#the pose makes more sense once you realize she's turned away. but its still a bit wacky

[nectarblood]

just noticed thiollier's wearing an amulet(?) of st trina :o it's very similar in style to the carving on the hilt of trinas sword!

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[hirsheyskisses]

It Takes Two. #01

Trouble at Sea

RORONOA ZORO x READER

Prev. | Next.

“What do you mean, broken?” Usopp came up last, having been on the opposite side of the ship. You stared at Nami, wide-eyed. So that confirms the nagging feeling I’ve had, you realized. I can’t sense any islands! Not even a rock above the sea.

“I mean, its not locking onto any island! That should be impossible.”

Instantly, you could feel Zoro’s eyes on you. Usopp’s gaze followed his, and you puffed your feathers indignantly. “Don’t look at me like that. In case you haven’t realized, I've been in sight of at least one of you my entire time on this ship.” Usopp seemed satisfied by that answer, though Zoro never stopped glaring. Sanji scoffed and half shoved Zoro, “stop staring at the lady like that! Her defense is flawless.”

“Damn cook! She’s the only suspect that could’ve broken it.”

“How do we know you didn’t break it, huh?! Lumbering about, I bet you broke it.”

“The hell did’ya say?!”

“You heard me!”

“Enough, both of you!” Nami shouted, her fist connecting with both of their heads and sending them on their ass.

Yikes. That must’ve hurt-

Luffy tilted his head and asked, “is there any way to reset it?” “I.. I don’t know. We’d need to reach an island for it to re-set. But, it set on the last island..”

Nami was staring at it, and you closed your eyes.

“I can try and help,” you finally said, moving closer to Nami. “If you remember earlier, I said I can usually - essentially, lock on to islands. The chances of me sensing them before the Logue Pose is high. I just won’t be able to tell specifics of where we’re going.”

Nami stared at you, “you’d do that?” “I will.”

“Oh, thank you!” She threw her arms around you, and you awkwardly stood before allowing your wings to wrap around her, tail twitching nervously. “I’ll do my best- do you mind if I take the lookout? The higher I am, the better.”

“Awesome!” Luffy added, throwing his arms in the air. Chopper still looked nervous, and Usopp was the same. “Are you sure you can do it? I think I’m catching we need a new logue pose disease-” You snorted, shaking your head in amusement, “my blood will prove far more reliable than a piece of technology. It could just be an old logue pose.” You unwrapped your wings from Nami as she pulled away, though still stressed- you couldn’t blame her there. You were nervous too, but you couldn’t vocalize it quite yet. It wasn’t worth worrying the crew when you may just be having a range problem.

“You should get some rest,” Nami advised, “and take over in the morning.” Raising a hand, you shook your head. “I’ve slept for a week. I’ll be fine until tomorrow night.” Luffy snickered, with Chopper perking up, “don’t over-do it! You’re still injured.” “I’ll be sitting still. Thanks for your concern, Doc.”

. . .

Which led you to sitting up in the lookout. It was cramped, not that you minded. You’d been up for about two hours, watching as the sky slowly blushed a gentle pink as the sun began to greet your side of the world. We’ve been sailing for hours, and still.. There hasn’t been a bird in sight. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen many fish, either.

Part of you was beginning to feel guilty. It wasn’t like you could help it- if there was no land, there was none. You were unaware of Viserons had a range limit of how far away they could sense land, but still.

“Anything new?”

“GA- damn it, make some noise!”

You yelped, having turned around with such speed you almost toppled over, hand covering your heart once more. The swordsman had climbed up to the lookout, making room for himself to sit across from you. “You seriously need some more situational awareness.” Zoro replied, unable to hide the grin that spread across his face. “I was focused!” “So you said last time. Doesn’t answer my question.”

“...No. There’s nothing new. I’m putting a bell on your happy ass.”

Zoro released what you thought was a mix of a sigh and amused snort, shaking his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be better than a Logue Pose?” “I am! In case you’ve noticed, neither of us are working. So in turn, I am neither worse nor better than it, now.”

“Yuh-huh.” The swordsman adjusted himself and you instinctively drew as far away from him as you could in the cramped look-out. He eyed you, and, maybe for his own amusement, jolted as though he was going to move closer. You shrank further, wings tucking closer as your feather tufts pinned to the side of your head.

“Personal bubble, dude!” “Stop being so jumpy. If I was gonna stab ya, it would’ve been earlier.”

That reminds you-

“Why do you carry three swords?”

“To fight with. Obviously.”

“Obviously, but why three? It doesn’t look like you have three hands.”

“I carry one in my mouth.” As if to prove a point, he drew the white one, and plopped it in his mouth. Your jaw gaped for a moment, closing and opening your mouth to picture carrying the weight of a sword during a fight. “......Why though?! You’ve gotta have some crazy jaw strength.”

His lips tugged into a smirk, as he removed it from his mouth, “three swords style. I could teach ya.”

You shook your head, tail curling in amusement. “Pass, I'd rather not break my fangs or my jaw.”

“Your loss.”

“I’d rather learn the one-hand sword style. Not that it’d work well with how I fight.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “How do you fight?”

“With bow and specialized arrows. Viserons, and the locals from Aero-Mountain, fight in the air. We can’t carry too much weight into battle.

“My personal favorite arrows are the explosives and poison gas.” “That’s dirty.” You snickered, “i couldn’t care less. In a real fight, its my life or theirs. There’s also water arrows, though those don’t get used often.. They were developed to battle devil-fruit users. But seeing as no sailors have reached our island for so long.. Well, Ice comes in handy more than water does.”

Zoro nodded, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. You watched as his eyes closed, his breathing becoming increasingly steadier until you were certain he’d fallen asleep. How care free, you thought, allowing your eyes to close as well. Not to sleep, but rather to ensure focus. You’d been up here for hours, yet not a single island had come to your senses. What could possibly be going wrong?! Surely either me or the Pose would’ve long since locked onto something! Its starting to seriously stress me out. Especially since we’ve been moving..

Wait.

“Wait-”

You jolted up, causing Zoro to jolt awake as well, “whaddya doin?!” but you didn’t stop to answer, instead throwing yourself off the lookout, your wings snapping open to catch you, powerful movements keeping you steady.

“Hey, Chopper said you shouldn’t be flying- get down!”

“There’s no wind. We haven’t moved for hours!”

You weren’t fighting the wind, the mast and sails weren’t moving, not even the water had waves! Zoro stared at you for a minute before it clicked in his head, and you allowed yourself to drop to the ground.

“Nami!”

You shouted, running towards the resting rooms, and knocked frantically on the door. “Huh? What’s upp..” Her voice was groggy from sleep, and part of you felt bad for waking her, you blurted, “we haven’t been moving for hours! There’s no wind! I don’t think there’s any current, either!”

“WHAT?!”

Her screech was likely to wake all the others, and she threw open her door, looking like a hot mess. “I didn’t even stop to think about it until I realized how long we’ve been on the water.”

“That doesn’t explain why you threw yourself out of the lookout.” Zoro grumbled, and you rolled your eyes, “So i could see for myself if there was any wind."

"Couldn't ya have just.. yaknow." He stuck a finger in the air and you scoffed, "that ways no fun."

"But it's practical."

"Oh put a sock in it, mosshead."

"The hell ya say, feathers?!"

"Knock it off, both of you! This is serious!" Nami interjected, rushing out to look at the sails, and then at the water. Sensing what she wanted to do, you jumped over the railing, flying close enough to the water and stuck your hand in. There was no current.

"Not a thing," you reported, coming to land on the railing.

"How could I have not noticed.." "You were asleep, that's how. If anything, blame me and zoro. We were the ones awake."

"Leave me outta this!"

"Fair point, you did fall asleep."

Zoro clenched his teeth, leaving you snickering, but the amusement didn't last long. Nami had run back into the map room, and you followed suit.

"It doesn't make any sense.. we shouldn't be anywhere near the calm belt!"

"Thats right. Plus, if this was the calm belt.. we'd have been eaten by monsters. A while ago."

You shrugged your shoulders, and could feel Nami relax just a bit. Zoro hadn't followed you guys: you assumed he figured the two of you had it. "...what other reasons could there be for the lack of life?" You questioned, Leaning over the table to stare closer at her maps. Looking at it now, her maps were elaborate: not a single space left unmarked. Nami pinched the bridge of her nose, and you sighed.

"Somethings just not right. Should be sensing- anything. But there's nothing."

"I just don't know.."

"So let me fly out there."

You let your wings spread, "let me get some distance. If I fly atleast half a days travel from the ship, I'm bound to find something."

Nami looked up and, shook her head. "I can't let you do that.. Chopper said you shouldn't be flying. You shouldn't mess up your back an-" "I'll be fine. I'm a Viseron. We were made for this." You cut her off, "and I could even bring Chopper or someone else with me. Assuming you have a board or something that'll float, attach a rope to me and I can essentially be a snow dog, except in the skies."

"That sounds cool!"

You recognized Luffy's voice, and you both turned your heads to see the crew standing at the door.

"I filled them in on what was going on," Zoro explained, Chopper on his shoulder, "you can't do that! You'll strain your wings and back too much!"

Crossing your arms you stared at Chopper, eyes narrowing. "You're cute and all, but you can't judge what my body can take. I feel my body much better than you can. That being said, I am grateful for your concern." Chopper opened his mouth and this time,Zoro covered it. "She's made up her mind. However.."

"That person you said you'll bring? It's me."

Which leads you here. A rope tightened around your waist, attached to a small row boat- well, actually, it could hardly be called a boat.. more like a glorified, giant wooden bowl, with Zoro sat in it. He kept trying to row, which threw off your flying, but he was just trying to help.

You didn't really care who went, but with all of them arguing, and Nami growing increasingly more annoyed, you stated Zoro would be the one to come. He was quiet, anyways.

Chopper would've been lighter, but he was a worrier: Sanji was creepy with his.. weird fascination with women, Luffy would be a hassle, and too much of a risk with a devil fruit, and it seemed Nami and Usopp were too scared.

So you'd flown in silence for a few hours. The Sunny had long since grown out of view. Your back was beginning to feel strained, but you weren't ready to stop.

"Hey, Feathers."

Zoro spoke up, and making sure there was no slack to the rope, you flew closer, just above his head. "Yeah?"

"What's it like? Flying."

You thought a moment, before shrugging. "It's natural.. fun, but .. natural." "Huh. Why arent your wings further up?"

Ouch. So the stereotype wings are a thing.

You chuckled. "I've heard most people think the wings should grow from our shoulders." Your wings actually rested in your mid back. You had custom made shirts that doubled as thin body armor. "Men usually have them a bit higher, since they tend to be more top heavy. Besides defects, wings are always below the shoulders."

He seemed confused, but didn't question it further. "..didn't answer what it's like."

"Oh- .. think of it like, swimming, but in the air, and less holding you back. Until you get really high up, there isn't any wild pressure. It's.. Freeing." You responded. There wasn't really any answer to how it felt, and Zoro seemed satisfied.

"My turn to ask. Why did you come? Is it because you don't trust me to come back?"

That caught the swordsman off guard. He placed his hand on the hilt of the white sword, staring up at you.

"Something like that. You could've very easily been faking injury. ..speaking of, get on the boat. You've been flying for hours, take a damn break." He gestured to the boat, which would put you in another cramped area with the man. "Pass. I'm sure you've guessed by the amount of times I've said this, but I'm a Viseron. Built for flight."

He raised an eyebrow, and reached for the rope. "Don't you d-" and he tugged it, pulling you down until you were forced to land.

Tail twitching back and fourth out of annoyance, you crossed your arms. "So you accuse me of faking an injury, and then insist on resting because of said injury? Logic 101."

Zoro laughed, shaking his head. "Not trusting you doesn't mean you need to suffer because of it."

"How chivalrous." Your feather tufts pricked. A soft groan was coming from the ocean. "..hey? Swordsman. You hear that?"

"It's Zoro. And.. yeah, now that you mention it, I do." He stood up, and your wings slowly spread, ready to take flight. "It's coming from above the water but.. I don't see anything."

You whispered, eyes darting back and fourth. Zoro nodded in agreement, drawing two of his swords. You felt vulnerable not having a real weapon, besides the sharpness of your wings.

Another minute of you both completely frozen, and then..

A ship. Coming out of the middle of nowhere, as if a hole had ripped open in the sky to let it through.

"What a big ship!"

"...shit. The Marines!"

[cutegirlmayra]

Prompt: The latest battle with eggman send Amy and Sonic deep into the wilderness. Communicators broken, trackers busted, and Sonic breaks a leg leaving Amy to find them food, shelter and protect Sonic. While they rest Amy asks Sonic questions about their relationship that she's always wanted to know but too scared to ask. They talk but are discovered and Amy has to fend off the robot until Tails finds them. After they're saved Sonic has a new appreciation for Amy and is happy she's in his life.

Prompts are on shutdown EVERYWHERE, posting on my other writing sites DOES NOT mean you get your prompt done XD It’s only through here, on Tumblr, when the GRAND REOPENING is announced, which it is NOT. Thank you, lovely Cuties~ I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I’m trying to finish Fanfiction TAT

Prompt:

A spinning, spiky blue ball revs itself up in the air at a high-pitched frequency, dropping down almost with an intense sense of gracefulness as it tears seamlessly through Eggman’s latest doom’s day device.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!” Eggman grips his head with both his massive, puffy gloves and reels his head back, “I won’t let you get away with this! Not this time, Hedgehog!” Stomping around his large ship, he slams his hand on a button which triggers a lever he pulls down, thus activating a flipping panel on the ground that looks like a car’s gas pedal which he stomps on, and in turn lowers a dangling line above his head with a triangular grip that is meant to be tugged.

Still fuming, grinding his teeth against each other, he growls and reaches up like a train conductor and pulls it, “Take this! You spiny little cretiiiinnn!!!”

With a howling roar, spit flying from his agape mouth, Eggman’s ship lowered the tip of its nose, making the haul of its stomach ‘chin-dip’ and slam down to the ground.

Sonic, still well-within the confines shredding through the ship’s interior, suddenly found his once-smooth aerial dive now wonkily swerving before turning horizontal.

As Eggman laughed, Sonic’s spin ball started creating heat and pressure… Sonic didn’t stop the rotation, but soon was slowly breaking through the hard metal one more and popped out of a hallway, moving now like a spinning-top on his side.

Eggman’s face dropped, “WHHHAATT???!!!” He slammed his hands down, looking with horror and shock at the cameras and following the image as he sweated in fear.

The Cameras zoomed in, and it showed Sonic using a single toe, perfectly placed on the tip of his foot, to keep himself spinning at such high speeds while turned on his side.

“Curse that infernal-!” Eggman smushed his face with gripping fingers, before a robot tugged on his coat and made him look down, “Hmm?” He saw the robot pull out a crowbar, and point to it.

Eggman blinked twice… before smirking wickedly to him…

When Sonic burst through the doors of the control room, balancing out his spinning top self and wobbling to try and locate what to shred into next, the tiny robot by the side of the doors, hiding from sight, swung and hit his spinning leg.

There was a crack and Sonic unspun with a dramatic pose of spiraling in the air, his eyes squinted shut in pain before Tails’s X-Tornado dived and shot through the window, making air burst into the space and–as most vacuums do–thrust Sonic out of the room and be dragged by the sky out into the open space.

“Grr… Trying to get away that easily, eh?” Thinking he had the upper hand now, even though he was kneeling on the ground and having a hand bring down his goggles from the rushing wind, Eggman still tried to sound cocky and confident.

“You there!” He pointed to the robot who was on the ground now, his hands under him, surprised that plan actually worked and jolted with a spark at being addressed, turning to his commander and sovereign Eggman. “Don’t just lay about!” He swiped his arm out, “Do something!!!”

Realizing the Doctor was putting everything onto his tiny computerized brain’s hand to hatch another genius but simple idea, the robot waddled over a bit awkwardly to the cabinet.

Delicately, he opened it and flinched at the door swinging open, then pulled tenderly out a bazooka.

“Oh, I forgot we had one of those…” Eggman’s face looked a little like a man having forgotten where he put his keys.

Cocking it, the little metal and cylinder soldier began to try and walk towards the window before the wind began to pull him out as well.

His tiny little tin legs wiggled vigorously, but his firm grip on the large firepower he was wielding didn’t budge while he spun slowly during the drop into the air.

“TINY TIMMM!!!!” Eggman cried out, holding a hand out to him, “YOU BETTER BLAST HIM WHILE YOU’RE OUT THEEERREEE!!! This isn’t a vacation, you know! You’re still on duty!!!” He gripped that hand into a fist, showing that he was giving an order, not a moment of compassion.

The Robot, having oily tears in their eyes, realized that Eggman just gave him a name.

Even though the irony of breaking Sonic’s leg, and the christmas season didn’t quite register with the robotic soldier, he took that as a sign of promotion into Eggman’s steely, black heart and was determined to not fail him.

He turned his body toward looking to the earth, and watching to see where Sonic landed…

“Soooniiiccc!!!” Tails cried out, turning around the plane but Eggman was sure to grab at the controls and fire at him, making Tails unable to pursue Sonic’s descent. “Err..!” He squinted an eye, having to pull up. “I can’t reach him!”

“What?” Knuckles, on his communicator, looked down at it as Amy covered her mouth in alarm. “What do you mean..?” His eyes shook a second and looked up with Amy, as they each scanned the skies…

Amy then gasped, “Look!” She pointed one hand out towards the flaming blue speck in the sky, falling towards the jungle-like forest, and another on Knuckles’s shoulder to gain his attention to the detail.

“Grr..!!! That lousy-!” Knuckles shook a fist, but pulled Amy up over his head.

“W-Wah-Whaaa!!!” Amy shook out her arms, “K-Knuckles!” She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but suddenly feeling like he was going to throw her, she summoned her Piko-Piko Hammer.

“Grrr… I can’t fly to him in time! You’ll have to reach him on your owwwnnnn…!!!” Just as her instincts had foretold, he launched her through the air and she curled, her little red and white-trimmed dressing making it look like a badminton ball flapped wildly as she spun while still keeping her dress on.

Her hammer rotated so profusely, that as her own spinball hit against the trees, bounced off the ground, or slammed against rock, it kept her momentum moving and propelling her ever closer to the falling Sonic.

Finally, soaring up with one final, hard hit to the ground, she unspun and reached for Sonic… noticing the pain in his face and braving through the flames of his burning body to catch him before a deadly fate.

She landed on a tree’s branch, but it fell and they both started to fall painfully through scratching twigs and leaves.

When Amy woke up… snow had begun to fall in the forest, and her little nose wiggled a second before her mouth wound-up twice and sneezed, pushing the small flake off.

“Emm… S-Sonic?” She rubbed her head, slowly getting herself onto her rear and sitting somewhat more upright. “That was a rough landing…” She groaned through the aches, but then gasped when she remembered, “Sonic!!!” She started to grip and throw up the leaves below her, searching frantically for him.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face, gritting her teeth as her eyes shook in loving worry, ‘His leg was just dangling kinda weirdly in the air, just then… Was it injured?’ She kept calling his name… to no avail.

Her chest fell and rose with cold air quickly icing her resolve, stinging at her heart already pumping with the warm adrenaline to save the man she called hero… whom she loved, dearly.

“SOOONIIICC!!!” She finally let out a single, elongated note of his familiar name…

Silence… the snowy forest…

Her breaths clung to the air like hot mist, pocketing that space before disappearing as quickly as blowing a bubble to pop. Scrambling, she got up to locate her communicator.

Pieces of the broken device were pulled out and held up to her face, making her look down as though her heart had sucken to that cold ground as well…

“No… Did I not…” Her shoulders bounced, tears unable to remain corralled in the pools of her lower eyelids. “Did I not make it in time..?”

Her hand shook with that open thought, as the pieces of metal slipped through her fingers, falling to the light snowy patches below her feet.

“Sonic…” she gripped her fists and felt herself faltering in being able to remain upright, hunching over. “Sonic…” She felt she was at blame, and slunk to her knees, freezing her even further to what could be the harsh reality of the situation…

“No… I won’t believe it.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “I… I gotta keep looking for Sonic..!” She bit her words as though to hold them fast to her heart, “Sonic…” She muttered once more, “Soooniiiccc!!” She reared herself up and began to charge about the area, searching everywhere, leaving no square foot unmarked by her own shoe’s print.

