#;andy's bookstore

[redstringraven]

hey '03 folks, some triceraton lore for anyone else who cares part 5784: monza ram is not the only named all-star. the other three were also named back in 1986. i am: thriving.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

[badnewswhatsleft]

patrick perturbed little doubletake after joetrick sugar moment so cute

[thekidsare-not-alright]

fob was stuck until andy finally got there with other projects outta the way and now dude loves this band so much, he would literally never leave it oh my goddd

[thegeekyartist]

Made myself feel better by going to a library book sale and bringing home a fuckton of books for only $10

[andiree]

July 2! 7:30! Join me, Anso Jouhanneau and our friends at Greenlight Brooklyn for the release of READY OR NOT (my debut graphic novel) 🎉 It’ll be a good time, I promise!

The night will consist of a bit of chitchat about the book, Q&A, and conclude with a book signing. You can bring your pre-order or purchase at the store—whatever works best for you!

I would love to see you all there 💖

[queenvreads]

REVIEW: A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

4.5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

SO FREAKING GOOD. 🔪🔪🔪

I love me a good teenage murder mystery. I knew I would love this series, as I do anything that resembles "Pretty Little Liars," "One of Us Is Lying," etc.

The premise was familiar, so the plot wasn't entirely new to me, but the delivery was great. I truly had so much fun reading this; I was hooked from the beginning.

Pip, a teenager with a passion for true crime and dreams of becoming a respected journalist, chooses her senior capstone project to delve into her small town's most talked-about cold case: the unsolved murder of Andie Bell. Initially a straightforward proposal, her investigation soon becomes a complex journey. Partnering with the accused killer's brother, RAVI, they find themselves caught in between a dangerous and obsessive pursuit, risking their lives in the process.

The twists and turns were really good. I found myself second-guessing my guesses, and every time I thought, "Oh, here it is!" it turned out to be something else completely.

RAVI 🥰🥰 I enjoyed Pip as well. Neither of them annoyed me, and I felt their friendship and chemistry. Together, they embodied the classic 'too mature for their age, handling things youths shouldn't be handling.' You know the drill with these types of plots.

I guess my only real complaint, and the reason half a star was deducted, was the BARNEY situation. REALLY!? Did that have to happen!? 🥵🥵🥵 I could have lived without that. I'm a petty gal when doggos are involved!!

✍️Befriend me on Goodreads: ⭐HERE⭐

[redstringraven]

alright, so after a thorough replay of the space-arc and a slightly less thorough comb of the invasion-arc here're some loose observations and thoughts regarding triceraton tattoos. i'm not touching triceratons featured in fast forward because... i don't have interest in that fjkldjks. my apologies.

this is mostly for myself, but you're of course more than welcome to use it as a resource, reference, whatever tickles your fancy. if i missed something, feel free to tell me!

there does seem to be some pattern with rank, so i'm gonna start with "low-rank" and make my way up the ladder.

citizens

we don't get to see a lot of triceraton citizens, and basically all of them are background fodder save for zed and raz (the games commentators). from what i can tell, none of them have tattoos on neither their eyes nor their arms--on the ones with bare arms, anyway. it's probably safe to assume they don't have them on their chests because those seem all-star specific.

rebellion

this is where the tattoo thing gets a bit weird--as in, i don't know if they're actually facepaint that can be removed, or if these are all citizens or green soldiers who've not earned their military tattoo yet. traximus still has his tattoo, but none of his rebellion soldiers have the ones we'll later see on every soldier as well as prison guards. it's definitely possible citizens joined the rebellion, but trax had also mentioned in the arena that he still had friends in the ranks. are they not there? did they remove their tattoos? am i over-analyzing a cartoon beyond what the creators considered? (it's that one).

you can click on the screenshot to make it a little bigger but the bottom-left shot shows an actual solder beside a rebellion soldier, the former's tattoo is barely visible but there. their concept art doesn't have a tattoo, and i didn't see any in-show who had one... but, i did more skim through the invasion-arc, so it's possible i missed one. lemmie know if i'm wrong.

prison guards

all prison guards seem to have a single, thick red-line tattoo over their right eye. the ends point toward the backs of their heads. not much to talk about here. the two in the second-to-bottom-left screenshot are missing theirs, but i'm going to assume this is an animation error.

