#Anyway this will be a thank you to everyone who's followed me on kofi and downloaded my mando recently

[thyandrawrites]

Jeez. I was revising my notes for my crochet pikachu to possibly make them into a pattern, and thankfully I did. I spent the past hour alternating between squinting at my notes and squinting at the plushie and thinking "one of you assholes is lying". Which is just another way of spiderman memeing myself because I made both. I am the asshole I'm mad at

[joelscruff]

for what it's worth (joel miller x reader) 18+

part 3 of the soft!dom joel collection has arrived! this one tackles some backstory; it's time to see how they met and how exactly their little "arrangement" came to be. i hope you guys like it, your feedback means the world to me. i also have a kofi if you'd like to give me a tip (but of course this is completely optional). previous parts: you know i don't mean it & don't think we could help it summary: your relationship with joel has always been complicated, but it's about to change drastically, for better or for worse. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: fem!reader, smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), mentions of porn (specifically magazines) word count: 10k (it's a doozy) | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major but i figured i should warn for it anyway.

To say that your first day in Jackson is alienating would be an understatement.

You feel like everyone is staring at you (they are) and no one will let you out of their sight (they won't). You understand immediately that there's a lack of trust which will need to be formed as soon as possible, otherwise you'll never be able to create a home here.

"They're wary of you," Maria explains in your brand new living room - you still can't believe you just went from having barely any possessions to having your own house - and gives you a weak smile, "It'll pass, they just need to make sure you don't have any ulterior motives."

You get it, but it still hurts. Especially that night when you join your new community for dinner and find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room, poking at your food and trying not to let your emotions betray you. You're determined not to show weakness, even though you've never felt more isolated. You can feel their eyes on you constantly, like they're waiting for you to pull out a rifle and start picking them off like a shooting gallery.

There's only one person who seems to be consistently minding his own business, a middle aged man who sits in the opposite corner of the room. He's hulking and broad, kind of intimidating, but there's a softness to his jaw and the grey scruff covering it that makes you see something else, something kind. He takes large bites and seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall to his left but unfocused, like he's looking through it. He's by himself too, mirroring you, but you can tell by the way people move around him that he's been here for a long time. He must just enjoy his solitude.

"That's Joel," Maria tells you, sitting next to you and following your gaze, "He's my husband's brother, came down here a few years ago."

"He doesn't stare at me like everyone else does," you say, still looking over at him, "Does he just not care or...?"

To your surprise, she laughs, and everyone who's giving you dirty looks suddenly seems to soften. You're grateful for Maria then for bothering to talk to you, to try and trust you.

"Don't ask me to explain the things Joel does, I wouldn't be able to tell you," you notice that she has a full plate of food with her and that she's decided to sit next to you for dinner, an attempt to alleviate the mistrust for you in the room. You can't help but smile, thankful.

"He's a closed book," she continues, "Even Tommy finds him hard to read and he's his own brother."

She changes the subject then, wanting to know more about you and what you've been through, a not so subtle way of trying to get some information for the council. You humor her; you have nothing to lose.

Your eyes still stray to the man named Joel every so often as you speak, but you're not sure why. After about ten minutes he gets up to leave, and you watch him place his empty bowl in the dishwashing area and give the woman working there a small smile. She smiles back, says something to him. He laughs, and you can almost hear it over the bustle of the dining area. You watch as he says something else to her in parting, gives her one more smile, and turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look at you, not even once.

-

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Less people are looking at you and more people are actually trying to talk to you, get to know you. You have some nice conversations and answer questions about yourself - mostly appropriate, save for the one teenager who kept asking how you got the different scars along your bicep, the long one on your neck, the one on your cheek, stories you really didn't want to recount. After hounding you for a few minutes, her friend had pulled her away with an apology, "She likes scars," she'd said sheepishly, tugging the girl's arm, "Come on, Ellie, leave her alone."

You meet everybody, shake hands and even hug a few people. You start getting invited to things, asked to suggest films for movie night, help set up some games for the kids, Tommy even asks you one evening to help him herd a few sheep that had gotten loose. They trust you, and it feels good.

You still see that man, Joel, every night in the dining hall. But that's the only place you see him. You're not sure where he goes during the day or after dinner; he must just be a bit of a recluse, which you can't blame him for. The people here are nice but a lot are overbearing and a bit too friendly sometimes, plus it's hard to find time for yourself when everyone has tasks to complete and always likes to help each other out. You begin to wonder if he'll ever notice you, which leads you to wonder why it even matters to you that he does.

-

Your patrols start around the three month mark. Tommy takes you out with a small group beyond the borders of the community and shows you the ropes, points out where most of the patrol spots are with a pair of binoculars and goes over the routine. Your first assignment is simple: manning the watchtower with Maria. You spend most of the patrol getting to know her, hearing about her past and telling her more about yours. You like her a lot, she's easy to talk to and has a strong spirit akin to your own. The conversation gets pretty personal around the seventh hour, and you end up telling her how exactly you got the scar along your cheekbone. She listens deeply, thoughtfully, nodding along as you detail the more difficult things you've had to deal with in the past, the things that have made you stronger.

"You're tough," she says near the end of your shift, nudging your shoulder, "You don't really belong on watchtower, do you?"

You shrug, "I mean, if there's somewhere else I'd be more useful..."

"How'd you like to head out to the ski lodge with Joel next week?"

Your ears prick up at the name and you nod quickly, unsure exactly why, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"He knows the area well," she adds, then grimaces, "I have to warn you though, he might not talk very much. He keeps to himself, I'm sure you've noticed."

You wonder why she's so quick to put you on patrol with someone who might not even speak to you, but it starts to make sense as you're walking back from the watchtower in the early hours of the morning. Tommy exits the dining hall and walks over to the both of you with a smile, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's cheek.

"How's my girl?" he asks flirtatiously, and she bats him away playfully.

"Was just telling the new recruit that she's gonna go on patrol with Joel next week," she replies, and Tommy stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

"Her? With Joel?" he appraises you and bites his lip, "I don't know, honey, wouldn't she be better off with someone who'll actually talk to her? I thought she was on watchtower with you."

"Tommy, I never see you anymore," she gives him an exasperated look, "The weekends used to be for us and ever since the Kingstons left-"

"I know, I know," he looks at you again, twisting his mouth in thought, "I've been, uh, a lot busier than usual lately. We had this family here for a while, big family, they helped out with the patrols. But they decided to go south a few months back, so-"

"So Tommy's been filling in for every shift he can," Maria finishes for him with a sigh, "And I never see the damn idiot anymore."

You smile, "I'm totally fine with taking over for you, really."

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "Seriously? You sure?" Maria slaps his arm lightly and he gives her a look, but then shrugs, "I mean, okay, if you wanna give it a try. It won't be all the time or anything, maybe just every other weekend, but it would actually be a big help."

"It really would," Maria adds, "You have no idea."

"But... you gotta understand, my big brother, he's.... he's complicated," Tommy's expression is serious now as he looks at you, "He's not very talkative these days, not since..." he shakes his head and you don't push it any further, though you do wonder what's changed.

"So you'll do it?" Maria asks, eyes bright.

"Even if he doesn't talk to you?" Tommy adds with a grimace.

You nod, somehow believing it won't actually be that bad.

-

It is that bad.

The first time you're officially introduced to Joel he doesn't even bother to shake your hand, just nodding vaguely to you as you stand there like an idiot with your palm outstretched. Tommy makes a face at him and then looks back to you with a reassuring smile.

"There's not usually much trouble up at the ski lodge," he says kindly, ignoring Joel's ambivalence, "The trek back and forth is arguably the worst part. The lifts were already damaged beyond repair when we got here so it's a bit of a hike, 'bout an hour to get up there and the same back."

You begin to wonder if maybe this really isn't the best idea, eyeing Joel silently as Tommy explains what you should expect. You've seen this man smile, know he's capable of making some kind of small talk, but it's clear that you're not an ideal candidate as he stands there stiffly and lets Tommy do the talking. Tommy had told you earlier that if the patrol didn't go well he wouldn't make you do it again, and you're already thinking this might be your first and last shift with Joel.

Tommy walks with both of you to about the halfway point, still going over the routine as Joel trudges silently ahead of you. He hasn't said a word, not one word. It's honestly starting to piss you off.

"Well, I gotta head back," Tommy says, giving you another smile of reassurance, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, see how it went, see if we might make this more permanent." He seems doubtful but you can't blame him.

A few moments later it's just you and Joel, hiking in complete silence save for the sounds of nature. The cogs in your head frantically turn, trying to land on something you can say to make things less awkward.

"So, when's the last time you saw infected up here?" you settle on, hoping it'll be enough to start some kind of conversation.

"'Bout a month ago," he replies immediately, voice gruff but quiet, "Weren't too many."

He's got an accent like his brother but it's fainter, less obnoxious, like he's spent more time with non-southern people in the later years of his life. Tommy had said they'd grown up in Texas and lived there 'til he was in his late 20s and Joel his mid 30s, then somewhere along the way they'd separated. You don't know much else about him other than that.

"It's the people you mainly worry about though, right?" you ask, quoting something Tommy had said a few weeks back, "Tommy said you've had more run-ins with raiders than infected."

"Tommy's tellin' you too much," he replies with a grunt, "Don't know what he's even thinking sendin' some kid up here."

You feel anger rise in your chest immediately, "I'm not a kid, asshole."

He stops then, turns around and appraises you with his eyebrows furrowed. It's the first time he's actually gotten a good look at you, his gaze catching on your face for a lasting moment before his eyes fall to your gun. You feel slightly vulnerable, intimidated by his heavy stare.

"How old are you?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Twenty seven."

His brow furrows even more, "Coulda sworn he said you were seventeen."

"Well, I'm not," you reply awkwardly.

"No, you're not," he acknowledges, "I'm sorry," He seems to mean it, giving you the smallest of apologetic nods and then turning around again to keep walking.

"You thought Tommy sent a seventeen year old up here with you? I thought you had to be eighteen to patrol outside the border."

"You do, I just wouldn't put it past Tommy to send a kid up here with me," he grumbles, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"...Why?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, but now I'm just thinking you're some kind of pervert," you say it in a joking manner but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he stops again and spins around, looking at you with what you can only explain as pure rage. You flinch backward, eyes widening.

"Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?" he asks, voice hard and angry.

"I was joking," you say immediately, shaking your head frantically, "It didn't land."

"No, it fucking didn't," he starts walking again at a faster pace, leaving you standing there completely floored.

Yeah, it's bad.

-

"Ellie's not speaking to him," Tommy explains to you the next morning in the dining hall, hands gripping his coffee mug. You've just told him about your patrol with Joel and the horrible impression you've already managed to make. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but with an outburst like that...I need you to understand why he reacted the way he did."

You look at him, bewildered, "Ellie? That teenager who plays guitar down by the stream?" And the one who'd relentlessly bothered you with questions about your scars, but you keep that part to yourself.

"Yeah, she's...well for all intents and purposes, she's Joel's kid. And she stopped talking to him a while ago, maybe six or seven months back now," he takes a sip of coffee, "Don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea. I've asked both of them and neither'll give me any kind of explanation. All I know is they ain't speakin' and he's heartbroken over it."

"Must've been a bad argument," you say, scrunching your nose in thought, "I mean...seven months? That's a long time to not speak to someone, especially your dad."

"Eh, you haven't met Ellie. She's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. They both are," he shakes his head, "Anyway, you calling him a perv probably pissed him off 'cause Ellie's real special to him, a surrogate daughter. He wouldn't like someone misunderstanding that, seein' somethin' dirty or wrong there."

"I wasn't-"

He puts a hand up, nodding, "I know you weren't, I get it, no worries. It's partly my fault anyway 'cause he's right, I have tried to send a teen or two up with him, thought it'd do him good to mentor somebody again. But he doesn't want it, I know that now. He doesn't want it if it's not Ellie."

"Well, he doesn't seem to like me anyway, no matter how old I am," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, "I mean, he didn't talk to me once after that, not for the whole shift. It was bad. I don't know if it's gonna work, Tommy. I'm sorry."

He nods and gives you a small smile, thumbing the handle of his mug, "It's okay, I didn't think it'd work out anyways." He tries to hide the disappointment in his expression but fails miserably, and you leave the dining hall feeling bad about your failure.

-

A few days later you're back in the dining hall finishing up dinner, chatting with a few of the community members who you've warmed up most to. There's not many, but you are starting to find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around people as the days go on, more like yourself. You're caught up in a story about an infected you'd encountered in a gas station when their gazes suddenly divert from you and instead fix above your head. Confused, you slow your words and turn around.

"Oh, hi," you say, voice a bit breathless when you see Joel standing there, hands in his pockets, "Did you need something?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," he says it softly, kindly, completely the opposite of how he'd talked to you before, "When you're finished, of course."

"Oh, yeah, sure," your words are broken and awkward, "Uh, I'll meet you...?"

"I'll be outside the main doors," he says quickly, "Take your time."

"Okay, I'll be out in a few."

He nods to you and then to your friends, then turns on his heel and walks out through the big double doors at the end of the dining area. You watch him go, bewildered.

"I thought he hated you," one of your friends says, voicing exactly what you're currently thinking.

"Yeah," you reply, furrowing your brow, "So did I."

You finish your story much quicker than intended and shove away from the table, waving goodbye to your friends and bringing your empty dish to the cleaning station. You push past the double doors and scan the outside area for Joel, eyeing the picnic tables where a few people are enjoying their meals in the fresh air.

"Hey," you hear behind you, and you turn to see him leaning against the left side of the building, arms crossed, "Over here."

You walk over, trying to plan out exactly what you're going to say so you don't end up making some stupid joke again that'll push him further away from you. It turns out you don't need to, because he speaks first.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he says it seriously, a soft and genuine look in his brown eyes, "I treated you horribly the other day, you didn't deserve that."

You raise an eyebrow, "Did Tommy put you up to this?"

He frowns, "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if he did...I mean, I get it. It's nice of him to look out for me like that but you really don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything, I'm the one who said the tactless joke."

"Tommy didn't say anything to me," he seems to mean it, kicking the toe of his boot against the building, "And I know you were joking, I knew it then too but I'd just..." he takes a breath, avoiding eye contact, "I was havin' a bad day. Doesn't excuse my behavior by any means but it...you just..." he finally looks at you again, expression pained, "I wasn't expectin' you to be there. Tommy only told me you were takin' over for him about ten minutes before you showed up. And then I thought you were a kid and-"

You put your hand up, silencing him, "Joel, it's okay. You don't have to explain."

"I didn't even shake your damn hand," he says gruffly, sounding genuinely ashamed.

You extend your hand to him immediately, splaying your fingers out into the cold air, "Here, shake it now." He stares at it, unsure, and you wiggle it a bit in response, "Seriously, it's okay. Let's start over, clean slate."

He slowly reaches up to take it, his much bigger hand enveloping yours completely. His grip is strong and firm and you can feel calluses along his fingers, showing you exactly who taught Ellie how to play that guitar.

"Clean slate," he repeats, and it begins.

-

He's annoying, but you kinda love it.

He's grumpy most of the time, hates when you don't obey his orders, isn't afraid to give you shit, and gets irritated with you very easily. But it goes both ways. You're stubborn and set in your ways, you hate being told what to do, you dish it just as much as you take it, and it doesn't take much to get you riled up. And somehow, as much as you'd both probably hate to admit it, you work well together.

After your little conversation with Joel outside the dining hall, you'd flagged down Tommy and told him you were willing to try again with Joel on another patrol. He'd looked at you like you were crazy but hadn't shot the idea down, telling you that if it's what you really wanted, he'd keep the schedule the same.

You've been up on the mountain with Joel three times now, and while there's certainly been challenges and a few arguments, it's starting to become a routine. He doesn't talk about himself - it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you dare not break - but in return you don't tell him much about you either. Your main conversation points are usually tied to your interests, not your pasts, and you find yourself discussing movies with him, as well as music and books. He's surprisingly well-read for someone in an apocalypse, but you suppose he could say the same thing about you.

-

The fourth trip is what sets things in motion.

"Did you catch the movie last night?" you ask nonchalantly as you hike beside him, almost to the ski lodge. It's early morning, around five, and the sun is just beginning to crest the tree line, "I don't think Maria knew about the sex scene."

He groans, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes - you've noticed that he does this a lot, a quirk you've become rather fond of.

"Yes," he replies, wincing, "I heard her givin' Tommy a piece of her mind afterwards."

"The way she was yelling for him to turn off the projector was so fucking funny," you grin at the memory, still fresh in your mind, "And listen, I get it, sex is taboo, yada yada yada, but it's not like there were any little kids there last night, it was just the teens. And it's not like it was a porno or something, it was one little sex scene."

"Oh, I know, but I think Maria's trying to keep 'em as innocent as possible for as long as she can."

"Good luck with that," you snort, "I think we all lost our innocence a long time ago, for better or for worse."

"For worse," he replies instantly, "Definitely for worse."

"You're probably right," you grimace, "Although, you know what? I've actually never seen a porno."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Seriously? Never?"

You bristle slightly, suddenly a little self conscious, "Well, it's not like there's an adult video store in this town, is there?" You can remember them existing when you were a kid, before everything happened, but it's not like you'd had any use for them at that time.

"No, you're right," he turns away from you, lost in thought for a moment, "They do still exist though. Pornos, I mean. Just in other forms. There's a stack of magazines up at the ski lodge, actually."

Your eyes go wide, "Wait, really?"

"Yup."

"Could I maybe..." you trail off and stop speaking, realizing that you should definitely not be asking what you're thinking.

"Look at 'em?" he finishes for you, not looking behind him as he keeps walking, "And you call me a pervert."

The conversation ends there, and you don't dare try to continue it.

-

The day is spent keeping watch along the ski lodge balcony, binoculars passed back and forth as you trade shifts and chat here and there about irrelevant things. Your main objective in this patrol spot is to keep watch of the main watchtower's blind spots, keeping an aerial view of the border perimeter in case people - mainly raiders - decide to make themselves known. You'd thought early on in your admittance to Jackson that infected were their main concern, but you've come to learn that's not the case at all. When Joel had said they'd come across infected up here he'd been lying to you; they'd actually come across a group of raiders who'd tried - and failed - to murder Joel and Tommy during their watch. Not the most reassuring thing to hear now that you've taken over, but you needed to know.

"It's why we got the trip wires down near the entrance now," Joel had explained to you during your second patrol with him, "We won't get snuck up on again," he'd made a face, "Not unless someone decides to disobey my orders."

You'd given him a weak smile, remembering how you'd decided not to heed his warning about going outside the ski lodge after light's out and ended up almost getting your leg shot off by a booby trap, "My bad." He'd rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself.

Now that it's your fourth watch you've gotten the hang of things and have learned to enjoy the semi-solitude of being on the mountain with Joel. He's got a battery operated radio and a box of cassette tapes that keep you from being bored out of your mind, plus a few containers of books that he and Tommy had carried up over the course of a few patrols. Now that you really think about it, you don't remember seeing any of the aforementioned porn Joel had spoken of in any of those crates.

It's midday when you decide to glance through them again out of curiosity, handing the binoculars over to Joel and slipping past him as he traipses out onto the balcony. You head for the boxes immediately and start to dig through them, not sure exactly what you're even looking for. Someone naked, you guess.

"They're not in there," Joel calls to you after a few minutes and you stiffen, turning to look at him through the glass where he can very clearly see what you're doing. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face and you feel your skin flush red.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," you call back, walking away from the books and plopping yourself in the chair by the unlit fireplace, which has somehow become your chair via another unspoken rule, "I was looking for a tape."

"Okay, well the 'tape' you're looking for is in the back of the supply closet," he sounds like he's fighting back laughter and your skin burns even more, "Underneath a box of cleaning supplies."

"I'm ignoring you," you yell out, "Get back to work."

You swear you hear a muffled laugh through the glass.

-

When he comes in from his shift he barely looks at you, just pushes past you lightly and heads for the supply closet. You follow behind him, heart pounding a bit harder in your chest the closer you get to the stash. He opens the closet door and you watch as he yanks out the cleaning supplies, then digs a bit deeper and reappears with six or seven magazines in his arms.

"Here," he leans them toward you and you hesitantly reach forward to take them from him, "They're mostly from the 90s."

"And you know this because....?" you raise an eyebrow and you swear his cheeks go pink.

"I'm a man," he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant as he passes you again to head back to the living room.

"Perv," you call after him, but he doesn't turn around this time.

"You got ten minutes."

-

You've never seen so much nudity in your life, which is saying something considering you'd seen your fair share of it back in your QZ when life had been a bit easier. But seeing it on paper, in photographs that have somehow lasted through years of this shitty reality, it's something else entirely. You stare with wide eyes at the onslaught of naked bodies, most of which are posed in extremely graphic sexual positions, and feel your heart continue to pound in your chest.

Without much thought you'd opened the first magazine right there where Joel left you standing outside the supply closet, and you now find yourself sitting in said closet with your flashlight aimed at the pages, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend exactly how you feel about what you're looking at. A lot of it feels kind of fake, especially the looks on the faces of the models, but there's enough sexual energy there that makes you start to feel a bit wet in your underwear, a feeling you haven't experienced for quite some time; not since a few a years ago in the QZ when you'd been in your last relationship.

"I gave you ten minutes," you suddenly hear Joel say from the other room, and you quickly scramble to your feet and frantically shut the magazine, "In case you forgot, it's your turn."

"Fuck," you trip out of the closet and dash to the living room, clutching your brand new collection of media to your chest, "Sorry, I got distracted."

He stands by the balcony door and looks you over quickly, eyes scanning from the magazines to your face and back again, "Enjoy yourself?" his expression is unreadable and it makes you self conscious.

"Oh please," you reply, making a face, "Do not start."

