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fangirlwriting-stories · 8 months ago

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Arrival

Summary: Relativity/Reunion Falls AU, Mabel wakes up early one morning to see an extra Stanley at her door.

Masterlist

...

Mabel didn’t get enough sleep the night before, due to getting stuck downstairs when Waddles decided to fall asleep right in front of the vending machine. And she knows that pig. If she reveals where the portal is, he’ll start poking around the machine until Stan figures out what he’s asking for and lets him downstairs. So the planned unintentional-all nighter, which she’s probably too old for, turns into a night of falling asleep slumped over the desk, which she is definitely too old for. She manages to get upstairs without being seen, but she’s so exhausted that when she walks past the front door and sees two Stanleys standing there staring at each other she doesn’t stop at first.

She makes it all the way to the doorway to the kitchen before what she just saw processes, and she stops dead in her tracks. She walks backwards the couple of steps it takes to make it to the front door. Nope, it wasn’t her exhausted brain seeing things, there’s a second kid standing right outside the door, and he looks just like Stanley if he wore glasses.

As soon as she stops, Stan turns to face her. “I think the shapeshifter got out again,” he says. “And like… forgot how to do it right.”

“Um,” Mabel says.

The kid in the doorway adjusts his glasses, looking incredibly nervous. “Hi,” he whispers. “I’m Stanford Pines. I kind of ran away from home.”

A stone drops into Mabel’s stomach. “Kid,” she says weakly. “You live in Jersey.”

Stanford Pines bites his lip and nods.

Mabel opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“What are you talking about?” Stanley asks, drawing her attention. His expression is confused and hesitant.

Mabel tries to swallow. She was ready for the gnome conversation. She isn’t ready for this conversation.

Mabel takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. “Come in,” she says, waving her hand more towards Stanford. “Both of you, come in.”

“What— Grauntie Mabel, we can’t let the shapeshifter in our house!” Stan exclaims.

“He’s not a shapeshifter, kid,” Mabel says, giving him a sympathetic frown. “He’s your brother.”

…

Stanford, for his part, seems to already know who Stanley is. He sits down quietly at the kitchen table and doesn’t say anything, but he keeps sneaking glances at Stanley in a way that makes it clear he knows something, and that’s why he came here specifically.

Despite the countless questions he no doubt has, Mabel can’t help but feel a little grateful that he seems willing to sit there quietly. This conversation is going to be hard enough. She really should have had it with Stanley sooner, and she probably would have, if the reason he’d grown up here had been different.

But the reason isn’t different. It’s what it is. And Mabel doesn’t want to have this conversation with a 12 year old. She doesn’t want to have it at all.

Despite all her wishes, however, Stanford’s here now. And that means she can’t put it off anymore.

“Okay,” Mabel says, folding her hands and looking at Stanley, who’s glaring up at her in obvious want of an explanation. “So, Stanley, you know I’m your great aunt, and not your mother, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, crossing his arms. “But you said you adopted me ‘cause my Ma and Pa weren’t in the picture anymore. ‘Cause they died or somethin.’”

Stanford’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Mabel.

Mabel winces, then sighs. “I did adopt you,” she says. “And your parents aren’t in the picture. But… not because they died.”

Stan shakes his head. “But I thought—”

“I know you did,” Mabel says. “I… I let you.”

Stan looks at her, and Mabel hates the lost expression on his face. “I don’t understand,” he says.

Mabel holds out her hand, but Stan just pushes it aside. “Grauntie Mabel, tell me what’s going on,” he says.

Mabel closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks as gently as she can at Stanley.

“Kiddo, there isn’t an easy way to say this,” she says quietly. “Your parents… didn’t want you.”

All of the emotion drops from Stan’s face, and Mabel can’t help extending her hand a little closer to him, even if Stan still doesn’t take it.

“It’s their loss, Stanley,” Mabel says. “Because you are a wonderful and bright kid and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Why not,” Stan says. Mabel can’t read his tone at all. “Why didn’t they.”

“They said they weren’t prepared for twins,” Mabel says.

Stanley looks up across the table, and Stanford’s eyes widen even further before he looks quickly away.

“Stanley, listen,” Mabel says, but before she can say anything else, Stan pushes the chair back.

“I need a minute,” he says. Mabel still can’t read his tone.

“Stanley, let’s talk about this,” Mabel says.

Stan shakes his head and starts for the stairs. “Just leave me alone for a while,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Mabel’s about to stand up and go after him when Stanford speaks up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize he didn’t know.”

Mabel gives him a warm smile. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo,” she says. “That’s not your fault.”

And, since Stan did ask for space and might actually benefit from it, she folds her hands and turns to face Stanford.

“So,” she says. “You ran away from home?”

Stanford winces and looks down at the table. He nods.

“Can I ask why?” Mabel asks.

“Pa told me about my brother, and I wanted to meet him,” Stanford says, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s got gloves on that look a little too big for his hands, and Mabel’s not sure why. He’s from New Jersey, after all. It couldn’t be that much colder in Oregon than it was there.

Mabel crosses her arms. “Kid,” she says. “You don’t travel across the whole country by yourself because of that. How did you even get here? Please tell me you were safe.”

“I was safe,” Stanford protests, sounding a little offended. “I took a bus. Well, a couple buses. But I was safe!”

Mabel raises an eyebrow. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh…”

She sighs, and pushes her chair back as she stands. “Alright, I’ll make you something to eat. And then we’re gonna have to call your parents.”

“NO!” Stanford says, so fast and desperate that it catches Mabel off guard. “Please, they’ll be so mad.”

“Stanford, buddy, you ran away,” Mabel says. “And traveled across the whole country without their permission. Of course they’ll be mad.”

“But they’ll make me go home,” Stanford says. He starts to reach out and grab Mabel’s hand, but seems to catch himself halfway and pulls his hand back. “I can’t. Not yet. I came all this way to meet Stanley. I— I have to meet him. I can’t just learn that I have a twin brother and then go on not knowing anything about him and never seeing him! You don’t understand.”

Mabel swallows past a sudden lump in her throat. “Stanford,” she says weakly.

“Please,” Stanford says desperately. “Please don’t make me go back. Just let me stay for a little while. Like, like for the summer! I can work in your craft store, I can make myself useful! I promise!”

“Buddy, that’s not the problem,” Mabel starts.

“Please,” Stanford says. “I just want to get to know him. Aren’t I supposed to? I don’t want to keep being apart.”

Well, this kid is going to be the death of her.

“I,” Mabel says, because she knows when she’s beaten. “I can’t make any promises—”

“Yes! That’s a yes! Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” Stanford leaps up and runs around the table, then throws his arms around Mabel. He has a strange style of hug, keeping his hands off of her entirely even as his arms encircle her back.

“I will talk to them,” Mabel says firmly, as she pats him on the back. “But I still have to tell them you’re here.”

Stanford looks a little less overjoyed when he pulls back, but he nods. “Okay,” he says. Then his stomach grumbles, and Mabel heaves a sigh.

“I’ll make you something to eat first,” she says. “What do you want?”

And what did she just get herself into?

…

“He what.”

“He wants to stay here for the summer,” Mabel says, carrying the phone as far away from the living room as she can get, where Stanley is watching TV and eating dinner. She wants to have this conversation separately with him. Stanford, however, is sitting at the table, looking up at her with so much hope and desperation in his eyes that after a second Mabel has to turn around.

“Absolutely not,” Filbrick growls. “You put that boy’s ass back on a bus home this instant.”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says firmly. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“You are not the boy’s father—”

“No, but I sure do know what it looks like when a kid is determined enough to not change their mind,” Mabel says. “If you shoot this opportunity down, it’s just going to backfire down the road. And he deserves the chance to get to know his brother.”

“That boy is no family of his—”

“Watch yourself,” Mabel growls, apparently surprising Filbrick enough that he stops. Mabel continues before he can keep talking.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of an extra kid for the summer. And I think this is something he needs.”

“I decide what he needs—”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says, lowering her voice. “Don’t turn this into a fight. You know you won’t win.”

There’s a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line, and Mabel can almost hear the rage coming over the telephone.

But finally, Filbrick grinds out, “He calls me every. single. week.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Mabel says calmly. “And I’ll pay the bus fare to send him home at the end of the summer.”

“Oh, yes you will,” Filbrick growls. “You owe me, after this stunt.”

“No,” Mabel says. “You owe me. You still do.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“You’re the one who refused to take ‘that’s what family’s for’ as an answer,” Mabel says. “It’s too late to get out of it now.”

“Go to hell,” Filbrick spits, and then the line goes dead.

Mabel sighs, feeling a weight press down on her shoulders, and puts the phone back on the hook.

But she’s smiling when she turns around to face Stanford, and as soon as he spots it, all the nerves disappear from his face and he lights up like the sun.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” he yells, and runs across the room to give her another hug, still in his strange hands-off style.

Mabel sighs, and wraps her arms around him. She’s definitely just made this summer a lot harder. But, well.

“That’s what family’s for,” she says, giving Stanford a tight squeeze.

He beams up at her, and she knows she’s made the right call.

#gravity falls #relativity falls au #reunion falls au #mabel pines #stan pines #ford pines #my fic

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kidsworlddiscovery · 2 years ago

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youtube

How to Draw Papa pig

In this fun and easy-to-follow drawing lesson, we'll teach you step-by-step how to draw Papa Pig, the beloved character from the popular children's animated series. Whether you're an aspiring artist or just looking for a delightful art activity to do with your kids, this

#youtube #drawingtutorial #howtodraw #arttutorial #PapaPig #HowToDrawPapaPig

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elbiotipo · 3 years ago

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I'm not kidding when I say worldbuilding is extremely easy and fun, you can make easily all sorts of new fantasy worlds on like half an hour, follow this guide:

take a rectangle, draw a line through the middle, that's your equator, draw another two lines south and north, those are your tropics, draw another two lines further north (you can see a real world map to guide yourself), those are your arctic/antarctic circles

Draw continents, any shape you want, it's better to combine large soft blobs (like Africa or South America) with coastlines full of peninsulas and islands (like Europe or South Asia). Draw some island chains in between where you feel it's appropiate. Some inland seas like the Mediterranean are good too.

Decide where you will place mountain ranges. In real life, they are where oceanic-continental plates (Andes) or continental-continental plates (Himalayas, Alps), collide. These are very important.

Place rivers, just the most important ones. The places where you place big river systems are gonna be big plains.

Now, the fun part. With your first step, you've already decided where arctic, temperate, and tropical climates are there. You can mark it as letters in your map. Mountain ranges, of course, are colder.

Here's the tricky part: vegetation: vegetation mostly follows precipitation, and precipitation is mostly decided by altitude and distance from the ocean. The interior of your continents should be dry with plains and deserts; the coasts should be rainy with forests and plains. But remember, if you have a mountain range, that's a rain shadow! Picture the wind coming from the ocean with rain, and it should get less rainy when it "clashes" with a mountain range, with the other side a desert.

Deserts are tricky to place, but as a quick cheat, you can place them in your tropic lines. They can even border oceans: see Australia and the Kalahari.

WHEN IN DOUBT, LOOK AT SIMILAR AREAS ON A REAL WORLD VEGETATION/CLIMATE MAP. THIS IS WHY DRAWING THE EQUATOR AND THE TROPICS IS SO IMPORTANT AND SHOULD BE YOUR FIRST STEP ALWAYS.

Now you already have a quick and dirty vegetation map, you're halfway there! Don't worry if there are some doubtful areas, real world geography can be weird.

Now for the REAL fun stuff (if you aren't having fun already, I sure am): making civilizations!

You have to decide center of origins for your domesticated crops and animals. Basically, every early civilization had its own "package" of staple crops and animals that are still used today.