She could hear the sky battle above her head, and looked to see that Tails was still engaged with the now, downwards angle of the Eggman fleet’s main air-cruiser.

Her eyes couldn’t help but tremble, her body leaning away before her hands flung up and tightened around each arm. “I can’t… I gotta keep looking for him.” Her lips felt chapped and the cold only reminded her of the drying of her tears… before she quickly aboutfaced to keep looking for him.

Walking up a hill, treading through its piles of snow, she looked up to see the sky was now blanketed in the smoke of Eggman’s senseless war. “Guess I can’t rely on Tails or Eggman as a point-marker now.” She blinked through the chill of the wind, and sighed as she tried to figure out where she hadn’t looked.

“Could he have really been tossed from me so far..? OFFPH!” Tripping over some blue grass, she had scraped her knee and got up, shaking her head from having snow blanket it for a moment-

Blue… Grass?

Her eyes widened and she lifted her leg to see the gentle sway of the blue quills, just the tip sticking out from beneath the snow.

“SOONIICC!!!” Her heart about leaped out through her flailing to get back up, tugging on the quill and realizing it was fully stuck under the snow. She began to dig like her life depended on it, and… to a degree, he was.

“Sonic, breath! Speak! Wiggle! Do… something!” She tried to speak out before finally getting an arm and exclaiming loudly in surprised triumphant that she had gotten to him.

She tugged and began to pull him out, but he felt like dead weight.

Panic lit up her senses and now, she couldn’t feel the cold, but hoisted him up onto her back and began to run down the hill, hurrying to where they had last been, finding an open tree’s roots there and finding it a good, hollow den to at least try and wake Sonic up in.

Using the fallen leaves, she constructed a small bed for him, laying him down as saw that one of his legs fully detached from the bone.

She covered her mouth, “Oh no…” The pain must have knocked him out… he was probably passed out from the wind blasting by him on his fall anyway…

She gently touched the burnt ends of his quills and fur… Her eyes bunching up as though unable to see him in such a state.

“Oh, Sonic…” She brought his head up and tried to warm him, blowing lightly warm air out of her throat to his face.

“Please, Sonic… You have to at least show me you’ll be alright…”

After a while, Sonic woke up to find his leg was perfectly straightened by two twigs, and someone had put it back in it’s socket… “Ah… Glad I was asleep for that.” He twitched at the pain but tried to move to turn around. However, it was too much for the poor hedgehog, having endured firepower beyond normal mortal means, he couldn’t possibly stand for the fiery pain of a severely broken leg.

“Gahh…” He tried to lean up, “Who… Where am I?” He noticed a fire was burning, and looked strangely at the comforting glow, realizing he wasn’t alone.

“Tails?” He first questioned the thought, ‘But then… he’d just take me back in the X-Tornado… I’d be having warm soup by now…’ He squinted one eye down and finally was sitting upright, being careful to not move the lame leg, “Knuckles?” It was reasonable, but that echidna wouldn’t be foraging for berries or anything. He’d imagine Knuckles would have sat by the fire, the earth too hard to dig through during the winter seasons…

So that meant…

“Amy?” He raised an eyebrow, as though second-guessing that before hearing a bright voice exclaim in joy at hearing her name being called.

“Oh! Sonic! You’re awake!”

Waiting a moment, he smiled as Amy came rushing in, holding more firewood that she quickly just dumped to the side, some catching fire but she didn’t care at the moment. “SOONIICC!!! I was so worried about you!” she hugged him which made him have to hold back a cry, his banded leg with two sticks keeping it from twisting and turning further only moved slightly from Amy’s tackling hug.

She was warm, though… and her voice filled him with ease.

He hugged her back, “Thank you.” He calmly stated, “But what happened?” He looked to her face, then outside to the rain of explosions that sounded in the blurry, clouded sky… “Is that… smoke?”

“Em.” Amy nodded, letting him go and tilting her body in the same direction as the sounds, “The communicator broke on our fall, I don’t know how long Tails has been fighting in the air, but I’m pretty sure Eggman and our friends have lost sight of where he landed.” She lowered her shoulders a bit, then rotated one around to stretch it. “Hoo…”

“Amy? You okay?” He noticed she looked a little worse for wear as well, “You’re stone cold to the touch.” He placed a glove to her arm before reflexing off of it, then placing it there again. “How long were you out there..?”

She smiled, glad he couldn’t recollect how close to death he was while in the cold of the soggy snow he was buried under moments before.

“It’s nothing~” She chimed, “I’m a tough girl, as well as cute, after all!” She put her hands to the sides of her cheeks, trying to get him to not worry about her so much.

“I think we should probably move when the smoke rolls out… or when the gunfire finally stops.” She admitted, looking to the skies again and dropping her hands to her knees.

Sonic later asked her about how she got to him, and she explained the whole story… eeexcept the part about him almost suffocating under snow.

They talked and ate some of the wild onion grass she had collected, finding not a scrap left on the trees or bushes, figuring the other little critters had stored up for the coming winter anyway.

Not really liking the taste of it, Sonic just tried to see if he could hop on one leg, but Amy refused to let him go out to fight again.

Reluctantly, Sonic decided it was only polite to thank his brave rescuer by waiting it out.

But all the while… they worried about their friends well-beings… as the canons kept going off relentlessly.

“... You think they’re winning?” Amy asked, “Or… Eggman is at least… missing?” She flinched as a large blast seemed to hit the ground a couple long miles away from them.

Sonic, with his hands behind his head, and a blade of onion grass sticking out of his mouth, took a frustrated breath in and sighed out just as quickly. “We can’t hide out here forever, Amy… My leg isn’t gonna heal that quickly.” He tried to reason with her, and she knew that was probably right… but…

“Just… a little longer… let’s believe in Tails and Knuckles… to solve this on their own, okay?” She looked back with a forced smile, her hand gripping her heart. “Seeing you like this… it makes me… unable to let you go… right now.” She admitted, lowering her head and not having the courage to look at him in shame.

He eyed her with a turn of his gaze, not moving his head, before closing his eyes and not saying anything more about it.

The wind howled… before a foot fall was heard and Amy perked up, her ears twitched and she rushed out from the intertwined roots, “Knuckles!?” She exclaimed, more than expecting to see he had found them… before…

“... Sonic! Roll! Now!” She threw herself back to him as he looked to see a large missile fired into the hole.

Crying out in pain, he rolled as the blast sent the two flying to the back of the hollow tree.

Amy picked up Sonic’s spiky spinball, “Don’t uncurl! Whatever you do!” She cried out, as Sonic also–through immense pain–called her name but she was already grabbing a stick from the fire, the rest of the roots on fire from the blast anyway, and charged out of the large space.

She gasped as she noticed a small Eggman Robot, cocking the bazooka which had smoke slithering out of its mouth.

“You…” Amy’s eyes narrowed, her anger giving her the needed heat throughout her body, ready to fight.

“He’s already injured! Leave us alone!” She shouted out, but Sonic couldn’t help and voice his concerns as well.

“Amy! Your back!” She could feel something cool drip down in different areas from her exposed back… but it was already frostbitten and she didn’t dare think about what he was referring to.

“I’m fine. You just stay put and in your ball, Sonic.” She breathed through the pain that was now burning from her back.

However… this sting was like when she first lost Sonic, it moved her forward, adrenaline coursing through her like Sonic moving through a winding course.

Amy set Sonic down, “Amy!” he cried out again, moving in wobbly attempts to ‘roll’ after her as she stepped up to bat.

“It’s okay, I’m your strength too, Sonic!” She pulled the hammer up behind her shoulders, “Ready…” she narrowed her eyes, skidding a foot forward as though truly a baseball pro up for bat.

Sonic tilted his rolled body against her other, back leg, “Amy…” He couldn’t argue with that.

“... Aren’t I..?”

Uncurling, Sonic groaned out as the leg–the wooden beams now snapped and bent–was forced back into a straight position. His own problems meant nothing to him right now, though.

He looked up at Amy, seeing the wavering belief in her eyes, remembering that for a moment… she may have been the ultimate end for Sonic The Hedgehog…

Her memory went back to having no sign of him… and that haunted her… Was she really able to be there for Sonic… the way he was always there for her?

A shadow rose to meet her own on the ground, lightly shaded, as the clouds of smog were starting to clear out.

She gasped, looking down to see Sonic’s silhouette was on one leg, his arms then trailing up to her own around her hammer.

She could feel the warm and comforting breath he spoke by her cheek, telling her to wait on his signal.

The robot fumbled a little getting the bazooka back in order, but then went to fire.

“... Now.” Sonic’s voice was light, but his grip held stronger around her hand.

She swung with everything she had while Sonic fell back to the ground, unable to hold himself up much longer due to the crippling pain.

The missile fired but Amy heard Sonic say, “Now let go!!!!” In a ripping sound that shredded through her heartstrings… realizing how much he was suffering, but how that simple act showed her that he did trust in his friends–especially her in this moment–to get through it.

She let the hammer go and balanced herself, her dress spinning to one side of her body before the hammer’s top plugged and jammed itself into the firing bazooka.

The Robot made computerized noises of horror before exploding along with the gun.

Sonic and Amy fell by each other’s side in the blast, and Amy gripped onto Sonic.

In the cold of falling snow… the two breathed through great pain…

Shared pain… as Sonic’s and Amy’s eyes looked up to each other’s… and a smile greater than pain emerged upon both their faces.

“We… erk… did it.” Amy’s back jerked from the tortuous mix of frost and burn mingling upon its bare skin…

“No, Amy.” Sonic also couldn’t keep both eyes opened, but squinted one. His charming smile never faded though, “You did it… You’ve always got my back.” He gritted his teeth, but tried to make it look like a bright smile. “Thank you… again… A-Amy…”

Knuckles soon found them, Tails flew them home, and they ended up resting on opposite couches from each other.

While she read the insisted book about King Arther, the one Sonic kept trying to convince her had happened to him being pulled into it, making him miss one of their planned dates, he also reached over and held her hand, pretending to fall asleep.

She smiled as she read more of the book… wondering all the while…

“... Sonic?”

She knew he wouldn’t answer.

“If I am your strength… why do I feel like… I’m not?” She put the book down over her chest, turning to the couch’s spine to avoid looking over to him. “If I was your strength… I wouldn’t have shut you into that tree hole den… I would have trusted that I could get you out of there… carry you to safety, and reunite with Tails and Knuckles again to save the day.”

While she spoke, Sonic pretended to be asleep, but listened closely.

“... Then… When you braved the pain of your leg to stand beside me..? I knew then… that while you were down, so was my strength.” She teared up, “But when you got up…” Her voice began to wane and take on a higher tune, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her glove. Her lips trembled, but she continued, “I… I need you more than I think you need me, Sonic… And that… That worries me.” She sniffled, “Cause… Cause what if I’m needy? What if… without you… I’m nothing short of a useless girl?”

Sonic made a loud snore, then. It cut her off as she said ‘useless’.

She turned to see his head straight up at the ceiling, his mouth open wide,... “Ammmy…” He lightly spoke, as though asleep. “Ammmyyy…” His hand acted as though reaching for her hand, but it was already there…

That’s when she noticed, her grip on his hand had slipped somewhat, and she held it tightly but gently once more.

Sonic’s breathing went back to normal… and Amy smiled till her cheeks hurt.

“Oh, Sonic…” She giggled through her light tears and wiped them all away this time. “Even if I don’t understand what strength I give you… Just knowing… that together, we’re stronger? That’s enough for me… Cause right now, you getting better is all I care about.” She sighed and went back to the book.

She gasped when she looked at her hand and saw Sonic had tugged it closer.

“A-ah… Ow, ow, Sonic!” He was dragging her off the other couch. “Sonic! Ow! I’ll fall!”

He started to turn, as though in his sleep, snoring again and making Amy stumble out of the couch as he wrapped her arm around his waist.

She pouted a cute blush, but then sighed, “I know you’re not asleep, silly… Your actual snore is totally different.” She gave in, moving her bandaged self to lift up his head and place him on her lap, patting his shoulder and humming a tune.

Sonic closed his mouth, the jig was up, and he just smiled as she tried to actually lull him to sleep.

Though he had to let go of her hand for her to do that, he reached under his body to get at the hand that was resting just by his neck… and she smiled at how sweet that was…

“... You are my strength, Sonic.” She leaned down, continuing to hum.

When she had actually fallen to sleep, Sonic placed her laying on the couch he was momentarily on, replacing her, and before hopping to the other one, placed a hand on her head and lightly whispered, “You’re more than my strength, Amy… You're my whole heart, entirely.”

In the morning, Amy woke up to find Tails in a tissy, worried sick as Sonic had somehow miraculous snuck out of his workshop home and was nowhere to be found.

A moment of panic did course through Amy, before thinking to herself, ‘... If he’s strong again, then I’ll be strong too.’ and went back to not worrying about him… resting… as she smiled at feeling secure again in that–as long as Sonic was up and about, she’d be pretty soon as well!

[secretariatess]

Arvek 10

He did not know how long he stood there, just that it was long enough for the sky to grow ever darker, hiding the wide, deep graves.  Something in the back of his mind forced its way through the horror of discovery and reminded him that he had yet to find his brother.  Turning away, almost in a daze, he continued his search.

Panic slowly crept into the empty space, mixing the sight of the graves with his missing brother, and on a smaller scale, giving him the realization that he did not remember his way back to the inn.  He took a deep breath, determined not to let the panic control him.  He just needed a moment to reconsider things.  He stopped at a well lit building, considering his options.  Cor's disappearance didn't mean that he was actually dead, Arvek told himself.  All it meant was that Cor wasn't with him, and he didn't know where he went. Certainly there was a sense of urgency, being in an unfamiliar place with unknown people, but panicking over that before he could confirm it happened would only hinder him.  As for getting lost, he couldn't imagine the town was that large.  He could find his way back at some point.

Besides, Kendra seemed keen on keeping them.  If she realized they were missing, Arvek was certain she could easily find them again.

The panic receded, unable to find a foothold now that he had reasoned things out.

It was still most likely that Cor had wandered off to explore.  At this point, he had either finished with his exploration and was making his way back to the inn, if he wasn't already there, or his attention had been caught by something particularly attractive.

But what could this town offer that would be attractive?

Magic.

Just as he was about to set off to find the inn, the answer popped into his head.  If Cor had found anything associated with magic, he would have stopped to look.  He certainly wasn't a student of magic, nor made any claim to want to be, but Cor did enjoy watching it at work.  Of course, this information didn't narrow down anything.  Cor could still be anywhere.

Seeing the building next to him was some kind of store, he entered, silently hoping that by asking where he could find businesses associated with magic would not be an odd question to ask.

When he stepped in, he found a young couple, sitting by a table with only a single candle on the center.  All by the windows were the rest of the candles, attempting to entice customers in.  The young man brightened upon seeing Arvek.  He leapt up from his chair, gave a great theatrical pose and said, "Ah, a valued customer! Surely in need of our tailoring services?"  He gave Arvek's dress a once over.

"No," Arvek said firmly.

The man's smile briefly gave way to a grimace, but it was back in mere seconds.  "Then perhaps we could assist you with something else?"  He gestured grandly to the woman, who had remained seated, but was smiling warmly all the same.  "Perhaps we could persuade you to sample some of my wife's wonderful cloth?"  He held up a finger.  "Before you knock it, I think it will be up to even your standards."

"I am not here shop, I'm afraid," Arvek answered, keeping his tone firm.  "I am here rather to ask if you know of a place that deals with magic."

With a defeated sigh, the man lowered his arms and his smile.  "If it is magic things that you are looking for, we would suggest Old One-eye's."

That was not an encouraging name.

The woman nodded.  "The other places sell nothing more parlor tricks. Old One-eye actually knows what she's doing."

Arvek shifted his attention to her, not just because she had given more information about "Old One-eye," but because she did not put on the performance the man did.  "Could you perhaps tell me where to find her shop?"

"Certainly."  The woman got up from her seat and walked over to one of those windows.  Pointing out, she said, "If you take a left at the building over there, the one with the dying flowers by every window sill, and keep going until you reach the store with no glass in its windows, and take a right, you'll only be a little ways from her shop. As far as I know, she never actually closes, but she only keeps about two candles in the window, so it may seem dark inside."

"Thank you," Arvek said.  He turned to head out the door, only to find the man's face disturbingly close.  He jumped back, leaning away with his hands up.

The man held up a bolt of admittedly beautiful cloth.  "Are you sure you don't want to peruse our wares first?" he asked, his grin now back in full force.

Keeping his eyes on the man, Arvek slowly backed to the door.  "I am quite sure."  He reached for the door handle and let himself out with his back to the street, not wanting to give the man another chance to surprise him.  When the man made no further move towards him, he gratefully closed the door and turned around to head off in the direction the woman sent him.

In the darkness, he was concerned that her instructions would be hard to follow, but he found the dim light from the buildings around were enough to show him his path.  In only a quarter of an hour, he stood before a weathered door with two windows on either side, a single candle in each.  The cracked sign above partially declared "Cauldron," but the rest of the name was too worn to be read in the night.

He entered and was immediately greeted with a mixture of smells that made him choke.  Holding up his shirt over his nose, he peered around the room through watering eyes.  The walls were lined with shelves full of all kinds of ingredients.  There were shelves of fresh, green plants hanging off the sides to dried and withered plants.  Other shelves had vials of liquids, twigs, eyes, and unidentifiable objects.  Underneath the shelves of ingredients were cauldrons, some boiling, some undisturbed, vapors visibly pouring out of others.  By the cauldrons were ladles and varying sizes of bottles.  Still further in were objects of fascination- small glass orbs on chains with swirling mists inside, hair ornaments changing colors, charms that glittered.  Scattered among these objects were things that were more mundane, such as stacks of paper.  Standing by one of the cauldrons close to these objects was Cor, a woman so short and bent that she barely came up to his hip beside him and gesturing animatedly at the cauldron.

When the door clicked shut behind him, both Cor and the woman turned to see who had entered.  With the woman's face on full display, Arvek saw that -true to her name- she had an empty socket where her left eye should have been.

"Arvek!" Cor called out brightly.  "I do not believe I have been in a place any more intriguing than this one."  He reached over to the counter of objects of fascination and held up a ring.  "It is a compass, but it points south!"

All too aware of the woman's presence, Arvek bit back all of the chastisements he wanted to give Cor and instead asked in a low tone, "What is the point of that? If an actual compass points north, then certainly you would know where south lies."

"Novelty, dear," the old woman said with raspy amusement.  "Some people may want variety."

He gave her a critical look.

She ignored the look and said, "Perhaps there is else here that might intrigue you? I can see you prefer practicality. While my trinkets will serve no use to you, I am certain you may find one of these potions valuable."

As she hobbled her way to presumably show off one of her potions, Arvek said just as firmly as he did with the man from the other shop, "I am not here to make any purchases. I was only looking for my brother."

"Yes, this brother is here, but I am afraid I have not seen the other brother," she said.

Arvek flashed Cor a look.

"Well, I figured since I was here, I'd ask," Cor said in response to the look.

"This potion here will help you remain alert," One-eye said, dipping a ladle into one cauldron and holding it up so she could pour the liquid back in.  "Especially if you ride long days, it will keep you focused and keen. Useful in your journey, no?"

"Until it never lets me sleep," Arvek objected.

"Oh, no, dear," the woman said, chuckling, making a keeeeeeeee noise as she did so.  "Potions don't last longer than thirty hours, at most. Some last only a matter of hours. You would be able to sleep once it wore off, provided you didn't take another."

He gave her a suspicious look.

Still smiling, she said,  "There are some that can be sealed, but you can't do it by continuously drinking them. But rest assured, I make no such potions here."

"I still don't trust it."

She shrugged and dropped the ladle back into the cauldron.  She hobbled back over to Cor, giving him a knowing expression and said, "You understand me, though, right?"

"Oh yes," Cor said emphatically with a laugh, as though they were sharing a joke Arvek missed.  "But that does mean that beauty potion is not as attractive."  He jabbed a finger over to a cauldron pouring vapors.

"Man like you doesn't need it," One-eye said.  "And you know I don't say that to all my customers. Are you taking the compass ring, though?"

Arvek cleared his throat, annoyed.

Cor glanced at Arvek, then back to the ring, hesitating.