-

"So which was your favorite?" he asks you casually once darkness has fallen and you're both safely settled in the lodge for the night.

"Which what?"

He looks at you from over his book and gives you a look, like he's questioning your sanity. You stare for a moment and then slap your hand over your eyes when you realize.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you groan, "I'm never gonna hear the end of this now, am I?"

He laughs and you look over at him again, laying there on the couch with a smug look on his face. You retaliate by grabbing the pillow behind you and tossing it at him, making him drop the book he's reading.

"Hey!" he reaches down to pick it up again, "I showed them to you, I'm allowed to ask."

"False," you say, flipping your hair, "And for your information, I only managed to look at one of them."

He chuckles to himself and returns to his book, "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. I was just kiddin'."

"Joel Miller? Kidding?" you make a faux-shocked face, "I fear we've entered the Twilight Zone."

"Don't even pretend you know what that is," he says it seriously but his smile betrays him, "You didn't know about the Twilight Zone 'til I told you about it last week."

"That's just what I wanted you to think."

He rolls his eyes and keeps reading, letting the silence take over again. You watch his eyes scan the page back and forth, taking in the story - whatever it is - and transporting himself to another world, away from the ski lodge. He does this every patrol once it's too dark to see outside, sets the battery powered lantern to its highest setting and reads until he falls asleep. You wish you had his concentration and focus; instead, you curl up in the red armchair and force your eyes shut until your thoughts quiet down enough to let you sleep. Which is difficult tonight especially, seeing as all you can think about are those damn magazines.

After about five more minutes of silence you take a deep breath, then quietly say, "The one with the blonde girl in the bunny ears."

You don't dare look at him, waiting for his response and focusing instead on the empty fireplace beside you. You hear the crinkling of paper as he dogears the page of his book and then the gentle thud as he places it on the floor.

"That's a good one," he says just as quietly.

Another moment of silence passes, and your skin feels like it's on fire as you whisper, "I like the page where she's like...bent over."

"I can't remember the pages, if I'm being honest," he replies, "I haven't looked at them in a while."

You nod to yourself, "Well, there's this page where the guy has her bent over a table. And he's like...pounding into her from behind." You wait for him to say something else but he doesn't so you continue, "It's one of the only pages where she actually looks like she's enjoying herself."

"Hey, uh, I really was just kiddin'," he says awkwardly, "You don't have to tell me, it's okay."

"Oh," you can't help but sound dejected and embarrassed, your fingers trembling a little bit as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Sorry."

"I mean, if you want to, you can," he corrects, sounding slightly embarrassed himself, "I know you probably....you probably want to talk about it."

You bite down on your lip and sigh exasperatedly, placing your hands over your face, "Kinda," you mumble against your fingers, "It's all I can think about right now."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asks, voice still gentle, "A lot of people are offended by that kinda stuff, you wouldn't be the first person to find it weird."

"It's definitely weird," you take a shaky breath and drop your hands, "But no, I'm not uncomfortable. It was....I mean, it was hot," you bite your lip, "I haven't even thought about sex for a long time so it made me...uh..."

The silence is deafening and apparently neither of you wants to break it as you sit there without speaking, letting your words hang in the dead air. You suddenly feel like you want to crawl out of your skin for saying anything to begin with, for even asking about the magazines in the first place.

"Wet?" he suddenly says, voice breaking a bit, "It made you wet?"

"Very," you reply, relieved that he's not freaked out and trying to change the subject.

"Well, that's normal," he says, voice stiff.

You can't help but laugh, finally peering over at him and seeing that he's just laying there, staring at the ceiling, "I know it's normal, Joel. It's not my first time being turned on, trust me."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" he grumbles, looking at you in exasperation, "You can't just say that and expect me to give you a casual response. It made you wet, you got turned on, congratulations."

You stare at him, watching as he reaches for his book again, "Wait," you clamor out of the chair and reach beneath it to grab the magazine you'd looked at earlier. You shuffle over to him, thumbing through the pages until you find the right one, "Here," you open to the correct page and show it to him, "This is the one I'm talking about."

His eyes assess the page, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily in his throat as he takes in what you were referring to. He nods slowly, "Okay yeah, I see what you mean. She's about to come, that's why she looks like that."

Your brow furrows, "You can tell that from a picture?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the magazine, "Well, see, he's rubbin' her clit," he points to it and your face goes hot again, "And he's fuckin' her pretty hard. So yeah, I'd say she's either already comin' or about to." his gaze shifts back to you, noticing that you're staring, and he awkwardly pushes the magazine back toward you, "What?"

"I just..." you swallow, shaking your head apologetically, "Sorry, it just sounded really dirty hearing you say that."

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, shifting on the couch and leaning away from you as he crosses his arms, "Well, you asked."

"I know, I don't mean it in a bad way," you step back and realize you're suddenly throbbing in your jeans, feeling that familiar wetness again, "It just... hearing you say it out loud like that, it makes the picture hotter, somehow."

He looks at you, gaze trailing from your eyes to your lips. You suddenly feel like you've said too much, exposed even though you're fully dressed, and you walk back over to the chair and quickly plop back down in it. You give him another look and see his lips parting like he's going to say something else. Instead he takes a breath and drops his eyes from your face, twisting around on the couch to face the opposite way, "It's late, we should sleep."

"Y-yeah," you breathe, crossing your legs, heart stuttering as your clothed core presses wetly against the denim of your jeans. "You're right."

You curl back up in the chair and try to calm your breath, slow your heart, try not to focus too much on the fact that hearing Joel of all people say the phrases he's rubbin' her clit and fuckin' her pretty hard has made you start falling to pieces. Do you even see Joel that way? Has there ever been a moment where you found yourself thinking about him like that? You want to tell yourself the answer is no, that your body is simply experiencing some pent-up sexual frustration and he has nothing to do with it, but you know you'd be lying to yourself.

He's hot. It's not some shocking revelation or something you've realized over time. There's a reason you'd felt so drawn to him that first day in the dining hall, a reason you'd watched out for him every day and hoped he'd notice you. Hell, there's a reason you're still doing patrols with him despite him being a pain in the ass. You're not an idiot, you know yourself well enough by now to know what these things mean.

You're attracted to him. You've been attracted to him this whole damn time.

You shut your eyes tight and curl up into a ball, holding your knees to your chest. He's rubbin' her clit, his voice echoes in your mind, and your cunt begins to ache.

Stop thinking about it, you shake his words away and try to focus on falling asleep. There's no way you're gonna touch yourself right now, not with him in the room, and you're not gonna excuse yourself either like some horny teenager. You can do this, you can get through it, it'll go away soon.

-

It doesn't go away.

About twenty minutes later you're still sitting there with your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to touch yourself. But it's so fucking difficult. His words are playing on a loop in your head, over and over, soft yet rough, kind yet sexy, his southern drawl making it all the more hotter:

She's about to come, that's why she looks like that.

He's rubbin' her clit.

He's fuckin' her pretty hard.

I'd say she's either already comin' or about to.

You squirm in the chair, imagining what he'd sound like whispering that in your ear with his fingers pumping in and out of you as you came undone beneath him. Rubbin' her clit, his voice breathes in your mind, fuckin' her pretty hard, she's about to come.

You're ten seconds from breaking your own rule and heading back to the supply closet to find some release when you hear an unfamiliar sound coming from a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open, thoughts stopping momentarily as you try to figure out what it is. You turn slightly in your chair to see if Joel hears it too, and you feel your breath stop completely.

He's turned off the lantern so you can't see him properly, but you can make out the shadow of him in the moonlight, see the long shape of him directly mirrored against the floorboards and his hand stroking himself up and down, quick and rough. Your lips part in disbelief, realizing the noise you're hearing is the sound of his palm slapping against the base of his cock as he jacks himself off.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Here you've been, desperately trying to push away any and all sense of desire so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself, wouldn't make him uncomfortable, and here he is doing that exact thing. Angrily, almost out of spite, you sit up in the chair and stuff your hand down your jeans.

Two can play at that game, asshole.

Your finger goes straight to your clit and you begin to rub it furiously, eyes trained on the dark outline of his hand moving up and down. You can only vaguely make out the shape of him but it's enough to make you start dripping, the base of your palm getting slick as you stimulate yourself continuously. He's well endowed, that much is obvious, and you watch his silhouette as he releases his large cock for a moment to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe along his palm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to bubble from your throat at the action, watching through lidded eyes as he brings his wet hand back down and fists himself once more.

Without much thought you slip your middle finger inside yourself, eyes trained on him as you pretend it's his cock pushing past your entrance. It's pretty difficult to imagine though, considering his cock is probably five times as girthy as your one finger, but you make do. You can kind of make out the shape of the tip, wide and shiny, disappearing and reappearing over and over. You slip a second finger inside and bite back a whimper.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin and the sudden wet squelch of your fingers; you don't even bother to try and make it softer, you're getting off now whether he knows or not, the fullness overwhelming you as you lick your lips and furrow your brow. You haven't masturbated in a long time; you know it won't take you long to get what you need.

"Are you-" he suddenly gasps into the darkness, and your head snaps up to look at him again, heart pounding when you see that his hand has stilled on his cock and he's looking over at you with an expression of pure disbelief.

You should probably be embarrassed, apologetic, but instead you can't help but feel a rush of pride, of spite, as he realizes what you're doing.

"Like you're not," you hiss back, practically spitting as you continue to fuck yourself, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says back, and you can see his fingers clench around his length, like he's doing everything in his power not to stroke himself.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He groans and lets go of himself completely, sitting up slightly on the couch and shaking his head like he's trying to wake himself up from a dream he isn't having. When he looks at you again his eyes fall to where you're still getting off, not bothering to be sneaky about the way he practically bores a hole in your jeans with his gaze.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" he challenges gruffly, eyes coming back up to meet yours, the hint of a cocky smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he's proud of himself, isn't he?

You glare at him, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going," you mean it too, fingers not even slowing down as you pant breathlessly in his direction, "And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

It does matter, actually, it really does. If he was to get up and walk out... it would basically be a rejection, something you're not sure you'll be able to deal with. You don't break eye contact with him, staring him down as you give him your own challenge.

He swallows, gives you one last look, and then flops back down into a horizontal position as he reaches for himself again. He returns to his quick strokes, almost purposely more heavy this time as he mutters, "No talking. Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you reply immediately, and add a third finger.

It doesn't take long for you to find your release, a particularly hard slap of skin from Joel on the couch pushing you over the edge. You don't try to stifle your moan this time, focusing completely on enjoying your orgasm as your hand stills in your pants and you begin to shake in the chair. Your hips buck pathetically, eyes shutting tight as you whimper and cry out in pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," you hear Joel pant a few seconds afterward, followed by a long groan as he starts to come too, "Fuck."

You manage to catch a glimpse of the way he twists his wrist, aims his cock against his button-down and stains it with his release. You wish you had a better view, that it wasn't so dark, but just hearing him come apart is enough. It's exactly what you hoped it would be.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, both of you panting breathlessly from your orgasms as the weight of what you've just done starts to creep in. You're suddenly slightly afraid of what he'll say, what he'll do. Will he get mad? Will he say he doesn't want to patrol with you anymore? You decide immediately that you don't want him to have the first word.

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, barely a whisper.

It takes a few moments for him to reply, and you start to worry that you've already ruined everything, but then he answers.

"Bunny ears," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' about the bunny ear girl," he's still breathless, "From the magazine. Weren't you?"

You figure you can't dig the hole any deeper.

"I was just watching you, Joel," you breathe, feeling butterflies tingle in your belly at the words, "Didn't have to think about anything else."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then mumbles something to himself that you don't understand. You can't fully make out his expression but you swear you see him frown in the moonlight, not exactly the response you were aiming for. He suddenly turns on the couch again to face away from you, exhaling loudly, "Go to sleep."

The words strike you hard, lips parting in surprise. You obviously hadn't expected him to completely reciprocate, to jump into your arms and kiss you, but that? "Go to sleep"? What the fuck kind of a response is that? You stare at him, hoping against reason that he'll turn around again and apologize, say something different, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," you mutter, curling back up into a ball in the chair and hoping sleep finds you as soon as possible so you don't have to think anymore, "Asshole."

You hope he hears you.

-

You wake the next morning to the sound of someone rummaging nearby, and you open your eyes blearily to see Joel crouched near the door, packing his bag. You stretch and yawn automatically, momentarily forgetting what had transpired between the two of you last night. His head tilts up to look at you and it all comes flooding back when you see that familiar frown on his face.

"Do you ever smile?" you say, voice rough with sleep.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his pack, shaking his head, "Like you're so chipper."

"Well, at least I have a good reason to be annoyed," you snap, sitting up in the chair and stretching your legs, "Asshole."

"You love to call me that, don't you?"

"Just calling it like I see it," you mutter, pulling yourself up and heading past him to the door, "I'm taking a piss."

"Watch out for th-"

"The trip wires, I know," you interrupt coldly, "I'm not an idiot."

He doesn't say anything else but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk out onto the balcony and down the steps. You both have to pee in the woods when you're out here - the ski lifts aren't the only things that don't work properly anymore - so you've managed to each figure out your own designated area. You feel relieved once you're out of his eyesight and beneath the thick layer of tree branches that keep your makeshift bathroom secluded.

You really shouldn't be so pissed at him, it's not like he owes you anything. You know you're projecting your own feelings onto him and that it isn't fair, but god, him telling you to go to sleep after you'd essentially confessed your attraction to him makes your blood boil. He'd really had nothing else to say? Couldn't have come up with something a little softer, a little kinder? Let you down easy?

You grumble to yourself on the way back up the steps, questioning whether or not you should keep ignoring him or just get over it. Is it really worth an hours hike of hostility? You already know this is your last shift with him, there's no way you can come back from this in any way that will keep your dignity intact. It's over.

"You say you're not a kid but you sure do act like one," Joel says the second you re-enter the ski lodge, and you stop dead in your tracks. He's got his arms crossed, nose flaring in anger, "I'm sick and tired of the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, all that shit. What happened to people just talkin' to each other?"

You shut the door behind you and shake your head, "I'm not giving you the silent treatment Joel, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice is firm but you can hear some emotion there, something deeper. He doesn't like being ignored and you know why, but it doesn't soften your resolve.

"I'm pissed at you, yeah," you admit, shrugging, "But I think I have a pretty valid reason."

"And what is it?"

You stare, scrunching up your face in confusion, "Are you serious? Jesus, Joel, I thought you were smart."

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbles, rolling his eyes again, "I ain't a mind reader."

You shake your head again, inhaling deeply, "I'm not asking you to read my mind, Joel," you exhale and try to calm yourself, feeling the angry tears begin to sting your eyes. God, you hate how emotional you get when you're angry. You hate showing weakness like this.

"Then tell me," he groans, "Is it about last night? 'Cause I thought we made a deal that we're not gonna talk about it."

You laugh at his words, cold and hard, "Right, yeah, sorry. Deal's a deal, right? My bad," you couldn't sound more sarcastic if you tried, stuffing your roll of toilet paper back in your pack and zipping it up, "Come on, let's just head back and forget about it." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling the tears spill over.

"Are you crying?" his voice falters, and you hear a twinge of kindness in his tone, something you'd desperately wanted to hear last night.

He crosses the room before you even have a chance to reply, striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder firmly, making you turn around. His face softens immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your face, the tears you're already trying to wipe away.

"Fuck," he says, brow furrowing in concern, "I'm sorry."

You snort involuntarily, shaking your head, "I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid," it's almost a whisper, "I'm the stupid one, believe me," he brings his hand up like he's going to touch your face but seems to think better of it, bringing it back to your shoulder again, "I shouldn't have... I don't know what I was thinkin' last night, I'm sorry. You showed me that magazine and-"

You put your hand up to silence him, "I don't care about why, Joel. I don't even care that you did it, it's not like I told you to stop."

His brow furrows deeper, "Then what...?"

You close your eyes, breathing deeply before putting on your best impression of him and mumbling, "Go to sleep," like he had the night before, opening your eyes again to see if he understands.

He stares at you for a few seconds, confused, but you watch as it suddenly dawns on him, realization spreading across his features. He suddenly lets go of your shoulder and takes a few steps back, eyes falling to the floor.

"You can't... you can't think of me that way," he says it gruffly, swallowing and shaking his head.

You stand there without saying anything, waiting until he finally looks back up at you to speak. When he does, you make sure to look directly in his eyes.

"Why not?"

His hand comes up to touch the back of his neck and you swear you see patches of red begin to bloom along his collarbone, like he's embarrassed...or flattered? You take a step forward and he quickly takes another step backward.

"If it's because of the age thing... I really don't care, Joel," you say earnestly, heart beginning to beat heavily in your chest, "I think you're..." You can't believe the words are even coming out of your mouth, the tears on your face already beginning to dry as you try to process this new situation you've found yourself in, "I think you're sexy."

His brow furrows again, not in anger but in confusion. He doesn't take another step backward when you move toward him this time, staying rooted in place as you peer up at him, waiting for him to speak. He remains silent, his eyes trained directly on your face, lips set in a firm line.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, "I don't."

"Why?"

He doesn't reply, just keeps staring at you like he has absolutely no idea what to say. You suddenly feel the need to reassure him, comfort him. Your hand moves upward, aching to cup his face in your hand, feel that grey scruff beneath your palm.

He pulls back before you get the chance, shaking his head again, "Don't," it's barely a whisper, voice breaking as he says it, "Just...gimme a minute."

"Okay," you nod, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," he breathes, still not breaking eye contact, "Just let me think, please."

You swallow, teeth tugging on your lip as he continues to stand there motionless. He's still looking at you but his thoughts are miles away; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating exactly what he's supposed to do in a situation like this. Part of you wants him to kiss you, part of you wants to kiss him, part of you wants to wait until he makes a decision. You settle firmly on the third option.

"I lied," he finally breaks the silence, jaw tense and firm, "I wasn't thinkin' about that fuckin' bunny ear model."

Your lips part; you hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"Then...what were you thinking about?" You already know the answer before he replies.

"You," his voice is strained, broken, like he's holding himself back, "I was thinkin' about you and the stupid magazines in the supply closet."

You feel your skin flush, a tingle trailing up the back of your neck as you try not to show him how pleased you are, "W-what?"

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about you in that closet, lookin' at those pictures, getting...." he trails off and swallows, then whispers, "Wet. Gettin' all wet in your panties from that girl getting fucked."

His words send an immediate throb to your core and you can feel your heart in your throat, pounding relentlessly as he continues to speak, continues to say exactly what's been on his mind as you stand in front of him, so much smaller than him, letting his words get lost in the sudden warmth of your body and the buzz of your thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about it," he repeats, voice rough, eyes dark, "Your wet panties, your big eyes, your..." he practically chokes then, "Your pussy, all wet and aching."

"Oh my god," you whimper, crossing your legs involuntarily as you feel an immediate surge of wetness in your underwear, "Please, keep talking, please."

"Wanted to see it and touch it," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peers down at you with desire in his eyes, "Wanted to fuck it and make you come."

Without hesitation your arms shoot up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his warm chest and tugging at the collar of his coat, "I want you to," you practically moan, clawing at the material, "Joel, I need you to fuck me right now."

To your absolute dismay he reaches up and removes your arms from him, taking a step back so neither of you are touching. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide and that red blush of heat now spread all over his neck and cheekbones.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

You're about to protest, whine and beg if you have to, but his eyes fall to your groin. You watch with wide eyes as he goes for his belt, begins to unloop it and remove it.

"Take your pants off," he groans, and you don't need telling twice.

-

You end up masturbating together again, this time in the light of day. You find yourselves laying on the couch where he'd slept last night, the memory of what he'd done there fresh in your mind as you pump two fingers in and out of yourself steadily and watch him stroke his cock to match your pace. He watches you behind hooded eyes, his lips parted as he pants and gets himself off to your pleasure, watches you do the same thing to him.

"That's it," he murmurs, eyes scrunching in arousal as he scans your face, watches you come undone, "Rub your clit, nice and fast."

You whimper, unable to hold on for much longer as you eye his cock and see the way the fat head of it drips for you, slicking his hand and allowing him to stroke faster and faster. You want to say something to help get him off too but your words are completely lost in the sensation; you couldn't speak even if you wanted to.

He knows you're about to come, can see it in your face the way he saw it in the face of the model in the picture. He swallows heavily and fucks himself impossibly faster, harder, silently asking you to match his pace. You do it, thumbing your clit and feeling the tense coil in your belly snap as your jaw drops and you let out a long and ridiculously loud moan. Your eyes shut tight and you throw your head back, feeling your body begin to shake from the stimulation.

"There you go," he grunts, and you hear the slapping of skin stop as he rides out his own release, coming into his fist, "Fuck." Your eyes open at just the right time to see his jaw go slack, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the pleasure. It somehow makes you ache for more, even though you can't possibly imagine being any more overstimulated than you already are.

You both lay there, chests heaving, hearts pounding, completely undone. It goes without saying that you've both just managed to each have one of the best orgasms of your lives.

"New patrol rule," you whisper to him, legs still wide and cunt dripping with your release, "We do this. Every time. Please."

"Yes," he replies immediately, still catching his breath, "I can do that."

-

"It can't be any more than this," Joel says to you quietly as you hike down the mountain a little while later, the sunrise cresting the trees again the way it had yesterday when you'd hiked up; it's like nothing has changed, but you both know that everything has.

"Okay," you say just as softly, though part of you aches to reach for his hand, loop your pinky through his and have some degree of touch between you. But you can tell he means business, that there won't be any more discussion on the matter today.

"Just this," he whispers, glancing at you with a meaningful look, eyes soft and tender as he peers at you, knowing what he's done, what he's started.

"Just this," you agree, but you don't really believe it.

