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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 7: Stray Kids bias wrecker - Jisung✨️

The Heat

AN: We have reached the end of my milestone celebration! Thank you to all of you, new and old, for your support. You have no idea how much it all means to me <3 Time to end this celebration off with my other other arch nemesis lol.

Synopsis: When your roommate brings home a bag of strange cookies, you two don't think much of it. Assuming whoever sold them to him was lying about them containing an aphrodisiac. You both quickly come to realise that you were very, very incorrect.

Heads up: Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Roommates AU, dub-con elements (because Reader and Jisung are under the influence of an aphrodisiac, but they do genuinely want each other), mentions of masturbation, dirty talk, nipple play (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little, Jisung cums pretty quickly, mentions of multiple orgasms, unrealistic sex (Jisung cums more than once and remains hard), hypersensitivity, some usage of a petname for Reader and a barely there praise kink (f. receiving).

Word count: 3658

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

"You'll never guess what I found!" Your roommate yells, all but slamming the front door open in his excitement.

"Hello to you too, Jisung," you respond dryly but, your curiosity is piqued. Angling yourself to get a better view of the brown paper bag in his grasp from your position on the couch.

"Sorry, hi. I'm just really hyped," he responds sheepishly, plopping down beside you, "but look!"

You're not sure what you were expecting, but a bag filled with cookies certainly wasn't it. "Uh, they look good?" You offer, not really understanding what makes these cookies in particular so special. The little pink hearts on them are very cute, you'll give them that much.

"No, no listen. These aren't just any old cookies. Minho and I stumbled across this kind of weird looking bakery, and the lady who runs it said these cookies are mixed with some really potent aphrodisiacs,"

Yeah, this is not how you anticipated your Saturday to unfold at all.

"So... you bought them from an apparently really shady bakery and just trusted what that lady said?"

Your words take a few seconds to register in his mind. Big eyes blinking at you owlishly. If he hadn't just admitted to something so stupid, you'd reach over to squish his cheeks because of how endearing he looks right now.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

It takes a great deal of effort on your part not to drag your hand down your face.

"Minho should really stop enabling all of your impulsive purchases and ideas,"

"To be fair, he was the one who dragged me into the bakery. I just happened to stumble across these," he says, motioning to the bag now staring at the two of you on your coffee table.

"My point still stands. Why did you buy so many anyway? Why not just get a few if you just wanted to test them out?"

"They were running a special," he mutters.

"I didn't realise you were this naive. I have some magic beans to sell you if you're interested," you tease, grinning as the tips of his ears redden.

"Ha ha ha. Very funny. They weren't that pricey anyway so, luckily I didn't spend much," he reaches for the bag, fishing out a cookie.

"Woah hey, what're you doing?"

"Eating the cookies I bought? Like you said, I'm sure they're a scam, so I might as well eat them since I spent money on them," he responds with a shrug. Your anxiety building watching him take his first bite.

"Oh, they're pretty good, actually. Want one?" He asks, turning his big brown eyes onto you. Now, how are you supposed to say no when he looks at you with those eyes?

"If these are poisoned or something, I swear I'm going to haunt you," you respond, and your roommate takes that as a green light.

"We'll both be ghosts then. I don't think ghosts can haunt each other," he says with a laugh, the brushes of his fingers against yours feeling like electricity as he hands you a cookie.

You choose to essentially shove the cookie in your mouth to avoid dealing with that particular can of worms. Jisung was right. They are delicious. Flavours of strawberry with faint hints of chocolate caressing your taste buds. Maybe they were worth turning into a ghost for if the worst comes to pass, you think.

"See? They're good, right?"

"Yeah, I can't even lie. That's one of the best cookies I've ever had. If we survive this, you should show this oddball bakery to me,"

"Oh," and you immediately regret admitting to him that you actually liked it, "how the tables have turned. What was that you were saying earlier about reckless purchases?"

Rolling your eyes, you stand up in order to get ready for bed. Jisung's smugness more than enough motivation to finally get your ass off the couch.

"Goodnight Jisung," you say, waving him off.

"Goodnight," you don't even need to turn around to see the smirk stretched across his face. You can hear it clear as day.

Everything feels like it's on fire when you wake up the following morning.

You're absolutely drenched in sweat and your throat is beyond dry. Perhaps the oddest realisation of all is that you're wet. As in, obscenely so. Your thighs are smeared in it and you're almost certain it's leaked all the way onto your bedsheets.

What the hell?

It takes you some very long minutes to blink your bleary eyes open. Your muddled mind working a mile a minute to try and make sense of all of this. Last night hadn't been that hot so, there should be no reason why you're this sweaty. Plus, from what you can remember at the very least, you hadn't touched yourself before turning in for the night. So why in the world are you this wet? And more than that, why does it hurt so much more than usual?

'What is going on?' Is that question that echoes through your skull as you join the world of the conscious. You're due for a shower and a change of sheets, you think. You feel pretty disgusting at the moment, and a shower might just be what you need to help calm you down. An ice cold one.

On perhaps the strangest morning you've experienced to date, you don't expect to bump into a shirtless Jisung with a towel wrapped around his slim waist.

You've seen your roommate without a shirt more times than you can count at this point. However, it's never made you feel like this before.

The throbbing gets worse. So, so much worse. Warmth flooding your face when you feel yourself gush onto the fresh pair of sleeping shorts you'd just changed into. Jisung is an attractive man. A very, very attractive man. You've had no qualms with admitting that in the most private parts of your mind and on nights when images of him between your thighs are the only thoughts that can push you off of the proverbial edge.

But it's never been like this.

"Morning," he says gruffly. God, that just made it worse. If you weren't too lost in your own spiral, you'd notice his blown out pupils and the glassy quality to his eyes. How they shamelessly rake over your body. How he has to adjust his hold on his towel so you don't notice how hard he is. How hard he's been for what feels like hours now.

"Morning," you squeak back in response once your higher order functions return to you. Practically slamming the bathroom door in his face and, sagging against it once you're alone.

What is wrong with you?

Taking a shower was minimally successful. At least you're no longer drenched in various body fluids, but you still feel as though there's molten lava coursing through your veins. Everything is just so hot.

Touching yourself while you were in there didn't help either. If anything, it only added fuel to the inferno that seems hell bent on swallowing you whole from the inside out. Maybe you're just in desperate need of a good fuck. It has been longer than you care to admit since you last slept with someone. That Changbin guy was nice and ridiculously attractive. Perhaps you should give him a call.

You're disrupted from your thoughts when you hear a tentative knock at your bedroom door. Jisung. Oh no, you're not sure if you can handle looking at him right now, let alone being in the same room with him. Your mind has been replaying the encounter from this morning over and over again. Even that hadn't helped you cum in a satisfactory way. Which is insane because thinking about him works 11 times out of 10. You must really need to be fucked.

However, you're not a child. You're not going to avoid your roommate and your friend just because you're a little (okay, maybe it's more than a little) more sexually frustrated than usual. You're more mature than that.

"Come in," you say, cringing at the hoarseness in your voice.

To your relief (and mild disappointment), Jisung has a shirt on. Though, the way the tank top leaves his broad shoulders and biceps completely uncovered isn't helping the to soothe the squirming of your insides.

Jisung looks exactly how you feel: like a total wreck. His hair is in dissary and sticking to his damp forehead and his cheeks are flushed with an appealing dust of pink. You wonder if this is what he'd look like underneath you.

"What's up?" You croak, looking at your bedroom door as though it's the most interesting object you've ever seen. He may have a shirt on, but you're not sure you can handle looking at him for too long right now. For both of your sakes.

"Does it feel hot as fuck for you today too? I don't know what's been going on, but I already took two showers today, and I still feel like I might pass out from heat stroke," he says, making himself comfortable on your bed. While not out of the oddinary, having him so close to you is sending your barely coherent mind into panic. The desire to straddle his incredibly welcoming looking lap clawing at your insides.

"Yeah, it does feel a lot hotter than usual today. Maybe there's a ventilation issue or something in our place? Because I checked the weather and it the temperature for the day is on the cooler side, funnily enough," you respond, wiping some excess sweat off of your forehead. So, you're not the only one who seems to feel...off, weird even today. Whatever is happening appears to be affecting Jisung too.

"Really? That's so weird. I thought maybe there was a heat wave or something. I don't know how much more of this I can take," he sighs, throwing himself down. The bottom of his tank top exposing a sliver of his toned abdomen. Fuck.

Before your mind can assault you with fantasies of covering his abs in your wetness, that's when it hits you. Those damn cookies. They have to be the reason you're like this and that you suspect Jisung is experiencing something very similar.

"Jisung, I think I know why we're feeling so hot right now," you rush out, fingers absentmindedly toying with your blanket.

"Really? Well, I'm all ears," he responds, turning to give you all of his attention.

Fuck, how did you not realise it sooner? Jisung's eyes are almost black with how dilated his pupils are. Desire flashing like a neon sign on his face.

You really can't afford to soak through another pair of shorts right now. Focus.

"I think the cookies - I think the cookies weren't a scam," you mutter, hugging your legs to your chest. Your face is so warm that you're surprised the heat from it isn't radiating off of you.

He just keeps looking at you. You know the moment your words sink in because his face quickly shifts from a pretty, pink flush to an almost scarlet red. His mouth opening and closing as he grapples with what to even say to you.

"What? What makes you think that?" It's his turn to squeak and avoid your gaze. Seemingly fascinated with your ceiling.

"What else could it be? We both had them yesterday, and now we're sweating buckets and -" You cut yourself off. Jisung doesn't need to know you've been wet all day. You should probably keep that part to yourself.

However, the universe is determined to make you suffer, "And what?" He asks, meeting your eyes briefly before turning away. His teeth toying with his bottom lip.

"It-It's fine. Don't worry about it, but, um just trust me. I really think those cookies are the reason we're like this," You stutter out, studiously ignoring the lecherous thoughts creeping back into your mind.

Jisung doesn't say anything at first. Just laying there before sitting up once more, his hand ruffling his hair, "I wasn't kidding when I said I don't know much of this I can take. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

That you can relate to. Intimately.

"The solution is pretty obvious," you joke in an attempt to lighten the thick tension in the air. It almost makes it difficult to even breathe properly.

Your words have the opposite effect, however. Startled, fiery brown eyes meeting your own. Jisung looks like he's seriously considering it, and you're not sure whether your stomach knots itself in hope or anxiety.

"Jisung, I was-"

"Do you want to?"

Now it's your turn to stare at him in stunned silence. Probably looking like an absolute buffoon gaping at him. Is he joking? Is this his way of getting back at you?

"Wha-What?" Comes your brilliant response.

"Do you want to?" He repeats, both looking and sounding deathly serious.

"You don't have to do this, you know. If you don't want to. We can j-"

"I want to," he interrupts again, his cheeks darkening, but he doesn't falter in his words.

Your very hot, very kind, very funny roommate is offering himself on a silver platter. Even if you weren't so wet you could die, you'd be an idiot to say no.

"Okay," you whisper, meeting his eyes head on. Your heart thundering against your chest as you watch him shift closer to you. Barely any space left between the two of you. You're not sure who moves first, and it ultimately doesn't matter because after months of fantasising about it, Jisung's mouth is finally on yours.

Maybe it's the cookies, but your first kiss isn't gentle or slow or sweet. It's fierce and messy and desperate from the very beginning. Your hands not sure where they want to settle themselves. Alternating between pulling on his hair, pulling the most delicious whimpers from him or steadying yourself on his muscular shoulders while you two fall deeper into each other.

The gasp that leaves your mouth when Jisung nestles himself between your thighs is loud and throaty. He's hard. So hard and so hot that you can feel the heat radiating from him even through your respective clothing. Jisung wastes no time in covering your throat and jaw in sloppy, uncoordinated kisses while he shallowly grinds his erection against you. Greedily searching for any semblance of relief he can possibly find.