--also, sidebar, i don't think the blue ""tattoos"" prisoners have are remotely the same type of thing, so i don't think that'd apply to my confusion over none of the rebellion soldiers having tattoos.

soldiers

here's once again where the definition of 'tattoo' gets a little blurry, because if tattoos are a sign of rank and then your rank changes... what do. maybe since triceratons already have advanced technology--and tough skin--they have... a solid form of tattoo removal. again, though, i don't think their tattoos are the same as the ""tattoos"" prisoners receive, so i doubt they'd just peel off?? if that were possible, you'd also think they would have removed traximus's tattoo after he was thrown into the games as another way to shame/derank him, too.

so, your basic and most common soldier seems to have two narrow maroon lines over their right eye. the ends do not point in any direction, they're just lines. they're thin enough that they can be very hard to see if the camera's at a distance, but they're still there--just hard to capture in a screenshot partially due to the quality i'm working with.

next is an ensign soldier, which is basically a low-ranking officer. i think we only see one of these guys (he's leading the group who find the turtles as stowaways at the beginning of s2ep3, the big house). his tattoos are once again over the right eye, maroon/purple, thicker than a soldier's tattoo, and the peak of the outer-most line has a point. for a moment, i thought that maybe you'd build on the tattoo as you ranked, but traximus and mozar are gonna kind of throw that theory out the window when we get to them.

there's also this guy from s2ep5, triceraton wars. he's labeled as "strike team leader" on his concept art, and getting a visible shot of his tattoo in-show is very frustrating and not helped by the fact it looks like they goofed his color palette, too. his tattoo is over the right eye (like the previous soldiers), red, and it's a curved line with ends that hook toward the front of his face. it's the most similar to traximus's tattoo that we see.

...also, this episode eludes to the fact that "slag" is a triceraton swear word, as zanramon uses it both as an exclamation of frustration and calls the strike team "slag brains". he could also just be calling them all stony waste matter, tho, so. do with that what you will.

there's also THESE GUYS from the invasion-arc in s3, and they confuse me because the invasion-arc not only introduces this new uniform design i don't see anywhere in the concept art that i've collected, but these soldiers have like. no tattoos. and it can't be an animation error because their lack of tattoo was consistent for any wearing this suit design. monza ram steals this suit from one of the soldiers, and looted soldier who reports back to zanramon later doesn't have a tattoo.

i wonder if these guys are like... more engineers than they are soldiers. we mostly see them in the docking bay or in the control room where the boys learn don's location on the homeworld. they're just armed because they'd stand in the way of anyone attempting to infiltrate the homeworld (or escape it), but i don't think i saw any of them leave the vessel itself.

gruell

gruell is an odd one because he has the same maroon tattoos as your common soldier--two narrow lines over the right eye--but he additionally has a tattoo on his right arm. it's of course possible that other soldiers also have this tattoo and that it's just hidden by their sleeves, but if tattoos are a show of rank or status you'd think it'd be somewhere more visible? maybe arm tattoos are additional signals of status when soldiers are in their civvies or something.

regardless, gruell's arm tattoo is the only of its kind we see: it appears to be red ink: an upright triangle that breaks into two longer lines where the top line hooks up toward the triangle and the bottom line hooks down toward another triangle, albeit this one is upsidedown. i'm not sure if this is meant to be an abstract design with the usual triceraton fondness of triangles and jagged lines, or if's maybe a representation of a bi-ringed planet? homeworld before they blew it up oopsie-doopsy? who knows.

monza ram + the all-stars

okay, if there are ANY anomalies on this list, it's these guys. none of them have anything resembling the soldier nor prison guard tattoos we've previously seen.

monza ram is the most unique; he doesn't seem to have any body tattoos, but he does have two thick red tattoos (or one big tattoo?) that rises from his jaw on both sides of his face and breaks into two spikes, one ending before it reaches his eye and the other 'cutting through' the eye and peaking on his brow. it covers the back third of his face, right in front of where his frill starts.

the other three all-stars have a much more narrow tattoo on either side of their face that looks like a jagged scratch, another narrow tattoo across the backs of their necks, then an extremely long one that seems to wrap diagonally around their back and end on their pecks. this is the only instance of tattoos that aren't maroon or red, too, as one all-star has blue tattoos and another has brown.