You hope, deep down, neither does he.

thank you so much for reading! there will be more in this collection coming very soon. i'd like to do some short fics of certain nights they've had, especially the first time he calls her a good girl. that was originally going to be in this part but it was just getting wayyy too long and i have so many ideas i need to flesh out more lol. i'm also going to continue where they left off in "don't think we could help it", and yes, eventually they will do the deed, i promise. among other things....

if you liked it, please let me know! and again, if you'd like to give me a tip you can do so on my kofi 💖

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,055

Gif NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

Rating - SFW

Length - Short

"Look I know water is scary Lixian, but I'll be with you the whole time." (Y/n) encouraged her friend through discord, trying to coax him into following her character into the lake. "No no I'm good." Lixian laughed nervously, backing his character away from the water. "But there could be secrets!" (Y/n) tried to insist, but Lixian only scoffed in response. "They can stay a secret!" He argued making (Y/n) laugh. "Okay okay, I'll go by myself." She sighed before walking her character out into the inky black water. "If you get attacked I'm not helping you." Lixian warned with a laugh. "I know." She smiled to her camera. "Isn't he a great friend guys?" She asked her chat, laughing when he scoffed in mock offence. "I already told you, I will not go near that water." Lixian pointed out. "Yeah yeah I know." (Y/n) chuckled, only moderately disappointed to find there were no secrets, or any scares to be had. "Oh hey love, thank you." (Y/n) spoke to someone off camera who's arm briefly came into sight, placing a glass of her favorite warm drink on the desk. "What?" Lixian asked in confusion. "Oh sorry Lix, my boyfriend just brought me a drink." She explained, beaming when he leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. "Nice. I've got coffee." Lixian stated before sipping his drink. (Y/n) watched as her boyfriend moved across the room, setting on the loveseat in the room. "Wow my chats going crazy." She mused as she looked at chat. "About what?" Lixian asked curiously. "They wanna meet my boyfriend." She looked over to find him already looking at her. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up again. "Okay you guys win, he's been watching the stream on his tablet, and he's agreed to say hello so you get to meet him." (Y/n) spoke to chat. "Oh let me pull up your stream I wanna see." Lixian mused aloud, pulling the stream up so his chat could see as well. "Okay guys this is my boyfriend Axel." (Y/n) introduced, as he knelt beside her, looking onto the camera. "Wow he looks familiar." Lixian pointed out, both his chat and (Y/n)'s going crazy. "We hear that a lot." She chuckled softly. "He looks like Wesker from Resident Evil!" Lixian gushed suddenly, making (Y/n) grin. "Yeah I tease him about that all the time." She mused before kissing her lovers cheek. What they didn't know was that he was in fact Albert Wesker, having crossed from his world into theirs several years ago, and he's been with (Y/n) since he arrived in this world. "Hello everyone." He spoke to the camera, smirking in a signature way. "Oh my god he even sounds like him!" Lixian gushed again, making (Y/n) chuckle with a knowing smile.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I'm really tired right now, and I feel like this one sucks, but ima post it anyways!

[rhasima]

900+ Follower Art Raffle!

💖💖We hit the magic number 900! 💖💖

Thanks to everyone, who think, it's worth to follow me.

I want to mention, that I blocked every Porn-Bot, so this seems to be a real number of people. Maybe there are some Bots in it without any content on their blogs, I'm not sure about that... anyway..

I want to announce this Art Raffle!

You can win one Bust Up Artwork from me! Example Picture:

How to enter:

Be a Follower!

Reblog + Like this post!

Tell me in the comments, what I could draw if you win!

What do I draw?

Nearly everything. Fanarts, OC's, Johnlock of course, Granada Holmes, etc.

I will announce the winner at 12.11.2022 around 8:00 pm CET

What else?

Tumblr is a great platform, I really enjoy the fandom here. I love it, that there is no pressure in numbers, even if I celebrate now those 900 people of you! If you're interested in my other artworks or maybe in some shit talk, feel free to follow me on my other socials!

If you want to support me, visit my Ko-fi Site!

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Last but not least

I do offer commissions, so if you're interested, please take a look at my Commission Site on KoFi!

If you just want to support me, please take a look as well on my KoFi. I do appreciate every support very much 💖

And for now, some Tags! If you want to get tagged or untagged, please tell me! 💞

@colourfulwatson @consultjohnwatson @consult-sherlockholmes @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @yashio-san @forfucksakejohn @swissmissing @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @forgodssakethiscouldkillyou @1-800-get-sherlocked @sherlockedcarmilla @sassy-little-hedgehog @glass-rose-paperweight @ohlooktheresabee

[missalppy]

I just woke up to like a ton of messages from clients and a lot of follows on both here and Instagra. This whole ‘twitter gone’ thing is really hitting everyone hard, even me. It’s not for certain it’ll be gone, but it’s like a precaution for everyone.

If you’re a client of mine who just followed, feel free to message me here and be like ‘hey I ordered a commission and I’d like contact by (email or here)’ and I’ll totally understand.

I will be focusing all of my energy and time on my commission queue starting tomorrow when I’m in Houston for thanksgiving. Cause I don’t want Twitter to crash and y’all have no finished art. That’d be really bad. So my goal to finish everything is by New Years, January 1st ~ 5th. Those are my new deadlines.

If you didn’t receive my trello link when you commissioned, that is totally my bad. Ask me for the link when you message and I will give it to you. It’s basically my queue when I go in order, share my commission wips, and share the finished drawings in a few galleries.

I’m on Instagram as mxalppy, on KoFi as missalppy. My email is missalppy.art@gmail.com

Thank you so much for everyone who followed me, client or someone who just enjoys my work. I truly appreciate it since art is my side job as a disabled person. I can’t work a normal job so I joined Twitter like four years ago, I think. And it just took off from there. My biggest dream had come true. And now it might go down the drain since that was my biggest following on social media.

But I’m sure if it does disappear, things could get better for me after a while. Anyways… I’m gonna go eat my sandwich and chips at almost 4am now. Feel free to ask me questions in the ‘ask me anything’ box. Hugs!

[primofate]

Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^

Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)

Shortfic

Scenario: You got injured Part 1

Part 2 with Zhongli

Part 3 with Xiao

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe

Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

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Diluc

“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”

In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!” 

The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,” 

The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job. 

Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?

The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,” 

Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.

----------

Kaeya

“What do you mean unconscious?”

“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”

Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.

Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face. 

“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”

----------

Albedo

“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.

“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.

He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens. 

A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.

----------

Childe

Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen. 

Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.

“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”

All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”

Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.

You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage. 

You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?” 

That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.

But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar. 

Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.

[angeldeposit]

⚠️ hey please read this ⚠️

BOOST!!

so, i don't have many followers but idk.. wanted to put this here just in case. as you may or may not know, my name is leo/lune. i am a brazilian DID system. i know things are rough for everyone right now, but... i firmly believe i have roughly one year left in this house. i live with my father, who is extremely abusive and hates me more than anything. he hates everything about me, and he is constantly sabotaging my relations and the possibility that i get a job. that is, of course, without mentioning the ongoing damage he does to my mental health. i am looking for a job, and there is one i am probably going to get, but it seems that it's gonna take a bit long. i need to move somewhere in one year max, before he kicks me out. even if he didn't do that i know i'd kms. he is extremely neglecting, he is violent and humiliates me publicly very often. he frequently prevents me from eating and manipulates everyone around me to think i'm insane and a liar. anyways, even if i do get the job and find somewhere to go, i NEED money to survive until then. he avoids spending money w me as much as he can, and i frequently have to pay for transportation + food + anything i need. our whole family is poor and it has not been easy. i can't move to my mother's because i'd lose everything including the possibility of getting this job — and that without mentioning she is just as rotten as he is. i'd appreciate it if you could reblog or help me with any amount. dollars have a really high value here in brazil so it really doesn't have to be anything much. my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/lunesystem. thank you very much for reading. 💖

[lifeofroos]

A/N: Carter x Reader where reader is ill, requested by anon :)

AO3 - KoFi

A spell for health

‘You need to lay down.’ Carter put his hand on your forehead. ‘You’re not well.’

‘I’m fine,’ you said with a faint smile. When you tried to take a step, you tumbled forwards. ‘Owh…’

‘Come, come…’ Carter slid his arm through yours for support. 

‘I can’t sit here,’ you said, followed by a coughing fit. ‘This is the middle of the library…’ You gasped as Carter picked you up, bridal-style. ‘Wait!’

‘Horus helps me,’ Carter puffed.

With some trouble (Although he insisted it was nothing) Carter brought you to your room.

You huddled under your blankets. ‘I am not that sick,’ you mumbled one last time, before coughing again.

‘You have been coughing the whole day and your forehead is boiling.’ Carter fussed around the room, picking up a few extra pillows to make sure you were comfortable.

‘I will grab you something to eat,’ he said, before walking out.

‘Don’t fall down the stairs!’

‘Won’t!’ you heard, before he involuntarily skipped a few steps.

-

While Carter was gone, Sadie poked her head around the corner. You waved weakly from your pillow fort.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I am a little sick,’ you admitted. ‘My throat hurts.’ In fact, all of you hurt.

Sadie nodded. She didn’t come any closer. ‘You look pale. Make sure you get enough rest.’

‘You sound like Carter.’

She pulled a face. ‘Gross.’

‘I heard that!’ Your boyfriend came stumbling up the stairs.

You could already see by Sadie’s expression that he had to have a lot of food with him. And indeed. Carter came in with a tray filled with toast and honey, bananas, yoghurt, a pot of tea and honeydew melon. 

Despite not being all that hungry, you took a bit of melon. ‘Thanks.’ Really, you were. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about getting up for food. 

Sadie gave Carter a dissapproving look. ‘You are getting close to them, in this state?’

Carter looked over his shoulder. ‘Of course. They need care.’

Sadie took a step back. ‘You’re not allowed to enter my space anymore,’ she said as she dashed away.

Carter huffed. ‘We can’t exactly leave you to your own devices.’

You took another bite of honeydew. ‘I mean, it’s just a little cold…’

Carter shook his head. ‘You need care. I can see it.’

Your only response was a yawn.

‘And sleep.’ He stood up to turn off the lights.

‘Carter?’

‘Hm?’

‘I’ll really be okay, you know.’ Your eyelids were heavy, so, so heavy. 

Carter sat down next to you. ‘Of course. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to give you some special attention when you need it.’

You chuckled while you closed your eyes. Carter pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘Sleep. It’ll help.’

-

You dreamed of ghosts, evil serpents and glaring red eyes. With a scream, you woke up. The world around you was dark and your covers were drenched with sweat.

A soft light went on. Carter put down his novel. ‘Come, come, oh…’ He grabbed your hands. ‘Bad dreams?’

‘I don’t know if they were regular bad, or if they meant something,’ you whispered. You really didn’t. The whole room felt as if it was filled with monsters. 

‘Do you feel nauseous?’

‘...no.’ Not yet.

‘Come, then.’ Carter helped you out of bed and onto his chair. ‘We have to change these sheets and get you some clean clothes.’

Your head was spinning. It seemed to take Carter forever to change the sheets, much less to find you fitting pyjama’s. 

After he was done, he helped you back into bed. Under the blanket, it was too warm, but sleeping without the blanket was too cold. A seperate duvet cover solved the issue.

He placed his hand on your forehead. You didn’t understand what he said, but it must have been a spell. Your muscles relaxed. Without issue, your eyelids shut.

‘Have I told you the story of how I befriended a pigeon once, when travelling with my dad?’

You didn’t have to reply.

‘It was during a dig. A pigeon landed next to me. I was small and my dad was somewhere on the other side of the site, so I began talking to it.’ Carter lightly squeezed your hand. ‘During lunch, I gave him some of my bread, and he followed me the whole time I was there. I gave him a name: Mister Peter. Sometimes I still think about him.’

If there was any more, you didn’t hear it. Yet, your dreams were filled with kind pigeons that night. 

-

The next morning, you already felt much better. Carter looked up from the chair with a tired smile.

‘Did you sleep at all?’

‘Of course, of course...’

‘Don’t lie!’

‘Do you feel better, darling?’

You nodded. ‘Yes. I think the spell helped, even if it was only a relaxation spell.’

Carter nodded too, while staring off into space.

You laughed. ‘Goof. Now you’re the one who needs rest.’

‘I’m fine…’

You took his hand and pulled him next to you in bed. ‘I am not that contagious.’

He huddled closer to you. ‘I will have caught it anyway at this point.’

You laid your head against his chest. ‘Sh. Sleep.’

‘Hm.’

Within moments, he was asleep. Poor Carter, he really must have been tired. Oh well, now you might as well stay in a little longer, right? 

A/N: I am working on everyone’s requests - it just takes slightly longer, that’s all. College ‘n stuff :).

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Sunlight - Monoma Neito

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Pairing: Monoma Neito/F!Reader Words: 3,928 Warnings: Implied sexual content (if you squint, nothing explicit) This is an  Ancient Greek AU (Basically a retelling of the story of Icarus with a happy ending, except Icarus is Monoma), someone breaks their arm and nearly drowns (guess who?). AN: HELLO I’m back with another BNHArem collab piece! I don’t know what it is but I guess I really like writing ancient Greek stuff cause this is the second time I’ve done it. Anyway, the theme was Mythology/Folklore and I chose the story of Icarus cause I feel like it just fits with Monoma’s personality, or at least the one he shows to others. He’s just hiding the fact that he’s a softie who cares about his classmates okay? 😂 Title taken from the song Sunlight by Hozier The real story of Icarus can be found here. 

Collab Masterlist My Masterlist Buy me a Kofi?

-----

Arrogant. Over-confident. Prideful.

These were all terms that most would use to describe Monoma Neito. His pride and his ego were so big they sometimes didn’t fit in through the doorway of whatever room he was in, his loud voice overpowering everyone else speaking around him. In all the years you’d known him, you had always sat on the sidelines and watched as he boasted, his blue eyes sweeping over the crowd that always gathered to listen, that smug grin ever present on his face.  

Being as close as you were to him, you had a few more words to add to the list, ones that others might not think of, since they didn’t know him like you did.

Intelligent. Brave. Caring.

You thought about it as you rested your head on his chest, your eyes fluttering closed as you listened to his heartbeat slow to a normal rhythm. He was trailing his fingers down your bare back, stopping just short of the sheet pooled around your waist, and then back up again. If you opened your eyes you knew you would see his clear and bright blue ones looking back at you, a contented smile replacing his normally smug one. He never showed this side to anyone else, and you wanted to keep it that way.

“Why are you staring?” Opening your eyes, you peered up at him, seeing exactly the look on his face that you expected.

“I’m just admiring your beauty.” Grinning cheekily, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Is that a crime?”

Scoffing, you shifted, lifting yourself up so you could reach his mouth easier. “I’m a sweaty mess, I can’t imagine I look beautiful right now.” You kissed him briefly. “But I thank you all the same.”

Neito hummed, his hand moving to cup your face. “Our previous activities may have made you sweat, but you still look just as beautiful as you did before them, even more so, maybe.”

His returning kiss was long and slow, and you felt your knees weaken under you as you pushed yourself closer, wanting more. You shuffled, straddling his waist, your knees resting on either side of his lean frame.

He chuckled when he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw, one hand gripping your hip. “Again? Aren’t you insatiable today, Y/N?”

“We’re going to be on a long journey starting tomorrow, who knows when we’ll do this again. Don’t make fun of me.” You pouted a bit, letting your head tilt back as he sucked lightly on the pulse point below your ear.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice was husky, his warm breath tickling your skin as he pulled you closer. You let your eyes fall closed again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on to him, letting yourself get lost in the ebb and flow of your bodies moving together once again.

--

The island of Crete was large, occupied by the elaborate labyrinth that Dedalus, Neito’s father, had created for King Minos, and the city surrounding King Minos’ castle, which is where you’d met Neito when you were children. Before the labyrinth had been completed, you’d spent many days playing in the olive groves together. You’d been besotted with him from the start, planning to follow him to the ends of the earth even then.

As you grew older, your love never faded or wavered, and Neito felt the same. He promised you the moon and stars and made plans for the life you would live together. King Minos, however, seemed to have other plans for the inventor and his only son.

Terrified that they would reveal the secret that lay hidden inside the maze to his people, King Minos imprisoned Neito and Dedalus inside a tower and made sure to monitor all the ships leaving the island so they had no means to sneak away and escape.

You’d spent the first day of their imprisonment beside yourself, worried for Neito’s safety and mourning the plans you’d made together. You thanked the gods that King Minos seemed to know nothing of your existence or your relationship with Neito, so no one was suspicious when you snuck away from the city that night. You weren’t sure how long you’d last without seeing his face, and you didn’t want to think about it.

It didn’t take long to figure out how to scale the tower walls, adrenaline fueling you as you climbed into the high window of one of the tower's few rooms a mere day after your lover and his father were locked away.

The shock that painted their features as you tumbled into the room that served as a bedroom quickly melted into joy as Neito scooped you up in his arms. Praises fell from his lips as he kissed your face, his eyes shining with happy tears as you grinned up at him.

Emboldened by your determination, Dedalus decided to come up with a means of escape and had holed himself away in another room of the tower to work on his plans. You’d spent that night with Neito, tangled in his bedsheets and clinging to him as he whispered sweet words in your ear, promises of your future together giving you hope that all was not lost.

Months of planning had brought you to this day, the day that you would say goodbye to Crete, and embark on a new journey with your beloved.

---

“Are you sure these wings will work, sir?” You blinked down at Dedalus’ creations, a feeling of dread creeping up your spine. Wax and feathers, and straps to hold them to the user's arms. You didn’t want to admit it, but the plan Neito’s father had spent months on looked more than likely to fail.

“Positive! I tested them myself on the tower roof this morning.” He turned to his son, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You must remember to keep yourself from flying too high because the sun will melt the wax and make these wings useless. And also-”

Neito interrupted him, rolling his eyes. “Yes, father, I know. You’ve mentioned that.”

“Let me finish! You must not fly too low, because the ocean spray will get the wings wet and weigh you down.” You’d never seen his father look so stern.

“I understand, father! I won’t fly too high or too low.” His brows furrowed as he shook his father’s grip from his shoulder, pouting like a petulant child. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I know how prone you are to posturing, my son. I just need to be sure you understand.” He gave his son an apologetic smile before turning to look at you. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you both in the harbor in Athens.” You took Neito’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ll wait for me there, won’t you?”

Neito grinned, tugging your hand to pull you closer. “I’ll be there waiting to give you the most dramatic welcome you’ve ever received.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you.” Fear kept its icy grip on your heart, but you tried to push through, forcing a smile as you gazed up at him. You saw in his eyes that he was just as worried, but he continued to act the opposite.

“Hurry along so you don’t miss your boat, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.”

You let your fingers graze along his cheek, lifting yourself on your toes to kiss him. You tried not to think about how this might be the last time you’d feel his lips upon yours, instead memorizing his scent, the way he tasted, and the way his arms felt wrapped around you.

Reluctantly breaking away, you nodded at Dedalus and made your way towards the window, ready to scale down the tower for the final time. You caught Neito’s eye before you lowered yourself out of sight, shaking your head as he blew you a kiss, smiling despite your worry.

If all went well, you would see them both again in Athens, free to live out the rest of your days by Neito’s side. You prayed silently to any god who may listen as you ran back towards the city, to let your love make it safely across the sea so you could be together.

--

You’d paid a hefty sum of drachma to an old fisherman in the city, one that knew your father well, to let you take his boat. You had told him you needed to travel to Athens discreetly, and he had agreed when he saw the desperation on your face. It was lucky that his son was planning to travel to the mainland anyway, so it was easy to come up with the story that you were his future wife and accompanying him on his journey.

The fisherman’s son was named Tetsutetsu, and he was a childhood friend, so you were immediately relieved to know you wouldn’t be uncomfortable on the long boat ride. You had envisioned that you’d be stuck on a boat alone, or with a stranger, so this was the best possible outcome.

Tetsu was privy to the real reason why you were traveling to Athens and was more than willing to help. “That guy was always a fool, but I can tell how much he cares about you.” He said as you were helping him to ready the boat a few days before your departure. Looking out towards the sea, Tetsu wiped the sweat from his brow. “I wonder what King Minos is trying to hide in that labyrinth.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure Neito knows either.” You sighed, leaning back against the post the boat was tied to on the dock. “I just want to get him out of there.”

Your determination must have been obvious to your old friend, because he didn’t say anything else as he worked, making sure that the boat was stocked with supplies and emergency equipment just in case.

The morning of your departure, you played the part of a smitten fiancé, hanging on Tetsu’s arm as you walked towards the docks where the boat was kept. You were smiley and flirtatious with the King’s soldiers as they inspected the boat for any stowaways, making them comment to Tetsu about how lucky he was to have such a beauty agree to marry him.

“Oh stop, don’t flatter me so much! It’s so early and I’ve barely had enough rest. I must look awful. You’re just being kind.” You covered your face dramatically, taking a page from Neito’s book and turning up the theatrics. “I hope we’re leaving soon, I’m ready to take a nap.”

The soldiers bowed and cleared you to leave, telling Tetsu to keep his eye on you once you arrived in Athens. “She’ll get scooped up by some rich tyrant if you’re not careful!” Their leader said as the group of them walked down the dock and to the next port.

Tetsu breathed a sigh of relief when they had gone. “That Neito sure taught you a thing or two about acting, didn’t he?”

Shrugging, you sat on the folded blanket you’d brought, leaning back against the side of the ship as Tetsu readied the sails and positioned the oars. “He’s always so over the top in public, you’d never believe how sweet he can be when no one’s around.”

“It’s definitely hard to believe.” You both looked up towards the sky. “When are they leaving?”

“They should have already gone. I told them to keep an eye out for the boat if they can help it, just in case they run into any trouble.”

