#which is something i didn't know until now

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[sleepyangelkami]

INDISPOSED d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you always seem to feel more than upset when you're sick. luckily for you, dean's always by your side when you fall ill, no matter the time.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - sick!reader, illness symptoms, flu, dizziness, aches, reader's a little emotional, eating?, crying, mention of reader's lonely past, non-sexual nudity, kinda crybaby!reader, (1) use of y/n, slightly ooc dean, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there's seemingly a tell tale sign of when you're feeling extra poorly, and that's the feeling of water beginning to pool in your waterline.

you couldn't help the dramatics that would take over your body, much less when you find dean sitting in your bedroom, assuring you that it was alright that he'd come home early from his hunt. "you shouldn't have to leave sam alone 'cause of me." you were a sniffling mess at your desk, for two reasons, one being that you were upset and the second being that your nose was so stuffed you could hardly breathe.

"sammy's fine to figure out the rest of this one, baby." dean was sitting on your bed, girly covers and throw pillows surrounding him. "and i don't have to do anything, i'm choosing to be here." dean's voice was all low and soft, the voice he used when you were upset which was seemingly more often than you'd thought.

you heard him shuffle across the room to where you sat on a brown, tattered chair.

he crouched down so he was eye level with you. "come on, sweetheart, you know you're just upset 'cause you feel all sick." his hand was gently tracing your thigh, soothing you from your sniffles. "think you just need to lay down, yeah?"

you mumbled something that he didn't quite catch with a nod.

he waited momentarily but you hadn't made any decision to move. "y/n." your eyes snapped up to meet his. "come lay down."

"okay." was your sheepish response.

dean didn't often call you by your name, he cast it away with all the lovely nicknames he'd picked out for you personally. nobody was baby but his car, until he'd met you. it came so easily, that soft way of loving.

when dean had you finally beneath the blankets, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, half-comforting and half-trying to gauge your temperature.

"where are you going?" your hand reached out for his lower arm.

dean turned down to look at you, a smile softly reaching his lips. "just getting your medication, baby, i'll be back, don't worry." and this time, the kiss pressed against your forehead was purely because he felt like it.

dean was well aware of your inability to take care of yourself. now, he was in no way calling you a nuisance, he just wished you cared for yourself as much as he did. with that being said, he did always love being able to care for you, it was a way that was so different than having to take care of sam his whole life. perhaps it was because this, he wasn't obliged to do, it wasn't expected of him.

he loved taking care of you but if anything were to happen to him... he'd like to know you could take care of yourself, too.

when dean returned to the bedroom, you were passed out asleep against the sheets. the man couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

you were a chatty person, awfully bubbly at times. and dean loved that about you, listening to you babble on about something and when he didn't catch a word he'd ask you to repeat what you said, it was always funny watching as the gears turned in your head, trying to remember.

sometimes you swore you talked so much that you tuned yourself out.

dean didn't though, he listened to every word that spilled from your lips.

but you were chatty with everyone you were close to. god forbid you ever went on a road trip with he and sam.

but with him you could be quiet at times, you still got shy and nervous around him which always made him coo, there was something sweet at the fact you could be so different behind closed doors, so yourself.

and seeing you like this, your lips drew into a pout and pink staining your ill cheeks, well it was rather nice, he thought.

he hated to be so evil as he was to wake you.

"sweetheart." the mere whisper of the name as his hands came down to soothe your arms was enough to have your eyelids peeling open. "sweetheart, c'mon, you gotta take your medicine."

a half-whine fell from your lips as he sat you up against the bed, sitting too so that you could lean yourself against him. dean was suddenly aware of how much hotter your body had gotten. he hadn't been gone long, just a trip to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and the medication he needed, though it'd taken him a while to find it. he had a bad habit of leaving things in strange places and forgetting about it.

he handed you off the capsules and then the glass of water.

"how're you feeling, honey?" the back of his palm pressed against your right cheek then slightly down your top, to your chest. he was like a concerned mother. "you're really hot."

"thanks." you quipped, leaning your hot forehead against his arm and sipping the water he'd given you.

he rolled his eyes at your remark, obviously taking your sickness more seriously than you were. "'m serious, you can't have blankets."

"dean!"

"no."

"dean, 'm cold." you nuzzled yourself further into dean's warm body, a dark grey hoodie coated his form along with black sweatpants, not his usual attire.

"you're not cold." he took your face between his two hands. "you're sick." pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose. you fought the words 'sap' to come from the back of your scratchy throat. "you can have the blankets but i have to take this off, then." you felt him gently pull at the shirt you'd stolen from him, clad on your body.

"deal." you mumbled, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you.

to make matters worse, you shook your head, thinking it would rid of the dizziness.

"hey, don't do that." he steadied your head before taking the glass out from your hands and placing it on the bedside dresser.

you felt his hands on your shirt, slowly pulling it from your frame. you helped by putting your arms in he air, allowing him to pull it off your body and toss it somewhere on the ground.

"want the tv on?" you nodded your head silently as the man rose from his place on the bed, reaching the tv stand where he picked up the remote and switched it on.

aimlessly, you uttered, "my legs hurt." while sliding back under the pretty covers.

he was busy fidgeting with the buttons on the remote. he never did know how to work your tv properly. "'s just cause your sick, it'll go away, baby."

you huffed at his response, laying your head on the pillows while you pulled the blanket close to you. you were cold but it was that sickly cold where you couldn't tell if it was really a chill or perhaps you were so warm that you felt cold, which didn't make a whole pile of sense.

when dean finally climbed back into the bed, your body practically collapsed on top of him.

he laid with an arm behind his neck and the other trailing shapes across your bare back, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the low tv along with the thumping of his heart.

"are you okay?" you mumbled, voice slick with tiredness. the sickness was weird like that, hitting you suddenly, leaving just as immediately.

dean could have cooed at you. even while you were wrapped up in blankets, sick as a small hospital, you managed to ask him if he was okay.

It was another reason why he liked taking care of you. you took care of each other. "i'm okay."

another hushed mumble. "promise?"

"i promise." he answered honestly, fingers against your skin, moving up and down your back. "get some sleep, 'kay?"

a yawn passed your lips. "okay."

they said sleep was the best medicine, that it cured everything that was curable. well, you weren't sure anyone had said it to you but you just knew that it was said.

you had to beg to differ.

by dinnertime, your temperature was running hot.

earlier was the kind of sick that you could stomach, this was the kind of sick that had you flushed against the headboard of your bed, hands running down your face as you felt your head pound against the back of your eyes.

you could hear dean walk back into the room and you felt guilt soar through your veins.

you knew you were being... difficult to say the least. but you couldn't help it, hot tears gathering at your waterline all over again.

the mattress dipped as dean nudged your arm and you looked up at him with glossy eyes before looking down at the sandwich sitting on a plate in his hands.

"know you said you're not hungry but can you try eat some f'me? 's jam." his tone was all soft and his voice was all quiet. by now, he'd turned off the tv and closed the curtains, noticing how the light had been affecting your eyes. the only light on now was the little lamp sitting on your bedside table so you could actually see your surroundings.

you nodded hesitantly and took the sandwich from him.

dean noticed things about you like nobody else. he very early on found out that you loved jam sandwiches, you loved raspberry jam but you had an awful distaste for strawberry jam so from there on, he never bought strawberry jam on the offhand occurence that you may accidentally use it without looking at the label and get your jam sandwich ruined.

you were halfway through said sandwich when you placed it back on the plate, begging to tear up.

dean immediately took notice of it, taking the plate from you. "wh's wrong, baby? too much?"

you shook your head, sniffling. even the act of shaking your head had you clutching it soon after.

dean tutted, moving your hand away so he could soothe your forehead with a kiss and a gentle movement of his thumb. "poor girl." you heard him mutter under his breath, his brows strewn together in sympathy.

looking up at him, you had those glassy eyes that made his stomach feel almost as nauseous as yours. he didn't have to ask what was troubling you for you answered, anyway, to the silent question behind his eyes. "you're so nice to me."

his heart shattered a little.

it was no supirse that you didn't grow up with much comfort surrounding you and that only got worse as you began to get older. some days, you didn't think you'd ever get the comfort that your body ached for. and then dean winchester walked in, and his one and only goal was to take care of you, was to care for you, was to love you.

so you couldn't help tearing up a little from time to time when you think about the strawberry jam he gave up just for you.

"oh, baby. you're my sweet girl." he pulled you closer to him, putting your forehead against his chest so you could lean your weight on him. "'course 'm nice to you."

he helped you sit on his lap, fully discarding the place wherever his hands could push it to.

then his hands found your body, roaming it with this gentleness yet assertion. you'd put his shirt back on a while ago and discarded the blankets, which he was thankful for. he needed to break your temperature.

you weren't due medication for another two hours and you'd taken all the painkillers you could.

right now, all he could offer was himself.

and that was enough for you.

your arms tightened around his shoulders as you sniffled, tears breaking down your cheeks with a defeated sigh. "hate bein' sick." you uttered, sadness evident in your voice.

"i know, angel, i know." he gently rocked you in his lap, not enough to make your head dizzy but enough to bring you back to the moment, to remind you he was there.

and you stayed like that for seemingly a long time, melting into one another's embrace as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.

you pressed your flush cheek against the hoodie covering his bare shoulder. the tears eventually dried up and all that was left was your frustrated sighs and mumbles.

"'s okay, sweetheart." he pressed a final kiss to your flushed face. "it'll pass."

and he was by your side as soon as it did.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[angelofwintersky]

snowy night - oneshot

summary: satoru and you are about to go home after your unsuccessful first date, but the car breaks down, making you stay there on a winter night, with no heat and angry glances.

tags: gojo x reader, fluff, winter fic

warnings: none, just swearing

word count: 1.7K

awkward, painful silence sat in the car as you and gojo were driving home from the unsuccessful date you two just had. outside the snow wasn't just gently falling, but pouring from the sky, clouding the windows too, the sun was setting on the horizon, pinkish light illuminating the landscape before you.

your arms were crossed, your gaze looking through the window with slightly narrowed eyes as you try to ignore the white-haired boy sitting next to you with the wheel in his hands and pout on his lips.

you barely even remembered what exactly started the arguement between you two, but you were certain that it was his fault and without an apology, the date shouldn't continue. him acting like the annoying, stubborn person he is, just continued the bickering further, not thinking it would really end the whole date.

well it did.

"going on a date together was a stupid idea to begin with" you think with a quiet huff as your grip on your coat tightens.

all your friends were nagging you to go on a date already, shoko stating that she could see the 'chemistry' between you. well it seems like she's blind, because even when you all are spending time together, you and gojo just cannot get along. never.

could he make you ever smile? yeah that happened sometimes. did you notice that sometime's he's acting like he wants to catch speifically your attention? of course you did. did some of your conversations live rent-free in your head? perhaps.

but.

does that mean that you have to go on a whole ass date just to continue the endless cycle of pushing eachothers buttons? absolutely not.

"are you thinking about how you want to apologise?" he looked at you from the corner off his eye, a suppressed smile tugging on his lips.

"are you?" you glare back. "because if one should apologise that is you and you only."

he just looked back at the road, not ready to admit defeat, but deep down knowing that maybe he shouldn't have tried to make you jealous. at least not on the first date.

"i have nothing to apologise for" he then answered with a shrug, immediately regretting the descision. why was it so hard to just apologise to you? he didn't understand.

"nothing?" you scoff. "you know-"

before you could continue on with your scolding, a loud, sudden sound comes from the front of the car, making you jump a little. the vehicle started to slow down on the snowy road until it eventually stopped, gojo pulling in over just in time.

"what happened?" you glance at him as he's trying to start the engine again, without any success whatsoever.

"no idea" comes the not so helpful answer before gojo opens his door, getting out of the car. "stay inside."

you watch him open the car hood, looking into the car. you follow him, standing next to him in the ankle-deep snow and staring at the vehicle. you place your hands on your hips and lean forward in the hope of seeing something.

"what are we looking at?" you ask.

"i told you to stay inside, it's cold here" he says grumpily, not answering your question.

"oh, so you're suddenly now worried? or just missing that waitress?" you say with a scoff which makes him grin a little.

"so you did become jealous! i knew it!"

"i did not. now stay silent and fix the car, make yourself useful!"

he hums, looking into the vehicle like he is concentrating on something, then back at you.

"i have no idea how this works" he says.

"are you telling me that we're stuck here?" you say every word slowly, frustration penting up in you.

"exactly!" a big smile spreads on his lips. "don't worry, i already told shoko to come and get us."

you narrow your eyes a little bit. the wind was blowing hard, your hair blowing in your face, you felt like you're about to become a snowman if you stand there for more than two minutes.

"then why are we even standing here gojo??"

a dramatic gasp escapes his lips, hand on his heart theatrically.

"c'mon love, not the last name!! did this date mean nothing to you?" he whines.

"you didn't answer my question!" i cross my arms, looking around. we really are in the middle of nowhere. not even street lights were around, it was starting to get dark.

"it's adorable to watch as your cheeks turn red from the cold" he finally answers, not surprising you the least.

"i can't help but feel like you're still trying so hard!"

"and the problem with that...?" his smirk widened, making you a little angrier. if he could've just apologised for flirting with the waitress, you two would be in a so so much better situation, but no that's where he draws the line!

you just leave him there before he could say anything, you get back into the car on the backseat, shivering as you already feel the temperature of the car lower drastically, windows becoming somewhat icy, the seats feeling hard and cold too.

you look around for any blankets but get interrupted by the white haired annoyance, dropping himself on the seat next to you.

a sigh of frustration leaves your lips, crossing your arms as an attempt to warm yourself up while staring outside through the window once again.

the car was pulled over in a quite pretty area, a forest covered in soft snow, the lonely branches of the trees holding the weight quietly, a few crows sitting on them before all of them opens their wings, flying away and only leaving two behind. the restaurant he brought you to was higher on the mountain, making the landscape from there even more beautiful.

of course he had to fuck it up.

the moments were slow, every second lasting decades as you two sat in silence, cold running on your body, the shivering was now undeniable.

you glanced at him, he didn't make any effort to warm himself up, he even took off his coat. suddenly unwanted thoughts started to invade your mind, talking about how warm his body must be.

"aren't you cold?" you ask after a few minutes.

gojo's blue eyes meet yours, at first, for a teeny tiny second he seems like he'll smile but then just pouted instead, his hands fiddling with his clothes. if he just held your hand in his, that would probably make the cold more bearable.

"why? you worried?"

you huff, turning your head away again. you knew that your worry was exactly what he wanted at that moment.

"you're just crazy" you answer, expecting the conversation to continue but he doesn't say another thing.

you look at him again, but as soon as you do, he wraps his black coat around you, trapping you with it and pulling you into his arms, your head against his chest, a small yelp leaving your lips.

his body felt warm, but yours started to feel a little bit warmer somehow. the stiffness leaves you seconds later, even though you try not to melt into the hug too much.

his arms were holding you close, his head rested on top of yours, his heartbeats seemed to speed up even if just a little bit.

"gojo-"

"don't even start a sentence like that" he interrupts you with an almost childish frown on his face.

"you have three seconds to say that before i push you away and drag you into that forest." your voice is threatening but somehow he still managed to hear the smile in your tone that you tried to hide with every fiber of your body.

"c'mon, don't be cruel!" gojo whined, glancing down at you.

"two..."

his grip around you slightly tightened as if he was afraid that you'd really pull away.

"one-"

"fine, i love you!!" he said as fast as he could, his gaze turned away.

your breath hitches, eyes widen at the sudden confession, you feel like you've been slapped in the face, in the best way possible.

"you what?" you ask, trying to steady your voice.

at least being cold definetly wasn't your number one problem anymore.

"isn't that what you wanted to hear??" he questions dramatically, raising his voice a little.

"i wanted a fucking apology!" disbelief in your voice as you match his tone.

a few moments of silence comes as he is just staring at you, blinking slowly. you had to admit he looked quite adorable like this, big blue eyes looking at you, a small blush creeping on his cheeks.

"oh!"

you can't help but chuckle at his reaction, a grin appearing on your face.

"so you love me?"

"and if i do?" he huffs.

"then, satoru" you start out, already seeing his expression light up when you finally say his first name. he just loved how it left your lips so effortlessly yet with so much kindness. "you're extremely lucky because i may be feeling the same way."

"i knew it!" he says smugly, trying to forget that he ever questioned it. of course you love him. "from day one."

you raise one eyebrow, glancing up at him once again.

"day one i wanted to strangle you."

he pouts again.

"and now?"

"i still want to strangle you" you say. "but now with a little affection."

he chuckles, pulling you so close that you're basically sitting on his lap at this point. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his hair in his face, arms around your body as he is still trying to warm you up.

big snowflakes started to fall from the sky, the storm quieting down. all you could feel was his body hugging yours warmly, his scent filling your mind, fogging your rational thoughts as you melt into his embrace.

time slowed down but you couldn't been happier.

"say it" he mumbled eventually.

you sigh, eyes closing while a smile is spreading on your lips.

"i love you too."

after those words, you slowly start to feel like your eyelids are becoming heavier, all the adrenaline from the frustration leaving your body. your breathing becomes relaxed and before you drift into sleep, you have to admit, maybe shoko was right about this whole thing after all. maybe it could work out.

haii!! i hope you had a good time reading this, it's the first fanfic i've ever written so sorry if it's not that good! also, english is not my first language so if i made a mistake feel free to correct me (^-^)

[jazeswhbhaven]

Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Full Summary

Alright ya'll here I am.

And it's bad news from me.

I...did not particularly enjoy the story whatsoever.

TLDR if you don't wanna read my entire react: Don't waste your seals, just wait the three months

Now, some of ya'll may like it cause you're that big of a Satan stan, but he has a ship with my OC and a fankid and I'm STILL shaking my head at this. Like why ya'll do him like this, PB?

What I will do different for this react is, basically bullet summary as most of this card is what it is and then give ya'll some highlight screenshots that I found mildly amusing.

What goes down from the prologue(part 1):

MC is feeling cocky about being in Gabriel's body and almost fucks it up but saves themselves. Because of that cockiness though, they are literally just brain mush the entire story.

Things to note, that Satan was in restraints, those restraints were tight but not tight enough to where he could still speak and move enough. He was cussin' MC out ya'll like how he should cause he hates Gabriel.

