#the one perk of the. very unfortunate circumstances of his character

[8n53]

developing tragic backstories for the comic relief character who gets his shoes stolen off of his own feet

[klarificwrites]

Pairing: Timeskip!Kazutora Hanemiya

cws; soft!fem reader, Kazutora is a little mean, trifling men, light angst, crying, spanking, making out, knee-grinding, oral sex (receive), Kazutora is IN LOVE with your tits, vaginal penetration, fingering, they fuck outside and in the car

# Kazutora can’t control himself under professional circumstances when other guys are trying to get as his woman.

First fic, be kind and give constructive criticism!

Today was a very important day, and great step in your real estate career. This was your first open-house, a chance to reel in potential customers and get a profit from the houses they buy off of you. Typically, you were a shy and soft-spoken girl, therefore big events where interaction was so important, seemed out of character for you. It took months for you to actually woman-up and do an open-house. Prior, you had canceled two appointments. If it happened a third time, you were informed that a suspension would be placed on your license.

So, with the support of a loving boyfriend, and stressful days of planning, results pushed through. The hardest part of it all was advertising. If you didn’t excel in endorsement, chances of this opportunity being fruitless was high. “What if little to no one shows up?" It was a thought that clouded your conscious often, and Kazutora would put in overtime to reassure you. Directly, he would approach you, giving comforting words, and playing an assistant role. He handed out your business cards at his job, informed his ex-gang affiliates, constantly posted about it on his socials, and propped signs up in nearby neighborhoods/avenues.

His dedication was contagious, and only made you strive to orchestrate a pleasing open-house. In the end, it was all worth it. At least a dozen people (excluding three of Kazutora’s friends) came to get an overview of the facility—majority of the lot being married couples. You were hesitant to chat, social anxiety almost besting you.

Hands clammy, heart raising, and nerves rapid. You were pacing back and forth behind the house. Although he talked big, Kazutora also began to feel slightly nervous. He wasn’t a fan of stranger-crowds, anything could happen, but he knew he had to prepare himself for that. So, with a level head, he told you, “Y/n, calm down. We’ve practiced and come this far—it’s time to preform.” He wore a soft, stern look, capturing your attention. Smiling, he spoke again, “Baji, Chifuyu, Takemichi, and I, are all here to show our love. Just handle your business.” Words of affirmation from your lover was all you needed to hear, unfortunately.

Kazutora watched from afar as you giddily conversed with the trio of dogs, who lurked in the skin of taller, immoral males. A smile painted over your glossed lips, pretty whites on display, charming every visitor they come across. Your pearl necklace, earrings, and a silver bracelet complimented the black, long sleeve, bodycon dress adorning your figure. The silver flats you wore tied everything together to make you appear as an occupational woman (which you were.)

Although your professional attitude and exchange of words came with the flow, in sand color eyes, it was clear your lack of sociability made you oblivious to certain things. A key reason as to why you missed the way each of those males eyed you like famished hyenas—a savory piece of meat, ready to be ravished.

———

"The price for this modern house is actually on the lower scale, considering the advanced architecture. As you can see, this living room, the dining and kitchen are quite large. It has two floors—3 if you count the basement. There’s a master bedroom upstairs, and 4 others room to go with 5 bathrooms—one in the basement. I highly recommend this for a bigger family. Outside-”

The shorter male of the bunch cut you off, “I’ll definitely look into it. But, I was wondering..” Perking up at his impending question, you simply smiled, dismissing his rude interruption. Pools of e/c rested below long, luscious lashes. A winsomely plain look stirred the man’s appetite. The contents of a smirk threatened to spill over his mouth. “Do you happen to live in this area? I’d like to have multiple options of contact, so in case things can’t be said through the phone, I could come meet you sometime?" Snickers rumbled from the other men, causing you to awkwardly join in.

Politely clasping your palms, "I'm sorry, but that is confidential information.” The man’s face dropped. “Surely you’ve seen my signs and cards. Contacting me via email or my business number is the only way we can stay in touch! That is unless we absolutely have to meet, but it would not take place at my residence, rather a public setting or your place.”

"Aren’t you quite the professional?" Suyuka teased, moving behind you, his black curls hair bounced with every stride. You followed him curiously, up until he disappeared from your peripheral vision. When out of sight, he exaggeratedly ogled at the way the outline of your ass protruded the material that stopped a few inches above your knees. The other men snickered at his actions, you awkwardly joined in, clueless of you being the butt of the joke.

The male’s taller build moved closer to your rear, inches away from rubbing against you. Feeling the abrupt hover of a warm figure, you stumbled forward, tripping over your own foot. A hand roughly clasped the section of your left wrist to prevent your fall. “Calm down, Miss Y/n. No need to be so jumpy..” Suyuka taunted, closing in toward your face, and pushing h/c strands behind your ear.

Moving away, “I’m sorry, I’m quite clumsy. I’ll be careful!” You embarrassingly giggled, rubbing your wrist. Of the other two, the ginger-head male advanced forward. Swiftly, he took your hand, emitting a squeak from you. “There you go again, Miss L/n!” The ravennette laughed. Raising your punier hand, the ginger kissed your wrist. A blush splotched your face—one of humiliation.

You were growing more uncomfortable by every passing moment. The constant laughing was honestly unsettling, especially when you didn’t get the jokes. Nevertheless, you decided maintaining decorum was the moto. So, overreacting in a setting like this was unacceptable. You decided to formulate your next words carefully. At least you tried.

“Um..Sir..” “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I really need to talk to you, Y/n.” Peering over, you immediately removed yourself from the sandwich you were in. Despite the evident irritation on his face, just meeting those brown eyes brought you relief. “Kazutora..”

You walked forward, before pausing at passive aggressive words. “Ehh.. So quick to leave your precious customers?" The orange-haired man pouted, bringing a hand to grip the gray jacket surfacing his heart. Flustered, “Forgive my incompetence, I’ll try to be quick!” You apologized, bowing your figure.

Kazutora clicked his teeth, it was so clear they were taking your naivety and generosity for granted. He was aware that his woman was generally charismatic. That’s why you’re his woman. Even in public men would admire from time to time, however none ever approached. No one dared to, at least when your boyfriend accompanied you. A 5 foot 9 man, with tattoos and a cold gaze stirred many of the path.

Wrapping his slender fingers around your left wrist, Kazutora hurriedly dragged you out of the building.

You found yourself at a familiar spot, behind the house. The black and blonde locks on his head whipped at the wind’s command, his white blazer ruffling. Leaning against the exterior wall, you said, “Thank you, for coming over there. I was having trouble handling them.” You admitted sadly, averting your eyes to the ground and your hands intertwined at your lower back. Nervously, you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet.

He observed the roundness and jump of your breast after every movement. Kazuora considered the clothing a curse and blessing all in one. ‘They were probably looking at ‘em too..’ He unconsciously scowled at the thought. Noticing his silence, you lifted your gaze, long lashes batting pretty e/c irises. Taking note of the transition on his face, you began to feel even more sad, under the impression your meek demeanor was pissing him off—possibly disgusting.

Sensing the burn in your nasal, you could tell you were about to cry. From the way your eyes watered, Kazutora was quick to react, “Why are you crying?" He questioned, empty optics swirling in curiosity and concern. 'I'm not crying!' You wanted to shout, but the words dwelled within the back of your throat. Before you could even speak, tears were trickling down your face.

Now, you were frustrated. Unable to explain yourself without crying, your most self-hated trait. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hung your head low, and brought your hands to cover your face. 'Weak..I'm so—'

Without giving you any time to think, Kazutora ripped your hands away from you face, and engulfed you into a kiss. It took you a split second to recuperate. It was a slow and sensual kiss—at first. Kazutora took the initiative of entering your mouth. Upon infiltration, his hands moved to your waist. This encouraged you to shift yours into his bi-colored hair.

His warm muscle asserted its dominance, causing you to groan as your tongue grew tired. Detecting your tongue’s growing idle, before it completely limped, he sucked it, earning a whimper from you. Then he shoved his tongue further into your mouth, in the process his big hands slid from your waist to rear, giving the fat a nice grip. You both grunted in satisfaction, the feeling caused another wave of wetness to pass through your pussy, the closeness of your bodies gave you the opportunity to feel Kazutora’s boner on your abdomen. He was completely rock.

Tapping his shoulder, immediately he pulled away. A string of spit connected your tongues before it broke. The departing had each of you panting for a chance of oxygen. Staring at you through half-lidded eyes, from his point of view: your neat hair now had few fly aways: tear streaks were all down your red flushed face: tongue lolled out in exhaustion: hands rested above his chest: drool leaking out the corners of your mouth: and unshed tears in doe-glassy eyes, full of delicious desire that he was ready to devour.

He loved that lewd look on you. It was so…tempting—and beautiful. Bringing his thumb to wipe the spit off your face, he placed it on the center of your tongue. Slowly, the corners of his lips jerked up, “You’re so perfect for me..” Your boyfriend whispered lovingly. Kazutora was a man of few words, so whenever he voiced sentiments like that, you burned it into your core memories.

Whenever you immersed in intercourse, it was usually making love, as Kazutora knew you were worth more than a quick fuck. Almost every session you’d cry, the insecurities you saw in the mirror were ones he worshipped like a shrine. Every quality you thought to be negative of yourself were his favorite. It felt good to have someone love you as much as he did.

In the midst of it all, you were able to devise your next words. “Thank you, Kazutora.” You smiled, pulling him into a hug. The transpiration soothed stress you didn’t know you were harboring. Bringing his hands to your shoulders, he lightly pushed you away, hands staying in place. You looked up in confusion. “Is something wrong?"

"I'm not done," He deadpanned, causing you to shift up a brow. Kazutora averted his gaze to your breasts, a small smile bubbling. Your face heated at the realization. Like a fume, steam blew from your ears. "E-Eh?! You want to do that here? What if someone sees us!?" You cried, hands waving in panic.

He simply chuckled, moving forward, and wrapped his arms around your waist. Without hesitation, hungrily, one hand slid up to grope you, forcing a squeak from you. Then there were two. He couldn’t get enough of moving them in circles, it was so entrancing. He loved it.

Your face burned fiercely. The feeling of Kazutora’s eyes piercing into your fondled breasts, and occasionally your face was too much! “K-Kazutora..are you sure we should do this right now? I have to—" The man ended your words with a small peck. "Don't worry, I'll try to make it quick. I just couldn't help it."

You hummed in confusion at his words, awaiting an answer. The innocent tilt of your head sent a throb to his cock. Even with your slightly disarrayed look, Kazutora thought you looked, 'So fucking sexy.'

His mind then wondered to prior events. The way those men dared to ogle and touch you, as if you were there for exhibition. As if you weren’t his.

Kazutora’s optics darkened, sending a chill down your spine. You couldn’t make out his thoughts, not a clue of what was going on in his head. At least until he hooked his index finger beneath the hem of your attire. The pause in his actions and the gaze at you—all a silent question of consent. Without any control over your body, your head moved in a tentative nod.

He used both sets of fingers to scrunch your dress just above your bust. You found yourself practically exposed. The floral, blackberry-colored set adorned your imminent nudity. Your gaze was shyly trained on your silver flats, one forearm pushed under your bra cups, and one shoved between the valley of your chest as it held up a curled finger to your lip. Unknowingly, the position of your arms accentuated your titties even more, making Kazutora’s mouth drop into an ‘O.’

A satisfied smirk spread across his face. Your boyfriend proceeded his earlier motions. He ripped your arms away for your body, a gasp slipping past your oily lips.

He pulled at the your left bra strap a few times. The gesture made your left tit jump up and down. Kazutora loved lightly teasing in the beginning, an opportunity to see the growing frustration on your pretty face. You only shut your eyes in response, disappointment and lingering sadness in your face. After a couple more times of him watching the movement, you whined pathetically. With a chortle, he said, “Fine, fine. I’ll stop.” He made it seem like you were the one who wanted it, but he wanted it bad.

As he pulled the bra to your dress’s level, he enjoyed the sight of the fat straining upwards, until they finally fell free—the kinetic reaction induced a mind-boggling turbulence for Kazutora. The revelation in cool air, made your nipples rise, and your boyfriend didn’t waste a second. You watched in real time as he promptly took your left nipple between his lips. You moaned in pleasure, the suction felt so good.

He brought his right hand to fumble with the sensitive part of your other tit. Kazutora latched so desperately, as if he was trying to discover a flow of milk. The consistent contact made you arch your back off the wall, left hand balled up in a fist as your right hand muffled the small cries bubbling up your throat. Every pull deepened the ache between your legs.

At some point it became entirely unbearable. So, greedily, you tightly rubbed your legs together, in need of a comforting amount of friction. “Getting needy? Let me fix that." You felt your legs being pried open, then a dull edge rubbed against the dampened spot of your panties. Had you not been stuck between, a rock hard man and a building, your body would've simply dropped. Gripping Kazutora's white shirt for support, your back arched in even further. "Ah-Ahhh..!" "There she is!" He grinned, rolling his joint around to gouge a reaction.

Yes, you were a woman of few words in the public eye. The Y/n most people knew was duteous and soft. Not exactly confrontational, taciturn of things going on in your personal life, and only ever reaching out to check on loved ones (except Kazutora, as you shared an apartment). Basically only ever acting when necessary. However, you were actually quite the opposite in private. You were a very vocal woman in bed. Thankfully, Kazutora was the only person to ever know this. You didn’t mind performing foreplay and experimenting new kinks. However, Kazutora was the one who’d usually introduce things of the sort

“Ah—ahh!” Kazutora felt his dick jump with every bounce and moan that came from you. He wanted so baldly to take you down right then and there, but he controlled himself, which even surprised him. Even though his hormones were running rapid, he was being considerate of you. The fact that you would still have to enter the building and wrap up the function, refrained him from fucking you too sloppy. The least he could do was let your appearance remain de—

“Tor..Ahh..! I-I’m so close! Ah, ah! ‘s so good~!” You squealed between moans. Almost every moral Kazutora considered flew straight out the window. Just as you were at your climax, in one swift motion you were bent over, face pressed to the wall, and knees locked. “H-Huh, why’d you do that?" You pouted dejectedly.

A harsh slap to your rear caused your body to jerk forward. "Ouch! That really hurt!" Kazutora ignored your complaints, falling into silence again. As you were using the wall to push yourself up, you felt a tug at the back waistband of your panties. The fabric advanced upward until it was buried into an uncomfortable place within your lips and cheeks. Endeavoring to catch up to the band, you arched your back as deep as you could, leaning on the tip of your toes, and a struggling expression on your face. Your hands clung to the wall for support, palms flat on either side of your head.

This made the globes of your ass and labia on full display. “I bet this is what those untrained scumbags were imagining doing to you.” Your boyfriend mindlessly blurted. “What-” A strike shot through the same area on your ass from earlier. Briefly, your knees unlocked. “Don’t move or speak unless I tell you to.” The tone was so demanding, it left no room for retaliation. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

Even worse, the limbs below you started to tremble from resting on the tip of your toes for too long. The lower part of your back had commenced a pain as well. The moment your heels met the ground and your back rested, the palm of a hand met the red print on your right cheek. You didn’t understand the sudden change in Kazutora’s demeanor. One minute you both were sensually making out, now he’s spanking you for no reason.

Pulling your panties out and aside, Kazutora brought his ring and middle finger to your sore pussy. Absent of any warning, two digits were shoved inside of you. The in and out notion fulfilled any desiring nerves you had. “Ah! Ah! Ah—Kaz-” Smack

He watched the skin of your right ass cheek vibrate upon impact. You flinched at the sting. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak?" He whispered into the shell of your ear, roughly groping your right tit. You slapped a hand over your mouth, sealing off any vocabulary other than “Uh” and “Ah.”

Your gummy walls molded into the shape of Kazutora’s fingers, sucking them back in whenever they retracted. “You liked it, didn't you? The way those men eye-fucked you. The way they were ready to strip you, and share you. I know you liked it." Was he trying to humiliate you? If so, it was working.

You uttered no coherent words, only mewls, harboring any retorts and your current shame. His words had a great affect on you—given your attachment, and it was a lot to take in. Did your “loving” boyfriend of 7 years actually view you as a slut with no sense of dignity? Was it your fault? Had you obliviously dishonored him so horribly that you deserved this? Are you really that weak?

His fingers curled upward, hitting your g-spot, and his thumb pressed down on your clit. In the same breathe, he sent a long, tight pinch to your nipple. “You want more right? Speak…Y/n!” Only cries came out as your legs failed you. Instantly, he supported your body as your knees buckled, causing his previous actions to halt.

The man gave you a moment to rest as he prepped. The right side of your face remained squished against the freshly painted exterior. Your lips parted as you panted for significant breaths of air. Behind you, Kazutora was in the process of whipping his dick out, white blouse pushed above his V-line

The tip was so red, veins protruded along the skin. Looking at it, he was surprised he was able to control himself for this long duration. Precum covered the entire upper half of his wide 8-incher. Kazutora’s body wasn’t exactly lanky, instead tough from fighting in his glory days. Nevertheless, when you first had sex, his size definitely shocked you. “Fuck.. Y/n this what you do to me..” Your lover muttered, using his free hand to send two pump to his length, a groan slipping past his lips.

You were still trying to recover and process your thoughts, so your dazed state prevented you from acknowledging anything he’d said or done. It was only when you felt that familiar tip at your entrance that you were brought back to Earth.

“W-wait not here- Ughnn, ah!” In one fell swoop, he stuffed every inch inside, balls deep. The wetness of your vagina allowed for easy, yet tight access.“Hgnn~” Your boyfriend groaned, a hand coming to grip your left boob. It stung so damn bad. Of course his fingers somewhat warmed you up, but it was a foreign replacement. Anytime you and Kazutora had sex, he’d try to take it slow, but right now he was impatient.

Your back was forcefully condensed into a dip. Due to his rushed penetration, your eyes were blown wide, tears edging at the corners. “You’ve..gotta l-loosen up..if you wanna feel good,” His broken dialogue was proof just tight you were. “H-hurts…” Your voice was so small he didn’t even even catch it in his pussy-whipped state. Smack

You yelped in pain. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak?" He reminded, receiving a whine from you. He sent a deep thrust inside you, hitting the deepest root of your cervix. You let out a broken moan. After that, he brought both hands to your hips, and started fucking you.

The pace was slow, giving you a nanosecond to adjust. Then the speed gradually increased, his thick head constantly brushing up against your core. It hurt so bad and felt good. But, for the most part, your vaginal opening was hurting because of how brash he was behaving. Yet, you kept your mouth shut and trusted the process. Additionally, trying to avoid him hitting the same bruise for speaking.

The squelching of your pussy was music so his ears. “Your so wet and tigh—ttt…so glad this is mine.” Kazutora groaned, sending another slap (this time to your left cheek) to watch the turbulence of your ass. You clenched harder, a result of the pain turning into pleasure.

His sac slapped against your cunt, countless strings of entangled, sticky, white fluids accompanied every pull and push. Your boyfriend’s head was thrown back in delight as bleached strands stuck to the sides of his temples. The requited colliding of your hips left you in a state no better than his.

“Ah! Ah, ah! nghhh..!” He was literally hollowing you. Your pupils were beginning to roll to the back of your head, drool descending from your tongue. “Ughh..keep throwing it like that! Wish you c-could see how vulgar you look…!”

“Miss L/n! We’re ready to end the event! Where are you?”

A feminine voiced called from a distance. Both you and Kazutora’s heads snapped left, but the person hadn’t come around the corner yet. “Ba-babe! What are we gonna do?"

It would be extremely bad for business if anyone from that house found your man buried balls deep inside you, tits hanging, and dress scrunched up near your neck.

Kazutora shushed you and emptied you of his cock, fumbling to sheathe it away in his black suited trousers. You did the same with your panties, bra and dress—well you tried. Much to your dismay, it took less effort to remove the clothing than to put it on. The damned one piece just would not fix itself over your hips! Noticing your struggle, Kazutora’s mouth animatedly dropped, his eyes white with a look a disdain.

You wore a worried expression. Before you could successfully get the clothing down, your legs were lifted off the ground. Kazutora hoisted you up bridal style with little struggle and took off running. “Where are we going!?" "To the truck!"

———

Once at the vehicle, you were both crammed into the passenger seat, barely covered bottom propped up on his lap. Kazutora took desperate breaths of air. Staring at the way he tiredly threw his head back against the seat, jaws flushed, and the bob of his adam’s apple after every gulp made you realize how hot he must’ve looked taking you from the from the back—and that you’d cause him trouble—again.

