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pndnj · 3 years

Text

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend.

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41- 1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec, get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone, it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor, cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all, I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker, i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun, seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some, get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice, i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon, this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

#zayn #yellowmetal #cathartic #feel free to correct me pls #cathartic lyrics

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chenziee · 4 years

Text

There are sparks between us

First one for this batch of requests! (I really should stop pretending they’re going to be “drabbles”, I haven’t written a single one that could pass for a drabble)

Thank you so much @detective1412d for the prompt! This... might not be what you had in mind but I hope you like it! <33 (I absolutely love your username btw, just needed you to know that)

Requests are still open, please refer to this post for more info :)

[Read on AO3 or under the cut]

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Even when he was only just nearing the little house where he and the Straw Hats had taken shelter after the battle with Doflamingo, Law could tell it was noisy. That could only mean that Straw Hat was finally awake and a wave a relief washed over him. It wasn’t like Straw Hat sleeping the past few days away was unexpected after the strain on his body, and Law had checked his condition regularly to make sure everything was alright, but hearing his laughter was still a weight off of his shoulders.

He could do without the noise but he supposed that was just a part of the package with these pirates and their captain. Just couldn’t do the simplest of things quietly.

Law was surprised at the chuckle that had escaped him at the thought. When did he become so… fond of these people? He quickly wiped the smile off of his face, schooling his expression back to neutral as he reached out to open the door.

“Torao!” Straw Hat greeted him immediately. “Where did you go?”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Law was surprised to no find the other Straw Hats or the samurai sitting at the at the table but instead, Fire Fist Ace and the revolutionary army chief of staff were there with Straw Hat himself. What he wasn’t surprised about, however, was seeing his fellow pirate captain stuffing his face with food, his head barely visible behind the mountain in front of him. At least he swallowed his food before he tried to talk to Law.

“Just checking on the marines,” Law replied, leaning Kikoku against the wall and pushing his hood away from his face.

“Boring,” Straw Hat said in response.

“Someone has to do it since you people don’t seem to give a damn,” Law noted, raising a challenging eyebrow but Straw Hat only stuck his tongue out at him, making Law huff out a small laugh.

“The navy can suck it,” Fire Fist said as he stole a chicken leg right from under Straw Hat’s fingers, earning himself loud protests from his younger brother. A second later, a pipe came to land against the side of Ace’s head. The man clicked his tongue and dropped the chicken back on the pile with a huge pout.

Sabo smiled in approval, then finally reacted to Ace’s words, “Yeah, they don’t seem all too eager to catch us anyway.”

“That’s because gambler old man isn’t a bad guy,” Straw Hat said, nodding seriously to himself as he grabbed the chicken leg that Ace had tried to steal.

As if that made any difference. “He’s still an admiral. They’re going to move sooner or later,” Law sighed, ruffing Straw Hats hair on his way to grab some water.

The other pirate only snickered, letting his head fall so far back that Law’s neck hurt at the sight. “But Torao, it’s not like we can’t beat them.”

Before Law could say anything, Sabo interrupted him, “You’re not fighting an admiral, Luffy. Not now when you’re still recovering.”

“Exactly, Luffy. I’m the one who’s going to fight him,” Ace agreed in a grave voice.

“Neither of you is fighting the admiral!” Sabo snapped, and Law was glad at least one of these brothers seemed to be remotely sane.

Is what he thought at least, before Luffy whined, “Not fair, you already fought him, Sabo!”

His words were closely followed by Ace rolling his eyes and huffing, “You just want to fight him yourself.”

“What can I say, it’s my job to pick fights with the government,” Sabo said with a grin, shrugging as if what he had said made perfect sense.

Law sighed. How and why did he get involved with these people? “How about no one is fighting the admiral,” he said, voice perfectly flat as he shot them all a glare.

“You’re no fun.” Straw Hat announced, sounding as sulky as Law had ever hear him and looking back at Law with a huge pout on his lips.

Law felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. How was this idiot so cute? Moving away from the counter, Law took the two steps that separated them and leaned down, briefly pressing his lips to Luffy’s. It was just a quick peck, but only when the soft touch of skin sent jolts down his spine, making his heartbeat speed up like crazy, did Law realize what he had just done. He kissed Luffy.

He kissed Luffy.

They barely even had time to talk about this… thing between them—really only had a minute in the middle of the battle, back on the roof while Luffy’s haki recovered—just enough for some hurried confessions. Luffy was asleep the entire time after and Law wasn’t even entirely sure he felt the same way.

He was honestly starting to panic a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, Law finally stood up straight, moving as if on autopilot to drop into the last available chair at the table. Not like he could do much about it now except try to play it cool, after all. Especially when the silence suddenly hanging over the room was getting unbearable. He hoped his expression wasn’t betraying the battle that was raging in his mind but hell, he couldn’t even look anyone of them in the face. Mostly, he just didn’t want to know what expression Luffy was wearing right then so he only focused on the mug in his hands, taking a long sip of his water just to have an excuse to close his eyes.

He was brought back to reality when he felt something warm touch his cheek and his eyes shot open. It took him a second to realize what just happened. That Luffy had kissed him back. When he turned to look to the side, he came face to face with that bright, wide grin and he didn't bother stopping the small, soft smile that pulled on his own lips right then; the warm feeling in his chest and his stomach, the ghost of Luffy's touch on his lips and cheek… It was too much, too impossible to fight.

Plus, he didn't want to fight it anyway. Luffy reciprocating his feelings made him feel light, made him feel safe, made him happy, and Law was done running away from things that made him happy just because he was too scared to lose them.

He wasn't going to lose this one thing even if it killed him.

Suddenly, the comfortable warmth Law was feeling disappeared, only to be replaced by the unbearable heat coming from the wall of fire in his face. Law jerked back on reflex, nearly falling off of his chair in the process.

“Ace, stop!” came Luffy’s voice from somewhere on the other side of the fiery wall.

Law as well turned to look at him questioningly; the only possible suspect was glaring right back at him, an unspeakable fury written all over his face while his entire right arm was engulfed in flames. Even his hair was on fire.

“You touch my little brother again and I will burn your face off,” Ace growled, making the wall grow even larger to prove his point.

Law rolled his eyes. Talk about an overreaction.

Sabo’s hand landed on Ace’s shoulder a moment later. “Calm down, Ace, or you’re going to burn down the house,” he said, voice sounding soothing.

Law almost thanked him, but when he looked at the revolutionary’s face, there was a cold smile there and that was honestly a lot more terrifying than whatever Ace was show him.

“Just leave it to me, I’ll crush his head like an egg for robbing Luffy of his first kiss,” the man added, his hand already coated in Armament haki.

As if Law was about to stick around for that.

With a sigh, Law coated his own arm in haki and reached through the flames to grab at Straw Hat. “Shambles,” he said lazily and immediately, the two of them found themselves on the roof, the two enraged screams only a muffled echo from down below.

“Your power is always so cool,” Straw Hat breathed as soon as he found his footing after the sudden change of scenery.

“Thanks,” Law replied with a chuckle at the stars that were dancing in Luffy’s eyes. He was seriously too cute. However, his amusement soon died down when he remembered what Sabo had said and he frowned, his gaze turning to quizzical. “Was that really your first kiss?” he asked slowly.

Straw Hat cocked his head to the side, a confused expression finding its way on his face. “Yeah?”

A feeling of dread and shame washed over Law. He really fucked up there, didn’t he? “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as he could.

“Why?”

Law paused, staring blankly at the honest, bemused frown on Luffy’s face that accompanied the simple question. Did he seriously not understand why Law was apologizing?

“For stealing your first kiss?” he tried, gesturing vaguely between them. “And without asking,” he added, making a face at his own stupidity. Why didn’t he realize what he was about to do until after it happened?

“Why?” Straw Hat asked again, pausing for a second before continuing, “I mean, it’s not a big deal, right? I don’t know why Ace and Sabo reacted like that. And I like you and I liked it so it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Law blinked. Luffy wasn’t wrong but it… sounded a little too simple. Looking into Luffy’s eyes, Law couldn’t see any hint of uncertainty or any sign that he didn’t mean every single word he had said and out of nowhere, Law felt like he was the stupid one.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, suddenly feeling so light and calm. Maybe he really shouldn’t be thinking too hard about things, especially where this idiot was concerned. It wasn’t like he bothered to think anything through, after all.