With this, you can decide:

the primary civilizations of your world

roughly how different animals and vegetation are distributed, if you want an Earth-like world (for an quicker method, you can apply the biogeographical realms to your own continents as you wish)

A quick cheat sheet of centers of origin, what they have, and where you can place them:

(this is just a quick thing, do read the article it's so much better)

Middle Eastern: wheat, barley, cows, sheep, goats. Place them in a dry area with lots of rivers (the Fertile Crescent!)

East Asia: rice, soybean, oranges, pigs, horses. Place it in a rainy temperate area bordering the tropics.

Mesoamerica: Corn, beans, pumpkin, chilli, tomato. Place it in a dry area near the tropics.

Andes: Potato, quinoa, llamas. Place it in a mountain range.

Tropical South America: manioc, peanuts, pineapple. In the tropics.

Tropical Asia: Rice, banana, sugar cane, beans. In the tropics, again.

or, just straight up use this fucking map, it's so much better:

You can mix and match the crops, animals, and such as you wish, and you should definitively read the wiki page on center of origins and see some other less known crops.

If you have non-human civilizations, of course they'll have different packages. Carnivore or subterranean civilizations might be very different. But at this point, your imagination should be flying already and I don't have to hold your hand here.

Now, you have a rough map of your world at the dawn of agriculture! Congratulations! Depending on the historical period you're setting your world, you can start to draw countries and civilizations. This is where it gets complicated again. I might have to make a part two... But just with this, you already have a new world to use as you wish.

I'll make a worked example later to show you how easy it is if you don't believe me.

#worldbuilding #cosas mias #biotipo worldbuilding

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hongjoongscafe · 3 years ago

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Hii, can i request ateez as dads headcanon, pls? 🥺❤️

D-dad ateez? oh hell yeah!😍 sorry for the late response but thank you for your request sweet anon💓

Just imagine

Families

Ateez as dads

Hongjoong:

Acts strict

Makes proper rules

Not too harsh

But

Just maintain discipline

Loves to sing his drafts to them

Takes their opinions

Keeps special baby and father time

Tries to teach them music

Always attend their school events

Tries to understand their generation

Their together time is therapeutic to him

He would be dammed if his kid shed a tear

Cute father

Reform their clothes with his art

Seonghwa:

Messy!

As much he loves to have kids

He doesn't really know how to handle one

A tiny baby shirt hanging on his head

While the little Seonghwa pulls his ears

Loves them a lot

Always shows off them to other parents

"My kid can make a cat noise!"

Make them sleep on his chest

Loves the feeling of closeness

Take them out for cute little parent-baby dates

Will slap the floor if the child falls

Makes beautiful lunches

The typical example of a pinterest dad

Those funny ones, tho

Yunho:

Cuteeeee

Cuteness overloaded

Dress them as teddy bears

Teach them easy dance steps

Will play home-home types games

Prefer to make his kids a little mischievous like him

Becomes the guinea pig for his daughter to play make up

Organize video games night for his son and his friends

Loves to cuddle all of his kids at once

Can't say 'no'

Experiments funny hairstyles on them

Yeosang:

Sarcastic dad!

The kid breaks a glass

"No worries, glasses are actually made to be broken"

Loves to make fun of them

Compares himself with his two years old

"Huh, I can do that better"

He can say whatever he wants

But

You say a thing to his kids

Bitch, protect your little necks

Dresses them in the weirdest clothes

Teaches them how to not give a fuck

Responsible

San:

Affectionate

Always tell them how much he loved them

Brings them candies

Take them to the park

Help them do their homework

Gives them piggyback rides

Takes them for a car ride

Disneyland trip once in a while

Make them pose for cute Instagram pictures

Instagram aesthetic

Gifts them many plushies

Mingi:

Clueless

Gets scared when the child cries

Tries his best to make them laugh

He succeeds!

Sing them lullaby

Changing nappy is a HUGE challenge

Makes funny faces

Hang their drawings on the fridge

Write them a note before going to the studio

Buys a bouquet for his tiny little girl

Buys a superhero figure for his big boy

Makes them a blanket Castle

Wooyoung:

Chaotic

Goes to the convenience store with his child

Buys everything they put a finger on

Will become a kid with them,

Unintentionally

Will make them guests for his cooking show

Will be loud together

Fall asleep with them

On the couch

Plays video games

Jongho:

Strong

Will teach them the easiest trick to break apples

Takes them to self-defense classes

Over protective

Plays Princess- Princess

Becomes a villain while playing with his son

Allows his daughter to do his make up

And put up a bow clip

Take them to a theme park after every two months

Teach them how to sing the higher notes

Makes origami models

Gives them gifts

For no reason

One thing is common in all, they love their kids equally. Loves to spend their time with their families. Because that's what love is, for them...

*do NOT repost, plz*

[ if you want, you can send a request for headcanons (for any idol). I would love to write about that:)]

Masterpost

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

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Hey! This is my first time doing this ! But can you wirte a scenario where in Winter's cursed AU where MK's parents try to come back and get custody again?( With prompt 14 and 45) With protective monkey dads? Have a great rest of your day! 💕

Thank you so much, I hope you like this as your first fill! It was very enjoyable to write since I had this idea months ago but never had the chance to put it down. But you’re gonna get a little more than just protective monkey dads! This is set pretty far into @winterpower98 's AU so he has a lot of people behind him.

Am I scaring you?/You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

It didn’t take much guessing to figure out exactly what had made MK look like he wanted to run for the hills the second he picked up his phone. There were only a few very specific scenarios that could make him react like that now. But it was the way his face hardened and his whisper yelled into it that made Pigsy realize exactly who they were dealing with without the young man saying who it was.

Again.

“This is the third time you’ve gotten a new number for this,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “I’ve told you already, the answer is no.”

"Tang," Pigsy whispered, nudging his favorite freeloader to get his attention better. "Go keep an eye outside. The last time they did this they showed up an hour later. If they do we're shuttering the shop early."

"On it," Tang said with a nod, standing with another nod to MK as he left.

"I am an adult, you cannot do anything to- yes I'm sure. Yes... yes, because I have a lawyer now mom!"

MK’s tone of voice made Pigsy smirk proudly. Had this been a few years ago MK would have had so much difficulty even just talking back to his parents, going quiet and shrinking into himself. Now?

He was standing up straight, speaking firmly and calmly, raising his voice a bit even. In the years Pigsy had known the young man he had changed drastically when it came to his parents. His and Tang’s attempts to raise his confidence and teach him to speak up for himself had certainly helped in that regard, but his attained abilities and strength as the Monkie Kid had no doubt given him a boost as well.

Not to mention the knowledge that not only did he have two father figures behind him... he had four (granted, Pigsy had mixed feelings for many reasons about both of them, but he’d warmed up to them when he saw how much MK had grown attached to them). Add Sandy, Mei, and Red Son to the mix?

He had a powerful group behind him to support him in whatever he needed.

"What do you mean you're already here?" MK said suddenly, drawing Pigsy's attention back from his inner thoughts.

"Whoa, hey, I said you can’t go in there!" Tang's voice suddenly rang through the entrance as someone pushed him backwards into the shop. He stumbled, almost falling flat on his rear and just barely catching himself on the counter. "You've been banned from this establishment and you know i-"

"MK," the woman who entered said as she closed her flip phone shut with a snap.

A man entered behind her, matching her in simple modern fashion. He shared MK's hair while the woman shared his eyes. It was obvious who they were to anyone seeing the three of them together.

Tang turned, shooting Pigsy a quick sorry that was met with an easy smile and a nod before the chef scowled at the two of them.

"... mom, dad," MK replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stood at his full height, back straight and no sign of hesitation on his face. "I told you, I'm not coming home."

"And we told you that we realized we made a mistake," his mother said, voice soft but with a softly uncertain undertone to it. Like she didn't quote believe her own words but was convincing herself otherwise. "Please, let us make it right."

"You had plenty of time to make it right all the times I tried to contact you before I became the Monkie Kid," MK said easily, practiced and firm. "Besides, I'm an adult now. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do."

"You may technically be an adult," MK's mother said with a sigh, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "But you’re still my child."

Pigsy jumped in front of her, a sharp glare his only weapon. He knew better than to threaten these two, much like some of his more rowdy customers, but he would still put himself bodily between the young man he viewed as a son and anyone making him uncomfortable when he had the ability to do so.

"If you so much as breathe on my kid-"

"But he's not your kid now is he, pig man," MK's father sniped back, venom dripping from ever word and making the entire restaurant freeze in response.

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from behind them, a figure pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. "What were you saying to my brother?"

The reaction was instantaneous. MK’s father jumping to the side with a yelp, turning to come face to face with a less than pleasantly smiling Sun Wukong and a scowling Macaque behind him, neither bothering to keep up any semblance of a human disguise at the moment.

"I believe my student made it clear to you multiple times that he is an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to live with," he said coldly, moving to stand beside Pigsy with his fur raised and teeth barred in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. It certainly wasn't one if you knew anything about monkeys, though.

"Scram," Macaque chimed in, voice lower and far more threatening than anyone else in the building as he took a step forward. Though his words were fewer his tone was stronger and held just as much weight.

MK's parents took a step back in turn, stepping back into the entryway itself.

"Y-you may be his mentor," MK's mother started, her tone losing the odd uncertainty under it and gaining a frustration and confusion instead. "But I'm his mother."

"Who left him to his own devices and didn't even try to show interest in reconnecting until he made something of himself," Macaque snapped, snapping his teeth together in a warning bite as he took another step forward with a growl.

His parents stumbled back out of the shop, eyes wide and watching as MK was surrounded on either side by 4 others. Pigsy and Tang on his right, Wukong and Macaque on his left.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a chuckle, letting out a noise of surprise when Wukong's tail touched his arm.

"I think he's got this now," Wukong said with a soft smile.

"Mom, dad," MK said with his voice still firm and sure. "I'm not coming back home with you. I'm an adult and you can't force me to come back. And if you keep trying like this I'll never give you the chance to let me chose to on my own."

The duo looked at their son, his father's eyes wide in shock and disbelief and his mother's eyes much the same with an undercurrent of... something. Something none of them could really place.

"I think we s-"

“You are not good people!" MK's dad snapped, standing up to his full height to tower over everyone else. "I caution you against this! This is your last chance to accept the damage you’ve caused! And if MK does not go back with us I will have no choice but to take further action! I will be contacting my lawyer to open a lawsuit against you and further more this will ruin your life with insurmountable debt!”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest in his assured victory as everyone else stared at him in shock and disbelief. Including his wife, who looked even more incredulous than any of them.

"D-debt?" MK eventually managed to get out, an unbelieving smile forming on his face. Before he started to laugh and march forward. "Debt? DEBT!? FUCK your debt! We'll take our chances DAD, Monkey King has a treasure trove and the best lawyer in all of China so take your debt and STUFF IT!" He raised both middle fingers toward his parents before jumping up to grab the handle of the shutter door and slam is shut before either of his parents could rush back in.

"INSURMOUNTABLE DEBT!" He yelled one last time, almost manically before sitting at a nearby table and covering his face with his hands as he burst into laughter. "I-I just- you can't threaten the Monkey King of all people with financial problems how am I related to this man!?"

The two pairs of parental figures looked at each other before laughing themselves, finding it difficult not to follow in MK's lead given how ridiculously that tense situation ended.

"You handled that pretty damn well, MK," Wukong said with proud smile as he ruffled his student’s hair.

"It's a lot easier when I know I have a bunch of dads and pops to back me up," he replied with a smile.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #prompt fill #gen fic #found family #ensemble cast #sometimes parental relationships can be repaired #sometimes they can't #sometimes its better to let your kids choose #i have projected a bit sorry #cursed au

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yanderart · 5 years ago

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He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step.

It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect.

“So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on.

Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

“Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper.

Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features.

Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened.

“Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands.

"Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness.

"You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.

You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal.

Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag.

"I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he?

If only you knew.

"Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

"You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement.