"Ji-Jisung," you moan, arching into his touch when one of his hands gives your breast an experimental squeeze. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he groans against your neck between licks and nips, thumbing at your already hard nipple through your shirt.

"Re-Really?" You manage to ask through the fog. "Really," he responds, impatiently shoving your shirt up and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. To say you were unprepared for the sensation of being enveloped in his wet, warm mouth would be putting it lightly. You're so much more sensitive than usual. It might be the cookies, or it might just be Jisung. Probably a dangerous mixture of the two.

You've never cum just from having your breasts played with but, there's a first time for everything if the increasing wetness staining your shorts and inner thighs is any indication. Jisung, for his part, is content to spend hours with your tits in his face and in his mouth. Licking, sucking and fondling to his heart's content while he desperately humps your thigh. The dream, really.

He's about to whine when you tug him off of you, but he's shut up by your tongue being shoved down his throat. Your hands frantically pushing his tank top up and off of him until his bare torso is free for you to explore. Smiling into him when he whimpers at the way your nails rake across his skin. A pitchy 'fuck' greeting your ears when you accidentally brush one of his nipples. Oh. Interesting.

Kissing and touching him is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Jisung is fantastic with his mouth, and his firm chest is incredibly fun to explore. Figuring out which places garner you groans or whimpers or whines. Which ones make him grind into harder. Which leads to the other hand. You're so soaked and painfully empty, and kissing him isn't helping to soothe any of those flames.

"Jisung," you mutter against his mouth, your hands ghosting over the waistband of his sweats. Delighting in the way he shudders above you and his abdominal muscles jump under your barely there touches.

"Ye-Yeah?"

"I want you to fuck me, please," you whine into his ear, lightly biting down on his lobe, "it hurts."

Jisung exhales a very long sigh against your throat, "You're going to kill me."

A breathless laugh bubbles out of you when he pulls away to shove his sweats down. Any trace of humour vanishes quickly when his cock smacks against his toned stomach. He's so hard that it looks painful, flushed an angry shade of red, and glistening with pre-cum. You can't help but stare. Your walls clamping down harshly around nothing.

"I thought you wanted to get fucked?" He asks with an arrogant grin on his stupidly handsome face.

"Shut up," you respond, lifting your hips and letting your shorts join the heap of clothing on your bedroom floor. It's your turn to feel a little smug when Jisung's eyes zero in on your pussy. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life, and you're too far gone to have any semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment.

Jisung returns to his position between your thighs before you can fire out any quips, his cock nudging your entrance causing your head to spin and a soft moan to slip from you. "Stop teasing," you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging to his broad back.

"So-Sorry," is all the warning you receive before he very gradually starts sinking into you. god, it's never felt like this. Ever. With anyone else. Tears accumulate in your eyes, and a few roll down your face with every inch he pushes into you.

"Are you okay?" He asks lowly, kissing your cheek repeatedly and halting his movements.

"Yeah. Yes, Ji, I'm fine. Please don't stop," you practically moan, clawing into his back when he mumbles a curse and continues.

You can barely think, let alone breathe when he's fully sheathed inside of you. His cock pulsing inside of you violently and Jisung quivering above you, hushed moans of your name and whimpers being pressed into your shoulder. A whine hitting your ears when you squirm a little and tighten your hold around his waist.

"Wait, fuck. Wait, don't move," he moans, his hands grounding himself with his hold on your pillowy thighs. You struggle to comprehend his words. Everything is so muddled and overwhelming, and he just feels so fucking good, and he hasn't even moved yet.

At first, you assume Jisung's increase in sounds of pleasure and throbbing inside of you is just because he's as overwhelmed as you are. Every single nerve feeling like it's engulfed in flames. However, when his strained apologies register, you realise he came. Hot spurts of his cum flooding your eager pussy and open-mouthed kisses being pressed into your shoulder between apologies.

"Ji-Jisung,"

"I'm fuck I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. It just happened. Fuck you must think I'm so pathetic-"

"Jisung, stop. It-It's okay. That was really hot actually," you mutter, and you mean it. If anything, you're flattered that you managed to make him cum so fast.

"What? Really?" He asks, blinking down at him. His pretty eyes beyond fucked out and sweat dotting his face. God, he's so pretty. Your pussy clenching involuntarily.

"Yea- Wait, are you still hard?" You ask, only realising now that he's still nestled deeply inside of you despite the cum that's gradually starting to dribble out of you.

He looks as shocked as you. Seemingly not realising that his own cock hadn't softened in the slightest. "Holy shit," he breathes, thrusting into you experimentally, drawing a whimper and your nails biting into his back in reaction.

"Remind me to go back to that bakery," he utters into your throat. Giving you little time to adjust before picking up his pace considerably. Between your wetness and his cum, he fucks into you easily. Your combined noises of pleasure echoing throughout your bedroom while you two lose yourselves in one another.

You've been teetering on the edge for what feels like ages. All it takes is for Jisung to find your sweet spot for your eyes to roll into the back of your head and your back to arch into him. Your lovely, lovely roommate fucking you through it all and exploiting your newly discovered weakness.

"That's it, baby," he groans into your ear, his hands holding you firmly in place and making you take each and every thrust he gives you, "You're taking me so well. You're doing so good."

Those words are going to be replaying in your mind for the rest of your life.

Your mind is utterly blank as the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced wreaks your body. Your thighs shaking violently, and your hands holding onto Jisung for dear life while you tighten around him. Fuck. Fuck. You're so full, and it's so much, but not enough at the same time.

"More, please. Jisung, please. I want more," you cry out, not caring in the slightest about the pathetic, desperate edge to your voice. All you're capable of thinking about is cumming on his cock over and over again and, him filling you with his cum until it's still leaking out of you days later.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, the pet name he's grown a fondness for causing butterflies to arise in your stomach.

"We're far from being finished."

#han jisung smut #jisung smut #stray kids smut #han smut #1k followers celebration day 7 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

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infowindtech57 · 3 months

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Best Travel & Hospitality App Development Services Company in India

Now more than ever, there is a demand for travel mobile app creation as the number of backpackers has increased due to the decline in the impact of Covid! An app is a traveler’s best friend when it comes to locating lodging, scheduling a river rafting excursion, researching restaurants that provide delicious local food, buying souvenirs, or other related travel requirements.

This is how to make tons of money with a personalized, award-winning travel agency app! In 2018, revenues from digital travel rose by 10.4% globally to $694.41 billion. People are avid travelers. Additionally, mobile travel is the newest trend in our digitally-obsessed society! According to a recent travel app development company research, over two-thirds of passengers use mobile applications while traveling. Global travel app development is transforming the travel and tourism sector.

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Travelers often use apps for general trip planning, hotel and airline ticket booking, and flat rentals. They do many things, including monitor journeys with the right software, save loyalty program cards in specialized applications, and get critical alerts straight to their mobile devices. The following figures from the travel and tourism sector attest to the high investment potential of the travel app development niche: Smartphones are used for 70% of impulsive purchases and travel; 64% of respondents said they would be content to take a virtual tour of their potential lodging before making a reservation; and travel applications are consistently in the top 10 most downloaded categories on the App Store.

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You conducted market research and determined your specialty, then. Additionally, you discovered a software development firm. Next, you need your travel app to be a big success! Examine these aspects that are essential for developing travel apps. To give you a competitive advantage, we also offer a list of the most desired features in a travel app.

An app’s registration should be simple. Your users should take a short time to register on the app. Should that occur, users will stop using your app. Thanks to social login, they won’t have to spend as much time logging in via Facebook or Gmail.

Social login makes long-term behavioral analysis and further data collection about your clients possible. Additionally, this will assist you in creating customized offers for every client. It should be possible for users to peruse the listings without having to register. However, individuals must compelfully register if they want to make a reservation.

Look Up Travel Destinations And Sort Them Based On Their Preferences

A user is already thinking about a place when they use a mobile app. He needs your software to assist him in exploring areas that fit his ideal spending limit, dates, and other requirements (such as parking, internet, and a spa). Please verify that the app shows the most well liked tourist locations, urban attractions, adventure places, local landmarks, and upcoming events in and around their central location.

Provide high-definition pictures of the attractions since they say a thousand words. It would also be beneficial to have a geolocation feature since this would enable users to see their routes and trip destinations. Another way to differentiate your app in this regard is to suggest restaurants with regional specialties, museums, cafés, picture locations, retail centers, and other locations that are difficult to locate without requiring much research and development work.

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Numerous functions are available in travel applications. Additionally, this list will change based on the kind of goods. We may draw attention to a few of the most crucial ones that should come first.

User Private Space

An app for travel is a personal tool. Consequently, it must be implemented using an individual user account. Users may access the booking/travel history and expedite activities like rebooking and payment transfers by storing their data.

Filters And The Search Function

A built-in search feature must be included if your app has a lot of material. Additionally, the ability to customize results with several filters will save consumers from getting lost in a sea of information and help them quickly get what they need

Both Geolocation And Navigation

Developing a mobile app development company requires having features like maps and navigation. Geolocation is used to implement this functionality. Convenient navigation is available for users to use for trekking and other activities. For instance, the map may show hotels in the city or adjacent tourist attractions.

Travel Schedule Organizer

Give your users the option to examine the whole itinerary of their vacation in one location. This feature is easy to use and encourages the intended audience to use a single product since it removes the need to utilize several applications.

Alerts On Significant Occurrences

Users may get critical event notifications from your app based on the schedule of their intended vacation. It may notify them, for instance, of impending aircraft departures, hotel check-out times, facility work schedules, and other events.

Tailored Advice

Your app may automatically provide personalized suggestions for users based on their activities, travels, or site views. By doing this, you will see an increase in client loyalty and retention rates. This is particularly true if the offers are lucrative and intriguing.

Conclusion

Making a travel app may be done in a few different ways. The initial steps are making a project specification plan, hiring the necessary developers, and starting the project. If you have project management expertise, this is a good strategy. If you still need to, you should engage managed developers or a development team from a seasoned travel app development business. So hire travel & hospitality app developer.

#travel app development company #best mobile app development company in india

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mccall67andresen · 2 years

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clusterbuck · 2 years

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I found a prompt that works for The Thing We Talked About! 👀 8. running your fingers through your lover's hair

frida, my most beloved enabler. never let it be said that i have impulse control

(for context for everyone else, The Thing We Talked About is eddie wearing eyeliner. and how we would very much be into that. and so would buck.)

[ao3 link]

Eddie is not looking forward to the annual LAFD talent show. For a number of reasons.

His sister Sophia would say it’s because he’s still traumatised from the middle school talent show where she made him dance with her, but that part’s actually pretty low on his radar.

No, mostly what he’s less than jazzed about is the fact that he made the mistake of getting drunk enough to sing karaoke at Rodriguez from B shift’s fortieth birthday a while back, so now everyone knows he can sing.

He’s assuming ‘sing’ is a relative term, specifically relative to the rest of the 118, because he’s never thought of himself as particularly musically inclined but Hen and Chimney had seemed absolutely thrilled to have another member for their performance. So it’s probably just a lesser of—well, several evils thing.

So Eddie has to sing. On a stage. In front of people he knows. And the indignities don’t stop there.

The talent show is for charity, so the organising committee decided to ‘have fun with it’. (Their words. Eddie isn’t quite convinced.) Each firehouse nominated a song, and each firehouse was randomly allocated something to perform.

Which is why, in just a few short hours, Eddie is supposed to get up on a stage in front of the majority of the LAFD and sing Fall Out Boy’s 2005 breakout hit Sugar, We’re Goin Down.

(“Perform,” Chimney had stressed to him two days earlier at their final rehearsal. “Eddie, we’re not just singing, we’re performing. It’s a competition! Don’t you want to win?”

“The money goes to charity no matter who wins,” Eddie had pointed out. “What’s the point?”