I would want to say that this is a good revenge potential but it wasn't. Essentially MC didn't disclose that it was them who was disguised. The entire time Satan believed it was Gabriel who was touching him, jacking him off, and allowing lower angels to touch his dick. Even if it's just the tip.

MC even went as far as to punch him in the stomach? Punched him good until he was close to coming.

MC wanted to take off the chastity belt, which to me? Nah. You wouldn't even know how to use Gabriel's dick, let's not. Couldn't even properly cum or jack off.

Turns out though that Gabriel is not conscious this entire time. He has no idea what's happening.

Long story short, Satan is getting molested, punched, and traumatized in front of an audience thinking he had feelings for Gabriel and that's why he was aroused and reacting. I don't even feel like the specifics here because it was just that rushed and bland of writing for this. What happens in the end, mind you this is very last part of the story. Satan finally realizes it's MC. The spell breaks, they go home on his motorcycle, and he only went there because there was an angel with MC's hair color.

Ya'll. Satan is not that fucking dumb. Sorry not sorry, but like he can be a goof ball, but he'd never mistake an angel for MC in his entire life time. That wasn't Satan, that was his lost twin Sam or something.

What I expected:

I honestly thought this was going to be similar to Levi's story. Satan got captured due to being weakened by something, perhaps a new trap the angels set up, the restraints being so good he couldn't escape, and he and MC roleplaying in front of the angels and they get so lost in it that's what breaks the spell.

I wanted Satan to be like "MC looks like Gabriel, which pisses me the fuck off but I know it's them so I'm fucking horny as hell and I just want to feel good. This is how it would feel being teased and licked by an angel..."

But nope. Got MC being badly written, pretty much going in on Satan and playing into their own weird kink of pretending to be a high rank angel while punching, and jacking off Satan. There wasn't really any point to it half the time, if Satan hadn't of clocked them in the end, he would have never known it was them at all even though MC was being very sloppy on acting like how Gabriel would torture someone.

Good Parts:

Satan's expressions, and Satan cussing MC out thinking that they are Gabriel.

Satan questioning his attraction, he just can't place why "Gabriel's" touch is arousing him and he can't understand why this angel he hates so much looks so turned on by this moment.

Satan pretty much saying at the end that he's going to go in on MC's ass when they get home. Like I'm pretty sure all holes will be s o r e because MC insulted him, punched him, slapped him, choked him, made him cum forcefully like three times from both dick and horns.

Satan's dick looked pretty in the position he was in and I liked his little red underwear. Click here for the goodies~

The okay?? why?? parts:

MC allowing the angels to touch him. Gabriel for one if he was in character would never allow them to touch his "prey". Like? What and who was this for?

Satan not being able to tell who it was for the majority of the story. He's a King tbh, so he should have seen through the spell.

Satan being a dummy dum and getting himself kidnapped because he thought MC was captured by mistaking an ANGEL that looks nothing like them....

Being robbed of the Satan's potential in the roleplay scenario. Imagine if you will-

Satan knowing that it's MC, and he's trying so hard to make it believable that he doesn't like any of what's going on. At the same time, MC is doing an impersonation of Gabriel so well he can't help but get upset. Why is MC so good at this? Do they actually like Gabriel enough to mimic him? Fuck that. And fuck being kidnapped and in these restraints. He wants MC so badly. To pull off that charade and to get fucked so deep there's nothing but rage flowing from the both of them. And did he really find some attraction to the angel? FUCK THAT. What a stupid thought, so stupid it pisses him off too. Only MC can make him feel a series of rage and jealously swirled so deliciously he wants nothing but that in his veins.

MC's personality being even more unsavory than usual. If ya'll compared to how they act in Levi's torture card you'd swear they were just suddenly taking on some odd sadistic personality that has nothing to do with them nor Gabriel. Er'body was confused.

The audience, the angels, Satan, just...lol

Overall Rating:

4.5/10

Like...idk ya'll the fourth Satan card was just a let down. The other three he has were so much better. Even the adore mode was ass. I wanted to see him moving, cussin' and spitting. The VA put his entire foot in this and it doesn't match Satan's energy in secret club at all. Might as well just play it on SFW mode if you wanna hear his VA moan some fierce in your ear.

Nice homage to Hellraiser, could have used a cooler name imo but OH WELL. Pinhead would be shaking his head rn.

NOW don't get me wrong, some of ya'll may like this. And if you do, please don't @ me or come for me as it's not that serious. I was frankly bored ya'll. IMO It's not worth wasting your seals just wait for it to be available in the regular banner. My expectations for how Satan would react in this moment was downplayed. Even if I felt like shipping the angels with the kings, this just didn't hit.

Live photo of one of Ronove's cats disapproving.

OKAY Screenshot time~

He is legitimately so pissed off ya'll I was like OH

Yeah because you were just goin' off the rails....it's a good thing you at least had the angels hang in the back otherwise they would have clocked you MC.

I just like his face here. Mhm mhm.

Apparently ya'll that is the face of a sinner. Satan is a filthy filthy sweat covered sinner (laugh with me because lmao)

I'm crying. So it's just shrinking, growing, shrinking, growing, just being confused as fuck the poor wang noodle.

Oh Satan....he's so angry the poor bby. This would be hotter if he was irritated by something I truly did. Lol

At the same time, I feel these lines would be good for that roleplay...

I'm crying because Gabriel doesn't talk like this and yet Satan still hasn't caught on yet.

Now Satan, don't discredit virgins...some of them be knowin' a lot more than you think. (right now tho "MC/Gabe" is kissing him through the gag)

again. gimmie dis face. he does the eye roll orgasm so well.

here we go again with that fishy smell thing

Gabriel in his sub conscious rn

He can get away with calling us a bitch. I'm a bad bitch. A baddie. I'll insult you any day Satan just because. He'd call it foreplay.

LMAOOOOOOO

So that ends with the screenshots ya'll. You see how there wasn't really much to show because it's basically just what I said in the summary? But anyways, I did get a peek at a couple things that bumps the rating up for me to a 4.5....(note the changes)

Date Story/Chat Summary:

This time around Satan sustained more damage and the marks left behind are staying longer than usual. Sitri thinks this is a problem, Satan don't give a shit because MC gave them to him.

Satan getting jealous of MC requesting him to get healed because he thinks they learned it from another healing devil is cute.

He's very cuddly, we knew this but it's just nice to see this again.

MC and Satan have a talk about what happened up in Heaven and well it's also nice to see him be serious about his feelings and how MC should feel, etc. Mature Satan is mature.

He can smell when MC is horny btw. Idk this is so hot of him. But I also always had a HC that all devils could smell just about anything. When your cycle is coming, ovulation, other bodily things.

He likes the fact that MC was confident enough to insult him so boldly even though he pointed out they were in Gabriel's body.

He can't stand it that Paimon sews his decapitated teddy bear heads, the cotton is supposed to leak. At the same time he likes that Paimon adds sparkly beads for the eyes so it looks like they "glow"

His hand are so pretty with those sharp nails.

He has so many photos of his motorcycle he has two phones. He loves his bike that much to where he refers to it as his lover.

He doodles when he's bored at meetings.

That does it folks!!!! As per usual, if you've made it to the end thank you thank you to my dear moot/friends who help fuel my delusions and ramblings. Without ya'll my blog would just be...whelp a bunch of Astra in your face lmao (honestly tho she should be she's great)

Stay lovely, love up on your bois, -your lovely admin💖💕

[bloggerspam]

"Sam's going to kill us."

Val mutters, dragging Danny with a firm grip to his arm. He's not eating nearly enough if his arm is this skinny. Val's going to have to call Jazz about it.

"Sam won't kill us,." Danny soothes, letting her plop him into the seat of his own damn motorcycle. Hers is still 'out of commission' so she hops on behind him.

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Sam Manson?" Val snarks, putting on her helmet and feeling jittery as Danny slowly puts on his.

The microphones flicker to life, just as Danny revs up the bike. "We're on vacation, it's not like we're on a schedule and it's not our fault your college administration is literally the pits."

They have 15 minutes to get to the Thai place to grab dinner, and 10 minutes to get back to the hotel before they're irrevocably late. The talk with her professor, and subsequently the talk with the woman at the Bursar's office, ran longer than either of them expected it to. But it's all sorted now, her scholarship is in tact, and apparently she even has a monthly stipend, which will make things much easier on her and her dad.

"Just floor it Fenton!" Val growls, and she can feel his eyes rolling as he digs in.

"You asked for it!" Danny cackles, and does as he's bid.

They make good time on the Thai food, but of course (as all things go with Danny) Fenton Luck strikes again.

They're about halfway back to the hotel, when they get, of all things, pulled over for speeding.

"How did you not see the police car?" Val grouses, texting Sam and Tucker and trying to make sure her hands are visible. You never know.

When Danny doesn't answer her, she leans a little to see what's going on. He's looking through what looks like a small compartment on the side of the bike near the handlebars, frozen like he's just discovered something devastating.

"What's going on?" Val hisses, jabbing Danny in the side and jolting him to look at her. It's hard to tell through the dark visor, but she recognizes the way his body scrunches up. Something's wrong.

"So. Uh." Danny starts, curling his shoulders in and of all things, touching his index fingers together delicately like some kind of sheepish cartoon character, "Remember how I only just finished this bike last month?"

Val freezes. "Danny. Danny don't tell me you didn't—"

A cough to their left has both of them whipping their heads around. The officer who pulled them over, presumably, waits bemusedly with his arms crossed and hip popped like he thinks they're funny. He's tall, lithe but definitely packin' some muscle with dark blue eyes and black hair that reminds her of Danny. Gotham sure has a lot of people of the same coloring—even her boss shares it, though his eyes are more teal-in shade.

"License and registration, please." The officer chirps, looking both apologetic and stern at the same time. She's only ever seen Jazz pull that look off, and honestly she'd be more relaxed at the sight if Danny hadn't forgotten to register his god damn motorcycle. Considering the bike is tricked out to all hell, runs on ghost tech and thoroughly looks as illegal as it apparently is, she'd be surprised if they weren't arrested.

"Uh. So. Here's the thing Officer…" Val face palms as Danny fumbles his way through a shoddy explanation of his own incompetence. Dumbest smart guy she'll ever know, she fuckin' swears—him and Tucker!

She sighs. Sam's definitely going to kill them. At least the bloodshed will have to wait until after she bails them out.

Small mercies.

===

"Tucker, hurry up." Sam hisses, which, easy for her to say. She's not the one with asthma and a propensity to sit at home and do nothing but play games for weekend long marathons.

"I'm trying Sam, I don't even know what you even need me for, you know how to hot wire a motorcycle!" Tucker grunts as he crawls painfully over the crest of the fence. The points of it jab into his kidney, maybe even his gall bladder. Does he even need those things? Is he gonna die? He'll have to ask Danny.

"I haven't read Danny's manual on the new bike yet, dingus." Sam growls, but thankfully catches him when he successfully rolls over to the other side. His hero, really. Danny can take a back seat.

Tucker had hacked the impound's records earlier that day, so they head immediately towards the correct lot.

Except when they get there, they're not the only ones.

If Tucker isn't mistaken—and he rarely ever is—that is Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown, the current crushes Danny and Val are harboring, and they are just as if not more surprised to see Sam and Tucker.

Jason is currently crouched beside the bike, examining the side console meant for diagnosis and looking utterly lost. Stephanie—Steph, he recalls Val saying she introduced herself as—looks like she's breaking into the wheel lock.

Well shit. Can you do the Spiderman meme if none of you look alike?

The four of them stand there frozen, staring at each other and gaping stupidly and each no doubt wondering what the fuck is happening right now.

Sam, of course, is the first to recover. "Jason Todd. Stephanie Brown." She crosses her arms, pops her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

Steph recovers second. "What are you, a cop?"

The sheer offense that Sam adopts over her face would make Tucker laugh, if they weren't standing in the middle of an impound lot trying to steal an illegal ecto-bike at close to 10pm.

"What she means," Tucker opens his arms wide, holding Sam back with one and gesturing towards the bike with the other, "Is if you're not careful, that thing could blow up—literally—in your faces."

Sam huffs, making a sort of well? gesture.

"Oh." Jason carefully stands up from his crouch, snagging Steph by the back of her shirt and pulling them away just slightly, "We just—ahem, wanted to help."

"Help your employee?" Sam challenges, before smirking, "Or trying to impress the boy you like?"

Steph coughs, covering a laugh, freezing when Sam turns her wicked eyes on her, "Or perhaps you were cajoled into it," Sam squints, "Stephanie Brown, right? You seem quite fond of Val, what with all the invitations to spar."

"Not that Val ever realizes," Tucker laughs, "Ignore Sam over here—Tucker, by the way, nice to meetcha, heard a lot about ya'll—She just likes giving her friends' love interests a good once over, y'know?""

Steph and Jason share a look, before looking away with decidedly redder faces. Jason splotchy on the bridge of his nose, Steph burning her neck. Even in the dark, Tucker can see it, hard not to when you're the only one with melanin in the group.

"Listen," Tucker decides to be merciful, "We—I love whatever is goin' on here, big fan of when people love on my friends, real refreshing actually—"

Sam huffs, elbowing him, so he coughs and tries again. "The point is, whilst the thought is nice, I wasn't joking when i said it would literally blow up in your faces."

Sam rolls her eyes as his dramatics, but doesn't disagree. "It runs off highly sensitive and reactive fluids, kept securely in a blast proof container. But if you happened to open it, accidentally or otherwise fiddling with the controls…"

Tuck mimes a little kabloom!

"What?" Steph stumbles back, though all Jason does is eye the bike in a new light. Hm. Interesting. That's certainly a Red Hood expression if Tucker ever did see one. Judging by the way Sam squints at the other man, she thinks so too.

"How did you even know Danny's bike was taken to the impound anyway?" Sam is really doing this whole shovel talk thing at 110% huh. Not that Tuck blames her, with Danny's history of people fucking him over. "Are you tracking him?"

That gets Tucker's hackles up immediately. He knew that Oracle was snooping around Amity Park files, but as far as he knew, she hadn't gotten far. The Fentons are a fairly visible family, what with their patents and unhinged nature of advertising their inventions, but Danny and Jazz are actually pretty invisible on the internet.

They, unlike their parents, took internet safety very seriously.

To be more precise, Jazz did, and Danny learned from her, so.

Plus, Tucker's no slouch at protecting his friends from the perils of the interweb. Especially since he and Technus like to futz around with firewalls every second Saturday of the month.

You don't take down an entire Government Organization's network together and just stop hanging out. It's just not done.

"No!" Jason and Steph yell in sync, whipping their heads towards each other after a moment, "At least, I'm not—"

Before it can devolve into what looks like a sibling fight, Sam stomps her foot down. Childishly, Tucker might add, if he didn't value his life. (Which he does, so he keeps his mouth shut.)

"How." Sam growls. They shut up immediately, going shifty.

Jason, brave man that he is, mumbles something under his breath. Steph, a much more braver woman, shuts her eyes and throws Jason under the proverbial bus in a rush of panicked words.

"His brother is the cop that arrested them!" Her voice echoes in the darkness of the impound lot. Jason slaps his hands against his face, groaning and quietly hissing at Steph about inside voices, dumbass.

Tucker can't help it. Once the words register, all he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sam sighs, pushing Jason out of the way and shoving Tucker, who is struggling to breathe, towards the bike to unlock it. "I need a drink."

"Y-you," Tucker's hands are steady and quick, even through his laughter, "doN't ev-e-n drink!"

"Ice cream then." Sam grumbles. "Why are Danny's love interests always so troublesome?"

"You tell m-me," There's a click, Tucker's laughter just barely dying down as he stands up and allows Jason to start rolling the bike off the lot, "You were one of-of them!"

Jason stiffens, but Sam pats him on the shoulder, hard. "When we were 14 and our only other choice was you, Tuck."

"Hey! That's hurtful, first of all," Tucker feels indignant, "And second of all, you could have been an A-lister from the start if you wanted to. Third of all, Danny had choices! Dash and Wes were right there."

They manage to get out of the impound lot easily enough, and with Steph and Jason's lead they start heading towards the city proper.

"You mean his bully and stalker?" Sam challenges, crossing her arms as they stop by what Tucker assumes to be either Jason or Steph's car.

Jason stiffens up again, grip going white on Danny's handlebars, though he relaxes at Tucker's next statement.

"You and I both know Danny would have brought them to heel." Tucker counters, "Besides, the point was that Danny had options. He just never noticed."

Sam thinks on that, before nodding. "True."

Jason huffs a small laugh, looking charmed beyond belief. "He that oblivious?"

"Sam had to sit him down and tell him she wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend before he even realized Sam liked him." Tucker shakes his head, grinning, "Still didn't believe her until she planted one on him."

"Better than Val," Sam chuckles, facing Steph, "She's a bad bitch when it comes to men but suddenly a pretty lady talks to her and she's all that's just how girls are, Sam! How am I supposed to tell when they're flirting, Sam! Girls are smarter and if they liked me like that it would be OBVIOUS Sam!"

Steph giggles, hand coming up to stifle it, and her eyes gain a new gleam to her eye. Oh good, so Steph does like Val back. Nice.

"So how was this gonna go?" Tucker says after a moment of silence. "You get the bike, then what?"

Jason and Steph share a look, before Jason's nose gets all red again. "I was gonna wait outside for him, have Dick pull some strings to bail them out and uh, surprise Danny with the bike."

Sam and Tucker look at Steph, who shrugs. "He and Val got locked up together so…I thought Val would appreciate not having to third wheel." She pats the hood of the car, "Was gonna offer her a ride home, after Jason did his thing."

Sam and Tucker perk up then, turning back to Jason. "You gonna ask him on a date??"

"I mean, he's not here for long, right? Just for Christmas?" Jason twitches, like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets, but can't because he's holding up Danny's bike. His shoulders hike up and he pops the bike stand. "I wanted to at least get his number. Get to know him better."

There's a moment of silence, before Tucker and Sam place a hand on each of Jason's shoulders, excitement palpable. "GODS, are we glad you're a bad bitch who gets what he wants. Val was right about you!"

"Uh," Jason's eyes are wide, surprised as if he wasn't expecting that, "Thanks?" He coughs, the red of his nose traveling to his cheeks and staining his ears.

Sam and Tuck let go, though Sam gives him a hearty pat on the back to go with the motion.

"I was gonna bail them out in the morning, let 'em sit in their shame for a bit." Sam turns towards Steph, "You guys know any good ice cream shops open this late in the mean time?"

