#it’s a miracle I finished any drawing at all

[iniini]

I redrew a thing then drew a bit more only a little bit though

[uncsukuna]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[signoferoda]

THAT 4AM CRY - HS

Summary: Harry’s daughter has a set routine when it comes to her night time feed

That 4am newborn cry is like clockwork, it happened every night for the past two weeks. It was amusing actually as Harry blinked his sleep away, the glow of the alarm clock making him chuckle, exactly on the dot.

Novies weak cries echoed through the room, not appreciating having to wait for her milk. Y/n adjusts beneath the covers, drawing Harry’s attention, she snuggled into the pillow, her mouth hung open. He could see the exhaustion even as she slept and it had him springing from the mattress, padding over to the bassinet that stood adjacent to their king bed.

“it’s alright lovie” Harry cooes, scooping Novie into his arms and cradling her to his chest making sure to support her head with his palm. He was a pro at it now; having had 3 babies already, he aced the dad hold. No longer scared about his touch being too strong.

“Daddy’s here” Harry’s voice was soft and gentle as he looked over his shoulder to y/n, making sure she’s still asleep. She was so Harry quickly left the room, gently closing the door with his foot as he headed downstairs and away from his sleeping wife and 3 sons. He couldn’t risk waking any of them up, he could handle a late night/early morning feed.

“Now don’t be mad at daddy, but you’ll have to take a bottle alright?” He spoke as he padded down the stairs softly, being extra careful with his steps. “I know you prefer it from the real thing but mummy deserves a little break don’t you think?” Listening to her fathers gentle voice, Novies cries softened and eventually came to an end. She cooed up at her dad, absolutely melting her old man’s heart. Harry couldn’t stop himself from pressing a gentle kiss to his baby girls forehead. He smiled, walking into the kitchen and flicking the lights on before heading to the fridge to grab the pre-pumped milk and popping it into the microwave.

Once it was done, he checked that the milk wasn’t too hot before walking to the lounge and plopping down onto the couch. He slowly fed the nipple into Novies mouth but she rejected it, crying a little making Harry sigh.

“Come on little love, I promise it’s mummy’s milk” he tried again but Novies chubby little hands tried her best to push the bottle away. “Novie bear, listen to daddy. Drink this and then you can have the boob in the morning. Deal? I really don’t want to have to wake up mummy hun, she’s real tired” his thumb circled her cheek, “come on lovie, drink up for me?”

By some miracle she did and Harry swore his baby was a genius who could already understand every word he spoke.

It took a while for Novie to finish drinking, but once she was done Harry was kick to burp her before he headed back upstairs. Novie passed out in his arms, her pouty lips smacking together in satisfaction. He kisses her chubby cheeks before placing her back in her bassinet and climbing into bed.

Although he was being quiet, he underestimated the beds movement as he climbed in and cringed into his pillow when he sees y/n stir, then open her eyes. Harry watches as she jolts up, looking over at the baby.

“I didn’t feed her” she whisper shouts, as she looked at the beaming red light of their alarm clock, it was nearly 5am.

He had to hold back a laugh at the way her boobs were spilling out of her tank top and the way her hair was all over the place, "I fed her love."

Y/ns eyes widen as she fixes her tank top, "she took a bottle?”

"Like a champ”

"You could’ve woken me up. I know she can get fussy”

“It’s all handled mama” Harry whispered, pulling y/n down towards him. He lays a soft kiss to her head. “Go back to sleep” it would take more convincing normally but y/n was beyond exhausted so it was all she needed to settle back down and cuddle into her husband.

[celestie0]

𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 [𝟣𝟪 +]

𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾

ᰔ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝖿)

ᰔ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒. 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗆𝗂 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌.

ᰔ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌/𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌. 𝟣𝟪+, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗌𝗌-𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂

ᰔ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝟫𝟦𝟤 (𝗅𝗂𝗅 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾)

𝖺/𝗇. 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂.

you and toji hardly have any moment to yourselves these days. by the time you’re finished cleaning up after dinner and toji’s done feeding megumi his dino chicken nuggets before eventually getting him to sleep, you’re both exhausted and can barely make it through the bedtime routine before falling limp onto your shared bed. it had been maybe longer than a week since you’ve both had any sort of intimacy, but tonight it seemed like the two of you had a little bit of energy to spare.

“mmmph…” you moan, hand gripping at the fabric of toji’s shirt. you were on top of him, lazily laying with your cheek pressed to his clothed chest, as he’s thrusting his hips up and fucking you agonizingly slowly with his strong hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass. he had your panties pulled to the side and silk nightgown bunched up over your hips. “love it…love it, toji…” you’re drawling, head tucked into the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top.

you feel his chest rumble with a noise. “yeah? really missed…fucking your tight little cunt, baby,” he’s groaning, giving you a firm pinch to the side of your hip that makes you gasp. you’re practically drooling on his chest, causing a damp spot on his shirt that’s soaking through to his skin. “wish i could just use you like this all day long. my little fuck doll.”

“mm you can...you can use me like this all day long,” you’re mumbling the permission, moving your hips to get some speed on toji’s thrusts but he draws his hand back and gives you a harsh slap to your ass.

“calm down. and i can’t, since you’re always so fuckin’ busy with megumi during the day,” he grumbles as he lifts your hips up so he’s almost entirely out of you, save for the tip, and then slowly pushes you back down onto him again. you’re almost crying.

“toji…cum in me. cum in me please,” you’re begging, grasping at his shirt until it’s wrinkled and ruined, trying to wiggle your hips free of his harsh grasp so you can bounce on him but he won’t budge.

“anytime i’m in you, it’s always ‘cum in me cum in me’ right away. when'd you get so impatient?” he starts to shallowly pump into you. “let me just fuck you for a damn minute,” he’s groaning, “needy little whore.”

you gasp, lifting your head up to look at him with narrowed eyes, and slap at his chest. “don’t call me that.” you hated when he called you a whore. slut was fine, but whore made your skin crawl.

his chest rumbles with a deep chuckle. “but isn’t that what you are? look at yourself, droolin’ all over me like a puppy. i’m hardly doing anything.”

you moan when he wraps his arms around your waist and starts to fuck upwards more decisively. “god, toji…d-doesn’t matter, mhh, i'm not a...whore.” you fall limp on top of him again, shamelessly doing no work at all in pursuit of your own pleasure as he lazily fucks you with no urgency.

“whatever you say, sweet thing,” he says and presses a kiss to the crown of your head when he hears you whimper. 

“t-toji…” you’re moaning, “will you give me another baby?” 

he lets out a confused huh? in-between his grunting and groaning as he pumps into you faster. “the fuck do you mean, ‘another baby’? the fact i’m fuckin’ you right now is a god given miracle considering that brat’s somehow sleeping through the night so far.” he slows down his pace again, making you squirm in his hold. “and yet you wanna have another one?”

you nod and look up at him from his chest. he looks down at you, his face strained from the pleasure but there’s a softness in his eyes. “mm…yea, i want more babies, toji.” you look at him with a helpless pout as you reach a hand up to cup his face. “put a baby in me. please?”

he’s groaning and you feel him twitch inside of you, his head falling back onto the pillow as his arms that were wrapped around your waist hold you to him even closer and he starts fucking up into you relentlessly. you cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your moans and vaguely register the profanities falling from his mouth until he’s shaking underneath you and his thrusts turn sloppy when you feel his warm cum spilling into you. you gasp from each harsh jut of his hips, and then he’s coming down from the high and breathing heavily. your upper body rises with his chest from every deep breath he takes as you lay on him.

“fuck…” he says it like he’s surprised. “don’t ever beg for me to put a baby in you ever again, unless you’re looking to raise a damn village. i don’t have that kind of self control.”

you smile up at him and give him a kiss on his chin, noticing his stubble. “flip me over please, hafta keep your cum in me for a bit.”

“shhh” he’s hissing at you, his mind going insane at the thought, then flipping you over and pulling out of you. and then there’s a quiet & gentle knock at the door. you both widen your eyes at each other before toji’s hiding you underneath the sheets and pulling his pajama pants up just in time for when the door cracks open, megumi’s little arm stretched up to reach the door handle as he stands at the entrance with his stuffed animal clutched in his other arm.

“daddy, i frew up.”

-------

𝖺/𝗇. 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽! 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗅.

[azirafeast]

I am SO EXCITED for the 4th Annual #Azirafeast, The Feast Day of the Angel Aziraphale, an inclusive fandom event! It’s celebrated November 19th and is a made-up holiday that brings the community together, regardless of how a person participates in fandom.

On November 19th, everyone is welcome to celebrate the Feast Day of Aziraphale by drinking cocoa and wine, eating good food, reading, being stylish on their own terms, enjoying the company of friends and embracing the spirit of Aziraphale! Please share your pics on socials with #Azirafeast!

Creators are encouraged to show Aziraphale indulging in what makes him happy or why you love him (canon or fanon!) Create “Lore” for why Aziraphale has a feast day! What miracles throughout history has he performed? Creations can be dramatic, serious, sexy or silly!

All forms of creation are welcome: Draw, write, sing, act, sew, bake, cosplay or anything else! However YOU want to appreciate our favorite angel. All variations, versions and representations of Aziraphale are welcome on the feast of Aziraphale.

Anything tagged #Azirafeast or I will reblog, the same for Instagram and Twitter. I’ve had a permanent highlight on my Instagram for the last 3 years, and maintained this tumblr. Check out what others have made for previous years!

There is also an AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Azirafeast

Anything added to it I will promote on my socials for #azirafeast.

I know I don’t have the biggest following, but the idea is that on the feast of Aziraphale even fans who don’t have a large social media presence will still be seen, still have their experiences noticed, and will feel part of a community that cares.

Folk can get stressed about creating by a “due date.” I encourage folk to post early if they want, and to keep posting after Nov 19 if they miss the day or don’t finish in time. Aziraphale procrastinated on preventing the apocalypse, you’re just embracing that energy!

And remember, you don’t have to “make” anything to participate. Eating cake and lying to your boss is a great way to celebrate! Confuse some customers, watch a nature documentary, get drunk, be kind to someone (Muriel) who is new but trying their best!

Just make sure to tag your contributions with either #azirafeast so we can celebrate with you! Please feel welcome to take my words and reshare anyway that you like, and make your own posts to generate awareness! Please do share in any fandom communities you’re a part of, or feel free to try to convince people IRL this is totally a real holiday.

I do not run, own, control or anything of the sort in regards to #azirafeast. The idea came from Cliopadra and a private discord server, and the brilliant folk there picked the date and ran with it. I encourage folk to participate because I think it’s a lovely idea! It is NOT “mine.”

[bluebeary-jay]

Reason

(Joel Miller x Reader)

Summary: things go wrong when you try to cross a small city. joel almost gets himself killed and you finally confront him about why he never seems to trust you with anything

Tags: angst and fluff, probably a little ooc, a bit of humor, love confession

Warnings: mentions of violence and wounds (but nothing very graphic), age gap, swearing

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: this is my first fic ever published so i'm kinda nervous but i couldn't stop thinking about this guy. english is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. hope you enjoy <3

Joel was acting like nothing was wrong.

Which wasn't exactly anything new, really. Ever since you knew the man, he always had this rough exterior, that ‘do not fuck with me’ aura around him, and was never, ever, one for showing emotions.

Back in the QZ, when he and Tess sometimes let you hang along with them to get a job done or sneak into the restricted territory, you saw how he burst, pent-up and concealed emotions spilling out of him at long last when something went horribly wrong. He had never aimed his yells at you, though, even when it was clearly your fault that someone noticed you or you fucked up your part of the job.

Just like today. You weren't exactly to blame this time – something heavy fell over around the corner of the building you were sneaking by, and the thug looking for you three spotted you as you were ducking behind a car. Shit like that often happened when you had to work in the ruins of the old world.

Then you got separated from Ellie and Joel when the gang shot at you. All of you saw before that the street was blocked and you were practically surrounded. You barked at the pair to get out of here and that you’ll join them later, and ran in the direction of the ravaged stores, hoping to find a way around the blockade.

You remembered bullets firing at you and missing your head by centimeters. You remembered shooting and killing some of the guys chasing you, then screaming when you bumped into one of them and they grabbed you. The kicks to your stomach, the struggle, some nasty comments made by the thugs before you managed to stab one of them through the cheek. You remembered faces contorted in fury and a man lifting a gun to your head.

In that brief moment, you were glad it was you who was about to die. Better you than–

The man who was about to shoot you dropped his pistol after a loud bang pierced the air and he fell to the ground, dead. Others were soon to follow, too slow in drawing their own guns. It was Joel, of course, all bloodied and livid, blasting a head after head of the guys who were trying to hurt you. You were pinned face down to the floor and couldn’t do anything but watch as he fought them with only his knife and bare hands, as the corridor he was in was too narrow to make use of the gun without it catching on a wall or his clothes. You struggled and tried to break free, unable to bear the sight of the men’s blood mixing with his own from the growing number of cuts on his skin.

The thug holding you down apparently decided to finish you off, but didn’t have a chance before Joel tackled him to the ground, receiving another long gash below his ribs. For one terrifying moment you were sure he was stabbed in the chest and your whole world stopped. But the grunts and curses coming from the spot where Joel was knocked down on the ground quickly told you that he was fine.

You saved Joel just in time, driving a sharp shard of metal into his attacker's neck. After that the older man quickly looked you over, asking if you were hurt, and when you told him no, he grabbed your arm and led you to where Ellie was waiting.

All of you managed to get out and it didn’t seem like the gang was following you anymore. Excluding a couple of cuts and scrapes you all were fine and alive, which had to be a goddamn miracle.

That didn’t mean you weren’t absolutely furious.

Joel knew it and you suspected that’s why he was so insistent about walking in total silence, sending you and Ellie angry glares every time either of you opened your mouth. You were shooting daggers at his back as he walked in the front and even Ellie had to sense the tense atmosphere, for she was unusually quiet.

You knew Joel Miller was a protector at heart. That, among other things, was what made you care for him more than anyone else in your life, more than you’d care for a companion or even a friend. His caring, gentle nature hidden from the world under the rough exterior was what ultimately made you fall for him.

But no matter how attractive and admirable you found him, it drove you up the fucking wall that he never listened to you, never let you do anything even slightly risky or dangerous, like he always expected you to mess up. He didn’t even want you to sneak outside the QZ with him and Tess, and it was the other woman who finally convinced him.

You hated the thought that he might see you as a daughter, or worse - a burden. But the age gap between you two seemed bigger and bigger every time he did something like that, going after you because he didn’t trust you to get the job done.

And you hated it.

Only when the place you’ll spend the night in was picked and Joel took off his backpack with a wince of pain, you marched over to him and shoved his chest in frustration. Even though he was tired and hurt, he still towered over you and was much heavier, which made taking your anger out on him extremely difficult.

“The hell you're doing?” he asked incredulously, looking almost surprised at the fury painting your face.

“Don’t you ever think about doing something like that again, Joel!” you yelled at him, knowing you’re too far for any unwanted ears to hear you screaming. “I fucking told you to take Ellie and run! Why the hell did you come back?!”

“You’d prefer me to leave you behind and let those bastards do whatever sick things they wanted to do? A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Okay, now you were seething. You clenched your jaw and pushed him again, feeling honestly so fed up with his bullshit.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?! You almost fucking died, not to mention you put Ellie in danger, too!”

“Hey, I was safe!” Ellie chimed in, straightening from the place she was sitting in on her sleeping bag. “And there wasn’t actually–”

“Ellie,” Joel cut her short harshly, making it clear it’s not the time for her usual sarcasm. She rolled her eyes and muttered something about grumpy old men, turning their back to them.

You huffed and turned around, going deeper into the woods. Joel said your name but when you didn’t react he went after you with long strides, grabbing your arm and halting you.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?”

“You know damn well what’s going on!” You yanked your arm out of his grasp. “I told you to go and you didn’t listen, like always, and probably had to hack your way through the whole group of these idiots just to almost get yourself killed because of me!”

“Did you really expect me to leave you behind?” he asked with his voice raised.