With a crooked smile still on his face, Law leaned forward, his fingers gently brushing Luffy’s cheek before they buried in his soft hair. He ignored the shouts of his name and death threats coming from the two brothers who were now running all around the house looking for them, only focusing on the grin on Luffy’s face and the warmth of his gaze. “Then I better do it more often,” he whispered only a second before their lips connected once more.

The kiss was slower this time, soft and innocent and making those damn butterflies in Law’s stomach go crazy. He really was so gone for this man. He couldn’t help but remember the time after they had left the auction house on Sabaody two years ago, the one where he met Luffy for the first time. After all was said and done, Shachi had looked at him with this stupid grin on his face and called Law smitten.

Law had just rolled his eyes and told him not to be an idiot but he wondered, if the same conversation happened now, whether he would be able to say anything against the accusation. Hell, maybe Shachi was right even then. Maybe Law was taken in by his brightness, the life he was radiating, and his reckless willingness to fight the entire world for the people he cared about. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to him ever since they first met.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, both out of breath and with smiles on their faces, and Law thought to himself that it might have been unavoidable. Unavoidable for Luffy to save him, both metaphorically and literally, for Law to fall in love, for the two of them being here, kissing on the roof while Luffy’s brothers went through several stages of mental breakdown below them.

And Law would go through everything that had happened in the past week all over again just for this moment.

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

housemates with shiratorizawa

helloo!! new headcanon series here hehe. i hope you like this very long set of headcanons!

how you ended up in a house with these guys:

they're such a tight-knit bunch considering the fact that they've been living in a dormitory throughout high school

it was probs semi or kawanishi who suggested getting an extra roommate to help with the rent (tendou and goshiki are accident prone they need someone to help pay for repairs)

so ushijima made and put up an ad for an extra housemate. although he didn't disclose the fact that you'd be rooming with 7 other dudes

you were kind of desperate for some housing at this point so you just went with it

the person who greets you at the door is shirabu. but its more like he saw you, your bag, and went back inside the house leaving the door open

you stood there for a whole ten minutes before kawanishi came up to invite you inside

you're instantly greeted by goshiki and semi cleaning the house like crazy. semi was punching a couch cushion so that it looked an extra soft pillow

tbh the only normal you see are ushijima and reon. they're probs the ones who interviewed you to see if you were a good fit as their housemate

despite how weird your first impressions of some of your housemates were, you were still keen to move in

and then that's when tendou decided to come home from the pet shop with an iguana

living there:

you're roommate ends up being shirabu because no one else wanted to room with him (jk they all drew straws and he was lucky)

he's a pretty good roommate: clean, keeps to himself, doesn't play music too loudly

except the fact that he ALWAYS HOGS THE UPSTAIRS BATHROOM

the bathroom might as well just be his because it's FULL of beauty products. also shirabu takes a million years to get ready that at this point, everyone uses the downstairs bathroom

lmao y'all get your revenge tho by using some of shirabu's products when he's gone

its particularly you, semi, tendo, and kawanishi who like to do that

kawanishi: *walks past shirabu*

shirabu: bitch, did you use my fucking Splash of Pomegranate with Exfoliating Sesame Seeds: Rainforest of the Sun Bath and Body Works shower gel?

kawanishi:...no?

semi and reon are both roommates and are probably the most normal people in the house which is saying something

also idk why i feel like they both have a thing for scented candles but they're too shy to tell anyone

like,,, they have a closet full of scented candles and everything

reon: hey, want me to light up Spring Lake or Summer's Kiss?

semi: Summer's Kiss all the way

that's why they always keep their door locked and whenever someone knocks, they quickly snuff out the candle and fan the smoke out of the windows

you: whoa, why does it smell so nice here?

semi: ...air freshener

is kawanishi the only sane, normal person in the house? yeah, probably

he's the one who remembers to get groceries and buy toilet paper and shit and he's so happy he has you to help him out

the thing is though, he's a NOTORIOUS prankster. like, nobody suspects him because they assume its tendou who put packets of ketchup under the toilet seat but no, it was kawanishi

but his favorite person to mess with is his roommate: goshiki

okay goshiki is a Heavy Sleeper and one night you and kawanishi decided to draw criss-cross stocking marks on his legs with permanent marker

goshiki is an alright housemate. he's polite, does his assigned chores, rarely gets into your privacy

but oh my god every morning at 5 am he wakes up the entire house BY BLENDING PROTEIN SHAKES

you and shirabu considered soundproofing your room or chaining goshiki to his bed

ONE OF THE HOUSE'S GREATEST MYSTERIES: how does goshiki cut his hair?

tendou knows you've been dying to know why so one day he's all 'do you really wanna know?' and you're like 'HECC YEAH' and he takes your arm and brings you to goshiki's room

in there you find him with a bowl on his head and cutting along the rim with his scissors

shirabu is also with him but he has a ruler for his bangs

its the only time they ever get along

tendou and ushijima has hands-down the most chaotic room set-up

for one, half of it, ushijima's half, looks like a traditional japanese house

you know that scene in BNHA where todoroki was showing off his room? yes that one

y'all are like 'how was he able to bring tatami mats in his room?'

and then tendou's half looks like a weird-ass storage room complete with an iguana tank (yes he kept it)

tendou probs has those color-changing lights too

and the funny part about it is that both ushijima and tendou are completely okay with the set-up

also tendou has the most irregular schedule ever. like,,, circadian rhythms just wasn't installed in the being that is Tendou Satori

like,, he'll be making mac and cheese at 3 am and just enter your room asking if you want anything

you: WHY WOULD I WANT MAC AND CHEESE AT 3 AM???

shirabu, who's still awake because he's a med student: i'll have some

ushijima on the other hand has such a set schedule and daily routine. he's the definition of 'working like clockwork'

you guys even use him as your clock because why not?

you: guys what time is it?

reon: ushijima just left for his morning run so probably 7am

the only thing is that ushijima,,, generally doesn't cook??

and by that he likes to eat raw vegetables. no seasoning, no nothing

and he always offers to make people snacks and he does it so sincerely that you can't help but accept his snacks

*insert scene of you eating raw carrots at 11 pm while studying*

house incident: everyone being a closeted fan of Naruto

everyone in shiratorizawa is a closeted naruto fan (except for a few but we’ll be discussing) and no i don’t accept criticism on this

goshiki MAY have rock lee’s signature bowl cut and sometimes walks around the house in leg weights but he doesn’t say who he copies them from outright

but EVERYONE ELSE

you started having your suspicions when you walked into semi and reon’s room looking for a pencil and found semi sitting in bed with a pile of tissues around him and his laptop on his lap

you guys stare at each other for a while and semi just quickly yells “I WAS WATCHING PORN”

you: I DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE WATCHING

my boy semi was actually crying to that part in naruto when zabuza and haku died

his roommate reon on the other hand has a secret tattoo

it’s a sharingan tattoo and its on his back, just between his shoulder blades, which is why he doesn’t go around shirtless (his favorite character is itachi don’t @ me)

reon probably owns an akatsuki cloak too

kawanishi has an ENTIRE playlist of the naruto opening and ending tracks that he got from youtube and converted into mp3 format on youtube mp3 converter which he then downloaded and organized into a playlist with the album art when he was thirteen

sometimes you’ll hear him whistling Ikimono Gakari and everyone in the house is all 👂👂👂

tendou is the only one not lowkey about it but he’s not lowkey about anything he likes

and then one day you and tendou are in the kitchen and ushijima decides to watch tv while eating breakfast

while flipping through the channels he comes across the rock lee vs. gaara fight and he just decides to watch while eating

tendou’s like ‘wakatoshi? do you,,, like naruto?’