Humming, he got to work, sitting down and pushing the oars into the water, propelling the boat forward and into the inlet that would lead to the sea.

The two of you were quiet for some time, your gaze fixed upwards as you looked for any sign of your lover below the clouds. The inlet opened up into the open sea, and Tetsu got to work opening the sails on the small boat, letting the wind pick up and push you towards the mainland.

You were traveling for some time without any incident, the two of you making small talk as Tetsu steered the small boat in the direction of your destination. He told you about the girl he’d met on his last trip to Athens, and how he hoped to see her again when he arrived there. The look in his eyes as he spoke about her told you how deeply he cared for her, and you assumed it was probably the same look you had when you spoke about Neito.

After a few hours, you began to worry again, wondering if they were doing okay up there. You had to imagine they would be tired, and you knew there was no option for them to stop and rest. You opened your mouth to voice your fears out loud, but Tetsu interrupted by crying out.

“Look!” He pointed up and out in front of where the boat was currently headed. You stood, shielding your eyes with your hand and squinting to see better. Something was falling from the clouds, hurtling towards the open expanse of water in front of you. Whatever it was, it hit the water with a splash, the speed at which it was falling caused the water beneath you to surge violently, rocking the boat.

“What was that?” You were almost afraid to ask, leaning over the side and trying to get a better look.

Tetsu ran to pick up the oars, sitting down and rowing quickly to try and get closer. “I don’t know, but it fell from up high if it hit the water that hard.”

You still couldn’t see, the glare from the sun above limiting your vision. Something floating by the boat caught your attention, and your heart moved into your throat. A feather was floating past, caught up in the undulating water. Soon after another feather drifted by, and then another, all of different shapes and sizes and colors.

“Neito?” You whispered, looking out at the water again. “No…”

“Y/N?” Tetsu called from behind you. “Do you see anything?”

Thoughts racing a mile a minute, you reached down to shuck off your sandals. “It’s Neito!”

Before he could stop you, you threw yourself overboard, gasping when the freezing cold water hit your skin. Ignoring the yelling of your friend behind you, you started swimming, ducking your head under the water and opening your eyes, trying to find any sign of the man you loved.

The bubbles had yet to settle from where he had made contact with the water, so you were able to follow them, seeing something floating a little further ahead. Upon getting closer, the blonde of his hair was unmistakable. Your muscles protested as you pushed hard, diving deeper and reaching out a hand to grab him. When your fingers closed around his tunic, you pulled, kicking up to breach the surface of the water again.

You cursed his father as you headed for the surface, cursed Neito for not listening to his father’s instructions, cursed yourself for letting them go through with this insane plan, for but most of all you cursed King Minos for putting them in this position in the first place. If you both lived through this ordeal, you were going to do everything in your power to make sure King Minos suffered in some way.

Gasping, you emerged from the water, adjusting your grip to grab Neito’s arm and pull his head above the water as well. His head hung limply, his body dead weight as you kicked to keep the both of you afloat.

“Y/N! Are you crazy?” You heard Tetsu cry from behind you. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know!” You called back, turning to see the boat headed for you. “I’m going to need your help getting him into the boat.”

Grumbling, Tetsu pulled the boat up next to you, standing up and holding out his hands. “I would have jumped in for him if you would have waited a minute, you know.”

“I know, I just...I wasn’t thinking.” You maneuvered Neito in front of you, lifting him slightly so  Tetsu could pull him up. “I was so scared I…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He leaned over and held out his hand for you. “You got to him, didn’t you?”

As he hoisted you out of the water, you nodded, falling to your knees next to Neito as soon as your feet hit the deck. “I just hope he’ll be alright.”

“He’s not breathing.” He fell to his knees beside you. “Can you-”

“Yes.” You leaned forward, pinching his nose and breathing air into his mouth a few times, thanking the gods for the work you’d done at the hospital and the things you’d picked up from hanging around the docks as a child. Refusing to give up, you waited and tried again, pushing his hair off his forehead in between, silently praying to let him live through this.

It wasn’t long before Neito gasped, his lungs expanding as he started coughing, and you turned his head to the side so he could spit out the water that had been trapped in his throat. Tetsu’s shoulders sagged beside you in relief, and you felt your heart return to its original home behind your ribcage.

You focused on the shallow breaths coming from the man in front of you, counting every one of them as a blessing. Your eyes stayed on him as he blinked up at the sky, confusion and then realization crossing his features. He finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes meeting yours, and it took every ounce of your strength to keep yourself from crashing into him. The tears welled up before you could stop them, and you saw an expression on his face that you’d rarely seen before. He looked so small and vulnerable at that moment. “Y/N?”

“Neito, what happened?” You struggled with your emotions, not knowing whether to cry or laugh or yell. You were so happy that he was okay, that he’d been able to escape after all, but you were also incredibly angry that you’d almost lost him. What would have happened if you and Tetsu hadn’t been there when he fell? He would have drowned.

“I…”He trailed off, looking lost for a moment. “It was amazing, flying. It was exhilarating, being so high up and feeling the wind rushing by. Father was trying to tell me to let myself descend but I thought I was doing just fine. But then the wax started to melt and I saw the feathers falling off of me and into the wind and...” His eyes fell on Tetsu, widening like he’d just realized he was there. “Tetsutetsu?”

Clearing his throat, Tetsu stood up. “Hey, Monoma. Glad you’re okay.” He stepped over him and moved to get the sails on the boat up again. “Let’s get back to land as soon as we can. Your arm looks broken.”

You understood that this was Tetsu’s way of giving the two of you some privacy. Looking down, you saw Neito’s arm was sitting at a funny angle. “Does it hurt?”

Brows furrowed, he moved his arm and winced. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“You’re in shock. Do you want to sit up?” You moved to help him, steadying him as you helped him shuffle and lean against the side of the boat. Digging through the box of supplies you’d brought, you pulled out another blanket and did your best to wrap him in it, settling down beside him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

His words startled you. “Why?”

“This whole thing was a terrible idea. I never should have agreed to my father’s plan. We should have found another way.” He looked up at the sky. “I’m afraid he won’t make it. We had planned on stopping at an island not far from here and getting a boat the rest of the way to Athens, but I know if my arms were starting to tire, he isn’t faring much better.”

You let your head fall on his shoulder. “Have faith, I’m sure he’ll make it just fine. I’m just glad we were here to save you when you fell.” Taking a deep breath, you said the one thing that had been bothering you about him all this time. “I just don’t know why you feel like you have to prove to everyone else that you can do things.”

He looked over at you, puzzled at your change in subject, and you continued, lifting your head and turning towards him.

“You’re always putting on a show for everyone, trying to show them how great you are, trying to show that you’re better than them. You can be downright arrogant sometimes, and you have too much pride.” Reaching out, you smoothed down his hair, letting your fingers card through his blonde locks. “I just wish you saw what I see in you. You’re amazing and sweet and you care so much. I love the Neito that you show me when it’s just the two of us.”

Cradling his broken arm in his lap, he lifted his good arm and cupped your face, letting his thumb caress your cheek. “I’m a rotten show-off, Y/N. Sometimes I think you’ll get tired of it and leave me, and I wouldn’t blame you.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours and shutting his eyes. “My arrogance got me into this situation. If I would have just listened to my father…”

“I could have lost you.” The tears you’d been holding back slipped out, and you sniffled. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

You tasted salt when he kissed you, but you weren’t sure if it was from the seawater or your tears.

When he pulled away, he wiped at your face and lifted your chin to look up at him. “When I was falling, all I could think of was you; that I wouldn’t get to see you ever again, or hear your laugh. I was going to break my promise to you, the future together we had planned. It broke my heart to think of how angry you would be at me if I didn’t survive.”

“You’re right, I would have been furious.”

Smiling cheekily, he hummed. “As much as I love how beautiful you are when you’re angry, I prefer that to be directed at other people and not me.”

You turned to look out at the water. The wind had picked up the sails again and you were moving at a steady pace. “It’s over now, Neito. We’re going to go to Athens and start a new life together, just like we planned.” Looking back at him, you managed to smile. “Just remember, you don’t have anything you need to prove to me. I love you just the way you are.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

You settled back against his side and let your gaze wander towards the sky again, the mid-afternoon sun peeking through the clouds and shining down on the sea, making it glisten. It was beautiful, and even though the sunlight had nearly killed the man you loved, you couldn’t be angry. Everything had worked out in the end, and you were well on your way to realizing your dreams. The gods must have been listening to your prayers after all.

[mummybear]

Borrowed Time - Chapter One - The New Guy

Words: 3173

Warnings: Swearing... think that’s it for this chapter :)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Mark (OC), Tiffany (OC), Mentions of Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: So this is the first series I’ve written in a while or at least the first one I’ve posted! So I hope you guys like it! The next chapters will be out every Friday, until it’s finished :) The series will probably only be around 6 chapters long, but I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know If you want to be tagged in this series or in any of my other taglists :D

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr​ Thanks babe ❤😘

Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/mummybear

Series Masterlist

You let out a shaky breath as you take your seat at the back of the class, hoping that he will just leave you alone today. One of the new guys at school had developed a thing for you, ever since you’d ignored him on his first day, it was like he was determined to get you to talk to him. Lately though he’s been getting under your skin, and you’re so close to giving in. Sure the guy was hot, in fact, he may have been the hottest guy you’d ever seen, but he was also one of the biggest players in the school. The exception being in the last two weeks, where he had barely spoken to another girl who wasn’t you. Safe to say that had started the rumour mill. Then you hear the murmuring starting in the room, and that unmistakable feeling prickles across your skin.

You fight the urge to look up, but it’s like your eyes are drawn to him, like some kind of magnet is connecting the two of you. You finally give in and look up to find him already watching you, gorgeous green eyes locked on yours. Trying to look away is pointless, you know that by now. You do you best to calm your nerves enough so that you’re finally able to drop your eyes to your desk, and start pulling out the things you need for the upcoming lesson. 

That doesn’t stop your entire body tensing when the chair beside you scrapes along the floor loudly as it’s pulled out. It’s almost like you can feel the eyes of everyone in the hall turn on you. You can’t control the way that your body responds to the sound of his deep voice.

“Mind if I sit here, Y/N?” he asks quietly. You try and ignore the gasps that practically echo around the large room, as you force yourself to look up at him again.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat you nod.

“Um, yeah, sure. If you want to,” you answer shakily. You hate how your voice sounds, but if he’s noticed then he doesn’t let on. He gives you one of those panty dropping smiles as he takes the seat next to you, and you could swear your entire face flames bright red.

You inwardly roll your eyes when you see Tiffany Chase heading over to your table. You never understood how she had come to be the most popular girl on the campus, but clearly dating every guy in existence was a good trait to have these days. That was yet another reason you were glad about not being “popular”, whatever the hell that even meant. 

She leans on your desk, until her tits are practically in Dean’s face, but to his credit, and your surprise he doesn’t look. Instead he sits back in his chair, eyes immediately fixed on hers, not wandering her body, or the cleavage she's so blatantly offering him. She makes a point not to even spare you a glance, which is completely fine since you have no interest in what she’s giving away.

“I thought you were gonna show me your car, baby? Why don’t you ditch the charity case and come and have some fun with a real woman?” she purrs seductively, curling her fingers around Dean’s loose tie.

You wish you were anywhere but here, but you know there’s no other seats in class now, so your only other option is to pray for the ground to swallow you whole. You’re a little taken aback though when Dean’s large hand wraps around her tiny wrist and pulls her hand away, still remaining surprisingly gentle, especially with the look of thunder that’s overtaken his features.

“Sorry, Tilly. Change of plans, I told you last week, and a few times this week… if memory serves. Besides, there’s only room for one woman in my life.” As he says this you feel his hand resting on your knee, and you turn to look at him to tell him to move. But you stop yourself when you see the pleading look on his face.

Tiffany scoffs in disbelief, and has a look on her face like he just slapped her. 

“It’s Tiffany,” she corrects him sharply, before she turns her gaze on you. And you have to fight every instinct not to push your body back into your chair, instead you sit straighter, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Can you like… move or something. Dean and I really need to talk, I think you’re making him uncomfortable,” she huffs, as if your mere presence disgusts her. 

“Sorry, Tiff. I think you're the one  who’s making my boyfriend uncomfortable, actually. He’s just being too polite, could you please just leave us alone now? I believe he’s asked you enough.” 

It takes everything you have not to throw up the contents of your stomach, where the fuck did that come from?! You inwardly scold yourself, trying to hold your nerve. But to your surprise, Dean takes your hand and gives it a squeeze, and throws his other arm over your shoulder.

His lips press to your ear, and you can’t hold back the shiver.

“Thank you, I owe you,” he whispers, and you can already feel the blush creeping up your neck, the entire class is staring at the three of you like you’re aliens. But Dean’s currently more than enough of a distraction.

Her shrill laugh echoes around the room, followed by most of her bitch club behind her.

“Oh sweetie, no. Don’t be silly now. There is no way on this planet that you could be his girlfriend, you’d be extremely lucky to get a pity fuck with a normal guy, but Dean? No way. Now move, before I move you.” 

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you refuse to look away from her. However, before you can even utter a word, Dean’s voice drops to a low growl.

“I don’t give a shit about your name, or you. You don’t get to talk to her like that, and you lay a finger on her, I promise you’ll regret it. So, whatever your name is, unless you want me to tell Mark that you’re trying to fuck me... and just about every other guy you set your eyes on, I suggest you go back to your own seat. But first, I think you owe my girlfriend a fucking apology.” You watch the colour all but drain from her face.

You lick your lips nervously as you turn to look at him, seeing the fire burning in his eyes, but his eyes don’t move from Tiffany’s face. 

“Dean, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” you whisper sounding a little desperate even to your own ears. You rest your hand on his tensed bicep, trying to ignore the way you're clamping your thighs together, because this might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever been a part of. Even if you had only started this ruse to get him out of an awkward situation. Nobody had ever defended you like this before, especially not this publicly.

“Oh, it does matter, baby girl. Isn’t that right?” Dean asks, mock sweetness in his voice and his arm tightens around your shoulders.

“F-Fine. I’m sorry, Y/N,” she responds the best she can with the amount her voice is shaking, before hurrying back to her friends.

The teacher walks in the classroom, forcing everyone's attention to the front, and you try to ignore the sense of loss you feel when his arm leaves your shoulders. But that feeling is quickly replaced when he takes your hand and links your fingers with his, and rests them on the table top between you.

“Dean, we should talk,” you whisper, when the teacher turns back to the board.

“Later, sweetheart, wouldn’t want you getting in trouble,” he smirks, pressing a lingering kiss to your already flaming red cheek.

-

Unfortunately, you don’t get time to talk to Dean, and you don’t see him after your last lesson either. You try to ignore the snickering and staring as you start to walk through the parking lot to make your way home, though it affects you more than you’d care to admit. When you don’t see any sign of him, you continue to walk lost in thought, knowing that it will take you at least half an hour but it’s worth it, because you can’t stay here. 

You’ve been walking for about ten minutes when you hear a car roll to a stop behind you, the soft purr of the engine calming slightly as the window is wound down. You can’t help but smile as you turn around, and sure enough, there he is. Sitting in the driver's seat with a cocky smirk on his face. He leans over to the passenger side and pushes the door open, “you gonna get in, sweetheart? We can talk while I drive you home.” 

You walk closer and fold your arms over your chest, raising your eyebrows at him through the now open car door.

“And what makes you so sure I wanna get in your car?” you ask through your own smirk.

“Come on now, is that any way to speak to your boyfriend? Just get that sexy ass in the car so that we can talk.” There’s a teasing note to his voice, and your smile widens despite yourself.

“Fine. I’ll get in… but only because we do need to talk,” you tell him, trying not to laugh as you climb in the front seat and close the door behind you.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, princess,” he laughs, tossing his sunglasses in the backseat. You give him your address, and he quickly works out the new route, before starting to drive again. He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly where he sits, before glancing between you and the road.

“I owe you, for what you did today in class. You didn’t need to save my ass, but you did it anyway. I really appreciate that.”

You blush shyly as you look at him, “I was going to apologise honestly. I don’t know what came over me, I guess I just wanted to help out… somehow, I know people can be a lot for anyone, no matter who you are,” you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your clammy hands over your skirt.

Dean shakes his head, and a smile crosses his plump lips. 

“Sweetheart, don’t apologise, you did me a massive favour and I really can’t thank you enough,” he sighs regretfully, as he pulls into your driveway. 

You thank him for the ride, but before you move to climb out of the car he grabs hold of your wrist gently, and you turn back to him questioningly.

“Is everything okay, Dean?” you ask nervously, wondering what he might say. You’re not sure whether to lean in or turn away when he turns in his seat to face you.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you with a smile, “can I have your number?” You’re a little surprised at how shy he sounds, but you smile as you take his phone. 

“I just think it might be a little odd trying to play along with this, especially if we can’t even get ahold of each other.”

“You make a good point there, Winchester. But for the record, I would’ve given it to you anyway,” you smile fondly, phoning yourself from his phone, so that you have each other’s numbers, before handing it back.

“So… How long do you wanna play boyfriend and girlfriend?” you wonder aloud, noticing the way that he blushes and scratches at the back of his neck, before focusing back on you again.

Dean clears his throat and shifts closer to you.

“About that…” he trails off, and you feel a blanket of nervous confusion settle between the two of you.

“What about it?” you question nervously.

“Would you be okay if we stayed together, at least until I have to leave town, I know it’s a lot to ask, but…” before he can continue you cut him off, resting a hand on his thigh.

His eyes snap to yours, and you quickly pull your hand away and clear your throat.

“You don’t need to explain, Dean. Besides, it was my dumb ass that got us into this mess. It’s really the least I can do,” you smile genuinely, and an obvious moment passes between the two of you, a moment which is completely unexplainable. But there’s a knock on the window closest to you that pulls the two of you out of it.

You jump back harshly, your back practically slamming into Dean’s shoulder when someone leans against his car, and his head is already half way through the window.

“Damn, I almost didn’t believe it when Tiff told me you were seein’ some frigid bitch, Dean. You hit that yet?”

Dean growls, and you can feel him stiffen beside you as he wraps a protective arm around your waist, like he can shield you from Mark’s words. It’s actually really sweet of him.

“Maybe you should tell your girlfriend to mind her own fucking business, and you should do the same, Mark. Before I put you on your skinny little ass.” 

Mark lets out a deep boom of a laugh, and leans further into the car, his eyes sweeping over your body, clearly not taking Dean’s words seriously. It makes you feel nothing like Dean makes you feel when he looks at you, this guy makes your skin crawl and your stomach lurch.

“Shit, that’s gotta be one sweet pussy if she’s got you so whipped already.” 

Before Dean can speak, you sit up a little straighter, and glare at Mark. Feeling Dean stiffen behind you gives you the confidence you need to get these words out.

“Why don’t you tell your whore of a girlfriend to stop trying to fuck my man, it’s really kind of pathetic. He’s not interested,” you huff out, hardly able to stand looking at him, so you turn to face Dean who’s smirking right at you, and way closer than you’d first imagined.

Mark starts to grumble something behind the two of you, but neither of you are really listening, and you can’t stop staring at Dean as he cups your cheek in his big hand.

“What she said,” Dean agrees easily, his husky voice sending shivers up your spine. You let his thumb brush your bottom lip, “you’re even sexier than usual when you’re jealous,” he smirks confidently, leaning in a little closer.

You swallow thickly, your fingers just barely manage to wrap around his wrist.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, watching as his eyes flick down to your lips, and he licks his own. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea, but for the life of you you can’t currently think of any. 

Dean doesn’t even hesitate, before you can blink his lips are pressing against yours. The kiss is firm and his lips are so soft that you quickly lose yourself in the kiss, and you feel like your entire body is being drawn in by him. 

He pulls back all too soon. His eyes are lidded as he looks at you, and his hand moves from your jaw, to cup the back of your neck. His hands feel huge, as he tugs lightly at your hair and you gasp against his parted lips. 

“I s-should probably get going,” you whisper shakily, letting your fingers trace over the skin of his chest, where his shirt buttons are undone.

Neither of you even attempt to move, and before you think about it too much your lips are brushing against his again. He pulls you against him tightly and deepens the kiss, making you all but melt against him, and his hands remain firm against you as he effortlessly takes control of the kiss. You feel yourself edging closer, heart pounding in your ears and your head foggy, it takes everything you have to pull away from him, but you just about manage it. Looking up into his lidded eyes as you both pant hard, you swallow thickly and look over your shoulder, relieved to find that Mark has gone.

Dean cups your cheek when you turn back to him, his face the perfect picture of lust. 

“You should go in, sweetheart. Or I might change my mind about letting you go… but I’ll text you tonight, okay?” he rasps, pecking your lips.

You can feel yourself blushing as you nervously bite your lip. 

“What makes you think I want you to let me go?” you giggle as he leans in closer again, he’s so warm and smells incredible. 

“Oh trust me, if this had anything to do with what I want to do, you’d already be screaming my name,” Dean all but growls.

“Dean.” His name is a whisper on your lips, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears again.

Dean lets out a deep groan and shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“Shit, you don’t make it easy on a guy, sweetheart,” he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You live here by yourself?” he asks suddenly, nodding over to your house, clearly trying to change the subject.

You shake yourself from your heady daze, trying your best to concentrate on what he’s saying.  Clearing your throat you give him a small nod, unable to stop the smile from crossing your lips.

“At the minute, yeah. It’s usually me and my best friend, but she’s away visiting family this week. It’s good though, much closer to campus than my parents’ house,” you explain happily, remembering the way that she had told you to take advantage of the free house, but then you notice a strange look crossing his face.

“Sounds nice. I’ve never really had anywhere like this, my family didn’t really stay anywhere too long, not since my mom died. My dad has to travel a lot for work, and I’m learning the ropes, so I can take over one day.”