Frowning, “I’m sorry,” you chirped, staring at your lap. Perking up, he looked at you through the car mirror that he never let up before getting out. “For what?" You corrected your posture, head still hanging low. "I.." You trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut. There it is again. "I could…tell you were so mad earlier—at me!" Tears flooded your eyes. "I'm sorry ughh! I-I didn't like the way they were handling me..I was just so scared—I didn't know what to do! I'm sorry for being so defenseless!"

Kazutora stared at you fondly, processing every word that left your mouth. He felt so damn guilty. Pressuring and discouraging you on your big day was not his intentions. Today was supposed to be about you and he made it about him. You had no reason to grovel and snivel for forgiveness. That was the last thing he’d want his future wife doing.

You felt long limbs snake around your waist and pull you close. “No, don’t do that. Don’t say sorry.” Your lover started, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You’ve got no reason to beg and bow for anyone’s forgiveness, not even mine—especially not me. It’s my fault. I had no reason to take my frustration out on you. If anything I should’ve suckered those scrams the second they entered the door. Baby, you can do no wrong to me, so you’ll never have to atone for anything. I’m sorry if I made you feel weak or like an embarrassment. You’re nothing less than my woman—and my woman isn’t neither of those things. I love you, Y/n.”

You turned to straddle him, the narrow space putting pressure on your thick thighs. “I love you more, baby!” You wailed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kazutora embraced you back, the crook of his neck holding your final wave of tears. You pulled away, offering a closed-eye smile to him, “Thank you, Kazutora-!” You jerked up at the feeling of a growing bump beneath your clothed cunt.

…

“Allow me to make it up to you?" He sheepishly smiled, tapping the fat of your ass. "Pervert!" "C'monnn! It'll only take three minutes..plus the windows are tinted, so we've got privacy!" You raised a brow. "Tora doesn't last just three minutes," You spat, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I wasn't talking about me," Your black garment slid up further, "I was talking about you." He smirked, licking his lips at the revelation of your bra. Big palms drew your honkers in wide circles, with no leverage you attempted to control the notion by placing your smaller ones over his, but they only went with the flow.

“Do you see the gifts of your body? Man, I love it, so mesmerizing…" "Pervert! J-just hurry!" You whined, peeking at him through one teary glossy. In a flash, your titties were set free from captivity, and your left teat was between Kazutora's lips. So fast!

"Ah! Not so hard—I can’t..Gah!..lactate!" You blubbered, tangling your hands into his gold and charcoal locks, eyes trained on his swirling tongue. “Anything is possible, Y/n.” You arched your back for what felt like the 20th time today. Heeding the pool of fluid across his crotch section, the tiger took it upon himself to insert his middle feeler. You mewled lesuirely, throwing your head back at the long awaited pleasure. “See how all it took was one finger for such a sound to leave your mouth, I like that neediness!” He grinned childishly at the way you clenched at the simple words.

00:40

Taking in your moans, “Oh? You like that, babe? Don't worry, I'll make you feel even better." Plunging his index finger into you, your body jerked forward. "S-stop doing things so suddenly, you—Ah, ah, ah!"

01:13

“What were you saying?” The acceleration of his joints was fostering a knot deep in your belly. Every time he shoved them back in, their curve would pin point an extremely sweet spot internally. “N-no—If—Ah, uh-uh..mm! You…do…that, I’ll—Ah!”

1:45

“No! I f—eell it! If you keep doing that my pussy will…ughn!” Cackling at your faltering words, your boyfriend wished you had finished that sentence so he could poke fun at you later. “Don’t you remember “more” and “hurry”? A commander can’t go back her words…! ♡” He smirked, moving closer to your face. Deciding to wrap this things up, the pad of a thumb pressed down on your clitoris, provoking lustful sounds from you. Kazutora observed how the volume of your moans elevated, walls clenched firmer; but the way you flushed your bosom against him and chased for that mutual kiss were clear signs of- “Cumming! I’m cumming..!” You pulled at his white blazer, elbows tucked to your sides.

2:11

“Let me have it,” He whispered, eyes never leaving yours while capturing you in a french-kiss, and grasping your ass. Like a spell, the knot within you unraveled with a wail. Your body violently shook as you experienced the climax, cum soaking your panties that were never completely discarded, and Kazutora’s entire lap. The strain in his boxers was horribly painful, but the vibration you sent throughout his esophagus almost cured the problem underneath his pants.

“Oh no! My inner thigh is all sticky..I can’t go in there like this!” You exclaimed breathlessly, leaning back to look at yourself. With a sigh he ripped his blazer off, paying no regards to the broken buttons. You watched in confusion as he slipped the fabric off. “Don’t panic, I hate dressing up anyways.” The monotone of his voice made you giggle.

“Lift yourself up a bit, remove your underwear too.” Complying, you ridded the underwear to the floor. He tentatively wiped the mess off you. It only took a few seconds, once finished you began to fill the cups of your bra in again. He palmed your boob, “Leave the bra too.” The male said it with such seriousness you didn’t even bother to question it.

———

“How do I look?" You asked, standing outside the open truck door. Examining you from thigh to chest, a glint appeared in Kazutora's eye. "I'll tell you if you do the thing with your tits," He simpered, head propped upon the hand that was supported by his leg. You knew exactly what he meant.

Shyly, you pawed your chest, and moved them around slowly, rolling your areola between your index and middle fingers. The self pleasure induced a grunt from you, "Like this..? Am I—ngh..doing it right..?" "Wrong!" He lied, just buying time to feed into his lust.

“H-huh!? What is it then?” “Just kidding!” You huffed in annoyance. “Be serious! I actually have to look presentable walking in there!” You gritted, pinching your brows together. Wiping the drool from the side his mouth, he waved you off, “Sorry, sorry! I’m serious now! You look amazing, my love, go be great!” He smiled happily.

Nodding, you pivoted to walk off, “But before you go…” Turning back, “Hm?" "Could you please bend over really quick?" He begged clasping his hands together. "Why?!" He timidly palmed the boner emerging from his trousers. "Only a taste!" Exhaling, once again, you stride toward the single step that rimmed the truck, and hopped in front of Kazutora. Your upper half leaned over the black headboard. Tooting your ass up in front of him, you hooked a finger to reveal your soaking pussy, “Make it quick, okay, baby?" You assured, looking back at him. With dry and anticipating lips,“‘K-Kay,” Was the only thing he managed to say.

Spreading your cunt, he licked a long strip along your slit, instinctively causing you to push it up against him. Taking the opportunity, he shoved his tongue inside your hole, swirling the muscle around.

Slurping noises left his mouth, an effort to savor your addictive taste and scent. You futilely attempted to shove his head away. Any time you tried to wiggle your hips away from his face, he’d trail your cunt. “T-Tora..uh! You said a quick taste, get your head out of there! ughnnn..! No—uhh~! No more, plea—uh, uh—I feel it again! My vagina is going to… Agh~! Cumming! Cu-hnghh..!”

[wishing-stones]

Nightmare! What is your favorite thing about your guys and your least favorite thing?

(this one is a doozy, so I'm not writing it up to take a screenshot. You get quotation marks)

"Well, there certainly is much to consider, isn't there? Everyone has their strengths and their weaknesses, both in character and in combat. It is only natural for a leader to notice the drawbacks and perks of the people he leads.

With all of that in mind... Perhaps I ought to start with the traits and behaviors that I am not as fond of.

I will start with Killer, since he thinks himself so important. He lets his pride get the better of him more often than I would like. He is easy to rile if his sizable ego is injured in any way, and takes far too much far too personally. Pride cometh before the fall, and when he falls, he falls far, hard, and fast.

Dust is unpredictable and has difficulties with his own emotions. He tries to keep himself in a state of neutrality, but it does not take very much for it to boil over in a fit of very dangerous rage. He tries to emulate Killer in that he pretends that nothing he's done bothers him, but he lets that guilt and self-loathing gnaw at him until he breaks down, and all but refuses help up until the point that he does. Stubborn to a fault, if I were to sum it up.

I am very mindful of Axe's condition when considering his shortcomings. That being said, when he is provoked, he gets unnervingly aggressive. He occasionally still has issues with being territorial and resource guarding, although it is more around those he cares about now, and less about food. I suppose that could be seen as a good thing, but it makes it very difficult for negotiations sometimes.

Cross, like Killer, is far too proud. Beyond that, he keeps his issues to himself, even if it is permissible to share them. He torments himself, allows his own past mistakes to haunt him and hurt him, and refuses to let anyone near for fear of being hurt again. It was understandable at first, but as time has worn on, it has become... problematic.

From the time I've spent around doctor Baggs, His own pursuit of science blinds him to his own needs, and the needs of others around him. If someone is looking out for him, it is slightly better. If he is on his own... It becomes a greater issue. He is also an incredibly proud creature, slow to trust and difficult to read, even for me. I hope this aspect will get better with time. It seems to be.

Ren... Is eager. They are perhaps too eager, and while it is understandable, they must also recognize that progress is not achieved overnight. Certainly, they have become an invaluable asset and talented with a sword and shield, but this alone will not be enough to protect them from unfortunate circumstance. They learned that the hard way. From what I can sense, they feel beholden to be as good as any one of my other subordinates insofar as combat and magic is concerned, else they become a burden. It would be beneficial to them if they spoke these concerns aloud rather than trying to tamp them down.

With all of that being said...

Killer is clever and quick, and is my right-hand man for a reason. He's excellent at strategizing, a magnificent team leader, brilliant in the field, and knows when it is time to play and when it is time to be serious. He is also loyal, and once that loyalty is earned, it is earned for good. Aside from that... he is alarmingly intuitive.

So is Dust, for that matter-- he appears to have a sixth sense for if someone else is not perhaps in the best of moods, or too deep in thoughts they ought not to be in. He's an attentive listener, offers fairly sound advice if it is wanted or needed, and offers no judgement if things are told to him in confidence or in moments of weakness. He cares more than perhaps he would like others to think, but that is a good thing. It means that everyone has at least one other person looking out for their well being.

Axe is surprisingly gentle and kind. He is a good listener, good at comfort, and will do all he can to try and remedy whatever might ail an ally. One might think that these are traits that I would frown upon-- on the contrary, it makes for a stronger team dynamic. It means that he can be trusted, and without trust, we are nothing. Despite his condition, he is eerily skilled at remembering the finer details of those around him, doubly so if it involves food.

Cross is loyal and unmoving. His resolve is iron-clad, and he works every day to better himself. He might not trust everyone as much as I think he ought to, but that does not mean he will not go to every length possible to protect them. He is also a very strong team leader, and an incredibly skilled warrior in his own right. He is masterful at making decisions in the thick of a battle.

Baggs is unwilling to tolerate anyone's pettiness or feed into their attempts to get a rise out of him. He shuts down any malicious tomfoolery with an almost enviable amount of skill. He is not, however, unkind. Despite some of the disagreements he has stepped in to stop, or any hostility shown towards him, he is a patient doctor who leaves all of that at the door to his lab. He treats all with the professional air and carefulness I hand-selected him for. He is good for the team. It is refreshing to have stern backup.

Ren is astonishingly skilled, and surprises me more every day. They have learned quickly and trained quickly. Their dedication is inspiring, and it makes me immeasurably proud that they have shown such loyalty and willingness to become more than they were for the sake of the team and I. They will be very dangerous indeed once they have a finer grasp on their skill and strategy.

I imagine that the rest of my team has their own opinions on what they like and dislike about one another, but so long as we recognize these faults and exalt these strengths, we may continue to grow better as a collective. Unity is necessary when so much is at stake. Even when the pressing conflict is over, we must continue to work tirelessly at becoming the best that we can be."

[alienaiver]

oh, for the little writing game how about sakusa wasn't sure if it was a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster but he knew... 

also, sorry in advance if the prompt is not very useful haha (๑^-^;๑) i'm sending you lots of love, nohr ♡ you are a fantastic writer!!

ELLE !!!! this one RAN from me i swear i have no idea how it got so long...... it was so fun!!!!!! i hope you enjoy it! im not sure if its exactly what you envisioned but i hope it works all the same and makes you smile !! i love a little lovesick-but-very-awkward sakusa so much.... have a whole fic in my mind for him about being Like That with msby supporting him in woo'ing you //sobs hes SO GOOD had to give this a read more bcos it got long and dont wanna attack anyone with the length LKJFESKFJS <33333

send me a sentence + character and ill write a short scenario where the sentence's included!

Sakusa’s late. It’s a long list of annoying circumstances that makes him late for the last practice of the season – one that he’s been dreading because not much has gone his way and ending it on a negative note grates him. He’s in need of a new phone currently and while that may seem unrelated, it’s unfortunately not. His alarm clock – that Miya talks shit about because who uses alarm clocks in 2022? – laid it’s life last winter and he hasn’t been able to find one that’s the same.

Which is important, because the sound of the clock is what matters and his old one was right.

So he’s been using his phone the past year and it hasn’t been much of a problem for the first part until the battery mysteriously started being unreliable. First, he cursed the charger and bought two or three new ones before he had to finally admit it had nothing to do with those – but that his six-year-old Huawei was about to say goodbye.

Which is still impressive because back then he picked the phone based on the price and didn’t expect it to last as long as it has. He was a broke student at the time and while he isn’t one now, the phone market has become so over-saturated and frankly overwhelming. Every time he goes online to check out which phone to purchase there’s a long list of perks that makes him decide on one – and then he stumbles upon a Reddit post that tells of the longest lists of downsides he’s ever seen.

And it’s like this with every phone he finds. Which pisses him off and he’s been putting off getting a new one precisely for that reason. Komori’s talked about just getting the first and best one since they’ll all have drawbacks but it seems like too a significant choice to just leave up to random chance – what if one of the exact downsides are what he needs the most?

But his alarms didn’t go off – and last night he came in late because Bokuto, Hinata and Miya insisted on watching movies and eating together. If they mention how late he stayed, he’ll probably tell them he felt it rude to leave. If he wasn’t so grumpy from waking up on the wrong side of bed, he’d have told them he had fun. Genuine fun.

He opens the doors to the arena they train in and go straight to the changing rooms. He’s trying to turn on his phone as he walks, knowing the way by heart. Considering that others might walk on his exact route wasn’t on his mind today, so the impact he feels at walking straight into you and dropping his phone makes him yelp out loud. He inhales sharply to try and mask his embarrassment from making the sound of loud. He narrows his eyes as he watches you, keeping himself as neutral as possible.

Of all days, he meets you today.

Sakusa’s not sure if it’s a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster but he knew… today would be the day he asks you out. After all, he won’t have a reason to come here for a while as off-season begins.

There’s a small café in the sports arena that mostly sells sports drinks and quick foods for the athletes who come here. You work there and every day you sell him all the sports drinks for the entire team. He volunteers to pick them up every time so he can have a chance to talk with you but fails miserably every time. It always becomes a stuttering string of words as he pays for the drinks and bows at you before he awkwardly tries to balance them all in his arms.

Once, you even helped him carry them. He blushed the entire way and said not a single word to you.

You apologize and bend down to pick up his phone. The screen is shattered to pieces – no luck turning that on now, he thinks. You start to apologize profusely as you realize what’s happened and he yells, “it’s okay, it was”- he clears his throat to control his volume- “broken anyway!”

You nod but still let out a final apology, “I have to get a new one too, it’s just so annoying to find one between all the brands…” you scratch at your scalp with frustration. Sakusa’s eyes lights up – a common subject!

“Do you want to buy new ones together?”

Fuck. That’s too direct. You laugh and your smile takes his breath away, “…sure? It might be nice to discuss it with someone besides the seller trying to make a buck!” you nod, “you’re Sakusa, right?”

You introduce yourself properly for the first time and it’s not until Miya comes and yell for him to hurry or coach’s gonna kill you that he’s able to leave your side.

“Come by the café in your break and I can give you my contact information!” you promise him as you watch him walk away. Sakusa steals not one but two glances back at you before the door to the changing rooms closes behind him. He’s never been happier about a broken phone in his life.

[newwwwusername]

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012 Movie) - Sam & Patrick - Cleft Awareness Month Prompt 4 : Bullying

Content warning for the f slur and canon-typical homophobia/mild violence Prompt : Character A has a cleft lip (palate is optional). This can be either a case where it's unrepaired OR it's been repaired but they're still bullied for it. Character B comforts them Headcanon : Patrick has a cleft lip

Patrick was late to class.

Sam didn't share many classes with him, but they did have math together and she knew that he was at school, so his sudden absence was weird, especially because the boy rarely skipped class- Especially without her.

"May I go to the bathroom?" she asked a few minutes in and the teacher allowed her to, so she left class and began wandering the halls to investigate. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given the circumstances), she found where her brother was pretty quickly.

Pinned up against a locker by some of Brad's bully friends while Brad stood off to the side, quiet as a mouse. She wanted to pummel the boy for his enabling, but she had more important things to worry about.

"You know, it's crazy that a faggot like you would get his way with any other faggots" one of the boys spat, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I mean, seriously, who would want to kiss someone with a mouth like that?"

"Your dad seemed to be a big fan of my mouth last night" Patrick said back, though that only earned him a slap to the face. "I got my lip fixed, you fucking asshole!"

"You should sue your doctor" another boy spat. "They clearly botched it"

"Hey" Sam stepped in. The boy who had Patrick pinned up against the wall let go of him. Brad seemed to take Sam's intervention as leverage to subtly protect Patrick.

"Come on, guys" he told them. "These losers aren't worth our time"

With that, the group walked off, leaving a vulnerable Patrick and his very concerned step-sister alone in the hallway.

"Sorry you had to see that" Patrick said, avoiding her gaze. He didn't like seeming weak or vulnerable in front of her. He also didn't like that she now had seen firsthand some of the shit he got over his birth defect.

"Christ, don't apologize" she replied, exasperated. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine"

"Pat-"

"I said I'm fine" Patrick repeated sharply before exhaling. "Can we just get to class?"

"Alternatively..." Sam smirked. "We could ditch the rest of the day and go get some food to cheer you up"

Patrick laughed. "I like the way you think"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 31 cleft-centered prompts that you can find here

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

Aberration - Chapter 2

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Yay, here’s the second chapter of my new AU! It’s a little shorter but I promise chapters will get longer as we go.