A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery.

(Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

"Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

"Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer.

(Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both.

As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

"You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight.

"Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked.

"I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law."

Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

"Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics.

"Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth.

"Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

"Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you.

And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

Now that was interesting.

"Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down.

"Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?"

You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

"Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you.

"I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments.

"So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation.

Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role.

"Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage.

"I wasn’t..."

"Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe.

"If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out.

Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did.

When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

"I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions.

You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you.

The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear.

"Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both.

"Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries."

As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody.

It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering.

Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore.

"Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence.

When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.

Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet.

"But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

"You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime.

So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face.

"I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway.

You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze.

For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

"Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain.

(And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

"Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

"But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded.

"I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be).

Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped.

"Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped.

"I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you).

When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that.

"Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.

"Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths.

Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced.

It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

"Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer.

"Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

"Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed.

"Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

"Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through.

Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

"Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit.

"Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight.

"None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…"

But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you.

"Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say."

And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected.

The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before.

"More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by.

"Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment.

He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

(You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.)

You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence.

You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

"You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home.

"Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work.

Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago.

(Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

"Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over.

The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.

"Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips.

Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

"Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides.

Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected.

A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent.

"Fucking… get on with it."

However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body.

"But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness.

It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks.

The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself.

If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps.

So goddamn close…

Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them.

Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all.

Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit.

When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork.

"Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment.

But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most.

When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face.

And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust.

"Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured.

However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry.

"Hold on..."

Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

"Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused.

"Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice.

When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling.

"You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago.

But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed.

Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you.

God, even for villain standards you were fucked.

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — —

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha, @snappysnapo and @drxwsyni (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL).

#bnha fanart #aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #mha fanart #bnha x reader #aizawa fanart #aizawa smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #aizawa shouta #bnha art #eraserhead #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

Halloween

Right after 5x01 with Reid and Hotch both pulling away, Morgan and Emily take matters into their own hands.

“I don’t want to.”

Morgan, who up until that point, had really, truly believed that the worst of his year was behind him closes his eyes with a tired sigh. As if the pig farm hadn’t felt suffocating on its own, now it’s tangled in his mind with Foyet. The pigs, Mason, that poor girl, and Hotch. Because that terrible night hadn’t ended for Hotch as it had for the rest of them. They slept while Hotch lay on his apartment floor, his own blood soaking into his clothes. The hospital hadn’t even washed the dried blood from his hair by the time the team arrived.

Emily had the next day. It had taken Derek and Emily both to do the seemingly mindless task. Hotch had been uncomfortable, dirty and the nurses had given them the leeway to tackle the task together. And they were both very aware of how annoyed he was to have to succumb to their help. Hotch can hardly raise his arms to his waist, he wasn’t going to be washing his one hair. And as the oldest of his own siblings and still leaning heavily into that protective mindset, Morgan would heavily prefer it to be him there. So, bracing Hotch’s side with his own body, Derek had held Hotch upright while Emily gently scrubbed his hair clean of his blood.

The scent thick and acidic but slowly replaced with a smell distinctly hospital-like. The water had browned, the suds too dirty to even help only about halfway through. Standing there, Hotch’s body growing heavier and shaking gently against Morgan’s ribs he could see every bone in his boss’s back. And, too soon, they had to call it quiets. The monitors were picking up, distraught with the pain Hotch had hidden so well. His heart missing beats as Morgan had eased his head back into the pillows.

Emily standing there, white as a ghost, with that bucket of water. Hotch was only half-aware of them and their intentions by then. Watching Morgan behind half-lidded eyes and lips pale and parted as he took a dry rag through his hair. Morgan’s mother had always told him that going out in the cold with wet hair would give you pneumonia and while he had never known anyone to get pneumonia like that he wasn’t going to take any chances. Even if they were in a temperature-controlled hospital room.

And through all of that, Hotch had made it. Slowly, through shrieking monitors and more than one scare, alive. A fucking miracle.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” It’s Halloween. For as long as Morgan has known Reid, it’s been his favorite holiday. Hell, everyone knows it’s his favorite holiday. Even Hotch gets a little festive in the name of bringing even the faintest smile to Reid’s face. The idea for today, a party to celebrate Halloween, had been done with Reid specifically in mind. Being cooped up in this apartment isn’t good for him.

Reid who hasn’t actually looked at Morgan since he came in, twirls the frayed ends of his blanket around his finger. “I don’t want to,” he repeats. It’s one thing to mop about in this apartment. Here, no one watches him struggle to move. No one looks too hard, too long at his ill-practiced steps. At the crutches tucked under his scrawny arms. Worse is that if he goes, he can’t take his crutches. He’ll have to the stupid wheelchair in his room. Whos open seat is a crookedly carved leather smile, taunting him.

Morgan shakes his head and keeps at his current project. For the past week (has it been a week? He isn’t certain) he’s done nothing but tidies up every space around him. Having attacked Hotch’s apartment-- tearing up that blood-stained carpet, patching the hole in the wall, fixing a leaky faucet in the guest room, and cleaning out his worryingly empty fridge-- he’s come to Reid’s. The thing is Reid is going to make this process a little harder. There are bits and pieces of Reid in every corner of his apartment. Not self-deprecatingly bare like Hotch’s. Here, he can’t disrupt the way books lie because they all have been sectioned and left where they are with purpose. There is a purpose to his chaos more meaningful than Hotch’s out of sight out of mind.

“Well, you have to go.”

Reid frowns, biting his lip to refrain from whining. Despite having done more by his current twenty-four-years of age than any of them, they still treat him like a child. And while any of them might be forgiven for a bit of childish refusal he won’t be. Well, in all fairness, he is prone to a bit more childish things than they are. Reid had to be forced to go to the doctor’s for a check-up after getting anthrax and all because he had thought they might ask to do blood tests. What had made him go, in the end? Morgan taking Reid himself. It was humiliating but when they draw blood Morgan had offered his hand and Reid had taken it.

Now, Morgan’s just asking for a favor. For Reid to suck it up, just this once. To have fun and be easy. “Hotch is only coming because he’s under the impression this is all for you.” And it is, all for Reid. None of them care about Halloween. Hotch least of all. But the two of them are going to go crazy cooped up on their own.

Of course, that’s only mostly true.

It’s entirely Morgan and Emily’s idea.

“Okay,” Reid sighs, scratching self-conscious at his scalp. “I just…” he shoves the blankets off his legs. “Just need a few minutes.” A shower. He needs a shower and, if he’s granted the time for it, a pity nap.

Morgan hums, head bent to his current task of cleaning Reid’s strangely large collection of mugs lining his counter. “As long as you need,” he mumbles.

Two years ago, if someone sat David Rossi down and told him that on a Saturday in October he’d be celebrating Halloween as a fully grown man... he wouldn’t believe them. Add in the fact that he would be doing this because it’s a twenty-something-year-old genius’s favorite holiday and he’s doing it to lighten the mood of his old prodigy… well, he’d consider himself senile.

He should have stayed retired.

As of the last month, he’s been thinking that a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little ragtag team Aaron’s created in his absence but they're a little crazy and trouble magnets-- Emily and Reid attempt at a second Waco with Benjamin Cyrus, the bombing in New York, and George Foyet. All within the span of a year. He’s only heard about some of the other things they did before he came back.

These freaking kids are crazy.

“Will you just listen to me,” Dave is multi-tasking. Aside from picking out comfortable clothes for the evening he also has got to swindle Hotch into coming out to the party. “For once in your life, Aaron, just listen to me.” As dramatic as that may sound, it’s kind of fair. Even when they prodigy and mentor, Aaron had a flair for taking Dave’s instructions in one ear and out the other.

“Dave,” comes Aaron’s soft rebuttal. He’s exhausted. Much to his chagrin, three days rest has done nothing to mend the bone-tired ache in his body. Add the depression he can feel settling across his sternum and the way his ribs feel like they’re being pried open… He has no interest in watching his team get drunk at Dave’s house. Call him a buzzkill or a killjoy to heart’s content, that’s not going to change his mind.

Besides, the last thing he needs is to start himself into a bad habit of drinking every time he’s sad. Then what? He starts himself down a road of addiction. He comes to work drunk. Derek tries to say something. Dave is worried. He gets fired. He’s no better than his own father.

Rossi’s voice softens, any of the agitation previously in his voice is gone. “Aaron,” he calls through the speaker. “I’m not asking. Emily’s on her way right now to come to get you.” He sighs under his breath, just tired, not even mad. “You can make that hard for her,” Dave offers, knowing that’s what Hoch is going to be inclined to do. “I think we both know she deserves a break from that, though.”

Hotch feels the defeat pull his shoulders down. He’s been an asshole lately. Logically, he knows it’s a progression of all the emotions he’s feeling and burying. Emily doesn’t hate him for that but he knows she’s starting to feel overwhelmed by it. And given how successful his other attempts at pushing everyone else away has been, he might just owe her a little reprieve. To do this one thing without an entire battle.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Dave smiles on the other side of the line, content with himself. “Thank you, Aaron. I will see you there, kiddo.”

It’s always the smartest people that fall for the simplest tricks.

Unlike Derek, Emily does feel bad about their plan. Logically, she’s very aware of how beneficial it’s going to be. If they don’t invite themselves over, Reid won’t ask anyone to come. Which means that he’s got to be getting his meals some other way. The thing is, if he were getting them delivered by a friend unknown to his team members, there should be something left over. Food in his fridge or trash in his garbage can. But there’s nothing.

Why does love have to be so difficult? How is it that some people understand it and others are stunningly unaware? Somehow wrapping their pretty little heads around this idea that they are undeserving or tricksters for having tricked someone into caring about them. If they didn’t love Reid would they feverishly watch over him? Did he really consider himself that sinister? That malicious? That he could trick profilers into loving him? Let it be clear, there is no trick. They are not so foolish and he not so unlovable.

“Derek, I think we might--”

Reid’s wobbly. He’s not yet mastered the crutches (at all). His practice comes only from the hospital and then his instructions had been brief before he was sent down the hall. A nurse just needing to see he could maneuver them and that they were at the right height. So, as bitter as he is to admit it, Derek’s lightly placed hand on the small of his back is very helpful.

Turning to see Emily, Reid lurches dangerous and Morgan moves quickly to stop him from falling. Just behind them, SUV pulled up onto Rossi’s lawn as close as she could pull it up, Emily is helping Hotch out of the car. Even from here, he can hear the lowered grumbling shared between the two. Despite being unable to see Hotch except for one brief moment, Reid’s glad to at least hear the other man. Him and Emily clipping rough comments back and forth. Bordering on rude but it’s between them and they’ve always let one another slide in these areas.

Vaguely he can piece together that they’re arguing about whether or not Morgan’s help is needed. “--wheelchair, that you made me leave-- I will take you back-- walker-- asshole!” Despite how angrily they nip back and forth, it’s all in what they don’t say. Hotch falls into Emily’s guiding step. Not even breaking from his own comment as her hand comes around his hips and effortlessly supports his weight as they take a step up. Neither taking the blow below the belt to note how Hotch’s words get cut off by a hardly contained whimper of pain or how choked his quick, distressed breathing becomes.

Morgan’s help is needed but Emily is too focused on keeping Hotch’s feet firmly planted on the ground and Hotch too worried about not busting his ass on the ice.

Reid jerks as Dave’s front door is thrown open. One hand on his hip, an apron over his chest, he shakes his head at the sight of the four of them. “I can hear you two arguing like children from in the house!” he shouts. He steps out onto the porch, tucking the towel in his hand into his pants. “Grown adults out here acting like children!” There is an unmistakable David Rossi laced fondness in his tone. That, despite his haste movements and dry frown, is taken as such because they know him. And he knows Hotch and Emily well enough to know this would happen.

“Get yourselves inside,” Rossi’s entire body changes when he sees Morgan and Reid. A simple passing hand down Morgan’s back for encouragement. “There’s root beer in the bottom drawer in the fridge, have Henry get you one!”

