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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Note

In a recent malarklina post you mentioned having many headcanons 👀 Care to share with the class?

So I went over some character hcs for the three of them in this post! But here are a few that are specifically Malarklina. (Some of these are set in an Immortal!Mal AU and some aren't, sorry if it gets a bit confusing).

Aleksander has a competency kink and is attracted to Alina showing off her sun powers and Mal showing off his tracking abilities.

Alina makes them both little suns that follow them around to always light their path. This is especially meaningful to Aleksander, although he'd never admit it, because he used to be afraid of the dark as a child.

Mal reminds Aleksander of Luda, and he often goes into depressive states when considering the fact of Mal's mortality. Once Alina fully grasps the reality of the situation, she often suffers from them as well. During these times, Mal tries to be there for them as much as he can, but it's a heavy burden to bear alone.

They all have difficult relationships with gender and sexuality and at one point actually end up sitting down (completely by accident, because Aleksander is allergic to emotions) to talk about this aspect of their lives in more depth.

Aleksander usually sleeps in the middle because he's a) touch-starved and b) an attention whore, but they switch it up on occasion.

Mal is the most clingy sleeper in the history of sleepers. Aleksander and Alina have both woken up on more than one occasion to Mal literally laying fully on top of them and wrapped around them like an octopus. Aleksander likes the weight and usually just snuggles in deeper but Alina has to wiggle out of the way most of the time so she can breathe.

Mal likes Aleksander with short hair but Alina likes him with long hair. This is the source of many fights in their relationship, none of which Aleksander is actually apart of.

Alina and Aleksander both like Mal with longer hair and so he's press ganged into growing it out.

Mal and Alina love every single song Aleksander hates.

When Mal pisses Aleksander off it's no sex for a day even after a dozen apologies, but when Alina pisses him off all she has to do is say sorry and he'll just eat her out right then, not a care in the world.

Aleksander is very physically affectionate, but Mal and Alina have phases of liking it and disliking it, so they have to balance a way to take care of each other's needs without pushing boundaries.

Aleksander is directionally challenged because I said so and Mal and Alina constantly have to make sure he doesn't get lost.

Kissing scars has become a very intimate practice between them all.

Aleksander keeps an obsessively clean house but Alina's paint supplies get everywhere, that paired with Mal just shucking off his hunting outfits anywhere in the house and dumping his gardening/hunting supplies wherever's most convenient means that Aleksander is in a constant state of annoyance about their living situation.

Alina makes a Rule about Mal and Aleksander fighting after Mal straight up tackles Aleksander off the side of the roof when they're trying to figure out how to replace shillings.

They all spar with each other at least once every other day. This mostly started as a means of keeping themselves sharp in case of danger, but it quickly became a bonding routine of sorts. Turns out Aleksander has a lot of information stored up about fighting. That paired with Mal's military training makes for some very intense spars as well as the rapid growth of all three of them into some of the most dangerous fighters on the planet.

@mal-zoya now has me convinced that it will take at least 500 years for Mal and Aleksander to admit they love each other.

Aleksander likes it when they wear his clothes. Alina likes wearing Mal and Aleksander's clothes. There is a lot of clothing sharing going on. It gets to the point where the only way they can tell who's clothing is who's is based on color scheme and the quality of the cloth and occasionally (but not always) the size as well.

Mal and Alina infodump all the time about their passions and Aleksander eats it up. He loves it. He thinks his partners are the smartest people in the universe.

When Alina is suffering from artist's block she goes to Aleksander for inspiration. When she's inspired she goes to Mal to create.

Mal is generally the one who cooks all of their meals because Alina will get distracted when she's going on an art spree and Aleksander will just straight up forget he's a human sometimes. But when Mal doesn't do it Aleksander does it because he has Standards and he's not about to let his partners starve to death, thank you very much.

Aleksander and Mal used to cook plainer foods in the beginning of the relationship but they both slowly shake off some of the chains of their upbringings and previous ways of life to slowly try out more elaborate and lush recipes. Alina has come home on more than one occasion to see them collaborating on a new recipe Aleksander managed to flirt/finagle out of one of the old ladies from the nearby village.

Alina likes to ride out every day and sometimes ropes Aleksander or Mal into going with her. There are lots of picnics and packed lunches in their life. When they go to an especially scenic spot, she'll sit there for hours and draw.

Mal won't ever be able to fully understand the meaning of Alina's immortality. It would be impossible to, even with many explanations and having to deal with Aleksander's own traumas as a result. But that doesn't stop him from attempting to learn as much as he can to make things easier for both of his partners.

Alina attempts to join the local ladies' knitting group in the nearby village but hates it. Aleksander, on the other hand, finds it to be the most valuable source of gossip in the village. He rapidly becomes a part of the club and returns home with boatloads of gossip by the day. Alina and Mal have no idea what to do with literally any of this information, but Aleksander certainly does. Getting involved in small town drama is, in his opinion, one of the best things he ever decided to do. Mal and Alina are beginning to think he needs some therapy.

Mal starts a little farm outside of their cottage and Alina starts a flower garden. Alina also begins to amass a small library over time, with the help of Aleksander "is this an original text?! maybe so" Morozova. Mal is not expecting to come home one day to an entirely new room built into the house and a massive collection of books lining the walls.

Alina and Aleksander will use their powers actively all day. In fact, they both get so comfortable with summoning that they just start letting their emotions affect their summoning all the time. And so Mal has a very good indicator for whether or not his partners are upset or happy based on the way the shadows and lights flicker, much akin to the way people judge how their cats are feeling based on what their tails are doing.

Also, though, Mal just feels proud that they both trust him enough and feel comfortable enough around him and in their home to feel as if they don't need to watch themselves constantly.

Alina still likes mapmaking and, after a few years of peace where she starts to get restless, she slowly begins to do it again. Every two months or so she'll go out on a long trip to map a few of the nearby areas. She quickly builds up a side business of selling her personal maps to the people of whatever town they're living near.

Aleksander eventually opens up enough to share some of his past with Alina and Mal. He especially begins to engage more with the pieces of his culture that he had to forsake in order to assimilate over the years. Alina and Mal are always more than willing to help him puzzle through a half remembered recipe or a phrase in his native tongue that he's partially forgotten. They feel honored every time he shares a small piece of his history with them.

Nightmares are a common occurrence between all of them and whenever one happens a cuddle pile of epic proportions ensues. Also sometimes they talk about feelings have some pillow talk to work through things. Aleksander will also sometimes sing them back to sleep. His lullabies are haunting, but his singing voice is beautiful, and it usually does the trick. He refuses to sing for them outside of these moments, however.

Alina adores the height difference between her and her very tall partners. She thinks its fucking stellar.

Alina and Mal start up an orphanage on many occasions throughout the centuries. Alina loves kids and constantly helps them when she can. She mourns the fact that she won't ever be able to adopt without having to watch them grow old without her.

They've all discussed having kids at multiple points throughout their lives, and they all want to do so. But Aleksander wants to wait until Grisha persecution is no longer even the hint of an issue. Alina and Mal agree to wait, largely because they want some time to think on it too.

Mal tries to teach Alina how to shoot one day and she accidentally clips Aleksander as he's coming outside with lunch. He never lets her live it down and on more than one occasion attempts to use it for sympathy points, even hundreds of years later.

Aleksander is both the big spoon and the little spoon, but he likes being the big spoon (in reality he's a knife, of course). Mal likes being the little spoon but is often relegated to the big spoon, and Alina likes being both.

Alina paints a portrait of Mal and Aleksander cuddled up in bed once and no matter how much they entreat her to burn it she absolutely refuses to do so.

Aleksander is basically a walking, talking source of illegal activity, and he can't be taken anywhere anymore without expecting some sort of crime to take place.

Alina tries to adopt a little black cat one day and Aleksander gets outrageously jealous. He spends about two months being bitter, then another two months trying to chase it off, but the creature stays with them all until it dies of old age (and he'll never admit to privately grieving it's loss, although Mal and Alina both know it).

All of their communication skills are absolutely atrocious but Alina is the best. Mal is the second best. Aleksander doesn't even rank. Over time, they get into the habit of it, though. They practice at it painfully for years until they reach the point where healthy communication becomes second nature.

Mal proposes to Alina one day (after much talk between all three of them) and they get married. A couple years later they both propose to Aleksander (after zero talk, he is suitably surprised and also maybe a bit teary eyed). They have an illegal wedding on holy ground at midnight with a bribed and essentially kidnapped pastor.

Aleksander spends an excessive amount of money on Alina and Mal. He buys them things constantly and lavishes them with gifts. Alina loves it but it grates on Mal for a time until he realizes it isn't a means of manipulation as much as a love language and a shoddy attempt at communication and expressing feelings.

Once they reach the modern world (in an Immortal!Mal AU), they all get phones and send each other the most cursed texts in all of history. The group chat is a hellspace and the individual chats are just pure shittalking. Nowhere is free.

Shopping in the modern world consists of chaotic impulse buys and the excessive waste of money. They're all each other's impulse control, but they can't always go out together at the same time, so it's usually only in groups of two. Which means that when Alina's gone, Aleksander fills the cart with sweets. And when Mal is gone, Alina fills the cart with an inordinate amount of bananas (which are new) and microwavable easy to eat meals and paint supplies and oh! look at these pretty notebooks on display!. And when Aleksander is gone the cart its legitimately just a free for all. He comes home and there's mincemeat and apple pies cooking for some reason. Mal has a new apron. The fire alarm has been replaced. Turns out they stopped at an ikea on the way back and now they have a better dining table.

Alina is the best driver of them all. Aleksander goes way too fast but he never crashes. Mal refuses to even step foot in a car for about half a decade.

Aleksander is actually the one that gets into makeup. He quite enjoys it and thinks maybe his partners need to live a little for once. They both very firmly disagree.

Alina loses the tv remote constantly and it drives Mal absolutely wild. Sometimes Aleksander will steal it just to watch Mal go into a frenzy looking for it.

Alina builds up a large following for her art (and the art of her 'ancestors') over the centuries. Modern day Alina is basically famous, but luckily nobody knows her face.

#okay this got too long i had to stop alsjdflkjds #i got very carried away im so sorry #some of these are just plain aus but I Do Not Care #asks and answers #anon #malarklina #mymetas #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #malyen oretsev #darklina #malina #myramblings #alina x darkling x mal #myhcs

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queen--kenobi · 3 years

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I simply must know!!!! What are your HCs for what the corrie guard looks like? Since we haven’t really seen their faces in canon before (besides thire). I consider you one of the resident corrie guard queens 💕

You know, that's a real good question?

I tend to gravitate towards @amikoroyaiart's design for Thorn, although blond Thorn does live in my head rent free. I absolutely HC that Hound and Stone look exactly like they draw them

Fox is a little bit more difficult in my head? Mostly because given Fox's personality I feel like he'd wear the regulation cut. Does he hate it? Yes. But we see how much a stickler he is for the rules, and also. Palpatine strikes me as the type of bitch to order random "regulation checks" and have hair be one of the big things on there

So. I think Fox has grey hair at his temples and wears a regulation cut BUT I also like a lil' bit of rebellious Fox. So I imagine he keeps it regulation length but there's some curl to it. He kinda has to keep it slicked back, but when the product starts to fail, you can see it

(On a related note, all the Guard cover for one another about their hair. It's just that sometimes Palpatine literally makes Fox take off his helmet to see if it's regulation, and yeah, it's fucking disgusting)

I kinda think Fox has a lot of scars? I'm thinking mostly on his arms and chest, but. I absolutely see him with a thin scar over his throat because someone tried to garrote him. The less said about that incident the better

I think Thorn has the scar on the bridge of his nose like most designs.

I also subscribe to @purgetrooperfox saying uuuuhhhh animals don't always care for Hound. So he has part of his earlobe missing on his left side. It's not a lot like you have to be looking, but you can def see a small divot. I also think he's got a bite mark or two on his calves

I know I've got more in mind, but that's what I've got for right now!

#persephone speaks #Racism cw?#Mostly tagging because of Palpatine being a BITCH about hair you know he's racist enough to do that

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theodora3022 · 4 years

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Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

#yandere bnha #bnha #bhna best jeanist #yandere best jeanist #bnha reader insert #best jeanist

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runenc03 · 3 years

Text

Til the light goes out (and after) - part 2

Writing date: January or February 2021, I can’t remember

Genre: fluff! I figured we deserved that after the insecurity of part 1

Warnings: I guess a make out session? Should I warn for that? I think I should warn you that this is my ‘steamiest content’ (for now) and that is saying very laying because I’m too shy to write steamy stuff, even if i want to try to write it.

Word count: 2.7k words:

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You didn't mean to stare, you really didn't, but your afternoon performance was about to start and you knew that when he wanted to be alone, he always went to the equipment room to play music and order his thoughts, so you came to tell him that he was needed to discuss the latest details before the performance. Standing there, just about to announce your presence, something had stopped you. You watched as he sat there, crossed legged on an old sofa, flute in his hands, his knight armor clearly making it difficult for him to raise his arms to the right angle to be able to play. It almost made you giggle, he had always hated that costume. His eyes studied the sheet in front of him, memorising the last few little notes before playing it during the performance. You loved to watch him when he was like this, so fully himself, so unguarded.

"Hi. Is it time?"

He looked almost sad, and you knew that while he loved playing for people, he wasn't ready to leave his secluded spot yet. You decided extending his time a little wouldn't hurt anyone.

"No, we still have a few more minutes. What part are you playing?"

His mouth formed a smile, and he patted the space beside him on the sofa as an invitation. You giggled as the clattering of his armor costume disturbed the silence. You seated yourself on the sofa, briefly wondering if the old thing could even carry two bodies, and then threw your legs over his crossed ones, creating a mess of intertwined limbs. Then, you kissed his cheek - you couldn't help yourself, really - and enjoyed watching the blush spread over the place you had just placed your lips on.

"After all this time together, I still get you flustered with a kiss on your cheek, without anyone near us?"

He now fully turned his attention to you, carefully placing his flute on its holder next to the sofa, a grin growing on his face.

"I can't help it and you know it. Besides, you wouldn't have it any other way."

You had to agree with that. As much as you loved how other couples go all out on public displays of affection, you weren't sure you'd like that so much.

"Touché. Now kiss me, we need to leave in literally 3 minutes."

You saw his grin broaden, until he was so close that his lips were out of your sight. Not that you minded. Closing your eyes, you felt his smile, and that was your favourite way to experience it anyway. His arm slid around your waist, lightly pulling you closer to him, and your legs decided on their own to untangle from his and just entirely sit on his lap instead. As he felt you snuggle close to him, he hummed in appreciation, and you smiled at the rich sound of it. You continued to share kiss after kiss, the fingers on one of your hands weaving themselves through his hair, while the other slid under his armor, lightly scratching his back. You knew he loved it, and while you still questioned as to why that was, you really didn't mind doing it. After all, he did wonderful things to you as well.

"I love you. So so much, you know that, right?"

You often questioned if other people smiled as much while making out as you did. It was automatic, as opposed to him being so shy in public, he had the habit to mumble all sorts of little things to you while the two of you were alone, and it made it impossible not to smile. He made you so, so happy. You questioned if other couples felt as much love as you did, too. You answered him by covering his jaw in kisses, going from right under his ear to his chin, somewhere in the back of your mind noting that it was still scratchy, and realising that he probably hadn't had the time to shave this morning because you had texted him at 5 am to ask if you could go watch the sunrise together, something he had obviously agreed to, being the incredibly kind human being he was.

"I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Now it was his time to smile, the effect of your words alternating with your kisses, and your heart warmed a little bit more. Oh, how you loved him. Saying it just wasn't enough. He tilted your head then, gentle as always, and you gladly went once again from kissing his jaw to kissing his lips. You shuffled even closer, deepening the kiss, shifting your hand on his back to his chest, lazily drawing circles there, feeling his warm flesh against your cold hands. He didn't flinch, he never did. He had somehow made you believe in the beauty of your touch, and, in a strange way, because of it, in the beauty of yourself. His fingers now wove themselves through your hair as well, angling your face just a bit differently once again. His other hand went to your upper leg, drawing circles just like you were doing on his chest, so in sync with each other. His lips were warm against yours, but not in a scorching way. You felt welcome, at home.

"Hey, uh, you know I would say sorry for interrupting, but I'm really not that sorry. You have all the time in the world after the show, lovebirds, but for now, you need to come with me."

Your boyfriend's groan would've amused you if you, too, hadn't been so hopelessly embarrassed. Ruby - now Ava - had come to get you, and while you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to walk in on you, you knew the smugness wouldn't leave her voice anytime soon. She did leave the two of you behind then, also understanding that embarrassing you any further wouldn't do right before the show, and you smiled at her thoughtfulness.

"Come on, she was right, we need to get up. From now on, you're the unnamed music guy again, and I am princess Rose."

You carefully pulled yourself away from him, careful not to knock anything over, especially not his precious flute, and straightened your dress once again, making sure there weren't any creaks in it.

"I would call you my princess, but I guess you'd find that a bit too cheesy, wouldn't you?"

Your laughter filled the room, and you took his hand, standing on your tiptoes one last time to give his cheek a kiss.

"You know me so well. Now come on, unnamed music guy, it's time for us to make some magic."

Flute in hand, he gladly followed you. _______________________________________

"Hey, love, I forgot my pocket sized sheet music in the office, can you go get it please? I still need to ask Ava about the music in the third scene."

