#this is one of the two coastal jobs

[cloveroctobers]

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

A/N: this was honestly inspired by typical family functions + a vid I saw on Instagram (possibly belonging to Tiktok) where we all have that universal experience where we spend the night at grandma’s lol.

SYNOPSIS: your grandmother’s always been in your business, you had a good job? Great! That job got on your nerves? Just be thankful that you have a job when there’s plenty that can’t even find one. You finally moved out of your parent’s house? Good for you, it’s about damn time. Now when you upgraded even more, hearing that you have finally got yourself a boyfriend after being single for only the lord knows how long…she opens up her home for you and Armando to crash instead of spending money (you both had it) out of the kindness of her heart—mostly.

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”

“Oh, It’s flourishin’, baby.” She grins as you slip an arm across her shoulders and sent an apologetic look at your boyfriend, “your cousin Saleema and I went out to the Lowe’s and picked up a bunch of flowers. She helped me plant half of them but I know you’ll help me do the rest.”

She had a whole lot planned it seemed, considering you two came up for a couple of days for the upcoming family reunion at her house. You honestly thought about not attending, since you didn’t feel like socializing with half of your father’s side (1. they were either in your business to make sure you weren’t doing better than them—it wasn’t a competition in the first place but apparently it was in their eyes, 2. acted like they didn’t know you and expected you to roll out the red carpet for them—meaning if you didn’t speak to them first then that automatically became a problem, or 3. simply weren’t wrapped too tight in the head) but pushed through it since your granny got sensitive about not seeing her grand babies as often now that you were all adults.

Armando chuckled to himself at that, you knew your granny would bring this up since your cousin wouldn’t stop boasting about their outing in the: first cousins group chat. Saleema was older, just touched forty and was single living in her condo with her funny looking cat. She was always your granny’s favorite—perhaps it had to do with her being the first grandchild since your aunt had her young—although Saleema was a true hell raiser throughout her teenage and college years apparently, she hardly got shit on out of the grandchildren and it showed.

“Sure thing…anything you want me to help with on the inside first? You know I’m not built for this type of heat.” You whistled, fanning at the back of your neck after swiping some of the braids to your boho Bob to the side.

Granny Bessie scoffs, “stop that lyin’ baby, you chose to live out there with them gators and those strange Florida folks so you have to be built for some of it.”

Armando laughs as he follows you two into the living room, spotting old photos of: Granny Bessie during her bowling tournaments with her voluminous hair, various of family members, and childhood photos of yourself and many more cousins from previous family reunions.

“Oh you should see her Granny.” Armando speaks up after putting a picture back above the piano, “I think she got bougie on you, she even walks outside with umbrellas.”

Not this man snitching on you?

Granny side eyes you, hand still latched on your waist, “…you not one of them demonic people now are you?”

Now it was your turn to send a dark stare to Armando, who bit down on his bottom lip trying to hide his laughter. He knew what he had started, knowing that your grandmother was religious and always had something to say about other aesthetics? The goths and the emos received no love from Granny Bessie.

“No, grandma!”

You only ever called her by that to show that you were serious.

“Good,” she states with a pat to your hip before adding, “you haven’t contracted high blood pressure yet have you? I just knew it would hit you like it hit your father and me.”

Shaking your head you reply, “Nope, still dealing with low blood pressure actually.”

“That’s why I told you to up your vitamins and eat better foods. Good thing you’re here with me for a few days, I’ll send you on your way brand new,” she dusts her hands off with a clap, “your doctor will be thanking me.”

“As he should, granny Bessie knows all!” You rested your head against the shorter woman.

“Damn straight, now y’all come on in here and get you something to eat.” The elderly woman with the Mother Nature braids waves you two along.

Armando starts to squeeze his way by at the news of eating, hands rubbing together in excitement as his stomach rumbled before he steps to the side to continue letting you two go ahead.

“…ah a gentleman! I think I like him so far.” Granny Bessie whispers up at you, carrying into the kitchen.

It was 7pm by the time Granny Bessie was packing it up and getting ready for bed. She made the arrangements, sticking Armando in the back room while it left herself and you on opposite sides of the home. She of course let the home be open to you two but you knew not to stay up too late since the woman liked to be up early and active. Granny Bessie was in her seventies and still moved quickly even when her Arthritis was acting up. Everyone told her to slow down but granny Bessie has proven that she was always going to what she damn well wanted to.

Which definitely stood when she sent her last warning to you two of where you two would be sleeping for the night.

The both of you stood at the entry way of the ranch home, lips attached and battling each others as Armando swung you towards the wall, hand going to your waist then down the side of your ass to hook your leg over his hip.

“You said Granny Bessie was a snorer didn’t you?” Armando breathed against your neck.

You nod as you lick your lips, “yeah but she’s still a light sleeper and I’m not in the mood to get cussed out when we get caught.”

“When?” Armando quirked up his brows to look up at you, “All you have to do is keep quiet, mami.”

“And you think you’re going to help me do that?” You question while Armando thinks about it, “Yeah no.”

You pecked his lips while running your fingers over his facial hair, “just call me on FaceTime if the night gets too bad.”

For as long as you’ve been dating Armando, you weren’t completely oblivious. You knew that he didn’t adapt well to new spaces and it only got worse at night. The nightmares kept him up and anxiety was a bitch, he was trying to get through it on his own and even tried to hide it from you plenty of times before he moved in but there wouldn’t be any secrets in your relationship.

And you wouldn’t disrespect your granny’s home—never did and never will.

“Alright,” Armando sighed as he kissed your forehead, “better keep your phone charged, we both know how you are.”

You scowl as he pushes the creaking door back that led down the narrow hallway, “that was only a few times and I had valid reasons.”

“Uh huh,” Armando holds his hand out back for you to interlock your fingers before stopping in the middle of the hallway, “…goodnight baby.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the dolls bite.”

Armando halts at kissing the back of your hand as he steps towards you, head dipped as he quizzes with a soft whisper, “…what fucken dolls?”

You’re trying to silence your cackling at the deadpan angle of Armando’s face on your phone screen as you settle into bed. There’s no cable in this room so you’re stuck leaving the tv on some court show that’ll help you fall asleep. It only took maybe a minute or two for Armando to start calling you, you on your side and arms tucked underneath the comfy blankets that made you feel like you were back in your childhood.

Granny Bessie had all sorts of trinkets decorating the dresser drawer by the side of the door and you had to remind yourself that if you needed to get up during the night to not stub your toe.

“It’s not that bad is it?” You ask while Armando just simply blinks at you, which said enough.

Eventually you’re the one that falls asleep on Armando although you promise that you wouldn’t. He knew that was a lost cause after you decided to shut the tv off, welcoming the pitch black and snuggle deeper into the sheets without him. You were closer to the opposite end of the hallway with your granny right across the hall but her bed sat deep in her own room yet that didn’t stop you from hearing her lawn mowing snores. You even popped an earphone in one ear to drawn out the noise and just enjoyed the company of your man on charge.

He ends up falling asleep after you but it takes him much longer, browsing social media, checking up on his side business, ignoring a text from Marcus, and simply sending a thumbs up to Mike’s text that he was finally boarding. Armando managed to keep himself busy, fighting the urge to snatch up all the weird looking dolls, rip their heads off and shove them in the closet.

He guessed this was a thing with Grandma’s having obsessions with odd items?

He makes sure his own phone in on charge, bringing it back to the FaceTime call of your closed eyes before completely covering his head underneath the covers then dozed off himself.

That doesn’t last long being woken up out of his sleep. There’s a loud booming noise in the distance and he’s tempted to find his piece just to make sure no one was breaking in. Granny Bessie had an alarm system and that didn’t seem to be going off but that didn’t stop Armando from sitting up in bed. He looks at the dolls and it suddenly feels as if their soulless eyes are still watching him.

He tossed the covers back, feet on the carpet, eyes finding a random blue light that he couldn’t find the source of as he passed by the edge of the bed. This room was suffocating and he feels like he’s been sweating underneath the sheets. The house was cool before the both of you went to bed and now it felt like being inside of a sauna.

Armando pulls the door back, peeking out into the abyss of a hallway and he just hopes there’s no one else in the house but you three. Leaving the door open a crack he moves back into the bedroom to grab his phone to use the flashlight since he can’t remember where exactly the hallway light is.

The floor creaks underneath his feet as he moves from the back of the house. As he gets to the middle of the hallway, he picks up on Granny Bessie’s snoring and stops at your room. His fingers rack against the door and he gets no response so he moves forth with twisting the door knob. Your back is to the door now, phone abandoned on the floor but still charging.

He picks it up for you and steps back out.

Armando lets you sleep, heading towards the front of the house. He’s in the entry way and the home feels much bigger in the dark, more eerie but knows he’ll find comfort in the dining room or kitchen—where the snacks are.

It’s 3 in the morning when you get the violent urge to use the bathroom. You try to fight it but the pressure in your belly isn’t pleasant so you throw the covers back in annoyance. It was your own fault chugging that ice cold water before you started making out with Armando but you didn’t need to acknowledge that. Shoving your fuzzy socks on, you pull the door open and head out into the dark hallway. Eyes half lidded as you use the wall for guidance to the bathroom, your head turns to the left to see the hallway door is left open just a crack but you carry into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door after doing your business, you feel a pull to head out into the main areas of the home. You see a light from the right of the dining room and walk through the sitting room towards it. Turning to the right you spot Armando immediately, snacking as you plop down beside him in another chair.

Balling your arms up on the table, you rest your head against them as you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

“You didn’t hear that big ass noise?” He says around the dried fruit he’s chewing on, “Sounded like a whole bomb.”

You hum, “yeah we’re near the military base…I thought I mentioned that.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“My grandad was a vet. They moved here in the early 2000’s, it’s a whole community.” You yawn.

Armando shakes his head, “that sounds like nothing but triggers. I don’t know if that’s worst or the creepy ass dolls following me with their laser blue beams as I snuck out of the room.”

Frowning you sigh, “did you take an edible before bed?”

Armando feels his eye twitch, “no I didn’t take a fucken edible—I’m for real. Is this supposed to be normal? The dolls? The random lights? The bombs? The clicking and buzzing?”

You shrug, “…I didn’t hear any of that…or maybe I just learned to tune it out.”

“I see you didn’t get the light sleeping from your granny then.” Armando mumbles while you snort, moving one arm to latch onto his wrist.

Slowly lifting your head you say, “…well we can’t stay out here for the rest of the morning. Granny gets up at six and probably will let us rest until eight if we’re lucky so…”

Waking up early had no effect on Armando since he barely slept anyways. He already scoped out the area once the two of you got closer to Granny’s home from the airport for a good workout.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Working out with Armando in the gym was a death sentence and you’ll be damned if you do it out in this heat too? You rather go to hell in a pretty hand basket and Armando was willing to take you there honestly.

No pain, no gain.

*Cue the eye roll*

“That’s cool,” Armando shrugged, “but I’m not goin’ back in that room.”

Sitting back against the chair you huff, “fine you big baby…set the timer to 5:45 so you can go back to your room. Don’t think she won’t check once she’s up for the day.”

Armando scowls as you scrape back from the kitchen table, reaching over to slap your backside, “I’ll show you a baby if you keep getting smart.”

Rubbing the sting on your back side, you fan your hand back at him, which he snatched to hold while setting a timer as you both make your way to the hallway. Too tired to give him any lip, you were just ready to get back into bed and cuddling with your man didn’t hurt.

Your back is to Armando, he tucks himself right into you, feet intertwined, his hairy legs prickling your shaven ones, chin buried into the space of your neck and shoulder while cradling your stomach.

“…how long were your grandparents together?”

You heard him but take a minute to respond as you fight sleep, “They’ve been married since the early 60s…all the way up until pa’s passing in 2019.”

Armando breathes you in, “how’d they do it for so long?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Granny but they were everything good you can imagine—nothings perfect but they felt like it you know?”

“…Think he was used to all the noises here?”

You snort, “he’s always been a night owl so if any of us couldn’t sleep, he was always up in the living room in his chair, eating that a disgusting banana ice cream just waiting for any of us to talk. If we had a nightmare, he’d do anything to make us laugh until we forgot it.”

“Sounds like a special man.”

“He was.”

“…I want that you know? With you. The kids and the gran’s. The creaks and the strange, a loving home. A place where anybody can stay and feel like life’s worth revisiting, like it was nothing but a breeze once you see who you’re surrounded by. A less lonely life.”

You shuffle to face him now, resting your head underneath his chin, not finding this conversation to be new. Most nights when Armando couldn’t sleep, he would ramble about what a future could look like with you.

It warmed your heart just as much as how warm your granny kept the back of the house.

“Then let’s do it.” You mumble into the night as Armando squeezes you, placing a kiss right on top of your bonnet.

That sealed the deal.

“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Granny Bessie asks with a mug of coffee as Armando makes his presence known.

Armando glances at you who sips at your own mug with a hidden small smile, “Good. Thanks, Granny Bessie. I’m actually about to head out for my daily run…would you like to join us?”

That gets you to cast a glance at the man over your shoulder who softly squeezes your shoulders with a grin, “us?” You whisper.

Granny Bessie laughs, “oh no. I need to tend to some things around the house but make sure you eat something because the heat will rise by the time you’re out there. Also did you speak to your daddy about what time we should be expecting him?”

“He probably should have landed by now.” Armando shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling that he felt when Granny Bessie labeled the man as such.

You say, “He texted me about twenty minutes ago. He was heading to baggage claim, maybe in the next hour he should be here.”

“Alright, well you two best be going and stay away from the houses from the next two streets over…nothing but confederates on that side.”

The woman wags her finger in warning.

Armando nods, “Thanks Granny,” he pops a red grape into his mouth, “these are delicious.”

“Take as much as you want, darling.” The woman squeezes his elbow on her way by, “Now I’m going to go get fully ready for Mr. Lowrey.”

Frowning you ask, “now what do you mean by that granny?”

“Just that I need to be presentable in my own home.”

“Uh huh. I know you’ve been on Facebook and know what Mike looks like.”

“I am a woman of God, do not sass me.”

Armando snickers while you raise your hands in surrender, finishing off your morning juice.

“I see you Granny Bessie.” Armando teases while the woman fans her hands at him.

“Hush! Don’t make my bad list, Herman.”

You gently reminded, “It’s Armando, granny.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay! love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She grins.

As you’re locking up the screen door, you and Armando walk around the path to the driveway to exit the home. He silently stops you, encouraging you to stretch while you send him an unimpressed look.

Armando was lucky you didn’t go into hiding around the house and shouldn’t be so bossy but you knew better.

“When did Granny see a pic of Mike?”

You switch to bending to the other toe, “when she wanted to see a picture of you. Then she proceeded to rate you, Dorn, Rafe, and of course…”

Armando laughs as he finishes, “Mike. your granny is a trip.”

“Tell me about it.” You try to prolong this morning exercise but he picks up pretty quick and isn’t having it.

He stops jogging in place, hand going out to slap your ass before pulling you along by the hand.

You’re wheezing, ready to throw a whole tantrum, legs stinging, wrists limp as you drag yourself up Granny’s driveway. There’s a Porsche parked to the right in the driveway by the rental you picked up from the airport. Mike’s already out of the car, at the trunk as he’s pulling out his luggage.

“Hey y’all! uh oh, Armando what did you do to my girl?” The smile vanishes from Mike’s face as his son glances back at you.

If the ground wasn’t so damn hot, if the air, if everything wasn’t on temperature hell you would have face planted right on the gravel.

Armando also looks back at you, hands on your knees as you give a wave to Mike, whose brows are deeply furrowed before he raises them to the twenty-eight year old closest to him.

“She’s aight.” He shrugs, “we needed to get our cardio in and she’s the one who wanted to tone that hot girl body up—her words not mine but I don’t disagree.” Armando looks at you again, biting down on his bottom lip, “she’s lucky I didn’t strap any weights to her ankles.”

Raising your hands above your head, you actually feel yourself sway doing that movement over touching your knees and Mike actually takes a step toward you but Armando presses the back of his knuckles against his bio dad’s chest. Mike takes his eyes off you for a second and sizes Armando’s hand as he’s now analyzing you closely himself.

“I don’t know how many serious girlfriends you done had in your life man but I’m telling you right now, if that girl ends up in the hospital with heat stroke because of you pushing her too hard, that’s your ass.” Mike warns Armando, who glares up at him.

He didn’t need Mike to tell him about you.

He was the one who took the time to get to know you mind body and soul.

Mike’s missed out on twenty-something years and didn’t get to give Armando any advice.

And that’s on Kanye!

Armando does move over to you the moment you feel your stomach clench, ready to upchuck any light breakfast you had. He doesn’t waste time picking you up and over his shoulder, you resting limply against him before he’s walking by Mike.

He pauses, “your room is the last room at the back of the house, padre.”

And with that Armando continues towards the house, ready to cater to you because what Mike Lowrey didn’t know was that Armando would die for you.

Mike is mumbling to himself, trying to control his temper since it felt like he was building a connection with Armando one minute and then in the next he was pulling ten steps back. The kid didn’t even offer to come back and help him bring his things in—not that Mike needed it but it was a decent thing to do.

Respect was earned and the duo had a long way to go.

So Mike lets it go, slamming the trunk shut before meeting a very excited Granny Bessie at the front door.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

More Armando content here.