Steph grins, "Information like that's gonna cost ya." She's clearly joking though, considering she immediately pulls out her phone to bring up some ice cream shops on GPS.

"Will embarrassing stories about Danny and Val cover it?" Tucker cheekily asks.

"Sold, to the man in the beret." Jason deadpans, smirking as he points at Tucker.

It's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[johnnylandslide]

WoL Magic Cards Tutorial!

I'd made a custom Magic: the Gathering card of Johnny recently, and shared it in the Seafloor discord, and since there was a lot of interest in the concept I figured a tutorial might be nice so we have something to do while we wait for plugins to come back. Here goes!

Download CardConjurer This is the tool I use to make custom cards. It's just a web app developed by a college student; he got DMCA'd by WOTC so it's not hosted on the internet anymore, but you can still run it locally.

Just unzip the contents somewhere, and then run launcher.exe when you're ready. It should open up the app in a browser tab.

2. Navigate to the Card Creator

3. Pick out a Frame

Enter this search box on the right. We're going to be using the Nickname ("Godzilla") frames. These give us a small subtitle box below the card name that indicates what the Magic card's actual name is.

If you want to create a custom card instead, use the Borderless frames.

In the menu below, you should see the different colors of the borderless frames. You'll have to add three of these elements to the card: the text box, the card name, and the power/toughness box. Do them in that order, by clicking each element and then Add Frame to Card. If your card is legendary (or if you feel like it), use the Crown option rather than just Title.

You'll have to choose the correct color. If your chosen card is monocolor or >=3 colors, this is very easy since you can just choose that color or gold, but for two-color cards the process is slightly more involved. First, add the color that goes on the left using the Add Frame to Card button, and then add the right color using the Add Frame to Card (Right Half) button. Use the gold power/toughness box.

If any of the card elements get out of order, you can reorder them using the layers controls at the bottom of the page.

4. Import the card text

Navigate to the Import/Save tab, and type in the name of the real card you're putting your OC over. Select the specific version of it using the dropdown afterwards.

(For some reason, Firefox suggests completing this field with my credit card information. I think it knows more about Magic than it's letting on.)

After the card is imported, navigate back to the Frame tab, and click Load Frame Version. This will force the text on the card to fit into the frame set that's currently selected in the bar on the right, which should still be the Nickname ("Godzilla") from earlier.

We should have something closely resembling the real card in the editor, now.

5. Make it yours!

First off, go to the Art tab, and upload your image. Once it shows up, you can adjust it by clicking the actual card in the editor. Clicking and dragging pans it around, shift+clicking scales, and ctrl+click rotates.

Next, pop over to the Set Symbol tab and remove it, since this is your own card and isn't from a Magic set.

And now, go over to the Text tab to finish this off! Start by entering your card name into the Nickname tab.

If your chosen card name is too long and ends up clipping the mana cost, you can reduce the width of the text box with the Edit Bounds menu until it fits.

Next, go to Rules Text to update the name if the card refers to itself. I changed all instances of "Vadrik" to "Johnny". Since this card is really just to look at and not to play with, I also renamed the Day/Night mechanic to fit the Black Mage flavor even better. Feel free to get creative!

You can use {flavor} to add flavor text as well. I added the {lns} commands after some words to add line breaks to make the text blocks look better.

You can also edit the typeline in the Type tab, if the creature type doesn't match your WoL. Johnny is already a Human Wizard though, so I didn't have to do that. Technically this would be a mechanical change of the card, but since these aren't real cards anyway I think it's a valid concession to make. Just don't go abusing it if you actually end up printing these out LOL

6. Download the card image

Finally, head back over to Import/Save, scroll all the way to the bottom, and hit Download you card.

And you're done! There's obviously a lot more that's possible with CardConjurer, and tons of avenues for creativity. If you end up following this tutorial, or creating any other FFXIV-related MTG cards, I would really love to see them!

[xalygatorx]

A Case of the Slumps | Alastor x Depressed!GN!Reader

Summary: It seems you've brought your brain chemistry down to Hell with you. Figures.

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, depression and related symptoms/thoughts (obvi), cinnamon roll Charlie, Angel gives you a Xanax but you don't take it, platonic Alastor with a hint of possible unspoken romantic feelings, unexplained cause of death, present tense for some reason, reader is gender neutral

A/N: Crosspost of a recent oneshot from my AO3 because I figured if I'm in a slump, someone else probably is too. x

Sometimes it was a thought. Sometimes it was the time of year or the weather, when Hell's crimson sky was kept dark for long periods of time by an uptick of brimstone in the atmosphere or the lingering storm clouds after an acidic downpour. Sometimes it was a memory. A song. A smell.

Sometimes it was seemingly nothing at all.

Just like when you were alive, your now-dead brain hasn't lost its particular quality of liking to work against itself. It's impossible to say whether it's a continued chemical imbalance—that'd be likely right? If demons can do drugs, then clearly there's still something to brain chemistry in Hell—or if death took a snapshot of your self and your mind as they were in life.

It doesn't really matter what it is either because it still affects you just the same. And because you haven't had a depressive episode yet post-mortem, you haven't done any of the legwork you had to do in life on your own to figure out what's "wrong" with you, who might hear you and listen, and what medication(s) works.

So when it does hit, it hits like a tidal wave no one else can see. The wave itself, anyway—everyone can see you drowning.

That first slump isn't kind enough to hit in the morning when you can sleep in—or rather stare with dead eyes at the wall, bundled under your duvet and blankets as you put off the day passing by around you. No, that first slump hits in the middle of one of Charlie's exercises, one that you were enthusiastic about participating in just an hour ago. What happened?

You know. This feeling is an old friend you'd hoped to never meet again.

Charlie doesn't though, not right away. After you excuse yourself by means of referencing a stomachache you only kind of have—and only from the emptiness pooling in your gut and humming in your chest—she catches up to you in the hallway.

"Hey!" she chirps, leaning around to look at you when you stop but don't turn around. If anything, you curl further into yourself. She doesn't notice though—the only ones who would notice your change are the ones who know to look for it. Charlie, bless her heart, doesn't have that earthly world experience yet. "Do you want us to wait up for you or…?"

"Oh, uh, no," you stammer out, yearning for a big hoodie to comfortably drown in or a cup of tea, the idea of which sounds lovely but you don't even like tea. Everything that would normally feel like a treat sounds stressful or unappetizing, leaving you uncertain about what exactly you're meant to be doing. That's when the lethargy hits hardest. "I don't feel well, so I'm just gonna rest for a while."

Charlie's brow scrunches. You can tell she's about to argue that you'll never get into Heaven if you don't stick to the exercises and something akin to a sudden flash of anger roils in your chest, kicking the dead gray weight of apathy in the teeth. Because how dare she question your commitment, your hopes, your dreams, because you're walking away this one time?

But if this is like life, if this can happen again now, how many more times will it happen? Is it over for you?

Something clicks behind her eyes though as she watches your face. You don't know this, of course, but she's seen the same look on Vaggie's face before. Primarily right after they found each other—Vaggie also fell into a pit of her own pain and trauma, a victim of her new normal until the new normal became preferable.

And, on those days, Vaggie didn't always want to be with Charlie. At some point, Charlie had to learn that it often had nothing to do with her when that happened, too. It helped her understand her father better, too, in the end. She'd needed to reach out to him, but she'd had to let Vaggie come to her when she was ready. Both were valid approaches for different people.

She decides to trust that you'll make it clear to her what you need when you're ready.

"Okay," she says and her kind voice spears your anger with guilt, killing it instantly. You were always good at that, weren't you? Pushing away the people who care. "You have my number. You have everyone's number—well, everyone with a phone anyway. Just let us know if you need something. Anything. Okay?"

You clench your teeth to hold back the burn of tears working its way up your throat. "Okay. Thanks, Charlie," you say and it comes out as sincerely as you mean it, which is good. At least something's gone right today.

"Would you like a hug?" Charlie offers, starting to hold out her arms and then hesitating when she wonders if that could feel like she was pressuring you.

You think about it and decide it's worth a try. "Sure," you say and you step into her arms. She runs even hotter than the other sinners you've met, being Hellborn. It's like cozying up just a couple inches too close to a fireplace, but it doesn't burn. She just feels like the hearth in the place that's swiftly become your home.

She doesn't let go before you're ready, but the second she feels you shift to step back, she lets her arms drop. She gives you a little wave before scampering back down the hall to resume the exercise in the lobby, leaving you to resume your trek to the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator and you've tapped the button for your floor, you fall back against the wall of the lift and run your hands down your face, sighing into your palms.

What you wouldn't give for an on-paper, calculable test that you could fill out and hand to a doctor or psychologist or someone who could tell you with complete certainty what's wrong with your brain and how to fix or endure it. Not only so you could feel better, but so you wouldn't be such a burden to your new friends, your found family. What good were you like this?

(The reality is that the group downstairs is mildly concerned, but otherwise just fine. Charlie can manage the exercise through sheer optimism alone and she has enough bandwidth to do that and be available to you as your friend whenever you need something.

A couple of the others noticed your deflated exit, perhaps because they've once been through similar episodes, and are either just hoping you feel better or trying to come up with some nice gesture to make whenever they see you next. Everything you're worried about or sure you've messed up is a product of your dopamine-deficient brain.)

You pass Angel in the hall on your way to your room as he's heading out for work and he, of course, knows that look. He just hasn't seen it on you before. He offers you a many-armed hug and what he tells you is a Xanax, telling you to text him if you need anything or just want to talk and he'll check on you whenever he's freed from the studio next.

You appreciate his offers and agree to all of it, except the unwrapped, unlabeled pill, which you get rid of once you're in your room. You trust Angel, but you're too paranoid about making whatever you're feeling worse. You barely knew how to deal with it in life, what's it going to be like in Hell?

A stretched-out old hoodie is procured from your closet and you tug it on, smoothing your hair back down as you amble toward the bed. You burrow under the blankets and try to sleep, but of course it doesn't come. You're not tired, after all. You're not even sad. There's just nothing where there's meant to be something, anything in your chest.

Hours pass and, even though you're not helping yourself by lying curled on your side and staring at the wall, you're listless. You can't talk yourself into getting up or getting something to eat. It's even hard to convince yourself to look at your phone, maybe because you've heard it buzz a few times with texts likely asking how you're doing. You don't want to answer them until it's a good answer. Until you can say you're doing better. Anything else is a disappointment, surely, for all involved.

Someone's knuckles rapping against your door makes you jolt, but you sink back into that unsteady feeling of mentally treading water instead of answering. They'll go away if they think you're sleeping. It's probably Charlie anyway, maybe checking on you ahead of dinner. Was it really almost dinnertime?

That was enough to motivate you to extract one arm from beneath the duvet, extend your hand to your phone, and tap the screen to wake it up. It was after dinner. Time was a construct and someone was still at the door, knocking more sharply now.

You bundle your arm back under the bedding, keeping your back to the door. Charlie wasn't that hard of a knocker, so maybe she'd sent Vaggie up to check on you? Husk tended to pound on doors with the side of his fist (and not come near any potentially weepy situation with a ten-foot pole), so it probably wasn't him. It might be Angel, you supposed. Short studio session, if so. Perhaps Pen, but the source of the noise was too high up to be Niffty. She'd barge on in anyway…

"My dear, I can hear you moving around in there, you know," the Radio Demon's voice informs you through the door and your heart nearly stops a second time.

Not Alastor, you sigh inwardly, covering your face in your hands again and trying not to groan lest he hear that, too.

It wasn't that you disliked Alastor. In fact, that wasn't the case at all. You'd been a bit scared of him at first, sure, when you'd initially crossed the threshold of the Hazbin Hotel and who could blame you? He was an imposing figure, someone you'd heard of within days of falling into Hell despite his seven-year sabbatical from the Pentagram.

He was also a prominent public figure from his radio show. That was how you'd first tried to get to know him a little better—you'd started tuning into his broadcasts, getting better at predicting the shrill screams of the souls he tore apart just before they blared through your speakers. You still missed them on occasion and would violently jolt upward from wherever you were sitting or lying while listening, floundering for the volume dial and usually finding it well after you needed it.

Alastor had spotted you do exactly that once during a prerecorded broadcast and, after he'd run the gambit of jokes he could make at your expense, the barrier that had existed between you two since your arrival started to come down. And while the jarring screams hadn't stopped, your radio's volume would inexplicably drop on its own ahead of them from then on. You couldn't come up with any explanation for this that didn't include Alastor's influence, but what may have been a kindness on the Radio Demon's part was directly rivaled by his then-new penchant for bursting out of the speakers in a swirl of shadow to scare you, himself, and ask you for feedback on the day's stories.

Those interruptions had become short bouts of small talk in the hall, a couple of cooperative efforts to cook the crew a delicious dinner, him holding doors for you whenever you happened to be traversing the hotel in the same direction… Little things. Lots of little things that had ended up with you considering him a friend, but who knew how he felt. He probably just thought you were amusing. What made it even worse was that you were beginning to suspect the extra pitter-patter of your heart whenever he showed up was no longer adrenaline anticipating him scaring you, but butterflies.

You poor thing. You weren't sure you could've picked a more surefire way to make a fool of yourself.

"I'm not decent," you finally say in an attempt to deter him, wincing a little at the hoarse quality of your voice. You'd only cried a little during your time in your room that day, but you'd cried hard. Partially in an effort to exorcise some of the bad feelings you were harboring, but it hadn't helped much.

"Well! Under all those blankets, I wouldn't even know, now would I!"

You squeak as you startle so much from hearing his staticky voice right behind your head that you end up in a heap on the floor between the wall and your bed.

By the time you untangle yourself from the duvet and pop your head out of the heap, he's maneuvered himself to the edge of the mattress and is peering over it while lying on his barely existent stomach. A thin, but amused smile curls his lips as his legs idly kick behind him like he's a high school girl at a sleepover.

"Was that necessary?" you ask, any amount of riling up he'd done with his sudden entrance falling away from you as your slump saps it of its vigor in one go.

Alastor's brows rise into his fringe, clearly a little caught off-guard. You can understand why—you usually either laugh or, if he gets you badly enough, clutch your chest and scold him for nearly causing your second death via a heart attack.

He tilts his head at you as his eyes narrow and you can't tell if he's confused or zeroing in on his prey. Honestly, in your current condition, you can't get yourself to care. Maybe he'll put you out of your misery for your cheek.

"Mm, I deemed it so," Alastor says, his luminous red eyes blinking down at you as he leans forward ever-so slightly. He's clearly on edge and you digest this as a display of annoyance, but he's concerned (and doesn't like that he's concerned). He's never seen you like this. "Are you ill, cher? It's quite unlike you to miss dinner."

"In a matter of speaking," you allow as you stand up, brush yourself off, and gather up your duvet into a large wad in your arms. You maneuver it back onto the bed and into a sort of nest you can return to, careful not to jostle or accidentally touch Alastor as he remains partially prone across the foot of the bed and watches you work. Mindful of how little he likely knows about mental health, given his time period, you explain in a few words, "My brain is sick."

He blinks, not sure what to make of what you've said. "Your…brain?" he repeats uncertainly. "How so?" Alastor also deems himself "sick in the head," but he's fairly certain that his brand of insanity isn't what you're referring to in yourself.

You nestle into the duvet, missing how his eyes soften a touch at how small you look right now. You take a deep breath and let it huff out as you force yourself to look at him. If he just wants to torment you a bit, this will expedite him getting it out of his system so you can go back to your staring contest with the wall. If he's not just here to make fun of you…well, then that would be surprising.

"I have depression," you finally admit and you wonder when the last time was that you said those words out loud. Even in life, it was a rare moment when you'd be met with someone who was worth explaining yourself to—most people either didn't understand because they'd never been through it themselves or because they didn't want to understand. Over time, you'd just given up trying to be honest about your struggles because being demeaned or invalidated for them just made you feel worse.

"A what now?" Alastor asks, cocking one brow as he turns to lie on his side with his head propped against one hand. His fluffy ears twitch a little but stay upright, alert, and turned in your direction.

"It's a mood, uh…ailment," you explain, thinking he might not know what a "disorder" is either. You're not familiar enough with what terms people would've used to refer to mental health in his time, so you're overcareful with the words you choose. "My brain chemistry wasn't right in life—my body didn't produce enough of the chemicals that make us feel happy, so I'd get into really bad slumps. Exhausted, sad, sometimes just numb slumps. Apparently that came down here with me, too."

"So…you're in a 'slump'?" he repeats slowly, testing the word you'd used on his tongue.

In moments like this, you find him unbearably cute—from his twitchy ears made restless by the rate of his thoughts to his wide, considering eyes as he tries to absorb what you're telling him. He's a very good listener when he's not in the middle of a bit.

"Yes," you tell him and he relaxes slightly at the confirmation. "I feel dead inside, honestly. Which is funny to say now that I'm actually dead, but it's just… I just don't feel much of anything. Or I do and it just feels empty and hollow. That's kind of worse than feeling sad."

He hums and offers, "A smile is our greatest weapon, dear. We've discussed this."

"Not against this, it's not," you sigh, just waiting now for him to get frustrated or bored with you. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Al, I swear. It's just… I can't fake what I'm feeling. I've tried! I wish I could mask half as well as you can, but it's hard. It takes energy I just don't have in times like this."

Alastor evaluates you with a glance and asks, "Then what is your weapon of choice against these…slumps?"

You tug against the seam of the duvet wrapped around you, all nervous fidgeting. "I never really figured anything out," you admit and it feels like a failure. It feels like because you can't offer him a solution to your problem, your problem must not be a problem. You remember so many exasperated faces looking back at you at times you'd admit the very same. He just looks at you though, clearly thinking. "Sometimes just waiting for it to pass was the answer. I was on medication for it at one point, but it never helped very much. I know I need to eat, but I just feel a bit nauseous when I think about food."

"Then food should be on the docket, certainly, but perhaps not just yet," he muses, sitting up as he continues to regard you. "What else?"

You throw your hands up helplessly. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry," you say. "Maybe I need to go hug Charlie again or something, that didn't fix anything earlier, but it didn't hurt."

Alastor scoffs. "Is my comfort not up to your standards, dear?" he needles you, his tone confident even as his smile wavers slightly.