Your heart aches for him, and you have no idea how it’s even possible to feel this close to someone you’ve only known for a little over a month.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. It doesn’t sound like you’ve had much time to just be you. If you ever need to get away, I have no intention of moving any time soon, you’re welcome to stay here,” you tell him softly, resting a gentle hand on his arm, until he finally looks at you again.

“Thanks, sweetheart. That means more than you know, and I promise I’ll text you later. We can talk more then, okay?” 

You lean in close and press your lips against his, the kiss lingers a little, before you finally pull away and whisper against his lips, “I’ll be holding you to that, Dean.”

Bold wont tag guys sorry!

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[mfingenius]

hi. hope you're good. idk if you're talking prompts or w/e atm but can you please write a fic on jealous harry when durmstrang bois start flirting w draco :).

Harry doesn’t care about Malfoy, okay? It’s just bloody annoying. And senseless! Harry has seen six Durmstrang students ask him out, and has heard of at least another eight, an it’s bloody ridiculous! Can’t they get someone their own age? Or from their own school?

“Get out,” Snape says, unimpressed; Malfoy is bright red, holding a bouquet of white roses, and Parkinson and Zabini are snickering beside him, staring at the latest Durmstrang boy to ask him out. He’s tall, and muscled, and not good for Malfoy at all. Not that Harry would know what’s good for Malfoy. He does know what’s not good, though. “Of my classroom. Right now.”

The guy - the guy - kisses - kisses - Malfoy’s hand deliberately, which makes Malfoy turn redder.

“I will be awaiting your answer, моя любовь,” he says, with a thick accent, and bows before he walks out. Bows! 

Harry is seriously going to murder someone.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape says coldly. “I suggest you accept someone’s invitation soon, because the next time someone interrupts my class to ask you to the Yule Ball, I will begin taking points from Slytherin.”

Parkinson and Zabini burst out laughing, and Malfoy nods hastily, turning even redder and glaring at his friends.

Harry honestly doesn’t understand; is there something about Malfoy that attracts Slavic students? Is there a sign of some sort? Is there a bet?

Harry frowns; that would be sort of cruel. Malfoy doesn’t even speak any Slavic languages, so how could he be an interesting date? It doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a bet.

Except Malfoy seems to have groups of Durmstrang students following after him all the time. And they look truly lovesick, which unsettles Harry greatly, because this is Malfoy. They don’t even know him!

“Harry, do you know where Malfoy is?” Hermione asks him, one day, and Harry frowns. 

“Of course not,” he says, too quickly; he does in fact know, because of the map. Malfoy has taken to hiding from the hordes in the Astronomy tower with Parkinson and Zabini, because - theoretically - no one is allowed there if there’s no class going on. “Why would I know? We’re not friends. We’re not dating. Why do you care?”

Hermione looks at him very weirdly. “Viktor’s friend wants to ask him to the Yule Ball, and-”

“Who is Viktor?” Ron snorts. Then, his eyes widen impossibly. “Viktor Krum? You know Viktor Krum?”

“Yes,” Hermione says, rolling her eyes. “We’re going to the Ball together. Anyway, his friend wants to ask Malfoy out, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of everyone like the others, and-”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, angry for some reason. “Tell him to figure out for himself.”

And he stands up and leaves, leaving a very baffled Ron and Hermione behind.

*

Harry is, of course, there, when Malfoy finally says ‘yes’ to someone. 

Because that’s just his luck.

The guy - it must be Krum’s friend, like Hermione said, because both she and Krum are lurking nearby, giving them looks - is even taller and more muscled than the last; he has ice blue eyes and dark curly hair, and Harry loathes him.

It’s not as showy as the others; in fact, Harry wouldn’t know if he weren’t purposely listening in on the conversation.

“Draco,” the guy says, with a thick accent. That’s not how Draco is pronounced, Harry wants to tell him. “I know you have enough suitors, and I know you could go with any one of them. I would be greatly honored if you would consider going with me.”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. Yeah right, like that’s going to work. Harry literally saw someone give Malfoy an emerald. This is pathetic, as far as propositions have gone.

“And if not,” the guy continues. “I would be greatly honored to continue to consider you a friend.”

Well, better do that, buddy, Harry thinks. He’s not going to say yes.

“Yes,” Malfoy says, and Harry begins coughing violently. Ron slaps him on the back with a bewildered look.

“Mate, are you alri-”

“Wait!” Harry shushes him, straining to hear the rest of the conversation.

“Yes, I - I’d like to go with you, Nikolai,” Malfoy says. The guy - Nikolai, what kind of name is that? - smiles widely, and then presses a kiss to Malfoy’s hair, his cheek, and then his hand. 

“Thank you for giving me the honor, my love,” he says heavily. “I will make sure you’re happy.”

And then he walks away; Harry looks at Malfoy, and, to his great surprise, he’s blushing. Not red the way he gets when he’s angry, or embarrassed, but a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and his eyes are trailing after Nikolai. 

He looks happy.

“Are you looking at Malfoy?” Ron asks loudly, and Harry turns to him, accidentally hitting him in the face in the process. 

“What?” he asks. “No! What?”

Ron groans, rubbing at his sore nose.

—————————————–

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Commissions

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Erasermic, Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, MINORS BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: This chapter is angsty as fuck and there’s quite a lot of references to death. Aizawa wishes he was dead etc

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 14/16 (all chapters)

15-ISH YEARS AGO

KREEK

KREEK

Shouta stretched his hand upwards and grabbed onto the fabric, using his legs and fist to get a firm hold before climbing higher. His hands were bandaged and worn, the capture device stained with blood, but he pushed himself harder and faster, grimacing at the friction against his broken skin.

It ended as it always did. He stretched too high and the hand he had used to secure his weight buckled under the strain. He lost his grip and plummeted to the safety mats piled across the floor, the capture device slipping from his hands.

Hizashi winced at the sound of his body hitting the mats. He knew they were designed to break falls, but had used them often enough himself to know how much they still hurt.

Shouta repositioned himself at his original starting position and reached for the fabric, the same determined expression across his face that he always wore, no matter how many times he landed on his face.

KREEK

KREEK

Hizashi watched as he took hold of the fabric and tightened his grip before reaching higher, slower this time, a telltale sign that he had cut his hand again. He sipped his soda, taking in the sweat that layered Shouta’s forehead, the blood on his lips from where he had bitten too hard.

The first few months after Shirakumo’s death had passed slowly: a haze of visits to the guidance counsellor that eventually faded into one. He remembered very few individual details of that time and they assured him it was normal, even if it felt anything but.

He remembered the whisper of rainfall; remembered the way it had soaked his hair. He remembered his mother grabbing his face in her hands and begging him to say something...anything and slowly realising not only was she crying, but he didn’t remember coming home.

After several months of counselling, both after school and during free periods, he had adjusted to a life without Shirakumo in it. A year had passed now and it still hurt, but he no longer had a knee jerk response to his empty desk or the mention of his name. No one handled him gently anymore. They didn’t choose their words carefully as if afraid he might explode.

Shouta was different.

He didn’t go to any of the guidance counsellor’s appointments. He slept through class, he stopped studying. He had the same glassy look in his eyes Hizashi had when he returned home, only the light never really returned. He continued to come to school though committed to none of it, as if it wasn’t real and he wasn’t there, simply passing through a dream.

He had never been a chatty sort of person, but Hizashi felt his silence now more than ever. Any time he brought up Shirakumo it was like he’d poked a bruise, which in many senses he supposed he had.

He didn’t remember when exactly Shouta had started booking out the gym, only that he had been following him there for the past three months. He positioned himself in the doorway, back straight against the frame, finishing up his homework and pretending he wasn’t there.

Shouta didn’t speak about Shirakumo. He didn’t speak about that day. Instead he bled through bandages and skipped meals.

He made it only a quarter of the way up the rope this time, slipping on a part of the fabric that was still slick with blood before toppling back to the mats. He didn’t get up, instead sprawling across the mats as exhaustion finally caught up with him. His chest heaved, his eyes blurred with tears.

“Shit,” he murmured at first, though his voice grew louder as he got to his feet. “ Shit !!”

Hizashi got to his feet when Shouta did, taking a moment to perfect a convincingly wide smile before stepping forwards.

“Say, Sho,” he said, as Shouta wobbled on his feet. “I brought you something!”

Shouta turned to him, gaze drifting from his smile to the bottle of water in his hand.

“Look, I filled it up at the water fountain,” said Hizashi, holding it out. “It’s all nice and cold and refreshing!”

Shouta reached out to accept it with a nod of thanks before downing it in one. Hizashi watched, wringing his hands, pretending he didn’t see the tears in his eyes. It never ended well when he acknowledged them.

“Listen,” he said, “I was talking to some of the girls and we were thinking of going to the movies t-”

“I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure? They’re showing vintage movies! Beast Man vs-”

“I’ll pass. Thanks.”

Shouta passed him the empty bottle and turned back towards the mats, stretching out his arms and legs ahead of the exertion.

“You know…” Hizashi started, willing himself to speak, “the reason we’re going...it’s because it’s been a year...since…”

Shouta froze in place, still in the process of stretching.

Say something, Hizashi willed himself, though if he meant it for himself or Shouta he wasn’t sure.

Say something.

SAY SOMETHING.

“I’ll pass,” said Shouta at last, relaxing his body and walking back to the rope.

Hizashi watched, squeezing the empty water bottle until the plastic began to buckle.

“I, uh,” he said, smile fading, “I’ll get you some more water!”

“Don’t need it.”

He went anyway, closing the door to the gymnasium with a sigh and pressing his back against it. He stared down at the water bottle in his hands, at the condensation coating his fingers and the plastic, before squeezing his eyes shut.

~~~~~~

PRESENT

“We’re going to take a short break now, listeners! Take the time to get yourselves a glass of water and hydrate! It’s good for the skin, ya know?”

He muted his microphone and queued up several tracks before switching on his phone to check his social media. Sometimes his listeners posted questions or sent him interesting articles while he was on air, which made for good talking points when he returned.

He raised an eyebrow when well over a dozen missed calls and voicemails came through in swift succession. He scrolled through them, heart sinking when he realised most of them were from you. Ordinarily he would have been happy to hear from you, but it was difficult under present circumstances.

He wondered if this was it; if you were calling him to announce you and Shouta were finally a couple. He had been on the edge of his seat ever since Nemuri confirmed she had successfully gotten you to go in her stead, waiting for the inevitable.

His finger hovered over your name and his stomach churned. He wondered how you would break the news.

He took a deep breath and opened up the voicemail, preparing himself for the worst.

He had expected for you to be happy and laughing, every word overflowing with joy at this new development in your life. His blood ran cold, though, at the reality.

There wasn’t a shred of happiness in your voice, only desperation. You sounded drunk, as if enunciating every syllable took every ounce of strength you had.

Hizashi...I don’t know when you’ll get this...but something’s happening at the camp. I think it’s the League of Villains...they’re here! They have one of the creatures from USJ. Please, even if you can’t call me back, let the authorities know!

He got up from his chair and loaded up your next voicemail with shaking hands.

Your words were even slower this time.

Hizashi. When you get this, please call me, okay? There are three villains here so far and one of them is Moonfish. The students don’t know. They’re in danger!

He had heard of Moonfish. Everyone had. The details surrounding his arrest were considered too gruesome for public knowledge, so naturally everyone knew them.

He wondered how you could possibly have known Moonfish was present without seeing him; how you could have gotten close to one of the USJ creatures without being seen yourself.

He loaded the third and final voicemail, praying you were about to tell him you were fine, that you had gotten to safety and the pros were dealing with it. He swore he’d forgive you if it turned out to be a prank.

He sank to the floor, though, when you finally began to speak.

Hizashi, I think...I’m dying. Everything’s going dark. When you get this, please, just remember this address. Give it to the police...it’s-

Your phone cut out then and for a second he couldn’t breathe.

“No, no, no,” he said, frantically going through his phone in search of another voicemail, anything from you, any proof you were alive.

You hadn’t called him after that. You had sent him multiple text messages of the same address, though nothing after that final voicemail.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he said, dialling your number and chewing his thumbnail as it began to ring.

Your phone did ring, though no one answered.

It lay forgotten in the corner of an ambulance.

~~~~~

TICK

TOCK

TICK

TOCK

Shouta stared blankly at the clock on the wall, thoughts fuzzy and mouth dry. He couldn’t settle on a singular train of thought, staring into space even as the doctor lifted a pen torch and shone it in his eye.

Due in part to its remote location, the incident in the forest was an even bigger rescue effort than the Hosu attack not long before it. Police and medical teams were called in from all nearby cities, the former spending the night scouring the woods for stragglers and forensic evidence while the latter tended to the wounded. Several interns from Musutafu’s own hospitals were shipped in to join the effort and, while the more experienced doctors tended to the critically wounded, they checked for broken bones and signs of trauma, ran errands and lab tests for their superiors and in some cases even offered up an extra pair of hands during the more complicated procedures.

The moment he arrived at the hospital, Shouta was sent for a onceover by one such doctor, who was dressed in the tell tale embroidered scrubs of Musutafu’s university hospital. He introduced himself briskly before running through a few basic tests on his motor functions and rapid fire questions about his overall health.

Shouta barely remembered getting to the hospital. He couldn’t think of anything other than your bloody lips. Vlad had had to hold him back when the EMTs arrived because he had tried to stop them, convinced beyond reason that they would injure you further. He had a sneaking suspicion that that was why they had assigned such a freakishly tall doctor to give him a onceover.

Someone knocked at the door and the doctor slipped his pen torch back inside of his pocket.

“Come in,” he called out, getting up to reach for his clipboard as Tsukauchi let himself into the room and gave the young doctor a polite bow. Shouta noticed his eyes lit up when he saw the doctor’s name tag, though didn’t question it.

“Good evening,” said Tsukauchi, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“It’s fine,” said the doctor, “I’m finished here.”

He turned to Shouta with the telltale stern expression of medics the world over.

“You don’t have any long lasting injuries,” he said, “but it’s crucial you rest.”

Tsukauchi laughed under his breath as the doctor gave him a nod and dismissed himself from the room.

“How are the students?” Shouta asked, thinking of the fear in their eyes.

He had arrived at the hospital long after them, when both the police and pro heroes at the scene agreed to postpone the search for Ragdoll until daybreak. What’s more, due to his own admission and examination, he hadn’t had the chance to properly check in on them, which he bitterly regretted. They needed familiar faces at a time like this, someone in a position of authority who knew what they needed to hear.

They needed you at a time like this.

“(Name),” said Shouta. “Is she…”

The last time he had seen you was when the EMTs bundled you into an air ambulance and no one had been able to give him an update since. Tsukauchi’s face fell at the mention of you and he instantly feared the worst.

“She’s in critical condition,” he said at last, choosing his words carefully. “The last I heard, they were still operating on her. Actually...that’s why I came to speak to you.”

“Oh?”

“I spoke to Vlad,” he said. “He tells me you received a text message from her before…well.”

Shouta stiffened, remembering the multiple messages that had come through the moment he returned to the classroom; messages you had almost certainly typed with bloody fingers.

“I wanted to ask,” said Tsukauchi, “this address...does it have any personal significance to her?”

“She conducted interrogations with you after USJ,” said Shouta. “You’ve seen her quirk in action. Surely you understand its value as intel?”

“I do,” he said, “but…”

He paused, both of them knowing what he meant to say.

People did strange things on the brink of death. Perhaps that address had nothing to do with the attack, but a deeper significance.

“It’s intel,” he said, refusing to accept the alternative. “We’ll be able to ask her tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course,” said Tsukauchi, getting up from his chair and giving him a polite nod. “We’ve postponed taking statements until tomorrow morning. Rest up for now. The doctors will have my head if you don’t.”

Shouta watched him leave, before leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes.  

TICK

TOCK

TICK

Shouta...I need to talk to you.

TOCK

We’ll be able to ask her tomorrow.

TICK

TOCK

It’s crucial you rest.

At some point, though he didn’t know when, he had convinced himself that you would be awake by sunrise.

In a few hours you would be able to tell them what happened to Ragdoll. You could tell them the significance of the address.

He couldn’t rest until then.

~~~~~

You weren’t awake by sunrise. As a matter of fact, you were still in surgery and blissfully unaware of the chaos erupting around you.

You were asleep when the hospital called not only your next of kin but those of the first year students; you were on the operating table when All Might and Nezu received the news.

You didn’t find out until much later about Bakugo’s kidnapping, nor the true extent of the damage.

You never found out about Nezu’s immediate safety protocol to slow the inevitable hordes of press. While Nemuri and Hizashi had both received missed calls and knew about the incident, they were instructed to continue as if nothing had changed. Nemuri returned to her television interview, a fresh layer of makeup to disguise the fact that she had sobbed in the bathroom ten minutes beforehand. Hizashi greeted his listeners and continued to play tracks, though his happy tone didn’t meet his eyes and he took far fewer chat breaks than normal. Every time the music faded, he listened to your voicemails, wondering if that would be the last time he ever heard your voice.

You had no idea Shouta spent the night wandering the corridors and checking in on his students, calling your number whenever he was alone. He never left a message, just listened to the joy in your voice.

Hello, this is (Name). I’m not around at the moment, please leave a message!

He didn’t want to think about what you had actually said to him before being taken away.

...it’s unfair...unfair...un...fair.

What was unfair?

That the first year students had faced so much danger so soon?

That you had most likely sustained such a serious wound trying to help the investigation?

That your body lay bruised and broken and not-

He thought of body bags and bloodied gravel before he could stop himself; another body at a different time. He dug his nails into his palms, into well worn scars and calluses, and dialled your number again.

~~~~~

It was only a matter of time before journalists caught wind of the blood in the water and flocked to UA for answers. Much like the Hosu incident, Nezu summoned several of the remaining members of the faculty to discuss recent events. Not only was there a lot of ground to cover and decisions to be made, but very little time to do so.

Everyone was restless for different reasons; Nemuri picked at her nails, Hizashi toed the floor with his boot, All Might fidgeted in his seat. The only remotely composed one was Nezu, though every so often his gaze drifted to the newspapers in front of him.

“We’ll hold a press conference tomorrow,” he said, thoughtfully. “After Aizawa and Vlad have given their statements, I’ll brief them on a plan of action. For now it’s important we cooperate with the police and prepare for the worst case scenario.”

“This is my fault,” said All Might. “I should have never come to UA this year.”

“This isn’t the time for blame,” said Nezu. “Right now we must deal with the immediate problems at hand. The students will require not only medical care but a full psychological review before they return to classes next semester… we will have to organise a replacement counsellor.”

Everyone grew tense at that.

“Temporary,” said Hizashi.

“Hm?”

“ Temporary counsellor, not a replacement. We have a perfectly good one already.”

Nezu sighed.

“(Name) suffered heavy blood loss and remains in critical condition,” he said. “You must forgive me for taking into account the worst case scenario. If (Name) survives…”

“She will.”

“... if she survives, it will be at least a month before she returns to her duties. We’ll need a replacement until she is recovered.”

Hizashi shook his head at the mental image alone of your injuries. You should have been there with them, not bleeding out on an operating table.

“Don’t misunderstand my actions,” said Nezu, far more gently than before, “I don’t want to entertain the idea of losing one of our own either. It’s not something I take lightly. I’m wishing for (Name)’s recovery as much as any one of you, but we should not ignore the facts. We cannot allow UA to fall. We cannot allow our society to fall into chaos. Her sacrifice and that of so many others must not be in vain.”

~~~~~~

While Nezu and the other teachers discussed tactics, Shouta and Vlad were at the police station and arguably just as tense. It certainly didn’t help matters that the room Tsukauchi had chosen to take their statements was just as silent and sterile as the hospital, a fact he tried to downplay by offering them strong coffee and a sympathetic ear.

Vlad stole glances at Aizawa as he described the events of the night before, taking in the ever present bags under his eyes. He had gone through not one but three cups of black coffee since their arrival with no sign of slowing down any time soon. Vlad knew all too well that Aizawa was a night owl, but today it stood out to him in ways it never had before.

He remembered the way you had knocked at Aizawa’s bedroom door; your bright blush and panicked expression when he caught you. He remembered your conversation at breakfast the day before- how desperate you had been to talk to him.

There was only one rational explanation for both your behaviour and Aizawa’s own, an explanation that up until recently he had found interesting, though now struck him as tragic.

He wondered how composed he would have been in Aizawa’s position. He didn’t have a lover and couldn’t imagine how it would feel to find one on the brink of death. He wondered what it was you meant to say to Aizawa that day.

As Tsukauchi stepped out of the room to speak to his subordinate, Vlad stared into his own neglected cup of coffee, wanting to break the awkward silence but unsure how to do so. This wasn’t the time for idle chit chat or jokes, but he was tired of talking about the incident.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “for back then.”

Seeing you hurt had shaken Aizawa so badly that Vlad had had to hit him in the face to bring him even slightly back to earth. He felt guilty for it, especially as Aizawa was clearly suffering the ill effects of a panic attack, but in that moment he had little choice. You weren’t dead yet but you would be if they didn’t act quickly and he wasn’t capable of giving both of you his undivided attention.

“S’fine,” said Aizawa before downing the remnants of his fourth plastic cup of coffee. “It was the best course of action under the circumstances. I would have done the same.”

Vlad chuckled under his breath, knowing he absolutely would.

Tsukauchi returned to the room a matter of seconds later, clutching a file under his arm and grinning widely. It was as if he had had a new lease of life and Vlad was more than a little intrigued about what had caused it.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, as if he had been gone for an hour as opposed to a few minutes. “There’s been a development.”

He sat back down and opened up the file, revealing a typed report and black and white photographs of a shabby building.

“I had my team run a check on the address (Name) sent out,” he said, pushing one of the photographs across the table. “It’s a building in Kamino ward, mostly abandoned. A while ago, one of my team investigated a tip off about suspicious looking people in that area, though ultimately it didn’t amount to much of anything because there was far too much ground to cover. Among the witness statements was a description of a man with a patchwork face.”

Aizawa tensed, realisation sinking in.

“You mean…”

“I think,” said Tsukauchi, “that the patchwork faced man in this report is the same one you encountered at the lodge. The address (Name) sent so many times…”

“It’s their lair,” said Vlad. “It’s got to be.”

Aizawa rubbed his temples, face crumpling with the smallest of smiles.

“What are you planning to do next?” said Vlad. “If this really is the lair of the League of Villains…that’s where we’ll find Katsuki Bakugou.”

“We need to think carefully before we act,” said Tsukauchi. “If we attack too slowly, they’re more likely to shift bases, especially after making such a dramatic move. That said, if we move too quickly and without all of the facts...it could be dangerous for all involved.”

He laughed under his breath and turned to Aizawa.

“You were right,” he said. “This is valuable intel.”

“You can thank her when this is over.”

Tsukauchi smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew all too well that there was every chance he’d be thanking your gravestone instead of you.

“I will.”