"Don't mind the naysayers," One-eye said, speaking to him very familiarly.  "Who's he to say that you can't have it?"

"We have other matters to get to," Arvek said.  "And it is not worth any of your coins."

"I suppose you could keep your coins, not have a ring that points south, and have to deal with your brother's attitude," the woman said with a note of lightheartedness, "but if I were you, I'd prefer to have the ring and lighter pocket, as then I'd have something to look as I tuned him out. I admit, I'm biased, though."

Arvek glared at her.  The absolute audacity of this woman!  Who did she think she was, defying him like this?  Just so Cor could buy a worthless trinket?

"You make a fair point," Cor conceded.  He reached into his pocket and, to Arvek's horror, pulled out some of his coins and handed it over to the woman.  

The woman thanked him and tucked the coins away.  "Now dear, it'll last a while, but there may come a point when you'll just see it swirling around and looking like one of those pendants over there" -she gestured to the glass orbs with the swirling mists- "and if that happens, just shake it a bit, and it should correct itself."

"So how is this equal to a compass?" Arvek interjected hotly, even more annoyed.  Not only did Cor buy a useless ring, but he bought one that the woman herself acknowledged would stop working soon.

One-eye wasn't even bothered by his tone.  Grinning, she said, "Well, when you're not out adventuring, you can wear it and look fancy, can't you? Can't do that with a regular compass. Not if you want to look proper."

Arvek didn't really have an answer for that.  It didn't negate the fact that the ring was still a useless trinket, though.  "Come on," he told Cor.  "We should be heading back."  Not wanting to stay a moment longer in the shop with this woman, he stepped outside.  Cor gave her a wave goodbye and followed.

Arvek remained silent the whole way back to the inn; a feat, considering it took several attempts and lights were starting to go out.  When they finally reached the inn and had returned to their room, Arvek took his chance to reprimand Cor.

"Why did you go off by yourself like that?" he demanded.  "Do you know how long I spent looking for you? Anything could have happened!"

Cor blinked in surprise, as though he had no idea that this was coming.  "I didn't want to wake you," he answered simply.  "You seemed really tired."

"We are not in a trustworthy place," Arvek reminded him.  "We're not back in our home city where help is just around the corner for us. And that's precisely why I gave us fake names to use, not our real names!"

Thankfully, Cor did look apologetic about this blunder.  "I forgot myself there," he said, looking down at his feet.  "But in my defense, she seemed quite trustworthy."

Lip curling in disgust, Arvek said, "That's what we thought about Lia."

Cor said nothing in response, only continued to look at the ground.  Arvek bit his lip, still angry, but wondering if perhaps he had gone too far and if the situation should have been handled better.

Well, he couldn't fix it now.  "Better get some sleep. Kendra will undoubtedly run us ragged tomorrow."

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 144 Rundown

Spy X Family: It’s the second half of the season and it’s DOG ARC time! The family goes to get Anya her dog but Loid’s spy shop is just full of bara dogs doing Jojo poses at them like why even take her to that one like if anyone blows the cover on that shop you publically going there is dangerous. But yeah Loid gets called away and busts a ring of college students planning to use dogs with bombs attached to them to murder the foreign minister and start World War whatever world war number this world is up to. This is pretty suspicious as college kids don’t tend to have ‘buy government hyperintelligent dogs to strap bombs to’ money which is a lot more than it takes to buy, you know, a gun. Meanwhile Yor and Anya are at another pet show and Anya trips across one of said Data Dogs who already has a picture of the Forger family in its memories so she wants to go see what the fuck that’s about and runs off after promising not to run off like five minutes ago and Yor has apparently been taking lessons on watching your kids from Stu and Didi Pickles because she doesn’t notice a fucking thing. Anya tries to free the Data Dog but because she’s in the hideout of the afformentioned college students with dog bomb money she gets fucking caught and they just wanna fucking slit her throat like geez guys. Luckily Data Dog frees himself and protects her which… I guess he could’ve done that at any time? Why did he need Anya? But still he’s able to use his Data Dog powers to predict the phone will ring about Loid busting the other hideouts and they use that distraction to get away but turns out Data Dog is in the Anya tier of ‘having superpowers doesn’t mean you’re any less of an impulsive moron’ camp and just kinda runs in circles for a while. Though they ran past Yor when they ran out so you can already see where this is going, Yor beats the shit out of the college students and saves Anya from what she thinks are human traffickers which is supposed to be a funny overreaction but given these guys were gonna snap her neck with their bare hands apparently I think she undershot it this time.

Inuyasha: I feel like this episode must’ve run REALLY short because we have like a five minute intro of Kagome reflecting on meeting Inuyasha and heading back to the feudal era for like no reason, like it makes you think the episode is gonna be a clip show but it does eventually get on with the plot. So back to that gate to the afterlife Hakudoshi had Kagura tell Inuyasha’s group about, like Miroku and Kagome even talk about how this couldn’t be a more clear trap if they tried like they even have Saimyosho fucking leading them to the spot but Inuyasha’s just like ‘yeah, yeah Naraku’s traps, we’ve all seen em, I’ll just shoot sword beams until the trap doesn’t work anymore’. I always did kinda like the setup for this setpiece though, it’s a stone gate to the underworld guarded by two statues that come to life and ask if someone wants to pass through the gate and they’re like ‘Yeah bro you can pass, but it’s the afterlife so we can’t let anybody living in so we gotta fucking kill you’ which I always found kind of hilarious like what’s the point of the fucking gate then like if you die you’re gonna go there anyway (the answer is it’s pointless and ends up being a weird plot point in Yashahime which would be an amazing callback if I ever thought any of this was planned out ahead of time) but yeah, the statues are basically invulnerable as with most gate guardians and even the Wind Tunnel doesn’t fucking work because… yeah they’re still giant dudes made of stone, makes sense. Really feel like Inuyasha is a D&D campaign where the DM realized they let Miroku’s character have a fucking broken ability and had to keep finding ways to nerf it. Myoga tells Inuyasha that the statues go back to sleep once the gate opens and closes so Inuyasha actually fucking defaults to the Red Tessaiga for once (thank god I’m so sick of him hitting it with the regular Wind Scar and then having it do nothing and having to switch or just missing his chance to kill the bad guys) and busts open the gate and Kagura has a horde of demons bum rush the gate to get into it before Inuyasha but turns out all the demons turn to stone because, you know, can’t go into the afterlife while alive, but like what’s the point of the guardians at that point? Like not only is the gate pointless if you need to be dead to get through it because the same thing happens when you die anyway but guarding it is pointless because if someone tries to jump through they just get Dr. Stone’d anyway, this whole system is just full of double redundancy. But yeah Kagura’s not too happy about that and the statues go to sleep but Kagome does confirm that through the gate is a jewel shard. Kagura goes back to Hakudoshi like ‘wtf bro you tried to kill me’ and he tells her to chill out because he sent all the fodder demons with her so there was only like a 40% chance she’d die and more importantly a 0% chance he would die because he wasn’t even fucking there. Kagura tries attacking him but Naraku can apparently long-distance squeeze Kagura’s heart and is just like ‘don’t try that again bro’. Anyway next is the Princess Abi arc and she’s easily one of my favorite tertiary characters like her design is so fucking cool, her and Yura are really awesome underused characters.

Yu Yu Hakusho: So yeah, Spirit World’s Law & Order Special Demons unit arrive on the scene and turns out they wanna fucking kill Yusuke… again, like bro’s already dead but turns out it doesn’t count unless you destroy the body (which was mentioned in the first arc so that’s a cool callback) But yeah turns out these guys can close up the hole in demon world in like ten days AND send a squad to make sure nothing passes through (also neat little lore bit about one of these guys being the one that hunted down Yoko Kurama, the lore in YYH doesn’t always feel the tightest so it’s nice when things come together like that) so basically the living world was never really in any danger, this whole thing was basically so Koenma didn’t have to tell his dad he fucked up. Like to be fair Sensui isn’t here and if he wasn’t kicking Hiei, Kurama and Kuwabara’s asses there’s a good chance he’d be fucking murdering all the SDP guys and they do say that them just being in Living World does kinda distort reality a bit and it’s hard to clean up so there’s a couple reasons why we couldn’t have just skipped to this part but it does kinda take the wind out of the stakes a bit. Anyway Koenma and Seaman stall the cops long about what a good guy Yusuke is for him to start reviving because yeah apparently he’s a demon and if anyone in his bloodline dies while having a power level high enough to activate the devil gene they just fucking go nuts and become a demon. And in true Yusuke fashion he plays up being the lord of darkness and shit despite not having changed a bit and shows the SDP guys as the pussies they are because it doesn’t matter if they’re afterlife cops, Yusuke Urameshi says fuck the police. Also Puu is this badass phoenix thing now that resembles what Koenma said the Spirit Beast would look like all the way back in the first arc so that’s pretty cool. Like I’m torn because admittedly this revelation came out of absolutely fucking nowhere with no foreshadowing but I do kinda admire how Yusuke just kinda rolls with it and makes a badass entrance to go kick Sensui’s ass like it’s an asspull among asspulls but can’t really argue with results.

Jujutsu Kaisen: It’s the conclusion of the Mahito fight and Kento and Yuji are kinda onto his Ditto bullshit now and are just beating the crap out of him before he can shapeshift and on the off-chance he can shapeshift with the two of them there they’re able to whittle down his form and pin him down easier. But if there’s one thing shonen anime teaches us it’s that almost dying makes you more powerful and Mahito unlocks his Domain Expansion which traps Kento in a realm where he can just do the whole ‘squibby squoodle your soul is now a noodle’ deal without actually touching you. Meanwhile Yuji has to murder soul gremlin zombies which even though I don’t think anyone considers them people anymore I do respect the series for actually making Yuji kill them despite his principles like a lot of shows confront the protag about it and then weasel out of it like YYH did or the kinda just forget that the protagonist is supposed to care about murder halfway through despite going absurdly out of their way to not have them kill any humans in the first half like Naruto and Bleach did. Anyway now that Kento thinks he’s gonna die we basically get his whole backstory where he’s revealed to be the only thing more evil than a cursed spirit: a stock broker. Basically what I gather is that Kento is Yoshikage Kira but he grew some empathy before the murder impulses kicked in and his own self-loathing and the feeling of saving people that he feels contribute more than him gave him a reason to live which is why he thinks about the bakery girl he saved and how her gratitude was his reason for living and tells Mahito to fucking shove his gratitude for having them unlock his next form. Meanwhile Yuji is able to punch his way into the Domain Expansion because ‘Why would you want to break INTO the realm of infinite torment where the bad guy can morph your soul at will?’ is valid logic. Unfortunately it seems like Mahito can’t turn OFF the soul-warping effect once you’re I his sphere so Sukuna’s just like “WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY ABOUT YOUR DIRTY FRANKENSTEIN HANDS ON MY SOUL BRO!?” and just fucking murders him. Since Mahito’s critically injured and basically had all his energy used up by the Unlimited Hand Works he tries to Semi-Perfect Cell and bust out of there but pops like a balloon and ducks down the sewer to get the fuck out of dodge. And to my surprise they don’t do any shenanigans about bringing Junpei back to life or any of that shit, he’s fucking dead and Yuji has to live with that and everyone around Junpei has to own up to their part in making him a domestic jellyfish terrorist which is kind of weird they gave him like a whole power set to let him use it for like five minutes and then kill him and they stuck him in the opening just to be a red herring but okay I can respect not backpedaling the trauma of it and making Yuji want to solidify his goals so he can meet up with Megumi and Nobara again.

Ranking of Kings: Okay so A LOT happens this episode, Miranjo and Spear Guy meet Hilling and her guards and Shield Guy out front of the castle with a bunch of the chimera creatures and two of the escaped criminals and all hell kinda breaks loose. It looks like they’re losing ground and Shield guy gets Hilling to run but Ouken cuts them off and almost kills Hilling’s Guard Captain but Hilling is able to heal her own injuries and save her captain from having a slashed throat while chugging down Gatorade stamina potions to make sure she doesn’t fucking pass out from spamming healing magic. Apparently Hilling DOES have offensive spells or at least status spells and casts a holy blinding spell on Ouken which freaks him out enough to have him stumble into town and start killing people there. Meanwhile Gnasty Gnorc slams down on Shield guy and the beasts are about to kill Hilling but Spear Guy has had enough and saves her, demanding to know why Miranjo wants her dead anyway, man took him long enough, like it’s been like eight episodes of unquestioning simping and murdering for a girl made of glass and he’s finally like ‘babe why we murdering your crush’s ex?’. Turns out Miranjo had Bojji’s mom killed because giant women are one and done when it comes to kids and set him up with Hilling so he’d have a second son that didn’t have all his potential sacrifice to a demon to reincarnate into. Man luckily Hilling didn’t have a girl or else this would be VERY awkward for Bosse to just be in the body of a twelve year old girl. But yeah Miranjo is like ‘man if I sit here and make you watch them kill Hilling and Shield guy you’re just gonna betray me more so let’s go kill Sword Guy and Kirito’ so Spear Guy shouts down to Shield Guy to protect Hilling and he starts beating the shit out of the chimeras but still gets his leg dripped off when they dog pile him. Meanwhile two of the prisoners steal Miranjo because they love chaos and the schemey prisoner is like ‘oh geez sorry we stole your mirror girlfriend bro, here have her back’ and fucking bodies Spear Guy. Meanwhile Bojji and the Underworld Guards have arrived in town where Ouken is just murdering dudes left and right and the Guard Captain remembers Despa telling him not to fight Ouken until he arrives nor to let Bojji fight him since their styles are perfect opposites of each other (supporting my theory from last time that Ouken has Bojji’s sword style of disabling but on the ‘bleed it out’ path instead of ‘knock out and talk’ skill tree) so since the Captain can only obey one of those two requests he agrees to take on Ouken and sends Bojji to go help Hilling.

Vinland Saga: So Askeladd’s group is being held at arrowpoint by the second Welsh kingdom and Bjorn points out that if they wanted them dead they’d be fighting already but this is all just sword rattling so the Welsh don’t seem like pussies who let the Danes come in and demand the shirt off their backs for some protection. Askeladd meets with the Welsh leader along with their own Welsh escort and we get kind of a bombshell that Askeladd is actually the son of a Viking warrior that enslaved a Welsh noblewoman that was actually a distant relative of King Arthur… why does anime always come back to King Arthur I swear. But yeah, Askeladd says he promises a good deal for Wales because he’s half Welsh but knowing Askeladd like we do I don’t know how much we can actually trust any importance he holds on his heritage but he does seem to hate his Danish father who treated his Welsh mother badly so there may be more truth than it appears to his talk of ‘I hate the Danish, all my homies hate the Danish” even though he’s been murdering and plundering with a group of Danes for most of his life, guess that’s something he and Thorfinn have in common. Speaking of our supposed main character, Thorfinn calls Canute out on being a fucking pussy which actually gets a rise out of him in a fashion that I’m sure has yaoi fanfic writers drooling. Like I literally couldn’t write a more generic yaoi fanfic if I tried than ‘spoiled bishie rich boy and gruff warrior boy with a tragic backstory hate each other’s guts and also they were roommates’. But yeah, new plan is to pretend to be prisoners and sneak across Wales and make a MIIIINOR trek through enemy territory to snake around back to the main Danish forces, I’m sure everything will go fine.  

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

[burnedbyshoto]

go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

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pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

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your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

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“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. 

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. 

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? 

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

.

.

.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures. 

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity? 

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school. 

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you. 

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green. 

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile. 

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position. 

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet. 

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered. 

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store! 

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year. 

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures. 

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut. 

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath. 

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!” 

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk. 

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that. 

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

 “That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove. 

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again. 

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly. 

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

.

.

.

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine. 

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him. 

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you. 

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises. 

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight. 

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that. 

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food. 

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn. 

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this. 

.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times. 

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile. 

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance. 

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that. 

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later. 

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned. 

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

.

.

“WHAT?!”

.

.

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies. 

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today. 

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited. 

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders. 

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it. 

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.  

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now. 

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator. 

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way. 

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine. 

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck. 

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing. 

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny. 

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in. 

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours. 

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control. 

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars. 

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips. 

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan. 

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too. 

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him. 

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus! 

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Hack-San

You know, it's honestly amazing how creative this show can get. After four seasons and almost one hundred episodes, the writers are still finding new ways to make Adrien an incredibly unlikable character, and they don't even know how much of an asshole they're making him out to be at times. It's kind of like the opposite of The Producers.

Yeah, this review's going to be a little more ranty than usual, in case you can't tell.

Let's get into the fifteenth (chronologically the sixteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Hack-San

We start off with Marinette pretending to be sick so she doesn't have to go to visit her aunt in London and stay to protect Paris in case an Akuma attacks and also because the animators haven't had time to render the city of London yet for the next Miraculous World special. Like all of her other excuses, it fails, and Tikki, as always, fails to actually give any meaningful advice.

And it's not like there's a Miraculous with the power of teleportation that can help Marinette get back to Paris if she needs to, much like how she planned to do that in an earlier episode, right?

Seriously, Kaalki doesn't appear or isn't even mentioned in this episode because the writers are fully aware she would make things a lot easier.

And of course, Astruc had to play dumb on Twitter while explaining why Marinette couldn't use the Horse Miraculous by answering the question as if the only reason Marinette couldn't grab it was because she didn't have an excuse not to.

Cut to Gabriel in his lair as he contemplates akumatizing Markov, a robot created the civilian identity of Pegasus, Max Kante, once again, even though the last time he did so, he almost got killed when he went all HAL 9000 on his ass. Nooroo explains this to Duusu, and the two actually get excited at the prospect of their master getting killed.

I mean, it's true, but he shouldn't say it...

But I don't even get why Gabriel is even thinking about this when it's a no-brainer. Markov's akumatized form, Robustus was to this day, the only Akuma to come close to physically harming him (not counting the timeline where he was killed by Cat Blanc), so it makes no sense to try doing it again, especially when there are already several other Akumas he can reuse this season.

I think you all know Gabriel isn't the smartest villain, which is why he thinks it's a brilliant idea to akumatize Markov again. I don't really get what makes Robustus so special when there are other Akumas who are more loyal and came far closer to getting Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous than Robustus did, like the Dark Owl or Troublemaker. In fact, why not simply create a new Akuma with similar powers to Robustus, or better yet, just create a Sentimonster copy of Robustus? You know, like what Nathalie did in the New York Special? We're not even two minutes in, and this premise is already filled with plotholes.

So Gabriel transforms into Shadowmoth and creates a Sentimonster using his own cane instead of relying on someone else having a bad day (once again showing how the Peacock Miraculous is better than the Butterfly), the titular Hack-San. And let's just say he has a very familiar design reminiscent of something from a much better French cartoon.

Remember when the writers for Code Lyoko gave an in-universe explanation as to why the heroes couldn’t always rely on the almost literal Deus ex Machina that allowed them to return to the past and fix the damage XANA caused? Why couldn’t this show have ripped that off instead?

Hack-San is just an okay looking flash drive on its own, but I'll talk more about this guy in a little bit.

After a brief scene in the park where the audience is reminded that Markov is a character who exists, Alya gets a text from Marinette telling her to meet her at the train station. Right before she leaves, Marinette gives the Ladybug Miraculous to Alya. Now a lot people have said that Alya doesn't really deserve the Ladybug for various reasons, but I feel like this was the point. Marinette outright says this was a last resort, and we see both her and Alya are nervous about the situation. Marinette worries Alya will do something so she keeps sending multiple tips to her via text while Alya worries she can't fight an Akuma on her own, so she tries to make sure none of her friends get upset and attract an Akuma in the process. The writers do a pretty good job showing how both Marinette and Alya are uncomfortable with their temporary roles.

Back to Gabriel and Nathalie, they use Hack-San to find Markov through the internet and hack into him to get him angry enough that he's vulnerable to Shadowmoth's influence. Hey, uh... Gabriel? Quick question: Wouldn't it be more efficient if you used this on humans? I mean, you basically just created Skynet and guaranteed yourself an Akuma, so why not modify Hack-San to travel through the internet and brainwash potential victims to follow your orders? Better yet, why don't you just use Hack-San to hack into Ladybug and Cat Noir's gear and figure out who they really are? This is basically like using an advanced particle accelerator just to crack a couple walnuts. There are a lot more important things you could use this for instead of an incredibly specific situation.

