#I love this show! it’s perfectly tailored to my interests! but when is it SET

[ravenpuffheadcanons]

WHY is Belle’s hair down in the 1850s IN AN OPERATING THEATRE though

[dee-writes-anime]

So I saw that your requests are open and that you do JJK and I was wondering if you’d be interested in the idea buzzing in my brain for the past week. Nanami is a total jazz lover in my mind and there’s a jazz club in town and the reader is a jazz singer full of passion. I’m thinking Nanami falls head over heels for reader especially with her voice as she sings love songs. Also I love your work it’s fantastic and always a joy to read.

The Echoing, All-Encompassing Sound of Love

FEATURING Kento Nanami x Female Reader

SUMMARY The Blue Note was a place Nanami went to unwind after hard, long days of endless, meaningless work. It was a place for him to fall into the shadows and familiarity of the deep blues and jazz, it was a comfort, but nothing had ever touched him, enraptured him like you had when you stepped on that stage.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, introspective??, Kento gushing over his WOMAN (bark bark bark), obsessed man, this is some deep, soulful shit yall, only edited ever so slightly T-T

AUTHORS NOTE I have no idea where I went with this or how it got to this point, but I really hope I brought your vision to life darling anon. <3

The jazz club, nestled in the heart of the city, is alive with an intimate, cozy energy. The space is dimly lit, with soft, warm lighting casting long shadows across the room. A thin haze of smoke lingers in the air, adding to the club's mystique. The gentle hum of quiet conversations mixes with the soft clinking of glasses and the occasional low laugh, creating a comforting backdrop for the evening.

At a small, round table near the stage, Kento Nanami sits, his posture relaxed yet composed. His impeccably tailored suit fits him perfectly, as always. He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid catching the faint light. His sharp gaze is focused on the stage, where musicians are setting up their instruments, tuning and adjusting, preparing for the night’s performance. The familiar ritual of the pre-show calm settles over him, a welcome escape from the chaos of his usual day-to-day life.

Nanami takes a sip of his drink, savoring the smooth burn as it slides down his throat, and leans back slightly in his chair. His eyes flicker around the room, taking in the scattered patrons, each one lost in their own world of jazz and ambiance. He’s been coming to this club for a few weeks now, drawn by the soothing allure of the music and the promise of an evening where the only battles to be fought are between trumpet solos and sultry saxophone notes.

He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be different. Tonight, a new performer is set to take the stage, and with her first note, Nanami’s world will begin to shift in ways he never expected.

Nanami wasn’t the type to indulge in luxuries. He preferred the quiet satisfaction of a well-brewed cup of coffee, the crisp pages of a book, the efficiency of a perfectly executed plan. But there was something about this jazz club that drew him in like a moth to a flame. The dim lighting, the haze of smoke, the low hum of the bass—these were not things he typically sought out, but here, in this place, they provided a strange sense of comfort.

Tonight, the club is alive with its usual hum of activity. Patrons sit scattered around small tables, their faces barely visible in the shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of flickering candles. The scent of whiskey and old leather mingles with the faint traces of smoke, creating an atmosphere that is both timeless and ephemeral. The band on stage plays a slow, steady rhythm, a saxophone gently crying out a mournful tune that fills the room with a bittersweet nostalgia.

Nanami sits at his usual table, close enough to the stage to see every detail, yet far enough to remain unnoticed by most. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, his suit crisp and neat despite the casual setting. He swirls his glass of whiskey, watching the ice cubes clink softly against the sides, his gaze occasionally drifting to the stage. His mind is calm, his thoughts quieted by the gentle rhythm of the music. He’s been coming here for weeks now, finding solace in the music, in the anonymity of the darkened room.

But tonight is different.

The moment you step on stage, something shifts in the air. It’s as if the very essence of the club changes, the room becoming quieter, the audience collectively holding its breath in anticipation. Nanami feels it too—a subtle tightening in his chest, a flutter he can’t quite name. He watches as you move into the spotlight, the soft, golden light catching on the sequins of your dress, making you shimmer like a dream. Your eyes are closed, your posture relaxed yet poised, as if you’re in a world all your own.

And then you start to sing.

The first note is like a whisper, gentle and soft, yet it carries through the room with a clarity that demands attention. Your voice is unlike anything Nanami has ever heard—smooth as honey, rich as velvet, with a depth that speaks of experiences and emotions he can only begin to imagine. Each note is carefully controlled, each word filled with emotion, and he finds himself leaning forward slightly, his focus entirely on you.

As you continue, your voice grows stronger, more confident, filling the room with a warmth that wraps around everyone like a comforting embrace. The lyrics are a love song, simple yet profound, speaking of longing and hope, of heartache and desire. Nanami feels each word as if it’s directed at him, as if you’re singing just for him, your gaze occasionally sweeping across the audience, and he can’t help but wonder if you see him.

The way you move on stage is mesmerizing. You sway gently to the rhythm, your hands occasionally rising to emphasize a particularly powerful line. There’s a passion in your performance, a raw emotion that spills out with every note, making it impossible to look away. Nanami’s heart races, a strange sensation for someone usually so composed. He doesn’t know why, but something about you, about this moment, feels significant—like a turning point he didn’t see coming.

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the liquid warming him from the inside out, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth your voice brings. As you hit a high note, the room seems to hold its breath, and Nanami feels a shiver run down his spine. He’s never felt so captivated, so drawn to someone. It’s as if your voice is a thread, pulling him closer, wrapping around his heart and refusing to let go.

For the first time in a long while, Nanami feels something beyond the constant grind of his duties. He feels alive, his senses heightened by the music, by your presence. He doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know your story, but in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the music, the way your voice makes him feel, and the strange, undeniable pull he feels toward you.

He tries to stay for the rest of the night, anticipating the moment he can go up and introduce himself when all the performers do crowd work. However, it seems his phone has different plans as it buzzes insistently in the back pocket of his slacks, calling him cruelly away from the opportunity to catch your name, to hear your voice once more. Kento Nanami doesn't consider a man who's easy to anger, but that night, having lost the opportunity to know you, to catch just a single glimpse at your soul again, he can't help but feel his blood boil under his skin.

As he leaves the club, he convinces himself that he will see you again, that he will take the next opportunity as it comes and talk to you.

And that is how Kento Nanami quickly becomes a fixture at The Blue Note, his visits growing more frequent, timed perfectly to coincide with your performances.

He never deviates from his routine: arriving a few minutes before your set, he always sits at the same small table near the stage, his broad shoulders relaxed yet somehow still commanding in his perfectly tailored suit. He orders a single glass of whiskey, savoring it slowly throughout the evening.

His presence is quiet but unyielding, like a shadow that’s always there, watching, observing. Every time you step on stage, his gaze is already on you, unwavering, a steady anchor amidst the flickering candlelight and swirling smoke. It’s a look that’s intense, focused, as if he’s trying to unravel the secrets hidden within each note you sing.

You’ve noticed him, of course—how could you not? At first, he was just another face in the crowd, another patron drawn to the allure of jazz and dim lighting. But as the weeks passed, you found your eyes lingering on him more and more, intrigued by his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed to hang on to every word you sang. There was a mystery about him, a sense of restraint that made you wonder what thoughts lay hidden behind those piercing eyes.

As the days turn into weeks, his presence becomes a comfort, a constant in the ever-changing tide of the club’s clientele. You start to look for him as you step on stage, your gaze naturally drifting to his usual spot. The way he watches you feels different from the others—more profound, more attentive, as if he’s listening not just with his ears, but with his entire being.

And each time you sing, you can’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a silent understanding that grows stronger with every performance. His steady gaze becomes a source of inspiration, a quiet encouragement that pushes you to pour even more of yourself into each song. It’s almost as if you’re singing just for him, even though you’ve never exchanged a single word.

One evening, after a particularly soulful rendition of an old jazz standard, you notice him again. He’s there, as always, sitting at his usual table, his eyes following you with that same intense focus. But tonight feels different. There’s something in his gaze that you can’t quite place—an emotion that lingers in the air like the final note of a song.

The club is quieter than usual tonight, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room. As you step off the stage, your heart still pounding from the performance, you find yourself drawn to him, almost against your will. You’re not sure what compels you—perhaps it’s the curiosity that’s been building inside you for weeks, or maybe it’s the intensity of his focus, the way he seems to see right through you, as if he knows every emotion behind your songs.

You make your way through the tables, your steps slow and deliberate, your heart beating a little faster with each one. As you approach, you notice the subtle shift in his expression—his eyes widening slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his otherwise stoic face. He sets his glass down carefully, his movements calm and measured, but you can see the tension in the way he sits up straighter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Hi,” you say softly, your voice carrying just above the soft hum of the club. Up close, you notice the sharp angles of his face, the way his hair falls neatly over his forehead, and the intensity of his eyes—eyes that are watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something deeper.

He nods slightly, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “Hello,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, matching the ambiance of the club perfectly. There’s a moment of silence, the kind that hangs heavy with unspoken questions and unsaid words.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “I’ve noticed you here before,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “You come to listen a lot.”

Nanami’s eyes soften, and he nods again. “I do,” he admits, his gaze steady and sincere. “You have a… remarkable voice. It’s not something one can easily forget.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in them striking a chord deep within you. You smile, a genuine, warm smile that reaches your eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

He tilts his head slightly, a subtle curiosity playing across his features. “From me?”

You nod, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence. “Yes. You always seem so… focused. It’s hard not to wonder what you’re thinking.”

Nanami chuckles softly, a rare sound that seems to surprise even him. “I suppose I’m just… listening,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “Trying to understand the emotion behind each song. You sing with such passion; it’s hard not to be drawn in.”

Your heart flutters at his words, at the honesty in them. For a moment, the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, smoky club, sharing a connection that feels almost tangible.

As the evening goes on, the conversation flows naturally, each word revealing a little more about the enigmatic man who has been such a mystery to you. And as you talk, you find yourself wanting to know more, to understand the quiet strength behind his stoic exterior, and to uncover the emotions that lie beneath his calm façade.

Tonight, you’ve taken the first step into a new rhythm, one that neither of you could have anticipated.

But your exploration ends there-- at least, for the time being as Nanami finds himself pulled back into the Jujutsu world, all his extra time lost to consistent missions and training as a grade-one sorcerer.

It's only about a month later that he is finally able to force just enough time into his exhausting schedule to come see you again, the dim glow of the jazz club's lights dances across the walls, and the familiar hum of chatter fills the room as patrons settle in for another night of music.

Nanami sits at his usual table, but tonight feels different. His normally calm and composed demeanor is slightly frayed at the edges. His fingers tap nervously against the rim of his glass, and he takes a slow, deep breath. He’s been thinking about this moment for weeks, rehearsing his words, imagining every possible outcome.

He can no longer ignore the pull he feels toward you—the singer who has become more than just a beautiful voice on stage. Every performance has drawn him deeper into your world, and he finds himself wanting more. He wants to know you, to understand the person behind the melodies that have captivated him so completely.

As the final notes of your current song fade, you take a small bow, the audience’s applause a warm, familiar comfort. When you lift your gaze, your eyes naturally drift to his spot, widening ever so slightly when you see him watching you with that same intense focus. There’s something different in his expression tonight, a hint of determination that makes your heart skip a beat.

When the set ends, you make your way offstage, your steps lighter than usual. As you head toward the bar for a drink, you see him rise from his table, his tall figure cutting through the smoky haze of the club. He’s coming toward you, his movements purposeful but not rushed. There’s a resolve in his stride, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation.

“Hi again,” you greet him with a smile as he approaches, leaning casually against the bar. Up close, he’s as striking as ever, his presence commanding but not overpowering. There’s a softness to his eyes tonight, a warmth that wasn’t there before. "Long time no see."

“Hello,” he responds, his voice a touch lower than usual, an embarrassed blush lightly dusting his sharp cheekbones. He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. You can see the faintest hint of nervousness in the way he briefly glances away before meeting your gaze again. “I wanted to… say something.” He hesitates, then continues, “First, I wanted to apologize for my absence after our conversation. I see how it might seem that my lack of attendance is directly related, and I want to make it clear that it wasn't."

"That's alright," you say so sweetly, your voice dripping with a honey that doesn't reach the stage. It makes him pause, that soulful tone that you sing with is so at odds with your personality it almost makes him want to enquire whether or not you are the same woman.

But he has more important things to do, like reveal his truth. "A-and also.. your voice… it moves me in ways I can’t quite explain. It’s like every note, every word carries a piece of you, and… it reaches me.”

His confession is quiet, almost lost in the low murmur of the club, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes now, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the composed exterior.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you feel a playful urge to lighten the moment. “So, does that make you my most dedicated fan?” you tease gently, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Nanami chuckles softly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. “I suppose it does,” he admits, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoicism. “I can’t seem to stay away.”

There’s a moment of shared laughter, and in that instant, the tension between you softens, replaced by a warm, unspoken connection. It’s a feeling that’s been building for weeks, and now, standing here with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you have a favorite song from my set?” you ask, curious to know more about the quiet man who seems to hang on your every word.

Without a second’s hesitation, he answers, “The ballad you sing—the one about longing and quiet devotion. It… resonates with me.”

You nod, recognizing the song he’s referring to. It’s one of your favorites too, a song filled with deep emotions, a story of unspoken love and silent yearning. His choice surprises you, but it also makes your heart flutter. There’s something incredibly personal about his answer, something that touches a place deep within you.

As the evening progresses, you prepare for the next set. Nanami returns to his table, but there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor, a subtle shift in his posture. You take the stage again, the band picking up the soft, familiar notes of the ballad he mentioned. The room falls silent as you begin to sing.

Your voice carries through the club, each note delicate and filled with emotion. As you sing, your eyes search the crowd, drawn inevitably to him. When your gaze finally meets his, it feels like the air is charged with electricity. His eyes are locked on yours, and suddenly, the song takes on a whole new meaning. It’s no longer just a performance; it’s a conversation, a silent exchange of feelings that neither of you has dared to voice until now.

The words spill from your lips with a newfound intensity, each lyric filled with the raw emotion that’s been building inside you since the moment you first saw him. The love song, once a simple ballad, now feels like a confession, a declaration wrapped in melody. You can see it in his eyes too—a depth of feeling that mirrors your own, a quiet devotion that makes your heart race.

As the final note fades into the silence, you realize that the room has disappeared, leaving just the two of you connected by the invisible thread of the music. The applause is distant, a faint echo of reality, but all you can focus on is the way he’s looking at you—as if you are the only person in the world.

In that moment, under the soft glow of the club’s lights, something shifts between you. It’s a beginning, a step into uncharted territory, but it feels right. And as you both stand there, wrapped in the warmth of the song and the quiet understanding between you, you know that whatever comes next, it’s a melody you’re both eager to explore.