You nodded, turning around on your heels and quickly jogging to the office, the room in which you all had brainstorm sessions about your shows. It wasn't unusual for your boyfriend to forget his stuff, and you knew that he and Ava were the two most musically talented people in your crew and they liked to make sure they both agreed with whatever music was played, so you weren't suspicious of the situation. That was, until you reached the office, and your feet stopped moving upon laying your eyes on the person that was already seated at your round table, smiling politely as she saw you enter. It was none other than Erica Rodriguez, billionaire, media figure, and basically the owner of the entire movie industry.

"Hello there. I see that you found your way to me. Take a seat please."

Your limbs felt like cooked pasta, your face heating up at her words, and an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. What in God's name was going on? After being looked at expectantly for at least a few seconds, you broke out of your reverie, stumbling over your own feet, but into the chair opposite of Mrs. Rodriguez.

"Excuse me ma'am, but we're about to play the afternoon show in the northern region of the park, and I'm expected to be-"

"Don't worry, everything is taken care of. One of the women of your group with a very unimportant role in this play is taking over your character for the afternoon, so everyone is notified that you won't join your crew today. In fact, this was their idea, they personally invited me. And I must say, I'm pleased I responded."

Your cluelessness was probably very evident on your face, Mrs. Rodriguez's polite expression morphing into a genuine, but amused smile as she pushed a piece of paper in your direction that you hadn't noticed before.

"A few weeks ago, your friends contacted me, to tell me about this amazingly talented girl in their crew. About a year ago, that girl started allowing the crew to play her own written stories, and she even grew as far as to play the lead role in some of them. They told me that even though she'd always been a good writer, she'd also grown enormously over the last few months, and that the show they were about to play next was the best story she'd ever written, and that I should come take a look."

"So...so you came to look at my play?"

Your throat felt dry, your head foggy with all the unexpected information. Mrs. Rodriguez nodded enthusiastically, and the uneasy feeling inside your stomach swirled, although at this point, you weren't too sure it was uneasiness that was going on in there.

"Yes, yes I did. I took my daughter with me, and together we watched your show this morning. I'm glad you didn't notice me, I wouldn't have been able to judge properly if you had, but it needs to be said, you have an extraordinary gift."

The blush covered your cheeks before her words had any chance to cool off. You looked down, playing with the hem of your princess dress, somewhere in the back of your head noting that you must look utterly ridiculous.

"Thank you, that's really kind, but it's not just me. I wrote the story, but my friends, the crew, they're the ones bringing the story to life, making the magic."

Her smile morphed into a knowing grin.

"Which is exactly the reason that, if you agree to make your play into a movie with my help, I would love for your entire crew to continue to play the roles they play now. I've been looking for something like this for a long time now, something with some classic elements, but with a creative twist. Something kids get excited about, but adults just as much. Something magical, really, and I found it here. Now, it wouldn't be fair for me to pressure you into saying yes immediately, your friends told me that this place is practically sacred for you. Just know that I would treat your story with the utmost care and respect, that making it into a movie wouldn't take away the magic, it would just capture it for eternity."

Your next words were out before you knew it, your heart making little skips. This was huge, and you were surprised you realised that so soon, but in this moment, everything was crystal-clear to you.

"I don't need time, ma'am. I've seen all the movies made under your care, and they're all astoundingly beautiful. I'd be honoured to make my play into a movie. Thank you so much."

Your vision blurred by unshed tears, your smile had barely ever been this wide. You were flying, soaring, wanted to laugh, jump, dance, cry, sing with joy. You also realised that you wanted to share this with the rest of your crew.

"You can keep this copy of the contract, it was a bit ceremonial anyway, I'll send you a copy by mail soon, is that okay?"

You nodded quickly, standing up to shake her hand as she took her coat and her briefcase, once again congratulating you before walking out the door of the office room, leaving you with the most overwhelming wave of gratitude you'd ever felt in your life. _______________________________________

This time around, you found your boyfriend between the park's castle and the 'magic woods', not too far away from where the crowd was still gathered after the play. He was cleaning his flute, silently checking every inch to see if it hadn't been damaged somewhere during the play. It was a ritual for him, and while you'd normally let him have it, you were way too excited now to not engulf him in a hug right this second.

"Woah....what happened?"

But there was a certain edge to the tone of his voice, and you knew that he was perfectly aware of everything that had happened to you these past half an hour.

"Oh, shut up. Was it your idea? Honestly I can't thank all of you enough."

He chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, and your arms automatically squeezed him a bit tighter.

"Actually, it was Ava's, but I helped actually reaching out to Mrs. Rodriguez. We all did, to be honest."

You wanted to kiss him then and there, engulfed in sunlight, while the excited chatter of visitors could still be heard from not too far away, when a certain little girl's voice broke the moment.

"Princess Rose! Why are you hugging this man? And where is your husband? Do you not love him anymore? But you kissed this morning!?"

You hadn't ever turned around as quickly as you did now, horrified that one of the little ones had caught you full on wrapped around what for them was just another character in the play. But your blood actually turned cold when you saw which little girl stumbled upon you.

"Mummy, look! I found Princess Rose! But she's hugging someone other than Prince Carl!"

And there she was, Mrs. Rodriguez. You relaxed a bit when you realised that she wasn't as horrified as you were, but only slightly. You could only stand there, wide-eyed, for once not knowing what to say. Fortunately, your ever shy boyfriend decided that this was the perfect moment to speak up.

"Hi there! How are you?"

The girl's mouth curved into a cute smile, regardless of the situation charmed that someone in a knight costume was talking to her. She nodded her head, but also leaned against her mum, trying to make herself a bit more comfortable. Your boyfriend, meanwhile, made a ridiculously deep bow for Mrs Rodriguez' daughter. You stifled your laughter.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Knight Ronald, and I am Princess Rose's favourite brother."

The little girl's eyes widened, an excited look on her face.

"Are you? I don't have a brother, although I would love to have one! Then I could dress up as a princess and play princess Rose! And then my brother could play you and we could go on adventures together! I-"

But Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped her daughter's rambling, the biggest grin on her face. Your face probably mirrored hers.

"Okay sweetie, I think it's time you and I go home. Say bye to Princess Rose and Knight Ronald, and then we need to leave, okay?"

The girl ran forward, wrapping her small arms around your waist, as that was the highest she could reach. You hugged her back, mouthing a thank you to your boyfriend, and a sorry to Mrs Rodriguez, who gave you a reassuring wave in return. After the two of them had left, you concentrated all your attention on the wonderful guy next to you again. This time, you checked your surroundings before wrapping your arms around his neck, groaning slightly as you realised just how close you'd come to completely ruining both the little girl's and your own day.

"Please don’t ever say that you're my brother again"

He chuckled, but rubbed your head in a comforting manner anyway.

"I won’t.”

And he sealed his promise with a kiss worthy of being reciprocated by a true princess.

#oneshot #crushxreader #crush x reader #colleagues to lovers #imagines #story #twoshot #parttwo #love #friendstolovers #themepark #acting #actress #princess #movie

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aftokrvteira · 3 years

Text

break my heart (ch.2)

pairing: fem!eren x levi ackerman warnings: explicit smut, cliché, some other characters are genderbended too. word count: 19.1 k status: on going summary: Levi was sleeping soundly next to me and I couldn't help but smile. I got up carefully to go to the bathroom and almost tripped over Levi's pants that were still lying on the floor. I lifted them out of the way and heard something fall with a soft metallic sound. I put the pants on the bed and reached down, feeling the ground under the bed until I felt it and pulled it out. I couldn't see very well, so I took the small object with me to the bathroom. When I turned on the light, I could see it clearly in the palm of my hand.

It was a wedding ring.

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available on AO3

It was the fifth night that I went to the same bar and I was starting to feel pathetic and sad. There were no traces of her. It was as if she had vanished into thin air after leaving my apartment in the early morning. I would have thought it had been a figment of my imagination, but the message that she had written on my bathroom mirror showed how real it had been and what she thought of me:

FUCK YOU, YOU CHEATING FUCK

I would have called her crazy if she hadn't left my wedding ring in the sink along with the crime weapon: a red, broken lipstick without a lid. It didn't really surprised me that she drew conclusions when she found it, much more after our meeting. I couldn't blame her. I knew that was why she had escaped from my apartment as soon as she had a chance, but I really wanted to see her again so I could explain the situation to her.

I was not a cheater and never would be. That kind of life is pathetic and impractical to me, not to say that screwing someone else's feelings for an affair is something only a shitty person could do. The reason why she found my ring was because that night at the club, I had officially taken it off to symbolize that I had finally put a closure on my failed marriage. Erwin had taken me to the club precisely to celebrate my divorce - which he himself had carried out as my lawyer - and to help me clear my mind.

Honestly, I felt ridiculous. I no longer felt young enough to go to those places and seeing so many twenty-somethings made me feel outdated. I didn't recognized many songs and had seriously thought about leaving, especially when Erwin had suddenly disappeared. The last time I'd seen him, he was talking animatedly to a little blond woman who, at best, was about 21 years old. I would have liked to interrupt him to tell him I wanted to leave, but from one moment to the next he was gone, leaving me alone in that private room with nothing to do, see or drink. I waited for him for a long time, but when half an hour passed without hearing from him, I resolved that I would have one last drink before leaving.

It was at that moment that I saw her.

She looked uncomfortable, standing by the bar, as if she was hiding from someone and I assumed that was precisely what she was doing. Still, I couldn't help but notice that she was one of the most attractive women I'd ever seen. Her brown hair fell to the middle of her back, soft coppery waves that glinted in the lights of the dance floor. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder blue dress, which allowed me to see her collarbones and golden skin. What had convinced me to approach her were her eyes. Big and the color of the ocean, framed by thick lashes. It was hard to believe that I hadn't seen her before.

I sighed, drinking what was left on my glass and put the money on the counter before leaving.

Since that night I hadn't stopped cursing myself for not asking for her number or even knowing her full name. I hated the idea of her just assuming the worst of me, especially when she couldn't be more wrong. I wanted to wake up and see her, chat with her, and take her somewhere decent. I would have liked to see her, kiss her and feel her so much ... It was like being drugged with a feeling that everything was finally on its place, a feeling that I craved all my married life.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

—What do you want, Erwin?

—Are you free tonight? —. Judging from the background noise, he seemed to be in some bar or restaurant —If so, why don't you drop by with us? It'll do you good, Levi, to take a little break from your endless search.

—Who is "we"? —I wasn't particularly excited about going out with him and who I imagined he was with. The truth is I did not feel with the tolerance necessary to bear Hanji.

—Are you coming or not, midget? —. Speaking of the devil, I heard the brunette's voice, shouting into the phone, over Erwin's voice. I sighed heavily, ready to decline the invitation, but thought better of it. Maybe I should take a break. Erin had left my life for a reason, hadn't she? This fact didn't make me happy, but I had to face it. It was practically impossible for me to see her again.

—I'm on my way.

***

As expected, they were almost all there. Hanji, Moblit, Mike and Nanaba. The only new face was sitting next to Erwin with a sheepish smirk on her freckled face and constantly clutching strands of blonde hair. I sat next to her.

—This is April —Erwin said, introducing her to me —She's my date tonight... maybe you remember her from the club?— Ah, yes. I remembered her, of course. I raised my eyebrows with some amazement and a little envy. April gave me a friendly smile and I just nodded, trying not to think about the fact that maybe at that moment Erin would have sat next to me if it wasn't for the unfortunate misunderstanding between us.

Fortunately, the conversations didn't involve much participation on my part, although I must admit that listening to Hanji's nonsense helped a lot to clear my mind, even for a little while. I constantly looked away from anywhere, until I was struck by the fact that April's cell phone screen began to light up constantly vibrating. She'd ignored the messages at first, but then began to respond quickly, trying not to look rude.

—Is everything okay? —I heard Erwin ask her in a low voice. She barely nodded, putting the phone aside.

—Yes —she answered with a sigh —. It's just the girls...They're asking me if I'm going to movie night with them —she explained and her screen lit up again. I didn't want to be a gossip, but she was literally sitting next to me. It wasn't difficult to hear them —. I thought they weren't going to do it. After all, Erin has been...

And as soon as he mentioned her name, the cell phone vibrated with an incoming call from Erin. Instinctively I became alert. Maybe it was a coincidence, nothing more. How many Erins could there be in the city? There were surely hundreds. After a few seconds, the photo of the aforementioned appeared on the screen and I almost had a heart attack.

There she was, smiling and squeezing April in a tight hug. It was only a fraction of a second until the blonde answered the call and got up to speak privately.

—You've got to be fucking kidding me— I murmured and leaned towards Erwin —. Hey ...—I caught his attention —. I think your girlfriend knows the girl I'm looking for —I whispered, but maybe I didn't do it low enough.

—Which girl?! —Hanji croaked, interrupting herself in mid-sentence. I shot her a venomous look but she was already immune to my temper. All eyes turned to me, interested —. Oh my God, do you mean that girl you told us about, Erwin?

—Congratulations, Levi! —Mike said to me and now my annoyance was focused on Erwin, who shrugged with a smile on his face. God damn it. I promised to myself that I would never tell him anything ever again.

—What kind of lame ass lawyer are you? Spreading confidential information with anyone...— I mumbled —. How much did you tell them?

—Most of it, actually— Hanji admitted —. He told us that it was an intense meeting between the two of you, but at midnight, poof! The spell was broken and your little Cinderella escaped.

—That's gross —I murmured —. I won't tell you anything again, you piece of shit —Erwin laughed and patted me on the arm. I rolled my eyes.

—Come on, Levi, they're our friends. I think they deserve to know the story —he said —. Why don't you ask April about her?

I couldn't just do that. Something that I had left out of the story was the part where Erin had written me a hate message on my bathroom mirror. If April was her friend, she most likely only knew shitty stuff about me and identified me as "the husband who was unfaithful to his wife" that her friend had slept with. I just nodded, and fortunately the conversation turned around, just as April returned to the table.

—I'm sorry, Erwin, but I think I'll have to leave early —she said to him, although she didn't seem very animated —. Mikasa wants us all to meet up at Erin's —he nodded and then looked at me. I didn't say anything, but it wasn't necessary, since the idiot opened his mouth for me.

—I'll take you where you tell me when we finish dinner, okay? —he answered and she took a seat, finally putting the cell phone in her bag —. By the way, April, Levi told me that he seems to recognize your friend Erin from somewhere.

The girl turned to see me, surprised. Her blue eyes scrutinized me completely, as if she was trying to recognize me. I cursed to myself and cleared my throat.

—I saw her picture when she called you. I didn't want to be nosy —I hastened to say—. I saw her face and it seemed somewhat familiar, but surely it's a coincidence.

April didn't say anything immediately, but seemed to be thinking her words.

—Really? —she asked —Hmm ... —she narrowed her eyes but then shrugged, as if drawing her own conclusions —. Oh well ... I can show you the photo more closely, if you want to confirm ...—she took her bag and pulled out her phone. I panicked but couldn't say anything. She tapped the screen a couple of times and she showed me the photo that I had seen and I was able to appreciate it more closely. Of course it was her. I would recognize those eyes anywhere — Is this her?

—Mh? — I blinked, distracted, but then I cleared my throat —Ah, uh ... Yes, I think it's her, but it doesn't matter, I didn't really talked to her that much...— then I remembered her lips, her moans and I felt a chill —. She just seemed familiar to me. Thanks, April —the blonde smiled at me and put her phone back on her bag.

—Have you been to Rose's?— I looked at her, a little confused —It's a big coffee shop on the main avenue — she continued —. Erin works there on weekends. Maybe you've seen her there —she commented and it was the best thing she could have told me. I had never set foot in that cafeteria but now I knew where to look for Erin. I knew my face had suddenly lit up because Hanji made a mocking comment about it, but I didn't care.

I could see Erin again.

#female eren jaeger #female eren yeager #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #riren fanfic #snk riren #levi x eren

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Note

Hey :) would it be possible to have a fluffy scene with Bakugo taking care of s/o reader who has bad period cramps and suffers panic attacks when they can't take the pain? (The suffering is real lol) Please and thank you 💛

Period Panic

A/N Thank you for being so patient bb. Here is your request and I hope it is fluffy enough and that you like it 😊😊

Your quirk was unique and tricky to get right at first.

You had the ability to make the smallest paper cut feel like a laceration that was bone deep.

Pain amplification is what they called it and for the most part there was no draw back to your quirk.

That was until you got your first period.

Any pain you had amplified was done unto you during those seven days while your uterus shed, angry that you would not be used as a vessel for new life.

Crippling, imobilizing pain that only heightened your anxiety.

Most men and even some women thought you were exaggerating. Brushing off your agony as mere teenage dramatics.

That was until you pushed through the horrific cramping to make it to school only to end up collapsing.

Doubled over, clutching at your gut as if your apendix had burst.

That or your uterus literally burst through your abdomen wall. At least thats what it honestly felt like.

So nothing was new this month, the usual heavy flow and cramping except this particular week your sweet boyfriend demanded he stay home.

It was something you hid from him for years, a mixture of embarrassment and fear of discredit causing you to shy away from his gruff helping hand.

He said he needed to see it all, especially if you were to ever bare his child, how would he know what to do to help you.

But sometimes you didn't even know how to help you. Sleeping most days, getting obscene amounts of overtime and using all of your PTO every month to get out of work since uterus go stabby stabby wasn't a valid enough excuse.

You're curled into his neck, breathing in his sweet caramel musk as he strokes your hair. While his free hand holds his phone watching videos with his wireless head phones.