“If we win we pick the charity,” Hen had said. “And there’s like a sign or a website banner or something that says it came from us.”

“So… bragging rights?” Eddie had asked, desperately hoping he’d gotten it wrong and there was some larger purpose to all of this. “We’re doing this for bragging rights?”

Hen and Chimney had exchanged a look and shrugged. “Basically, yeah.”)

Eddie had been and still is of the opinion that they really seem to be putting in a disproportionate amount of effort for bragging rights. But he’s a team player, so he sighs and pulls out the leather pants he’d purchased the previous day.

“I heard that sigh!” Chimney calls from outside the supply closet they’re using as a changing room.

“Sorry, am I not enthusiastic enough about changing?” Eddie yells back.

Chimney mutters something Eddie can’t quite catch through the door, but he can imagine the eyeroll that goes with it.

Team player, Eddie tells himself, and unfolds the pants.

They look impossibly narrow, and he’s not entirely sure how he’s going to fit his entire lower body in them. The sales associate had assured him they were the right size—but Eddie had gotten the impression that the associate was more interested in Eddie without any kind of pants, so he’s not entirely sure the man counted as a reliable source of information.

But he’d still listened when the associate had advised him to use the bathroom before changing into the pants, since apparently getting them on and off again was ‘a bit of a hassle’. It just seemed like very little effort to prevent a whole load of potential trouble.

And he’s glad he did, because now he’s hunched over in a supply closet at an unfamiliar firehouse, and he’s having trouble getting the pants above his knees. It’s not necessarily that they’re too small, just that the inside of them is about as good at adhering to skin as the extra-strong steri-strips they stock in the ambulance. It’s not the most aerodynamic situation.

Or should that be dermodynamic? he wonders, still tugging at the pants.

He manages to get them above his right knee, then he tugs too hard and almost loses his balance, letting out a swear and stumbling around the dim supply closet with his feet held together by the pants still mostly around his calves.

Footsteps pause just outside the closet. “Eddie? You okay?” It’s Buck.

“I’m fine,” Eddie calls back, and promptly kicks a mop bucket hard enough to send the mop tumbling into a shelf of cleaning supplies, knocking everything over.

“You sure about that?” Buck asks when the crashing noises subside.

“Yeah.” Eddie holds on to a shelf for balance and wills his voice to remain steady. “I’m just changing into my, um. Outfit. For, you know. The thing.”

“Right, of course,” Buck says. “Do you, uh, need help?”

For a brief moment, Eddie imagines Buck crouching in front of him, one hand braced on his thigh and the other fisted in black leather, and he swallows so loudly it must be audible through the supply closet door.

“I’ve got it,” he manages to get out. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“If you’re sure.” Buck sounds dubious, but a moment later his footsteps fade away.

Eddie closes his eyes and starts reciting the names of saints. The pants are already tight, and he cannot afford to be half-hard at the thought of Buck on his knees for him. There just isn’t enough room.

Just another thing to add to the long list of reasons why this is a bad idea.

But he’s committed. Another tug, and the pants are already halfway up his thighs. He is long past the point where he could have dropped out without needing to switch to a different shift to avoid the wrath of his team.

He’s not convinced such a point ever existed.

He gets the pants all the way on, and to his relief, he’s calmed down enough that he manages to do up the fly without issue.

Next is the t-shirt that Chimney had handed him earlier in the day when they’d all convened at the station. Eddie had insisted he could provide his own—the instruction had been ‘black t-shirt’, and Eddie owns at least twelve of them—but Chimney had claimed Eddie’s weren’t the right kind. He hadn’t understood what the right kind is, but he’s staring at the scrap of fabric in his hands and he thinks he gets it now.

The t-shirt is so small Eddie’s pretty sure it’s going to cut off his circulation. If he ever gets it on. It’s definitely not like anything Eddie owns, so Chimney had been right on the money.

He fights his way into the shirt and shoves his feet back into his boots, grateful that Hen and Chimney had talked each other down from the platformed monstrosities they’d first been considering and realised that their uniform boots would suffice.

Eddie gathers up his belongings and looks mournfully at the comfortable clothes he’d worn to the station, then takes a deep breath and opens the closet door. He spares a glance for the mess he’s leaving behind, feeling guilty that he’s leaving someone else’s station in this state, but there’s no way he’d be able to clean it up right now. His pants just don’t have enough give.

Eddie steps out of the closet and tries to hold his head high, regardless of the fact that he’s pretty sure he looks ridiculous right now. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping his steps small enough not to anger the leather pants—which he’s sure isn’t helping the ridiculousness—and not on the fact that he just walked out of a literal closet looking like this, which just feels far too on the nose.

The rest of the 118 is gathered in a curtained-off area designated as their green room, because apparently, the station hosting this year’s talent show is taking it extremely seriously. He finds Chimney sprawled in a chair, dressed fairly similarly to himself, and Hen bent over applying his eyeliner.

“Hold on,” Eddie says, dumping his bag in a corner. “No one said anything about eyeliner.”

Hen turns to look at him, then whistles. “Nice pants. Did you paint them on?”

“Just about,” Eddie mutters. “Anyway—”

“Yeah, no, non-negotiable,” Hen says. “Can you do your own, or do you need someone to do it for you?”

Eddie sighs. “Hen, you have to know the answer to that.”

Hen shrugs. “You might have hidden depths.”

“Not anymore,” Chimney says from his chair. “Nothing hidden under that outfit.”

Hen groans, and Eddie is about to use this opportunity to complain about the outfit when he notices Hen is wearing a fishnet shirt. It’s very much working for her, but he decides to count himself lucky none of his clothes are see-through.

Team player, he tells himself.

“Anyway,” Hen says, in a way that clearly means shut up, Chimney, “Give me a second and I’ll get to you.”

“I can do you, Eddie,” Buck says behind him, and Eddie chokes on air. He turns around as fast as the pants will allow and sees Buck looking down, scratching the back of his neck like he’s just realised what he said. The tips of his cheekbones are pink, and he scuffs at the ground with the toe of one boot. “I mean—the eyeliner, I can do yours—”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says. Buck finally looks up, and then seems to freeze in place as he sees Eddie—except for his eyes, which travel slowly up and down Eddie’s body. Eddie watches Buck’s Adam’s apple bob, and a thrill runs down his spine. He’s been suspecting, lately, that Buck might be as affected by him as he is by Buck, but it’s never been this obvious before.

Maybe something good can come out of this infernal talent show after all.

Eddie sits in one of the available chairs and looks at Buck. “Is here okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Buck says, still frozen. “Yeah, just let me—I just need to grab the—”

Buck comes back with several tubes of makeup that look vaguely familiar, but Eddie’s not sure he could identify them if his life depended on it.

“Okay,” Buck says. “Ever worn makeup before?”

“Only when I was in middle school and my sisters made me let them practice on me.”

“Well, I can almost promise this isn’t going to be like that,” Buck says, and uncaps one of the tubes. “Just do what I say and try not to rub your eyes later, okay?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay, close your eyes for me.”

Eddie does as he’s told and fights to ignore the heat that blooms at the base of his spine at the words for me. Saint Francis, he thinks, Saint Ignatius, Saint Agnes…

Buck’s fingers grasp his chin, and Eddie lets his head be tilted as Buck adjusts his position. Then Buck’s hand comes to rest on his cheek, thumb pressed into the hollow under his eye, and Eddie’s breath catches. He barely feels the scratch of the eyeliner on his upper lid, all of his focus on the places Buck’s fingertips are resting on his skin.

Buck adjusts his position and his thumb sweeps along Eddie’s cheekbone, slow and lingering. Eddie might not know much about makeup, but he’s pretty sure that isn’t part of it.

Something good is definitely coming out of this talent show.

Buck has been looking forward to the LAFD talent show for weeks. Because it’s bound to be entertaining, yes, and because it’s raising money for a good cause, but mostly because he’d heard what Hen and Chimney were planning for their performance outfits, and his mouth had gone dry even thinking about Eddie in tight leather pants.

He’d volunteered for backstage help in a heartbeat. He’s permanently banned from representing the 118 as part of the actual performance, because he’d made the mistake of singing in front of Chimney once several years ago and still regularly gets shit for it, but backstage help is something he can do.

And yes, he’d done it mostly to get closer to Eddie and his costume, but he hadn’t anticipated getting quite this close. Because now he’s leaning over Eddie in a makeshift green room, and Eddie closed his eyes and did what he said without hesitation.

Eddie is wearing the tightest pants Buck has ever seen, leather, and his t-shirt looks like it might as well be painted on, clinging to every single ridge of muscle hiding beneath. And Buck’s seen those muscles before—has seen Eddie shirtless on multiple occasions, in the locker room and at the beach and at his house, sometimes, when he puts a load of laundry in and pulls off his shirt to throw that in, too, like he isn’t breaking Buck’s brain every time he does that—but it’s different like this, somehow. Something about the way the shirt only hints at Eddie’s abs makes them seem more tempting, like they’re forbidden.

Buck is seized with the sudden urge to tear the t-shirt off with his teeth.

He closes his own eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks at Eddie again. His eyes are still closed, head tilted exactly like Buck had left it, and there isn’t a hint of apprehension on his face. Like he trusts Buck completely.

Buck picks up the eyeliner again and returns to what he was doing.

“So how do you know how to do this, anyway?” Eddie asks, and Buck is pretty sure it’s only because he knows him so well that he can hear how Eddie’s voice sounds a little off. Squashed, somehow, like he’s trying not to move his mouth too much.

Shaky, like he’s struggling to keep his composure.

“YouTube rabbit hole,” Buck says. “But also the year I spent as a bartender. I learned all kinds of things that year.” Some of which he’d be more than happy to demonstrate for Eddie. “Okay, open your eyes for me?”

He tacks on the for me reflexively, almost like he’d do on a call, but Eddie’s eyes fly open and flash dark.

Buck files this information away for a later date.

With his eyes open, Eddie seems a lot closer. Buck can see every fleck of amber in his eyes, could count each individual eyelash if he wanted to. Eddie’s breathing is shallow, and Buck realises he’s holding his own breath.

He resists the urge to shake himself like a dog. He can do this.

“Okay,” he says to Eddie. “I’m going to do your waterline now, so you need to keep your eyes open.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and Buck feels the warmth of his exhale on his hand.

He leans in again, positioning the eyeliner pencil, when Eddie’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Wait.”

“I’m not going to touch your eyeball or anything,” Buck reassures him, and Eddie huffs a laugh.

Then he swallows. “No, I was just—uh. I just, I thought—bending over—uh, leaning over like that doesn’t look. Well. Comfortable.” He swallows again. “So—you could sit. If you want.”

“Sit—oh.”

“If you want,” Eddie says again, words tripping over each other. “Just—if it’s easier.”

“Okay,” Buck says. He spends a split second wondering if he should be sitting sideways, but if the point—the pretext—is to make things easier, that seems counterproductive. Slowly, carefully, he lowers himself onto Eddie’s lap.

They stare at each other, and Buck takes in the feeling of strong legs beneath his. Then somewhere to his left, Hen laughs, and Buck remembers where they are, and why, and that there are other people around.

“So, waterline,” he says, and gets to work.

A few minutes later he makes Eddie close his eyes again for the next layer, and Hen walks into his field of vision and starts raising her eyebrows suggestively. He tries to communicate shut up, Hen with his eyes as aggressively as possible, and returns his attention to Eddie.

Eventually, Hen and Chimney drift out, tossing a seven-minute warning over their shoulder as they go. Buck puts the finishing touches on Eddie’s makeup, smudging the corners of his eyes with his thumbs, then tells Eddie to open his eyes for the last time.

Eddie blinks up at him with eyes ringed in smudgy black liner, and Buck has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something inappropriate. It sticks in his throat, and from the way Eddie’s gaze sweeps down the line of his neck he thinks maybe he’s not doing a great job of hiding it.