It's not long before the nights at The Blue Note become something more than just performances and applause. After the crowd disperses and the lights dim, the club transforms into a sanctuary of quiet conversations and shared silences. Nanami stays longer now, his reserved demeanor softening with each passing evening. You sit together at the bar or at his usual table near the stage, sometimes talking late into the night, sometimes just sitting in a comfortable silence that says more than words ever could.

You’ve come to look forward to these moments—the way Nanami listens so intently when you speak, as if every word matters, the way his eyes soften when he catches you smiling. There’s a calm about him, a quiet strength that you find yourself drawn to more and more. He never pushes, never asks for more than you’re willing to give. Instead, he’s just… there. A steady presence that has quickly become a constant in your life.

You learn things about him in these quiet hours. He speaks of his work in vague terms, his shoulders tensing slightly whenever the topic drifts too close. But he’s open about his love for jazz, about how he finds solace in the melodies and rhythms. He tells you about the first time he heard you sing, how something inside him shifted, how he knew he would return again and again.

In return, you share pieces of yourself with him—stories of your childhood, your love for music, and how it’s the one thing that has always made you feel truly alive. You tell him about the first time you sang on a stage, how nervous you were, and how that fear melted away the moment you began to sing. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

As the days turn into weeks, an unspoken bond forms between you. It’s there in the way Nanami orders your favorite drink without you asking, in the way he waits for you to finish after every performance, ready with a quiet smile and a listening ear. It’s in the way you look for him in the crowd, your heart lifting just a little each time you find him sitting at his usual spot, watching you with that steady, unyielding gaze.

You begin to see the depth of Nanami in the little things—the way he’s always mindful of your space, the way he listens more than he speaks, and how his rare, gentle smiles are more precious than any grand gesture. He shows his affection in thoughtful ways—a book he thought you might like, a warm cup of tea on a rainy night, a steady hand at your back when you’re feeling overwhelmed.

It’s these moments, small but meaningful, that make you realize just how much he’s come to mean to you. He’s become more than just a regular at the club, more than just a face in the crowd. He’s someone you’ve come to rely on, someone whose presence brings a sense of calm and comfort that you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Tonight, the club is busier than usual, the crowd buzzing with energy. You’re back on stage, the warm glow of the spotlight casting a soft halo around you. The band starts to play the familiar opening notes of a love song, the same ballad Nanami had mentioned that night—the one filled with longing and quiet devotion. Your heart flutters with a mix of nerves and excitement. Tonight feels different, charged with a new kind of energy.

As you begin to sing, your eyes naturally seek him out. Nanami is there, as always, sitting at his usual table. But tonight, there’s no distance between you. He’s no longer just a quiet admirer in the shadows; he’s someone who knows your stories, someone who’s seen you in your most vulnerable moments. And when your gaze meets his, it’s like the whole room falls away, leaving just the two of you connected by the music.

Your voice carries through the club, each note filled with a tenderness that wasn’t there before. You sing for him now, every word an unspoken confession, every melody a shared memory. The song is more than just a performance; it’s a dialogue, a way to say all the things you haven’t yet put into words.

Nanami watches you with a quiet intensity, his eyes soft and warm. You can see the emotion there, the depth of feeling that he so rarely shows. And as you sing, you can feel it too—a warmth spreading through your chest, a sense of belonging that makes you feel more alive than ever.

The final notes of the song hang in the air, a delicate echo that slowly fades into the silence. The crowd erupts in applause, but all you hear is the quiet, steady beat of your heart, all you see is the way Nanami’s lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile.

You take a small bow, but your eyes never leave his. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent promise that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. And in that moment, under the soft lights of the club, with the music still lingering in the air, you know that you’ve found something special—something worth holding onto.

As the night draws to a close and the crowd begins to thin, you make your way off the stage, your steps light and purposeful. Nanami is waiting for you, his figure a steady presence amidst the shifting shadows. He doesn’t say anything as you approach, but his eyes speak volumes—filled with a quiet devotion that makes your heart swell.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying just above the soft hum of the remaining patrons.

“Thank you,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “For everything.”

Nanami nods, his expression gentle, and without another word, he offers you his hand. You take it, feeling the warmth of his touch, the strength of his grip—a silent promise that whatever comes next, you won’t have to face it alone.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, with the music still echoing softly around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[omisubi]

ushijima x reader. some angst, mostly fluff, suggestive content. timeskip spoilers.

plot: your long-time coworker turned friend, Kuroo, sets you up on a date with one of his finest clienteles.

To stay unattached is to keep a distance.

Ushijima Wakatoshi knows this well enough. He had gotten accustomed to it at an early age, when his parents divorced. It was pretty clear that his mom hardly wanted anything to do with him, and neither did her family.

His intention is to keep this maxim walking into the date. Though, it doesn’t deter him from being the gentleman he is, even when you show up 15 minutes late.

Your first impression of Wakatoshi is that he is a man of few words. You aren’t put off by it, however, you prefer a man that knows his points, speaks it, and waits for a response in deliberate silence. It’s endearing in its own way.

It’s endearing now, when you can’t help but find yourself staring at him. His dress shirt and pants—Armani— are tailored to fit him perfectly. You saw when he stood up to greet you, even pulling your chair out for you (swoon.) His jawline is sharp, eyes stoic, and his shoulders are so broad—

He’s turned to you with expecting eyes.

“Oh- sorry, what did you say?”

Wakatoshi clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “I said because I’ll be in Europe soon, I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”

Oh. Okay… you can work with that. You usually don’t do one-night-stands, but the longer you look at him, the more amorous you’re getting.

“I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

You perk up, realizing you haven’t given a reply. “Not at all! I’m not really interested in that either.”

A lie. You fear you are quite the hopeless romantic at heart.

As you resume to your dish, he takes a moment to watch you.

Wakatoshi might not be too well versed in pop-culture, but he has picked up a few magazines in his free time and reads enough ads to know that you’re quite the public figure yourself. Quite the vivacious one at that— according to some headlines.

He isn’t too sure of what your job is, just knows that you’ve worked alongside Kuroo for a while and recently ventured into the fashion world. Your confidence in style illuminates under the dim lamps of the restaurant: classic, chic, timeless. He hadn’t missed the wandering eyes when you walked through the door.

When Kuroo had called him during his off-season trip back to Japan, Wakatoshi had initially declined, not wanting to start something he wasn’t sure if he could finish. But, Kuroo had insisted, saying that you thought “his eyes are pretty” and wanted to see for yourself if they were olive or brown. Safe to say, he was intrigued and figured he’d quell your thirst for knowledge.

When dinner concludes after some small, but interesting talks, Wakatoshi insists he pay for the bill, and before you can deny, his card is already given to the waitress without even looking at the check.

“Thank you for dinner, Wakatoshi. It was delicious.”

“Of course.” He says as he holds the door open for you. You both walk to the marble water fountain placed in front of the parking lot. “Have you decided what color my eyes are?”

You freeze.

(“They’re definitely brown.” Kuroo assured.

“We’ll see. You didnt tell him I said anything about his eyes though did you ?”

“Not at all!” Kuroo gave his salesman smile to your glare. His two thumbs up acting as a shield from your valid accusation.

He did.)

You make a mental note to leave a scathing voicemail later.

“Oh!” You laugh, bashful, a hand coming up to rub your neck. “That….”

It appears Wakatoshi is still waiting for an definitive answer. You suppose he’s the not the type of man to tease, but still comes off just as humorous through his bluntness. It’s lovely, you think, you prefer to be the one teasing anyway. You step closer, leaning in close enough for him to feel the surface of fabric on your evening wear against his own. The string lights around the restaurant have given you both a warm, golden hue. It’s brighter out here.

“…Right now, they look olive. In the restaurant, they looked a dark brown.” Your voice is quieter now, but you’re still looking at him with that inquisitive gaze of yours. And he can’t help but study back. He scans your face and absentmindedly thinks those magazines don’t do you justice. He watches as your lips curve upwards into a small smile. “I guess it depends on the lighting, but my verdict is olive.”

Neither of you have moved, still inches apart. It feels… intimate. “What color do you say they are?”

Wakatoshi never thought about it, never really cared, but right now, he just wants to agree with you. “Olive.”

He watches as your smile grows, feeling his heart beat at a quicker pace. “Ah, I love being right.” There’s a moment of silence until you take a step back and extend your hand, “Well. Goodnight, Wakatoshi.”

Wakatoshi gives a nod, breaking out of his short-lived trance. He takes your hand, thinks your skin is some sort of magnet the way he can’t bring himself to pull away.

And before he can think clearly and go through with his plan of saying goodbye and leaving it at that to go your separate ways, he leans in closer, gently tugging you in with his hand still in yours.

You don’t move a way, instead you purse your lips as you look to his and back up at his olive eyes.

His voice is just above a whisper.

“May I… kiss you?”

He’s not sure who kisses who first after he asks. He just knows that for the following weeks, Wakatoshi sees you more than he should be. He becomes accustomed to your presence in his apartment, your smell on his bed, and the way you call him ‘toshi against his lips.

The weekend before his flight(weekends of which you usually spend the night) you don’t come over. He doesn’t play dumb at the fact that he had been the one to say it wasn’t serious in the first place. You seemed to take that to heart. He remembers the sadness in your eyes the last time you were in his home, telling him you weren’t good at goodbyes. Did you think he was?

Wakatoshi spent that weekend mulling the last few weeks over, missing you. He mentally scolds himself for letting it go this far, but how was he supposed to know his heart would cave at your simplest touch?

This kind of issue can only be resolved by talking to one person: a best friend.

And Tendou Satori rarely misses a phone call from his.

“I suppose me leaving is for the best.” Wakatoshi had rationalized, the afternoon before his flight, filling Tendou in about the heartache that is you.

“Maybe.”

“The more distance the better.”

“Ah, but Wakatoshi-kun, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?”

His flight landed in Poland around noon. Many hours on the plane, Wakatoshi decides he isn’t good at goodbyes either. He calls you when he reaches his hotel.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” His voice is caught on the air, surprised you’d picked up so quickly. “I just landed. I…I—“

To be unattached is to keep a distance. But, even thousands of miles away from you, Wakatoshi is bound, tied true to the anchor that is your voice and the mirage of your face when he hears it.

“I miss you too.”

He wants to laugh because really, it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other. Have you both grown lovesick?

“Can I see you when I get back?”

“Wakatoshi, that’s weeks— months away.” You laugh. He smiles upon hearing it. Yeah, lovesick. “Who knows what will happen by then?”

His smile is replaced by a confused frown. “What will happen?” Before you can answer, he has spoken again. “Nothing will change. For me, at least.”

You hum. A beat of silence. “‘Toshi?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be thinking about you until then.”

Wakatoshi thinks he might just fly you out and attach you to him forever.

…

(On a random weekday, Kuroo receives a box of Parisian chocolates and a typed out ‘Thank You’ card on his desk. The card flips to show a man with red hair and red eyes.)

a/n: ty for reading! long distance sucks, but this couple will make it thru :’)

[pokado8]

It’s not a want it’s a NEED he’s so fine 🙇🏾‍♀️💁🏾‍♀️

──☆*:・ﾟ✿｡ｏ♡ ──☆*:・ﾟ✿

Something you always loved about Kuro was that he was such a gentleman. He always made sure to treat you the way you deserved, making sure you knew that you were loved and appreciated. Kuro’s love was absolutely spellbinding. Being with him felt like you were transported to a five-star hotel, where you were pampered all day. He showered you in so much love, you had no room to even question whether he really liked you or not.

You noticed a little something that Kuro did when you were about to walk through a door. He always held the door open for you. But the thing is he didn't do it just to you, he did it to all females whom he saw were about to walk through a door. Little girls, teenagers, elderly ladies it didn't matter to Kuro. He’d immediately rush to the door to open it for whoever lady who was lucky enough to come across him. And you wanna know what the icing on the cake was? He always did it with a smile. He wasn't like other guys who would feel like they were forced to do it, no not Kuro, he did it with a smile. As if it was a hobby of some sort. And that made your heart melt.

The elderly ladies would always smile at him and pinch his cheek saying I never see many young men like you these days! While digging in their purse for whatever old lady candies they had in there. Then they’d turn to you with a wink and a sly expression, telling you your a very lucky young lady! He's a keeper. You would never get used to what they would say and would smile nervously while saying thank you but deep down inside you had been thinking: what would life married to Kuro be like? Shaking your head you attempted to get rid of the thought. It's far too early to think about marriage! But maybe not. You and Kuro had been together for a while so why not? Meanwhile, Kuro had heard everything the woman said before she walked away, and your face was so amusing how could he not tease you a bit? Leaning down, Kuro snaps you out of your thoughts “I don't think I mind spending the rest of my life with you, [name]~” he says teasingly while whispering in your ear. You gently pushed him back while scolding him for teasing you and sneaking up on you. His laugh rings through your ears like bells. “How could I resist?” he says with a smirk on his face. “It's just so fun to tease you” Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the front of the restaurant before opening the door for you. You looked at him before huffing and walking through the doors. “Hmph!” Kuro chuckles at your faux annoyance. You were definitely interesting.

Kuro holds doors open for you to not only show that he’s a gentleman, but also show you he loves you. Even though it’s as simple as holding your bags or helping you down a set of stairs while you wear heels. He does it with so much love because he loves you and only you.

And yeah, he might get on your nerves by putting his cold, icy hands up your shirt while you're cozy and warm in your bed, and yeah he might annoy you with his endless teasing, but you realize that maybe he's not so bad when he holds the door open to your shared house after your wedding night. Maybe he's not so bad when he leans down in his perfectly tailored tux, to give you a passionate kiss filled with so much love you think you'll get cavities. He wraps his hand around your waist which is dressed in your beautiful wedding gown, and pulls you closer to him. His touch feels almost magnetic and you can't help but get shivers down your spine when you feel it.

Yeah, he's definitely a keeper.

a/n:

Woah Im back 🫢

reblogs are appreciated!

[tumblingxelian]

How does RWBY's worldbuilding hold up for you?

Ooh fun question, and one I can answer in a short amount of time!

Long story short, yeah it holds up quite well, I don't need to make any significant leaps in logic or desperately headcanon things to compensate the way I might with some other settings.

For instance most super hero settings don't hold up to scrutiny, or present themselves consistently/coherently once they starts whipping out the more ridiculous sci-fi tech and or magic.

This isn't to say its perfect, nothing is, or that there aren't more details I'd like to see explored or various minor nitpicks I could probably pull out if I felt so inclined.

But as it is, I don't, but its not because I just love the series.

See, as much as I love world building, I do think it gets too easily used as a cudgel by bad faith critics.

Let's be real here, even some of the worlds best authors do not have Tolkein's patience to create a whole new language, & I imagine even his stuff raised questions or inconsistencies.