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist

~~~

"Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

Only slightly acknowledging his warning, you look down at your notes, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the words on the page. "He suffers from Erotomania? Interesting…"

Aizawa nods. "Ah, yes. A very rare condition indeed, especially in males. The affected person strongly believes that another individual is in love with them. This delusion develops and persists despite clear evidence to the contrary."

"That's a very exciting find. I can't wait to meet him." Your eyes light up, quite intrigued.

Aizawa sighs and gestures with his head. "Follow me."

Kirishima's room was only a few doors down from Tokoyami's. Once again, Aizawa presses his hand to a key code and you hear the door unlock, following a buzzer. You slowly make your way into the room. It mirrors Tokoyami's down to the last detail, the only difference being a redhead was currently doing pushups.

He barely acknowledges a person stepping into his room, eyes flitting to your form and back to the ground. It takes him a moment to realize it was someone new. As soon as he does, his eyes widen and he springs onto his feet, slightly startling you.

"Oh! Hello there! You're new!"

You nod your head and smile at the red-head. "That I am. My name is Y/N and I'm the newest scientist at this facility. My role here is to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure." You choose to leave out the 'friends' part, as something about him makes you weary. You don't need anything being misinterpreted.

"Hello there, Y/N! My name is Kirishima!" He takes a step towards you but is suddenly stopped by a lower force. You look down to see his ankles chained to the heavy-duty bed frame, connected to him by quirk-canceling cuffs. You look back up to see him looking at you intensely, with a shark-toothed smile. "Man, you're really pretty!"

You swallow thickly, but keep your smile. "That's very kind of you to say, Kirishima. Now, if I may." You take a seat at the desk like you did with Tokoyami. Kirishima follows suit and sits across from you on the bed. His smile never wavers, making you slightly uneasy. You ignore it and turn to a blank page in your notebook. "Now, if you could please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

He gives you a chuckle and points to himself proudly with his thumb. "I'M Eijiro Kirishima! I'm 22 years old and my Birthday is October 16th!"

You giggle softly at his extroverted personality. "Ahh, same birth month as Tokoyami." You mumble to yourself. His ears perked up and his smile faltered slightly.

"You met Tokoyami already?"

"Hm?" You look up and smile fondly. "Ah yes, I have. He was the first one. A very nice young man."

You look back down at your notes, failing to see Kirishima's eye twitch slightly. He returns to his signature smile as you look up at him again. "And what is your quirk?"

"Oh, it's so cool! I can harden my entire body to an extreme. I can make myself a shield or a weapon! Pretty manly, am I right?" Kirishima wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to chuckle.

"That is definitely a unique one, Kiri." You, once again, fail to notice the way his eyes light up at the nickname, too busy looking down at your notes. "Now I see here that you've been charged with Stalking and 2 counts of second degree murder. Is that correct?"

"Yup! Although I don't understand how it would be considered 'Stalking', when she always knew I was around. She was okay with it, too! I mean, we WERE in love, you know." He furrows his brows.

You raise a brow and write down everything he says. "Care to continue explaining what happened? Why were you brought into this facility?"

Kirishima sighs and rests his chin on his hand, a dazed look on his face. "Well, you see. There was this girl. We were totally, completely head over heels for each other. You've probably heard of her, Kim Hyuna?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yeah, you heard of her. She is one of the biggest idols around right now, extremely pretty and extremely talented. She has millions of fans from around the world. You already can see where the direction of this story is headed.

He continues with a wide smile. "We used to go out on dates everywhere. To the mall, the salon, even to her dorms. We were so in love." His dazed expression turns sour. "Then that stupid boy shows up outta nowhere. He took her from me. He dared to take something so precious from me. So, I couldn't take it anymore and, uh, kinda killed them."

You watched him rub the back of his neck sheepishly, like the situation was no more than a mere broken dish he dropped on accident. You nod your head carefully, writing the last bit of information down. Clicking your pen, you look up and give the young man a fake smile.

"Well, that's it for today, Kirishima. I must take my leave, but I'll be back to run some tests soon."

Kirishima frowns and quickly stands up. "W-Wait, already?"

You gather up your notes and clipboard. "Yes, unfortunately. I do have some other patients I need to get to before-" as you go to stand up, your foot gets caught under the chair leg and you trip. You accidentally fall forward and into something hard. Looking up, you realized you fell against Kirishima himself, your hands splayed out against his chest.

His eyes widen, staring down at your hands against his chest, something shifting in his eyes. Before you're able to pull your hands away, his own reach up and snatch your wrists, holding them in place. A blush appears on the apples of his cheeks.

"Y-Y/N. I-I had no idea you felt the same."

Your eyes widen in fear. You attempt to tug your hands away, but his iron grip tightens into a bruising force. "Kirishima, I would advise you to kindly let go of me. Please, don't misunderstand the situation."

His grin widens, showcasing his sharp teeth. Red eyes bore into yours with a wild look. You hear the door buzz behind you and a flood of voices coming in. You feel a pair of arms reach around you and hands grip your elbows. Two pairs of hands each grab Kirishima by the arms and force him to release his grip on you. You watched two of Aizawa's assistants hold down a struggling Kirishima as you were forcibly dragged out of his room.

Once safely outside, you were spun around to meet the eyes of a fuming and worried doctor. "Are you alright, Y/N?" Aizawa's eyes travel along your body, doing a quick examination to make sure nothing was injured.

You nod your head and rotate your slightly bruised wrists. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

Aizawa sighs. "Didn't I say NOT to touch him? His obsession tends to solidify with physical contact."

You wince. "I know. This time it was an accident. I tripped and he just happened to, uh, be the 'wall' I fell against." You think back to the moment you fell against Kirishima. His chest felt almost rock solid, not like a normal human body would be. Now you're thinking that his quirk leaked through the cuffs and that thought scares you.

"Nobody said you were clumsy when you were hired," he sighs and runs a hand down his tired face. "There are still 9 other inmates you need to check with. And 6 out of the 9 are above Kirishima's danger level. Are you still up for it today?"

You shake out your hands and nod your head. "Yes! I am. A little scare never bothered me. This is my job."

Aizawa hummed in reply and flipped through his clipboard, stopping on a page. "Inmate 09, Keigo Takami. Mafia leader. He's a level 7 as well, but doesn't have delusions like Inmate 04 does. While he's very dangerous, he's a little more tolerable." Aizawa hesitates before continuing. "Er, minus the excessive flirting."

You sigh and flip through Keigo's information. "Oh goodie. Well, let's get this over with." You follow Aizawa to Keigo's door and once it buzzes, you enter the pristine, white room.

"Good afternoon Mr. Keigo, my name is Y/N and I'll-" You look up from your notes to see a half naked man with blonde hair and bright red bird wings lounging on his bed. Your jaw drops and you hold your clipboard up in front of your suddenly heated face.

Keigo looks over to you with his brows raised. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves a new baby bird. How…" The handsome man's lips turn up into a cocky smirk.

"...interesting."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @silverqueenie @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused @themotherofmoons @ihaveakoreanseoul @1-800-multifandomness @tragically-here @andyronii @sunnnyshark @henhouse-horrors  @dabis-s-whore 

(If your name is bolded, I couldn’t tag you)

[morgana-ren]

Pale Imitation

The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

Rating: E

Warnings: Porn, Masturbation, Yandere, Stalker Shigaraki, Shigaraki is a total creep, Rough sex, Noncon Fantasy/Roleplay

Preemptive Note: Before you continue I just want to note: I'm not a sex worker but I have nothing but the highest regard and respect for them. What ensues in this story is pure kink and fantasy and is not meant to reinforce any harmful/mean stereotypes what so ever. My personal fantasy is degradation and I can't really seem to get off without it so it's a majority of what I write, but I swear to you it was not written with the intent to insult or hurt anyone in the profession! I realize the hardships endured by the men/women/NB/GN in the adult sex work profession and this is just intended to be a pure sexual fantasy and is by no means attempting to reinforce or normalize toxic behaviors in the workplace.

Bad wig? Check .

Poor voice imitation? Check .

Shoddy, unsealed makeup that sloughs off onto the unfortunate scene partner’s skin? Check .

All the tell-tale signs of a bad porno but with one distinct peculiarity that drew his interest.

You know, this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to see when he settled in for his first nightly wank. The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He’s no stranger to the villain kink page. Tons of civilians indulged in their darker fantasies through their nighttime excursions below their pantyline, and being a villain himself, naturally he was curious. Most of it is about what he’d expect. Villains, ancient and new, participating in copulation of all sorts. Some of it is that extremely out of character slow and romantic pornography. Other times, strangely enough, it’s the villains themselves getting taken advantage of. Sometimes by heroes, other times by random people, objects, or even tentacles. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Him though? He’d never seen himself in one, let alone being featured on the front page.

Up until recently, the media and all it’s sinful offshoots had opted to ignore him. However, his recent exploits must’ve caught the attention of the general public, and alongside it, the licentious denizens that dwell within. There had been a few forum posts, a little fan art (most of it flattering), and even a few oddly obsessive fangirls he’d come across. But this? Oh, now this was a whole new caliber.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

The guy they’d hired to play him was naturally a flat disappointment; Too bulky, and way too short. He could tell there was a classically handsome man underneath all that poorly done makeup that was meant to make him look pallid and dry. A sad, pathetic, and pale imitation of the real thing, missing some of his scars and moles entirely. The ashy gray wig they used to try to mimic his shaggy, unkempt hair had an awkward cowlick and kept flopping down too far on the actor’s forehead and looked far more dead than even his own unwashed mop. The voice he was using to mimic him was strained and scratchy, far too forced to be comfortable or even remotely realistic. If he had to place it, it sounded like the guy already had a terribly sore throat and had continued yelling for several hours to achieve the ‘desired’ effect.

He hadn’t expected much, but it was still disappointing. Though to be fair, they nailed the clothing, minus the brand of shoes he wears and the exact coat he’d chosen as his signature.

A part of him was ready to shut it off. Whatever lies ahead could only be utterly insulting, right? This grotesque pastiche lifelessly parroting his mannerisms was already curbing his sexual appetite toward something more violent, and not in the way he liked. Yet, out of sheer curiosity, he kept watching. What exactly did the average screenwriting porn cinematographer think he was into anyway?

It was a little ambiguous at first. At least until the shaky camera followed the Walmart brand Shigaraki knock-off down a generic hallway and into a borderline barren room, bringing into frame a quaking young woman tied up on a filthy mattress. After that, it became very quickly apparent just what type of smut he’d stumbled onto.

The camera zooms in on her face, tears leaking from her eyes and leaving trails of thick black makeup and mascara trailing down her cheeks, her begging and pleading muffled by a rag hastily stuffed in her mouth and secured with what appeared to be a bandana tied around her head. She’s clad in nothing but a flimsy tank top with the straps yanked down over her shoulders and a small pair of lace panties, covered in what appears to be made up lacerations and fake bruising. A nice touch, he notes.

He’ll admit, he’s intrigued now. It looks like they got one thing about him right, perhaps two now that he inspects the adult actress hired to play his unfortunate victim. She’s flattering, far more flattering than he expected given the low budget circumstances. Her watery eyes and quaking body coupled with the slight rope burn embedding into her chafing skin is enough to get his legs stirring and his pants tightening. She looks so pretty, so vulnerable behind all the waterworks and thick stage makeup. He thinks, just maybe, he might be able to get into this if he hyper focuses on her.

As his imposter approaches, she pushes her bound legs out, squishing herself back against the wall and as far away as she can manage from the threat encroaching on her personal space.

“Heroes can’t save you now.”

The shallow mockery of his voice grates at his ears, but he’ll admit the comment is on brand. The actor harshly yanks the bandana out of the woman’s mouth, her pouty lips trembling as she begins to grovel, blinking more tears down her swollen cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry! Please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone anything!”

All things considered, she’s convincing enough to get his blood pumping. Tomura readjusts himself in his chair, reaching his hands beneath the band of his sweatpants. If he can ignore her counterpart, he thinks watching her squirm and squeal will get him off. After all, it’s supposed to be ‘him’ violating this cute girl. Maybe if he defocuses his eyes enough, he can pretend it really is.

“I’m going to show you how much of a villain I really am!”

Ugh . Whoever wrote this dialogue clearly had never met him, or probably any real villain for that matter. It’s enough to make him want to retch, but the feel of his own hand on his cock and the soft whimpering of the actress  as the villain stand-in strips off his coat brings him back and makes him throb. The camera moves in to offer her a close up, face dropping and eyes widening in horror as she comes to the “realization” of what he means.

“No! Please! Anything but that!”

She kicks at him, trying to fend him off with bound limbs as he crawls over her onto the bed. A harsh slap to the side of her cheek is enough to quiet her down and allow the assailant to cage her to the bed with one hand, the other clumsily fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. After he shimmies his ill fitting skinny jeans down his thighs, she looks at him with eyes widened in horror, shaking her head erratically.

“No! Please Mister Shigaraki, it’s too big! It won’t fit!”

A hand far too burly to be his wraps around her neck, pointer finger plucked awkwardly upward. “Quiet! You’re my prisoner and you’ll do as I say!”

Just ignore it.

The free hand goes to grab at her tank top, a brief but noticeable pause in the filming leaves her topless with stage prop ash sprinkled along her torso, the ropes around her wiggling legs conveniently gone now. While the cinematic effect was laughably bad, Tomura can’t bring himself to care. Not when her tits are now on display for him to ogle.

Chest bare and heaving, perfect nipples perked to attention just for him. Smooth, creamy skin goose pimpled and tender, so tempting that he's aching to feel her. A quick swipe of his thumb over his sensitive, spongy tip elicits a rumbled groan from deep in his chest. It’s easier now to ignore the shitty portrayal of himself, especially when he can lose himself to the throes of lust and pretend that it actually is his hands wrapped around her little throat, other fingers drifting lower and lower down her trembling belly.

A quick hook around the seam of her panties and they’re ripped clean from her hips, legs splayed and leaving her pussy center frame, already wet and glistening. He swallows hard, the sight enough to make him salivate. She fumbles around beneath him, desperate to buck him off, but it’s to no avail. Fingers, his fingers, tease the entrance to her tight little hole, slipping one finger, and then two inside, oscillating in and out preparing her to take all of him. Just like she said, he’s so big. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not like that.

After that, it’s all too easy for him to slip into his fantasy. He strokes his cock in tandem with the pumping of the fingers, pausing only briefly as the girl mewls as the fingers slip out and the tip of his cock is aligned with her little entrance. He pistons his own hips as it slams inside, head reeling back on the edge of his chair.

The high pitched whine that escapes her throat as the fake buries himself deep inside has him biting his lip, slowing his hand by force on his shaft. Fuck, even her moans are hot. Her bouncing tits and staggered breathing as his imposter rails into her has him enraptured. The subtle way she leans into the hand on her throat, back arched off the filthy mattress, face expressing clear distress but body betraying her clever act.

It matters little that she’s being paid to partake in the scene with ‘him’. The fact she was open to it says more than he could have hoped to know, and clearly she’s enjoying the treatment. His hazy eyes focus in on her face, working his hand harder with every little nuance she gifts him. The twitch of arms as her nails imbed themselves into her palms, the parting of her moist lips. He’d be willing to bet her tongue could work magic, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. God, she’d look so cute like that. Hands tied behind her back, a sloppy, drooling mess around his dick.

“S-Shigaraki! You’re too rough!”

The hand clamped around her throat tightens, her final word more of a croak.

“You like it, you little slut!”

At least there’s one thing him and this mediocre porn actor can agree on; she certainly does like it. Rolling her hips against him and wailing in a way that has him wonderfully immersed in his fantasy. Hearing his name on those sighs only strengthen his hold, he can practically feel the warmth of her skin, indulge himself in the wet, clenching tightness of her cunt.

It’s fucking insulting that this trash gets to wear his skin, steal his countenance to fuck her. It should be him. If this whelp could get her all hot and bothered, just imagining what the real thing could do sends the remaining blood reserves rushing between his thighs, prick pulsing even harder in his palm. Yeah, he could get this little bitch squealing. She’d fucking like it too, judging by the look on her face as she gets plowed by a man wearing his visage.

Oh, he’d make her scream. Leave real bruising in place of that cheap costume makeup they’d so lazily applied to her naked form. Truth be told, the video itself was rather boring. He’d only kept watching because of how enraptured he was with the little witch being stuffed full of cock by his imitation. He’d never really been taken with an adult actress before but this one? Oh yes, he could really get into her.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. So pretty to him, so deliciously pliable, so completely worked up about a villain using her as a toy, pumping in and out of her warm little pussy until he fills her with his hot cum and she’s overflowing with every fluid thrust. Sweet, sensitive neck exposed just for him to bite and abuse. Face stained with tears, puffy cheeks just aching to be squeezed and smacked. Probably tastes like rapture, eager to swallow whatever he decides to spill into her mouth.

And she could take it. He just knows it. Bent over for him, any hole he pleases free for him to use, hand-shaped welts raising on the swell of her ass. Fingers fisting her hair and arching that cute face back to look directly at him as he spits between her open and waiting lips. She’d swallow it like a good girl, just like a good girl, he knows she would.

He works himself faster, his own breathy whines joining the cacophony of licentiousness that echoes in his eardrums. His imagination shifts into overdrive, clumsy, irregular strokes of his hand tenting and deflating the crotch of his sweats. Soft, pillowy tits bulging through his fingertips as he kneads them, sucking on those tender nipples until they harden just for him. Fucking her mouth until her lips are swollen and red, face covered in a mixture of drool and cum with lipstick smeared around her cheeks. Legs locked around his narrow waist as he slams into her repeatedly, chanting his name and begging him incoherently not to stop, never to stop.

“P-please don’t cum inside me! Please- I-“

Oh, he’d cum deep inside. He’ll cum anywhere he wants on his little whore until it’s slick and dripping. He’ll tie her up, smudging it across her broken expression and let it dry nice and thick. Slip his cum covered thumb into her mouth and then ignore her until her thighs are grinding together and she’s begging for his thick cock again, any way he wants her.

Fuck- fuck she’d love it too. Ride him until each slap of her ass on his bony hips made his cock punch hard against her cervix, crying in pleasure and pain but never stopping until he allowed her. Dig his nails into her back, his teeth into her flesh and mark her up real good, let everyone who sees her know just what she’s been up to with him-

“Shigaraki! Fuck! Shi-Shigaraki!”

His name spills from her lips in a needy sob, voice cracking and so utterly genuine that it sends him over the edge. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand, shooting jets of sticky white seed all over the inside of his black sweat pants and staining his fingers. His entire body shudders, legs stiffening and balls tightening and clenching as his cum spills in fat ropes across the fabric. Try as he might to focus on her face as she cums for him, he simply can’t, eyes slamming shut and mouth left agape as a strangled cry erupts from his throat.

He gives a few subconscious pumps into his hand as searing pleasure crackles through his body, toes curling in his shoes as his lower body lifts off the chair to chase his high. Millions of images flash across his mind, the foremost of which is her, greedy eyes hungry for pleasure only he can give her, silky cunt milking him eagerly. A jagged tooth bites a little too hard into his blistered lip, enough to crack it open but he’s too submerged in bliss to notice. The only thing he can feel is her.

His thighs tremble as his body falls back down into the worn computer chair, orgasm leaving his entire body feeling weak and drained.  His breath comes in heaves, gulping down air as he tries his best to shake off the residual searing pleasure so hot it almost hurts. Overstimulation looms on the horizon and his heavy eyes drift open, feeling so drowsy now he can hardly keep them apart. The orange bar at the bottom of the video is all the way to the right, the video having concluded itself.

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Her name. He needed to know her name. He needed to know everything .

He doesn’t bother reaching for the tissues. He simply withdraws his hand from his waistband, wiping his mess onto the knee of his pant leg before grabbing his mouse and scouring the page for any crumb of information he can find. The comments, while amusing, are hardly helpful.

So hot xx thanks

Who’s the guy even supposed to be?

This babe is so hot, luv her stuff everytime

Yall r gunna get rekt when he sees this shit lol

any sexy girls wanna reenact this with me? Hmu

I’m a girl and I love this!

Wish he’d do that to me <.<

He’d dwell on all of that later. For now, he settles for a quick search through the uploader’s account. It’s a small studio, only a few films out to date, most of which revolve around taboo relationships between villains and society. Following a hyperlink to their main website leads him to bio, complete with her stage name and picture, and even another link leading to an interview with a small time adult magazine, an article called “Cum to the Dark Side” that he bookmarks for later reading.

Even post-cum, she’s just as beautiful. Enchanting, sultry smile and cheeky little expression in her picture. Maybe it’s fate that he stumbled upon her. Maybe she really was just that good at acting and she didn’t have a thing for him at all. Either way, he wants some time with the talent. For research, of course.

Her personal details, as expected, are hidden. They go the lengths to protect their employees it seems. What isn’t hidden, however, is the studio’s number.

He thinks he can work with that.

[ticklishfiend]

Pure Gold (My Hero Academia)

Lee!Mina / Ler!Bakugou ⚠️PLATONIC⚠️