“Yes! At that moment it wasn’t about me, I was thinking about Ellie and you! She’s way more important than I am! You’re more important!”

“Don’t you dare say somethin–”

“Do you think I’d be able to take Ellie across the country without getting any of us killed?!” You threw your hand to the side, huffing with anger. “I don’t have your skills and experience. You’re the only one able to handle it on your own, so if any of us is to die, it will be me, no questions asked.”

“Like hell it’ll be you!” He was seething now, too, and he came up to you in two long, angry strides, stopping just before he could stomp on your shoes. Suddenly you two were so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “I am not fucking letting you get yourself killed! Not now and not ever.”

“Can’t you just think logically for a second?!” you shouted in his face, tears of rage and helplessness gathering in your eyes. “I’m a goddamn burden to you both! Yes, it was me who alerted them of our presence and I understand that’s probably why you never trusted me…” Actually saying those words out loud was more painful than you anticipated and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “It’s just, I can’t fight like you can, I’m not as valuable as Ellie, I…”

You had to press your lips together not to sob accidentally. Although you knew you had to make your point across, you still didn’t want Joel to see how weak you actually are.

“But I’m not fucking useless, understand?” you said sternly, looking him dead in the eyes. “I am gonna help you both go as far as possible, but if we’re ever in that kind of situation again, you’re leaving me behind and I’m buying you and Ellie as much time as I can.”

His expression hardened and he started to shake his head, but you beat him to it.

“I know you never wanted me to go on any missions with you, but just once let me be useful, alright? Even if all I can do is buy you a couple of precious minutes.”

“By letting yourself die.”

He said it with such finality and disbelief, all your anger got swept off and replaced by weariness. You sighed heavily and leaned against a tree.

“Yes, Joel. I know you’d rather not lose anyone else, but if I have a chance to help those I care about…” You realized you said too much and shook your head. “I don’t understand why it is such a big deal for you.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His warm brown eyes were on you and for the first time ever you wished he'd look away. You turned your head and sighed again.

God, you were so very tired.

“I’m going to look for some firewood. You go check if the place is safe, alright?”

“No, listen–”

“Just this once, Joel,” you cut him off, not turning around. The tears that have gathered in your eyes before were threatening to spill down your cheeks and you weren’t going to show him how much this situation has pained you. “Just this once, drop it. Please.”

This time he didn’t stop you when you wandered further away from the camp and you truthfully didn’t know if it was better or worse.

*****

The rest of the evening went by mostly in silence. Ellie tried to lighten up the mood by reading some bad jokes from her book and though Joel was his usual grumpy self, it actually helped you a little. The girl seemed pretty proud of herself about making you crack a smile, but her efforts to bring Joel into the conversation came to naught. The smile disappeared from your face every time your eyes met and he looked away.

He almost didn’t say a word throughout your meal and preparing for bed, only muttering something under his breath when Ellie told you both goodnight. You were so tired that you managed to fall asleep almost immediately despite the worry and sadness gnawing at you when your thoughts drifted to the man laying on the opposite side of the fire.

When you opened your eyes again, the dawn was only just breaking. The air was cold and crisp, and you groaned, shivering and pulling your coat tighter around yourself, only to realize something else was draped over your form.

You rubbed your eyes and noticed the familiar green jacket covering your torso. Its owner was a couple of feet away, sitting with his back to you on a big log. The rifle lay next to him, propped up against the fallen tree. Your shoulders slumped at the sight of him and you remembered your argument from last night. You almost laid back down, but ignoring his act of kindness felt wrong, so with a quiet sigh you stood up, making your way to where he was sitting.

Joel glanced to the side when you approached and his gaze was instantly drawn to his jacket you wrapped around yourself.

“You were shivering,” he muttered, apparently knowing what you were about to ask. He said it as if giving you his jacket was the most sensible thing to do in a situation like that.

Was that an attempt to say he’s sorry for how he reacted earlier? You decided not to question his intentions too much and instead sat down next to him, nailing your eyes on the patch of recently disturbed ground.

“Thanks,” you replied under your breath, still not looking at the man. “But you didn’t have to. You’re probably cold now.”

“M’not.”

Liar. Stubborn as always.

None of you said anything else for a long time. You contemplated whether you should just go back to your sleeping bag and leave his jacket on the log, or stay and try to defuse the tension between you two. Somehow neither of these options appealed to you but it was so difficult to just sit here in silence and–

“I’ve been thinkin' about what you said,” Joel spoke up suddenly and very quietly, which interrupted your dwelling. “And I couldn’t stop remembering how damn sure you sounded when you said I don’t trust you.”

A wave of uneasiness washed over you and you wrapped his jacket tighter around yourself. “It’s okay that you don’t,” you said slowly, not really sure what he was getting at. “I mean, I’m not sure if even I would trust my–”

“That’s the thing,” he interrupted you with an irritated sigh and turned his head to look at you with his brows furrowed. “I do trust you. I just have no clue how…” Another sigh. “How I could’ve fucked up so badly that you’d think that.”

You blinked several times, not sure if you weren’t still dreaming after all. It kind of felt like a dream when he was sitting so close to you, his jacket around your shoulders and a rising sun painting his hair in a golden light.

“But you never let me do anything important or dangerous on my own,” you contradicted quietly, which caused Joel to drop his head loosely and close his eyes. “You’re always against taking me with you anywhere, and–”

“That’s because you’re important to me!” he cut you off, evidently louder than he intended, because he immediately glanced at you and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just hard for me to understand how… how did…”

Joel seemed at a loss for words and you longed to touch him, to take the burden of carrying the conversation from his shoulders and ease the weariness on his face, but you weren't really sure what he intended to say. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it almost sounded like…

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he said softly at last and you could pinpoint the exact moment you stopped breathing. Joel’s eyes were closed and he was propping his forehead on his hand, and he looked so… sad. “That’s why I never wanted you to take any risk, because if something happened to you and I weren’t there to protect you…”

He swallowed heavily, inhaled, then straightened up and looked over at you. The look he gave you was so tender and open, it was almost difficult to focus on his words.

“I care about you, too,” he whispered, and you remembered what slipped out of your mouth when you were arguing earlier. “A lot. Much more than I should, but I can’t… I can’t help it.” He turned to look forward, his eyes narrowing from the sunlight creeping from between the trees, and he looked so beautiful in that moment, you wished you had a camera on hand.

“Joel,” you breathed, but he shook his head.

“I didn’t want to make shit weird between… us.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “So don’t feel pressured into sayin’ anything. Just don’t expect me to idly stand by while you’re risking your life because–”

“Joel,” you repeated, louder this time, which finally made him shut up.

“What?”

You didn’t really know what you were going to say. You just wanted him to stop talking because he was only torturing himself with this ramble and you couldn’t bear it.

Very slowly, and very gently, you took Joel’s hand in your own and moved it over to your lap. Ignoring his eyes on you, you traced the length of his calloused fingers and brushed the center of the palm where a cut from a couple of days ago was still healing. Your heart was beating so damn loud in your ears, you wouldn’t hear if a parade of clickers just walked past you both, but with all your might you tried to keep your breathing steady and your face from going beet red.

He said you were important to him. That he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He didn’t see you as a burden as you feared, so maybe… maybe he didn’t view you as a kid, as well.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you laced your fingers together and brought them to your lips, leaving a small kiss on his bloodied knuckles. Joel tensed in a split second and you weren't sure if he was still breathing, but you didn’t look at him in fear that his expression may take away the remnants of your temporary courage.

“If I misread you, this is gonna be painfully awkward,” you mumbled in a feeble attempt to defuse the tension in the air, so thick it was almost choking you. “But I’m still grateful you told me all thi–”

His other hand – the same hand he was ready to kill and protect with, with which he was ready to tear his way through the mass of enemies just to save you – lifted itself to your face and cupped your cheek. Joel was looking at you with wonder, the fingers you cradled in your own twitching slightly as if he was holding back from tightening his hold. His eyes seemed like they were made out of liquid gold in the light of the morning sun and he looked at you with such adoration that you once again humored the thought that it was just all some cruel, vivid dream.

But no, it couldn’t have been. Not when Joel’s skin was so cold against your burning face and not when his eyes flickered to your lips…

It was you who leaned in first, but once your lips touched, Joel took the reins, untangling his fingers from yours to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer.

You expected him to be rough and confident, just like he was during a fight, to take what he wanted and devour you – at least that’s how you always imagined kissing him would be like. What you didn’t expect, however, was a trembling sigh that escaped him when you two parted for a moment to take a breath and a gentle touch of his fingertips along your jaw. His hold on your body was by turns firmer and more loose, like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he let himself use too much strength.

You, on the other hand, had no reservations in taking his face in your hands firmly and parting your lips, encouraging him to go on. It seemed to work at first, because Joel pulled you in even closer, letting you crawl onto his lap, but then he stopped abruptly and moved you gently away, still keeping his hands on both sides of your face.

“Darlin’, I need to know if you’re sure about this, because I won’t be able to…”

You pressed your lips to his again, this time much slower and more delicate, in an attempt to silence him. Joel finally relaxed when you cupped his face and planted a kiss on his brow, always so furrowed in concern and worry.

“Joel, I wanted you to kiss me for the whole time I knew you. I really, really care about your bullheaded skull.” You looked down at him with a playful smile, to which he chuckled. “Though you’re shit at sending signals. I was sure you hated me.”

“Well, you are hard to deal with sometimes,” he mused in a teasing tone and you jabbed him in the stomach before he managed to grab your wrist. “But I… I'm sorry that I made you feel this way. Like you didn’t matter to me.”

You furrowed your brows at the uncharacteristic vulnerability and sadness in his voice and your worry must’ve etched itself in your eyes because when Joel looked at you, he turned away and closed his eyes immediately.

“Listen, you know now you matter to me more than anyone else in this cursed world. I don’t want to ever be as worried sick about you like I was yesterday,” he whispered. You brushed some hair off his face and the creases on his forehead softened a little. “And I don’t ever want you to think you’re not important. You’re… fuck, you’re the goddamn reason I’m doing all this. You're my reason, you hear me?”

You just nodded with a wide smile that threatened to split your face in half.

“I understand,” you answered, just as quietly. “You’re also the reason I’m doing all of this for.”

This time it was unclear who initiated the kiss. Nevertheless, you ended up held tightly in his arms, marveling at his touch on your skin and the feeling of his chapped lips on yours, and there wasn’t any other place you wished to be in.

It lasted just a couple of seconds though, because you were interrupted by the sound of fake barfing and gurgles of disgust coming from the direction of your camp.

“Gross!” yelled Ellie loudly, but she had a shit-eating grin on her face when she squinted at Joel holding you in his lap. “Don’t suck faces when there are children present!”

“Shut up!” Joel yelled back, but without any bite in his tone. A soft smile played on his lips when he looked back at you. “She’ll be insufferable now,” he murmured and you snorted at how done he sounded. He mirrored your expression and held your hand to his face to kiss your fingers tenderly, which made Ellie gag even louder.

“If you start making out in front of me, I won’t hesitate to throw a fucking sandwich at you!”

“She won’t,” muttered Joel, not even turning to the teen before he leaned in and kissed you slowly again.

You smiled into the kiss, barely noticing stale pieces of bread flying over Joel’s shoulder.

[suggs444]

Bad For Buisness, Part 2: William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader.

Synopsis: Bad for buisness part two. You get bored of William’s lack of appreciation and attention toward you. You get reckless. William doesn’t like that.

TW: swearing, sexual tension, f1ngering, degrading.

authors note: loved writing this! some of william’s dialogue is from a Tarantino movie. it fitted the scene and i think it fits his character too. <33 anyways pls enjoy, i’m open for any feedback & requests !

Gif by brotherdusk

…

Being William’s coworker had it’s perks when it mattered. The secret of your sexual benefits between one another only made the job bearable. More exciting. Needless to say it was becoming more than just the intimacy, for you anyway. You thought about him more than you should. You wonder if he felt the same.

He’s a closed man. Sharp and abrupt. A man who is straight to the point and knows what he wants. Takes what he wants. Nothing goes by in the office without William’s say so. You liked that. You weren’t just fucking some guy. You were fucking the boss. Your boss. You had wondered whether he was just using you for his benefit but you quickly realised that you didn’t care. Anything from William is everything. You learnt to enjoy the scraps of attention. But god, you wanted more.

..

Your head was buried in your desk. Papers and folders relentlessly invading your space. A mess. You huff.

A tsk draws your attention upward.

It’s William. Standing over you on the other side of your desk. He’s holding a steamy mug of coffee. Probably black, no sugars. Just how he liked it.

“You know, they say the tidiness of your work space reflects your mental state.” He drawls, his tone more nasal than ever. Cockier than usual too. He always enjoys demeaning people, even you. And frankly? You like it.

But today?

You’re not in the mood.

You glare at him. This is the first time he’s spoken to you properly in days. And that is what he has to say? A prod. A tease. Such pointless information. You grind your teeth to bite back anything harsh.

Any ounce of humor slips from William’s expression as he sees you’re not reciprocating the same energy he is. You weren’t responding. Only glaring.

“Thank you for that, sir. I feel so enlightened, sir.” You bite, your tone sharp and stern. Almost as if you spoke the words through bared teeth. Irritation always gets the better of you. This felt like injustice. You’re always so good for him. Making him coffee, tending to his needs - keeping his secrets. And this is what you get?

“Though if that’s true then it’s a fucking miracle how your desk stays so tidy,” You spit, and then pause to take a breath.

“-sir.” You finish, offering a false smile.

William, shocked, stares.

His silence slowly worry’s you. You can almost feel yourself sinking from the instant guilt. He sees it plastered all over your expression. He only locks his jaw, peering sternly as he leans over your desk to you.

Dread consumes you. Regret. You gulp.

He leans right over your desk. His face inches from your own.

“My office.” Is all he says.

“Now.”

Shit.

..

You lead the way, entering his office first. He closes the door behind you as he steps in.

“Sir, I-”

“Plant yourself on that desk.” He interrupts, pointing at his desk. His expression is cold. His tone isn’t any better.

You look behind you at his desk. It was tidy. You look back at him just as fast in protest,

“Mister Afton-”

“I said plant yourself. Plants don’t talk.”

You pull a face of regret as you back up, not wanting to make him ask again. Wearily hoisting yourself up to sit on the desk. You press your legs together, tight.

He stands there for a moment. A hand on his hip and the other bringing his cup to his lips to take a gulp of hot coffee. The drink steams up his glasses for a second. You bite down hard on your lip to prevent a smile.

He notices and sighs, putting his mug down and taking off his glasses.

“Tell me, y/n,” He begins, pausing for a second as he takes his purple tie, using it to wipe the steam from his glasses.

“-why you think it’s appropriate to talk to your superior like that?”

He puts his glasses back on, scrunching his nose to push them up properly.

You gaze at him.

He cocks his head to the side, impatient and expecting. You don’t reply soon enough.

He walks up to you. His large hands falling onto your knees as he pries them apart. He settles between your legs, palms gliding up to rest on your thighs.

“Answer me when I talk to you.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“What’re you sorry for?”

“Not answering-”

“Wrong.” He cuts in.

“I’ll ask again. What’re you sorry for?”

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. The anticipation is killing you. Your core throbbing. You try to close your legs. He tightens his grip on your thighs in response. One of his hands gliding further up your thigh. You tremble.

“I’m sorry for speaking to you the way i did.” You manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

He hums pitifully, “I can’t hear you, y/n. Speak the fuck up.” His palm abruptly occupies the warmth between your legs. You jolt. He sneers.

You grind into his palm, “I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did!” You say again, louder this time.

His fingers press against your clothed folds, collecting the wetness that seeped there. You mewl, he grins.

“Yeah,” He mutters, “Is that what this is? Huh? You’re just needy?”

Your head falls slack, dazed from the overwhelming lust. You press your forehead against his shoulder. His lips ghost your ear.

You feel his stubble scratch and prick your skin. You shiver, wincing but leaning into him. Intoxicated. His fingers push aside your panties, delving into your wet folds. A squelch noise welcomes him. He groans.