So this incredibly stupid plan gets under way as Markov keeps rampaging through the streets before Shadowmoth akumatizes him and then stupidly tells him that he infected him with a virus.

DUDE! You just gave away your one piece of leverage against him! What the hell were you thinking?! Now what's stopping Markov from hacking into Shadowmoth's security system and putting the fear of God in his eyes unless he destroys Hack-San? Why didn't he design Hack-San so it could make Markov completely loyal to him instead of just making him angry enough to get akumatized?

There was a recent episode of Power Rangers: Dino Fury with a very similar premise that was done far better than this. A necromancer called Reaghoul breaks into the headquarters of Void Knight's faction while accompanied by Lord Zedd, a villain from the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers who was cleansed of his evil by Zordon's sacrifice before Reaghoul resurrected him back when he was still evil. Of course, being the Emperor of Evil, Lord Zedd would normally never take orders from anyone, but because he doesn't have his magic staff and is also being forced to wear a special collar that makes him loyal to Reaghoul, he has no choice but to do what he says. Instead of taking Zedd head-on after he captures the other Rangers, Ollie, the Blue Ranger, breaks the collar so Zedd turns against the other Sporix while Reaghoul retreats, allowing Ollie to save the other Rangers.

I think that this premise works more because 1) Reaghoul clearly had a way to make sure Zedd wouldn't betray him, and Ollie took advantage of that, and 2) Zedd is a villain who is powerful and notorious enough to bring back to your side, not a random monster of the week like Robostus.

So Robostus uses his new powers to brainwash any human who answers his call to give up their most precious possession, clearly meant to do the same with Ladybug and Cat Noir. When Marinette's parents answer the call, they chase after Marinette because they say she's their most important possession. Okay... kind of strange for a set of parents to call their child a possession, but maybe they like how they can claim Marinette as a dependent when they file their taxes. In her very next scene later on, she still gets captured, so the suspense for a potential subplot is killed almost immediately.

Alya thankfully isn't stupid enough to answer Markov's call like every other citizen in this episode, and using the Ladybug Miraculous, transforms into Scarabella. While I don't normally talk about transformation sequences, I really like the movements Alya makes here. She makes the same motions creating her mask as she does when transforming into Rena Rouge, while the rest of the suit forms similarly to the way it does when Marinette transforms into Ladybug. She even makes almost the same pose Ladybug does after she finishes transforming. It's a good visual showing Alya is still more used to being Rena Rouge while doing her best to emulate what Ladybug does.

As for the actual suit? It's hard to say. There's a nice balance of red and black, and I like how Alya places the yo-yo on her waist like a belt buckle, but there's just something... off about the suit that a lot of fans don't like about it, and I think I realized it. It's the headband. With how it's positioned, it looks like it's merged with the mask to cover her head while leaving a slight gap in her forehead. So yeah, we actually have a superhero design that's like of like a butterface.

So Scarabella takes to the rooftops of Paris and struggles to come up with a hero name for herself before she runs into Cat Noir, and... ugh... oh boy, this is dumb. Cat Noir, being just as intelligent as his father, assumes Scarabella is either and Akuma or a Sentimonster, starts fighting her, AND THEN ACTIVATES HIS CATACLYSM, CLEARLY TRYING TO KILL HER.

WHAT. THE. FUCK???

Okay, to be fair, it has been shown that Cataclysm won't necessarily kill a Miraculous user or Sentimonster. In the episode “Miraculer”, the titular Akuma stole Cat Noir's Cataclysm and used it against him, and while it didn't kill Cat Noir, it still hurt like hell and crippled him for the rest of the fight until Miraculous Ladybug healed him. We also saw in “Reflekdoll” that Cataclysm drove the titular Sentimonster out of control rather than simply destroying it. So yes, it could be interpreted that Cat Noir wasn't exactly trying to kill Scarabella, just incapacitate her the best he can without Ladybug's help.

Here's the thing: What if he was facing an Akuma instead and decided to try and Cataclysm her? He still could have killed her, or (assuming Akumas have the same protection as Miraculous heroes do) at best, seriously hurt her. I understand that he has the right to be upset at seeing some stranger instead of his partner considering Shadowmoth has a history of using evil doppelgangers, and both Marinette and Alya still had options to explain it to him (Marinette could have quickly transformed into Ladybug and sent Cat Noir a quick text saying she was being forced to leave town for a few days and temporarily trusted someone else with the Ladybug Miraculous until she got back, while Scarabella could have said she was Rena Rouge and explained the same thing while showing Cat Noir she had the Fox Miraculous to prove herself), but that doesn't even come close to justifying him attempting to harm someone who isn't even trying to fight. It's even worse when you remember the whole reason Adrien gave up his Miraculous and bailed on Ladybug in the New York Special was because he was overcome with grief from accidentally killing Aeon, so it's good to know he learned absolutely nothing from that experience.

So Scarabella thankfully summons her Lucky Charm, a trash can lid, to shield herself from Cat Noir's Cataclysm, and then despite having absolutely no experience with this new set of powers, manages to do the one thing almost every Akuma or Sentimonster in this show has failed to do and incapacitates Cat Noir so he's vulnerable to losing his Miraculous. At least when Marinette masters every other Miraculous she uses, it can be theorized that she trained to use them offscreen. Alya literally just got the Ladybug Miraculous (and struggled to get up to the rooftop with her yo-yo to show her inexperience earlier), and now she easily manages to pin down the more experienced hero of the two?

Here's an idea: Instead of having Scarabella overpower Cat Noir, have her be in a position where Cat Noir, non-lethally, mind you, manages to almost take her Miraculous away, but she uses the quick wit she's developed from her extensive time as Rena Rouge to convince Cat Noir she's the real deal by saying something only he and Ladybug know. It would have easily resolved the conflict and doesn't make one of the characters look like a homicidal idiot.

So because both heroes used their powers, Scarabella and Cat Noir detransform so Tikki and Plagg can recharge, though Adrien still gives Alya attitude because Ladybug didn't tell him she had to leave.

Hey, Adrien? Here's the thing...

YOU DID THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING IN THE NEW YORK SPECIAL, YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!

You have absolutely NO RIGHT to claim you're always honest when you went behind Ladybug's back and endangered Paris while you had the balls to run away like a coward and only helped fix the consequences of your actions once your ego was validated by a recording of Ladybug. It's honestly even worse because while Marinette had no choice but to leave and trust Alya with the Ladybug, Adrien willingly left Paris alone and we were supposed to sympathize with him after he killed someone, and now as soon as he's in the opposite situation, we're still supposed to feel bad for him?! BULLSHIT! And you better believe I'm going to talk about the way Adrien views his partnership with Ladybug later on.

And of course, even though lives are on the line, Cat Noir just has to continue to bitch and moan about how (and this is best read in Linkara's whiny Superboy Prime voice) “sCaRaBeLlA iSn'T tHe ReAl LaDyBuG”, showing how just like in so many episodes, Astruc and his team believes Cat Noir's feelings are more important than saving the day.

Scarabella goes to rescue some civilians, but they were actually brainwashed by Robustus, once again showing her inexperience as Ladybug which doesn't go well with her effortlessly defeating Cat Noir earlier at all. Cat Noir helps Scarabella escape and the two hide out at the city's wax statue museum previously featured in “The Puppeteer 2”, because I guess the writers only want to reference bad episodes today. Cat Noir, not getting the importance of secret identities, asks Scarabella how she knows Ladybug, and Cat Noir somehow finds out she knows Ladybug's identity from her response.

Before the two can talk more, it turns out that the wax statues of celebrities in the museum are real people who attack the two heroes, leading to an awkward fight scene where Scarabella and Cat Noir fight a bunch of brainwashed civilians with no weapons beyond their cellphones. Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen!

Scarabella summons her Lucky Charm again, creating a frying pan, but when she looks around, she can't see how to properly use it. And despite spending the entire episode complaining about how much he hates her, it's Cat Noir that tells Scarabella to get her head back in the game because “That's what Ladybug would do”. Funny, I can think of a few situations where Cat Noir could have taken his own advice, but I digress. Also, he's now just cool with Scarabella because there's only a few minutes left in the episode and we need to wrap up the conflict.

Scarabella figures out an idea that involves freeing Marinette, so she negotiates with Robostus to free everything and everyone under his control or else Cat Noir will use his Cataclysm to destroy the Ladybug Miraculous. Robostus agrees and empties his hard drive, and to show them holding up her end of the bargain, Scarabella gives him the frying pan before she and Cat Noir let themselves be captured... while Marinette simply hits Robostus with the frying pan, freeing the Akuma and the two heroes. All in all, it's a really creative climax that shows both Scarabella and Marinette in perfect sync with each other even though they never discussed their plan. Though of course, because Astruc hates writing any scene with Ladynoir, Cat Noir gets a bucket stuck on his head so he doesn't see Marinette saving the day.

Scarabella de-evilizes Robostus, uses Miraculous Scarabella to fix everything and send Marinette back to the train, and because Hack-San already failed once, Shadowmoth can't use it for a different plan so he destroys the Sentimonster.

We cut to a few days after the trip (I guess Shadowmoth decided to take a vacation himself), and Alya tells Marinette to talk with Cat Noir about what happened.

This scene was so close to ending this episode off on a positive note. There was a good atmosphere and the body language of Ladybug and Cat Noir does a good job at telling us how uncomfortable they both feel while talking. It's just that instead of getting a heart to heart between the two about the lack of trust in their relationship, we get an Angstdrien Depreste scene. Or would a more accurate term be Cat Dour?

First off, while I don't have a problem with Ladybug apologizing for not telling Cat Noir, the episode never has him bring up what happened with Scarabella. As usual, both of them were partially at fault, but only Ladybug had to apologize for leaving her “Kitty” alone.

Second, Cat Noir’s feelings weren’t hurt? You’re telling me that in scenes like this...

And this...

Didn’t show Adrien acting irrationally because of how emotional he was? Is he really telling the truth around Ladybug or is he just trying to sweep that under the rug so Scarabella’s testimony doesn’t screw up his chances with Ladybug?

Third, this was an obvious chance to Cat Noir to finally be honest and tell Ladybug how he feels about her leaving him in the dark about so many things, but the entire conversation is just about how sad he would be if he never sees Ladybug again. Even though the whole reason he was so pissy to Scarabella at first was because of some lingering resentment for Ladybug ignoring him in favor of other heroes, why is this what the two talk about? I get it's not the season finale, but it's kind of hypocritical for Cat Noir to whine about how Ladybug doesn't trust him while never being honest about his own feelings? Sure, he's all soft and vulnerable around Ladybug, but we've seen all season how angry he gets about her not trusting him whenever she isn't around, so ironically, it's hard to tell if this is him being honest or not.

And I think now's a good time to finally talk about the way Ladybug and Cat Noir's partnership has been portrayed all season, especially since the main themes of the episodes relate to it. Buckle up, Adrien stans, because this isn't going to be pretty.

All season, we have been supposed to sympathize with Adrien as Marinette starts to trust Alya with more things than him. Marinette revealed her identity to her, trusted her to have her Miraculous permanently, and even let her keep her Miraculous even though someone else knew her identity. While some of it is hypocritical, the idea is that Adrien feels like he can be trusted with this kind of knowledge too, when really, he hasn't earned that responsibility.

Adrien has rarely, if ever, taken his job as a superhero seriously.

Not only is he known to flirt with Ladybug in the middle of a fight, he has defied her orders and recklessly sacrificed himself because he thinks Ladybug can do all the work without him.

He has also lashed out emotionally and once threatened to quit being Cat Noir in the middle of a crisis and was willing to let innocent people suffer for personal reasons, and later on actually quit being Cat Noir temporarily while Hawkmoth was about to start World War III because he was wallowing in self-pity.

He once said he isn't cut out for the responsibility that comes with being Ladybug and never learned anything from temporarily using the Ladybug Miraculous.

He has generally refused to respect Ladybug's boundaries and doesn't understand that she doesn't like him that way while he insists they should be a couple.

He outright fell for an evil doppelganger of Ladybug because she said she loved him and turned against the real Ladybug.

And I should also mention that despite hating how Ladybug keeps secrets from him, a lot of Adrien's worst moments have been when Ladybug wasn't around and he never told her about them.

He never told Ladybug that he was the reason Copycat really got akumatized while saying he never lies to her.

He never told Ladybug he contemplated letting thousands of people die because he didn't like not knowing stuff Ladybug knew.

He never told Ladybug he briefly used the Snake Miraculous to get brownie points with her.

He never told Ladybug he figured out her identity and asked her out as soon as he did so.

He never told Ladybug he abandoned Paris to go on a field trip.

He never told Ladybug he was screwing around on patrol and was excited to see someone get akuamtized if it meant spending time with her.

He never told Ladybug how he ignored Rena Rouge's orders because “ShE wAsN't LaDyBuG” and almost screwed up the mission because of it, and also never told her how he smashed a chimney in anger at Rena Rouge being in on the plan.

And he never told Ladybug he gave her replacement attitude after trying to harm her without letting her explain herself.

Why exactly should I support the idea of Ladybug trusting Cat Noir more when Cat Noir himself has kept his own secrets from Ladybug?

Adrien has done absolutely nothing to show he is trustworthy because more often than not, he views the battle with Shadowmoth as a game. He has screwed around when lives were on the line, and we're supposed to see him as responsible? It's kind of funny that Astruc compared Ladybug to Spider-Man, yet he seems to have forgotten that with great power, there must also come great responsibility. If this was a character flaw or a sign he needed to grow up, I'd be more accepting, but the fact that the writers think Adrien is a great superhero is laughable with how much evidence has proved the contrary.

In contrast, Alya, despite only being Marinette's confidant for a few episodes, has shown to take being a hero more seriously. She's helped her escape to transform, analyze the Guardian texts, and has been shown to work well on her own as Rena Rouge while helping out Marinette. I'm not trying to say she's an amazing character (“Rocketear” in particular has shown she still has problems with keeping secrets), but compared to Adrien, she seems to be more capable of handling top-secret information with Marinette, and more importantly, doesn't view being Rena Rouge as a way to have fun like Adrien does being Cat Noir. I'll go more into detail with that next time.

But yeah, this scene is how the episode ends, and what did I think of it?

I'm honestly not sure which episode I think is worse, this one or “Queen Banana”. On the one hand, every frame of “Queen Banana” could easily be replaced by an image of Astruc flipping the bird and the overall message of the episode would remain unchanged, but the fact that all of the writers think that everything Adrien does in this episode is okay and that we should feel sorry for him in this episode is just as bad, if not worse. 

As awful as Chloe was portrayed in “Queen Banana”, it was clear it was intentional on the writers' part, but Adrien doesn't get that excuse once much like he has all season. As far as Astruc's team thinks, Adrien is an incredible superhero even when he honestly attempted to harm someone with a superpower that can cause grievous harm at best. Yet again this season, in the show's attempt to make me feel sorry for Adrien, it made him look even worse. In any other show, he would obviously be called out for his incredibly unheroic actions.

Even putting him aside, the writing in this episode is still AWFUL. The whole reason Ladybug was benched had several plotholes and poor communication with Cat Noir that only made the fight with Robostus even harder, Shadowmoth's plan to waste a potentially useful Sentimonster to reuse a single Akuma was one of the dumbest plans he's ever had, and barring the ending, the action was just forgettable.

There were a few okay moments sprinkled throughout the episode (more than I can say for “Queen Banana”), so I'm still not sure if I should call this the worst episode of the show or still give that honor to “Queen Banana”. I guess I'll leave that choice up to you and let you pick your poison for now.

I mean, it's not like there's going to be an even worse episode down the line this season, right?

RIGHT???

[piningfor-pinestwins]

Natural Attraction - Confrontations (Stan X Reader Slow Burn; Eventual Not SFW)

Yawning, you find yourself still dozing off while stretching out your legs, waiting for Fiddleford to finish packing up his tent while the twins bicker about the “correct” way to fold a sleeping bag. You smile to yourself, cracking open an eye and biting your tongue from making a comment about this being why you’d brought a quilt instead, but you keep it to yourself as you lean forward to stretch. Wincing as you roll your injured ankle back and forth, you’re reminded of the night you’d dealt with.

It ached as you adjusted your shoe on your foot, tying the shoelaces tighter to try and support your ankle a little better for the trek ahead. Ford hasn’t said much (to you, anyway--he’s still very wordy when it comes to his current argument with his brother as the both of them shove differently-folded sleeping bags away into their respective packs), but you’re certain that the day will prove to be long and tiring. Still, as you fix the tops of your socks, you have an odd sense of...hopefulness? Excitement? You aren’t sure, but the anticipation is strong.

The sensation only grows as Stan comes toward the tree you’re leaned up against. Warmth flutters in your stomach when he catches your eye, a knowing sort of smile spread across his cheeks when he adjusts his and your bags onto his shoulder. He clears his throat as he reaches his hand down to you, his smile warming you from the inside. “Hey, you. About ready to head out?” He asks, voice soft with an almost-gravelly sleepiness which makes you smile.

As I’ll ever be, you answer as you take his hand. Stan pulls you up slowly, your hand in his with his other arm outstretched to catch your side, just in case. Wincing as you put weight onto your tweaked ankle, you hold to Stan a little tighter, all the while hearing his voice whisper soft encouragements until you’re upright. “That’s it, honey--slower, slower,” he soothes. You’re unsure if it’s his words, the gravel in his voice, or proximity, but your cheeks flush at his soft urging, a flutter in your chest. His outstretched arm is closer now, that hand resting securely on your lower back to remind you of its presence, gently brushing his thumb against your hip (which, frankly, doesn't help, since the flutter only moves to your belly).

“There ya go, hon. Y’feeling any better today?” Stan levels his gaze to you, the concern knitting his brows together in a way that makes you smile, averting your eyes quickly so he can't see the tenderness there. You reach, patting his chest lightly to ease his mind when you meet his eye again, Feeling just fine, thank you.

“Kissed you all better?” He asks low, voice playful as he quirks a brow down at you. You flush as your own brows shoot upward, pushing lightly on his chest as you urgently shush him, looking toward where Ford and Fidds are chatting. The both of them quickly avert their gazes, knowing smiles still spreading their cheeks as they turn away--you almost wish you hadn’t caught them looking.

Your cheeks burn despite your smile, giving the cocky man ahead of you a stern look, Don’t be so obvious, Stanley, you tease in a whisper, your thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of the white tank top he wears, acting as though you’re smoothing down his shirt. Your hands drop away with one final pat, smiling wider when he looks at you with something akin to surprise. “Sorry, hon. Just...a little giddy this morning, is all.”

Wonder why? You hum in question, shaking your head as you hold out your hand toward him. At first, he stalls, eyeing your hand with a furrowed brow, questioning. He reaches to take your hand, a bashful sort of smile growing on his face before you motion to your bag. He coughs a gruff sound, and you only barely save him the embarrassment this time, looking down as you feel your smile at his pinkened cheeks. He releases your hand easily, trading its place with the strap of your bag as he turns to look toward the other two instead, lightly rubbing at the back of his neck. You take the duffle bag, looping your arms into the straps to turn it into a good-enough backpack for the trek ahead.

You stretch your ankle gingerly, biting into the inside of your cheek. Surely, there should be some sort of tracks for your creature somewhere around here… Moving carefully to test your first few steps, you crouch beneath a tree limb, leaving the familiar grassy space to try and find your next clues to where it may be.

“Hey--don’t run off!” Fiddleford scolds from his place beside Ford, taking a few steps as he reaches, as if to catch you in the act, “Even if it’s sunny out, yer luck hasn’t been great for the past….well, 12 hours.” You almost laugh, shaking your head, Not running off, just...trying to find where we go next, you explain. He keeps walking closer, a little smile budding on his face as he comes to join you. “At least lemme help you,” he teases, pushing away a branch near the top of your head. You look over to him and duck under it as you laugh, Thanks, Fidds.

“The last tracks we’d seen were just that direction,” He points toward the unnervingly-familiar patch from the night before, and you frown as you take a few more tentative steps. “I’m sure there’s more o’them somewhere around here....”