[buddierecs]

long (40k+ words) buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

leading with the left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "when buck said he was a "bartender" in "south america" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "mexico." and when eddie said, "what's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" in other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about buck. Or eddie. Or buck and eddie's relationship." word count: 84k important tags: strangers to lovers, stripper!buck, emotional slow burn, miscommuication your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead me back to you) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "In 1880, evan buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets eddie diaz, cowboy. when fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, buck walks into his fire station in los angeles - and meets eddie diaz, new recruit." word count: 88k important tags: cowboys, soulmates, reincarnation, gilded age, heavy angst

let the world have its way with you by: fleetinghearts "a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along" word count: 54k important tags: pining, feelings realisation, idiots to lovers, road trips, getting together, eventual smut, gay!eddie diaz good pretender by: likeshipsonthesea "an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need" word count: 85k important tags: friends with benefits (buckandravi), casual sex, childhood tramua, healing, feelings realisation, jealous!eddie diaz, ptsd, love confessions, anal sex would you lie with me and just forget the world by: colonscopys "eddie diaz is 7, and 13, and 14, and 18, and 34. and he loves, and he loves, and he loves, and he loves, and he loves" word count: 45k important tags: childhood friends to lovers, eddie diaz centric, catholic guilt, angst, happy ending. eddie diaz vs the feelings by: elvensorcess "eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. aka demisexual!eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for" word count: 62k important tags: demisexual!eddie diaz, idiots in love, sexual tension, frottage, hand jobs, anal sex, soft!buddie, slow burn, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz courtship behaviours of the southern coastal husbros by: mad_lori "buck and eddie decide to become platonic domestic partners and co-parents. they are 100% super normal about it and absolutely nothing is awakened in them, except a mutual annoyance at being referred to as "husbros." word count: 49k important tags: domestic partners, slow burn, christopher diaz has two dads, friends to lovers, demisexual!eddie diaz, sexuality crisis, first kiss, eventual smut, oral sex objects in the mirror by: sevensoulmates "the voice had always been around, eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where eddie just tuned it out. but then the voice started speaking directly to him. conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. like he could see what was happening around eddie. eddie shook his head. no one was talking to him, and eddie most certainly was not talking back. he wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. there was no boy in his head." word count: 139k important tags: telepathic bond, childhood to canon, slow burn like a dog with a bird at your door by: fleetinghearts "evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home" word count: 51k important tags: pre-relationship, domestic, love confessions, eventual smut, friends to lovers, protective!evan buckley

when it's you i'm with (everything goes quiet) by: withoutthetiger "eddie can't speak after he and christopher are in an accident, but somehow he asks buck to stay while he recovers. buck can't imagine wanting to be anywhere else, and even in the silence that lingers between them, they both find a way to say everything." word count: 56k important tags: different first meetings au, muteness, intimacy, feeling realisation, friends to lovers, phone sex, blow jobs, rimming, anal sex

the best life is the truth (my best mask is my face) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "the buckleys are celebrating their 50th anniversary, and maddie and buck are both expected to come. to take the heat off maddie, buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. obviously, there's only one solution: bring eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. no problem, except for the, uh. "pretend" part." word count: 43k important tags: fake dating, idiots to lovers, there was only one bed, eventual smut wishing to be the friction by: ipretendtobesane "the straight eddie friends with benefits fic" word count: 97k important tags: friends with benefits, slow burn, hand jobs, blow jobs, rimming, first time, pining, porn with plot

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

ok so beach lifeguard captain steve who loves the water loves his job drives the gator between all the towers setting up equipment in the morning and waves at every chubby baby he passes. eddie who comes to stay with wayne for the summer in his little coastal tourist town & work in his auto shop

(except when wayne had called him it hadn't actually been a request: "you can come stay for the summer," he'd said, after eddie's dad had been booked again, after the cops had agreed to drop the charges against eddie; eddie knew it actually meant "get your ass down here.")

"lotta kids your age hang out at the beach," wayne says, when eddie shows up with his van and his guitar and a massive chip on his shoulder and the vague, overwhelming sense of dread that he's balanced precariously between two possible futures, that if his attention falters for even a second or he stumbles the wrong way he could end up like - well. and another part of him that sounds way more like his dad than he wants to admit, whispering: 'why don't you just fuck it up and get it over with.'

so. he grits his teeth and does oil changes for rich old biddies in sun visors and practices guitar until his fingers bleed because he's going to get out, he is, he's going to fucking make it, and walks to the library every few days to exchange his current stack of pulpy fantasy paperbacks for a new one and that's where he meets robin buckley. grade a band nerd, clumsiest person he's ever met in his life, teaching herself mandarin for fun, unexpectedly best friends with --

"no, really, he's a good guy," robin says, at the diner across the street from the library. "i know he has the whole," robin makes a vague jazzy gesture towards her torso and face and then exaggerates pushes her hair out of her eyes the way eddie has seen steve harrington do.

"but he's, like, my best friend," she continues, shoving eddie's fries in her mouth. "and a total dingus, don't let the baywatch bit fool you. and you'll like nancy and jonathan too, and his friend argyle has a MASSIVE stash of weed he's bringing--"

"i'm in," eddie says immediately. and then he goes back to the shop and rotates mrs. henderson's tires for her and thinks about what the fuck one even wears to a bonfire on the fucking beach and definitely does not think about steve, who of course he'd seen on his meandering evening beach walks, when the day had cooled down and the dune grass shimmered in the blue light and steve would jump in the ocean for one final swim, diving cleanly through a wave, coming up and tossing his fucking hair back, before coming back up to the lifeguard stand, dripping wet, toweling off --

[tightjeansjavi]

Congrats on being here writing for one year!!!

🦋Can I please request a little mini drabble for Javi G?

And since you know I love my little bad boi/soft boi - can you please make him a little naughty? He's not a big, mean man, but I think he can be spicy when he wants to be.

xoxoxo

Patti, anything for you my darling 💗

Thank you for taking my Javi G v-card ;)

-

Tease

A/N: spicy, spicy, spicy! 🥵🌶️

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant comes with many perks.

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x f!personal assistant reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, power imbalance (boss/employee) reader is ballsy and bold, mutual pining, unprotected piv, fingering, teasing (like HELLA) seductress reader, noncon/dubcon (reader is naked in his eye-line on purpose) javi is respectful till he’s not, dom!javi, reader can understand Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, no age gap (no mention of age) +18, minors dni!

translations:

¡Mierda! - Shit!

Querida - darling

Ten piedad de mí, joder - have mercy on me, fuck

Hermosa - gorgeous

Chica mala - bad girl

translations done by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @yoongi-tangerine-22

Being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant came with…many perks. Javi was always a generous man, and even though he was your boss, and you knew it was shameful to be attracted to him, you couldn’t help it.

But what’s a girl to do with an assumed one-sided attraction? Tease the shit out of him till he simply can’t take it anymore.

It started off innocent, light touches here and there. Fluttering of lashes, giggles, and asking him questions about himself that did not pertain to the conversation at hand.

You loved to see him stutter over his responses and rub the back of his neck, or card his fingers through his luscious, soft curls.

He never acted upon his desires and urges. He always was respectful, polite, and boy, did that often drive you up a wall.

You were desperate to know what kind of man Javi Gutierrez was in the bedroom.

You started wearing revealing clothing around him. Short skirts, low-cut tops that had your tits practically staring him in the face. Flowy sundresses that allowed for easy access to your bare cunt.

He found you purposely bent over at times, with the seam of your pussy exposed—puffy, dripping a droplet of arousal like the sweetest fruit a man could ever taste.

Tempted by the bared fruit of Eden, he was. The urge was there, but never satiated. You were his assistant, and he was your boss. It would be shameful.

-

The sun was hot, blistering, boiling on your skin. One of the perks of living at Javi’s coastal home, was your free access to his inground pool. As long as you did your job, you could spend your free time lounging poolside for hours.

Today you decided to spice things up a bit more than usual knowing the exact time that Javi would come down for his afternoon swim. You would be there, waiting for him.

At first, he didn’t notice your naked form sunbathing on your stomach, ankles crossed in a relaxed position on the poolside chaise lounge. His mind was elsewhere: a new screenplay idea.

He whistled, throwing his towel down on the chair beside you, stretching his arms above his head, giving you a tiny peek at the happy trail at the top of his very tight speedo.

Your sunglasses tip down over the bridge of your nose as you shamelessly drink him in. Salivating at the look of his bronzed, golden skin that you absolutely would love to sink your teeth into.

“Mr. Gutierrez, so nice of you to join me.” You giggle softly, waving your fingers in a teasing motion.

He does a double take when his eyes finally gloss over your naked body. His pupils expand, and he nearly stumbles over his two feet.

“¡Mierda!” He exclaims, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Querida, why are you naked?!” The harmless nickname slips past his lips, his eyes going wide behind the cover of his hands when the realization hits.

“Aw, Javi! I’m your darling? Wow, you sure know how to get a gal feeling flustered!” You giggle again and slowly roll over onto your back, thighs falling open over the side of the lounge chair, just enough that he can see the outline of your cunt. “It’s far too hot to be wearing anything, Javi. My skin is absolutely boiling.” You said with a soft, airy sigh, letting your hand drift southwards to rest along your stomach. Inching—

Ten piedad de mí, joder. He thinks.

He doesn’t respond, feeling flustered as a hot flush spreads across his face. He averts from making eye contact with you and tosses his sunglasses onto his towel. You swear you hear him curse under his breath just before he dives into the refreshing pool.

Darn.

-

Javi finally loses his cool when the second draft of his new screenplay is rejected. He’s been so distracted with you and your antics that he hasn’t been able to focus! Well, he’s about to show you just how frustrated he truly is with you.

You don’t hear him approaching at first from where you’re bent over the sink, focused on washing the dishes and the song playing in your AirPods.

Your hips are swaying to the side, loose and flowy and from where Javi is standing in the opening of the kitchen, he’s practically burning holes into the back of your head.

Fucking tease.

He stalks forward, coming up behind you and nearly rips the earbuds from your ears, tossing them onto the countertop.

“Hey—” you start to say, losing your voice in your throat when you feel Javi’s palm slip between the apex of your thighs, fingers just barely brushing between the seam of your cunt.

“You’re a dirty fucking tease, querida.” He growls against the shell of your ear. His freehand yanks you back by your hip. He inhales your scent, familiar—his fucking cologne? “Naughty fucking tease. Are you—wearing my cologne?” He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering up your apparent arousal, sticky and wet for him. “Dripping all over the freshly washed tiles, hermosa.”

“Fuuck—” you whimper, pressing your ass directly against the growing bulge in his cotton shorts. Your head lolls to the side, falling back against his shoulder. “I’m your dirty fucking tease, Javi.” You spread your thighs further for him as he continues his ministrations, “Wearing your cologne, sir. Stole it from your room because I’m a bad, bad, girl. I wanted you to smell yourself on me.”

He nips at your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking harshly on your pulse point as he eases two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, knuckle deep. “Fucking always wearing short skirts around me. Those goddamn sundresses. Lost my mind when you were sunbathing naked, cunt on full display without a care in the world. You’ve made it so, so hard for me to keep my hands to myself, querida.”

“Javiii!” You whine, “please don’t keep your hands to yourself, baby. Please. Have your way with me, sir. I’m all yours.” You don’t give a flying fuck how desperate you sound for this man, you’ve been pining after him for far too long to care.

“Yeah? You think I should, hermosa? Think I should give you my cock? That’s what you want, right? You want my cock? I don’t think you deserve it, querida. Not after you’ve driven me up a fucking wall. Naughty little teases don’t get rewarded.”

He begins to shallowly pump his fingers, knuckle deep, curling them inwards. You can feel the bite of the cooling touch of his expensive rings against your hot skin. “Please, Javi! Give me anything—I’ll take whatever you give me! Your cock, your fingers!” You cry out.

“Yeah? You’re that fucking desperate for me, querida? You want my cock that fucking bad? Look at you, dripping all over my fingers…” he hums, pressing the hardening length of his cock against your ass. “You want me to fuck you so bad, little tease? Take my cock out then, hermosa. Fuck yourself on it.”

You waste no time to reach behind and blindly search for the waistband of his shorts. You let out a frustrating whine when he pulls himself back slightly just so you have to work for it a little harder. He hisses between his teeth, working his fingers inside of you faster when you finally pull his cock free through the opening of his shorts.

He’s heavy in your palm, tip weeping an angry bead of precum when you pull him back in just as he slips his fingers out. You're both a mess of breathy moans when you ease him into your wet heat, tight pussy hugging him like a fist as he bottoms out.

He’s thick, girthy, and it’s overwhelming to have all of him stuffed inside of you. It’s a delicious sensation: being stretched open by Javi’s cock.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much, hermosa.” He keeps a firm grip on your hip, his other snakes around you, dipping between your thighs so he can thrum your sensitive clit. “Fuck yourself on it, chica mala.”

And so you do.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 💗

please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

[raging-soul-of-fire]

The instructions of the local lord were quite specific. The Warriors Guild we’re chartered to escort his winter Seer to the coastal lands, where she would tend to a new court. The guard contingent was to be as small as necessary, and they were to meet at the bridge at the edge of town. The Seer would be waiting there, ready for travel ( @thecrystalchoreographer )

Aura sighed when she got the orders. A combat mission, and one that would take her away from her home. Despite the prestige, she knew none of the others wanted to 'babysit the foreigners' and so pushed the task onto her.

Still, she wasn't in a place to complain. Food, shelter, and steady work. Not a lot of call for creative work among them, but at least their weapons and armor would be maintained. No one would complain about that, even if it meant they weren't doing it themselves.

As she packed her things, she wondered who the winter Seer was. She kept her head down and didn't bother herself with matters of the lord's court. The guild master got the jobs and assigned them to the members. For a job like this, needing as small a group as needed, only one or two might normally be assigned, although the guildmaster always advised 1 per escort with more for more vital targets.

Most of the bad jobs went to her, and she always did them. Even after she started hiding what she was, they never let her forget.

At least there would be fresh air on the journey. Hopefully the person who she was escorting wasn't too demanding or harsh. One pack of supplies, rations, bedroll, torch. Everything she owned, really. Anything else she kept to herself. Slinging her shield over her shoulder, she headed to the bridge. She would be early. Punctuality was important.

@thecrystalchoreographer

[purelyfiction]

is it too soon to do this yet? - jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

Word Count: 1,977 words

Summary: this aint for the best, my reputation's never been worse so, you must like me for me. we can't make any promises now can we babe? // is it cool that i said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? cause i know that it's delicate. is it cool that i said all that? is it too soon to do this yet? 'cause i know that it's delicate.

Content Warning: fluff!! possibly insta-love for those put off by that.

Author Note: first: i wrote something?? on time??? second: for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))) unedited/unbetaed we die like idiots

you had been here for a good time. your friend was getting married and her bachelorette was taking place in this quiet coastal town near a naval base. had that been part of the appeal? absolutely. who didn't want to watch a bunch of walking red flags as they did their daily trainings on the beach?

a little dive bar friday night with a shoddy jukebox, cheap beer and countless sailors - it had been the most fortunate surprise when you'd walked in with no other plans but to show off your sashed friend.

luckily for your group, sailors were suckers for a good bride to be and her girl crew. even luckier for you since you'd been playing DD for the last three days of the five day trip and you were finally able to take a damned sip of alcohol, which you rightfully deserved. glass in hand, you approach the jukebox to survey the music choices as the other girls were served shots (you wanted a drink not a hangover). you're about to pick out a song when you realize the machine hadn't been modernized and it still took cash. sadly, you spin back to the bar but not before dousing the man behind you in the makings of your whiskey sour.

"fuck, i am so sorry-" a hand grips your arm and he shakes his head.

"no, no, don't worry, i'm just upset on your behalf. what a waste of good whiskey." you look up, green eyes charming their way into easing your guilt. "I was gonna offer you a song, but ugh- maybe i ought to offer you a drink instead?"

he ends up buying both.

and as your friends sing along to the ancient song on the jukebox, you sit with this lone aviator and get to know him. long after your friends have retreated to the airbnb.

it was funny to think that was almost a six weeks ago. you'd flown to california for one week of fun and never went back, thanks to a rouge cowboy with eyes that matched the jumpsuit he donned to work each day.

you'd been crashing at an short-term rental since your friend's bachelorette, save for the weekend of the actual wedding, when jake had been your plus-one. everyone had relished in how the string of fate had connected you like this.

they'd also spoken of how insane you were. to uproot your entire life for the sake of what was supposed to be a one night fling. but it didn't bother you. not when the expansive reach of his hand had guided you through crowds that night. had danced with you and made a part fool of you both. i am a fantastic dancer, i have no idea where these guys are getting the idea i'm a trainwreck. his voice so easy and content on the drive back to the hotel that night.

now here you were, cooking for the two of you in his apartment as you waited on your boyfriend to get back from work. the label was maybe a week old at this point, but it fit him like a damn glove. so much so you'd started reaching out to potential leasers to sublet your apartment back home. maybe you were rushing into this. your job had been fine with you staying out in california longer - you were remote anyways, that had been the main perk of the job. but moving? for a man you'd known maybe a month?

the door slams shut and the entire apartment shakes. jake's place was small, tiny even, so you're greeted with his tense expression the minute you look up from your spot at the kitchen counter. "hey baby, how was-"

"fine." he grits the word out, dropping his duffel to the floor and disappearing down the hall. the bedroom door shuts with a click instead of a bang this time.

this wasn't boding well for you. you had a grand plan to make dinner, watch movies and have a nice and easy night in together, maybe talk for a bit. you'd wanted to discuss going to see an apartment this weekend. you didn't want to move in together, but you needed to look for a place of your own instead of crashing here so much. if this was going down that road. yet, the pilot seems to be in the worst mood to have that kind of discussion.

when he finally comes back to the kitchen, he slinks in behind you and presses a quick kiss to your head. "how was that call you were dreading." he's changed out of his uniform, a pair of sweatshorts on his waist, a dark t-shirt on his shoulders as he glides to the fridge. the tension is still carried in his frame even if he isn't outwardly acting as if there is something bothering him.

"ugh, it was - it was fine." now you're shutting off just like he was. it might be just you mirroring his actions, or maybe it was more. uncertainty? uneasiness? doubt?

the crack of teeth on an apple pulls you from your mind. you look to the fruit in his hand as he steps out to the living room on the opposite side of the kitchen wall. "i- dinner is almost ready, you know."

the tv stirs to life, echoing off the walls of the bachelor pad. the lack of decorations or real furnishings had been one of your reasons for wanting to pull the trigger on the move. to have some of your belongings back in your life, some familiarity.

"yeah, i'll eat." finally you're over it. you're not taking this from him, not when you had shit on your own mind that needed to be addressed. turning the burner off you step out of the kitchen, coming to the coffee table and snagging the remote. with it switched off, he looks at you with offense. "i said i'd eat what is the big deal?"

"what is going on with you?" your hands come across your chest as hangman snags the apple with his teeth as he dives into his pocket for his phone.

"nut-ing" the word comes out odd since his jaw is unable to move. you raise your eyebrows at him, which earns a similar reaction from the blonde. groaning he pulls the apple from his mouth. "rough day at work. got my ass handed to me by my superior, everyone talking shit because i flew better than anyone else- just in a piss poor mood. i'm sorry." you stare at him with concern now. it was just a bad day? then why was he suddenly as secure as a vault? locked away with high tech security and an obnoxiously long passcode.

"that's not all of it." you pry, slowly coming to sit down next to him. but when you do, he immediately stands up.

"yeah it is." he moves over to the kitchen again, tossing the apple core away. frustration eats at you again, tilting your head as your tone sharpens as he starts to step down the hallway.

"are you going to talk to me like your girlfriend or just like some bitch you're keeping around? cause right now it feels more like the second one." he freezes and his head drops back.

"look, i don't do the talking about emotions thing, i don't do the-"

"oh bullshit." you stand and march down the hallway, coming to stand behind him as his head sinks. "you put your heart on your sleeve when i saw you cry at dane and avery's wedding. and when you laughed to me about your childhood dog when you were drunk the night before at the rehearsal. or how you just seemed to stare at me with no concern in the world when we went out for ice cream last week - you do emotions. you do them and you feel them more heavily than most people i know." he slowly spins to look at you. "so start talking." the command is softer than the rest of your words.

finally, he relents. you sit on the couch with bated breath as he explained that he doesn't have the social life he had presented to you that first night. that his coworkers all think he's an asshole, that he's a dick and he isn't the kind of person to be friends with. "up until now, i didn't think i was the kind of person to be a boyfriend, let alone a friend."

it stung a little. jake as little as you had known him, had been one thing - confident. reassured in his personality and his work. he had this charisma around him that lured you in without him needing to really try. "i don't know how you believe that." you speak softly, pushing hair out of his face as it falls, gel from this morning weak from the impact of G-force pressures and california humidity. "you're a fun guy. you always make me laugh. i feel so.. safe around you. it's hard to imagine anyone else not appreciating that like i do."

jake's laid back on the couch now, looking up at you before looking at the ceiling. "yeah, well i guess the reality is that i'm easy to hate, hard to love. an acquired taste."

