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Franklin literally just defeated three celestials and saved Reed, everyone’s celebrating the victory, meanwhile these two gay dorks are just sitting in the corner doing their usual gay shit...
Might as well post this because for some reason I decided that using twice as many layers for this drawing was a good idea and I did not have a good time, anyways the gays
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
regulus' has a picture of them hugging in front of the fire, in the full picture they were surrounded by all their friends
remus' has a picture of reg on one side, and one of himself in the other. "so that you're kissing when you close it" was james' reasoning after stealing the necklace for a bit, and remus will not admit that the concept warms his heart... obviously, he just can't be bothered, he's forgetful!
Giyu x reader where both of them were scared of dogs and is cornered by one tiny fluff of puppy feral enough to make them tremble in fear LOL, please...?
✨ Prompt: High-School AU || Fear of Dogs
🎧 Song on Loop: Show Me How || Men I Trust
🌟 Author's Note: Sorry for the delayed response: it’s the week before winter break and I just got promoted, so things have been a little hectic!!! This was such a cute prompt, and I tried my best to give it a cozy winter feel while still keeping all the little touches you wanted. ♡
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Snow had started sometime during last period.
It was the gentle kind, the kind that floated more than it fell, catching on eyelashes and blazer shoulders, turning the familiar streets between school and the station into something magical.
Y/N tugged her scarf a little higher as they stepped out of the school gates, breath pluming in the cold air.
Her white knit muffler was wrapped snugly around her neck, the ends tucked into her navy blazer; the cream ribbon of her uniform had been swapped for one a shade softer, almost blending into the scarf.
Beside her, Giyu walked with his hands deep in the pockets of his navy overcoat, school blazer hidden beneath. Snow collected along the shoulders and collar, little flecks melting into the dark fabric.
He didn’t bother to shake them off.
He simply accepted it, the way he accepted most things: in silence, eyes half-lidded, listening to the soft crunch of footsteps weaving through the quiet.
They weren’t talking much.
They never really needed to.
“Your eyelashes are white,” she said suddenly, voice soft against the hush of winter.
He blinked, glancing down at her.
A few flakes had dusted along her lashes too, making her look less like the terrifyingly perfect class rep and more like something out of a snow scene in an old movie.
She turned her head, and the flakes caught the light, glittering once before melting into her warmth.
“So are yours,” he replied.
She huffed a quiet laugh, the sound puffing into the scarf. “That’s not how observations work, Tomioka.”
He didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth pulled, just barely. The street stretched ahead: bare, narrow trees, power lines, old houses with light glowing faintly behind frosted windows.
The cold had teeth; even through her gloves, her fingers began to sting. She flexed them quietly, the wool whispering in protest.
Giyu noticed.
He always did.
“You can go ahead,” she said lightly. “I know you walk faster than me.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m not in a hurry.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, something warm flickering in her chest. He wasn’t good with words, not like Rengoku or Mitsuri, but he had his own way of saying things.
She knew what sat beneath it: I don’t mind taking the long way, not if it means walking with you.
She smiled into her scarf, letting the quiet settle again.
They turned the corner past the convenience store, the little bell above its door chime muffled by the glass, and that was when they saw it.
A puff of white fur bounded ahead, leash dragging behind in lazy loops across the pavement.
It was all round head and too big paws, tail wagging until it saw them. The sound that came out wasn’t a bark, but a low, uncertain growl.
Y/N stopped so abruptly, breath catching in her throat, that a snowflake landed right on the bridge of her nose.
Giyu stopped too.
For a single suspended beat, the three of them: the stoic kendo captain, the campus darling, and the oversized cotton ball just stared at each other.
The dog’s ears perked.
Giyu’s fingers twitched inside his pockets.
Y/N’s lips parted soundlessly, a thin line of visible breath slipping free. She took exactly one, small step back. Then another, almost imperceptible.
“Is… it… smiling,” she whispered.
It was not smiling.
It was showing teeth.
The growl deepened.