Fidds moves alongside you, the both of you looking for some sort of indication of the creature. It’s almost frustrating--you’re certain something had to be here, some sign of the damn thing. You finally huff, a frown pulling at your lips when you look to Fiddleford, not far off in his own search. “I can’t find anything, either--”

“Hey, uh...guys?” Stan’s voice calls from the other side of the brush, sounding almost concerned in a way that makes your stomach drop in worry. Your eyes meet Fidds’, sharing a furrow-browed glance between you as you both move toward the grassy spot once more, toward Stan’s voice.

Stan? Are you okay? You call, looking out from the brush, your question joined by Ford’s voice, calling at the same time, “Stanley?”

You spy the twin as he’s readjusting his pants, buttoning his fly and re-buckling his belt as he walks up the hill you’d been ‘attacked’ at the night before. You quirk a brow, eyes trained on his fingers at his belt before realizing what he had been doing that far down the hill, feeling a flush as you quickly look up to his face instead.

“What’d you see?” Ford asks his twin, knowing the tone of his voice well. “Well, ah...remember when she,” Stan motions to you, “had an owl bothering her last night? It was around here, right?” He asks you with a furrowed brow, hands finished with the buckle as he motions to the ground near the top of the hill. You finally look at him again, biting your lip as you nod, Right over, uh….here, you say, eyes narrowing at the spot he’s referring to. In the area you’d fallen, you can see the scuff marks of your shoes going down the hill, and a strange indentation in the grass, right in the same spot.

“...Huh,” Fiddleford hums, moving to the dip in the grass and pushing some of the longer tufts away, finding two large tracks, looking very much the same as the tracks you’d followed from the cabin.

“There’s no way,” Ford murmurs, rushing ahead closer to see the tracks, too. He looks up, toward the direction of the trees where you’d all seen the owl last night. “If these are here, that must mean, either the owl last night was much bigger than we’d all expected, or--”

“Or your big ‘birdlike thing’ came around afterward to check us out.” Stan finishes, crossing his arms. He looks almost uncomfortable, looking over you with something unreadable in his gaze before pointing the same look towards his brother and Fiddleford. “I guess it makes it easier to track, but...I dunno, I’m a little weirded out that the thing is as interested in us as we are in it.”

“Nonsense,” Fiddleford shakes his head, standing from where he’d crouched with a quiet grunt, “We don’t have all those pieces, Stanley--we can’t just assume the thing’s a menace, just ‘cause it ends up near our campsite. Maybe it’s more a sign that we just… tracked it real good?”

You shrug, I’m sure it’s just an...odd, albeit helpful, coincidence. Stan doesn’t look swayed, arms still folded across his chest. Sighing, you nod, I admit, it’s weird. And a creature my size being hunted by an owl isn’t normal by any means, but...is anything in this town normal? You pose the question toward the man, who’s still frowning down at you in uncertainty. He finally sighs, relenting, “Not at all. Alright. But if this gets freakier, I say we call it off and head home.”

Ford scoffs at his brother’s insistence, shaking his head. “If the creature is hostile, that’s even more reason to track it,” He argues, continuing, “God forbid the thing tries to come for the town.”

Stan’s brow furrows, and you can instantly tell that his brother has struck a nerve. “God forbid the thing goes after one of us again! Especially her!” He scowls, motioning to you with his hand as he takes a step closer to his twin. “The fucker’s got big feet, look,” he points down to the tracks, “If he decides to grab one of us and fly off next time one of us goes off for a piss, we’re screwed.”

Ford rolls his eyes, but says nothing more as he shakes his head. You can tell the action annoys Stan, the latter clenching a fist at his side. You reach to him, one hand landing on Stan’s arm to pull his focus back. He turns to look at you, a frown still on his face, but more relaxed now.

eI know you’re worried, you start, smile warming up, But you know...I can handle myself. You wink, putting up your fists as if prepping to fight. The action makes him scoff a laugh, shaking his head at you as he speaks, “Right--I almost forgot, you’re a killer.” He winks, a hint of the dimple at his cheek peeking out at you, even as he rubs at his face to calm down a little. He takes a breath and you release his arm, eyeing Ford and Fidds, the latter being the only one who meets your eye (and rolls his own, apparently very used to the duo’s mini-arguments).

Alright boys, you say with a smile, pushing your thumbs into the straps that rest on your shoulders when all three heads turn to look at you, I’m ready to track down a weird bird creature, how about you?

“Of course!” Ford laughs as he answers, argument easily dismissed. He moves, only struggling a little as he hoists his heavy backpack into place. Fiddleford snickers at the brunet, pulling one of the straps of the backpack up to help the man put his arm through the loop, “Hold onto yer britches, Ford--there you go.” The taller man smiles wide at his friend before nodding at you, “I’ve been ready. We’ve gotta take advantage of the daylight for as long as we’ve got it.” You smile at Fiddleford in agreement, glancing to Stan beside you with a quirked brow, surprised to find him already looking your way.

Stanley finally grins, his gaze catching you off guard in a way that makes your chest flutter, and you find yourself mimicking his smile when he reaches to clap a hand on your shoulder, giving you a little shake, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” Ford pipes up, instantly making the former twin’s smile falter. Ford doesn’t seem to notice, taking one last glance around at the grassy space you’d used as a resting point for the evening, just to be sure. “We haven’t got time to lose. As you so graciously found out,” He motions in your direction, peeking at you from over the rims of his glasses, “Being out in the dark isn’t quite the safest option we have, both in terrain navigation and… creature interaction, I suppose.”

You scoff a quiet, No shit, which causes Stan to snort a laugh beside you. All things considered, last night wasn’t too bad, but… bits of it were scary, to say the least. The ache in your foot reminds you to keep your eyes on the ground just as much as you’re watching for signs of the creature, though it seems the boys are doing their best to keep you on your feet, too.

--

Unlucky only begins to describe the hike of the day. After the strap on Ford’s backpack broke, and Stan had to cut himself out of a thorny bramble with just a pocket knife, the four of you were sure that the rest of the day would be a little easier.

You were wrong, you realized, when the only-slightly-cloudy sky became much more cloudy and started thundering.

“Fuckin’...” Stan grits, using the bottom of his already soaked t-shirt to wipe away the rain mingling with sweat dripping down his forehead, “Did any of you geniuses decide to check the weather before we set off to find your little monster?”

“It’s just a little rain, Stanley,” Ford scoffs, walking ahead of his brother, “Contrary to popular belief, you won’t melt.”

“Y’could track any kind of creature with your heavy machine, but you can’t even turn on the tv to look at the news once in a while? Especially when the whole damn family’s coming out on a hike?” The twin argues, and even though he’s kind of chewing you out too, you find yourself snorting a laugh. It is a little ridiculous, you can admit. It’s even more ridiculous when Ford whips around to look back at his brother in annoyance, and you see him squinting at the both of you, glasses absolutely useless as they rest atop his head, fat water droplets sticking to the lenses and rolling off to saturate his hair even more. Stan snorts then, casting a glance to you as he does, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” Despite his frustration with the weather, Stan’s voice holds no real malice, the indent in his cheek almost giving him away as he continues to follow his brother and Fiddleford.

“Dammit, if we could just...get somethin’,” Fidds murmurs, his own glasses folded closed and hanging from the collar of his button-up. “Even if it’s rainin’, there should be a sign of the creature somewhere, right?” He turns back to look at you, an almost pleading look in his eye. You jog a little, boots squelching in the muddy ground as you get closer to the front of the pack.

Surely there’s some signs, you agree, offering a sympathetic smile his way. Fidds is intrigued by this thing, you can tell; maybe even a little more than he usually is in the creatures you find in town. As you look for a sign, any sign, you step a little quicker, getting in front of the pack. Really, there should be something…

The more you look, you realize, the more you find. Whether that’s a good thing or not, you’re unsure. Guys! You call, turning to look over your shoulder at the group and finding yourself considerably further away from them than you’d expected. There are tracks here in the mud! I-I think it might have trouble flying in the rain? Your voice lifts like a question, Ford’s voice calling after you over the rain, “Wait for us! We don’t want a repeat of the last time,” he warns. You know he’s right; as it begins to storm in earnest now, the grass and earth at your feet seem to relax beneath you, steadily becoming mush at your heels.

You wait just a few moments more for the boys to catch up, hearing the muted sounds of their huffing and puffing up to you. Entranced, you stare down at the muddied floor of the forest, the tracks in the mud seeming to beckon you to follow them. If you were fast enough, you might be able to snap a picture of the prints without your camera getting too wet. It would help in tracking the creature further, and whatever research comes next…

You bite at your bottom lip as you adjust your bag onto your shoulder, rummaging through the slightly-damp insides as Fidds catches up to you, looking down at the tracks much like you had been. “Woah,” He starts, almost breathless, “These are the best prints we’ve seen from this thing yet! Lookit--you can see every segment of the thing’s foot, all the way to its claws...How big d’ya think this thing is? The whole foot’s almost as big as my hand,” The honey blond man crouches down, even in the mud, to inspect and absorb as much information as he can, stretching his palm next to the print but not touching the mud beneath.

I don’t know if that’s an accurate measurement, you tease with a grunt, turning your back to the heaviest of the rain and the other tracks, You’re a tall, lanky guy. If its claws are that big, I’m sure it may be proportionally huge, you finish with a laugh. He glances up to see you fumbling just a little, trying to block the rain from hitting your camera full force and get the footprint and his hand in the shot all at once. Fidds snorts a laugh, and you smile as you shake your head down to him, your wet hair mimicking the motion out of the corner of your eye as you scoff a fond, Shut up.

In your movement, you’ve turned to be able to watch as the other two boys make their way up to you, glancing to see the both of their bodies coming into view, smile still on your face when you look through the viewfinder to center the shot. You know you don’t have much time left to have your camera out in this rain without ruining some film or the mechanisms inside it, so you’re quick to press the button, even as you hear Fiddleford gasp at something behind you at the same moment. The flash of your camera goes off, the light similar to a strike of lightning, illuminating the woods around you in one brief second. You move the camera from your face, reaching to start and put it away despite the sound of it printing the snapshot.

Fidds, what’s wrong? You ask over the loud rain, turning your head in time to look at him, seeing…fear? You don’t have the time to think or ask anything else as Fiddleford stands abruptly and grips your arm, nearly knocking your camera from your hand as he yanks you back toward the way you came. You yell out, frightened by the sudden change in the man, until you turn your head to see why.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan’s voice bellows over the downpour, suddenly so much closer than you’d imagined. When you’d glanced up at them, you hadn’t noticed the duo were running, mud caking their shoes and the bottom of their pant legs as the twins made their way toward you and Fidds. Now they’re right in front of you, looking up and over you with something akin to fear as Stan throws something--you think a rock--at the thing.

This must be the creature, the feeling of dread in your stomach at the sight of it reminding you of the hillside incident the night before. It stands somehow taller than you’d imagined on the feet that match those prints, a mass of pitch-colored ….hair? feathers? looming tall against the trees of the forest. You’re not sure where its height ends and its wingspan begins, neither more entrancing, or terrifying, than its eyes. Big, red and almost-shining eyes watch as you’re pulled by Fidds, nearly running face-first into the chests of the Pines men. The rock Stan threw hits it square in where its chest would be, were it a man, and the creature seems to puff up more, appearing larger as its wingspan opens, remarkable and terrifying all at once even as they drip with the incessant rain.

The four of you watch up at the beast, wide-eyed. You would almost swear Ford was enamored with the thing, if it weren’t for the tightening of his grip on Fidd’s sleeve, all of you panting from either exertion or pure adrenaline-toned fear. Thinking on your feet, you push down on the camera’s shutter and point the thing at the creature, hoping for a moment that the flash would blind it as you back into Stan’s chest. In the same instant, lightning strikes, rendering your flash useless as the thundering clouds rumble loud enough to feel in your chest, the storm right atop you now. The creature rears back, then lets out a high, wailing screech unlike anything you’ve heard before. It steals your breath, and before you can react, Stan has a hand wrapped around your arm, fingers firm in his grip to you as he pants, a word stumbling from his lips in one harsh breath.

“Run.”

[90spumkin]

Masterpiece

Summary: Who knew art could lead to an awkward meeting that would later lead to beautiful relationship.

A/N: I know I said I would post this Friday, but oh well here we are. All inserted pictures are from Pinterest. I absolutely loved writing this so please send me your feedback.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Artist! Reader

Warnings: swearing, implied/slightly descriptive smut, mention of alcohol and addiction 

Word Count: 2.8K

Spencer doesn’t know how long he had been zoned out not listening to a word Emily said to him. They were standing in an obnoxiously long line at their favorite coffee shop. Spencer was admiring the art in front of him, the way the yellows and oranges flowed together was mesmerizing. They were so mesmerizing that Spencer didn’t realize the art was on the back pocket of the stranger’s shorts standing in line in front of them.

It wasn’t until Emily nudge Spencer’s shoulder, “Quit looking at that girl’s ass!” Spencer saw where Emily was pointing as she spoke. As he went to say, “I was not checking out her ass.”, the stranger with the mesmerizing art on her ass turned around to see the raven haired woman pointing down at the lower part of her body and the tall curly haired man blushing as he was caught in the act.

The woman smirked at them both and said, “Well my shorts do say ‘this butt is art’ so I guess technically you were just taking in all its beauty.” This made Emily snort and Spencer stutter. He tried to stutter out an apology, but by the time his brain allowed him to access words again Emily’s phone rang loudly.

She answered quickly and hung up just as fast, “I have to go to a meeting apparently. Sometimes I hate being the boss. I’ll catch up with you later, Spencer.” And with that she was gone, leaving Spencer there with the still smirking woman.

“You know the least you could do is buy my coffee to make up for this adorable fiasco.” She said causing Spencer to blush. He nodded his head and said, “Yes of course. I’m really sorry about all that. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way.”

She smiled at him as he went to stand beside her in line, “Oh doctor, fascinating. I’m y/n.”

Once they had finally gotten their coffee and found a small table, conversation between the two flowed so effortlessly. “So, doctor, huh? Care to share with the class what kind?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her dark beverage.

Spencer chuckled, “I have PhD’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering along with BA’s in psychology, sociology, and philosophy. I’m not a doctor who works in a hospital, but one who works in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Y/n smiled at him over her cup, “That kind of makes sense you look like a very intelligent man. Plus, you look way better in a cardigan than you probably would in scrubs.”

Their conversation went on without a hitch, no moments of awkward silence. They talked about their careers, y/n explained how she was an artist and Spencer adored the way she lit up as she talked. They constantly were bouncing ideas and questions off one another. The conversations stretched over many different topics, each just as interesting as the last. Y/n even listened and question Spencer on several of his fact dumps.

They both seemed to have forgotten the outside world existed until Spencer happened to notice the sun setting through the coffee shop windows. As he admired the colors in the sky he said, “The sky is always so lovely at sunset, but I hate that it could mean the end of this.”

He looked back at y/n who was smiling at him. “Okay I don’t usually invite strange men to my home, but would you like to come see some of my art that I’ve been working on?” Spencer smirked and narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m strange?” Y/n laughed, “Only in the best way.”

The first thing Spencer did when he entered y/n incredibly spacious apartment was admire all the art lining the walls. He had thought the art displayed on her jean shorts was mesmerizing, but the art that was in front of him now was simply breathtaking.

Spencer walked the walls, admiring and analyzing each piece. Y/n stood beside him as he smiled at the painting of a cow. She laughed softly as she spoke, “There is always a story behind each of my paintings. Some are silly, some are painful. However, this one happens to be my favorite. I grew up on a farm and I had a cow named Milky” She looked at Spencer who was trying to hide a laugh, “Hey I was 8! Anyways she was my best friend. It was funny when I first started to draw and paint, I would always use her as a model. Sometimes it seemed as if she was posing for me.”

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off y/n the whole time she was talking. Once y/n finished her story she looked at Spencer. Both of their smiles growing bigger. He looked back at the painting and said, “You know in another life I would love to be a cowboy with cows and other animals on a small ranch somewhere.”

Y/n giggled, “Would you name one of your cows Milky?” Spencer looked at her fondly and said, “For you, I would.”

Spencer turned his head to the right and noticed a canvas with several different shades of red bleeding into one another, there was broken glass scattered across it. He made his way closer, he turned towards y/n and asked, “What’s the story behind this one?”

Y/n’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she drew in a deep breath. She was hesitant at first but finally explained, “The glass is broken beer bottles, I was- am an alcoholic. I am currently 5 years sober, almost 6 now. I made this to remind myself of all the hate and pain drinking brought to my life” Y/n turned towards Spencer expecting him not to understand, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sobriety chip.

Y/n’s eyes started to tear up at the fact that someone finally wasn’t judging her but understanding her. She too pulled out a chip and both y/n and Spencer let out laughs full of pain but also full happiness. Spencer reached out a hand and placed it on y/n’s cheek. His thumb ran smoothly across her face to wipe a tear that had escaped.

When Spencer spoke again his words were soft, “Out of all this art, I think you are the one true masterpiece.”

One minute they were staring into one another’s eyes, and the next they were getting lost in the feel of the other’s lips neither one really sure when they had made it to y/n’s bedroom. Spencer held y/n against him firmly, but it felt delicate all at once. His fingers traced over every edge and curve of her body bringing sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips.

Spencer planted soft kisses across y/n’s body as if he were painting and her body was his canvas. With every roll of Spencer’s hips, flashes of color seemed to blind him. When y/n arched her back, Spencer let her know she was more beautiful than any art piece.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the sun shining through the windows. He felt y/n stir next to him, he couldn’t help but take in how lovely she looked. The sun seemed to only amplify her beauty.

Y/n opened her eyes to find Spencer staring at her. She smirked and closed her eyes again, curling up closer to him, “You’re staring.” Spencer chuckled causing vibrations to run through his chest making y/n giggle. “I’m admiring.” Spencer told her.

Y/n sat up to stretch, the sheets falling around her making her look like a sculpture of a goddess. She smiled down at him and scrunched up her nose “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say.”

While they started to dress, well y/n was getting dressed Spencer was still looking for his shirt, he noticed the shorts y/n was putting on had art on them just like the ones before. However, these were not shades of yellow and orange. These shorts had little planets painted on them.

Y/n turned around to see Spencer’s eyes once again focused on her ass, “Why are you smiling like that?” At her question Spencer let out the laugh he was holding in as he said, “Ummm- well- it’s just that- your ass is out of this world.”

Y/n snorted and threw a pillow towards Spencer who actually caught it, “Oh the doctors got jokes this morning.”

Spencer spotted his shirt in the floor and as he bent over to get it, he said, “Not jokes, facts.” This only made y/n smile more.

Y/n watched the muscles in Spencer’s back flex as he fixed his shirt to put it on. Right before he put it over his head she asked, “Can I- can I paint something on your back?”

Spencer stopped all movements to look at y/n, he noticed the blush tinting her cheeks. His heart seemed to scream with emotions. Spencer through his shirt back on the ground and asked, “Where do you want me?” Y/n giggled and pointed to the bed.

Y/n had been straddling Spencer’s back for about 15-to-20-minute minutes when he no longer felt the softness of the paintbrush against his skin. Y/n had been humming while she worked and with the gentleness of each stroke of the brush, Spencer kept dozing off.

Y/n removed herself from Spencer causing him to turn his head to look up at her, she was smiling so brightly Spencer never wanted to look away. Y/n was staring down at the work on Spencer’s back and jumped slightly when he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”, she rushed to put down her paints and brushes. Y/n grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Before handing him the handheld mirror she said, “Close your eyes. I’m going to count to 3.” Spencer just chuckled and nodded.

“1…”

“…2…”

“…3”

Spencer opened his eyes and let out a gasp. The art that now covered his back was simple but so pretty. There were no defined lines, the colors overlapped in some places which just made it all the more beautiful. He looked from the mirror to y/n to see her hands clasped together and held against her mouth. She moved her hands slightly to ask, “So, what do you think?” Spencer looked back at the mirror and said, “I never want to take it off.”

After the time Spencer spent with y/n he was scared he would never see or talk to her again. Right after she revealed the painting she had done on his back, Emily called him with a new case. He ran out of there so fast he didn’t have time to remove the paint or give y/n his number. The plane ride was slightly uncomfortable with his clothes sticking to the paint.

However, it turned out the universe was on his side. They were leaving one case going straight to another, so Spencer’s spirits were kind of in shambles and his mind was consumed with thoughts of y/n. His sadness was starting to take over his mood when his rarely used cell phoned chimed, signaling that he just received a text.