"that couldn't be further from the truth." it slips out so easily. green eyes perk up in curiosity.

"angel, i'm- to make it quick, i'm a menace. people know my callsign and they know my reputation. a selfish dick looking to get to the top and on top of women. hell, i don't know why you've stuck around as long as you have, so clearly somehow i've rubbed off on you."

your legs shift as you try to adjust on the couch to look at him better. "jake, i'm not going to be that girl. it would be a little weird if i was that girl, i mean, it's been what, a month?" he's slowly raising onto his elbows when you start in your ramblings, "but, you just- you take me by surprise in the best way, at every turn. yeah, sure they have some idea of you but it's not jake. it's not the guy who's impulsively buying karaoke machines to have idiotic nights in, or the guy who's sneaking pictures before anyone can notice because you're sentimental. or even the guy who hides the tears in his eyes at the end of how to train your dragon-"

he points at you with an amused expression, "you saw the way that dragon curls around him, he saved him." you can't hold back the laugh.

"my point is: hangman is so, so far from jake. cause i mean, i love jake, he's... he's my guy. and i don't get what's so hard to love about that." you give a small smile until it computes in your head what you've said. "i ugh..." jake keeps a coy grin on his features, leaning into his chin now that he's rolled onto his stomach, knowingly catching onto what you've said. "is it cool that i said that? i mean i- we can pretend that i didn't and forget this ever happened-"

he cuts you off with a soft press of lips to your own. the taste of apple juice still lingers on his chapped skin, before he pulls away. "it's cool." he offers, a hand coming to take your own.

"i promise i won't say it again." there's a mad blush on your face and jake just laughs.

"ah, don't you go promising nothing. let's just go finish dinner, yeah?"

and jake takes his rightful place next to you at the stove, towering over you as his head bounces along to the music you've put on, glancing at apartment listings that you pull up.

[scary-grace]

the new postmodern age (chapter two) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 2

One of the dubious perks of living in a coastal town is fairly mild weather in the spring, but every so often it kicks up with a vengeance. The windows in your apartment are rattling with the wind and rain, and you keep getting power outage alerts on your phone. Your power is still on, along with about half the town’s, and the café has backup generators if anything goes wrong. But tomorrow’s the one day a week that the café is closed, anyway, so you’re curled up on your couch under a blanket, trying to make yourself read a book instead of scrolling your phone. It’s going all right, but when the phone buzzes on the coffee table next to you, you pounce on it with shameful speed.

It's a text from Tenko – Shimura. It’s from Shimura, who you’ve gotten into the bad habit of calling Tenko in your head. my power just went out

that sucks. You wonder if you should offer to help, but what would you even do? did you lose any files?

autosave. but the deadline’s tomorrow and my WiFi went down too. That still begs the question of why Shimura’s texting you about it. town still has power. can I hang out in the café and finish the project?

Now you get it. Shimura’s in hot water and he needs you to bail him out. It’s the kind of thing you’d do for a friend. A lot of things you and Shimura do are the kind of things friends do.

Not that you’re friends. You never see each other outside the café; you ran into him at the grocery store a few months after he started coming in and he pretended he didn’t know you. But inside the café, when it’s quiet, the two of you talk. You learned what he does for work – beta-testing computer games and identifying spots that need a patch – and he learned that you have basically no life outside your job, which he can’t judge you for because he doesn’t have one, either. When the two of you traded phone numbers, it was a work-related thing. Since the babkas have gotten popular, he texts on days when he’s planning on coming in, so you know to set one aside.

Except that’s not all he texts you about. He texts you about the most random things, in massive bursts between days of radio silence, and when he comes into the café again, he keeps talking about whatever it was like you’d been talking about it the whole time. It’s like he has no idea how to carry on a text conversation. Or how to have a friend.

You don’t have a great idea of how to have a friend, either. Let alone a friend you have feelings for. If Shimura was just your friend, you’d have texted back by now. Shimura texts again. I get it if you don’t want to come back into town when the weather’s shit. i would have asked about your place but I didn’t want to make it weird

Not weird. You answer without thinking too hard about it. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have power. You should probably come over now.

yeah. address? Shimura gives a thumbs-up once you send it. thanks.

You give him a thumbs-up, too. You’re already worried you’ve made a mistake.

The power’s still on by the time Shimura knocks on your door, which is one of your worries dealt with. You’ve changed out of your pajamas, and you moved stuff off the kitchen table and hid it in the hall closet so he’ll have a space to work. You’re feeling almost normal by the time you go to let him in, and he slinks through the door, looking like a drowned rat and shivering like a kicked puppy. “It sucks out there,” he mumbles. “My heat went out, too.”

“Mine’s still on. And I’ve got blankets and stuff if you want them,” you say. Shimura is still wearing his mask, but his hoodie is soaking wet, and when he takes down the hood you see that his hair is wavier than you thought. Or maybe it’s just the water. “The WiFi password is on the fridge. Make yourself at home.”

Shimura takes off his shoes and pushes his hair out of his face to peer at your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not. It’s not a mess and there aren’t holes anywhere. It’s nice.” Shimura gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret. “Thanks for letting me come over. Uh –”

He runs out of whatever he was going to say, but you’ve got no idea what he was going to follow up with. The two of you stand there for a second. Shimura’s hoodie is so sopping wet that it’s making puddles on the floor. “Okay,” you say finally. “Give me your hoodie and I’ll put it in the dryer.”

“You have a dryer? I drag my shit to the laundromat.”

You used to, but then you found out about all the petty things civilians do to make people like you feel unwelcome. Shimura hasn’t noticed because Shimura’s undercover. You wait while he peels off the hoodie. You’ve never seen him without it, barely seen him with the hood down, and beneath it, his clothes are just as oversized. His arms are bare and pale – and scarred. You wrench your eyes away, take the hoodie to the dryer, and take the opportunity to compose yourself along the way. You have a friend over. Normal people have friends over. You’re helping a friend. It doesn’t get more normal than that.

When you come back, Shimura’s hard at work at the kitchen table, laptop open and notebook at his side. You don’t want to distract him. You have a feeling the two of you are racing the clock with the storm and the power lines, so you sit down on the couch with your blanket and pick up your book. No way are you going to be able to read. When you’re at work, you have a million things to do. Right now, there’s nothing for you to do but watch Shimura.

He's focused on whatever he’s doing, typing fast but lopsided. It takes you a second to figure out what the problem is, but once you do, you’re startled – two fingers on his left hand are basically paralyzed. Maybe that’s why he wears the gloves. His hair falls to his shoulders, and although it’s black, there’s a flatness to the color that tells you it’s not natural, and that he did it at home. Maybe you should offer to do it for him when his roots start to grow out. You’ve never seen the lower half of his face, but apparently you didn’t need to in order to give yourself a crush on him.

You like him. You’re being silly about it. And you’re staring. You stick your face back in your book.

But it can’t hold your attention for long when he’s here, and when you inevitably look back up, you find Shimura already watching you. “What?” you ask.

“Get over here. I need your help with something.”

“I don’t game.”

“It’s not about gameplay. It’s –” Shimura beckons to you impatiently, and you abandon your book and blanket to peer over his shoulder at the screen. “Something’s wrong with this stage. It looks like shit. I told the devs that, and they said I had to be more specific –”

“It’s the color saturation,” you say. Shimura looks up at you. “And the shadows are wrong. If the light source is supposed to be coming from above – like the sun – the shadows should be in different spots. Or there should be shadows, and there aren’t any. That’s why the character looks like – that.”

You glance away from the screen, at Shimura. “What kind of game is this?”

“It’s a dating sim. Shut up,” Shimura says. “I don’t get to pick what I test. What was that about the shadows?”

“They need to fix the lighting.”

Shimura looks irritated. “They’re gonna want specifics.”

“The stage looks flat because they haven’t added shading to match the light source,” you say. Shimura pulls up another document and types something into it. “Shading gives dimension. And the color saturation is too high. That’s why it looks like –”

“A fucking eyesore.” Shimura minimizes the document, then clicks a dialogue option to advance the game to the next screen. “Same problem here?”

You nod, but it’s not the only problem. “Is this supposed to be a schoolgirl sim? High school girls don’t talk like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I was one,” you say. You read the response to Shimura’s chosen prompt again. “This skews really young. Like, twelve or something.”

Shimura’s face twists with disgust. “How do we fix that?”

“Fewer exclamation points,” you suggest. Shimura writes that down. “Does it have to be high school girls? For this game?”

“They’re supposed to be college girls so it’s legal. The outfits are how the dev wants it.” Shimura rolls his eyes. “But he’s a pro hero, so it doesn’t matter that he’s a perv. Right?”

“I didn’t know there were pros making computer games,” you say. “I know a lot of them have side hustles, but – pervy dating sims?”

“Pervy dating sims. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I’ve been captured seventeen times and only twice by cops,” you say. “I don’t really have a bubble.”

“Seventeen times,” Shimura repeats. “I can’t tell if that’s a flex or not. Who got you?”

“Um –” You think it over. “Kamui Woods, back when he was field-testing that Lacquered Chain Prison thing.”

“That thing fucking sucks.”

“Tell me about it. Death Arms nabbed me at one point, but he dropped me when I turned him green.” You’re still proud of that one, even if you got in worse trouble for it than usual. “Endeavor actually caught me tagging something once. I would have been screwed, except I guess he was looking for a more high-profile case.”

“So he just let you go?”

“Yep.” You think back on the other times you got booked. “One time Fatgum got me. And then some work-study kids from Shiketsu High.”

Shimura snorts. “Kids got you?”

“My quirk’s not very dangerous,” you say. By that point you’d learned that turning people different colors could net you an assault charge. “And then it was Eraserhead. Four or five times. I can camouflage with my quirk and he could turn it off.”

Shimura nods. He’s clicking through screens on the dating sim. “What about you?” you ask. “Who caught you?”

“I only got taken into custody one time,” Shimura says. “I had run-ins with, uh – Eraserhead, Present Mic, Thirteen, All Might, Endeavor, Kamui Woods, Ryukyu, Miruko –”

Those are all big-name heroes. You have to wonder what Shimura did. “But I guess Midoriya’s the one who made it stick,” Shimura concludes. Midoriya? It takes you a second, and Shimura fills in. “The one with the stupid name. Deku.”

“Oh.”

Deku’s active hero career was fairly short, and all his fights were big ones. Shimura must have been working for somebody powerful before the war, or during it. Shimura’s shoulders stiffen, suddenly. “Forget I said that.”

“Okay,” you say. Maybe he’s embarrassed about getting captured by a student, even if you just told him you did the same thing. “If you forget I got arrested seventeen times.”

“Deal.” Shimura clicks through a few more screens, then curses. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” You peer at the screen, and Shimura blocks it. “Is it proprietary or something?”

“No, it’s porn,” Shimura says. He’s scowling. “There’s not one route in this game that doesn’t end with the player getting laid by three characters at once.”

Three seems like a lot, but – “Isn’t that kind of what dating sims are for?” you ask. Shimura shrugs. What little of his face you can see around the mask is flushed. “Wait, is this how you have to test them? Playing through every route?”

“And getting all the bonus cutscenes.” Shimura rolls his eyes. He glances at the screen. “Great. There’s audio.”

“What kind?” you ask. “You have to check if it works, right?”

“Maybe it’s background music,” Shimura says. He presses play.

It’s not background music. It’s exactly what you’d expect, and it’s painfully loud. Shimura scrambles to mute the game and pauses it two seconds after a shot of something anatomically improbable. “Let me guess – the lighting’s fucked up here, too. Right?”

“And the facial movements don’t match the audio,” you say. “Did the developers send you this before it was ready?”

“No, they’re just on a budget. This is as ready as it gets.” Shimura shows you a dialogue prompt. “Do women say stuff like this?”

“Um – no. Not as a first-time thing. If this is a first-time route.”

“It is.” Shimura groans. “I still have a quarter of the route left. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“The couch. I need your help with this and you only have one chair at your kitchen table.”

Your couch is sort of messy. You shift the blankets and pillows around to make room for two. Shimura props his feet on the coffee table, sets a pillow on his lap, and balances the laptop on it. “If you spot any more off-balance graphics, tell me. I already made a note about the dialogue.”

“Can you turn the brightness up?” You sit down next to him. The contrast shifts, and you wince. “The light’s wrong.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Unless that love interest is supposed to give off light.” You don’t know anything about this game. Maybe it actually is about glowing college girls in high school uniforms who really like foursomes. “If she isn’t, that’s a problem, because she’s the light source for the whole frame. And if she is, there’s no shading, so it’s flat again.”

“Ugh.” Shimura rolls his shoulders. “This is gonna be a long night.”

It’s going to be a long night, but it’s also sort of fun. You haven’t hung out with a friend in a while, and it’s nicer than you remember. You decide you want hot chocolate, so you make a cup for Shimura, too, and you learn a lot more about making erotic dating sims than you ever wanted to know. By the third porn interlude, Shimura’s basically out of patience. “This is a waste of time.”

“You’re getting paid for it, right?” you ask. Shimura nods. “Is there something you’d be doing if you didn’t have to do this?”

“Yeah. I’d be talking to you about something other than this dumb game.” Shimura hits the skip button five times in a row. “What were you doing when I texted?”

“Trying to read.” You point out the book on the coffee table and Shimura inspects it. “I used to read a lot when I didn’t have a phone, but it’s hard to get back into it when the phone is right there. That’s why I texted back so fast.”

Shimura’s frowning behind his mask. “Why didn’t you text me first?”

“To ask if your power was out and invite you over?” you ask, puzzled, and Shimura’s frown deepens. “I’d text you more if I thought I could get away with it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Um, just that I’m not sure how much you want to talk,” you say, “and I don’t want to annoy you. That’s it.”

“You know what’s annoying? That.” Shimura clicks through a few more screens. “We can’t talk at the café because you’re busy. You never ask to meet up when you aren’t busy. When else are we supposed to talk?”

“Shimura –” You must have missed something, somewhere. Some little detail that makes all of this make sense. The lights in your apartment flicker, and your stomach jolts. “I think the power’s going.”

“Shit.” Shimura starts typing faster, splitting his screen between the game and the document where he’s been making corrections. “Shit!”

“If the internet goes out, I can use my phone as a hotspot,” you offer.

“The signal won’t be strong enough. I have to send so many fucking screengrabs.” Shimura’s fingers fly across the keys. “If you want to help, start praying that the electricity holds out long enough for me to get this done.”

“I’ll pray,” you say. “I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your job and going back to a life of crime.”

Shimura laughs at that, raspy and sharp, and keeps typing. You watch as he clicks through stages, skips cutscenes he’s already played, hits a key on his keyboard that generates screengrabs of any stage he’s found an issue with, all while typing into a note document at the same time. He’s fast. You’ve never seen him work this fast in the café, but then again, you’ve never really gotten to observe him in the café, either. You’re always busy. Too busy to talk – at least not as much as Shimura wants to talk. He wants to talk to you more. Has he really been waiting for you to make the first move?

The lights flicker again, the room going dark for a split second before brightening up again. Shimura’s no longer typing – instead he’s watching a file upload to a server, progressing a few megabytes at a time. You switch from facetiously praying to actually praying. Your power only needs to hold out long enough for Shimura’s upload to finish.

The entire status bar on the upload turns green, and a checkmark appears, confirming it’s complete. A second later, your power goes out, plunging your apartment into near-total darkness.

Shimura breathes a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he says, and shuts the lid of his laptop, making the darkness complete. “Now I don’t have to return to my life of crime.”

“Good,” you say. “I’d be sad not to see you at the café again.”

He said he wanted to talk to you more, so it’s probably safe for you to say you’d be sad not to see him. Your eyes haven’t adjusted enough to make out more than Shimura’s shape in the darkness. “I looked up the NCRA thing. You could have gone for job training. Why’d you decide to open up a coffee shop?”

“I didn’t just want to make money.” You got asked this same question when you applied for the NCRA in the first place. “People always told me that I was selfish, because all criminals are selfish, so I wanted to make something for other people. I wanted to be able to give other people something I didn’t have when I needed it.”

Shimura sets his closed laptop on the coffee table with a quiet thud. “You really seized the day with this stuff, huh?”

“I didn’t want to live the way I was living before,” you say. “It was either stop living or try something else.”

“Did you think it would work?”

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I wanted to find out.”

That’s what it was, more than anything else. You told yourself you’d go one day at a time, that at the end of each day you’d decide if it was worth trying again tomorrow. At first it was out of spite. The early days of the NCRA were filled with detractors, people who thought criminals and villains deserved to rot in prison or worse, and every day you went without violating your probation was a day you spent pissing them off. But soon it was more than that. You worked on names for the café, too focused on finding the right one to pretend it didn’t matter. You taught yourself to use an espresso machine, and you wanted the chance to use it. You put your first mural up and started planning the next one. Without meaning to, surviving out of spite became surviving for yourself.

“Yeah,” Shimura says after a second. “I want to find out, too.”

Something about his tone of voice captures your attention. You turn to face him, turning on the flashlight on your phone, but the brightness makes you flinch. You lower it partially, and Shimura’s hand comes up to force it down the rest of the way. “Don’t,” he says. “I have to take off my mask.”

Anticipation puts a twist in your spine, and as your eyes readjust to the darkness, you see Shimura unhook one side of his mask, then the other, lowering it away from his face. You’ve never seen the lower half of his face before. “Why did you take it off if you don’t want me to see?”

“Because I want to kiss you and it would get in the way.”

You thought your crush on Shimura was going nowhere fast. You didn’t think there was any chance he’d want you, too. His gloved hands settle at your waist and stay there, shifting you closer to him. You feel his breath against your cheek a moment before his lips, dry and cracked, meet yours.

It’s a quick kiss. Quick, and tentative. He draws back, but he doesn’t go far. You can still feel his breath against your skin, and when you lean forward again, he kisses you a second time. A second time melts into a third, a fourth, blending so seamlessly into each other that you lose count. Kissing Shimura doesn’t set you on fire, but you can’t remember another time where you felt curious like this. Where you’ve wanted to see what another kiss will do, rather than losing patience and pulling away.

The power doesn’t come back on, and just like the darkness emboldened Shimura to take off his mask, it emboldens you to unfold your hands from your lap and touch him. His kisses grow more insistent as you run your hands along his back, when you rest them against his shoulders, fingers uncurling along the length of his collarbones. Shimura’s hands don’t leave your waist, but his grip on you tightens. It tightens further when you run your fingers along the side of his neck.

You’ve seen him scratching there, so it’s not hard to imagine it’s a sensitive place. You draw back from kissing him and press your lips against it, and Shimura speaks, his voice even raspier than usual. “Did you like me this whole time?”