You blink and shake your head even as you scramble to try and understand what he's implying. "Of course not," you quickly say. "I just… You don't have to do that kind of stuff, you know? I know it's uncomfortable for you and I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

He chuckles and a mischievous smirk overtakes his features as he leans in and pulls you toward him via the duvet, taking an indulgent look at the blush reddening your face before he tightens the blanket cocoon around you and adds his arms to the equation after. You get the hint not to take your arms out and touch him and you're not even sure you could if you wanted to. You're frozen in place, comically close to a deer in headlights, and you can feel the heat inflaming your cheeks.

It's nice to feel something for the moment.

"Um… Alastor?" you ask, stopped from looking up at him when his pointed chin settles against the crown of your head. "You… Why?"

"Why, what?" he asks, but it's just to put off answering and you have some inkling that this might be the case despite his casual tone.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask, embarrassed by how vulnerable you sound to yourself.

"I can't have you sat here in one of your 'slumps' by yourself, darling," he mused, one of his hands absently tracing over your back.

It takes a lot for you to not lean into the touch, but you're terrified of scaring him off. You're also terrified of overthinking this though, especially as he settles in around you, his larger body usually used to intimidate and tower over others making you feel oddly safe. Then again, even in his most antagonistic moments with you, have you ever felt in danger?

"Why not?" you ask softly.

"You ask a surprising number of questions over something so simple as this," Alastor notes and his words cause a puff of warm breath to stir your hair. You shiver a little and he chuckles.

"But it's not simple for you," you murmur, letting yourself relax a bit as he impatiently tugs you closer to fit you against his chest. He's certainly not as gentle as Charlie, but you imagine he's far less practiced in this sort of thing than she is. It hits you harder because you know he's trying. And perhaps because you—silly, silly you—have a tragic little crush on the Radio Demon. "And… Well, I appreciate it. That's all."

Alastor hums and admits, "It's simpler than expected. And not unwelcome." You feel his chin shift against your crown, like he might be looking down at you, as he asks, "Is it helpful? Or is dear Charlotte's attention still preferable?"

You have to bite your lips a little to keep from smirking—that sort of tone can only indicate that he's jealous. Once again, you find him unbearably cute and it'll likely one day lead to your second untimely demise once he realizes how you feel.

"Yes, it's helpful. And preferable," you confess and you can almost feel his chest puff with pride. "This is really nice. Thank you."

"You're most welcome, dear," he says, glancing down and watching you cave to fatigue and fall asleep as he feels your weight settle further into his chest.

Alastor chuckles and gives you time to fully settle into a more restful state before he shifts your body around and situates you on your bed. He'd first considered staying, but figures having something for you to eat at the ready when you wake is a better use of his time. At least that's the reason he gives himself to go.

The truth is he can't remember the last time he honest to goodness comforted someone. There's a tickle in the back of his brain, a voice asking if he's losing his edge. Asking if you'll see him now as less than he is, which (in his mind) is a sadistic, cannibalistic overlord and nothing more.

He can't deny though that he's savoring the lingering warmth from your body on his coat. And, as much as he doesn't understand these "slumps" or the depression you referenced, he didn't like seeing you look so sad.

And he supposes if he must occasionally soften his sharp edges a bit to help keep his favorite guest present and smiling, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Something Else - Lando Norris

<word count - 8614> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|part 3 - So Special|

warnings: more maths, biology, bitches

That night, Lando spent his evening in his room, procrastinating. He had homework to do, but he couldn't bring himself to sit at his desk and pick up his pen. Plus, he could just do it with you tomorrow, anyway. 

The excitement that he felt as a result of getting to sit with you again, getting to spend time with you again was unlike anything else he had ever felt. It was like he was a young child on Christmas Eve, unable to wait for the next morning to roll around so that they could see what Santa had brought them. 

His whole family could see a clear shift in his mood, since they had grown so accustomed to moody, sad Lando over the past couple of days. All he wanted to do was get to school the next day just so that he could get to second break and meet you in the library - and that was something he never thought he'd say. 

Lando had also made his mind up that tomorrow, he was going to ask for your snap. Or your number. Having your number felt a lot more personal and serious than just having your Snapchat. He had a lot of people's snaps, but not many people's numbers. But he wanted yours. 

He wanted to save the conversations you'd have, he wanted to be able to call you when he got home from school and talk to you until he couldn't keep his eyes from drooping shut and then do it all again the next day until he could spend his weekends with you. 

Lando truly was the epitome of a love-sick teenage boy, pining after a girl who he wasn't even sure who wanted him back. You had to though, right? You wore his jumpers, you helped him with his work, he drove you home, hell you hugged each other. 

Meanwhile, you were happy, just not to the scale that Lando was. You were confused, to say the least. You didn't think that everything was just automatically going to blow over just because you had stuck up for yourself once, and the fact that you had was surprising to you. 

But you didn't know if you could keep on standing up for yourself, remembering how you had just broken down in front of Lando and felt like a complete idiot. It also baffled you how... understanding, he had been.

He didn't laugh, didn't tell you to get a grip, he didn't stand there awkwardly - well, he did but he had the right intentions. He had hugged you. I mean, what teenage boy hugs a girl that they're friends with when she's crying?

Despite the jokes he sometimes made, he clearly had an old head on young shoulders. The maturity that he had showed made you like him more, if you were being honest. How much you like him was obvious to you at this point.

You'd always been able to appreciate his face, but now it was more than that. You wanted to spend time with him, sit with him, just be near him. You wanted to laugh at his jokes, hear his voice, make him laugh. 

Yet there was always the fear. If you were actually together, what other rumours would people spout? How much worse would it get? Sure, you'd have Lando there by your side, and you knew he'd stick up for you, but how much more could you take? 

Was your adoration of him enough to cancel out everything people said?

Alas, the next morning, you had the courage to get on the bus instead of having to walk the freezing journey to school. Lando wasn't there, but you weren't upset by it. Max and his friends also didn't say anything, which was... weird, but you chose to ignore it. 

That and the weird feeling of dread that you had in your gut. 

Anyway, you walked into school, actually going to the canteen instead of the toilets or the lockers in fear of people talking to you. As you sat down at the table you usually did, the people that filtered in gave you weird looks. 

It almost looked remorseful, maybe something along the lines of pity? They spoke in hushed whispers around you, none of them making the effort to speak to you. You just scrolled on your phone as you sat there, your headphones in your ears. 

You could hear the faint chatterings of the other people in your year, but you were more focused on your phone. Eventually, the people in the canteen fell silent, the light buzzing of their conversations dying down as the doors opened. 

Out of curiosity, you looked up to see Lilly, strutting into the room. You knew something was amiss, but you had no clue what it was. People looked between you and her, and you were so confused as to what was going on. 

To make the atmosphere worse, Lando walked in after her a few seconds later, and you saw how come people's eyes went wide. Lando smiled at you before taking himself over to his friends, and Lilly went to her own table. 

"Mate, is it true?" Max asked Lando, and all he could do was roll his eyes. He had heard the sentence a lot of time recently, and he could only assume that he was about to hear some bullshit. But what Max said nearly made his heart stop. 

"Did you cheat on Y/N with Lilly?" 

Now that was a question that had a lot to unpack. To start off with, there was no way he could've cheated on you since you weren't together, that was the first major thing that he went through in his head. 

The second thing was that it was a stupid question; he'd never cheat on you. If you were his, he wouldn't risk losing you over something so stupid and hurtful as cheating. If you were his, he'd never have the desire to be with anyone else. If you were his, he'd be the best damn boyfriend he could've possibly been. 

Thirdly, it was already established that he wouldn't cheat to begin with, but certainly not with Lilly. God, even the sound of her name in his head made him want to throw up. He knew she had a massive crush on him, but he'd never stoop that low. 

"Who the fuck said that?" he rushed, his tone not lacking urgency. 

"I don't know where it came from, Will told me this morning," Max sheepishly said, not missing the alarm in Lando's voice. He knew his friend had been having a hard time lately - and he was a participant. But he also knew that it was going to get worse from now.

"Oh my christ," he mumbled, getting up nearly as quickly as he had sat down. Lando had spotted Will going over to the lockers earlier, and he hoped he was still there. You saw his face, the look on it. 

There was no emotion on his features other than rage, and you still didn't know what was going on. As he left, people carried on looking between you and Lilly, and you could only assume that it was something to do with her. 

"Will," Lando said, spotting the blonde boy fiddling with dials on his locker. 

"Hey Lando! What's-" he cheerily started, but he stopped when he saw Lando's face. He knew what he was asking about. "What's up, mate?" he asked, not even knowing if he wanted to find the answer out in the end.                                             

"What did you tell Max? About me 'cheating' on Y/N?" 

Will was internally cursing Max for telling Lando that he had been the one to spread the message around the friend group, and he was nothing short of terrified of Lando right now. "I just told him what Maisie told me," he quietly said. 

"And what did Maisie tell you?" Lando prompted.

"She just said that things weren't great between you and Y/N and that you apparently spent last night with Lilly..." he trailed off, and the pieces all fell into place in his head. Lilly. 

She had surely been the one to spread it around her friends, who were the gossipers of the school. He should've known it would be her, especially after how she had spoken to you and about you when he was listening. 

He wasn't going to bother going to Maisie and asking her what Lilly had said, but he knew Lilly would just spout pure and utter bullshit to him and it'd be a waste of time trying to get the truth out of her. At least Maisie would be easy to intimidate the veracities of the story out of. 

Lando needed to get to the bottom of this, preferably before first period so you wouldn't spend your lesson upset. It was naive to think that this wouldn't get back to you before that point, but he would be a lot more relieved if he could tell you what was going on before you got upset. 

"You absolute idiot, you know that Y/N and I aren't together, and you sure as hell know that I wouldn't touch that bitch with a 10 foot barge pole!" Lando spat, taking himself away from will before he did something he'd regret. 

Meanwhile, you were still in the dark about everything that was going on. Until now. "Hey... erm... I'm really sorry to hear about what Lando did. It's really shitty. Especially with Lilly. I guess we all should've seen it coming," someone came up to you and said. 

It was one of the usually shy girls, so it was surprising to see her come and talk to you out of the blue. "What are you talking about?" you asked, and her mouth dropped.

"You don't know what he did?" she asked, suddenly feeling like this was the single worst idea she had had in at least the last five years. 

"What did he do?" you replied, thinking that Lando had done or said something that was instantly going to ruin the reconciliation that you had both made yesterday. You really hoped that it wasn't something he had done, because you didn't think you could handle that volume of feelings again. 

"With... Lilly... you know... cheated..." she mumbled, avoiding your eyes and looking at the freshly buffed canteen floor. 

"Lando can't cheat if we were never together to begin with," you coldly said, your voice betraying no emotion. For some reason, the word 'cheated' sent a pang of hurt through your body, but you couldn't quite decipher why. 

Maybe it was just the mere idea of Lando cheating on you that sent your heart into a spiral, but there was certainly something about it that hurt. And with Lilly? Ha, that was funny. As if he'd do that... or would he?

Oh here came the doubt, the questioning, the lack of reasoning. Lando would never cheat on you. Never. He was not that kind of guy, and you couldn't even see him thinking of it, let alone actually doing it. But you weren't even together so it didn't matter.

"Oh... I... erm... sorry..." she trailed off, scurrying away from you before you had chance to say anything else. Now you knew why everyone was giving you looks and whispering about you. They all believed that you and Lando were together from the first set of rumours, and now it seemed perfectly plausible that he had cheated on you. Just great. 

In the interim, Lando skulked down the hall, before spotting Maisie just before she reached the canteen. "Maisie!" he called out, jogging up to catch her. The girl's face absolutely fell when she saw Lando, and she was clearly of the knowledge that she was in some deep shit.

"Look, I only know what Lilly told me, OK?" she said, and he could have laughed at how scared she was. 

"Which was...?"

"That things between you and Y/N were rocky, to say the least. Apparently she was too boring, too square for you. So you called Lilly and... you know." Maisie explained. The implication in her words wasn't lost on Lando, and he could feel the hot sears of fury building up in his stomach and spreading through his veins. 

"And you believed it? You really fucking believed a word that she said? Are you seriously that naive?" he grovelled through gritted teeth, really trying not to lose his temper with the cowardly girl in front of him.

Maisie was scared. Terrified, even. "She's my friend... I..." she stuttered, unable to meet his eyes. 

"Well she shouldn't be, get better friends. She is nothing but a lying, manipulative, awful person that you'll be better off getting rid of sooner rather than later," he told Maisie, leaving her awestruck at what he had said. 

Now all Lando had to do was find the single thing that had caused him the most distress as of recent: Lilly.

He had seen her in the canteen, and he assumed that she'd still be there. Pushing past Maisie, he stormed into the room, and you knew he knew. You had instantly jumped to the conclusion that Lilly had been the one to spread the rumours, and now it seemed that Lando was trying to resolve the issue. 

"Lilly what the fuck are you playing at?" he sneered, leaning over the table and towering over her. The smirk on her face looked proud of what she'd done, and it pissed him off even more than he already was, if that was possible.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you watching him. He knew you knew, and he was going to go to every length that he could to make sure that you weren't upset by this, by her. "Not my fault she was too vanilla for you," she laughed, her friends grinning along. 

"Too vanilla? Are you out of your fucking mind? I'd rather be dead than touch you!" Lando near on yelled, people averting their eyes to him as his voice raised slightly. 

"Not what you were saying last night..." she chided in a sing song tone, and Lando was about 2 seconds away from losing his cool. 

"Well then let me make it quite clear. I would never ever want to be anywhere near you, got it? Now stop making shit up that everyone knows isn't true just because no one actually likes you. Y/N doesn't, your friends don't, no one around here does, and I sure as hell don't," he ranted, and Lilly's confidence faltered. 

He could see the slight expression of jealousy on her face, since she knew deep down that her efforts of being with Lando were proving futile. There was also some semblance of hurt there, since it was never nice to be verbally berated by the boy you had a crush on. 

"And what makes her so special, eh? Her drab personality? The fact that she's a complete suck up? Her lack of friends? Or is it just because she's clever?" she spat back, her tone not lacking that familiar snark that she was famous for. 

"She's a hell of a lot more than you'll ever be. If I hear one more lie come from your mouth, your life around here will be hell," Lando finished, moving across the canteen to go and sit with his friends: who had all been watching the ordeal from afar. 

He hadn't noticed, but pretty much everyone in the year was watching the argument. Even you, sitting at your table by the wall, were dumbfounded. As Lando sat down, you could see how he was trying to seem all cool, calm and collected like he normally was.

But, you could see the faint inklings of his anger still lingering on the surface, and you were sure they'd be there for the rest of the day. You were pissed off too, but you couldn't help but feel a small smidgen of upset too.

You didn't want to be upset, not by Lilly, never by Lilly. Yet you were. That sad feeling that you'd had over the past couple of days was creeping back in, as much as you were willing it to go away so that you could carry on as if this had never happened. 

Cutting through the light chatter, the bell rang out that signalled that you should go to first period. You spent your hour in history not really concentrating on the details of the Cuban Missile Crisis, more on what Lilly had said.

Something about the words ran deeper than they ought to have, and it was like an itch you couldn't quite scratch. "Y/N, who was it that met with Anatoly Dobrynin to secretly resolve the crisis?" your teacher interrupted, pushing you momentarily off the path that your mind was taking you down.

"Erm..." you stuttered, and something that resembled concern flashed in your teacher's eyes. You were normally so on the ball, always switched on and tuned into lessons. But, he wouldn't hold it against you that you were zoned out once.

He had never ever seen you not paying attention, so he'd let it slide. Just before he said the answer, it popped into your head. You seemed to remember reading about it in your textbook once, but it might not have been right. "Robert Kennedy?" you said, and a soft smile found its way onto his face. 

"Yes, well done," he nodded, and you were off the hook for now. You could go back to your little daydreams about everything that had gone on in the morning. Or day-mares. You weren't quite sure. 

First break and second period went by, and you remembered that you said you'd help Lando with his biology. The anxiety that you used to feel about seeing Lando was crawling through you, feeling almost like a hand wrapped around your neck.

You were at the library first, as usual. You didn't have biology today, but you had brought your text book just so you could fill in any of the gaps in your own knowledge before attempting to teach Lando any of it. 

You weren't actually sure what about anatomy he was wanting to learn or if that was just a joke, but you thought it would be better to be prepared. The chair in front of you was pulled out, and Lando sat down with a big grin on his face. 

He was trying to be normal, but he was scrutinising your every move to see if you were OK. "Hey," he smiled, rummaging through his bag to get out his crumpled work book and biology textbook. "So, tell me about that cycle thing," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, ready to listen to you. 

"The menstrual cycle?" you pressed, since there were many cycles he could have been referring to. Plus, it was funny to see the flush of red on his cheeks and the way the tips of his ears turned pink when he was embarrassed.

Lando may have been a mature boy when it came to your emotions, but he was just like the rest of them when it came to talking about slightly awkward topics like periods. "Erm... yeah. That one." he confirmed. 

"OK, so, what you need to know about are the 4 hormones. You've got LH, oestrogen, progesterone and FSH. FSH causes the maturing of the egg in the ovary, LH triggers ovulation, which is the release of the egg into the uterus. Oestrogen repairs and thickens the uterus lining, and progesterone maintains the uterus lining." you explained, and Lando tried to be an active listener by nodding his head as you spoke. 

"Sure, yeah, I can remember that," he nodded. "You'll probably have to explain it a few times to me, but I can remember that. It isn't so hard," he reassured, but it sounded like he was telling himself more than he was telling you. 

"So from that, try some practice questions, and then we can fill in any gaps after, yeah?" you said, taking his textbook and flicking through the pages until you found the practice questions at the end of the chapter on the menstrual cycle. 

"Yes ma'am," he jokingly saluted, picking up his pen and looking after the questions. "Do you have some paper?" he asked, clearly not having brought any. You just rolled your eyes at him, ripping a sheet out of your notebook for him. "Thanks, you're the best," he winked at you, his eyes moving down to the paper on the table before he could spot you blushing. 

God was he charming. As Lando distracted himself with getting on with the practice questions, you figured you might as well finish your physics homework that you had been given in second period. It wouldn't take you long if you concentrated. 

But it was hindered by that small feeling of anxiety again. Anxiety of being here with Lando. Lilly's words echoed in your head again, and the stab of pain didn't become any less stinging as you thought about it.  