So far so good. Your period has been mild, Bakugou has been attentive if not borderline smothering although you'll take it considering he is not normally so lovey dovey, and there hasnt been a bad cramp in sight.

Maybe you had grown out of it.

It feels as if a knife is suddenly plunged deep into your gut, before being removed to be swiftly plunged again only a few inches away.

Your bite your lip to keep in a groan, curling into him further. His hand goes from your hair to your back, bringing it up your spine slowly still beautifully ignorant to the intensity.

You needed to keep it this way. Bakugou did not take kindly to weakness and showing how pained you really were was the very definition.

The invisible knife takes a new route, plunging into your back before multiplying, twisting as it finds purchase before stabbing you between the legs.

That one makes you grunt and worry compels the hot head to move.

"Oi." He says voice husky with disuse, "Are you okay?"

You nod in way of answer as your heart rate increases, your skin becoming flush as you feel the rise of panic begin to take hold.

But nothing grips you tighter than the disembodied hands that hold fast onto your uterus, wringing it out as if it were a rag.

You push away from him quickly, between the panic and the pain you're about to empty the contains of your stomach.

You rush to the en suite bathroom in your small apartment sure to lock the door as you grip onto the cool porcielin. Inhaling the all too familiar oddly fresh smell considering the things done to this particular throne.

The scent alone earns a retch that encourages your stomach to heave and heave hard before an even more concerned ash blonde is at the door.

"Y/N." He snarls when he finds it locked.

"Go away Katsu I'll be nnngg." You cannot finish as another column of pain shoots right through you. Your breath hitches and you fight the bile rising up your throat trying hard to even your breathing.

But you lose, you flush as the last of your stomach empties itself into what was once clean porcielin.

"Like hell you were going to say okay. Open the door or I'll open it my God damn self." He growls and this is what you feared most.

Not of his aggression or his inability to take your word for it that you were fine but of him seeing you like this.

Hair damp, clinging to your forehead, cheeks flushed from panic and raise blood pressure. Splattered bile on your shirt and underwear that was now heavily bleed through from the exertion.

He would see you looking every bit repulsive and never want you again.

A loud bang takes place in the bedroom before the door falls off of its hinges landing with a harsh slap on the tile km the bathroom.

His scalding gaze turns tepid with worry when he sees you, going to gather you up but you push away.

"S...stop..." You gasp for breath with sharp inhales, spots begin to form in your peripheral as your body overheats. Useless sweat dripping down your brow.

This was it.

This was the pinnacle moment in time where Bakugou would see you for what you really were.

A fragile glass cup sitting on the edge of a high counter top.

Tears prick your eyes as you think of your uterus falling out of your fucking body with a wet thump.

And Bakugou was going to pack his shit and move out promptly.

The room spins.

He clutches onto your hand with his own strong palm, fingers lacing with yours.

"Copy me baby." He snarls, harshly contrasting his pained look. He holds your gaze as he breathes in through his nose deeply, holding it for a moment and letting the air naturally push out of his lungs through his mouth.

After a few tries you mimic him perfectly slowly regaining your thoughts.

He smooths your hair out of your face before picking you up and setting your on the cool counter.

He steps away to yank up the handle to the bath, steaming hot water pours out, filling the tub. He turns to the linen closet produces a fresh towel and two rags.

He dips one beneath the steaming water before setting the other two items on the vanity top.

"Bakugou..." You fight back tears as he wipes your mouth, folding the rag as he moved along your face. He places the dirty rag in the bowl of the sink before pulling at the hem of your shirt.

"Arms up." He hisses when you resist, you meet his gaze and obey. He pulls the dirty shirt over your head before pulling at your underwear.

"NO!" Embarrassment floods your cheeks and pain bites into your stomach again.

"Fine. I'll turn around but you better get in that bath." He sucks his teeth at the end. He listens as you finish undressing, waiting for the sounds of sloshing water as you adjust yourself.

You see now he has put Epsom salt to help ease your muscles.

Suddenly your chest is tight from a feeling other than panic, as you look at his strong back flexing as he reaches for something at the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.

He produces an orange bottle with white top that you hate. Shaking out two pills for you before wetting a rag in cold water.

"Here." He holds out his hand but you refuse the two white pills with a shake of your head, "Why not?"

"Makes me too numb." You admit and he gives you a look, slamming the pills on the counter before pressing the cold rag to your forehead.

He sits next to you on the floor, scarlet eyes roving over your body for any physical pain that he can see.

You watch it bother him that he cannot help but in these last few moments you've been more in love with him than you ever had.

"S..sorry I'm so weak." You whisper and the air becomes charged.

"When did I say you were weak? When did you need to apologize for something you cannot help?" Your cheeks burn when you realize he did not once look at you in such a way.

"Now focus we are going to do an exercise." He gets up enough to turn off the rushing water before returning to his sit by the tub.

"What do you do to amplify the pain in someone?" He asks and you think of how to word it, normally you just acted on instinct.

"I...I concentrate on their nervous system. I make their body panic and send distress to the brain."

"Can you see your own nervous system like that?" You blink at his question slowly before answering

"Yes. It's difficult but when I really close my eyes." Another sharp pain sinks into your abdomin causing you to wince.

Sharp eyes cut to your feminine pouch he loves so much, he notes that it is a little swollen and silently vows to look up diets better suited for less painful periods.

In his mind food fixed everything.

"So close your eyes." He says, sliding the cool rag over your eye lids. It some how soothes the second heartbeat there that you did not realize you had.

He begins to breathe deeply, like before and out of habit you follow suit until your nervous system stands before you.

A mess of angry nerve bundles through out your lower back and stomach constantly sending messages to your brain as your uterus contracts.

"I...I see it."

"Now do the opposite of activating the nerves. Slow them down or turn them off."

"Bakugou I can't." You go to move the rag, moments away from breaking what you can see before rough hand settles over your eyes.

Applying just the right amount of pressure as it rests there.

"I didn't ask you if you could or couldn't." He says flatly but you can imagine the harsh look in his eyes.

So you listen, you try as you focus, mentally stroking the nerves, begging them to become less hyperactive, one by one they begin to obey.

And your mind numbing pain begins to dull to a light ache.

For the first time since you were eleven you didn't feel as if you were Kane from that iconic scene in that 1980s movie.

You felt like a normal woman who had normal cramps.

You pull at his hand to make eye contact, gleaming with excitement.

"I did it!"

He just smiles in confirmation, as if he knew you could do it all along that is until your face twists and your uterus is being rung out again.

The pain comes flooding back and with it frustrated tears. A slam of a fist agaisnt tile as you let out an audible sob. Bakugou smooths back your hair before tilting your face towards his.

"I will be with you until you can ease your own pain." He kisses your lips gently before adding, "And if for whatever fucking reason you can't I will *always* be here."

He presses his forehead to yours gazing into your eyes and you had never realized how much you needed this.

Him.

That even his support was enough to ease your suffering. He stands, rewets your rag with cold water, places it gently onto your forehead as he returns to normal rough self.

"Now soak in this bath and don't fucking move while I make dinner." He plays soothing music on your phone before slamming the door to the bedroom shut.

Hastily opening google onto his own phone as he makes his way to the kitchen to prepare you a meal plan that will help strengthen the nervous system and dispel inflammation.

Thinking only of how he will always support you, even if it meant putting everything on hold once a month for the rest of his life.

#bnha ask #bnha ask prompt #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha prompt #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff #bnha katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha kacchan

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flightofaqrow · 4 years

Text

the job

qrow + Leonardo ( @maidensvault )

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“ Qrow! You truly came. Thank you for coming on such.. such short notice. ” Carefully, Leo continued; “ Some of my teachers have gone missing. ”

“well, that’s concerning alright.”

pros are pros for a reason, and patterns like that when it came to huntsman and huntresses usually turned up a source for their design. yeah, qrow’s gonna need a quick drink for this one.

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> “ Qrow! You truly came. Thank you for coming on such.. such short notice, ” Leonardo said hastily, posture stressed despite the relief in his tone. “ I know how difficult it is for you to make your way through boarders, but I needed someone I could trust. Especially with everything else going on… ” His eyes glanced aside for him to swallow down the acid in his throat. “ Ahem. Anyways, I need your help. ”

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“hey, don’t worry about it,” qrow flicks his chin up and tosses his hair back as if shaking off the very idea. (if there’s one person borders meant nothing to, it’s him.) “…that’s what i’m here for.” although Leonardo looks very worried anyway. it’s unlike him to act so distant, like he’d lost some chunk of his usual pride.

he sighs while expectant fingers tap on his forearms, “..so what’s the job?”

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> “ Right… yes, that’s true. ” Breath held still in his lungs for more than a second while his mind worked through how to explain the situation. Or, at least as much as he was willing or able to weed his way through. He couldn’t go in depth, even to the slightest extents that he could to others due to how quickly Qrow worked through situations, how easily he caught details. Carefully, he continued; “ Some of my teachers have gone missing. Only a few, but you know very well only capable huntsmen and huntresses work as teachers at Haven. I need your insight. For them to be missing, and for now two months.. it’s far from a good sign. ”

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“well, that’s concerning alright.” so is Leo’s continued hesitation. he shouldn’t have to think so hard about giving simple orders. this felt more like trying to get Ruby to admit when she’d stolen cookies from the jar than an official briefing. but a mission is given nonetheless, one that’s far more concerning for every reason he’d said. pros are pros for a reason, and patterns like that when it came to huntsman and huntresses usually turned up a source for their design. yeah, he’s gonna need a quick drink for this one.

“okay,” qrow tucked his flask away again, and started scratching his chin in thought, “i see two issues here. one is trying to find these people. two is finding out why they went missing in the first place. what’s my focus here? you got anyone else working on the first part yet?”

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> Ocher eyes followed the rise and fall of his flask. Of course he was still drinking. Leo wasn’t sure why he supposed that he might not be the case, all he could blame it on was a hope. He took in a deep breath in, then out. “ Finding them is the most important factor right now. Mistral never was… the safest place, ” he replied with an almost sad shake of his head. His hands hesitated in front of his own chest for a moment before they spread out, Lionheart’s wrists moving carefully, but slowly to emphasize his words.

“ With students coming from the lower tiers of this city, we’ve had problems in the past with local smugglers and criminal territories keeping a hand on the children under our care. I’m sure you understand why I’m so worried and why I can’t draw attention to this matter for better or for worse. ” His hand sifted through one of his pockets hidden by the shawl kept around his shoulders. Not long after, he offered over a small, rectangular piece of plastic. “ Here’s your ID for free use of the cable-way. I made sure to have it prepared for you in advance. ” An almost embarrassed pause followed. “ Do you.. need a map? I hadn’t thought of that.. ”

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qrow’s heart sits a little more at ease with the genuine concern Leo shows. the man fears for his kingdom, and maybe it truly rattles him enough to be so jumpy overall. still, he hates to think he’s the only set of eyes looking out for so many people, even if what Leo says in far too many words is that discretion is called for. “so that’s a ‘no.’ got it.”

he takes the ID and slips it into a different shirt pocket, bringing his scroll out in its place and lightly tossing it into the headmaster’s desk. “thanks. got all the maps i need right here, but if you have any, ah… points of interest or profiles for all this, feel free to transfer ‘em.”

arms cross over his chest and he stares practically through the floor as he continues his questioning. “…along with any priorities? leads? make my day here, Leo. tell me you’ve got at least a few crumbs for me to start from.”

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> An expression of defeat followed the harsh simplification of his explanation, eyes shifting to look down for a moment with a nod. The scroll made his head jerk up from the grimly held almost bow soon after. “ Right… yes, your scroll. I always forget what they’re capable of, ” he explained and reached to grab the condensed scroll. “ Here, let me place a marker on your map for a safe resting place away from all the havoc. ”

“ I wish we had more than what I can give you. ” Leo did shift to look his trusted ally in the face once he finished at the very least. His hands multitasked, setting the scroll back on the edge of his desk while they pulled a small and somewhat cheap satchel from below the drawers to his right. “ These have the information on the missing teachers. It’s difficult for us to tell if some of our absent students are indeed missing or.. otherwise, due to the inaccessibility of many parents here. ”

“ Even still, I have no doubts you can find something from the photos, Qrow. I will call in advance to some stores down below so they can maybe let you view their security footage, but being here makes that difficult. We haven’t even been able to use our own cameras for days now due to a security malfunction. ”

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havoc. sure, mistral had its darker corners and levels, but that’s not a word qrow would typically use for the whole city. one more tally to add to his ‘doesn’t bode well’ board. can’t argue with a new place to check out, however. hopefully it’s a tavern.

“trust me, i’ll take it,” figuratively and literally, as he picks his scroll back up along with the satchel. his frown lifts to something more neutral, but retreats right back into a scowl as he leafs through the documents. so the priority is teachers over students, but… “Leo…” a hint of despair laces his next sigh, “these people should have been more than capable of handling themselves. this is…”

his hand raises to the air as if he could grasp anything there at all, but he’s not saying anything Leo doesn’t already know. it flops dejectedly back to his side, “well, we’ll find out.”

he packs everything away, and readies to go. “I’ll look these over, check out that footage and report back in the evening with a plan for tomorrow. and you really need to get your own cameras under control as soon as possible.”

if it’s bad enough to call him away from other duties, then haven really can’t afford any blind spots.

#* betrayed your own pride = maidensvault ** leonardo *#* i gave you my life = past *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

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atopearth · 4 years

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Fate/hollow ataraxia Part 2 - Food is Bliss (Phase 2)

What?! So, Bazett dying is something normal? She dies, he takes her home and she starts breathing again eventually?? Or does it just restart back in this house after they both die? Wow, they can practically never die since they’ll always revive back at the house, unfairrr! Anyway, Avenger huh? I guess he’s Angra Mainyu? Since he sounds like just a culmination of all the hatred and violence, whilst also being someone that’s weak enough that he can’t physically fight and win against other Servants? I guess it’s good that Bazett is his Master then since she’s so great at hand to hand combat~ Did Bazett actually summon two Servants? And the other one was Lancer and that’s why he’s able to stay in this world even though Kotomine is gone? Actually maybe she just made a contract with Lancer? I’m not sure how I feel about Bazett as a character, in a way she’s interesting in that she fights to protect the “correct” way of life, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like she really cares since she seems to just feel like she needs to do this rather than this is what she wants to do? On the other hand, Avenger definitely has more thoughts and feelings towards things than he lets out with his superficial personality that he shows to kinda hide what’s inside.

Anyway, is that ghost house Shirou went to the place where Bazett and Avenger revive? Omgg hahaha, I love how when Sakura and Shirou had to cook dinner for heaps of people on the weekend, they started early on the brainstorming as to what they should cook, and when they were doing it, Shirou would refer to her as Chef Matou and Sakura would call him Chief Emiya hahahaa, they’re so cute! I think it’s one of the few times you actually get to see Sakura get full on cooking guidance from Shirou rather than the usual where they kinda just help each other out cooking their own thing. I wish we got to see the reactions of everyone eating the persimmon dinner! It would have been fun! I wanted to see the fruits of their efforts~ Oh well. It’s kinda saddening to think but it’s true that above all else, Rider is a monster that can and will eat humans if it comes to it, I mean, in the Fate route etc, it was apparent that she was unnerved over killing and devouring humans after all. As she said, she’s never been a noble spirit like Saber. LOL at Shirou wondering how it could be possible that young Gilgamesh is a nice little boy hahahah. I love their after dinner antics, lmao at Taiga losing her after dinner snacks to Saber through blackjack, she really gambles everything away haha. It was cute how Shirou scolded them🤣

Lmaoo, trust Illya to tease Saber for having a stuffed lion toy and then forcing Shirou to go buy her one too lol. HAHAHA, I love how Shirou teased Mitsuzuri’s little brother (Minori) about liking Sakura and tried to dig why he likes her🤣 Gotta love how much of a spoiled brat Taiga is to knee drop Shirou to play with her when he’s trying to sleep lmao. Honestly though, with the relationship Shirou and Taiga have, I can’t deny that I kinda wanted a Taiga route in FSN haha. Omg, I nearly died laughing at Shinji sulking at the harbour port for appearing only 3 times in the game when Sakura’s appeared so many times hahahahah. It feels like Shirou is the most smitten with Saber after all~ It was so cute when she discussed with him why bras and underwear had to have so many designs lmao. LOL, so it was Rin the troublemaker that told Saber to consult Shirou about it just because she thought it would be funny hahahahha. It was pretty hilarious when she insisted on Shirou accompanying her to the lingerie shop and Shirou ran away, but the icing on the cake was when Sakura and Rider overheard their conversation and Sakura wished her good luck on this quest lmaoo. Btw, I love how Shirou experiments making different snacks and he gets Saber the glutton to try them hahaha, so cute. Omgg Saber’s face enjoying Shirou’s baked sweet potatoes was so precious, she looked so happy🥺🥰 Lmao at Lancer picking up Makidera and them, and even saying his speciality is the javelin throw, I guess he’s not exactly wrong or lying hahahaha. Lancer being a part time florist is definitely a win win situation for him, he gets to pick up girls and earn some money haha!