ushijima: is this naruto? it looks pretty cool

AND THEN YOU AND TENDOU JUST AMBUSH HIM AND GO INTO A TED TALK ABOUT HOW AWESOME NARUTO IS

while you’re busy ranting about it, semi, goshiki, and reon, who recognize the unmistakable Sounds of Naruto, creep downstairs

semi: oh, cool. it’s naruto

reon: yeah, used to watch it when i was a kid

goshiki: hmm, seems like an alright show

and then USHIJIMA LOOKS AT GOSHIKI AND THEN AT ROCK LEE AND JUST GOES

‘hey, you remind me of that guy’

AND GOSHIKI ALMOST CRIES

reon and semi end up sitting on the couch, trying to hold in their middle-school selves while watching

and then kawanishi comes in and he’s just like OH MY GOD NARUTO!!

now almost everyone in the house is watching. at that part when rock lee drops his weights reon and semi jump off the couch and cheer

they can’t hold themselves back anymore

last but not the least, shirabu, who came back from class, walks into the living room to find all of his housemates cheering and crying in front of the TV that’s playing naruto

shirabu: omg u guys are lame

goshiki, sobbing: WE’RE NOT LAME IF WE FOLLOW OUR NINJA WAY

shirabu: welL, OBVIOUSLY THE BEST FIGHT SCENE IS WHEN NARUTO AND ROCK LEE GO AGAINST KIMIMARO YOU UNCULTURED FUCKS

and then he runs up to his room before coming down with THE FULL BLU-RAY DISC SET OF NARUTO ALL THE WAY UNTIL SHIPPUDEN

basically you guys end up watching naruto all day and semi finally admitted that he wasn’t watching porn the day you came into his room

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella

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riverdalenerdlol · 4 years

Note

Listen! I really like you as a person and I am Barchie stan but respect you a lot but please stop doing this. It’s Barchie in the shower. You’re giving false hopes to the people here. They’re already depressed because bughead breakup and you’re giving them false hopes. Also, bughead weren’t meant to be for this long. It’s always been Betty and Archie. If Betty had no feelings for Archie or still had feelings for Jughead then she wouldn’t go and date Archie. Think about it Liz. You’re better than other bughead stans

Okay okay... waaaaait a minute. I’m better than other Bughead stans? Like I’m not some kooked out weirdo that just grasps at straws on Twitter and I definitely don’t get half the B/A anons that some of my mutuals do, but that doesn’t necessarily make me better than other Bughead fans.

And TBH I did put out the disclaimer that I could totally be wrong at the end and if I am, I’m sane enough to admit it. You say it’s B/A in the shower like you know it’s B/A in the shower. There’s confidence there. There was confidence in my statements too, but there was also, like, physical evidence. Sure, it’s extremely difficult to see who tf Betty’s showering with WHICH IS WHY I SAID I COULD BE WRONG. I very well could be wrong. I’m wrong a lot of the time, especially in real life.

I’m not saying you’re wrong either because the shower could really be a toss-up and I’m mature enough to admit that. This is just a theory. Which means it’s not necessarily right. And though I do believe that it is Bughead in that shower, nobody fuckin knows yet.

I really did think about this. I thought about it for a while (not like hours on end bc I’m not insane). I think it makes sense, but who knows tbh.

(Also, housekeeping note, if you’re gonna approach me on anon please don’t call me Liz. It’s become a very personal nickname since last July and I really save it for close friends. I don’t really like strangers calling me that. You can call me Elizabeth though - I’m not opposed to that. Thanks.)

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allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup · 4 years

Text

Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing).

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it.

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma. He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.” Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly. She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. ��My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“When?” She whispers.

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am.

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“We don’t.”

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph.

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

“Killian...”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

So they stay in love.

-/-

#kenya writes #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #one shot #love is fiction #love is history #honestly #i forgot how to tag #I forgot everything #but I really plan on writing again #and I need to put myself out there #300 notes is a lot #oh this is definitely not beta'd #I own like ALL the mistakes and you know what #this might be one big mistake

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headoverhiddles · 5 years

Text

Little Pistol - Ron Tully x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You travel to Stockton for a conjugal visit with Tully. The two of you have been apart too long for formalities.

Notes: This was a request! As per my usual disclaimer, I don’t condone Tully’s ideology, this is his character, minus that!

Gif used belongs to stilinski-ortiz-dolan!

Tully had been on the boards for a visit for six months. There are a lot of things he can bribe the guards for, like rooms to talk business with his guys, private lines on the phone, and a general prison-wide acceptance that no one would fuck with him unless it really was the law. What he can't bribe anyone for though, is a wait bypass for a conjugal visit. His name is on the list like the rest of them, and even though he'd pay a pretty penny to see you monthly, it's just not something he can do.

Now, having waited quite a bit of time, Tully's "good behavior" had paid off. The next day was his visit with you, which would last a day.

"You seem happy," the guy behind him in the communal washrooms mentions. No one talks to Tully much, for fear of what he’d do to them if he wasn’t in the mood, but this guy was the prison idiot, and Tully didn’t mind his chatter now and then. The taller man is washing his face in the sink, shaving his growing facial hair a little and trimming his hair.

"I am."

The guy smirks. "Can I ask why?"

Tully drags the plastic razor down his chin, inspecting himself. He didn't want to shave it too close, since you always said you liked his stubble... liked the way it felt between your thighs. Tully's small smile grows a little, and he dunks the razor in water. It had cost him a couple fifties to be allowed to clean up a little with actually helpful instruments of hygiene this morning.

"I'm seeing my girl tonight." He gestures to his things, and the guy goes over, finding a polaroid of you in a black bra and panties, posing on top of Tully's bike.

"Shit. With a body like that, what makes you think she's still your girl?" the guy chuckles. Tully doesn’t dignify the man with a look.

"It’s not like that." He takes some scissors from his sleeve, trimming his black hair close to his temple. "I know she'd die for me. And I'd die protecting her." The guy's still staring at the polaroid of you when Tully's done his haircut. "Alright, put it the fuck down, or I'mma have you stabbed."

He takes the photo, and feels himself stir already. His eyes run over your perfect tits, down your legs, to the thin black fabric covering that pussy he knows so well. He sets the photo that he’d touched himself to many times by the mirror, and checks his reflection. He'd never really considered himself to be handsome, which is why he became powerful instead, but you seemed to think he was the sexiest man alive. He didn't mind that.

"Lucky you get a visit," the guy mutters.

"I almost didn't. See, you're not supposed to get visits from anyone outside of family. Technically, I haven't married (y/n) yet. But, I pulled some strings. 'S what I do."

"Mm. I don't have any girlfriends or anything. Last visit I got was my mom, back in '07. Got banned til the end of my sentence cause my mom tried to plant weed on me. Guess she likes the quiet around the house."

Tully, not really listening, grunts in response. He then does up another button on his blue shirt, and looks down at the picture again, really studying it. He remembers the way you screamed his name while he fucked you over that motorcycle. He takes it as a personal challenge to raise even more hell tonight.

---

You sit in the diner in Stockton, California. You'd traveled up here with a few of the guys who work for your boyfriend, since they had to do some work anyway, smooth some shit out before Tully caught wind of it and had their heads. They knew to take good care of you, or they'd pay for that with their life too. You yourself are about to go see Tully, and you can't wait. It had been so long.

Dressed in a little white crop top, a short black skirt, and sunglasses, you're feeling your best. You know ever since he got the news he’d been scheduled for a conjugal, Tully's probably had tonight in mind day and night, and what you wear won't alter the fact that he's going to give you the best pounding you've ever taken. But you want to wow him too. He hasn't seen you for the better part of a year, after all, and to get a real good reaction out of him, you need the element of surprise.

"Want another milkshake, hun?" a kind, older waitress with smile lines and grey hair asks. You smile back.

"Love one."

You tap your nails on the table, watching out the window at the people walking by in the heat. You're used to living in Southern California, since Tully's the shot caller and doesn't go out on rides, but he conducts business up here in the northern part of the state sometimes. Liaisons, stuff like that. The county jail he does his time in is unfortunately pretty far away from the reclusive home you two share in San Diego. Still, you keep busy and make do while he's gone, keep an eye on how things are run in his absence. It's what you have to do to stay sane.