Reid smiles, suddenly excited for this afternoon. Root beer is… it’s the keystone of his childhood. There was not a matter he and his mother couldn’t handle with a little root beer. And while he doesn’t indulge himself often with that luxury (still some part of his brain fails to comprehend that he has the money to get it) Dave always has it. Hearing that Henry is here, implying Will and JJ too, he feels himself growing giddy. Pleased. He can’t wait to talk to them. For Will to hit his shoulder with his fist just a little too hard and to rustle his hair. JJ hovering and laughing. Henry. Smiling laughing.

Dave keeps going.

His frowning turning into a small while Hotch’s dark eyes find him, a glint of hope. “Our poor hero,” Dave greets in a half-jab at Hotch. He cups the younger man’s cheek, smiling at him. “I assume Emily has been her cruel and unusual self?” Once again, another jab. It’s a perfect balance. He neither takes Emily’s side (exhausted by Hotch’s antics) nor Hotch’s (exhausted by Emily’s antics).

They both scoff, at both implications.

“Hotch is being an asshole,” Emily grumbles, childishly sticking her tongue out at him. “Per his usual self.”

Hotch turns to Dave and returns, “to answer your question, yes she is.”

Wedged between Dave and Emily, Hotch makes it to the porch. Emily only hits him once. Once. He deserved it.

“Would you two behave?”

They get all of two steps in before JJ puts a stop to it. You see, no one ever listens to Dave. Not once has anyone ever listened to Hotch but JJ. No, to JJ, they always listen. And with a slow final few blows, Hotch and Emily stop bickering.

“Now,” JJ has flour on her chest. An honor which means Rossi has let her within his kitchen. “Go sit,” she points to the living room, stepping aside to let them through. “Behave yourselves or I’m not letting you eat until you hug and tell each other you love one another.” Her grandmother used to force that punishment on JJ and her sister as children. Cruel, she had thought then, but JJ has learned it to be very useful. As they pass, she hears them both grumble something about Hotch’s mostly liquid diet and how Emily doesn’t think that’s very fair. JJ throws her own towel at their heads. It’s well worth the shared smirk of mischief shared between Hotch and Emily.

Little deviants, she thinks with an eye roll. It’s Halloween so she lets it slide.

In the living room, Reid and Hotch are left while the others fight over one another in the kitchen. The clatter is heard through the whole house. Morgan making Garcia laugh, a barking sound that draws a smile from Reid. Joyous. Emily lightly teasing Rossi for what she teases is new greying in his hair. She asks if he’d like her to dye it for him the next time he gets his hair colored. Her triumphant laughter is just as freeing.

“Hotch?”

Beaten by the effort it took to walk all the way to the living room, Hotch had mostly succumbed to his placement on in the lazyboy. A chair, in which, he had never sat once in all the years he’d visited Dave’s. But the recliner is large and he can easily lean to support his side. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching side. Without opening his eyes, head tilted back he hums. “Yeah?”

Reid’s knee is carefully surrounded by pillows. Even if it’s jostled, it’s fully supported in every direction. He’d been sitting here, watching Hotch’s face steadily grow blank. Masking his pain. He’d wanted to know if Hotch too had been tricked into coming. But then, as Morgan, followed closely by Garcia and the others, step in and Reid finds he doesn’t actually need to know. Hotch came, didn’t he? Left the safety of his dark apartment in favor of their boisterous company. Of little Henry in his Spiderman costume and Garcia and her own elaborate Harry Potter costume.

Derek hands Reid a plate, mostly finger foods a bit of pasta. His plate mirrors Henry’s. While the other’s all eat healthy amounts of pasta. Will sneaks him a napkin, which confuses him, until Will covers his hand over Reid’s and whispers “there are eight Oreos in this napkin”. Sweets, which JJ and Garcia had deprived him until he cleaned his plate. And when JJ caves, Reid’s stomach full of the carrots, crackers, and grapes his plate had primarily had (as well as those Oreos), and brings him a slice of pie and ice cream Will only shakes his head with a smirk.

Hotch manages a few spoonful's of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

“You could eat something else,” Dave ventures, scowling. But Hotch’s body is very displeased and what little solid food he’d managed to eat in the last few days was having a tendency to come right back up. Abdominal trauma, the doctor’s kept informing them, often caused this. They just needed to wait it out.

“He’s got the palate of a toddler,” Emily mumbles but she means it fondly. She punctuates it by throwing a carrot at his head. He doesn’t have the dexterity to swat it out of the air so it hits his head and he just scowls at her.

Reid sides with Hotch. “Chicken noodle soup is the best soup,” he offers in Hotch’s defense. Blushing when Hotch just looks sadly at him, as if broken by the idea that Reid is the only person left to defend him.

“It is,” Garcia tries to add, helpfully. She smiles encouragingly to Hotch but once again he takes them siding with him poorly. If all the sympathy he can garner is from Reid and Garcia, he’s hopeless. He loves them dearly but they effortlessly take his side. “And you leave my boss man alone! If he wants to eat chicken noodle soup then you let him.”

Hotch hums to that, quirking an eyebrow at Garcia, and looking down at Emily. Of all the places for her to sit, she’d chosen the floor. With a whole floor to choose from, she still sat down right at his feet. Resting her back against his shins. Which he didn’t mind but he knew she’d done it just to annoy him.

Henry grows tired of his adult company and with the sun falling, he knows what’s coming. Even at three, he’s aware of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Go on,” Hotch encourages. He knows they’re only holding back for two reasons: Reid and him. But Henry shouldn’t suffer just because he managed to piss off the one Unsub brave enough to attack him and Reid unfortunate enough to get shot. “We won’t go anywhere. I’ll put on Doctor Who,” he bargains. “Reid won’t go anywhere.” But it’s not really Reid they’re worried about. “I’ll take a nap,” he offers. Which is what his body needs but he’s not so sure he’ll actually commit to that.

“Don’t move.” Emily orders.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Reid says, with a nod. But given how stupid they both are, Emily loves the commitment but doesn’t take the offer too seriously. Hotch with a blanket tucked over his legs and Reid happily humming away to the Doctor Who theme song, they’re left to the silence of Dave’s house. The others out taking Henry around the block for some trick or treating.

Hotch does take that nap and Reid contently gets sucked into Doctor Who. Content in ways they both thought were only possible locked away in their own misery.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #will lamontagne #david rossi #henry jareau

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kidsworlddiscovery · 2 years ago

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youtube

How to Draw Mama Pig

In this fun and easy-to-follow tutorial, we'll teach you how to draw Mama Pig, one of the beloved characters from the popular children's show. Whether you're an aspiring artist or just looking for a creative activity to do with your kids, this step-by-step guide will make the drawing process a breeze!

#youtube #drawingtutorial #howtodraw #MamaPigDrawing #HowToDrawMamaPig #LearnToDrawMamaPig

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antman-56 · 5 years ago

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I Know

“Ah Joker.”

“I know.”

Right now both Mona and Akira were being followed by a very nosy Makoto Niijima.

Right now she was behind them reading this weeks manga release.

They had noticed her following them after the Madarame incident. He will admit he didn’t notice her until Mona said he felt uneasy. It wasn’t until they were near Untouchable that Akira felt the same feeling and quickly turned around to see a familiar face duck behind the corner of the alley.

This has been going on for a week now. and he figured out her pattern. She would wait until he left his last class and follow him until 8 pm.

Sometimes longer when he’s with Iwai or when he was in the clinic whenever he was with Takemi-san.

“She’s doing a very bad job at being hidden.”

“I know.”

Akira found the game they played enjoyable. She tried so hard to try and find proof that he had some info on the Phantom Thieves, not knowing he was the leader.

“What should we do then. She’s being annoying.”

“Lets just waste her time.”

“So, same plan like last time or something new?.”

“Well Takemi-san is still looking through the data and Ann and Ryuji are on a date. (Mona grew a small, sinister, dark aura on being reminded, AGAIN) And Yusuke is being Yusuke.”

“So, how do we kill time.”

“Wanna see if Iwai needs help?”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what we want?”

“Were just being a part timer in a respectable business and being upstanding citizens on top of it.”

“Your picking up some of his habits.”

***A little later, Outside Untouchable***

Makoto just saw Akira walk into the Air Soft Store. He has visited the store quite frequently, was he a worker? A regular? Or was their something more to it? He would spend hours in there and come out later then she could actually afford to watch.

Her sister had given her a harsh lecture when she came home at 1 in the morning.

She heard of the shady stuff that went on in there, mostly stuff with the Yakuza, but right now she couldn’t help but worry a little bit for Akira.

He may be a suspect in her investigation but he was still a student. Maybe he was innocent in all of this and was dragged into it? Maybe she could help him?

That was why she was ready this time.

Right at her side would be her tool in finding the first step to the Phantom Thieves.

***Inside***

Akira was up by the register and Iwai was in the back.

Iwai knew of the problem and gladly helped Akira out. He would let him stay in the shop and fix the guns he bought as long as he helped around when their were customers or the occasional police harassment. In all honesty, he felt like he had another son.

Right now, Akira was cleaning Ryuji’s Fury shotgun, his face showed annoyance on how misused this thing looked. He was so caught up in fixing it that he didn’t notice the door being opened.

DING

Akira dropped his attention from the weapon and looked up.

If only he could take a picture.

In came Makoto, wearing a blue bandanna over her hair, sunglasses, a biker jacket with a red shirt and black biker jeans.

She looked like a the thug from the western cartoons.

Makoto looked at Akira with shock, worry, and fear.

Here in front of her was Akira with a shotgun in his hands.

Akira noticing what she was looking at put the shotgun under the counter.

“It’s a fake”, He said hoping it would put her at ease.

It really didn’t.

“So, how can I help you miss?” He said with his customer smile.

Makoto shook her head and meet his smiling face with her shaky stoic face.

“I’m looking for a gun for my little brother.”

She was prepared. She had a story to help her questioning and kinda hoped he wouldn’t really pry into it said story.

Akira could already see right through her. He decided to play along, just to see the panicking look on her face if she was caught off guard.

“Well what guns is he interested in? Automatics, semi, explosives, syfy, something with a kick or easy to handle?”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit more when she struggled to pick what gun her fake brother wanted.

“Automatic.”

“Well then your in luck because we just received an advanced shipment of the AR-X.”

Akira then proceeded to walk over to were the rifle was displayed, took it out. and walked back up to her.

“This baby looks as realistic as the gun it’s based on and is one of the few things that would make any gun enthusiasts in Japan jump with excitement.”

Akira showed the weapon with pride and began to explain in detail why you would want to buy it.

***Outside***

After staying longer than she should have, Makoto left. After asking questions like; what kind of customers entered the store, how often do people buy guns and if she could talk to the owner for his recommendations or to place a custom order. She realized she was hitting dead ends.

She was a bit disappointed on how things played out and kinda embarrassed that she was forced to buy a fake revolver with the rest of her allowance.

She hoped her sister would not search her once she got home.

***Inside***

After she left and a few minutes went by Akira began to laugh.

The look on her face was priceless when she tried to improvise on the spot.

And she bought a gun at the end of it.

He definetly had to tell Mona about this.

In the back Iwai gave a quiet chuckle.

The kid was a natural.

***Two Days Later***

.”When will she give up.” Mona complained.

“Well she did try to spy on Ryuji’s and Ann’s date yesterday and they said they would owe me one if I could take her this time.”

“How about we tell her that Ryuji’s said she was annoying and then after she could kicks his-”

“Mona what did Ann say.”

“If he hurts her then I can kick his ass.”

“Before that.”

“Be nice.”

They began to discuss their plan as Makoto hid behind a fashion magazine this time.

She was at the other end of the train car to Yongen-Jaya.