I quite enjoyed Mitsuzuri’s meeting with Lancer, they got along pretty well due to their interest in martial arts etc, Mitsuzuri was so cuteee! I love how Shirou ended up bringing the party of Saber, Sakura and Rider to help clean Rin’s house hahaha, it’s true that with all her antiques and carpets etc it can be rather difficult by himself, not to mention how large the place is too! HAHAHA when Saber changed into her armour to clean Rin’s house. Lmaooo at Saber thinking all the gym equipment in the basement was what Rin tried to use as a catalyst to summon her but failed, it was so adorable when she started playing around with them all instead of cleaning hahahah, didn’t think Saber would be a bludger!🤣 It was really sweet to see Sakura’s reactions to things around the house, it was so adorable how she talked about Rin giving her the precious handmade ribbon (that’s on her hair) as a parting gift and saying Sakura has to repay it with a compounding interest rate lmao. It’s cute how she wanted Sakura to always feel connected to her through this “debt ”. Awww how cute of Saber to play with the lion plushie and even sleep with it at night!! She’s so cute!! Shirou totally deserved Saber’s wrath for teasing her about it so ruthlessly hahahah. Sakura is so mischievous! She literally just wrote down everything Shirou said in the letter to Rin hahaha, I love Sakura in this, she’s so cute but cunning at the same time hahaha. Omggg how embarrassing for Sakura that Shirou caught her hugging his jacket so lovingly hahahah! So cute though when she got all flustered. It was really thoughtful of her to notice that his button fell off and sewed it back for him.

Aww Rider going to school just to give Sakura and Shirou their lunches (that Sakura forgot) was cute, I also really enjoyed how Shirou ended up buying her food for them to enjoy together on the rooftop, it was really sweet of him. I don’t know, but Saber welcoming Shirou home and thanking him for his hard work at his job was so heartwarming, it really made me think she was such a great girl. I can’t believe this but my love for Rin is going to be at the same level as Saber if this goes on hahaha, Rin come back soon pls. I found it hilarious that Rider is so dissatisfied with bike number two that is mainly used for casual shopping, and really wants to use bike number one which is a racing bike, but Shirou is scared that she’ll be zooming around the neighbourhood like a rocket and refuses, which is very logical!! Lmao, just imagining Rider at her superhuman speed riding on that bike is killing me hahaha. Omg hahahah, that silly drawing of him imagining Rider being chased by the police on the bike and her escaping happily was so funny and cute LOL. Hahahaha, I loved how Rider tried to use her seductive skills to make Shirou bend to her will so she can use the bike, but then Sakura appears overhearing them, so she immediately runs away and leaves Shirou to deal with the misunderstanding hahahah. Honestly though, seeing Saber and Sakura co-operate happily making pie and enjoying the fruits of their efforts was so cute. They used to be rather awkward even though they got along relatively okay, so it’s pretty nice and refreshing to see that if they had the time to bond more, they could actually be so friendly.

I think I’m starting to see how and why some people might like Fate/hollow ataraxia more than the original game, because wow, seeing Sakura grow so much and become the captain of the archery club was so cool. I absolutely loved how resolute and strong she was, and I loved how she scolded Taiga for being a nuisance hahaha. It was so funny yet so cool to see that. And it’s not something sudden too, because Mitsuzuri stayed, supported and guided her into establishing more self confidence in herself into being a worthy captain so I’m glad it all worked out. Although it’s obvious Sakura would be a great captain seeing how she carries herself at the Emiya household haha. I also absolutely loved how she fed Shirou the obanyaki when they went shopping after, and it was honestly so beautiful and heartwarming to see how truly happy Sakura was. Not only is she now able to have a proper life where she’s spending time with people in the club and making friends with others whilst actually playing around doing other activities, she is also able to truly live for herself and not live in fear of anything in the Matou household. It’s so wonderful to see how nothing is holding her back anymore, and honestly this is the best ending for Sakura, or I guess, it’s more like a new beginning for her! I’m so glad they showed all this. Sakura used to think she didn’t have the right to play around and stuff, so seeing her enjoy all that made me feel really satisfied haha.

Confused Caster walking around the shopping district wondering what she should buy to make for dinner was cute haha. HAHAHA, I love how Caster and Sakura became friends because Lancer was trying to pick up Sakura and Caster hates his flippy attitude so she taught him a lesson lol. It was even more hilarious when Sakura subtly kept badmouthing Rin for using Shirou like a servant and Shirou not minding it hahaha, I think it was pretty funny how Shirou didn’t even realise or he ignored the fact that Sakura was talking about him and Rin haha. Omgg snake wine with a snake in it?! Reminds me of the crazy Chinese concoctions hahaha. Anyway, I really loved how persistent but considerate Shirou was into finding out what Rider likes to eat and what she doesn’t eat. I think it was really cool that rather than giving up after she said she doesn’t particularly mind whatever he and Sakura cooks, he instead asked her to come to the kitchen and get her to choose what she would prefer to eat from the ingredients they have. I really love how thoughtful Shirou is in changing his approach several times in order to get Rider to enjoy her food rather than just feel apathetic about it all. Lmao at Saber getting jealous that she doesn’t get to choose even though Shirou asks her what she wants to eat all the time hahaha. LMAO at Saber’s reaction to octopus and not realising she’s been gobbling it up all this time when she ate takoyaki hahahah. I love how through their “fight” about the weird things they eat, Shirou gets to understand a bit more about what Rider actually prefers to eat. Rin is hilarious for making Saber wear the fancy clothes Caster sent to them hahahah, it was so cute how traumatised Saber was hahaha. Shirou imagining Issei in a frilly dress was LOL, that cursed image hahaha. Hahahaha, I love how Saber didn’t give up on eating high class food when Shirou told her they were poor, and instead said that they should raise/make the ingredients themselves so that they could cook it in the future. It was so cute when she started talking about raising ducks and pigs hahhaha. Issei being fond of sweets is cute haha.

I don’t know why but I never thought about Kiritsugu’s grave at all lol! I never thought it would be in the forest at the Ryuudou Temple graveyard though! I wonder if Illya and Saber would ever go visit…but then again, Shirou doesn’t even go so I think it’ll be harder for them. Wow, I didn’t think I needed it, but hearing Kuzuki call Caster his wife and leave her in Shirou’s hands (to learn cooking lmao) was so..amusing LOL. On the other hand, Reikan (Issei’s brother) is a pretty cool guy! He’s chill, full of confidence but also a strict serious guy, I can see why Issei would admire him. He gets along nicely with Taiga since they were classmates so it’s pretty cute. I…feel so sorry for Shirou that he was caught between Otoko/Neko (his part time job boss) and Taiga, they’re monsters… Hmmm, the actual story part is quite short as usual. It was expected that the white hair girl was the one who restarted the holy grail war, but why does she become possessed and have claws come out of her? Poor Shirou dieddd! Is she hiding a monster inside that comes out when it meets Shirou at the wrong time? Hahaha. Anyway, I’m curious about her so I hope we’ll get more story stuff in phase 3.

#fate hollow ataraxia

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years

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Ficlet: Frustration

Summary: Claire Littleton is very pregnant, very uncomfortable, and very stuck on a weird island. She’s also very horny and very determined to scratch that itch. If Gold, the fellow passenger with whom she struck up a friendship on the flight, can help, then so much the better. Anyem: Gold/Claire, a pure PWP little smutlet.

Rated: E for explicit.

Frustration

Life, Claire thinks, really isn’t fair at the moment. For a start, she’s the size of a house. Her back aches, her ankles are swollen, her head is so fuzzy from hormones that she doesn’t even know which way is up anymore, and she has to pee every ten seconds. Well, it feels like that, at least. All whilst she’s stuck on this mysterious island in the middle of nowhere.

But to top it all off, adding insult to numerous other insults, she’s hornier than she’s ever been, and her vibrator is several thousand miles away.

It’s getting to the unbearable stage now; she’s had sex on the brain for three days straight and she’s got to do something about it. Aren’t there animals out there that will literally die if they don’t mate whilst they’re in heat? Claire glares down at her huge stomach. Look where mating got her last time. It’s something of a jolt when she realises that she hasn’t had sex since she found out she was pregnant. Thomas had a weird kind of Madonna complex going on at first, although hers is far from a virgin birth. Then as soon as she started to show, he lost interest because hey, she was fat.

Claire does a quick rundown of all the guys in the camp. No, she’s not that desperate. Well… Her mind comes back to Gold. He’s always been good to her, a level-headed friend in her time of need. He was sitting next to her on the plane; technically he’d had the aisle seat, but he’d been happy to swap so she wouldn’t disturb him every time she needed the bathroom. He chatted to her amiably, never once mentioned her baby bump, and he held her hand through her Braxton Hicks just after the crash. He’d been petrified of flying before and now he’s even more determined never to get on another plane again.

She shakes her head crossly. No, she really shouldn’t be thinking about him in that way. Even if she does happen to know that he’s single. He’s been a great friend to her, but, all things considered, he’s probably better off as just a friend. He probably isn’t even entertaining the notion of doing anything like that with her. Especially considering how gross her body is at the moment. Besides, he wouldn’t be thinking of her in that way anyway. Someone, Shannon perhaps, said once that Gold’s become the camp dad, just as Rose has become the camp mum. Given her complicated non-relationship with her own father, Claire would hate it if it turned out that she was mistaking parental feelings for other, distinctly non-parental ones.

Then again, she just can’t get him out of her head.

Claire gets to her feet, checking that no-one’s keeping an eye on her. People tend to hover, worried about her, and it can be difficult to get a moment’s privacy, which is what she needs right now to stop herself going mad with lust. She finds a quiet, undisturbed corner, well-hidden within the trees, and settles herself on the ground, cross-legged, trying out all the breathing exercises from her ante-natal classes which she already knows will have little effect on the heat building between her thighs.

Finally accepting that she’s never going to get anywhere until she has a thoroughly satisfying orgasm, she takes a deep breath and slips one hand down into her panties. It takes a long time for her to relax enough to get going, one finger sliding into her folds and going straight for her clit, and she’s just about found a rhythm and some desperately needed relief when she freezes on hearing footsteps approaching.

“Claire?”

The voice is soft and Scottish, and Claire groans because it’s the one person whom she absolutely should not be thinking about whilst masturbating. Tears of frustration begin to well behind her eyes and it’s just the last straw, hormones making her weep on top of everything else.

“Claire, are you all right…” Gold comes into her little clearing and tails off on finding her, and Claire realises that she’s still got her hand down her trousers, and her intentions and need to be left alone are obvious.

“I’ll leave you in peace.”

He makes to go, and Claire doesn’t know what possesses her to scramble to her feet to stop him, running her sticky fingers through her hair.

“No, Gold, wait, please.”

He turns back and his brow furrows when he sees the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Claire?” he asks gently.

“I want sex!” The volume of her statement alarms her, and she wonders how many other people heard it. “I’m stupidly pregnant and stupidly horny and I need an orgasm so badly I can’t see straight and I just can’t relax enough to get myself off and I keep thinking about you for some reason and I feel like a whale and…”

“Claire.”

His hands are warm against her cheeks as he cups her face and his lips are soft on hers as he kisses her.

“Oh, Claire, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask and I’ll gladly assist.”

Dumbfounded by this revelation that the feelings go both ways, Claire can only kiss him back, something in the back of her mind telling her that this is a terrible idea and something else not caring because it feels so good, it feels so right.

He walks her back, leaning her back against her tree, and Claire never wants to stop kissing him. She’d kept thinking about him, but she’d never dreamed that it would actually come to anything. He’s hardly her usual type, but he’s kind and he’s good-looking and he’s here; and they’re on an island in the middle of nowhere so the rules don’t apply.

And God, he’s a good kisser, and if he’s as good in other areas then she won’t need another orgasm for a year.

She breaks away and looks up at him, his lips bruised from frantic kissing and his eyes bright with want. Something inside her twists.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’m not at my best. In fact, I’ve never been less sexy.”

“You are gorgeous.”

“I’m hideously fat.”

“You’re pregnant, and understandably frustrated with it.” He kisses her again, and as he presses in closer (well, as close as he can with the baby in the way; he’s kind of side on), Claire feels his cock stirring in his jeans. It was so strange seeing him in jeans after he’d been wearing a suit on the plane and for a few days afterwards. The suit had almost seemed like a part of him. Something in her chest – and indeed her loins – had flip-flopped on seeing him in jeans and white button-down (grubby white now, but the more scruff, the sexier he gets).

“Come on. Let’s get you what you need.”

His hand skims down her side and Claire grabs it, putting it firmly between her legs. She needs him now, no more niceties, although the kissing is wonderful. Between them, they get back on the ground and Claire shimmies her trousers and panties down, letting her thighs fall open to welcome Gold’s questing hand between them. He dips his fingers into the wet heat pooling at her entrance and strokes along her folds.

“Just let go, love. It’s all right. You need this, so just tell me what you want and take what you need.”

Claire just gives a sob of blissful relief as his thumb grazes her clit and keeps rubbing little circles around it.

“More,” she gasps, her fingers digging into his shoulders where her arms are around his neck, clinging on for dear life and desperate not to let go. “Please, just more.”

He keeps touching her, firm and steady, and a long finger presses up inside, stroking her inner walls. Claire hasn’t felt this good for a very long time and she cries out unashamedly with her pleasure. A second finger joins the first and she groans as they curl. She’s so close to the edge, and she wriggles her hips to get Gold’s hand just where it needs to be. A moment later, the dam breaks and she moans, shuddering all over as the joy and warmth spreads through her veins.

“Thank you,” she mumbles as she comes down from the high, still holding on like a limpet. “Thank you so much.”

“You needed that, love.” Gold chuckles and kisses her forehead, carefully drawing his fingers out of her and licking his hand clean.

“You can’t imagine how much.”

She’d be content to stay here like this, safe and warm and thoroughly fucked in Gold’s arms. She feels like she could sleep for a week, but Gold’s erection is still bulging undeniably in the front of his jeans, and Claire feels a certain desire spark into life again, knowing that as unsexy as she feels in herself, Gold still wants her. The need is not as strong and all-consuming as it was before, but she certainly wouldn’t be averse to round two, and at least she knows she can’t exactly get pregnant again from the encounter. She reaches down and cups him, squeezing lightly through the denim. Gold gives a strangled sounding grunt.

“Let me return the favour?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a hell of a long time since I was last with a woman, Claire.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t seem to rusty to me.”

He gives a soft laugh. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Thank you for the blinding orgasm.”

“What I mean is that it’ll all be over in about thirty seconds and it won’t exactly be earth-moving.”

“I don’t care.”

Gold lets her undo his belt and fly then, and she takes out his cock, running her thumb over the blood-flushed tip. He hisses with pleasure and his hips twitch, thrusting up into her hand.

“You want to be inside? I mean, it might be a bit difficult…” She indicates her belly.

“No, I’d rather see your face, if that’s ok.”

He tilts her head back for another kiss and Claire’s hand stills on his cock, surrendering into it. Hell, they could be polar bear breakfast tomorrow; she’s going to make the most of this moment whilst it lasts.

When she starts to touch him again, it doesn’t take more than a couple of firm pumps of his length before he spurts over her hand, and for a long time they stayed slumped at the bottom of their tree, half-undressed and wonderfully debauched, finally sated and no longer frustrated. Of course, there’s a lot to go over. She’s heavily pregnant with a baby she never expected to raise, let alone raise on a weird island, and this probably isn’t the best circumstance in which to start a relationship.

But for now, like with their lives after the crash, all they can do is take each day as it comes, and treasure the blissful moments like this one.

#anyem #anyem fic #Claire Littleton #Mr Gold #Claire/Gold #Fun in the Sun: Sizzling Smutlets

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mugsywrites · 5 years

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In the interest of staying On Brand...

Here is a bit of a self-indulgent Prodigal Son/TWD crossover. Basically non-zombie Desus AU, their backstory almost identical to the one I gave them in Ripples.

Untitled Self-Indulgent Fic

Malcolm had been in Georgia less than a week and was already itching to get back to New York. He knew it made him just another coastal liberal elite cliche, but he still hated working with rednecks. Casual racism and misogyny were problems everywhere, but something about being south of the Mason Dixon line made it all the worse.

So when he needed to make the drive to Athens to interview a potential witness he was relieved that Rick Grimes was the one to accompany him. The sheriff of King County was a pleasant surprise in the sea of good ole boys Malcolm had been dealing with. The guy was quiet, thoughtful, and steady. He reminded Malcolm a bit of Gil, actually. Serial killers were outside this guy’s wheelhouse, and he listened respectfully while Malcolm babbled, only occasionally raising his eyebrows and making a dry comment when Malcolm was being Too Much. During the two-hour drive to Athens those eyebrows got quite a workout.

Although the guy was maybe a little too sharp. Such as when Grimes asked why Malcolm was so sure the recently discovered body was the Surgeon’s work. He’d given Malcolm a piercing look at his breezy explanation of being an “expert” on the Surgeon’s crimes. “Trust me,” Malcolm said, “this was the Surgeon’s work.”

In his head Malcolm heard Gil’s voice, reminding him that right now it was possible, not definite, that Gregory Hill had been murdered by the Surgeon. Could be another copy cat, Gil said, probably another copy cat. Your old man wasn’t one for hiding bodies. He showed one copycat his methods, he could have done it before. He told you he didn’t do it, why would he risk you stopping your visits by lying about it?

Malcolm didn’t know; and he intended to find out. The biggest deviation from the Surgeon’s method was the care that had gone into hiding the body; it’d been hidden so well that it’d taken twenty years to be found. And Malcolm had asked his father, and the Dr. Whitly had denied it.