The absence of local languages/accents, them not explaining the praying statues in the V4 trailer don't bug me. Cos their absence is not harming the story.

Meanwhile if there's an inconsistency or question, that too is fine as they are watched enough to avoid any real issues & so I can focus on having a good time.

Hell, let's bring up ATLA, the golden calf for critics who never watched anything else in their lives without asking "Where's the Zuko though?"

Off the cuff & late at night I can name many ATLA world building issues.

The writers one hundred percent do not grasp the philosophical ideas they are trying to espouse, showing a grasp of "Letting go" almost as wrongheaded anti Jedi people.

The origins and nature of bending is inconsistent even just within the first series, being and or coming from education, gifts, blood, spirits, some combination there-of or what have you.

If we jump to Korra the Spirits themselves are weird, initially presented as physical manifestations of a given land, they instead become essentially alien invaders & stuff like the Lion Turtles, Koi, Badger moles & more are just left as ???? Plus again spiritual misunderstanding.

Or heck, one of my biggest gripes ties into the plot as well but would be the introduction of "Bad firebending" and its counterpart "Good Firebending" introduced very late in the game at season 3.

The problem with saying it was meant to be a surprise is we've seen every Bender tap into anger when bending. Toph cracks the ground, Katara broke an iceberg, Aang goes into the Avatar State, ETC.

Anger & fire was only tied to two characters, Zuko during his season 1 lashing out period & Zhao where it was specifically cited as being unique to him and something to exploit.

Worse still, we've seen people happily Firebend, Aang;s issues with Firebending comes from having too much fun, getting careless with it & accidentally burn Katara. & we have seen sad or direction-less Zuko Firebend like a champ before now.

The 'revelation' of "Good Firebending" is the wrong solution to Aang's issue cos it does nothing about fires tendency to burn, & a solution looking for a problem that had to be tailor made for it to fix & did not exist before, Zuko.

The thing is though, while I will happily harp on the last one as part of a greater collection of issues in season 3. The truth is people are not bothered by these things if they watch a show in good faith.

One doesn't even need to like a show to do this, its just part of the deal when watching fictional media that some stuff is not always going to add up perfectly.

What matters is if the writers made it interesting, feel like it fit coherently within the world and kept it consistent enough that it didn't break the story.

Which CRWBY very much do.

They created a wide, vibrant, varied and interesting world, where a multitude of stories could and do take place that can be expanded upon if one wants.

They created and kept consistent its internal logic as best as it can be conveyed to we the audience when the characters also don't know everything.

Above all they used it to tell a interesting and engaging story, where skill & strategy matter so much in combat Where its so easy to believe bandits and criminals can thrive in the wild. Where the introduction of something like the Ever After can actually fit and feel like a revelation rather than break the story!

So yeah, I really enjoy RWBY's world building :)

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Khun Chai

I did it, y’all. I watched my first lakorn, and let me tell you, I had a fucking fantastic time doing it. Now that’s not a blanket endorsement of the genre, because I understand Khun Chai aka To Sir, With Love is pretty unique, particularly in that it’s a period queer love story with a happy ending. But as a different kind of Thai drama than any I’d previously seen, it was truly a great watch.

It has some flaws, sure. It’s a soap opera, so melodrama, repetitive story beats, overdramatic acting, and slow pacing are par for the course. If you go in understanding that, you’ll be fine. And the episodes are long af but don’t be shy about increasing the playback speed - I watched a lot of it at 1.5x and it was perfectly smooth. Now that I’ve finished it, I think the time investment was totally worth it (@bengiyo my final rec - worth going back to finish! It worked better for me when I broke it up in chunks of 2-3 episodes at a time).

Without further ado, the top ten reasons I loved it:

1. TIAN MY BELOVED

Look at him. Just look at his beautiful traumatized face!! I hold that it’s impossible to watch this entire show and not come out absolutely loving this man. He is so believably flawed but at his core he is good. He is generous. He is loyal. He is brave. And he looks very good in a three piece suit.

Honestly I could do a whole top ten list just about Tian but let’s move on and give some love to the rest of the show.

2. Did I mention this is a PERIOD ROMANCE??!! Something we get so precious little of in bl. I asked @absolutebl a while back if they knew of any other Thai period bls, and this was the entire list. So good thing it’s excellent!

The show is set in the 1930s and 40s in Japanese-occupied Thailand, and it centers on a powerful Thai-Chinese family (currently leading a cooperative partnership of five families) and the power struggle over who will be the heir (Succession, but make it Asian and queer). The show digs into really interesting family structure, politics, and class struggle stuff.

3. The brotherly bond is unmatched and undefeated. The plot centers on two brothers, Tian and Yang, who love each other so much, like I cannot emphasize enough how willing these brothers are to protect and die for each other. If someone was shooting at them they would both try to dive in front of the bullet. Their bond is so touching and provides an emotional through line when the plot gets wacky.

4. The classic soap opera plots are truly brilliant, all your favorite tropes are here. This show has everything - family secrets, nefarious schemes, murderous maids, mystical poisons, faen fatales, even sex pollen! As I believe @ginnymoonbeam put it at one point - everything is happening so much all the time. It’s truly a delightful romp, especially after the halfway point when the plot machinations really kick into high gear.

5. The queer love story is the main romance and emotional heart of the show. There are actually two romances in this show - each of the brothers gets a love interest. And both of them are lovely. But rather than the typical move where a het drama features a queer side pairing, here the entire story is driven by Tian’s sexual identity, the burden placed on him to keep it a secret, and how increasingly impossible that becomes once he meets Jiu. Over the course of this show, we get to watch Tian fall in love and finally live his truth and see how that changes him. It’s truly beautiful, and the romance between Tian and Jiu is so sweet (and a bit racier than I expected - the show does not shy away from the sexual aspect of this relationship). The romance between Yang and Pin is also very sweet - they are adorable tbh - but entirely secondary.

6. Every frame of this show is absolutely gorgeous. The scenery is lush, the costumes are beautiful, the tailoring is impeccable, the hair and makeup never misses. It’s truly a feast for the eyes.

7. There are so many good female characters in this show, y’all! Tian and Yang have not one but 4 or 5 different mother figures. They are all flawed, complex, and a little nuts. They get up to so much trouble and drive a lot of the plot with their scheming, hijinks, and prolific wielding of murderous sparkle dust (don’t ask, you have to see it to understand). Pin, Tian’s would be fiancé turned sister-in-law, is a total sweetheart, but she’s also smart and fierce with a steel core and not afraid to tell her man when he’s being stupid. There’s even a lady boss at the head of one of the five families.

8. Relatedly, there is so much complex family drama in this show, and so many interesting dysfunctional parental relationships. @waitmyturtles you will have a field day when you finally get to watch this. Both brothers have fraught relationships with their various parent figures, for very different reasons. The various relationships and resentments that form between the wives and the sons in a polygamous family unit (did I mention that yet? there are three wives in the mix here and the brothers have different biological moms) are absolutely fascinating.

9. The resolution to the succession plot and ultimate defeat of the Big Bad was so satisfying. I won’t get into spoiler territory, but let me just say that the characters went through a lot together and to see the way they ultimately had to come together and let go of their baggage to survive was very cool. It felt earned.

10. IT ENDS WITH A BIG OLD HEAP OF GAY DOMESTIC BLISS!!! I will get into spoiler territory here because you deserve to know that if you put in the time to watch this show you will be rewarded with a very happy couple forming a family unit and living peacefully on their own terms. I was so pleased with this ending, I can’t even tell you. The final scenes made me cry real tears, I was so touched. And they even put a literal rainbow in the sky at the end. A literal rainbow! Come on!

Watch it, friends! It’s worth your time.

[twig-tea]

Rose's Day of Asks

Top 5 beach day scenes.

Have a great Day💜

Rose ILU this Day of Asks is supercute and also I love how you've tailored this ask to my personal interests and inability to limit myself to five choices!

Beach scenes are all about that transition, from one phase in a relationship (usually not-yet-a-relationship) to another. A good beach scene uses the beach as a metaphor even as it also highlights the beauty (and intensity) of the ocean. The ocean is for contemplating things bigger than we are, and helping us to feel humble. And the beach is a place for raw honesty.

With that in mind, there are so many to choose from because most directors get this instinctively! So I'm going with my heart and the scenes that came to me first (and ngl, that have the best gifs):

His: I Didn't Think I Could Fall in Love

I love this scene so much; the intensity in this hug is everything to me. These two kids are both so terrified of being in love with one another, and both so relieved they don't have to lose this connection they found. The ocean being the thing that first brought them together (via Shun falling in and losing his keys lol) is now looming in front of them as the thing that will separate them for a time (because they met on an island). It's not a typical beach day scene, but it's the first one I think of because of how hard this scene hits me every time. And of course I love thinking about it in the context of the very different rocky lakeside beach in the sequel film.

The Eighth Sense

The ocean was (again) what brought them together, and was also a source of trauma in the past for them both; the exchanges "why did you kiss me?" "to get past your trauma...why did you kiss me?" "to give you trauma" was iconic even before it became Too Real. I love how the ocean is a looming presence in this entire story; the trauma from both of their childhoods looms even on campus, it's there as a soundtrack to their vulnerable conversations, and of course it's in the background of their first sexual encounter. When Ji Hyun acts out the 'two steps forward one step back' with Jae Won before Jae Won finally breaks and admits he wants to be with Ji Hyun, that movement is like a wave relentlessly washing up on shore. Anyway! This entire series is an ocean scene to me.

Blueming

SiWoon's first kiss by the water going so poorly, the brief sulk, and then DaUn initiating this re-do moment?! Whew. In terms of standard "beach scene" fare, this ranks highly at the top for me because of the second take at a first kiss. I love a realistic 'oh wait it's my first time so I'm actually not very good at it' moment. This also comes after the first time they've really talked and listened to one another; plus it comes with a bonus "blinding light of love" visual. Love it.

Until We Meet Again

Is there anything more iconic than this scene? The double confession; the flirting; the lift; playing in the water; the kiss. These two were so desperate for an escape and this scene was real catharsis. And of course this dialogue; Intouch insisting that in order to get through what is to come, they'll need each other. Heartbreaking considering we know what they both do not long after this. It becomes almost a curse for their reincarnated lives--you won't be happy until you have me with you. AND THEN WE GET THE PROPOSAL SCENE that perfectly parallels this one, between Dean and Pharm in Between Us the series. The only thing I love more than a beach scene is a beach parallel. Speaking of which....

Last Twilight in Phuket

How do I choose only one beach scene from this set of shows? There are so many; I love all of them so much. So many from ITSAY: The hammock scene; the scene on Their Beach where Teh and Oh-Aew play the most tension-filled game of chase I've ever seen; the float and underwater kiss; the post-kiss blow-up; the conversation they have when Teh first reappears in Oh's life and Oh says he isn't sure he can be close to Teh again (!)...and then of course in IPYTM the scene where they reunite and agree to try again. But I'm going with LTIP because of all the symbolism they wrapped up in this scene. Teh and Oh-Aew try to go to their beach but it's closed, they need to instead go to the public beach, and so their goodbye is imperfect. We get to see the way they are both so much more comfortable being in pubilc and visibly together than they were in I Told Sunset About You--this is something they both had to work on for different reasons. They're both struggling with having to say goodbye, because they'll be going to different universities. They also know they're leaving Phuket and they talk about how by the time they come back, Phuket will have changed. This moment at the beach bridges their childhood and adulthood, and is so symbolic of life as ever-changing and those changes being impossible to stop.

Gameboys the movie

Speaking of beach scenes that aren't about getting together; this was a particularly good moment because it was not about establishing their relationship it was about reaffirming it/cementing the strength of their bond in the face of separation. I loved that they go out there ostensibly to spend time together and get away from the crowded house but it's also a way for them to have the scary looming conversation about separation. I love so much how good this show is about real conversations, and this one felt so real. The way they talked about not holding one another back, and how they could make it long distance, and what that would look like for them in future...it made me so happy. Gav and Cai looking at the possibility of long distance as doable and not an immediate obvious need to break up was such a breath of fresh air after so many noble idiot plots that all rely on the assumption that long distance is not doable. ANYWAY also this scene is just really pretty.

Life~Love on the Line

This one is so interesting because it was the moment Ito convinced himself he couldn't stay with Nishi. Technically this is the morning-after-the-beach-day but I'm counting it because it's such a unique version of the beach day; in this case, the truth Ito thought he was facing was that he and Nishi had no future--rather than seeing the blinding light of love for what it is facing his own fears head on, he closed his eyes and embraced them, and ruined years of their lives. This scene is an important reminder that the beach is not an infallible relationship panacea! It is your (the character's) responsibility to bring the right energy to it or it may lead you astray.

Bad Buddy

Pat and Pran at the eco-village finally with a moment to themselves, admitting to one another that they feel most free when they're together. This is the first time they acknowledge to one another that the situation they're in is bullshit; that they actually do like one another's company, and that maybe there is a possibility that this thing could actually work between them, if they try for it. I loved this scene so much as a turning point for them, and the way it keeps pulling in and out so we get these close-ups of Pat and Pran, and then the camera pulls away and we see how small they are. The perspective in this moment is so important. As is the hand touch (whew).

Theory of Love

This is one of my favourite twists on the beach scene: Khai goes to the beach alone because he has to figure himself out. He's not at the stage where he's ready to have an honest conversation with Third yet, first he needs to have an honest conversation with himself and realize his own feelings. He has a good, open conversation with someone he hurt in the past in order to figure himself out in the present and pave way for his future with Third. And then we get the bestie trip when all of them go together, which was delightful.

Bonus gif because I don't have enough shots of group friend trips in this list and it's so important to me that after this solo trip Kai comes back with everyone:

Your Name Engraved Herein

This beach scene is crushingly painful. Birdy and Jia Han go as far as they can to scream their frustrations into the sea, have a moment of freedom, but with the knowledge they can't have any more than this and will be saying goodbye afterwards. It's the most devastating truth of all of these faced at the beach: They can't be together in this time and place.

Bed Friend

The silhouettes are iconic; I love the way body language was used for these shots. And the way it felt like King was finally, slowly getting Uea to see him as a dating prospect in these moments? Really beautifully done.

Be My Favorite

Including this scene because it is one of the few beach scenes that leads to a rejection (of course the show then fixes this later with a parallel scene at the end, my beloved). I loved this anti-beach moment; rather than going to the beach to face hard truths, Pisaeng (and then following him, Kawi) went to the beach to hide from the truth. But the beach doesn't work that way and Kawi had to face hard truths after all, including the truth that in this universe he ends up losing Pisaeng from his life entirely because of the way he treated him. The line "you want to get in the water but are afraid of getting wet?" from Pisaeng to Kawi was so heavily loaded with meaning. Perfection.