A/N : haven’t posted a fic in a while cause my laptop broke but hey!! i fixed it!! so here we go. i wanna make a sequel to this with the sleepover mentioned at the end, so if ur interested or have any ideas, lemme know!!

Summary: Mina catches Bakugou in a very incriminating circumstance, and of course, records it (cause how could she not). Unfortunately for her, Bakugou doesn’t think this is as funny as she thinks it is, but decides to make her laugh with his own methods anyways.

Word Count: 3084

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED, MWAH <33 xoxo

. . .

Mina rolled onto her right side for what had to be the millionth time tonight, nothing ever feeling comfortable enough to just loll her into the right sleepy headspace she needed to get some goddamn shuteye. She’s never really had many problems with falling asleep before, so why tonight she had to be burdened with this temporary insomnia was beyond her. 

Mina threw her arm out behind her back towards her bedside table, fingers fumbling around for her phone before finding it connected to the charger. Detaching it from it’s plug, she brought it towards her, face flinching at the sudden brightness before her eyes adjusted to the light. She groaned as she scanned over the time, 1:02AM, far later than she would typically still be awake. Sure, it was Friday so she didn’t have any classes to worry about the next day, but it was still frustrating to get off her normal sleeping schedule so suddenly and for seemingly no reason. She had to fix it soon before she pulled an accidental all-nighter.

Whining and groaning the whole way, Mina threw her legs out over the side of her bed, dangling her feet for a moment before slipping them into her cute fuzzy panda slippers she kept on her bedside. The girl figured her best bet for now would be to drink one of the soothing teas that Momo kept lying around in the kitchen for anyone to use. She dragged herself towards the door, allowing her arms to stretch over her head with a yawn before grabbing at the cold metal door handle and slowly creaking open the entrance. 

She was careful to be quiet, turning the handle before shutting the door as to avoid any unnecessary clicks. She’d be damned if she made any of her light-sleeper classmates go through the same sleepless night she was currently going through by waking them up so late in the night. She walked heel to toe through the carpeted hallway, finding her way to the elevator finally and breathing a sigh of relief as the doors closed without a dinging sound.

After what felt like a treacherous journey, she finally made it to the corner that would lead her to both the kitchen and common area. But, before she turned the corner, she saw a light illuminating off the walls coming from the commons. Her brow quirked, not expecting any type of light to be shining from the area.

No worries, she thought. If someone accidentally left a light on I’ll just turn it off real quick so no one gets in trouble, easy peasy! She finally made it around the corner when it finally dawned on her where the light source was coming from in the first place; the TV.

Her eyes met the muted TV that seemed to be playing a...romance anime? The subtitles were on and the volume was completely turned off, so whoever had been watching it was obviously aware of how late it was and was trying to stay quiet for the rest of the class like Mina had been.

The pink girl watched the screen for a moment, reading the subtitles to find that one of the characters had apparently just confessed their love to someone else in some heroic fashion. It was super cute, and she’ll definitely have to look up whatever this is so she can watch it in her own time. Before she could make her way towards the action to turn the TV off, however, she heard...is that…?

...sniffles? 

She paused, her ears perking up at the sound just in case she had imagined it. Then, no more than 3 seconds later, she heard it again. Sniffles, this time accompanied by a little groan of what sounded like endearment. This is so cute, she thought to herself, bringing her hand to her mouth to cover up any giggles that dared to escape. Someone’s crying about a romance anime right now, and it definitely sounded like one of the boys too! There’s no way I can’t find out who this is.

As quietly and sneakily as the acidic girl possibly could, she made her way towards the back of the couch, crouching down just slightly as to not alert them with her shadow. She finally allowed her eyes to peer just above the top of the cushion aaaand…

…

BAKUGOU?!

Mina could hardly believe what she was seeing. Was she complaining? Absolutely not, this was pure gold, it was just surprising! THE Bakugou Katsuki, curled up on the corner of the couch swaddled in a fluffy All Might blanket, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes with an actual smile on his face. He stuffed his mouth with popcorn before wiping his tears with the corner of his printed blanket, muffling a small “Finally,” into the fabric. 

There was no chance in hell Mina was going to miss this golden opportunity.

Like a spy, Mina quickly but quietly snatched her phone from the pocket of her sleep shorts, opening the camera before pressing record. She zoomed in on the romantic scene displayed on the screen, before slowly panning down to the still sniffling Bakugou, the light from the TV bright but his smile even brighter. She hit the off button before stuffing the phone back in her pocket with a grin, quietly making her way towards the kitchen.

She went to take a mug out of one of the top cabinets, purposefully shutting it louder than she needed to to alert the blonde on the sofa. He jumped at the noise, whipping his head around towards the girl before throwing his arm towards the coffee table to snatch the remote and turn the TV off with force.

“Why the fuck are you in here, Pinky?!!” Bakugou whisper-shouted from across the room, and though the light from the TV was now gone, Mina could just tell he had to be blushing from embarrassment. She grinned widely.

“Oh, y’know, couldn’t sleep,” She smirked, not looking Bakugou’s direction while filling her kettle with tap water. “I’m guessing the romantic buildup had to be pretty intense to make THE Lord Explosion Murder shed a few tears, huh?”

Bakugou froze before his body started to shake with anger, launching himself over the back of the couch and lunging towards Mina, grabbing her by the shoulders and digging his fingers into the flesh aggressively. He was seething, his jaw clenched and eyes white with anger, and though Mina was a little shaken up when he initially grabbed her, she couldn’t help but giggle when remembering what she had just seen moments ago.

“I WILL KILL YOU, YOU ALIEN FUCK!” He almost-shouted, and it was obvious he was still cautious of waking anyone up so Mina wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about what she had witnessed. “You keep this shit to yourself, got it?! Cause I’m not scared to fucking kill you!”

“Oh I know that, Blasty,” she smiled up at him, unable to suppress another giggle. “It’s too bad I got your little cry-sesh on camera then, huh?”

Bakugou’s face fell, his eyes wide before he squeezed even tighter into her shoulders. “You...you WHAT?!?!” Mina had meant to let out another laugh at his expense, but it turned into a yelp as she was aggressively hoisted up over his shoulder. 

Mina kicked and laughed, hitting at his back to no avail as he stomped towards the couch and unceremoniously threw her down onto it, pinning her against the cushions, her hands now laying flat underneath his knees that were thrown over her waist.

“Woah, take me out to dinner first!” Mina’s eyes were wide as she let out a nervous chuckle. She tugged at her hands, but they weren’t going anywhere under his weight. She even tried kicking a little against the cushion, but yet again, nothing.

“Not into you like that, Pinky,” He aggressively pointed towards her face, the angry scowl never leaving his now wrinkled expression. “And you’re gonna delete that fucking video, got it?!”

“Are you kidding me?! I could never delete that! It’s gold and you know it!” Mina exasperated, shocked he could even consider that a possibility. 

“NO IT’S FUCKING NOT!” He whisper-shouted into her face, moving his hand even closer to her face until it booped her nose, her eyes crossing down to look at it. “Delete it, Horns...or I’ll fucking make you.”

Mina uncrossed her eyes and looked up to Bakugou, whose face remained angry and undeterred. She sighed, “Ok, first of all, they’re not horns; they’re antennas. Secondly, you were too cute in the video to delete it! I’m sorry, Baku, but I can’t do that.”

Bakugou just grunted, moving both of his hands down now to grip at her waist, making her eyes widen with a sudden knowing fear. “I am NOT cute, and you WILL delete that fucking video, Pink-Fuck! You always give in to this shit,” Bakugou couldn’t help the smirk that rose on his face as he squeezed her sides once, making her jump and yelp.

“Nohoho! Bakugou, please, not thihis!” Mina couldn’t help the giggles that left her lips even if he hadn’t properly done anything yet. It was just the knowing of what was to come that caused nervous laughter to bubble from her chest and into both their ears.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, moron,” Bakugou said, eyeing down at her waist before noticing the phone-sized bulge in her shorts pocket. He smirked, reaching down and pulling it from its hiding spot. He looked at the screen before huffing, turning it to face her eyes. “Gimme the code. Now.”

“No way! You’ll just delete the video!” Mina said before yelping with another jerk as he pinched at her side again. “Dohon’t!” He sat her phone down on the arm of the couch before wiggling both his hands over her belly, the sight alone making her shriek and let out a flow of giggles.

“You’re gonna wanna give me that code, loser,” Bakugou grinned, jerking his hands down towards her stomach without touching her and bringing them back up, making Mina jerk aggressively with another yelp. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already freaking out! This is gonna fucking suck for you if you don’t let me delete that damn video!” 

Mina just pursed her mouth shut tightly, shaking her head “no” while letting little huffs of suppressed laughs escape from her nose. Bakugou just sighed, raising his wiggling fingers just slightly higher before a wide, sadistic grin cemented itself to his face.

“You asked for this.”

Before she had time to retaliate, wiggling fingers came down to pinch up her sides and into the dips of her ribs, sending her into a cackling fit. She kicked uselessly from behind him, tugging at her trapped hands to no avail.

Bakugou used his right hand to dig his fingertips into the bottom of her ribs, while skittering his other nails over her quivering belly. She sucked her stomach in as much as possible, but with each laugh it was brought back up, practically tickling itself on his fingers.

“Bakugohohou! Plehehease! Nohoho!” She squealed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as he continued his relentless but playful torture.

“No what?” the blonde teased, using his index and middle fingers to vibrate into her tummy. She let out a shriek at that, jerking violently while trying to smush her face into the cushion beside her. “Ohoho, that bad, huh? Pretty effective method if I do say so myself,” Bakugou then used his two fingers on each hand to vibrate into her lower ribs, a spot he knows all too well is absolutely unforgiving. She screamed at this, shaking her head side to side as laughs poured from her gut. “I always get what I want, Pinky, and this isn’t gonna be any fucking different.”

Mina couldn’t help the loud shrieks and squeals that left her body, tossing herself from side to side with no effect whatsoever. “GAHAHAHA! Plehehease! It tickles too muhuhuch!”

“Not my fucking problem,” Bakugou went back to his squeezing method from before, this time bringing one hand down to pinch at her hip. Mina jolted at the touch, screaming and cackling at his relentless squeezing. “The code, moron, lest you forget about what got you here in the first place.”

“Nehehever! I cahahan’t!” she laughed before gasping in a breath of air as his hands let go of her body for a moment. She hesitantly opened one of her eyes to look at her tormentor, who was yet again wiggling his fingers over her tummy. She shut her eyes again tight at the sight, a new bout of giggles leaving her from anticipation. “Nohoho!”

“You can never handle being teased, can ya?” Bakugou grinned, before bringing both his hands back down to lift up her nightshirt up to her bottom ribs.

“No! No no no! Please! Bakugou, let’s talk about this!” Mina spluttered out nervously, opening her eyes to see him just ghosting his fingers over her still quivering belly. She tossed her head back with a giggly whine, kicking her feet behind him like a child in a tantrum.

“Nope. You had your damn chance, and you blew it,” He smirked devilishly, bringing his fingers down to gently skitter over her now bare belly, dissolving her into a fit of high-pitched giggles. “Now you’re gonna get-” BZZZ! BZZZ!

Bakugou paused his previously wiggling fingers, his head whipping up and eyes making contact with the now buzzing phone resting on the arm of the couch. He groaned when he read who was calling on Mina’s FaceTime, resting one hand on his knee while reaching out and swiping the phone from it’s resting spot (though his knees were still pressed firmly against Mina’s trapped hands- he hadn’t yet planned on stopping her torment.)

Bakugou pressed the bright green button on the screen and stared blankly at the dark screen as Denki answered. The boy had obviously been trying to sleep, evident by the fact no lights were on in his room.

“Bakugou?” The boy asked groggily on the other end, and even though Bakugou couldn’t technically see his face, he knew he had to have the dumbest expression printed all over it.

“Yes, what the hell do you want Pikachu?” Bakugou growled at the screen.

“Can you tell Mina to quit screaming? I could tell it’s her, her laughs are always the same; just so fuckin’ loud,” Denki chuckled, and Bakugou could hear his sheets shuffling. “What’s got her laughing so hard anyway? You aren’t exactly the funniest person on the planet.”

“I’M FUCKING HILARIOUS YOU DUNCE!” Bakugou shouted angrily into the phone, gripping it tightly as Mina just prayed he wouldn’t crush it with his pure fiery rage. “And that’s none of your fucking buisness!” Bakugou paused, looking down at Mina who had a sheepish grin on her face. He sighed. “She’ll be quiet now. Just go to sleep so you aren’t dumber tomorrow than you usually are,” Bakugou huffed, hanging up without allowing the blonde on the other end to get any word in. 

The explosive teen threw Mina’s phone down beside her on the couch, hoisting himself off her with a scowl on his face and a roughness to his movements. Mina couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he jerked his blanket out from under the girl aggressively and began making his way away from the couch. She quickly sat up and snatched his wrist, pulling him back slightly and making the boy grunt, looking back at her with tense brows.

“How about a compromise?” She proposed, a small grin on her face. He looked at her through squinted eyes for a moment, questioning her request. Finally, he rolled his eyes with a huff.

“Hit me with it,” he didn’t look at her in the eyes, but she celebrated internally at the fact he wasn’t too visibly angry at her.

“I’ve got a sleepover tomorrow with all the girls, and we’ve been dying for a special guest,” She bit her lip with a cheek-tearing smirk as his brow somehow managed to furrow even deeper. “Hang out with us for just a few hours tomorrow night; you don’t even have to sleep over, just stay for the fun parts. I’ll delete the video as soon as it’s over.”

He continued to stare at her questioningly, obviously not convinced nor happy with this compromise. She needed to give him more.

“I promise I won’t show a soul the video if you promise to go tomorrow. No one will even know it existed before it’s already gone,” she said, before deciding to finally pull out the big guns. She pouted out her bottom lip and lowered her wide eyes, eyebrows piercing upwards like a sad puppy. “Pleeease Bakugou? I promise it’ll be fun!”

He paused, staring at her sad little face and feeling himself go slightly soft inside while staring at his friend. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and jerked his arm out of the girl’s grasp with a loud groan.

“Fine...as long as this shit stays between us...I guess I’ll go,” Bakugou nearly whispered the last part, as if the words had to crawl their way out of his throat while being tied down from his sheer stubbornness alone. 

Mina couldn't help the shriek of excitement she let out, her mouth quickly getting covered by Bakugou's large calloused hand while his other planted an index finger on his own mouth towards her. “Shut the fuck up Pinky, we already woke Dunce up!” She just smiled behind his hand, nodding up and down quickly.

Bakugou let out a sigh as he moved his hand from her face, using his fingers to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. “You are so fucking annoying, y’know that?”

Mina just giggled, standing up and giving Bakugou a hug so quick he couldn’t pull away from it. He stood in shock for a moment, before shoving her shoulder and making the girl fall back on the couch with an oof! followed by her giggles. He just rolled his eyes with a, “Tch,” throwing his blanket over his shoulder and walking towards the hallways.

“Night, Blasty! Get ready for the night of your life tomorrow!” She whisper-shouted towards the exiting boy, who only flipped her off as his body finally disappeared into the shadows of the shared hallways.

. . .

A/N : hope you enjoyed!! i didn’t rlly proofread this so if it’s terribly written i apologize lmaoo, again if ur interested in a part 2 lemme know!!! much love <3 xoxo

[haikyuucute]

I don't know if you have rules or not. I couldn't find any. So I'll take my chances. How about some characters of your choice with a fem!reader who's being forced to play vb. And like she good at it but hates playing. She's tried quitting but her parents just guilt her into playing. So she feels like she letting her team and parents down especially since she's the captain. Maybe she brakes down after a match? Something I personally went through. Please and thank you. You don't have to though!😊

I love this concept so much, and I definitely feel you since I went through similar situations in high school. Thank you for requesting💞

I decided to go with: Sugawara, Kenma, and Bokuto

Sugawara

So for this one, we’re gonna say you go to another school cuz sadly the girls vbc in Karasuno isn’t the best

Instead you go to more of a powerhouse school

I feel that since the beginning of your relationship with him, he could tell there was some resentment when it came to talking about volleyball, but since you knew he loved the sport you never told him about your distaste for it

It wasn’t until a few months into the relationship that you finally admitted how much you hated volleyball and unfortunately the circumstances were very unpleasant

It was right after your team had lost the Interhigh tournament in the semifinals

Your team was crushed... but to your horror, you were relieved

And as the captain you had to give them words of encouragement and the whole time you felt like a fraud

You watched these poor girls cry over something they worked so hard for and as their captain you could only watch and offer a few words to make them feel better

But you did it and it wasn’t the worst speech but you just felt like you were pulling words out of your ass

Afterwards, you ran. You ran down the many hallways in the building until you came across a deserted one and just sat down and cried

You didn’t cry over the game, instead you cried for those heartbroken girls, you cried because you couldn’t be as passionate as they were, and you cried because what if you were the reason the team lost

Maybe it was because of your resentment that you hadn’t put your all into the game. You played well but you always did, so maybe you could’ve played harder just for them

That was when Suga found you

He was unsure at first about what to do because he had never seen you react so much over a volleyball game but he quickly regained himself and was at your side in seconds

He wrapped an arm around you and you buried yourself into his side

He didn’t want to push you into talking about it if you didn’t want to, so he softly asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

It took you a few seconds but you finally answered, and Suga couldn’t say he was exactly surprised but your words still came as a shock

”...I hate volleyball.”

From there he asked you why and you went into how your parents were volleyball players and that they pushed you ever since you were little to play and because you ended up being so good they never let you quit even though you tried multiple times

Then you explained how you felt that you let your team down and that they deserved a captain that actually cared

And Suga, although he was saddened to hear about your disinterest in the sport, understood that it was just something you never really wanted to do

He assured you that he was sure that none of your teammates saw it that way, especially after he saw how the underclassmen adored you, but he did agree that now would be the best opportunity for you to quit since the next tournament was the Spring Tournament and most third years would be quitting after this one anyway, and it would also let the team choose a second year to take over as captain

You agreed but the only thing holding you back were your parents

But Suga being the sweetheart he was promised you he would be with you when you told your parents you were quitting and he would make sure you did because seeing you so unhappy made him sad as well

And in the end you were able to quit, giving you more free time to go support Suga at his own games and seeing your change in attitude and how much happier you were, warmed his heart

Kenma

I think we all know why I chose Kenma

He just gets it

He’s also someone who was pressured to play and also someone who happens to be good at it, so that was something the two of you were able to bond over and what lead you two to eventually become friends over

He would be the person you went to vent all your frustrations to. Like how you felt the constant pressure from your parents and as your role as the captain

And he would always listen

It was a bit different for you in that the third years had just left and you ended up being appointed captain and that began a whole new spiral of emotions for you

He’s the kind of person who needs to calculate every factor into something so he may not give you much advice at first but when he finally sees you break down after your practice one day, he finally knew what to tell you

It was right after his practice as well and he had been just about to head out with Kuroo when they both heard a loud bang

Kuroo being curious, went to check it out, so Kenma followed

That was when they found you with tears running down your face, repeatedly kicking the vending machine

Kuroo notices the way Kenma perks up when he sees that it’s you and Kuroo raises an eyebrow asking if he knows you

He answers with a simple “Yes,” and that has Kuroo patting the shorter kids shoulder, telling him to go calm you down

So he does

He puts his game away and approaches you quietly, effectively startling you in the process

He asks what happened and you go into how the pressure of leading an entire team to victory when you didn’t even want to play the sport in the first place was beginning to really weigh on you

He listens quietly as you ramble on and on about the topic before he finally offers the best piece of advice he could give you

Since the Spring tournament was so close it would be way to irresponsible to quit now, so he’d encourage you to see through the rest of the season

But then he’d tell you the boy’s team was looking for a manager, so after your season ended he encouraged you to quit and come join the boy’s team as their manager

Sure it wasn’t exactly what your parents wanted you to do with volleyball, but really they had just wanted you to join a club and since you were already good at the sport and there were no alternative clubs you wanted to join they made you keep playing

So convincing them that you wanted to quit and join a different club was much easier

So you did

You saw your last season through to the end, trying your best to be the captain that your team deserved before you eventually quit and joined the boy’s team in your third year

This was also how you and Kenma grew even closer together and the two of you eventually started dating

Bokuto

Oof I love this boy and his big heart but he’d be a bit dense when it came to this particular situation

As someone who is so passionate about volleyball it would definitely break his heart to find out that his talented girlfriend hated the sport

Especially since you were the captain of your team and he was the captain of his team so the two of you were often labeled as a power couple

It would probably take a while for you to finally admit your feelings to him since he always hyped up the fact that you were both really good at volleyball and how he’d always wanted to practice with you

But after your team won the Spring Tournament finals, instead of screaming in excitement with the rest of your team, you walked off to the girls bathroom

You were happy your team won since everyone worked so hard, but there was a part of you that resented the idea of having to continue playing at a national level now, and you hated yourself for it

You knew the team deserved a captain that would put their all into the sport and cared just as much as they did