“What a fucking mess.” He grits, using his spare hand to twist into your hair and yank your head back. He wants to see that pretty face.

He pushes a finger into your seeping hole. Then another, twisting them in unison as they sink into you, curling and pumping.

“There. How’s that feel, huh? Was it worth it?”

You’re in heaven. Moaning so blissfully. The pleasure so intense that you can barely compose yourself. He grimaces and pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty. The lack of makes you whine, clutching him. He brings his fingers to your mouth, pressing their way in.

“Clean them.”

You oblige, eager. Sucking them so hard as you taste yourself. He’s glaring at you, his teeth slightly bared.

“You’re gonna earn my attention, y/n. Got it?”

He tightens the grip in your hair and he moves your head up and down so it looks like you’re nodding yes. You’re mouth to busy accommodating his fingers to reply. You hum instead.

“First step,” He says, pulling his fingers from your mouth and hoisting you off his desk and onto your feet.

You look up at him.

“Clean your fucking desk:”

..

[phantomspiderr]

Happy Birthday, Marc

Pairing: Marc Spector x afab!reader & Steven Grant x afab!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: You think birthdays are something important, a chance to celebrate your favourite person, to give them anything they want and make them feel good. And maybe Marc will look forward to his birthday from now on.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ smut bby, unprotected p in v, fingering, a little manhandling, it's fluffy i'm ngl, use of the nicknames baby & sweetheart

a/n: besties i'm ngl i'm exhausted and i've probabaly missed things in order just to post this cause I started writing it like a week ago and just got the urge to finish it. So i'm sorry if i'm missing tags and stuff, let me know if there's things missing. But I hope you like it anyways, love you, appreciate you and now i'm going to sleep

“Marc,” it comes out in a breathy whisper and your lips are pressed back to his skin before you’re even finished drawing out his name. For once, by some miracle, you’d woken up before your boyfriend so it was only right to wake him in the best way you know how. It was also just coincidentally his birthday and you think today should be all about him and things that make him feel good.

Continuing at your slow pace, you place kisses on his cheek, moving down to his jaw and then his neck. If he was awake he’d call you a tease, especially with the way you’re straddling his waist, and definitely for your choice of clothing—or lack thereof. You’d maybe went online and bought yourself a cute, new underwear set and maybe you’d planned to buy it the week before Marc’s birthday. Now, you just have to hope it will be Marc fronting when he wakes, not that you’d complain if it was Steven or Jake. 

You call his name again, hoping that will somehow unconsciously pull him to front as you gently tug on the neckline of his tshirt so you can press kisses to his collarbone. Your hands move delicately against his skin too, lightly brushing over his arms or holding his face and they sneak under the hem of his shirt to feel the relaxed muscles there.

“Baby.” This time his body stirs a little, a deep, quiet groan escaping him. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you sit back to admire him. He looks so pretty like this, hair all tousled against the pillow and face completely relaxed, the frown lines that seem like a permanent feature faded with sleep. 

Your hands are still resting under his shirt against his stomach, slowly creeping higher before coming back down. His body begins to wriggle every time your featherlight touch runs across his sides and a giggle bubbles in your throat when he half-heartedly swats your hands away. Mercifully you stop your hand's cruel pursuit and go back to pressing tender kisses to his neck. You quietly call out for Marc again between kisses and this time he shifts more, the quiet groans turning more into little whines. The sounds only spur you on more, holding his chin in your hand so you can switch sides. Your ministrations continue until you feel his hands anchor themselves on your hips. He’s pushing you down more into his lap, the contact forcing a whimper out of you. 

You keep his face delicately held in your hand and go back to kissing his cheek. His hands start moving up your sides, shivers running up your spine at the movement. 

“Well this is some way to wake up,” his voice is groggy and any other time you’d smile and egg him on to talk more until the rough tone faded but it’s not the voice you’d hoped for. You physically deflate, your head briefly sinking into the pillow over his shoulder before you sit up again. Fighting the urge to quietly moan when you accidentally grind against him. 

“What’s wrong, love?” The sweet British accent you’d normally swoon for only causes your pout to grow. Upon your withdrawal from him, Steven’s eyes had shot open, the creases between his eyebrows harsh again. 

“I was hoping for Marc,” you sound like a spoilt child. You know that’s not how it works, you can’t just request who you want at that moment. And anyway, you love all of the boys equally so it shouldn't matter. Never do you want one of them to feel inferior to the others but the quiet oh that leaves Steven has you panicked you’ve done just that. “No! I didn’t mean I don’t want you, Steven! I want you, trust me. It’s just… it’s silly. I wanted to do something for Marc because it’s his birthday.” Your voice dies out before you even finish. You’re looking everywhere but into his eyes and suddenly you wish you had more clothes on to cover up. 

“Oh love,” Steven props himself up on his elbows, fingertips just grazing your knees. “You know how Marc feels about his birthday.”

The more seconds that pass the more silly you feel for trying to do anything. 

“I know.” It comes out meekly, your eyes fixed on your hands that pick at the threads of Steven’s old shirt. 

“Hey,” suddenly Steven sits up, his hands soothingly cupping your cheeks and your gaze moves straight to his face, “if this is what you do for Marc’s birthday, well then I can’t wait for mine.”

Your face cracks, the sad exterior fading the longer you look at Steven's cheery features. The man seems to have a way of always making things better. 

“You know,” his eyes flicker to your lips only for a moment, “just because Marc’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stop.” Steven's rare boldness always surprises you, “it’d be a shame to waste all of this.” He leans back just a little so he can rake his eyes over your body, his hands moving down to your waist and pressing you impossibly closer. It causes you both to let out a satisfying sigh.

“You do have a point…” you let your own eyes trail down his body as your hands slowly pull up the hem of his shirt, exposing more of him. You quickly grow impatient with your own actions, tugging his shirt up and instinctively Steven raises his arms so you can pull it off. You’re both moving in the second his shirt is off, lips crashing against one another in a hasty, messy kiss. You’re sinking further into his hold as his hands grip onto you for dear life. It’s completely impulsive when you grind yourself down in his lap. It clearly takes Steven by surprise because his head falls back and a low grunt escapes him. You do it again, this time placing a kiss on his jaw and he holds you down, one of his arms wrapped securely around you. He’s back to looking at you and already he’s wrecked, panting, and disheveled. Still, even in his tight grip you manage to roll your hips, the friction feels so good and you crave more of it. 

“Right, as pretty as this is, take it off now.” He snaps the elastic of your underwear causing you to squeal and jerk in his lap again. It’s ungracious and desperate the way you climb out of his lap and tug your underwear down your legs. It seems Steven’s just as desperate as he awkwardly pulls off the sweatpants he’d slept in until he’s completely naked.

Steven looks into your eyes with pure adoration, his hands touching your thighs delicately as you settle back in his lap. You sit back on his thighs and Steven’s hands curl around to rub your back. He even blushes and has to look away when you hold his face and smile at him, a glimpse at the sweet Steven you’re used to. His head rests on your collarbone and automatically your hand slips around into his hair, gently combing through the wild curls. The soft moment has you relaxing in his hold so much so your body flinches when Steven’s hand unexpectedly grazes the inside of your thigh. Then he has you gasping in seconds, his fingers running through your soaked folds. His movements have your body rising, almost like it’s trying to get away from his touch. The hand in his hair tightens, especially as he begins to circle your clit, and your other hand grips his shoulder so much your fingers ache. The stimulation is enough to have you breathily moaning already then he’s raising his head to look at you with that dopey grin before he pushes two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. There’s a welcome sting before your senses are steeped in pleasure. Steven’s fingers build a pace slowly, his thumb now brushing against your clit each time he sinks into you. 

Steven looks at you like you’re the pyramids like you’re some unexplained wonder in the world that very few people get to experience. The eye contact becomes too intense that you have to close your eyes and your head instinctively rolls back. You allow the pleasure to consume you, your hips now grinding against his hand and whimpers of his name filling the room. You’re so lost in the growing feeling of your climax creeping closer that you don’t hear him speak, let alone hear the change in accent or the way his grips got a little tighter. It’s only when you feel a sharp bite to the top of one of your breasts that your head snaps back down with a yelp. 

“Look at me.” That thick Chicago accent is prominent in your ears now. “Keep your eyes right here, sweetheart,” and he smirks when you dumbly nod your head. 

“Marc.” You’re panting now as he moves a little faster and rougher than Steven had. It’s his turn to be impatient, he’s trying desperately to use speed and more force to pull your orgasm out of you quicker. It takes a second for your body to adjust to the change but then you’re crying out for him, begging him to keep going. Your hand's can't stay still, they keep moving to touch him anywhere; his shoulders, his back, his neck, and then they finally rest on his face. Your fingers dig into his cheek and his jaw and you keep your eyes on him like you were told. 

“That’s it,” he hits the perfect spot that has you squeezing around his fingers, “just a little more baby.” Marc keeps his speed steady now, using his arm that's wrapped around you to assist in grinding your hips. Your head’s spinning now, your heart thudding in your chest and you can’t think straight. Now, you’re kissing him or at least trying to between cries of pleasure. Marc chuckles as you gasp and clutch onto his shoulders when he ceases movement of his fingers. He continues to rock your hips and instead moves his thumb faster against your clit. Your forehead is pressed against his, your eyes are screwed shut and you’re climbing higher until you’re plummeting off the edge. 

“Couldn’t miss this,” Marc’s taking advantage of your hazy state, nuzzling himself into your neck, “gods I can’t wait baby. I need you now.”

Your mind is still somewhere in the clouds, not really comprehending what he’s saying but you’re nodding. You trust him enough to let him do anything to you.

Marc’s moving eagerly, his soaked fingers slip out of you which causes a whimper to escape you. You’re pretty much a dead weight, your body feeling too heavy to move but that doesn’t stop Marc. He moves you like you weigh nothing and you let him manhandle you, flipping you over onto your back so he can be on top. 

“I love you so much, baby.” You’re smiling up at him when he says it, head still all floaty. He looks so ethereal like this, his eyes focused on his hand that’s now stroking himself. His toned chest heaving quicker now. “So lucky to have you,” his free hand pushes one of your thighs down, exposing you more to him. Normally you’d hate being this exposed, you’d want to cover up and hide yourself away but Marc looks at you like you’re it. You’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed like he would physically wither away without you.

It’s different from the way Steven looks at you, everything about Steven is gentle and soft but Marc’s more meticulous and complex. Marc’s gazes say more than he thinks he can articulate, his eyes always full of love whenever he looks at you. Only in truly intimate moments like this does he let his guard down enough to be able to share all those feelings that swim around in his head. 

“Need you, baby.” Your eyes fall shut when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, quiet whimpers flowing past your lips as he slowly pushes himself in. Your hands loosely cling to the sheets and unconsciously you’re bearing down your hips toward him, unexpectedly forcing him deeper. Marc’s hand slams down on the mattress next to you, a curse sharply coming out of him. You open your droopy eyes to see he’s closer now, leaning over you completely with his furrowed brow and tense features. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, Marc seems to have this power to make you feel fuzzy no matter what. 

“Hey,” you’re blinking up at him the second you hear his voice, “look at me.” 

It’s not a command like the last time he said it, no, it’s more like a plea. He wants you to look at him like he’s the only person to ever exist, or that he’s the best person to exist and you do. You look at him as if it’s the last time you could lay your eyes on him, soaking up every detail and trying to portray all of the love you feel for him. 

Your hand moves up to hold his face again, the other finding purchase on his side. You raise your head just enough so you can kiss him, it’s only brief but a smile creeps across his face. Marc lowers himself to rest on his elbow so he can kiss you again, over and over while he slowly starts to rock his hips. The gentle pecks quickly turn fervent as his thrusts pick up their pace. He’s not going too fast but it’s consistent and deliberate. His free hand lovingly rubs the outside of your thigh that’s crept up to encase his hips.

You can feel the familiar tightening warmth already blooming again. The hand that was cupping his face moves into his hair. The messy curls slip through your fingers as you pull him impossibly closer. 

“I-I need-ah-I love-“ you can’t even form a coherent sentence. You want to tell him that you need him, that you love him, that he is truly all you’ll ever want. You’d planned all these things you wanted to say to him, how exactly you wanted to pour out all the good things he makes you feel. You wanted to make him feel loved, to maybe replace some of those bad memories he holds with new happy ones. You were supposed to be the one making him feel good and here you are an intelligible mess because of how well he’s treating you. 

“I know-I know, baby.” He’s breathing so hard, panting from exertion. The hand that’s resting on your thigh holds on a little firmer, a sign he’s found a rhythm that works for him. Marc kisses you again, it’s surprisingly tender for the situation you’re currently in. It is however cut off quickly when he lets up the prettiest sound. His forehead thuds against your shoulder, a mixture of moans and grunts freely falling past his lips. It drives you insane in the best way possible, you think maybe you could get off on that sound alone. 

“Hey-hey, look at me. Look at me.” You’re almost whispering, practically sounding like you’re begging. You tap your fingers against his head to grab his attention more. He’s a sight to be seen when he lifts his head, half-lidded eyes and lips parted and heaving in air. Loose curls flopped against his forehead and the crease between his eyebrows is so prominent now. You don’t care about anything other than the way he looks right now. You don’t care how many times you get to see him like this, you want to memorise every single time. 

Marc stutters on his words, his mind clearly just as muddled as yours. You can tell his body is tiring despite his hips moving faster as he chases his climax. Your body feels frozen pressed against his, you can only cling onto him. You squeak out his name as the hand on your thigh tightens, almost certain there’ll be fingerprints imprinted there for the rest of the week. 

Suddenly, he’s mumbling out the sweet nicknames he calls you, his face screwing up even as he fights to keep his eyes on you. Then it’s sweeping him under, his energy spikes and he thrusts a little harder. His orgasm washes over him completely, you catch his eyes slightly rolling back as they close before his head falls back against your shoulder again. His hips keep moving as he cums, slowing the longer he goes until he just stops moving completely. Your hand moves out of his hair to soothingly rub his back as he comes down from his high. You can feel his breath panting against your collarbone, his chest heaving still. You turn your head so you can press a kiss into his hair, whispering words of love into the dark curls. 

“I’m sorry.” Your face instantly scrunches when you hear the apology, waiting to hear the reason why. “I couldn’t miss this. I needed you so bad.” You laugh once before pausing and doing it again until you’re full-on giggling. Marc lifts his head with that same furrow of his brows for a different reason this time. “What?”

“This was for you,” his eyebrow cocks up a bit at that. His eyes just briefly glancing down at your chest, still covered in the nice-looking lingerie. Your hand slips back to hold his cheek again, your thumb rubbing back and forth lovingly as you look up at him. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. I know it’s silly and we don’t-“

“Oh we’re doing this every year now,” Marc’s smirking at you now and the insecurity is flushed out of you, “however you’re gonna have to make it up to Steven.”

“Me?!” 

“Poor guy’s a mess, you can’t just leave him in that state sweetheart.” He laughs when you begin protesting that it’s not your fault. Marc’s chuckles die out as he looks down at you smiling up at him. Your heart thumps in your chest still when he looks at you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together they all still have a way of making you feel giddy with just one look. You push up unexpectedly to kiss him briefly, your head falling back against the pillows so you can look at him again. 

“Happy birthday, Marc.”

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Time & the Trickster" A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 5: Boston

You hit another dead end when you arrive in Massachusetts. While Joey hunts for a way to get you over the ocean, you face the most frightening prospect yet: sharing a bed with Loki...alone.

CHAPTER WARNING: "oh look, only one bed" trope

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter MASTERLIST

Regent’s Park, London, England June 12 11:52pm GMT

Hopeless. It was certainly hopeless. 

Of course, it was hopeless that time the Daleks tried to take over the Earth via a slew of deadly reality shows.

It was also hopeless when Rose was lost to the alternate reality forever.

Not to mention, the feeling of existential dread that had happened when The Master aged him near to death, and he had to rely on Martha Jones alone to travel around the world on foot to be saved. 