But he was lying, and Malcolm knew he was lying. His father hadn’t given any of his usual tells; but Malcolm knew it. Had known it as soon as the words were out of his father’s mouth. He’d also known that the Surgeon very much did not want his son to look into this particular case.

Why. Malcolm turned it over in his head. There was nothing to indicate Dr. Whitly had been in Georgia when Gregory Hill was murdered, but there was also nothing that would conclusively prove that he wasn’t. There was the fact that Whitly had attended a conference in Atlanta the year before Hill’s disappearance. Too close to the time frame for comfort. Whitly could’ve done preliminary recon on the area, then returned later to deflect suspicion. It made Malcolm feel panicky, as he couldn’t stop thinking, oh god, are there others? How many? Whitly hunted close to their home in New York, and he freely admitted to his murders once he’d been caught.

There was also the other major deviation from his father’s standard M.O. Motive. The Surgeon killed because he was bored and the Surgeon killed for self-preservation. He didn’t kill out of anger—Malcolm actually thought his father might be incapable of that emotion—and he certainly didn’t kill for revenge. Except Malcolm could tell from what was left of the body that Hill’s killer had been angry. Except Malcolm knew that his father was lying about not being involved, and that he’d killed Hill in the most painful way possible.

Literally. Despite the decomposed state of the body there was enough for the coroner to recognize the “quartet method” (although Malcolm supposed it would have to be updated to the “quintet method” if Gregory indeed proved to be the final victim.) Dr Whitly went out of his way to discover the most painful method of killing a person—perfecting the technique on four innocent women before going after Gregory Hill with what he’d learned. Malcolm just couldn’t figure out why; or how Hill had even crossed paths with the Surgeon. Dr. Whitly spent less than a week in Atlanta; Hill had lived outside of Savannah and his body had been discovered near Macon.

An hour into the drive there was a lull in conversation, and Malcolm paged through his notes on Gregory Hill with these thoughts swirling through his head. It was difficult pinning down solid information on Gregory Hill; most people who knew him in life were work associates. On the outside the man had been an ‘upstanding citizen’—born in 1945, vanished in 1997. Owned a successful car dealership in Shepherd, Georgia, just outside of Savannah. Married, but his wife had died in 2007. No biological children, but fostered six children, the first coinciding neatly with Hill’s first campaign for public office. Hill served in the Georgia State Legislator from 1990 to 1994, when he lost spectacularly to Hershel Greene. Dr. Greene was deceased, but his according to his children he’d had a very low opinion of Hill. The impression Malcolm had so far of the man was a bit sleazy, but no more than your average rich asshole interested in politics. Certainly not enough to incur the wrath of Dr. Martin Whitley.

Dead end followed dead end. Right now they were trying to track down the foster kids without much luck—two were dead, two were in prison and unwilling to speak with police about anything, one was living in California, and one lived in Athens. Malcolm wasn’t hopeful about learning anything that would shed light on the Surgeon’s motivations—Paul Rovia had only lived with Hill for a few months in 1994. It was just a box to check off.

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

The address on file for Paul Rovia was a modest two story colonial style house not far from downtown Athens. Grimes parked the cruiser on the street in front, sharp blue eyes taking in everything. There was an attached garage and a short driveway; the garage door was open and Malcom could hear what he thought was Lynyrd Skynyrd drifting out. He and Grimes headed toward the garage, where they could see a figure stretched out on a creeper seat beneath a battered pickup truck.

Malcolm raised his voice to be heard over the music, “Excuse me? Mr. Rovia?”

“Fuck did I say ‘bout callin’ me that?” growled the figure beneath the truck. A grimy hand emerged, grabbed a tool laid out beside him, “You want a divorce so bad just ask.” The guy’s accent was pure Appalachia, so thick Malcolm had trouble making a few words out.

“Uh,” Malcolm said, blinking at this string of nonsense.

“Sorry, maybe we’re in the wrong place,” Rick Grimes interjected, “we’re looking for Paul Rovia, does he live here?”

The man jerked, then slid out from underneath the truck, blinking up at the two men standing in his garage. He was broad-shouldered, with cutoff sleeves that revealed muscular arms and a middle just beginning to soften. It was hard to tell beneath the grime but he looked at least ten years too old to be Paul Rovia, and Malcolm wondered again if they’d gotten the wrong house. Then his eyes focused on Malcolm’s face and his jaw dropped, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Sorry?” Malcolm said, even as the mechanic was pushing himself up off the ground, eyes wide and horrified as he stared between Malcolm and Sheriff Grimes.

“Paul, what the hell—“ the guy started to say, then froze. He had narrow blue eyes that widened in pure shock. When he spoke his voice was a rasp, “What. The. Fuck.”

Beside him Malcolm was aware of Grimes tensing. He didn’t have to look to know that the sheriff’s hand was probably closer to the grip of the big Colt that rested on his hip. Understandable, this guy’s response to them was weird as fuck.

He recognizes me, Malcolm thought, maybe from a true crime doc, but why—

He shook his head, and struggled to keep his voice even, “Let’s start over. I’m Malcolm Bright, I’m a criminal profiler on loan from the NYPD. This is Sheriff Rick Grimes. We’re looking for Paul Rovia, is this his address?”

The guy just stared, jaw still slack, “Malcolm? Malcolm Bright?” He said Malcolm’s name like they were words from a language he’d never heard. Malcolm held up his ID and gave what he hoped was a non-threatening smile. The guy who clearly wasn’t Paul Rovia just stared at it blankly.

“Listen,” Grimes said, “We just want to ask a few questions, Mr. Rovia isn’t in any trouble. You a friend of his?”

When Grimes began to speak the stranger’s eyes flicked toward the sheriff, and when he got to the ‘Mr. Rovia’ part those eyes jerked right back to Malcolm, and they didn’t leave it. Finally, the guy spoke, “I’m his husband. Daryl. Daryl Dixon.”

“Ok,” Malcolm said, blinking a little. This trip was teaching him a bit about stereotypes—he never would’ve guessed the man in front of him was gay. Still, not important. “Is he home? Can we talk to him?”

“He’s uh…he should be inside, or out back,” Dixon said. He stumbled around the truck, eyes never leaving Malcolm’s face. There was a door that connected to the main house, and Dixon opened it and shouted inside, “Paul! Paul, get yer ass out here! Now!” His voice was high-pitched and shrill. Malcolm exchanged a look with Grimes; this was looking more and more like something wasn’t right.

Malcolm heard a faint voice calling out from the house, “Daryl? Babe? Are you ok?”

Malcolm had just enough time to think that the voice sounded familiar when what he guessed was Paul Rovia emerged from the house. Malcolm had a brief impression of long hair and a beard as he went to his husband. “Fuck, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Dixon didn’t answer, just stared that wide-eyed, shocked look, then looked back at Malcolm.

Paul Rovia noticed Malcolm and Sheriff Grimes then, and he took a protective step in front of Dixon, “May I help you…”

Then he froze, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he saw Malcolm’s face. Then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Malcolm could feel blood draining from his own face as he watched Paul Rovia turn pale with shock.

Malcolm was able to keep his own jaw from dropping, but only barely.

Paul Rovia had hair the same shade of Malcolm’s own, only worn long, past his shoulders. He had a full beard, and made him look a bit like Jesus. Malcolm unconsciously raised a hand to his own bare chin. He’d never grown a beard before, but now he knew what he’d look like if he did. Because Paul Rovia’s long hair and beard weren’t enough to obscure the fact that his face was identical to Malcolm’s own. Same slightly curved nose, same arched eyebrows, same cheekbones, same wide mouth, same blue-green eyes. Although Rovia’s didn’t have the dark circles underneath.

For the second time in Malcolm’s life everything he thought he knew about his father and his family was wiped away.

As Malcolm stared at his brother, at his fucking twin, the shape of what had motivated the Surgeon to kill Gregory Hill started to form.

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

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

Of Hockey Thighs and Poorly-Sized Jeans

Hello, hi, hey there internet. I was casually scrolling Twitter this afternoon when I came upon this ESPN story, which is, honestly, the pinnacle of sports journalism. I promptly told everyone I could about it and @distant-rose was like “please write about Killian Jones’ hockey thighs.” And I was like, well, today is my day off and I can’t say no to Ro, so...here’s 2K’ish of Killian Jones’ hockey thighs and Emma Swan being super into that.

Based almost entirely on real-world experience because my husband buys jeans from one of the companies mentioned in that story. Also because we should all be way more into hockey thighs. Case in point:

“You are a marvel of the human body.”

Killian scowled at her, but Emma simply smiled in response, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands and it wasn’t really funny. It was bordering dangerously close to ridiculous.

“You keep making jokes love and I won’t show up.”

“I know you think that sounds threatening, but I promise it’s not,” Emma argued, not even bothering to shake her head. “I know where you live.”

That got him to change his expression.

And Emma couldn’t really help the smile that spread across her own face, not quite slow and certainly not measured. It was, she assumed, because everything was still so new and exciting and sharing a space with someone was not nearly as intimidating as she thought it was going to be.

It was, occasionally, a little frustrating – she hated drying dishes and Killian hated letting dishes air dry, something about spots or another word she’d only been half listening to because there was no point in drying dishes when the air was more than willing to do just that – but it wasn’t the overwhelming horror some dark, nervous corner of Emma’s brain was, still, certain it had to be.

It was nice.

It was comfortable.

It was an arrangement that led, rather quickly, to her discovering that Killian owned one pair of jeans.

And they were ripped.

She’d found that out less than twenty-four hours before a season tickets event that would not only require him to show up, but to wear casual clothes, an attempt at being relatable that probably wouldn’t work with an absolutely massive hole in the bottom of his jeans.

Because his goddamn thighs were too goddamn big from playing too many goddamn hockey games. Ass too. It was…ridiculous. There was no other word for it. Emma could not possibly be expected to come up with another word for it when she was having such a difficult time coming to terms with the overall circumference of Killian’s lower body.

“That’s true,” Killian admitted, leaning back against the wall in Macy’s. It was a miracle that no one had spotted them yet, a last-ditch effort with only a few hours to spare and Emma’s phone had been ringing nearly non-stop the entire time they’d been pacing the few feet of men’s section in the back corner of the building.

“But?”

“Why do you think there’s a but?”

“Isn’t that the crux of our problem here?”

He rolled his eyes, although Emma counted the quick quirk of his lips as some kind of victory. “That wasn’t even clever, Swan. That was—“

“—Hysterical. I know it was.”

“Awfully confident in your own humor. I’m going to show up pants-less to your event.”

“Regina would kill you.”

“You’re not worried about me showing up pants-less?”

“Eh,” Emma shrugged, the smile on her face threatening to make some of the muscles in that same face ache. Ridiculous. “How has this not been a problem for you before? You literally owned one pair of jeans?”

“I wasn’t really going a lot of places that required me to wear jeans that were casual while still being the face of the franchise,” Killian said. He huffed, a put-upon sound that only served to make the entire situation drift even closer to farce, particularly when he was wearing team-branded sweatpants. “And,” he continued, “if unpacking memory serves, you own no pairs of jeans.”

Emma’s smile disappeared almost immediately.

“That’s different.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk full-blown as he tugged on several pairs of Levi’s they’d already decided were the world’s ugliest color. “Is it just?” he drawled, and it only took half a moment for him to move into Emma’s space, crowding against her front and they were going to draw a crowd for a reason totally unrelated to the team-branded sweats.

“If you get us kicked out of this Macy’s, I swear I will make you sleep on the couch later,” Emma warned.

“I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“You want to play that game?”

“I’d love to play several games with you, love,” Killian muttered, ducking his head to press the words against her jaw, “but I’m afraid we don’t have time before you have to impress the season tickets.”

“You have to impress season tickets,” Emma corrected. “And I don’t own jeans because they’re the worst and it’s impossible to find any that fit.”

“You see my problem then.”

Emma groaned, letting her head thump into his collarbone and she didn’t think she imagined his lips ghosting over the top of her hair. Her phone rang again. “Maybe we should ask somebody? Or you could just try on more horrible washes.”

“The pants-less thing isn’t an option then?”

She didn’t lift her head up. She laughed. He definitely kissed her hair. “I really do think Regina would kill you. Plus the fine. Detrimental to the team or something.”

“You think there are specific words for that?”

“I don’t think there are specific words for any of this,” Emma muttered, nipping at the bit of skin not covered by his t-shirt. The arm she hadn’t realized had snuck around her waist tightened. “What did you do when you were a kid?”

Killian hummed in confusion, leaning back with slightly twisted eyebrows and that same, far too distracting smirk. “Wore baggier jeans.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no. I was there, Swan, I promise that’s what happened. They fit my thighs and—“

“—What, fell off your hips?”

“Ok, my thighs are not that big.”

“Your ass though,” Emma mumbled, yelping far too loudly when he tugged her flush against his chest. She did her best to swat at his arms, twisting and turning, but that was almost as distracting as the smirk and they were definitely going to get kicked out of Macy’s.

That would also probably scandalize the season tickets.

And Regina.

“I think that means you’ve been staring at my ass quite a bit,” Killian said, chuckling against her when Emma almost visibly shivered.

Ridiculous.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

Emma shook her head, a feat she was particularly proud of considering the rather constricting limbs still wrapped around her. “You heard me. Plus, you’ve got all that padding when you’re playing and that’s probably warping my perception and—“

She didn’t finish.

Killian ducked his head again, her knees bending on instinct and back twisting on something that she wasn’t sure her spine particularly appreciated, but the laugh seemed to bubble out of Emma anyway and the kisses pressed along her neck sent a shockwave of something through every inch of her.

Something good.

Wonderful.

Indefinite.

That was a better word. Longer lasting than the one pair of jeans the two of them had previously owned, at least.

“Oh my God,” she said, voice still shaking and the nearest Macy’s employee kept casting them furtive glances. “You are a menace.”

“You’ve just spent the last three minutes waxing poetic about several of my body parts, love, I think I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

Her phone rang again. Or was still ringing.

Emma scoffed, still doing her best to take a step back, which didn’t really make any sense when that was the absolute, last thing she wanted to be doing, but they needed to be a few blocks further west nearly ten minutes before and—

“We’ve got to buy something,” she said.

Killian kissed her cheek. “Maybe I’ll just show up in uniform pants. Then you can continue whatever science experiment you’re running with me and the parts you’re obviously very attracted to.”

“Presumptuous.”

“And you, love, have far too many opinions,” he said, moving back into Emma’s eye line only to catch her lips with his before she was entirely prepared for it.

That may have been the most ridiculous thing that had happened all day.

Emma sighed against him, letting her forehead rest against his and she’d pressed up on her toes to reach him easier at some point. The arm around her waist was still there as well, fingers tracing over the base of her spine, and maybe she should have worn heels if they were going to be doing so much kissing.

They couldn’t kiss that much in front of the season tickets.

That was disappointing.

“What size is your waist?” she asked, doing her best to keep whatever conversation they were having on, relative, track. Killian grinned.

“34.”

“Which makes your thighs…”

“Bigger than that.”

“That’s no help at all.”

Killian chuckled, leaning around Emma to grab a pair of dark-washed jeans that didn’t proclaim themselves to be anything except fitted, like that was an actual size and maybe they should actually be having some kind of conversation about the inconsistencies in sizing across brands and stores.

That seemed more difficult than another Cup run.

“Let me try these on,” he said, pulling Emma along with him towards the changing room they’d only recently left.

And it took, exactly, four minutes, several pointed expletives and a few words that were absolutely, positively, not English for Emma to kick her foot lightly agains the door.

“You’re not exactly doing much to inspire confidence out here, Cap.”

He groaned. “That’s because—God, fucking hell.”

“Not much better, honestly.”

The door swung open, jeans tugged three-quarters of the way up his legs and it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t. Emma’s…whatever was in charge of controlling laughter did not care.

She tugged her lips back behind her teeth, biting down to try and silence the noise. It didn’t work. And Killian looked vaguely scandalized, standing there with jeans that didn’t fit and briefs that were distracting in their own right and several pieces of hair at the back of his head were sticking up.

“Oh my—“

“—Do not, laugh at this, Swan. This is—“

“—Not funny.”

“It’s not.”

“I know.”

“It’s not.”

Emma nodded seriously, a bit of blood in her mouth from chewing so tightly on her lower lip. Killian sighed, shoulders shifting and a noise that may have almost been an attempt at a laugh.

“Totally not funny,” she said again.

“Absurd.”

“That’s a good word for it.”

His eyebrows shifted. Which, honestly, combined with the questionable amount of clothes he was wearing did something very particular to Emma’s pulse. “Were you having a difficult time coming up with appropriate terminology, Swan?”

“You spend too much time on the ice.”

“I think you like me on the ice.”

“I think we should get one size up, buy a belt and hope neither one of us is embarrassed in the next four hours or so.”

Killian didn’t move, but his lips twitched slightly – far too confident, despite the battle against designer-name jeans. The briefs were red. Emma’s eyes kept flickering towards them. “Only tailored dress pants from now on,” he said. “And I’m taking the jeans off as soon as we get home.”

“I mean, maybe wait until we get back in the apartment. You’ll scandalize the night security guy.”

“His name is Robert.”

“It does not surprise me that you know that. You going to be able to get out of those jeans or—“

His eyebrows did not make sense. And the tip of his tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth was downright offensive. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re offering to help me out of my jeans, Swan.”

“I didn’t say that at all,” Emma argued. “Must be losing blood flow to your brain or something.”

“Hmmmm.”

“You can take the pants off as soon as we lock the door.”