But it was hard when you never wanted to play in the first place

You’d compose yourself before meeting back up with the others

Bokuto eventually found you and stole you away from the rest of your team as he went on and on about how cool you were on the court and how happy he was that you were both going to nationals

You went to celebrate with your team, with Bokuto tagging along and it wasn’t until dinner ended and he was walking you home that you finally admitted it

”I’m quitting volleyball after high school.”

His reaction was kind of what you expected: shocked and bit overdramatic

He’d ask you why, telling you you were so good and wondering why on earth you would want to quit

Which was when you finally told him you always hated the sport, that your family forced you to participate and how you put on a mask whenever you played

You played with your all, took the responsibility as captain, but in the end it always felt like a waste of time

He’d be so crushed and possibly feel a little betrayed that you never told him about this

But the last thing he wanted was to be like your family and push you to do something you didn’t want to do and have you resent him because of it

Because contrary to popular belief, Bokuto wasn’t dating you for your status in volleyball but because he did truly love you

So in the end, although a bit sad, he’d support your decision as long as it made you happy and not hide anything like that from him again

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?” 

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled. 

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?” 

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’. 

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!” 

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him. 

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?” 

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means. 

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink. 

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?” 

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something. 

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted. 

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was. 

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying. 

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that? 

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

 The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?” 

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch. 

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.” 

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal. 

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil. 

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable. 

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

 The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation. 

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold  for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?” 

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor. 

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time). 

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other. 

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?” 

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands. 

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting. 

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

 “Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim. 

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently. 

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want. 

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary. 

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke. 

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.” 

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss. 

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better. 

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off. 

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch. 

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?” 

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open. 

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces. 

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl. 

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?” 

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.” 

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially. 

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it. 

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room. 

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation. 

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

[re-diesirae]

10. Claire

Claire staggered, but she did her best to hide it. Her headache had hit her out of sudden, piercing her skull like an ice peak hammered into her brain. The pain made her dizzy, and that made her way through the forest harder.

Despite the discomfort, Claire kept quiet. The last thing she wanted -or needed- was to worry Leon and delay their way even more.

Her will power was strong, but unfortunately, her body would not cooperate. Her legs were weak and shaky, so she was struggling to keep herself on her feet.

Great. What's wrong with you, Claire? I was alright up until now. Why did the headache return?

Claire blamed the hike. She had a decent physical condition, maybe not as good as Leon or Chris, but she could handle the exercise. However, hiking had never been something she liked, and the effort she had to put into climbing the rocky surface was most likely the cause of the return of her headache.

"We should find refuge before the sun goes down completely," Leon said, stopping to look at Claire.

Leon's sudden decision to stop and find refuge took her by surprise. Usually, he would be more into the plan of moving faster and wasting no time trying to rest.

"If you are correct, those monsters will come out as soon as the sun goes down."

Leon had a point.

"Uhm, you are right," Claire sighed.

Claire saw Leon give her an encouraging smile.

"Besides, it's been a long day. We need to rest," Leon said, cleaning the sweat from his forehead. "We are both tired, and we need our strength to fight. Pushing ourselves to the limit is a stupid decision."

Claire rubbed her neck and sighed. When he put it like that, Leon was right. A tired body was not as effective, and in their current predicament, effectiveness and sharpness were everything.

"You're right," she said, "The question is where?"

Claire did not want to admit it, but she was grateful for Leon's decision to call it a day. Her headache was making her nauseous again, and she was not sure of how long she could keep up her facade.

After walking around the cliff for a while, they found a small cave, hidden between some bushes. It was not a five stars hotel room, but it would serve its purpose.

Leon made sure the cave was clear before they finally settled down inside, and Claire watched him pick up some branches and plants and to make a makeshift door to camouflage the entrance. It's a smart move; it might have been useless to keep foes out, but at least it would keep them concealed.

Claire's snorted to herself. The Leon she'd met years before would not have been so thoughtful, but the Leon beside her now was no longer a rookie cop but an experienced agent. His years of service had made him a cunning man.

"So that's what the government teaches their agents? How to make woodland crafts?" Claire asked playfully.

Leon smirked, putting the "door" in its place.

"Sure," he answered in the same playful tone, "It's rule 4 in How to be an agent 101."

Claire laughed as he followed her joke. At least, his sense of humor had not changed. It was a comforting thought.

Suddenly, Claire felt an electric pain hit her, and she rested her head against the cave's wall, hoping that it would pass soon.

"Chris would kill us if he saw us," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Keep yourself focused. No time for jokes," Claire said in a low voice that tried to mimic Chris's grunt.

Leon laughed at the impression, and she smiled. She felt a little guilty for mocking her brother, but Claire knew that Chris would most likely react that way.

"Sounds about right," Leon laughed, "I can't picture Chris joking around in normal circumstances, even less in a mission."

"I keep telling him that sometimes a little humor is what you need to keep yourself going."

"Maybe he needs to learn. You should teach him."

Claire found Leon's suggestion ironic. She teaching Chris how to relax was a crazy idea when the woman was the worst example of relaxation. Family always had its perks, and Claire knew that she was not too different from Chris in many things.

"Uh, I doubt he will be willing to learn from me," Claire chuckled, "but Chris wasn't always like that, you know. He used to be a little more chill."

With their current job, Claire had very few chances to meet her brother. Sometimes she didn't see his face in more than six months, which made the changes in his personality even more noticeable.

"Chill?" Leon said incredulously, "Is that even possible?"

"You are one to talk. Each time I see you, you're grumpier than before," Claire said, resting her chin on her knees.

If there was someone she saw less than her brother, that was Leon. They were good friends since surviving the Raccoon incident created a strong bond between them. That friendship survived distance and time, but the few times Claire had met Leon, she had noticed the change in his character. The friendly and naive rookie had disappeared, and instead, the cool-headed, serious, and quiet agent had taken his place.

Everyone around her seemed to change each time she saw them.

Am I the only one who doesn't seem to change?

Change scares you. Metathesiophobia is a condition, too.

The tiny voice in the back of her mind made her headache stronger, but she ignored it. It wasn't the first time that Claire had monologues with her inner ghosts, but today the phantom voices seemed more active.

"Then, maybe I should ask you to teach me, too," he snorted.

"What are you saying?" Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes, I feel like I should be more like you two."

Leon shook his head, and Claire wondered what the agent was thinking?

"You are perfect the way you are, Claire. It is enough with one Chris Redfield or me in this world. There's no need to add another one into the equation," he said, "and honestly, the world would be a better place with more people like you."

"If there were more people like me, the world would be chaos," Claire snorted bitterly, "I caused a lot of trouble because of my naiveness."

"It sounds like you are too hard on yourself, Claire."

He doesn't get it, does he?

Would he say the same if he knew all the pain you have caused?

Claire grabbed her head and rubbed her temple. The voices in her head were becoming annoying, and suddenly, her ears filled up with an electric buzzing that messed up with her focus. She looked at Leon and caught him deep in thought, and suddenly, she felt oddly comforted.

"And you guys are just too soft on me," Claire snorted bitterly, "When I think back of all the things I've messed up..."

Claire looked blankly at the wall in front of her. She could feel Leon's gaze in the dark, and she was glad that he couldn't see her. The pain in her head was getting worse, and she feared that the agent would notice it. Luckily for her, Leon's attention was somewhere else.

Leon reached for his gun. The man looked alarmed, and she knew the reason as soon as she heard the distant roar.

Claire recognized it immediately. She had heard the same howls the night before when she had seen the two monsters in town.

She followed Leon to the cave entrance and peeked outside.

Claire held her breath as she watched the disfigured monster eat the smaller ones, and as if the scene wasn't horrible enough, the creature's body began to contort and twist into a more monstrous being.

"What the..." Leon whispered.

Ah, poor thing. It is mutating. Sad, sad.

"It's mutating, I think..." Claire said.

"Mutating?" Leon looked at her, confused.

"Yes, that's how it looks."

"Is it the one you saw yesterday?" he asked.

Claire shook her head.

"No, this one looks different."

Something was wrong about that creature. Claire stared at the blood dripping from the creature's mouth, the tissue falling from its body, and the raw muscle underneath the torn skin. The image made Claire's stomach twist. Considering her background, that was something very odd as she had seen worse things before.

When they saw the monster crawl into the darkness, she was finally able to release the breath that she had been holding. Her heart was beating fast, and she was unsure of why she felt so agitated.

"I think I understand what you meant by bigger friends," Leon whispered."We didn't see anything like it during the day, so either we were lucky, or you are right, and they are nocturnal."

"B.O.W.s that come only during the night. Talk about nightmarish monsters..." Claire sighed, "I am just glad they didn't find us, but I've got the feeling that our luck won't be that good for too long."

"Well, we'll face it when it comes. Don't worry about it," Leon sighed.

They returned to the back of the cave and sat down quietly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised, "I'm peachy."

Leon looked at her skeptically.

"You can't fool me, Claire. You've been struggling since that climb we did," Leon said, "Is it your head? Is it bothering you again?"

Claire let out a vague snort and shook her head.

"I told you I didn't like hiking," she replied, "I am alright. My head bothers me a little when I am tired, but it's not bad. You should know how concussions work."

Leon's expression was unreadable, but Claire had the odd sensation that the man had not believed him.

"Yeah," Leon sighed, "Try resting a little."

"I had my share of sleep yesterday," Claire said, shaking her head, "You must be exhausted, though. You didn't sleep at all. You should be the one taking a nap."

"I work better with less sleep," he half lied.

Claire glared at him. Leon could be a super agent, but he was still human. Humans needed rest.

"Liar," Claire muttered. "You know you don't need to act all cool with me. Get some sleep, idiot. I'll take the first watch."

"Fine, but only if I can use your lap as a pillow," he joked.

Claire rolled her eyes. Leon could flirt at any moment. That was, probably, what made Leon, well, Leon. She smacked his arm and sighed.

"You are such a flirt, Leon. I guess that side of you has not changed," Claire chuckled. "Go to sleep, idiot."

She heard Leon laugh, and the sound made her feel a little better. If he could still laugh in this situation, things could work out.

Those are only hopes. Things never work out well when it comes to these situations.

"You know, I think you are the only person who dares to call me an idiot."

"Well, if I can call Chris an idiot, I can definitely call you an idiot."

The privilege of calling Chris an idiot was naturally Claire's right as his sister. She had called him all sorts of things in her life, and Chris had always let her.

"Now, I have to argue about that. No one would dare call Chris an idiot, but you have special treatment."

"Do I get special treatment with you?"

"Maybe..." Leon smirked.

"Do you tell all your partners that?"

"Only those who I like. What? Getting bored with paperwork and considering a career as an agent?"

"Nah, I am not agent material. You know that, Leon?"

"What are you talking about?" he chuckled, "You were agent material even before I was. Rushing into Raccoon City in search of Chris and saving Sherry, and taking care of all of us..."

"You sure are sentimental today," Claire snorted. "What's up with you today?"

"Well, this brings back memories," Leon sighed, "Can you blame me?"

"It does?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. I think I kind of missed this."

"Sleeping in a cave surrounded by bloodthirsty parasitic entities and mutant monsters? I can't say I share the sentiment, but who am I to judge?"

Claire waited for Leon to answer, but he did not, so she assumed he had fallen asleep already, and her lips curled into a victorious smirk.

No need to sleep my ass. Of course, you will fall asleep right away.

Leon had let her sleep the whole night before, which meant he had not gotten any sleep at all. One sleepless night, plus the walking and climbing they had done, would be enough to exhaust anyone.

The sudden silence, however, made Claire feel lonely, and she hugged her knees and rested her head against the wall. Some light beams crawled into the cave through the holes of their makeshift door.

It was quiet outside, and Claire felt a shudder crawl down her back. Somewhere out there, there were horrible monsters ready to kill them. Why were some people so fascinated about creating those monsters?

She would never understand the reasoning behind B.O.W.s. The creatures were uncontrollable; they could not distinguish friends from foes. They killed anything in their way, leaving a path of destruction. What kind of weapon was that?

Claire's gaze wandered to the man sitting in front of her. She felt a little guilty for dragging Leon into that pit, but at the same time, she was happy that he was there.

It's your fault. Leon shouldn't be here, but he came because he tried to help you.

Claire shook her head, trying to clear up her mind. She wanted to ignore that little voice, but she knew it was right. Leon wasn't supposed to be there. They had kidnapped her, not him, and he had only ended up there because of her. Another sudden thought crossed her mind, and she bit her lip with worry.

What if Chris and the others were in trouble, too?

Get a hold of yourself, Claire.

"How is it that I always end up in these situations?"

Claire didn't get the chance to reflect on her poor luck. She suddenly felt a cold shiver run down her back, and her head automatically turned to the entrance.

Claire was not sure what had prompted to look, but she suddenly felt very uneasy. She listened carefully, she could hear Leon's soft breathing, but the rest was quiet. No howls, no screams, no animals. Everything seemed tranquil. Then why did she feel alarmed?

Her ears soon caught a sound that she hadn't noticed until then. It was a low distant whistle. The sound was soft and hypnotic, almost as if it was calling at her. Without realizing it, she had gotten on her feet and started to walk to the entrance, but before she had reached the entry, she snapped back to reality.

Claire stood there looking confusedly at the complicated net of branches and leaves that Leon had knitted earlier.

What am I doing? she thought.

Unable to explain how she had suddenly appeared standing in front of the entrance, Claire was about to return to her spot at the end of the cave, but before she had even given a step, she heard the loud crack of breaking stone. Suddenly, she felt her body get pulled outside with a violent force. Her body crashed against the cave's door as she got pulled through it, and the branches managed to scratch the patches on naked skin unprotected by clothing, leaving red marks over her milkfish skin. The woman rolled a few feet over the grass before stopping when her back hit a tree painfully.

Claire groaned. She looked up, trying to understand what had happened when she saw the last thing she wanted to see. Her eyes went wide in horror. She reached for the rifle hanging on her back, and without thinking twice, she aimed and shot.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

[joelmillerthirstqz]

From this prompt: Joel meets y/n and he makes it his MISSION to fuck her. Throw in a daddy kink if you’re brave

(I did, with ten thousand character-intensive caveats. Porn with obligatory plot, is there a tag for that? Anyway have some suspiciously assertive Joel)

---

Joel moves throughout the rooms of his house, picking up one occupation after the next, bored around one in the afternoon and faced with the reality that he neither remembers nor knows what to do with actual free time, safety, and space of his own. Tommy and Maria had brought some kind approximations of traditional housewarming, but much of his home was furnished by the previous resident and he sat there overwhelmed by spatial possibility. For all his griping about Ellie’s perpetual stream-of-consciousness chattering, the silence roared in his ears like he’d been dragged downstream.

Do people just go drink now? Just talk to each someone to pass the time? he thinks to himself, frustrated. By the time he could legally go to a bar, he’d been twenty-one and Sarah had been three, her mom long gone. He hadn’t spent time alone since the outbreak—always Tommy or Tess and others in between nearby. Acute problems to solve, no time for chronic reflection.

Tommy brought a lone box of possessions from his apartment with a case of cheap beer the night Sarah’s mom left, hanging around more tangibly than any other family had and often taking Sarah to school once Sarah was old enough. Tommy joked that it was more like Joel having two kids to deal with; Joel ribbed him for perpetually flirting with the very clearly married moms of his niece’s classmates.

Joel gulps a breath, self-flagellating with the idea that he hadn’t been able to protect Sarah when Tommy and Maria so clearly deserved to have their own child, forgetting as ever that his brother executed the soldier that shot Sarah before he could get to Joel—without a blink.

Wonderful. That’s what you do alone with your thoughts for two seconds. Jesus, Joel, he grumbles inwardly.

He’d been dragged to so many damn things since settling in Jackson and didn’t know what to do when it was his choice, so he looks outside. If Ellie’s light is on, he’ll go awkwardly try to make conversation, see if she’s okay. If she’ll be caught in a forgiving mood; if not, if he’s really pushing it.

Joel’s boots thud softly on the flagstone they’d carefully laid together, a path for her to get up to the house without soaking her sneakers through. Tonight, though, she’s gone or playing dead, so he sighs and shrugs a coat on, headed for the Tipsy Bison.

————

Joel spent a nontrivial amount of his time lately fending off interested parties in Jackson.

It was just cuffing season, he dismissed—encroaching fall making people a little weird. Since he’d begun to settle in, slowly accustoming himself to having Ellie out of his sight often and a normal couch in a house without shattered windows, he’d slowly accepted more public interactions. He’d grudgingly shoulder into town meetings, quiet until Tommy or someone else would put a question to him like he had a fucking clue.

Joel went on patrol, helping some of the greener residents learn to keep themselves safe. Unfortunately, it meant more people caught sight of him. Joel was used to prowling through quarantine zones swollen with cowering masses plainly terrified of him, which left him minimally prepared for reactions he thought he’d stopped evoking long ago.

The people whose breath hitch when they first notice him, the longing stares when he’d finally break and smile or laugh—they’d gotten embarrassing enough for him to avoid certain places.

Whenever Joel seems like he’s about to not comply with her wishes, Maria frequently threatens to tell the women who ask her in lewd tones if Tommy has a brother the truth—he does, and how about I introduce you?

The truth was he didn’t feel capable of starting anything with someone who’d ask where he’d been. Joel didn’t want to remember, even if he’d finally pinned the picture of himself with Sarah at a soccer game up next to the blooming collection of pictures in his living room with Ellie, Polaroids in Jackson blooming over nearby wall space every few weeks. People who wanted honesty to go with their peaceful existence reminded him too much of Tommy’s near-fatal optimism, and he felt like it would be too dishonest to start anything with anyone who still lost sleep over distasteful things done to survive. Delightful first-date baggage, in his estimation.

At the Tipsy Bison, he edges in by the drinking patrol nearest the door, welcomed gruffly and responding the same. It was nice to be recognized without raw fear or calculation as he entered, and Joel warms enough to drop his coat over the back of his chair, his rust-colored flannel’s buttons parting over the shirt beneath it as he moves, listening to Eugene tell some inflated war story with an almost-cold beer.

“Alright, fuck this. Knuckle up, asshole, I’m not doing this on patrol tomorrow,” Joel’s ears perk up at the sound of your chair clattering backwards as you stand. Joel recognizes you from the newer batch of arrivals, clearly deemed capable enough to join an early patrol just days after your arrival.

“Jesus, settle the fuck down,” one of the younger patrolmen grouses, standing up. Alex. Oh, the dumb kid.

“Nope. Now or never,” you insist.

“Listen, I’m not hitting you,” he sounds unapologetic but tries to portray himself as the reasonable party. He’s wiry, and Joel’s seen him fend for himself, but his posture doesn’t belie cool confidence.

“You clearly have some doubts, so let’s get into it,” you urge, agitated beyond belief. He’d been needling you about perceived skill, something about not growing up having to field dress animals, and you’d fucking had it. He was going to make a point on patrol and get someone hurt, and you were not carrying bodies back into Jackson because of some ego or misplaced crush.

He taps your shoulder mockingly with a closed fist, a gentle little motion, trying to smile playfully.

You hook him across the jaw, staggering him before taking a knee to his stomach as he tries to right himself.

“More, or you’re finished?” you ask.