“Almost there,” Buck murmurs instead. “You just need—you can’t go on stage with hair like this.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Eddie asks, sounding offended.

“Nothing,” Buck reassures him, already reaching for a jar of hair wax. “Absolutely nothing, except when the rest of you looks like this.” He grabs some of the wax and works his hands into Eddie’s hair, tousling it until it looks suitably messy to go with the rest of his current aesthetic.

Then he runs his hands through Eddie’s hair again, and again, just because he can, and Eddie looks up at him, eyes ringed with black and full of the same hunger that floods his every cell, and before he can think better of it Buck leans down to kiss Eddie.

Eddie reacts immediately, hands coming up to rest on Buck’s waist, mouth eager on his. He pulls Buck closer, until their hips are flush, and Buck goes willingly, until Eddie pulls away with a gasped-out “wait, bad idea.”

Buck is too punch-drunk to ask which part of this, exactly, is a bad idea, but Eddie takes him by the hips and pushes back, just enough to separate them. “There is—” he says, taking a slow, deep breath “—absolutely no extra room in these pants.”

Then he grins, and reaches for Buck’s face to pull him back.

And Buck would be happy to spend hours like this, but Chimney chooses that very moment to burst back in with an “Okay, Eddie, let’s—oh.”

Buck and Eddie spring apart, and Buck doesn’t check but he’s pretty sure they’re wearing matching guilty expressions.

“Wait, this is what did it—” Chimney starts, and then shakes his head. “Nope, no time to get into that. Let’s go, Diaz, it’s our turn next.” Then he heads out again without waiting to see if Eddie’s following.

“Go on, then,” Buck says, ducking in to press a quick kiss to Eddie’s mouth, hoping it serves as reassurance that just because the moment was broken doesn’t mean that whatever was started here is, too. “Can’t let all this have been for nothing.” He gestures at Eddie’s outfit and hair.

“Wouldn’t be for nothing,” Eddie says, with a quiet intensity that drips down Buck’s spine like warm honey.

“Go,” Buck says again, and runs his hands through Eddie’s hair once more for good measure. Just to make sure it’s perfectly tousled. “Go, so you can come back.”

“You’re not going to watch?” Eddie asks.

“It was more of a figure of speech,” Buck says, getting up and holding out a hand to pull Eddie up. “Obviously I’m going to watch. Have you seen yourself?”

Red spreads across the top of Eddie’s cheekbones, and Buck leans in to chase it with his lips, first one side and then the other. “Now come on, before Chimney comes back and murders me for delaying you.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, and reaches up for one more kiss. “For luck,” he grins, then turns and disappears after Chimney.

“Am I going to watch,” Buck mutters to himself, dropping into Eddie’s recently vacated chair. “Am I—as if this is something I would ever miss. God, does he really not know?”

The vague sound of applause drifts in from somewhere, and Buck jumps to his feet. If that’s the previous act, he needs to get a move on. He ducks through the maze of identical curtained-off areas, and makes it into the main audience area just as Eddie, Hen, and Chimney file on stage, along with Bobby and Johnson from B shift. They’re all dressed similarly, all objectively equally ridiculous given that it is no longer the early 2000s, but Buck only has eyes for Eddie. He elbows his way past firefighters from various houses until he reaches the front of the audience, trying to situate himself in Eddie’s direct eye line.

The song starts, and Eddie’s gaze finds him. Later, Buck won’t be able to recount anything about the actual performance—he has no idea if they were good, could barely recognise the song if pressed—but he remembers Eddie’s every move. The awkward way he holds the microphone in the beginning, like he wants everyone to know he’s up on stage against his will, and the way he relaxes into it as the song goes on, until by the end he actually looks like he’s enjoying himself. The way he periodically runs a hand through his hair to mess it up, and how the entire time, he’s looking at Buck with those eyes, already beautiful, made ever more compelling by the liner smudged around them.

Buck’s never seen anything hotter.

The performance finishes to raucous applause. Hen, Chimney, Bobby, and Johnson take their bows and wave at the crowd, but Eddie’s gaze is fixed on Buck. He inclines his head at the door to the left of the stage and Buck nods, already turning to weave through the audience. He bursts into the hallway at the same time as Eddie descends from the stage, and Buck is about to push him up against the wall when he’s followed by Bobby.

“Cap!” Buck cries, aware that his voice is at least an octave higher than usual. “Great show!”

“You really think so, Buckaroo?” Chimney asks, following Bobby off the stage. “Sure you weren’t a little distracted?”

Buck glares at Chimney, then grabs Eddie’s arm. “Great show, you guys, seriously, but I need to talk to Eddie about—”

“—About Christopher,” Eddie supplies when Buck trails off.

“Yeah, exactly,” Buck confirms. “Urgently. I mean, uh, no one’s hurt or anything, but—”

“Boys, it’s fine, just go,” Hen says, barely holding in her laughter. “Have fun, be safe.”

“Henrietta!” Buck hisses, but he’s grinning, sliding his hand down Eddie’s arm to tangle his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie squeezes his hand, and Buck turns to pull him down the hallway.

“Make good choices!” Bobby calls out after them.

“I fully intend to!” Buck calls back.

They duck into the first room they find, which turns out to be another storage closet. Buck pulls Eddie in behind him, and has him pushed up against the door before it even clicks shut. “Scale of one to ten,” he says, kissing Eddie’s jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye. “How willing would you be to wear eyeliner on other occasions?”

Eddie freezes beneath his touch, then puts his hands on Buck’s shoulders and gently pushes Buck backwards. “This isn’t just about the eyeliner, is it?”

“No, Eddie,” Buck says, and kisses him carefully, soft and sweet like first kisses should be. The kind they’d skipped over completely. “It’s not just about the eyeliner.” Then he grins. “But the eyeliner does look really fucking hot.”

“In that case,” Eddie says, and leans in close to whisper the next part in Buck’s ear. “I’ll wear it whenever you want.”

A shiver starts at Buck’s ear and runs down his spine, and he takes a step closer, pressing closer into Eddie.

“I can work with that,” he says and kisses Eddie, running his hands down Eddie’s chest. He settles them on Eddie’s waist, and is just starting to think about getting Eddie’s shirt off when Eddie breaks away, then ducks back for another quick kiss, two, three.

“Let’s go home,” he finally says, closing his hand over Buck’s before he can slip it under Eddie’s shirt. “I love you, but I don’t want our first time to be in a supply closet at someone else’s fire station.”

“Okay,” Buck says, and punctuates it with a kiss. “Okay.” Then, when it’s been just long enough that Eddie opens his mouth to ask: “I love you too.”

“You’re the worst,” Eddie says, but he’s grinning, and then he kisses Buck’s smirk right off his lips.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Buck says, and Eddie sighs as he opens the closet door.

“I gave you that ammunition far too early, didn’t I?”

“Probably,” Buck says. “But it’s okay, because I love you.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Eddie says, and they’re laughing as they tumble into the hallway.

“By the way,” Eddie says in the parking lot, halfway to Buck’s jeep. “You’re probably going to have to cut these clothes off me. I don’t like my chances otherwise.”

“Good thing we’re going home, then,” Buck says, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “I bet I can scrounge up a pair of scissors.”

send me a kiss prompt!

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #this is not what i was supposed to write today but then the eyeliner was mentioned and 4k later here we are #leothil #ask emma #emma writes

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rohilvirani · 2 years

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Rohil Virani- How To Make Your Convenience Store More Profitable?

Rohil Virani is the CEO, Co-Founder of Siasim Investments Group. And he is having an outstanding track record in operating as well as owning large scale businesses in the Atlanta Area. His expertise in closing deals is unprecedented and has led to a tremendous growth trajectory for Siasim Investments and his other business interests. His energy, focus, and talent enable him to see what is around the corner and what is next in his respective markets and what his company can do to change for the better to appeal to his customers. You can check out Rohil Virani-Investment in convenience store made easy.

1. Track Down Retail Performance

You need to track down your business performance. That is because good business decisions highly rely on exact business data. And it actually means that you will be using convenience store tools in order to monitor and rive the business.

Try to know the number of products, on average, each consumer will be purchasing. Apart from that, get the knowledge about average purchase value. If you want to know the sales efficiency of your business, then these two points will help you.

2. Sell Added Value Services

It is always a great idea to sell value added services to your regular customers. Phone cards and mobile phone top up for calling overseas are amazing options for a convenience store. Keep in mind that they might not need any kind of stock and you can sell those via your convenience store software.

3. Promote To Every Customer

It is way much important to promote your store to every consumer. You can take the advantage of using coupons on POS software receipts. It will let you offer them a better come back deal within a certain period of time. You will see that this passive approach will work better than the forceful upsell approach that you usually do.

4. Use High Volume Software

Another thing that you should keep in mind is to place logical impulse buying next to your top selling lines. It actually explains that more eyeballs will see the products that you want to promote.

A tactical product arrangement like this can drive excellent business results for you, helping to turn single item sales into multiple item sales.

5. Track Down Your Traffic

It is very much important to track down your traffic. This will help you to design more offers to add to the sale numbers.

6. Make Counter Offers Clear

Quite often you will see that the convenience store counters are pretty much in mess and will offer confusion. Hence, you need to keep in mind to keep the counter offers are pretty clear, easy to choose, and compelling.

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#Software #Customer #Rohil Virani #Performance #Services

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wilfcrd · 3 years

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*gasp* whoops! then i won’t go by 🍄, how about 💐? haha, anyway, so i’m not really a fan of ethan’s show, at least not yet. i’m so proud of ethan for wanting to do a show, and it’s neat that it’s already sold out, but i don’t like that we don’t know anything about it and yet we were asked to buy tickets already. i feel like if someone is going to do a show, they should tell people what they’re going to get for their hard earned money. i totally get that ethan doesn’t have show set yet, and he’ll likely update us when he figures it out, but i feel that it’s unfair for him to ask us for $35-$75 (at least, depending on how many tickets you buy and if you get vip or not) and set aside a date/time months in advance (which might even change due to covid) when he won’t tell us why other than “well i’m having a show pls just buy the tickets.” when ethan does a merch drop, you know what you’re going to get for your money, and you can decide if you want to spend that money or not. but with this, he really just asked us to put blind financial faith into him as an entertainer while we’re still in the middle of a pandemic, and i think that’s not really okay. timing his announcement the way he did enabled people with excess funds to make impulse purchases and prohibited people who may be tight on money due to the pandemic yet still want to see him from having that chance. it also prohibited people from weighing the pros and cons of “well, ethan’s having a show, but i don’t think i will enjoy the type of show he’s going to put on” (or something like that) and making a decision based on a thought process like that. it was very “spend your money right now or miss your chance forever” (or at least, miss your chance until he inevitably announces a full tour) (and sure, ‘do this or miss out forever’ probably isn’t new to fans of both crankgameplays and unus annus, but unus annus is over now, and this is crankgameplays, not unus annus). i saw a tweet of someone saying they bought a ticket impulsively but because they live across the country they now have to save up for a cross-country trip. i even saw a tiktok of someone bragging they bought two tickets but they didn’t even know who they were buying the second ticket for, they just ‘needed’ to have it. again, i know that ethan will update as things progress, and i’m genuinely really happy he’s branching out and doing a show, but i think this was the wrong way to announce it, and i guess i wish that people wouldn’t put ethan (or entertainers/celebrities/youtubers/etc) on such a pedestal and thought more critically about what they’re spending their money on. of course, support who you want in the ways you deem appropriate, but this whole show thing just smells fishy to me. (i also want to note that i’m not being critical because it sold out before i could get a ticket or i can’t afford a ticket or anything, because that’s not the case. i’m purely just thinking about this in a ‘critical thinking’ sort of way.) maybe i’m uncertain about this because i had a bad vip experience at a youtuber show a few years ago, but i feel like this is still a thought worth having and sharing. sorry this is long, but i tend to have a lot of thoughts and be rambley when sharing, haha

These are good points

#💐 anon #anon crew #long post

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yamayamawrites · 4 years

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give me a reason i deserve you if i stay - TodoDeku

A/N: Ah, yes! The moment everyone (no one) has been waiting for! I tried my hand at writing an angsty one-shot for TodoDeku! As always I would love your feedback, but I’d love it even more so this time since it’s my first time attempting more than a sprinkling of angst in a fluff fic. You can read this piece on AO3 here or keep reading down below! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Izuku trudged through the rainy, empty streets of his hometown towards the local grocer. He’d never gotten his drivers’ license; he had every hero license imaginable, even one enabling him to enter restricted areas under slightest suspicion of villainy, but never bothered to obtain his drivers’ license. It felt pathetic, but then, what was more pathetic? Not having a drivers’ license, or being an ultra-famous hero obtaining his license in his mid-twenties?