Giyu wasn’t sure when his hand had moved, but he felt it: the soft brush of her glove pressing into his palm, her fingers slipping between his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She squeezed, just once.
When he looked down, her eyes met his: wide and shining, lashes damp with snowmelt, the tips of her ears blushing pink against the cold. Her lashes fluttered once as she tried to steady her breath.
The dog barked once: sharp, sudden.
They moved at the same time, closing the space between them: her shoulder bumping his chest, his frame instinctively angling to shield her from the beast.
There was a strange moment where they both realized, at the same time, how ridiculous they must look: two honor students frozen in place, trying to stare down a creature with floppy ears and a wet nose.
It didn’t make it any less terrifying.
“…We’ll just… go around it,” Y/N murmured, her voice so soft it nearly dissolved into the cold. Up close, he could see her throat move, the star charm at her neck trembling as she swallowed. “Okay?”
He met her gaze. For all her practiced composure, her eyes were trembling ever so slightly.
“Okay,” he said.
She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward, pulling him with her, the two of them edging toward the narrow curve of sidewalk that might give them just enough room to slip past.
The dog’s head tilted.
Its tail flicked once, twice.
Y/N tried for a soothing smile, the same one she used on distraught freshmen and flustered teachers, but it trembled at the edges.
“Good boy…” she coaxed softly, her breath misting in the cold. “Stay….We’re just passing through…”
The dog barked again and its paws crunched against the snow as it stepped forward, inching closer with every breath they took.
Y/N squeaked. Actually squeaked.
Before she could stop herself, she jumped the last bit of distance between them, practically launching into Giyu.
Her arms wrapped around his middle, face burying itself in his overcoat, scarf mashing into his chest.
Her heart was hammering so fast he could feel it through the layers of wool and cotton, a trembling rhythm pulsing against his chest.
His own heart stuttered.
He was terrified of the dog, yes.
Something in his bones flinched each time it barked: a muscle memory older than thought, of teeth flashing and a childhood sound lodged deep in him.
But there was also the sharp, overwhelming awareness of Y/N pressed against him, fingers knotted in the fabric at his back, her breath catching warm and frantic through his shirt.
He tightened his arms around her automatically, pulling her closer, positioning himself between her and the dog.
Even with his pulse thundering and his lungs burning cold, his body knew what to do before he did: shield her, hide her, hold her.
“It’s fine,” he managed, voice lower than usual.
“It is small.”
She shook her head against his chest, voice small and impossibly soft. “That’s not small, Tomioka.”
The dog, for its part, seemed absolutely delighted.
It barked yet again, louder, and started trotting toward them, leash dragging, tongue peeking out.
Y/N inhaled sharply. “Nope,” she squeaked, voice muffled against his chest. “Nope, nope, nope.”
Giyu took a step back, then another, still holding her. Snow slipped beneath his shoes, but he kept his balance: one arm steady around her shoulders, the other guiding her with quiet precision.
The dog barked again and broke into a cheerful jog.
They ran fast.
It wasn’t graceful.
Their shared panic swallowed whatever grace they usually carried. Breath tore out of them in short, uneven gasps, misting the air in frantic clouds.
Bags thumped against their sides, feet slipping on the partially cleared sidewalk as they bolted down the narrow street, turning sharply into a side alley between two apartment buildings.
Y/N clung to him the whole way, half-hidden behind his arm. Her scarf snapped in the wind, skirt brushing against her thighs with every hurried step.
“Why is it following us?!” she hissed, breathless.
“You made eye contact,” he said automatically. It wasn’t accusation or wit, just the flat truth of a man whose bluntness came as naturally as breathing.
“I was being polite,” she snapped back, the edge of her tone blunted by the small quiver in her voice.
They skidded to a stop at the dead end of the alley, a chain-link fence cutting them off from a stretch of snow-covered vacant land.
Giyu turned quickly, pressing his back to the fence and pulling her with him so she ended up half in front of him, half braced between his arms, his hands landing on either side of her shoulders.
The dog trotted in after them, tail wagging like they’d just invited it to play, yipping in pure delight.