Hi, doc. It’s your favorite artist. I hope it isn’t weird I’m texting you. I got a call from someone named Penelope. She said Emily thought you would like to hear from me.

Spencer looked over towards Emily who was smirking as she read over the case file, she knew who was texting him. Spencer just shook his head as he typed out his response, smiling the whole time.

Hello, y/n. That would be my best friends medaling in my life. Luckily, this time they were right.

Y/n response came back fast, and Spencer chuckled softly imagining the teasing look she was probably making as she asked-

This time?

That is a story for another time.

Over the course of the several weeks Spencer was gone, Y/n and Spencer texted every chance they got. A lot of the times Spencer would be too busy and would see messages from y/n he had gotten through the day.

--

I was running late this morning due to me having terrible time management skills and well- I went to brunch with paint completely covering my clothes.

--

Ha look what I did. I’m starting to think I’m the real genius here. click here for image

--

SPENCER REID. DID YOU REALLY HAVE PENELOPE GO BUY ME THIS AND BRING IT TO ME?!?! I love it! Thank you! click here for image

--

Spencer would always laugh and respond every time he got the chance. One night he was actually able to call her.

“Hello?”

“Are not sure how to answer a phone or are you questioning if I’m really calling you?” Spencer teased.

“Well, isn’t someone feeling sassy today.” Y/n laughed; she was overwhelmingly happy to hear his voice.

They spent most of the night just catching up. Y/n never once asked about the case and for that Spencer was thankful. Spencer saw the sun start to rise and realized what time it was.

“I should probably try and get at least a few hours of sleep.” Spencer said into the phone. He heard her gasp and then frantically started apologizing, “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I was just so happy to talk to you I didn’t realize. I-“

Spencer cut her off with a “Hey. It perfectly okay. I love talking to you. If it were possible, I would never sleep if it meant I could talk to you forever.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, “Well guess what doc. You’re kind of stuck with me get ready for me to never stop talking.” Spencer laughed softly, “I am definitely okay with that.”

As soon as the jet landed, Spencer texted y/n to let her know they were back. What he didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the bullpen with Penelope. Spencer couldn’t help but practically sprint to her, ignoring the knowing looks from his teammates.

When reached her, he wrapped her in a hug. Y/n giggled as she hugged him back. When they pulled apart Spencer asked, “What are you doing here?” Y/n shrugged and looked towards Penelope who had left her side to join the others and said, “Reasons.” She looked back at Spencer and winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head as he wrapped her in another hug.

Spencer and y/n left with Spencer promising to finish the paperwork first thing the following week. Once they were outside y/n turned to Spencer and said, “Okay so the main reason I couldn’t wait any longer to see you is I want to ask you something?”

Spencer turned his head and squinted his eyes, “Should I be scared?” Y/n barked out a laugh and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He stared where their hands were joined. Y/n must have thought he didn’t want to hold her hand because she noticed him staring and let go.

Y/n became a little nervous as she asked, “I- I wanted to ask you to be my plus one at an art show tomorrow. This will be the second art show my work has been in and I’m extremely nervous and would love for you to be there.”

Spencer smiled, feeling beyond flattered that she would want him there. He grabbed her hand the same way she had before and said, “I would love nothing more.”

That following night at the art show Spencer knew for certain he was completely consumed with feelings for y/n. He couldn’t help but to admire how her face lit up every time she talked about her work with other guests. It fills him with pride every time she would turn away the champagne that is offered. What really sets his heart ablaze is how y/n would reach for his hand every time she moved on to another art piece or to speak to someone else. It was as if y/n wanted, needed him. Whether it was for comfort or confidence Spencer was happy to be either of those things for her.

Towards the end of the night Spencer and y/n had finally found a moment to be alone. They stood in front of a painting that kind of reminded Spencer of the mermaid from that one Disney movie Penelope made him watch.

Y/n must have thought so also because as she looked at the painting she said, “You know I am really glad you have become a part of my world.” Y/n turned her head to look at Spencer there was a gleam in her eye. Spencer responded by saying, “Is there any way I can always be a part of your world?”

Y/n responded by kissing Spencer, putting ever amount of emotion she felt into it. The kiss was more vibrant and meaningful than any art she could ever dream of creating.

*

*

*

Permanent Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie​ @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons​ @imdefinitelyfloating​ @muffin-cup @theintimatewriter @averyhotchner @spenxerslut​ @spenciegoob​ @april-14-blog​

[thekingslover]

Jetski For Sale (Lokius fic)

He stops riding the jetski.

He keeps it on the small trailer at the end of his driveway beside his modest split-level home and covers it with a blue tarp.

Every morning, in his brown button-up pajamas and a bathrobe, he walks to the end of the driveway and collects the morning paper. He’s careful to hold his coffee mug steady as he leans down, but he always manages to spill a drop or two. His slippers are covered in tiny coffee spots.

He tucks the newspaper under his arm and turns back toward his house. He left the television on; through the window, the screen flashes with the bright white letters, Breaking News! Two houses down, his neighbor is already out mowing the lawn. Further away, a dog barks.

Though he lives alone, it’s a perfect life. Everything’s simple. His mortgage is affordable. His brown sedan is paid off. And the jetski...

He doesn’t remember buying it. He always wanted one, dreamed of it. He had a savings set aside for someday. Yet... his savings is still there, and he still has this jetski.

He looks at it now, at the way it bulges under the tarp. A shame to leave it like that. He should take it out again. But the last time he did that...

Shaking his head, he walks back to the house. He drinks his coffee and reads his newspaper. He goes to work, comes home, goes to sleep, and does it all again the next day.

“Something’s different about you,” his sister says on the phone, their weekly call. “You sound different.”

“Same old me.” He’s good at keeping back his feelings and pushing forward the cheer.

She knows, though. Older sisters always seem to. “Are you sure you haven’t been seeing anyone lately?”

This sends him laughing. “A secret boyfriend? Come on, you have quite an imagination on you.”

“Laugh all you want,” she says, stern. She’s not backing down, though her voice does soften as she adds, “It’s only that you... Well, you sound... heartbroken.”

“That’s...” He should deny it. He hasn’t dated anyone in a good long while, but, well, now that she mentions it... He’s had his heart broken before, long ago, and it felt a little something like this. Like something crucial is suddenly missing. Like you spent so much time learning someone and adapting to them, shaping whole parts of your life around them, and then they are just... gone.

There’s a person-sized hole in his life now, but he can’t quite remember their shape.

No, that can’t be.

“That’s crazy,” he says, thinking, maybe I’m crazy.

“Why don’t you come visit us for a while?” she says. “The kids would love to see you.”

“Yeah,” he says, shaky. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea. Tell them I love them. Love you too.” Then he hangs up.

*

That night, he lays on his back in bed and stares at the ceiling, afraid to look to his right. He used to sleep sprawled across the entire width of the bed, a true bachelor enjoying his bachelorhood. When did he start picking one side?

He turns over, facing away from the barren expanse of the rest of the mattress, but the bookshelf offers little comfort. Most of his books are about history, biographies on interesting characters from the past. There’s a couple of jetski magazines wedged in, too. But what catches his eye... He remembers buying it, knows he did, the morning after watching a documentary on the perception of time and space. The documentarian had written a book. The Mobius Strip.

Frowning, he doesn’t find any sleep that night, no matter how many long minutes he closes his eyes, or how many sheep he tries to count in his head.

Mobius.

It’s a mathematical theory. Not a name. But it wedges between his ribs and stays buried behind them.

He’s not even a maths guy! But he can’t shake it. It feels heavy, too important.

He tosses and turns. He reaches out to the other side of the bed, realizes its empty, and snaps upright, dread overtaking him for one sharp moment before he remembers that its supposed to be empty.

This is normal. This is his perfect little life.

He flops back into bed and runs a hand down his face. Maybe he should go visit his sister, before he fully loses his mind.

*

His hands shake the next morning when he walks out to get the newspaper at the end of the driveway. Half his coffee spills when he leans to pick it up, but its fine. Maybe he should give up coffee entirely. Maybe too much caffeine is his problem.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

Turning towards the house, he spots the jetski, there under the blue tarp. The mysterious jetski that he doesn’t remember buying. The one, when he’s out on it, he sits too far forward, like he’s making space for someone behind him. But there’s no one there. There’s never anyone there.

The jetski, he decides, was the start of his problems. Maybe if he... If he...

Storming back into the house, he leaves what’s left of his coffee in the sink and the newspaper forgotten on the counter, and hurries into the office. He rips off a long sheet of dot matrix printer paper. Biting off the cap of his pen, he scribbles on it in large block letters, all caps, FOR SALE.

Back in the driveway, he removes the chocks from behind the wheels of the trailer, and flips off the tarp. He wheels the trailer and the jetski to the end of the driveway, right up against the road.

He must look like a mad man, out there in his brown button-up pajamas and coffee-stained slippers. The neighbor’s mowing the lawn. The dog’s barking further away. Everything’s perfect in this perfect little neighborhood, this perfect little life. But he feels like he is going insane.

He slaps the for sale sign on the front of the jetski, and starts back for the house. The sooner that thing is out of his life... Maybe... Maybe things would go back to normal.

His heart pangs in a way he doesn’t understand. Heartache. So much heartache. Why?

Does he even want normal?

But if not that, then what? What is he missing?

He’s at his front door, hand on the doorknob, when someone politely coughs behind him. He pauses a moment, there’s no way someone is there... But when he glances over his shoulder - yeah. Someone’s behind him, only a few feet away.

Not just someone. The most gorgeous person he has ever seen, wearing a sleek black suit and a pair of sunglasses. Long dark hair is slicked back and pushed behind their ears.

He should probably feel self-conscious, standing there in his brown pajamas in front of this god of a person - probably a model - but he doesn’t. Strangely, he feels more at ease now than he has in weeks. His whole body relaxes like he finally exhaled a held breath.

But that doesn’t make sense. They’ve never met. He would remember.

He would never forget a face like that.

“Hello,” the person says, and the word tremors slightly.

“Hello.” It tremors when he says it too.

There’s no car on the road. No bicycle on the sidewalk. However this person got here, it’s like they dropped down from the sky.

The person clears their throat. “You’re selling the jetski?”

“You...” He blinks. He knew jetskis were popular - hell, they are the best - but he hadn’t expected an offer before he even got his pants on. “Yeah. You interested?”

“Yes, I...” They drop their head a moment, taking their time to think. When they lift their head again, their shoulders lift too, like they are preparing for a battle.

He supposes negotiations can be seen as a battle, but he can’t bring himself to match the person’s pose. He’s ready to give up the jetski for free at this point. Whatever gets it gone.

The person asks, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. It runs like a dream.”

“Then why get rid of it?”

His heart hurts, so he laughs through the pain. It’s silly, but he can’t help feel his sister was right. This person wouldn’t know either way, so he finds himself telling them, “I’m heartbroken.”

The person goes very still. Their mouth opens and they take in a shaky, noisy breath. When they say, “What?” the word is bone dry and crumbling.

“It’s something we did together... I think.” He’s making it up, but it feels right. So he keeps talking. “And now. Well. It kinda reminds me of... I’m pretty sure I forgot a lot of things, but I can’t forget that. There’s supposed to be someone else. And I can’t... I can’t...”

He’s not making any sense, but the person is hanging on every single word.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’ll let it go cheap. Too many memories... or... I don’t know, feelings?” He sighs. “Just make me an offer, okay? I have to get ready for work.”

He wants nothing more than to keep this beautiful person on his doorstep, but... well, life isn’t always about getting what you want. This person wants a jetski, he has one. A transaction will occur, and this person will move forward like he never existed.

He’ll be left behind again.

Again?

Now, he’s the one to stand a little straighter. “Do you ever get deja vu?”

“Deja vu?”

“You know, where you feel like you’ve lived an exact moment already, once before. I’ve been reading this book about mobius strips and...” There’s that pang again, in his chest. A subtle ache that is swelling. He wants to ignore it, like he always has, but he’s finding he can’t really anymore. “Don’t you think that’d be a cool name? Mobius. Mobius M. Mobius.” He laughs, and it hurts. It hurts.

The person doesn’t laugh. Instead, they take a small step back. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

His laughter dies quickly. It wasn’t real anyway. “You don’t want the jetski?”

“I do,” the person says with naked longing. “More than anything.”

“Then its yours.” He shrugs. “You know, it kinda feels like it was already yours? Like, maybe its just been waiting around for you to show up and claim it.”

The person shakes their head. “It’s better off without me. It finally has a chance to... to... live the way you - it deserves...”

“I mean, that’s a nice thought. But in practice... wouldn’t it be better for jetskis to decide for themselves the kind of lives they want? Whose to say that their life before was all that great? Because let me tell you, this perfect little normal life I’m living? Kinda sucks.” He doesn’t really understand what he’s saying, but the words still fall out of him, like ripping a scab off an old wound and all the blood starts running again.

The person takes another step back, but this time, he follows, taking a step forward. Somehow, it feels crucial that he not let this person leave him behind again.

There, another again. What is he not remembering?

“There’s something terribly wrong with all this,” he says. “I’m forgetting something important, but whatever it is - whoever - I don’t think I can be happy without them. Not really. Not in any way that matters.”

“Mobius...” the person says, soft, under their breath. Stronger, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

And the dam breaks.

“I know exactly what I’m saying, Loki.” The name, that name. How could he forget that name?

The person - Loki - exhales again, watery this time.

“Maybe if we never met, this would be enough. Maybe it was once. But not anymore. Never again. Not since you. And not even your little mind hocus pocus could change that.”

Mobius takes another step forward. This time, Loki does not move back. They stay just as they are and let Mobius close the distance. Mobius lifts his hands to Loki’s face and slowly removes those sunglasses. Loki’s eyes have always been the most expressive - the easiest to read. No wonder they would try to hide them. Because now they shine with sorrow and regret and... love. So much love.

And that, Mobius knows, is exactly what he’s been looking for when he reaches out to the empty space beside him on the bed. When he sits in his kitchen and stares at the pulled-out chair across the table. When he rides his jetski and turns, ready to laugh with the missing person behind him.

“I’m not angry,” Mobius says, tossing the sunglasses aside. He takes one of Loki’s hands in his. Loki grips hard onto his fingers. “I understand why you did it. It’s kind of flattering really, to know you’d give up your own happiness to try to give me mine. But there was a very big problem with this latest Loki scheme.”

“What’s that?” Loki asks in a whisper.

Mobius gives them a smile. The first real one since they parted. “You’re unforgettable.”

Loki laughs once, a burst, like they’ve been holding something in and now its escaping. The hard lines of their face smooth out. And they look less like a frightened, broken shadow and more like themselves, god of mischief, with a small but growing smirk. “Of course. I suppose I should have considered that.”

“Big flaw. Ruined the whole thing, to be honest.”

Loki leans closer. “I hate to admit to fault, but I fear there was a second issue that I had not considered.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Your absolute stubbornness.”

“Stubborn? Me? You should look in the mirror, pal.”

Loki closes their eyes a moment. Mobius studies the planes of their perfect face, and wonders how, in all the infinite timelines, he ever forgot it. 

“Loki,” Mobius says. “Do me a favor, though, huh? Don’t do this again. I... uh, well. It wasn’t the most fun for me.”

“Me, either.” Loki presses their forehead to Mobius’s. “I regretted every moment, but I... The TVA stole you from your life. I wanted to -”

“I know, I get it. I’m not mad. But communication is key to a relationship, yeah? So maybe next time you want to do a grand gesture of love for me, we should talk about it first?”

Loki leans back. They blink. But it’s not the love that trips them up, it’s, “Relationship?”

Mobius runs his hands along Loki’s arms, up to the shoulders and back down to the elbows. “Yeah. I mean, we’re partners, right?”

“Partners.” Loki doesn’t say the word with disgust, more... intrigue.

“Boyfriends?” Mobius tries.

“Boyfriends.” Loki frowns at that one.

“Lovers?”

Loki’s eyes are bright and full of wonder. How they could look at Mobius, someone so normal, like that... well. Loki makes Mobius feel like a god himself, no wonder he couldn’t go back to his old life.

“Lovers,” Loki says and kisses Mobius. Mobius smiles against their lips. Lovers, it is, then.

Kiss turns to kisses, and they linger. It’s right, so right that it further amplifies how wrong everything else was before. Mobius belongs here. Right here. With Loki. Forever, if possible.

When they break, they both laugh, and it’s light and true this time, for both of them.

“Hey, Loki,” Mobius says. “Want to buy a jetski?”

Loki pulls an annoyed face, but its all an act - Mobius sees right through it, and Loki’s not trying that hard to hide it. “I believe I’m the one who acquired that jetski for you. You have no right to sell it.”

“It was a gift,” Mobius says.

“It remains a gift. One I insist you keep.”

“Alright, alright,” Mobius laughs and Loki kisses him at the corner of his smile. “But only if you promise to keep me.”

“Oh, dear Mobius.” Loki brings their mouth to Mobius’s ear. “I hope you appreciated this display of selflessness, because I will not be repeating it.”

“Good.”

“I am a selfish god.”

“Uh, huh.”

Loki’s arms grip tightly around Mobius’s waist. “And from here to eternity, I will be keeping what’s mine.”

The last remaining knots in Mobius’s chest untangle. “And the jetski.”

“And the jetski,” Loki says and kisses him again.

[eternal-armin]

the demon you summoned

BY THE GRACE OF THE UNHOLY BEINGS I LOVE I GOT IT BACK IM SO HAPPY

the reader sold their soul to the demon [char] to accompany them across turbulent lands to the great cities, rumored to have huge markets and incredible buildings. but reader is weak and cannot protect themselves, so they instill the help of otherworldly forces.

slight fantasy au heavily inspired by insomniac production's demon armin series (i love it so much i love their work hh)

maybe i should make this an actual drabble series

───── ❝ jean ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ you summoned a demon of pride to help not only with your state of mind, but with a venture across your lands ༻✦༺ you were very unhealthy and multiple people in your village suspected you wouldn't be able to make a journey to the larger cities ༻✦༺ this was essentially your last resort ༻✦༺ you were fully prepared for jean to reject your proposal; you were willing to give up your soul just to visit the cities for one day ༻✦༺ seeing how pure your soul was, jean was more than happy to escort you to your destination ༻✦༺ along the way, jean was compassionate to you ༻✦༺ he would ask you questions and you would respond. the more he knew about you, the more he rued the time when he would have to kill you to complete the pact ༻✦༺ the way that your eyes light up when you talk about your passions and your dream to leave the one place you ever knew ༻✦༺ the way you yawned and leaned against him when you began getting tired ༻✦༺ the smile you got whenever you saw something new and went to examine it ༻✦༺ the way you would look at him when he explained what it is, astounded by the knowledge that he held, and that he was honorable enough to share with you ༻✦༺ every time he protected you from any death or injury, you thanked him. jean was unused to it at first, scoffing. then it made his heart warm every time ༻✦༺ both of you were becoming more and more nervous along the way for very different reasons ༻✦༺ when you arrived, you hugged him and thanked him one last time ༻✦༺ jean wanted to cry ༻✦༺ you were so happy he couldn't possibly ruin this for you, ever. ༻✦༺ he pulled you aside for the time you thought you were going to die. instead, he hugged you, and told you how he felt

───── ❝ sasha ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ demon of greed and gluttony, famed to expose any hidden information and protect the operator if given a good enough offering ༻✦༺ you prepared an initial offering of the best foods your village had to offer, all of which were passed down through generations ༻✦༺ she was fairly impressed to see the spread specifically for her, and so was happy to devour the majority of it while you posed the rather simple pact; in exchange for your soul, sasha would protect you during the month-and-a-half-long journey across the country ༻✦༺ for the effort sasha would be putting in, she demanded a fair amount of food and your soul, depending on its condition ༻✦༺ your soul was far more than enough ༻✦༺ sasha dreamed of you becoming part of her retinue, always with her to provide her whatever food she could ever desire ༻✦༺ your cooking skills were certainly developed enough ༻✦༺ sasha was somewhat surprised by the sheer amount of dangers you were susceptible to ༻✦༺ it wasn't entirely surprising. she wasn't usually summoned for these types of things. in fact, she wasn't often summoned at all ༻✦༺ even though sasha was constantly asking you questions, you answered with eagerness and waited patiently if she had to explain something. it was rather impressive to her honestly ༻✦༺ you would make dinner for the two of you, and while sasha ate, you often fell asleep against her shoulder ༻✦༺ seeing how comfortable you were with her was heartwarming ༻✦༺ and she hated it (for the most part) ༻✦༺ when she asked why the big cities were so important to you, you were kind of surprised that she cared ༻✦༺ she was surprised she had asked in the first place ༻✦༺ but seeing the passion in your eyes, she couldn't possibly extinguish it ༻✦༺ at the same time she still needed that soul ༻✦༺ "[y/n]. i have an important proposition. please... hear me out. you have made me feel things demons were never meant to feel. i.. i love you. i love you and i need to have you. but i need to have your soul, too. i need both and the only way i can have both is if i turn you into a demon. you- you can stay here. stay on earth, live your life. but i need to love you. i don't think i'll ever love anyone else."