we unfortunately don't really know anything about the all-stars, just that they seem to be separate from the gladiator slaves, are undefeated (before the turtles), and after they lost their first fight zanramon had them imprisoned, where traximus would later free and recruit them. none of them have soldier tattoos. i know the triceratons love battle, so i wonder if they're more like the career tributes in the hunger games. they volunteered to be gladiators rather than were made to be them. eh. *shrugs*

commander mozar

title revoked because i said so, mozar is frustrating because he doesn't have an eye tattoo that we can see. those marks under his eye-patch are more likely from the injury that cost him his eye since they're a darker color than his skin tone, but where shit gets tricky is that traximus was a commanding officer before he was gladiator'd. so, it's possible that mozar has a tattoo identical to trax's under that eye-patch, and we just can't see it.

important to note, however, that his right eye--the eye where all other soldiers have had a tattoo--is bare. that's where the whole... building on your tattoo as you rank up theory kind of falls to the wayside. he technically SHOULD have one, but he doesn't.

he also has an arm tattoo, but it's on his left arm. again--he might also have one on his right arm, but it's sleeved. his left arm is only visible because his prosthetics must require a shorter sleeve. the tattoo on his arm is red: the top piece is a crescent shape lying on its side so it opens upward, then a long line that dips into a crescent shape so it frames the crescent above it, and finally an upsidedown triangle under the lowest point of the middle curve. this is much more of an abstract design than gruell's, idk what this could be.

traximus

as with mozar, traximus complicates the ranking up theory because he also lacks any tattoos on his right eye; his tattoo is on his left eye, and it appears to be reddish, zig-zagging down from his horn, across his brow, down over his eye, back along his cheek and then down to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn't have an arm tattoo on his right arm like gruell does, and if he has a tattoo on his left arm like mozar, it's covered by either his commanding officer sleeve or his gladiator armor. if mozar's tattoo has any connection to his ranking as a commander, it's possible trax has it, too. we just never get the chance to see it. pity.

the council

the council is a main indication that tattoos might be less a show of social status and more military or warrior specific, because none of the council members have visible tattoos (ignore mozar, he forgot to wear pink last wednesday idk why he's sitting with us). kind of helps me lean a bit more into my engineer theory from earlier.

prime leader (zanramon)

no visible tattoos. none whatsoever. pathetic. let's be real, he'd probably start crying before the needle even grazed his skin.

if you've made it to the end: thank you ONCE AGAIN for coming along with me on one of my dives into triceraton bullshittery. i'm sorry, i will do it again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You don’t mind working evenings during the week. In the hour before closing time, it’s pretty slow. There isn’t much for you to do much follow the tune of the instrumental jazz and lean on the counter behind your till. Management is hidden in the back office so you don’t even need to pretend to work.

So it is that you’re startled at the unexpected figure strutting around the table of stationary and novelties across from the checkout. You stand straight as you smile at the man, not letting it falter as you recognise him. You brace yourself and swallow as your mouth runs dry. He’s been here almost every day this week; at least, when you’ve been in.

“Oh, uh,” you don’t notice anything in his hands aside from his cell phone, “Mr. Pine isn’t here, sir. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply until he’s at the counter. His blue eyes bore into you as he rests his hand against the edge, gripping his phone tight. A small furrow scrunches between his brows.

“I didn’t ask,” he smiles.

“Well, er, sorry, I thought…” you chew your lip nervously. Each time he’s been in, he’s asked for the store owner. You assume he knows him. And he’s of the demographic who likes to make a fuss when he doesn’t get what he wants. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he agrees, still grinning.

You squirm and run your fingertips over the keyboard. “Well, is there anything I can help you find? We’re closing up soon–”

“You’re trying to get me to leave?” He challenges.

“Not at all,” you croak. “Sorry, sir.”

“Andy,” he pulls his hand away, instead crossing his arms and leaning his elbows on the counter. He reads your name tag, “it’s fine. I was just looking around. Figure a book might help keep me busy.” 

He has a very intense way of watching you. Very on the point. He speaks directly to you, but you’re more the type to focus above someone or past them.

“Do you have a favourite genre?” You prompt. It’s easiest to talk about work and you have a dozen suggestions.