~~~~~

“Nemuri?”

Hizashi turned away from the desk.

“Nemuri? Where did you go?”

Instead of attending the emergency staff meeting, Recovery Girl had gone to the hospital, where her efforts were most needed. She kissed away broken bones and bruises and greeted more than her fair share of distraught parents, as well as scolding any badly injured students she happened to catch out of bed.

She also took the opportunity to update Nezu on the state of the injured, from the ill effects of gas to who was conscious and who would need a little longer to recover. She was the first to know when you were released from surgery; the first to pass on the message that you had been moved to the ICU.

Nemuri, Hizashi and All Might had immediately insisted on visiting the wards, all three overwhelmed with guilt. If All Might or Nemuri had been present, the night might have ended differently.

All Might turned down any offer of a ride to the hospital, instead making a pit stop to catch up with Tsukauchi, leaving Nemuri and Hizashi to arrive without him. It was a decision that paid off in the long run, for nobody recognised the pair in their civilian clothes as they would the Symbol of Peace.

After they showed their hero licenses at the front desk, the receptionist had picked up the phone to call in for someone to escort them to your room and somehow, in the middle of everything, Nemuri had disappeared.

Hizashi wondered if she’d gone to the washroom, only for his heart to sink when he saw her.

She was standing outside of the gift shop, staring into the glassy eyes of simultaneously the tallest and ugliest teddy bear he had ever seen.

Hizashi left the reception desk and walked towards her, eying up the bear.

“Thinking of treating yourself?” he asked, prompting her to sigh and fold her arms.

“I’ve never understood it,” she said.

“Teddy bears?”

“No. Gift shops in hospitals. Who would want a souvenir of something like this?”

“It’s not only bad stuff that happens here.”

“Right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault and no one could have predicted this, but it felt hypocritical.

“I promise,” he said, wrapping an arm over her shoulder, “something good will come out of this. Somehow, in ways we don’t know about yet. In the future we’ll look back on today and...well, maybe not laugh, but smile at least.”

“If that ever happens, I’m buying this bear.”

~~~~~~

Your room was in a secluded area of the hospital, far from the prying eyes of not only the public, but injured students. Nezu had insisted on it, for the scope of your injuries were not public knowledge and certainly not known to the students. They had not seen you taken away in an ambulance, nor had they seen you pinned to a tree. They had been told you suffered injuries, but nothing that would add to the trauma of that night.

Perhaps it was the echo of their footsteps against the floor, combined with the sterile walls and shapeless furniture, but it felt like they were entering forbidden territory.

“In here,” said the nurse, tapping at one of the doors a couple of times before guiding them inside.

Hizashi had tried to prepare himself for the worst. He had listened to your voicemails, imagination twisting and turning. Nothing, though, prepared him for what greeted him on the other side.

You looked small , tubes connecting you to multiple machines and cuts and bruises still visible underneath the oxygen mask. Perhaps the worst part of it all was how peaceful you looked, just the same as you had when you had rested in his arms, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt with his face on. Back then he could think of nothing worse than waking you; he had held himself so still that he had a crick in his neck for days afterwards.

He would have given anything to go back. If he knew then what he knew now, he would have nudged you awake and chatted the night away. He would have offered up that round two, taking you so hard in the bathtub that water spilled out and soaked the tiles. He would have kissed you at your kitchen table instead of saying he didn’t want you as you were.

“You okay?”

Nemuri poked him. He took a deep breath and walked towards the bed, setting himself down in the chair beside you and dragging it closer until he could lean over and rest his head against yours, relishing the warmth of your forehead. You weren’t dead. Not yet.

“What do you think she’d say if it was one of us?” said Nemuri, stepping closer and running her fingertips across the back of your hand. “If the roles were reversed and you, me or Eraser were here instead.”

“Hmmmmmm.”

Hizashi sat up and scratched his chin, thinking back to the sports festival, the sushi bar, Les Papilles . He remembered the night of the Hosu incident; the way you had looped your arms around Shouta’s middle; the way you stood up onto your tiptoes; the words that left your lips.

“I have to go,” he said at last, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead before getting to his feet.

“But we just got here,” said Nemuri, “why w-”

“There’s something I have to do,” he said, hurrying out of the room. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Nemuri watched him leave, a bewildered expression across her face. She turned back to you, searching for the answers in your sleeping features and ultimately giving up, sinking down into a chair and taking your hand in hers. She stroked your palms and linked her fingers through yours, breathing a heavy sigh at your chipped nail polish.

She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the several bottles she carried everywhere for when she scuffed her own.

“Now then,” she said, unscrewing the lid and stretching out your fingers, “let’s fix you up.”

~~~~~~~

Shouta returned home after leaving the police station, though not out of choice. He wanted to go back to the hospital, but had been advised against doing so, leaving him little choice but to accept the ride.

He understood the logic of it, but spent only about five minutes at home before leaving again. He didn’t go to the hospital, or anywhere the press might be lurking, instead heading for the 24 hour store a couple of blocks from his house. He genuinely did need to stock up on eyedrops, aspirin and cat food. It was a reasonable excuse to be out and about.

He was fine until he got to the counter and happened to notice a display of fresh peaches. Within seconds he remembered Yamanashi- remembered that you had been planning to go.

He came home with two punnets and placed them on his coffee table. He had no intention of eating them, but couldn’t stand the idea of leaving the store without them. In many ways, leaving without them felt like leaving without you.

He laid back on his couch, Sushi taking the chance to curl up on his stomach and purr. Normally this was the perfect recipe for an afternoon nap, but the peaches sat in his peripheral vision and he kept his eyes wide open.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the ceiling, only that Sushi darted under the table at the sound of heavy knocking at the front door. Shouta winced at the sudden, sharp pain of paws digging into his ribs, wondering if the presses had figured out where he lived.

Maybe they’d leave if he stayed still enough.

He ran his fingers over his middle and wondered if he’d bruise, breathing a sigh of relief as the person outside stopped knocking. The peace and quiet didn’t last long, though, for a matter of moments later a key turned in the lock. He jumped to his feet just as quickly as Sushi had and stumbled towards the kitchen, pressing his back against the wall as the intruder stepped inside.

“Sho, are you here?”

It was Hizashi, which retrospectively shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. Shouta only had two keys and had given him the spare so that he could feed Sushi while he was away at camp.

“Sho-”

“I’m here.”

Hizashi clutched a hand to his chest, plainly not expecting him to be standing so close.

“Why are you hiding around the corner?”

“I thought you were a journalist.”

“A journalist who has a key ?”

“You never know,” sighed Shouta, turning back to the couch. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to check in on you,” said Hizashi.

“You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I wanted to.”

Shouta faced him, willing him to leave. He hated the way he was looking at him, as if he deserved any sort of sympathy or pity. He remembered it from high school, after Shirakumo’s funeral and subsequent obituary. He hadn’t deserved pity then, either.

“Well,” he said, raising his arms, “as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not, it’s the truth.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Shouta,” said Hizashi, rubbing his temples, “you can lie to me all you want, but stop lying to yourself.”

“What do y-”

“Don’t you see? We’ve been here before,” said Hizashi. “This is what happened to-“

“Don’t say it.”

Shouta didn’t want to hear Shirakumo’s name. Not now. Not ever. Hizashi refused to back down, though.

“You weren’t fine then and you aren’t fine now,” he said, “and I can’t do this again.”

Hizashi squeezed his hands into fists and braced his body. Shouta watched, more than a little bit curious. This was the first time he had ever seen Hizashi so angry and without even the slightest hint of a smile.

“I should have told you back then,” he said, trembling, “but I didn’t...and you were gone for so long …”

“Gone? You mean when I went underground? Before UA?”

“No...yes,” Hizashi turned away and tangled his fingers in his hair. “No. When you started sleeping through the day...when you didn’t pay attention in class anymore…you were gone and it took years for you to come back.”

“I still sleep during the day,” said Shouta, “I don’t-“

“It’s not your fault,” said Hizashi. “It was never your fault. What happened to Shirakumo...what happened to (Name)...it’s not your fault.”

Shouta remembered the rubble; the sound of Shirakumo’s voice in his ear. If he had moved just a little faster...if he had been just a little more aware of his surroundings...

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, shaking his head as if to shake away the memory.

“I wouldn’t understand?” Hizashi laughed in disbelief. “My quirk was one of the ones that killed him, Sho! (Name) wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

“Wait... what ?”

As far as he knew, (Name) had been a substitute chaperone. What did any of that have to do with Hizashi?

“What do you mean she was there because of you?”

“Nemuri was completely fine,” said Hizashi, “she dropped out so (Name) would go instead…she did it for me . Nemuri should have been there. (Name) should have been home.”

Shouta froze in place, absorbing this new development.

“I know everything,” breathed Hizashi, stepping closer. “I know that you slept with (Name) before any of us met her. I know that you kept it from us to protect her. I know that you pushed her away because you loved her and she let you do it because she loved you too.”

“I…”

Shouta didn't know what to say; he felt exposed.

“Ask me how I know, Eraser,” said Hizashi, grabbing him by the shirt. “Ask me!”

“Hizashi, you’re being-“

“I know because I did too,” said Hizashi, pulling at the fabric between his fingers. “I slept with her too, on the night of the Hosu incident...I didn’t say anything either, but then I found out about Ego and…” he smiled sadly, “you’d be so good together.”

“That’s not something you get to decide.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Hizashi. “But you don't either. Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I wouldn’t piece it together? If (Name) was really the girl from Ego ...if you really did care for each other that much...why did she sit there and hit on me ? Could it be that someone had already put the idea in her head ?!”

“Hizash-“

“It’s unfair, Shouta,” said Hizashi, “we’re completely different people, but we both made the same mistake. We both decided we knew better for (Name) and each other without askin’ first.”

Unfair …

Shouta remembered that word crossing your lips and felt sick.

“You shouldn’t punish yourself over this,” said Hizashi, quietly, “don’t offer yourself up as someone else’s scapegoat. If you’re going to blame someone-“

“Why shouldn’t I? You weren’t there. I was,” said Shouta, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. “I could have saved her.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” said Hizashi. “Even if you kept her with you, there’s no telling what would have happened.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I won’t! I stayed quiet for years. I pretended I didn’t see because I didn’t know what to do. I-“

“Shut...up…”

“I won’t!” Hizashi cried out, so loudly that the furniture began to rattle. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe it. It wasn’t-“

“Shut up.”

“-your-“

“Stop!”

“-fau-“

Hizashi never got the chance to finish, because Shouta shoved him in one last ditch attempt to get out of his grip, leaving both of them tumbling to the floor, Hizashi landing flat on his back and Shouta taking the chance to straddle his waist.

“Shut up,” said Shouta, taking hold of Hizashi’s collar and squeezing his eyes shut. “Shut...up.”

Hizashi lay perfectly still, watching as one tear landed on him and then another.

“It was my fault...my fault...my fault. How can you say we’d be good together? I don’t deserve to look her in the face. She’s a civilian...I’m a pro.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking, what he had been thinking ever since he and Hizashi stood in the rain well over a decade ago, surrounded by ruined buildings and shattered dreams.

It should have been me.

He had been thinking it since he first saw Shirakumo being taken away in a body bag; he’d been thinking it ever since the EMTs took you away.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” said Hizashi. “What she said on the night of the Hosu incident.”

Shouta squinted, thinking back to then.

He remembered watching as you and Hizashi arrived, both smelling of tangerines. He remembered how angry he had been that evening, how he had decided to sneak in an early morning patrol to burn off both the adrenaline and jealousy. He remembered finding you there in floods of tears and embracing both Hizashi and Nemuri. He remembered what came next.

He had turned to leave, only to hear the clack of heels against the pavement. He knew it was you and didn’t bother to flinch when you stood up onto your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his middle. He remembered peering over his shoulder and into your face, taking in your enormous smile.

Thank you.

What for?

You looked him in the face, determined smile transforming into a gentle one.

Tell me...tonight, with Stain, was there anything more you could have done?

His skin prickled from your quirk, but he didn’t erase it.

No.

He hadn’t expected that to be the answer. He hoped it didn’t show on his face, but it plainly did, for you had giggled and squeezed him harder.

You should be kinder to yourself. No one likes living with a bully.

Shouta stared down at Hizashi, who still hadn’t moved.

“Stop it,” he murmured. He couldn’t stand the idea that you’d forgive him.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, looking down, “if she d-“

“Don’t…”

Hizashi placed his hands over the ones that clutched his collar.

“Shouta,” he said, “she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over this. She’d tell you you did your best! The only thing she’d be mad at you for is blaming yourself for something out of your control.”

Shouta couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t stand the way he held onto him; couldn’t stand thinking of him as an anchor.

He couldn’t stand acknowledging he was right.

He had gotten used to bottling his emotions; had accepted his fate of sealing off the cracks. He had resigned himself to squeezing onto them, contorting them and resculpting them to keep them from spilling out, but seeing you had broken the glass and set them free. He felt everything all at once, grief to love to anguish to joy. He couldn’t hold onto any single sensation any more than he could hold water in his hands.

He didn’t want to think about anything; didn’t want to feel anything.

No, that was wrong.

He felt like he was drowning and longed for anything else.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, “say something.”

Shouta’s hands shook. He didn’t know what to say. He never had.

“Say something ,” said Hizashi before falling silent, lips crushed under Shouta’s own.

Hizashi’s lips tasted of tears, though whose Shouta couldn’t say. He wished he could stop time and absorb every detail: the softness of Hizashi’s lips and sweet scent of his hair; the tickle of his moustache; the warmth of his breath as the shock faded and both of them realised what was happening.  

Shouta sat up with a start, heart racing and reality sinking in. Hizashi lay wide eyed on the floor, mouth opening and closing.

“I,” said Shouta, instantly worrying he’d gone too far, “I should-“

He moved to get up but Hizashi grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back down.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, lifting his head until his lips met Shouta’s.

Shouta had never kissed another man before; he hadn’t kissed very many people in general. He had expected it to feel wrong somehow, yet it came as naturally to him as breathing. He caught himself wondering why he’d never kissed Hizashi before. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it.

“What are we doing?” he murmured.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

He reached down to slip his hand under Hizashi’s shirt, relishing the gasp he got as he brushed his fingers over exposed skin.  He had always been quietly jealous when Hizashi mentioned sleeping with complete strangers. They never had to worry about what he’d think about them afterwards. Right then, Shouta was too exhausted and emotional to care either and it felt strangely liberating.

“Sho,” said Hizashi as he dragged off his shirt and tossed it aside, “have you ever...with another guy?”

“No. You?”

Shouta shrugged off his own shirt and threw it halfway across the room, narrowly missing the door to the balcony.

He had seen Hizashi naked before. This wasn’t the first time they’d helped one another out of their clothes. It was different now, though. This time around, it wasn’t because one of them was injured. They weren’t in public baths or the locker room. This was new and all consuming and Shouta wanted to lose himself in it.

“Yeah,” sighed Hizashi, “once or twice. Sho-”

“Mmm?”

“How far were you thinking of going?”

Shouta took in his shaky voice and glanced down at him, taking in the tears trailing from his eyes to the carpet.

“Did you not want to?”

“It’s not that,” said Hizashi, flushing scarlet, “it’s just that if you wanted to...y’know...you should probably let me take the lead.”

Shouta nodded and shifted his weight, giving Hizashi room to sit up. He was only too happy to hand over control- beyond kissing he didn’t really know what he was doing. He’d never touched any other dick but his own and under ordinary circumstances would have talked himself out of it by now.

Hizashi ran his hands from Shouta’s shoulders to his chest and pushed him over onto his back, crashing his lips against his as he linked his fingers in Shouta’s belt loops. Shouta yanked at his hair tie in response, relishing the way it cascaded forward and enveloped him in sunlight.

He would never admit to it, but he’d always been a fan of long hair and almost all of it stemmed from Hizashi.

Hizashi dragged away his belt and fiddled with Shouta’s fly, lips never once breaking contact.

“Off with these,” he said, gripping onto Shouta’s waistband and easing off his pants and boxers, eyes widening at the sight of his fully exposed body.

He was covered in leftover bruises from the attack at the lodge, as well as old scars from other incidents, such as the attack on USJ. Normally he didn’t pay them much heed: they were as much a part of him as his arms and legs and other people rarely saw them. Right now, though, they were all he could think about.

“Damn Shouta,” Hizashi chuckled, “I never noticed you were packin’.”

“Shut up,” he said, heat rising in his cheeks and making Hizashi laugh even harder.

They had seen each other naked before but never looked any more than was polite. There was no room for modesty now, yet Shouta’s instinct was still to cover himself up. He moved a hand to cover his dick, though Hizashi caught it before he could, laughing as he coaxed his hand away.

“Seems a little unfair that I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All in good time.”

Hizashi’s belt jingled as it hit the floor and Shouta watched as he reached for his zipper. He stopped before unfastening his pants and looked up, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“What is it?”

“You don’t want to undress me?”

“I…”

Shouta both did and didn’t. He wanted to relish this moment and drink in every inch of Hizashi’s naked body...but he wanted to touch it too. His silence proved enough of an answer, though, for Hizashi swiftly grinned.

“So you like to watch, eh? Interesting…”

He loosened his zipper and kicked off his pants, taking care to stretch out each movement as much as possible. Shouta stared unapologetically, taking in the shape of his body and bounce of his hard dick as he dropped his underwear to the floor.

“Like what you see?”

He didn’t know what to say, so nodded instead, watching as Hizashi lowered himself down onto his elbows. Shouta inhaled deeply, taking in the warmth of Hizashi’s body against his, the sweet scent emanating from his hair, the hardness of his dick against his own.

“Say something,” said Hizashi, so softly that Shouta barely heard him.

Everything was going to be different after this and he tangled his fingers in Hizashi’s hair.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

He kissed him so hard that at first he couldn’t breathe, only letting up when Shouta grazed his teeth over his bottom lip. Hizashi moaned and Shouta sucked at his throat, hands trailing down Hizashi’s chest and over his nipple, taking care to slow his touches as he crossed over the stud there.

Shouta remembered when he got that nipple piercing. They were still teenagers at the time and Hizashi had gotten into an argument with his mother over it. She let him grow out his hair, she let him wear the most obnoxiously bright glasses he could find, her only condition to letting him stay up until the early hours of the morning working on his radio show was that his grades didn’t suffer and he only did it once a week. The piercing, though, was where she drew the line.

He scoped out pretty much every piercing shop in Musutafu, desperate to find one that wouldn’t ask too many questions, much less demand parental consent.

The one he settled for in the end was more than a little bit seedy and almost certainly at the epicenter of criminal activity. Shirakumo insisted on bringing a camera and perfectly captured the exact moment the piercing gun punctured Hizashi’s body and he regretted everything.

It was as sensitive now as it was then, leaving Hizashi moaning into his open mouth. Hizashi ground his hips against Shouta’s, bare skin colliding with bare skin. Shouta’s mind fell blank at the feel of Hizashi’s hard dick against his own, the sudden stimulation sending shivers down his spine.

He had never felt anything like this before. He ran a hand down Hizashi’s back, gripping onto his bare ass as he thrust his hips against him.

“Shouta,” said Hizashi, “do you trust me?”

It was a weird question and Shouta laid back, taking in his flushed face and tousled hair.

“What kind of question is that?”

“But do you?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” he said, taking hold of both of his hands and laying them on the floor, one on either side of his head. “Put your hands up.”

Shouta watched, bewildered, as he let go and sat up onto his knees, spreading Shouta’s legs and maneuvering himself into the gap.

“What...are you…”

His stomach fluttered, imagination running wild with possibilities.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” said Hizashi sheepishly. “Ever since I found out what happened at Ego ...I know what (Name) feels like...I know what she sounds like...but I don’t know that about you .”

He scratched his chin and took a long look at Shouta’s body.

“Sho,” he said, “I want to know what you sound like.”

Shouta recalled his own dreams; the numerous obscene scenarios that had entered his imagination after he realised you and Hizashi had slept together. He and Hizashi couldn’t have been any more different, but when it came to the important things they were the same.

He nodded, taking note of the gleam in Hizashi’s eyes, heart skipping a beat as he spat in his open palm and took hold of both of their cocks.

Hizashi jerked him -both of them- hard and fast, so quickly that Shouta couldn’t keep track of his movements, only the shuddering it sent through his body. The last time he had had sex with another person was with you. Any time he came after that had been purely accidental.

It didn’t take much for him to moan in desperation, for him to dig his fingers into the carpet above his head. He sucked in a deep breath, close to the point of no return, only for Hizashi to stop. Shouta glanced up at him, wondering if he’d done something wrong or Hizashi had changed his mind.