In the narrow quiet of the alley, the sound of paws crunching through the snow felt impossibly loud.
Y/N’s eyes were huge, breath hitching in quick, visible bursts. Her fingers fisted the front of Giyu’s overcoat, knuckles pale against the dark fabric, as though the thick wool might somehow keep danger at bay.
The dog slowed, stopping a few paces away.
Its head tilted, ears pricking toward them, tongue lolling as it sniffed the air. A beat passed, then it padded forward, snow crunching beneath its paws.
Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, breath catching as her lashes brushed her cheeks. “If it bites me,” she whispered, voice trembling with sincerity, “I will yell some very unladylike things…”
Giyu couldn’t tell if the tightening in his chest was fear or the ridiculous urge to laugh. “I’ll fend it off,” he murmured.
“With what?” she shot back, not daring to open her eyes. “Our GPA?”
The dog sniffed closer, drawn in by the scent of snow, detergent, jasmine, and the sheer human panic in the air.
It lowered its head, nose hovering near Y/N’s bare ankle where her leg warmers had ridden up just a little.
“Don’t move,” Giyu breathed, voice right by her ear.
His heartbeat thundered. Her body was pressed fully into his; he could feel every tiny tremor, every shaky inhale. The star charm of her necklace scraped lightly against his chest with each breath.
The dog’s wet, warm tongue suddenly dragged across the exposed bit of Y/N’s skin and she jolted.
She shrieked.
The sound ricocheted off the narrow walls, more startled than dignified. She jolted, clutching Giyu tighter as she half-climbed into him, desperate to escape the offending tongue.
She buried her face deeper into his coat, shaking her head like she could physically undo the feeling.
“Nononononono”
Giyu startled as well, shoulders snapping tight, but his grip held. One hand found the small of her back on instinct, palm firm and grounding, while the other pressed harder into the wall beside her shoulder.
His own eyes were blown wide, breath shallow.
This close, with her pressed against him and the world narrowed to cold air, dog breath, and the sound of her panicked breathing, he felt something else beneath the fear: a dizzying awareness of her warmth, the way she fit perfectly into his arms.
The way her hair tickled his chin.
The way she smelled, like vanilla and winter and the faintest trace of strawberry shortcake from the café earlier.
He should not be thinking about that.
Not now.
Not while a dog was systematically dismantling both their pride.
“Hey! Mochi!”
A voice cut in from the mouth of the alley, male and faintly exasperated. “Mochi! Leave them alone!”
The dog’s ears perked.
It gave Y/N’s ankle one last affectionate lick, tail wagging even harder, before trotting out of the alley like nothing had happened, its leash finally caught by a relieved looking college student in a beanie and thick glasses.
“Sorry!” he called, bowing hurriedly toward the shadowed corner where two traumatized high schoolers were still clinging to each other. “He’s friendly!”
The dog barked happily, entirely unrepentant.
“Friendly,” Y/N repeated weakly against Giyu’s coat.
They remained like that for a beat longer than needed, hearts thudding hard while the world eased back into place and their breathing finally slowed.
Snow fell silently around them, collecting along the fence, on the alley floor, and in the threads of her blazer where it peeked out from beneath his coat.
Eventually, the jingle of Mochi’s collar and his owner’s apologetic scolding faded down the street.
Giyu became painfully aware of every inch of her.
Her fingers, curled into his lapels.
Her forehead pressed to his chest.
The rise and fall of her breathing against him. The quiet realization that his hand had drifted to the small of her back, abandoning courtesy without his permission.
He coughed, quietly.
“Tomioka… um.” Her voice was small and muffled against his coat, hovering near the second button.
“We survived.”
“…Barely” he said before he could stop himself.
She huffed, and the familiar, fragile thread of humor wound its way back into her tone. Slowly, she pulled back.
Her hair was slightly mussed where it had caught on his coat, a few loose strands resting against her flushed cheeks. Snowflakes clung to the tips, sparkling faintly.