'Her drab personality?' You knew you weren't the most egregiously outgoing person in the world, or the most funny, but you didn't think you were drab, per se. Maybe just reserved. The people that had put the time in to get to know you seemed to find you funny.

Well, Lando seemed to find you funny. That had to count for something, right? You didn't have to be overly loud or obnoxious just to have a personality, but you were in high school, so maybe you did. 

'The fact that she's a complete suck up?' You wouldn't say you were exactly a suck up, you just liked doing well in your lessons, it was as simple as that. You didn't like getting told off, so you did your work, and you did it well. 

The praise brought you a nice little ding of satisfaction, and you didn't really see much reason to act out or not do your work. You had your moments where you had forgotten things, but your teachers were lenient since you were always so diligent. 

'Her lack of friends?' Now that was just inaccurate. You had friends, most of them were people you just so happened to sit next to in your lessons and you hung out on occasion. You didn't hang out with them in school since you liked to knuckle down and get your work done during the day so you could limit the amount you did at home. 

You went out on the weekends, whether it be for lunch or to do some activity that one of them had picked. There was just the illusion that you didn't have any friends, but you didn't expect Lilly to be so observant. 

'Or is it just because she's clever?' The more you thought about it, the more you thought that being smart was the only thing you had going for you. It was easy to look past everything that made you you when you were always getting the best grades. 

A lot of people seemed to omit the detail of your name when referring to you, simply calling you the 'smart one'. It had never bothered you before, so why did it now? Surely though, Lando didn't just like you because you were smart?

Most of the time, you weren't being academic when you spent time together, so there had to be more to it than that. As you got in your own head, your self-confidence was dwindling. Was all of that really what people thought of you?

That you were drab, friendless, a kiss ass, just the smart one? Maybe they had and you had just never noticed. All anyone ever saw you as was clever. The little lonely thing who just studied instead of having a worthy social life. 

That you were destined for solitude with nothing but your textbooks and scientific journals teeming with knowledge. It wasn't how you wanted yourself to be seen, not in the slightest. For a moment, you considered having a full on glow up, complete with the leather pants and hairspray - just like Sandy in Grease.

But that would be a little too much, so you decided against the idea. At least you didn't have long before you could leave that place and never look back. School had never been about the people to you, not until now, anyway. 

Lando noticed that you weren't doing anything, your pen was just hovering over your sheet and it had been for a few minutes now. He didn't know whether you were brainstorming or thinking, but by the look on your face, whatever you were thinking wasn't pleasant.

"Hey..." he softly mumbled, reaching out hand to place on your arm from across the table. He gently shook you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You just looked at him for a moment, your brain taking you back to where you were. 

Right. Studying. Biology. Physics. With Lando.

"You stuck?" you asked, leaning over to glance at the practice questions he had been scribbling down onto the paper. 

"No, you just seem a bit spaced out. You doing OK?" he asked, concern written all over his face. He had a feeling he knew what was going on, and he was nearly 100% sure that he was right. 

"Yeah, I'm good, just tired," you lied through your teeth, and Lando knew it was complete and utter bullshit. His expression hardened, not liking that you were lying to him. He hated it when you lied to him.

"Hey, c'mon, don't do that. Talk to me," he urged, his hand still remaining on your arm as he squeezed it. You stayed silent, not wanting him to take the mick out of you for thinking the way you were. But Lando wasn't having it. "Please? You're clearly upset about something. You can tell me." he pressed. 

"I just... nevermind. It's stupid," you dismissed, picking your pen back up to actually make an attempt on your physics homework. 

"No, we're not doing that. If you don't tell me, then I can't make it better," he carried on pushing. Lando just wanted you to open up to him, to make you see that he could trust you. He wanted to fix your problems for you.

"I... do you think I'm drab?" you asked, and he was taken aback. He took a few seconds, thinking over your question. He hated that you even had to ask him that in the first place. 

"No, course I don't, you're so much more-"

"OK so do you think I'm a suck up? Do you think I have no friends? Is the only good thing about me my brain?" you rambled, and his face softened. He was right. It was exactly what he thought it would be: Lilly's words had gotten to you. 

"No, no. Listen to me," he said, but you were still looking down at the paper and fiddling with the top of your pen. "Can you look at me?" he asked. His mum always got him to look at her when he was upset and she was trying to be reassuring, so he figured he'd try the same approach as her.

"Y/N. Look at me." he said more firmly. The sternness in his tone wasn't like anything you had heard from him, and you didn't know what else to do apart from listen to him and do as he said. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, the softness hiding behind the hard exterior. 

"You are none of that. Don't let Lilly think any less of yourself. You're not drab, you're a joy to be around. You're not a suckup, you're a hard worker. You have friends, you've got me. And there is so much more to you that just your brain. Sure, it's an incredible thing that I admire about you, but there's more to you than just that."

Now you really didn't know what to say. Somehow, Lando had just said exactly what you needed to hear. Yet it didn't make the insecurity go away, not fully. "But do you think other people think that? Or is Lilly just saying what everyone thinks...?" you nearly whispered. 

"You don't need to care about anyone's opinion. Not everyone else's, not mine, and certainly not Lilly's. The only opinion you should care about is yours," he told you, and that was another moment where Lando showed that he was wise beyond his years. 

"OK," you agreed, and Lando finally removed his hand from your arm. He seemed settled by your agreement, but he knew he hadn't fully convinced you. He'd keep an eye on you and be ready to swoop in and quash any more of that lingered self deprecating doubt. 

"Now, do your physics. We can't have our number one scholar falling behind, can we?" he chuckled, trying to bring some light to the situation. 

"As if you could catch up, Norris," you laughed, finally starting the questions that you had to do. You had them done in ten minutes, and finally the bell went for the end of second break. You and Lando packed up your stuff, ready to head to your next lesson. 

"Hey, can we meet back here for the second half of lunch? I've got some maths I need help on," he asked, and you couldn't say no to him.

"Sure, I'll be here all lunch so just come up whenever," you told him, and he ran out to the language block for French so that he wasn't late. You just had English downstairs, so it was a short walk for you. 

Exactly as he said, Lando trudged back up to the library halfway through lunch. "My French teacher is an absolute bitch. She kept me behind for ten minutes because apparently the way I say 'jouer' isn't French enough for her. We went through pronunciation for ages and said I need to work on it," he scoffed, plopping down in front of you and earning a glare from the librarian. 

"So are we doing French or maths today?" you chuckled, thinking he'd want to do French after his little outburst. 

"I would rather die than have to think of 'qu'est ce il y a dans ta ville' again," he mocked, purposely avoiding trying to pronounce the words right. "We're doing maths. And we're doing polynomial division. Because further maths is kicking my arse at the moment,"

"Sure, sure, OK. Get your book out," you told him, going into your bag to get your own maths book out. You had it last period, so you thankfully had all your stuff to hand.

"You know, I'd be much better at maths if I could sit with you again..." he said, hoping you'd catch onto what he was asking. It was true - his maths was a hell of a lot better when he had you to help him and guide him through it. 

"Are you asking if you can come back to your old place?"

"Yes. Yes I am." he confirmed. 

"Then yeah, I think you're good to move back to your old place," you confirmed, and the smile on his face was adorable. If you were being honest with yourself, you were also missing him in maths. The seat next to you had been left vacant, and you quite liked it that way.

But, having Lando there would've been a hell of a lot better than sitting by yourself. You enjoyed teaching him and it brought you a lot of satisfaction. It was nice to have that sense of fulfillment when you had shared your knowledge to someone, especially when it was Lando. 

 "So what is it about polynomial division that you don't get?" you asked, taking his book from him and looking at the half-done sums on the page.

"I get the first bit about putting x into x cubed, but from there? Nah," he told you, and you could see what he meant. He had gotten past step one, but had completely faltered on the rest of the maths.

"So now you want to times out your x squared by the -4 after the x and put that under there," you told him, pointing to the spot on the page where he needed to put in the multiplied terms and numbers. 

You talked Lando through the rest of the steps and went over a few more with him, before letting him go through a few himself. "Are you OK? You know, after earlier and everything. I don't want you thinking like that about yourself,"

"Oh, yeah, it was just a short thing. I was being silly," you shook your head, and Lando seemed to believe you. 

"Good. And... what do I do from this bit? Minus the 3?"

"No, plus. If you try to minus a minus, it turns into a plus, yeah?" you reiterated, and he instantly remembered the small maths fact. He just smiled at you, and you couldn't quite decipher what the look in his eyes was. It looked like some form of wonder, but you decided that that was just wishful thinking on your part. 

"You're something else, you know that?" he quietly said, and you wouldn't have caught it if you weren't in the near silence of the library. 

"Hm?" you asked, wanting to make sure you had heard what you thought you had heard. 

"Oh, nothing," he blushed, pretending like he was doing his maths while you sat there. Lando mentally scolded himself for the slip up, annoyed that he had let it leave his lips. It was a freudian slip, yes, but he wasn't going to admit that. 

He wanted to tell you again, and he wanted to tell you over and over and over again until you believed it, but he didn't want to push it too far. You had only just gotten back to normal, and he didn't want to ruin it just as quickly as he had gotten it back. 

You both worked in silence until you needed to go to your 4th lesson of the day, yours being Spanish and Lando's being chemistry. "Can I walk you there?" he asked, not caring if he was late for chemistry, he hated the lesson anyway.

"Sure," you agreed, packing up your stuff and walking by his side. Lando wanted to be able to reach out, intertwine his fingers with yours and feel the warmth of your hand. But again, that'd be too much far too soon. 

People gave you dubious glances as you walked through the corridors, and the people going into your class thought it was weird when Lando just stood outside with you when they knew he wasn't in their class. "Have a good lesson, yeah? I'll see you in maths," he smiled, leaning against the wall next to the classroom door. 

"Yeah, enjoy chemistry," you smiled at him, walking in and taking your seat. After spending all that time with Lando, you forgot one teeny weeny detail. You sat with Lilly in Spanish. Great. And the realisation kicked in when she took her seat next to you. 

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach, even if she didn't say anything for the first half of the lesson. The two of you didn't have any reason to talk, so you were perfectly happy with ignoring her existence and getting your lesson out of the way. 

Yet of course, you had to do partner work. The task was simple, it was just testing each other on vocab. One of you would give the English word, and the other would give the Spanish word back. But, it wasn't like you could get out of it or ask to move places, since that would be way too obvious. She didn't initiate the conversation, so you had to be the bigger person and start it.

"Do you want me to ask first or do you want to?" you asked, and she looked at you as if you had just thrown up on her. The disgust on her face was obvious, since she made no attempt to hide it. If anything, she was playing up to make you feel worse. 

"You can ask," she said, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. You looked at the vocabulary that you had written down in your book, scanning through the different words.

"OK... what is the plot?" you asked, and she sighed.

"Don't know." Oh. So that was how this was going to go. OK, yeah, sure, you got the idea. 

"El argumento. What is the scene?" 

"Don't know." she said, looking bored as ever. She looked like she wanted to say something, but for whatever reason, she was holding her tongue. That wasn't like Lilly, not at all, so you were slightly surprised. 

"It's really easy, come on," you huffed, feeling quite frustrated that she was being so stubborn and pig headed. But it was Lilly, what else were you expecting? 

"Look, Y/N, if it wasn't already obvious, I don't like you, and I'm certainly not going to sit here and play classmates with you, OK?" she said in the way an adult would scold a child. 

"Good, because if it wasn't already obvious, I don't like you either. But I'm not going to sit here and be a bitch about it, OK?" you replied with the same tone, and you spotted the spark that ignited in her eyes. 

Did you slightly regret snapping back? Yes. But was it a little fun? Hell yeah. 

"Ha, please. I'm not a bitch, you're just delusional," she scoffed, rolling her eyes at you. Delusional? How had that come out of your previous sentence? Clearly noticing the confusion on your face, she spoke again. 

"Did you see that little show that Lando put on this morning? He's a good actor, isn't he? Mind you, it is quite pathetic that you believed it." she said, and you dropped your book down onto the table. 

"You and I both know that that is absolute-" 

"He just uses you, you know that? Ever since you've been 'friends', haven't you noticed that his grades in pretty much everything have gone up? He didn't mean a word of it," she spat, and it was like she had read your mind and brought back up the rest of your insecurities. 

She had triggered them earlier, and now she was doing it again. "Not so mouthy now, are we?" she grinned, clearly satisfied with your facial expression. 

You felt the familiar trepidation of seeing Lando next period coming back to the fore, and all you could muster was a simple, "And this is why nobody likes you."

"Lando seems to," she said after hearing your quip, but you both knew it was bullshit. At least that wasn't true. Or was it? You didn't know what was true in regards to you and Lando anymore. 

Did he really just use you to get his grades up? Was that all this was?

Spanish was over after a little while, but you went straight to your maths classroom so that you wouldn't have to see Lando during break. Your teacher wasn't there, so you just sat in your seat to think about things. 

She walked in after some time, you couldn't say how much time you had been sat there, but there were likely only a few minutes left until break was over.  "Y/N? What's wrong? Did something happen with Lando again?" she asked, seeing the look on your face. 

"Not with Lando. Well, not Lando directly, anyway." you mumbled, and she knelt down in front of your desk. 

"You can tell me," she said. Lando had said the exact same thing to you earlier in the day, but it didn't have the same effect coming from her. 

"It's fine, I've got it covered," you said, and she decided not to press the issue further. It wasn't long before the bell went and people started filtering in. Surprisingly, Lando was one of the first to walk in and came to his seat next to you. 

"Lando, to the back," your teacher said, and he instantly knew something was wrong. 

"Miss, it's fine, really," you reassured her, and Lando briskly took his seat beside you. He could tell the energy around you was off, and he was hell bent on getting to the bottom of it. 

Meanwhile, Lilly's words were storming through your head like a runaway freight train. 'He just uses you'. It had been a fear you had held for a while, albeit one that you had convinced yourself of being irrational.

Surely, there was no way he'd do that, right? There was no way he would hug you, drive you home, walk you to class, spend his free time on projects for you if he was just using you. People weren't overly nice to people they were exploiting. 

Or maybe he was just doing it to butter you up, keep you sweet for him. Keep his grades higher. Maybe he had figured out that his niceties got him favours from you, all of which involved help on his school work. 

Maybe he was what you initially thought he was when you first talked to him on that broken down bus. A character. A special version of Lando Norris, crafted just for you. The edition of him that would get him what he wanted in the most efficient manner. 

Maybe, just maybe, Lilly was right. Lando was the star actor, the leading role, the puppet master. And you were simply the one on the strings, dancing to whatever sick tune he played.  

While you were thinking, Lando let some of the lesson go by until you were set off to work on some questions. "What's wrong?" he asked straight up, turning his body so that he was facing you more. When you didn't answer him, he nudged your leg with his knee under the table. "Come on, I know something's wrong. Is it about earlier?"

'No, I've just come to the conclusion that you might be using me' was what you thought, but you still couldn't deduce whether it was just Lilly and your mind wreaking havoc on you, or if it was the uncovered truth.

"Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours," he said, hoping to get some form of a smile from the compliment. He would take anything at this point. However, you gave him nothing. You kept your eyes trained on your paper, your pen mindlessly scribbling. 

"Was it Lilly?" he asked, and he saw the slight change in your expression. Well at least he knew something about what was going on with you. Even just the mention of it triggered the familiar, hot prickle of tears at the backs of your eyes. 

Lando spotted you welling up, and he knew he'd hit a sore spot. "Hey, no, I'm sorry for pushing, I'll stop, it's OK," he rambled, feeling panicked at the prospect of you crying. He had seen it a few times, and it was a few times too many. 

He also didn't want you to feel embarrassed by crying in the middle of class, especially not because of him. "You're OK, I'm sorry, it's OK," he tried to soothe as you tried to fight the tears back. 

Lando wished he could just hug you like he had before, since that seemed to take the pain away for a little bit. At least then, he wouldn't feel so useless and like he was just sitting by and watching you get upset. 

All he wanted was to hold you in his arms, make sure that no one else could ever hurt you again. But even then, it probably wouldn't be enough. "It's nothing," was all you could muster out, and something in Lando snapped. 

He was so frustrated, he didn't know what to do with himself. He tried to tear his eyes away from you, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to look at your pretty face all day. But, he left you alone, returning to his maths. 

Lando couldn't focus though, and time seemed to move unbelievably slowly while he was waiting for the lesson to end so that he could talk to you in a less public space. The bell had rung after an agonising half an hour, but you were too quick for him to catch as you practically ran out of the classroom. 

He couldn't spot you as you walked through the corridors, since the hoards of people leaving their lessons obstructed his view. Darting out of school, he saw the bus waiting, and he was meant to be catching it, but he didn't care about that right now. 

On the other side of the road, he saw you walking down the pavement with your headphones stuffed in your ears. He had to jog across the road as he was nearly ran over by a van, but that was the least of his worries right now. 

"Y/N!" he called out after you, but you clearly hadn't heard him over your music. That wasn't going to going to deter him, however, as he continued to jog down the pavement and started walking next to you. "Y/N, talk to me," he said, slightly huffing as he finally got to slow down.

"Hm? Oh," you mumbled as you heard him beside you, not knowing what to say. You didn't want to push him away, but you didn't want to be like this anymore. 

"C'mon, tell me, I'm here, there's no one around, it's just you and me," he tried to convince you. Stopping and turning to look a him, he saw the tears welling up in your eyes again, and he still didn't know what to do. 

"You can't just be my friend again, then suddenly stop talking to me and not even tell me why," he ranted, his frustration seeping through his words. 

"Look, I don't think we should be friends, Lando." you said, and he felt like his heart had stopped beating in his chest. 

What the hell had triggered this? Why were you thinking like this? And why wouldn't you tell him what was going on? He hoped that this was just some spur of the moment thing, that you were just upset and acting on impulses.

God, he couldn't take this again. Not again, he wouldn't let you walk away from him again. He wouldn't lose you again. He had lost you once and it had been the worst few days of his recent memory, and he wasn't going to let you slip away that easily.

"No, no, don't do that. Don't do this to me, don't be stupid," he scoffed, waiting for you to crack a smile and tell him you were kidding and that you were just a bit on edge from something or another. The smile never came. 

"Why? Why the fuck are you coming to this conclusion?" he continued, but the tears just started to silently fall down your cheeks. 

"Me being associated with you just brings us both unwanted stress and upset. Your friends take the piss out of you, everyone seems to take the piss out of me and I can't do it Lando. You're brilliant but I just can't do this anymore," you sobbed, trying to walk away from him. 