"Don’t mean to bother you. But can I ask what your tattoos mean?" the waitress asks, sliding you another of your favorite flavor of milkshake.

You glance down at your knuckles, which have T U L L Y tattooed across them, a letter per finger.

"My man," you say wistfully.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, noticing the sorrow in your eyes, "Did he pass away?"

"No," you smile, "He's just away right now, doing time."

"Shit, no kidding. My husband's been in for two years now, serving another five. Kills me every day."

You move your stuff to one side of the table. "Sit, if you want." The lady checks her watch, and sits across from you. "I hate it," you confess, "It's the worst. It's the life I chose to get involved in, but it's rough when it actually comes back to hit you at night, when you don't have their arms around you."

"I know just what you mean, hun. Probably shouldn't be saying this, but... my husband is an arms dealer, works in the gun trade. Under the table deals out in San Pedro, all that."

"My Tully's a shot caller," you say, not elaborating any further on his gang or who he's affiliated with. This lady seems nice, but you're never sure who could be an undercover cop, or the wife of a rival gang member.

"You're visiting him, then?" she asks.

"Yes. Tonight."

"Baby, you have the time of your life tonight, you hear me?"

"Oh, you know I will," you giggle, "When he hasn't seen me for a while, things get very physical."

"I can imagine." She winks.

You hand her a Polaroid you've got in your leather jacket pocket; Tully's got the other one from this day. In this one, you're dressed in black panties and a black bra, and you're sitting on Tully's lap, straddling him. The photo shows the backside of you, showing off your backside, and Tully has got his face looking over your shoulder, glaring darkly as his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass. It's a photo of the two of you that never fails to turn you on, especially recalling how hard he fucked you over his bike after this picture was taken.

You sigh, twirling the straw. "He's my ride or die... and I'm his forever girl."

Finally, it comes time for the guards to collect Tully. They know exactly what he's going to do to you, as they're the ones who have had to listen to Tully groan your name every morning and night whenever he gets the urge.

“This has been a long time coming,” one guard sighs.

"Just don't make too much noise," the other guard pleads. Tully glances at him.

"I don't remember payin’ you off to tell me how to fuck my girlfriend."

The guy concedes, keeping his mouth shut. They let him into the room, far away from the others and the best money can buy (he at least had some sphere of influence in this department), and they go to close the door.

"She'll be in in a minute." Tully undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, and waits.

---

You get a pat down in the lobby of the conjugal area. They take out a gold switchblade and a couple of metal rings, leaving your pockets empty. Then you're ready to go in. The guards let you in, and you see Tully sitting on the bed. He looks up.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," you grin. One of the guards steps in.

"24 hours, Tully. Make it count." He shuts the door after himself, locking it, and you look around. It's almost like a normal home-- there's a mini fridge, a bed, a TV, and a living area.

"I missed you," you say, and walk over to him. He accepts you into his lap, and you cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

"So did I," he murmurs against your lips. "You doing good? Looking after the boys, making sure they're doing their jobs?" You nod. "Good. They're a bunch of jokes when I'm not around."

"Well, now that nobody's around... am I correct in thinking you wouldn’t say no to a strip tease?" you ask, snapping the strap on your bra underneath your shirt.

"Yeah," he nods, sitting back on the couch. You slowly take your shirt up over your head, watching as his eyes fall down to admire your breasts.

"You like that?" you murmur, bunching your hair up a little as you slide your fingers downward.

"Thought of me while you did that the last few months?"

"Nuh uh," you grin, "Trying to trick me? I know I can only cum when you tell me to."

"That's right," he smiles fondly, watching your hips swing back and forth. You finally rub the finger between your legs, and get on the edge of the bed, pulling your panties to one side. You hear the low hitch in Tully's breath, and you sink your fingers into yourself, loving the feel but craving the stretch of your boyfriend.

You dip your fingers in again, lips parting as you moan. "Gonna join in?"

"Right now I'm just going to sit here and watch, babygirl. Seeing you do it in person is a nice change. Your moans are fuckin’ beautiful, but a visual always helps." He gives one of his dark smirks, and sits there, watching. You feel the heat rise even more as his eyes travel, your skin heating up just knowing he’s appreciating the show you’re putting on. You let his name escape your lips with a sigh. "My beautiful little slutty girl," he murmurs, and unzips his pants as you watch in feverish arousal. He takes his cock out, and starts to pump it slowly in his hand while you watch, shoving your fingers deeper. Your eyes are trained on his fist, where it's jerking up and down. He lifts his chin.

"Look at that," he starts to stroke a little faster, "All you, baby." You flip over, not reaching enough depth in this position, and sit on your fingers, letting them disappear deeper into your pussy. Tully sits forward, intense gaze trained, unblinking, on where your hips are slamming down. "You're so fucking hot," he whispers.

"Yeah?" You ride your fingers harder, "You like that? You like that, baby?"

"S good, sweetheart." He moans, squeezing himself. "Fuckin' tease."

"Get over here and pound me then," you say, licking your lips obscenely. He finally stands, and grabs you by your hair. You groan as he drags you over to the bed, where he shoves you down onto the soon-to-be-destroyed mattress.

"You wanna feel daddy's cock?" he asks, and you crawl forward, stroking up the length of it. He lets you for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your hands on his dick again, but eventually urges you off again. He crawls onto the bed between your legs, and pushes your thighs far apart, exposing your soaking pussy to him.

"This is all mine," he whispers, "You know this cunt belongs to me." He hums. “I own a lotta things, and this here’s one of em.”

"Yeah, daddy," you breathe, and he seals his lips over you, upper lip teasing your clit while his tongue dips in and out of you. Fuck. One thing among many that can be said about Tully, is he knows how to eat you out spectacularly.

"That's good, that's good," you start chanting, "Please... sir, please..."

He groans, and the vibrations make your clit throb. "Imma take good care of you, babygirl, don't you worry," he assures softly, eyes glowering up from between your legs, "Take good care of my girl. She deserves it. Deserves gettin’ fucked good too. Don't you?"

"Yeah..." you whine.

"You've been a real good girl, waiting for daddy. Only cumming when he's talking to you on the phone. You know the rules."

"Daddy," you gasp, feeling your orgasm build, "I-I have a confession." Your voice sounds so small, and your tone is airy in your breathless state.

"Mmm? Tell me, sweetheart."

"You won't be mad?"

"That depends." He strokes soothing hands up your calves, and you shudder, flashes of his punishments running through your head.

"I was... in the jacuzzi with the girls the other night. I was thinking of you, and... thinking of what you'd do if you were there. I was wearing your favorite bikini. The one that's translucent, so you can see my nipples?"

"Mmhmmm."

"And..." You wiggle your hips, chasing your release at the mercy of Tully's tongue. "And I... well, the jets just felt so good, I... mmm!"

"Tell daddy," he encourages with a growl.

"I let the pressure make me cum in my swimsuit, imagining it was you." You let out a moan as his tongue licks a stripe up from the base to the tip of your clit.

He hums. "It's okay. It’s okay. I understand. Some things just can't be helped. I know you tried." You exhale, uncomfortable waves of arousal washing over you. You wish he'd fill you up. "I'm proud of you, you know." You look down at him again. "You're so brave. I'm in here, you're all alone. I wish I could be there for you, remind you every day why you'll always be mine."

"You are there for me. When you can be. You bribe the guards with your hard earned cash to get ten minutes on a call with me, to check in, make sure I’m alright. You're in here getting shit done, and I’m running things at home. It’s how we do it."

"Mmyeah. But I'd much rather be back in the game than calling the shots in here. In a perfect world, nothing would stand between us. Two of us against the world."

"Together as one," you smile, arching your back.

Tully shares your smile, as he presses soft kisses all the way up to just barely graze your cunt again. "Against all others." He nips at the dip in your hipbone. "Mm. Babygirl, when I'm out, I'mma do this... every night. That’s a motherfuckin’ promise."

You grind your hips toward his mouth, and he holds them down firmly against the mattress as he launches a proper maneuver on your clit, making you cum in seconds. You ride it out, hands fisting in his hair. He crawls over top of you, staring down at you like he's about to devour you. You don’t doubt that he is.