“Not really. You know, I work a lot and I never really had a chance to read much outside of deposition records,” he shrugs and raises his eyebrows, “don’t make my mistakes. Don’t waste your life working overtime. Enjoy the small things. Like books, you’re never gonna find a fairytale in real life.”

You feel a bit bad for him but try not to show it. You don’t want to insult it and he seems to pendulum between amiable and unapproachable. You nod and put on your customer service smile.

“Oh, thanks, I guess you’re probably right,” you eke out, “do you like thrillers? They’re pretty popular and we’re having a special.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s somewhere to start,” he rubs his beard, the hand clutching his phone against the counter as he leans on the same elbow, “what do you read?”

You give your usual answer, vague and not entirely false, “fantasy, mostly.”

“Like The Hobbit or whatever?” He wonders.

“Sure, I’ve read that,” you say.

“My wife– ex, now, she was a Tolkien fan,” his lips slant, “twenty years, no kids. Got nothing to show for it.” He pushes himself straight, “I’m sorry, you caught me on a bad night. I, whatever you suggest, I’ll take it. I need something to get my mind off of… everything.”

“Oh, sure, well, we have our best sellers down here,” you point over the counter and the racks between each till, “Conrad’s always a good choice.”

He hums and backs up. He peruses the books silently as you twiddle your fingers impatiently. You’ve had awkward encounters with customers before, almost daily, but something about him is a bit too cringe for you. You hate to even think like that. You feel mean. He’s just going through some things. And who isn't?

He plucks up a book and comes back to your till. He lays it down and slides his phone into his pants pocket, then reaches under his jacket. He takes out his wallet and pauses as he unfolds it, “wait, do you get commission? I could grab a few more.”

“Um, no,” you login and scan the barcode on the book, “but there’s a survey on you receipt. If you fill that out, I get credit for that.”

“Oh, sure, a survey,” he agrees as he slides out a card.

“And did you have our rewards card?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “what’s that?”

Great. You peek at the time in the corner of the till screen. It’s getting close to closing.

“So, for purchases you collect points. Kinda like air miles. When you buy items that are part of a promotion, you receive double, and for prestige members, there are triple point days. You can collect points to earn store credit.”

He nods and considers it. He tilts his head as his cheek dimples, “so, that costs money?”

“Yes, twenty-five dollars for paperback level and forty for prestige.”

He weighs the options. You expect the amounts to deter him like most customers. He taps his card on the counter, “you know what, I’ll do the forty. I’m looking to get into reading so I’ll be back for sure.”

“Oh, uh, right, okay,” you say with surprise, “I’ll just get you registered.”

You reach past the till and grab one of the cards displayed behind it. You scan it and go through the whole routine; name, phone number, email. You get all his info in and offer him a bag before you turn the debit machine towards him. He taps his card and the approval chirps loudly.

“Great, so, if you wanna do the survey,” you say as his receipt prints out, “you can scan this QR code and it will direct you straight to the survey.” You tear off the receipt and circle at the bottom, “my employee number is here, you’ll have to enter that and the transaction ID.”

You fold the receipt and hand it over. He takes it and looks it over with a squint. He raises his chin and gives a half-smile, “um, this QR thing? How do I… I’m sorry, I’m a bit slow. Could you show me?”

You want to say no. You want to point to the clock and tell him to have a good day but he’s actually going to do the survey. You need a good review.

“Sure, um, I’ll show you. Just on your phone,” you step closer as he digs his hand in his pants pocket, “let me see the receipt.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, “you’re so patient with me.”

[seiwas]

andie you have made me yearn for this man with a want so deeply rooted into my being 🥲😭🥲

i maxxed the tags but just wanted to add this one more thing — that he is soooo acts of service here its driving me insane. to be loved is to be known, that saying 🥲 my chest ached at the bookstore, at when he said that everything that’s his is rdr’s oh my goooood literally HOW TO GET A HE. HOW TO GET A HE i’m losing it. thank u for writing this I SWEAR

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[marcogiovenale]

oggi, 4 maggio, a roma, all'ex mattatoio: "sintropie. mondo e mondo nuovo"

_

[skyeswriting]

Here's that bookmark.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Read Project Hail Mary cause you said it had the most influence on TTOU. I've never read anything like it (except your story, of course.) Would you ever make a book rec list? Doesn't have to be sci fi exclusively.