She was speculating were he was heading off to. It was either the laundry mat or to go to that clinic. And with a little research it has a reputation of being able to heal almost everything.

She could see him on his phone and smiling. Maybe a message about another change of heart or nothing at all.

She had to know!!

As he exited the passenger car, she quickly followed.

He was going to the clinic.

When he entered she waited by the entrance and waited until she knew he would be in the exam room.

***Inside***

“You do know testing experimental tonics isn’t really helpful to me? Right?”

“I know but I want to waste her time.”

Tae looked at her guinea pig curiously.

“Why would you like to waste her time? It’s not like your doing anything ill- more illegal?”

Akira was stumped. But quickly came up with an answer.

“Well I like a good laugh when see tries to be sneaky.”

“If I didn’t know any better it would sound like you like being followed.”

“You caught me, that’s my kink.”

“Whatever. Just don’t... don’t play too long with her, okay.”

Akira hummed a response as he’s laid on the Patient’s bed in the room, his arms behind his head, eyes closed and a smile on his face. His only wish was to see her face behind the glass window on the door..

Tae looked at the door and saw a silhouette. She reached for another tonic.

“Here, try this one now.”

Akira reached for it and downed the whole thing.

It tasted sweet, like the color pink.

He suddenly felt his body lighten up.

“Subject lasted longer than expected. This is should be a nice prescription for people with insomnia.”

Akira was in bliss. His body felt relaxed and his head felt light.

The last thing he could see was Tae smiling.

On the other side of the door. Makoto was trying to brace herself from barging in demanding to know what she had done to him or from calling the police.

Tae obviously knowing she was being spied on went to check his vitals for the girls sake.

“Looks like the drug can actually help him. Kid has been having trouble sleeping.” She made something up on the spot and made sure to say it loud enough so the girl wouldn’t draw the wrong conclusions.

“Now to see how long it lasts.”

Makoto left the clinic and decided to just wait outside.

Tae saw the silhouette move away.

“(sigh) Teenagers.”

***Much Later***

She was about to go home when he walked out of the clinic and was now walking to Leblanc. It looked like he had a skip in his step and he looked happy.

She saw him enter the cafe and then quickly leave with two thermoses.

He was on the move and he didn’t have his bag. She made sure to follow procedure.

After awhile they were now in a park. He was sitting on a table, just looking at the sky. He would drink out of his thermos every now and again.

Was he waiting for someone? A meeting? A report? Why was he here?

It wasn’t until she saw Takamaki-san enter her view. She had an umbrella in one hand and a flashlight in the other, and was dressed prettier than she was with Ryuji. Was she- NO!! Their was no way!!

She put the umbrella over them and turned on the flashlight, so Makoto could only see their shadows.

“You know this is messed up. Right.” Ann said it more as a statement than a question.

“Ryuji is across the lake with binoculars watching the both of us. And our friend.”

“Still it seems kinda wrong.”

“We aren’t kissing or anything. And this is to make her think she’s wasting her time. I mean do you like it when she spied on your guyes date.”

“True. She did sit in the booth right next to us.”

“So, lets think she’s seeing two friends hang out. With a suggestion to make her mind explode.”

/”I CAN HEAR YOU!!!”

Akira and Ann flinched at the sudden screaming in their ear.

“Ryuji you agreed to this and nothing will happen. You think I would betray my best friend.”

“ I know but- wait I’M your best friend!!”

“You were my first friend since I got here of course your my best friend.”

Ann could do nothing but laugh at the moment her guys were having. The way the shadows looked it made Makoto wonder what were they doing. Are they dating secretly? What is making her giggle? And why dose she feel the need to scream and pull her hair out?

/“Holyt Shit!!Guys I think the last train leaves in a few minutes can we rap this up!!”

“How about we finish the show for her.”

“Lets hope for the best.”

Both Ann and Akira put their faces side by side of each other to make the illusion of them kissing to their known stalker.

Makoto just stayed in he position and covered her mouth to yell at them. She began to shake from rage but was barely controlling herself for the sake of the students who have entrusted her and the school council to help them .

After they were done they got up and began to walk towards the train station. They made sure to go by Makoto’s position.

“Thank you again for helping me with practicing for the audition for that movie Akira.”

“Anytime. I just hope Ryuji doesn't find out. That felt so wrong.”

“Well I am staring in movies from here on out. And if he has a problem with it then I guess he doesn’t have to walk the red carpet with me.”

They both continued their conversation until they reached the station and said their farewells.

Makoto let out a sigh of relief when Takamaki-san said it was for a movie role and that it wasn’t a love scandal.

“Wait why did I do that.” She wondered.

She began to wonder why the thought of Akira with someone else made her react that way.

Either way it was late and she needed to get home otherwise her sister would have her head. Again.

***Leblanc Attic***

“Joker where have you been!!” Mona screamed.

“Just having my fun for tonight.” Akira said happily. Like a kid who just played his favorite video game.

“Well get some sleep. Last thing we need is you falling asleep in class.”

Akira complied and went to his bed. Plotting how to waste her time on her free day.

***Niijima Residence***

Makoto just got home and was thankful that today was one of the late shifts her sister has been having.

Here she was alone and coming out of the roller coaster that was today.

The moment after school he went to a shady doctor to test out a sleeping tonic and then he helps Takamki-san by practicing for a role for a movie? Not to mention she almost blew her cover when they kissed. Which she was still trying to figure out why she cared if he was dating someone.

But It was nothing like yesterday when she saw him holding a gun at the Air Soft Store, granted it was fake, but what would the police have done if they went in and saw THAT!!

She took a deep breath. Tomorrow was another day for her to see if he keeps it up.

He is the only lead she has about the Phantom Thieves and once she has proof of how he and his friends are connected to them, or if they’re not, then she would decide to tell the authorities.

But right now her bed is calling for her. And she needed it.

The last thing that came to her mind before sleep overtook her was when Akira smiled at her in the park.

She didn’t question if he knew she was their or if he knew she was following him all along.

She just didn’t care at the moment.

But apart of her hoped.

She was starting to like the game they were playing.

#persona 5 #persona 5 akira #makoto niijima #morgana #mona #persona au #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #tae takemi #light fluff #akira x makoto #wholesome #makoto x joker

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ryttu3k · 5 years ago

Text

Night Road quote text dump, because I've been deluging a friend with quotes and want a place to keep them all.

We're a bit like that, yeah:

They direct you to a hulking Malkavian named Severian, and the sullen giant directs you in turn to Gibberish Mike.

Fortunately, it turns out that "Gibberish" Mike is just Australian.

Practical concerns:

"That's it!" Elena says, leaning over your shoulder. "That's his yacht. Oh, and this is all about him. Very useful." She snaps a picture of the email with her phone, then the two of you get out of there before the technician returns. You head down the elevator and then back to Elena's Datsun.

You're so pleased by how well that went that that it takes you a few minutes to remember you're in Arizona.

"His yacht?" you finally ask.

Fun with bungalow ownership:

After a day of fitful dreams, you throw on your leather jacket and engineer boots and get ready for another night. You step outside to check your Integra. A neighbor parks next door in her Ford Super Duty and gives you a friendly little wave. You've been practicing this. You're ready.

"Howdy, neighbor."

"Howdy!" she responds before heading inside.

Fucking nailed it. You're one of them.

This is legitimately how I got the Messy Critical achievement:

You grab a hoe.

You rip through the underbrush with savage efficiency, staying a few steps ahead of the pushcart as Julian scans. You work in a trance, chopping and hammering. Only when you hear Julian shouting do you realize that you're holding a busted length of wood.

The head of your hoe is buried in the beautiful round black door of Prince Lettow's Rolls-Royce.

Raúlblocked:

You head to Raúl's place, but he's not there. You find a note hidden above the door that reads, "Problems in Phoenix. (Jesus Christ has returned? Stole a car?) Contact me right away for major jobs and I'll come back. Already missing you." And there's a ProtonMail address with some of the security contact codes you agreed upon earlier.

But it looks like Raúl will be occupied dealing with the Lord and His automotive crimes, and he won't be able to wander around Tucson with you.

Pattermuster doesn't get paid enough:

"Hello? What? Well, the blood can't be 'everywhere.' Surely that's an exagger—okay—okay, fine. Okay. Okay, I'll get—okay. Five minutes. What? No, Sissy Spacek. No, Sissy—you're thinking of Rosemary's Baby. No, Carrie had the prom scene. With all the pig's—yes, it was Sissy Spacek, I'm sure. That much blood? Jesus. Okay, hold—five—okay, five minutes."

Valid question:

Do they teach ax fighting at Quantico?

Julian Meyer:

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"

"That never happened, Julian. You made up our relationship and tried to sell it as a novel until the old Prince of Tucson threatened to execute you." '

"Vampire romance was big at the time," Julian says with a shrug. "And I changed our names. I still don't know why no one wanted to buy it."

Dammit I thought I was done with uni:

"Awful," Dr. Caul says with a little shudder. "But now your real studies can begin."

Your real studies consist of a syllabus (thirty pages) and a trunk full of books (35,000 pages).

"Are you disappointed, Rook?" she says with a little laugh. "Were you expecting something more mystical? A bolt of cosmic enlightenment? A conversation with your Holy Guardian Angel, who would reveal the answers you seek?" She bangs the trunk as technicians get ready to load it into your car. "Get reading."

An enthusiastic boss:

You reunite with Pattermuster down in the morgue, where he's pumping his fists as a thin-blood on a gaming laptop watches with a worried expression because she can't tell if he's incredibly happy or insanely mad.

"Rook!" Pattermuster shouts, his eyes full of Blood, "you did it! You brilliant child, you did it! We're safe. Oh, thank God, we're safe." He pulls you into an embrace, then punches a brick wall because he's so happy, showering all three of you in dust.

I thought that was Finland?:

You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.

"Camp Scheffler?"

"Gone. That Outlander courier had something to do with it."

"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."

Pot, kettle:

"Julian," the Eagle Prince says, "you will locate Reremouse with the equipment Vane brought. Once we find him, we will strike shortly before dawn. I have prepared a stake sufficient to pierce even his old hide."

"That easy, huh?" Julian says.

"No, but—"

"Your plan is ridiculous, convoluted, and dangerous," Julian says.

"And you have a better one?"

"Absolutely," Julian says. "We use Stonehenge to teleport him to Mesopotamia."

The must-have appliance:

He's a black outline in the glow of a single yellow bulb... and then the bats descend.

And then the bats get torn to pieces, because Pattermuster pulls his two katanas out of nothing and turns into an undead Cuisinart for a few seconds.

But aesthetic:

Leave it to a vampire to bring a sword to a gunfight.

It is pretty cool though:

"Oh my God," Julian says. "You're going to use the car engine to fling Prometheus into Reremouse's heart."

"Dammit, Julian, I am not doing this because it's fun. I am scrambling for every advantage I can because we only have one chance to stop Reremouse, and if we fail, the Second Inquisition will descend on us like wolves on a wounded deer."

"It's still cool," Julian mutters.

A e s t h e t i c:

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part?

#JustToreadorThings:

You sleep badly and awaken to an aching and acute Hunger that crowds out other thoughts. But when you approach the Rolls-Royce, you find Lettow and Julian seated on a blanket, evidently in fine spirits. They're holding stainless steel mugs as they watch the last purple streaks fade from the western sky. There's something perfect about the composition before you: the two Kindred in their working clothes with their backs to you, the blue-black clouds, the faraway mesas framing the scene.

"I fear we've lost the Aesthete," Lettow muses. "Luka? Luka!"

It's just good sense:

A lot of keypads use 0911 as an emergency override for police and fire. That doesn't work, but a common default password causes the elevator doors to slide right open.

Change your defaults, people.

They draw the line at 31%:

Not all problems can be solved by putting a brick through a window, but at least 30 percent can.