You part your legs even more, and he picks them up, throwing them over his shoulder and holding your hips up. He guides himself to line up with your dripping cunt, and pushes into you easily with a low grunt, your first orgasm having slicked you up perfectly. Each following thrust is harder than the previous; Tully isn't wasting time. Already sensitive, you feel the second orgasm building. Desperate, you run your hand through your hair, getting it out of your face.

"I need it, fuck Tully, I need your cock!" you practically shout, and his grunts increase in volume as he dedicates all his energy to making sure he uses you properly. "Fill me up with your cum, daddy?" you ask innocently.

"Oh, you know I will."

"Fucking do it then."

"You’re a mouthy one, sweetheart," he moans, and he throws his head back, biting his bottom lip hard. “You test me.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it... cuz I love you so fucking much... ohhff, shit...”

“Look at me when you cum?” you gasp breathlessly. He obliges, jet black hair hanging and jolting with his tattooed body as he puts all his weight behind fucking you as deep as he can. He looks you in your eyes as your own eyelids droop in desire, and he gasps your name as you both reach your peaks together.

You hum softly in contentment, and climb on top of his larger frame, laying on his chest. He puts an arm over you, body rising and falling with labored breath.

"What do you want to do now?" you tease. He looks down at you, brushing your matted hair aside affectionately.

"We still got 23 hours left. You do the math."

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simpingforthehunt · 4 years

Text

(Ruth 1:16)

I really love weddings and miss them so much. We had a Zoom wedding this year but it wasn't the same and I absolutely did get indirectly called out for wearing pyjamas (I'm not about to put on a Saree just to sit around in my own house, I'd rather be able to have an easier time peeing). This episode was so cute, but at the same time it's when the tears started and then from there don't stop for the remainder of the season. It also does kinda give me the wedding fix I need XD

Masterlist

Warnings:

Antisemitism (obviously), Spoilers for the show

Characters:

Jonah - Dude was voluntold to recite the Birkat Kohanim and honestly??? Mood. When he butchered it and then salvaged it with another prayer in honour of Ruth it went from second hand embarrassment to being really heartwarming. When Ruth appeared and recited it with Jonah, and then kissed him on the cheek? I cried. He’s been through so much, and the wedding finally gave him a sense of community in the Jewish community that Ruth always wanted Jonah to have.

Harriet - Harriet was maybe around 10? During the Holocaust and her father sent her off to be safe. We learn that Rebekah is the name she was given at birth, and as far as we know she doesn’t even know if her Dad is alive or dead. She grew up in a convent since then, and went by the name we know her as. I really love her story arc, and can’t wait to see it unfold in season 2.

Murray - In this episode, we see that both Murray and Mindy are affected by Aaron’s death, but it seems to have affected Murray the most. Especially during the wedding, it is evident that Murray is sad because that wedding was supposed to be Aaron’s rather than Amy’s. The worst pain is the death of your child, because your kids are supposed to outlive you. I can’t imagine what both of them have been going through, but it’s been really hard to watch. My heart shattered when Aaron said he wanted to visit the garden he painted with his parents.

Millie - The last thing Millie wants to do is grasp at straws, and without the evidence that the dude gave her it seems that way. When bringing it to Grimsby, you see that he gets a little ~over~ defensive over it which is a little sus. The Reich mentioned they have people in the FBI, and it becomes more clear that it’s Grimsby as time goes on. Especially benching Millie, because she’s too smart for her own good. As well, I feel so bad for Millie because she didn’t want to break up with Maria, but for the sake of the nurse’s safety she had to.

Tobias - Portrayed by Jonno Davies.

Tobias is annoying, but not nearly as creepy as Travis. He’s ruled by emotion and lets his anger feed his hatred. He’s very impulsive and would rather get the job done right away. In this episode in particular, you see that he'd rather risk getting shot by armed guards just to kill Meyer, when that isn’t a smart move. His emotions get in the way of figuring out when it’s not the right time to act.

Travis - Travis is very opposite of Tobias. He’s creepy, unsettling, and very motivated. He’s ruled by logic, and lets his hatred simmer as he gets the job done. As well, he’s not completely sane which adds to his muder streak. Travis is a very talented liar, blaming the death of Tobias’s brothers on Meyer. When they’re outside the synagogue, Travis knows that it’s not the right time to do anything. He’s perceptive and studies his surroundings well, able to a feel of whether or not he has to retreat. As much as I hate him, I have to admit that he’s a well-written and well-acted character. Travis knows how to survive, and he knows how to win. I hope the Hunt figures out his patterns and finds his weakness, so that when he inevitably is released from prison they can take him down.

What I liked:

Jonah being voluntold to do the Prayer. That was very funny and very Jewish.

Cheeks and Jonah’s final interaction for the remainder of the season. It was very heartwarming, and I loved that Jonah told Cheeks that he loves him. I don’t hear a lot of guys who are smothered in ~toxic masculinity~ say that to their friends so it was just nice to see.

The fact that Cheeks is going to a Liberal Arts college. Most people I know that go to one were a theatre kid in high school. Thinking about it, it makes sense that Cheeks would be a theatre kid so now that’s forever a headcanon.

Seeing a side of Joe we don’t really get to see when he was visiting Eric. In that scene, you can tell they were best friends when they were in the Army together. Eric being the only one that was kind to Joe? And Joe mentioning that with a look of gratitude on his face? It hurt, but at the same time was heartwarming. I hope we see more of that in season 2 (when the save him of course)

They pretty much confirmed that Biff listens to Bubblegum Pop and that is So Funny

The transition between Harriet and her flashbacks were really satisfying and smooth

What I didn’t like:

Tobias. Need I say more?

Explaining things as best as I can:

Birkat Kohanim - known in rabbinic literature as raising of the hands. A hebrew prayer recited by the Hebrew Priests descended from Aaron.

Horah - a Jewish circle dance, typically to Hava Nagila. During Jewish weddings, the bride and groom are lifted up in chairs in the middle of the circle. This also happens during a B’Nai Mitzvah party to whoever’s B’Nai Mitzvah it was. During my Bat Mitzvah they forgot to set a chair nearby so they didn’t lift me up and I’m still salty about it.

#hunters amazon prime

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tonystarkissist · 5 years

Note

How about... tony is jealous of happys role in peters life?

Thank you very much for the prompt! I actually had a lot of fun with this one :D It’s been a while since I’ve written something so simple and short and it was actually pretty nice!

Word Count: 1879

It didn’t really bother Tony all that much at first. He saw it as more of a blessing than anything else that the kid had decided to subject Happy to his ramblings and elaborate voice messages instead of him. It kept his phone message free and his mind sane.

Though, as time passed by, the lack of direct communication just seemed to piss him off more and more.

It was like the kid deliberately took every possible alternative just to avoid speaking with him directly. Heck, the kid had his phone number… his phone number. He never even gave Steve his personal phone number. So, there was no valid excuse for the kid not to call him. Yet, the brat felt the need to make it difficult and relay all his messages to Tony through Happy. And, yeah, okay, Tony might be a bit more understanding if Happy didn’t have the forgetfulness of an elderly man suffering of Alzheimer’s, but he did, and it was quite literally like pulling teeth when he needed to pry information from the man.

“Hap, where’s Peter? You were supposed to drop him off here an hour ago.”

“Oh yeah… the kid’s real sick. He called me this morning and told me to tell you he couldn’t make it. Sorry, I forgot. The kid’s Aunt had me runnin’ all around town trying to find this special Tylenol medicine for him. Oh, by the way, the kid was wondering if you had any super meds leftover from Steve. He kept burning through that over the counter stuff in like 5-minutes.”

It even got to the point where Happy would simply just forward any voice messages he received from Peter straight to Tony because it was such a hassle for him to remember important things. Tony even told the kid that too, suggesting that just maybe he might consider calling his phone to give his after-patrol reports just to make things a little easier, but the kid grinned sheepishly at him and shrugged his shoulders with a simple “I don’t want to inconvenience you Mr. Stark.”