Killian grinned and made sure to do just that as soon the click echoed in the air around them, hands darting towards his belt at the same time he toed out of his shoes and Emma kept laughing.

That was nice. That was happy. She was happy.

His jeans were way too big.

He kept having to tug at the waist all night.

“Never again,” Killian mumbled, nearly tripping over the fabric as he tried to shake his leg out. Emma’s head bumped agains the door she suddenly found herself pressed against, but she barely felt it, far too preoccupied with those red briefs and whatever his hands were doing and she was regretting wearing heels again.

That changed rather quickly – as soon as Killian’s arm worked its way back around her waist, tugging her up and pressing his lips against hers. And her cheek. And her jaw. And the side of her neck.

They both nearly tripped over the goddamn jeans while stumbling down the hallway.

She woke up to find Killian already in the shower the next morning, padding into the kitchen with the jeans still in the same spot on the floor. Emma kicked at them, certain she’d pick them up on the way to her own shower, but something caught her eye as soon as her toes landed on fabric.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, crouching down and the morning security guy probably heard whatever sound she made.

It might have been a guffaw. That was a good word.

Because the inside of the jeans were already a different color than they’d been on the Macy’s rack, rubbed together for several consistent hours of talking to season tickets and posing for photos and moving around the room because Emma and Merida had come up with a pretty detailed schedule and—

There was a hole in them.

It wasn’t big, but there was enough room that Emma’s finger pushed through relatively easily and she didn’t bother moving when she heard the footsteps behind her.

“You’re a jeans goon,” Emma accused, glancing over her shoulder to find a still-damp and clearly amused Killian.

“I think the jeans challenged me to a fight, I won and you’re still incredibly attracted to my thighs.”

“And your ass.”

“I knew it.”

Emma made a face, sticking her tongue out. “I’m throwing these away.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” he said, squeezing her shoulder when she stood up. “What if we just never bought another pair of jeans again?”

She ignored whatever happened in the pit of her stomach at that, a hint of want in the words and even more when his eyes flickered up towards her, and Emma found herself nodding almost immediately.

“Dress it is then.”

Killian grinned. “Even better.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line one shots #this could not be more absurd #seriously this is a conversation i have had in the macy's in herald square #the challenge is real and jeans are the worst

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softshelltaakos · 5 years

Text

what’s up everybody! it’s time for part 2 of my taz graphic novel review.

part one covered (most of) my beef with the writing and storytelling choices. this part is gonna cover character designs!!! you should know going into this that my opinions are not positive. this post is also a lot less analytical in tone than part 1, because art is not my forte.

disclaimer: i love the mcelroys. i truly do. taz has gotten me through some very difficult stuff and i have a tattoo. all this to say i’m not doing this because i hate them or because i like hating things. if you feel the need to message me about how i am overreacting, specifically to green taako, or about how i should just calm down and ignore it, or about how it’s sad that i’m getting so worked up instead of just enjoying the show, i’ve heard it and i don’t care. you will not be taken seriously. save yourself the energy.

there are spoilers for the graphic novel under the cut.

alright. i’m getting the elephant in the room out of the way first because it’s the most important thing to address, and once it’s out of my system i’ll feel better goofing on the rest of the designs. as i mentioned in the disclaimer: Green Taako Is Bad.

[ID: a panel focusing on taako. he’s skinny and minty green with chin-length light blonde hair and a big, pointy nose.]

now, a lot of people have made posts about this before, and i’m not saying anything new about it by any means. i’m also not the most equipped person to talk about why green taako is bad, because i’m a white gentile (i’ve heard conflicting opinions on whether or not green taako is antisemitic, but it feels remiss not to mention that there’s been discussion) and therefore not part of any groups affected by this whole debacle, but in short: when pressed for more diversity, specifically in taako’s case as a pretty large chunk of his arc involves literally inventing a mexican cultural food (fun note: that’s never mentioned in this book,) carey pietsch decided he should be green and the mcelroys were down with it. this is not an issue that cropped up when this design was released; it was something that there was already a ton of discourse surrounding, and it should never have gotten concepts drawn, let alone made it to publish.

this article by natt cuesta has been linked before on the subject, and i think it’s a good, concise explanation of why green taako is bad as well as why aracial characters in general are bad. this is a racist design.

now that we’ve gotten those ethical ramifications out of the way... i’m sorry, but it’s an ugly design, lmao. he looks like a palette-swapped version of pearl from steven universe with less character. the ONLY thing about this design that i like is the prominent lower lashes, if only because they’re the only thing that keeps him from looking entirely generic. because, like, y’all, when has anything about taako been generic?

[ID: a panel focusing on magnus. he’s a muscular fair-skinned man with auburn hair, a bushy beard, and a scar over his left eye.]

generic is a word that’s going to come up a lot over the course of this review, because i genuinely can’t think of a more apt descriptor for pietsch’s designs. it feels like she went with the lowest common denominator of every character’s design, a synthesis of all of the most popular (and most boring) ones, except in instances where that would lend any personality to a character’s design. magnus fits what brief description we’re given in the podcast: auburn hair. beard. big. and i guess that’s all you need?

i understand that by appealing to the most common and basic designs for these characters you’re inviting a lot less ire than you might by going with something more individual, so i get the motivation behind it -- or i would, if her designs hadn’t always been about this dull. but it’s bizarre to me that in a story as unique as the balance campaign, we ended up with the most basic ass Fantasy Hero lookin’ dude in the world as one of our protagonists.

i just really don’t have a lot to say about this. i’m just bored by it.

[ID: a panel of merle. he has medium-dark skin with a smooth white bun and beard.]

merle is simultaneously the design i like most out of the boys and the one that throws me the most, because i feel like he’s the most out on a limb one. which... oof. most merle designs i see give him a floral motif (i guess he has a few petals in his hair, maybe?) and big coke-bottle glasses, and i miss those things with this design, but at least it doesn’t totally feel like pietsch threw every merle she could get her hands on into a blender and poured it out on a page, although honestly, that might have been more satisfying. people do some really fun shit with their merle designs, but again, he’s. generic.

as the cuesta article mentions, with how much of an issue it was to get any of the boys to be poc in the first place and in conjunction with minty up there, this design also feels like tokenism -- an appeasement rather than an honest attempt at diversity or god forbid because the artist actually headcanons merle as a person of color. personally, i wish that she’d gone a step beyond re-coloring his skin and idk given him a natural hairstyle or something. he still feels very much like a recolor to me rather than a character who was designed as a person of color from the beginning.

i feel like he looks more like a cleric than he looks like a merle, which i feel like is pretty contradictory to who merle is.

[ID: a cutaway showing griffin, a white man with brown hair and glasses wearing a collared shirt.]

i’ve said before that it feels a little odd to talk about her design of a real person, so i’ll keep this brief, but... you know how every drawing of a basic white dude looks a little bit like griffin mcelroy? you know how that one arthur character looks a little bit like griffin mcelroy? you know how everyone is constantly messaging mysillycomics about how her avatar looks like griffin mcelroy?

how did carey pietsch manage to actively attempt to draw griffin mcelroy and miss the mark? it boggles the mind. he doesn’t not look like griffin, i guess, but he doesn’t look like griffin, either. i don’t know, man

[ID: a generic gerblin. he has yellowy-green skin, slight tusks or fangs, and weird, nubby little horn-type things.]

i hate these gerblins. they are ugly. next

[ID: two images of klaarg/g’nash. he’s a bugbear with brown fur and yellow eyes as well as a mouth full of pointy teeth. in the first image he looks pissed off; in the second he’s starry-eyed and delighted.]

klaarg is probably my favorite design in the book, and that’s just because he looks like a cute dog for most of the time he’s on the page. he’s fluffy and i love klaarg anyway, so like. did not take a lot to reach this mark. especially considering how i feel about most of the other designs lmfao

i do definitely think he keeps up the trend of looking generic, though.

[ID: an image of barry bluejeans. he looks like tom arnold, kind of; he’s square-jawed and white with thick-rimmed glasses. he also has a light brown mullet.]

i hate this. i hate the mullet. i’m sorry, y’all, i really, truly, cannot stand the mullet. i don’t feel like barry has mullet energy. i feel like it’s too powerful a move for him. it wouldn’t be a good move, mind you, but it would be a big one. i don’t know y’all it’s just bad

[ID: an image of killian. she’s a green-skinned orc woman with prominent eyelashes, eyebrows, and tusks, and straight brown hair.]

i can’t have been the only one who was hoping for a badass, visibly muscular, maybe even butch killian design, right? that wasn’t just me being a big old lesbian, that’s a pretty common theme of killian designs? i guess kudos for going out on a limb again, but then, like, take the kudos back for going out on the most boring limb possible again. i could hang with the face if her hair wasn’t so boring, but it’s... it’s so boring

[ID: an image of magic brian. he’s a drow with long white hair and an oblong face and oddly shaped nose.]

for how many of her designs are syntheses of popular ones, i..... don’t understand how this happened. i don’t understand how whimiscal and flamboyant magic brian who’s often drawn as taako-but-a-goth-dark-elf ended up looking like this. he looks like he used to play football and got his nose busted up and peaked in fantasy high school. he looks like the first quarter of a monster factory video where the thing’s just ugly but doesn’t have a personality or any endearing traits yet. he didn’t have to be the goth twink we all know he is but what.......... is this

[ID: an image of gundren rockseeker/bogard. he’s a light-skinned dwarf with dark long hair and a matching beard.]

..........listen i know they’re cousins and distant cousins at that but all of merle’s cousins are light-skinned and, like, not to say that that can’t happen but having them be anywhere near merle’s skin tone would’ve been such an easy way to help bolster the obviously inaccurate idea that this is a work concerned with diverse character designs, or rather to help ppl claim it was being bolstered, and yet

[ID: avi, a fair-skinned man with long dark hair kept up in a ponytail and slight scruff on his face.]

i feel like maybe avi is intended to be east asian so i think at this point that brings the count up to a whole two characters of color. we’re almost done with the book. cool. he’s cute, i guess, but guess what word i’m about to say again (it’s generic)

[ID: a panel of several unnamed cameo characters. from right to left: carey fangbattle, a light blue dragonborn; brad bradson, a green orc man with a long brown ponytail; and presumably lucas miller, a tan human with glasses and dark hair.]

ok. deep breaths.

first off, there’s another panel w these three as well as boyland, who looks fine, but i didn’t grab that one bc it’s harder to make out detail. carey is cute. brad is fine.

i assume the third guy is lucas miller because i’m not entirely sure who else he would be, and... oof! as you may know i can’t stand lucas miller, which has nothing to do with his necromancy or nerdiness and everything to do with the various human rights violations he commits in the small time he’s got focus as well as the fact that he’s got a theoretical redemption arc that’s not actually an arc so much as us being told he’s better now. lucas is an entitled jackass who repeatedly uses other people’s bodies and minds without their consent, from the obvious offense of using the bugbears as brainwashed chore-doers (read: slaves) to the less-oft discussed dragging of noelle and others out of the astral plane into robot bodies, again to do his chores for him. because of this, it has always sat very uncomfortably with me when people make lucas a poc, because everything about him screams Shitty White Nerd Boy to me. it sits extra uncomfortably coming from carey pietsch, given how white all of her other designs are.

it’s a little hard to tell because i took all these pics with my phone camera in my room’s lighting so they’re not super high fidelity or anything, but pietsch’s lucas is noticeably darker than any other character we’ve seen so far save merle. maybe he’s just a white guy with a tan, but all the same, it strikes me as incredibly skeevy to have one of so few characters of color be this fucking guy.

[ID: johann, a black man with an oblong face and textured dark hair.]

johann’s design is fine, although this is a similar face shape to that brian from earlier and i just. i don’t. understand it. it’s not especially interesting, but hey, at least he’s not another generic white guy.

that being said, as i mentioned in part 1 of this review, johann’s role is severely cut in this -- he’s reduced to three panels, when in the show itself he’s the one who escorts the boys to the voidfish’s chamber and inoculates them. as i mentioned in that post i understand that they shifted it some to give lucretia a more prominent entrance, but as i also mentioned in that post, they should have compensated for that. three panels.

johann is not a character with a great deal of screentime as it is, but he’s a character with a major impact. he is the reason story and song happens. his song serves as a direct foil to john’s nihilistic conversion of his own home plane into the hunger. the fact that he’s been reduced to three panels with little to no characterization at this point, especially in conjunction with the fact that he’s one of very few poc, makes me really, really uncomfortable. avi is in more panels in this book than johann is, and while i love avi and as i said i am parsing him as an asian dude, he’s also still light-skinned enough and the style is nondescript enough that there are definitely people who will parse him as white, and also, avi’s role in the story is not as big as johann’s.

it doesn’t sit right with me.

[ID: an image of davenport, a fair-skinned man with a big red mustache and slicked back red hair.]

ginger davenport with a big mustache. groundbreaking.

[ID: an image of lucretia, a slender black woman with short white hair dressed in blue layers.]

and finally, lucretia. now, i’m biased, and it’s hard for me to see a lucretia design i don’t like. i also think that this is, compared to a lot of the others at least, one of the more interesting designs in the book, at least as far as her clothes go. it’s not a long robe that would be hard to move in, and i appreciate that -- it strikes me as a pretty practical outfit while also being ornamental and wizard-y. and she’s pretty, and she’s not whitewashed, and that’s all great. i like her earrings.

all that being said, i feel like it’s not enough. luc’s hair continues a theme with merle’s and johann’s (as well as the preview we’ve seen of angus,) which is that it strikes me as very low-effort on pietsch’s part. it’s short and it’s definitely not straight, but it doesn’t feel to me like it had as much thought put into it as, say, minty green taako’s hair. we could’ve had a lucretia with a big beautiful afro, or long box braids, or so many other natural hairstyles; we got this. it’s not bad, but i do think it’s disappointing. without going looking for it and without being a person who reads a great deal about character design, i’ve seen a fair amount of discussion from black women (artists, writers, and none of the above) about the portrayal of black women as it pertains to their hair. they’re never designed to be as feminine as their white counterparts. their hair is never treated with the same amount of detail or respect as their white counterparts. it’s short, maybe curly if you’re lucky.

i’m gonna circle back quickly to killian’s hair. it’s long and smooth and kept down, despite the fact that killian is an action-oriented women and might not want it to be in her face all the time -- it could have at least been braided or in a bun. it could’ve been short! and that would’ve made sense. and i don’t mean to say that lucretia couldn’t have short hair, but she’s a very elegant woman whose dress is described as intricate. she wears business regalia. she could have any number of hairstyles, from something elaborate to something simple but more out-of-the-box than this, but she doesn’t. i found this on a quick hunt through my ref tag -- it’s a tutorial for drawing black folks with just a small selection of interesting things you can do with afrotextured hair. these resources aren’t hard to find! and i’m doing this for fun -- carey pietsch is a professional artist who was paid for these designs. if she’d put in more than the bare minimum effort, we could’ve had some really interesting shit going on, but she didn’t.

and that’s the core of the issue here. i truly do not feel like pietsch put the same amount of care into the designs for the few characters of color we see as she did into the white ones, and that’s upsetting and emblematic of a larger problem in the work: neither pietsch nor the mcelroys put in very much care at all for the fans of color who spoke up and asked for representation.i know i said i was getting taako out of the way first so the majority of the post could be goof-heavy, but goddamn, y’all, it’s hard to goof about when it’s so blatantly shitty. pietsch’s designs are boring at best and racist at worst, not to mention conspicuously lacking in anyone who is not skinny, muscular, or a dwarf. people have praised this thing so uncritically, including people whose opinions i generally really respect, as if the fact that the mcelroys signing off on green taako made it above reproach.

it didn’t, by the way. there’s no such thing as an unproblematic fav, because everybody fucks something up now and then, but even then, this is a pretty egregious fuck-up! and it was willful!

i’m not saying y’all need to burn your copies of the gn or stop listening to the mcelroys entirely or anything of the sort -- you may remember the disclaimer at the top of the post where i say i really, really love them, and more specifically, i really love taz: balance. but i am BEGGING YOU to think critically about their work. good, good boys can do bad, bad things. white people can produce work that’s racist even if they’re gay women. it’s not mean to critique the boys and it’s not homophobic (or god forbid reverse racist, which is still not a real thing) to critique carey.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the real kicker of this whole thing for me is that there’s a small fanart gallery in the back of the book. most of them aren’t labeled with the artist’s handles, just their names, but there are some truly beautiful pieces featuring diverse designs -- galacticjonah and milkychai both have beautiful latino taakos featured! galacticjonah’s is fat, too! but even after the backlash against green taako, even aside from that being the design that people are going to accept as canonical, there are pieces in the gallery of green taako, as if doubling down on it was the right move.

and by the way, yeah, i’ve read griffin’s apology. but i thought we all learned in kindergarten that an apology doesn’t count if you don’t act on it.

#prim.txt #tazposting #tazmeta #taz: balance #taz balance #taz graphic novel

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snickerl · 6 years

Text

The Performance of His Life

Set in season 9. What is going on in Mulder’s mind when Scully and Skinner find him in his prison cell and he plays the role of a brainwashed inmate?

Tagging @today-in-fic and @fictober

He doesn't need to turn around to know it's her.

When they brought him into this cell, he wasn't sure whether this was good or bad. Believing that something good will happen in his life had become a very difficult task. Almost impossible even, yet essential to his survival. The hope of being able to see them again, Scully and William, if only for one last short moment, was all that kept him going these past lonely months. Only since he has been incarcerated in this black, moldy hole of a jail, has he almost lost all hope. Almost.