The Day I Loved You

This was such a beautiful gesture, especially from a high school boy. Including this as an iconic beach scene because it both does what a beach scene should do (get the characters to face hard truths, be honest, and progress in their relationship) and was intentionally meant to invoke a trip to the ocean (they're freediving!) at home for Nikko so I don't even feel like it's cheating.

Night Dream

The show wasn't perfect but the way they paced the reveals about their past with the flashbacks was good storytelling and the tension in this beach scene was palpable over several episodes!

The Eclipse

This conversation between Akk and Ayan made me cry. The entire sequence, driving out with Ayan as an interloper, hiding from the The World Remembers crew and their boyfriends, Ayan being so worried about Akk because he is so on alert for suicidality, and Akk just doesn't know how to face any of it. Ayan telling Akk "you're allowed to be weak" broke me. Luckily the beach is here to help facilitate personal growth. [Also have to shout out again the reciprocal beach scene where Akk then says the same thing back to Ayan, my beloved]

Love Sick

I love them your honour. AUGH. Honestly, the Love Sick scene that always comes to mind is the night before this when Noh is dancing on the stage whipping his hoodie around his head and Pun is watching him fondly, but this moment afterward in the quiet of the morning, when they've agreed to have just this moment of truth by the sea and then go back to their lives, is so beautiful (especially your gif of it Rose!). This is another melancholy one, where they're coming to the sea to admit that they want what they can't have, and giving it to themselves anyway for one night (little did they know, they were going to fail at abstention lol). The longing is so palpable between these two in these scenes, so much good tension.

My School President

Gotta have at least one scene with the whole crew! What i love about this beach outing is that the hard truth they were facing was not about whether or not they cared about one another, but how to tell people and when--and this is one of the reasons why it's important it's a group trip, because that decision affects the whole group. And look at this gif, it is perfection. These kids are puppies! I love them.

3 Will Be Free

Talking about group dynamics reminded me of this iconic moment. It's not quite a beach day trip in the traditional sense because they're on the run etc. and this is night time, but it's very personal to me. The sea said make it poly, so they did.

Never Let Me Go

Can't talk about one of Jojo's series without bringing up this other one. Listen, I know that its placement in the series was...oddly timed [I think my mother might be dead, let's go to the beach and frolic]. But this is one of the most beautifully shot and colour graded sequences, and for aesthetic reasons alone it is on my list! Sometimes I am but a simple bisexual (which is also why I'm using this shot from the BTS rather than one from the show, even though there are so many pretty ones to choose from). Speaking of!

BONUS GL addition:

Lulu

Gotta have at least one song! This entire GL takes place at a beach house so the whole thing is pretty much beach or beach-adjacent scenes but this one where they are flirting and then sing together was a good turning moment for them; and of course it calls back to when they first met (where Abi saves Sophie from drowning) and also parallels the end credits scene. I was so here for how thirsty Sophie was as soon as Abi showed up, and this beach scene is one of the places where this played out most memorably to me.

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 11: Bloodthirst (Part 3)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta reader and funnyman, @appelsiinilight

In this chapter: Thistle forgot the most important rule of a hive.

***

They decided it was a good idea to put up the enchantment Marcy had on her necklace around the entire perimeter of the house.  They’d put up a fence after all, and what had once been an interesting novelty was turning out to be shockingly useful.  Thistle wouldn’t have known Auburn was coming if Marcy hadn’t happened to leave her necklace on the table that night.

They made a day out of it.  Moon was the one who had to do the most work, and although he clearly hated working hard he did love to be the center of attention.  They had him replicate the glowing enchantment on every individual bulb of several strings of Christmas lights, which would then be wound around the perimeter of the house.

They set up a workstation, with Moon seated cross-legged and Severa nearby to pull the lights so they would appear on his lap one by one.  He crossed his hands over every individual light to imbue it with the charm.  Marcy wound the lights up and provided new strings when they made enough progress, and also provided general moral support.

Moon playfully announced that he was using so much magic he needed to replenish it, which Thistle did by kissing Moon and allowing him to drain some.  Eventually the requests became less playful and more cranky as Moon clearly wore down.  By the time he took his tailored suit off because he was sweating and running out of energy, Severa decided to join in and let him kiss her as well.  He was so tired he didn’t even add any flare to it.  He couldn’t even pull her in for it, because she was so much larger than him; he had to settle for her leaning down over him.  

By the end, he lay panting on the ground, splayed out and thoroughly wrung-out.  “Thistle, tell me I did a good job.”

“You did great.  You’re the star of the show.”

“Damn right I am.”

Marcy started to wind the lights around the porch banister.  It was glowing soft white because of the presence of Moon, Thistle, and Severa on the porch with her, but the others nearby in the living room were surely powering it as well.  “It’s starting to get a little bit crowded in the house.  I never thought I would say this, but do you think we might need more room?”

Truly the magical denizens of the house didn’t take up that much space themselves, but they were starting to run out of room on the floor of the living room for more little wooden houses.  Maybe while they were doing infrastructure additions, they could see to that.

“Maybe.”  Thistle monitored Marcy’s placement of the lights.  “Auburn seems perfectly happy to just hang from the pull-up bar.”  Auburn seemed to be afraid to take up any space.  Marcy had actually bumped into him a few times, his furry body smacking her in the face as she rounded the corner to use the doorway, forgetting that he was there.  He’d always break down into a stream of panicked apologies, thoroughly convinced it was his own fault.  “Although… I’m starting to sense a pattern here.  We should… maybe be prepared for others to show up unannounced.”

“Yeah.”  Marcy sat back on her knees.  “It’s exciting, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also a little… worrying?  If word has gotten out… somehow… that everyone’s congregating here… who knows what’s going to turn up next?”

It was a daunting prospect, though definitely an exciting one, too.  “Yeah.”

***

They got the answer about who was going to turn up next soon enough.

They were trying to do a pixie pile again, but Auburn’s voice interrupted their sleep.

“Please leave.  Please.”  He was whispering it.

Thistle rolled over and noticed the lights visible on the front porch were glowing red.  Apparently they’d put them up just in time, a few hours before a threat would show up.

Great.

He stuck his head out and saw Auburn up on the pull-up bar, and now there was a second bat hanging next to him.  This one was significantly bigger.

Oh.  Oh, yeah, Auburn was definitely a runt.

“Who’s that?” said the second bat.

“That’s Thistle,” Auburn said miserably.

“Your little friend.”

“Don’t–don’t touch him.”

The second bat let go and swooped down, wings contracting down into arms as she landed.  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Auburn followed, looking very nervous.  “Seriously, don’t.  Please.”

“How did you get in?” Thistle asked, having a bad feeling.

“There’s a hole in the eaves of the roof,” Auburn said quietly.  “We can, um, fix it up tomorrow.”

“I dunno, I think you should leave it,” the new bat said.  “Auburn, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“This is, um.  This is my mother, Dusk.”

“I followed his scent trail here and how surprised I was to find my little boy with such a well-stocked household!  Imagine a runt like you with such a bounty, Auburn!”

Electric fear surged through Thistle.  He suddenly remembered all the instinctual, decades-old fear about leading predators back to the hive he’d been managing to suppress recently.

Auburn had led a predator back to the hive, even if it was his own family.

Maybe it wasn’t that.  Maybe Dusk was nice.  Maybe he just needed to give her a chance. 

Thistle shakily got to his feet.  “Um, hi.  I’m Thistle.”

“Hi, Thistle.”  Dusk grabbed Thistle by the front of his pajama shirt and hoisted him into the air. Thistle yelped with fear, feet dangling.

“Stop!” Auburn cried.

“You’re a runt, Auburn.  You exist to make use of our leftovers.  Not to sit in luxury like this.  If you manage to get prey, you're supposed to bring it back to the colony for everyone, not keep it for your own greedy ass.  I know I taught you better than that.”

Auburn shied away, tears pooling in his eyes.  But luckily he didn't need to do anything.

Moon appeared from the house, shirtless and in pajama pants but spitting mad.  He clamped a hand on Dusk’s wrist.

“Try it,” Moon said through gritted teeth.  “See what happens.”

Dusk scoffed at him.  “Is a fairy trying to threaten me?  I hunt your kind for-”

Moon’s hand started to glow red hot.  Dusk yelped and dropped Thistle, yanking her arm back. A few stray hairs went up in smoke.

Moon curled his hand into a claw and manifested a dancing flame in his palm.  “I’m sure you’ll find me harder to hurt than your usual prey.  Teddy and Colin have been oh-such-gracious hosts, so I’d really rather not burn their house down.  But I will if you force me to.  I'm feeling dangerous tonight.”

Dusk and Moon stared at each other with hatred.

“You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Dusk snarled.  “Do you even know what vampires are capable of?  Bow to me, thrall.”

Moon flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

Dusk exploded.  “What the fuck?  You’re supposed to be hypnotized!  You’re supposed to be mind controlled!  Why can’t you act like proper prey!”

“I know a thing or two about hypnosis,” Moon growled.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to try that on an easier target.”

“Please, Mama,” Auburn pleaded.  “Please just go home and don’t come back.”

“Like hell I am!  You expect me to just-”

“Jax, go get Marcy,” Thistle whispered as they argued.  No way he could shout loudly enough to wake her from here.

Pixie-Jax spread his wings and took off, but as he leapt over Dusk, she grabbed him by the ankle and slammed him back down.  “I’m not leaving here until I’ve had my fill!”

Dusk gripped Jax by the hair and sunk her teeth into his neck.  Everyone squawked in alarm.  Moon reached for her with his hot hand again, and she dropped Jax and hopped back.

“It would be best for all of us if you just went,” Moon said.

Dusk bared her fangs at him, but she did back up.  Moon held his flame out.  Dusk made a motion like she was going to go for Jax again, but Moon crab walked and moved the open flame between them.

“Fine!” Dusk shouted.  She snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground.  “Auburn, come on.”

Auburn hugged closer to Moon and shook his head.

“You selfish, greedy boy, come here.  We have some things to discuss.”

Auburn leaned into Moon’s shoulder, frozen in fear.  Moon maintained the flame in his hand, eyes narrowing at her.

“Leave,” Moon repeated.

Dusk grit her teeth.  “Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me.”

Her form exploded into a bat, and she flew away on leathery wings, tittering angrily, disappearing up into the upper floor and then into the attic.

Severa’s scaly head peeked out over the top of her wooden house.  “What’s going on out there?” she said sleepily.

Thistle stood from where he’d been cowering at Moon’s feet, shaking with fear and burying his face in Moon’s chest fluff.

“You’re all right,” Moon said, stroking his hair.

“Thank you for-for not letting her hurt me.”

“I would never.”  Moon planted a kiss on top of his head.  “I'm the only one who gets to enjoy how delicious you are."

Thistle held his hand down to help Jax back up. "Are you okay?"

Jax looked appropriately shaken, hand clamped over his neck. "Um...Yeah. Thanks."

"Auburn, darling," Moon said tightly. "You said there’s a hole in the eaves of the roof?  Perhaps when Marcy wakes up we can make sealing that shut our first priority.” 

***

Thistle cursed as his pencil lead snapped, rolling over the paper he’d been using to write.  He’d been making some updates to the guest book and figured he could add Dusk in too. Just to keep track.  But he’d been making a rough draft before writing in the actual guest book, and he was glad now.  Dusk didn’t deserve an entry in the guest book.

“We just need to find Violet and Petunia,” Marcy’s voice echoed above him.

“I’m sorry, Thistle.”  Auburn stood nearby, nervously wringing his hands.  “I’m sorry.  Please don’t kick me out.  I didn’t mean to bring her here.  I didn’t tell her anything.  She just found my scent.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thistle said stormily.  He picked up the nub of lead and continued to write unkind things about Dusk.  Why couldn’t she just be nice, like Auburn?  Why did she have to make him debate whether he had to kick people out for leading predators here?  He wasn’t a Mother; he wasn’t equipped for making those kinds of decisions.

“The borrowers,” Marcy said again.  “They’re the only ones missing.  We need to gather them up.”

Someone finally heard Marcy and took pity on her.  “I will go look for them,” Severa offered.

While she moved off, Marcy sighed and knelt next to Thistle.  “Okay, Jewel’s here, obviously, and you and Jax–both of hims–Moon, Marigold, Auburn.  Severa is going to get Violet and Petunia.  Trilloras is in the yard… I don’t think we can move her, but she should be okay, right?”

Auburn lowered himself down to the floor by her knee.  “I don’t think Dusk will go after the dryad.”

“Okay–you’re sure?”

“She…”  Auburn swallowed, trying to figure out a tactful way to say it.  “She doesn’t smell like prey.  It would be like drinking sap, not blood.”

Marigold tugged on Thistle’s sleeve.  “She won’t hurt Córva?”

“Auburn said she wouldn’t go after something that big, especially if she wouldn’t get any magic out of it.”

“Yeah,” Marcy said.  “I’m more worried about all of you in here.”  She was relieved when Severa slithered back out of the wall, Violet in her arms and Petunia sitting on her shoulders.  Marcy had been half-afraid Dusk had already gotten to them.  “Okay.  That’s everyone, then.”

The tiny creatures all crowded towards her.

“What’s the plan, Thistle?” Marigold said.  “There’s a threat.”

“Marigold is asking what the plan is,” Thistle said, when nobody answered him.

“Umm…”  Marcy had panicked and frantically run around collecting all the creatures to make sure none of them went missing–Auburn’s mother could conceivably be a threat to any of them, except maybe Severa.  She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to what they’d do after that.  “I guess… we’ll all just stay together in case she comes back?”

“What!” Violet said, tail sticking up.  “You want me to stay outside the walls?  How long?  An hour?  Two?”

“I mean…I don’t know?  It’s for safety.  We don’t know when she’s going to come back.”

“I’m sorry,” Auburn wept.  “I’m sorry.”

“All right, it’s okay, Auburn,” Marcy soothed.  “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s not okay,” Thistle snapped.  Though in English, so Auburn didn’t know what he was saying.  “He led a predator to us.  That’s not okay.”

Marcy gathered Thistle up in her hands.  “Sweetheart, I’m here to protect you all.  She can’t pose a threat to me, surely?”

Thistle crossed his arms and sat down, pouting.  “I guess.”

“I’m just trying to say we don’t have to always follow that rule.  There’s a gray area.”

Thistle picked at the hem of his shirt.  Marcy was right, of course.  Hell, Thistle had broken the “don’t lead predators back home” rule himself, when that damnable human from the internet had come to stalk him, and that had turned out okay.  But it still felt…. Bad.  Like a betrayal.  Like Auburn didn’t care enough.

This in spite of the fact that Auburn wouldn’t stop hysterically apologizing, clearly devastated and terrified at the danger he’d caused.  And that he was visibly afraid of his own mother, something which twisted Thistle’s heart and made his feelings even more complicated. 

