Excitement is in the air as the week is drawing to a close and the shortened sprint is drawing to a close. Excitement is in the air as the plans to spend quantity and quality time with my oldest are on the radar. Excitement is in the air as the opportunity to bless her and put priorities where they are supposed to be in order for me to be the dad God created me to be. So the goal today is to…
Killing Eve needs to remind us just how ruthless it can be, writes Laura Denby.
To finish strong, Killing Eve must find its nerve and stop messing around with half-measures like not killing off Niko or Konstantin because they already had their one big shock death.
Killing Eve used to push the envelope, but it played things too safe in Season 3. It doesn't have to be James Bond and it never should be, but for the love of God, can it find its way back to what matters (Villanelle and Eve's relationship) and get away from all the extraneous bullshit? (Geraldine and Konstantin getting sexy. Ewwww.)
ugh. school is literally so discouraging and it’s taking sm out of me. I read on here when I’m not studying, so do you think I could have a oneshot of tomura being the readers support system when she doesn’t score well on a test she studied hard for and she’s being really hard on herself and feels kinda momentarily hopeless?? Not cause that’s how I’m feeling rn or anything, just a completely random request that has absolutely nothing to do with my current situation 😅 (no but rlly send help pls)
My dear, dear anon. I am so sorry school is making you stressed. At the end of the day, take a deep breath, drink some water and remember to eat a good meal, at least once a day. You’ve got this. It may not feel like it when you’re in the weeds and you can’t see anything but a massive to-do list, but you’re almost there & it will be so, so worth it. Bush off that test and try, try again.
And, even if you feel like they may not care, reach out to your professors. At the least, it gives you a paper trail, that way, if you feel like you’re being smothered under too much work, they have to justify that to the university, and at the most, they might grant you a reprieve.
ANYWAY. Of course I can get you a one-shot! Best of luck & keep your chin up!
warnings: none. just a nice Tomura who wants you do do your best
You don’t want to talk about it, thank you very much.
Toga has come and gone, Twice, on the other hand, has kept pushing, but you’re ignoring him, and Spinner, bless him, grabbed you some take out and pressed it into your cold hands, saying you need to eat.
You haven’t even told them that you failed the exam.
They just know you’re quiet, and you’re never quiet. No, usually you’re the glue that keeps the ragtag bunch of them together, the one that is pushing them to talk, to get along, to take care of themselves. You’re touched, really. It’s always nice to see that care, that you’ve insisted upon and rained down on them, passed forward and tonight is no exception.
But, you are dreading seeing him.
Tomura, unlike the others, will know, the moment he sees you, that you’re frustrated with yourself, disappointed in yourself, defeated and shattered. He’ll likely give you a stern look and tell you to wait for him in his room, or he’ll drag you up there himself, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and tugging, lifting and pressing, until you’re away from the others and free for his unvarnished attentions.
No, he’ll know before the words even leave your lips. And you both adore and hate that about him. Sometimes it’s nice to have a little bit of mystery, you know?
So, you eat your procured dinner and meander to his dark bedroom, closing the door behind you and curling up in his crumpled sheets, waiting.
He comes in, a few hours later, his eyes bright in the low gloom, searching for you. He studies your hunched form and lets out a low sigh, dragging off his dark shirt and kicking off his red shoes. Seconds later, he’s nestling beside you, fingers carefully balled as he yanks you against him, resting his chin over your bowed head.
“What happened?” he asks, as if he hasn’t already guessed.
You’re quiet, letting his question hover, a heavy weight that threatens to squash you under its implications, its chilling reality. Tomura waits for your answer, his breathing steady and deep, stirring some strands of your hair, tickling them against your forehead. While he’ll give you his patience, you know he won’t let you wiggle free of his queries. No, he’ll worm it out of you, one way or another.
“I failed,” you finally sigh, ducking your head, your lips trailing along his upper arms, forming the words against his skin.
Tomura intakes a long inhale, tucking you closer as he considers his response.
“Is it your last opportunity?” his asks, his voice low, rasping with that gentle lull that he holds in reserve, a tone that you know is yours, and yours alone.
“Not…not really…I can try again. But, it was twenty percent of my grade. It means...no matter what I do, I’m locked into a lower grade. It means it will take me longer, it means I might need to drop it…to…to retake…ugh...I don’t want to do this again. How can I even face…it’s money, Tomura…it’s time…and I failed…”
“You didn’t fail,” Tomura reminds you, lacing his legs with yours, wrapping himself closer, his solid weight a distant comfort.
“I did—“
“You just said it’s twenty percent. That’s not failing.”
“That doesn’t...It’s not the score I wanted,” you huff, squirming from his tightening grip, not wanting to hear his pity. You failed. He’s just being nice and it’s not right. This means you’ll be set back…again. It’s annoying and if it’s annoying to you, it’s bound to be worse for him. God, this is the second time you’ve had something like this happen. He shouldn’t humor you, he shouldn’t…
“Try again. You can always try again,” Tomura reassures you, slotting you against his lean chest, stilling your disgruntled shifts with a firm nip to your neck.
You unconsciously lean into his sharp caress, trailing your fingers along his upper arms, enjoying the tiny tremor he shakes against your palms. He’s still being too nice.
This isn’t like him.
Not that he’s not nice to you. Oh, he’s very, very nice. Just the thought of that rough touch, that desperate gasping he can urge from you makes you melt, your back losing a piece of that tension.
But, it’s not like him to not be frank.
He’s not one to butter you up, to lie, to paint the rosy colors over the picture. No. This isn’t like him.
“Don’t tell me what I want to hear,” you scold, yanking your neck from his lips, ignoring the grunt he gives you.
His fingers curl around your jaw, the four digits dipping into your soft neck, pulling you back.
“Tch,” he grumbles, tucking his other arm to your waist and digging your plush softness to his trim hips. “Don’t be so fucking defeatist, (Y/N).”
“I’m not!” you cry out, flinging his arms away and propping yourself above him, glaring down at his vermillion eyes. “I fucked up and there’s no way to fix it. I’m not going to get the grade I want and it could put me back a year, maybe more. Do you really want to deal with this for another year? Do you…hey! Tomura, don’t—“
His fingers have dipped into your hair and he’s urging you to his lips, the rough skin gliding over yours, silencing your distraught declarations. He’s soft, so soft that you can’t help but collapse against him and he growls at the weighty press. Finally, once he’s sure you’re distracted enough to reason with, he leans your head back, those red orbs searching for yours.
“Now you know, right? You know what you need to work on. Now, you won’t make the same mistakes. Not saying it’s not gonna be hard, but if anyone can do it, you can (Y/N).”