"No, no, you can't say that and not tell me what someone said to you," he pressed, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back so that you couldn't walk away from him. "I know it was Lilly, but you've gotta tell me what she said to you."

"She... nothing," you stuttered, and Lando's patience was wearing very damn thin. 

"No, don't try pull that bullshit with me, I will not have it. You're going to give me one good fucking reason right now or I will lose it with you," he said through gritted teeth.

"She said that you don't actually want to be my friend and that you just use me to get better grades and it got me thinking and-"

"And what?" he cut you off, "You really believe a word that slimy bitch says? Sure, you helping me with my work is great, I won't deny that, but I spend time with you for you. And you wanna know why? Because I think you're amazing. You're funny, pretty and a hell of a lot smarter than anyone should be." he carried on, and he realised by your facial expression that he may have said more than he was meant to, but he didn't care at this point.

"You... huh?" you said, the words replaying over in your head.  Was he meant to say that or was he still just trying to keep you attached to him?

"I said I think you're amazing and you're more to me than just a tutor. You're my friend. Dare I say one of my favourites because you never take the piss out of me, you're always nice to me, and being around you makes me happy. And you're too smart to believe a word she says." he reaffirmed.

Your eyes searched his face for any trace of dishonesty, any hint of a lie. Yet, it they found nothing. Not a speck of chicanery in sight. He kept saying all this stuff, and it was supposed to be exactly what you needed to hear. Then why wasn't it?

"Were you and Lilly ever anything?" you asked, the question slipping past your lips before you could even find it in yourself to stop it. You didn't even know why you cared - well, you did. The stallion of jealousy was rearing its ugly head, and there was no way that you could suppress it.

You liked him, you liked him a lot. And, even if he had only had something fleeting with Lilly, it still would have upset you. 

"No." he sharply and quickly answered. "Why the fuck would I ever-" he started, before cutting himself off with a sigh. Getting annoyed at you wasn't the best approach, even if you were making it damn impossible not to. "No. No I never and will never have anything with her." he said. 

"But still, people are still awful to me and to you," you whispered, trying to hold back even more tears. 

"That doesn't matter, not to me. I don't give a shit what people think, I just give a shit about you." he pleaded, hoping and praying that you weren't going to turn around and leave him.

Despite the clear sincerity in his voice, you couldn't bring yourself to believe him. As much as you desperately wanted to believe him, you couldn't. You needed to believe him, but you couldn't. 

The worst part was was that you knew the notion was completely absurd, but you believed it anyway. "Please don't do this..." he whispered, moving his hands to hold you at the top of your arms. God, he didn't want you to go. Not again. 

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you mumbled, shrugging away from his grip and pushing your headphones back into your ears. With every step you took, it felt like another stab to his already broken heart. 

Lando closed his eyes, unable to watch you walk away from him. "I thought you were the smartest person I knew, but it turns out you're the fucking dumbest," he called out after you, his voice cracking on the words. 

It was mean, sure, but he didn't care. What he did care about wa the fact that the only girl he had ever had real feelings for was walking away from him, and there was seemingly nothing he could do to bring you back. Nothing. 

A/N - Already 5k into the next part of this, and I'm sorry, I know it felt like it was just getting better. Alas, we're getting there. And happy birthday Lando! He may piss me off to no end, but damn do I love writing about him 💖

tag list: @cheriladycl01 @ln4swiftie @mariedeyes223 @ironmaiden1313 @daemyraforever56

[dreamsarebutterflies]

I didn't mean this particular scene or by the end of the manga but BEFORE that obviously. Ranma's character development is never stopping and that's what I love the most about his character: he's willing to learn and I do believe he knows himself too. After all, you need to if you try to be a master of martial arts.

Independently of the curse itself, parental pressure played a role in this idea of what a man is supposed to be. First, Genma and his mother made a freaking pact to make a MAN™ out of him. The alternative is DEATH. That alone would put things into your teenage head.

Despite this, he inherited his mother's kindness and he's genuine. Those parts can be seen as feminine in the most traditional ways. He wasn't raised to expose these qualities to the world, which makes him awkward at times when he wants to be nice to Akane for example. To be fair, he turned out fine as far as traditional boys go. He can be a jerk but he's a good kid who has actual affection for all these crazy people coming at him and Akane. If they get into trouble or ask for his help, he'd probably assist them.

Ranma wishing to be a FULL man isnt something new but the reasons evolve as the story goes on. Not necessarily because he changes or because he meets new people but we, as an audience, learn more and more about him.

You cannot ignore that this kid who didn't see his mother for ten years and lived in his father's fear of disappointing her for the whole while he was cursed, deeply wished to cancel this part of him so he could get home and see his mother again (and get rid of one more threat to his life). This reason surely existed before she was introduced. Because, as you said, Ranma has no idea what a home is. His mother was initially home. Now, the idea of Home is Akane and what brought them to be together. You cannot tell me he didn't put it into his head, one way or another, that for him to deserve to stay there with her, he had to be a Man™.

Isn't an explicit notion but the simple fact that Ranma mentions getting back to Akane as he is here is a hint that he wanted to return to her as a complete man again at some point. So it was an objective as well until now. It's not insane to interpret it that way, because she believes in him and he learned not to disappoint. But it's okay if he fails this time because he knows that's not really what Akane needs or wants, she knows and accepts him as he is, entirely.

Now he even has a reason not to be selfish, unlike his father. If you stretch it, you can assume that Ranma breaking the curse has never been something that he wanted for himself, it was yet again all about what his parents wanted for him. What always shocked me when I started the show years ago was how docile he was in the first episode. Meeting Akane, he learnt to express himself more and was finally allowed to want and need things for himself. He didn't need to live in survival mode anymore, not just because he had a roof and free food but because people around him are not threatening him on a daily basis. Until then, he never had to make real decisions for himself. Akane gave him a safe space to be who he was and think outside of his parents' unrealistic expectations.

Also, that's just an idea but: Ranma seems to believe in breaking the curse to make Akane happy. I wonder if that's also a way to erase the primordial fight: he lied to her and pretended to be a girl on day 1. Before this event, Akane was very welcoming and nice to him. Probably the first person to act that way towards him in years, mind you. Perhaps it would be a way to make things right.

Martial arts are Ranma's life, but the training trips with Genma were more about survival. In a way, he doesn't start living until he finds a home with the Tendos, but even more, Akane is home. When he's at death's door, Akane is the one who brings him back. She is his will to live.

[limerence-17]

leave the door open

based on: number 7.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

masterlist

warnings: 18+ mdni p in v (bc mentioned,) explicit language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

word count: 1.6k

A/N: all characters are 18+ here. obx season 4 didn't have to make rafe this sexy but here we are and i hope u all enjoy <3 also psa yes i know kinktober is over but i feel kinky all year and what about it

i wasn't going to touch myself. in fact i wasn't even thinking about it, and yet here i was about to spend the night at my best friend sarah cameron's house and all i could think about was the way her older brother looked coming into the house after getting off his motorbike. the way his hair swayed as he ran his hands through it, and the way he grunted as he walked by us in the kitchen.

he didn't even make eye contact and yet i couldn't stop myself from staring right at him as he walked by.

but here i was laying in the guest room, in this giant house that i still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my best friend lived in and all i could think about was god damn rafe cameron.

────── 〔✿〕──────

that night, it was rather warm out, but i was feeling tired, dazed perhaps. sarah had come into my room, told me john b wanted to see her which was predictable as usual and snuck out through the guest room window. she told me she'd be back by 7 am which meant i'd be spending the night on my own. i didn't mind it but it could get lonely.

the sun was setting, and i felt strange spending such a lovely summer evening inside getting ready for bed but i suppose that was alright considering i spent the entire day out and about.

i nustled my legs smoothly against the satin sheets. something about staying at the cameron's house always reminded me of staying in some nice hotel. everything just smelt clean, like oranges and fresh air.

my shorts rode up my ass slightly, but i paid hardly any notice to them. it was so hot out anyway. i turned over, glancing outside the window. it was quiet out, too quiet and yet my mind wandered back to rafe in the kitchen. his hair falling ever so slightly in front of his eyes, the way he smelt. like sea salt and expensive cologne.

i couldn't help but shift my body so that my back laid against the bed, slowly arching my back as my hand glided to my shorts, placing soft slow circles against my clit. slowly, but i applied more pressure the more i circled. i couldn't help but let out a moan and had to cover my. mouth as i continued on. i wanted to take off my shorts as i thought about rafe. his hands, his hair, god his hands.

"holy fuck...rafe..." i moaned out in a hushed whisper.

my eyes kept closed, but my fingers continued to roam beneath the sheets until i heard a creak that was louder than i would've thought. i stopped dead in my tracks, moving both of my hands up over the sheets pulling them up swiftly to my chin.

oh my god it was rafe cameron. standing there with his zip up sweater, and clean cut pants. but the way he looked at me, well i couldn't tell what he was thinking but his eyes were wide. very wide.

"shit i didn't mean-"

"swear to god i wasn't listening or anything," said rafe dumbly. he ran his right hand over his mouth, looking at the ground.

"whatever you think you saw or heard or whatever the fuck you didn't rafe!" i was too embarrassed to muster up anything else. i just held the covers high.

"hey it's no big deal seriously... i mean i jerked one off like six hours ago so like-"

"jesus rafe, i mean it! delete this from your mind or i swear to god i'll-"

"see the thing is i can't really delete that from my mind. you moaning my name and all..." rafe closed the door behind him and took a few steps towards the bed.

"oh fuck you heard that?" i was mortified. just mortified. what was wrong with me?

"now the thing is...you're my sister's best friend so so like... i mean that's kinda fucked up-you thinking about me while you touch yourself and shit," rafe said in a drawl, using his hands to express it. rafe was now sitting at the edge of the bed. his eyes were glancing around quickly, his thoughts clearly racing.

i lowered the sheets but made sure that they were still just above my chest. but holy fuck, i was soaking wet now.

"but hey it makes sense- the way you look at me, always thought it was in my head and shit but-"

"it's not." i interrupt him. the more he looks at me the more i just picture his tongue in my mouth and i'm starting to get needy, my legs are clenching together now.

rafe's eyebrows raised, and he froze for a moment. but then his hands slowly crept up the sheets grabbing my thigh. i gasped feeling his hand there. his eyes widened, watching my expression.

"this what you were thinking about, huh?" his hand crept up agonizingly slow. i couldn't get a word out. just stiffled moans until eventually the sheets were down below my chest.

i let out a longing sigh as i felt his sturdy hand cup my pussy, using his other hand to move the bedsheet off completely, exposing me completely.

he looked up, asking for approval as his hands slowly tugged at the hems of my shorts and i nodded quickly.

"yes rafe."

rafe obliged immediately, pulling my shorts down, i pulled my tank top over my head. my legs lifted in the air as he threw them onto the floor. he slowly separated my legs, ogling at my obviously wet cunt.

he used his middle and ring finger to slowly trace a line up against my folds and i gasped at the touch.

"god damn my sister's best friend is a little slut huh? you're wet as shit and that's all for me huh?"

all i could let out was an innocent "mhmm," since the feeling of his fingers tracing against my folds was driving me lust drunk.

"yeah... i'm gonna need to taste you...." he said, now crouching so that his head was between my thighs.

"wait rafe-" rafe stopped immediately, glancing up at me.

"take off your shirt."

rafe smirked, obliging as he pulled it over his head, and i felt my eyelids grow heavy from lust as i looked at his chest. jesus, he was ridiculously hot. my best friend's ridiculously hot older brother was about to eat me out.

this time, more aggressively he separated my thighs and before i could comprehend it his lips were against my pussy. his tongue moved up and down, circles against my clit. as if it was instinct, i gripped at the bedframe. but it didn't last long as he gripped my hips, pulling me in closer to him. my thighs tightened against his head and it felt insane. i'd never had someone eat me out like this. so hungrily and quickly. he was incredible.

"shit you taste fucking unreal-" he grunted and gasped before licking me once more.

rafe's tongue moved quickly but he pulled away, moving so that he was now on top of me. he made eye contact before inserting a finger into me and i gasped. it was only a few pumps, hard and fast before he pulled out.

"taste yourself-" he said and i obliged, sucking on his finger. rafe licked his teeth, letting out a low hum of a laugh as he watched.

"you are fucking wild-" he said. my hands reached towards his pants and he looked down and then back up at me.

"what- you wanna feel me too?"

"rafe i wanna feel all of you- i want you inside me."

that set him off and he quickly reached to his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs. he was hung, like way more than i ever would've imagined. and hard too.

"looks like i'm not the only one whose this turned on either huh?"

rafe let out a sarcastic laugh "ha...ha...."

he got on top once more, this time pinning my legs higher in the air.

"yeah fuck i need to see all of you when i fuck you," rafe commanded.

"you're on that girl pill or whatever it is right?" rafe asked. i let out a quiet snicker.

"birth control, rafe? yeah i am," i said running my hands through my hair.

rafe nodded quickly, obviously thankful since it was clear neither of us brought condoms.

he positioned himself so that his tip was directly against my folds and then slowly pushed himself into me. i gasped, immediately reaching my fingernails against his back.

rafe grunted as his pumps started slow, but eventually quickened up. he moved quickly, thrusting and grunting into me. i let out stifled moans and he clasped his hand over my mouth.

"hey...hey... you've gotta be more... quiet than that... holy....fuck" rafe moaned between thrusts.

his paced quickened, his strong arms now moving to my waist as he pulled me to the edge of the bed. he thrusted deafening quick and i clenched my fist placing it against my mouth in a stupid attempt to silence myself. he was too fucking good at this. too strong, too fast, too fucking hot.

"don't stop! rafe jesus i'm gonna cum!"

"shit... me fucking too..."

it only took a few more thrusts before i let out a stiffled sigh and rafe collapsed, falling on top of me. both of us sweating, exhaling and my hands running through his hair.

he pulled away, laying beside me. i turned over to meet his gaze, my hands still running through his hair. he looked back at me.

"alright round two-"

[jazzyblusnowflake]

(If this was asked before, I swear to god.) FullCompany (NUziVJ) Headcannons?

aaaaaaaaa time to write once more- i missed being able to type away like the lil shit i am-

anyhow- okay lets see- gonna add some things here- tbh my ideas was mostly for Jenvy ideas mainly- but i guess ill fit Uzi in there lol

Some JeNVUzi HCs:

[once again- Drone au only, and maybe minor suggestive content but not nsfw]

The polycule is essentially formed around Uzi pulling them back together-

J's original reason for siding with Cyn which was rooted in fear- was on the basis that she still had her team on her side so she could keep them safe and so theyd have eachother to rely on even after Cyn destroys everything. she did not however, account for Uzi coming along and messing everything up and ruining her team's alignment while she was "dead".

the entire reason J tried to kill N or V at any time was cuz she knew a clone of them would be sent back anyway- she has basically become desensitized towards death in general given she had also died around 12 times herself [canon]- V and N try to help her through this- during which they also deal with Vs behavior and Ns trauma too.

to communicate with J they often had to spar with her- seeing as she hated talking about feelings- but this became their own thing they all did afterwards to unwind and communicate- as J opened up a lot easier after feeling like she was reached out to.

Uzi and J bond over anime and gaming- the latter being somewhere J could actually use her anger on more effectively XD

they all like reading books every now and then where one would read and the others snuggle or cuddle- they take turns. [this is from their manor days]

J is... unable to emote or show emotion easily and it eats her alive. she can't show the appropriate needed emotion to the mood of the room and it makes her have breakdowns- occasionally throw up- as though you are desperately trying to cry but the tears wont come so you try heaving it out- make yourself fit in and look normal by trying to FEEL something- but she cant. J is a dated business model drone- custom made for office work- she was made to be this way- Cyn didn't change her- and she grows to hate herself for it. so when a situation happens that she doesn't know how to react, she leaves or hides- until N,V or Uzi find her- usually disassociating or somewhat catatonic.

Uzi occasionally feels out of place with the group, as though she's just being a literal 4th wheel, since they have history together. the others try to show her that she is important to them each in their own ways-

addressing the elephant in the room- yes, it took a long time for N and J to come to terms with eachother- J eventually accepting that her original reason for hating N [him being better than her or preferred over her esp by Tessa] wasn't important anymore- and tries to appreciate him and V and Uzi more in whatever is left of her life.

make no mistake V and J are still very much bitchy on a surface level- just cuz they are all growing close does not mean they are all now lovey dovey with eachother or sweet and character-redemption-ed with everyone around them. therefore: "playful catfights" >:3 !

V and Uzi tease J alot- this is one of the reasons why J found more comfort with N- not gonna tell him to his face tho lol.

J teaches N to draw better and they bond over that alot-

Uzi and J like attention alot- and they wanna get it by being as wordless as possible- very cat coded.

Uzi, V and N like to drag J into doing more normal things that have less to do with work. so far J has mostly shown some interest in writing and maybe poetry but she WILL shoot your head off if you try to read her stuff-

J's first kiss was with Uzi- N and V having kissed once back at the manor being eachothers first kiss. J thinks V kisses the best tho lol.

N and V like to cuddle a lot- J and Uzi are usually dependent on mood-

V likes to bite- J likes to be bitten, N and Uzi like both- :3

J likes playing with N and Uzi's fluffy hair. V only lets N touch her hair.

during intimate cuddles- J has passed out the most lol. Uzi following a close second lol-

Uzi and J yap alot about tech work-

hmm this is all i can think about for NOW-

:"3

[pomefioredove]

I'm not sure exactly which day counts as "weekend" bc of cultural differences lol but you can ignore this if it's not on the permitted day!!

But for the brief Rollo x reader thing that's you're doing, can I please have something with him and a reader that is generally very tactile? One day they grab his hand to pull him somewhere as they absentmindedly ramble, and they don't realize it until he speaks up about it (or not....? <w<)

hii anon!! ofc this is a very cute request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cold hands

type of post: short fic characters: rollo additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Winter in Fleur City is as unkind as it is beautiful.

Autumn's colorful embrace was short and sweet, giving you but three weeks of cozy, lukewarm mornings before the trees were bare and bending in the breeze that carried along the Soleil.

The first snow of the winter season had completely frozen over the river.

It had also kissed everything in frost, blanketed the streets, and canceled classes at Noble Bell College for the morning. It was heavy and restless.