Tony, of course, had rolled his eyes and insisted there was no inconvenience at all. Still… the kid never called and he never texted. The only communication he received directly from the kid was their twice a week meetings in the lab after school got out.

Even then, Tony got the vibe that the kid wasn’t all that comfortable being around him. He refused anything Tony offered him and he wasn’t at all the rambling motormouth Happy made him out to be.

“Kid, you want something to eat?”

“No thank you Mr. Stark. Happy took me to Burger King after school. He even let me get a shake too!”

Tony wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. Jealous was a very strong word. And he wasn’t jealous.

And besides, there was no reason to feel jealous. He was Iron Man. An Avenger. A billionaire. The owner of a multibillion dollar company ran by his stunning fiance. He had no reason to be jealous of his hot-headed, grumpy, slightly delusional head of security who was oh-so desperately in need of a girlfriend. No reason.

Except, maybe he did feel a little prickle of green against his skin when he was reminded of the developing relationship between his mentee and good friend. It was inevitable, really. It should be expected they grow at least a little close. Happy picked him up from school twice a week. Drove him to the Tower and back. More often than not, the man stopped to grab food, per Tony’s instruction, so the boy could eat his fill. Heck, all the things Tony really knew about the kid were via the channel Happy Hogan.

“Y’know, the kid had braces a year ago. Has the retainer glued to the back of his teeth. The kid hates popcorn, ‘cause the kernels always get stuck.” The man had told him while Tony was trying to brainstorm bonding activities for him and the kid and got the idea for movies and popcorn…

“Yeah, the kid hates peppermint. He says it’s ‘cause of the Spider bite. Spiders hate peppermint.” Happy had told him when Tony started freaking out after the kid dashed out the penthouse, hacking and gagging all the way. It was near Christmas… and Pepper loved her Christmas candles.

“You sure about that Tony? The kid’s kinda paranoid when it comes to creepy crawlies.” Tony had learned when his resolve to bond led him to an idea involving spiders, behavior studies, and perhaps a little learning of Peter’s spider-like idiosyncrasies.

Tony liked the kid. He liked the kid a lot. One of best he’d ever met… and the kid obviously worshiped the ground he walked on. And every so often the kid’s shy, tentative exterior would break away and he’d be able to catch a glimpse of the snarky, fun-loving teen beneath it. But sometimes he wished he had more time to spend with him. Maybe then a level of trust and comfort could develop because at this point he felt very out of the loop when it came to important matters.

He was a busy man, he understood that. He understood that he couldn’t always be the one to run to his aid when he got into some trouble. That’s why he had Happy keeping an eye on him… He just wished the kid was more inclined to confide in him rather than the body-guard working under his payroll. Many times, he’d get a call from Happy in the middle of the night, half asleep and exhausted, to tell Tony the kid had found his way into some trouble again and he was requesting back up. It wasn’t that Tony minded the 2am wake up call… he just would have preferred listening to Peter’s voice instead of a grumpy old man’s with sleep apnea.

“Uh, Tony… the kid got hurt again. Just wanted to let you know… I’m bringing him to the med bay and he should be fixed up and back to business before you and Pepper get back from your trip.” Tony had listened to the message and immediately raced the suit back to New York, leaving a confused Pepper alone in their hotel room with a promise to return. And sure enough, as soon as he touched down on the landing pad and made it to the medical wing, Cho was already pulling out the IV from his arm and Happy was helping the kid stand. Tony remembered the exact moment the kid spotted him in the doorway. He was hoping for maybe a little surprise or excitement at his sudden appearance, but all he received was dread. “Mr. Stark,” he had said, “you didn’t have to come. I told Happy not to call you. It wasn’t a big deal.”

But the thing was that it was a big deal! A very big deal because the kid had been hurt and the kid hadn’t wanted him to know about it.

Tony eventually just waved it off with an excuse claiming the kid just hadn’t wanted to inconvenience him again. It didn’t mean anything. Happy was the most logical person to call since Tony was out of the country. It didn’t mean anything. The kid wasn’t picking favorites… so that meant he couldn’t be jealous since there was no reason to be jealous.

Then, one evening while Happy was driving him and Pepper back to the Tower after their date night, a realization hit him. He was tired. Pepper was tired. And they were both drunk off their asses from the champagne and whiskey. Tony doesn’t remember what he said, but he does remember the sharp laugh that emitted from the front of the car. Happy had laughed… he had never heard Happy laugh before. That sound alone broke his drunken, giggly trance with Pepper and he was staring at Happy suspiciously, suddenly concerned that his driver had been guzzling some drinks of his own while he wasn’t watching, but Happy had waved him off. “It’s nothing Boss. I just remembered some silly joke the kid had texted me the other day.” The kid had texted Happy a joke… not because he was hurt, or needed to be picked up…. He hadn’t told Happy a joke simply to fill the silence in the car as they rode together to the Tower, or ate burgers and drank shakes at a lousy table in Burger King. Nope… the kid had gone out of his way to share something with Happy. “He calls ‘em Memes. They’re actually pretty funny.”

Pepper wasn’t so happy with him that night. His feathers had officially been ruffled and he brooded the rest of the night. Pepper had called it pouting, but so what?! Peter had picked a favorite and it wasn’t him…

Despite his growing aversion to the sprouting relationship between Happy and the kid, he didn’t do anything to stop it. That is… until the last straw had been pulled when Happy tried taking a couple hours off.

“The kid’s got a science fair today. He asked me to come and watch since his Aunt had to work.”

Long story short, Happy wasn’t the only one that went to watch Peter win first place.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaked in surprise when Tony approached him, wearing a proud grin and eyeing the trophy in the kid’s hands. “What are- what are- what are you doin’ here?”

“Well, a little birdie told me about your science fair being today. I couldn’t miss out on that, could I? And really kid… really? You didn’t invite me? That one hurt. A stab to the back that was.”

Peter stammered out a long string of apologies and Tony clapped his shoulder with a lighthearted laugh, dusting off the trophy in Peter’s hands with the side of his index finger. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Now how about I take you out for some ice cream? I’ll break you outta this joint and we’ll have some fun.”

“Uh,” the kid’s eyes flickered over to Happy and Tony felt a small wave of jealousy rake over him. There he said it. He was jealous! He wanted the damn kid all to himself. He wanted to be the favorite. Was that so much to ask?

“Nope. Don’t look at him. Just you and me. It’s my turn.”

Peter’s face breaks out into a shy smile and Tony can barely hear his answer over the loud chattering of kids surrounding them. “Uh, yeah… that would… I think that would be kinda nice.”

“Great,” Tony grins, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders to pull him closer. “I got the feeling that this is the start of something wonderful kid. Let’s go all out, huh? Ice cream, then back to the Tower for pizza, movies, and some more ice cream. We can watch Star Wars.”

Tony didn’t think it was possible, but the kid’s smile grows even wider. “That sounds awesome Mr. Stark.”

“Sure does,” Tony smirked in triumph and shot Happy a patronizing wink over his shoulder. The man just rolled his eyes and Tony lead the kid out of the gym.

***

Tony’ would also like to happily report that after a month of his incessant demands for Peter’s attention and love, the kid felt it necessary to text him his very first 4 in the morning meme…

… and Happy didn’t get one.

#irondad #irondad fic #iron man #tony stark #peter parker #happy hogan #jealous Tony

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metalbatandzenko · 4 years

Text

Spaghetti and Juiceboxes

@aforrestofstuff Happy Birthday b!!!

I love you and I’m so glad we’re friends🥺🥺🥺

As a fellow Zombieman Simp™ I had to write that good Zombiedad Content™. Enjoy b :)

“He’s practically an adult Zombieman,” the minister said, jogging to catch up with the hero. “This isn’t just some ordinary child we’re talking about.”

Zombieman didn’t bother stopping, or looking over at the man. “I’m aware he isn’t an ordinary child, Minister Tetsuya. But that doesn’t mean he should be raising himself.”

It was rare for Zombieman to get angry with the Hero Association—he’d long since grown numb to their particular brand of incompetence.

But this was a new low.

The fact they had legally emancipated the kid—his genius be damned—was absurd. As was their insistence that it was the right decision.