Usually, The Doctor did well with hopelessness. However, without the TARDIS showing any signs of life, things were quickly going from ‘hopeless’ to ‘finished.’ 

And The Doctor did NOT do well with ‘finished.’

Even his screwdriver had no power here. People thought he was a man in costume waving a toy around. In order to avoid the eye of the police, he learned quickly that he;’d have to get out of this one “the human way,” which basically meant sitting around and waiting for a miracle. 

He felt as if he were in mourning, his TARDIS in her final resting place in this forsaken reality, where even the most bloodthirsty extraterrestrials had all seemed to ignore Sol 3. Would he be trapped here? Forced to live for thousands of years more in a fixed timeline, nowhere to explore? No one to rescue? 

Nearing midnight, he sat on the ground, his back up against the TARDIS, looking up into the starless night, wondering if miracles were possible in what had to be the Timeline at the End of the Universe itself. 

Suddenly, the TARDIS breathed once more, just once. A pulse of dim green glow radiated from the door’s windows, causing The Doctor to immediately spring to his feet.

“Oh, please come back…what cowboys have we got going on here?” He circled the box once, twice, three times, until the green light dimmed again to where it was nearly imperceptible, aside to the Time Lord’s own hyper-keen eye. 

“Clom’s blue soil, what is going on?” he mouthed. “What are you trying to tell me? That’s something’s coming?”

Perhaps, something was drawing closer, and it was giving the TARDIS itself hope…

Boston, Massachusetts June 12 6:52pm EST

You managed, by the grace of Fate, to procure a somewhat-comfortable hotel room for $80 a night. With careful calculation, you figured that you could spend a week in Boston if you found a cheap grocery store and walked everywhere. That would give you some time to track down all of Joey’s friends in the city to find a way out of it. 

While the room was clean and cozy, it was sparsely furnished, with a television set that looked too old for the Cleaver Family in the corner. Everything came in tones of puke-green and piss-yellow. A highly-stylized divider separated the doorway from the rest of the room, designed to look like a set of wrought-iron loops.

“Well, I’m taking the couch,” said Joey, bouncing his ass up and down on the mattress of the only queen-sized bed in the room. “These spring-mattresses really do a number on my back!”

Your jaw dropped. “You slept on a second hand sofa before today, jackass!” Loki was in the bathroom, so you were able to speak freely to your brother, at least for a few moments. 

“So?” Joey said with a wink. “I thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed anyways.” 

 “But where will he sleep?” you pointed furiously to the bathroom door. 

“The bed!” 

Your heart may as well have fallen into your stomach. “Joey, fuck that! You’re crossing a line!”

“But you’re getting along with him so well,” he said in a mocking singsong voice only a bratty younger brother could produce. “I thought maybe you’d--”

Joey dove over the bed when you instantly grabbed the nearest pillow to chick angrily at his face. “--you don't think he’d have something to say about it??” 

“Say about what?” Loki asked, suddenly appearing in the open doorway, his green shirt pulled sloppily over his torso and clinging to his wet chest. His legs were bare aside from the white towel wrapped around his hips. Your skin went hot, and it was all you could do to keep the beads of nervous sweat from forming on your face. 

“I can’t sleep on that, Lokes,” Joey stepped in before you could tell him yourself. “You and Y/N are sharing the bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

“Alright,” Loki said instantly, looking at you with a quick, agreeable smile. “As long as you’re also agreeable, of course.”

Was it possible to leave one’s body without outright dying? It was as if you ejected your own soul, and you were nothing left but a cold, nervous shall while your spirit flew around the room, whooping excitedly. 

What to say? How to respond? 

“...yeah.” 

The evening was spent sharing boxes of cheap takeout and discussing how to go about procuring transport.

“We can’t fly,” said Joey just before slurping back a noodle with no consideration for manners. “He doesn’t have papers, and good luck getting him any.”

“So we illegally cross international borders?!” you nearly screamed. “And an ocean?”

“What other choice do we have? Not like the two of us are staying, anyway.” He put the messy takeout box on the desk beside him. “I think I can see if Paulie can’t get someone to get us across on a boat.”

“A boat!” you moaned, tossing your head back with an exaggerated groan. 

“What’s wrong with a boat?” asked Loki, raising an eyebrow. 

“Getting to England on a boat could take weeks!” you answered, “Easily, in fact!” 

His right leg began bouncing up and down impatiently, triggered by the suggestion. “And we cannot simply stow away on an airplane? Or perhaps I could use my resemblance one last time to secure--”

“--no,” you finally put your foot down. You looked him sternly in the eye and leaned over, taking his hand in both of yours, gripping them tightly enough to demonstrate that you meant business. “Loki, we’re risking enough as it is flaunting you around trains and pawn shops. You cannot do that anymore. It’s too dangerous.” 

“As it so happens,” said Joey, “I might already know a guy, if he’s the one Paulie knows.” 

Rolling your eyes, you groaned. “Bullshit.” 

“He has a 50-foot yacht with international flags. I bet if I go out to see him and Paulie tomorrow, he can give us a fair price for a one-way passage for him, and two round-trips for us.” 

Loki looked at you with concern. “If it’s the only way--” he cut himself off and looked about the room, as if looking for a sign. You got the feeling he was looking for more evidence of his timelines entangling with one another, as he theorized. 

You bit your lip. “I still think we should all try and get menial jobs and find a way to…ugh…falsify his papers.”

Normally, the mere idea of breaking the law beyond smoking a bowl of weed with Joey before bed made you nervous enough to induce a stroke. That said, if it would get Loki to where he needed to be quickly enough, perhaps it would be the lesser of two evils in the end. 

Joey sighed. “Sis, I may be prone so the occasional petty rule breaking--”

“--Joey, the district attorney knows how many nose hairs you have--”

“--but even I don't know where to get phony passports, sorry,” he shrugged and exaggerated a stupid expression. 

You weren’t sure how to feel about how nervous Loki looked. He was supposed to be able to come up with a solution on the fly. He was a trickster! The brain! What did they DO to him at this TVA? He appeared to be on the absolute edge of fear at that moment. Usually, he was an expert at concealing his doubts.

“Loki?” you asked meekly. “How are you feeling?”

He pressed his lips together in a face you weren’t sure how to interpret.  “Better to take our time and do this right, I suppose.” 

You wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but your shyness was in control at present, perhaps to protect yourself from things going too far. Instead you made a comment. “I hate seeing you so afraid.” 

He sucked in a breath. “I am not the being those films showed you.”

“I know.” 

“Never in my millennia have I been on the same level as humans,” he went on. “Even the energy within me feels…well, less.”

“Hey, now wait a second there, Lokes,” Joey spoke up, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest, “Just because you can’t bibbity-boppity-boo your way out of this mess doesn’t mean it’s cool to talk about us like that!”

You couldn’t help but agree with your brother. Loki’s assertion that being mortal was somehow an inferior existence humiliated you, but it also angered you. “I can’t spark away my problems like you, but who spent her last hundred bucks freeing your godly ass from a holding cell? Who, against all her better judgment, chose to take a chance on you in the first place?” 

Offended, you got up and decided that you needed to get out and take a walk somewhere, anywhere, just to cool off enough to keep face in front of Loki. You grabbed your card key from the coffee table and swiftly went out onto the porch of the motel, overlooking the nearly-empty parking lot. 

The sun was still high above the artificial horizon formed by the distant skyscrapers and billboards. Two young men were getting out of a classic Chevy Impala, carrying backpacks and looking particularly tired as they bickered back and forth. The only other movement at all was from the occasional car driving by the place. This must’ve been the only sparsely-populated part of Boston. 

You heard a door open behind you, and you scrunch your nose in embarrassment, expecting Loki to ask how he offended you. 

“Seems he’s not the only drama queen around here, Sis.”

You couldn’t help but smile, relieved and thankful you had a brother who gave enough of a shit to make sure you didn’t bolt into Boston traffic (not that you were planning to). 

“I don't think he meant anything jerky by it,” Joey continued, leaning over the railing next to you, looking out as the two men with the Impala checked into a room on the first floor. “He’s literally not from our reality. He doesn’t get it.” 

“I know,” you sighed. 

You felt him wrap his arm around your shoulders. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been out of town, hasn’t it?” he added. 

You nodded quietly. Somehow, Boston didn’t feel all that different from Syracuse. Bigger, obviously, and the vague smell of sea air coming from the harbor was a welcome change from the polluted local lake that always made the north side reek like shit in August. 

Joey tried again. “You’re letting him fluster you so much because you want him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” you barked back defensively, looking away. 

“He’s leaving once we figure this out,” Joey reminded you. “You think you can go with him when he does, don’t you?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t consciously occurred to you, but you had to admit that the idea was thrilling. Jetting off into a whole new timeline with Loki leading the way, seeing all of the things that your race had only invented in their heads come to life and greet you! 

“You can’t,” Joey insisted. “Because even if you try to, don’t you think the same thing will happen to you that’s happening to him?”

“What thing?” you asked. 

“He’s jittery! He’s not the dashing Prince you fawned over at the movies, Sis,” he answered, gesturing with his head to the window. “There’s something about him that feels, I don’t know…lost. He has to get home and do whatever it is he needs to do.”

Loki hadn’t told you exactly how he intended to fix the timelines when he returned, but he seemed solemnly resigned to it. You made a note to ask for him to elaborate on it, because the more you thought about it, the more it felt like whatever awaited Loki back in his native realm wasn’t good for him. 

It’s that Sylvie, you thought bitterly. If nothing else, I could go back there to smack her upside her head!

“Um, Sis,” Joey interjected, his eye catching something in the lot below. “Does…does that Impala look familiar to you?”

Your eyes widened as your panic alarms turned on in your head. “Turn away and pretend you didn’t see it,” you quickly insisted, gripping your card key and running to insert it into your door. “We’re booked solid!”

Joey decided to go spend the night with Paulie instead of curling up on the rock-hard sofa. “Maybe I can get some information out of him so you won’t even have to see him, Sis!”

“Fine by me,” you mumbled quietly, your exhaustion finally catching up with you. 

Of course, that meant that as soon as Joey took his leave, you were alone with Loki in a hotel room. Oh boy, if only myself from five years ago could see me now…

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” Loki said quickly. “About how awful it feels to be mortal.” 

“I overreacted,” you shook your head quickly, attempting to get past the residue embarrassment you felt once you’d calmed down from before. “I need to accept that we’re just…we’re too different, and that you’re simply better than me, and--”

“--oh, stop it!” Loki moaned, grabbing your shoulders and looking intensely into your eyes. “Don’t let me hear you talk about yourself like that. It’s a lie.”

Shaking your head, you ripped yourself out of his grasp and turned away from him, biting your lower lip to keep the emotions at bay. 

Loki didn’t touch you again, but he went on. “You and your brother have done more for me in the past few days than most of the gods of Asgard have ever thought to do! You gave me your own bed to sleep in!”

You shrugged. “Just what any decent person would do.” 

He smiled silently, his lip twisted up adorably. You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m tired.”

“So am I,” Loki agreed. “Shall we?” He gestured to the bed, as if beckoning you to join him for a lively romp now that you were alone. Your blood instantly ran hot, and Loki saw the embarrassment spread on your face. “Oh Norns, I didn’t mean to suggest--”

You threw up a hand, suddenly not wanting to ruin the opportunity. “It’s fine! Really!”

Although, you wouldn’t have minded tif he had made the suggestion, either…

The unseasonably hot weather had motivated you to pack only a slip for sleeping. In your haste to shove everything into a duffel bag, you hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences of your choice of pajama. Still hoping to preserve a little bit of modesty (given the circumstances), you put on the slip, but layered it with a baggy black t-shirt, which was less than flattering to make up for the fact that your slip barely covered your privates or your ass.

Loki didn’t seem to mind. In fact, much to your surprise, he seemed to respond to it. “Well, now I don’t feel so bad about my lack of sleepwear, if this is the tradition in this reality.” 

You opened your mouth to explain how it wasn’t tradition. Before you uttered a word, he let the towel that was wrapped around his waist fall to the floor before he swiftly climbed into the bed.

 Jesus Christ, we never bought him underwear! 

You definitely saw his…things, but only in the nanoseconds it took for the swift Asgardian to roll under the sheets. He winked at you playfully as you climbed in beside him, much slower and with more caution. 

“You are fine with this?” he asked one last time. 

“Yes!” you said a little too quickly. To hide the ever-growing embarrassment, you dove under the blanket and burrowed yourself up to your nose. Loki turned off the lamp on the side table, leaving you in complete blackness as your eyes attempted to adjust to the change in lighting.

The bed was creaky and the sheets were coarse. “Loki?” you asked after several seconds of silence in the dark as you rolled onto your side to face him. 

He was already on his side facing you in turn, as if you’d beaten him to asking the first question. “Yes, Y/N?”

“You never sleep in the movies,” you said softly. “You’re always pursuing and chasing and running. Did you ever…I don’t know…slow down and stop to feel the Universe turn?”

Loki was unresponsive. His breathing was deep and regular, and your pupils were beginning to adjust to the darkness, so you were starting to make out his silhouette. 

“Loki?”

“I’m sorry. No one’s ever asked me that before.” 

An ambulance drove by outside, the screeching sirens making you cringe. Loki’s side of the bed rustled slightly. 

“No, I suppose I never have.” 

“You mean you don’t sleep?”

“Of course I sleep,” Loki chuckled, “But what I don't do is…slow down.” 

You smiled. “Maybe you should.” 

“I cannot afford that luxury, I’m afraid.” His voice grew weary in an instant, as if centuries of his past were rushing through his head like a river of rapids and he was choosing to surrender to them. “Not now, not when existence itself lies on my back.” 

“What if it doesn’t, and you’re just being dramatic again?” you asked. 

You heard him click his tongue as he searched for a retort. “I assure you, it’s not that.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“Don’t be.”

“It’s just,” you couldn’t help but go off, just a little, “I guess I was always hoping that if Loki was real, he wouldn’t be treated so poorly all of the time, and that maybe your life wasn’t such a shit heap…”

The choice of descriptor caught Loki off guard, and he let out a laugh big enough to shake the bed. 

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said gently after settling down again, “What does this world think of me?”

You sucked in your breath, and your heart began to pick up speed. “A lot of people do admire you, but not necessarily as their hero.”

“A curious answer,” Loki replied. “You had the figure of me in your kitchen, and when I asked you about it, you turned away as if you were embarrassed, and I was only wondering if--”

As if someone behind you was shoving your head, you moved in and quickly interrupted his thoughts with a kiss. Loki didn’t pull away or fight back, choosing instead to accept your gift and respond in kind. Feeling a pair of gentle fingers run down the side of your face and tracing a trail down your neck, you began to tremble as your body found renewed energy.

You finally drew your lips away and whispered softly, “...more like that.” 

“I…I see.” 

You immediately turned away from him without another word, unsure if you were filling up with regret or excitement. Either way, you needed to shut it all down. 

Still, you heard him coo from next to you. “...sleep tight, Y/N.” 

You carried his words with the kiss into your dreams. It was the fittest sleep you’d had in years. 

TAGLIST: @crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirllanie @keegansakura @himek0fallenangel-blog @abeeigrl @theoraekenslover @halfbakedideas

[sailormoonrarepairweek]

Welcome to the third annual Sailor Moon Rare Pair Week! The event will take place from March 24th - March 30th, 2024, but I'm announcing the themes early to give everyone plenty of time to create their fanworks.

What counts as a rare pair for this event, you ask? Any pairing that isn't Usagi/Mamoru (or any of their incarnations), pretty much! (Don’t get too hung up on the word “rare”. Just roll with it, okay?) They usually have their own week, so this event is a chance for fans to show their love for pairings other than the Miracle Romance, canon or not. You can even include poly, platonic, and cross-over ships, if you'd like! Almost anything goes, as long as you follow some simple guidelines.

Fanworks should somehow incorporate the one of the day's themes. (You can pick just one; you don't have to use both.) How you choose the interpret the theme is up to you!