He drew the hood up on his hoodie. It was red and white, split down the middle – some sort of merchandise shop had been selling it, and honestly Izuku hadn’t gotten it because it was meant to resemble Shouto. He’d swear on his grave he didn’t purchase it because it was merchandise for Shouto, who had become something of a rival after high school; but then, he’d been so drawn to it, he doubted that there was any other reason he needed to have it that day.

The threading was worn with how many times he’d washed it, now. Somehow he always ended up getting it dirty. He’d have to wash it again when he got home, he thought bitterly, with the rain having soaked him to the skin. He thought idly about all the times Shouto steamed the water off him when they trained in the rain, how Shouto warmed him from the inside out. He tugged on the hood of the hoodie more, pushing open the grocery store door.

Despite the lack of people on the roads and sidewalks, the grocery store was quite busy. Especially for a Thursday morning, Izuku thought to himself as he scooped up a basket. He walked past an old woman who lived just down the road from him chatting to another woman, not as old, about a horrid storm passing through.

Ah, that was why it was so busy. He’d been working such long shifts he forgot that their town was expecting a thunderstorm to roll through and knock out the power. He supposed he should buy himself some food that didn’t need to be refrigerated or baked for that evening.

As it always happened when he went to the grocery store hungry, he left with much more than he needed. Carrying the grocery bags had never been a problem for him, but carrying them in the rain (which came down much thicker now) and wind put a damper on things. He stood on the doorstep of his apartment, fumbling with the bags and his keys when someone called out to him.

“Oh, do you need some help?”

Izuku knew that voice. He nearly dropped his grocery bags and his keys when he heard that voice. He turned around slowly, and of course, of all the times Shouto should be assigned to patrol his town…of course it would be now, now that Izuku stood wearing the silly Shouto hoodie he bought on impulse years ago now.

But – well, it didn’t feel so out of place, as Izuku gazed over Shouto’s own outfit. He looked like he might have been out for a jog, with the hoodie and joggers he wore himself. The hoodie that, in faded print, had the word ‘DEKU’ scrawled across the front.

“I-Izuku?” Shouto stuttered, taking a step back.

“Hey, Shouto,” Izuku grinned sheepishly. His hood slipped down and, while the hood had only done a bit of good keeping his hair dry, now his hair clung to his cheeks with the rain. “What’re you doing here?”

He tried to sound casual, but seeing his ex—well, whatever they were—standing there in a DEKU hoodie while he wore a Shouto hoodie made him a bit nervous.

“Vacation,” Shouto replied with a bluntness that Izuku hadn’t forgotten. “Can I help you with your bags?”

“So chivalrous,” Izuku teased back. “I’m fine. Do you want to come in and dry off?”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“I have stuff to make cold soba.”

Shouto froze. Izuku laughed, maneuvering the bags in his hands to insert his key into the door. “It’s really easy to make, you know. Really quick, too.”

Izuku had the top-floor apartment. It couldn’t be called a penthouse, but it certainly was nice; a wall of windows normally would let in a gorgeous sunrise, but today it seemed to darken the room, what with the gray clouds outside. Every once in a while, though, lightning would flash and lighten the room – if only for a moment.

Shouto sat at the counter while Izuku put groceries away. Neither of them spoke, let alone mentioned the other’s merchandise. Though Izuku’s eyes did wander to the worn lettering on the front. Did Shouto wear his hoodie as often as Izuku wore Shouto’s?

“So, vacation, huh?” Izuku broke the silence between them as he packed away the last of the canned food into his pantry. “In this small town?”

“I suppose I can tell you, since you’re a hero, too,” Shouto pulled at his drenched hair.

Izuku wordlessly walked down the hall to his linen closet and pulled out two towels. He tossed one to Shouto, who had followed him to the end of the hall to see what he was doing. “I am a hero,” Izuku affirmed.

“They wanted me to work here,” he said hesitantly. “With you.”

“Is that why you were waiting outside my apartment for me?” Izuku teased, though he felt his heart begin to thrum faster in his chest remembering the time they spent working together in high school.

“No,” Shouto countered quickly. “I had no idea where you lived.”

Izuku laughed. “I’m teasing, Shouto.”

“Oh,” the latter relaxed. Izuku threw his towel around his shoulders and reached forward, taking the towel from Shouto’s hands and gently rubbing it into his wet hair. Shouto tensed, but only for a moment. It felt wrong to touch him again, to feel the temperature difference of Shouto’s hair and skin even through the towel; but then, it felt so right at the same time, like he had to make up for years of lost time.

A few seconds later, Izuku let go of the towel. “Oh! You can take a hot shower, if you want,” he nodded towards the end of the hall. “Down and to the right. I’ve got some clothes that’ll probably fit you.”

They were about the same size, now that Shouto stopped to really look at him. He looked down, but only slightly, to see Izuku; the latter was probably only a few inches shorter than him now. Their build was practically the same, too. “If you’re sure,” he said finally.

“Of course I’m sure,” Izuku scoffed. “You’re soaked.” He paused. “Can you still do that thing where you make the water evaporate off you?”

“I can,” Shouto said with a hint of a smile. “Why? Want me to warm you up like I used to?”

Izuku blushed at that. “No, I’m going to go take a shower myself. I was just curious.” Another pause. “…Does it work on clothes, though?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve washed this hoodie so many times that it’s coming undone, and I don’t really want to wash it again because it got rained on.”

That ghost of a smile on Shouto’s face spread into a full-blown, charming grin that Izuku had only seen maybe twice in his lifetime. “You mean your Shouto sweatshirt?” he said.

Izuku flushed a deeper red, attempting (and failing) to cover his embarrassment with his hand. “Y-you’re wearing a ‘Deku’ sweatshirt,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but Shouto.

“I think it’s cute,” Shouto decided finally. “That you’d wear my merch.”

“I didn’t get it because of you,” Izuku insisted, then, stamping his foot down the way a child might when trying to convince an adult of something.

“So you just wandered into the hero merch section and picked up a hoodie that looks like my hair on accident?” Shouto appeared to be having a field day with this information, the way his tone shifted ever so slightly towards condescending.

“That’s like, exactly how it went,” Izuku grumbled back. “How about you?”

Shouto shrugged. “I think you’re a good hero,” he said finally. “If I can support you even by wearing a sweatshirt with your hero name on it, I will.”

Izuku thought he might melt at the flame of his high school crush being rekindled in him at such a disastrous rate. His cheeks felt like they’d begin steaming with heat – the way Shouto’s used to when he got embarrassed. “That’s kind of you,” Izuku squeaked finally, looking down at his red shoes. His feet were getting cold; despite his shoes being mostly waterproof, they’d soaked through in the heavy and unending rain.

“I’m going to go shower,” Shouto changed the subject. “Hang your clothes up and I’ll dry them when I get out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Sure,” Izuku replied with a curt nod. Shouto turned and shut himself in the large guest bathroom, complete with a soaker tub and waterfall shower. Perhaps Izuku should have told him he could take a bath, if he wanted.

He turned the opposite way in the hall and entered the master suite, throwing his clothes to the wood floor haphazardly. Closing his bedroom door didn’t quite register to him (he lived alone; he never closed doors behind him). He hung his clothes once he’d stripped them all, pulling out a different outfit to change into once he got out of the shower. His master bathroom was even larger than the guest bath, and maybe if Izuku hadn’t been so cold himself he’d have offered up his own shower, but he longed for nothing more than to stand under a rain of hot water for a pleasant change today.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood in there – twenty minutes, maybe – long enough for Shouto to call out to him from the bedroom doorway. “Izuku, clothes?”

“Sorry!” Izuku yelled back, suddenly remembering he’d promised dry clothing to Shouto. He turned off the faucet quickly and threw on the pair of pants he’d grabbed, rushing back into the bedroom with his hair dripping water down his back.

Shouto stood at the doorway, as Izuku had suspected, with one of Izuku’s towels draped loosely around his waist. Over the years of heroism he’d obtained more scars from battle; Izuku’s eyes wandered aimlessly between them, counting them. That is, until Shouto cleared his throat and Izuku flushed with the embarrassment that he’d been openly ogling his ex…whatever they were. He still didn’t know, and he still didn’t want to ask.

“Sorry!” Izuku snapped his eyes away from Shouto, instead choosing to turn his back to the man in the doorway in favor of searching his drawers for clothing. He pulled out some sweats that fit him rather loosely, tossing them towards Shouto without looking. “These good?”

“Yeah,” Shouto replied. “Thanks.”

He heard the sound of his bedroom door shut and Shouto’s soft footsteps crossing the hall to one of the guest bedrooms, and finally he let himself breathe. He’d done a bad thing, a ridiculously stupid thing by inviting Shouto into his home, especially knowing full well that whatever feelings he had for the boy hadn’t fully subsided. Every time Shouto came on the news, Izuku recorded it. He needed to make sure Shouto stayed safe. He had only gotten more reckless as the years went on.

Izuku put on a tee shirt, then – some old tee shirt from his college days, with Uravity scrawled across the front in loopy, cursive letters. He’d only gotten it in the first place because he and Ochaco were dating, but he’d kept it even after they broke up. She’d become a celebrity across the globe with her rescue work and now mainly resided in Hawaii. Izuku kept thinking he should call her, but every time he picked up the phone he realized he didn’t know what to say.

He scoffed. It seemed that way with a lot of his old friends, now. The only person he had even remotely kept in touch with was Kaminari, who lived in a neighboring town doing electrical work on the side of his hero gig. Everyone else had either moved away or cut ties.

Izuku padded out of the bedroom and down the hall. He grabbed another dry towel from his closet (with little regard to the number of towels he’d already used that day alone) and began vigorously rubbing his hair dry. The storm had only gotten worse, he noticed with the darkening sky. Supposedly, it was noon, but it looked like early morning with the lack of light outside. He flicked on the lights in the apartment. They flickered stubbornly but ultimately stayed on, much to Izuku’s relief. He’d hate for the only time he contacted Kaminari to be when he needed some electrical work done.

Not much later Shouto emerged from the guest bedroom. The joggers he wore were just a tad tight, and a little short in the legs. The tee shirt fit him snugly, though, and it took everything in Izuku to keep from tracing every shadow of muscle with his eyes. Although, while he kept his eyes level with Shouto’s, he noticed the latter seemingly memorizing the way his own arms looked bulging out from a college tee shirt.

“Lunch?” Izuku asked nonchalantly, but it became harder to ignore Shouto’s eyes on him.

Quickly, Shouto looked up. “Yeah,” he murmured finally, meeting Izuku on the other side of the kitchen counter to once again prop himself on a barstool. He seemed perfectly content watching Izuku cook him food.

They’d cooked together often in the dorms at U.A. Izuku held onto those memories fondly. Much of his high school experience he tried to forget – the nights he’d go to Shouto’s room because he couldn’t sleep, or the nights Shouto would come to him because he’d had a nightmare. The nights they’d spent exploring each other, starting with holding hands and gradually moving to shy kisses, then more passionate ones, then exploring every other—

“Izuku.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You’re mumbling.”