“He won’t be,” Tetsuya argued. “This just ensures that he maintains his freedom and agency, and that—”

Zombieman cut him off. “That you’re able to continue to lean on him and contract him for any of the Hero Association’s needs, which no sane parent would allow?”

Tetsuya flinched at the accusation and looked away, which was all the answer Zombieman needed.

“So if he is not going to be raising himself, who will?”

The minister didn’t answer him, instead choosing to fiddle with the sleeve of the suit that probably cost more than Zombieman’s entire paycheck.

“That’s what I thought,” Zombieman said with a sigh. “Look, I can’t tell Hikaru how to live his life any more than you can. But even with his smarts, at the end of the day, he’s still a kid. He needs guidance, and support that he can’t provide for himself.”

“But—”

Zombieman held up his hand, and the minister shut up. “Unless you plan on fixing this, this conversation is over."

He walked off before the minister could respond.

After he’d put some distance between the two of them, he pulled off into one of the conference rooms that lined the halls.

Slumping into one of the chairs, he lit a cigarette and kicked his feet up on the table. Zombieman took a long drag, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he exhaled.

He felt his heartbeat slow.

The hero still wasn’t quite sure how his body worked. Sometimes he could feel his heartbeat and others he could feel the muscle sitting cold, heavy, and still in his chest. He obviously didn’t need it, seeing as he could survive without his entire chest cavity , but it still beat every once in a while.

He heard the door open, and the distinctive tap of Sitch’s steel-toed shoes.

The minister huffed. “Do you have to smoke indoors Augustus?”

“Did you agree to this, Sitch?” Zombieman asked, not bothering to open his eyes or answer Sitch’s question.

“No,” Sitch said, settling into the chair next to him. “I did not.”

Zombieman cracked open an eye. “How did this even become an issue?”

The minister sighed. “You weren’t present at the last S-Class meeting.”

“At your request,” Zombieman reminded him. “You wanted me to scope out that monster nest.”

Sitch nodded. “After the meeting, Metal Bat invited Child Emperor and his parents over for dinner—apparently he and Metal Bat’s younger sister Zenko have been having play-dates”

Zombieman hummed. He was aware of that. He had been the one who encouraged Hikaru to venture out and make friends in the first place.

“Hikaru told Metal Bat that his parents weren’t around anymore, and Metal Bat had a conniption fit. He yelled at us asking if we knew, and told Hikaru something along the lines of ‘that’s it, I’m adopting you, you little shit’.” The minister chucked. “It would have been funny if I wasn’t afraid he was going to kill us.”

“Did you know?” Zombieman asked.

Sitch shook his head. “I had my suspicions, but they weren’t confirmed until then.”

Zombieman swallowed down his retort about the minister not bothering to try to confirm his suspicions before that point. “How did Hikaru respond?”

“He seemed a little insulted,” Sitch replied.

Zombieman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Badd isn’t known for his tact. I’m guessing he thought Badd was insulting his maturity.”

Sitch hummed in agreement. “After all the hubbub died down and Metal Bat had been placated, Hikaru brought the idea of legal emancipation to us. His argument was that he’d already been living by himself for two years in secret, so he was entirely self-sufficient.” The minister rubbed his face. “The boy left so we could deliberate, and other officials brought up that it was more cost effective to emancipate him than to find him a suitable home, especially given his genius. My protests were quickly shot down, and I was outvoted.”

“I thought he should be placed with one of the S or A-Class heroes,” Sitch continued. “Someone who would understand what it was like to be so extraordinary, and to shoulder the burden of the public’s safety.”

“Anyone in particular?” Zombieman asked.

He knew it was foolish to ask and to get his hopes up. But—a not-so-small part of him hoped that Sitch had suggested him.

“I threw Stinger and Superalloy out there,” Sitch replied. “Stinger’s got a large family and experience with raising kids, and Superalloy’s responsible and kindhearted. I would have suggested Metal Bat, but you know how I feel about him being on his own with his sister at his age to begin with.”

The minister gave him a look. “But I think you know who my top suggestion was.”

Zombieman took another drag of his cigarette. “Well, it’s too late now anyways. The kid’s emancipated, and that’s not something that you can just undo.”

“I’m aware.” Sitch pushed back his chair and stood. “But I think you should consider talking to him.”

The minister excused himself before Zombieman could reply.

Zombieman pulled out his phone and tapped the messaging icon.

Zombieman at 3:52pm: Hey kid, I’m thinking of making pasta for dinner. Want to swing by?

The response was almost instantaneous.

Hikaru at 3:52pm: Sure! Let me finish up what I’m working on, and I’ll be right over.

Zombieman at 3:52pm: No hurry I’m on my way back right now

Feel free to let yourself in and help yourself to whatever if you get there before me

You know the drill

Hikaru 3:53pm: Sounds like a plan. See you soon!

Zombieman smiled down at his phone screen.

He hadn’t been planning on making pasta, but it was a sure-fire way to get the kid over for dinner. And he knew Hikaru probably hadn’t eaten a good meal in a week.

Zombieman put out his cigarette and walked out of the meeting room.

---

Hikaru had beaten him home if the record playing from inside his apartment was any indication.

Zombieman smiled as he fumbled with his key.

The kid had offered him more advanced music players in the past, and was perplexed by Zombieman’s preference for records.

But he liked the warmth and fullness of records. Maybe it made him an old fogey.

But Hikaru no longer questioned it, instead creating a device that could make new compilation records of Zombieman’s favorite artists and songs.

He turned the key and pushed open the door. “I thought you didn’t like this song,” he said by way of greeting, hanging his trench coat on his coatrack.

Hikaru lit up when he saw him. “Ojisan! It’s good to see you.”

“How have you been, kid?” Zombieman asked, turning to lock the door behind him.

“I’ve been good!” Hikaru said, perching on the arm of one of Zombieman’s overstuffed leather chairs. “Just doing some tinkering on devices for the Hero Association, grading papers, the usual.”

Zombieman noted the kid had grabbed one of the apple juice-boxes he stowed in the mini-fridge.

Hikaru shifted, slipping down from the arm of the chair into the seat. “How have you been August-ji?”

Zombieman grabbed a juice-box from the fridge. He would have preferred some scotch, but he wasn’t about to drink that in front of a kid. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said, stabbing his straw into the juice-box. “Sitch sent me on that recon mission—”

Hikaru perked up. “Oh the one to the monster nest! How did that go?”

“—but it turned out to be a false alarm,” Zombieman finished, crossing his arms over his chest. “Which you would have known if you hadn’t interrupted me.”

Hikaru flushed. “Sorry ojisan,” he mumbled.

“You’re fine,” Zombieman said, taking a sip of his juice. He swallowed. “Really, I’m one to talk.”

He shifted his weight onto his right foot. “I'm gonna get going on dinner, you want to help?”

Hikaru nodded.

“Alright, go wash your hands.”

The boy jumped up and ran to the bathroom, abandoning his juice-box.

Zombieman chuckled, picked up the unfinished juice-box and replaced it with his own, then he made his way to the kitchen, placing it on the counter.

He pushed up his sleeves and turned on the faucet, running his hands under the too-hot water. His nerves were fried to shit, and it wasn’t like it’d do any damage anyways.

Something about looking down on his unblemished hands unnerved him. He’d been in more fights than he could remember, and had destroyed his hands during many scuffles, but they didn’t bear any signs of that past. Even Hikaru’s hands were more scarred than his, a fact that made Zombieman’s stomach turn.

“Ready!” Hikaru declared, derailing Zombieman’s train of thought.

He turned off the water and turned to face the boy. “Alright, grab the tomatoes, a white and a yellow onion, the oregano and basil from the fridge for me, they’re in the produce drawer. While you’re in there, get the cream and parmesan.”

Hikaru nodded and opened the fridge.

In the meantime, Zombieman pulled out a colander, saucepan, pot, wooden spatula, two cutting boards, and two knives.

He heard the produce thud as it hit the counter.

“The garlic, spaghetti, and salt are in the cabinet.”

Zombieman slid the kiddie stool out from under his cabinets with his foot and moved it in front of the sink.