“Huh?”

“Did you like me this whole time? You gave me free stuff when I came in.”

“I gave you discounted stuff,” you correct. You kiss his neck again. Shimura stirs discontentedly under your hands and mouth. “You were a new customer. I wanted you to come back.”

“You saved a pastry for me the day that hero showed up,” Shimura says. “Did you like me then?”

He’s really stuck on this. “Why do you want to know?”

“I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not. I thought you did, but I wasn’t sure.” Shimura’s head tilts, exposing more of his throat, but you’re more interested in his shoulder, partially revealed by the neck of his oversized shirt. “I want to know when.”

“It would have been when I saved the pastry for you, except you were kind of a dick that day,” you say. Shimura snorts. “After that. But before your birthday. I meant it when I said I’d go to your party.”

“You’d be the only one.” Shimura’s hands leave your waist, sliding beneath your shirt. He’s still wearing his gloves, but his exposed fingertips are rough. “Next year.”

He’s thinking way ahead. How do you feel about that? “Yeah,” you say, edging closer to him. “Next year.”

Part of you feels crazy for this. You’re crazy for making out with Shimura on your couch, yanking off his shirt and letting him unhook your bra, tangling your hands up in his hair and tugging it ever so slightly and feeling a sharp stab of desire when he gasps against your mouth. The rest of you doesn’t care. There will always be something within you that doesn’t evaluate risk quite right, that doesn’t care about the aftermath when something you want is right in front of you. Shimura is the first thing you’ve wanted in so long that’s got nothing to do with the faultless new life you’ve been trying to build. You want him, and some part of you will always be bad at saying no to what you want.

An alarm goes off on Shimura’s phone and scares the two of you apart. You’re closer to it, and when you grab it, you notice two things right away. First, that Shimura’s alarm is labeled “go to sleep, moron”. Second, the time. “It’s two am.”

“Shit.” Shimura lifts the phone out of your hands and silences the alarm. “You need to wake up in three hours.”

“The café’s closed tomorrow.” You’re sort of touched that he remembered how early you have to wake up on workdays. Your heart is still beating too fast. “Do you need to go?”

“The streetlights are still out.” It’s pitch-dark outside your window. “Can I crash on your couch?”

“You could,” you say. “The bed’s more comfortable, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. It –” Shimura’s head snaps up. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t done here.”

“Me, either.” Shimura stands up, and so do you. “Let’s go.”

Your apartment is tough to navigate in the dark, even for you, and Shimura bumps into every obstacle you know about and a few more you didn’t think would be a problem. He swerves to avoid the edge of your kitchen table and walks straight into the corner of the hallway that leads to your bedroom and the bathroom. “Fuck!”

“Back up a few steps,” you say. Shimura backs up. “Take two steps to the left. No, your other left.”

Shimura curses again, quieter. “Either this place is a fucking labyrinth, or –”

“You got so wound up you walked into a wall,” you say. Shimura snorts. “You’ve never been here before, Shimura. Take it easy.”

“Tenko.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Tenko,” he says. You get the faintest hint of butterflies in your stomach. “We made out for three hours and you invited me back to your bedroom. Quit it with the Shimura thing. I’ve been using your name the whole time.”

“Okay. Tenko.” You step forward until you’re right in front of him. “Hold out your hands.”

He holds them straight out at shoulder height and narrowly avoids smacking you in the face. You take them both and pull them down, noting how badly Tenko startles. “You’ve been using my first name, but you don’t want to hold my hands?”

“I don’t get why you want to hold mine.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you say, puzzled. You take one step back, and another, and another after that, until your back hits your bedroom door. “Like you said, I asked you to stay over.”

“I asked to stay over. You said –”

“I remember.” You can’t believe you did that. You don’t regret it, but you’re a little floored. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t want to hold your hands, too.”

Tenko steps forward, crowding you against the door, and kisses you without letting go of your hands. It feels different than the earlier kisses, not frantic or heated, not light or uncertain, not slow or deep or inexorable. This feels like a movie kiss, the kind at the end of a romcom where everything and nothing’s been resolved. Your life has never been a movie. There’s every chance that this is a mistake. But you don’t mind setting it aside for a little while, from now until you fall asleep. You keep kissing Tenko in your lightless apartment, and you don’t let go of his hands until it’s time to open your bedroom door.

You’re not hungover when you wake up, and when you think about it, you’re not actually confused. You know why it’s warmer in your bed than usual, why you feel like that, why the first thing that hits you is uncertainty, anxiety. Shimura came over last night, because the power went out in his apartment and he still had work to do. The power didn’t go out in your apartment until after his work was finished. And you shouldn’t be calling him Shimura in your head, because sometime between the couch and your bedroom, he told you to call him Tenko – and then he gave you a lot of chances to get used to saying his name.

Your face goes up in flames at the memory, but there’s no stopping it, and there’s no relief in waking up. When you turn your head, you see Tenko asleep on his side, the shadowy scars on his back interrupted here and there with scratches you left. It’s the scratches more than anything that hammer it home to you, more than the fact that you’re naked or the soreness between your legs. You slept with Shimura Tenko last night, and you let him come inside you, and you didn’t pee after sex like you’re supposed to do. You didn’t even clean up. What did you do?

You sit bolt upright in a panic, and beside you, Tenko stirs. “Too early,” he mumbles. One hand reaches out for you, closes three fingers and a thumb around your forearm, and yanks you back down. “Sleep.”

“I don’t usually sleep late,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t usually sleep.” Tenko’s halfway back to it already. You glance at the hand holding your arm and realize that it’s ungloved. You’ve never seen Tenko without his gloves. “Don’t ruin it.”

You’re ruining his sleep by getting up? How? The question is answered when he flops back against you, forcing you into the role of the big spoon whether you want it or not. You know he doesn’t sleep well. You’ve seen dark circles under his red eyes, and he wouldn’t have set a two am alarm that calls him a moron for staying awake if going to sleep was easy for him. Tenko’s a guest, and your friend – maybe – and whatever else he is or isn’t, you slept with him last night, and he slept over. Maybe you should just be grateful that he didn’t flee the scene. You’ve heard guys do that the morning after. It’s not something you’ve seen before, because nobody you ever slept with before stayed the night. They wouldn’t have, even if you’d had a place to stay.

You lie back down and wrap your arm loosely around Tenko’s waist, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. There’s scar tissue under your cheek, just like there was on his neck, just like there is on his back and his arms. Something horrible happened to him. You don’t have the first clue what it is, but it’s in his past. He’s here. You close your eyes and do your best to fall asleep.

When you wake up again, there’s light slanting through the window, and your ceiling fan is on. The power’s back. Tenko’s here, awake, but he must have left at some point, because he has his mask on again. He’s also got his phone in his ungloved hand, scrolling away at something. His other hand, still gloved, rests on your bare back. Not doing anything, not starting anything. Just – there.

You clear your throat. “You’re still here.”

“Where else was I gonna be?” Tenko gives you a weird look. His bedhead is absolutely horrendous. “I don’t have a new project yet and it’s your day off. So we can hang out.”

You think through what you were going to do today. It wasn’t much. Mostly errands – laundry, picking up a prescription. But you’d planned to do something fun, too. “Want to go down to the beach?”

“The beach?” Tenko sounds like he’s thinking about it. Then he shakes his head. “Too many people.”

“On the main beach. I go to a different one. It’s a lot quieter over there.” You look up at him. “After a storm like last night’s there should be tons of good stuff washed up. And if you want we can come back here to hang out afterward. Or go to your place.”

“My place is gross,” Tenko says. He grimaces behind the mask. “I mean – I’m not gross. It’s gross. Everything has a hole in it. And I don’t have, like – I don’t decorate. It’s not –”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We don’t have to go there today.”

“Some other time,” Tenko says. “I have to clean.”

“I’d have cleaned if I’d known you were coming over.”

“This place is clean.” Tenko’s fingers tap a pattern on your back. “Fine. I’ll go to the beach with you. If anything bites me I’m leaving.”

“We’re not getting in the water. It’s still too cold,” you say, laughing. “But sure. Fine. You’ve got a deal.”

“I’m serious. If something bites me –”

“I’ll protect you.” You sit up as he scoffs, leaning in to kiss his cheek over the mask. “You agreed to try it. It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell Tenko’s frowning when you draw back. “We had sex last night and I get a cheek kiss?”

“I’m not making out with you through your mask.”

“Close your eyes, then.”

You do. You’re not sure why Tenko’s so insistent on only taking off his mask when you can’t see his face, but you don’t have a problem respecting that boundary as long as he still kisses you every so often. Just like last night, you feel Tenko’s breath against your skin before his lips meet yours – but while last night you had curiosity, now you have memories, and heat floods through you as you kiss him. When Tenko pulls you down into his lap, you don’t argue with him. He's already half-hard, and he hisses sharply when you shift against him. It’s all too easy to imagine his expression.

You saw shadows of it last night, and you remember something else, too. “Did you make me close my eyes so I wouldn’t call you pretty again?”

“Not pretty,” Tenko mumbles. “You’re weird.”

Maybe, but you’re not wrong, and you also know it’s not a mood killer. A few more kisses and Tenko’s hard again, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you down towards his cock. No condom, again. You didn’t have one last night, and you’re still not on birth control, but – you sink down on him for the second time in twelve hours, and your thoughts flutter uselessly alongside your eyelids. You had your period a week ago. You’re not going to get pregnant. It’s – fine –

It’s so close to noon that you can barely call it morning sex, but if this thing with Tenko keeps up, morning sex is a strong contender for your favorite kind. Or maybe you just like riding him. Maybe both. It’s slow and easy, and Tenko leans back against the headboard, letting you do most of the work. He has one request, though. One thing that’s odd. “My right hand. Hold it down.”

You curl your fingers around his wrist and pin it to the headboard, and his hips jerk sharply. “Yeah. Don’t let go.”

His right hand’s immobilized, but his left stays on your hip, fingernails digging in as you increase your pace. With your eyes closed, with nothing to ground yourself but Tenko’s touch, it’s all too easy to lose yourself. You come on his cock in a rush of pleasure that leaves you gasping, and Tenko’s wrist strains in your grip as he loses control seconds later, a low moan wrenching itself out of his mouth. He’s shaking beneath you, and when he speaks, his voice is a wreck. “This was a bad idea,” he says, and your heart plummets. “Now I’m too tired for the beach.”

You laugh breathlessly. “I bet we can rally,” you say. “Let me know when it’s safe to open my eyes.”

Even once Tenko’s put his mask back on, he doesn’t want to let you out of his lap. You get up anyway and stagger to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way. You definitely look like you had sex twice in the last twelve hours. You don’t look half as anxious as you feel. You vaguely remember telling yourself not to worry about what this means last night, but you and Tenko are going to have to talk at some point, because not knowing what’s going on is stressing you out.

You have to kick Tenko out of bed when you get back from the bathroom, because not changing the sheets is also stressing you out. So is not having very many choices in the breakfast department, even though you had no idea he was coming over and even less of one that he’d spend the night. You can provide coffee, at least – the espresso machine you learned on is still in your kitchen at home. You upgraded the café’s as soon as you possibly could.

You don’t have the usual flavored syrups here, but you mix two cappuccinos instead. Tenko pulls his mask to one side and tries a sip. “This is good,” he says, surprised in a way that should offend you but doesn’t. “Next time I’m ordering one of these.”

“Instead of the mocha?”

“Instead of the coffee.” Tenko takes another sip. “I found frozen waffles in the freezer. Can I eat those?”

“Yeah. The toaster’s over there.”

You discover a few seconds later that Tenko wasn’t actually planning to defrost the waffles before eating them, and you spend a little while being appalled before you show him how to toast them properly. The two of you eat standing up in the kitchen and finish your coffee, and Tenko plugs in his laptop while you switch out the laundry. “I can leave this here, right?” he asks when you come back to the living room. “We’re coming back after?”

“Yeah.” You watch as Tenko leaves his backpack but pockets his phone and keys. “Let’s go.”

Your anxiety was held at bay for a while, when you had things to do, but now it’s just the two of you walking side by side down the street, and you’re agonizing about whether to hold his hand. Tenko’s hand brushes with yours once, twice, before you lose patience. “Do you want to hold hands?”

Tenko’s eyes widen over his mask, and he doesn’t answer you, but a moment later, his hand closes awkwardly over yours. You haven’t held hands in a while. You don’t think this is how it’s supposed to work. But you’re holding hands with Tenko. That’s what you wanted. Everything’s fine.

“Why did you move here?” Tenko asks, as the two of you pass the street that leads down to the main beach and keep walking. “Out of everywhere?”

“It was strongly suggested by my probation officer that I get out of the city,” you say. “He thought I’d be less likely to fall back into my old ways if I was in a small town, since I’d actually know the people whose buildings I was defacing.”

“Didn’t you get busted for tagging your own house?”

“Yep.” Looking back, it was an incredibly stupid move. Your parents were already at the end of their rope with you. You should have known they’d cut you loose. “And I’d always wanted to live near the ocean, so it worked out. What about you?”

“I needed somewhere out of the way,” Tenko says. “It didn’t matter where.”

“And you got here five years ago?” You keep walking past the second beach access road. The road to your beach is a lot more out of the way. “We must have gotten here around the same time, then.”

“I was first. I’d been here three months when you started renovating that building.” Tenko’s eyes seem far away. “It was good timing. People were starting to ask questions about me, but then they switched over to you instead.”

“Glad I could help.” You feel funny about the fact that you were running interference for him, four and a half years before he ever set foot in your café. “And I’m glad you picked this place for a fresh start.”

“People like me don’t get fresh starts,” Tenko says. You’re about to point out that as a person without a record, all he has to do for a fresh start is move, but he speaks before you can. “I’m glad I ended up here, too.”

You’ll take it, even if you have a lot of questions about everything else he just said. The two of you walk in silence for a little while. It’s a cloudy day, with only faint sunbeams sneaking through, and the wind carries a faint chill even though it’s officially summer by now. “What should we do when we get back?” Tenko asks.

“We aren’t even there yet.”

“Yeah, but I want to know what I have to look forward to,” Tenko says. You roll your eyes. “You don’t play games. Do you want to learn?”

“Maybe,” you say. “I’m not going to be good at it. I’d slow you down.”

“You’ll get better fast if I’m the one teaching you,” Tenko says. “There are lots of different games. I can teach you to play any of them. Except dating sims.”

“You don’t like playing dating sims?” You fake surprise, and it’s Tenko’s turn to roll his eyes. “Do you have to test a lot of them?”

“I test whatever people send me. That’s why it’ll be easy for me to teach you,” Tenko says. “They’re all the same underneath. I haven’t played one in a long time that was actually a challenge.”

His grip on your hand relaxes slightly, his fingers sliding through yours to lace them together. “I used to really like games. It sucks.”

You squeeze his hand slightly. You’ve been there, or somewhere like it. It took you a long time to get back into art after you joined the NCRA. “Have you ever thought about making one? A game?”

“Like the kind I’d want to play?” Tenko seems to perk up for a second. Then his shoulders slump. “Nobody else would want to play it.”

“It sounds like you’ve got an idea, though.” You nudge him lightly with your shoulder and he stumbles. Oops. “Want to tell me about it?”

He hesitates for a while. A really long while. Then: “It’s mystery and horror, but not jump-scare horror. There are monsters, but they aren’t the real problem – or the ones you see aren’t the ones you should be worried about. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, the player character – it’s all going to be second-person – wakes up in a room they don’t recognize with no memory of how they got there. You can remember some things about your life, but how you got from where you’re supposed to be to stage one of the game is a total question mark. So there are two initial objectives. Figuring out what the hell is going on and getting the hell out of there.”

“Okay,” you say. It sounds stressful. “How do you do that? In the game.”

“You have to find a way out of the building first.” Tenko looks surprised that you’re still asking questions. “And that’s easy enough, so then –”

For a game he thinks no one else would want to play, Tenko’s put a lot of thought into it. He’s still talking about it as the two of you make the turn onto the beach access road – about the storyline of the game, the twists and reveals he’s thought of, the need to tweak the design and color palette to make everything seem just slightly off. The question of music or no music, and if music, what it should sound like. You like hearing him talk about something important to him, something he’s excited about, even if the concept of the game is giving you heart palpitations. You don’t think there are many things that make Tenko happy. You’d like to be one of them.

You get down to the beach at last, and just like you were hoping, it’s basically deserted. The tide is on its slow, steady way back in, but the beach is strewn with logs and twists of seaweed and kelp, and you’re willing to bet that there’s some sea-glass lying around in the debris along the high-tide line. Tenko studies it, significantly less ambivalent than he was a second ago. “When you said there’d be more stuff, I didn’t think you meant trees.”

“A storm can dredge up all kinds of things,” you say. “And last night’s storm was pretty bad. Come on.”

Tenko lets you pull him a little closer to the water, until you’re both walking on hard-packed sand. You get distracted by the debris field almost immediately, and you let go of Tenko’s hand without thinking so you can search for sea-glass more efficiently. Tenko’s tone of voice makes it clear he’s amused. “So this is like a scavenger hunt for you?”

“I guess.” You come up with a brown piece, followed by a green one, both of them old and smooth. “I want to make something for the café. I’ve been collecting it since I moved here.”

“Five years and you still don’t have enough?”

“The idea for the project keeps getting bigger,” you admit. Tenko snorts. “You can go on ahead if you want. I don’t want to slow you down.”

“I want to hang out with you.” Tenko crouches down next to you on the sand. “This is fine.”

You find multiple pieces in the time it takes him to find one, which he offers to you. It’s a pretty piece, sky-blue and frosted over, but you shake your head. “You found it. It’s yours.”

“I found it for you,” Tenko says, but you notice that he pockets it. And that he keeps looking.

The two of you wander from debris field to debris field, the tide inching up behind you. You’re comfortable with the silence – it’s how it usually is when he’s at the café, after all – but beneath the veneer of ease, questions are eating at you. Questions you don’t know how to ask or how to answer. Your crush on Shimura Tenko is intense, but it’s never been something real. It was just proof that you were getting back to normal, that you could live a life not dominated by the need to prove to the rest of the world that criminals are people, too. You never expected your crush to turn into sleeping with him, him staying the night, him wanting to hang out the next day – and even if you had expected it, you’d never have expected it to happen so fast.

“You were right,” Tenko says. You glance at him. “No people. It’s not as bad.”

You nod. “I’d come back if you wanted to,” Tenko says. He tilts his head, studying you. “Do you want to?”

“Do you want to do all this again?” you ask. He gives you a weird look. “The whole sex, sleepover, hang out the next day thing?”

“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” Tenko’s giving you an even weirder look now. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about –” The distress is building beyond what you can handle. You force yourself to take a deep breath. “What we are. To each other. After that.”

He’s not giving you a weird look anymore. He’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met. You feel like the dumbest person anybody’s ever met, ever. “Like, are we friends with benefits, or –”

“You said you like me,” Tenko cuts you off. “I like you. Do you think I just – with anybody? I’ve been here for five fucking years. Do you know how many people have my phone number? One. The day that hero showed up, I never would have come back, except –”

His hand comes up, scratching his neck with gloved fingers. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t like you. Why do you think it took me so long?”