The best thing you can do for yourself as a reader of genre fiction is go to whatever used bookstores you can find and search specifically for books from this series:

and purchase and read any of them that you can find. It's called the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction and every issue will contain at least one story that permanently alters your brain chemistry.

Aside from that, I'd recommend The Martian by Andy Weir (the Project Hail Mary guy), the Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers, and anything you can find by Philip K Dick or Neal Stephenson. I'd also recommend a couple of CJ Cherryh's works: 40,000 in Gehenna, and Serpent's Reach. Probably worth reading Serpent's Reach first if you can, but it's not that important, they're not sequels of each other although they are in the same universe.

The series that's had the most influence on me as a writer is of course Animorphs by KA Applegate, but I'm not sure how interesting it would be for an adult reader who doesn't have nostalgia to rely on. Also Tamora Pierce's books, all of them, it's worth picking up those if you like fantasy.

[hansensgirl]

❆ 𝑭.𝑯: 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑺 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑)

psstt! — minors, do not interact! 18+ only, just like my blog. do not plagiarize, copy, translate, repost, copy or recreate my writing on any other public platforms. heed the warnings, and remember you are responsible for your media consumption.

info. — in honour of the holiday season, mr. hansen has decided to open requests! how kind is he? they will be posted in the next week or so, and will be written by me (sab). if you ask nicely, the man himself will even make an appearance!

format. — the requests will be submitted to this form. you will select one character, one AU (if desired), one dialogue prompt, and one kink/key element. all concepts will be dark, no matter what. there is an option for you to leave your username so i can tag you when i post your request. you may always remain anonymous. all prompts were created by me, please don’t use them without my permission.

time. — concepts will be written and posted as fast as possible. by january 7th, 2024, they should all be completed. please bear with me, as i can be quite a slow writer. thank you for your patience.

note. — concepts that are bolded and have three asterisks (***) will be turned into full fics. the list can be found under the ‘read more’ cut, along with all the drabbles i’ve posted.

the form is now closed. thank you for all the submissions! requests will be posted in the next two weeks.

show mr. hansen your gratitude by sending a request! isn't he such a sweet man?

NAVIGATION. ❆ @hansensfics. ❆ NEON PALM.

Andy Barber + Yandere + “Think an old man like me can keep up?” + conditioning/grooming.

Andy Barber + Roommate/Tenant + “Isn’t it beautiful? Bullet proof, too.” + dumbification.

Andy Barber + Bookstore + “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” + kidnapping.

Natasha Romanoff + Neighbours + “I’ll always love you, even if you don’t feel that way. But you will.” + sex pollen.

Johnny Storm + Sugar Daddy + “The night’s still young.” + obsession.

Jake Jensen + Step-brother + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + thigh riding.

Steve Rogers + Stepfather + “Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be playing this game?” + face-sitting.

Natasha Romanoff + Mob boss + “I think I like you better when you’re gagged and crying on my dick.” + humiliation.

Steve Rogers + Boyfriend’s dad + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + cum-play.

Lloyd Hansen + Yandere + “I’ll always love you, even if you don’t feel that way. But you will.” + sir kink.

Ari Levinson + Dad’s best friend + “I dreamt of you last night. Every night.” + daddy kink.

Andy Barber + Professor + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + abuse of power.

Andy Barber + Dad’s best friend + “I just want to take care of you.” + daddy kink.

Steve Rogers + no AU + “Don’t be a brat.” + manhandling.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + captivity.

Steve Rogers + Mob boss + “I just want to take care of you.” + stockholm syndrome.

Curtis Everett + Boxer + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + dom/sub.

Lloyd Hansen + No AU + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + daddy kink.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “That’s no way to speak to your future husband.” + daddy kink.

Robert Pronge/Mr. Freezy + Amnesia + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + stockholm syndrome.

Pete Brenner + Camgirl + “I can’t help it, I love you too much.” + dumbification.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob boss + “I love hearing you beg. You’re much sweeter that way.” + pet play.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob/mafia + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + overstimulation.

Andy Barber + Boyfriend’s dad + “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” + cheating.

Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + innocence.

Steve Rogers + Yandere + “You know what I hate more than broken promises? Liars.” + kidnapping.***

Pete Brenner + Camboy + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + drugging.

Lloyd Hansen + Maid + “Where do you think you’re going?” + abuse of power.