The truth couldn’t have been more infuriating. Hizashi gazed down at him, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, you,” Shouta said, realising the situation he was in, “you fucker .”

“I mean, if we’re going to be technical,” said Hizashi, pointing down at their hips, “you’re just as guilty as me on that front.”

Shouta lifted his hands, wanting nothing more than to drag Hizashi to the ground.

“Ahhh, no,” said Hizashi, “hands up, remember?”

Shouta cursed under his breath, but obeyed, laying his hands flat against the carpet.

He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for this. He knew Hizashi was into edging. Hizashi was into anything that left his partner a shuddering mess.

After a few more seconds of torture, Hizashi took hold of their dicks again, jerking them slowly this time. He took the time to run his fingers along the underside of Shouta’s cock, along the sensitive spot right underneath the tip and giving it a perfectly timed squeeze. Shouta bucked his hips into his touches, willing him to go faster, but Hizashi did quite the opposite. He slowed down to an infuriatingly slow pace, watching in satisfaction as Shouta’s hands twitched, eager to finish the job.

Truth be told, Shouta really did trust him. That was the only thing keeping him still. He could have kicked him off at any moment, could have escaped his grip without breaking a sweat. He didn’t want to, though. Every second he spent there, moaning and frustrated, he wasn’t thinking about his failures. Right then that was all he needed.

Only when Shouta had gotten used to this new pace did Hizashi go faster, jerking at both of their cocks just as quickly as before, only this time squeezing tighter. Shouta dug his nails into his palms, tracing over the familiar calluses and holding his breath, stomach clenching and body tensing in anticipation of the pleasure to come. Just as before, though, Hizashi slowed down.

“Not long now,” said Hizashi, “just a little more.”

Shouta prepared himself for another round of slow, gentle touches, only to be completely taken off guard. Hizashi jerked them both fast and hard, so hard that it sent Shouta over the edge with only a couple of minutes. His mind fell blank and he called out in pleasure, wriggling in place as he spilled all over Hizashi’s fingers, liquid pleasure seeping from Hizashi’s fist and onto his stomach, all while Hizashi continued to pump. Shouta cried out from overstimulation; Hizashi whined as his own climax came, leaving his own cum to escape his fist and mix with Shouta’s until the pair of them were a sweating mess.

Hizashi let go and gasped for air, covered in a sheen of sweat and the occasional drop of cum on his chest. He looked down at Shouta, who was just as breathless, body still twitching from release.

Shouta barely noticed as Hizashi moved to lie down next to him. He was too far gone to pay attention to anything other than the pleasure rushing through his body.

“You know,” panted Hizashi, “you can’t do that every time you want me to shut up.”

“Why not? Seemed to work.”

Shouta glanced around the room; at their discarded clothes and dirty bodies. He knew it would bother him later, but right then he didn’t care about very much of anything. He looked over his shoulder, taking in Hizashi’s flushed face beside him. The softness was fading from it, back to the one of concern from when he arrived.

“Shall we talk about it?”

Shouta sighed, looking away.

“We really should talk about it,” said Hizashi, reaching for his glasses. “We’ll need to-umph!”

Shouta had reached for one of the peaches on his coffee table. The same one currently stuffed in Hizashi’s mouth.

“Later,” said Shouta, to which Hizashi sighed and sank his teeth into the peach.

They lay there in silence for quite some time, Hizashi making it about halfway through the fruit before Shouta began to speak.

“With my life,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“I trust you with it,” he said, grabbing a peach of his own and taking an enormous bite before he could say anything embarrassing.