He couldn't count on her finding him this time. They had brought him to some kind of military facility, if they wanted his residence to remain secret, it definitely would be impossible to locate his whereabouts, even for a special agent of the FBI. A very good special agent. The best he can think of. But she found him even so. Of course, she did.

Now he's not so sure anymore if it's really so good she's here. For his sanity, yes, it's the best that could happen to him. The very idea of seeing her beautiful face, cerulean eyes, and perfectly shaped lips pumps zest for life back into his system, a vitality he already thought lost. He feels stronger and more powerful, almost reinvigorated enough to withstand the torture techniques they have applied and will most likely continue to apply to him.

What will they do to him when they realize their brainwashing hasn't broken him yet? That his compliance has been nothing but a charade to make them stop torturing him? And what will they do to her when they learn how much she means to him? That she is everything to him? He can't let them have the upper hand. Allowing them to know how much he loves her, that she is the only thing preserving his will to live, to fight them, would be like serving his head on a silver platter, and hers along with it. He can't let them know, under any circumstances. He has to give another performance and stay in the role of the brainwashed inmate, of the man who has surrendered and accepted his guilt. For his sake, but more importantly, for Scully's.

"Mulder," he hears her whisper, his back still turned to her. Her sweet voice has always had the capability to soothe him but it is his undoing now, because although being only a whisper it's crying out to him. 'Mulder, I'm so glad I found you,' it says. 'Mulder, I missed you. I needed you, where have you been?' He even makes out a faint, 'Mulder, I love you.' As an afterthought, as if she was uncertain, fearful, that it would be like the last time he returned to her when he had come back a different man, unable to fit himself back into her life. Although he hates doing this to her he turns around, the line he wants to deliver already on his lips, and finds himself totally unprepared for what the sight of her does to him.

God, what happened to her? Where is the bliss she radiated when he last saw her? Despite the grief of having to let him part from her and their newborn son, there was a felicitousness and confidence bouncing off of her which almost swept him off his feet. "We're going to get through this, Mulder," she assured him, kissing the peachy head of their (hers and his!) baby boy sleeping peacefully in her arms. "We will be waiting for you as long as it takes," she said, adding, "I have faith in us as a family, Mulder. When it's safe for you to return to us, we will leave it all behind us for good and it will be just the three of us. And we will be happy."

Where did her faith go? Her belief that everything would turn out well for them after all? That they would finally get the piece of happiness they deserve? There is none of it when he looks at her now. He sees a woman on edge, struggling to keep it together, to not crumble into pieces right in front of him. She wants to be strong for him, he reckons, and it makes him hate himself even more for what he is going to do. But he doesn't have a choice.

"Dana," he says, knowing full well that the use of her first name must feel like a punch to the gut, and he actually sees the impact of his verbal fist: her eyes widen a little more, her shoulders droop a little more, and she exchanges a worried look with Skinner who is, as was expected, at her side. She brushes her misgivings away, locks them up inside, approaches him and envelopes herself around him, squeezing and rocking him gently.

Oh, the feel of it! He tries to distance himself, needing to shield himself from her affection to be able to stay in his role, but he doesn't know how. It simply feels too good after so many months of separation to have her wrapped around him, holding him as if she never wants to let him go. He felt so lonely without her. How many nights did he crave her being in his arms just like this when he was lying on his back on an uncomfortable bunk bed in a beat-up trailer somewhere in New Mexico staring at the ceiling? His hands make contact with her shoulder blades because he cannot not touch her. He wants to touch her hips, squeeze her waist, stroke through her hair so much more, but he can't. If he feels a little more of her, he will be tempted to go further, and he mustn't.

He's actually a little proud of his ability to keep his act together so stoically, that he has himself under control. His hands aren't traveling on their own Accord, and he remains a pillar of salt in her embrace but then she kisses his cheek, and the softness of her lips and her sweet breath tickle his skin so beguilingly, his body starts melting into hers. He knows all too well he has to pull back, away from her, quickly, otherwise, he will lose control and kiss her, exposing himself in front of the guard who is watching them like a hawk. So he gathers all his strength to look right through her beautiful eyes that are begging for some kind of sign from him. He draws from the power her love is giving him and eliminates from his voice the myriad of emotions he is feeling to make it sound uninvolved, cold even. He asks her if she is okay, and the way her soft facial features harden tells him he's done pretty well.

How he hates himself, despises himself utterly, loathes himself for hurting her over and over and over again. This gorgeous woman who would have been so much better off without him, whom he should have let go of years ago, but wasn't able to. Being the selfish coward he is he held on to her, allowed for them to become even closer. Intimate. They had been intimate emotionally for years but their physical intimacy was a whole new thing. It was like standing in front of heaven's gate when she came in his arms for the first time with him inside her. From then on, they had been one, literally. Indivisibly welded together. They made a baby together, created life, it can't get any closer between two people.

Eventually, by getting her pregnant he had given her something instead of being the reason things were taken from her. He had been able to give her what she wanted the most: a child, beautiful William. It had filled him with so much joy and gratitude that these feelings deluded him into thinking that parting from them to keep them safe would work. He believed her when she said it would only be a short time until they reunited.

How stupid he was. He should have known better. She should have known better. Known that they would never be allowed to be happy and carefree. That there was some force out there - human or alien, divine or devilish, or maybe all of it - that begrudged them even the most humble happiness. During his isolation, he has lost hope, has accepted his fate, and willingly succumbed to the loneliness and the pain in its tow. He has lost his optimism, his faith, and his ability to believe that somewhere along the road there had to be an exit for him, a refuge to escape to, a place where she was waiting for him, his son in her arms, where he could let himself fall and where he would be loved and cared for.

He has lost all his vigor, but not she. She is still not willing to give up on them, he can read it in her determined eyes. What has he done to deserve this unbelievably strong woman and her stamina?

"Mulder, I haven't seen you in such a long time. I was so worried," she says, her soft palm lingering on his cheek and her eyes scanning his face for a reaction he can't give her. Back in the day, they often communicated just by looking into each other's eyes. They put on poker faces to leave their opponents in the dark, exchanging a secret plan and arranging their next moves non-verbally. They are both masters of the skill, and he knows he could do the very same right now, could tell her he isn't okay at all, that he needs her to get him out of here, that he can't do it alone.

But he doesn't. He mustn't. Under no circumstance. "It's okay. I'm alright. They're treating me really well in here," he replies instead, drawing from the last bit of resolve he has left as her fingertips graze gently along his jaw. Her caress travels from his face to his chest, where her hand comes to a rest. Does she feel his heart hammering in his ribcage? She's silent for a moment, searching his face for answers.

Does she believe him? No, she doesn't. Of course not. The happiness to see him might have clouded her initial judgment but she finally gets the sense that something is wrong. The fine line between her eyebrows and the shade of gray darkening her blue irises tell him. Maybe he isn't the actor he thinks he is. "What's happened to you?" she asks, her eyes pleading with him. She's in tune with him now, in full non-verbal mode, sending him signals that have to be ignored and cruelly whipped back toward her. There is no other option. "Nothing," he replies, trying to sound as if he means it. "I'm squared away."

He almost has to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds being dressed in prison orange and showing cuts and bruises speaking of mistreatment. Her eyes tell him she's not buying a single word he's saying. 'Mulder, it's me,' they shout at him, 'confide in me!' Her worried look gnaws at his resolve. He's responsible yet again for making her miserable. How come the person he wants to make happy the most ends up suffering because of him again and again? He would give his right arm if it was necessary to make her happy even if only for a day. Jeez, he would give his life.

Will. He will give his life. For her. Them.

William and Scully will be much better off without him. Scully will mourn him, yes, will feel like a widow probably, although they had never been legally married. And William will probably ask about his father when he gets older. Maybe. Hopefully. But all in all, they will be better off when he's gone.

And he will be. Gone. That's as sure as night follows day. They will prosecute him for murder in a ridiculously fake trial and the verdict is already clear. He will be found guilty, and they will impose the death penalty. This time, they will get rid of him for good. And with him not being a pain in their asses anymore, they will leave her alone. Them. Scully and William, mother and son, the love of his life and their miracle baby boy. He can do that for them, can't he? He owes them a life devoid of threat and fear, a life in the light instead of the darkness.

He just wishes he could have his share. It's hard to be as altruistic as he wants to be. Her proximity makes him want his share. She's pushing aside the good intentions he so rationally developed with her compassion and her warmth and her loveliness and her beauty and the million other wonderful traits she has. He feels his determination weaken, it's what makes him tear his gaze away from her and turn to the other person in the room. He has to mislead another true friend and ally with his acting talent, has to deceive Skinner likewise to protect him from the toxic consequences of being acquainted with Fox Spooky Mulder, but most of all, he counts on him to convince Scully to let go of him. If Skinner believes he's a lost cause, he might be able to make Scully believe it too.

"Hey, Walter! Good to see you, man!" he cheers as if he ran into him in a bar. Like Scully, Skinner is disturbed by his unemotional bearing. His former boss explains the precarious situation to him, how severe it is and what his rights are as a defendant. "Whatever you were doing, you have the right to a lawyer," he says, "to an inquiry and process of law."

The words lead Mulder to the thought that Scully probably didn't find him here but that it is more likely Skinner was informed of the misconduct his subordinate agent had committed. The realization stings initially, sending a sentiment of having been forgotten and given up on through his body, but only for a moment. He then understands that he is being unfair. Of course, she wasn't looking for him, it had been their agreement that he would decide when the time was right for him to return. He would only come back when he wouldn't compromise Scully and William anymore, when it would be safe for all three of them.

Skinner's explanations are unnecessary, he knows darn well how serious his situation is. It's hopeless, to be precise. He doesn't need a lawyer. He can't be helped, defended, bailed out of jail. His fate is sealed and he's already accepted it. He's embracing the opportunity actually, he just needs to make them let go of him. One last effort and they will hopefully understand that they have to move forward without him.

Fortunately, the guard's sharp command to end the conversation helps him out although it's most certainly not the soldier's intention to be of service to him. The man must have sensed Scully's determination to get to the bottom of things, to reach out to his true soul through the brainwashed shell of a person he tries to convince everyone he is. She's not to be intimidated, though. No, this woman never gives up. This woman is an infinite source of strength.

"We're gonna get you outta here," she assures him and her facial expression tells him she means it. She'd probably even help him break out in a cloak-and-dagger operation, risking her own life holding the guards at gunpoint if need be. He can't let that happen. He can't let her be accused of aiding and abetting, but the resolution to do whatever is needed is ingrained in every fiber of her being, and it frightens him. He has to put an end to her fighting for him. Once and for all. Only he can't as long as he's facing her, so he turns around to the window where he closes his eyes to the bright light flowing through it. He pretends to engage himself in a soliloquy, gives one last performance of an irretrievably lost detainee and it seems to do the trick, they are leaving. Thank god, they are finally leaving.

Go. Please, go. And never come back.

He's not sure he could do this one more time. He feels so weak. So alone. Abandoned. Cold.

Scully...

He doesn't need to see her to be able to tell she's watching him under the small window that ironically sheds a bright light on him now that he's in the darkest place ever. The warmth of her gaze envelops him like a fluffy blanket. He can hear her mind working, this beautiful brain of hers that never ceases to operate, to weigh the options, evaluate facts, and work out a plan. He just prays she will give it a break and let it rest just this once. Just this once he needs her to leave him to his fate.

And then he hears the iron gate slam shut. They are gone. She is gone. That's it.

Oh my god...Scullayyy!

He will never see her again. Never kiss her again. Never make love to her again. He won't see his son grow up. Never read a story to him. Never teach him how to shoot hoops. Never. The future holds nothing but darkness for him, the only silver lining being the knowledge that they are in the light. Finally, he's managed to free her from this crazy quest of his which had brought her so much pain, so much loss.

Scully, his mind whispers inaudibly for the guard still present, I love you.

He always has and always will. All he can do now is hope she knows that, despite his play-acting. If the pain wasn't so overwhelming he would be proud of himself, of how he outfoxed them. Fox William Mulder outwitted Dr. Dana Katherine Scully, she who can usually read his every thought and anticipate his every move. Who would have thought? He convinced her in the manner of a star actor giving an award-worthy performance. He made her believe. Finally.

Ha!

He did great.

Relief settles in, satisfaction over having achieved what he had set out to achieve. But the good feeling only stays for a short moment before it's overshadowed by a dark one. Coldness and hopelessness crawl up his spine and make themselves felt in every part of his body from the very core to the lower limbs as realization kicks in.

He's completely, utterly, all fucked-up.

#xf fanfiction #season 9 #msr #mulder and scully

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morenerdthanperson · 6 years

Text

Character question tag

“She’s like space Lady Gaga that also knows how to throw knives and ninja stars.“

I was tagged by the wonderful @sweetcatminteareblog!

Rules: Answer the following questions for one of your characters and then tag ten people! (um... I’ll try?)

I had no idea who to pick, so I decided to have some fun and talk about a character named Helena Olwen who only gets mentioned as a historical figure in my current book, but who I know a lot about anyway x3

1) What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

At first she was nothing but the said historical figure: a woman who led an entire planet’s rebellion and who ended up becoming its first queen. I always knew what she looked like in terms of basic appearance: she’s of asian descent, with these terrifying electric green eyes (genetic tampering for the win!) (and she’s short, which she hates). All her eccentric dressing tastes and personality quirks came later :’D

2) Did you design them with any other characters/ OCs from their universe in mind?

Yep! There is of course the fact that she was mostly responsible for crafting Ahrin’s, my protagonist’s world, and also the Olwen family are famous for their trademark electric green eyes, which come from her.

3) How did you choose their name?

I already knew her last name (I just came up with it randomly), but I wanted to establish a naming tradition for the women in the Olwen family based on hers. Princess Elina Olwen was the youngest royal family member during Ahrin’s time (unfortunately she was killed as an infant), so I worked backwards and came up with Elena, Lena/Lina, Helen/Hélène, Elen, and finally Helena. I like that her name encompasses all the other ones :)

4) In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

I actually got to know her through another historical figure, Asteyr Vivar. His backstory came to me in a flash of inspiration, and as I explored more about his life I discovered more about her, too.

I don’t know much about her backstory, though. I know what she’s like as a person, and I know basic facts of what happened to her during and after the revolution, but I have no idea what prompted her to join the revolution (much less become one of its leading figures) or where her eccentric personality and tastes come from. She’ll tell me when I need to know :)

5) Is there any significance behind their hair colour?

Well, her natural hair colour is black because of her asian descent but she likes dyeing it crazy colours because she’s just a fun (and loud, in so many ways) person.

6) Is there any significance behind their eye colour?

As I said, it’s the trademark Olwen colour. She wasn’t the first person to have it; she’s descended from some random person on Earth who decided to tamper with their eye colour genes, and although there is a degree of randomness about inherited colours (some family lines don’t have a consistent eye colour; for example mum could have purple eyes but you could be born with orange) her family line’s eye colour has remained relatively stable throughout the generations. (I suspected it mutated at some point from a gem green to the scary green it is now, though.)

7) Is there any significance behind their height?

Not beyond her being short possibly being attributed to her asian descent. She gets really salty about it, though; I feel like she’s so loud all the time just to compensate lmao

8) What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

Despite her superficial craziness, she’s someone who’s actually quite serious and gets down to business when it’s needed. Basically, she knows when to be silly and when not to be, which I relate to (I’m simultaneously told I’m the silliest and most serious person by everyone know xD)

9) Are they based off you, in some way?

Nooo way, she’s too outgoing and brave and awesome! xD

10) Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

No idea. I know she likes guys (she marries one, and I know of at least one other crush), but she hasn’t told me if she likes girls too. I can very much imagine her experimenting with girls, though, just to see what it was like.

11) What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

Unfortunately I haven’t been able to write much past vague historical events involving her due to my focus on the project involving Ahrin, and I haven’t had the opportunity to draw absolutely anyone, so I guess I’ve found it difficult giving her any amount of time to breathe. She’ll get her moment within two years, I reckon.

12) How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

Well, technically she literally just exists as a canon extension xD As I said, I don’t know anything about her backstory but do know about some things that happen after the revolution, so I guess her story is pretty far out there.

13) If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

I haven’t worked with her enough to know yet, unfortunately!

14) What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

She looks crazy. She’s like space Lady Gaga that also knows how to throw knives and ninja stars xD

15) What is something about your OC that can make you cry?

She cares about both her family and her people very deeply. Unfortunately, she has to choose between them in at least two points in her life.

16) Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

Literally what @sweetcatminteareblog said: “/Angst/ [Sh]e’s a good [girl] who deserves better but I’m a machine fuelled by the tears of my characters” xD

17) What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

I discovered that she has a little brother or sister while writing this post! One who shares her eyes...

18) What is your favourite fact about your OC?

She is a master knife-hurler. Like, she’s better at knives than Ahrin is at guns and that is saying something. And everyone knows it too, so they try to keep out of her bad side because otherwise she will come after them hurling knives to scare them xD

One of her sort-of boyfriends/best friend(?) also gave her a snowflake-shaped ninja star as a gift, which she keeps at her side at all times (even though she won’t admit it) and which later becomes the new symbol/seal of Odyssey (her planet), which I think is pretty epic x3 (I still have to design it, oops)

I hope you enjoyed reading about my spicy girl!