“I still do that?” Izuku wondered aloud, digging through the fridge. He ducked his head inside to hide the blush inevitably crawling up his cheeks.

“I always liked that about you,” Shouto mentioned offhandedly. When Izuku looked up, Shouto was observing his nails with something of a disinterested look on his face. He buried his face back into the fridge, searching around for what, he couldn’t remember.

He grabbed for the ingredients he’d purchased earlier that day for cold soba. It had become a staple meal for him, since it was quick to make and he knew by heart how to make it. His heart ached nearly every time he prepared it, though; not having someone to sit and eat with did a number on one’s emotional state, especially after getting so used to eating surrounded by friends and family.

He got assigned to his small town shortly after he left college. It wasn’t a great position, at least not at first; despite his hard work in high school and college, he was still viewed as an intern for a majority of his first few months with his company. Shortly thereafter, though, he was discovered – fighting some mammoth Quirk-having man trying to take out the town’s elementary school really brought to light what his Quirk meant. From there it was a relatively smooth road to where he was now – living in this small town as a cover, traveling for work practically every week to larger cities. He was what the business called a “fill-in” hero, quite close to what All Might had been. Though, All Might wasn’t ordered to go where the trouble was, he just happened to be where the trouble attracted itself to.

Neither of them spoke as Izuku bustled around the kitchen. He’d gotten used to working alone. Shouto thought, a couple times, he could jump in and help; but then he knew what a klutz Izuku had been in high school, and though he supposed he had no idea what Izuku was like now, he didn’t want to risk soba ending up on the floor. Especially since he was so hungry.

They ate in that same silence. Even as the lights flickered in time with the roaring wind and booming thunder outside, they said nothing, opting instead to sit across from each other at the dining table and use the storm outside as ambient noise. Hesitantly, Shouto’s foot nudged into Izuku’s, the way they’d become so used to doing in high school when they sat and ate with each other.

“What happened to us?” Izuku blurted, finally, and he likely startled himself more than he startled Shouto with the way he jumped at his own voice.

Shouto looked up, then hummed to himself. “What do you mean?”

“We used to be so close,” Izuku flushed.

“Well, you know what happened.”

Shouto was right; Izuku did know what happened. He hoped something would have changed in the past several years. But then, Endeavor was still around, and he still had a tight grasp on nearly every part of Shouto’s life.

Shouto worked under Endeavor. He had since the moment he left high school, and he continued to even seven years later. At one point, during their third year, Shouto had promised Izuku he wouldn’t let his father have such a tight hold on every aspect of his life; and yet, nearing their graduation Shouto ended whatever their relationship was. Izuku had always thought it had something to do with Endeavor, not just because of his dislike for him but because the news of his relation to All Might had just gotten out.

Their friendship ended abruptly. There was no falling out, nor did they drift apart. Shouto left Izuku without explanation, without last words, without even a goodbye, and yet Izuku still lost sleep thinking about Shouto today. Even after Shouto had called Izuku just after they began their first year of university, crying and drunk after some party, talking about how he missed him and his father was responsible for coming between them. Even after several more calls, which Izuku let go to voicemail because Shouto’s slurred voice became too painful to respond to.

“Why did you let me in?” Shouto asked.

“Because you were outside in the storm,” Izuku replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Because for a kind heart like Izuku’s, it was the simplest thing in the world. Shouto watched Izuku on the news a lot; he’d earned the nickname ‘Kind-Hearted Hero’ for all his good deeds. Shouto wouldn’t have expected anything else from him.

“Right.”

They migrated to the living room, lounging on separate couches. Izuku turned on the television and flipped through his favorites list – a bunch of hero channels from different regions of Japan, others a bit more foreign like the Hawaii news. He caught a glimpse of Uravity’s pink costume on the Hawaii channel and left it, watching one of his former best friends rescue civilians from a magma villain who had emerged from one of the volcanoes. Shouto seemed disinterested the moment the villain left the screen, so Izuku flipped to something else.

He settled on some third-rate movie to serve as background noise as his gaze settled instead on Shouto. Before the former could say anything, though, Shouto blurted out an apology. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and the words carried more weight than perhaps anything Shouto had said to Izuku before.

“For what?” Izuku replied nonchalantly, but he knew.

“For not realizing that you meant more to me than my old man.”

Izuku shifted his gaze out the wall of windows, watching the raindrops race down the outside of the window panes. He remembered well the ugly taste in his mouth when Shouto told him nearly a year later that his actions reflected his father’s wishes. It almost hurt worse knowing that Shouto would leave him for his father’s sake rather than leave him for his own. “He’s family,” Izuku said, as that was how he’d reasoned with himself in the past. That was how he quelled his tears on the nights he especially missed Shouto next to him – which was, to say, most nights.

“He’s not family,” Shouto replied harshly. “He’s my old man. Family for me was our class at U.A.”

“I’m not sure I—”

“Dancing in the commons when Jirou played music, and having spontaneous game nights when Momo decided to make a game board, that was family,” Shouto cut him off. “And Kaminari charging everyone’s phones when we went on training camps, and Sato baking cookies every Sunday and having us help him frost them.”

Izuku let out a bitter laugh. All the memories he had of U.A. had been drowned out by Shouto, and therefore tainted. He hardly remembered what it had been like to dance around to Jirou’s music with Ochaco by his side instead of Shouto, and by then it became too painful to remember the way Izuku’s head rested so snugly against Shouto’s shoulder. Or the days that he and Shouto helped frost cookies and one (or both) of them ended up coated in frosting for the other to lick off when they found a moment to themselves. All of it, every part of his U.A. family, started with Shouto.

“You ruined that for me,” Izuku said quite casually, considering the blame he laid on his best friend’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispered back.

Izuku didn’t know how to accept his apology. How, after seven years, could he simply forgive Shouto for the love he’d missed out on? Did Shouto even love him anymore? He supposed that hurt even worse than forgiving him – the thought that Shouto had come all this way just to find out he didn’t love Izuku anymore. Would he have even come in if he didn’t?

“You’re mumbling, Izuku.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They sat for a moment, looking at each other. The lights flickered again. Izuku hoped they would go out so he didn’t have to keep looking at Shouto’s face, tracing the detail of his grown-up features. Even before they graduated Shouto wore a bit of baby fat, but now with age his jawline had sharpened, his cheekbones elevated and prominent. Had he not the recognizable hair and even more recognizable scar, Izuku might not have noticed him.

Ah, and the ‘Deku’ hoodie. That helped, too.

Shouto tentatively came to sit next to him. “I know you can’t forgive me, no matter how kind hearted you are,” his voice had dropped to a whisper. “I’m just asking you to listen to what I have to say.”

“Sure,” Izuku murmured back. He watched the way Shouto’s lips moved as he spoke.

“I quit my old man’s agency.”

Izuku’s jaw fell.

“I gave my resignation and he told me never to come back. So I researched what agency you worked for, Izuku, and asked them to assign me to you.” He bowed his head. “I’m your subordinate, unofficially. They were supposed to announce my hiring into the company this coming Monday.”

Izuku laughed, then, startling Shouto. “What’s so funny?”

“You’d willingly hire in under me,” he practically choked on the laughter forcing itself from him. “Shouto, you’re the number three hero, and you decided the best course of action was to work under the number two hero?”

Despite his old age, Endeavor remained the number one hero. Izuku strategically refrained from mentioning him.

“I just needed to see you again,” he insisted. “I know that what I did to you hurt you, and it only took me seven years to realize that my father’s happiness was not my own.”

It was everything Izuku had wished for. Nearly the exact words he’d always dreamt of hearing, so why did it feel so…unsatisfying? Why did it sound so ugly to him?

“This wasn’t the way to do it, I don’t think.” Izuku’s voice was quiet. “Not by putting yourself under me. I never wanted that.”

Shouto’s lips settled into a frown. “What did you want, then?”

“To be your partner,” Izuku replied easily. “To work alongside you, then come home to you every night. Is that so much to ask?”

“Izu—”

“Was that ever what you wanted, or did you just lie to me?”

Izuku had learned to manage his bouts of tears in his college years, but it was for naught, now; they fell down his face freely, like the rain outside. Bitter and cold, but much quieter. He didn’t hiccup or sniffle like he would usually crying this much. Shouto watched him, waiting inevitably for that pained wail that usually accompanied Izuku’s tears – had almost always accompanied them whenever he made Izuku cry – but it didn’t come.

“That was always what I wanted,” Shouto murmured finally. “But it was never what my old man wanted for me.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku whispered, but it was most certainly not fine. He’d dedicated his three years at U.A. solely to his love with Shouto, and sure, maybe he’d been naïve to believe it could last, but he’d at least hoped he could have a few more years. Maybe.

“It’s not,” Shouto shot back, his fists balling in the joggers Izuku had let him borrow so sweetly. Hell, if Shouto asked, Izuku would probably let him borrow a thousand dollars without asking so much as why. “I can never give you back those years,” he whispered.

Izuku thought for a moment. “I’m calling the agency,” he decided finally.

“Wha—why?”

“To tell them you’ll work at the same level as me or you won’t work there at all,” Izuku replied with a wave of his hand. He fished his phone from his pocket.

Just as he did so, about to mention needing a charger, the power flickered. It did not come back on, this time.

“Shit,” Izuku grumbled. Shouto stilled; he didn’t know that he’d ever heard Izuku swear before.

“Izu,” Shouto murmured, “it’s a nice gesture, but—”

“Don’t call me Izu,” Izuku bit back. “Not now.”

Shouto stilled. It had just slipped out, but then, it felt so wonderful rolling off his tongue again. The name he’d called out so many times before, back in high school, the name he’d pleaded on the phone while his words were slurred by the liquor he’d downed during his university years, the name that clung to the inside of his mouth like peanut butter since the moment he saw Izuku again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He’d never meant the apologies to his father before, the ones for becoming friends (and even lovers) with All Might’s prodigy. But the apologies kept tumbling from him with Izuku, and he meant each one more than the last; every ‘I’m sorry’ only atoned for one of the minutes, no, one of the seconds he’d stolen from Izuku.

Izuku hung his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he muttered finally. “I’m being childish.”

“I don’t think so,” Shouto replied simply.

The wind howled outside. Izuku had opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the loud booming of thunder from beyond his wall of windows, and a crack of lightning illuminated them. In that moment, Shouto saw the tear tracks down Izuku’s cheeks, and he reached blindly to cradle the other’s face. He entirely expected Izuku to draw back, but instead he was met with Izuku pressing his cheek into the outstretched hand. Izuku melted into his touch, and that pained cry Shouto had heard so many times before during their time at U.A. shattered the silence that had settled between them.

It felt like an eternity, but only a few moments later Izuku collapsed into Shouto’s chest, gripping at the tee shirt he’d loaned him and letting his tears spill messier, louder. “Damn it,” Izuku hissed between hiccups and moans.

Shouto wrapped his arms around Izuku. His fingers threaded in Izuku’s hair, knotted and frizzy from the vigorous towel-rubbing earlier that morning. He tugged carefully at the knots, carding his fingers through his hair delicately. The sobs still came, but they were fewer and further between and instead replaced with more ragged breathing. It felt like high school again – Shouto had helped Izuku fall asleep on restless nights so many times combing his fingers through his partner’s hair, and the menial task often lulled himself to sleep, as well. But the thunder outside woke them up each time they so much as thought about sleeping.

Izuku’s bitter laugh rang through the living area suddenly, loud compared to the roaring winds and even the thunder outside. “You know just how to calm me down, huh?” His voice sounded cold, a little distant, even. Like he wished Shouto didn’t know how to calm him down.

“Is that a bad thing?” Shouto replied, tugging loose one last knot before letting his hand fall to the back of Izuku’s neck.

Izuku hummed, thinking. “Maybe not,” he decided finally.