Descriptive:

That's when your Nissan makes a sound like a bunch of typewriter keys dropped in a blender, and the whole truck lurches to a halt.

Munch munch:

"There are tags attached to all the payroll numbers," you say. "FNMA. PFC. What are they?"

"FNMA?" Antonio says. "That's Fannie Mae. The loan commission. Privatized in 1968. PFC…"

"Pavlodar Fried Chicken," Janet says. "Damn Commies."

Courier what did you do:

When you try to start your Mercedes, it vomits black smoke. That's not good. You kill the engine.

"Pop the hood," Julian says. "I'll get it up and running."

He checks the motor. There's a long pause.

"Did you melt a bunch of cheese in here or something, Vane?"

“I remember crawling out of a Nieuport 20 outside Gibraltar," Prince Lettow says. "The engine looked like that. Of course, ours had been on fire."

"Engine looks like Vane fed a bunch of sardine cans into a paper shredder," Julian says.

Almost!:

So Lettow is cute. I'm going to talk to him and see if he might be interested in a handsome young courier who almost has his own car.

Scientist life:

A beaker of cold coffee on her desk has a pencil in it; she flicks the pencil away and drains the entire beaker, then looks you in the eyes.

Domesticity:

"Wow, Vane," the Banu Haqim says, "did you finally settle down. Where's the wife and kids? Why don't you get me a beer, and we can talk about football and quote some Bible verses at each other?"

I really want to know where the fake werewolf came in:

"...so the whole fucking Cadillac is on fire, and I'm kicking and kicking, trying to get the window to break!" Dove says.

"Right, right, because —" You're trying to follow this story, and it isn't easy.

"Because I'm still handcuffed to the guy who was pretending to be a werewolf, right. And I finally kick through the window, rip half the dead fake werewolf's arm off to get free — I'm out of my fucking mind now, with all the fire — and I finally crawl out of the car."

"And get clear before it — do they blow up?"

"Escalades? I dunno, probably not," Dove says. "But anyway, I'm finally clear, so I run across the parking lot, laughing because I'm just thrilled not to have met final death chained up to that guy. And I barely have time to look up before Lettow comes screaming around the corner in a Ford Bronco with the lights off and runs me over. I was in the wrong Cadillac the whole time."

"No!"

"Two black Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot of the Marriott," Dove says. "How was I supposed to know which one — anyway, that's why I don't get to drive anymore. That's why Lettow wants assholes like you driving."

"Driving what?" you ask. "Because I need a car."

Dove shakes her ugly head. "I'll get you something. Give me a few hours to work on it, and I'll send someone to find you."

Cars are everything:

You still don't know how Julian plans to go from "divert a few funds and data streams from the Camarilla" to "transform the global information panopticon in a way that ends the Masquerade but keeps vampires safe," but he has a nicer car than last time, so he must be doing something right.

Guys please be nice to Raul:

"There appears to be a vampire hunter outside," he says, "investigating your electric vehicle."

"Send your bird to peck his eyes out," Julian says. "I'm not going outside until I find my sneakers."

Cheese?:

Over the next few minutes, you cough up a glorious wad of bullshit involving MKUltra, the Philadelphia Experiment, Star Wars (the movie), Star Wars (the Reagan-era government program), Jackson Pollack's CIA connections, the history of federal cheese, and the secret mastermind behind the seventies gas crunch.

In fairness it's a pretty rare sound:

You're way up in Limberlost, near the mall and the Walmart, when Riga settles on the roof of a Safeway. You reverse into the parking lot in case you need to get out fast and scan the cars at the pumps. It looks quiet. Then you hear a faint ringing.

The sound is musical, hypnotic. It reminds you of your childhood, and for a long time you just sit there in the driver's seat, remembering what it was like to be alive. But what is that sound? What memory from…?

Oh, right.

The pay phone next to the ice merchandiser is ringing.

It's a skill!:

Not every member of Clan Toreador joins their august ranks because of their great beauty or artistic genius. Some people end up vampires because of their extensive knowledge of Adobe After Effects.

Big Pirates of the Caribbean energy:

"I'd kind of like to give Lettow here a horse and a sword and let him tear through an entire police barracks," Julian says. "Tell me that wouldn't be fun."

"One thing I learned from Napoleon," Lettow says, "is that the most powerful cannon is useless if you cannot see your target. We know the location of one small encampment. That isn't enough to start shooting."

"You knew Napoleon?" Julian asks.

"Napoleon was my horse," Lettow says.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm night road #vtmnr #vtmnr spoilers

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littlegiantslight · 4 years ago

Text

Little Giants

After the success from the boys of the volleyball team, it’s time for the girls’ soccer team to take the spotlight and march their way to victory.

Under the command of Aiya Takahashi, this team will go through challenges, adventures, struggles and joy together. After all, the union leads to strength.

Part 1

The class seemed to take more than 4 hours for the young Hana and Yoko. Their impatient bodies wanted to go back outside, mess around the campus and just have some fun until the day was over. But while that didn’t happen, they just kept exchanging little notes to each other with drawings and jokes, that made the two laugh uncontrollably.

Behind them, a very annoyed Chikara Ennoshita watched the two laughing and joking around, not being able to understand a single word from the teacher thanks to them. That made Nishinoya, the talented libero from the volleyball team, pull one of Tachibana’s pig tails and tell her to shut up a little. At first, she was confused, since she knew that Nishinoya wasn’t the kind of student to pay that much attention either, but Yoko pointed towards Ennoshita, who was clearly angry with their behavior, making the small girl understand what was happening.

As soon as class was over, Hana got up from her seat and walked towards Ennoshita, grabbing his uniform tightly enough to make him stop his tracks and look at her. Again, the height difference between her and the boy made her feel slightly uncomfortable. There was no fear, whatsoever. It just felt weird to be like a little kid next to someone that is the same age as her. Not minding that, Hana looked up at Ennoshita, guilt covering her face for distracting him earlier in class.

“Look, Enno, I’m really sorry for my behavior earlier,” she apologized, “I was terribly bored, plus English is the easiest subject we have…” She interrupted herself realizing how dumb that excuse was. “What a dumb excuse! Goodness Tachi, you’re better than this…”

Ennoshita just held her shoulders, almost like trying to hold her from flying away. “It’s okay, Tachi. It’s not a big deal, just please try to control your giggles.” He asked sounding like a true gentleman, calming her down immediately. You know the power Enno holds when he can calm down an excited puppy like Hana. “I really don’t you to get in trouble for not paying attention, that’s all…”

The small girl nodded with a warm smile, letting go of the boy’s uniform and giving a quick bow in appreciation. She offered to have lunch with her, which he gladly accepted as long as he could bring some teammates as well. Hana looked at Yoko who nodded gladfully, enjoying the company from the volleyball team. Even Nishinoya looked way to excited to hear that.

When it came to the first years, Kenta’s sister was far to focused on her notes to even realize the class is dismissed. Her hair would fall softly over her forehead, making her look like she just woke up. Jin would only realize when a fellow classmate would poke her shoulder so she could notice the empty classroom. The girl apologized quietly to him, gathering her stuff carefully and organizing it in her bag.

Outside the classroom, a group of girls were waiting for her. Their looks weren’t so friendly, in fact, they had a threatening glare towards Jin, like they were looking to harm her somehow.

“Look if it isn’t Jin-chan!” The girl in the middle said stopping the young Satoshi in her tracks. “I heard your brother hurt my sister last week when she confessed to him.” She informed Satoshi, like it was her fault that it happened. “Does he have a girlfriend? Is it that ugly soccer girl that hangs out with him?” The same girl kept asking Satoshi stuff she didn’t even have an answer about.

Jin and Kenta were pretty close, but never got in each other’s business unless it was really needed. Right there and then, Jin felt like she needed her brother more than life itself. Her hands were trembling, barely holding her bag anymore. As the girls stepped further towards her, she stepped backwards until her back was finally against the wall. There was nowhere else to run and the three girls in front of her made sure to let her know that.

Right when Jin needed the most, two little guardian angels came to her rescue. Kiko and Kenta noticed the situation and quickened their pace towards the young girl. Kenta didn’t hesitate in holding his sister as soon as he was close enough to her. On the other hand, Kiko, motivated by old memories of the same situation, grabbed the bully’s collar and pulled her close enough to not cause a scene.

“Listen here, you little brat! She has nothing to do what her brother does or doesn’t. Threatening her won’t help at all your sister’s situation. Plus, I can assure you, he’s not interested in me or her or any other girl you see him with, got it, smartass?” Kiko spoke with a clear anger in her voice. Kiko and Jin knew something about Kenta that most people didn’t, including most of his family. “Now, beat it!”

The girls tried to play it off, fixing their uniforms and hair. They strutted away like a group of penguins, like they weren’t embarrassed of that scene.

Kenta was quite worried about his sister’s situation. She was still nervous and trembling a lot, but she felt much safer now that he was there. Kenta fixed her messy hair and wiped a little tear from eye, the one that was earlier threatening to fall down her rosy cheek. Kiko looked at them and patted Kenta’s back softly, stroking the girl’s hair the same way.

“Everything is okay, Satoshi-chan, they are gone, plus,” Kiko told the two of them, “if this ever happens again, I’ll talk to the principle or to Takeda-sensei.” She offered her help, receiving two nods from both of them.

While that, Takahashi was making her way towards old Ukai’s house. Casually whistling and riding her bike to the sound of the tall trees, dancing to the wind. It’s been so long since she was with Ukai Sr. in his home. She was a barely graduated student back then. Despite being younger than Keishin, the two of them would treat other like they were the same age and with the same jokes and with the same bickering. Ukai Sr. always found hilarious when the two of them would break in a fist fight, knowing that Aiya wouldn’t take Ukai Jr.’s insults towards girls and Keishin, in defense of his words, wouldn’t lose to a girl.

As soon as she arrived to his house, she could already hear his kids practicing in the old volleyball court in the old man’s backyard. They sounded so happy. It really brought memories of the old team days. She knocked on the door and waited for someone to open. It did take a while, but eventually one of the little boys came to the door and opened for her. The poor thing almost jumped seeing how tall she was compared to him. Takahashi simply greeted him with a high five, taking his hand and leading him back to the old court.

A volleyball came flying towards the little boy, but fortunately, Aiya caught it on time. She served the ball towards the old man, that turned it into a set and another little boy spiked in the other field, making another point for himself. As usual, the coach’s capabilities were still untouched by the old age. They seemed even better, actually.

“Okay, break time, little guys! Snacks are on the bench…” He spoke to his pupils, before walking to Aiya and greet her with an almost fatherly hug. His hugs always made her feel welcome to his house, like she was actually part of the family. “I hope you didn’t scare little Ishikawa over there…” He chuckled loudly in amusement.

“I think he was just surprised, coach. He looks like a brave boy. They all do…” she smiled towards the little kids sitting in the bench, drinking milk and eating milkbread. “You haven’t lost your talents, coach! I thought your old mind would be quite tired to remember the rules by now, but you’re better than me!” Aiya pointed out as a joke, but Ukai always took that jokes a little to far and smacked the back of her head. She still chuckled softly, rubbing the place of the smack softly.

“You’re still reckless. I like that! So, how have you been? Still coaching those girls?” He asked curious, dribbling the volleyball in a constant and slow pace. Aiya told him all about the new captain and the second years were still as feisty as usual and how excited the new first years were. “Finally a good coaching experience! I can’t say the same about Keishin, those boys aren’t easy to deal with, and you know his patience isn’t the best…”

“Oh, they are pretty good actually! They are getting better everyday according to the news.” She responded to his comment about Keishin’s capabilities. “You can’t be so harsh on him coach,” Takahashi almost asked him, “he really cares about what he does, he believes those knuckleheads more than he believes in himself.”