I tag @saucy-egg-merchant (I know you’re not a writer but I know you have OCs!) and some people from my dash @aureliobooks @renee-gracie @thepotatowearsprada (nice to meet you, even if you don’t want to do this!!)

#my ocs #tag game #my WIP #am writing #writeblr

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frauleinsmaria · 6 years

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Chance Encounters

Based on the prompt “I don’t know who you are but we keep running into each other on the street and getting into screaming arguments over the stupidest things and I’m actually looking forward to our next meeting bc you’re annoying as hell but damn you’re hot and it’s kind of fun to argue with you”

Written for my match for the Captain Swan Spring Fic Formal. Surprise @welllpthisishappening! Laura, I’ve had so much fun interacting with you over the past few weeks- although it’s been hard to make sure I didn’t reveal myself talking to you elsewhere 😂 You’re such a wonderful presence in this fandom and I’m so glad I got to be paired with you. I know you like both friends and enemies to lovers and lots of banter, so I hope you enjoy reading this lil fic as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Also thanks @distant-rose and @awkwardnessandbaseball for getting the @csficformal together! It’s been a blast

Also on AO3

It’s certainly not how he expects his Monday morning to start.

It shouldn’t surprise him though, considering the direction his day is already heading in from the moment he wakes up. A power outage in his apartment building the night before causes his alarm clock to reset, meaning he wakes up less than half an hour before he’s supposed to leave for work. He cuts himself shaving thanks to being in a hurry and hopes no one will notice the nick on his chin. He goes to make his regular cup of coffee after getting dressed and realizes he ran out of coffee beans over the weekend and forgot to buy more.

His last resort is leaving everything else he needs to do as is so he has time to stop by the coffee shop on his way to the office. Of course it’s not his biggest priority, but he’s already heard about the workload Regina has waiting for him today and knows he won’t be able to deal with it properly without some kind of caffeine.

Thankfully, the line this morning is short, and he’s able to order his drink and be on his way quickly. But it’s just his luck that his phone vibrates with a text from Liam as he’s turning to head out the door, and he’s reading it when he collides with a wall and spills coffee on the front of his white shirt.

“Damn it!”

Whoops, not a wall. A woman, and a very angry one at that, judging by the expression on her face and the similar coffee stain she now sports on her own grey blouse.

Killian shakes his head as the shock wears off and takes in the death stare he’s receiving from the blonde in front of him. She’s holding a drink in her hand as well, but most of it still seems to be in the cup rather than on their clothes like his. “I’m terribly sorry, love. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing.”

“Yeah, you should have,” she snaps, pulling a napkin out of her purse and attempting to clean up the mess she’s wearing.

There’s a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but he manages to hold back and tries to think of a way to be the bigger person here.

“Love, if there’s anything I can do-”

“The best thing you can do right now is to leave me alone so I can go before I’m later for work than I already am. And I’m not your love.”

Any desire he has to be polite is out the window as the the events of the morning all catch up to him. “With that attitude, I’m bloody glad you aren’t!”

“So am I!” She turns on her heel and leaves the coffee shop before he has a chance to say anything else.

By some stroke of luck, he’s able to make it through the day without any other mishaps.

But he can’t explain why the thought of the annoying blonde from the coffee shop stays in his mind long afterwards.

-/-

It’s Thursday afternoon when Killian runs into her again- not literally this time, thank goodness. He’s on his lunch break, headed to the gym near his office when he sees her leaving the building as he’s walking up. She glances in his direction briefly when she sees him, doing a bit of a double take as she realizes where they’ve seen each other before.

“Afternoon, love.”

She makes a sour face. “I thought we established that I’m not your love,” she reminds him, using her fingers to draw air quotes around the word.

“Sorry, lo- lass,” he corrects himself. “Just a habit I suppose.” He blames it on Liam; their mother made quite the effort to ensure the two of them both had adequate manners, and he’d enforced the same ideals on Killian long after she passed.

But it’s clear by her unwavering expression that she doesn’t buy it. “Whatever.” It’s not unlike her reaction a few days earlier when he’d tried to apologize for the coffee incident.

As much as he wants to ignore her and go about with his day, something keeps him there. He’d be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t at least partly attraction; he hadn’t paid much attention to her in the coffee shop thanks to the circumstances, but now he can’t seem to focus on much besides blonde hair, green eyes, and the black and white outfit she’s clearly just finished a workout in judging by the way it sticks with sweat to her thin frame.

And yet, while he’ll willingly admit to finding her attractive, there’s something else- maybe it’s the attitude she’s developed toward him, or her unwavering stubbornness, he doesn’t know- that keeps him from letting things alone like he normally would. “Do you always act like this when someone tries to apologize or be nice to you?”

Killian watches as her jaw sets and sees he’s struck a cord, although he can’t say whether or not it was unintentional. “Do you always butt into other people’s business?”

“Regardless, it seems yours isn’t worth my time.” She rolls her eyes and walks away from him for the second time.

His annoyance with her is just the motivation he needs for his workout, but like the time before, his thoughts stay occupied with the woman he knows nothing about, aside from the fact that she must be some kind of a force to be reckoned with.

He can’t decide whether she intrigues or irritates him more.

-/-

The next Tuesday is when Killian becomes convinced that the universe hates him.

He’s walking to work, sans coffee after finally replenishing his stock at home, when he catches a familiar glimpse of blonde hair coming out of a store as its owner taps away at her phone. He doesn’t try to get her attention; she’s not exactly his biggest fan as it is, and bothering her for no reason certainly won’t change that.

It doesn’t matter how honorable his intentions are, though, since she notices him when she glances over her shoulder not a moment later. She stops in her tracks and he hears her groan as he’s walking up.

“Are you following me or something? Because I have a gun and-”

Killian holds a hand up to stop her. “Not to worry, lass.” (He’s remembered what not to call her this time.) “Believe it or not, it seems that you and I are yet again the victims of mere coincidence.”

“Seriously? Who talks like that?”

“A person who’s about as thrilled with our recent pattern of encounters as you are.”

“I’m not making you walk beside me to chat, you know! I think you and I both have better things to do.”

“Finally something we can agree on. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He wastes no time leaving her behind and getting to work just as fast as he can. He’s annoyed yet again, something he’s convinced will be a common theme whenever he runs into her. But, bloody hell, he still can’t answer the question as to how and why she’s managed to get both under his skin and stuck in his mind so easily.

-/-

Killian goes a week without running into her after their last encounter on the street. He feels relieved considering how things between them are all but guaranteed them to go- or, at least, he thinks he does. It’s Liam that brings it to his attention when they’re at The Rabbit Hole sharing a drink after work.

“Looking for someone, are you?” his brother asks, seeing Killian’s eyes go to the bar’s entrance when the bell above the door chimes. A group of women arrive together, but he quickly loses interest in the redheads and brunettes.

He shakes his head as he takes a drink. “No. What makes you ask?”

Liam doesn’t look convinced. “Every time we’ve been out over the past few weeks, you seem to be waiting for someone else to show up. Not only that, but you’ve been examining every blonde within a mile’s radius, and I’d like to know just why.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Alright then.” Killian pauses as he tries to figure out how to explain his recent series of meetings to his brother. “To make a long story shorter: there’s this woman-”

“I knew it,” Liam mutters under his breath.

“There’s this woman,” he continues, ignoring him. “I haven’t the slightest idea who she is, but we keep running into each other and always end up having some petty argument before we part ways, only to see each other a few days later and do the same thing all over again.”

“Huh. And just what exactly are you and this lass always arguing over?”

“That’s just it; it’s usually just mindless bickering because I seem to annoy her as much as she does me.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just a question.”

Killian rolls his eyes, but mutters, “Aye. Very much so.”

A moment of silence passes as Liam taps at the side of his glass and processes everything Killian’s just told him. “Well, I wish I could think of something to say to help you out, but all I’ve got is that you’re making this situation much more difficult than it needs to be.”

“How?! It's not like I'm intentionally trying to run into her.”

“No, but it doesn't sound as if you're trying to avoid her, either,” Liam argues. “Just admit it, Killian: you like her.”

“I don't bloody know her well enough to like her!”

“Maybe you should get to know her then. What’s that saying, opposites attract? She could end up surprising you.”

Killian wants nothing more than to argue with his brother and insist his suggestion is ridiculous. But as much as it pains him to admit it, he's up for having another run in with her just to see if there’s a way to make it out without yelling or sarcastic remarks. He doesn't tell Liam all of this, only says, “Maybe I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

He can already tell from the smug look on Liam’s face that he's going to get an I told you so if things turn out in his favor.

-/-

It's only three days later when he thinks maybe the universe doesn't hate him after all.

He's only been at work for a little over an hour, things going relatively well for a Friday morning, when there's a knock on his office doo. He looks up from his seat behind the desk to see his boss in the doorway.

“Regina, something I can do?”

To Killian’s surprise, the brunette actually smiles at him. He can't tell if it's genuine or not, but it's a smile just the same. Those can be far and few between where Regina Mills is concerned.

“Yes. But first, there's someone I'd like for you to meet.” She steps to the side and Killian has to bite his tongue to keep from cursing. “This is Emma Swan. Miss Swan, this is Killian Jones, one of our top family law attorneys.”

Her eyes widen as she recognizes him, but she doesn't say anything other than a quick, “Nice to meet you” and shakes his hand when he stands and offers it to her.

“Killian, Miss Swan is here for Humbert’s Bail Bonds. She’s looking for some information regarding the Lewis case from a few weeks ago; I figured you would be the one she needed to see.”

She's not wrong, the file he'd used to hold the casework from a messy child support ordeal is still in the top drawer of his desk where he'd left it once the trial was over. “Yes, I'm sure I can help with whatever's necessary.”

“Good to know,” Regina answers. “I'm due for a meeting downstairs, so I'll leave you to it.” The blonde- Emma- thanks her as she walks away, leaving the two of them alone in his office.

“So, the Lewis case, eh? I hope that's an incident I don't have to repeat any time soon,” he says, going through the desk drawer and pulling out the file she needs. He gestures for her to sit down as she takes it from him.

“Yeah. I'm the one who tracked the husband down, and my boss apparently needs the rest of the case information to turn over to his boss for one reason or another.” Her eyes scan over the words on the pages before she pulls a small notebook out of her purse and begins to scribble notes on a blank page.

Killian waits for her to say something about their past meetings; some kind of sarcastic remark, at least. But to his surprise, her focus stays on her work for the ten or fifteen minutes she's there, occasionally asking a question or two about his work or making a comment about the weather. Either she wants to avoid a confrontation, or she actually doesn't recognize him. The second option seems unlikely, but still believable.

Emma hands him back the Lewis file once she's collected all the information she needs. “I appreciate your help.”

“It was my pleasure,” he answers, for once remembering not to refer to her as love.

“Oh, and Mr. Jones?” She stops at the door. “It was...surprisingly nice to have a conversation with you without any yelling.”

She's out the door and gone before the “bloody hell” has a chance to leave his lips.

-/-

It doesn’t take long for Killian to think that maybe the universe does in fact hate him after all, because having a name to go with the face only makes it that much harder to get Emma Swan out of his head.

They’re still all but strangers- knowing the other’s name and workplace doesn’t exactly count as having an acquaintance- but he had to admit that he could accept the idea of that changing. Seeing they were capable of having a pleasant conversation has him believing that it’s possible, if only barely so. He toys around with the idea of somehow trying to get more information about her from Regina, but that could likely end with both women angry at him, his boss for using her influence the wrong way and Emma for going out of his way to get to know her.

Things soon take another turn and make him wonder just what kind of ridiculous dream he's stuck in.

Liam talks him into going to his girlfriend’s sister’s birthday party the next Friday night. He doesn't want to go- socializing with a crowd of mostly strangers isn’t something he goes out of his way to do- but he likes Elsa, and Anna seemed like a nice girl from the few times they've met, so he agrees. He and Liam show up at Elsa’s apartment precisely at seven, a bottle of wine tucked under his brother’s arm.

It should be no surprise that Emma’s is the first face he sees after Elsa lets them in.

She’s standing in the hall talking to a brunette with a pixie cut, laughing at something the other woman has said when she notices him and pauses. They’ve gotten so good at this now that she doesn’t have to wonder who he is or where she’s seen him anymore, especially thanks to her office visit. Speaking to her hasn’t always been the greatest idea, but he’s not about to waste the chance if she is indeed warming up to him. He tells Liam he’s going to speak to someone, but she’s standing right in front of him when he turns back around.

“Jones?”

“Yes, it seems we meet again.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.” He catches a glimpse of her quizzical expression as she takes a sip from the beer bottle she’s holding.

“Elsa is my brother’s girlfriend.”

“You’re Liam’s brother?!”

“You know him, too?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s tried to give me your number more than once.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He glances over his shoulder at Liam who’s trying- and failing- to pretend he hasn’t been watching them. To think he’d already talked to his brother about her at the bar that night and he’d already known who she was.

“Yeah. But I don’t like it when my family and friends try to set me up with other people, so I thought I’d be nice and return, er, I guess not return the favor.” He can tell she was trying to save him from an unpleasant experience she’s likely had in the past, but it might be her way of letting him know she wouldn’t be interested regardless. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t deflate his confidence a bit. “Er, so how do you know Elsa and Anna?”

“They’re friends with my sister-in-law,” she answers, nodding her head towards the woman she’d been standing with earlier, who smiles when she sees them looking her way.

“Ah. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Smaller than I thought.”

Killian chooses his next words carefully. “I would offer to get you a drink, but it seems that’s unnecessary,” he gestures to the one she already has.

“Maybe so, but rumor has it Elsa’s got pizza in the kitchen, and I haven’t had dinner yet.” Emma raises an eyebrow, indicating this is his chance and he’d better take advantage of it now.

“Give me five minutes.”

“I like pepperoni!”

-/-

“How long are you giving Liam to finally pop the question?”

“Honestly, love? I’m quite surprised he hasn’t already. Perhaps he’s worried Elsa won’t say yes.”

“Are you kidding? Look at her; she’s as much of a lovesick puppy as he is.”

Killian follows her eyes to where the couple stands outside together on the balcony, completely oblivious to everyone else around them. “Aye. They seem to be quite the good match for each other.”

“They remind me of David and Mary Margaret in that way; I couldn't have picked anyone more suited for either of them.” He senses a bit of disappointment in her words, but she doesn’t elaborate on the subject, and he doesn’t ask.

She’s asking about his job and the law firm when her phone vibrates. “It’s my boss,” she groans after taking a look at the screen. “Give me a sec?” He nods as steps out to answer.

Emma’s back not a minute later, frowning. “Sorry, I have to bail. A skip I’ve been tracking for almost a month was just spotted downtown, and my boss wants me to grab the jerk before he tries to run again.”

“Not a problem, lass,” he tells her, attempting to mask his own disappointment. “I can tell you put a lot of effort into what you do.”

“Yeah, maybe sometimes too much,” she mumbles, getting her purse and jacket from the seat beside him. “I guess I’ll see you around, Killian.”

He smiles as he watches her leave because he knows she’s probably right.

-/-

She’s right.

They cross each other’s paths three times over the next two weeks, twice at the coffee shop where they first unofficially met- with no coffee spilt either time, thankfully- and then at a local carnival that Liam has yet again coerced him into going to. (Killian thinks later that his brother wouldn’t need to go to so much effort to get him to do things if he knew Emma would be there.) Each encounter they’ve had since the party has been much different than the first few; although they both have a dry sense of humor and are too sarcastic for their own good, there has yet to be an instance that involves yelling or has someone convinced they hate the other.

It’s gotten to the point now that he’s begun to think of Emma as more than just a regular acquaintance, but maybe even a friend: He texts her corny jokes when she’s bored during a stakeout and she’s taken to willingly sitting at his table when they show up at the same restaurant for lunch. They haven’t gone as far as to share the more painful details of their pasts, but he’s convinced her background must closely mirror his own somehow based on her demeanor when something along the lines of childhood or family comes up in conversation. She always changes the subject or gives some kind of vague answer and he knows better than to push the subjects any further. It’s evident she’s been through quite a bit in her life and he sees no reason to make her reminisce any more than she already does.

And, yes, he likes her. A lot, if he’s being honest. And it’s just his luck that he realizes it about the same time Liam does.

“Why not ask her out already? The worst thing she can do is say no.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Killian groans. “I can’t complain; I’m lucky we’re even able to be friends considering the way we met.”

“And you’re always going to wonder what could have been if you don’t take that chance.”

Liam’s words stick with him for quite some time afterwards because he knows he’s right. Emma may hate him for going through with this, but he may come to hate himself even more for being a coward.

It’s Monday night when he goes over to Emma’s apartment after leaving the office.

“Hey, Killian,” she greets him when she comes to the door. “What brings you by?”

“Go out with me?”

“What?” The dumbfounded expression on her face makes him regret not thinking this through.

“Sorry, love, it’s just I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but I’ve found myself becoming more and more fond of you and I was wondering if...oh, bloody hell,” he curses, running a hand through his already unkempt hair. She was definitely going to say no. “You know what, Swan, forget it. I’ll just go.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for botheri- wait, what?” He can’t have heard her correctly.

“Yes.” Emma smiles. “I was hoping you would ask eventually.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before turning to go back into her apartment. “Tomorrow night, pick me up at seven. I’ll be waiting.”

Liam yells “I bloody told you so!” when he calls him on the way home. Killian’s too thrilled to care.

#cs ff #cs fic #cs fic formal #welllpthisishappening #cs fluff #cs au #captain swan #captain swan fic #meredith writes

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