Her lips were parted just enough to show the soft pink inside as she tried to catch her breath.
Her eyes, still wide from adrenaline, looked up at him through those long lashes, making his chest feel uncomfortably tight.
She stepped back another half-step, the chain-link fence pressing lightly against his shoulders now.
Her hands slipped away, automatically smoothing the creases she’d left behind, an almost futile attempt to gather her composure back into place.
“Sorry,” she breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks still flushed. Her star necklace shifted with the motion, catching the faint gray light. “It…seems I used you as a human shield.”
He shook his head at once. “No. It’s fine.”
The words came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and looked away. “I don’t really… like dogs either.”
She blinked once, then slowly her brows softened: the beautiful, subtle curve of surprise easing into understanding, and then into something almost fond.
“Oh,” she breathed. “So we’re both cowards.”
“Yes,” he said, swallowing hard, utterly serious.
A laugh slipped out of her, bright and breathless, chasing away the last of the fear. It echoed lightly off the alley walls, mixing with the soft sound of snowfall.
They edged back toward the street together, steps unconsciously in sync. This time, when their shoulders brushed, neither of them moved away.
By the time they reached the main road again, their heartbeats had steadied. Dusk crept in, streetlights flickering on one by one with a faint buzz.
Y/N exhaled slowly, watching her breath fog in front of her. “That was…” Her lips twitched. “Interesting.”
He glanced at her.
The pink in her cheeks hadn’t entirely faded; he couldn’t tell how much of it was from the cold and how much from… everything else.
She must’ve felt his gaze, because she turned her head, lips quirking. “I felt you trembling,” she said gently.
He looked away too quickly. “It was cold,” he lied.
Her brows arched, amused. “Of course. I know.”
They walked in silence for a few houses, the world hushed by snow. Y/N’s grip on her bag’s strap had relaxed, her shoulders no longer held so rigidly.
Yet a new kind of tension lingered in the air, softer, settling around them like an extra layer against the cold.
At the next intersection, Giyu slowed.
“Can I…” He hesitated, tongue fumbling around words that seemed too forward in his head and too stupid to say out loud. His fingers curled around the phone in his pocket. “…walk you all the way home?”
She tilted her head, regarding him with that soft, unblinking gaze that always made him feel as though she could read the spaces he left unsaid.
“You usually turn left,” she reminded him.
“I know.” He kept his gaze on the pavement, the half-moons their steps pressed into the slush.
“But… there might be… another dog.”
It came out flatter than he’d intended, but the tips of his ears burned. The excuse was badly transparent.
The idea of more barking made his skin prickle, yes, but deeper than that was a softer, truer pulse: I want more time with you. I’m not ready to let you go.
Her lashes fluttered, curiosity bright in her gaze.
“You were scared too,” she said gently, lips curving.
His jaw tightened. “…Yes.”
Her eyes softened, impossibly gentle, before she cleared her throat. Her shoulders relaxed, the final thread of tension loosening. “Then,” she said, thoughtful, “we should protect each other…”
Before he could speak, she reached for him again, fingers slipping into his as if they belonged there.
She squeezed once, warm despite the cold. “Walk me home, Tomioka,” she said softly. “Just in case.”
He stared at their joined hands, throat tight, ears thudding. After a moment, he nodded. “…Okay.”
They turned right together this time.
The neighborhood grew quieter as they moved away from the main road, the snow on the ground less disturbed, crunching softly under their steps.
Y/N let their joined hands sway, just barely, as if testing the weight of the moment between them.
“You were brave,” she said softly, lips curving as her eyes lowered. “That must have been frightening.”
He thought of the dog’s teeth, the lick at her ankle, the way his lungs had closed up for a second.
Then he thought of her voice: whispering threats about cursing, calling him a coward, shaking in his arms while still trying to shield him with her body.
“It was scary. I wasn’t calm,” he said quietly.
She hummed, warm and approving.
“And you held me anyway.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
She fell quiet, eyes sliding away, ears tinged pink as she watched the snow pile along the low hedges by the sidewalk.