The rest of the ingredients joined the produce, cream, and cheese on the counter.

He handed Hikaru the tomatoes and the colander. “You get started on washing these while I get the onions going.”

Hikaru glared at the stool in front of the sink. “Is this necessary?”

“Can you reach the sink without it?”

The boy opened his mouth to make a snappy retort, then closed it again.

“That’s what I thought,” Zombieman said, peeling off the outer layers of the onions. “You’ll grow eventually, kid. Look at me, I didn’t get my growth spurt until I was fifteen.”

“Since when do you remember your past, August-ji?” Hikaru asked.

Zombieman shrugged, cutting the white onion in half. “I don’t. But it was worth a try.”

The kid made a face, but stepped up onto the stool.

He bit back a laugh, and went to work mincing his onions.

One of the benefits of being undead was that onions no longer effected his eyes. He could chop away at them for hours, and never even sniffle.

“Besides,” Zombieman said, pushing the chopped onion to the side. “Zenko’s still shorter than you.”

“That doesn’t mean much when her brother’s a shrimp,” Hikaru grumbled, placing the tomatoes on the counter.

Zombieman snorted. “You better not let Badd hear you say that,” he said, handing Hikaru the herbs.

He made quick work of the yellow onion and pushed it towards the white onion.

“How is that tiny terror these days?” Zombieman asked. He grabbed a tomato.

“She’s good,” Hikaru replied, placing the clean herbs on the counter. “She’s working on a new piece for her piano lessons.”

He slid the footstool over in front of the empty cutting board. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so utterly unimpressed by me.”

Zombieman choked back a laugh. “Well, it’s not like you’re the only S-Class hero she knows,” he reasoned, slicing into the tomato. “Is she mean to you?” He asked, concern coloring his voice.

Hikaru was extraordinary. And different. And while different was good, different was also targeted.

He knew that well enough.

“No,” Hikaru replied, grabbing the garlic. “She’s sweet. Really stubborn, but sweet.”

“Huh, I can’t think of anyone else who fits that description,” Zombieman said, cutting the last of the tomatoes.

Hikaru stuck his tongue out at him. “I know, but she’s really stubborn,” he said. He paused. “She treats me like I’m normal. It’s…nice.”

Zombieman nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”

He turned around and dumped the tomatoes and onions into the pan on the stovetop. “You almost done with that garlic, ‘karu?” he asked.

Hikaru shook his head. “I’ve only gotten through two cloves,” he replied.

“Okay, you keep working on that,” Zombieman said.

He grabbed the pot and placed it in the sink, then turned on the water.

After it was two-thirds of the way full, he lifted it out of the sink and onto the stove.

“I can finish the garlic for you,” Zombieman offered.

Hikaru shook his head again. “No need. It’s done.”

He poured the garlic into the saucepan.

Zombieman smiled and turned on the burner. “Good job. Could you hand me the—”

Hikaru passed him the spatula before he could finish the sentence.

“Thanks.”

The boy nodded and got to work clearing the counter, placing the cutting boards in the sink and tossing the tomato ends and onion skins in the bag.

He handed Zombieman the herbs. “You forgot these, ojisan,” he said.

“I have to wait for this to reduce a bit,” Zombieman explained. “Otherwise, it’ll just burn them on the bottom of the pan.”

“Oh,” Hikaru said, hopping up onto the counter. “I guess I should have known that.”

Zombieman shrugged. “Just because you’re a genius doesn’t mean you’re infallible, kid. Sometimes you just forget. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Hikaru hummed and took a sip of his juice. “So when do the cream and cheese go in?” he asked.

“After the herbs,” Zombieman replied, sprinkling salt onto the tomatoes. “Do you mind salting the water for the pasta? This’ll go quick.”

Hikaru hopped off the counter and grabbed the salt from Zombieman, then stepped up onto his stool and began salting the water.

They fell into a comfortable silence.

Zombieman hated the thought of breaking it. But he’d invited Hikaru over for a reason. It was best to just rip the band-aid off.

“So, I heard about your emancipation,” Zombieman started.

He saw the boy stiffen beside him. “What about it?” “Nothing, just—” Zombieman scratched his neck. “—I guess I’m a bit worried about you raising yourself.”

“I’ve been raising myself for years,” Hikaru responded. He turned on the burner under the pot of water. “It’s nothing new, just official.”

Zombieman pushed the vegetables around in the pan. “I know. But you deserve to have a good adult presence around.”

“I have you,” Hikaru replied.

Zombieman laughed. “I’m not exactly a good adult presence,” he said. “And we only see each other once a week.” He sobered. “You know the brain better than I do. You know how much development is happening in that brain of yours, kid—just because you have a souped-up brain doesn’t change that. I’m just—I’m worried about you.”

The tomatoes were beginning to break down, so he stripped the herbs and dropped them into the pan.

“Look—I’m not gonna challenge you on the emancipation itself. With your responsibilities, it make sense for you to be able to make your own decisions. But I’m concerned about you raising yourself,” he said. “And I don’t want you to think I’m judging you, or doubting your capabilities. It’s just—”

“—there are certain limits to my experience because of my age,” Hikaru finished. “Sitch said that when they were deliberating.”

Zombieman grabbed the cream. “I thought you were sent out of the room for their deliberation,” he remarked, pouring some cream into the pan.

“I was, but Sitch gets loud when he’s passionate about something,” Hikaru replied. He grabbed the box of spaghetti. “And soundproofing wasn’t one of Bofoi’s priorities when building the Headquarters.”

Zombieman sighed. “I hope you know we don’t think any less of you when we say that.”

He sprinkled cheese into the pan.

Hikaru nodded and poured the dry pasta into the pot. “I know. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

Hikaru chewed on his lip. “I just—and go ahead and say no if it’s too much—but I was hoping—I mean, wondering if—I could, you know—my lab is right down the street, and I need an adult in my life so I was just thinking—”

Zombieman watched Hikaru flounder, a slow smile spreading on his lips. “Are you asking if you can stay with me?” he asked.

Hikaru nodded. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Zombieman said. “I’d be happy to have you stay here, kid.”

The boy lit up. “Really? It’s not too much to ask?”

Zombieman chuckled. “I was trying to figure out how to offer that up as an option without seeming condescending,” he admitted. “I’d be happy to be there for you as a more permanent fixture. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re taking all this so well.”

Hikaru flushed. “I’ve been thinking about needing more responsible and experienced people around me for a while now,” he said. “Hearing Sitch say it solidified that to me. And I knew if I wanted anyone to be that adult, it would be you.”

Zombieman felt warmth in his cold chest.

He’d never had a true family—well, maybe he had before he died, but he couldn’t remember any of what happened before.

And sure, maybe a walking corpse wasn’t the best choice for a parent figure for a tiny prodigy, but if the kid chose him, he wasn’t going to question it.

Being chosen was a warm feeling.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Now move, I have to drain that pasta before it turns to mush.”

---

Zombieman sighed.

After dinner, they’d gone out for milkshakes—a tradition for the two of them when they were celebrating something. On the way back, Hikaru had begun lagging behind.

Which led to his current predicament: he was holding Hikaru—who was fast asleep—to his chest, but he also had to unlock the door to their apartment, and his key was in his pocket.

Slowly, gingerly, Zombieman moved the hand supporting Hikaru’s head away from his neck and snaked it into his pocket.

He leaned back, keeping Hikaru balanced as he dug for his key, and fought to get it into the door.

After struggling for a bit, he succeeded in unlocking the door.

Zombieman settled into one of his overstuffed chairs and took a swig of his juice-box which was still sitting on the mini fridge.

He looked down at Hikaru, sleeping soundly on his chest, and realized he probably wouldn’t be able to get up from this chair for the rest of the night.

But he could live—or do whatever the closest equivalent was for him—with that. His kid was sleeping sounder than he’d seen him sleep in months, his breath escaping his lips in soft, even puffs.

He smiled, and closed his eyes. “Sweet dreams, kid.”

#my writing #this is not super polished bc I'm posting at 6:30am but.#sdjSKLJFhlsjkhf #I will probably go back and edit this later tbh

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