Ukai Sr. held the ball in his hands and looked at it, like some memory was playing in his head. He trusted his grandson’s skills, of course he did. He knew that that kid was an excellent setter, but sometimes he was too much like the old man and that was the thing he feared. He didn’t want his grandson to give up on everything and then hide away. He wanted him to shine, like he once did.

“Coach,” Aiya called for his attention, “he is an amazing coach, just like you. I promise he won’t let you down. Just have a little faith in him.” She asked him again getting her hair ruffled as a response. She giggled softly just like he did and took the ball from his hand. “Mind if I join? I’m not the best, but I can help. For the old days.”

Ukai couldn’t say no to such proposition from the girl’s side. He reunited the boys on the court again and separated. With him and Aiya would stay one of the boys, forming a team, leaving the other three on the other side for another team. Takahashi served once again and from the other side of the court, a brilliant receive from one of the boys. And just like that the game started. It lasted until the little boys had to go home.

However, Ukai Sr. and Takahashi didn’t seem tired in the slightest. So, they kept going. The ball flying from one side to another.

In the doorway, not far from the court, the younger Ukai stood there, watching those two idiots play together. She didn’t change a thing. Inside, she was still happy to learn a sport she would never really understand but enjoys it with all her heart. The lovestruck smile on his face quickly disappear, realizing how stupid it was to remember those things.

The last spike ended on the old man’s hands. He was breathless, beads of sweat covering his forehead and already feeling the cold of the night on his shoulders. His arms were pinkish from the receives and his hands were burning from all the spikes against the young girl. She was still incredibly energetic. That gave him life somehow. That pipsqueak. It didn’t take long for him to notice Keishin in the doorway, eyeing the two of them, noticing the dumb smile on his face.

Ikkei Ukai offered Takahashi to have a shower first and offered her an old yukata that belonged to his beloved wife from when she was younger. Aiya accepted the offer with a grateful expression, bowing towards the elder with appreciation. As she walked away, the old man smacked his grandson’s arm with the most amused expression the young one has ever seen.

“What’s with the dumb struck smile, huh?” He asked quite loudly, getting a mere huff as an answer from his grandson side. “I know you, Keishin, you’re not like this with women and yet you are for this one. The one that was, and I quote, like a sister…”

“You’re just a delusional old fart. You’re just seeing things.” He said sitting down on the floor in front of the table where he left the food, setting it on the table so they could eat. “She is like a sister to me, an annoying brat, that’s all she is.” That comment didn’t really convince the old man. However, Keishin was pretty certain of what he said. She was just another girl in his life, another one for him to ignore and just move on.

“I may be an old fart,” Ikkei stated, “but I lived enough to know what I see.” He finished with a warm smile towards his kid. He could be terribly wrong because it was hurtful see his own grandson behaving like that. He just wanted to believe otherwise. “She really supports you, you know? The girl that you find annoying thinks you’re an excellent coach, you should feel proud of that statement!”

“Oh, because she’s just like you! She knows how to coach a team like a pro, isn’t it? Well, let me tell you, I’m doing just fine! They trust me and I don’t need anyone else to tell me if I can or cannot coach that group of crackheads…” Keishin spoke loudly, tired of people trying to tell him that he is good when he knows it. Aiya heard him, but only showed up when he was done talking.

She sat by his side, out of respect for Ukai Sr.’s wife, thanking for the food before turning to Keishin. “I actually saw your practices a couple of times…” Takahashi admitted quietly. “The way you handled their differences was incredible. I took that as an example for my own team, Ukai…” Her words came out almost as a whisper when she spoke his name, almost like she was scared of being yelled at.

Yet, young Ukai simply nodded, not being able to form words after seeing her wear his grandmother’s yukata and hearing her use him as an example. Ikkei just ate as those two sat there looking at their food. Deep down, they all knew they were doing or they did their best. There were no regrets.

Back in Tachibana’s place, Hana was trying her best to do her Japanese homework with the help of her own old lady. Hana lived in a small farm since she was one year of age with her father and her grandmother. Her father was in Tokyo for work, so during that time, Hana would help her granny with housework and working on the farm as well. That was something Tachibana always loved to do and never complained when it came to feed the animals or even take care of the cows and goats.

“Lola, can you help me here? I don’t understand what this means exactly…” Hana asked softly, holding her grandma’s arm softly. Despite being almost an adult, Hana still behaves like a little girl around her grandmother. She didn’t have a reason for it, maybe it made her grandma happy and maybe it made herself feel happy. After the help from the older lady, Hana thanked her favor and gave her a quick hug before finishing her homework.

“Your dad is arriving tomorrow, dearie! I hope you finished cleaning your room and studying to greet him properly…” The old lady said with a little mischievous smile on her lips. She knew very well how Hana was. If the things weren’t done on time, she would spend all night fixing it if needed.

And so, it happened.

Yoko on the other hand sat on the top bunk bed reading quietly before falling asleep, while her little sister kept telling her about her day. Nakamura never really paid much attention to what her sister said, but sometimes when the little girl climbed to her bed and hugged her body oh so tightly, Yoko knew something was wrong. The little girl often heard some comments about her skin tone, since her darker skin wasn’t well seen in the school, and Yoko knew how it felt. Those comments were cruel and just so terrible.

“Yoko, why don’t they like me? You always say I look like a princess, but they say I look like a weird monster…” The little girl asked her sister, starting to climb up to the top bunk bed. “They say I’m not normal…” Her voice was shaky, and one could already see tears in her little eyes.

Nakamura didn’t waste a second setting her book down and picking up her sister, sitting her on her lap. The little girl’s sobs just made Yoko worry more about her and held her tighter hoping she would calm down a little. “You know, I also went through that. I know they are mean. But you really are a princess! The strongest one there is. And next year, you’re going to another school, meet a more princesses like you, okay?” The goalkeeper assured her little sister. “You can’t give up though!”

The little girl simply nodded, her head still on her sister’s chest, hugging her tightly. Almost asleep. Yoko placed her softly by her side, covering her with the bedsheets and holding her close to her body. Eventually, their mother walked in and saw the two of them like that, a warm feeling taking over the woman’s body. They were safe together. Her sweet girls.

Back in the Satoshi household, Kenta and Jin were still finishing their homework. He kept looking at her writing and it looked way wigglier than what was normal. She was still nervous. However, not a word was said.

Later that night, when the two were in their rooms, Kenta started sobbing quietly against the pillow. He wishes he could just end that suffering that was destroying him in the inside. And now, it was starting to be a problem for Jin as well, which was the last thing he wanted. The end of that was so close and yet so far.

Jin, on the other end, tried to calm herself before falling asleep. Sometimes she just wanted to be free from that secret as well, just end all the mystery and free both her brother and she from those chains. Not yet though, they needed to be ready for every consequence.

Suddenly, a knock was heard on Jin’s door. Kenta asked permission to walk in and join her. She answered quickly, allowing him to walk in. Her calm expression changed in a blink of an eye, jumping out of bed and rushing towards her brother, holding him into a hug. Kenta just sobbed more and more. She was so understanding towards him.

“This will end soon, okay?” She assured him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You can do this, Kenta, I know you can!” Jin spoke again quietly. Her nerves were now eased and so were his. They sat a little with each other, talking and studying a little longer, until Kenta was sure that the two were alright. He only left the room after kissing his sister’s forehead gently and tucking her in.

“Good night, little sis! Thank you for understanding…” he said, watching her drift away to the land of dreams. He could never thank her enough for what she would go through because of that stupid secret, but he’d make sure she knew how he felt and how he appreciated her help.

It was pretty late at night when Takahashi left old coach Ukai’s house. This time she wasn’t riding the bike back home, she simply took it by her side and walked under the moonlight. The cold wind making her shiver under the old yukata. It was almost like an old movie scene. It’s been too long since she felt that pretty. By her side, Ukai Jr. made her some company since his house wasn’t far from hers. Sometimes she would joke saying that he just slept in the store, but she knew it wasn’t the truth.

“Look, thank you for accepting to visit the old man. I haven’t seen him this energetic in a while…” Ukai spoke quietly, his hands in the jean’s pockets. She said it was more than fine for her. She would gladly visit the old man more often if needed. “Invite him to one of your games, maybe. I bet he’d love to see your work on those girls.”

Takahashi would say that it wasn’t such a bad idea, but the fact that they could lose and would lead to a false judgement from her side terrified her. So, Aiya simply made an excuse.

“Tell you what, when we go to Tokyo from the mid-season championship games, I take him. I’m sure he’d love to see old Nekomata as well…” she chuckled, waiting for Ukai’s jokes to start.

“I can’t imagine anything else but those two old farts complaining at each other as they drink. I can’t believe I’m going to face them next week…” He sighed, clearly scared and even tired to say the least. Takahashi rubbed his back to calm his nerves and assured them that everything would be fine. “Yeah, let’s hope for the best…”

“Keishin, you are an amazing coach, and you have an incredible team. The odds are on your side. This isn’t like when you were a setter, this is new blood. Sure, there’s no Tenma, no Akiteru, but you’re there and the boys are there to support you back.” She said stopping him in his tracks. “I’m not letting you out of all people go down before going to a challenge…”

Ukai took a deep breath exhaling to the sky and nodding towards Aiya, showing his appreciation for her words. She was really still the young manager. The unconditional support wasn’t only for her team, but for everyone that surrounded her. No matter the talent, the experience, the age, the skin color, no matter what. Aiya would be there in the cheer, supporting them.

“Now, wipe that frown out of your dumb face, coach. Think about your break tomorrow. Being in the store, alone, smoking your disgusting cigarettes and just relaxing.” Takahashi reminded him, making him smile a bit as they started walking once again.

Everything would be okay.

#haikyuu #hinata shouyou #ennoshita chikara #asahi #OC #soccer #fanfic #karasuno #haikyuu ukai #coach ukai #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi #kageyama #au #team #tenma udai #tanaka saeko #tsukishima akiteru

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oddsnendsfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 2

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Well this is going over better than I thought it would. For that, I thank you all :)

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header :D

Catch Up Here

“Momma,” The voice stirred through the sea air, rolling in off the Channel like a faint whisper. Nell scrunched her nose, her toes in the cool sand, surrounded by the tiny grains. “Momma.”

This time of year the bay was beautiful, she remembered her first time seeing it, France to the East and England slightly to the North West. It had to be one of the most beautiful places Nell had ever...

“Momma!” The voice raised, accompanied by a violent shaking. “Mum! Mum!”

“Wha---” Nell groaned trying to roll away from the brutal wake up. Ivan could have at least waited until her alarm went off to wake her. “Ivan, stop.” she held her arm over her face, trying to block out the sunlight from the bay window.

“I need a new bag.” Ivan halted the attack on his sleeping mother. His dark curls a mess of bedhead, his blue eyes bright.

“Why? What happened to the one that you have?” Nell tried to find the time. Blindly grabbing for her phone, she gave in to defeat. Her alarm was due in five minutes, though there was no chance in getting those last five minutes of sleep. Her hair in it's own state of bedhead, she sat up and stretched her arms.

“I can't use it.” Ivan shrugged, standing beside her bed with the blue and red bag in his hand. He'd managed to get dressed, at least. Nell grunted, unable to form any more words at the current second. How she wanted to be back on that peaceful and quiet bay. “Momma.”

“What ever is the problem, my dearest boy?” She was awake now.

“I need another bag.” Ivan huffed. How many times did he have to tell his mother this? She was hopeless before he first cup of coffee. “I don't like this one, anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because nobody at school likes Superman any more. It would be so uncool to have it.” Ivan's eyes were wide and his voice serious. Nell chuckled, kids.

“Then go to your cupboard and get your old one, for today.”

“Okay, but we need to get rid of this. I can't be seen wearing this, ever!”

“Tell your father, he's the one who gave it to you.” Nell scratched the back of her head. Ivan dropped the bag and dashed down the hall. It was too early and Nell was too tired to remind him not to tear his room apart looking for something else.