Johnny Storm + College/University + “I thought you hated me.” + stalking.

Ari Levinson + Stepfather + “Don’t be a brat.” + vaginal sex.

Steve Rogers + Fake Marriage + “What did you just say?” + sex pollen.***

Jake Jensen + Neighbour + “I had to—you gave me no other option.” + obsession.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “Isn’t this so pretty? It reminded me of you.” + daddy kink.

Lloyd Hansen + Neighbour + “The least you could do is be grateful.” + humiliation.

Ransom Drysdale + Yandere + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + captivity.

Ari Levinson + Soulmate + “Don’t fight me. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.” + overstimulation.

Steve Rogers + Boyfriend’s dad + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + cheating.

Natasha Romanoff + Camgirl + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + scissoring.

Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + drugging.

Ari Levinson + Dad’s best friend + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + corruption.

Andy Barber + Dad’s best friend + “Can’t you see I’m trying?” + cum-marking.

Ari Levinson + Mob boss + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + innocence.***

Robert Pronge/Mr. Freezy + Neighbour + “The least you could do is be grateful.” + drugging.

Steve Rogers + Mob boss + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + corruption.

Ari Levinson + Camboy + “Isn’t this so pretty? It reminded me of you.” + innocence.

Lloyd Hansen + Boyfriend’s dad + “I think I like you better when you’re gagged and crying on my dick.” + creampie.

Natasha Romanoff + Yandere + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + mommy kink.

Natasha Romanoff + Boyfriend’s mom + “You’re shaking so much, honey… Just wait until I get my tongue on you.” + obsession.

Lloyd Hansen + no AU + “Where do you think you’re going?” + pet play.

Natasha Romanoff + CEO + “Go on. Let’s see how far you’ll make it.” + mommy kink.

Natasha Romanoff + Sugar Mommy + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + begging.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob boss + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + choking.

Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + abuse of power.

Ari Levinson + Amnesia + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + obsession.

Natasha Romanoff + Dad’s best friend + “You have no idea what you do to a woman like me.” + creampie.

Curtis Everett + Mob + “Don’t be a brat.” + squirting.

Andy Barber + Mob/Mafia + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + stockholm syndrome.

Ransom Drysdale + Soulmate + “That’s no way to talk to your future husband.” + captivity.

Andy Barber + Professor + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + finger-sucking.

Lloyd Hansen + Boss + “Aw, are you gonna cry?” + overstimulation.

[redstringraven]

i mentioned previously that on/off through the past couple weeks i've been working on and rebuilding liáfsini's scrivener, so i can continue not only fleshing out the realm, culture, and magic system itself but also my 'continued canon' after '03 season four.

since i've been having a good time with one of the tools i've been using, i thought i'd throw it down here should anyone else want or need a thorough and unique worldbuilding worksheet!

this is the leviathan method, by kittyspace. while you don't need scrivener to use it, know that you WILL need a 'base outline' to act as the skeleton you'll be building upon. i'm using gwyn/ash's plot arc as my outline. there are fifty-two questions to consider, some of which you'll need to return to and repeat as you go. it's called a leviathan for a reason, and i've really enjoyed using it so far. i'm currently on part 11 and hope to have 12 wrapped up by sunday.

have fun if you think it'll be useful for your storytelling or worldbuilding for your characters, and godspeed! 🐢🌲

edit: if you're looking for a rebloggable version of this post so you can archive the link, here you go!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 9

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pass the cafe with the fleeting mournful thought of a coffee. You don’t mind something warm to see you home but you won’t risk venturing inside. You’re determined to stick to a direct route but inconsistent route. You can’t afford to be predictable against someone quite the opposite.

You’re headed back to Aunt Jo’s. The thought of being alone is terrifying. The train comforts you as you find it crowded and cramped. Typically, you can’t stand the claustrophobic crush but today, it’s your shield.

You try not to think of him. It’s impossible. He lurks just over your shoulder, around every corner, and even in the back of your mind. You keep telling yourself that whatever he’s up to with Chelsea is the end of it but you just can’t believe that. It only makes you worry even more; not just for yourself but for her. She might not be the friendliest but he’s preying on her nonetheless.