“Why only maybe?”

“I mean, if you ever became my enemy you could just pull my hair a little and I’d fall right asleep,” Izuku said pointedly. “Then you could kill me or kidnap me, or whatever.”

Shouto hid a snicker behind his hand. “You’re joking, right?” he asked between soft laughs.

“Well? I need to stay on my guard,” Izuku replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’d never hurt you,” Shouto replied, gently cupping Izuku’s cheek once more. He wiped some of the wetness away with his thumb. “And I’d certainly never use that trick to kidnap you. Jeez, Izu…ku.”

The power didn’t come on for several hours. Shouto heated some canned ravioli for them for dinner, and Izuku dug a few candles out of storage to put around the apartment. “You can stay here for the night,” Izuku said as they sat around a candle in the living room, trying to play Quirk’s chess by the candlelight.

“I wouldn’t mean to impose,” Shouto replied quickly.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Izuku said, knocking aside one of Shouto’s pawns with a weak Quirk. “And…my bed is big enough, too.”

Shouto didn’t need the light to know that Izuku was blushing. He could tell by the slight tremble in the latter’s fingers as he took Shouto’s pawn and set it on the ground to the side of the board, where more than half of Shouto’s pieces lied by then. (Izuku always had been way better at Quirk’s chess; not only because he’d collected a chess set of strong Quirks, but because he was an amazing strategist, especially when Quirks were involved.)

“Your bed certainly sounds more welcoming,” Shouto thought aloud, “but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn’t,” Izuku countered quickly. He coughed. “I-I mean…it’s not a bother to me.”

Their game of Quirk’s chess finished quickly. Izuku won – partly because Shouto was eager to get some rest, partly because Izuku was quite easily the best Quirk’s chess player in damn near the entire country. Shouto lit his finger to function as a candle as they made their way down the hall to Izuku’s bedroom, and he held a ball of flame so Izuku could see while he dug around for a spare set of pajamas. Shortly after he and Izuku had changed (backs turned to each other) into pajamas, Shouto dried the clothes hanging in the closet. By then, they had mostly air-dried anyway.

Shouto crawled onto the large king-sized mattress shortly thereafter. Izuku had gone to use the bathroom one last time, and when he crawled into bed beside him there was little hesitation; Izuku curled into Shouto, like they’d done so many times before, like they could resume right where they left off. But it was different now; Izuku had certainly bulked out in muscle mass, and he’d gotten a bit taller. Still, Shouto’s arm draped across his waist, and Izuku tensed – only for a moment, before relaxing into him.

“I missed this,” Izuku breathed.

“I haven’t slept well since I’ve slept with you,” Shouto admitted in the same breathy tone.

Izuku rolled over, the need to hold Shouto just as strong as the need to be held himself. He wrapped his arms around Shouto, tangling their legs under the plush covers of his bed. His head fell below Shouto’s chin. They’d fallen asleep like this before, usually after tough villain encounters or draining class training sessions, when all they wanted from each other was physical contact. Instinctively, Shouto’s fingers found Izuku’s hair once more. He combed his fingers through, though Izuku’s hair wasn’t nearly as unruly as it had been earlier that day.

Izuku fell asleep first. He always fell asleep first, and back in high school that gave Shouto time to observe the boy’s gorgeous features. He’d tried to count Izuku’s freckles multiple times, but he always fell asleep doing so. Even with their close proximity, the unnatural darkness of the sky made freckle-counting near impossible, but Shouto still took the opportunity to relish in the ways Izuku’s face had changed. His cheeks carried much less baby fat than they used to, but he still looked much younger than he was; those big doll eyes always made him look so much younger and more innocent. He had a slit in one of his eyebrows, and where Shouto had just thought it was a fashion statement earlier that day, he could see now that there was a ghost of a scar through the arch of his brow. He grazed his finger idly over the mark, wondering if he’d obtained any other scars. Then, knowing Izuku, he definitely had.

Somewhere in those thoughts and his fingers breathing over Izuku’s skin, Shouto drifted to sleep as well, and he slept through the night for the first time in almost seven years.

***

Six Months Later

“Shou, we’re going to be late!”

Izuku bustled around the living area of their apartment. He tried (and failed) to fix his tie as he did so, looking everywhere for his other shoe. Shouto came down the hallway holding the red shoe triumphantly, his own shirt untucked and unbuttoned with his tie around his next. “Apologies, Izu,” he said in his slightly-sarcastic tone, “I was busy looking for your shoe.”

“Thanks,” Izuku huffed. “I’d ask you to fix my tie, but you look like you’ve got your hands full.”

Izuku threw himself onto the couch while Shouto buttoned and tucked in his shirt. Izuku thought he’d never get over the ease with which Shouto tied his tie, kelly green like his hair. “Do you need me to tie yours, too?” Shouto asked, though he knew full well he didn’t even have to ask; he’d tied Izuku’s tie for him nearly every day for the past six months, now. He knelt down and tied it for him without waiting for a response. Then, once he’d finished doing so, he tugged the tie and pulled Izuku’s lips to his own.

Izuku kissed him, pulling back after a moment with a squeal. “Late! We’re late!”

“Calm down,” Shouto replied. “They can’t well start the meeting without their two best employees, can they?”

“Let’s go,” Izuku said, jumping to his feet. He grabbed Shouto’s neatly-tied tie and pulled him towards the door of the apartment.

The agency headquarters building was a good thirty-minute drive from their apartment. The drive, as always, consisted of Izuku and Shouto reviewing villain sightings and plans of action. Shouto drove – Izuku still refused to get his drivers’ license, and now he had a valid reason to. They pulled up to the front of the agency just as Kaminari trotted up, wearing a suit of equal savvy as Izuku and Shouto’s own. “Hey!” he waved, panting just slightly. “At least I’m not the only one who’s late!”

“We’re not late,” Shouto called back. “Everyone else is early.”

Izuku laughed.

They walked into the building together. Most others were required to show their badges before they entered; but the number two, the number three, and the number seven heroes were not. They strolled past reception, making casual conversation as they went. They were in the middle of a discussion of who would win in battle – Izuku with a hand tied behind his back or Kaminari – when Shouto pushed open the large conference center door. “Sorry we’re late, everyone,” he called with a bow.

“You’re not late,” Aizawa countered from the other end of the room. “The rest of us are early.”

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #tododeku #fanfiction #ao3 #tddk #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #angst?#some angst idk

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daemoninwhiteround2 · 4 years

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I’m asking for sheer laugh but can Succubus Jason get pregnant by Officer Grayson? Is that even possible? Then Dick goes to Bruce and is all So Bruce I knocked up a sex demon. A legit sex demon in not just saying he’s great in bed. And oh yeah it’s a guy. How does B react? I can see Alfred in the background going My word. I’ve become a great grandfather.

It's been a long, long day. Responding to a report led to a way too long and convoluted chase which led to an arrest which led to a pile of paperwork. Dick wants nothing more than to collapse onto his couch and fall asleep, or if Jay's there maybe he'll be able to talk Jay into bathing him.

(His lover is a demon! He's got super strength! If Dick doesn't exploit that to be able to sleep and still take a shower, what's the point?)

So he's completely blindsided when Jay grabs him as soon as Dick walks through his apartment door.

Dick yelps, flails, and they end up tangles together, Jay's legs between Dick's, and their arms wrapped around each other. It's almost like Jay's dipping him, and as smoothly as though it was the next step in a dance, Jay pulls Dick back to his feet. He doesn't let go, though, he pulls Dick in close and buries his head in Dick's shoulder.

"Hey," Dick murmurs, exhaustion rounding the edges of the sudden wave of concern for his lover. "What's wrong?"

Jay looks up. He's .... He's smiling. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, but he's smiling brighter than Dick's ever seen him smile.

"We're going to have a baby!"

Dick decides that no, he actually fell asleep in the car and this is clearly a dream.

It's not a dream. Jay's clearly upset that Dick isn't as excited as he is, but, well.

"But you're," Dick trails off. Waves a hand at Jason.

Jason might be a demon but he is a fine specimen of a man, and Dick would definitely have noticed by now if he had the sort of parts that enable one to be impregnated.

Jason huffs and looks away. "I'm a demon, you mean? Not everyone reproduces like mammals."

"But you're a male demon?" Dick's voice goes increasingly high pitched and soft as Jason's glare increases.

"I'm a demon. Why would I have a human gender?"

"Oh. I just. Assumed."

Jason snorts and crosses his arms. "Hadn't noticed. You hide it so well."

Usually such blatant sarcasm would make Dick groan or roll his eyes, but he's still stuck on the fact that he impregnated someone.

"So, um. How?"

Jason runs a hand over his belly. It's as flat as usual, and from the distracted look on his face, Dick's not even sure he's consciously aware of his actions.

(He has a flash of Jason, as round as the moon, curled up in a pile of blankets, talking to their baby and stroking his belly.)

"Demon reproduction is simpler than humans'. It's about wanting."

"You just." Dick pauses and marshals his thoughts. "You think yourself pregnant?"

Jason rolls his eyes, but it looks finds this time, and he uncrossed his arms, instead standing so that one hand is on a cocked hip. "Everyone involved needs to want it, dipshit." The insult is as fond as usual.

Dick thinks of the ring, impulsively purchased, hidden among his socks. He thinks about how delighted, how relieved he'd been when Jason has instantly clicked with Alfred, how even Bruce had given his (grudging!) blessing. He thinks about how badly he's wanted to make Jason his family.

"We're gonna have a baby," he whispers.

Jay grins, "we're gonna have a baby," he echoes.

Dick darts around the table, gathers Jason into his arms, and plants frantic kisses all over his freckled face. "We're gonna have a baby!"

Jason laughs. Dick is so, so happy.

#i think this is more fluff than hilarity but *shrug*#dae talks #dae writes #Jaycubus doesn't have a human gender and also he's magic #gotta be careful about wishing around what's essentially a wish-fulfilment demon #dc #batman #Jason Todd #incubus Jason Todd #jaycubus #Dick Grayson #jaydick #it's not mpreg bc Jason doesn't identify as a human gender but like????#anonymous #dad I impregnated a demon au

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algaming134 · 3 years

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What is gaming evolved doing on my pc

Profession In Gaming

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marcooxac627 · 3 years

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Why Many Movies Hd Fail

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fba-art · 5 years

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Just out of curiosity, why don’t you like young justice??

aight, so i knew i was gonna wait to respond to this ‘til i had some time to explain.

and i want to start out by saying that i don’t think Young Justice, as a property, is a bad show. in fact, i think it’s a show that had GREAT potential. i watched every new episode via livestream every saturday lol. and now, i’ll be honest when i say it’s been some time since i’ve rewatched it, and i’m always open to changing opinions. a few years back, i wanted to give it another, fresher perspective and dove in for a rewatch, but ultimately didn’t finish. i don’t remember my reasoning exactly, but i recall being disappointed.and it’s funny i received this ask this week, b/c my friend and i were planning on giving it another rewatch for shits and giggle after finals ( sober or not is tbd ).

but so, here’s where i stand on the show.

i started watching YJ when it was abt 5 episodes into s1. and i binged those first five and stick to my guns that holy SHIT 1-3 are bomb as FUCK. super strong start! Independence Day will never not get me SO HYPE and remind me why i fell in love with DC’s teenage heroes in the first place. it’s so… youthful. a fun conversation for another time.

and now, when i started watching YJ, it was like four months into my making my TT!Kid Flash rp blog, and two months after i’d gotten into reading comics; when i found out Wally was like a biG DC CHARACTER, NOT JUST AN OLD CARTOON ONE-SHOT, i went EVERYWHERE to get my hands on more about Wally West. ironically, the first purchase i ever made from a comic store was a silver age Teen Titans tale, issue #2 of TTY1, and two issues of the old Young Justice comics ( still some of my favorite comics to this day; more on that later ).TL;DRi saw a commercial for YJ, ft. my fave DC char and my fave comic title and went “HOSHIT”.