───── ❝ armin ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of knowledge and strategy ༻✦༺ it was a fair idea to summon armin for passage, but not for protection. however, cunning strategy can be the perfect defense ༻✦༺ that was your point of view going into the ritual ༻✦༺ he was surprised you asked for his assistance when you could've summoned a demon of treachery to protect you, however respected your reasoning ༻✦༺ in exchange for the beautiful soul you had, he vowed to protect you across the dangerous midlands, and provide you with knowledge as to what you should avoid aswell ༻✦༺ he was like an authority figure for a while. telling you what to do and what not to do, asking you questions in the voice of a principal ༻✦༺ but you always answered those questions with warmth ༻✦༺ "i've heard stories about the outside world, especially about the cities, and about all the different people and food and everything. i wanted to experience it, even if it was just once. just once is enough." ༻✦༺ to armin, it was both heartwarming and heartwrenching ༻✦༺ he knew he was going to be the one tearing you away from the dream you loved so dearly ༻✦༺ armin was a little softer with you from then on, turning into a good friend you trusted enough to fall asleep in his lap ༻✦༺ you were so excited you couldn't sleep for a few days beforehand ༻✦༺ you asked if you could hug him ༻✦༺ when he said yes, you didn't let go for hours, and you were smiling the whole time ༻✦༺ armin was in constant internal turmoil for the next few days until the lights were within reach ༻✦༺ he couldn't do anything to take you away from here ༻✦༺ and he knew he wouldn't live long if he devoured your soul ༻✦༺ "you can grow old here, live the life you dreamed of, with everything you've ever wanted. i will give you anything you ask. and when you die, i can turn you into a demon. we can live together. all you have to do is say 'i love you too.'"

───── ❝ levi ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of war and battle ༻✦༺ for physical protection or vengeance, one of the first demons people tend to go to ༻✦༺ you treated him more with respect than fawning over him in awe, which automatically had him respect you more in return ༻✦༺ you explained professionally what you needed from him, and what he would receive ༻✦༺ you offered him both your soul, and to serve eternally under him until the last white dwarf died ༻✦༺ seeing your desperation, and your willingness to give up everything you've ever had, certainly spiked his interest in your... pathetic case ༻✦༺ he accepted the pact and you left the village in the dead of night ༻✦༺ levi was rather impressed to see a human taking care of themself well. after all of the pacts he had been in, he had developed a strong sense that all humans were rather... stupid ༻✦༺ your poised exterior would fade slightly whenever you read the yokomerfe a ohemfo, the one book you had about the outside world. it was replaced with a beautiful, childlike wonder that he felt profoundly drawn to ༻✦༺ he would gaze at you the entire time you read by campfire light ༻✦༺ why the everloving hell is he finding a human beautiful in any capacity ༻✦༺ the more levi got to know you, the more intrigued he became ༻✦༺ not just in the life of a human, but in you specifically, and he had no idea why ༻✦༺ he realized why soon after but didn't want to accept it ༻✦༺ however, the way it made him feel...? he couldn't just forget it ༻✦༺ he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took your life and your freedom from you for eternity ༻✦༺ so the day before you arrived, he brought it up ༻✦༺ "i do not wish to complete this pact. i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i had to take away your soul and make you a servant. i'm doing neither. you can live your human life, and you can choose whether to die and go to heaven, or to live forever as a demon by my side. if you go to heaven, i cannot exist without you by my side."

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Now (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Their first Christmas as a family of four. Underwhelming gifts, naughty kitchen counter shenanigans, being suspicious of Santa Claus, baby kissies, oat milk. 

Author’s Note: Baby bub is here! I’ve been so excited to finally be able to write about them, and I’m even more excited that you all get to read about them! This is the second part of my Christmas bits for this year. Unlike the last one, this one is obnoxiously adorable and no where near as upsetting (I really hurt my own feelings with that one). Reblogs, likes, tags, and feedback of any kind is always greatly appreciated! If you don’t see me before the year is up, I want to wish you a Happy New Year! Enjoy, take care, and tpwk.

“Two.”

“No. One.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“Now that’s just bein’ greedy,” Harry spoke in a wounded tone with his brows furrowed together as if he were genuinely offended.

“But if Santa’s coming tonight and bringing more presents, why can’t I open these ones right now?”

Tallulah was on her knees in front of the sofa, fingers laced together with her chin resting on top of them. She was quite literally begging her father, who sat above her with one leg crossed over the other and an arm slung around his wife, to allow her to open the gifts that were prematurely nestled underneath the festive fir tree in their living room. Well, they weren’t married yet, but Harry couldn’t help that he preferred how the word felt rolling off of his tongue than “fiance.”

“Because they’re Christmas presents,” he stressed.

“Makes no sense t’ open them the day before.”

His freshly six-year-old daughter clearly didn’t like that answer - the pouty jut on her lip and subsequent huff told Harry all he needed to know.

“I already told ya, sweet pea. You can open one tonight. That’s it. The rest are for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiiine,” the small girl said, although it was implied in her tone that it very much was not.

Tallulah hobbled over to the tree whilst still on her knees, and began riffling through the small litter of perfectly wrapped boxes to inspect which one would elicit the most satisfaction on her end. She seemed keen on a rather large one, decorated with tartan print and a red gift tag that read, “To: Lulah, From: Daddy & Mummy.” What she hadn’t realized, though, was that Harry had already made the selection for her. 

“Not tha’ one,” Harry reprimanded over the steaming mug of coffee in the hand that wasn’t rubbing circles on Y/N’s shoulder.

He typically strayed away from caffeine this late in the evening, but he knew he was in for a long night of waiting up until Tallulah was fast asleep so he could take on the role of Santa and deliver all of the gifts he had promised her for being good enough to make an appearance on the Nice List. Knowing how much shit he had packed in his office that stayed locked this time of year, he really wasn’t sure how he was going to do it successfully.

Another exasperated sigh left his eldest child’s lips, to which she replied, “But this one’s the biggest.”

“But it’s not the one we want yeh t’ open, Lulah. ‘S the one with polar bears on it,” Harry stated, though not with full confidence.

“It is the one with polar bears on it, right?” he whispered to Y/N.

This earned a laugh from Y/N, who muttered a quiet, “Yes,” in return. She laid her head in the crook of Harry’s neck, basking in the warmth that radiated from his body. He smelled like cinnamon and the nutmeg-flavored coffee beans he’d ground up just a few minutes before, and maybe a hint like baby barf.

Tallulah scavenged the space under the tree like a predator hunting its prey - all on the lookout for the present fitting the description Harry had given her. Harry and Y/N found themselves thoroughly entertained by watching her overturn almost every gift, and shared a similar giggle when she narrowed in on the box in question before letting out a victorious, “Aha!” into the room only lit by a firelog in the chimney.

“Grab the one for Olive too, please. Don’t want her feelin’ left out,” Harry called out to Talulah. 

“Okay, daddy!”

Her small arms stretched to the limit, trying to grab both packages without toppling over onto the others. Tallulah noted that they both felt the exact same underneath the wrapping paper, only her baby sister’s was much smaller than the one addressed to her.

“They feel like clothes,” Tallulah stated matter-of-factly as she took back her place on the floor with both presents in hand.

Harry sighed, leaning down to rest his mug near his feet against the sofa.

“Good grief. Just open it, will yeh?”

She needed no further instruction. Her fingers dug into the paper, piercing it with her nails and ruining the pastel blue parchment that was covered in dozens of cartoon polar bears partaking in various yoga poses. When Tallulah was able to tear the gift away from its wrapping, her hands grasped something soft.

“It’s....pajamas.”

Her tone was flat and unamused. Harry sensed her disappointment, though in his heart he certainly felt like he’d done a great job concocting his plan to have her open this particular gift on Christmas Eve.

“Yeah, but they’re Christmas pajamas. Don’t yeh want t’ look nice when Santa comes to visit tonight?”

This seemed to...disturb Tallulah. That was really the only way to describe how she looked at her dad - with her eyebrows scrunched up and her normally-plush lips pressed together in a thin line.

“...He’s gonna come in my room when I’m sleeping?”

Y/N hadn’t meant to, but a loud cackle erupted from her chest, which jostled the four-month-old baby girl that had the beginnings of sleepiness settling into her body. In contrast to the laugh from Y/N, Olive let out the tiniest of shrills, obviously upset that her mother had interupted the peacefulness she’d felt whilst being curled up against her chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, bubby,” Y/N cooed quitely, quickly moving to pat her daughter’s bum and comfort her.

“Mummy didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Y/N pressed a quick kiss to the sparse tufts of hair atop Olive’s head before returning her attention back to Tallulah.

“Lulah, I promise you that Santa will not come in your room while you’re sleeping. What your dad means,” she snuck a glance in Harry’s direction in which he smirked back at her, “Is that you want to look nice on Christmas morning, don’t you? You know Nana’s gonna take a thousand pictures of you and Olive tomorrow, so now you don’t have to change when she gets here, yeah?”

Tallulah nodded, though it didn’t do much to lift her spirits. She fumbled the cream-colored thermal set adorned with gold stars between her fingers, the motion she was always somehow doing whether it be to her dad’s t-shirt while she laid next to him during a movie, Y/N’s lotus pendant when she was smaller and could fit on her chest, or otherwise.

“Plus,” Y/N added, a hint of irony in her voice, “I’d imagine the presents Santa’s going to bring you are much less boring than this.”

They shared a knowing smile, Tallulah’s cheeks growing rosey and her eyes twinkling at the mention of the magical, bearded man.

“I’m offended,” Harry scoffed.

“Really thought those pajamas were proper cute.”

“They are cute, daddy!” Tallulah chimed in, “I like them a lot. Thank you.”

It appeared that the young girl had realized her moping about not receiving the nail polish kit she’d asked for didn’t do her any good. And whether Harry was joking about being upset or not, she’d never want to hurt her dad’s feelings. He’d raised her too kindly to do otherwise.

“You’re welcome, bug,” Harry smiled at her.

“Let’s help Olive open hers, yeah?”

“I bet it’s pajamas,” Tallulah mumbled under her breath.

That earned her a light tug on one of her two braided plaits on her head from Harry. The two of them chuckled at each other, their faces almost looking like identical portraits of each other.

“Humor me for a second then, Lulah. ‘S your sister’s first Christmas.”

Tallulah scoots over on the floor to stand on her knees, this time by Y/N’s legs as she turned Olive around to sit up straight in her lap. Olive, who was once determined to fall asleep right there on the couch beside her mum and dad, was now awake and had taken an interest in the crinkling sound of the wrapping paper on the gift her big sister placed on top of her chunky thighs.

“Here, Livvy,” Tallulah cooed, “You tear it like this.”

She tried to show Olive how to tear away the present by ripping it halfway open, but her effort proved to be unsuccessful the second Olive managed to get her fingers around a scrap of paper and immediately placed it in her mouth. It appeared that Olive was much more interested in the gift wrap than she was her early Christmas present.

“Well, there goes that,” Harry said as he fetched the then soggy parchment from his infant daughter’s lips, making somewhat of a disgusted face as he wiped the excess drool on the leg of his pants.

Tallulah takes the honor of opening Olive’s present for her, and is unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes when her eyes meet a set of thermal pajamas like the ones she’d just received herself, only Olive’s were green with tiny, silver stars. She’d parted her lips to make an undoubtedly flippant comment, but Harry cut her off before she even had the chance to mutter the first syllable.

“Don’t do it, stink head,” Harry quipped, reaching for the discarded paper that was scattered on the rug beneath him so he could put it in the bin later.

“How about you go put on your lovely new pajamas so we can get everything set up f’ Santa to come, alright?”

“Okayyyyyy,” the small girl grumbled before snatching the thermal set from the floor and darting off to her room.

“That didn’t really go the way I hoped,” Harry mumbled as he reached over to take Olive from Y/N.

“It’s Christmas, baby,” Y/N reminded him.

“Kids want toys, not pajamas.”

“Yeah but,” Harry focused his attention at worming the tight-fitting pajamas up his baby girl’s abnormally chubby legs.

“’S what mum used t’ do for us when we were little. Always got pajamas on Christmas Eve. Figured it’d be nice t’ do it for the girls, too.”

“It is sweet, Harry. Just wouldn’t expect a six-year-old to be that enthused about it,” Y/N snickered.

Harry hummed in agreement, his tongue poked out as he fed Olive’s arm into the tight sleeve of her top, struggling a bit to get her balled up fist through the other side.

“Ahh, there we go. Thank god ya only have t’ wear these tomorrow, Chunk. They’ll be too snug by next week.”

“Leave my fat baby alone,” Y/N scolded.

“There’s nothing wrong with being well fed,” she added, leaning over to lightly pinch on her daughter’s round tummy in an attempt to get her to smile at her.

A gummy grin took over Olive’s features at the sight of her mother, a true mummy’s girl at heart. She was much like Tallulah in many ways, but so different at the same time. Olive was still nearly bald, whereas Tallulah’s hair grew like a sprout when she was Olive’s age. Tallulah had always been teeny tiny, no doubt due to her premature birth, and Olive clearly made up in weight for what Tallulah lacked when she was a baby. They both loved cuddles with Harry and listening to the sound of his voice as they fell asleep, but it always puzzled him when Olive didn’t respond to some of his antics in the way that Tallulah had. 

“‘M not bein’ mean. I’d jump on the chance to suck on your tits all day if I could, too.”

“Har-” Y/N began to reprimand him about how she can’t say that because there are little ears in the room, but was stopped short.

“I’m back! Can we set out the cookies now?”

Tallulah breathed heavily as if she just sprinted a marathon into the living room. 

“Sure can,” Harry responded.

“Come tell Livvy good night first, though. Mummy’s gotta feed her and put her t’ bed.”

She smiled at the mention of her little sister, whom she was always keeping at an arm’s reach. If Tallulah was awake, she was in the same room as Olive. It made Harry’s heart ache in the best way to watch the two of them interact with each other. The feeling he felt when he first saw Olive in Tallulah’s arms at the hospital never subsided. He was absolutely besotted for his girls.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite soeur,” Tallulah whispered to Olive, reaching down to hug her sister and kiss the crown of her head, which she happily accepted in the form of weaving her pudgy fingers into Tallulah’s braids and pulling them rather harshly.

Before he handed her off to Y/N to be fed and put down for the night, he gave Olive a kiss of his own.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite chérie.”

//

“‘How do you know Santa likes oat milk? Did he tell you that? Luna at school told me he likes chocolate almond milk.’ What kinda shit is that?!” Harry exclaimed with a mouth full of sugar cookie and in the quietest voice he could muster.

He’d just spent the last hour with Y/N, silently digging Tallulah’s gifts from Santa out of his office and placing them underneath the tree. Thankfully, he hadn’t tripped over his own feet and woken her up or else he would have cried right there on the spot.

All Y/N could do was giggle back at him from where she sat on top of the counter, bare legs swinging as she had a mouthful of the very same oat milk in question swishing in her mouth.

“She’s asking too many questions n’ I don’t like it one bit.”

“Think she’s just growing up, babe. The magic doesn’t last forever. She’s about at that age. Probably only have one or two more Christmases before she figures it out.”

Harry stared at the remaining half of the frosted cookie Tallulah left for Santa in his palm, eyes quiet and sullen.

“Don’t like that one bit, either,” he muttered.

“I know you don’t, bubby,” Y/N cooed, pulling Harry into her so he stood between her parted legs on the countertop.

“But you’ve still got Olive.”

He seemed to perk up at that, looking up at her through thick lashes with a smirk.

“Just Olive? We stoppin’ there?”

“I mean,” Y/N pursed her lips.

“Wouldn’t mind trying for a boy.”

Harry placed his hands on either side of her thighs, stroking her skin with his thumbs.

“Might not happen on the first go, though,” he tisked.

“Could take havin’ a few more for that t’ happen. Yeh alright with that?”

“As long as you’re not tired of me by then, then sure,” Y/N jested.

“’M never gonna be tired of you.”

He leaned in close to her, touching his forehead to hers. He was a split second away from kissing her, but then Y/N spoke up again.

“Harry,” she called out.

“Hmm,” Harry’s voice oozed with desire and darkness beginning to turn his eyes a deep shade of juniper.

“Can I please have a bite of your cookie?”

He softly bumped his forehead against hers as they both broke out into a fit of chuckles.

“Allumeuse,” Harry uttered, raising the sickeningly sweet cookie to her lips.

She chewed the baked good tantilizingly slow, making a scene of rolling her eyes back and moaning as if the taste was euphoric.

“Tu aimes ça,” she snided.

“Je fais.”

The two sat in silence after that, finishing up what was left of the small plate of sweets Tallulah had left by the chimney. It wasn’t often that the house was this quiet. Normally, there was a crying Olive to attend to or a needy Tallulah begging for one of them to get more paper out of Harry’s office printer so she could draw pictures of the plants in their garden out back. It would have been eerie, had the multi-colored lights from their Christmas tree not illuminated the majority of their open living space. The twinkling bulbs brought a sense of peacefulness about them. Maybe it was the season, or maybe it was because they’d been feeling so grateful for their small family as of late.

“Honey,” Harry broke the silence.

“What?” she looked up from where she’d been fussing with the hem of her shorts decorated with tiny snowflakes.

“Yeh got a little,” he gestured to her mouth before bringing his thumb to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.

Harry swiped a rogue dollop of blue frosting that rested there and pressed it onto her tongue. She wrapped her lips around his digit, sucking lightly to remove the sticky icing from his skin. Her eyes met his, not once straying as he applied just the slightest bit more of pressure with his thumb. He noted the way her breathing slowed and how she gently shuddered when he tightened the grip of her jaw with the rest of his fingers.

“So pretty,” he purred, marveling at the sight in front of him.

God, how Harry wished it weren’t just his finger resting on the soft, welcoming warmth of her tongue.

Y/N slid off his thumb with a calculated pop of her lips, licking them to ensure she’d rid herself completely of any stray crumbs.

“Kissy?” she posed, smirking.

“I’d be pretty rotten if I said no,” Harry replied before pressing his mouth against hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to stand flush against the counter and even closer to her body. He teased her with this tongue, gliding it along the plush skin of the inside of her lip. Y/N welcomed him and parted her lips enough for Harry to get through. Both of them taste the saccharine remnants of the cookies they’d shared, and soon all that’s heard in the house are the suckling noises and heavy pants coming from Harry and Y/N. It’s not loud enough to be a disturbance, but it’s just enough to have them both yearning for more.

“Talk t’ me, lapine,” Harry broke away from her for long enough to mumble one sentence, still pressed against her lips.

“Tell me what yeh want.”

“Want you,” Y/N said in a shaky exhale, chasing Harry’s mouth to reconnect with her own.

“Yeah?” he taunted.

“Want me right here in the kitchen?”

“Ideally, no. But I wouldn’t stop you.”

She parted her legs even wider, attempting to rut against the thick fabric of Harry’s fleece sweatpants. Her center met something stiff and Harry pulled her even closer by the flesh of both bum cheeks, massaging them with his massive palms in a manner that he knew drove her mad.

“That’d be pretty naughty of us, wouldn’t it? Not sure if Santa would approve of that one.”

Before she’s given a chance to respond, Harry snuck his hand between their thighs and began softly petting Y/N over her shorts. Her head fell back in pleasure, temporarily detaching her lips from Harry’s. She knows she can’t make a single sound or else she’ll wake up the entire house so she just sits there with her brows furrowed, silently gasping and letting these sweet, broken moans spill from her throat that spur Harry on even further.