Thistle opened his little wooden house up for everyone to stay in as an emergency shelter, although Violet and Petunia opted to go into Severa’s house instead.  Marcy scooted the houses close together and kept them on the dining room table, next to Jewel’s fishtank, standing guard.

Auburn hung from the pull-up bar, heavy bags under his eyes, unable to sleep.  “I’m sorry, Marcy.  I didn’t mean to upset Thistle.  Thank you for not kicking me out.”

Marcy gave him a sad smile.  “Of course.  Hey, do you want to be held?”  She held out her hand.  “It’s okay to say no, but some people like it.”

Auburn detached himself from where he was roosting and swooped down into Marcy’s hand, hugging himself to it.  He felt warm and fuzzy, and Marcy could feel his erratic little heartbeat. 

“Thistle knows you didn’t do it on purpose.  He just has a lot of anxiety about predators.”

Auburn turned his head down into Marcy’s palm, and she felt small tears wetting her skin.  She reached out with a finger and gently rubbed his fuzzy little head, between his ears.  He leaned into it.

“This is such a dreadful atmosphere.”  It was Moon, leaning against the doorframe of Thistle’s wooden house.  “You’d think we were all taking shelter from a bomb, rather than a single vampire we’ve already scared off.”

Marcy put Auburn down in her lap.  “We don’t know when she’s going to come back.  I just–I don’t want anything to happen to any of you.”

“Pssh.”  Moon strolled along the table, swinging his cane in a loop.  “But do we have to spend our time waiting huddled in fear?”

“I guess not,” Marcy admitted.  “What do you want to do?  Watch TV?”

Moon scoffed.  “TV.  Is that all you humans are good for?  Come now, your kind has survived without TV for millenia.  We have better things to do, surely.”

“You watch TV too,” Thistle’s voice said from inside his wooden house, and Thistle crawled forward, still under his blanket.  “You like that TV show we were watching about vampires.”

Moon used his cane to pull Thistle’s hair in front of his face, obscuring his vision, and Thistle frowned.  “Not when we have such a conglomeration of interesting creatures,” Moon announced.  “I’m sure we can think of something more… physical.”

“Moon!” Thistle chided. 

“I’m merely talking about dancing, Thistle.  When was the last time you were in a group of people who were all dancing, hm?”

Thistle rose to his knees, pushing his hair out of his face.  “Not since I was with my family, I guess.”

“Well, come on then!”  Moon began running his hands in a circular motion in the air, and Thistle watched in amazement as smoke wafted from his fingers and started to solidify in the air.  It writhed and curled into a rough oval, at which point Moon started drawing his fingers in a straight line up and down the top.  It wasn’t until the strings appeared under his pointer finger that Thistle realized that he was pulling a stringed instrument out of thin air.

Moon always had another surprise up his sleeve, didn’t he?

“Whaaaaaaat?” Marcy said.  “Moon, you can do that?”

“Only with a lyre, sweetheart,” Moon said.  “It’s my instrument of choice.”  He grabbed the lyre by its side and yanked it out of the cloud of smoke, which swirled around him.  Its physical form kept a shimmering, quasi-ethereal visage about it, and the strings twanged with a strange, otherworldly echo under his fingers.  “What sort of siren would I be if I couldn’t lure people in?”

The others had started to poke their heads out the window to watch him.

“Come on!  Come on!”  Moon grabbed Thistle by the hand and spun him around, bouncing and encouraging him to follow along as he strummed the strings.

Petunia dashed out of Severa’s house, cartwheeling around and screaming in glee.  Moon put on a grimacing smile at the noise.  “Now, Petunia, have you ever tried singing?”

“No!” she yelled.  “Show me, show me!”

Violet crept out to follow Petunia as Moon started signing up and down a solfège with impressive vocal range.  That was all the cue Jax needed to sprint out with both their bodies and start dancing.  The pixie body grabbed Thistle, while the borrower body grabbed Violet, who looked unhappy about that.  “Whazzat?”

“Jax has got the spirit!” Moon sung out.  “Come on, everyone!”

What Jax’s dancing lacked in skill it made up for in enthusiasm.  Pixie-Jax moved with a sort of side-to-side motion while holding both of Thistle’s hands, while Borrower-Jax mostly tugged on Violet to try and get her to move with any semblance of happiness. 

Auburn peered at Moon with watery eyes, and Moon waved him over.  Auburn’s face split into an expression of delight and he hopped over.

Moon let go of the lyre, and it simply hovered in the air, continuing to play itself, maintaining the same beat that Moon was still singing to.  Moon took both of Auburn’s hands and started some sort of boogie that involved a lot of steps, which Auburn admirably tried to copy. 

Severa slithered out, bodying Borrower-Jax out of the way to take Violet’s hand instead.  Violet suddenly found some enthusiasm for dancing, then, twirling around Severa, who was mostly limited to serpentine waves for motions.

Marcy giggled with delight and put her hand down on the table, two fingers down like legs walking around.  Thistle and Jax came over and circled around it, treating it like a third dancer.

Borrower-Jax had stacked on top of Pixie-Jax’s shoulders, and Moon passed Auburn off to Severa to treat their stack as a single dancer, swaying around them.

Thistle noticed Marigold sitting quietly off to the side and suddenly felt very bad.  He dashed over and crouched down.  “Marigold, do you want to dance?”

Marigold looked down at his feet.  “I’m not sure.”

“Did the vet say it was OK to start doing that kind of stuff?”

He nodded unsurely.  “She said I can do light physical activity if I’m careful, but she said my muscles are probably… atrophied.  From not being able to use them.”

“Do you want to try?  If it’s too hard, you can stop.  I’ll hold your hand.”

Marigold looked to everyone else up and about, then nodded.

Thistle took his hands and helped him stand up, and Marigold hobbled over to the center of the dance floor.  Moon twirled Jax to get them out of the way, then fluttered around like Marigold were a noteworthy celebrity.  “There he is, everyone!  Make way, make way!”  He repeated the announcement in Pixish, at which point Marigold giggled.

Ah, there it was.  Thistle had missed his brother’s smile.

Marigold was slow and unsure on his feet.  Thistle had to catch him several times to make sure he didn’t fall, and he occasionally grimaced as he hit some point of pain.  Thistle went slow, never letting go of him, overjoyed to be here in this moment, resolving to never take anything for granted ever again.

“Let’s pick up the pace now!”  Moon swung back over to the lyre and danced his fingers across the strings, getting the music up to a faster tempo, then started clapping.  A few of them got the idea and started clapping along.

“Jewel!” Thistle shouted with glee.  “Jewel, come on!”

Jewel had been watching them all with his elbows propped up on the rim of the fish tank.  “I’m good,” he said.

“Jewel!” Thistle pleaded desperately.  “Jewel!  Jewel!”

Jewel rolled his eyes and sank down into the tank.  At first Thistle was disappointed, before he realized it was to give himself some room to gain speed and pump his tail.  He breached the surface of the water and soared in an impressive arc across the entire length of the fishtank, doing a few twirls along the way.

The creatures on the table all cheered, almost drowned out by Marcy’s clapping.

“Now we’re doing it!” Moon shouted over the mounting noise.  “Let’s go!  Let’s go!” 

He tripped on his bad foot and fell forward, landing flat on his face.

Thistle gasped and rushed over.  “Are you okay?”

Moon laughed and used his cane to push himself up to his knees.  “Don’t stop!  Don’t stop, everyone!  Keep going!”

Thistle held his hand out to help Moon up.  Moon instead used it to pull him down, and Thistle face-planted into his chest fluff.  It was nothing they hadn’t done before, but Thistle still blushed all the same.

Moon hopped up, tossing Thistle into the air.  Thistle buzzed his wings, giggling, and Moon swung him around when he came back down and tossed him at Auburn.  Auburn’s eyebrows shot up and he rushed over to catch Thistle, who continued giggling over the music and singing and clapping and laughing and the swelling of love and magic in the air.

Catching on to the game, Auburn tossed Thistle over to Severa, who simply manhandled him to spin him back around and lobbed him at Moon.

Moon caught him and spun, Thistle’s streak of black hair streaming behind him.  Moon was laughing, too, bigger and happier than Thistle had ever heard before.  Thistle put his hands on his shoulders, manic with the energy of the gathering.

They hadn’t kissed much since Thistle found out what Moon was.  They’d been doing mostly just platonic cuddling and sleeping in the same bed sometimes.  That suited Thistle just fine, and Moon seemed content to accept whatever attention Thistle would give him, resolved to start living differently without complaint.

But here now, in his arms, with how much ambient excitement there was, the music, it felt different.  Different than the circumstances of their other kisses, certainly.

Their flushed faces were millimeters apart, staring at each other wide-eyed.

Thistle leaned in and kissed him.

Moon dipped him down, leaning into it.  Everyone cheered and went wild, including Marcy, clapping and cheering.

Flustered, flushed, and overwhelmed, Thistle blushed fiercely and opened his eyes again.  Moon set him upright, and they stared wide-eyed at each other for a moment.

“Was that okay?” Moon said, suddenly sounding unsure.

“Yeah,” Thistle rushed to clarify.  “Yeah.  That was.  Wow.”

Moon’s face morphed into a wolfish grin.  “Well, now you’ve had your first real kiss.”

Thistle went red and hid his face.

Jax, ever eager to copy whatever was going on, came over to try and kiss Moon as well.  “Ah,” Moon said awkwardly.  “Maybe later, okay?”

Thistle bashfully hid his face in Moon’s chest.  Moon chuckled and petted his hair.  “Well, how was it?”

“Good,” Thistle squeaked.

“Good.  How about we coerce Marcy into bringing some snacks over, hm?  Wouldn’t be a real party without them.”

The string of lights on the porch, which had been glowing lime green this whole time, suddenly changed to bright, dangerous red.

The mood shifted immediately.  Marcy scooped Jax up and tossed both his bodies into Thistle’s house.  “Everyone inside!  Inside!  I’ll handle this!”

Severa snatched Violet and Petunia up in the blink of an eye and disappeared into her house.  Thistle rushed over to help Marigold get back in, and Moon spread his wings over them to shield them as they moved in.  Jewel flipped the lid of the tank shut and huddled down in his anemone.

Auburn stayed on the table, ears flat against his head.  “Marcy, I want to help.”

Well, Marcy could probably use the help of a friendly Pixish-speaker.  Her language skills were still a bit rough–although they were definitely getting better now that her full-time job was to stay home and interact with Thistle. “Okay,” she said, nodding.

Auburn flapped up onto the leg of the couch.  “I froze up earlier.  I freeze when she yells at me.”

“If you need support, you can jump into my hand again.”

Auburn jumped into the hand immediately after she said that, hugging her thumb.

The bat showed up a few minutes later–evidently she had been scouting in the kitchen, because she came from that direction.  She squeaked and crawled across the ceiling.

“We don’t have to fight,” Marcy said.  “We can just talk.”

Dusk shifted and dropped down, alighting on a lamp.  “Auburn,” she hissed.  “Auburn.  I know I taught you better than to let yourself be seen by giants.”

“You’re also being seen by giants,” Auburn offered.

She twitched her ears.  “Only because you’ve already–Auburn, we have to move the whole colony now!  You know that!”

“Then move it and leave us alone!”  Auburn clung to Marcy, as if scared by his own outburst. 

“You are such a brat.”  Dusk swooped down and stood on the desk, gradually getting closer.  “You are always such a disappointment.  You even abandoned your family.”

“You stopped feeding me!” Auburn protested tearfully.  “I had to!”

“Just because prey became scarce, and we were all suffering, and you-”

“Mama, I was so hungry!  All the time!”

“You are supposed to accept what you are given and be happy with that!  Not–whatever this is!”

A final swoop brought Dusk on top of one of the wooden houses on the coffee table.  Marcy’s eyebrows raised, unsure of if she should intervene just yet.  As a rule, she wanted the magical creatures to work things out amongst themselves unless they truly needed her help, especially after what happened with Moon–and maybe Auburn deserved the chance to resolve this with her support, rather than her butting in on his behalf.

The point turned out to be moot, though.  Because Dusk had happened to land on Severa’s house.  Her yellow eyes and scaly head peeked out over the top of the wooden house, behind Dusk’s ankles.

“If you won’t bring them home then I’ll just take them,” Dusk snarled.

“I can’t even begin to describe how much that is not happening.”

Dusk whirled around to look at Severa with wide eyes as the naga hauled herself up onto the roof.

“Gods below, what on earth is that thing?” Dusk said.

“That’s a naga,” Auburn said.  “She’s nice.”

“I’m considerably less nice to predators threatening my friends.”

Dusk’s face gradually took on more and more alarm as more and more of Severa’s length emerged from where she’d been hiding.  “Well–Well, whatever.  I don’t need you to be nice to me.”

“Mama, please,” Auburn said tearfully.  “I love you.  But I can’t save you if you keep acting like this.”

“Your audacity, son,” Dusk said.  “Can’t you ever shut up?  It’s always something with you.”

Severa’s mouth split in a frightening hiss.  “You are the audacious one.  You treat children as disposable things for you to budget and invest in.”

She lunged, and Dusk took to the air to get away from her claw.  “You fool!” Severa shouted.  “You ingrate!  You squander what you have!”

“What’s your problem?” Dusk said.

Severa crouched down and rubbed her hand on the ground rapidly–the motions she’d adapted her anti-gravity magic to use one-handed.  “You miserable bitch.”

Her hair floated as gravity released her, and she coiled and sprung up, lunging at Dusk.  The vampire dodged out of the way easily and then laughed.

“If you want to fight, then let’s,” Dusk said.  “By all means.”

Severa landed back on the ground, glaring at Dusk.

“You’re mine, thrall.”  It was the same magic-laden voice she’d tried on Moon earlier.  Except Severa, unlike Moon, had no experience with hypnosis magic.  She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and faraway.

Dusk looked smug.  “You see?  Even with-”

Just as Marcy was starting to once again get ready to intervene, Auburn shifted and threw himself at Dusk, crying and screaming.  The two tangled in the air, chittering and scratching each other with their claws.

Severa shook off the spell she’d been placed under, and oh boy was she steaming mad now.  She repeated her own spell and launched into the air again.  Dusk, this time weighed down by her son valiantly attacking her, couldn’t get out of the way in time and Severa’s heavy body hit her like a train.

All three of them hit the ground.  Severa took a second to yank Auburn out of her coils and toss him away before slamming her coils shut around Dusk’s body, squeezing all the air out of her before she could issue another command to enthrall anyone.