Joel fully sits up in his chair. He hasn’t seen anything like this in Jackson. Glancing over both shoulders for his brother, Maria, and finding a clear coast he watches the outcome with interest, sipping his beer with an upturned mouth.

You’re cute, or appealing, or some reflexive word Joel hadn’t used in years, pushing hair out of your eyes as you regain your center.

Alex tries to sweep your legs out, successfully swiping one and getting a knee to the diaphragm for it as you land.

“Okay, fuck, I’m done,” he grunts and you rise easily, offering him a hand.

“Good,” you mumble, letting go the second he’s righted. You look around a little chastened by all the eyes on you, deciding to forego another round.

“I’m going to bed before we do this again,” you nod at Alex, and the rest of the patrol group you recognize in turn.

Joel eyes you as you depart, beer polished off and goodbyes waved, coat gripped in his fist to be flung on once outside. He knows your name, had seen you near the stables and conversing with the patrols. Hearing you speak, despite the context, maybe because of it, let him confirm something he’d been suspecting when he caught glimpses of you before. Never having had the right circumstances or raw spare time to devote all his energy to taking someone to bed, he steels himself to confirm it.

He trots after you, tugging his jacket back on and finding his way to the four-story hotel the town had spent arduous time clearing, stripping of spores, and making hospitable enough for people new to Jackson. Joel ended up leading a lot of the effort himself, vaguely proud to be doing something other than dismantling things, stretching old skills. Your little corner balcony faces off of one side, a nice view of the town unfolding as people begin to switch lights on for a sooner-than-yesterday sundown. You’re appreciative of a strange little luxury—not sure when the last time you stood with your back to a door without anticipating some infected would burst through.

You lean your elbows on the railing, a flask of whisky tipping in your fingers as you watch Jackson light up, a lone figure’s long strides coming into view down the broad street. The night is cool against your skin, but the little shiver the breeze causes feels affirming.

You’d always loved the fall, and Jackson’s soft sounds of life feel unreal enough that you could never sit here just sobering up before bed. It would leave you too wired, buzzing with the anxiety of certain impermanence. Reconciling this liminal zone with the gnashing horror just beyond it wasn’t something you’d take on without help. If Jackson was only a passing reprieve, you had to make yourself calm enough to enjoy it.

Joel halts below where you’re standing, hands on his hips pulling his jacket open as he looks up at you.

You’re instantly sheepish—you’d guessed in whatever patrol hierarchy there was, he was rather important. And you’d just visibly beaten someone down.

“Alex okay?” you call.

“He’ll be peachy. Not here for that,” Joel retorts, low drawl pleasant.

“Well,” you shrug, gesturing to the two mismatched chairs on the balcony with your flask. “Allow me to be a gracious host.”

He smiles and looks down for a moment. Even a couple of stories above him, you can see his height, start to assess his proportions because you’re too tipsy to be a human fucking being about your first interactions in a good place. You quickly add up a sum: his legs are long, shoulders broad, hair long enough to tug on. His frame suggests complete capability and you have a dire need to test it.

Aw, fuck.

“Y’know, I’ve got real glasses for drinking that,” Joel insinuates before he can tell himself to shut the fuck up, or to stop harassing newcomers, or any other sensible thought.

“Fair enough,” you call, closing your flask and holding a finger up to signal that he should wait.

When you arrive downstairs, boots poorly laced and denim jacket barely enough for the chill, Joel’s leaning on the veranda of the whole structure. You suppose its fair to gawk in appreciation so you do, assuring yourself you could have chosen not to.

“Look, I’m not going to ask what this is, and you won’t ask why I’m saying yes, okay?” you say softly when you’re a couple of feet from him.

Joel raises his eyebrows, feeling untethered. Some corner of him expected to humiliate himself to death so he could go home and fall asleep barely after dark, anything to shut himself up until he was occupied again. His heart speeds a little at your reply, hand on the back of his neck as he pushes back onto both feet.

“I’m close,” Joel offers, hand down towards the street, fists quickly in his own pockets. You pull your bottom lip inward, looking at his profile, wanting to hear it again, lower, helpless.

You pass the walk in tense but not unpleasant silence, glancing at each other until you reach his porch and he edges in to unlock his door.

Turning on lights as you toe off your boots and follow him inside, you watch how he moves, past the need for any type of persuasion. He returns from the kitchen with two matching, unchipped short glasses and a cylindrical glass of amber liquid.

“Trade?” Joel asks setting the bottle down and closing an open window. Your mouth quirks.

“That’s a nice custom. It a Jackson thing?” you ask, tipping your flask into his glass as he returns and pours from the bottle for you.

He laughs, sharp hazel eyes jumping up to you and back down, hand running over his beard.

“Not sure. What else would you do?”

You drop onto one of the two couches, arranged in the way that says people actually spend time here together. Joel gets onto his knees to build a fire, definitely a necessity, though kind of needlessly sweet for the occasion.

“This?” you tease, gesturing between the two of you. Joel joins you on the same couch, heat radiating into the space around you, well before the spark in the fireplace could catch enough to reach you.

You take stock of each other in comfortable silence, and a slow grin moves from one side of your face to the other. You finish your drink with a tinge of shyness, setting it down as he does the same.

You have no warning before his mouth is on yours, hands on either side of your face. It’s achingly good to be kissed with complete attention, luxury of time changing the entire tenor of kissing another person. You’re grounded to who’s holding you, mouth accepting him as Joel leads, guiding your jaw where he wants it with the flat of his palm. Joel moves slowly, plenty of time for you to reciprocate his motions though you begin to shift closer, scant sense of rhythm keeping you from straddling his hips.

The taste of him and your anticipatory haze keeps you fixed on the kiss, his hands sliding lower and beginning to move you towards his lap.

You try not to break the kiss with a smile, but it happens anyway and he looks up curiously. You sit back on your heels and tear through the buttons of your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch and stroking fingernails through his beard before beginning the kiss again. Joel tugs you closer by the hip, urging you into his lap. He scans your face intensely, pulling you fully against him and letting his hands run the expanse of your back.

You can feel how rough his hands are through your shirt, so your fingers fly to his to work the buttons of his flannel.

“Christ,” you roll your eyes, exposing a second shirt underneath. He chuckles warmly in his chest, your foreheads bowed together a moment.

“C’mon,” Joel mutters, broad hands under each of your thighs as he rises with you wrapped around him. A segment somewhere in your brain shimmers, clicking with the novel experience, a knockout strike in the lane of neurons igniting to remember their roles.

“Where’s c’mon?” you ask incoherently between kisses, moving your mouth to his neck so he can answer. You think regretfully that it’s probably substantially warmer down here, fire catching nicely.

“Upstair—” Joel cuts off, your teeth nipping his pulse point.

You feel his heart jump against your mouth and your chest at once. You kiss him slowly as he takes you upstairs, stopping halfway up. He pushes you against the banister and deepens the kiss, hard length made clear. Shifting you closer to his waist once you resume, Joel’s hands creep a little higher, fingertips edging up as they dig in.

As you reach his bedroom, you have one hand hooked in the bottom seam of his shirt, ready to pull it off as he tries to set you down. Joel grunts when you tangle his broad shoulders in it, getting free and discarding it agilely. He bears down on you under dark lashes, chest rising and falling noticeably. The chill upstairs dissolves quickly as you twine together, hands running over his chest. It’s impressively broad and defined, thickening line of hair leading into his jeans.

You strip out of your two shirt layers with a casual roll of your upper body. Joel’s rapt eyes dragging over every rib leave you feeling exposed until his hands cover your breasts, mouth on your neck. You try to tug the rest of him towards the bed by the belt loops, but get frustrated and try to unclasp his belt instead.

Joel stoops to claw quickly at his boots, both thrown one handed before coming to rest against the wall. He hasn’t taken his eyes from you as you rise to slip your jeans down, one hand already curled back around your waist. He spreads his other hand across your abdomen, callused fingertips making you shudder appreciatively. Shoving you back, Joel gets to his knees with one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, grasped in his palm, kissing down your thigh. His free hand still moves over the rest of you.

Your mind is blankly focused on the rasp of his beard inside your legs. If you were honest, head wasn’t a frequent priority after the outbreak, sex usually a time-sensitive stress fix—for everyone. Add to that the average skill of the college peers you’d fucked before and, well, you’d only ever mildly enjoyed it.

Joel sucks your clit into his mouth, hard, and you arc off the bed. He moves without an ounce of uncertainty, shifting and roughly positioning you for the best angle as he goes. Being pursued like this, by a person who squarely checks boxes you didn’t know were empty left you wet enough to take him the moment you’d been out of your pants. His tongue pushes inside of you, followed quickly by one finger and then another, static but wonderful. You writhe on the bed at the feeling, low hum of a chuckle skittering across your sensitive skin.

One hand in the sheets, your other makes it into his hair. You grind against him without being able to help it, riding the stretch of his fingers as his tongue laves forceful circles around your clit.

“Fuck,” you try to grit out, embarrassed by the disassembled breathiness of your voice. It’s more a sigh as he curls his fingers within you, hazel flicking up to watch your reaction. You paw at his shoulders blindly, wanting him closer, wanting to fuck him, trying to pull back from him to tell him. He’s deadset in his focus, teeth softly grazing you in reply to your attempt.

“Can you just—” Joel grumbles, rising,“—be good for one goddamned second—” he yanks you towards him by your ankle.

“This where you want me to tell you to make me?” you tease, sitting up in his lap and wrenching him closer with your legs.

He huffs a small laugh, making to kiss you, but you hold him back.

“I want you to make me, okay?” You say seriously, grasping the hair at his nape to emphasize it.

Joel leans forward, biting your lip with care.

“Alright,” he confirms, hands around your jaw. You taste yourself on him, and a near-growl ripples through him, evident through his chest pressed against yours.

You duck away from his kiss, not caring to get his jeans off before getting a hand around his cock, your mouth enclosing the tip before you can register how much there is to take.

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes shut, face turned towards the ceiling. As your hand becomes slick enough to work over his shaft, his hands stabilize in your hair, bunching. You feel him flex in your mouth as he parts his lips and tugs on your hair, hauling you up level with his face.

“You don’t get to end it now,” Joel smiles, mouth almost against yours. You smile at the rough motion, hot interest skipping down your spine. His opposite hand is running over your chin while he composes himself, far closer than he’d wanted to be at this point.

You bite his fingers, pulling two deftly in to suck and keeping his gaze. His pupils darken and you feel a surge of pride at the same time as you feel him shove you back onto the bed, tearing his jeans off and finally joining you. Joel covers you, kissing you roughly and pulling your thighs around his hips, on his knees. He sheathes inside you without resistance, groaning and bowing his head at first. Even ready, he stretches you noticeably and you gasp at his first experimental thrusts, dragging your hips up to his each time.

You rise up to meet him, nails dug into his shoulders for traction, meeting his thrusts.

Joel hisses more in chastisement than discomfort at it, smacking your ass curiously.

“You know I’m not delicate,” you say close to his ear, snapping the lobe between your teeth unnecessarily hard.

“Shit, ow—” he grumbles, smacking you harder. You moan at the feeling, spread over his lap and trawling nails down his back. You tug where you’ve latched on, moving lower and biting his neck. He does it again, rolling his hips as you clench down on him. You scrape your teeth over his shoulder. Joel hits you again, force of it stinging how you’d hoped.

You provoke him to continue, pulling his hair, hard, and biting the skin over his collarbone.

Joel fists your hair and tugs back hard, exposing your throat to him even as you keep riding him, spanking you with almost musical timing. You almost draw blood scratching your nails out of his hair to the nape of his neck, grinning from your forced angle as he pants under you.

Joel leans forward and nips carefully over your larynx, clamping down hard on tendons just next to it. It’s a brash spot to suck a bruise into, and even the less visible parts of your body would surely be screaming on patrol in the morning.

You cry out, nerves and instinctive reaction to teeth near your neck making your heart and your cunt clench.

Joel flips you without effort, pressing a palm against your lower back to shove you into the mattress. You feel him strike your ass, once, twice, three times, and then his fingers are at your entrance, coaxing your hips to tilt up. He brushes his knuckles against you, leaning over to breathe into your ear.

“Here?”

“What did I just say?” You retort, appreciative of his caution but entirely sold on the possibility that walking will hurt tomorrow.

Joel doesn’t reply but you can see him roll his eyes from the corner of yours as he swats your cunt, hard, sensation shattering across your skin. You moan and he takes the initiative to do it again. Your shoulder blades pinch together around his hand, veering up with it. You turn your face entirely into the bed, muffling moans and faux-objections as he works, tenderness rising to the surface of your skin.

You feel Joel’s hands harshly grasp handfuls of your ass the second before he thrusts into you again, the force pinning you to the bed. He fucks you hard for long minutes, sweat building between you enough to make his hands slip. Joel’s forearm slides around your front and pulls you back against his chest.

You immediately claw at his arm, grateful to anchor yourself to him directly, pushing your hips down against his as he falls back to a gentler pace. His mouth reaches your shoulder and your hand flies to his hair again, straining to kiss him. Maybe it was weird to seek him like that—could still be a fantastic, unattached fuck—but Joel kisses you with this unerring focus that already makes you hope it will happen again.

“Takin’ me perfectly,” he drawls, some enunciation falling away with his blood coursing like this. You want to keep hearing him, so you nod and resume kissing him.

“More delicate than you thought? Need a break?” Joel taunts, and your eyes narrow as he speaks low and close, still thrusting shallowly.

“You want it hard again?” Joel teases, fingers skimming your stomach to roll your clit between them his thumb and index. It pinches and you suck in a breath, your hips floundering against his patient rhythm.

Your eyes spark and you decide to push.

“Yes, daddy,” you mock, almost sneering at him.

A dim recollection of a girl he’d briefly seen after Sarah’s mom left dusts itself off, and he reconnects dots that drifted apart from disuse after the outbreak. Joel raises his eyebrows at you and tips his head as if to say, “Well, alright then.”

You’re on your hands and knees before you can react, his hand spanning across your collarbones, bracing you against his repeated impact. Joel’s breathing becomes ragged each time he slides home, folding over you again to spill an endless wave of questions into your ear. His fingers are smoother across your clit now, drawing soaked concentric circles as you hitch.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel punctuates with a snap of his hips.

“You gonna come for me just like this?” Again.

“Come around my cock like a good girl?” Again, rough.

You moan, dropping to your elbows as he pounds into you, orgasm building inside of you spilling over to his fingers’ stimulation, a low groan meeting yours. You’re past words and shivering on the edge of climax when he taps your jaw.

“Focus up, c’mon,” he rumbles in your ear, demanding your attention. The pressure of his length against the tension inside of you has your vision blurring at the edges.

“Tell me,” Joel demands, pulling out halfway.

“Yes! Please, please,” you hear yourself sound panicky at the threat of losing his touch.

“Not what I asked you, baby,” he goads, nipping softly across your shoulders. His hand hasn’t stilled, and you know your eyes are rolling with the distracting pleasure of it.

“Yes, yes I will, please—”

“Tell me what,” he slips in an inch, voice shaky with thin control, fingers flexing where they meet your skin.

“Come for you, please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to shove your hips back to to meet his.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel murmurs and you break, quivering against his fingers and fussing with effort and relief. Your cheeks and mouth bloom red as your eyes droop with the onslaught of endorphins, still cresting as you feel Joel’s hips snap in quick succession, burying himself deep and making the best, most broken noise you could have hoped for. Even deep in your own fog, you reach for him, finding his mouth as it seeks yours again, aftershocks rolling through him.

Joel rolls onto his back, tugging you along one side. You don’t much enjoy being pinned if you weren’t also being penetrated, so the intimacy of lying there like lovers with someone you’d barely glimpsed, much less talked to, was unsettling.

Joel laughs like it’s easy for him, face lighting up with the motion, hand stroking your hair behind your ear.

“What?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow.

“Just surprised you said yes,” he clarifies. “I’m don’t—this isn’t a usual Wednesday for me,” he clears his throat.

You analyze his expression for a second, looking for the deceit and just finding something genuine and suspiciously shy for having nearly spanked you to orgasm minutes ago.

“You don’t accost every vulnerable newcomer and ply them with good whisky?” You prod, draping yourself over his chest, an easy negotiation of legs happening without either of you needing to acknowledge it.

“Bourbon, and, just the ones who start fistfights, really,” he teases, hands drifting over you, hungry warmth reaching his eyes as the afterglow begins to recede.

“Come downstairs?” Joel asks, like you weren’t tangled up in his bedsheets, surrounded and willingly captive to whatever he wanted.

“That was the original plan,” you protest, peering around for his shirt and slipping into it.

He smirks and kisses the tip of your nose, pausing and tipping your chin up to kiss you properly.

God damn it, you think. Oh, god damn it.

[mikamink]

What are your pokemon headcanons for some of the characters teams lol

I've figured out some fitting pokemon for most characters but I like to try to find a neat theme and setup to go with the choices. I don't have all of them set in stone but I'll share the choices I'm the happy with atm.

Some of the descriptions will be a bit long. Characters included are Rasiel, Fran, Belphegor, Chrome, Ryohei, and Bianchi. (With very slight mention of Haru and Kyoko)

Rasiel- I’ll just get him out of the way first. Due to his status and traumatic childhood Rasiel’s preference in pokemon revolves around high class ghost types. Vain status symbols and testaments to his ability to overcome death. His team is comprised of pokemon like Cofagrigus, Chandelure, and (Authentic)Polteageist. His most notable pokemon is Cofagrigus.

Not long after the “incident” that left him terribly injured and ill, employees around the castle noticed the presence of a distressed yamask pacing the outskirts of the castle grounds. Some noted the unsettling resemblance between the young prince and the mask the pokemon carried. At some point during his recovery, the Yamask found it’s way into the castle and rushed straight to Siel. It’s presence didn’t scare the prince, it was oddly comforting and the stray pokemon offered him some small bit of company while he remained isolated.

The consensus between his caretakers was that the Yamask had mistakenly taken the likeness of the prince during the moments he was buried after his brush with death. Rasiel miraculously surviving and Yamask retaining his likeness made the pokemon confused and curiously drawn to him. And it wasn’t just Yamask. Rasiel’s near death experience and the recent flood of negative energy throughout the castle grounds turned it into a beacon for ghost type pokemon. Overtime Rasiel developed a fascination with death and the afterlife and became as drawn to ghost types as they were to him. Not once did he have to go out of his way to catch his own pokemon, all of his partners eagerly sought out their new prince of their own accord.

Rasiel’s main partner Cofagrigus is a very unsettling and dangerous pokemon and most are surprised by how docile it is in his presence. Not only is his connection to Cofagrigus deeply personal, his family is wealthy enough to satiate it’s appetite for gold and his status as future king makes him a perfect match for that particular pokemon based on it’s history. -“There are many depictions of Cofagrigus decorating ancient tombs. They're symbols of the wealth that kings of bygone eras had.”

Fran- Fran has a very notable lack of motivation when it comes to most things, being a trainer included. He doesn’t really have a preference and his team is made up of pokemon he obtained through odd circumstances. Notable pokemon in Frans possession are Espurr, Zorua, Mimikyu, Appletun, and Hatterene.

A tiny apple-less applin became infatuated with Fran’s hat and was determined to make it it’s new home. Though Fran tried many times to shoo the pokemon away or lock it out of his house, it always found its way to him again. Eventually he grew tired of constantly dealing with it and just let it take up residence in his hat. It’s delighted little eyes always poking out of the top. Fran eventually evolved it not long after he acquired a new hat.

Though I don’t have an idea for how he acquired Mimikyu and I do have the hc that Fran is for some unknown reason is the only known person capable of looking under Mimikyu’s disguise without it having any negative affect on him. Not even Belphegor or Mukuro are willing to personally test their luck in that regard.

Hatterene are scary and near impossible for the average person to approach without provoking. However Fran’s monotonous disposition and overall lack of outward emotion made him unintentionally cross paths with one. Though he had no desire to catch or battle it he noticed it had intently started following him. It had never encountered a human that didn’t instantly agitate it and that made it curious.(She also just liked his big silly hat) He didn’t particularly like the idea of having such an aggressive and volatile pokemon in his possession but he also didn’t want it following him through places filled with people that could potentially provoke it, not that he was concerned it might attack other people, he just didn't want it to attack him. So he made a compromise to take it with him while in the safety of a ball, and it surprisingly obliged.

There is ONE perk though. Hatterene HATES Belphegor. He’s loud and hostile and his vibes are terrible. He is everything Hatterenes hate in a human. If Fran tries to use Hatterene in battle while Bel is nearby it will turn it’s focus straight to him. Sometimes Fran does it on purpose because honestly Bel deserves it majority of the time. Her Fairy typing also directly counters Bel’s favored dark type.

Belphegor- Gonna be honest, I’ve tried to put a lot of thought into Bel for this AU but he is incredibly difficult to work with. It’s hard for me to assign him pokemon because I just can’t seem to find any that are good enough to fit his vibes. Or in his case bad enough. The main thing I decided for him was that he would have a focus on dark types and two of his pokemon would be a shiny Absol and the exception to his preference, Gengar. Alolan Persian, Deino, Weavile, and Skuntank are pretty solid contenders but i’m not 100% on all of them yet. Tho I do like the idea of both of the twins having meowth, Bel ending up with alolan persian and Rasiel ending up with Kantonian Persian.