A non-UsaMamo pair must be the MAIN focus of the work (although Usagi/Mamoru can appear as a side pairing or as part of a polycule).

All ratings allowed.

No smut involving underage characters, which I'm defining as under 18 years old. Otherwise, as long as the characters are portrayed as adults in the fanwork, go wild! Just please make sure to properly tag.

Pairings of all sexual/romantic orientations welcome.

Fanfics should be a minimum of 500 words. Poetry may be shorter, though. (If you would prefer to write drabbles instead, you can write five separate 100-word drabbles about the day's themes, but a day's entry should still be at least 500 words long. You have over four months until the week begins and plenty of time afterward if you don't finish in time. That's plenty of time to write 500 words. I don't think that's too much to ask.) If you're writing fanfic, I REALLY would prefer you post your fics on AO3 or Fanfiction.net and provide a link to your story, but if you must post on Tumblr itself, please make use of the "Read More" option.

Fanart should be a completed drawing. (Any fanart portraying nudity or anything of an R/NC-17 nature should be cropped if immediately visible on your Tumblr post and/or posted with the appropriate community label. You can post the full image under a "Read More" or provide a link to the image on another site.)

Graphics, image boards, playlists, cosplay photos, crafts, meta/essays, etc. are also welcome!

Comments, kudos, and reblogs are encouraged, but don't be a jerk! If you're not a fan of a pairing, please just ignore and move on.

On Tumblr, if you tag #smrarepairweek2024, I will reblog your post. I'll tag explict art and fics reblogs as #nsfw, so feel free to block that tag if you'd rather not see those posts.

Please do not post your works anywhere until the day dedicated to your chosen theme. An AO3 collection has now been set up for this year's event. (Adding your work to the collection will not be required.) If you'd like to look back at the last event's works, the 2023 collection can be found here.

And here is the 2022 collection.

Themes

Day 1: Magic/Mundane Day 2: Hugs/Kisses Day 3: Fire/Ice Day 4: Music/Silence Day 5: Birth/Death Day 6: Break-Up/Make-Up Day 7: Free

(Event Organizer: @kaleidodreams)

[moongreenlight]

WIP Wednesday except it's Thursday and I'm using this as an excuse to post something without the imaginary pressure of getting a full fic out. :D

800-ish word excerpt from my Ghoap x Reader nutcracker AU that I meant to finish around Christmas.

The orchestra has picked up about half a beat too fast and the conductor seems not to have noticed.

Too busy salivating at the legs of one of the snowflake girls a few spots to your left. His baton is getting lazy. Long, drawn out flicks and swishes like he’s casting spells instead of directing. Strange, you think. If anything they should be slowing down to match his tempo.

Maybe it’s the strings? They’re nipping into the winds and forcing the entire group forward. It throws off a girl in front of you. She’s younger by a handful of years. Doesn’t quite have the music- even at the right tempo- committed to memory. She drops her arm a full count too early. Even from behind you can hear her curse.

This seems to rouse him. He jerks his head back to center and starts flicking the tip of the baton back on beat. He’s a stern man. He’s got coal-black eyes that seem to house the staggering power to burn a hole straight through someone bone and all. You swear you can hear flesh crackling and sizzling as he casts his gaze out over the stage. It takes a moment, but he’s able to herd the group back onto a single track. Dancers and musicians alike.

Someone has either put too much or too little rosin on their shoes. It’s difficult to pinpoint, but there’s a terrible squeaking sound from somewhere on the stage that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Like nails on a chalkboard. It gets worse during the final round of turns.

And then, by some miracle, intermission. Big cloth curtains draw together. Kicking up dust and loose sparkles and large pieces of fake snow that adhere themselves to your skin. Kept snug in place by the sheen of sweat that collected under the brutal heat of the spotlights and the effort it took to dance for nearly forty minutes straight.

Imogene, the girl who’d just recently championed the superlative of biggest blunder to date, was now heavily crying into the arms of her older sister.

You relish the few moments you get to catch your breath before the mistress comes and begins to shoo you and the other girls offstage. She’s far more stern than the conductor. And unfortunately less handsome, though they share the same deep-set frown lines that cage their mouths. You catch her give a shaking Imogene a whack to the ear before you can duck backstage.

In your hurry to whip your head back around for fear of meeting the same fate, you run directly into someone’s back. You’re quick to hiss out an apology, but it’s drowned out by the sound of a man speaking terribly muddy French.

“- gorgeous. Even caught the orchestra’s attention.” (please pretend this is French I forgot to translate it and I'm too lazy rn)

The girl he’s talking to, Sophie, giggles and he sways slightly from her batting him in the chest.

“Excuse me.”

It comes out a bit more stiff than you mean it to. He doesn’t wait for Sophie to dismiss herself before turning around.

John MacTavish is one of the few men in the company, but even without such slim options, you feel he would still be a standout.

He’s not from France, though it’s not uncommon for members to have made pilgrimage to join such a prestigious group. His accent is horrible, any potential ruined by his upbringing somewhere in Scotland, though he earns himself a few points with native speakers for his enthusiasm.

He’s also granted the cushion of patience because of his undeniable good looks. He’s got great blue eyes that emote just as well as he does. Shining and laughing along with him like they’ve got personalities to match. He’s big. Tall and muscular, which -again- isn’t uncommon what with all the lifts and spins and acrobatics he does, but he packs on muscle in a way not many other male dancers have the capacity to do.

You’re sure it’s a nightmare to source costumes for him. He’s tore the back panel out of his jacket twice this season alone and you’re only about three-quarters of the way through.

He’s gorgeous and he knows it, which makes him insufferable. He’s charming and got fantastic whit, sure, but he’s perverse and a habitual letcher so it all seems to cancel out.

His great beauty makes him the popular option for most all of the company and the patrons of the opera house alike. It’s become a running joke that you’ve not really served your time unless you’ve had a go with John.

Your participation is left widely up to speculation.

“Sorry, hen.”

If he noticed your rigidity, he doesn’t bring it up. Instead he leans down and takes you by the wrists. Brings his face close to yours and plants a kiss on the right corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, John.”

You scramble away, much to his delight.

“Always forget if it’s right or left first.”

He’s snickering like he’s clever. It takes some legitimate effort to wrench your arms out of the manacles that are his hands.

“Funny.”

You say flatly as you shoulder past him, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“I thought so.”

[igotanidea]

Not like them : Nikolai Lantsov x reader

idea/requests by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog : Reader is friends with Alina, met with Nikolai, who is smitten with her, but she reject al his advances since he remind her too much of the men who sexually harassed her in the past. But when reader starts flirting with Tolya, the price just could not hold it anymore.

I changed some things so they would fit the story better, but hope you'll like it :)

***

„You know he’s harmless, right? Just a bit too cocky and self-confident, but apart from that….” Alina started, taking a seat next to her friend on Volkvolny

“I know.” Y/N cut her off before the sun summoner could even finish the sentence “but those are men like him who …..” her voice broke a little.

“I’m sorry.” Alina looked down. “I never meant to remind you of the past.”

“Not your fault.” The other girl sighed deeply and looked at the ocean.

Back in the days, before she met Alina, she had her fair share of traumatic events. As if it wasn’t hard enough to be born into an esteemed Grisha family and yet, also being the only one who held no powers. Zero. Zip. Nada. Unless you count her social awkwardness and a bit of quirkiness.

And that…. well, it led to some complications, to say the least. Although no one ever said that straight  to her face, she was a black sheep of the family and it was showing in every gesture, every word and every action taken towards her. She was treated condescendingly, humiliatingly and blamed for so many things that were simply beyond her control ….

One day she just couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. Made a mess. Screamed at the top of her lungs. The quiet girl who was taking all the tease became a snarky, snappy, sarcastic and quick to respond woman.

Oh, if that girl ever held any power she would be an Inferni, no doubt about it. She just seemed to have an answer for everything, was not afraid and that blunt, big mouth caused her some trouble. Let’s just say that her father did not like the attitude. Despite her being ordinary, from that day she was practically forced to participate in a straight-regime training wish Grisha just to punish and humiliate her. And her inadequacy was quickly noticed by some of the guys there.

And used.

One night after particularly extreme practice, when she was walking home alone, tired, exhausted and barely moving her legs three of them laid out for her, grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the nearest empty house on the roadside.

“Get the fuck off me!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, squirming against the tight grip, but she was too small and too weak to fight against her oppressors. “I will not…..”

“Will you just shut up?” one of the boys said, tightening the grip on her. “You were asking for it from the moment you showed up amongst us. You don’t belong here. You’re not a Grisha.”

“Well you don’t deserve that position either!” she spat and that got her a slap on the face. Oh, that boy was surely not holding back his strength. “Fuck you!” she screamed

“I think opposite.” He smirked  taking a step forward “wonder if you’ll act the same when we are done with you. What do you think, gentlemen? Shall we draw lots who would be the first to play with her?”

Shit. She had to do something. Anything. But how could she possibly fight against three grown-up men? She was turning her head around frantically, using the fact that at this point her capturers started quarreling about the order of ……

And their absent-mindedness gave her a bit of leverage when she quickly wriggled herself free and started running as fast as she could. She might have been smaller but it also made her faster and due to some miracle she managed to escape. That was a relief, but her frantically beating heart, disheveled hair, torn coat and dirt on her knees was not something her parents accepted. They were disgusted by her outlook. And of course, she could never tell them what really (almost) happened. They would never believe her. Instead, she took her punishment, throwing some sarcastic comments, clenched her jaw and tried to move forward.

But the trauma stayed.

And those men got away with everything, and even worse – from that fateful evening started to harass her even more. Verbally. Throwing dirty jokes about her body, grabbing her while passing and making efforts to get her alone again, claiming that this was what she wanted.

And she snapped again. Causing a scandal, since after all she was a “no one” who dared to attack Grisha.

Since there was no one who could help her, she just escaped her hometown and were on the run since then.

And that was how she met Alina and Mal, who were probably the first people to accept her fully, never judge her and become her friends for good and for bad. They knew each other for a couple years now and there was nothing that these three wouldn’t do for each other.

Hunting for the seawhip amplifier included. And dealing with one, stupidly annoying price Nikolai Lanstov.

Y/N did not like him from the very beginning. Of course, he was annoyingly handsome with that infuriating smile and contagious laugh, with those shiny eyes that seemed to sparkle even more when he was at sea and his unruly, thick, curly hair.

But his attitude?

Just like Alina said. Cocky. Arrogant. Conceited. Sarcastic and so full of himself. This reminded her of those men from her past. And it was not a good memory. Therefore for the last weeks she has been avoiding him like a plague, trying to shield herself from the trip down memory lane. And both Mal and Alina supported her in this, while knowing where it came from. And they were never going to tell her secret.

The rest of the crew however, did not understand a thing. Especially Tamar and Tolya. They were a bit surprised that someone could have so much irony and  power to make their friend Nikolai speechless. She was probably the only girl who could begin to compare with Nikolai in the field of hiding true feelings and using irony as a defense, a shield. And that boy just loved to spite her.

And speaking of the devil…..

“Are you ladies enjoying the view?” upon hearing Sturmhond voice Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“Be nice.” Alina hissed turning around towards the prince.

“nice. sure. It’s not like you were the one to punch him the second we found out his true identity.” Y/N spat back

“That was only because you are slower than me…”

“It’s not like we are on vacation.” Y/N spit before Alina managed to stop her “In case you forgot, tsarevich.”

“Not with you to remind me. You should relax a bit, sunshine.” Nikolai smirked with that characteristic face expression that made Y/N clench her fists. He was just so freaking annoying. “And since you two are clearly gossiping here, may I ask who is the subject of those gossips?”

“What makes you think it was a person?” Y/N crossed arms over her chest, eying Nikolai with the most stern expression she could produce.

“Call it instincts. So?”

“No one you would know.”

“Really? Wanna bet I can find out who’s the lucky guy? I got resources to do that.”

“Saints! Only you can start bragging out of nowhere.” The hell Y/N was going to listen to Alina’s advice to be nice.

“That’s just a casual reminder that nothing can hide from me. And definitely not that blush on you face Y/N.”

“I am not…..”  

“Oh, you are. Is it because of me Y/N?”

“Pffff.” She scoffed and blew a raspberry. The fact was she was blushing, but the person who caused it was yet to approach them.

Tolya.

Even since she met him on the deck of Volkvolny he sparked something in her. Despite all her bad experiences and deeply hidden disgust and fright of men.

He was just different.

Y/n never knew a man who would recite poetry and be so … openly caring and romantic and courting and protective and ….

To say the least, she was a bit smitten by him.

Or maybe she was just deflecting.

But it was hard to hide that Tolya’s appearance immediately put a smile on her face.

“Are you ladies enjoying the trip?” he absentmindedly asked the exact same question as Nikolai

“I always enjoyed being in the open.” Y/N looked at him with glistening, bright eyes. Her answer, so different than before, got Nikolai pop his eyes and open his mouth wide. “Cat got your tongue, Nikolai?” she laughed lightly and it was his turn to blush. Once again, she got him speechless. And he hated that.

“Yes.” Tolya took a deep breath and closed his eyes a bit “That remind me of…..”

“Oh, no, please, do not recite the poetry again” Tamar chimed in, before her brother could say a word

“Just because you, my dear sister, cannot fully appreciate the beauty of the art, doesn’t mean that pretty lady Y/N cannot as well.”

“Pretty?” Y/N smirked. “isn’t that a little condescending?”

“It never meant to be.” The Shu man exhaled and his gaze focused on her “did you take it like that?”

“No. I don’t think I did. But still, I bet you tell that to every girl you meet.” She dared

“I haven’t met much girl lately. At least not since you, Y/N.”

“Oh….”

“is it just me or are those two openly flirting with each other?” Alina whispered to Tamar, who were barely holding back a chuckle

“Looks like it.” Tamar gasped “Wonder who’s gonna make the bigger fool of oneself.”

“Nikolai, I think. Just look at his face. Not so reserved anymore.”

“Wait. You don’t seriously think that he might…..”

“I know him longer than you, Alina. I think he does. Just wait and see….”

“I did however, have many adventures and many stories I can entertain you with, Y/N. If you’d like to listen, of course.”

“Of course!” she practically exclaimed “It would be such a relief to listen to someone who can talk about interesting  things.”

“Y/N, you mind if I have a quick word with you beforehand?” Nikolai tried his best to act casual, but it was no use.

“Told ya.” Tamar raised an eyebrow at Alina

“Um, yes, I actually do mind” Y/N tilted her head. She just loved to dare Nikolai and push him past his boundaries.

“Too bad. “ he shrugged “I am the captain. You’re on my ship. So you will listen.”

“I am not…..”

“Now.” Nikolai commanded and that harsh attitude took everyone, Y/N included, by surprise. Sturmhond was not exactly known to lose his cool and temper.

***

“What?” Y/N spat the second he closed the door to the cabin. She was not even going to hide how furious she was at him “what on saints was so important that you just couldn’t wait a while?!”

“You.”

“Me?” she frowned “what …..?”

“I don’t understand you.” he sighed “I just don’t. And believe me, I’m trying. ”

“What the…..?” she tried again, but he didn’t let her finish, taking a step forward, making her retrieve until her back hit his desk. The intense look in his eyes made her panic slightly. Saints. She was trapped. Again. With no way to hide. Suddenly her mind took her back to the past, to that barn, reminding her of her oppressors, of the past, of what happened, of how she was alone and hurting and forced to move past her trauma. “No….” her body trembled and she completely lost contact with reality, too immersed in the past “No…. please…. not again.” tears started falling down her cheeks and she sobbed desperately.

“Y/N?” Nikolai voice became alerted in a second, his gaze softening while looking at her, so broken and vulnerable. He had no idea what he did and why she acted like that. “Y/N, what happened? Hey, please, I …..” he hesitated, not sure whether to hug her or not.

“I hate you!” she cried out

“Why?” he sounded broken

“you are  just like them!”

“Like who?” this was all just too confusing for him

“Like those guys who tried to …. to…..hurt me” she shook again, hiding her face in hands and trembling again.