It? What is he talking about? “I do like you,” you say. “I really like you. I just didn’t think anything would happen. Or happen that fast.”

“Hooking up like that was your idea,” Tenko says. You don’t want to own up to that, but it’s true – he was the one who kissed you, but you were the one who suggested heading back to your room. “Do you wish we hadn’t?”

“I wish I’d been better prepared,” you admit. Tenko blinks. “If I had condoms things wouldn’t have been as messy.”

“I like it messy.” Tenko states it so plainly that you feel your face heat up. “We’ll get condoms. You can stop freaking out whenever you want.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you say. “I just –”

The scream comes out of nowhere, cutting off a thought you didn’t have a prayer of articulating properly. “Help!”

It’s a kid’s voice, high-pitched and splitting with fear. You can’t identify where it’s coming from, and there’s not even a question of what you’ll do. You and Tenko trade a glance, then rocket to your feet. Tenko takes off down the beach. You head back the way you came. “Keep yelling!” you shout to the kid. “Let us know where you are!”

The kid keeps yelling, getting steadily less coherent. They must be closer to you than to Tenko, because their voice is getting louder. You veer closer to the water’s edge, your heart in your throat. The water’s already rushing up around the logs the storm left behind, up to your ankles and getting higher. The kid’s scream takes on a new urgency. “Hurry! The waves –”

You skitter around a log, giving it a wide berth to avoid the deeper pool of water beneath it, and find the kid, halfway trapped under another log and struggling to keep his head above water. He spots you, opens his mouth to scream again, and catches a mouthful of seawater from the wave that’s just rolled in.

You duck down beside him, hoisting his head and shoulders up, buying time. You suck down a breath and let loose a shout of your own. “Tenko! Over here!”

It seems like an eternity before he appears around the side of the log. He looks at the kid, then at you. “What the hell happened?”

The kid is crying too hard to answer, but it’s not hard to guess. “He must have been climbing on the log, and it rolled over on him.”

“What were you doing out here alone?” Tenko demands of the kid. The kid doesn’t answer, and Tenko’s red eyes flash with rage. “Who was supposed to take care of you? Why aren’t they here?”

“Hey,” you snap. This isn’t helping. “I need you to call emergency services. Tell them we’re at Fourth Beach and there’s a kid in trouble.”

Tenko pulls out his phone and dials, while you try to strategize. The tide is coming in faster now. Even if emergency services gets here at their top speed, there’s a good chance the water will have already covered the kid’s head. Based on the way he’s panicking, you don’t think he has a quirk that lets him breathe underwater, and you have a fleeting thought about heroes before remembering that you’re in a rural town. There are no heroes here. You and Tenko are going to have to get him out yourselves.

Your quirk is worse than useless for this. You don’t know what Tenko’s quirk is, or if he even has one. Tenko shoves his phone in his pocket and hurries back to your side. “They said they’re coming.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes.”

The kid doesn’t have ten minutes, and all three of you know it. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm. “When the next wave comes in, we can use its momentum to roll the log forward and pull him out from underneath it.”

“It’s huge,” Tenko says. “That won’t work.”

“It rolled from him stepping on it,” you say. “We can do this.”

Tenko doesn’t argue with you. He turns to watch the waves, looking for a likely one, while you explain the situation to the boy. He’s going to have to hold his breath while you and Tenko push the log, and then one of you – probably you – will pull him out. He starts to protest, but then Tenko calls out that a wave’s coming up, and the boy switches to sucking down air instead. Good. You hold him up until the last possible moment, then get to your feet. You take up a position at Tenko’s side, set your feet as firmly as you’re able to in the shifting sand, and shove hard at the log as the wave washes up around it.

You think you feel it move, a little bit. But then the water recedes, and you scramble back to the kid, and as soon as his head breaks the surface, he howls in pain. “My leg!”

You must have rolled the log back on it – or forward, or something. “We need a bigger wave.”

Tenko shakes his head. He looks like he’s going to be sick. You can hear sirens in the distance, but they’re too far away. The kid is screaming, clawing at your shirt, and you struggle to comfort him, promising that help is coming, promising it’ll be okay. It doesn’t work, or else what happened to his leg in your failed attempt to move the log is worse than you thought, because his eyes roll up in his head and he goes boneless in your grip. You shake him, terrified, desperate to keep his head above water as another wave crashes against your back. He’s going to die. A kid is going to die while you’re holding him, and there’s nothing you can do.

You can’t look at his pale, slackened face a second longer. You look up instead, and that’s when you see the solitary crack running across the log’s surface.

It wasn’t there before, and now it’s not alone. One crack turns into a dozen, and dozens more, spreading and colliding with each other until the log simply crumbles away, leaving nothing in its place. Nothing except Tenko on the other side, both hands outstretched – and ungloved.

Something twists in the back of your mind, but the kid is free now, and the tide is still coming in. You start dragging him up the beach, trying to get clear of the high-tide line. A quick glance at his leg shows you that it’s broken, badly, but you can’t worry about it now, or get lost in the fact that it’s your fault. The two of you make it onto dry sand just in time for a trio of paramedics to race down the beach, carrying a stretcher and pursued by five or six terrified people. “What happened?”

“He got – stuck,” you manage. Your teeth are chattering. You aren’t even that cold. “Is he going to be okay?”

The paramedics have questions for you, even as they shoo you out of the way. Did he swallow water? Yes. Did he breathe water in? You don’t know. How long has he been unconscious? A minute, maybe less. Time feels uneven, unreal. You don’t have a clue what’s going on, and you stand blankly off to one side, unsure whether you’re supposed to stay or go. Maybe you can go. Everybody knows where to find you if they have questions, and you’ll calm down faster if you and Tenko can –

Tenko’s not standing next to you. You look up and down the beach, but you can’t see him anywhere.

Maybe emergency services scared him off. He booked it pretty fast at the sight of Present Mic. You pull your phone out of your pocket to text him, but your phone’s dripping wet and unresponsive. Now you really need to get home, and maybe Tenko’s there already. He saved someone’s life. If he’s freaked out even slightly as much as you are, you want to be with him.

But something is nagging at you as you speed-walk back through town, something about Tenko’s quirk. You never asked what it was, but the gloves were enough for you to infer that it had something to do with his hands. And maybe he doesn’t feel all that comfortable with it. You wouldn’t either, if you had a quirk like that. The way it looked, how fast it moved – it was almost like –

You stop dead in your tracks on the side of the road. Tenko’s gloves. His red eyes. His dyed hair and scarred face and mangled hands, and a quirk that lets him destroy things he touches. Even their initials are the same. Shimura Tenko, and. And. Your mind won’t let you finish the thought. You won’t let yourself jump to conclusions like that. You need to be sure. You force yourself into motion, back to a speed-walk. Then into a run.

Back at home, you drop your phone in a bowl of rice and sit down at the kitchen table with your laptop without bothering to change out of your wet clothes. You haven’t been a criminal in half a decade, but you still know how to search the internet like one. This isn’t dark-web level, and it’s not illegal, but you could raise red flags, and if you’re right – you connect to a VPN, open a web browser you’ve never used before, set your cache to empty every five minutes, and type in your first query.

‘shigaraki tomura quirk’ gets you a long list. You have to scroll all the way to the bottom of the first page you click on to find the quirk you’re thinking of, and when you read the description, your heart sinks. You navigate away from the webpage and type in a new prompt. ‘shigaraki tomura decay’ gets you more pages analyzing the quirk itself, all of which feel unnecessary and unhelpful. You know what Decay is. You need to know what it looked like. You modify the search. ‘shigaraki tomura decay video’.

YouTube has nothing, courtesy of aggressive content moderation. You dig a little deeper, finding lesser-known, sketchier hosting sites, and the first video that pops up is of the destruction of Jaku City, at the very beginning of the war. It happens so quickly – too quickly to see anything except the way the buildings implode into nothing. You need an up-close view, so you modify your search, scrolling past video after blurry video until you find one tagged as part of the Deika City massacre.

The quality looks okay. You click on it and find yourself watching a group of people thundering up a street, headed for something just out of frame. A moment later, whatever it is ducks through the corner of the frame. A pale hand rises up, making contact with the face of one of the people in the group. And then you see it. Cracks spreading across their face, just a few at first, and then they spread so rapidly that the person simply falls apart where they stand.

You just watched a snuff film, but that’s not what makes you recoil. What Shigaraki Tomura did to the person in that video is the same thing Tenko did to the log on the beach. It’s the same quirk. They’re the same man.

Tenko’s hair is dyed, and it’s not dyed well. You never asked what his natural color is, but you’re betting it’s white, which is why there’s no way he can get someone else to color it for him. If he walked into a salon with white hair, red eyes, no eyebrows, and a scar over his right eye, there’s not a person in Japan who wouldn’t recognize him instantly.

You type in another query: ‘shigaraki tomura face’. It turns up a lot of photos of him with the signature hand over his face, but you get at least one without it, and the reason why he wears a mask all the time becomes clear in an instant. No eyebrows – happens. Plenty of people have red eyes. But add in the scar over the left side of Tenko’s lips, a scar you ran your thumb over last night, and the birthmark Shigaraki has just below the right corner of his mouth, and he’d be unmistakable. No matter how many bad dye jobs he did on his hair.

You shut the lid of your laptop with shaking hands and sit back in your chair. Shimura Tenko, your regular customer, who slept over last night, who you like and who likes you, is the same person as Shigaraki Tomura, an unrepentant supervillain who’s been dead for five years. It doesn’t make any sense. If Shigaraki had survived the war, he’d be in maximum-security prison for the rest of his life, not beta-testing video games and hanging out in your coffee shop. Shigaraki Tomura is dead. You met the hero who killed him.

Or did he? You remember thinking how odd it was that Deku kept referring to Shigaraki watching what he was doing, wishing he could talk to him. You remember what he said when Spinner asked about Shigaraki’s ashes: There was nothing left of Shigaraki Tomura. But somebody else walked away from that fight, and he’s got Shigaraki’s quirk – and the only time you’ve seen him use it, it was to save someone’s life. You can’t say for sure, but the circumstantial evidence is compelling as hell. You know who Shimura Tenko is. And you’re halfway convinced he used to be Shigaraki Tomura.

You fish your phone out of the bowl of rice to check if it’s working yet. It isn’t. You’re going to have to wait a little longer to reach out to Tenko. His backpack and laptop are still here. He’ll be back for them, probably tonight – and if not, you’ll see him at the café tomorrow, and you can give it to him then. And when you see him again, you can sort this out. There’s nothing else you can do right now.

You tell yourself that, make yourself believe it, and spend the rest of your one day off every week getting your chores done. And even though it’s been an exhausting twenty-four hours, even though there’s nothing you can do, you still toss and turn through the night, thinking about Tenko. Worrying about him. Wondering who he was before this, and wondering at how little it matters to you.

[jintaka-hane]

Our Lucky Night!

Kid and Killer x ... Fans?

Masterlist

Summary: Kid and Killer are famous. As they run into a bunch of hyped-up cheerleaders, they believe it's their lucky night. Words: 700 Tags: @fanaticsnail

Night falls over the small coastal town.

The Kid's pirates, satisfied after a successful day at the port, leisurely make their way back to the ship, strolling through the picturesque streets.

A short distance ahead, Kid and Killer chat animatedly, followed closely by Wire and Heat, who take in the sight of nocturnal bars coming to life, their signs flickering on, inviting anyone in search of fun and company.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” 

A thrilled, high-pitched squeal echoes from the street nearby, startling them, who look around in surprise.

“OMG look at theeeem!!!!!” 

The shrieks are followed by a chorus of feminine shouts of excitement, applause, and nervous laughter. 

"They’ve put up the new ones!!”

"Girls, come see them!"

The pirates continue down the street, confused, not quite understanding what’s causing such a commotion. Kid tries to address his crewmates, raising his voice to be heard above the clamor, when a sudden cry cuts him off.

"PIRATES GET ME SO TURNED ON!"

They exchange perplexed glances for a second, then break into a synchronized sprint down the street, eager to discover where the shouts are coming from.

Their four heads peer around the corner to spot a throng of about twenty women clustered at a bar's entrance, jostling each other to catch sight of the two new bounty posters pinned to the facade (likely just to appease the law).

"Why they gotta be so ripped and hot?"

"The higher the bounty, the hotter they are."

The girls stand on tiptoe with enthusiasm, leaning on one another for support as they strain to see the photos more clearly.

"Think they'd ever drop by this town?"

"I could think of a couple of jobs if I joined their crew."

Unconsciously, the pirates begin to mimic the girls, pushing each other competitively to gain a closer look and listen more intently.

"Those scars are mad sexy..."

Wire shakes his shoulders to free himself from Heat's tightly gripping fingers.

"Damn, the redhead is SO fucking hot, I can't even..."

They fix their eyes on the captain's face, just in time to witness how his cheeks flush involuntarily, turning several shades redder than their usual tone.

“Look at him... look at that badass face... look at that wild red hair."

"I wonder if he's also a redhead down there…"

Wire bursts into hearty, uncontrollable laughter.

"Hey, Cap'n, looks like you've got yourself a fan club," he says, delivering a friendly slap on Kid's back, further unsettling him and causing his cheeks to blaze even brighter.

The girls, still clustered at the bar door, continue their lively conversation.

"Think I can rip off the poster and take it with me?" 

"You have no cure, you're addicted to redheads."

"Oh, he would be MY cure."

Kid chuckles.

His initial timidity begins to dissipate as he starts to process the increasingly naughty conversation.

"I've heard he's missing an arm."

"Yeah? Well, if he had me, he wouldn't need it..."

"... guys," Kid says, watching as the group of spirited girls continues to heap praise upon him, "... maybe we can stay on land a little while longer..."

“I wanna call him sir!”

“I want to change him, I want to make him worse!”

Kid smiles with a lopsided, mischievous grin, and Killer shakes his head and clicks his tongue beneath his mask, “be careful what you wish for, girls…”

"HAHAHAHA!!"

The cheeky laughter echoes across the harbor, drawing Kid along with it. He laughs openly and shamelessly, hands on hips and chest puffed out, clearly pleased with himself and the admiration he seems to be receiving from the women.

"And look at the other one, ain't he a hottie?"

"The first mate?"

All the Kid Pirates turn towards Killer, their attention now fully on him. With arms crossed in a serious and stoic demeanor, he stays silent, secretly more grateful than ever for wearing the mask to hide his blush from the others.

"Oh, how I love men with long hair."

"I wanna brush his hair."

"I want to sit on his face!"

"... lucky bastard," Heat mutters, his gaze hypnotically fixed on the group of girls.

Kid throws an arm over Killer's shoulders in camaraderie, giving him a friendly shake. “Well, Kil,” he says with a large, cheeky grin, “looks like it's our lucky night!”

"Ladies, how about we head inside for a drink?" suggests one of the women, the others nodding eagerly.

Watching the girls disappear into the bar, Kid rolls his shoulders, straightens his back, and lifts his head high.

"Don't wait up for us, boys!" He calls out before striding purposefully toward the tavern, radiating self-assurance.

Killer follows close behind, his steps measured and hesitant, and as they reach the bounty posters, he casts a quick glance at them.

"Kid, wait," he says dryly, grabbing Kid's shoulder to halt him.

"Huh?" Kid spins around, a broad grin still plastered across his face.

Killer gestures toward the bounty board, and the captain steps closer to inspect it, his eyes landing on the two freshly posted wanted posters...

...

"Killer..." he says, clenching his jaw so tightly it could almost crack, "not a FUCKING word of this to the others..."

.

[marcusrobertobaq]

DBH worldbuilding info u're supposed to know

The collection

US is having major issues with sea level rising quickly, making even the wealthy residents deciding not living right on the coast anymore. Polar ice has melted to an extent that rising sea levels have many states struggling to keep the water out of their coastal towns (Magazine)

CyberLife's intention with complex level humanization was to literally make people welcome 'em home like they're family instead of getting creeped about it (Magazine)

VR games are very common by 2038 (Magazine)

The President Cristina Warren is an ex-vlogger with no experience in government that relied on social media and celebrity status to be elected in 2036, originally a republican representative. There's a "rumor" CyberLife helped she getting elected by corrupt means and that's why they're "too close" (Magazine, Gallery, Cut concepts)

Warren got an approval of only 33% due to the sequence of bad decisions (Magazine)

The world's population is 10 billion by 2038 (Magazine)

Obesity is in a record high in Detroit by 2038 (Magazine)

NATO is divided about the Russia vs US conflict in the Arctic, they think everybody can benefit of the region without war but Warren is totally pushing for a conflict (Magazine)

Rare minerals used in synthetizing Thirium got Russia and US biting each other in the North Pole in recent yrs. Android manufacture dominates both the US and Russian economies (Magazine)

Kamski being the one creating Thirium 310 and biocomponents more than a decade ago suggests other areas with these minerals were already explored, the North Pole being the last one (Assumption)

Police is constantly using marketing data to identify criminals (Magazine)

Dating websites usually have less than 5% of women using it (Magazine)

0.4% of world population holds 94% of global wealth by 2038 (Magazine)

By 2038 there's constant propaganda selling Canada as the true land of freedom (Magazine)

No matter how u play as Markus u gonna eventually have event contexts distorted, including fake news. They're called criminal org and terrorists no matter what u do (Observation)

CyberLife developed a nano-android to help combating cancer and diseases that can extend the human life-span even reaching a semi-immortality status - and it's very promising as it was already succesful in doing its task (Magazine)

US life expectancy is 91 by 2038 (Magazine)

By 2038 US got a aging population but not enough young people to support the economy with the unemployment rate at 37.3%, and the "job" area is dominated by androids (Magazine, Observation)

When the rebellion starts the gov consider bringing retirees back to work as the country lack qualified manpower to deal with the withdraw of androids (Cut dialogue)

Only two countries have android industries that rival the United States: Russia and China, they're also in a space race of sorts (Magazine)

Team sports like baseball got at least 1 android per team (Magazine)

An advanced high speed train was completed in 2038, connecting New York and LA in less than 2,5 hrs and there's a high flux of east coast folks going to LA (Magazine)

Suburban prices there have rose 64% and California folks are worried they gonna get pushed out of the region (Magazine)

Detroit is currently in a Red Ice epidemic with it being the easiest route the poor go, either by selling or using it (Magazine)

There was a Red Ice Task Force from 2027 to 2031 that made major arrests and drug seizure during the first epidemic (Gallery, Articles)

Bees are extinct by 2038 and people expect a global famine. CyberLife is already making partnerships to create bee-robots while other groups try finding new alternatives (Magazine)

Environmentalists say the Earth’s environment is beyond repair (Magazine)

Global rainforests have been reduced by 79% since 2000 and coastal corals by 58% (Magazine)

During the events of the game an earthquake kills 10k people in China (Magazine)

CyberLife has partnership with the Department of Defense in the development and supply of military androids, something that started in the early 30s after it was approved to limit human casualties in the battlefield (Magazine, Observation)

In 2031 the US gov ordered 2 million androids for use in the infantry, mostly SQ800 units already being deployed in 2032 replacing human soldiers.