Absol’s are considered bad omens, bringers of disaster and death, and that is exactly what comes to those whose paths are crossed by this crimson visage. It’s presence is a warning that it’s master is near. Bel has had this fearsome partner since he was a child, it’s first appearance before him marking the “death” of his brother. Since then Bel has been a beacon for disaster, anywhere he goes he happily brings death with him, and that is why Absol is never far from his side. Always there to be a warning, or a threat, to those who venture too close or are unfortunate enough to have Bel’s sights set on them.

The exception to his preference in dark types is Gengar. He liked it’s vibe and got it as a direct response to Fran’s Hatterene being a constant pain. Though head-to-head it does come down more to skill than typing since both have disadvantage and weakness against the other. Generally they tend to be pretty even in power.(when you don’t consider the fact that Fran doesn’t really put much effort into battles.)

Chrome- Chrome isn’t one for battle when it comes to pokemon and doesn’t really have a preference. For Chrome her pokemon are therapeutic and a source of comfort in her day to day. Her pokemon are Musharna, Sylveon, Togetic, Shiny Audino, Kirlia, and Gothorita. Pokemon that specialize in soothing the fears and anxiety of their trainers, and bringing them happiness. Her very first partner was a Munna.

It isn’t uncommon for doctors to use pokemon as assistants for a variety of medical treatments. Though they were not exclusive to that ward, munna were often found in the pediatric ward at night. They provided assurance and comfort to recovering children, soothing their dreams and eating away the nightmares. Though there was little hope she would survive, Chrome had one assigned to her bedside. A small comfort during what would likely be her last few nights. Her moments of consciousness were short and scarce, so her dreams were all she had left.

Up until Mukuro’s odd intervention, Munna remained snug by her side. It would sometimes visit her in her dreams, providing some company within her peaceful, yet lonely world. After all what company could she dream of if everyone had abandoned her? When she awakened and had miraculously stabilized due to Mukuro’s aid she just so happened to take the Munna with her on her way out of the hospital.

Ryohei- While not one I tend to think too much on and I dont have a full party thought out for him, I recently decided I like the idea of him having Mega-Lopunny. I know that seems like an odd choice, because it is, everyone thinks it's an odd pokemon for him to have, including himself, but under no circumstances would he ever consider removing it from his team because it was a gift.

When his little sister Kyoko became a trainer the first thing she did was try to find a pokemon she could give to her big brother as a gift, as a way of showing him she was capable of catching pokemon on her own and to thank him for helping her get to that point. At the time Buneary felt like a good fit in her eyes because it was cute and its ears seemed to pack the kinda punch Ryohei liked his pokemon to have.

Ryohei was overjoyed by the gift and didnt question in the slightest why she would give him a normal type when he specialized in fighting types, he was just proud of his sister. His synergy with Lopunny is surprisingly solid as it makes for a good pseudo fighting type, and in it's mega form it not only becomes a proper fighting type it also gains the ability to PUNCH GHOSTS which is cool as hell!

Once Kyoko is a little older she feels kind of embarrassed about her choice given Ryoheis type preference but he insists Lopunny is amazing and gladly shows off it's power to anyone when given the chance, making sure everyone knows it's because of his little sister he has such a powerful partner. This does not help ease her embarrassment. Ryohei eventually returned the favor by gifting her a stufful. Something that suited her that was cute and strong, and also because Haru had one and he knew how much Kyoko loved it.

Bianchi- Instead of going full poison types like I originally planned to, I started liking the idea of her having food themed pokemon that are just kinda wrong. She's the only char I have considered taking some liberties with the canon designs and typing of her pokemon. At the moment I hc her having Alcremie, Vanilluxe, and Tsareena. All "shiny" though people are sure Bianchi's pokemon were not always those sickly off-colors. Their designs would be more warped/melted with tsareena being an exception as she seemed to have a better response to it's trainer-inflicted poison typing. (A G-maxed Alcremie in her possession would be a horrific sight)

Bianchi herself isn't doing this intentionally to her pokemon and also doesn't seem to notice their differences. Her love for her pokemon and the care she provides for them are genuine, they just somehow always end up “wrong”. Their sickly appearances haven't hindered their ability to function in battle and they actually seem to be unusually stronger than their average counterparts.

[zertzertzhang]

I Need a Hero (Literally) Chapter 2: Deal

The viceroy was a small man. 

By that, Nezha meant no taller than four feet. Yes. He was that tiny. 

It made Nezha want to excuse himself and forget he ever accepted the case. 

“Ahem,” Viceroy Chen cleared his throat. The proud haughtiness that shrouded him minutes before had drained from his body, leaving a puddle of apprehension in his wake.

Nezha could practically hear the gears in Viceroy Chen’s head turn as he debated if he should even trust him.

It was no secret the Viceroy held the same, if not, worse opinion regarding Nezha. The way his beady eyes bulged like he saw the grim reaper himself was comical if under different circumstances.

Though to be fair, Nezha found glee with the fact his mere presence could silence the imp-like man of all arrogant pretense.

It warmed his heart to think that the Viceroy would shut up as soon as he realized he was under the looming shadow of the much taller young man.

“I would like to express my appreciation, once again,” Viceroy Chen emphasized. “For offering to save my bride from the hideous dragon. I will be forever in your debt!”

Staring down at the groveling man, Nezha snorted at the saccharine monologue. If there’s one thing he learned about Chentang Pass over the years, it was the discouraging amount of genuine gratitude and appreciation the people really held inside.

Viceroy Chen was the hallmark of all that. And Nezha would rather choke on a tang-hulu than hear another fake thank you from the old man.

“So you’ll speak to the town on my behalf to allow me full freedom to roam Chentang without the headache from villagers.” It wasn’t a question, more like an affirmation.

Never in his life would Nezha ever find it in himself to beg for favors. He always assumed the silent agreement between him and anyone else would be respected, lest someone wished to become the next barbeque for the community picnic.

“Y-yes!” The Viceroy stretched his grin a bit too wide, compensating for his chattering teeth. “Bring my bride in one piece and your wish is at my command.”

The pompous confidence of the man was the last straw. Nezha didn’t bother to hide his contempt as he leered down at the four-footed Viceroy.

“Don’t get too excited,” Nezha snapped. “She ain’t your wife yet. Who knows maybe the dragon gobbled her up after all these years.”

His outburst earned him a hard slap upside the head from Lady Yin. The mother sent him a dirty look, stunning the young man into momentary silence.

“My apologies, Viceroy!” Lady Yin exclaimed. “He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. He’s usually a sweetheart, I guarantee it!”

‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Nezha’ never existed in the same sentence. The fact that his mother, someone who his very existence tormented since day one, was the first to suggest so made him burst out cackling.

He never asked for compliments.

Slinging his waistcoat over his shoulders, Nezha blew out a whistle. “Whatever. I’ll get it done. Ya better pay up afterward or you’re dead meat.” 

Viceroy Chen whimpered a meek ‘of course’ before hitting the ground on his knees once more. Nezha wasn’t sure if he was begging for his life or repeating his broken record of thanks. 

Stupid. Tsking, he stepped out of the manor, ignoring the angry chatter from Lady Yin. Nezha hadn’t the heart to tell her to shut up, so he resorted to blocking the babble from her. One of the many perks of the reincarnation of a spirit orb.

His thoughts trailed back to the quivering Viceroy Chen, tangling into a throbbing mess that pulsed against his skull.

Whoever was in that pagoda was not going to have a happy wedding. Nezha still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact Chen had somehow become the Viceroy amongst all people. 

He shuddered at the thought of anyone willing to throw themselves at Chen. 

But Nezha was quick to jump over the negatives. At least the woman won’t be cursed anymore, so that’s a plus...He guessed.

Unlike him, no one was going to send a few kisses over and rid him of his problems.

There was no reason to feel sorry for some random stranger who had it better. Pushing the thoughts aside, Nezha found himself strolling near towards the beach, away from Li Manor. 

The sun was more than halfway done with its descent behind the mountains, reminding Nezha of the long journey from the Viceroy's manor. 

He craved a good stretch after sitting on a horse for hours on end.

Lady Yin noticed his change in route and was on edge in an instant. “Wait Nezha! Where are you going?”

Said man didn’t bother to turn around, rather waving a hand. “I need some time alone. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“But-”

“Relax, mom!” Nezha snapped. “I’m not gonna eat the kids.”

It wasn’t like Lady Yin was in the condition to stop him anyway. No one could. Nezha was off his steed within seconds, darting into the woods before anyone could open their mouths to protest. 

The night had just made its entrance not long enough when Nezha found his way back to the beach. He prayed it would help smooth the firing nerves he held down for the entirety of the morning, it usually did the trick. 

But the unrelenting growth of an uncomfortable churn in his gut stayed, not budging an inch. It drove him to a mental frenzy knowing he couldn’t control it.

“Ha! Knew you'd be here!” Taiyi’s face popped into Nezha’s view upside down without warning, nearly sending the young man flying backward.

“The hell old man?!”

Nezha almost felt a yelp escape him, but was thankful that it failed to do so. There was no telling what would happen to Taiyi if he caught Nezha ‘acting out of character’ again. 

Recalling the last time he wanted to beat Taiyi’s ass in, Nezha’s mind somersaulted before landing back to reality. Right, he promised himself he still had to set Taiyi’s pants on fire.

Unfortunately for Nezha, the slight gleam in his eyes revealed too much.

His master picked up on the red alarms in a second’s notice. Giggling, the deity bounced back a few feet, wagging his finger in Nezha’s face again.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Taiyi said. “I just got these last week on sale, too! You’ll have to wait a bit before you rip ‘em.”

Nezha snorted. “Sure. Be prepared for the double debt. I’ve wanted to go at you for a while now.”

Taiyi widened his eyes with comical intent, putting a hand over his chest in a horrid attempt to look heartbroken.

His student wasn’t impressed.

“You know gods don’t have heart problems right?” Nezha added. Raising a brow, he gave Taiyi a thumbs down.

Grumbling a string of unintelligible words, Taiyi glared. “You know you’re really petty right?”

“Nice to meet you too, kettle,” Nezha retorted, revealing his canines in a sharp smile. A smug look was rewarded to Taiyi, who’s face went through three shades of red.

“Garrrrgh!” Taiyi plopped down next to the youth, out of breath and comebacks. “You win.”

Nezha knew him well enough to know that the deity wasn’t just there to bicker over who had the best debating skills. But he wasn’t interested in beating around the bush this time.

“Seriously, what do you want now.”

Grabbing a pebble from the sand, Nezha made a neat toss to the waters, letting it skid across before sinking to the dark depths.

He waited, all the while digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

“Saw you didn’t come back,” Taiyi said. “Thought you died or something. Viceroy Chen has a very spiky reputation.” 

“Piss off!” Nezha growled. He rolled his eyes and trudged further into the water. “He nearly shat himself today.”

Taiyi didn’t relent. “Hey, I was just worried! You never come here for nothing.”

It was going to take a broken tooth to get Nezha to cooperate, and it was obvious it wasn’t going to be today. The deity sighed, flicking his feather duster in exasperation.

Oh, how he wanted to whoop that kid’s ass.

“Just thinking about things,” Nezha replied. Letting out a loud exhale, he continued, “Wondering how that friend would do if he were in my shoes.” 

His sudden response had Taiyi’s brows arching in inhumanly shaped degrees. Nezha never revealed his deepest notions without putting up a fight...Maybe ‘never’ was a stretch, but still.

Taiyi looked like he wasn’t sure what to believe. His perturbed pout of the lips reminded Nezha of a stunned fish out of water. 

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna kiss somebody,” Nezha joked. But his antics flew over his master’s head.

Clearing his throat, the deity threw him a look, not bothering with an argument of his own. The shift in Taiyi’s gaze turned to one of apprehension as if he was afraid of the conversation’s direction.

“You thinking of that old friend again? The one who played shuttlecock with you?”

“Yeah,” Nezha admitted. “It’s been a year since I’ve seen him.” 

He kicked another rock into the sea, whistling as he did so. Despite being a proficient master at masking his discomfort, Nezha had times when even the great bastard child himself couldn’t hide the unease on his face.

His fingers traced the wet sand, mindlessly painting creases onto the smooth canvas, then letting the tides wash it off. 

A curse gets lifted, someone gets married, and I get to fight a dragon. What’s not to like? 

The nagging pit in his stomach returned, tugging at Nezha’s mind like an unrelenting leach. Embarrassment had his cheeks flaming red, reminding him of his inability to even think straight. 

He prayed it wasn’t guilt he felt, given that his motto since day one was to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The uncomfortable pressure in his chest was a pain in the arse, especially when there’s nothing to feel sorry about. Or at least he hoped.

Nezha was so into his head that he failed to detect the nearing footsteps above him. A pinch of his ears sent him howling, clutching at the pointed tips like they’d been cut off.

An overreaction, for sure, but Nezha wasn’t going to admit that.

“You know you still have me, right?” Taiyi asked. His lack of remorse over Nezha’s ears did him no favors as the latter scooted away in an instant.

“Of course,” Nezha grounded. “A wonderful friend who is so obsessed with me that he stalks me wherever I go.”

He hissed at him to make a point.

Taiyi whimpered. Nezha was positive he was seconds away from a breakdown, with the old man’s eyes enlarging into spheres the size of apples. 

The deity stomped his feet. “That’s because I care about you, ya little ingrate! I wiped your mess so many times I lost count. And here I am, thinking that we’re pals.”

Nezha wished his eyes would stay stuck to the back of his head. Thank god Taiyi was sober. He wasn’t down to haul a god with his magnified sensitivity back home at this time of day.

“Quit the guilt-trippin, old geezer.” He handed a spare handkerchief towards his master but made sure he stayed as far away as possible. God snot was not sparkling rainbows as people should know. 

Taiyi was back to his old self in a flash, completely disregarding his previous stance. Snatching the cloth away, the deity’s face lit up like a midnight lamp in the dark.

“See! We are friends! I bet I’m the only sappy old man to ever make you offer tissues,” Taiyi insisted. 

Nezha glowered. “Shut up!” 

His master beamed his vast mouth of teeth at him, inching closer while he was at it. “Ok la!” 

He plopped himself right next to Nezha, wiggling his butt into the sand as he tried to find the perfect position. After what felt like hours of him grunting and shuffling for the right comfort, Taiyi found the equilibrium.

Then he fell silent….Very silent. 

For once, Nezha thought even the crickets were the loudest things on Earth.

He could feel Taiyi’s eyes boring holes into the side of his face, but he held his ground, refusing to look back. The serene peace was much appreciated; he’d rather not break it.

If only he wasn’t that naive. If only he didn’t speak that fast. Because Taiyi couldn’t make it past five minutes. 

“So...When are we gonna leave?” The deity prodded him with his feather duster, oblivious to the twitching muscles on the youth’s face.

Nezha allowed himself to fall backward onto the sand face up, defeated.

He sighed. "Tomorrow."

Then it hit him straight in the chest.

Wait. What?! We-?

“Who’s ‘we’?” Nezha whipped around to Taiyi so hard he heard his neck snap. “Who’s ‘we’?!”

The deity twirled his feather duster, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, y’know. With all the fancy dragons and whatnot, I gotta come with you,” Taiyi said. When he saw the darkening shadows spread across Nezha’s face like wildfire, he backpedaled. 

“Plus, it’s more bonding time!” the deity added.

Nezha wanted to hit himself with a brick and pass out. He’d be lucky if he could even find a rock that could accomplish such a thing. 

“That’s what I meant,” he retorted. “You’re a literal stalker.”

Kicking a wave of sand at Taiyi, he stood up afterwards to dust himself off. His master paid no attention to the weak assault and continued his barrage of explanations.

“Why do you make it sound like I’m so desperate,” Taiyi wailed. “I’m simply doing my job of protecting my student and making sure he’s improving.”

Nezha snorted. “Yeah, right. More like making sure I’m on a leash.” 

Taiyi rolled to a standing position, albeit teetering back and forth. “I’m serious! I gotta keep an eye on you. Besides, I’ve got a bunch of magical treasures that could come in handy!” 

The attempt to convince Nezha tumbled into a pool of dung. But the last remark struck a reminder in Nezha. A lightbulb lit in his head as he came to a conclusion. The young man smirked as he stepped closer to the deity, an arm stretched out with an expecting hand.

“Give me the spear and sash and we’re good, old man,” he said. 

Taiyi shook his head at the offer. Clutching his belt like his life depended on it, he did his best to scowl at Nezha. “Nuh-uh. That’s not happening.”

The deity’s stubbornness made his student laugh. 

“Don’t make me light your ass on fire again,” Nezha warned. He held up a finger, a small flame already dancing around his hand, waiting for its command.

The color drained from Taiyi’s cheeks as he gulped down a big lump.

“Can’t do that. I Locked ‘em in a secret stash for emergency use.”

Nezha huffed. “Then unlock it.”

Crossing his arms, he stared down at the shorter god, not in any mood to drop the case. Under the circumstances, one would think Nezha could tower over a grown man. 

But that didn’t move Taiyi one bit. “I said I can’t. It’s got a password.”

By that point, Nezha lost all hope for any sense of normalcy. He needed to smash a rock. Badly.

Slapping a hand to his forehead, the youth threw a burning glare at his master.

“You forgot it didn’t you?”   

Taiyi rubbed the back of his head, mumbling something under his breath. “I don’t think so. I swear it’s on a paper somewhere back home.”

Realizing that there wasn’t going to be a way around him, Nezha slumped back. Taiyi was smart if he wanted to be. Whatever it was, he wasn’t getting his precious spear back. 

“Fine. You can come,” Nezha said. “Just don’t fuck things up.” 

“When did I ever?!” Taiyi complained. He extended the feather duster, trying to whack Nezha. There wasn’t a need to dodge it. The latter snorted, not impressed with the lack of effort. 

Nezha sighed. “Nevermind.”

He reclined back onto the sand, hands propping him up. The twisting feeling in his gut waned, but the residual spasms were still there. 

Getting married to a viceroy wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a woman. And from the looks of Chen’s estate, he wasn’t lacking in the financial realm. 

Nezha smirked. It was probably the only height of his character, if he had any of that in the first place, of course. That princess was a lucky one.

Fuck it. No one ever thought of it. So why should I?

Shoving the last thoughts around Chen to the back of his mind, Nezha exhaled and rolled to his side. 

The cool gust of wind caressed his cheeks, whispering their soothing lullaby. Sleep was inviting him to its cave, and after a day like this, Nezha didn’t have the mind to refuse.

He was that close to closing his eyes when a tap on the head brought him to the surface of reality.

“Hey don’t fall asleep here!” Taiyi scolded. “Your mother’s not gonna let me live it down.”

Nezha felt the rush of burning flames course to the tips of his finger. A devilish grin broke into his lips. There wasn’t anyone there to rat him out. 

“You asked for it, old man.”

“W-wait stop! Help!” Taiyi shot up into the sky, a blast of light trailing after his rear-end like fireworks. 

In Nezha’s defense, the deity created exquisite colors. His only regret was not doing it sooner.

“You filthy lil’ brat!” His master’s voice rained from the top. “I told you this was new!”

But all Taiyi got in return was howling laughter from the young man below. Remorse wasn’t that popular in Nezha’s vocabulary, so an apology wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

A hint of a smile tugged at Nezha’s lips. At least he felt much better now.

Now that he thought about it, gods made really good fireworks.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --

Ao Bing watched as a general scrambled for the tower’s exit.

In just one year of guarding the East Sea Pagoda, he was able to draw a rough idea of all generals within the lands. They were crude, arrogant, boastful, and mannerless. 

The one taking his leave had created a new label all for himself; stupid. It wasn’t a word Ao Bing was proud of using. In fact, a tiny part of his pride cracked the moment he realized the man had tried to use a demon-repelling spell against him.

It did the general zero favors when he came bursting in while proclaiming his undying love for the maiden like he had known her for all his life. 

He waxed poetic about her smile, which he hadn't seen. He sang praises about her laugh, which he hadn’t heard. He went on for miles describing her hair, which he never touched. 

Furthermore, he made Ao Bing’s head throb with pity for whoever may have caught the monstrosity of a speech. 

The rescue party ended much worse compared to the others. If he was being honest, Ao Bing wouldn’t even want to consider it an attempt at all. 

He didn’t get the chance to practice his Thousand-Year Frozen Palm technique. There was no point. A single punch would’ve sent the general packing.

Humans were a double-edged sword. One moment they were the kindest souls, and the other they were hideous beings with no self-control whatsoever. 

Ao Bing was beginning to understand the unified distaste towards them from his clan. Take a man like that general and multiply it by the thousands and humanity would be littered with scum that could still call themselves a ‘man’.

Claws retracting, the dragon prince turned his head towards the room at top of the pagoda. 

The princess was staring at him. Her full lips pressed into a grim line, disappointment painted all over her features. A small voice inside Ao Bing’s head hoped she didn’t hear the other colorful things the general said.

If he himself couldn’t hold back the urge to vomit at the words of the man, he didn’t want to know how she would react if she did.

Thank god he never appeared in his human form in front of her, the guilt on his face would’ve eaten him alive.

She let out a visible exhale, before closing the windows with a hard thud. Ao Bing felt the rattle through the core of his bones.

It was surprisingly hard to tell whether or not she despised him. Even with the reality of him being her jailor, she had tried to get him talking multiple times since he started his mission; mostly pointless questions around mundane things. 

As per Shen Gong-Bao’s request, Ao Bing never turned up in human form, never spoke back, and never initiated a single interaction. It was a good idea, though. He couldn’t have his emotions blocking him in the long run.

The curse wasn’t for him to break. There was nothing he could do.

But the cold sweat of shame ran down his spine, seeping into the skin of his back. It made him queasy, though he didn’t dare voice it.

Ao Bing sighed, padding across the palace. It was easier to think of his people whenever his mind wandered too far.

Yes, He was doing this for them.

Ao Bing’s thoughts rang a bell, as the familiar footsteps of Shen echoed in the hallways as soon as he finished his musings.

Forming from the shadows like a phantom of the night, the leopard demon morphed into the shape of a human. His yellow eyes glowed beyond the dark like burning amber. The brewing colors hid the storms of thunderous unrest despite his master’s poised exterior. 

“I-I-I assume you h-have mastered the T-Thousand-Year F-froz-z-en Palm technique?” Shen inquired. His spindly fingers thumped against one another in frantic dance, betraying his calm veneer.

Ao Bing made no attempt to hide his progress, saluting Shen with a confident bow.

“I have, Master. I’ve perfected bloodstream paralysis of pressure points. It can now be done in one strike.”