“You will not disturb the peace of this place,” Severa said, sides heaving with enraged hisses.  “What you are going to do is go back to your colony and tell them to steer well clear of this place.”  Her coils writhed, and Dusk let out a squeak as her bones creaked, threatening to break.  “Because if I see you again, or any of your kin, at this place, I will crush your lungs and break your jaw before you can dare to presume to control me with your magic again.  Understand?”

Dusk nodded vigorously, eyes bulging.

“You do not have a son anymore.  You will forget about him, and you will go back to your colony and tell them to move and to not hunt here anymore.”

Dusk nodded again, straining to breathe.

“Go.  You have thirty seconds to clear our nest.”

She loosened her grip, and Dusk coughed and staggered away, shifting back into a bat and taking off, disappearing into the ceiling with one last curse muttered under her breath.

Auburn lay collapsed on the floor, dazed and bleeding but not seriously hurt.  Marcy crouched down and cupped her hands around him.  “Hey, you did great.”

Auburn hugged her hand.  The rest of the critters started poking their heads out of the shelters.

Still breathing heavily, Severa slithered over to Auburn.  “Marcy is right.  No one should ever have to talk to their mother that way.”

Auburn’s ears drooped.  “Thank you for–Well, thank you.”  A pause.  “When you said… she doesn’t have a son anymore…?”

Severa looked him up and down, then shrugged and gestured to the house.  “Free son.”

Auburn went red, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Thistle walked over, petting Auburn’s shoulder.  “She’s right.  I’m sorry your family treats you that way.  I can’t even imagine if my mother treated me like that.”  His heart hurt thinking about his own Mother–about how he’d left, if he’d actually needed to leave to keep them safe, if Mother would have accepted him back… No, best not to go down that rabbit hole again.

Auburn was happy.  He had a family that cared about him, and so did Thistle.  “We’re your family now, and we protect each other.”

***

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[dcwnthercbbithcle]

plots please for doe!! if you need ideas/explanations for FNAF stuff feel free to approach me ♥

send me “plots please” and I’ll respond with 3 (or more) interesting plots / relationships / connections I can think of for our muses! | ACCEPTING

OPAAAAAAL, I am gripping you in my hand like a squeaky toy (affectionate) as you know I am so so rusty when it comes to fnaf lore BUT LIKE, for you?? Anything!! I will go all in! No questions asked!!

Also for any mutuals reading: Jane Doe, Jean Doe, or Doe as I call her (and she prefers) is a new OC of mine, she's a DBD survivor and you WILL be hearing more about her in the weeks to come! Haha I'm just being a perfectionist about her carrd right now!

PLOTS

HUMAN AU!! I know this is a little bit of a cop out when it comes to FNAF and not going full into the lore, but hear me out!!

So, let me set the stage: it's a human AU and the setting is still FNAF security breach-centric, with the big exception that the Glamrocks are human and the headlining performers for the Fazbear Mega Pizza Plex, but more than that just general pop stars. Think Jem and the Holograms mixed with something far more grounded, like the Vengaboys and Bee-Gees

Now I'm not entirely sure what your take on an AU taking this angle would be, but this is more set dressing and can EASILY be altered per your canon verses! (there's also still murder going on and fans of the band are getting picked off, but that's neither here nor there ashdagshd)

EITHER WAY, Doe and Bonnie meet after Doe applies for a job as a makeup artist, after the nomadic lifestyle the job offered spoke to her anxiety and paranoia over staying in one place and the bright, flashy and gaudy style of 80s glam rock spoke to her in a way that nothing else could. It was perfectly tailored for her and after getting the job, she excels in the wardrobe department for Bonnie, becoming a good friend in the process!

It's more domestic with far less dives into the more generalized horror and tragedy Doe and FNAF are used to, but I think it would be neat!! Both for the silliness of the weirdos being silly together and the chance to explore Doe and Bonnie in such wildly different verses!! Could Doe open up about why she feels like she needs to be on the run? Do they look into the disappearances in their fanbase? Or is it more harmless fun with Doe cheering Bonnie on as he tries his hand at going all the way with crush and coworker??

PRE-SECURITY BREACH!! Back to our regularly scheduled programming, no pun intended, for this verse I really can see a far more FNAF story centric AU.

Let me give you the run down, Bonnie is still a fully fledged member of the cast, alongside Monty, Roxy, Freddy & Chica, and with this in mind, the demand for skilled electronic engineers and programmers at Fazbear Entertainment Incorporated is steady and unrelenting. After all, the animatronics are the main draw, they're the logos and icons, there won't be a show without them and thus they need to remain in top order with people they can trust and who have.

So, this in mind, while working towards her Bachelor's in Electrical Engineering, Doe picks up a job at the Pizzaplex as a member of the cast responsible for the upkeep of the Glamrock Animatronics as well as the automated cast robots. Her and Bonnie meet in that way and they quickly get to striking up a working friendship mirroring the typical dynamic of babysitter and the person being babysat!

It's relatively simple now that I actively type it out, ASDHASHDHSA but I think it would be a good way to work with both characters in Bonnie's setting while also fully incorporating Doe's backstory!!

Maybe instead of being involved in a domestic murder in a mall parking lot, she witnesses something at the Pizzaplex and we can witness Doe's decline and descent into paranoia and fear in real time? The thread potential is domestic and tragic with growing dread AND YOU KNOW THAT'S HOW I LOVE IT! Haha

WILD CARD? OKAY, this is my most wild idea yet, but let me cook, I promise!! This is still FNAF-centric, taking place either during your Main Verse, Pre-FNAF Security Breach OR during Security Breach.

Okay, so, I know that the Glamrock timeline for the second half of the games goes far less into the complete supernatural than the original games do. The murders are still going on but it's a lot less like the robots are being haunted, y'know? Well, HEAR ME OUT, what if that's not entirely true.

Cue Doe, now, as you know, Doe being dead and / or a ghost is relatively important to her character. In DBD I play with this more as the Entity propping Doe up and keeping her alive via torture magic or however the entity works. But in FNAF, what if Doe is one of the many souls ended in or around the building that now resides haunting its halls.

She could take up residence in one of the many robots in the Pizzaplex, fighting and breaking against the programming of the machine that she's in to assert herself and to scream at the world that she never left... Except far less screaming and more just, hanging around in the mind and taking over the body of the robot FNAF 1 style.

She uh... she has no idea how to actually help herself in THAT situation & Doe is NOT capable of going full murder mode against security, irregardless of programming limitations, she doesn't have it in her! Having company in the Pizzaplex is more than enough to keep her soul sated from the despair of her situation.

OR LIKE, she's just a human ghost walking around, with the potential comedy of Bonnie being able to detect her and interact with her, seeing her at first as a person left inside after hours before realizing she doesn't actually have a body to escort out and she is stuck, not loitering on purpose.

RELATIONSHIPS + CONNECTIONS

ANYTHING YOU WANT!!!! I mean, Opal, I'm gonna be honest with you, shipping Sally and Adiris with you is so much fun that I'm willing to go all in with any kind of relationship, friendship or otherwise that you could potentially see with Doe and Bonnie in any verse!! Plus like!!!! CUSTOM VERSES FOR THEM I'M SO DOWN!!!

[simpfiles]

Cold Hands | 1K |

ANON REQUESTED:  Silco with “Here, take my jacket. You look cold.” or “Please be careful out there.”

PROMPT: that’s the way i love you (not accepting)

A/N: why not both? i’m so in love with people saying “i love you” with their actions and concerns. read between the lines bc u know silco does. this one has some good silco + little jinx interactions too.

His gloves are made from common dyed leather. Stylish but not exorbitant like the high society of Piltover would wear, with their patent leather imported from far off shores. These gloves were part of a set you made, custom tailored with his specifications, in the aftermath of the explosion. Of Jinx. 

--

It was odd seeing him standing there with a little girl in tow. Even odder when you recognized the girl was one of Vander’s kids. Apparently, she recognized you too as she ran to hug you tight, thankful to see a familiar face. Your reaction is delayed, placing a hand on her head to stroke her hair. “Silco, what’s going on?” you ask deeply confused. Last you heard there was some type of explosion at a fish market and Vander. Oh, Vander. “There are rumors that--”

“Not now.” he says suddenly, tilting his head to the child still clinging to your waist when you try to press.

You nod. Right. “Okay, later.”

Your workspace is small, sharing its boundaries with the living room and kitchen. There’s a small bedroom to the left separated from the rest of the space with a curtain. You guide Powder in there, only pausing briefly when Silco cuts in “It’s Jinx. Her name is Jinx.” You look to her for confirmation. She looks back, her features blank. 

You set her up in your bedroom, putting on music and digging around for some puzzles you kept around for customers who came in with their kids. it wasn’t much but she didn’t seem like she cared one way or the other. As you leave she speaks up, “Can I draw?”

“Of course.” You beam, just happy that she finally spoke, let alone asking for something you had plenty of. 

Back in your living room Silco busies himself with a tour of your work and home. It’s a short one; miss matched furniture, fabrics strewn about the area, your stock of food near depleted, and unopened bills on the counter. “Nothing has changed.” he laments, taking a seat on the couch as you come out.

“Topside merchants have raised their prices and overhead is becoming harder to meet.” you sigh, pouring him a glass of whiskey. The ice in the glass clinks as you hand the drink to him, plopping down beside. He moves a little, adjusting for you to have more room. “I really thought, after the bridge. After we had time to heal, things would get better. Vander said they would.”

“Vander was a fool.” His voice wavers slightly at the name of his old friend, so he tightens his jaw to keep his message steady. “We cannot heal if we’re being treated as the disease. Piltover views us as a tumor. They fill our streets with chemicals, our water with toxins, and call us the problem.”

You stay quiet, not interested in another one of his self-righteous rants, “What happened to Vander?”

His lips stretch into a thin scowl, eyes fixed on your bedroom. He thinks he can see a silhouette hugging the door frame. “Let’s take a walk.”

–

Night falls impatiently on you two as he explains the events leading up to his recent adoption. Remorse glosses your eyes but never pools around their edges. Your mourning is rather reserved for someone who you once called a friend. He hopes you show more emotion at his own departure. A passing wind sends a shiver through Silco’s body. He wasn’t made for the cold, his circulation shot from either the toxins or the shimmer, he’s not really sure. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets.

“Here, take my jacket.” You tug the cuffs of your jacket, ignoring his protests, “You look cold.” resettling it over his slim shoulders. It doesn’t fit him perfectly, not that you expected it to, but it was added insulation. “That there is double netting.” you explain, waving a finger at him. “Costs more but it's worth it in the long run. The double layering allows the coat to breathe during hot spells but keeps you warm in the cold.”

He looks at you, halfway between accusing and disbelieving. Are you trying to deliver him a sell’s pitch? As you continue your rant on the versatility of your designs, he can’t help the corner of his lip curl into a subtle smile. Shaking his head, he stops walking, taking your hand in his. A snack of coins fill out your palm nicely, “Do as you please, I trust your expertise and will cover all costs.” Money is no object and you are a luxury he would gladly splurge on.

The rest of the walk home consists of business transactions. He wants new clothes for Jinx, a fresh start with a custom wardrobe. He also needs his own clothes to be mended, his trousers literally on their last leg with a sash hiding a tear that’s growing wider by the day. You assure him that you’ll do much more than just patch them up. His vest and shirt were streaked with ash, stained in grime and frayed. He makes it clear he’s only interested in revisions not new designs, fond of his style, he doesn’t want you tampering with it too much.

 In your home, Jinx draws out pattern designs of her own, pointing out details that might not be articulated in her art. You add these footnotes to her work, showing her your own interpretations of her sketches. She approves some while rejecting others; the whole affair runs far beyond her bedtime.

Silco has to carry her home, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck as he holds her close to his chest. With one foot out of the door he turns to you, his face softening incrementally. “The situation in the lanes will begin to escalate.” A necessary danger, he promises. “Be careful when you go out.”

You reach out your hand, beckoning him to lean in. He does, closing his eye to receive a kiss.

“You too.”

He hopes you cry at his funeral and tell him you love him one last time. Just like this.

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

[moemammon]

When I was in High School, my crush and I got into a fight and neither of us were talking to each other. One day I was headed up the stairwell to get to my science class, when I saw them coming up from behind... I don't think they had even noticed me yet considering that they were busy talking to their friend BUT I am slow going up stairs so even if I rushed up the stairs roadrunner style they would have caught up to me, well; the little corner that connects the steps going up to the second floor and the steps heading down to the ground floor had a large open window... and I jumped out, like I literally just jumped out. I didn't even think it through, I just saw the window and my body was like "Yep, IK what to do." I landed on a bush or tree? It's too big to call a bush but too small to call a tree, landed in a squat before my feet gave out and I fall onto my knees and got two large grass stains on my jeans knee part, couldn't walk right either after that landing, I was shaky all day lol but it was a risk well calculated bc the whole thing would have been so awkward. I mean we used to be like BFFS before the rumors began and then they started and we just stopped talking without warning, we couldn't even look at each other. Our science partners, bc we were in groups of four, literally got fed up of our bullshit bc we literally refused to acknowledge the others existence... anyway, I digress...

Anyway, this whole story is a long winded way of me requesting how the brothers would react to an MC that literally just jumps out windows to avoid awkward moments, or to dodge people that want to ask them for favors, or when they straight up want to avoid someone?

And sorry about the large ass message, but thanks for letting me vent

You have a special place in my heart, window-jumping anon. Just uhhhhhhh look down next time okay? Ily

The Demon Brothers react to GN!MC jumping out of a window to avoid an awkward moment

(Mario jumping sound effect)

Lucifer

He approached you after class to ask exactly what you were snickering at your D.D.D. about during class.

Must've been real funny if you weren't listening to your lecture, huh?

"I imagine you've somehow found something worthy of laughing about in Demonology 101?"

You do not have the guts to tell him that you and Mammon were texting back and forth, abusing a new photo editing app to alter pictures of the eldest himself.

I mean, take a wild guess about how he’d react to seeing how big you edited his head to be-

The avatar of pride lets his eyes pierce into you, like he's trying to stare a hole through your blanket of "uh"s and "um"s,

You don't exactly see a way out of this one, but you can NOT let Lucifer see your photo gallery.

So you glance to your left to the open classroom window, and do the only thing you can think of: you jump.

Luckily you're on the ground floor so you??? really didn't have to jump so dramatically. But the fact that you yeeted yourself into a bush JUST to escape has left Lucifer speechless.

Honestly? He so impressed with your dedication that he's not gonna stop you. Besides, he's gonna see you back at home anyway so-

Also thinks you might be hanging around Mammon too much because that 100% seems like a stunt he’d pull.

Mammon

GIVE GOLDIE BACK RIGHT NOW

He KNOWS Lucifer told you to bring the credit card to him, and he demands to know where it's hidden! He's positive you know where it is!

But you don't really though?? You just brought the card to him like you were asked. If anything, you're the victim here!