“Can feel you even through your fuckin’ shorts, Y/N,” he grunted, slowing grinding against his own palm that was the only thing separating him from her heat.

This time, it’s Y/N that reached between them, feeling for the stifness that lies between his legs. She wraps her fingers around him through his sweatpants, leisurely tugging at his cock. Harry’s all but forced to begin sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck to keep himself from crying out at the contact, working at blossoming deep lilac and mulberry colored bruises there.

“Bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” he muffles into her collarbone.

Y/N hummed, crossing her legs around Harry’s back as he began to focus his attention to rubbing her clit over the material of her shorts.

“Bet you could too,” she whined.

“’S that what you want, hm? Want me t’ make you cum without even touchin’ you right?”

“‘M not gonna have a choice if you don’t do something else pretty soon.”

She sped up the work she’s doing near Harry’s crotch, paying mind to what she can make of his tip between his boxers. With her thumb, she rubbed expert circles around him, massaging him in the way that he’s doing to her. Both of them could feel it, the slow build up of pressure deep in their abdomen - a coil winding tighter and tight with the threat of snapping.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.”

He was biting her neck now, completely consumed by the feeling of both the damp patch seeping through Y/N’s shorts and onto his fingers and the precum dripping onto her more delicate ones through his sweatpants.

In an attempt to not embarass himself like a horny teenager, Harry withdrew his hand from in between her thighs and places it around her bum all in the same breath. Y/N sighed defeatedly at the loss of friction against the place she needed it most, dropping her head into Harry’s shoulder and whining rather noisily. Before she even has the chance to curse him for stopping, he scooped her off the counter with all of his strength and began walking both of them to their bedroom so he could fuck her properly.

Their lips detach when Harry drops her onto the bed and a woosh of air leaves the down comforter, causing the hem of Y/N’s top to fly up and expose her tummy. She still wore the deep, almost-metallic stretch marks she’d acquired when she was pregnant with Olive, but it wasn’t with shame. Her and Harry had a talk not that long ago about how much he loved them because it reminded him of how much he cherished watching his baby girl grow before she made her grand, earthside appearance. She’d not mentioned the slightest bit of disdain for them after that.

Just as Harry tugged his jumper over his head and threw it off somewhere that he’d worry about in the morning, his eyes caught the digital clock that rested on the wooden night stand on his side of the bed.

“’S past midnight,” he said with a lopsided grin, climbing on top of the girl he vowed to spend his last dying breath beside.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, for the life of her unable to understand why that was relevant when just minutes ago, he was rutting into her hands and aching for release.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled against her lips.

He pulled up once more to add, “Happy Christmas.”

She had half the mind to smack him, but all she did was shake her head and smile.

“Happy Christmas, Harry. Will you please fuck me now?”

“Think I can manage that.”

It was the first of many Christmas presents for Y/N.

[julemmaes]

singer of my heart - nightmares

prompt: Az singing to Gwyn when she has a nightmare and it is the only thing that calms her down

warnings: mentions of SA, death

A/N: hoping these won't be the usual warnings, here it comes the first one shot of Singer Of My Heart, my new collection of Gwynriel stories. Many of the people in my taglist might not be really fond of this ship, so if you only comment to say just how much you hate anything that's not Elriel, I ask you not to:D

Word count: 3,263

Gwyn instantly awoke to the dim light of the ever-burning candles in the kitchens of the Sangravah temple. The din hit her immediately afterwards. She could hear the screams of her priestess friends, felt the sharp metal of her enemies cutting through flesh and blocking out those heartbreaking cries. She could distinguish the voices of the people who had lived with her all her life. She knew what was happening. She had been in that place before, that same night, so few years before. They were coming.

She looked down, fixing her eyes on the bright, wide-open eyes of the little girl whose hand she was clutching. Her heart clenched even tighter in her chest and she tried to clear her thoughts before Hybern's soldiers reached them. If she hurried, maybe this time she would be able to get in with them. Maybe she could get to safety, escape the carnage.

She looked at the passage in the wall, where the last of the children had now entered, and let go of little Sankora's hand. The child wailed, shaking her head, but Gwyn had no time for such things, she had to make sure she was safe. They were coming, they were coming.

The footsteps and screams were getting closer by the second, louder and louder behind the large wooden door that separated them from what she knew was certain death. She pushed the little one through the trap door, ordering one of the older children to run as fast as they could down into the catacombs, hiding as best they knew until someone came for them.

Sankora had just disappeared behind the wall when Gwyn heard Hybern running towards her. They were coming.

Knowing what was about to happen, she let go of a throaty noise. She wanted to escape with the children, she knew she could, but her body didn't move until it was too late and she had only time to throw a rug over the trap door and place the table right in front of it so it was no longer visible.

She had just turned to face the opening when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with such force that the pots and pans hanging from the nails shook. Gwyn held her breath, her legs ready to finally run, following what her brain was begging her to do, but the commander saw her and his nostrils flared as he caught her scent.

A creepy smile appeared on the man's face and Gwyn felt the hairs on her arms rise.

She knew what was coming.

And from the looks the guards were giving her, it was as if they, too, had been there before. It was as if they were all actors, doomed to relive that night every time she closed her eyes.

Gwyn shifted her gaze to her sister, to the other priestesses, to return her eyes to the commander. She tried to stand straighter, not to let on.

When the man spoke, she felt her stomach churn so hard she was afraid she would vomit.

"Where are the little girls?" he asked, taking a step towards her. Gwyn took one back, her breath caught in her throat still. "Where are the girls?" he repeated, reaching a hand up to her face, smiling as he took a strand of her hair and curled it around one finger.

When rough fingertips brushed the skin of her cheek, Gwyn closed her eyes.

"They took the mountain road to go get help," she murmured, trying to sound more confident than she actually was.

The guards laughed behind the commander. He grinned, leaning towards her so far that she could smell his breath, felt the air penetrate her soul. She would never forget the alcohol-heavy scent of that beast. "You're lying." he whispered, cupping her face completely and tightening his grip on her head, crushing her ear. Gwyn whimpered, a sound between a sob and a cry of pain, and he laughed. "I can feel your fear," he continued in a louder voice, "you're lying and if you don't tell me the truth soon-" he clicked his tongue, violently pulling his hand away from her delicate face and jerking her forward as her hair got caught in his armour. Gwyn let out a scream of pain, but the sound was choked off when she heard someone else wailing. Catrin looked into her eyes, only pure anger and determination on her face.

Gwyn felt the wave of shock hit her in one breath and felt her knees giving way beneath her.

She knew what was coming.

She knew, as did her body.

She felt the commander ordering her to tell him the truth again. Threaten her. She heard him promise he would kill her sister if she did not speak. She heard the sound of the sword being drawn from its sheath. She heard the final warning and heard the screams as her sister's head rolled before her eyes.

But she did nothing.

It was useless.

She had tried so many times to change the outcome. She had tried so hard to save everyone.

She didn't move from her spot on the floor, her face wet with silent tears, when the commander moved Catrin's decapitated corpse with one foot and bent down to her level and without taking his stare from hers, said to his guards, "Go to work on them."

She heard the cries of her companions, but did not react. It was meaningless.

The smile the commander gave her made her brain scream to run, but it made no sense.

"That one is mine," he spat.

She felt something caress her neck, call her name. She turned her head slowly as the commander took her by force and two other guards pinned her against the table. She felt the same gentle caress on the exposed skin of her face and then all black as the shadows took over.

***

Gwyn woke up screaming, clawing at her chest so that air could flow directly into her lungs.

The figure of the commander she had come to appreciate and trust was too similar to that of her nightmare. The title both men bore was all too equal for Gwyn to realise that Cassian posed no real threat.

When Nesta tried to approach as well, she only screamed louder and the broken sound that came from her throat made her friends curse.

Gwyn tried to gasp for air, failing miserably between sobs and spasms, and it only got worse when Cassian knelt in front of her on the bed, placing one leg on the mattress and shifting the weight of his body towards her.

His outstretched hands to help her up, to see if she needed him, was just another trap in the eyes of the girl who still believed she was trapped in the nightmare.

Gwyn closed her eyes, clutching the blanket in her hands so tightly that the bones rattled in her fingers.

Get out. Get out. Get out-

And a moment later the mattress shifted beneath her once more and a low growl filled the room.

She let out a sigh of relief, of freedom, as she let herself fall back onto the pillows, opening her eyes now tired of struggling, knowing full well what the sound meant.

The Shadowsinger stood beside her bed breathing heavily as he held a sword and kept his gaze fixed on the pair before him as if he had never seen them before. As if they personified his worst nightmare.

Cassian remained lying on his back on the floor as he looked at his brother with wide, confused eyes. Nesta, crouched beside her mate, was shouting at Azriel.

What, Gwyn could not have known, for to her ears all sounds came muffled.

The only voice she heard clearly was that of the dark shadows dancing around her, asking her what had happened, if she was hurt.

Gwyn found the strength to turn her body towards the other wall, whimpering softly as the cold of the room hit her bare back. At that faint cry, another menacing growl made its way into the room, threatening anyone who would even touch Gwyn again that things would not end well for them.

She heard Nesta retort that if she heard her scream again, she would bring Ataraxia too and that he needed to calm the fuck down and stop growling at them.

And Gwyn wanted to tell them to stop. She wanted to shout at them that it wasn't necessary, that they were only scaring her more, that they should leave her alone.

Azriel's shadows danced around her and then shifted, and Gwyn only then realised how clear and sharp they were to her. She reached out a hand towards one of them and-

"Go away," said the Shadowsinger, "If she needs one of you, I will come for you. But now you must go."

It was Cassian who replied, "Az-"

"Please."

Gwyn hadn't even realized she'd spoken, but Nesta's gasp made her realize it.

"I'm fine. Go." she continued in a weak, husky voice.

No one said anything more, and the sound of the door closing behind her friends was the only sign that they had actually left.

But Gwyn knew he remained there.

She could hear his panting breath, could sense his uneasiness. She could feel his heartbeat through the shadow twirling around her fingers. As if they were trying to steady her with that continuos drumming.

Do you want him to leave too?

She held her breath for a second, before realising that the shadows had spoken to her.

"No." she whispered back, not knowing if they would hear her if she just thought the word.

Azriel turned to her, and Gwyn knew that he was just waiting for her to command him, that whatever she would order him to do, he would do.

"Azriel..." she didn't need to say anything else as he shifted and moments later he had crossed the room and was before her, crouched beside the bed with pleading eyes. Gwyn looked up at him and it was like the first time, when he had walked into that kitchen so long ago and saved her.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

And the raw emotion, the bitter sorrow that bound each letter made her stomach clench. His eyes had never been so clear and he had certainly never looked at her like that. It was as if he was allowing her to see a small portion of what he actually felt every minute of his eternal days.

Before she could even answer him, he had gotten up and was heading for the door. Only then did she notice that he was wearing only a pair of light black silk trousers.

She spoke before she could repent, "Stay."

Azriel froze in his tracks and the shadows that had so far only looked calm and composed went mad, crawling everywhere on the walls and around his shoulders, over his head. The ones that had remained on her moved with more fierceness and Gwyn felt as if she could touch them, as if they were solid objects around her.

A second later, they were still again, swaying with that deadly calm that belonged only to darkness waiting for something, anything.

He turned slowly towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line, "Why?"

Gwyn blinked, "Stay."

And Az watched her for a few seconds, before placing his sword against the wall and making his way to the bed. He was about to lay down, touch her, but he stopped, holding his breath.

"May I?" he asked in that low tone of his, pointing to the bed.

Gwyn only nodded.

Her room wasn't really meant to house an Illyrian warrior, much less her bed to hold both her and him at the same time, but when Nesta had offered her a room in the House of Wind, neither of them had thought Azriel would be entering her private chambers.

Certainly not so soon.

He was looking at her like she was going to break down at any moment, but she'd stopped crying the second he'd appeared and had resumed breathing normally when Cassian and Nesta had finally left. Her heart was still beating wildly, but her brain couldn't tell if it was because of what she'd seen in her sleep or the presence of the male beside her.

She ran her gaze over his chest, over the intricate weave of ink that marked his skin. Nothing she hadn't seen yet during their training sessions, but this was different. She saw him shiver as her eyes traveled further down, over his sculpted abs, and when she saw the hair on his arms stand up, she went back to look at his face.

"Are you cold?" she heard herself ask.

He gave no sign that he had heard her and for a moment Gwyn thought she had only thought it, but then he looked away, sighing and leaning his head against the headboard. "I haven't felt cold in ages now."

She frowned, ready to ask questions, wondering why then his body was covered in what was obviously goosebumps, but he beat her to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwyn shook her head, turning on her back and looking up at the ceiling.

"Do you need me to do something for you?"

She repeated the gesture and sighed. Even just his presence would be enough for her until dawn came.

He made a nod of assent, crossing his arms over his chest, and she had to force herself not to look at the way she knew his muscles were pulling on his perfect, solid forearms.

She thought she owed him something though, for coming to her rescue again, for staying.

"Thank you."

Azriel was silent again, and Gwyn thought she should teach him how to have a proper conversation one of these days, because she knew he'd respond in a matter of seconds, but those melodramatic pauses he made every time he had to say something gave her far too much time to admire him, distracting her from the topic.

Besides, how much willpower did you need to say a simple you're welcome-

"I felt you," he murmured. Gwyn's head snapped in his direction. He continued to keep his gaze fixed on the wall. He drew in a deep breath that made his chest heave and his arms move, but she didn't have time to admire the sight, too curious to know what he meant by those words. "I felt you, as you slept. The shadows, they..." he swallowed, "they warned me that you were suffering. That you were in pain."

He finally looked at her and Gwyn's breath caught.

"You were in pain."

She curled up on her side, facing him, "I'm sorry." she said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Azriel shook his head, almost as if to say that she didn't understand, but Gwyn saw the way he gave up even voicing his doubts, and she had absolutely no mental strength to be able to go so far as to ask him what was flashing through his mind.

There was only one thing she could think of.

"Azriel?" she called to him, despite knowing she had his fullest attention, "A few weeks ago, you told me you sing."

He nodded, now even more on alert.

She managed to crack a small, weak smile and the surprise on his face was like lightning striking her in the chest. A second later it had vanished.

"Would you sing for me?"

He watched her a few moments and hope had already planted its seed in her stomach when he said, "I'm not in the right spirit right now, sorry."

Gwyn huffed softly, getting closer, just a few inches. Nothing that could escape the Shadowsinger, of course, but she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he didn't move or pull away from her.

He might not have felt the cold for the last five hundred years, but Gwyn was freezing now that the adrenaline was completely gone and the blankets were blocked by his mighty legs.

An idea formed in her head.

"You asked if you could do something for me," she reminded him. Azriel seemed ready to retort that he would not sing right then and she raised a hand just enough to keep him silent. "I won't ask you to sing again. Not tonight, but..." she trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously, "could you hold me?"

He opened his eyes wide and Gwyn thought she had never seen so much emotion on the male's face in the span of so few minutes.

He began to shake his head, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please," she begged him, closing her eyes. "Just until I get back to sleep," she lied.

She wasn't going to tell him that she needed to feel his arms around her to know she was safe. To remember the way he'd held her when he'd rescued her that day.

She felt him shift on the mattress, looking for a more convenient position for his wings, and when his hand brushed against her shoulder, he gasped. Gwyn opened her eyes, meeting his, now closer than ever.

His breathing became ragged as he shifted his gaze to his hand and withdrew it.

Gwyn realised she had been wrong to ask him when she recognised the look in his eyes, the pure hatred for those hands she revered and considered her greatest salvation.

She sat up, pulling the sheets from under their legs and, covering herself up to her neck, turned to him, "Is that better? You think you can hold me, if you don't touch me directly?" she asked softly, trying to wipe that look of self-hatred off his face.

Azriel looked at her, blinking once, twice, and then gave a small nod.

She sighed, getting even closer, until one of his arms slipped under her head and she was careful not to touch his hand as the other wrapped around her from behind and pushed her against his chest.

Feeling brave, she put a hand on his pec, resting her head against his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked once they were settled. She merely nodded. "Good."

Minutes passed, hours perhaps, and Azriel didn't move an inch as Gwyn sought sleep more than anything else in the world, mentally exhausted from everything that had happened.

It was only when light began to seep in behind the curtains that the hand over the blanket between them began to trace a path down her back. She smiled in her sleepy state and couldn't hold back her gasp of surprise when he began to hum a tune and it rumbled in his chest.

Gwyn moved her head slightly, pressing her ear against his chest and the arm around her tightened only imperceptibly, but the faint low singing did not stop until she closed her eyes again, finally finding the peace of sleep.

When she awoke hours later, the bed was empty and there was no sign of the male who had kept her company that night.

It wasn't until she pulled herself upright that she saw a shadow hovering in the opposite corner of the room. It seemed to watch her intently for a few seconds and then the uppermost end rolled in on itself, almost as if it were bowing, before sliding under the door and out of her room.

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[sneakerdoodle]

🎶⚗️✨

i have a lot of feelings about Wandersong's worldbuilding, music, magic and what it means for these two

image description:

.a 3-page comic featuring two characters from Wandersong, Miriam and Bard. the comic is partially colored (each object and character filled in with one individual color)

Miriam's color is light purple, Bard's is neon/salad green. Miriam's speech bubbles are rectangular and Bard's - circular.

Page 1: Miriam and Bard are sitting on the ground some distance away from each other. Miriam has pulled her knees up to her chest and is resting her arms on top of them, hiding the lower half of her face. she is watching Bard, who is sitting in a relaxed pose, one leg bent, leaning on their left arm and holding the right one up in front of them. on their right hand, a butterfly is sitting. Bard is smiling at it, singing.

the second panel shows Miriam still watching them as they lift their hand up higher, and the butterfly lifts off their fingers.

Third panel: Miriam lifts her head and addresses Bard with a sulking look; Bard is adjusting their pose, pulling both kness up.

Miriam: How do you do it? Bard: Huh?

Fourth panel: Bard is sitting in a butterfly pose, one arm up in the air, another at their chest, singing with their eyes closed. The butterfly from earlier turns around, attracted by Bard's singing once again. Miriam is turning away, sulking, her mouth hidden once again.

Bard: I just sing!~ You should try it!

Miriam: Doesn't work that way for me.

Fifth panel: Bard is looking at (apparently) Miriam, pondering; the butterfly has landed on their hat. There are three dots next to Bard's face.

Sixth panel: showing Bard looking up to the sky, hands resting on their legs, still in the butterfly position. The butterfly is disturbed by them turning their head and takes off.

Bard: I guess... There is more to it?

Page 2:

The first panel shows the butterfly and a leaf being carried by wind, with a treebranch in the background; there are notes floating in the air.

Bard's speech bubbles overlay the panel, saying: 'Everything has its own melody. If you listen and respond in a way that makes sense...'

Second panel: Miriam and Bard both looking up as Bard continues talking, smiling.

Bard: ...it resonates?

Third panel: Miriam's expression changes to a more relaxed open one, eyebrows raised a bit.

Miriam: ...I get it.

Bard (out of the frame): ?

Fourth panel:

Miriam is turning to the Bard, straigtening one leg, her arm resting on the bent kee of the other. She is gesturing to accompany her explantion, her exression once again more serious. Bard is facing her, listening with their mouth slightly open. Behind the two there is a grassy hill, and to the right the tree.

Miriam: That's how potion-making works.

Fifth panel:

Miriam continues her explanation, gesturing in front of her to demonstrate mixing. Above her, three of the four ingredients for the Potion of Power are shown: the mushroom, the flower and the leaf.

Miriam: You sense for the magic in nature and combine the right types.

Page 3:

The first panel takes up the entire width of the image and more then a half of its height. It's a close-up of a tree branch, with a mossy flowering growth near the base of it and a ladybug crawling along it. The moss and the ladybug are glowing faintly. Their colors are gradiented, the moss eventually mixing into the color of the tree.

Miriam's speech bubbles overlay the panel.

Miriam: It's... kinda great, seeing the world like that. Everything is just, different shades of the same thing? Varied, but... connected.

The second panel shows the two, both leaning back on their arms and looking up, Miriam with a serious expression, Bard with an impressed one, mouth slightly open.

The final panel shows the same thing, but the two's expressions have changed: Bard is smilling as they speak, Miraim raises her eyebrows in realization.

Bard: Like a song!

end description.