Michigan also announced the purchase of 5k auxiliary androids to assist law enforcement department but following the 2029 Android Act they can't use weapons (PlayStation Blog)

U.S. Army soldiers are equipped with advanced equipment to keep up with their android "subordinates" (Gallery)

Stock exchange falls 10% on fear of Arctic conflict by 2038 (Magazine)

68% of men prefer sex with an android to a human woman and with 52% of men saying they’ve tried the experience at least once (Magazine)

CyberLife currently got around 120 million androids across the globe and some people suspect they're using 'em to spy on people (Magazine)

There are at least 200k military android units already in service across the US military by 2038 and the gov is buying more for the Arctic conflict, an effort to double the infantry size (Magazine)

The US Army is 60~80% android, with humans mainly as commanders and strategists but they tend to use complex AIs to help with assistance (Magazine)

Sales of android intimate partners are very high as lotta men and women prefer living with an android than a human partner (Magazine)

Birthrate is at record low, population decline is said to be irreversible, marriage is in decline as traditional families become “thing of the past” and the divorce rate only increases (Magazine, News, Observation)

US is currently in an "antidepressant epidemic" due to the constant contact with technology, with people even lacking emotional development (Magazine)

The AX400 price is $899 by 2038 (Magazine)

5% of the music market is produced by human musicians. An android boyband Here4U is favorite to win Best Act, Best Video at global music awards - which are human record awards (Magazine, News)

Scientists found "alien" life on Titan: microorganisms living hundreds of kilometers below the surface, in an ocean of salt water protected by a thick layer of ice. The machine-i-forgot-the-name was sent in 2019 (Magazine)

Lute turtles, polar bears, mountain gorillas, african elephants and several species of tiger are extinct by 2038, with CyberLife now making some sorta android zoos (Magazine)

Canada is an android-free zone they don't sell or have any laws about it there as they don't permit androids inside 'em borders (Magazine)

CyberLife has recently released a tech demo of a quaterback android, something that got the Anti-Android Fan Group pissed (Magazine)

There's some sorta quantum magnet being studied that got the potential of cleaning carbon from the air (Magazine)

The Anti-Automation League and CrowneCars representants are in a discussion about ethical decision-making capability of autonomous cars (Magazine)

CyberLife has made a new quantum supercomputer, capable of one billion billion operations per second used to calculate the probability of mass extinction events (Magazine)

Hackers targeting systems like solar panels for ransom seems to be common thing (Magazine)

NASA announced the launch of a five android crew to explore Io (first time it's a full-machine crew). The journey will last three years (Magazine)

CyberLife is a trillionaire company by 2038, they were already billionaires a decade before (Magazine)

The first android ever officially released by CyberLife was the ST200 Chloe, costing 65k in 2024. By 2027 they already had 1mi androids sold (PlayStation Blog)

[continues on the next reblog]

[cuppajj]

Hwello! Black Pearl anon back again with another inquiry about the good ol' Duskgloom Sovereign in BAAU—

So BP would understandably be enraged after Dragonberry whoops her tail, but do you think she would do anything besides sulk and await the day DB returns to get revenge? 

BP strikes me as a character who, while not in the best headspace, would dread the idea of being defeated by a land Cookie, and would want to avoid such a fate at all costs. Maybe a fight with DB is a wake up call that some major stuff is happening outside the Duskgloom Sea, stuff that could potentially one day come knocking at her door.

CRK lore is a bit iffy about whether or not BP can leave the Duskgloom Sea, but I doubt she would remain idle after seeing the threat that DB alone poses to her… 

BP begrudgingly might be willing to make a deal, perhaps to ensure the safety of her sea, perhaps to gain even more power, perhaps to simply help others work against DB (and the other [Neo]Beasts)… or work with them.

idk I might just be nerding out about BP too much. love baau regardless, you're doing a beautiful job!

Helllloooooo BP anon :)

That is a good question!! I also like the idea of her actively hunting Dragonberry down, but it just depends on if she can leave the duskgloom sea… which honestly I’m pretty sure she can (afaik the duskgloom sea is just her stomping grounds and not a place she’s tethered to), she just has no reason to.

That is unless she’s petty enough to chase after Dragonberry! It’s fun to think about a minor saga where Dragonberry’s kingdom is threatened directly by the legendary. I’m fairly certain her kingdom is coastal, so I can see a vivid image of the beast of pride stepping out on her balcony to see the mer looming over the horizon with hateful, glowing eyes. If she’s here, Dragonberry figures, then she wants something from her; and she knows what that is.

Dragonberry would be more guarded since BP showed up to her kingdom, so there are liabilities all over the place, but she’s not against sending Black Pearl into the sea again. She might even bring Pitaya out to play!

Cue part two of the epic girlboss anime battle that ends with BP getting her ass kicked again, but she did put more of a number on Dragonberry. The beast would probably respect her enough to offer to leave her sea alone (there’s nothing of interest there like she first thought) if she plays nice and does something for her; I totally see her interested in a (subservient) ally in BP, who could serve as some good intimidation for the beast—especially towards Cacao, whose licorice sea is gradually getting closer to invading her kingdom’s waters. And if BP refuses… Dragonberry won’t be mad, won’t even kill her if she can, but she’d laugh and look forward to knocking on her door a third time.

If they do become allies then Dragonberry would definitely know that Pearl still wants to destroy her; compromise or not, she’d always be eager to fight the mer again.

[creativeashproductions]

A Finch’s Journey // Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Summary: A gift from the kindest and warmest woman in a dark period of your life begins a decades-long journey to finding peace and love. 

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader (nicknamed Finch)

Warnings: Inaccurate naval knowledge, swearing, hospitals, treatments, sickness (cancer), angst, character death and FLUFF

Words: 3.2k

A/N: First finished fic in like a year. Thanks Julie.

Masterlist

Your big eyes peered up momentarily at the woman resting in the chair beside you, one hand resting on the armrest and the other dutifully colouring a picture. Your hand meticulously fills in the lines of the dress with indigo colouring. The other hand, in a similar position as the woman who’d taken you under her wing.

“Ma’am?” You shyly spoke, avoiding the curious, gentle blue of the woman who reminded you of days on the beach in the warm sun.

“Sweet pea, you know you don’t have to call me that.” The blonde woman’s smile was gentle and reassuring. 

“Are…are you scared?” You whispered in the already quiet room. You froze as her soft hand lightly took the indigo crayon your small hand had clenched hard enough that it bent.

“Not for me.” She replied, carefully twisting to face you but keeping her arm immobile, “I’ve lived a good life. I loved and was loved deeply. I travelled to places I couldn’t have imagined as a kid. I fell in love and was blessed to raise a son from that love. I’m scared for how my son will be after.”

“’Cause your husband is waiting for you in the clouds, and your son will be alone?” You innocently asked, kicking your feet in the chair. 

She smiled, “because I asked a friend to do something that will hurt him. I’m scared he’ll let the grief and bitterness overtake his life. He’s always been a happy child. You remind me of him.”

You beamed, revealing the tooth you’d lost a few days ago, “Maybe he needs a hug. Hugs always fix things.”

You nervously shifted on your beat-up shoes, looking up at the small cottage on a quiet street. The cottage holding the reason you had travelled to the West Coast from the opposite side. You recognized it from the polaroids the former owner had used to distract you from treatments.

“Can I help you?” A lady asked from the house next door. Her spirally dark hair was streaked with silver.

“Does Bradley Bradshaw live here?” You inquired, turning to face the curious neighbour halted in sweeping her porch.

“He does. He’s away for work. I can take your number and name for him if you’d like.” The lady answered leaning on the broom to focus solely on you. Her brown eyes are unrelenting in the stare.

“That’s okay. I’ll drop by in a few days.” You cast one more look at the house before turning on your heel. 

What’s another couple of days after decades of being two ships passing each other. Your flexible job allowed for extended days since you were a travelling nurse filling in at clinics needing help. 

“Well, I’ll let him know to expect someone. What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You responded, turning to walk down the street toward the little bungalow you had rented for a few weeks. 

Your eyes scanned the gorgeous, well-kept houses on the trek back to the main street. It was stunning for a portion of a coastal city, even with the soundtrack of jets flying above the area. But, despite the reason behind stepping foot in the town, you had taken a position at a nearby clinic as a locum nurse.

For the next two or so weeks, you’d been spending your time waiting for Bradley’s return from work. Then you'd move on when you met the man and finished the contract. Maybe plan for the following position to be overseas. You’d love to see Ireland or go somewhere in Spain.

You spent the first two days in town frolicking in the water, building sandcastles with a cute little girl on the beach, and touring. On the third and fourth day, you decided to ask one of the locals for destinations and found yourself driving up the coast. Finally, on the fifth day, you dug out your scrubs and sneakers and made your way to the clinic.

“Morning, Tracy.” You smiled, putting a teal file folder by her arm at the front desk. The redhead beamed from her place in front of the computer.

“Morning, Finch,” Tracy responded, pushing a cup of coffee from the good cafe down the street. Tracy always scored discounts with the cute barista with a crush on her.

“How was the ER last night?” You questioned, flipping through one of the files of patients waiting to be seen. 

The urgent care clinic was a branch of the Naval Base Hospital as a resort for the family of the naval personnel. Typically you saw more sniffles and minor sicknesses in the children compared to the more concerning ones. Well, there was when a retired officer walked in with her finger hanging off by a thread with the question of, ‘hi, do you guys do stitches?’. 

All staff had to pull a shift over at the main hospital while under contract. Yours scheduled for Friday.

“Dead. Overheard a lot of the people stationed were out on missions.” Tracy kept her voice down while answering since she shouldn’t know, but a loose-lipped Lieutenant had been trying to woo her.

“Which means my Friday may be bad.” You hummed, glancing down at the old watch on your wrist. You grabbed one of the files and stepped out from behind the desk.

“Never know.” Tracy responded, turning her back to answer the phone, “Miramar Base Urgent Care.”

You quickly read the name, “Olive Bassett? If you could follow me.”

A young man grasped a small child's hand in a rush to follow you to the hallway. The little girl, five years old as her file read, had gorgeous honey-gold eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes. Golden-hued skin speckled with freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“Jackson Bassett. I’m Olive’s father.” 

Your eyes lifted from the file to meet the same honey-gold coloured eyes, “Mr. Bassett, I’m Nurse Y/N. I’m gonna grab a little information for the doctor.”

“Of course.” Jackson nodded, crouching to pull Olive into his arms before depositing her onto the exam table, “She said her throat was sore two days ago. This morning she spiked a fever, and I brought it down with medicine. She’s having trouble swallowing and can only take a few sips of water.”

Words scrawled over the file as he listed the symptoms and Olive nodded or shook her head at times. Jackson’s wife had been recalled to TOPGUN for a mission nine months back. After receiving word of the transfer, the Bassetts moved to the base a couple months ago. 

“Her fever is higher than I’d like. The doctor will go over my notes and then do a full exam.” Your eyes met the tear-filled ones of little Olive, “Wanna know a secret, Miss Bassett?”

Olive’s head hesitantly nodded.

“Dr. O’Collins has a secret stash of lollies for anyone that knows the secret….” You trailed off, watching a spark flare in the little girl’s eyes again, “Tell him you saw the fairies making fairy dust.”

Olive lit up in excitement.

“She should be fine. Pick up some popsicles for the sore throat, but the Doc will answer any more questions.” You told Jackson, sliding on the stool to push away to the desk in the corner. Your hand found the stickers you had hidden in every room in the building.

You were quick to roll back to Oliver to hand a stick of her choice before waving to the father and daughter.

At one point in your life, you had done your absolute best to avoid all medical facilities or anything that reminded you of when you were sick. You’d spent a lot of your childhood in sterile rooms and understood that your mother’s job in the Navy helped pay for the treatments and medicines. 

You’d relapsed around the same time the lady who kept you company had worsened. You and she never shared the type of cancer you had been diagnosed with. She’d been the adult during a time when your mother had been deployed with the Navy. You owed a lot to her for doing her best to comfort and distract you, all the while suffering herself.

At ten years old, you found yourself in the same room receiving treatment after relapsing a year after entering remission. Not much had changed in the decor or the fact that the woman who had coloured pictures with you sat there too.

What had changed was in the time you’d been diagnosed, battled, found victory, and got sick again you weren’t the same child. You weren’t as innocent. You weren’t as happy. You understood more than what a child should.

“Finch, how’s school going?” She spoke, bringing your attention from the ceiling. You barely rolled your head to face her.

Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin pale, and a scarf kept her head warm in the cold temperature of the room. She knew, hell, you knew that her prognosis was poor. And you both avoided speaking about it. Yet, she hadn’t lost the warmth or happiness in the time you’d known her.

“Doctors won’t let me go to school. I get my assignments mailed on a specialized outline.” Your lips turned down, “I dunno why I have to do math when I’m gonna die.”

Your friend’s eyes saddened, “No, you won’t. You’re so strong Little Goldfinch.”

Goldfinch. A nickname she coined for you when she saw how social you were during your first treatment with the nurses. She could see you becoming a teacher with how well you interacted and treated people kindly.

“Then why are you gonna die?” You demanded, shifting to stare her down, “You’re the strongest person I know!”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners, “Sometimes strengths are different. But, Finch, I’ve made peace with what will happen.”

Her eyes shifted to where the chemo was infusing into your arm through the IV and then to her bare one. Your heart broke because you knew that her treatment no longer worked, and she was spending her time left to be with you.

“But-“

Her hand reached out, “I knew immediately you were gonna be so important to me. I need you to hold on to this for me.”

Her hands reached behind her to the clasp on the necklace that never left her neck. Her husband had given it to her when their son was born. Their son was given a similar pendant with a sun instead while her husband found a ring with stars he slung on the chain of his dog tags.

“You never-“

“I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it.” 

Her hands carefully avoided wires in her mission to clasp the necklace around your neck instead. Your smaller hand reaching up to caress the moonstone with the gold diamond-encrusted crescent moon. It was beautiful.

Carole Bradshaw died a month later. A year later, you’d been declared in remission and sitting in a classroom. The necklace still proudly resting on your chest.

Twenty years later, you had dreamt of the ocean, brown eyes and the same necklace Carole had gifted you. You immediately cut your trip to Australia off and bought the first ticket to Virginia. You knew that this was what Carole meant when she gave the necklace to you.

So you’d begun a months-long search to track down Carole’s son Bradley. It had taken visiting the hospital where you and Carole got treatment. And then pleading with your mother to call on an old friend from the Academy. With a destination in hand, you had found a locum nurse position in San Diego.

Now you were standing on the porch of the home of who you really hoped was Carole’s son. But, unlike a week ago, the driveway wasn’t empty. Instead, a light blue Bronco was parked beside the freshly mowed grass.

Your fist raised to knock once, twice and a third time on the front door. Finally, the sound of footsteps sounded inside. The door opened, and your breath was taken away.

“Can I help you?” The person asked, peering at you with tired eyes.

“Are you Bradley Bradshaw?” You asked pushing your hands in the back pockets of your cotton shorts. A thin cardigan over a t-shirt to combat the cool breeze.

 “I am,” Bradley confirmed, leaning on the doorjamb of his home. His brown eyes scanned you from the brown sandals to your e/c eyes. He wondered if you would be interested in grabbing a drink or walking on the beach.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You offered, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting, “I have something that belongs to you. Or well to your mother.”

Rooster stood straight up upon hearing that. His light-hearted thoughts and attraction faded when you mentioned his mother. A stranger.

“H-how would you know my mother? She died when I was nineteen.” Rooster breathed, dropping his crossed arms.

“I know.” You softly breathed, stepping through the open door when he stepped to the side.

The foyer opened in the living room with soft-coloured walls and a frame holding a folded flag on the mantle. White accents and pictures of family littered the walls. You could see the pencil lines of a child being measured on the kitchen door frame.

“How?” Rooster demanded, furrowing his brows.

“Because she was my friend.” You turned to face the confused aviator, “On my eighth birthday my life changed forever. I had been sick for a while. Lethargic, I would become breathless and other stuff. The doctor called during my birthday party. Test results came back, and by the next day, I was sitting in a paediatric oncologist's office.”

Rooster’s breath called in his throat, “Wait are you, Finch?”

Your eyebrows raised, “Carole coined that. I spent my time in the hospital fluttering around to rooms to make friends. It started as Goldfinch and shortened.”

“She spoke about you. Mom was lonely for a lot of my childhood. Then, when she got sick, she lost her spark.” Rooster recalled the scary time learning his mom was really sick, “She got it back when she met a friend. She called you her little Goldfinch.”

“She did everything she could to keep me company. I didn’t have any family other than my parents, who were both on active duty. Deployed a lot. So Carole stepped in as a trusted adult when they weren’t there.” Your smile was wistful, remembering the warm smile and laugh that embodied glee, “Even when she stopped treatment, she would sit with me during mine. She talked about her pride and joy and the adventures she had.”

“She could be anyone’s friend.” Rooster grinned, leaning back on the back of the couch. His ankles crossed, looking at you.

“She could. In the end, she gave me this.” Your deft fingers tugged the moonstone and diamond pendant from under your shirt.

Rooster stood straight up, staring at the necklace lying on your fingertips. For as long as he could remember, Carole Bradshaw never took two pieces of jewellery off. Her wedding ring and the necklace you were wearing.

He didn’t notice he had stepped closer until his calloused fingers gently touched the moonstone.

 “I-I thought this was lost.” He gasped carefully, eyeing the diamonds in the crescent moon. It was as perfect as the last time he saw it was when his mom was alive, “She would brush it off.”

Your lips quirked, “She was pretty mysterious about why she gave it to me. Said ‘I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it’ and was tight-lipped about why.”

Rooster’s brown eyes crinkled with mirth, “She was a sucker for movies and books like that.”

Your eyes moved from the pendant to meet the man’s brown pair. It was silent for a moment.

“She loved you. So very much, Bradley. She lit up when she talked about you. She was only scared about how you’d be after she passed. She was worried the grief and bitterness would swallow you.”

He was confused, “What?”

“Carole didn’t tell me much since I was a child, but she mentioned asking a friend to do something that would hurt you. She regretted it, but it was too late to do anything. She only hoped you could forgive her.”

His eyebrows raised as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It hadn’t been Maverick’s idea to pull his papers. His mom had. 

“Thank you.” Why Rooster was thanking you, he didn’t know. Maybe for the peace, he felt.

“This belongs with you.” You whispered, raising your hands to unclasp the necklace to drop it into his hand, “I think she always meant for me to give it to you.”

In the time since you’d left California, you’d changed your hair, Rooster discovered the moment he’d seen you. It looked good. His hand held his bag tightly as he walked closer to your form.

“Finch!” Rooster called, bringing your attention to the person in front of you.