But Mammon isn't having that. The avatar of greed is circling around you like an angry cat, patting you all over like airport security to see if you've got his beloved card.

"Where is it, huh?! Ya really think you can steal from THE Mammon?! Even if Lucifer told ya to, who do ya think you are?!"

When he has confirmed that you don't in fact have his previous Goldie, he's now cornering you up against a wall.

If looks could kill, you would've exploded into a fine powder

And you feel like your mental strength is about to do just that. So what do you do after you notices the slightest of breezes caress your face?

You jump outta that open window, before Mammon can even finish his "Wh- Oi! What're ya-"

Even though you just face planted into the garden, you're up on your feet and making a mad dash for somewhere that wasn't here.

Mammon lets you run for ten while seconds before he's hopping out after you. You think you can outfox the Great Mammon?! Think again!!!

Levi

You... weren't interested in this movie in the slightest, but you didn't have the heart to tell Levi that. Especially not after he’d begged/harassed you for the past week about watching it with him!

Reluctantly you agreed, and now you were suffering,,,But Levi was ecstatic! This movie was a classic! Sure it was an old one and the acting was a little bad, but you could overlook that if you watched it with your heart, not your eyes!

According to Levi.

You managed to keep your eyes open for the grueling one and a half hour movie, enduring every corny line of bad acting, horrible CGI, and lame sound effects straight out of a 90s super hero movie, and now the hell was finally over...

Or so you though, until Levi followed that up by immediately pulling out a cosplay outfit worn by one of the supporting characters in the show.

Funny how it seemed specifically tailored to your measurements. Even funnier how Levi was looking at you with those damned eyes.

You knew what he wanted without him even having to say it. But one look at the gaudy outfit he presented to you made your heart burn with a sudden indescribable urge.... to escape.

Honestly you caught him so off guard by suddenly getting up and sprinting out of the room, that he makes a sound that's pretty much the noise equivalent of "?!?!?!?!?!?"

He watches you run down to the end of the hall, throw the window open, and fuckin JUMP. Pretty sure he just witnessed your death??

Also this kinda solidified his 'gross otaku' mentality, seeing as you literally jumped out of a window to get out of cosplaying with him. A simple no would've sufficed, MC.......,.,,..,,,

Hey gamers... can we get an F in the chat? 😔✌️💦

Satan

Satan lent you a book to read last week that he was sure you'd be interested in! He found it pretty interesting himself, so he wants to see if you'd like it as much as he did.

That being said, you don't have the heart to tell him that you,,, didn't read any of it. Well you kind of did, if the cover counts for anything.

You doubt he would accept that as an answer, considering how you told him how much you appreciated receiving the book, and how you'd definitely read it and let him know how it was.

So now, Satan had come into your room with two cups of tea, ready to settle down and have a nice, long talk about your thoughts on the riveting plot that you promised you would indulge in.

"I'm really glad you decided to read it. I found that the protagonist reminded me a lot like you. I'd like to know what you thought about it."

Satan sets down the tea cups, and one sip tells you that he brewed it exactly the way you like.

His expression is eager and warm as he waits for you to begin gushing about just how deeply the story touched you... how absolutely moved you are by the sheer majesty that was the book he lent you...

Okay yeah, you're sweating bullets. You can't imagine how the sparkly eyed avatar of wrath would react to learning that you chose the company of your D.D.D. over Satan's book.

You don't have such an ice cold hard that you can just crush this book nerds dreams like that! And every time you look at his expectant face, the weight of your crimes weigh heavier on you until... you break.

Satan watches in shock and awe as you almost perfectly reenact the big scene where the main character leaps out of the window of a building rigged to explode, before making their escape. And you did just that.

Wow.. he never thought you could be so moved by a story, but he completely understands...

Asmo

How many outfits, Asmo. HOW MANY OUTFTITS WILL IT TAKE TO APPEASE YOU?

He's made you model TWELVE outfits so far, and you swear if you see another ascot, you're gonna lose your mind.

Asmodeus doesn't seem to notice the way the light slowly fades from your eyes, because he's pulling out outfit number thirteen with that cheery smile of his.

"Isn't this one absolutely adorable? Look, this part will look lovely around your waist! This part here hugs your body in all the right places, and this-"

You can't do it. You've gotta get out of here. You'd love to stand around and get mild rug burn from trying on a billion different clothes, but-

Actually no you wouldn't.

You DID promise Asmo you'd hang out with him today, but this wasn't really your idea of a good time.

"-Oooh, just thinking about it makes me want to eat you up~! Here, put it on for me, will you? I'll give you a kiss as a reward!"

You would do no such thing.

You make a mad dash for his ornate window and push it open. He has no time to stop you as he helplessly watches you vault yourself out like the room was on fire.

"MC?! Wh-where are you going?? Come back here! Grass stains are impossible to get out of that fabric!!!"

Beel

He means well. I swear he does. It's just that Beel can be a little... overbearing when he's worried about you. He cares, okay?

But he hasn't seen you eat anything all day! You tell him it's because you've got a stomach ache from who knows what, and you promise you've had little snacks here and there to keep from starving, but he can't accept that!

Eating is important, and you need it to survive. So Beelzebub was currently trying to nudge your mouth open with a pizza slice, while you vehemently refused. "Just one bite. And then another after that. You have to eat, or you'll go hungry... and I don't want that."

Beel knows the true pain of being hungry, and he’d never wish that on you! So just forget about your stomach ache for two seconds and open up-

Not that you really can. The aroma of that pizza was not sitting well on your stomach, and you were pretty sure you needed a fast escape or you'd risk losing your lunch. Greasy foods didn't exactly mix well with sour stomachs...

Beel still won't let up. He has a strong hand planted firmly on the small of your back, as if trying to prevent you from leaning back any further in your attempt to escape the pizza.

"If you eat this, I'll treat you to dessert at Madam Screams," he says, as if bribing your refusal of food USING food will somehow work out.

You can't break his heart, but you seriously can't eat that! Your head is spinning, thoughts racing, face becoming greasier and greasier from the pizza pressed against it, and-

You snap. In a sudden burst of strength you break free from Beel's grasp, and sprint toward the nearest window. All you see is your chance for freedom, and you're taking it.

You leap out and tumble into the ground, all while Beelzebub wonders what?? Just happened???? Did you really hate pizza that much...?

He never knew you were such a picky eater... To think you'd go so far as to jump out of the window though...

Belphie

You thought it was cute at first, when Belphegor wanted you to join him for his naps. And you didn't mind much. It was the weekend, you were tired, and he makes a pretty good body pillow.

But you didn't realize he planned for this to become an everyday thing. The youngest might not act it, but he sure could be spoiled.

But seriously, if you slept any longer, you might never have a normal sleep schedule again! It never occurred to you just how often Belphie sleeps.

He's definitely not human, because there's no way you can keep up with that, and maintain a normal lifestyle.

But the way he quietly, gently grabs your sleeve to cue your next nap session makes your heart clench. Why was it so damned hard to say no to this gremlin??

You were trying your best though, but the words always seemed to get caught in your throat. Belphie picked apart your excuses, doing everything in his power to take you back to the attic.

"You can study when you wake up." "Mammon wants to go shopping? Reschedule." "Lucifer told you not to be late to the board meeting? Just hide."

You're starting to get sucked into the sleepy lull of his voice, and it feels like your entire body is becoming heavy with fatigue. But no.... you resist!

Since there's no escaping this through words, you have to think fast. Fortunately, your fast thinking has led to an amazing solution!

Jump out of the window, baby

Belphie is just??? Did you fuckin???? Are your legs okay??????????????

He probably stops asking you to nap with him for a while, since you're willing to almost break your legs just to get out of it. You're gonna make him have weird dreams....

[re8-drabbles]

Some RE: Village Relationship Headcanons?

The Duke

Saved you from a pack of lycans when you accidently strayed into the village.

Started off on the wrong foot.

Duke: Found yourself in a pinch, haven't you?

Y/N: Fuck off...

Duke: Now, now, if you would rather stay out here and continue to play with lycans and get yourself killed, be my guest... but, if you would rather survive... You'd best change your tone.

Y/N: ....

Duke: That's better.

He allowed you to stay in his cart until you healed, but started falling for you the moment he got to know you.

Duke: So you have just been wandering all over Europe in hopes of finding a cure?

Y/N: ...Yeah pretty much. I know, it's pretty stupid.

Duke: I wouldn't call it stupid, as much as adventurous. Is that why you found yourself in the village?

Y/N: Yeah... I wasn't planning on being greeted by lycans when I first set foot.... I never properly thanked you for saving me or apologized for how I reacted, I'm sorry about that.

Duke: It's all water under the bridge, love. I'm just glad I happened to be at the right place, at the right time.

Both came to conclusion after the heart to heart that you both were enamored with each other.

Duke: ....Would you be interested in being more then friends?

Y/N: I thought you would never ask.

Loves it when you slip under his arm, get comfortable at his side, and cuddle.

Loves it even more when you give him suprise hugs from the back when he's looking stressed or uncomfortable.

Finds it sweet, but ironic, how much you fret over him.

Y/N: "Are you sure you are not cold? The lycans do not bother you, do they? Are you feeling well? You are not hurt, are you?"

Duke: I'm perfectly fine, my dear. Now you, on the other hand, need to come inside. Your finger tips are turning blue.

Hates seeing you upset or scared, but loves how your first instinct is to grab and hold his hand.

Y/N: I am not scared! Your hands are just really warm...

Duke: Of course, love.

Secretly gets a little jealous when others flirt with you, but he'll never admit it to you.

Will also passive aggressively hike up the price of items for the individual who flirted.

Heisenberg: 900 Lei?! That's ridiculous!

Duke: These have been hard to come by lately.

He knows you believe that even the worst person can change, and he loves that about you, but it makes him sick with worry.

Y/N: Are you okay, love?

Duke: I'm fine, just a little tired. Could you do me a favour?

Y/N: Anything.

Duke: Please stay by my side? You are too important for me to lose, and this village is swimming with enemies you are not ready to take on.

Y/N: ... I don't want to be a burden.

Duke: You could never be a burden to me.

He will protect you from everything and anything.

Keeps a lot of books and hobby items on hand for you.

It melts his heart when you give him one of your rare smiles.

He hates how the Lord's like to call you his "pet", but allows it, if it keeps you safe from their wrath.

Heisenberg

First time you met, he had trapped you under Mother Miranda's orders.

Karl: Long way from home, aren't we?

Y/N ... I like your glasses, can I try them on?

Karl: Uh.... No.

Mother Miranda allowed him to do what he wanted with you, as she assessed that you were no threat.

He decided to keep you around.

He became enthralled by how bold and eccentric you are.

Realized he had fallen for you when he came back from a meeting with the Lords, and caught you wearing his clothes in the mirror mimicking him.

Karl: I should be mad... But you do a damn good impression and they look good on you.

Y/N: *surprised shriek*

Loves how you only show your soft side to him.

Sometimes, he is taken aback by your agressive side.

Karl: Did you just threaten to choke out that lycans with the disemboweled intestine of its friend?

Y/N: maybe.

Karl: I don't think they understand our language-

Y/N: Fear is a universal, Karl.

He loves watching you tinker away with the scraps in his factory and will sometimes animate your creations

He will do anything to protect the childlike wonder you have somehow managed to retain, regardless of everything that has happened

Adores the way you seem to know when he needs a little bit of physical connection.

Karl: How do you always seem to know when to do that?

Y/N: Hmm... Who knows?

When you are sick, he will track the Duke down and pay him double to get medicine from outside the village.

He will often run his fingers through your hair, as you fall asleep.

He will stay until he is sure you are asleep, before slipping out to his lab.

Dimitrescu

Was given charge of you, after Mother Miranda's experiment on you was a success.

She started off as your mentor, but quickly became fond of you.

Your passionate nature was what drew her to you.

Loves to tailor clothing for you and spoil you with the finest of silks and fabrics.

She loves to invest in your hobbies, especially painting. She will place completed works around the castle.

Being much older and taller than you, she feels the need to protect you from the horrors outside the castle walls.

Y/N: Alcina, I must do my rounds of the village. Mother Miranda will be furious if anything slips by.

Alcina: Nonsense! That fool Heisenberg can do the perimeter check. You still have much to learn before you can go outside, even more so before you can go alone.

Y/N: That's not fair to Heisenberg, Alcina. How much longer before I can go outside alone, anyways?

Alcina: Until you reach my age.

Y/N: So....

Alcina: Never.

Gets angry when Heisenberg or the Duke share too many sweet words with you. Heisenberg does it to annoy her and the Duke just enjoys pleasant and polite conversations, but it drives her mad.

Loves to steal kisses from you when you are working.

Y/N: Alcina, please, I'm almost done this portrait and then my attention is all yours.

Alcina: Hmmm, it is much more fun to pester you when you're working though.

Loves to use Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela to pry information from you.

Alcina: So... What did you learn girls?

Bela: Y/N feels a little ignored lately.

Daniela: Y/N is out of titanium white and cadmium red paint.

Cassandra: Y/N finds that the scenery is a bit bland and would love to grow some snowdrops.

Alcina: Ah, thank you girls.

Alcina is usually the first to engage intimate moments; hugs, kisses, touches, and more.

The rare moments you engage in intimacy are her favourites.

[echo-of-sounds]

your birthday

Drabbles of Aizawa, Toshi, and Hound Dog celebrating your birthday. 

These came out a little longer than initially planned. But that’s okay since these are birthday drabbles for @smutav​ @mrsvash​ and @rurounivash​! I hope you guys have/had/will have a great, relaxing day, and thank you for all your support! (I also tried to tailor them a bit towards what you like and how you’d want to spend your day. I hope I did okay!)💙💙

Warnings: there is some smut in these

Aizawa Shouta

Wind and water washed; one brought a fine layer of salt across your skin; the other, a cold tidal flow over your feet. You walked into Shouta’s shoulder. He didn’t react until you did it again, trying to get away from the freezing water.

“Too cold?”

You hummed and nudged closer to his eternally high body heat. That same heat enveloped your hand, guiding you away from the tide. Gratefully, he didn’t chide your request for an evening stroll on the beach. Well, he sighed but hid any reluctance.

It wasn’t till most people cleared the area and you were nearing the exit that he halted, keeping you in the open, onshore winds. The tiny tilt of his eyebrows stopped you from questioning him. The simple, long bracelet box he pulled from his pocket turned your chills into a fluttering. Wrapping paper nor bows covered it. The only design was the imprint of the designer’s name.

Shouta mumbled over the mounting breeze, the smallest blush noticeable in the lowering light, “It’s not much. You didn’t give me any helpful ideas.”

“Because you didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Yes, I did. Here.”