You shudder and rub your hand together inside your mittens. You peer around the traincar again. The route piques your nostalgia. You used to come this way every day when you were still living in your aunt’s guest room. When you were still slogging your way through your post-secondary slump.

Your body goes on auto-pilot as the robotic voice proclaims your stop over the chatter. You get off and walk along the platform, climbing up to ground level. You pause at the top of the stairs, peeking up and down the street. You can’t do that, you can’t just sink back into what’s comfortable. You can’t let your guard down.

You gulp and tuck your chin down but keep your head back. You let the snow kiss your cheeks as you keep watch over your shoulder. It’s a long shot that he’d follow you on the train but you can’t be too safe. 

The more you think about the last few weeks, the more your ears burn with paranoia. He wasn’t subtle, you were just stupid. You put yourself in danger for your own denial. Of not wanting to deal with the what if.

You reach your aunt’s street and dip down around the park. There’s no trace of a stalker behind you but you take the redundant path in an attempt to shake your unseen shadow. He could be there. How many times had he been before and you didn’t notice?

You let yourself into your aunt’s house, the brass knocker bouncing loudly as you swing shut the door a little harsher than you mean to. You twist the long and blow out a shaky breath. It’s good to be there. 

You put your bag on the low bench beneath the mounted hooks. You kick your boots onto the mat and hang your coat above. You swipe up your purse and stop in the archway that looks into the front room. You back up and turn to stare at the leather boots beside your aunt’s bright red uggs.

The house is quiet. Eerily so. You don’t know how you didn’t notice earlier. Whenever you walk into your aunt’s, there’s something going on. The television, the radio, or her neighbours arguing over the backgammon board.

You tiptoe across the room. You don’t hear anything. You look into the kitchen and find the stove on, the scent of something cooking within roiling from the dark glass window. She must be here, the light’s are all on and there’s still chopping undone on the cutting board.

A sudden clang makes you jump. You hurry down the hall as your heart leaps into your throat. You turn down the basement stairs, following the bend down to the lower floor. You see your aunt’s spirally silver hair straggling to her plaid flannel shirt as he rests a hand on the furnace.

To your horror, she’s not alone. You could’ve predicted this twist yourself as if out of some twisted thriller. Andy is on one knee as he reaches behind the metal door that opens into the underbelly of the furnace. He leans back on his toe as he straightens his shoulders and shuts the door.

“That should fix the problem,” he grunts as he puts his hand on the painted brick and hauls himself to his feet, “if it doesn’t, I’ll pay for the professional.”

He chuckles as Aunt Jo shakes her head. You stand paralysed, your hand gripping the railing, as you gape at the scene. He claps your aunt’s shoulder and smirks, his eyes slowly skimming over to you.

“I’ll pay you back first,” Jo insists, “stay for dinner.”

“I can’t,” Andy turns back to her, “got a lot of work to do still. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” she harrumphs, “I’ll hold you to that.”

She crosses her arms and swivels, smiling at you as her face brightens, “there she is. My niece,” she nods at you, “didn’t hear you come in, hon. This is the new neighbour.”

“New neighbour?” You mutter.

“Andy,” she supplies before she gives your name, “didn’t you see the sign on Bernice’s lawn? She’s moving closer to her grands.”

“Oh,” you blink, biting down to keep a scream from breaking through.

“Ah,” Andy winces and reaches into his jacket. He looks at his phone and sighs, “that’s the girlfriend, just in time,” his eyes flick up as his brows arch, “can’t keep her waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough excuses,” your aunt chides, “I get it. Once you’re settled, you’re gonna try some of my famous lasagne.”

“Really, I’d love to,” he assures her, “I miss a home cooked meal.”

“Miss it? What about the girlfriend?” Your aunt asks.

“Eh, she’s not really the type,” he shrugs, “she wants to go out,” he wiggles his phone in his hand. “So, I’ll have to find somewhere with a table.”

“Alright, alright, let me see ya out,” he points him towards you, “Lucas likes to sneak out with visitors.”

You shift away from the stairs, speechless as you watch your aunt trail Andy. He glances over as he passes and his cheek dimples as he winks. Your lips part as you can only stand there dumbly.

First Chelsea, now your aunt, you understand exactly what he’s saying. He will be around whether you want him to be or not. These are not coincidences, these are very clear, very loud promises.

No, they are threats.