Her profile looked unreal in the dim light: the clean line of her jaw, the gentle dip of her nose, the soft curve of her mouth. A few stray flakes clung to the ends of her hair, glowing faintly.
“Next time,” she said softly, “I’ll try to look cool.”
He looked down at her, puzzled. “You did.”
She blinked, startled. “I screamed into your chest.”
“You were still… cool,” he said, and though his face stayed composed, his voice was entirely sincere.
Her ears turned pink.
They settled into a quieter silence, not empty but tender, like something held gently between them.
Every few steps, their shoulders brushed.
Once, when a car passed and sprayed slush toward the sidewalk, he tugged her closer without thinking, shielding her from the splash. She bumped into his side and stayed there a little longer than necessary.
By the time they reached her building, the sky had gone fully dark, the world softened by streetlamps and the warm glow from nearby windows.
Her apartment complex wasn’t fancy, just neat and warm, with potted plants and orderly mailboxes.
They paused beneath the awning, snow drifting just beyond its shelter, caught in the warm spill of light.
“So,” she said, turning to face him fully.
The lobby light warmed her skin, turning the cold flush on her cheeks into something gentler. “We’ve survived midterms, committee meetings, and now… Mochi.”
He grimaced faintly at the name. “Don’t say it like that.”
She laughed softly. “What, Mochi? You scared?”
“Yes,” he said. No hesitation. Entirely serious.
She smiled again, but there was something more fragile at the edges now.
Her hand, still in his, gave another small squeeze before loosening.
She didn’t let go yet.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she said, voice soft again. “Even though you were scared too.”
He watched the faint line of snow at her hairline, the way her star charm rested just above the scarf.
I didn’t want to stop holding your hand, he nearly said.
Instead, he murmured, almost shyly, “Mm… text me when you’re inside.”
Her lashes fluttered, as though she were testing whether the words had really been meant for her.
Then that beautifully devastating smile bloomed on her face, and he was certain she could hear his heart.
“I will,” she promised. “So you know I wasn’t kidnapped by another dangerous menace.”
He exhaled, the ghost of a laugh leaving him.
“Good.”
She hesitated, then reached up on instinct, fingers brushing lightly at his coat where snow still clung.
“You should get home too,” she said softly, a hint of a chide in her voice. “I’d hate for you to get sick.”
He nodded, eyes flicking to the door. “I’ll go after.”
She tilted her head, watching him. He saw it then: her lashes lowering to his mouth, lifting back to his eyes, then falling again. He wanted to lean in, to close the space between them.
He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. He was.
“Thank you, Tomioka,” she whispered, eyes shining.
His fingers flexed where they still held hers, his ears tinged pink, as if electricity had run through them.
“…You’re welcome,” he managed.
She pulled back, cheeks warm, and finally, gently slipped her hand from his. For one absurd second, it felt like something important had been unplugged.
Y/N stepped back toward the door, keys already jangling in her hand. “Goodnight,” she said softly.
He swallowed. “Goodnight.”
She disappeared into the lobby, the door closing quietly behind her. He wanted to chase after her.
He stood there a moment longer, eyes lingering on the faint reflection of his own solemn face in the glass. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
[08:47 PM] y/n: made it inside ♡ no mochi in sight.
[08:47 PM] y/n: thank you for protecting me from the terrifying beast.
He stared at the screen longer than necessary, the ghost of her weight still warm in his arms, the press of her body burning in his mind like a brand.
His thumbs moved before his brain fully caught up.
[08:48 PM] giyu: we protected each other.
There was a pause.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
[08:49 PM] y/n: then let’s keep doing that
He lingered outside her building until the cold bit through his coat, then turned toward home, hands buried in his pockets, cheeks still warm against the winter air.
He was still afraid of dogs.
But if it meant her heartbeat against his chest again, her breath muffled into his coat, fingers clinging to him as if he were the only thing that wouldn’t disappear…
He thought, not for the first time, that maybe some fears didn’t vanish, but they could be endured.