His brown eyes drank in the lavender-coloured scrub pants paired with the scrub top of cartoon birds. Next, his eyes found the moonstone necklace that had brought you together resting on your chest as it had since he’d returned it eight months ago. Then, his brown eyes finally flicked down to the newest addition he’d given you.

“Roo!” You beamed, running full speed into his arms. 

Rooster shifted to press a lingering kiss to your neck before leaning back to drink you in. His one hand caresses your soft cheek.

“I thought you were flying in on Monday?” You asked, leaning back to stare at him with glittering eyes. The man in question beamed back.

“I scored a few extra days off. Mav’s extra wedding gift.”

His eyes shifted to the band he’d slipped onto your finger a few months back. It matched the one on his hand. 

“Perfect! Roisin gave me a list of places we should check out. She’s got the connections to places only the locals know about!” Your hand grasped his as he let you tug him down from the clinic to the little apartment you had rented for a short time.

Rooster had gotten papers of a deployment a month before your postponed honeymoon would begin. He’d persuaded you to find a locum position for the month-long deployment, and he’d fly to Ireland to meet you.

“Ireland, and then we’re going to Spain?” 

“I have to show you the places I saw. You’ll love it. And then we’ll return to San Diego.” Your words were coy at the end. His eyes moved away from the people moving down the sidewalk to you.

“We’ll? I thought you were heading down to Scotland before coming home?” Rooster asked, pulling you to a stop.

You bit your lip, keeping quiet.

“Finch?” Rooster slowly spoke, reaching to grab your other hand in his clasp.

“I applied for a position at the clinic I was a locum at when I was searching for you. I just need to sign the contracts, and I’ll have a permanent position.”

Rooster flew his head back gleefully in such a way that reminded you so much of the woman who’d held your hand in a sterile room decades ago.

Carole Bradshaw knew you were gonna be important to her. She just didn’t know you’d be more important to Bradley too.

[multifandom--mess]

Hannigram Fic Recs! pt.3

part 1 | part 2

here's some fic recs for youuu (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ definitely took me way too long to add a part 3 to this but whatever, enjoy a variety of fics in no particular order that i've read the last few months that deserve to be shared and enjoyed ♡

old-fashioned divinity candy [series, ongoing]

Explicit, 115k+ | the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham

Like a Lucid Dream

Explicit, 75k | In the days following Will's fateful fall from the bluff, Molly Graham begins to understand the extent of her ignorance regarding Hannibal and Will's relationship. The discovery of her husband's deceit leads her to seek refuge and escape in their cottage in the mountains. There's only one problem: she's not the only one who is looking for a place to hide.

you swallow my heart and flee (but i want it back now)

Explicit, 65k | After they killed Francis Dolarhyde, Will was certain he pulled Hannibal off the cliff with him, but when he wakes up, he’s still on the edge of the bluff, surrounded by FBI agents and paramedics. It’s apparent Hannibal got away safely, and Will is put on the job to help find him. When Will finds Hannibal’s journal in his old cell, filled with entries about, and drawings of, himself, he sneaks it into the waistband of his pants and takes it home. It forces Will into dealing with his own feelings, and figuring out what he wants. Will can only hope the journal gives him the answers he seeks.

And the Winter Sheds His Grief in Snow

Mature, 4.5k | On a car ride, Will spots something... abnormal. And it somehow breaks the normality of their relationship, in ways neither of them expected.

According to Winston

Mature, 7.9k | Winston this, Winston that — everyone in Will Graham’s life is now privy to his new stray, the lucky seven of his pack of dogs. It comes as a surprise when Winston isn’t what anyone expected, and this new light sets a backdrop to Hannibal’s carefully manipulated plans to make Will into his full and whole self.

Mundane Madness

Explicit, 104k | After a traumatizing experience, Will decides that maybe he deserves a shot at a normal, healthy life. It just might be nice to have Hannibal at his side too.

Leviathan

Mature, 24k | Three years after they fell into the Atlantic, Hannibal and Will have made a new life for themselves in the sun-soaked Douro Valley. But old hurts and unaddressed fears lurk beneath the idyllic pretense, threatening to consume all semblance of peace.

Between Black and White: Crimson

Explicit, 9.6k | After surviving the fall and undergoing a proper treatment, Will and Hannibal moved to a place from the past to start their future together. Till death knocked at their door...again.

Suffer A Sea Change

Mature, 29k | Hannibal meets Will, a fisherman with something oceanic lingering behind his eyes, one stormy summer in coastal France.

Omnipotence Paradox

General Audiences, 14k | The trap springs too quickly in Florence. Will and Hannibal adapt.

There's Something So Lonesome About You

Explicit, 90k | When will Graham is released from the BSHCI, he realizes that there is little left for him with the FBI. He packs up the essentials (and Winston, of course), and leaves. Hannibal has to deal with the sudden loss of Will, and he is not very happy about it.

Leila Isabella

Mature, 11k | Will has been utterly miserable in the long months since Hannibal turned himself in, but he gave Hannibal an unexpected gift in the last hours before everything fell apart.

Hidden Place

Not Rated, 5.5k | Two years after the fall, Will and Hannibal share a heated evening in Cuba.

More Myself Than I Am

Explicit, 9k | Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to. It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

In the Darkest Recess

Mature, 12.7k | As a child, Hannibal has problems making friends. A therapist gives him a doll to practice social skills on. Hannibal calls him Will, and quickly becomes obsessed with his new best friend. He never leaves it, even when he begins to hear Will's voice in his head, promising that he will never leave Hannibal, as long as Hannibal is willing to give him 'life to live'. Great love, after all, requires great sacrifice.

[buddierecs]

slow burn buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

something touched me (like a knife-blade) by: kithmet "eddie self-implodes. christopher, seeking refuge, flees to buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (oh, and tommy’s there too. he thinks.)" word count: 42k important tags: season 7 fix it fic, emotional infidelity, feelings realisation, mutual pining, getting together, mental health issues, codependency, love confessions, anal sex, barebacking what's love got to do with it? by: colormeparanoid "after buck’s and eddie’s dates both end with disasters – proving once again that maybe dating just wasn’t meant for them – they decide to simply settle for each other. if there was one person in the world they'd ever trust with their hearts, it was each other. and who was a better person to date other than your very own best friend?" word count: 134k important tags: platonic boyfriends, fluff, light angst, getting together, idiots to lovers, non-sexual intimacy, oblivious!buddie i hit the accelerator (but the car was in reverse) by: extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "when buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea. unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. but best friends can keep having sex with each other, right? there's no way this could possibly go wrong." word count: 68k important tags: friends with benefits, angst and feels, idiots to lovers, blow jobs, hand jobs, shower sex, anal sex, dom/sub, aftercare courtship behaviours of the southern coastal husbros by: mad_lori "buck and eddie decide to become platonic domestic partners and co-parents. they are 100% super normal about it and absolutely nothing is awakened in them, except a mutual annoyance at being referred to as "husbros." word count: 49k important tags: domestic partners, christopher diaz has two dads, friends to lovers, demisexual!eddie diaz, sexuality crisis, first kiss, eventual smut, oral sex wishing to be the friction by: ipretendtobesane "the straight eddie friends with benefits fic" word count: 97k important tags: friends with benefits, hand jobs, blow jobs, rimming, first time, pining, porn with plot

meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays" word count: 40k important tags: fake dating, mutual pining, idiots in love, anxiety, angst, fluff, smut, protective!buddie, getting together, soft!eddie diaz further than your blood (or than bones) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "once, eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. five hundred years ago, buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other." word count: 50k important tags: vampires au, mutual pining, psychic abilities, violence, blood kink, unsafe sex, blow jobs, anal sex leading with the left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "when buck said he was a "bartender" in "south america" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "mexico." and when eddie said, "what's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" in other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about buck. Or eddie. Or buck and eddie's relationship." word count: 84k important tags: strangers to lovers, stripper!buck, emotional slow burn, miscommuication

good pretender by: likeshipsonthesea "an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need" word count: 85k important tags: friends with benefits (buckandravi), casual sex, childhood tramua, healing, feelings realisation, jealous!eddie diaz, ptsd, love confessions, anal sex eddie diaz vs the feelings by: elvensorcess "eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. aka demisexual!eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for" word count: 62k important tags: demisexual!eddie diaz, idiots in love, sexual tension, frottage, hand jobs, anal sex, soft!buddie, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz

[bloodycassian]

FILTH!! - Reader x bat boys. rhysand x cassian x azriel x reader18+ NSFW! !!!NSFW!!

go to the ******** for just the dirty stuff.

Reader is a sex worker, threesome/foursome, DP, light bondage, ‘toys’ aka shadow play?? 

Need warred with fear in the pit of your stomach. The scent of males blowing through your open window was cut off sharply as soon as you’d woken in your heat, but the smell still lingered. It was a choking thing, torturing and setting your pussy dripping with every step through your apartment. You went around, lighting candles, fanning yourself to ease the discomfort the summer air brought into your home. 

You’d woken early, while the sun was setting before your shift. The pleasure house would be one worker short tonight, it seemed. Your fingers trailed to your waistband, then lower. Palming your mound of sensitive flesh. Even through the clothes, you could feel the extra warmth your body radiated there. Your mind worked slowly through the haze of hormones. On one hand, you could make an absolute killing tonight at the brothel, but on the other lurked danger. 

In Adrata, sex work was embraced just as any other court tradition was. Not only did it make the city calmer, but it kept the population of the court steady if an Alpha and Omega found mates in each other. It was an economic business. And you worked at one of the busiest of them. 

Deep in the coastal row of homes and food shops was the small, unnoticeable building where you worked. Some nights were filled with the stench of fish and the sea, but most were full of the spicy tang of Alpha sex, along with a salty breeze coming in from the ocean. 

Tonight -and until your cycle ended- could make rent three times over. The only downside to the idea was potentially finding a mate. Since your last partner had decided that their royal duties were more important than being with you any longer, you’d felt scorned. Aliksos had been a spoiled, royal asshole the moment you’d met them, and so had their parents. You blamed yourself, really. Thinking that the child of court advisors would want to spend the rest of their lives with you was quite frankly, out of touch. 

So the idea of finding someone who could see themselves living with you like Aliksos had been was… repulsive. They hadn’t been your mate, but any form of relationship right now sounded outlandish. 

The lace in your hands glittered in your soft faelight. It’d been a gift from them, one that made up for a massive fight over the dishes not being done. 

What better way to get rid of it than having some greedy alpha pay you too much to rip it off? 

Smiling, you dressed yourself and pulled a long coat over your skimpy clothes before heading out the door. 

+

The brothel wasn’t too far away, thankfully. The bouncers, Marcis and Kalus - two omega males with skin like seal coats - parted the way, and guided you to the back rooms where you could prepare for your night. “You’ve just made us the busiest guardsmen in all Adrata.” Marcis chided when you began removing your coat. It was a thin thing, reaching to your mid calves. More of a slip really, meant to cover your scent while you walked to work. 

“You’re welcome.” You smiled. “I’m your job security, don’t be so upset.” 

“I’ve already got Kenna’s approval to set a house limit, so don't make any promises to anyone.” Kenna was the owner and manager of the house, her rules were strict and well known throughout the city. Her fury and blood oaths were even more renowned. You were proud to have her accept you into her space, and grateful that her rule protected you from smaller, less accepting pleasure houses that would demand half rate pay for you renting their space. 

While sex work was allowed in Adrata, it didn’t mean that the crown didn’t take it’s own share of coin. Pleasure houses had to be approved by the council before opening, and any significant amount of work done without paying the high lord’s tithe could result in trouble in a royal cell. 

Plus, you didn’t have to search for clientele if you had a space. 

The alphas would find you, if they really needed it. 

Like the one that now paid you triple to use your feet on his cock. He finished quickly, at least. 

The next customer was actually a set of three. Normally, two was your limit. Having too many alphas in one room could get dangerous quickly, and where was the fun in that? But the third of this group had requested only to watch. With the amount of gold marks they were bringing in, you had expected them to demand a private show at their place of choosing, but you were pleasantly surprised when the largest of the three strolled in with a full cup of mead in hand, obviously ready to stay a while.

His chin length curls were pulled back in the front, revealing rounded ears that led you to glance at his wings. An Illyrian in Adrata wasn’t unheard of, but in your years of living in the city, he’d been the only one you’d actually seen. 

Aside from the other one that stepped through the door behind him, his hair shorter but just as curly and dark. Immediately the room was flooded with their alpha scent. One of them was already aroused, the sharp scent of sweat mixing together to compliment each other. They could have been related, if it weren’t for their face shapes. While both breathtakingly gorgeous, they had a air of danger to them. You wrote it off as your instincts warning you of two alphas, but there was something else there, too.

They shared the same hooded, hazel eyes and full bottom lips, but where the long haired one had high cheekbones and wide features, the other Illyrian was more sharp looking. Dangerously androgynist, almost. If it weren’t for his obvious male build you could have mistaken his blatantly pretty features for a female. 

Then, the third pushed the two forward and shut the door behind him, cutting off the sounds of heavy breathing and rousing music. 

He looked strangely familiar, like you knew him from a distant memory. His dark skin tone was the same as the others, but his ears were pointed, eyes violet and wild. He raised a tattooed hand, showing a satchel of gold waiting for you. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering as he took in your heated scent. 

The room darkened slightly, the faelight quivering closer to the ceiling. The other two males parted for the last, allowing him to speak for them. 

“Sweet Omega…” He took your hand in one of his and set the satchel into it. “I’ve heard good things about you.” Something flashed into your mind, something that you didn’t recall. It was like imagining a book, or looking at someone else’s painting. It was too jarring of a memory to even understand what it was of. 

You stepped backwards, paling slightly. Realization struck you the moment your mind was allowed to see again. This wasn’t just anyone willing to pay this much for your services. These three were the Royals of the Night court. Your head went dizzy.

Rhysand, you finally remembered his name. Rhysand, The undisputed most powerful high lord in all of Prythian stood before you. Aside him were his allies, and males you thought he only shared a surface level connection with. The Trinity. You’d heard stories of them, distantly in your travels but you’d not understood how striking they would be in person. “I hope your cunt does not disappoint.” His voice was a purr, like honey ready to stick to whatever it touched. 

“I think Az is ready for any cunt, Rhys.” The long haired one said, wrapping an arm around the other. Azriel. That made him Cassian, the prince of bastards. You’d heard most of him in your youth, learning that even the most lowborn could achieve greatness. 

Azriel, the shadowsinger palmed himself through his tight trousers. His jaw was set, and he looked at you through his lashes. A male ready to pounce. 

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet, Cassian.” You emphasized his name, hoping that it would get their attention. you knew just who they were now. The power was equal, in this room. They could follow the rules or get the Hel out. 

Cassian chomped his teeth together playfully, making a loud clack that had a tremble running up your spine. He had no idea what he’d just started. You would devour him in an instant if he were alone. Your insides burned at the action though,, igniting from the knowledge that not just one of them, but all three of them wanted you. Three powerful, rich Illyrians that ruled an entire court by themselves. 

Financially, and status wise you couldn’t say no. 

Many palaces had their own pleasure rooms for royals to use whenever they needed entertainment. These positions usually garnered not only incredibly wealth, but also power in their court. 

“I’m surprised a high lord doesn’t have his own Omega to tote around everywhere. Unless he uses you two-” You were cut off by Cassian’s booming laugh. Rhysand’s grin was toothy and amused. Azriel’s devilish smirk was knowing and heated. 

“They aren’t used in that sense…” Rhysand stepped forward, his shoes disappearing from his feet. He circled around you, while the others grew closer. Cassian was the first to begin unbuttoning his shirt, taking a steadying breath and reveling in your scent. Azriel remained still, observing every twitch, every tiny movement you made. Your eyes followed the cascade of shadows coming from him, noting the long arms that extended from the edge of the blackness surrounding him.

************

Your breathing hitched when Rhysand’s voice dropped to a whisper, right by your ear. “But you can use them as you wish, tonight.” Your heart was surely audible to them at this point. You turned to face him, and were immediately caught in a warm kiss that shattered any remaining restraint you had against this. 

You curled to the high lord, body melding to his when his hands went to your waist. His tongue darted over your lower lip, testing, teasing. You groaned against him, and caught his loose shirt in your hands, ripping it off,  the buttons pattering against the floor. 

He kneaded you, stroked his large hands over the expanse of your body, reveling in every inch of of you. Then, Cassian was behind you. His warmth unmistakable as he unclasped your top. Not exactly the fierce way you were expecting an Alpha to handle such a stringy thing, but his hands replaced the spot where the covering had been. Rhysand stepped back, to your dismay. He watched as Cassian palmed your breasts, rolling each of your nipples between his thick fingers. You let out a cry, hands scrambling back to grab on to him, to return the favor… 

Your back arched against him, and you ground down against the length you could feel bulging against his trousers. The heat that flooded you before was nothing in comparison to the gush of wetness that seeped you now. Rhysand resigned himself to the chair in the corner, and with a wave of his hand he was fully naked. Power shuddered through the room, making goosebumps line your flesh. He watched as Cassian used you, and began stroking himself at the sight. 

Cassian’s hand drifted from one of your breasts to your inner thigh, then slowly moved over your mound, cupping your pussy lightly. He hummed in approval, and bit softly at your ear. “Nice and wet for us..” He muttered. A sigh escaped you, hips desperately attempting to rock into his hand, needing the friction. Needing something to pay attention to your aching cunt. “What do you think Az?” 

He turned you slowly, feet shuffling to face the door, and the other two. Fully on display for both the dark haired males. Azriel palmed himself through a pair of tight shorts, the rest of his body bare. His muscles flexed, and he gave himself a pump once you faced him. You squirmed into Cassians hand again, breathy pants coming from your lips. Having two of them watch you was… intoxicating. Your body felt like a wire about to snap, ready to break and bend for these males. 

“Take off the panties and we’ll be able to tell better.” The shadowsinger’s raspy voice had you quickly obeying, Cassian stepping back while you eagerly tugged the soaked panties down and kicked them towards Azriel. Cassian’s low curse made a shiver run over your body as you stood back up, reveling in the feeling of being free - being open and ready for whatever male to use you. 

Azriel’s eyes appraised you slowly, then darted to Cassian. Some kind of silent communication was had, and Cassian was pulling you backwards, with him on to the bed. You fell into his lap, but he quickly adjusted you. Spreading your legs over the tops of his thighs and lining his cock up with your dripping slit. You gasped at the heat of his length pressing over your pussy lips, and groaned further when he thrust over you, coating his cock in your juices. Azriel approached, his eyes locked on to Cassian’s hardness stroking over you. 

“Nice and wet indeed.” He hummed, stroking himself as he watched. A bead of precome appeared at his tip, and he drew it down over his shaft, lubricating himself. One of his hands braced on your knee, stroking in time with Cassian’s thrusts. His hands were colder than Cassian’s, and with his presence he brought a curtain of darkness that had you forgetting about Rhysand in the corner. 