“Oh, love….” Now it became painfully clear and Nik could not hold back his instincts anymore, extending his arms and wrapping them around her, pulling her close, letting her cry into his chest, rubbing soothing circles on her back “I’m so sorry.” He whispered “But it’s ok. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. Not when I’m around. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How….how can you be like that?” she pulled back slightly, her broken gaze landing on him “How can you be so much like them with your attitude and confidence and smugness and yet, so different? I … I don’t understand it….. I ……”

“Y/N.” he smiled at her, cupping her cheek and rubbing her tears away “Look me in the eyes. Please.” she unwillingly raised her gaze and their orbs met “is that why you have been avoiding me and acting so rough and cruel? Tell me.” Nikolai said softly, not to startle her

“Yes.” She admitted, her voice shaking “that and …..”

“And what?”

“I can’t say it…..”

“Then let me.” he smiled “I fell for you. the second I saw you with your fiery eyes and sparkling eyes. The moment you slapped me down with that bad girl attitude of yours. Saints, Y/N, if I knew about…..”

“You cannot tell anyone about it!” she panicked again, struggling against his hold, but he only held her closer.

“Saints, girl! I’m telling you I love you and you keep projecting. Listen to me. Just listen.” Once again, he cupped her cheek and forced her distracted eyesight on him, the other hand resting on the small of her back. “I love you.” he simply said and somehow she knew he was telling the truth.

“You are not supposed to…..” she tried to object.

“Oh, saints!” Nikolai hissed, now completely drained of patience. He was done talking. Instead he just leaned forward and captured her lips in his. Oh, he wanted to satiate his hunger of having her, but at the same time, founding about her past made him slow down a bit. So instead of devouring her fully, he settled on moving his mouth on her slowly, softly, pouring all his feelings for her into that kiss. Trying to tell her, without using words, that whatever she may have thought about him, he cared. That he wasn’t like them. That he would never hurt her. He would protect her. He wanted her all to himself. And the sight of her flirting with Tolya turned him jealous and possessive. Hoping she would feel all that, conveyed by a kiss.

And the second he touched her, he was gone. The feel of her pressed against him, the fact that he finally, finally cold have her so close, not fighting against him, not spiting and biting and bittering was just too much for the poor boy. Prince, yes, but still, a boy in love, afraid of having his heart broken and scared of rejection, no matter how indifferent he may act.

But the way her hands immediately found a way up his arms and locked on his neck, how she moved slightly towards him, hugging and kissing him back with the same fire as he did, told him that maybe, maybe¸ those feelings were not one-sided. Saints, he could not get enough of the feeling of her lips and skin, the softness of her hair tickling his face, wishing he could just hold her like that forever, but eventually they both had to pull back for air. And when they did, he opened eyes, focusing on her beautiful face. She kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily, trying to contain everything she felt at the moment and processing it.

“Y/N….” he whispered, brushing his lips over her forehead, awaiting any words from her with his heart beating rapidly, almost out of his chest.

“I…. I think I love you too.”  She gasped, almost inaudibly, but he heard those words. The most beautiful words he could ever imagine.

“Of course you do. How could you not?” he laughed, but it was different than before. Not conceited or sarcastic, much rather laced with love, care and so much relief that she reciprocated.

“Stop ruining the moment!” she hit his arm, but smiled lightly and he couldn’t help but peck her lips again.

“do you think they know?” he asked, obviously referring to the rest of the crew

 “Who cares about them?”

“For once, I can agree with you” he pulled her closer again, the second kiss being more heated and passionate and she did not oppose to being showered in his attention and affection, not holding his desire back.

[4acoffee]

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 2.8k words

genre & warnings. fluff, pining but he doesn't realize it, baku in some serious denial, swearing (lot's)

notes. jusus FUCKING christ. im SO glad to be done with this you have no idea. It's been in the works for like three months I'm so done with this fic. pls lemme know if u like it if this flops ill cry. also sorry i havn't posted in like forever im a loser i know.

Katsuki Bakugou does not have crushes.

Crushes, were for stupid schoolboys and stupid girls.

Like you.

Yea, — if anyone had a crush, it had to be you. That's why you only smiled at him when he was looking at you. It's why you never tried to make eye-contact with him during class. It's why you never talk to him outside of class, and always walk on the other side of the hallway, and laugh at shitty hair's lame jokes.

There's no way someone like him, would like anyone like you.

Raccoon eyes was an idiot for even putting such an absurd thought in his head.

And it all started because he ran out of those stupid pencils.

Which was those dumbass's fault too. That week, dunce face broke all his pencils trying to do a ghost summoning trick in class and begged him to let him borrow one of his pencils. Which was annoying, but not a big deal because he's Katsuki and he was always fucking prepared.

But then, raccoon eyes lost her shit at the ugly grape fuck during class, and accidentally dissolved her only pencil in a fit of rage. Which meant he lost another one to her.

And then that same week, shitty hair was testing his strength on pencils, snapping them in half with and without his quirk, so he lost five pencils to his useless antics.

So by the time Friday rolled around, he had just one mechanical pencil left to get him through the day. Which would have been fine, ― if he didn't run out of lead right in the middle of fucking English class.

Now, he could have asked the teacher for a pencil, but she was this dusty, old hag, and Katsuki was known in his class for aggravating her to the point where her veins popped out on her face, and she would screech at him like a mad banshee. And Katsuki would rather pull out his own nails and stick them in his eyeballs like push-pins, than face the lecture she would no doubt give him if she found out he had come to class "unprepared".

So now, he was stuck, pissed off at everyone, multiple writing assignments to finish, a professor who never liked him, zero patience, and completely lacking in pencils.

Fuck his life.

And the day would have only gotten worse, if it wasn't for you.

He doesn't know how you knew that he needed a pencil. Then again, since you so clearly liked him, you must have been watching him all the time. You must have seen the miffed look on his face and noticed how he was furiously clicking his pencil for any lead.

Most people who didn't know him personally tended to steer clear of him for the most part. So needless to say, he was mildly surprised when small, quiet, you — tapped his desk with your little ink covered fingers.

You never spoke out much in class, and Katsuki only knew you as the voiceless girl who sat next to him in class and constantly kept at least one earbud in, drawing on your hands or doodling on the corner of your paper when the teacher was talking.

He figured it would be a miracle if you were even passing this class.

But when he turned to you with narrowed eyes, you held his gaze carefully, and held out a new pencil to him.

At first, he's less than pleased, ― Katsuki wasn't gonna just accept help from some random extra.

But you shook the pencil at him, urging him to take it, and he once again meets your eyes, ― long enough to realize that you had to be one of the prettiest girls he's ever met.

Brilliant, and mildly amused, your gaze held a sense of thinly veiled curiosity that peeked through the serene look on your face, the sun peeking out behind you cast small shadows down the curve of your cheeks from your eyelashes and, and ―

― and he had been staring for way to long.

Scowling, he snatched the pencil out of your grasp and turned to his assignment, pretending to read the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you curl over your own paper and get back to work.

For the rest of class, he stole small, fleeting glances at your focused form.

He decided that he absolutely hated the way your hair looked glossy and soft in the light filtering through the window. And the way you tapped your foot on the floor to the beat of whatever music you listened to, and the intricate designs you often drew on your hands, slightly smudged where your fingers held your own pencil.

The bell signaling the end of class snapped him out of his stupor and he angrily stood up, sending his chair back with the force and shoving papers in his bag.

He's half way down the hallway to his next class when he realizes he's still holding your pencil.

He stares down at it with a glare and considers throwing it in the trash for a second.

Your face pops in his head for a second, (rather rudely, and unnecessarily if he might add), and he grimaces before shoving it haphazardly somewhere behind him in his bag.

.

The next day, Bakugou stomps over to class, fully restocked with his own pencils.

He sits down in his usual seat and glances at you without thinking. You were reading the board at the front of the class, but you turned your head to him when you felt his gaze on you.

His slouching position immediately straightened at a backbreaking speed like a soldier at attention.

Instantly, he wanted to howitzer himself into the next dimension.

What was he so damn jumpy for??

He fixed you with a defensive glare, like his ears didn't feel so annoyingly hot, "What!? Hah? I don't need your stupid pencils today. " he bit out.

You squinted at him, and his annoyance only heightened when he noticed the way your lips twitched upwards in amusement.

Did you think he was fucking funny or something?

"Ah, ― ok." You replied.

He twitched in his seat as he watched you turn your attention away from him and to something on your phone.

That was it?

That was fucking it?

He accepts your help one time and suddenly you can't spare him more than a fucking two word reply?

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

He glowers for the rest of class and makes it a point to not even glance in your general direction.

It works more or less to his favor, until he starts seeing you show up around him and everywhere outside of his class.

The moment he sees your eyes turn in his direction in the hallways, he swivels his head away so fast he nearly gets whiplash from the force.

Your outside after school waiting for a ride and he scowls when you don't even look up at him from your phone when he walks stiffly in front of you.

He catches you make icy hot crack a smile with some stupid joke in the lunch line and he almost combusts into a nuclear explosion on the spot when you ruffle his hair affectionately. How, and why the fuck were you acting so familiar with that damn candy-cane bastard?

The annoying voice in his head from earlier prompts him to go and place himself between the two of you, ― a physical divider, ― but he immediately brushes it off again. He chastises himself for even allowing such ridiculous thoughts enter his head over a useless extra like you.

Unfortunately, Katsuki in time comes to find that you’re not as useless as you seem.

As raccoon-eyes eventually manages to drag you into their tight knit group of friends, he begrudgingly realizes that there is much more to you than just ink covered fingers and pretty eyes.

Your one of the top students at the school. Picking up things easily, you don't pay much attention in school because you prefer to and work better doing things in your own time. You, however, make a horrible teacher, and any attempts to tutor his so called friends into shape, end in more jokes cracked than brains, and it's all too easy for you to dissolve into half giggles and smart remarks with them.

Your also, a little shit, he discovers, much to his chagrin.

"I still can't believe you go to bed at 8:30 like an old man."

The sly gleam of your eye when you join forces with his friends to tease him makes him want to slap his hands directly over your stupid eyes because he hates the way he's so automatically drawn to them.

And that stupid fucking twitch of your lips whenever he speaks to you. Like your trying to hold back a smile. Why the fuck do you do that. The fuck is wrong with you. Just smile like a normal person dammit.

So fucking distracting.

Especially when he began bringing you new, colorful pens for you to draw with for when yours ran out of ink. And the wipes he keeps stored in his bag for the teachers that kept threatening to email your parents if they saw you drawing on yourself during class.

God, you had to be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Which he swears is the only thought running through his head as he sits next to you at the library with his chin in his hands.

Definitely nothing having to do with the fading sun weaving through your hair in strands of gold, or the plush of your lips when you bite into them distractedly.

And your godamn eyes. Calm, sweet little almond eyes, so, ― pretty.

(Seriously, when the fuck did he start using words like "pretty").

It takes him a second to sense that said eyes were now focused on him. Unwavering and almost downright pleased in a way that made his hands clam up and saliva build up in his mouth.

"Hey Bakugou, you in there?" You ask cheekily.

He bites back a snarl, "Fuck off, tiny."

You raise your hands in mock surrender. "Ok, Ok, ― just making sure we didn't lose you into the void, you were looking pretty intense there."

"Shuddup I was just thinking."

"About me?"

"No, what the fuck?!" He yells, ignoring the librarian who sent him a stern look from her desk.

You snicker and he almost jolts out of his seat when you scoot your chair way too close to him.

You jostle his feet under the table and he kicked back impulsively. What he wasn't expecting, was for you to purposefully tangle your legs together, pulling yourself to the very edge of your seat.

Suddenly your face is right in front of his and he stiffens when you twist your fingers into the sleeve of his school uniform.

"Aw, you don't like me then?"

He absolutely hates the way he can hear the blood pumping into his ears.

"No, I fucking hate you. You're the worst."

"..."

"Oh."

Suddenly, you turn your eyes away from him and to your lap, lowering your eyebrows. Your lips fall into a deep pout that leaves him wanting to smush your cheeks together in his hands.

You look utterly crestfallen.

"That's kinda mean yunno." You say to him softly. "I really thought you liked me Bakugou."

He blinks at you in alarm.

He wasn't actually expecting you to take him seriously. You never do any other time. You knew there was hardly ever any real malice behind his words to his friends.

Right?

"It's ok if you don't, I understand. But, uh, I'm gonna go home now." You say quietly, without meeting his eyes.

Shit, ― he thought.

Did I, actually go too far?

You remove your fingers from his sleeve and make to grab your things to leave.

He panics, he couldn't let you go like this!

Frantically, he grabs your hand and pulls you close to him.

"The fuck are you talking about?! Are you that stupid?"

You look at him sullenly and try to pull away. He doesn't let go, but stands up to keep you pushed against the table.

Katsuki is reeling at the feeling of your skin under his, but tries to keep himself focused on the situation.

"Of course I fucking like you, dumbass." He nearly growls without looking at you face.

"I always buy you shit and make you food don't I? You think I'd spend my money and time on ya' if I didn't like you." Katsuki says simply.

"Thoughtcha' already knew you were my favorite." He mutters.

He looks up at you and freezes on the spot.

You have the most shit-eating look he's ever seen on your face and he later swears left and right to himself that he spots the slightest flush spreading across your cheeks.

You're goddamn eyes are once again so damn bright and he can barely process anything else with the way you're smiling at him.

"Bakugou,―i'm your favorite?!" You blurt out.

"I knew it! I can't believe I got you to admit it!!" You said horribly happily.

Katsuki stares at you in disbelief. Was that all a fucking act?

Your positively glowing now and Katsuki wants nothing more than to slap himself for falling for your stupid tricks again. How fucking dare you use your goddamn face against him like that. You were just playing with his feelings at this point.

He's about to tear his hand off your arm in a fit of anger when you pause you giggling and suddenly grab him by the collar of his uniform and bring his ear right next to your lips.

"Yunno, ― your my favorite too ok? Don't forget that." You whisper conspiratorially.

Your breath on his skin makes him nearly tremble, and he just knows that you can feel how hot his face his when you press your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss before pulling away to grab your things and disappear just as quickly.

Katsuki is sure that he probably looks like he just got hit by a truck.

A dazed grin makes it's way onto his face that he desperately tries to hold back, but fails as his fingers brush the spot where your lips just were.

All at once the feeling fades when his eyes meet the absolutely delighted looks of his friends from across the library.

They make all sorts of kissy faces and obscene gestures that has his face looking the same color as his ruby eyes.

He scowls deeply and turns to make his way angrily out of the library.

As he passes a window, he pauses when he catches sight of your figure walking across the campus.

Ink-covered fingers pressed to your lips.

-

If there's one thing most people don't know about Bakugou's friends, it's just how perceptive they really are. Their normally aloof and carefree behavior seems to veil the fact that they are indeed future heroes and they have trained to be finely tuned to each others behavior.

So it didn't take long for them to notice a shift in the actions of their angry blonde buddy.

It took even less time to connect the dots to you.

And naturally, ― they began scheming.

Perhaps not scheming per say, ― as they watched Bakugou zone out in your direction for the nth time that day at the library, Mina smacked Denki over the head one day for using that word.

"We're not scheming anything Denks." she whispered.

"Then why are we whispering?" He muttered back, rubbing his head with a grimace.

She sighed deeply and massaged her temples.

"We just need a way to get him to realize that he's feeling an emotion outside of acute bloodlust and anger for once." she explained.

"So then what, do we like, plot an intervention or something?" Sero supplied.

Mina, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, with great effort, resisted the urge to send an acid quirk infused slap in his way.

Sensing this, Kirishima was quick to pipe in, "C'mon guys, nothing like that, Bakubro just need a little push in the right direction, is all."

Mina nodded in approval.

"Blasty's smart, he'll understand what needs to be done once he works out his feelings. Hopefully."

A mummer of understanding passed through most of the group.

Sitting up straight and cracking her knuckles, Mina whipped out a pen and piece of paper like a weapon, "Alright boys, don't worry, your girls got just the plan."