Finally, the Superman drama causing book bag was replaced with one from the previous year. Nell assumed that since Superman was out, it would be cooler for her son to roll up to his class toting an old Peppa Pig bag. She would never understand kids and their crazes.

Breakfast. Check. Thanks to the blueberry muffins made by Bridie.

Lunches. Check. Shepherd's Pie, apple slices, a granola bar, and orange juice box for both of them.

Work bag. Gym bag. Keys. Coffee. Ivan.

And Nell was out the door.

Mornings like this were hectic to say the least, but they were Nell's favourite. Going into work later was always a bonus, though the real treat was getting to spend the early morning with Ivan. Nobody else there to interrupt them or tell them what or how to do things. It was the best part of the week, aside from Sunday, when Nell had the full day off and they indulged themselves in a late breakfast and an afternoon full of never leaving the couch.

At work Alex hadn't intended to wait for Nell, his schedule had been pushed back, which meant he had a little more time to hang out in the studio. It wasn't as if he had planned to be lingering when she walked into the department.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Alex greeted her before she could register what was going on.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Nell gave him a curt nod. “Rayna, can you help me unload those costumes we packed yesterday? I think there are one or two that need to be restitched.”

“Finished, sweets.” Rayna replied with a knowing smile and a wink.

The young actor had been following Nell around for too long, it was about time he got his due. At the very least, Rayna could help him get in a proper conversation with her colleague. It was less than a minute to her break, handing Alex a box of pins, Rayna instructed him to wait for Nell.

Settling into work, Nell ditched her bags and grabbed the folder she needed to begin mapping out the next round of costumes. Damn Rayna. Nell heard her tell Alex that she was leaving. Smooth on her friend's part. Taking her sweet time, Nell moved at a glacial pace. Small talk and nosy people were two things she wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Nell?” Alex poked his head around the door. “Ray said...”

“I heard.”

“Oh. Do you need any help?” He leaned against the door frame, his smile doing the best to charm the designer. His hair twisted into a bun, waiting for his hair and make up call, to transform him into whatever version of Ivar that they wished to create today.

“No thanks.” Nell shook her head. “You don't have to stand here, you know. I'm sure you have better things to do.”

Resting against the door, as if holding it upright, Alex's nose crinkled. “I am waiting for the call, I really don't have anything else to do.”

“Huh.”

On a typical day Alex would be nowhere to be found, while waiting for a set call. Like the other actors sleeping, reading, or generally goofing off was how he tended to spend his time. As of late he was choosing to spend more and more time in the costume department.

He watched Nell move around, gathering this piece or that, piling them up on a table at the end of the room. Whether she was conscious of it or not, her hips swayed to the music in her head, while she began to work. Her full attention set on the task at hand, she did an excellent job at ignoring Alex.

The drawings on the paper before her had Nell's full attention, it was one of the bigger pieces, taking weeks to create and it still had fine details to be finished. It would be worn in the second half of the season, the actress it had been made for would look even better than Nell had imagined when this piece had begun. Her nimble fingers worked over a piece of costume, checking the stitching inch by inch. Alex had never sat and watched all the detail going into the clothing he wore day after day, while in character.

Such effort and care.

Nell could feel the steel blue eyes following her around the room.

He was tenacious, to say the least. There weren't many men his age who would stand that quiet and patiently. As awkward as Nell should find this, having Alex watching her felt familiar in a way. His presence reminded her of another time in her life, when another young actor had worked this hard to gain her attention.

This time she was going to be smart. Humor Alex with some chatting, rewarding him with a smile, and nothing more. No longer was Nell going to swayed by gorgeous blue eyes and a flashy smile.

Alex was never quiet this long, strangely Nell liked him this way. His chatter was too much sometimes, despite him meaning well by it. She knew that he assumed she hated him. Yes, he annoyed her, never intentionally. What annoyed her was what he reminded her of, not him directly.

Shifting to prevent his leg from going to sleep, Alex stayed quiet and watched. He'd never noticed that Nell moved with absolute grace or that she had a small tattoo behind her left ear. At that he began to feel a tiny bit creepy.

“I may go get a drink, would you like anything? Coffee?”

“Uh,” Nell glanced up, catching Alex's eye. He was rather cute, standing there in half in his costume, looking like a lost puppy. “Scotch?” Nell's laugh was easy.

“I don't have any of that here, otherwise I would gladly share.” Alex winked. He liked her laugh. Was it too bold to tell her that?

“Unfortunate for us.” Nell joked. “Since there is no scotch, I'll take a coffee. Please. Black one sugar.”

Mock saluting, Alex grinned widely. “One coffee, black, one sugar on the way.”

Hearing that Alex and Nell had some easy interaction would surely please Rayna all while fueling her imagination.

She had told Nell more than once to enjoy the attention. He was young, handsome, generous, and could still be taught a thing or two where it would count. Each time, Nell would laugh trying to escape the conversation. Alex would soon move on, the second he found someone else to fawn over. He was young and handsome, women his age would eat that up in a second.

A handsome, sweet nature, generous actor was a recipe for disaster. Nell learned that first hand and would not, under any circumstances, go back there. She had been down that path and while it had left her with Ivan, she wasn't up for a second round.

“Coffee.” Alex held out the cup. “And!” he held out a package of chocolate chip cookies, tearing open the top he offered the first choice of the two cookies to Nell. “I grabbed these right before Marco, lucky score.”

“Well now I feel bad, poor Marco. What is he going to do?” Nell bit into the cookie.

Snickering, Alex shrugged. His friend would get over it.

“Don't you hate days like this?” Nell wondered out loud. “The slow days where nothing is happening, I hate waiting.”

“It's not my favourite, it's part of the job I guess.” Alex replied sipping his coffee and taking a bite of his cookie. “I'm not patient.”

“Neither am I,” Nell admitted. “Though being a mom has helped that.”

Alex swallowed his cookie and took another sip of coffee. After yesterday, he didn't want to step on any toes by discussing Nell's son.

“I don't...I don't know if I could do that.” Alex gently moved the conversation along. “Parenting must be a tough job. I can barely look after myself, it's why Marco lives with me.”

“I felt that way, at first. Especially after...”

“Right,” Alex wiped the crumbs of the cookie off of him. Sheepishly grinning at Nell. “I have to go find out what is going on for my shoot. If you're around later, how about we get together for another coffee?”

Saving her from going down a road that seemed rather personal for work, Alex crinkled the cookie package in his hand.

“Hmm,” Nell wrinkled her nose. “Not going to happen, sorry. Ivan will be here after school and I am off early.”

“Maybe tomorrow? Or Monday?” Alex was wishful that she would take his offer. He felt as though Nell had chatted with him to be polite or because she was bored, whatever he would take this as a personal win. If he had balls, he'd ask her for coffee over their days off.

“We'll see.” Nell smiled softly, her eyes creasing gently in the corner. She had stunning eyes.

“Until then, enjoy your shitty coffee. And good luck with all this work.” Alex waved backing out of the door.

He had accomplished a nearly impossible task today and it left him feeling invincible.

Lost in her work, time began to slip away. Deep in her element, Nell hadn't bothered to look at a clock since Alex had left. She knew it would soon be time for Ivan to come, a excitement began to bubble. Her son loved hanging out at work with his mother, his mood would change the older her got. Until then, Nell would take full advantage of the time he wanted to spend around his mother. Even if he did it because of how cool it was to see people battling one another with swords?

“Nell, visitor.” One of the ladies who worked as a various runner knocked on the door. Nell's head jerked up, a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Nell dropped everything she was doing to meet Bridie and collect Ivan. Thanking their nanny and waving her off, the duo headed back inside. The afternoon warmth was welcomed on the other hand, the air conditioning was nicer.

“How was school?” Nell ruffled Ivan's hair and hugged him to her side.

“Long.” Ivan rolled his eyes, leaning into his mother. “Can I play with your phone?”

“Slow down, wild boy.” Nell eased. “You can, but if there is any school work it has to be done first. Go on, I will clear a space for you.”

“No school work.” Ivan beamed proudly. “I got a gold star today and don't have any.”

“Such a smart boy.” Nell held open the door for her son to pass through. “Give me a second, I will get you a spot to hang out and play games.”

“Okay.”

Ivan's quest for a game to play was sidetracked, when he stepped inside to find the familiar man hanging out, waiting like every one else seemed to be today. Bouncing the rest of the way across the room, Ivan greeted his friend. Calling to his mother. “Mum, I don't need to play a game right now.”

“Ivan!” Jordan cheered, his laugh coming in a growl. “How've ya been, buddy?”

Jordan and his girlfriend lived in the townhouse across the courtyard from Nell and Ivan. Having met Jordan at work with his mother; Ivan would sometimes join the actor in games of basketball on the small court behind their complex. On Saturdays, providing there was nothing else going on, Jordan would invite Nell and Ivan over to watch whatever football match was on. Jordan and Ivan would sit in front of the tv yelling and cheering, while Nell and Sophie ignored the chaos and spent time gossiping about this and that.

“Good, I guess. Ms. Inglewood has been giving a lot of homework.” The seven year old groaned, flopping down on the chair next to the actor. “Mountains of it!” His eyes were wide. “But not today.”

“Ah, all part of the school game, little man.” Jordan clasped a hand over the boy's small shoulder. “Tell me what you've been learning about.”

Nell snickered, pulling a rack of pants from the large cupboard behind the chairs, Ivan had been complaining for the last two weeks about this very subject. Jordan had opened a can of worms.

“Vikings.” Ivan replied in discontent.

“Well, look at that!” Jordan's enthusiasm was about to be squashed. He nudged the boy in the arm, smiling. “You must be at the top of the class, then?”

“No.” Ivan mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Ms. Inglewood has it all wrong and when I tell her that, she gets mad at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She knows nothing about Vikings! It's all big and hairy men, wearing hats with horns, and how they were big bullies.” Ivan huffed, turning in his seat, he grasped the armrest, leaning over into Jordan's face. “She's crazy and not a very good teacher!”

“Hmm,” Jordan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Do you tell her that she's wrong, often?”

“Every day!” Ivan nodded firmly. He'd sat back a few inches, giving Jordan room to turn and face him.

“Maybe that's why she's always mad?”

“But she's wrong!” Ivan argued. “Wrongggg, Jordan, wrong!”

“So, the next time she is wrong, try being nice. Rise your hand and politely explain how what she is saying, isn't true.” Jordan offered the solution.

“Ugh.” Ivan sat back on his chair. “She won't listen to me, but...” He smirked. “She might listen to an adult.”

Nell listened to the conversation, no matter what Jordan said Ivan would try his best to get his own way. The little boy had a charming smile and those dazzling blue eyes, it was difficult for adults to deny him. A charm his father had as well. If he grew up to be like his father, the world was going to need some help handling them both.

“Buddy, I'm not sure that I'm the right guy to talk to your class. I don't now much about Vikings, I just pretend to be one.” Jordan shrugged, standing to finish putting on his costume. He had spent enough time with the boy to know how to deflect that charm. “Why don't you see if your mum can't help you find someone else?”

“But you're my best friend. And adult girls like you.” Ivan continued to argue. The various people in the room getting a chuckle, as the little boy tried his best to convince the actor. “Please.”

“Okay, Ivan, enough.” Nell cut in, running her hand through his hair. “Jordan has to get to work. We can discuss this later, let him go.”

“Mummm.” Ivan whined, ducking away from her. “I need someone to talk to Ms. Inglewood. Otherwise, she's going to produce a bunch of morons.”

“Ivan! Language!” Nell scolded her son. “Lets give this a rest, why don't you go see what they're doing in make up? I'll be right over with the rest of today's costumes.”

“Fine.” Ivan grumbled, sliding out of the chair. “But someone needs to talk to this woman. Where's Mr. Peter? He knows a lot about Vikings right?”

“Go and leave him alone, too!”

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