Well, he thought as Hizashi squeaked through a mouthful of peach, visibly delighted by the revelation, even more embarrassing.

~~~~~

The rest of the day passed quickly.

Shouta frowned through the bathroom door as a towel-clad Hizashi rifled through his wardrobe in search of a suit for the upcoming media interview.

Visiting hours came to a close and Nemuri planted a kiss to your forehead before returning home.

Tsukauchi stayed awake long into the night, going over strategies and making phone calls.

Nezu lit a cigar and stared into the smoke as it hit the night air, contemplating potential futures and outcomes.

You slept through all of it, completely unaware of the struggles of everyone around you.

Night fell and your room remained untouched by the world outside. You stayed asleep as police guarded the corridors; as media outlets scrambled for answers. You didn’t move as midnight struck and someone climbed through your bedroom window. Someone who, realistically, should have known better.

You stayed still and oblivious as they stood at the foot of your bed, taking in your freshly painted fingernails and tranquil expression.

They came and went from your room like a ghost, whispering an apology in your ear and planting a kiss on your forehead, willing you to remember it.

You didn’t remember it.

When you woke up, in fact, quite some time later, you didn’t remember much of anything. You didn’t know where you were, didn’t know how you’d gotten there.

You were sure of only one thing: that the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a punnet of fresh peaches.

[finniestoncrane]

False Pretences

capullo!riddler x female!reader, word count: 2.2k i just wrote this one for myself because i love him and i'm sorry i know i have requests but i haven't done anything for just me in a while u-u expanded on this lil ficlet from a 'first date' prompt and added some typical zero year smut in 💚 ily greg capullo, my clit owes you one request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: lying, language, pining, lil bit of flirty touching, praise, sex, sprinkle of misogyny, raging ego eddie, self-image issues, eddie's dick is smaller than average and he's about to make it everyone's problem, when it is really a blessing

It’s not really a date.

But at the back of your mind, you were convinced that it might be. So why had you agreed to it?

Look, there’s a lot of reasons to tell him to fuck off. And one throbbing, desperate reason to say yes and take the risk.

In the worst-case scenario, he might reveal some strange, deep feelings for you. Best case, you get a free meal and some sex. And with that final affirmation, you let go of your tight, white-knuckle grip of the steering wheel and left your car, walking up the steps to the apartment building and hitting the buzzer for Edward, the little label next to his number just a little question-mark and a winking face, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Uh…it’s me.”

“Who is me?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Oh! It’s you! You sounded too cheerful before, back to your usual surly self now. Come on up!”

As the door was unlocked and the buzzing tone hummed in your ears, you side-glanced at the walk, at your car, at your last chance to not make a huge mistake. And you stepped inside anyway, feeling the door close behind you like an airlock on some doomed spaceship. No way out. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant building, and as much as you hoped his own apartment might be nicer, you knew him too well to get your hopes up too high. You rounded the corner and saw him standing against his open door, leaning against the frame.

“You’re dressed nice.”

“You’re…not.”

He shrugged at you as you looked him up and down. His usual put together outfit looked a lot more dishevelled. Chartreuse pants still on, they were creased. No shoes, just his black socks, which had holes in them, weird that was what was beneath his neatly polished dress shoes usually. His black shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, unbuttoned further than usual to his chest. His hair, still slicked back, but with grease more than pomade. No mask, no gloves, no hat. It was weird seeing him like that. But it made him a lot less daunting. You hated to admit it, but the way he usually presented himself was effective in portraying him as a confident, charismatic man. Very difficult to reconcile that with the man before you. It was difficult to decide if it made this easier or not. Would you rather be on a date with this man, who was less distressing to be around but ultimately unable to conceal what a loser he was, Edward Nygma? Or would it have been better to be on a date with the intimidating, but at least vaguely able to restrain himself, Riddler?

Didn’t matter, because you were stuck with the sleazy idiot who was currently looking you up and down as you approached his door.

“It’s casual, what did you expect?”

“I…genuinely had no idea what to…wait, how casual?” You were suddenly very aware that the black dress you wore, hitting just above your knees, and how formal it appeared.

Thank god you decided to throw your shitty kicks on to counter balance it. Not such a stupid idea now.

“It’s uh…” his eyes lingered on your bare legs, eyebrows raising at your footwear, before he slowly trailed his gaze back up to your face. “…pretty casual. Come on in.” He tilted his head towards the apartment as he walked inside, holding the door for you. You followed him, catching it with your hand and letting it close behind you with an echoing thud.

He asked you round for food and a movie. Dinner and a movie. ‘Dinner and a movie’ is a date. Right? Right!?

But you already knew you were doomed when you could smell the food, pizza, and could hear the other voices.

“Ed, is this a party?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess so. What else would it be? What? I’m just going to invite you round to my house for free food?”

Idiot. Both of you. Maybe it was nice though? He…liked you enough to show you off in front of his friends? Or at least introduce you to them. Why did you care!?

As you followed him into the lounge, you could feel your face, your whole body, cringing.

“These are my friends.” There were some scattered ‘heys’, a couple of them turning to shoot you a polite smile and the rest ignoring you in favour of whatever action movie it was on the TV.

“You started the movie already?”

“Well, it’s a trilogy, so there’s two more to watch. You’re not missing much with the plot.”

Is jumping out of the window too dramatic?

“Do you want a drink? I have beer and…water?”

“Beer is fine.”

“Hey! Look at you, getting fun!” He slung his arm around your shoulder, shaking you lightly before grabbing you both a beer from hid fridge and heading to his sofa. You stood awkwardly. There was nowhere left to sit, and it was doubtful that a single one of the men in the room were going to give up their spot for you.

“Oh, shit…ok, come sit with me.”

“I don’t think there’s enough space, Ed.”

“No, sit on me dummy.”

You laughed a bit, looking at him, waiting for him to laugh back. But instead, he patted his lap. And as humiliating as it was, and would be, you were kind of ok with it. What else did you come here for? To be close to him. To flirt with him. Because despite yourself, and despite everything about him, you were still attracted to him. Either you could break through and learn that there was something redeemable to love under the disgusting yet attractive surface, or you could fuck the bad boy and get it out of your system, leaving you to get back to your life. Win-win.

Awkwardly lowering yourself onto his lap, so grateful that none of his friends had looked away from the screen long enough to notice you being grabbed by the hips and dropped down onto him. He grunted as he wrapped his arms around your front.

“There you go.”

It was difficult to tell if this was something he had planned for, but you weren’t too bothered. When he placed his head on your shoulder, his sideburns tickling against your cheek, you could feel yourself melt into him a little. Maybe a bit too relaxed, as it became evident that your wiggling, laughing at the stupid jokes he whispered into your ear, was something he was enjoying a bit too much. You shifted a little, trying to ignore the obvious erection that he was making no effort to hide, trying not to be flattered by it, but despite your best efforts you were blushing at it. You hated yourself for falling for him.

But it was short-lived, as it became increasingly less likely that his attraction to you was the reason you were invited over. Even when you thought you were going to be alone, at the end of the three excruciatingly boring movies, when his friends had left, you were asked to stay behind to clean up only.

“You know what, Eddie?” You picked up some empty beer cans, back turned to him so he couldn’t see the disappointment on your face. “I really thought this was…” You sighed, turning to face him, to see if your words were anymore likely to come out, easier to scold him or to tell him the truth of your disappointment. But as you turned, he was standing before you, hands knocking away everything you were carrying before wrapping around your back, stumbling into you, knocking you back into the wall where his lips met yours.

His kiss was sloppy, yearning, longing evident in the way his hands were unable to find a space to stop, running along your sides, round your back, gripping your waist, your ass. They dragged up your stomach, pulling at your shirt, sliding under your bra to cup at your breasts while he sighed against you, harmonizing with your moans, a symphony of explicit pleasure.

With his free hand, he let his fingers wander up your thigh, flicking up the bottom of your dress, making no effort to tease you, to let it seem like this was going to be a gentle, romantic affair. He slid your panties to the side, fingers pressing against you, moving side to side, pressing between your lips and laughing into the kisses he smothered your neck in as you gasped and moaned, arching your back against the wall into him.

“Hmm…wet already…I thought I could feel something warm when you were on my lap.” You could feel his smug grin against your skin.

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

He thrust two of his fingers inside of you, curling them up, stretching them apart slightly, listening to your breathing to figure out which movements made you moan the most. With his free hand, now no longer grasping at your breasts or clutching your waist, he held your chin, forcing you to look up at him and into his eyes. The smarmy grin, the glint in the green surrounding his pupils, it was overwhelming.

“Oh, Eddie…”

“Mhm, I thought so.”

Removing his hand swiftly from between your legs, admiring the slick that covered his fingers before rubbing them down his shirt, he gripped your forearms, pulling you towards the sofa, swiping the crumbs and empty cans from it, so romantic. As he lay back, he dragged you down with him, positioning you on top of him. With his arms and legs tangled around you, holding you into him, tightly pressed on his writhing body, you could feel yourself kissing him harder, more violent as you bit down on his lip and pulled it out as he hissed in pleasure.

Noticing his hands were no longer exploring your curves, tangling into your hair and pulling at your clothes, you heard his zip being undone, his breath hitching slightly as he gripped his stiff cock tight, rubbing his palm against it as he looked at your lips, stretching his neck out to kiss you while you lowered yourself onto him.

In a surprise twist, the sound he made as he entered you was more of a whimper than the grunt you had expected. High in pitch, desperate in tone. He shuddered as he bucked his hips up and into you, halting as your bodies slapped together, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

“Are you…is this ok, Ed?”

“Mhm, great. Is it…so far?”

You stared down at him, palm to his cheek, a kiss on his forehead as you tried to stay still, tried to push past the delicious sensation of him inside of you to try and stay tender in the moment.

“Eddie, this is good.”

“I’m good?”

“You’re good.” You giggled at the question, but his cheeks reddened, guilt flooding your stomach.

“Tell me…tell me it feels good.”

“Eddie, it feels amazing.” You lifted your hips slightly, lightly moving them from side to side, clenching around him inside of you.

“I’m…enough?”

“Enough?”

“Like…big…”

The fragile ego, shattered self-image, narcissism out the window for the moment, he was letting himself be vulnerable. He looked entirely different in this light, weakened by his sense of inadequacy. But while it mattered a lot to him, it didn’t matter at all to you.

“Eddie, you feel amazing. You’re feel perfect, don’t you think we fit. So. Good. Together?” You lifted yourself up and down onto him with each word. Hands trailing up to hold his behind his head, back arching low, kissing him as you lifted your hips up and down on top of him, letting him fill you up.

“Eddie…god…that’s so good…you’re so…hmm…good.”

“Yeah…I am…I’m amazing…I’m really…the best…”

There he was, the Eddie you unfortunately found irresistibly attractive. And the lopsided little grin he managed to eek out through his gritted teeth, both of your words of praise bringing out the best, or worst, in him, it drove you wild.

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me…I’m so close…Eddie…”

“Ok, ok…don’t stop…keep telling me…tell me I’m good…”

“You’re the best, Eddie.”

“The best…”

“Completely amazing.”

“Amazing…”

“You’re fucking spectacular.”

With his fingers laced around yours, grip white-knuckle tight, he arched his back into you, groaning loud and softening into a quiet growl as he finished the last throes of his orgasm. You found yourself cumming after him, the guttural sounds emanating from his smug mouth enough to push you over the edge.

Letting his already disgusting sofa get even filthier, you lifted yourself off of him and lay down on his chest, smiling up at him, waiting for him to thank you, for your words, for the experience, for letting him fuck you even after he invited you round to the worst evening of your life.

“Ok, so you wanna get up and finish tidying? I would help but I’m super tired now.” Smirk on his lips, he had the audacity to wink at you as he grabbed your ass before lifting you off of him.

[castielslostwings]

Hi robin! I started following jus on KoFi and noticed they had a link to your works fire and ice, deserted, and wild as real life books and they told me to reach out to you for the links. are you still offering those for order? Thank you💕

I’ve probably read through your entire ao3 work list and I love your writing style. I dont usually follow works in progress but couldn’t resist better than revenge. It’s so good! Love a little fluff omegaverse mafia

i thought i would answer this publicly since a lot of people are still asking! First of all, thank you sooo much for your kind words, and I'm so happy you're liking BTR!! <3 Another update will be there soon, I'm just working on a few other projects right now :-D

So--this is going to be a long-winded answer, and I'll start at the beginning. Basically, when I first put the books up, I kept the link private and had people DM me for access. I also made it clear over and over that they were set to at-cost and I was not making a profit. I also ran a whole-ass charity raffle that raised $600 for Random Acts and spent a bunch of my own money buying and mailing the raffle prizes.

If someone DMed to request the link who had no followers or was brand new, I even asked for references to try and assure they were well-intentioned. Seems excessive (I know many thought it was), but there's history in the Destiel fandom of OUR OWN (and even well-known fellow authors *cough*) leading takedown and hate campaigns (including lies and slander) over profitless printed fic.

Either way, consider that even WITH these precautions in place, the links were reported and my account got bombed. Yes, someone DMed me, pretended to be my friend, talked to me, and manipulated my feelings just to report the links. Love this fandom!

Fortunately, there weren't any consequences for me, and not wanting those haters to win, I made a new acct and put them all back up, but obviously, giving out the link isn't an option. I was doing individual orders for a bit (I created a quote, sent a SS, the person paypaled me, I put the order thru), but there was so much interest that i wound up spending several hours a DAY coordinating and submitting each individual order, often times for people who were...less than patient about it. Again, for no profit. I just couldn't keep it up.

I wish there was a safe way for me to distribute the link again, but I don't want my new account deleted, and clearly, these no-life-having losers can't just scroll by. I also am not going to do the thing where I provide access to the PDFs for people to upload themselves, as a google drive can just as easily be reported, and I'm not risking my entire Drive. I'm also not comfortable with sharing the HD cover artwork done by artists who are not me in a PDF that people could do any number of things with.

I'm thinking on it. The interest is still really high, so idk. Maybe i'll add a handling fee for my time, lmao. That would probably scare most people off, anyway. I guess if that's something anyone who still wants one would be OK with, my DMs are open.

Maybe I'll just CTRL+F the names and put them up on Amazon as original. Report that, bitches.

Just really sucks that crappy people get off on ruining things for everyone. Sorry to anyone who this affected :(

[franeridart]

Anon said: i dont know what blue lock is but that art you just posted is making me interested lol

AHHHHH please getting people interested in it is all my life is about lately hahahaha it’s a sports manga about soccer! Kind of!! Definitely has all the good sides of sports manga, but it’s also different enough from the usual sports manga that I know people who aren’t huge sports manga fan who loved every second of it, please do give it a try if you find yourself with the time for it! It’s such a cool manga!!!

Anon said: I don't even like BNHA anymore, haven't for more than a year, but your blog still has me shipping the characters somehow. I live for your KiriBaku content (and your KamiJirou stuff, when you post it!)

Gosh, I’m glad I can make you like them still!! It’s such a compliment, honestly ;A; <3

Anon said: so i was looking through your art and stuff and was wondering "hey i wonder if theyve ever drawn voltron stuff" and tbh, i didnt expect you to have

To be fair, if you checked it means that at least a little you thought it was possible lol I haven’t watched anything past s1 of it though, so the chances of me ever picking it up again are less than zero

Anon said: You... are one of the loves of my life... and also the main reason I check tumblr everyday lol.

Anon!!! You’re gonna make me blush here!!!!! ;;;; thank you so much!

Anon said: i started reading bluelock because of u and now im obsessed soooo,,,,, thanks!❤️😭

SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT!!!!!

Anon said: Hii, do you have a Spotify account? If you do, can you share it? I really like the songs u use on your arts, and I would love to see your Playlists Sorry if it's already on your FAQ, I didn't find it And sorry for my bad English ps. I LOVE YOUR KIRIBAKU ARTS THANK YOU

I don’t! I listen to all my music from youtube, because I’m that kind of person lmao happy to hear we share music tastes, though! And thank you so much!!! <3

Anon said: What's your favorite arc of ToG both story wise and art wise?

SCREAMS I don’t know!!!! I’ve been thinking about this ask since getting it I have genuinely zero clue I love all arcs so much for so many different reasons!!!!! The first that comes to mind when I think about it is the workshop battle arc, because I love Viole with everything I have and the whole arc (plus the build up to it too!!) hurts in the most wonderful way, but then I keep thinking about it and I realize there’s so many character I live for that don’t appear in it - I love the floor of death arc SO MUCH cause for one, there’s nearly all my favorite characters in it, and also because it’s such a good, dynamic arc?? everything that happens is so much fun and interesting?? also Hockney is there, and Urek is there, and Garam is there, and the Hell Train gang is all there, so!! AH and the hell train as a whole is so damn good (the dallar show???? my whole soul rests in there, Khun’s trust in Bam!! the coin flip with rachel!! Bam’s whole everything!!!!!!!! GAH) but my fav part of it has to be the hidden floor?? because!!!!!! it’s perfect from start to end, everyone in it is wonderful, Bam’s growth in it!!! GODS! My favorite scene in the whole webtoon is in the hidden floor arc, it’s how much I love it - THEN THERE’S YAMA and the whole arc there is so so SO good too, and the latest arc!! how good is the latest arc!!!!!

so yeah I can’t pick - art wise I think it goes without saying that SIU’s art has only gotten better, so the closest to the newest update you go the more I like the art.... though, my favorite Bam is still the short haired one from the Hell Train arc haha

Anon said: Oh, wow, how stupid of me. Like 2 months ago, I sent you a message telling you how much I loved your work... and I didn’t see it on your page, or anywhere else. Finally today, I discovered I had an inbox where you answered me... 🤦‍♀️... I still love your work, by the way...

AHHH yeah I always answer off-anon asks privately! And thank you so much for still liking my things!!

Anon said: Have you read the last haikyuu chapter? How did you feel about it?

I’ve reread it at least twenty times and then I went and reread the whole of the last game again and it’s been three weeks and I’m still thinking about it more or less constantly and feeling giddy happy about everything that manga has ended up being, genuinely one of the best manga I’ve ever had the pleasure of following till the very end - that’s how I feel about it <3

Anon said: I really like looking at your art it’s so therapeutic it’s wonderful please keep drawing I want to support you on Kofi and patreon and yet I am broke please just know I love u very much ok bye

Ahhhh it’s okay anon! I try to keep as little completely unavailable for my followers as I can, and I’ll do my best to keep drawing! Can’t promise the fandoms will always be stuff you care about though haha

Anon said: This is my FAVORITE art blog. Is blog even a word that ppl use anymore?? Idk but anyways your kiribaku gives me life and cures my depression so ily and thank u

I’m so so happy to hear that! Thank you so much!!! TTATT <3

Anon said: just now realizing your oc looks like the human version of kamakiri

To be fair the only thing they have in common is the green mohawk, but I get where you’re coming from! I was very happy when Kamakiri’s official colors came out exactly cause he makes me think about my boy, after all xD my love for Kamakiri is definitely biased, in that sense haha

Anon said: Just wanted to let u know im very gay for ur oc giulia that is all thanks

Anon I’m gonna cry I’m so glad you like her!!!!!!!!!! She’s one of my oldest OCs out of that group, it’s always so thrilling to know people like her ;A; <3

Anon said: I really like how you draw kirishima’s hair

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!! I have a lot of fun with it, though it does mean it ends up being kinda off canon more often than not haha

Anon said: hi! just a random question but how’d you come up with your name?

Fran is my name! Erid comes from Eridan from homestuck! Art is what I try to do! And that’s the incredibly interesting story behind my screen name haha

Anon said: Heya, so i sent the ask about the person who i suspect either heavily referenced or traced your art (i sent another ask about this tho im not sure if it went through) anyway, it was posted by ****************** you'll know it when you see it i think

Ahhhhhh sorry for how long this took me to answer, I went to check and it’s!!! fine, I mean, would have preferred if they had credited but I don’t think it was completely traced so I don’t mind too much, I used to copy art of people I liked too back when I was first starting, after all haha

[a-fluffer-nutter]

The Fox And The Turtle

A/N - Hey guys, this was such a fun fic to write! This was prompted by a lovely anon who commissioned me on my Kofi! To that wonderful anon, I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for helping me out a bit, my boyfriend and I used the money to buy a celebratory dinner after we got accepted for an apartment! If anyone else would like their own amazing fic, let me know or head on over to my Kofi and let’s get the process started. 

This is a Miraculous Ladybug fic featuring Nino and Alya. Please Enjoy.

Word Count: 4,034

           The first time was unexpected, an accident really. She never expected to get that close to him, to want to be so close to him.

           Alya Césaire had invited Nino Lahiffe to a nearby café to talk. She had arrived early in the morning, wanting to finish some schoolwork and to get started on a new blog post. There was so much she needed to catch her blog up with, especially with what had happened the week before.

           Lady Wifi.

           She never wanted it to happen, why would she? She idolized Ladybug, most of her blog was dedicated to the hero, but she had been the cause of another fight Ladybug and Chat Noir had to undertake. It all happened because of her.

           The autumn breeze rustled the sleepy trees, sending leaves of orange, red, and yellow floating toward the ground. The air was just beginning to have a chill bite at the bare skin of passersby, but this didn’t faze the people of Paris, most of them thrilled that the summer heat was fading, and autumn was taking over again. Kids had just returned to school, most of the teens excited to spend their weekends at the mall hanging out with their closest friends.

           Nino was on his way to the café to visit Alya. He hadn’t seen much of her that summer, though had followed her online presence closely. It was hard not to, when Alya seemed to run a major blog in basically every topic. In fact, Nino had been browsing online forums about Donkey Kong a few days prior, wanting to prove some sort of point to his younger brother, when he stumbled upon a Donkey Kong fan blog Alya had made a few years before. Sure, she hadn’t touched it in a long time, but the fact that Nino had accidentally found something made by her had made him laugh at the time.

           Humming to himself, Nino danced between small puddles of water that speckled the sidewalk. Staring at his phone, he tried to think of a good playlist for the next school dance. It was that time of year again; the dance wasn’t going to DJ itself.

           “Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?” Nino muttered to himself, staring at the blank note page he just opened on his phone. He may have had Lady Gaga playing in his headphones at the moment, but that didn’t mean Britney Spears wasn’t a favorite of his.

           A church bell chimed in the distance, Nino looking up from his phone in panic.

           “Oh no,” Nino said to himself. He was late to his meeting with Alya. Nearly tripping over a stroller with a screaming toddler inside, Nino jogged toward his destination, still considering what Lady Gaga song would be the best to dance to.

             Alya recoiled as she burnt her tongue again. She had just sat down with her steaming mug, her third pumpkin spiced latte of the day. She might have enjoyed making fun of people who drink pumpkin spice lattes, but they were too good for her to resist.

           “Ow,” She moaned, her tongue sticking out slightly between her plump lips. She had a habit of just rushing into things, being impulsive. From risking it all to get the next big scoop to instantly taking a drink of something she knew would burn her tongue, Alya had a penchant for impulsivity.

           The chime above the door rang, Nino throwing it open with so much force that it startled everyone inside in the café. Giving an embarrassed smile, Nino gave a short wave to the older lady who spilt a bit of coffee down her dress. Looking up from her computer, Alya rolled her eyes at the sight of Nino, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face.

           “Hi Alya,” Nino grinned, pulling off his headphones and slipped them down his neck. “Sorry I’m late, I got distracted.”

           “It’s fine,” Alya replied, waving her hand, motioning for him to sit.

           “Before we start,” Dropping his backpack to the floor, Nino plopped down into his seat, sitting across from Alya. “Do you prefer Britney Spears or Lady Gaga?”

           “You can’t choose between the two of them,” Alya let out a laugh, thinking about her fan blogs she has created for both of them in the past.

           “You’re no help,” Chided Nino, Alya simply replied by sticking out her tongue, still numb from burning it.

           “Anyway, I wanted your help with something,” Alya quickly changed the subject, getting down to business. Nino smiled expectantly, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I need to update my blog about Ladybug, but I don’t really know how to do it.”

           “Oh, I thought this was going to be something important,” Nino laughed, laughing harder when Alya shot him a death glare. He lifted his hands, “I kid, I kid. But how can I help you with your blog? You know more about Ladybug than anyone else I know. Wait, this isn’t about Chloe, is it? If so, I’m not helping you snoop on her more. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

           “Oh no, I’m definitely never snooping on Chloe again, she definitely isn’t Ladybug.”

           “Then, what do you need?” Nino leaned back, glancing up at the drink menu above the front counter. He may have been interested in whatever Alya was talking about, but he was torn between whether to order a strawberry smoothy or a chocolate caramel latte.

           “Lady Wifi,” Nino’s eyes shot down at her words.

           “Why are you asking me about her, you are her,” His voice dropped, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear him.

           “That’s the thing,” Alya looked down at her keyboard, fingers circling the keys. “I don’t remember it at all. I guess that’s good, because I could’ve hurt someone really bad and I would have to live with remembering myself doing that, but I don’t, which is really weird. I just feel bad about battling my idol, like I could have really hurt her! I don’t want to do that, besides, what would I do if I can’t blog about her?”

           “Work on your other eight hundred blogs. Or you know, schoolwork,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a short laugh when Alya shot him another glare.

           “Come on, Nino,” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Please help me.”

           “Okay, sure thing,” Nino smiled, leaning forward, placing a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. “What do you want to know?”

           Instead of replying, Alya let out a stream of giggles, instinctually scooching back in her chair. Shocked, Nino pulled his hand back, lips parting.

           That was adorable.

           “Don’t tickle me, Nino,” Alya said, rubbing her knee, numbing the area of the ticklish shocks that just jolted through her muscles. “This is serious.”

           “Sorry,” Nino rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by the blush he could feel painting his cheeks, crawling up to his ears.

           “Anyways,” Alya went on, ignoring Nino’s discomfort, and went on talking about Lady Wifi. Nino answered as many questions as he could, but he couldn’t stop the image of her giggling face from being at the forefront of his thoughts. Nino wanted to see it again but didn’t know when he would have the chance to.

**

                       “Nino!” Alya giggled, attempting to curl into herself.

           The attack had come unexpectedly, but there was not much she could do. Fighting back could give herself away, and it wouldn’t be for another few months that Nino would learn the new truth about her. She let him get away with the attack, though with her new strength, it was much harder to hold back.

           Nino sat over her, his knees straddling her thighs and hips, putting just enough pressure to pin the legs to the bench without crushing her. He sat triumphantly on her thighs, fitting perfectly between the hem of her jeans and her knees, which happened to be exposed that day thanks to the fashionable tears that came with them. He held her wrists together in one hand, surprised by how tiny her wrists were in comparison, he laughed victoriously once he had them pinned to the wooden bench, her hair messily entangled beneath.

           “Something wrong?” Nino teased, his free hand resting on her knee, feeling the short stubbly hair on her skin. Why shave in the winter when nobody was going to see it?

           “What are you doing?” Alya asked, voice trembling. The skin on her legs were coated with anticipatory goosebumps.

           Nino simply responded with a curt grunt and a slight shrug, then proceeded to squeeze the knee cap. Giggles filled her belly, rising to her throat like bubbles blowing in the wind. Alya bit back the laughter, her teeth pressing into her plump bottom lip, ruby lipstick painting a thin layer of gloss onto her teeth. She managed to hold back the laughter for a bit as he focused on squeezing just the kneecap but lost her composure a bit as he slipped his hand through the hole and hooked his fingers beneath her leg and scratched behind her knee.

           “Nino,” Alya squeaked before the vast number of giggly bubbles slipped through her control and turned into one of the most beautiful sounds Nino had ever heard. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away so he couldn’t see her smile as well, though she fought the urge to tug at her arms.

           “Wow, Alya,” Nino cooed, his short nails still scratching at the skin, his fingers moving swiftly as if helping her scratch a persistent itch she couldn’t reach. “If you’re this ticklish here, you must be super ticklish everywhere else too.”

           Letting out a little yelp, Alya continued to giggle as Nino crawled his hands a little further up the leg and lightly traced swirls into the back of her lower thigh.

           Alya decided not to give him the satisfaction of conceding at all, of begging. Ladybug had just given her own Miraculous, which hid beneath her shirt, but she wasn’t afraid at this moment that Nino was going to see it. It would have to take a lot of thrashing for it to make an appearance, and Alya knew that wasn’t going to happen. Speaking of her Miraculous, Trixx was still hiding in her fanny pack, which thankfully was sitting next to her backpack on the ground below the bench. Lucky for Trixx, as he would be crushed by Nino if Alya hadn’t taken the fanny pack off before this all went down.

           “How about here?” Nino let out a small laugh as he quickly reached forward and latched onto her hip bone. Despite it not being that ticklish of a spot, Alya still let out a giggly gasp and a short kick. She dug the heel of her shoes into the bench, giving her something to focus on, grounding her just a bit.

           “Her giggle is adorable,” Nino thought, ecstasy flowing through his bloodstream, her smile and giggle like a drug to him. Though she was hiding her face, he could still see enough of her face to take in the beauty of it all, her lips curled up into a smile bright enough to rival all the stars in the sky.

           Needing more, Nino walked his fingers up just a bit to poke at her sides. Each poke elicited a giggle of a slightly higher pitch led Nino to the conclusion that this spot was a bit better than the last. Curling his fingers into a mimicry of claws, he pressed them into the softer flesh and began to vibrate his hand. This turned out to be a great technique.

           “No!” Alya nearly screamed, the dam finally collapsing and out flowed her wonderfully boisterous laughter. She let out another kick, then dug her heel back into the bench, trying hard to get control again.

           Ticklish shocks resonated through her body, sending surges from her side through her chest and into her throat, which continued to pour out waves of contagious laughter. Despite all this, she still did not tug at all at her arms. This was not satisfactory, not at all, to Nino. He wanted to watch her struggle, to writhe and laugh underneath him, under his ticklish touch. Alya, though, could not let this happen. She was a heroine, after all. A new hero, but still a hero that shouldn’t be taken down by something as silly as tickling. She knew she could fight it until Nino grew bored, she had to.

           “This a good spot?” Nino beamed, tempted to pull his other hand down to do the same to her other side, but thought against it. He won’t let go until she pulls free or begs.

           Nino didn’t know why he was being so sadistic all of a sudden, but he liked it. He liked seeing Alya like this, so flustered, so adorable...no. He didn’t want to admit it yet, he couldn’t like her like that, at least he didn’t think so. But she was so pretty, with eyes that glowed like gold coins and her lips as beautiful as rubies.

           “It tickles,” Alya broke Nino out of his thoughts, bringing out a laugh from him.

           “Well, I hope so,” Nino grinned, fingers stilling briefly before walking up to the base of her ribs.  “That’s kinda the point.”

           Alya let out a squeak as he gently prodded between her bottom two ribs. Nino’s grin spread wider as a devious idea flickered into frame in his mind.

           “Do you know how many ribs the average person has?” Nino asked, mindlessly tapping the same spot between the two ribs over and over, enjoying the small flinch each poke provoked.

           “Twenty-four?” Alya asked after a moment of thinking it over. Something like this should’ve come quickly, but she was a bit distracted at the moment.

           “Yep,” Another poke. “Let’s see if you have twenty-four, too.”

           Without a second to protest if she had wanted, Nino scratched at the lowest rib. Alya let out a breathy giggle, turning her head back so she could see him.

           “One,” Nino said before walking his fingers up to the next one. “Two.”

           “Three,” Alya found herself saying between nearly silent giggles. Nino raised an eyebrow, surprised by her participation. He briefly wondered if she was enjoying it but thought otherwise. Though maybe.

           “Four,” Her giggle became a bit more desperate. “Five.”

           “Six,” Alya startled Nino again, though pressed her face into her arm, hiding from him as much as she could.

           “Seven” Alya cackled, wiggling a bit in anticipation.

           The next three were in her armpit, which is standard anatomy. Alya knew this was going to be hard but tried to hold back as much laughter as she could. Unfortunately for her, it was not much.

           “It tickles!” She squealed, beginning to hysterically laugh as Nino counted the eighth rib. She couldn’t help but toss her head back, laughter pouring from her widely grinning mouth.

           “Nine,” It was hard for Nino to hear himself over her laughter, though he didn’t mind it all that much. That and he knew he wouldn’t be able to count a proper twenty-four. Alya likely didn’t know this fact, or at least Nino hoped so.

           Hands tightly balling into fists, her nails dug into the palms of her hands. It took a lot of effort to not struggle, her armpit being ruthlessly attacked by now, Nino having just announced the tenth rib, but didn’t really seem to be attacking it. Instead, he just scratched all five fingers along the exposed area. Nino was lucky that the day had been unusually warm for the end of autumn, as Alya opted to wear a tank top under a light jean jacket today, which she had taken off earlier into their hangout. This left nothing to protect her sensitive bare skin from his dull, scribbling nails raking up and down this one armpit.

           “Want me to stop?” Nino asked, wanting to see what she would do. She responded by glaring daggers at him, though due to the current situation, these daggers were more like pencils, not very dangerous, but still hurts a little if stabbed by one.

           “Sure,” Was all Alya could say. She wouldn’t beg for him to stop, not wanting to concede. She could take it, but she wouldn’t mind at all if Nino was bored and wanted to stop. This, however, was definitely not the case.

           “That wasn’t very convincing!” Nino let out a laugh as he wore a goofy grin. “If you want me to stop, you have to say, ‘Yes, Nino the Great and Wonderful, please stop tickling me!’”

           “Never,” Alya exclaimed, then let out a shriek as he suddenly attacked her other armpit. The pads of her fingers teased the shaved skin, the sensitivity of this armpit higher than the last thanks to the long anticipation Alya had to endure. She knew it was coming, but still could not brace herself for it.

           “Well, that’s no fun,” Nino pouted, sticking out his lower lip ever so slightly. His fingers stilled for a moment, contemplating his next move. “Hm…how can I make you beg for mercy?”

           “You can’t,” Alya chided, stretching her fingers as she breathed heavily, glad to have fresh air circulating through her lungs once more. “You can’t do anything to make me beg.”

           “Is that a challenge?” Nino sneered, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, I accept that challenge.”

           Sucking in as much air as she could in anticipation, Alya tightened all her muscles and clenched her fists once again. Her heels dug back into the bench, ready to be a physical support in this endeavor.

           “Hm…” Nino poked the tip of his tongue out, contemplating his next move. Her armpits were a good spot, but she would probably expect that. He could sit on her arms and attack both at once, but that wouldn’t give him any other options for tickling her, except for her neck. Her neck seemed promising, but for some reason, he just felt something was telling him not to, like something in his brain nudging him another way.

           He glanced down at her stomach, a very easy spot for him to reach in this position, and one she couldn’t defend whatsoever even if she tried.

           “Does this tickle?” Nino asked as he reached down as if to tickle her armpit, but then withdrew his hand quickly and went for her belly.

           “Yes!” Alya let out a snort after a shrill scream, her heels pounding against the bench. Nino’s hand teased at the softer skin from her hips to right below her naval, poking at just the right spots to make her cackle and throw her head from side to side. “It tickles so much!”

           Nino was shocked by how toned her stomach was, the faint outline of abs could be felt through her shirt. 

            “Have you been working out?” Nino admired her belly, tracing his fingers over the muscles. “I’m a bit jealous. Maybe we can work out together. But oh well, it sure isn’t stopping you from being super ticklish!”

            “Shut up!”

           “Are you going to beg me to stop?” Nino asked, his nails now skittering over an overly sensitive spot just beneath the left side of her rib cage.

           “Never,” Alya repeated, her hands hurting just a bit from how tight she was straining her fists. It just tickled so much; her belly being one of her worst spots. That and… “No!”

           “Aw, does Alya have a ticklish little belly button?” Nino cooed, single finger wiggling in her belly button like a worm wriggling around on a fishing hook. Alya’s laughter was loud, likely heard by all who resided in Paris. She flailed her legs, not able to steady or ground herself any longer, her heels bashing the wooden boards beneath her. Her hips bounced as she thrashed and turned, trying to get her wrists free without hurting him, but Nino wouldn’t let go. She still knew she could get free, but she didn’t want to use all of her newfound strength, not wanting him to know that she was as strong as a heroine now.

           “It’s so ticklish. It’s so cute!” Nino’s voice was cutesy, adorable, as if he was talking to a puppy. As his index finger swirled around in her navel, his other fingers scratched at her tummy, Alya letting out a howl of ticklish mirth and agony. “How can such a tiny little thing be so ticklish?”

           “Shut up!” Alya let out another snort as she shot her retort.

           “You want me to stop?”

           “I’m not begging.”

           “Fine,” Nino grinned, devious plan forming in his mind. Without any hesitation, Nino let go of Alya’s wrists and thrust his hand down under her arm and began to tickle her armpit at the same time as her belly was being obliterated.

           “Stop!” She finally let out, bringing her arms down, trapping his hand in her armpit.

           “I will only stop if you say the magic words,” Nino laughed, dipping his middle finger into her belly button to help his index finger. Letting out another few snorts, Alya shook her head.

           “No,” Alya repeated over and over, smacking his chest, though not very hard. “Stop.”

           “Nah,” Nino let out a chuckle as he bent over, his fingers on her belly stopping momentarily to lift her shirt up to the bottom of her ribs. Sucking in the deepest of breaths, Nino planted his lips onto the skin around her belly button and blew the largest raspberry he could.

           “Mercy!” Alya tapped her fingers against the bench, tapping out.

           “You’re welcome,” Nino winked, thinking his pun was pretty funny. Alya simply responded with a half assed glare. He pulled his hands and face away from her body and looked over her, his head tilted a bit to the side. “Are you okay?”

           “Yeah,” Alya said as she gasped in more air, her lungs trying to catch up from the lack of oxygen she has had for the last half hour or so, or at least she thinks it was that long. Her current perception of time was definitely a bit messed up. “That was a lot.”

           “Sorry,” Nino let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted himself off her, standing up next to her. “I guess I went a little overboard.”

           “You think?” Alya smacked him with the back of her hand, finally feeling like she had the strength to sit back up. She rotated around to face him and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to get you back, Nino. Mark my words.”

           “I’ll remember,” Nino winked, but he didn’t remember for that long.

**

           “You’re so mean!” Nino cackled, his head thrown back, his armpits being tickled by Alya, who was sitting behind him, her legs crossed, wrapped around his torso.

           “This is revenge, Nino,” Alya teased, quickly blowing a raspberry against his neck, eliciting a loud laugh.

           “It tickles so much,” Nino squeaked, wiggling around, but despite being the superhero, Carapace, he is not nearly as strong as Alya. She has been in the game for much longer, which he had just learned and was amazed that she didn’t literally kill him when he last tickled her. He was incredibly fortunate, but here he was, getting the worst punishment of his life.

           “That’s the point, Nino,” Alya grinned, slipped her left hand down and reached forward, grabbing at his knee, and squeezed.

           “Stop!” Nino yelled, his laughter louder than ever. “It tickled too much!”

           “Well, maybe you should have thought about that when you tickled me first.”

           “That was months ago,” Nino wheezed, too ticklish for his own good. While Alya had, quite possibly, the most ticklish belly button in the whole world, Nino was definitely more ticklish overall. Every inch of his body was ticklish, and his knees were quite bad.

           “Well, I like to hold grudges,” Alya gave a villainous laugh, now attacking his ribs and thighs.

           “I give, I give!” Nino let out a snort, unable to take any more tickling. “It’s too ticklish!”

           “Say that I am the best tickler in the world.”

           “Alya is the best tickler in the world,” Nino repeated, though thought about being snide, though thought against it. He really couldn’t take much more.

           “Good,” Alya said, withdrawing her body from his and stretched. “I think we’re pretty even now. Don’t you?”

           “Definitely,” Nino replied, unable to shake the phantom tickles he still felt. “We’re even.”