Kaminari made a face like he just struck gold.

"Ohhhh! Okay. So we're planning an intervention."

"For FUCKS SAKE―"

masterlist

[1d1195]

Screens II

Read the first part here: Screens

Another thank you to my 🪁-anon. Without you and your kind request, this story would not exist. I hope you enjoy this part as much as possible. Thank you to the following anon's for their support, I don't have names or emoji's for you but here are the kind messages I've received patiently waiting for a part 2: one and only Screens fan, #1 Screens fan, and this one that sobbed while trying to finish reading it. I did not mean to exclude anyone, I typed Screens into my blog's search bar to gather this information.

Finally, this anon provided a good chunk of the inspiration.

I hope you all enjoy it. I wrote it in a sense in a series of flashbacks and you will see this ◊ to indicate the difference in flashback scenes vs. my standard * to indicate a bit of time has passed.

"Okay on with it, lady. You talk to much." --Everyone reading this (probably).

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

December | Holiday Break | 8:30 AM

Harry was extremely mindful of announcing his presence around her because he hated how jumpy she got when anyone else spooked her because she didn’t always see them coming around the corner or something. He especially did so in the quiet of the morning or the stillness of the evening. “Angel?” He called into his apartment. It was chilly on their first day of holiday break from work. Harry wanted her to stay the whole week with him. She couldn’t deny she didn’t want the same thing. He ventured into the winter air and returned with hot coffee, foam on top just as she liked.

They’d been together, officially, for a little over a year. But having known her a bit for the better part of a decade, it was easier than he ever thought to be in a relationship with her and he wished that he had thought of it long before last November. “Mm,” she hummed barely loud enough for him to hear as he approached his bedroom. “M’sleeping,” she mumbled against the pillow as he made his way across the room.

He chuckled quietly and set the coffees on his nightstand before slipping back under the covers with her. She rolled herself on top of him, legs on either side of his hips and her face pressed against the front of his shoulder. She was scrunched against him like a little ball. “Don’t move.”

He wouldn’t have if someone tried to force him to move. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “Coffee’ll get cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers against the back of her head. She sighed but said nothing. “C’mon, kitten. Y’told me t’not let y’sleep late,” he cooed and kissed her again.

“I lied,” she murmured. He chuckled. “M’too heavy, that’s it, isn’t it? Want me off you?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her tight against him.

“No, y’silly thing.” She lifted her head up and hovered above him for a moment. She didn’t speak but she lightly drew her finger over his features. He watched as her eyes squinted, sliding over the trail of her finger in silence. She did this at least once a week. Usually when they saw one another on the weekends because they had more time than their Thursday night ritual. “What are y’doing?” He asked her.

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. She didn’t say and Harry let it drop. He always let it drop when he asked. Part of him thought nothing of it, surely it was for a portrait—a painting or a drawing she was working on. She had seen her do it with a rose, tracing the thorns carefully; or the arm of a park bench, admiring how it looked in the afternoon light.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed the way her fingers felt on his skin. It was one of the many things she taught him: using his sense of touch so much more.

Carefully he tightened his grip on her as he rolled the pair of them onto their sides to face one another. He brought his hand to her face and gently brushed his thumb across her lips and then traced his finger over her brow line, over the bridge of her nose, before settling his hand firmly against her cheek. “When’s your appointment?” He asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Noon,” she mumbled. He gave her body a gentle squeeze as he held her.

“It’ll be alright, kitten.”

“I can’t teach if I can’t see,” she reminded him. “I’m sitting right in front of you, and I can hardly see you,” she whispered quietly.

He frowned and reached behind her for her glasses on the other little table beside his bed. He slid them into place, mindful to not catch her ear or pull too hard against her hair. He smiled at her. It made her stomach flip because Harry was by far the most beautiful person she had ever met. “I love your glasses,” he whispered. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I look like a librarian.”

“The sexiest librarian ’ve ever laid eyes on,” he promised and ignored her snort. “Not only do they help y’see, but they help me see. S’like they magnify your eyes. Swear I can see everything you’re hiding in that beautiful brain of yours,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead, right between the rim of the glasses hovering over her eyes.

“They look like coke bottles.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he promised and pulled them down slightly and pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. Silently he hoped and prayed to whatever god was out there that her appointment would give her good news and make the ache in her mind and heart lessen just a bit. He didn’t care if she needed glasses by any means or if her eyesight got worse. None of that mattered to him at all. He just wanted her to be a little happier than she was before.

*

Over the past year, he had seen so many stages of her grief. He saw the anger she felt when she missed a step and dropped her food outside the restaurant causing a mess all over her shoes and the entry way. It made her eyes water as she asked the hostess if she could have some towels to clean it up so no one would slip on their way out. Harry helped her clean it up and even placed the quickest to go order ever made so she could have extra for lunch the following day and promised her it was no big deal that she spilled.

 He watched her sadness as she couldn’t see things in plain sight—like the ever-hiding remote always evading her vision. Or when she accidentally put cinnamon in her pasta dish because she swore it was paprika.

The pain that puckered her eyebrows together all because her glasses and the screens at work bothered her so much.

Harry begged her so plainly to ask him for help. He had the phone pressed to his ear as he laid his head back against the sofa. Her voice made his stomach knot in the best way—she made him weak in the knees and the only thing he regretted about dating her was not doing it sooner. “I’ll bother you,” she whispered into the phone.

“Kitten, of course not.”

“If you’re hanging out with friends, and you need to come get me because it’s raining at night...and I can’t drive myself home?”

“Then I’ll say, ‘sorry lads, m’princess needs me.’ If they have a problem with that, s’on them,” he said simply with a shrug.

She released a quiet giggle despite how much she didn’t want to. “You’re much nicer to me than anyone I’ve ever known.”

◊

But she wasn’t always so down about it. Sometimes she had a really good sense of humor about it. Harry didn’t love it all that much though. It hurt him to hear her joke about something he knew in his heart hurt her quite a bit. But he was glad she could be in good spirits about it.

“Listen,” she said almost a month after their first kiss. “You’d be surprised how often someone says, ‘what are you blind?’ You’re just going to have to roll with it. It’s okay. I’ve heard it a lot and I say it to myself sometimes. I’ve been working on new comebacks but so far ‘legally, no; spiritually yes,’ is my favorite.”

Harry felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him, but she just continued to smile this gorgeous, bright smile that he had no choice but to let her make her joke.

And if he did say ‘What are you, blind?’ a few days later, well... at least she had warned him.

◊

Harry read to her sometimes. It made her feel like a little kid, but he didn’t dwell on it. He acted as if it was completely normal for a boyfriend to read out loud like a kindergarten teacher to his girlfriend. She snuggled up to him in his lap and glanced at the pages every so often as he held the book in front of them. She had to be careful though because Harry’s voice was so soothing and even though she loved to hear him talk, there had been many chapters she missed because he accidentally put her to sleep with his melodic voice.

◊

Sleeping together in the quiet parts of the night were some of his favorite times. Whether something more intimate happened between them or not. Night was when he felt most attuned to her. Harry couldn’t see any more than she could. Touching her, feeling the goosebumps he left in the wake of his fingertips against her skin made him much more aware of how touch could bring him to his knees for her. He also paid close attention to her near silent, soft whines of pleasure or how her laugh seemed so much brighter in the dark.

But listening to her speak at night might have been one of his most favorite things. “Why did y’leave me after that party?” He whispered. It bothered him a bit when they first started dating.

Her face was pressed to his chest, her finger moving over his face as it always did, this time focusing on the shape of his jaw, outlining the scruffy remnants of hair growth since he last shaved. “Why would you want to be with the near-blind girl?” She shrugged.

It took him no time at all to answer. “Cause she’s perfect.” She smiled and pressed a kiss almost touching the cross necklace that dangled between the sparrows on his chest.

She never asked him again if it mattered to him if she’d go totally blind. Not since she asked after their first kiss last November. He said it all right then at that moment. She believed him so easily because no, she hadn’t ever thought about it. There wasn’t a time when she thought that maybe she wouldn’t go blind. So, for Harry to believe it was possible was more than enough.

◊

Harry worried about her a lot more than most people did a lot of the time. More than her family who were so used to her poor sight it didn’t even phase them when she handed them the wrong cups or passed along the wrong items because they weren’t clear enough about where they were. More than strangers who would roll their eyes at her when she bumped into them on public transport.

But mostly herself because while she had been living with bad eyes for so long, it took Harry some getting used to the ins and outs of the harder things she had to do. One day they painted two canvases together, spinning them back and forth between them for five minutes creating fun little landscapes that didn’t make any sense. “Would y’ever want a seeing eye dog?” He asked. Harry was a terrible painter, but he’d do anything to spend time with her doing her favorite things. “Bet we could get you a really cute pup,” he smiled.

She smirked so cutely, and she wiped her hand across her forehead to get a piece of hair out of her eyes. In doing so, she painted a stripe of pink paint across her forehead, making his heart feel so jumpy with love for her. “Maybe if I went totally blind,” she shrugged. “Would need to find an apartment that allows a cute dog too,” she reminded him. As if a seeing-eye dog wasn’t an exception to most places.

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

◊

Loving one another didn’t come without some hardships either.

Once more she found herself bumping into someone. Harry had gone ahead to the car to get to her door and naturally the moment he left her side she was nearly falling flat on her bum. However, the person bumping into her was quick, caught her around the waist before she hit the ground. “Oh, easy love. You alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“Hardly your fault, love. Don’t be sorry,” he smirked. “S’easy to fall for me,” he winked at her.

She gaped in surprise. Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest because she was by far the most adorable person on the planet let alone that street. “Excuse me,” Harry said flatly. Harry eyed the arm around her waist that didn’t belong to her or himself, and the man turned his attention to Harry.

“Oh, of course you’re taken...Someone as beautiful as you would have to be,” he released his grip from her. “Sorry, mate,” he said to Harry and then winked at the beautiful girl.

Harry grabbed her hand and marched quickly toward his car without so much as another glance in his direction. “Harry,” she whined as he tugged her. He wasn’t rough, exactly. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be rough with her even when he was grumpy. Her mind flashed to that very first day when he looked at her with so much annoyance for getting food all over his clothes and then separating him from his friends.

Harry often got so protective of her that it came across as overbearing and every so often, he couldn’t help but feel jealous when someone else helped her. She had done so much on her own for so long the idea that she didn’t need him or worse, needed someone else made him so utterly sad that he had a hard time expressing how upset it made him. “M’sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry? Why?”

“Jus’...I get so sad when other people help you,” he frowned. She turned toward him in her seat. “Not because I don’t want them t’help you. But because...I jus’ like helping you. Makes me think y’don’t really need me,” he mumbled. “I know I wasn’t always...so outwardly nice t’you. Think I was a bit of a dick,” he said quietly. “Think it would make a lot of sense if y’found...someone that swept y’off your feet right away.”

She reached out and cupped the side of his face and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips briefly. “I need you, always. More than that...I want you,” she said softly. Harry felt like a lovesick teenager at her words. Wanting him really was so much better than needing him. Because she didn’t. She was wonderfully independent and had done so much on her own for so long, she really didn’t need him. But wanting him around? Harry loved her so much he wondered how he ever could have been without her. “So much it feels like I need you.”

He leaned forward to steal another kiss and she smiled, her glasses bumping his forehead a bit. “I love you,” he promised.

She smiled. “Would you like to know when I fell in love with you?” She asked.

He blinked at her response. “Well, sure,” he nodded.

“When you held my hand at the party and walked me to your room...it was like...I don’t know, I felt like a princess,” she told him. “You totally saved me. I had no plan. No escape. I just didn’t want to bother anyone.”

He smiled at the memory. “I loved sleeping with you,” he winked. She pushed him gently and shook her head. “No really, y’looked so cute in m’clothes. Wanted you t’stay in my bed forever.”

“I bet you did,” she mumbled.

“Ha-ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Never would have thought your cute mind would constantly sit in a gutter, kitten. Yes, of course I wanted that,” he grumbled making her laugh. “Really I jus’ wanted you.”

“You want me too?” She wrinkled her nose making her eyes crinkle at the corners and Harry turned fully to hold her face between his hands. He leaned in to brush his lips over hers like he did the first time he kissed her. She gave the same little whine she did. It went right through his heart.

“What gave it away?” He mumbled against her lips.

◊

“What if it’s hereditary?” She whispered in the dark.

Harry turned to face her even though he couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. He could feel her breath and the anxiety in her voice was so palpable he could feel her voice. “Then...who better to help them than you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish this on the people that made fun of me,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine a child like me,” she admitted quietly. “It was so hard.”

Harry frowned and inched closer to her. His nose bumped into hers, he brought his hand up to her cheek. What he said next, he meant whether he was part of the future or not. With everything in him, it was one of the truest things he ever told her. “I can’t think of a luckier child than one like you, m’love.”

◊

It wasn’t always about her eyes. There were pictures they took and vacations they enjoyed. He loved her family and how they made him feel like he was part of her holiday traditions. Gemma and his mum adored her and asked about her more than they asked about Harry.

She had the best jokes from books she read. Her art was beautiful and taking walks through the park with her were some of his favorite dates he’d ever been on.

It was five months in when he told her he loved her for the first time. “You are the most beautiful woman I know,” he said. She smiled at him with the lightest touch of pink painting her cheeks. She made him stop and proceeded to lie in the middle of the sidewalk to capture a picture of the sky between the branches of a tree on the unseasonably warm April day. Harry took his own picture of her doing just that. “See?” He asked, showing her the picture he took.

She looked at the picture momentarily and then back at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “Inside and out; the kindness and warmth you have inside you is probably jus’ a fraction of the beauty y’display outwardly for someone like me that falls in love with you every time y’smile,” he grabbed her hand continued walking down the street enjoying the spring air. She was quiet for the length of the road and when they stopped to wait for the light to change at the crosswalk, she looked up at him at her side.

“You’re in love with me?” She asked.

He blinked in surprise, feeling a bit tongue tied. He chuckled awkwardly as he glanced at her. “Uh...sorry... I should have waited...said that in the privacy of your apartment...or mine, or something. Not in the middle of a busy street.”

She smiled and shook her head at him. “I love you, too.”

The light changed and back again, but neither of them noticed because he was too busy kissing her while the crowd moved around them.

◊

Sometimes she got so angry and frustrated with herself that she would accidentally take it out on Harry. Like the time she didn’t see how close her fingers were to the knife and nicked herself good. Not enough to need stitches or even a trip to the minute clinic, but enough to make Harry ooh and ahh over her. “Angel,” he murmured after she ripped her hand away from him.

“Stop,” she sniffed. She wasn’t in pain—at least not from her little wound she inflicted upon herself. “Just stop.”

He frowned and pressed his lips together trying not to overwhelm her with his worry. In those moments, he stood waiting patiently. Eventually she would say sorry, and he would shake his head. “You don’t have t’apologize t’me ever, m’love...not ‘bout this.”

He knew this was hard for her. Every time she hurt herself or dropped something, it was a reminder that her eyes weren’t working the way they were supposed to. The last thing he wanted was her spiraling and worrying about what would come next.

But he wanted her to know that whatever it was, he would be right beside her. Seeing for her even if she couldn’t.

*

December | Holiday Break | Lunch time

She never let Harry go into her appointments with her. However, he made sure he was the first one to meet her at the door right outside the office because her eyes were almost always dilated. It amplified how difficult it was for her to see where she was going. After nearly bumping into someone as she exited, she apologized awkwardly. Almost instantly, Harry was there looping her arm through his elbow. “Hey beautiful,” he said kissing the top of her head. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask about the appointment. He knew better. She would say something if needed.

He opened her car door, helping her into the seat and placed sunglasses over her eyes to protect her widened pupils. He kissed the space where her forehead met her hairline and closed her safely in the car. Once inside the car himself, he drove off, planning to get her more coffee because she hated these appointments and Harry wanted to treat her for being brave even when she didn’t want to be. She leaned against the window and didn’t speak. Harry placed a hand on her leg, and she wrapped her fingers around his. He gave her a squeeze and continued driving silently.