Shen Gong-Bao was elated. His eyes narrowed into crescent-shaped moons as he clapped his hands. Even Ao Bing had to admit it was very rare to see his master genuinely smile. 

It raised the young dragon’s spirits somewhat.

“E-excellent!” Shen rested a clawed hand on Ao Bing’s shoulder, patting him with good nature. “You’re o-on the right t-track-k! You’ll be able t-t-to overpower the d-demon orb s-soon enough!”

The mention of the demon pill sent Ao Bing’s horns vibrating with nervous anticipation. There was no room for him to mess up.

All he had to do was track down the reincarnation of the demon orb, hold him off long enough in front of thousands of humans to be struck by lightning, and then win the Jade Emperor’s favor. 

His father would be freed, and it would be worth all the blood he shed along the past three years. 

Shen broke into his thoughts once more, rattling his trail of plans out loud. 

“Who knew th-that this girl’s c-curse would serve as the best t-tr-training g-ground for you. I-I’d have to thank w-w-whatever s-stupid god that did it.”

Ao Bing forced a smile to the surface. He wasn’t too keen on getting into the details of the curse. The less he knew the better. 

But his body failed to find a muscle to refuse the beaming leopard demon in front of him. He hated to disappoint, and over nothing at that.

Glancing up at his master with stifled unease, Ao Bing waited for the next command.

“Y-your father would be p-pr-proud of you,” Shen continued. “You’ve a-accomplished more th-things than any members of y-your clan could dream of. You j-ju-just have to defeat the demon orb now. I-I have faith in your s-success.”

A calculating gleam flashed across Shen’s eyes, silencing the doubts in Ao Bing’s mind. The young dragon felt a cold wave of resolution wash over his back.

His master was right; winning was the only choice. Ao Bing couldn’t have anything in his way. 

Life was never known for its fairness in all the years he’d been alive. What did he expect?

  The dragon prince felt the corners of his lips tug downward. He should be grateful for how the events turned out, worse things could’ve happened. 

It was as good as it was going to get for everyone.

[hotchslut]

believe it’s the fright

spencer reid/reader (strangers to enemies to lovers)

week one | week two | week three | week four | week five | week six | week seven | week eight | week nine | week ten

summary: though horribly unqualified, somehow (y/n) lands a gig interning for the bau department in quanitco. already nervous beyond belief about starting her new job, the first person she meets seems determined to make her time with the team a living hell.

a/n: because the internship period with the fbi is ten weeks, this is going to be a ten part fic with each part being a new week. i always wanted spencer to have a girl in his life who wouldn't kind of baby him like the rest of his friends do and also love the idea of opposites attract when it comes to such a specific character like him. i also think spencer can unknowingly be a bit of a dick sometimes and we never really talk about that, so here's to exploring that side of his person a bit more. this first chapter acts more as a prologue, introducing you to the characters and circumstances. next chapter will have more of the two interacting and working together. please enjoy!! <33

The goal was simple. Finish the 10 week internship at the Quantico division of the FBI without screwing everything up. Hopefully, she’d leave a positive enough impression to secure a job for herself immediately after. Realistically, she knew she would end up barely scraping by, but at least she’d have enough practical experience to write a believable award winning screenplay about the ins and outs of a special agents life.

She knew she wasn’t in the right field. She was basically just a film student. But after graduating from a school she hadn’t even left her hometown to attend, she was desperate for some real life experiences, and how many people could say they had worked with the FBI, even for just a little bit? Her electives in journalism and visual arts had been enough to meet the internship requirements, her GPA was undeniably impressive thanks to a fairly easy course load, and no one could argue that she was one hell of an interviewee. So there she was, all alone in a new state, walking into the biggest and most intimidating building she had ever stepped foot in, to start working an internship she wasn’t even sure how she booked. She had been told it was her passion which had gotten her there, but she couldn’t help but thinking about how painfully stupid the other applicants must have been to allow her to be in this position.

“What floor?”

As she stepped into the elevator she looked up to see a man, she assumed was only a little older than herself, with his fingers hovering over the buttons. She was shocked, or maybe annoyed - which definitely translated to jealous - that someone so young could have such a stable career already. He must just be another intern.

“Six, thank you,” she said, a little louder than she intended. The man pressed the button but looked at her with hesitance.

“Are you sure?” He asked, still waving his fingers near the buttons, as if he was waiting for her to correct herself so he could make sure she got to the correct floor.

Fuck. This is exactly what she had been worried about. She had checked her introductory email 3 times just on the walk from the front door to the elevator so she could be absolutely certain she was heading to the right floor. “Uh, yeah, I can check the email again,” her voice wandered off as she pulled out her phone to quadruple check. The elevator was going up quite quickly, like a ticking clock, as she scrolled to find the information she was looking for before they arrived. “Yeah, no, it’s the 6th floor.” she turned her phone for him to look at, but he didn’t, he just looked at her. There was nothing she hated more than a starer.

“My bad,” he said excruciatingly slowly. “I’m Spencer. I guess I’ve just never seen you around.”

Guess that meant he wasn’t an intern. Something about him was putting her off. She had hardly spoken a word to him and she could already feel his raging superiority complex. “Well, it’s my first day,” she explained as the elevator doors opened. He started to walk out, giving her a faint smile.

Spencer made his way over to his desk, briefly looking back at (y/n) to make sure she was out of ear shot. She was standing uncomfortably, looking at her phone, which he assumed she was using as a shield to mask that she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing.

“What’s with the new girl?” He asked JJ and Derek who were already seated.

JJ almost instantly perked up. “I didn’t know we were getting a new girl,” she confessed, looking over at (y/n), who was still in the same position.

“She’s a little underdressed for her first day, don’t you think?” Spencer judged. The three of them started examining her, with little to no subtlety.

(y/n) had been anxious about this. She spent three hours the night prior, trying to decide on an outfit that she thought would be appropriate. Everything she tried on either felt under or over dressed, but in the end she felt that comfort was the most important thing. Besides, in ten weeks time, no one was going to remember what she wore on her first day.

So there she stood, at the front of the bullpen terrified, in a black crewneck with a collared shirt underneath, french tucked into some black mom jeans and vans on her feet. She had absolutely no idea where to go. All she knew was she had to find Aaron Hotchner’s office, as she was supposed to be shadowing him for her time there. She quickly read and reread the email, trying to find any hint of where Hotchner’s office could be. She didn’t look up until she sensed someone walking straight towards her.

“You look a little lost,” Derek said, stopping in front of her.

A forced laugh was all she gave him, as she looked through her phone. She didn’t want to admit that she needed help already, but when he didn’t move, she brought her eyes back up. The first thing she saw wasn’t even Derek, it was Spencer, sitting at his desk, looking right at her. Why was this guy so weird? Did he send this other guy to check in on her? “I’m, uh, looking for Aaron Hotchner’s office,” she finally explained, turning to Derek for some unwanted but highly needed help.

“Just up there,” he explained, pointing to one of the only offices even in the room. His voice was soft, and she didn’t feel judged by him for not knowing anything. “I’m Derek.” He held out his hand, which (y/n) was happy to take.

“I’m (y/n),” she shook his hand with a genuine smile. “I like that you shake.” She wasn’t sure why she said that, and tried to fix it with a simple, “Thank you,” before nodding towards him and heading up to Hotchner’s office.

The door was closed, which left her feeling more uneasy than it should have. Didn’t he know she was coming? It would have been a lot less threatening if he had just left it open for her to peak her head in. Nothing about this experience had been exactly welcoming thus far.

After some hesitation, she finally knocked on the door. Definitely louder than she meant to. As she waited for someone to open the door, she could feel eyes on the back of her head. She wasn’t sure if it was because Spencer was actually still looking at her, or if it was just the feeling he left her with. He was like a spider in the distance that once you see, you can suddenly feel crawling all over you. Luckily these thoughts and feelings were interrupted when Hotch opened the door and ushered her in.

“Hello, (y/l/n), come in. Take a seat. I’m Aaron Hotchner, it’s great to have you with us,” he remarked, waiting for her to take a seat before he followed suit behind his desk. (y/n) thanked him quietly before he continued, “(y/l/n), I have-”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but I kind of hate that, so can you just call me (y/n),” she pleaded, laughing slightly so he knew she wasn’t trying to be mean.

Hotch was taken aback, but politely obliged before explaining the role she would be taking on with the BAU. He was about halfway through speaking with her, when she realized she had not been processing any of the information she was being given. She couldn’t help it - she was a visual learner and Hotch was doing nothing to accommodate that. Not that she thought it was his fault, either.

“I know you passed all your training very well, but obviously you’re not cleared to be in the field, so when I do have to leave with the team, we’ll have you stay behind to work on the paperwork and be a resource to us here,” Hotch paused, noticing how overwhelmed she looked by all the information.

They maintained silent eye contact while (y/n) tried to process everything before piping up. “Can I have a gun?”

Hotch continued to look her in the eyes. Always the profiler, he was irritated that he couldn’t read if she was joking. Taking a risk in assuming she was, he wittily replied, “When you solve your first case.”

“Deal.” She smiled in return, as she noticed Hotch’s lips curl just slightly as well. She could tell he was going to be a tough one to completely break, but she was willing to accept that challenge.

“Now, unfortunately we don’t have any active cases for you to look through,” he began again before being interrupted by his phone beeping. He immediately looked down and sighed, “I stand corrected.”

(y/n) laughed, a genuine laugh before remarking, “I was literally just going to say, how funny would it be if that was a case coming in.”

Hotch didn’t react, he just grabbed his things and stood up, prompting (y/n) to do the same.

Everyone had gathered around the round table, with Garcia standing in front, ready to present the case, when Hotch and (y/n) walked in. “Everyone, this is (y/n) (y/l/n), she’ll be joining the team as an intern, she’s been assigned to shadow me,” Hotch introduced the girl who observed the room full of people. She quickly grew uncomfortable when she saw Spencer, giving her a quizzical look. Hotch continued to introduce everyone by name, but (y/n) was hardly listening. “And this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he finished off.

“We’ve met,” she spat coldly, earning a head nod from the apparent doctor. She suddenly noticed there were only two remaining seats, one of which was next to Spencer. Before she could get moving, Hotch began walking over the other seat, across the table. She stepped forward, trying not to broadcast the reluctance she was feeling. As she moved to get comfortable she saw Spencer trying to give her a welcoming smile through her periferal, but her stubborn nature forced her not to acknowledge it.

“Alright, if everyone’s settled and comfortable, you won’t be for very long,” Garcia spoke with slight disgust of what she knew she was about to say, “Thomas Victor, 34, found dead in his girlfriend's kitchen.”

The team all leaned forward slightly as Garcia put up photos of the victim and crime scene. (y/n) was the only one smiling; she had never seen crime scene photos in real time before. Being a fan of horror and true crime, she found this to be almost fun. It wasn’t until she noticed Spencer noticing that she herself noticed, and had to remind herself this was, in fact, real, and probably not something to get too giddy over.

“Zoom in on the neck,” Derek instructed. Garcia followed, never turning to face the screen. “Look at that stab wound.” He was right - That stab wound to the neck was nasty… And oddly circular.

“What could’ve caused something like that?” JJ pondered out loud.

Garcia’s eyes lit up before remarking, “Aha. That we know. There was a bloody corkscrew on the ground. There was also a very nice bottle of red on the counter, so my guess is the unsub caught poor old Thomas preparing some wine for him and his lady and-” She shrugged, allowing the team to infer the rest.

“Where’s the girlfriend in all of this?” JJ asked.

“Nowhere to be found,” Garcia explained, scrunching up her face, as if she felt bad for not being able to help out any further.

Hotch sat up straight, asking, “Garcia, what more do we know about the victim?”

“Relatively low risk. Worked a 9-5 office job downtown. Rumour on the street is, he had just started seeing this girl, um, Melaney,” Garcia looked down at her notes, “Paulinchuck. Friends say they had been talking on an online dating site for just a couple days before meeting for the first time. Last night was supposed to be their 5th date.”

“You know, with online dating on the rise, so are the numbers of first dates resulting in violent crime,” Spencer chimed in, adjusting himself in his seat, “Just in the last five years alone, reports of abuse and even murder spiked drastically within the online dating community.” Just as (y/n) thought he was about to shut up, he kept going. “In fact, police in the UK are dealing with approximately 20 online dating related crimes a week. You hate to think about how bad it could be here in America, a statically more violent country.” He nodded to himself and sucked both of his lips in, waiting for a response from anyone.

“Very cool, Spencer,” (y/n) whispered sarcastically, hopefully not loud enough for everyone to hear.

JJ tried backing him up by adding, “So, there’s a fairly high chance this missing girlfriend is actually our unsub.”

The team started bouncing ideas off each other while Garcia kept spewing off potentially helpful information, but for the life of her (y/n) could not focus. She didn’t want to fuck up her first case by not being able to recall important information from this initial meeting, but if Spencer clicked his pen one more time…

“We’ve got a lot of digging to do on both the victim and his girlfriend. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch eventually announced. Everyone stood quite hastily, going to grab their things and head to the plane. Garcia stayed put, gathering all of her belongings, while Spencer seemed to be moving at the pace of an injured turtle. (y/n) just sat, relatively unsure of what she was to be doing. She knew she was to stay at the headquarters and process the paperwork from the case and be readily available to help the team in any way she could from her position, but there wasn’t exactly anything to work on until they actually arrived on the scene. Plus she didn’t even have a desk.

Not wanting to look like she was stalling from getting any work done, she decided to strike up a conversation with Spencer, who was still placing papers into his file. Without looking at him, she said, “You’re a little young to be a profiler, aren’t you?” When he didn’t immediately reply, she assumed it was because he heard it all the time and she was either boring him or accidentally offending him. Unfortunately, the curse of her anxiety forced her to continue, “I mean, I’m 22 and I’m only an intern, I can’t imagine having a whole ass career with the FBI already. And a doctorate, huh? How do you even find time to accomplish so much in so few years?”

Spencer had finished getting himself together while she rambled, and threw his satchel over his shoulder. “Well, I’m not 22, I’m 33,” was all he gave her in response.

(y/n) was taken aback. “Could’ve fooled me. You look 20.” She wasn’t sure if he would take that as an insult or a compliment, but she wasn’t quite sure which she meant it to be anyways.

“But I got my first doctorate at 17, so either way,” he trailed off.

His first doctorate. (y/n)’s blood boiled. The way he was basically standing over her and rubbing in her face just how smart he was. Not that he had actually done anything wrong, she knew he was just answering the questions she had initially asked, but she hated people who were smarter than her. More, she hated people who were smarter than her and weren’t shy about letting her know. Granted, she knew she wasn’t all that intelligent, so most people were significantly smarter anyways, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

“I have to go. Good luck with your first case, intern. You’ll need it,” He spoke, emphasis on “you’ll” as if anyone else wouldn’t need the luck.

(y/n) watched him leave, like she was throwing daggers to the back of his head with her eyes. “He’ll grow on you,” Garcia smiled, about to leave the room herself, octopus mug in hand. (y/n) wanted so badly to retort with how certain she was that he wouldn’t, but refrained. She didn’t want to come across as a judgemental bitch on her first day. “I’m heading to my lair, so just holler if you need me!”

About an hour of scrolling her facebook and instagram feeds had passed, before (y/n) decided she should probably take some initiative and get some work done. The issue was, she still didn’t know exactly what it was she was supposed to do until she got some information from a profiler. It took some internal convincing, but eventually she walked out towards the hall, looking for Garcia’s office. She figured she might have some work she needed help with, and (y/n) was happy to help until she had a task of her own. She didn’t know where her office was, but it only took a few minutes of wandering around like a fool before she found it. The door was locked and needed a keycard to open which (y/n) clearly didn’t have yet, so she knocked. She didn’t know why she was so scared, she just didn’t want to get anything wrong. It was no secret she was going to be the dumbest one on the team, and she didn’t need another thing for Spencer to have against her.

Garcia must have been waiting, or, alternatively be a really fast runner, because the door opened almost immediately. “Yes, hello, how may I assist you padawan?”

“Um, I don’t really have anything to work on yet, so I thought maybe you could make use of me? I also, uh, don’t have, like, a desk, or space, to set up,” (y/n) laughed as if she was telling a joke, which she wasn’t, but the nerves were building up.

Garcia lit up, radiating enthusiasm. “Yes, yes of course,” she practically squealed, ushering (y/n) into her office and pulling up a chair. “We will get you to work right away, and I’ll set you up with a desk immediately after. But first, work.”

Suddenly any trace of anxiousness disappeared, and for the first time all day, (y/n) was completely absorbed with excitement. Maybe it was the motherly tone of Garcia’s voice, or maybe it was the assortment of figurines and toys surrounding her computers, but something about this dark room was comforting.

Garcia spent the next few hours with (y/n), showing her the basics of her program; the stuff anyone could pick up on. As she was explaining how to follow a phone’s GPS on the map, a phone rang, startling (y/n).

“Hellooooo, my big brained beauty, I am at your service,” Garcia quipped into her cell, as she put it on speaker for the two of them to hear.

“Two things. I need you to check Melaney’s employment history, go as far back as you can. I’m talking about high school jobs. I also have a hit on her new phone number since the one on file was out of service, so I need you to see if you can track it,” Spencer didn’t ask, he instructed, before reading off the number.

“Yes, yes, easy peasy lemon squeezy. (y/n), you got the phone?”

(y/n) didn’t speak, not wanting to converse with Spencer, she just nodded and got to work. She was still a little hesitant around the system, so she knew it would take a couple extra minutes.

Spencer didn’t speak for a moment either, but as (y/n) was coming to learn, that boy didn’t stay silent for long. “(y/n)’s there?” he questioned Garcia, as opposed to just speaking to (y/n) directly.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” (y/n) teased.

“Aren’t you an intern? Shouldn’t you be bringing Garcia her coffee, not trying to intervene with the case the adults are working?” Spencer snapped. Though nothing in his tone would suggest it, she knew it had to be a joke. There was no way he was that mean.

(y/n) dug back almost immediately, “I’m not that kind of intern, dumbass.” She didn’t mean to call him that, it just came out. It was what she called all her friends when they were joking around, the only difference being Spencer was not her friend.

It felt like minutes passed before Garcia yelled, “Hit ya back!” and hung up the phone.

Four days had gone by, and (y/n) was loving her new job. She had finally had the chance to help out every member of the team, at least over the phone. Garcia had kept her promise and helped her pick out a desk. The catch being, there were only two available, so it was either across from Spencer or squished in with another team. Since Spencer was away, she didn’t exactly mind her new spot, but she also knew that would change the moment they had to spend a whole day just feet apart. Garcia was still insisting that the two would grow close, because according to her, no one ever disliked Spencer. But also according to Garcia, he was charming and had one of the kindest souls she had ever come across. Sure, she technically knew him much, much better than (y/n), but somehow she found those claims hard to believe.

The case had closed, and (y/n) was working on the last bit of her paperwork when she heard the team wandering into the bullpen.

“What are you doing there?” a shrill voice asked from behind her, and it didn’t take a genius to know it was Spencer trying to accuse her of something. He made his way to his side of the desk and took a seat, staring her in the eyes, waiting for a response.

“This is my desk, Spencie. I’m like a real team member now.” She grinned, gesturing to her space, which she had set up with a few personal items and had organized neatly.

He didn’t smile back, he just quietly mumbled, “Not really.”

Spencer didn’t try to continue the conversation, but (y/n) wasn’t done. Besides, she was dying to talk to someone who wasn’t Garcia. As lovely as the woman was, (y/n) found she appreciated her more in small doses. “So, is four days, like, average? Like, for solving cases?” she asked, genuinely curious as to what to expect in the future.

“2.367,” Spencer spoke, not looking up from the piece of paper in his hand.

“Okay, yeah,” she replied, with an influxion in her voice that told Spencer she had no idea what he was saying.

“That’s how many days it takes us on average to solve a case, from the time we get debriefed on the details here to the time we’re getting ready to board the jet back home.”

(y/n) dropped everything and leaned forward. She made sure to catch his eye before speaking, “I just love how you’re so specific about everything. All your statistics? Absolutely fascinating to me. Anyone else would’ve just said it was about 2 and a half days, but you… You’re clearly so much better than anyone else, because you give exacts. Super cool.”

Spencer subconsciously started playing with the pen on his desk, indicating he was getting upset, but beyond that, he kept his cool. He couldn’t let her win. Not that easy. “You don’t find it fascinating.”

“No, I find it weird. And annoying.”

Just when Spencer was about to completely rip into her, Hotch came down the stairs and interrupted. “That was a draining one, I want everyone to head home, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he gave his farewell. Before heading to the elevator, he turned to (y/n). “Good work, (y/n), it’s great to have you on this team.”

She smiled and thanked him, making sure to throw in a joke in an attempt to crack him, before turning back to Spencer, who was already on his feet and raring to go. “Night, Spence,” she spoke while gathering her things up herself.

“Don’t call me that,” was all he said as he left the office. Something about the way he said it made (y/n) feel bad for the first time. All she was doing was wishing him well on his way out and he had to make her feel like shit over it. Over a nickname. She made a mental note that “Spence” was apparently crossing a line while she waited for the elevator that he was on to go down, so she didn’t have to leave the building with him.