Azriel leaned down in a swoop, and caught your mouth with his. His tongue tangled with yours, teeth biting into your lower lip when you groaned. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you thought he’d rip you from Cassian’s grasp and take you for himself… but he only tugged your face closer. Crushing your lips to his as Cassian’s thrusts slowed. They became more intent, pushing against your clit at the end of every stroke.

You arched and bucked against Cassian, trying to get him to stop teasing you. You wanted him. You wanted them both. 

“Impatient are we?” you could hear the smirk on Cassian’s mouth and wished very much that you could sink your teeth into him at the moment. But you only had Azriel’s lips, so you thrust your hips down when Cassian lifted you, earning a hiss from him when his cock delved into your entrance. “Fuck-” He growled, and Azriel pulled away, watching Cassian take a moment with the head of his cock inside you. 

“Give the girl what she wants.” Rhys’s voice was smooth, but his cheeks flushed. Azriel tipped his head and  went to his knees before you, and you felt Cassian’s cock surge. You cried out, he slipped futher inside. Azriel’s tongue lapped over your clit suddenly, and your walls clenched around Cassian’s girth. The shadowsinger hummed, satisfied with his work as his saliva coated Cassian.  Inch by stretching inch he filled you, easily one of the most satisfying cocks you’d had. Thick and proud, he worked his way inside you until you swore you’d been stretched to your limit.

Fully seated, Cassian palmed your breasts again, allowing you a moment to feel everything. The way his full cock throbbed inside you, how Azriel’s tongue played over your clit lightly, so you wouldn’t come right then and there, Rhysand’s watching gaze. Your heart hammered as you wiggled against him, desperately wanting - needing more. “Gonna fill that greedy cunt of yours.” He muttered, pulling out and sliding you back down his shaft with ease. 

Azriel pulled away, letting Cassian fuck you in earnest while he watched. His hands played lightly over his cock, and you wondered just how much pleasure he was getting out of it until you saw the edges of shadow moving… the long arms of them curled tightly around him, one darker area circling around his thigh, then…. Gods- Over his cock, stroking in time with his hand. “Such a good Omega- so needy of a good cock-” Cassian muttered obscenities' while you watched Azriel’s shadows fondle him. His eyes never left your body, until he noticed you staring at the trail of shadow. 

“Like what you see?” He let his hand drop to your knees again, and you desperately wished he were fucking you as well. Though his hand had left, the shadow still worked his length, curling different ways occasionally while keeping rhythm. But watching how the tentacle like shadow stroked him was… incredibly hot. 

“You… control them?” You panted Cassian’s pace slowing as you spoke. 

“I can.” He confirmed, and Cassian unexpectedly pulled himself from your wetness, earning a protest from you. “You’re going to make me come, I’m here to enjoy you.” He said. You didn’t doubt his words, but the loss of his magnificent cock was something to mourn. The tip of him slotted against your ass, and you gasped. “Oh… you like that?” His cock twitched and you nodded. You’d taken ass play at times, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence for you. You definitely wouldn’t be able to take his girth. “Az has the best cock for it, if youre-”

“Yes.” You groaned, needing something to fill your aching pussy. Cassian grinned, and helped you flip over to face him. He caught you in a kiss much softer than Azriel’s and pushed his head back into your folds, staying put while Azriel got on to the bed. There was a coolness trailing up your leg, then around the back of your knee and thigh, where it pulled apart your legs slightly more. The force of it was surprising, as if you’d been pulled by an eager male. It circled over your pussy slowly, playing around where you and Cassian were connected, making you slide further onto his shaft. You both groaned into each other’s mouths, the snaking tendril circling and circling until Cassian broke away to force Azriel forward. 

The shadowsinger leaned over your back, and smiled as Cassian lurched upward and caught his lips. They kissed for a moment, and it was like watching fire meet desolate cold. Where Cassian was heated, yearning for more - needing Azriel’s touch - Azriel was fog and mist, evasive and teasing around Cassian’s needs. 

The shadow around you and Cassian tightened, then slithered away - going up to your waiting ass. Azriel’s hand was there too, slowly working you in tandem with the shadow pet that he kept. You wondered just how often he’d done this, if it was reserved for anything special or if it was every time. Because he seemed very.. Very good at it.

The pressure and sense of fullness swept through you, and Cassian’s head went back as your walls squeezed around him again. “So fucking tight-” He gritted out, and bucked into you for a few strokes before Azriel’s thighs were pressing to the backs of yours. Cassian grinned and pulled his cock free of you, his hand going to wrap around both his and Azriels, rubbing them together. Sharing your slick. 

“You’re torturing her.” Rhys bit out with a crooked smile, devilishly toying with himself in the corner. 

You tugged at Cassian’s hair, pulling his eyes back to you. “I can’t help but agree with him.” You breathed. The warrior took a moment, looking into your eyes - “Are you sure…” He nodded behind you, towards Azriel. Fed up and needy, you reached between you, took his cock and aimed it for your entrance, sliding down on Cassian in one fluid stroke. His toes cracked and popped, the breath leaving him a moment while he tried his damnedst not to come undone right then and there. 

Azriel’s cock brushed against your backside, a silent request. You arched your back, parting yourself for him. Your slick was heavy enough that he slid in with ease, slowly. Allowing you to adjust to him. You thought you’d burst. Your senses were unfocused, and you laid face to sheet, allowing the two to have their way with you. Rhysand’s grin slowly morphed into something more hungry, while he watched you watch him. He put on more of a show, stroking and pulling at the same pace of the other two. 

He must have had a bit of precome leak from his tip, because he tapped at it and brought it to his lips, swiping the saltiness from his finger. That got your attention. The two slowly thrusting into you groaned in unison. You pushed yourself up slightly, breasts going into Cassian’s face, where he licked and nipped at your flesh. “Get over here.” You ordered to the high lord. Your voice was surprisingly deep, rough with the dryness from so much moaning. 

He cocked his head to the side, as if wondering if he should grant you your demand. He was the high lord, after all. But he was here, in a brothel that you were presently one of the highest earners. “And that must be for good reason.” The presence in your head whispered. You weren’t quiet sure if it was your own thought or…. You glared at him, guessing that he’d heard every thought that had gone through your head. 

He finally rose, and brought his sculpted form to the side of the bed. His cock pulsed, dripping another bead of precome now that he saw what a mess his friends were making of you. The feeling of fullness was making you ache, making you yearn for the release that you’d been on the edge of since Azriel began working you. 

“Your pleasure is unimaginable. I enjoy it.” Rhysand leaned down and kissed you briefly, then stood and stroked his cock in front of your lips. You took him your mouth greedily, finally somewhat sated with being completely fully. Pleasuring all three of them. 

Azriel was still moving slowly, in and out of you while Cassian kept a faster pace that rubbed through your inner walls, pressing into Azriel. Feeling both of them inside you, pushing and pulling, especially when Azriel pulled your arms behind you and held you steady while you sucked Rhysand’s velvety length… it was enough.

You didn’t fall into the shaking pleasure of orgasm as much as you were pushed into it, unable to control how your body shuddered and wrapped around the males. It pushed you over the edge and sent you moaning loudly, unchecked around the high lord. He pulled out of your mouth, and you bit into Cassian’s shoulder instead. Trying to drown out the scream that was building inside you. As your orgasm washed over your body. 

Your walls squeezed both the males still inside you, and Cassian grunted, his breathy pants becoming labored as he pulled out, his come spurting over your ass. His body still thrusted upward, rubbing against the side of Azriel’s cock still inside you. Wave after wave of pleasure eroded your thought, the only thing still in your mind the feeling of Azrie’s perfect cock inside you, and the cool shadow that now circled your pussy, priming you for another orgasm. 

You didn’t notice that Rhysand had made his release as well, until you attempted to return to him and noticed he was wiping his stomach, circling the lines of his abs. Cassian recovered quickly, and brought his hands to your arms, just below your shoulders. He held you up with ease, his eyes daring you to complain at the change of angle. 

Azriel grunted in approval, and a cool tentacle of shadow curled it’s way around your body, wrapping around your waist and going to your throat, the end of it whispering beside your ear. “I’m going to make a mess of you.” It was distinctly Azriel’s voice, but echoed and other worldly. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream. Until you put a bruise on Cassian’s chest that stays for the next week.” His hands then gripped your hips, and he pulled you back, your ass slapping against his hips. “Bite him, claw at him. Whatever you need, he can take it.” He started fucking you quickly, his hips snapping over and over, pounding you down but his shadows and Cassian were  there to hold you up.

Another cool shadow came around, this one felt larger. It went to the folds of your spent pussy, nudging at your entrance. Mother above- You thought, but angled yourself slightly towards it. Azriel seemed to understand, and pushed it inwards. If Cassian had been full… this was perfection. “Good girl. Such a good girl.” The shadow voice whispered.

It molded to you, filling every inch of your insides with it’s cool presence. It entered you and stayed a moment, allowing you to adjust to it. Perhaps it was adjusting to you as well. Then, a pulsing feeling ran through it. It started slowly, so subtle you thought it may have been nothing. But as Azriel fucked you, it grew more prominent. Your eyes went wide as it brushed over your g-spot with pressure that almost had you coming again. 

Your eyes met Cassian’s and his grin told you that he knew exactly what was going on.

Another shadow began circling your clit again, and you thought you may never be sick of this. For Cauldron’s sake you should be paying them for this. Azriel grunted and a hand slapped over your cheek, stinging in a sweet way. The pulsing grew more and more, like a drum beat building to a final crescendo. “You’re going to come on me. All of me.” With those final, echoing words, the shadow inside of you set off on a punishing pace. The pressure built to more than just full. You gasped, heart hammering, hands attempting to reach or hold on to anything to anchor you. Your thighs quivered, and the shadow circling your clit sped up. It was too much. So much. With a cry that sounded like breaking, you came again.

Normally, the first orgasm was the most intense. The best in a round of them. But this was an ungodly mixture of so many different stimulation points… you felt as if you were seizing and unable to stop. You went breathless and silent for a few moments, body shaking around Azriel. Around all of him, just as he’d said. 

Azriel’s thrusts became erratic and his nails dug into your hips, and you were ready for him.  The shadow at your ear retreated, and Cassian was there to lower you to his chest. Your hands trembled as you lay there, cunt soaked with your slick, body heaving with breath as you finally came down from the ecstasy. 

The shadows were gone, and Azriel pulled out slowly once he’d gone down in size. Then, he was there with a towel from Rhysand. They cleaned you up together, Rhysnad summoning a plate of hot towels from somewhere. He dabbed your cheeks with one, grinning the whole time. 

Once you’d garnered enough strength to hold yourself up, you were able to ask “What are you smiling about?”

He scoffed a laugh, and moved to wipe at Cassian’s forehead. “You had a thought…” He shook his head, “Do I get my gold marks back?”

+

[mxlfoydraco]

What are the sweetest, most fluffy, most tender fic recs you have? Hurt/comfort préférable but anything works

I'm a major angst reader so our definitions of fluff may vary! I'm adding on to these lists: Fluff & Hogwarts Era Fluff

Save My Wonders by @unmistakablyoatmeal(21k)

Immediately chocolate assaulted Draco’s senses. Warm melted chocolate mixed with his mother’s roses and… something else. Something new. Freshly scrubbed skin and maybe a faint sheen of sweat. It was so familiar… And it only intensified when Potter came up behind him.

Two of Us by @sorrybutblog (5k)

The gang goes to a gay bar. Or: five times Harry accidentally pretended to be Draco’s boyfriend and one time Draco told him to put out or shut up.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (32k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel (10k)

Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

the treehouse near primrose downs by @softlystarstruck (14k)

Draco and Harry have been roommates for years, so buying a magical house in the countryside shouldn’t be a big difference. But in between fresh loaves of bread and beds of wildflowers, things start to fall into place.

you bring me home by @softlystarstruck (35k)

Harry is happy. He has his cat cafe and his hobbies. He has his friends, and Dolly Parton, and a shirt with a cowboy frog on it. It’s all a man needs, really. He doesn’t need to obsess over a magic-less, anxious Draco Malfoy coming into his cafe after disappearing from the wizarding world years ago. He doesn’t. Not even if the cats like Malfoy. Not even if Malfoy is soft, and funny, and a little bit neurotic. No matter how much he wants to obsess.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by @sugar-screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

I Think I Want to Marry You by @phdmama (6k)

5 times Harry Potter asks Draco Malfoy to marry him and Draco doesn't answer. And then the one time he does.

Meddling, Menswear, and Magic by @writcraft (18k)

Draco Malfoy is working in a job he hates and avoiding the magical world entirely, but he really is fine. When a bequest from Severus Snape brings Draco back to a much-changed magical world, he must find his place within it and navigate his growing attraction to Harry Potter in the process.

Constellations on your skin by @orange-peony (56k)

“I’m going to get my scars removed,” Draco announces on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. “Who are you seeing?” Blaise asks. “The best Healer out there,” Draco replies with a little shrug. “Harry Potter.”

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo (51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care by @digthewriter (9k)

Harry Potter is the proud owner of The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care and his favourite student is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius’s dad might be okay, too.

Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

Nice Things by aideomai (22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Stay (With Me) by @dorthyanndrarry (6k)

Harry and Draco have been seeing each other casually, whenever they bumped into one another at Galas and Balls and other social events, always keeping one another at a careful distance. But one step forward seems to remove all space between them, sending them crashing together with an almost inevitable gravity.

If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic (10k)

It's not the first time Harry's been the victim of a botched curse (that's one of the reasons he doesn't like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too. So they're bonded. That's ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm. But this isn't going to be a problem for their friendship at all. Is it, Harry?

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

The Charm Conundrum by dysonrules (8k)

Harry misplaces an interesting "self-help" manual. Draco finds it and discovers some fascinating insights into Harry Potter.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by @greaseonmymouth (96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry. Features: Little League Quidditch, an abundance of bath bombs, happy endings, and gay robots in space.

Harry Potter’s biggest fan by @gnarf (9k)

Ever since Scorpius heard about Harry Potter for the first time from one of his friends, one could say that he was his biggest fan. So naturally, it would be the thing he needs to talk about while visiting his grandparents for Sunday dinner. Draco’s father could not hold back the comments on why he had to go through this again, and Scorpius understood just enough to know that his father actually knew Harry Potter in person. That’s when the pestering started. Not much later and Draco found himself face to face with Potter, all thanks to his son.

Sunseeker by @shiftylinguini (15k)

Harry is a struggling writer. Namely, he is struggling with: writing his next book, dealing with his agent, finding a decent tea strainer, fielding his friend's concern over the aforementioned book, and figuring out who the cat loitering in his garden belongs to. He also has a slight liking-Malfoy problem. Okay, he has a massive liking-Malfoy problem.

All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame (14k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18k)

It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

Nyctophilia by prolonged_autumn (107k)

Everyone's back for 8th year, and Harry and his friends seem determined to spend their last year in school running around at night, hyped up on coffee and alcohol and Honeydukes candy, doing all the childish things they didn't have the chance to do before. Draco watches as he's always watched: from afar, quiet and bitter and hopelessly in love. That is, until Pansy decides she's had quite enough of it.

[yuhzz]

an ocean of you - nkmr.kzh x fem!reader

summary: from strangers to friends to lovers.

warning: fluff.

word count: 922 words

==============

our story revolves around two girls, you and kazuha, who lived in a small coastal town. you were a free-spirited artist who spent most of your days painting the ocean and the breathtaking sunsets that graced the horizon.

kazuha, on the other hand, was a studious student who spent most of her days buried in textbooks and studying for exams.

despite your differences, the two of you shared a deep love for each other and the ocean.

you and kazuha first met on the beach when you were both just children.

you were building sandcastles when you noticed kazuha sitting by herself, reading a book. you then decided to walk up to her and ask her, "do you want to help me build a sandcastle?".

kazuha was hesitant at first, but she saw the earnest smile on your face and agreed.

as you built the sandcastle together, you both talked about the ocean and the creatures that lived in it.

you were fascinated by kazuha’s knowledge and kazuha was amazed by your creativity. from that day on, you both became inseparable, spending your days exploring the beach and the ocean.

years went by, you and kazuha grew up together.

you continued to paint the ocean, and kazuha continued to study it.

you both knew that your love for each other was more than just a mere friendship, but neither of you ever spoke of it - afraid of the possible consequences that might ruin your friendship.

until one summer evening, you invited kazuha to join you on a boat ride to see the sunset.

As you sailed out into the ocean, you took kazuha's hand in yours and looked deeply into her eyes. 

"kazuha, i know we've been friends for a long time, but i've always felt something more for you," you said, worried about what might her reactions be.

"i love you, kazuha...more than anybody else"

kazuha was taken aback by your confession, but she knew that she loved you just as much too. "y/n-ah, i love you too. and i want you to know I always have - always will"

as the sun set on the horizon, you and kazuha shared your first kiss, and from that moment on, your love for each other grew stronger every day.

over the years, you and kazuha faced many challenges, but you always came through them together.

you supported each other through college, and when your art career took off, kazuha was there to cheer you on.

when kazuha landed her dream job as a marine biologist, you were also there to celebrate with her.

one day, you surprised kazuha with a trip to a tropical island in the middle of the ocean. as you walked along the white sandy beach, you suddenly dropped down to one knee and pulled out a small box.  kazuha's heart fluttered with excitement and anticipation as you slowly opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring with a sparkling diamond in the center.

"zuha-ah, i want to spend the rest of my life with you. every waking moment, every single breath that I take, all of it...I want to go through with it all until the day I pass away." you said with all your heart, hoping that the latter would also feel the same.

with one deep breath, you uttered the 4 words you've been meaning to ask kazuha for a long time.

"will you marry me?" you asked, your eyes shining with love.

kazuha's eyes widened in surprise and joy as tears welled up in her eyes. "yes, y/n, yes!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around your neck and kissing you deeply.

as you embraced, the sound of the crashing waves and the salty sea breeze filled your senses.

for you and kazuha, it felt like you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the vast ocean that had brought you two together.

you spent the rest of your vacation basking in the sun, swimming in the crystal-clear waters, and exploring the island. you talked about your future together and all the adventures you would share.

you know? all that lovey-dovey things.

when you returned home, you and kazuha began planning your wedding.

both of you chose a seaside venue, surrounded by the ocean that had played such an important role in your lives. you created beautiful paintings of the ocean to decorate the venue, and kazuha incorporated sea-themed elements into your wedding favors and decorations.

as you exchanged your vows at the exact same place you met, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a perfect backdrop for your love.

after the wedding, you and kazuha moved into a cozy beach house overlooking the ocean. you continued to live your lives surrounded by the ocean that had brought you together.

you continued to paint the ocean, and kazuha continued to study and protect it.

and as you grew old together, you and kazuha never lost your love for each other and for the ocean.

you spent your days watching the sunrise and sunset over the water, holding hands, and reminiscing about your adventures together.

in the end, you and kazuha knew that your love was like an ocean - vast, deep, and ever-changing, but always constant and enduring.

and as you held each other in your arms, looking out at the endless expanse of water, you knew that you would always be each other's ocean, forever and always with the true meaning of forever finally within your grasp.