“They have a new... cutting edge surgery they want me to try,” she whispered to the window.

He squeezed her hand again, glanced long enough to see her contemplative reflection in the glass. “How d’you feel about that?” He asked.

“Nervous.”

He smiled weakly. He wished he could look at her, but he knew talking about it was easier when he wasn’t looking at her—even if she couldn’t fully see him. Harry ordered at the drive through and then continued driving to a little spot by a lake. It was still so chilly outside—even at the warmest part of the day. There was steam coming off the water from the warmth of the sun beating off it. She took a picture of it on her phone and Harry knew the look of concentration on her face was trying to figure out how to recreate the steam in a painting.

They were sitting on the hood of his car. It was still warm from the engine and Harry had a blanket laid over their laps. She leaned back against the windshield holding the coffee cup upright to keep her hands warm. Harry turned to his side to look at her. He brought his hand to push her hair away from her forehead and he traced along her hairline. “Do y’want surgery?”

She sighed. “I wanna be able to see.”

He smiled gently and gave her cheek a kiss. “Will it...get worse? If y’try it?”

She shook her head. “No more than the risk of a regular surgery. It won’t be perfect. I’d still need glasses. I’ll still have trouble seeing. But...I won’t go blind. It’ll either stop it from getting worse or it won’t work,” she shrugged.

“Sounds like you have nothing t’lose then, angel,” he murmured.

She was quiet for a second. “I trace your face so much because I worry, I’ll never see it again,” she whispered. Harry was speechless...all those times he asked her what she was doing... He never thought that was her reason. “I want it to be muscle memory,” she explained. “So... if my eyes...if I can’t see anymore...I hope I can sculpt it from memory,” she whispered.

That beautiful word ‘if’ made his heart so full of love for her.

But, by far that was the most...genuine thing anyone had ever said to him. “God, I wish I dated you so much earlier,” he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her as deeply as he could manage while the cold December air cooled her coffee down once more while he gently traced his tongue along her lower lip.

Her cheeks turned this beautiful shade of red that Harry loved so much. The sunglasses over her eyes hid so much from him. He meant every word earlier. He loved her glasses so much, if only allowing him to see deeper into her soul. “If...it works though...” she whispered after a minute of kissing. He didn’t say anything because he sensed there was more, and she swallowed hard. “I’m scared I won’t be me...I feel like my whole life has been put on hold because of my eyes. I don’t know if I know how to live without... thinking about them.”

“Then we’ll learn t’live without thinking ‘bout them,” he shrugged reaching for a piece of her hair and stroking it like a paint brush across her face. “You’re more than your eyes, kitten.”

Her heart felt so warm at his words. Harry always made the well-being of her eyes an effort for the two of them. It wasn’t a battle she faced alone. Harry was there the whole time encouraging her, helping her, keeping a literal eye on things for her when she couldn’t. It didn’t bother him when she cried about not seeing something. When she bumped into walls or doors, he never said anything other than to make sure she was alright. If she dropped something and made a mess, he simply helped her clean it up. Harry was her personal chauffeur, and he didn’t care at all.

“To be fair m’love, I would be driving y’around anyway because you’re a lady and I adore you and m’mum taught me t’hold car doors open for the women I adore. And I’d rather drive and keep y’safe... plus you’re a terrible driver even when y’can see. S’a danger to you, me, and everyone else on the road.”

“We wouldn’t...” she whispered quietly and shook her head, looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t what, m’love?” He murmured looking at her with a frown on his lips. Worry etched between his eyes.

“We wouldn’t...be in love...if it weren’t for the fact I can’t see,” she reminded him and turned to look back at his expectant face waiting for her to complete her thought. “I wouldn’t have spilled food on you. You wouldn’t have sat up front and asked if I couldn’t see. There wouldn’t have been writing notes for me or making sure I was okay at that party or at the pub...”

“Kitten, I learned t’read Braille for you. I don’t care if y’can see or not. I would do anything for you. I may have fallen for you because you couldn’t see but I don’t stay because of it. I stay because I adore you.”

“What?” She whispered breathlessly. She sat up fully while Harry stayed lying flat against the windshield. “You learned...you did what?”

He shrugged. “M’probably not very good at it. But I don’t know...thought if it came down to it, if it got worse and you were sad...I’d want t’help.”

Harry saw the tear slip down her cheek past her sunglasses. “Harry Styles,” she practically sighed. “You are...I don’t know...”

“The love of your life, maybe?” He smiled cutely and reached up to rub the tear from her cheek.

For the second time in her life, she had so much hope swelling in her heart. Harry, the cause of it once more. “And hopefully every life I’ve ever have and ever will live.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @tiredinwinter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

[marblegroves]

Just saw your sketchbook post and I am amazed at how clean it all looks O_O /pos

So I was wondering, what materials do you use for your traditional drawings (all the stuff from sketch to final piece)?

BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED THIS *ahem*

Behold 😌

For the sketchbook pages, I mainly stuck to these materials though ^^ these guys are my…

PRIMARY MATERIALS

The green mechanical pencil on the picture on the left has 0.7mm colored lead in it! I alternate between blue and pink colored leads depending on what fits the overall color of the piece better.

Once I finish up the sketch, I line it with the black pilot ballpoint pen! I really like the control and feel of ballpoint pens for traditional lineart, because it gives a sort of variety in pressure I can’t seem to achieve with normal fineliners. I like to switch up the colors of the lineart too sometimes, hence the pink and red ballpens.

Then once the linearts done, I color them in with the stabilo highlighters, as pictured on the right! These guys are my FAVORITES. Sometimes when I’m just freely sketching I use the grey or peach mini stabilos. Although, they do tend to be a bit runny, ‘cause they’re meant for quick highlights and not multiple strokes over an area ^^; so you do have to be careful and quick when coloring with them to get an even coat of color!

Sometimes, though, when there are other colors or textures I want in a drawing, I use my…

SECONDARY MATERIALS

Pictured above are all my alcohol based markers! The four on the left are neon sharpies for when I need that extra eyestrainy kick. The three promarkers with the pointy cap were from when I was a freshman in uni and wanted to collect a full set of alcohol markers, but these were the only colors they had in stock and the college supply store ✌️ I’ve since given up on that dream because they were really expensive ;; they’re really good for sunny grassy scenes though! The last dark blue marker was from a set of other blue markers, but the others have since dried out… I use it when I really wanna darken up a page, like for night scenes!

This is my prismacolor set! I like to pair these with the markers, going in after the initial layer of color to give a bit of variety or shine. Some examples of when I use them would be for adding blush or giving hair a glossy sheen 👍

These ones are my “fuck it” materials lmao

I use these when I really just wanna scribble something down wildly. I had these since I was in gradeschool and its quite frankly a miracle they still work? Oh, and the red and yellow twistable crayolas are missing because I vaguely remember giving them to some childhood friends for some reason 🤔

My fineliners and gellyrolls! Haven’t used these much recently tbh. I’d used them for class before, but I never really likes how flat the thickness tends to be :/ the brush tips and chisel tips are cool though. I used them for that one yellow bdubs doodle to try and see if my opinion of them has changed ^^ it hasn’t. Moving on…

Lastly, we have the special materials! The ones that don’t really go into any sets, or have nice applications. In order from left to right:

Wink of Stella - A brush pen that applies glitter through some sort of black magic. No idea how she works but I love her

Red Marvy Art Director 1400 - A red fine tip marker. Can’t go wrong with a bright red marker 👍

Golden Posca - My only posca marker. Figured if I should get one it might as well be something special.

Faber Castell Blue Highlighter - I use this alongside the stabilos. It has a really nice deep blue color ^^

And well! That should be everything! ^^ Thanks for giving me an avenue to gush about my materials lmao 🥰

[tsarisfanfiction]

The Best Teacher

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Kayla, Yan, Jerry, Will All new Apollo kids have to have their archery skills vetted. TOApril 2024 has begun and this time I plan on actually taking part, so here is day 1 - Missed Target

“Have either of you shot before?” Kayla asked, turning to face her two newest siblings.  Perhaps she should have asked that earlier, before leading them to the archery range and putting bows in their hands, but who said she was the best person to be doing this?

Well, she was the best archer in camp, so of course she was.

Kayla steadfastly ignored her spectating brother from where he was pretending not to watch behind the waiting line.  Will might be head counsellor, but he was not the best archer in camp.

Yan shrugged.  He – they, she corrected herself – held the bow she’d given them up, inspecting it.  She hadn’t given them anything complicated; camp default was the longbow, which was very much a point and shoot type of bow.  Powerful, but easy enough for most demigods to get the hang of.  “Once or twice,” they said in a dismissive voice that meant either they were lying, or didn’t think it was important.

Next to him, Jerry was plucking at the string of his bow – composite recurve, because he was a bit younger and smaller and longbows were tall – absently.  “Nope!” he said cheerfully.

Well, Kayla had had worse students – ones that had shot before and thought they were good at it, until she caught sight of their form and realised it was a miracle they hadn’t hurt themselves trying to draw their bows.  Not used to shooting meant blank slates.

“Okay,” she said.  “In that case, part one – safety rules at the range, before our big brother yells at me because I forgot to say something and someone gets hurt.”  She intentionally didn’t look towards where Will was sitting with Nico.  “This is the waiting line.  Don’t step past that unless you’re about to shoot.”  She pointed at the line closer to the targets.  “That is the shooting line.  While doing range shooting, you stand on that line and do not cross it under any circumstances while anyone has a bow in their hand.”

“What about non range shooting?” Yan asked, and Kayla shrugged back at them.

“That comes once you can range shoot well enough to not kill anyone,” she said.  “So, who’s first?”

“Me!” Jerry shrieked, throwing his hand in the air at the same time Yan said “age order,” and stepped up to the waiting line.

Kayla should have expected that, really.

“Experience first,” she decided.  “Jerry, stay there and watch.”  The British boy pouted but Kayla ignored him as she led Yan up to the shooting line.

For demonstration reasons, she’d passed over her own bow in favour of a longbow.  The smooth European yew felt different in her hand to her usual carbon fibre, but it was still instinct to raise it and draw back under the close watch of her new siblings.

“Let it settle,” she cautioned.  “Then one… two… release.”  Her arrow thudded into the centre of the target, burying itself halfway to the fletching.  “And finish like this.”  She held her position for a moment, letting Yan take it in before relaxing.

“I got it,” they said calmly, and before Kayla could even say anything, they had their loaned longbow at full draw, steady and with beautiful form.

Before she came to camp, Kayla would have thought Yan had lied about how little they’d shot before, but she knew better now.  Things didn’t always follow logical sense for demigods, and being able to perfectly draw back a longbow when they were a child of Apollo was hardly surprising.  Yan didn’t count out loud, but they didn’t need to.  Kayla saw the bow settle as the draw weight sat into their back muscles, and the moment it stabilised, they released.

It wasn’t a perfect shot – their technique was, but they clearly needed to work on their aim a little – but their arrow buried itself in the inner red ring of the target.

Another archer sibling.  Kayla grinned and handed them another arrow.  “Again,” she encouraged, and they obliged with a grin of their own, smaller than hers but she suspected no less maniac.  It was a thrill, feeling the bowstring sing and knowing that the arrow was going to land exactly where it had aimed.

Yan’s second shot was closer, breaking the line between inner red and outer gold, and Kayla knew it wouldn’t take much more practice before they were hitting gold every time – and once they could do that at greater distances, it would be time to move on to combat archery rather than target archery.

Kayla was delighted, but before she could give Yan another arrow, Jerry made his presence known behind her.

“When’s it my turn?” he demanded, and Kayla realised she couldn’t expect him to keep waiting.  Maybe he would be another archer sibling; she’d like that.  Most of their cabin were healers and musicians before they were archers (she carefully didn’t think about why) – and if she was honest, she’d like more siblings that could help her support their dad, if he ever came back and brought more enemies with him.

“Now,” she said, handing a few more arrows to Yan.  “Keep shooting,” she told them, confident that they wouldn’t hurt themselves if she looked away (anyway, Will was there if something did go wrong).

Jerry bounded over the shooting line, looking eager – more eager now than he had before Yan had shot, and Kayla couldn’t quite forget that the two of them had arrived together, had reportedly known each other for some time before discovering they shared a father.  He made impatient grabby hands for an arrow, and Kayla gave him one.

Instantly, she could tell that Jerry was not an archer first and foremost.  He fumbled the nock against the string a couple of times before it finally caught, and when she had him mirror her at full draw…  There were things to work on.

Before she could step closer to him to correct his stance, he let the arrow fly, jerking back awkwardly at the bow’s recoil, because he hadn’t been stable at all, and the arrow predictably responded in kind.

Kayla didn’t see where it landed, because she was too busy looking at Jerry, but she noticed the distinct absence of the thunk of an arrow hitting a boss.  Instinctively, she winced.  Missing the target entirely was embarrassing, especially as she had them set so close to the shooting line for initial lessons.

Jerry looked like he was about to cry, and Kayla was not equipped to deal with crying younger brothers, so she hurriedly stepped up to him and started nudging his feet with hers.

“Let’s fix your stance before you try again,” she said, gripping his shoulders and twisting his torso until it was straight, side on to the targets.  “Feet wider… wider… wider… okay, that’s good.  Head…” she put her palms either side of his face and carefully directed it to look straight at the target without twisting the rest of his body.  She nocked the next arrow herself.  “Draw back… Elbow up.  And back more.  More… more.  Use your back muscles, not your arms, it’ll be easier.”

After some poking and prodding, she had Jerry standing at full draw in something that looked reasonably like it was supposed to – not perfect, but that was going to take some work, she accepted with some internal dejection.  Just because Da was a coach didn’t mean she was a good coach.  Teaching people to shoot was far harder than shooting.  “And release.”

There was at least a thud of contact this time, but when Kayla turned to look at where it had gone, it had still landed outside of the target sheet, barely hanging on to the edge of the boss.

Jerry burst into tears.

“It was better!” Kayla tried to reassure him.  “It’ll just take some practice!”  Behind Jerry, she could see Yan approaching, looking distressed at Jerry being upset, and this was way out of Kayla’s wheelhouse.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her back slightly and she glanced up to see Will smiling at her gently.  “I’ve got this,” he promised.  “You take Yan.”

“But-”  She was the one that was supposed to be teaching them.  Will wasn’t actually supposed to be there at all, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be taking over teaching when he was the worst archer in cabin seven!

Well.  Second worst archer, now.

“I was that bad when I started,” Will told her, his voice raised enough that Jerry and Yan could hear him, too.  “I’ve got a few tips and tricks that I was given back then that helped me, so they might help Jerry, too.”

Kayla hated that she could probably guess who had given Will those tips and tricks, because she’d noticed that he had a habit of not naming their dead siblings ever if he could help it.  He’d mention names she didn’t recognise, ones that had left before she’d arrived, but the ones that had died?

Introducing others to the archery range always made her think of Michael and the first time he’d introduced her.

“Go on,” Will nudged her.  “Go have fun with Yan.  I’ve got Jerry.”

It seemed wrong, leaving the two worst archers together, but maybe Will had a point, and Kayla really wasn’t equipped to deal with Jerry’s tears – or the frustration she was going to feel when Jerry kept struggling, because she could admit she wasn’t the most patient demigod in the world.  Not even close.

“Okay,” she caved, passing the spare quiver to Will and persuading herself that she wasn’t giving up, she was just being smart, and Yan still needed some tips on aiming, if nothing else.  “Come on, Yan, let’s get your aim perfect.”

“But-” they protested.  Kayla ignored it and grabbed their arm, pulling them back to their place on the shooting line.

“Will’s got Jerry,” she assured them, and Yan hadn’t been in camp long enough to know exactly what that meant, but they knew that Will was head counsellor – and sure enough, already, Kayla couldn’t hear any more crying, just a low murmur of reassurance from their big brother.

She tried not to let it get to her when, despite still not managing anything better than the outer black all session, Jerry still looked far happier with Will’s tuition than her own.

Will was just like that.