It became no wonder to you that the people of Fleur City were eager to put up their tinsel and candles. The smell of cinnamon and pine is an effective distraction from the icy wind, after all.

And so, without classes to attend to, you find yourself walking through the city on crushed snow, already muddy with boot prints and animal hooves, to a seasonal cafe which had just opened.

Oh, and the Student Council President has offered to escort you.

It's, apparently, quite an ordeal; the few Noble Bell students you pass by in the streets stop mid-snowball fight or nearly drop their to-go coffees from their mittens when they see you, bundled up in Rollo Flamme's scarf, walking hand-in-hand.

You honestly hadn't even noticed you had grabbed him. It had been somewhat of an impulse, your cold, undressed hands feeling out for something to hold.

And usually, that would have been a quill, or one of those artisanal wooden blocks this city so loves, just something to run your thumb over while you think, not the Student Council President's hand.

But he doesn't say anything, and, more presently, doesn't pull away.

"You really ought to have dressed warmer," Rollo says, fussing over the scarf he'd given you off his own neck. "You'll catch something, and missing class over a frivolous venture such as is unacceptable."

"I suppose I didn't think of it,"

"Then next time," he says. "I don't know what I would do with myself if you were ill. It's the busiest time of year."

Right. Finals are coming up.

"I won't do it again,"

He sighs. "I know. Now, come along. Morning classes may have been dismissed, quite unnecessarily, I might say, but we'll both be expected on campus at noon,"

His hand tightens around yours, and his pace becomes brisker, cutting through the myriad of tourists and laughing children and pigeons. He shields you from the falling snow and blistering wind, holding you behind him until you reach the cafe.

It's bustling and loud inside, busier than the annual cafes you're used to visiting, but Rollo somehow has you in and out with a warm drink and a pastry in no more than five minutes.

You have the treat outside, your hands already cracked from the dry cold in the air, and once you've finished he slips his hand into yours and begins walking again.

There's not much conversation. Rollo is a strange man; some days, he's happy to talk about the history of Fleur City or what he's studying in Noble Bell's prestigious law class, and some days he's like this. Quiet.

His hand is surprisingly warm, though, despite the cold he seems to maintain a high body temperature all on his own. He runs a thumb over the back of your hand, feeling the dry skin there.

"You're freezing,"

"I'm okay,"

"Honesty is a virtue," he snaps, his sharp way of reminding you that he can always tell when you're lying, and he doesn't like it.

"You'll catch your death of cold. And then what would I do?"

For a fleeting moment, you can swear he gets a little warmer; or, at least, his hand does. You must be imagining things.

The silence lingers like the cold in the air, but, finally, he gets you to start talking about your favorite class subject, which you do until you've reached the gates of the school.

Rollo stops you, bids you an overly formal good-bye, and takes his hand, too, leaving you with the cold.

Hm. He seemed so off today. You wonder what that could be?

You won't realize that you'd been holding his hand all morning until later, but for now, you're content with the mystery and the warm scarf he left on your shoulders.

[balkanradfem]

I wanna tell you a story, and I'm not sure if I should publish this; it's embarrassing, it's deeply unflattering, it's naive and horrifying, there's not one bit of it that is positive, but I thought about it today and thought, 'that was messed up', so you know. Temptation to expose my life publicly is stronger than the shame you will inflict on me.

So this happened way back when I was in college, and I cannot overstate how isolated and friendless I was; I lived in a dorm, I had no friends, my roommate was away with her friend group, I was depressed, I had very little social interaction. I didn't even know I was a lesbian. I had taken up running though!

In the city there was a big long riverbank where people would often run, and I liked running there, it was big and grassy and other people would run too, so I felt like I was a part of something. I had a good time! Until, one day, a m*n caught up with me, and started running alongside me.

Now I know you all are smart, and you are thinking, red flag, red flag, but I was not smart. I was 20 and had zero feminist influence in my life, all I was taught was to be extremely polite or it was my fault if I get murdered, so when he started talking to me, I was as nice and polite as possible. He asked how old I was, and was surprised to hear '20', he thought I looked younger. He asked if he could run with me, I said okay, because you know, I was desperately lonely, I thought it was not awful if I was running with another person. He chatted with me, and then asked me for my phone number, which again, I very dumbly gave to him. He, to my absolute horror, memorized it instantly, and recited it back to me several times. He called me a few minutes later to check if it was real. My phone rang. It was real.

He asked if we could run together again, and I again, thought the only polite thing to say was 'yes', so I accepted, and so he called me up to run together few days later. I appeared, feeling much more self-conscious than usual, and this is where things started to go from bad to worse. He insisted we 'stretch first', and instructed me on how to do it, and while this was happening, he found it appropriate to touch me, hug me, put his hands on my arms and shoulder. I would flinch and pull away every time, which he would ignore. I felt uncomfortable and decided to stretch far away from him, but he would just follow me and get closer.

After running for half an hour, I was too tired, so we walked, and he started talking to me about his work and his previous relationship. His work was in finances, and it was so boring to listen to, I could not keep track. I dozed off thinking how, despite not having any human interaction in a long time, this was the most bored I ever was. Then he started talking about a woman he used to be with, calling her a gold-digger, and a w-slur. I hated that. I could tell he was trying to 'compare us' and subtly tell me that he thinks I'm different, because I'm a humble little innocent girl who would never want his money, but all I could think of was 'he was supposedly in love with her, but now he can call her names like that? It's only a matter of time before he decides I'm worthless too.' I was naive, but I wasn't taking women-hatred lightly.

I could see him staring at me when I ran and walked, his eyes lingered on places that made me feel uncomfortable. I had originally thought he wanted to be friends, because he was so much older than me it was ridiculous to even imagine he'd want something romantic with me, but seeing how he touched me, and how he was staring me down, I figured there was something weird going on.

We are again at a point where you'd be free to judge me, and okay, but listen; the times were different, it was 2010, the discourse was not what it is now. And I was scared. Okay. So. I knew I felt threatened by the idea that this m*n would maybe try something sexual with me, and I wanted to make sure to cut that idea short. So when he was saying suggestive stuff, I said 'hey you should know I'm asexual.' (I didn't exactly believe this, I just felt it was the only safe way to let him know I'm not interested. The gentlest rejection!) And he said 'no you're not'. To which I was a little shocked. And he went with a conspiratory tone 'you don't know how those people are, they hate sex'. And I'm like 'Yes, I do too!' and he just decided to not accept this. He decided I didn't know what I was saying, and didn't know myself enough to decide such a thing.

Next time we went running, he actually groped me.

When I got home, I realized I was terrified of him. I didn't want to come close to him again. But the female socialization of being polite, giving people whatever pleases them, never disappointing anyone or failing to be of use to them, was suffocating me. I couldn't pinpoint just what this m*n has done to wrong me, all I knew is that I felt unsafe, and I would be trembling in anxiety thinking about seeing him ever again. I wished I had anyone to tell about this. I was so alone that nobody ever knew this was happening to me.

I was wrecking my brain for several days, lost about what to do about this, before finally figuring it out. I found a way around the pressure to be accommodating. I could tell this person was looking at me sexually, and obviously I didn't want to do anything like that, so if I kept meeting him, it was the equivalent of 'leading him on', which they hated, and it was more polite to be upfront! And if I could pinpoint something actually wrong he has done (my poor brain could not yet conceptualize that my body was in fact, violated) then it was okay for me to cut ties.

Okay so this is where the stupidity continues; I didn't think it was polite to end something over a text message. I went to do it in person. I know. I know you're yelling right now. I'm sorry! I didn't know any better!

So he called me, and I appeared in my non-running shoes, which he immediately criticized. I explained then, that I came to say goodbye. I said he was looking at me weird (which he denied) and that I felt uncomfortable (which he felt I had no right to). He tried to convince me that it's good to keep exercising, and I mentioned I actually did other forms of exercise, for instance I had a big bag I liked to punch, and I was really good at it. (This was my way of saying, hey I know I look small but I can fight, I can punch. I did actually exercise with a punching bag too). He absolutely hated that. He told me I should not be doing that, that women should not be punching bags, it was a horrible idea. And that's where I clocked him. I understood, from that reaction, that he hated the idea of me being physically strong, and being able to fight back if he attacks me. Once I had that clear in my head, it was easier to cut ties. I told him I didn't want to run with him anymore, and to please not call me again. He was extremely displeased and aggravated, but, we were in public, there wasn't much he could do. I made sure he wasn't following me home. I came back shivering, in disbelief that I managed to get myself out of that.

So yeah, nothing else happened! It was just an extremely uncomfortable and scary experience I had, a week and a half that I spent terrified of a male that I gave my own number to, not understanding he was 'not just wanting to be friends'. Not understanding that 'you're 20? You look younger' from a 30-40yo male was already a red flag, that he approached me because he thought I was a child. Looking back it is a miracle that I managed to get out of that on my own, without ever consulting another person. I am sobbing at the fact that I thought 'oh sure this creepy old male wants to befriend me' and 'I should go and reject him in person' my goodness.

But this is how we're taught to act, isn't it? If we, as young women, try to look at m*n as predators, we get told off and that we're oppressing them and causing injustice to them and hurting their feelings! So I couldn't have had any bad thoughts about him or I was a sexist, unjust, awful and oppressive b-slur. I couldn't have told him no or I was unfair for not giving him a chance! Maybe I should have let him do whatever and try to just enjoy it – that's how I've been taught to give up my own safety and boundaries, for all my life.

So don't judge me too harshly okay? I did get away from him, and from multiple consecutive creeps. And I never, ever gave a male my number again. If socialization taught me nothing, this experience did. Can you imagine if I consulted someone though, and they told me I was being too harsh on him, since he did nothing wrong, and that I should have tried to make him happy instead? Because it's very likely that would have happened. I think in a way, my loneliness and lack of outside influence protected me too.

[mc-lukanette]

Taking her talent online, ultimately, had been the way Marinette felt she could play to her strengths without worrying about her weaknesses. Commissions had been helpful as a side job while she made a name for herself, and following that came a proper channel to run and make money off of. She did a little bit of everything, from sewing to designing to color theory and tutorials for how to do it all.

One of the best parts about it was the anonymity of it all, as she could keep her face hidden and no one would question a thing. It meant that no past publicity she had ever gotten as Marinette - particularly those from celebrities - mattered, and she could build herself up based on herself and nothing else.

Not having to talk to people was a bonus. When she did "talk" to others online, it was through instant messaging, and the Marinette who stammered through every word was far less likely to come out when she had to type things out and voluntarily send it afterwards. Even better was knowing that it was harder to be lured in by a pretty face speaking pretty lies when she wasn't face-to-face with them.

It was just about perfect. Sure, she still lived alone as an adult, not having someone to call hers, but she wasn't lonely and she did have someone in a sort of vague way.

I saw your video. That wasn't fair. I was planning on relaxing today and now I can't put my guitar down.

Like she was a schoolgirl all over again, Marinette had to step away from her computer and collapse onto her bed, kicking her legs out and giggling to herself.

She didn't know his name or face, but she'd heard his voice and creative ability. He was another channel like hers, though not a competing one as he made music rather than other creative ventures. From what she'd gathered over their messages to each other, he was like her where he found public fame to be a hassle and preferred being able to simply put himself out there quietly.

Their "relationship" had started with - appropriately - creativity itself. She'd been looking for something to listen to and found herself drawn in by the same faceless presentation that she had as well, going from one of his songs to the next until she'd blown through his entire channel. She got inevitably inspired and made a video where she made a dress based on one of his pieces, which he'd seen and made a video back at her with music piecing together the emotions one of her designs had invoked in him.

She tried not to let herself get carried away, telling herself that he'd done it out of obligation or thanks, but creativity didn't lie. She didn't know anything about music or the details of making it, but she could feel it when she listened to what he'd made: he meant every note he played.

Talking to each other over instant messaging started up from there, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't find it the slightest bit romantic. The videos inspired by each other continued, like love letters to the other's talent, and they weren't shy about praising each other directly through their messages either.

He was the kind of guy she always wished that she'd had in her life: direct while not being overbearing or abrasive. Too often, she'd find herself trying to decipher the vagueness in people's words or question how much she could take out of them. He didn't leave room for that.

He was also, as she'd discovered only a month ago, totally single and lived in New York like she did. The former had been through some idle Q&A while messaging each other, but the latter was what she'd parsed out from some of his music: just enough was taken from landmarks or notable aspects of it that he had to be living there.

She stayed up some nights, dazed with thoughts of how close they might be to each other. Would she walk down the street one day and hear his recognizable style playing from a window he'd accidentally left open? Or had they passed each other on the street dozens of times and hadn't realized? She'd grown content in knowing that her social interaction in her offline life had greatly diminished due to her online job, but it was different with him.

The worst part was that she knew she could just ask him if he felt the same and would get an honest answer. All it took was working up the courage.

Heading back to her computer and looking over his message for the twelfth time, she smiled to herself and typed out her response.

Oh no. I'm forcing you to create more. Now you'll get even more of all the attention you deserve.

Her heart raced even after she'd sent it. He brought out a side of her that was much bolder than she was normally, and she liked it. Sometimes she caught herself twirling a strand of her hair or caring about how she looked as if he could see her and it was almost like a game.

A blush-inducing game.

I know. Terrible. But seriously, you're really something. I didn't know if my message would come through the music when I wrote it, but you caught everything. Either I'm a musical genius, you're a genius music analyst, or both.

She laughed at the idea that she would be some sort of music connoisseur, sampling his tracks like fine wine to determined their meaning.

You're definitely a musical genius. Just don't let it go to your head or you won't be able to find room to hide your face in videos anymore. Besides, you being so humble is one of my favorite things about you.

She hesitated before sending the last message, wondering briefly if she was coming on a little strong. Friends could casually talk about the traits they liked in each other, right?

Assuming they were friends, anyway. She supposed they'd never really put a name on it.

His next reply took a few seconds longer than she would've expected for its length.

It's hard to pick favorite things, but I've always admired how much you try to make everyone happy. You reply to so many comments, you're always listening to them, and I can see how hard you're working to make something entertaining.

He noticed? Well, of course he noticed - it was him - but she rubbed her pink cheeks at the thought that he'd been paying that close attention to her. She couldn't judge or anything as she put just as much effort into keeping an eye on him, but he was a special case.

Did he do that with everyone? Could she afford to ask, maybe with a little "haha" at the beginning to keep it casual?

Before she could start typing out some experimental responses, she noticed that he was typing again and kept still.

I hope you're putting just as much effort into making yourself happy too, whatever your happiness is.

She held back a squeak even though he wasn't there to hear it. The way he'd always worry about her was precious, like when she hadn't posted any videos in a week and he immediately asked if anything was wrong or she needed a break. He was just that kind of person, caring for all people generally but prioritizing those he was close to; it sounded standard, but he would've easily told her to not care in the slightest about her viewers and just be ruthlessly selfish if it was for the sake of her personal happiness.

It reminded her of love interests in stories at times, specifically the ones who would act neutral or cold to all others but treat their special someone extra special.

Swallowing down the feelings in her throat, she focused on responding to him.

Whatever my happiness is? Even if that's a person?

It was a joke more than anything else to lighten the atmosphere she'd caused in her own room. Maybe he'd crack some line about stealing someone away for herself.

Though, looking over the message again, she realized the ways he could take it. She chewed at her bottom lip, wondering how she could deal with it if he told her honestly that he was fine with her going after anyone. It wasn't as if she'd feel like he'd been leading her on, but they'd grown to a level of closeness where she hoped their relationship wasn't strictly friendly.

He finally responded, but she granted that time felt like it was creeping along painfully slowly while she'd waited.

Yeah. Anyone at all.

Her heart sank. So he was fine with anyone, meaning—

Including me.

Heat climbed up Marinette's neck. She stood, so quick that she nearly knocked her chair over, and ran right back to her bed to start punching her pillow. The screech she let out was entirely involuntary, a desperate attempt by her body to get out all of the emotions those two words had given her.

He could've left it at "anyone," which technically included him anyway, but he made sure to single himself out so she would know. Direct, just like she'd always asked for, good for her head and wonderfully bad for her heart. Knowing that he wanted her to pursue anyone at all, even beyond him, for the sake of her own happiness, somehow just made him more attractive.

And she didn't even know what he looked like!

By the time she'd finished beating up the pillow that had done nothing wrong, she frantically ruffled her hair and scratched at her scalp whilst trying to sort her thoughts. She looked like a mess by the end, someone who'd just gotten out of bed, but she didn't care. She knew she couldn't leave him on read, so she hurried back to the computer to reply to him.

She took a long, deep breath before sending it out, thinking to herself, Here we go...

You make me happy.

The heat climbed higher and she covered her face with her hands, rifling through her memories to figure out when she'd gotten so utterly embarrassing. He wouldn't mind, she was sure, and if it really bothered him then he'd probably give her an out so they'd never have to talk about it again.

She hoped he didn't.

The signature notification sound - the plucking of an electric guitar - played twice, alerting her that he'd responded. She peeked through her fingers to read.

You make me happy too. I want to meet you.

"AHH!" she screamed, impulsively slamming her fists into the keyboard. A mess of letters got sent to him as a result, but that about summed up her thoughts more than anything she could've possibly typed out.

He wanted to meet her. She made him happy too. Her heart fluttered fast and pleasantly in a way that only he could cause, even with the anxiety that came with that. She still wasn't good at offline socializing, and instant messaging had been all of their interactions barring videos they made for each other. What if her full self put him off?

Another two messages popped up.

I couldn't stop myself from saying that. There's no pressure if you don't want to meet up. You can just tell me honestly how you feel. You won't upset me, I promise.

Honestly? She shut her eyes for a moment in an effort to calm herself. The fact that even he - whose relaxed voice never raised once in any of his videos - couldn't help impulsively messaging for a meet up was promising, so she couldn't dare give up the opportunity.

She just couldn't, and she forced herself to type her honest opinion on the matter.

I want to meet you too.

It wasn't directly a promise to see each other, she reminded herself. They didn't set a time or place, even though they shared a state and timezone so it wouldn't have been that difficult to plan. Their shared careers meant that they could easily match each other's schedules, but nothing had to be set in stone right then.