as the episodes pushed the show’s plot along, it was fun and explorative of a more intense side to the idea of a group of superteens in the DCU. and again, very TEENAGER-Y, which i say in the BEST of ways, considering that was the target audience as well. but, as part of that audience at the time, one of the things that had started to bother me was the character relationships. yeah, i was loving on most of the main cast at the time, but for the first half of the season, the team’s supposedly-close friendships were pushed to the backburner ( EXCEPT for KF and Rob’s, which was one of the only things that got me through the season ). the first season WAS about straining relationships. the social drama was palpable. you NEED conflict in your plots, and char-v-char is especially fun. but i remember feeling like there was little bonding. they were a group of acquaintances, learning to co-habitate the same space- not to say that they didn’t seem like friends, but there was a lack of balance between “teens being professionals in their field” and “teens being immature teens”. both were squeezed in, but both consistently felt forced.

which brings me to the next point: forcing relationships without developing them!i wasn’t sure why i was supposed to care about Roy, like. At all. the team always bringing up that they trained alongside him, grew with the guy, and then??? nada, except when the plot needed edgy tantrumy angst.then there was spitfire. i ship spitfire now, but the ENTIRETY of s1 i was SO FRUSTRATED, because all those two did was bicker. wally was pretty foul to artemis, who was also just plain mean to wally. and i say this with the two of them as my TOP FAVE CHARS.and don’t get me STARTED on the best char on the entire team, KALDUR’AHM!!!! who was shit on by EVERYONE– fandom and plot, alike. actually, i do recall in my last rewatch starting two tallies of everytime kaldur was DISRESPECTED and TREATED LIKE GARBAGE BY TEEN AND ADULT CHARS, versus everytime he was treated respectfully. this boy was BRUTALIZED through s1.m’gann and conner, too– a cute concept, but borderline cringey, even creepy, at times. i was rooting for supermartian. i was. but it was like the writers didn’t know how to write a slowburn. the idea was honestly better on paper than in execution.

the YJ spinoff comics filled in a lot of these gaps, i’ll admit. it explored the chars, their relationships, and their behavior in ways the show seemingly didn’t have time to do, and i LOVE the spinoff series. but i also firmly believe that you shouldn’t need a second media to fix the first. it’s capitalistic and no fun.

through the duration of the show, there were also issues such as the hiatuses. i don’t recall them coming with much warning at a time, nor sticking to much of a schedule. i don’t actually remember what they were for, either. but, before and after each of (three?? was it three?) hiatuses, the showrunners would introduce a new character during a new arc, give said character some liners or plot fodder, and do away with them for the rest of the season ( i.e Rocket, Zatanna, Garth and Tula, etc. ).

i have some other, nitpickier issues– why was wally That Way, why was clark Like That, how come bruce was the ENABLER the entire time, etc– but many can be argued as whether they affected the show as a whole or not.my actual biggest problem was the direction.the director.Greg Weisman.bc idk what the hell he was doing half the time, and i don’t think he knew, either. the writing wasn’t GREAT, but at least it was consistent. Weisman truly had a marketable property, a fan favorite, and one of CN’s best running shows at the time. but between the hiatuses, the writing’s faults, the insufficient character development, and a HUGE ego thanks to his fanbase, Weisman was unable to uphold the integrity of his show. there was both fan-pandering, AS WELL AS consciously going AGAINST fans’ wishes. there was that whole “Ask Greg”-thing, too, where he would get back to a fan once every blue moon and answer background questions about the show’s universe, which became a scene of hot debate. Greg Weisman became the JK Rowling of DC, and lost a lot of my respect with his lack of damage control, and impulse control.

then, with the very inception of the show– and i don’t actually know if i can blame weisman for this or not, but i wanna know who pitched it, otherwise– the show’s CONCEPT. why was Young Justice made with this particular cast of characters, cherrypicked through DC history, aged down or revamped or just cut-and-pasted where they didn’t fit? why was its concept, “COVERT TEAM OF ADOLESCENTS WITH SUPERPOWERS WORKING TOGETHER WITH LACK OF SUPERVISION”? why was the show called “Young Justice” when what they wanted was the TT v3 comics? WHY DID WE NEED TO TURN SUPERMAN INTO THE UNAVAILABLE-FATHER TROPE????? questions that will forever remain unanswered. that’s a lie, i can answer most of them, myself.but all in all, a show with great potential that failed in execution.

season 2, i actually enjoyed more than season 1– it felt like there was more of a handle on the story and cast, alike. did i approve of season 2 and what went down? debatable. but that’s a very subjective view. objectively, season 2 flowed better than season 1, but still didn’t follow through on subplots, nor resolved relationships or even characterization ( m’gann, girl what the fuck?? ). very little team bonding, save for, once again, two chars out of the whole team. again, another season of SO much potential, but one that fell short.

its pros, however– i really enjoyed the darker themes, getting darker as time went on. there was a lot of tragedy in s2, and different perspectives and walks of life to watch through different lenses. a much more diverse cast, and very different conflicts to tackle. i was impressed. i don’t think all the controversies were resolved, but i also wasn’t quite as upset that they weren’t; open-ended conflict is frustrating, but is a great lead-in to another season.

————which, for better or for worse, we weren’t supposed to have.i personally would’ve rather the show ended there, not quite on a high note ( are u fucking kidding me fjaoisdfjoaifio waLLY, this was during the n52, too ), but with a concrete END. of course there was more to explore, the world they’d built was a big one, but we didn’t need to.

i was literally just yesterday chatting w my sis, bc after school lets out, we wanna watch season 3. i really do. i’m upset that there is one, but i do wanna know what happens to my faves. and, on top of that, i’ve been meaning to do one BIG rewatch, anyways, to get me set up for s3. as a student of film, it’s a huge philosophy of mine to rewatch EVERYTHING and go in with the intent of giving it a fresh start and a clean slate– both medias i love, and medias i hate. it’s important to analyze pop culture critically, and even things that aren’t good can still be enjoyable.

for me, Young Justice wasn’t a phenomenal show to begin with, from its technological side to its creative team to its politics, and i stopped enjoying it pretty early on. but, that isn’t to say it didn’t accomplish GREAT things, and isn’t UN-enjoyable; it has its moments. also i would DIE for most of the cast, i fucking love the characters.

i don’t think anyone is wrong for liking Young Justice. i try to stay in the loop about it, and form new opinions based on whatever information is out there until i can get ahold of the source material. and, i do like aspects of the show. but ultimately, it just isn’t my cup of tea.

#Anonymous #LONG post under read more #rambley. sorry about that it's 1 AM

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kidsforkingme-blog · 5 years

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Best Pedal Car For Kids

It is so excellent to see your kids riding their dirt bikes. A motorcycle is an extreme car that is incredibly popular nowadays as a result of different models that you can select from. It can be taken anywhere, and your youngsters will most definitely enjoy the automobile given that it mostly supplies a fun and resilient enjoyment. They are stores that call for seeing the age and the size of the body of a youngster before permitting the moms and dads to buy a dirt bike. The shops only want to make sure that they supply secure and protected services by providing a suitable dirt bikes for kids with preventative safety measures.

Dirt bike riding is a task that supplies an exciting and adventurous experience for the youngsters. Other than that, it additionally gives speed and incredible difficulty for lots of children who enjoy cycling. Nevertheless, getting your kid a dirt bicycle is not just so very easy. There are some vital indicate to consider. Below are simply some points to bear in mind. The initial point you must find is the age of your youngster. Since riders today are obtaining more youthful and younger, the innovation of kids dirt bikes gives advanced security devices and some riding company. In some cases, moms and dads enable their children to discover motorcycle riding before they finish preschool. However, some guardians wait for the best age before allowing their kids to experience the enjoyment of riding it.

But, of course, you are the rider's parents! You should recognize better than any individual if your kids prepare to hold a motorcycle and execute riding with their skills. So, the right advice for this is to find the right kind of bike riding your children are interested in. If you think they are fully grown enough and can do dirt biking, then allow them to enjoy the task. However, if they are as well young for the riding acidity, then it is much better to await the right time.

The dimension of the bike is also essential to think about. When you pick one for your youngsters, it is necessary to choose the one that is ideal for them for the bike to be handled securely and appropriately. Bear in mind; once you acquired it, you can anticipate that it undergoes extreme riding activities like bumps, twists, and turns. This is the reason you need to get the ideal dimension for your kids.

A kid's version of a mobility scooter is a quite fantastic machine. It's primarily a smaller scoot which is much safer and as a result wholly matched for youngsters because most of us know just how reckless children go to times. The smaller sized dimension stops it from speeding up also quickly. Besides being risk-free, an additional major plus factor is that they can be found in a range of styles that would undoubtedly appeal to a vast array of preferences. To put it, you'll have the ability to find something your kid likes!

You may be wondering; why would you choose a best dirt bikes for kids over a digital one? Besides, aren't they much "cooler"? Sure, they're stylish, and your son or daughter might wind up being the envy of his/her playground buddies. However, is that the point? Technology has produced a rise in the variety of pc gaming avenues. Your youngster winds up being in front of the computer or the burning time.

Along with this, he winds up consuming a great deal of unhealthy food as well. How else can he sustain his much-needed energy right? This is where the kick mobility scooter comes into play. The real procedure of taking a trip needs you to put in pressure. So to get from one location to another, you end up exercising. This way, you can educate your child to create his/her fitness and build his or her physique. It's mostly a fun type of exercise.

It's not unusual if you intend to have a scooter. It is an interesting dual-purpose device, not only for you but additionally for your kids. Bikes for kids, specifically the kick-off types offer incredible benefits; utilizing them could be a terrific workout for your youngster. This can also aid establish your kid's sense of balance and creative thinking, for this toy is a cross between a bike and a skateboard. Adaptability and equilibrium is the core skill that would be established. Handling the take care of bars with method needs flexibility and instinct especially when they start finding new techniques and are trying to use it initially. Buy cheap kick scooter for your child to make him/her more happy.

Scooters can be found in 2 types: a kick-off mobility scooter and an electric motor mobility scooter. Feet and leg activity is used when starting with the previous. Stamina is developed on both legs especially considering that they require to kick alternately to move on. It establishes one's agility, impulse, clearheadedness, choice production, versatility, and equilibrium. Keep in mind that with an electric motor scooter which is supposedly made to be more pleasurable, there are constraints, you might not always have the ability to use it for doing fancy techniques or moves just like on a bike. Purchase kick scooter for kids for youngones.

Keep in mind that in operation scooters, kids ought to get ready. This is your child's conventional precautionary steps before heading off with his mobility scooter. It takes agility to make foot motions from pushing. It depends on them to utilize their presence of mind to control their rate. More pressing is needed to increase. Currently, while it requires initiative, youngsters don't mind because to them, it's much like playing. Playing is kids' method of keeping fit and friendly. And also, working out enhances self-confidence for endorphins are released to the body making your kids pleased.

Best pedal car for kids are an excellent gift suggestion. Not just do they permit your kid hours of fun, they likewise promote a healthy and balanced way of life by providing your youngster much-needed workout. Rather than being embedded in the front of the tv or a computer game all day, they can be outdoors in the fresh air, launching energy and remaining healthy. Pedal vehicles for children been available in many different styles and styles to let you youngster be a firefighter, a policeman, a farmer or perhaps a pilot for some time. All kids like to resemble others, and this is an excellent way to allow them to do that in full safety and security.

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Pedal cars for kids appropriate for youngsters from 1 to 5 years of age. This is the moment when they learn a lot of their skills in activity and ability and when their imaginations are increasing. This is additionally the moment when they want to discover a little self-reliance and to be "matured."kids pedal car is a superb means of permitting this to take place. Your kid can mimic you by having his vehicle; he can learn little competitors by playing in his car with his friends and their automobiles.

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