.

Was he ever going to see Dan again?

Dan was staring at him with carefully masked emotions. Phil hated that too. He wished he could push back past those boundaries, get back to where he and Dan had been. They’d been so close, they’d been so open and honest with each other. Eventually. Dan was the one person Phil had never wanted, and then everything he’d wanted but never thought he’d have, and then, miraculously, been the person to openly accept him. Everything about him.

Phil couldn’t lose that. He didn’t want to let go.

Dan swallowed. His hand awkwardly fumbled on the car door, and for a moment Phil thought he was going to step away from the car and back into Phil’s arms, and this whole hellish ordeal could be over.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the car door flew open, and Dan turned as if to climb inside.

Phil’s heart stopped.

Dan paused, turned back to face Phil. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, he just stared at Phil’s face some more.

Phil hung in stasis. His body tipped forward, telling him to take the step and go, to stop the best thing in his life from walking away from him.

But the crease in Dan’s brow was back, and he turned away again with a muttered, “See ya, Phil,” and then he was climbing into the car.

“Wait,” Phil’s mouth said without his permission.

Dan paused, span back around again in an instant. His face was still carefully blank.

Phil stayed still for a moment, counting the racing beats of his heart, tracing the planes of Dan’s face that he’d come to know so well. Dan Howell, the Dan Howell, famous actor, blind fool at times, but most importantly, Phil’s Dan.

There was no way Phil could let him go like this.

“Stay,” he begged.

Dan’s mouth dropped open.

“Just tonight,” Phil pleaded, because, apparently, he wasn’t above actual begging. He took a step forward, grabbed one of Dan’s hands in his own.

Dan’s blank expression was melting.

“I know it can’t be forever,” Phil continued, his tone shattering a bit. “Just stay. You can wake me at whatever hellish time you have to tomorrow, just – just stay one more night. Please.”

Dan hovered, his gaze quickly flicking left and right. They were in the middle of a public street, Phil’s street, and there was a suspicious looking car sitting up the road that had been there all morning and was still directly facing them, but Phil just couldn’t let Dan go like this.

He prayed he was doing the right thing.

“Please,” he said again and tugged once at Dan’s hand.

Dan’s face finished melting, and he was standing there looking at Phil with the warmest, most vulnerable gaze Phil had ever seen. His fingers were trembling a bit, but he closed them firmly around Phil’s and took a step towards him, until Phil was forced to look up to meet his eyes.

“Ok,” Dan whispered, and then span to say to the driver, “Go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you there in the morning.”

The driver, as discrete as ever, simply nodded and disappeared.

Phil felt a little bit faint. His fingers tightened in Dan’s, the world swaying around him. Dan was still here. For now. He was here.

Fingers tightened around Phil’s arm, gently pushing him towards the door. “Inside, now,” Dan whispered into his ear, “Quickly, I need to – Phil, I need to—”

Phil understood. He knew exactly what Dan was talking about. He fumbled for his keys, got them both back inside his building, and hurried quickly to his flat door.

They didn’t make it two steps before Dan was pushing Phil against the wall, still metres from his actual flat, and this was still dangerous because anyone could walk past, anyone could see them—

“Phil,” Dan whispered, and the sound was broken and almost desperate and Phil couldn’t think about anything else, not right then. He stared right back at the man in front of him, the man clutching at his shirt sleeve hard enough to pinch his arm, the man who looked so young suddenly with no hint of sardonic amusement on his face.

Phil reached up for him, leaned in, and kissed him.

Dan sagged into him, like he was melting all over again, fitting perfectly in Phil’s arms until Phil was the only one holding him up. Phil wasn’t the only one this was taking a toll on. Not with the way Dan reached for him, held onto him, kissed him like a drowning man.

“Not yet,” Phil whispered against his lips, dragging him down the hall into the safety of his flat.

---

They did the most kissing they’d ever done in one go that night. Up until then, kisses had been small, gentle things, sweet nudges of affection against each other’s lips, nothing more. They hadn’t needed anything more.

But this time – this time, Phil felt like a desperate man, like someone who was about to lose everything under his fingertips. He clung onto Dan, remembered the feeling against him, tried to lose himself in someone else’s arms.

They stayed fully clothed, which held off Phil’s repulsion. And the kissing was still just kissing, aside from when Dan occasionally leaned down and pressed his lips to Phil’s throat, which sent a shiver down Phil’s spine which was just this side of good. Any more, and he’d have been pushing Dan away, but Dan had grown to learn his reactions and knew not to push him any further.

Dan needed this, too. He never left Phil’s side, never left any unnecessary space between them, until the warmth was almost unbearable. But Phil would never have had it any other way. They stayed wrapped up in Phil’s bedsheets in a tangled heap of limbs and faces and breathing and kisses, and neither of them got much sleep that night.

“I’m going to miss you,” Dan mumbled at some point with his face buried in Phil’s hair.

“Shush,” Phil muttered back, swatting at him, and then rolled them over so he could lie himself down on Dan’s warm, sturdy chest. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to hold Dan here, in his bed, and remember what it felt like to have another person in his flat.

He fell asleep soon after, but Dan remained awake, eyes hiding a shadow as he stroked his fingers through Phil’s hair.

In the morning, Phil woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled hastily on the back of an envelope and left on the bedside table. Car arrived. Didn’t want to wake you. There were a few scribbled out lines, and then, finally, Don’t break anything before I see you again. All my love – Dan.

Phil stared at it for a very long time, until his vision had blurred and his breathing sounded funny.

All my love – Dan.

He’d thought that word would terrify him. Phil still hadn’t said it, wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to without it feeling like some sort of lie. But he felt it. The emotion blossoming in his chest, constricting his heart until he thought it would burst – there was no denying what that was.

Phil blinked, hard, grabbed the note, screwed it against his chest, and flopped back into his pillows. Dan was apparently just as bad at goodbyes as Phil was, but Phil couldn’t help wishing Dan had at least woken him up. Just to have one last hug.

But would Phil really have been able to let go?

Honestly, Phil wouldn’t put it past himself to just upend everything on a whim and head down to London with Dan, his PhD be damned. But that wasn’t the sensible, adult thing to do. Phil needed some thinking time, time to actually consider his own future and how best to keep Dan in it. Maybe he did need space to do that.

But no amount of rationalising would stop the hollow ache in his heart when he rolled over to find the other half of the bed empty.

Phil bit his lower lip, glanced down at the note still squished between his fingers, and then tucked it securely under his pillow. He’d leave it there, he decided, until Dan was back with him again.

They wouldn’t leave it too long. Phil didn’t think he could cope.

But for now, he had work in a few hours and a thesis to finish, so after a few minutes more of moping, Phil forced himself out of the bed for day number one without Dan.

A/N: A note before you go: (incredibly) this fic is up for several phanfic awards (thank you so so much to anyone who nominated me, I couldn’t believe it!!) so if you’re interested in the awards and want info on how to vote check out this post here

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