Yet, in all her conflicting emotions, she looked forward to the mere idea.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

your hand-grenade heart

gift for lovely moot @qin-qin16. happy early birthday!! (better early than late lol) hope you don't mind lovers-to-enemies (... or is it) crossdust :3

2k+ words of sadness. no warnings applied... i think.

cross isn't sure what part of the multiverse he has stumbled into. it was a stupid decision he made on the fly, opening his own portal inside of nightmare's own to prevent the guardian of negativity from dragging him back to the hell he knows nightmare would love to put him through again. the sudden time-space disruption caused a small implosion to happen, flinging cross across the dimensional stream until he landed face-first into the hard surface of lava-surrounded rocks.

and now, he's here in this barren universe, this empty underground, walking all the way to the lab to figure out where he is. the dead silence is messing with him quite a bit - an unfortunate aftereffect after living in a white space with virtually no one else (apart from xchara) for who knows how long. he takes a deep breath in and marches forward, resolutely ignoring the deluge of frantic thoughts starting to bubble up in his mind.

when he finally arrives at his destination, the first thing he does is checking the security footage on the computer in the lab, which dates back at least two years as he can see. he skims through the footage - no soul pops up on the monitor at all. this place has been dead for a long time, which is... unsettling. is this a pacifist timeline where monsterkind has all moved to the surface? or is this a failed genocide timeline that the human refused to properly delete for some reason? either way, he has to get out of here as fast as possible.

the thing is, his multiverse travel token has been broken since his fall into this universe. without xchara's powers, cross is essentially out of luck. he doesn't think he's knowledgeable enough about the mechanics behind travel tokens to fix his own.

which means he's basically a sitting duck for anyone coming across him right now. nightmare will find him before dream can, judging by how hard cross is sweating right now.

happy thoughts, cross! he thinks to himself. happy thoughts!

easier said than done, honestly. being stuck in an angel-damned universe with no obvious dimensional travel technology is a terrible situation.

... wait. he just remembers something. killer and dust often commented on how the machine in the basement under the snowdin's house is probably designed for time-space shenanigans. it might be broken, as it is usually is in most universes, but maybe its magic signature is similar enough to that of a travel token for him to charge the token up again.

it is a farfetched idea, but he has to try regardless.

his trip to snowdin is less nerve-wracking than he thought. there's something both soothing and frightening about the white snowy landscape. there's a familiar scent in the air, an electrifying taste in the snowfall that makes cross stop in his tracks.

... it can't be, right?

cross opens the door to the house at the end of snowdin, and-

-and dust greeted him with a tired mumble from the couch. cross grinned and stole a quick peck on dust's forehead, making the hooded skeleton blink in surprise at him.

"rough day?" cross asked, to which dust nodded, quieter than he usually was. an especially tough day then.

cross hummed, joining his boyfriend on the couch. he snuggled into dust's slightly larger frame, and dust made a half-indignant half-pleased purr in his throat. cross purred back, stretching himself so that his cheek was pressed on dust's collarbones. he saw, from the corner of his eyes, dust clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides, as if he was conflicted on whether to hold cross in his arms or not. dust's body was cold, but cross didn't mind that. he waited for his body heat to gradually trickle to dust, his layered uniform keeping him warm enough in this forever-snowy weather.

as time went by, dust hesitantly wrapped his arms around cross and pulled him closer. both of them stayed there on the couch, indulging in each other's closeness. cross let out a satisfied rattle deep inside his bones. he wished this idyllic scene could go on forever and ever and-

-and he feels like he has been blasted back to the past. the couch is still the same, or maybe it has gotten even dustier. it doesn't surprise him - he was the tidier between them two after all. what surprises him is that the house is not destroyed. everything is the same as it was, as if stuck in time, a photograph of a memory left untouched in a house of still lingering ghosts. cross traces his hands on the coffee table. his hand picks up a fine layer of dust.

his feet lead him to the kitchen next, where he sees the first sign of difference: a bunch of wine bottles discarded on the floor that no one has bothered to clean up. the fridge is not closed, emitting another breeze of coldness into the atmosphere. cross sits at the dining table, as if he's in a trance, as if he's dreaming. it's been so long, and yet everything is the same.

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to feel. he puts his shaky hands on the table and-

-and waited for dust to put his plate on the table. it was a bit embarrassing, being shooed off the kitchen because he didn't know how to cook anything else but soldier rations. dust was kind enough to ban him to the dining table and order him to stay still so he could fix the surprise, now fire hazard, that cross had intended for his boyfriend.

when dust placed the dish in front of cross, the soldier didn't know what to do but hang his head in shame. dust took the seat across from him and started eating.

"dig in," dust told him, and cross reluctantly picked up his spoon and slowly ate through it.

"uhm, look..." cross stammered, embarrassed. "i'm sorry about the fire. i didn't know the stove would do that..."

"it's fine," dust said, flippantly. "it wasn't a big fire anyway."

"yeah, but still..."

"i think it's quite cute of you to try to cook a surprise meal for me, cross," dust interrupted what cross had to say, and cross flushed.

"oh! uh..." cross scratched his head, laughing nervously. "it's our one-year anniversary. i just wanted to make you something nice..."

dust looked at him, a smile in his white eyelights. "like i said, it's cute. i appreciate it." he looked down at his plate. "no one has given me a nice gift in a long time."

cross felt his face get even hotter. he placed his spoon on the table, ready to say the words he'd been putting off for a while, and-

-and he resists the urge to flip it. is it anger singing in his veins, or frustration? or something else? he can't tell. all the memories here are suffocating in its sweetness, as if taunting him with a past that is no more.

it's dangerous to feel this way towards an enemy. it's his job now to protect other people from nightmare and his gang. penance for what he has done.

and yet, he can't help walking up the stairs. he can't help opening the door to their bedroom. he can't help staring at the untouched state of it. his - or more like dust's now - little plushies are still on his corner of the bed they have picked and put in the room. his shelf of comics are still there next to dust's shelf full of fiction novels. the crudely molded little ceramic rabbit he has made for dust still sits on the table, facing the window. everything is the same as it was. the same as the day he left dust behind.

*creaaak*

he doesn't know how long he has stood there at the doorway, but when he hears a click at the front door, his panic skyrockets. he quickly dashes inside the closet (where he briefly finds his monochrome clothes are still there) and holds his breath as he hears creaking footsteps coming upstairs and into the room.

peeking through the gap of the doors, he sees him. dust. his ex-lover. sitting silently on the bed, unmoving, staring outside of the window with his dull white eyelights. it's usually unsettling to see a silent dust on the battlefield, but in the domestic atmosphere of the house, dust's silence reads more as melancholic than dangerous. cross hasn't seen him like this in a long time. so still. so tranquil. so... pitiful. gone is the ferocious cannon of nightmare - what's left here is a broken vestige of a lonely being, trapping himself inside a house stuck in the past. he looks unhealthy, as if one breeze can take him down easily.

cross moves to see his former flame better, but then he accidentally steps on a coat hanger. a loud sound echoes in the silent space. and the figure on the bed twitches.

"who's there?" a murmur comes out of the hooded skeleton. cross doesn't dare breathe. dust continues, "come on. i know you're there. show your face."

cross doesn't obey. he stays still in the closet as dust walks around the place, his voice gradually getting louder.

"killer, i swear to asgore's beard, if i found you in here... i told you to get the fuck out of this universe!" a little mutter. "... yeah, yeah, you're right, paps. killer doesn't disobey nightmare, does he? must be someone else..."

cross can hear his soul beating frantically. dust walks back into the room, looking around and continuing to mumble to himself.

"might be that prissy error... though he wouldn't be stupid to destroy this universe... but that freak is crazy..."

dust swivels his head to the closet that cross is hiding in, his eyes a blazing red and blue. in a soul-stopping second, cross doesn't care that he doesn't know this place well enough anymore to do a shortcut, but he does anyway, teleporting himself to the middle of the living room. he stumbles upon crashing on the coffee table, and runs out of the front door once he hears the loud demented cackle from dust.

"i knew you're there!" he hears dust shout in delight.

cross runs and runs, uncaring of his injuries. his mind is a jumbled mess and his shallow breath is fogging up his already blurred vision.

he's gonna kill me, his inner voice yells at him. he's gonna kill me for sure. he never forgives me.

a bone attack sprouts from the ground and punctures his leg. with a pained yelp, cross collapses just as a heavy weight appears on top of him, one hand holding on his sternum.

"you fucking rat, i caught you!" he hears dust crow. "you think you can run from m-" the voice suddenly stops. "... cross?"

the grip on his sternum momentarily falters, and cross doesn't hesitate jabbing his smaller daggers right at dust's stunned face. the hooded skeleton falls back, and cross grabbed at dust's travel token, which he always keeps under his shirt, and yanks.

cross kicks at dust, hard, and wobbles on his feet again and runs. as if awaken from a nap, dust shouts, "wait! cross, wait!"

cross doesn't listen. he tries to keep as much distance as possible from dust, haphazardly teleporting through the snowy forest, all the while calibrating the co-ordinations of the token. his pain is at the back of his mind as he forces his body to power through the adrenaline.

"darling, please! don't run away!"

cross punches the co-ordinations he wants to go and pours his magic into the token. he sees it light up and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"cross!" he looks back and sees dust a few feet from him. "cross, i-"

he doesn't hear the next words coming out of dust's mouth. light envelops him as his body fractures into tiny particles traveling through the in-between of the multiverse. the last thing his eyes see before disappearing is the strange emotion on the face of his ex-lover, frozen in an anguished expression with red tears running down his cheeks. it doesn't look like dust at all.

huh. what a silly mirage he encounters.

dividers here by @\cafekitsune

[wisteria-lodge]

wait there are no house elves in malfoy manor? i mean it's possible that during the time voldemort and the others where there the house elves could just be in prison or they are there and jkr just didn't mention them

because let's say there aren't house elves and voldemort and the death eaters are there, who would have prepared the meals or whatever things guest needs when they visit or stay in someone's house

In Harry Potter, we see a few other strategies for maintaining and running a magical house. Let’s break it down.

OPTION ONE: NON-MAGIC PEOPLE vs HOUSE ELVES

Yep, we are going to be dropping some Filtch lore today.

So in canon, it’s really hard to explain why that man (who isn’t able to do magic) has that job (caretaking an entire magical castle.) But I’m going to do my best to make it work. Because pre Statute of Secrecy, it actually makes a lot of sense that old medieval buildings like Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor would have been staffed by muggles. 

I mean, the only reason you build castles (big, easily defensible fortresses) is so they can be the last line of defense if anything happens to the serfs who are renting/farming your land. The peasants supply food/clothes/weapons/luxury products to the Lord of the manor/castle, and in return they are protected (in theory.) That’s feudalism. If anything, being a wizard would just make you a better Lord. There’s no way the Malfoys or the Founders would have been sitting at the center of a community of only wizards, there aren’t enough wizards. Also, if you want someone to run/maintain your house and you’re choosing between Muggles and house-elves… in a lot of cases, muggles are actually better.

Like okay, house-elves are slaves, which means they would be cheaper than Muggle peasants, but like… not a lot cheaper. Also, there’s got to be some upfront cost of time/money/effort in order to catch a house-elf and bind them to your house. Once you start getting generations of house-elves that’s not a problem, but when you’re setting up a household… yeah I think getting in a staff of muggles would be quicker and easier.

The other thing house elves do have in their favor is that they’re really really powerful. A single house-elf is much more effective than a single human servant. But… they’re also kind of too powerful? If you have a human servant who betrays you, does a bad job, or that you just don’t like… you can fire them, imprison them, and (if you’re a wizard) oblivate them so they can’t tell anyone your secrets. 

None of that works with house-elves. Unlike a human you can’t bribe them (because they have a culture that doesn’t value money.) You can’t imprison them (because whatever magic prevents wizards from apparating doesn’t work on them. Dobby gets in and out the Malfoy dungeons just fine.) I’m also assuming you can't obviate them, because if you COULD then oh my god, Barty Crouch Senior would have 1000000% obviated Winky. 

Until house-elves are freed they do seem to have some magical compulsion that prevents them from speaking ill of their masters…  but they can clearly still mess their masters up pretty bad if they want to. Dobby spends all of Book 2 undermining Lucius. Kreacher spends all of Book 5 undermining Sirius (and honestly is the catalyst for the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.) This doesn’t even seem out of the ordinary: Tom Riddle framed Hokey for Hepzibah Smith’s murder, and apparently everyone bought it. That's another reason a muggle would be a solid choice: even if they wanted to kill a wizard, it would be nearly impossible. But Kreacher and the Hogwarts house-elves actively fight wizards during the Battle of Hogwarts.

So if you have a house-elf that you can’t trust, basically your only response is to free them. Which is bad, because they know all your secrets and can now talk to whoever they want (Dobby absolutely bad-mouths the Malfoys after he's freed. It’s super plausible that Winky could’ve said something about Barty Junior while she was smashed off Butterbeer.) So really… the only truly safe option is to kill them. And it seems like you have to kill them by hand, like with a sword. The Blacks did sign up for this, and we can see their wall of decapitated house-elf heads as proof. House elves do make more sense for the Blacks, because I'm thinking if they became powerful at around the same time as the Statute, they would have been setting up new muggle-less households, not adapting old ones to the new paradigm. But then, not everyone is as hard-core as the Blacks. The Malfoys, for example, actually seem quite squeamish about violence.

Now, Hogwarts also has house-elves, and they certainly don’t seem to kill them. Of course it's a school rather than a house - if one of those elves went rouge, what damage could they really do? Compare that to Dobby who like, if had wanted to put Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban… he could give some really damning evidence. Lucius Malfoy’s defense was that he was under the Imperius curse. Dobby knows that’s not true. Dobby knows where all the contraband in that house is, Dobby knows that diary belonged to Voldemort, he knew Lucius was threatening Hogwarts on purpose. Maybe elves aren’t allowed to testify in front of the Wizangamot, but Dobby, bring that info to Arthur Weasley. Bring it to Dumbledore. If I were Lucius Malfoy, I would be terrified. Even if I had other house elves, I don’t know if I’d keep them around after second year. 

Hogwarts also has Filch. And I guess I could see an interpretation where if Hogwarts was initially designed to be run by Muggles, then maybe there are certain functions of the castle that can only be performed by Muggles. Like, we all know there’s something weird going on with Mrs. Norris. She’s too smart, she’s the only animal who shows up on the Marauder’s map, she’s telepathically bonded with Filch. So, maybe she is the manifestation of some magical function that oversees the castle, and maybe you need someone without magic to properly access her magic. Like if a witch/wizard tried to bond with her, their magic gets in the way of the castle’s magic. I’ll buy that. 

Eventually though, Salazar Slytherin started becoming wary of Muggles, so maybe he started a process of phasing out any muggle servants working in the castle and replacing them with house-elves. That makes sense to me. And if the castle needed non-magic workers… squibs would be a good compromise. 

OPTION TWO: AUTOMATED MAGIC

So we know you can cast a spell on an object, and then that object will just sit and do nothing until the spell is triggered. Fred and George’s hats don’t do anything until you put them on - and then they turn your head invisible. You are not doing anything to cast the spell, it’s all in the hat.  Presumably their cloaks and gloves that deflect curses work the same way. 

We also see a lot of this kind of delayed-action magic when it comes to magical protections for locations. Dumbledore has spelled Grimauld Place to send specters at anyone who comes through the door. Muggle-repelling charms don’t do anything until a Muggle comes in proximity. Voldemort’s inferi trap in the cave is filled with magical objects that don’t activate until certain conditions are met. Also, these are not single-use protections that you need to replace every time they’re triggered. Once they're set up, it seems like they keep working until they're taken down.

We also know that there are plenty of spells to make running a household easier. We see Mrs. Weasley use spells to cook, to make clothes, she has whole books full of household magic. So my thought is - if you can bewitch the outside of a house to respond to certain conditions, then why not the inside of a house? How hard would it really be to bewitch a fireplace so it turns on every time someone walks into the room? I bet you could get beds that make themselves, carpets that clean themselves, make it so that certain meals are always cooked at certain times, and served in specific places. The house probably cycles through a set number of meals, and some of the food options would be slightly eccentric because that piece of food-magic was set in 1702. But it all seems very doable, in a programmable smart-house sort of way. Especially if you’re the Malfoys and have nothing but money, time, and a love of the ~*~*aesthetic*~*~ Because the aesthetic of a house like this would be absolutely peak. Very spooky fairytale, invisible servant, romantic Beauty-and-the-Beast castle vibes. 

I think this is the option that Malfoys would have chosen, when they no longer had access to Muggles to run their house for them. Apart from the heightened security and a cooler aesthetic, the Malfoys were very against the Statute of Secrecy, so I bet that (for a while at least) they were kind of hoping that it would be reversed and things would go back to the way they were. So, not as motivated to start building up a household staff of house-elves, which is a pretty irreversible decision. 

The Malfoy also like to keep secrets. In the present day of the book, we know they have contraband cursed objects, contraband poisons, a hidden room to keep all of their contraband in underneath the drawing room floor. I don’t think this is a particularly recent state of affairs. Going back to the 1700s, if the Malfoys were ordered to cut off all these very profitable ties with the muggle world… yeah they’re not doing that. They are definitely hiding income coming in from the muggle world, or muggle retainers that they were kind of supposed to obviate and didn’t. 

In the main timeline of the books, I think it makes a lot of sense that Dobby is a Black family house elf that came over with Narcissa when she and Lucius were first married. And I say that because… Dobby is a mess, and Lucius Malfoy takes care of his things. The Hogwarts house elves look neat and presentable. Out in public, Winky’s tea-towel toga looks clean and neat. Dobby is shambling around a snot-stained torn pillowcase, is Lucius not embarrassed? 

My thought is that he kind of resents Dobby: he’s the Black family passive aggressively saying that Lucius can’t take care of Narcissa, or maybe he suspects that the Blacks are sending Dobby over as a spy, whatever. But whatever the reason he can’t get rid of him - first because he doesn’t want to offend his in-laws (Dobby is the equivalent of an ugly lamp that you keep in the closet unless the people who gave you the lamp are visiting.) Then Dobby witnesses the entire war, which makes him way, way too much of a liability to free. 

So that’s my answer. tl;dr - the Malfoys are a very private family with a long-standing distrust of the Ministry, with a house that was set up to be run by Muggles. It makes the most sense that they have retrofitted that house with automated magic, until it’s basically able to run itself. And then, whenever they’re throwing an event, or something a little too complicated for the house's magic to handle… just hire in a staff of wizards to work one or two nights.