Careful to not drop or let the wind take it, you accepted and opened the box. Inside, waiting on a velvet cushion, laid a rose gold bracelet. White gemstones, glittering from the waves and sun, decorated the braiding chains. It felt frosty yet loving under your fingertips. You exhaled, “Shouta… how much was this?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he scolded and returned the box to its pocket. Deft fingers aligned it around your wrist, easily linking the tiny clasps together. His hands stayed around yours, holding firm, displaying the bracelet between you. “Do you like it?”

Dark eyes waited, calm, almost concerned as you stared. It didn’t matter how tired they were, they always gave you so much love. And it didn’t matter how much he typically sucked at buying presents. This one was good, excellent, raising a laugh from your throat. You threw your arms around his neck. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“I love you,” heated breath puffed along your jacket’s collar. Lips replaced it, gracefully skimming the hidden skin. His warmth perfectly offset the cold.

“I love you, too.” You withdrew to meet his eyes and whisper, “Let’s go home.”

He agreed with a kiss.

Once home, you sat with Sho on the couch, hunkering down for the rest of the evening for some wine, cuddling, and kissing. His question paused that: “Glasses?”

“Fuck.”

Before you could get up, he plucked the bottle of wine from your hands, popped the cork, and took a swig. He handed it back to you and watched as you mirrored his actions. Fewer dishes, you guessed.

He lounged back, leaving his chest wide open for you to rest against. The cracked window provided an excellent chilly breeze for snuggling up under a blanket. You curled up, legs on his lap, ready for relaxation.

The beginning of the movie was the only part you paid attention to. The hand drifting from your shoulder to your waist, slowly touching every part of you as it moved towards your thigh, pinching the bottom of your shorts, kept tugging at your thoughts. It would fondle its way back up, carelessly pulling up your shirt until it snapped back in place.

Forty minutes into the movie, he presented you with another box: same color, same style as before, just smaller. With lips flushed to your temple, in a deep, doting tone, he whispered, “Open it.”

As you did, his kisses traveled to your cheek then neck. Propped inside were earrings, mimicking the angelic rose gold and white of the necklace. You sighed at his lips and gift, “Shouta, they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“Put them on,” he hummed just before biting your collar bone.

Stuck between laughing and moaning, you did. And he immediately removed your shirt after, kissing behind your ears, kneading your sides. You gripped the back of his shirt, wanting it gone, but as per usual, he didn’t listen, choosing to unclasp your bra next. Teeth returned to your neck. Something thin and cold accompanied them.

Sho sat back exposing your front to the nippy air. He stared at your chest. You looked down. A necklace hung, gleaming and gorgeous, pink and white. You smiled at his lunky gift giving. “You could've just given them to me all at once, you know?”

He shrugged and slid off his shirt. You leaned back as he came forward. Lips landed on yours hard, firm, just like his body did, weighing you into the cushions. He propped up on his elbows, staring at the necklace.

“I can take it o-”

“No. It stays on,” he droned, coming back down for a kiss. Your palms flattened along his sides. Your legs spread for him to settle much closer, properly close, wonderful for grinding, and exactly where you wanted him the rest of the evening.

Yagi Toshinori

It was already noon. You didn’t expect a call at six a.m. sharp, but you imagined he’d call before noon, at least, or send a text, a picture, an emoji, something to show you he remembered. No, you knew he remembered. He always did. He was probably just busy teaching the next generation of Heroes and all.

Something closed. You froze, listening, wondering if you imagined it. The faint shuffling told you, you didn’t. You hurried out of the bedroom to see Toshinori waiting, holding a bouquet of flowers. He sang, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing home? I thought you had to stay on campus till tomorrow.”

“I finished early.” He set the stuff down and collected his welcome-home hug. “Well, I convinced Nezu I could finish my work from home, and since tomorrow is a training day, I have an extra day to finish.”

“Thank you.” You latched tight, nuzzling against his jacket. The thought of spending your birthday alone wasn’t the worst thing, but it wasn’t the best. You mumbled, “I thought you forgot.”

“I would never.” He pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. “However, I, uh, I wasn’t prepared to celebrate today. I couldn’t find a reservation for tonight. I tried a bunch of different places, but they were all booked. I’m sorry, I tried.”

“That’s alright, Toshi. I’m fine staying in.” You hugged him again, adding, “I hate when they sing to me. Home is perfectly fine.”

He kissed the top of your head with a laugh. He stroked your back, slow and firm, keeping his lips pressed to you, occasionally whispering sweet sappiness. Yeah, this was much more preferable than spring the day alone.

“I’ll cook you something, anything. What do you feel like?”

“Dunno. Doesn’t really matter.”

“You have no ideas?”

“No. Let’s just order something.” You really didn’t want to let him go. Feeling him in your arms was much more pleasurable than anything else.

“Alright. What do you want?”

“Dunno.”

“You’re not helping me.”

“Surprise me.”

In thirty minutes’ time, someone knocked on the door. Toshi paid, thanked them, and returned to the couch, bearing a brown paper bag. Inside was your very early dinner of chocolate chip pancakes and fresh fruit. The last thing he withdrew was a milkshake. “It’s cake batter. I figured if you lacked a cake, this was the next best thing.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

The meal was enjoyed in a simple, snuggling silence, watching Tv with a kiss here or there. The syrup added a tasty sweetness to his lips, something you kept going back for during commercial breaks.

You didn’t want to break the cuddle. It was Toshi who eventually did. He retrieved your jacket and held it out for you.

“What’s this for?”

“This day may not have been the most exciting, and I feel like I was underprepared, but I do have an idea for your present.”

“Toshi, you don’t need to get me anything. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“I know, but I want to treat you to something. Come on.” Toshi led you outside and down the street.

The late afternoon air provided a blissful breeze and contentment. People were sparse, allowing you the comfort to hold his hand. Though the occasional glance made you tuck into his side until they passed. He never mentioned it; he simply squeezed your hand and continued the walk.

Just when you began to question if there was an actual destination, he steered you towards the computer store you frequented. Inside was just as barren as out. You guessed he picked a good time for shopping, if that was what this was about. And since you were still left in the dark, you questioned him, “What’s this about, Toshi? I don’t need anything from here.”

He scratched his jaw. “When you were talking about the parts you wanted for your, uh… hard drive… motherboard, processor… thing, I was more than a little confused. Instead of buying the wrong thing, I’ll let you pick it out. I know it isn’t much of a surprise this way, but I wanted it to be useful to you. So, go pick!” he chimed, throwing his hands out in front of him.

“Toshi, this stuff is expensive. You don’t-”

“I want to. Go pick some things, and don’t you dare look at the price.”

Encouraged by his smile, your hesitations vanished, and you all but skipped to your desired isle. A hard drive adapter and mounting bracket caught your eye. Plus, they were cheap: thirty dollars at most.

You tried to move on from the next thing that piqued your interest. Yet, the box kept calling your name. You picked it up to read the back.

Toshi came up beside you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a motherboard.” You showed him the label, Gigabyte Z590 AORUS Elite Intel LGA 1200 ATX Motherboard, and explained, “It could run with my Corsair ram with the Intel 10700k. It’s supposed to be easy to overclock and stable on air.”

“Oh, that sounds very nice, sweetie,” confusion faltered his voice. Bewildered or not, he still kissed your temple, murmured his love, and took the items.

“Toshi, I wasn’t planning on getting it.”

“Well, I am.” He smiled and, despite your very vocal doubts, bought them.

You hugged his arm the entire way home, eager for your presents and craving some more cuddles.

Hound Dog

Through the tiniest crack in the shades, light beamed directly into your eyes. You rolled over and snuggled into the blankets. The day could wait…

Apparently, Ryo didn’t think so. The door squeaked open. The bed creaked as he crawled behind you, funneling heat across your body and fur nuzzling your neck. His ridiculously gigantic hands thwarted your attempt to wiggle away. You fussed his name, just wanting to sleep more.

“It’s almost noon.”

“Hng.”

“Time to get up.”

“Why?”

“I made breakfast. Come on.”

“No,” you whined into the pillow. You should be allowed to sleep in on your-

“Fine.” With a chest-filled growl, arms circled and heaved you out of bed, comforter included. You gripped his bicep amid the whiplash. The swirling ceased once he plopped you on the couch, bundled in your blanket, surrounded by pillows. None of which you could lie on since all were fur-coated and staticky.

“Breakfast,” he introduced, placing two plates down with a mix of breakfast quesadillas, muffins, patatas bravas, yogurt, and avocado and eggs. It appeared like he just made whatever he could think of. Not that you were complaining. It all smelled and looked amazing.

“Eat quickly.”

“Why? Do we have plans?”

“No,” he grumbled and sat beside you, his right leg bouncing. He gave you no more information and dug in. You did as well, thanking him for and appreciating the big birthday breakfast.

And all the way through the meal, his leg never stopped. Sometimes, he’d shift in place, or twitch, but his leg just kept going.

“Are you-”

“Time for your gifts.” He jumped up and disappeared into the hall. You wiped your hands and mouth clean in time for a giant gift bag and a present to fall into your lap. He was certainly rushing his way through this.

You blinked at the present. There was no way in hell he wrapped it. The huge, purple bow was tied neat and even, enclosing pink and blue wrapping paper, perfectly folded and taped down. It looked like a picture, not his actual doing.

And your face must have said it all because he gruffed, “I kept ripping the damn paper. Vlad wrapped it for me. Now open it.”

You’d have to thank Vlad next time you saw him. The ribbon released easily and the paper slid off quickly. You stared, smiling at the box of fine-tipped inking pens. It included nine of different sizes and one brush pen. Every time you thought about buying them, you talked yourself out of it. He must have remembered you mulling it over one of the few dozen times.

Wet heat licked your cheek. His nose pressed to you after, cooling the spot down. “Is it the right one?”

“The exact one. Thank you.” You kissed his muzzle, running your nails along the length of it and between his eyes. An odd grumble came from his throat. Judging from his calm, closed eyes, it was a happy grumble. You pressed a few kisses to his cheek, wanting to listen to the husky rumbles.

Ryo’s eyes opened, surprisingly remaining content, and he tapped the gift bag. “This next.”

This one was most definitely done by him; ripped tissue paper was shoved into the top, littered with holes from pointy claws. You laughed as you pulled it out. Strays pieces of tape somehow made their way inside, sticking paper to your skin.

Eventually, you found the presents: two t-shirts, a wearable blanket, and a deshedding brush. You held the last item up in a silent question.

“You always complain about my hair everywhere. This will fix that.”

You rolled your eyes and thanked him. He lapped at your cheek again, choosing to frisk down to your neck. His heavy hands tugged you onto his lap, sending tissue and wrapping paper falling to the floor. Fingers felt around your shirt. You gasped when they clamped on your side’s sensitive skin.

“Ryo-” You shuddered at their increasing strength. He didn’t really know how to fondle passionately. It was more like prodding and pricking to him. You panted, “I haven’t showered today or anything.”

“You do that once I’m done with you.” Teeth clamped on your shoulder, not enough to draw blood or pain, yet solid enough to lock you in place. His tongue, solid and way too hot, aimlessly dragged along thin skin.

His embrace kept you from wiggling away. Not that you really intended to. A day home with Ryo was such a scarce thing you valued so highly. You’d take anything at this point…

Especially since that anything was his fingers shoving into your shorts. Like the rest of him, they wasted no time and slipped inside you, steadily and sturdily caressing your front wall. Your body was hardly awake, making it considerably more responsive to his intense touch.

“Ryo, fuck-” Your breath caught at digging teeth. His palm pressured your clit, grinding, near jerking, giving you no preparation for your speedy orgasm. You gripped his wrist, closing your thighs on his hand, holding him in place.

His arm muscled its way out so he could lick his fingers, smirking and rumbling, clearly delighted.

Once again, he heaved you up, comforter included, and carried you back to bed. But this time, he threw you down and crawled atop, not letting you catch your breath because his tongue replaced where his fingers were.

Your shower was a long ways away.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 1

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU* Quirkless as well

Warnings: Arranged (sort of) marriage, brief mention of champagne, mentions of violence (nothing too specific). In later chapters: Probably smut

Word Count: 3.4 k

Author’s Note: ALRIGHTY here we go. I just had a fixation on Mafia AUs and, of course, it’s Shouta. What else did you expect? I’m a sucker for arranged relationships. Also he’s a little ooc in here, more confident, more ‘I want it I got it’. Hey, he’s the most powerful man in Japan, might as well have him act like it right? Anywho, I have no clue how many chapters this’ll end up being. Let’s just say this is ongoing for now.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Enjoy~

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25 years old and you haven’t been married off yet. This was strategic on your father’s part. As a rather low-ranking clan he’d purposely saved you, his eldest daughter, for marrying into a higher ranked clan. You’d bring immense honor to the family name. If only you’d known what you were getting into, maybe you could have been better prepared for your world to flip on its head.

The black velvet gown you wear is tailored perfectly to your form, accentuating every curve and dip on your body. The skirt fanned out around you gracefully and a short train trailed behind you as you stepped through the grand doors of the massive mansion. Tonight is the annual celebratory ball, held to celebrate successful unions and achievements. This one was particularly special, you just didn’t quite know it yet.

Since the event wasn’t mandatory, you were told to go in alone as a representative of your clan, while Mother and Father attended to more important matters. Before you even stepped in you fixed your posture and schooled your expression, keeping your form humbled. Heavens know what could happen should you irk the wrong clan.

Inside you were met with an onslaught of mixed everything, mixed drinks and colors and styles. Some wore traditional Japanese kimono, others more modern versions of the garment and others, like you, wearing more extravagant european or western style clothing. Though a rather interesting mix, nothing quite clashed which you were slightly grateful for, since there was no possible way you could make it through the night without a headache if there was an unpleasant mix of visuals.

You strode through and instantly met several lower clan heads that you respectfully bowed to and engaged in pleasant small talk with, moving from person to person, couple to couple and paying respects to all of them. You kept a small smile, a pleasant facade as you waltzed over the hardwood flooring. It took almost two hours of endless conversation before you managed to catch a break in the madness, snatching a small flute of champagne from a waiter and leaning up against a wall for a breath. 

You still hadn’t noticed the pair of dark eyes that studied you from the moment you arrived.

____

You struck him as intriguing at first. From the moment you walked over the threshold his eyes drank you in, studying you, observing and judging just as he had with many other women before you. No one here knows it, but the man is looking for a bride. Someone who could stand by his side,improve and uphold his image, help him wield the power that is the Yakuza. Yes, rank is important, but Shouta is too picky to care about rank. He is looking for a specific type of woman, one that can hold untold depths of power without crumbling under the pressure or getting swept up in the rush of it all.

A woman, he decides, like you.

You held yourself with grace, pride and humility. You seemed to understand your position, your probable low rank, while also not undermining your importance nor worth. A woman like you is hard to come by in this world, most just as power hungry and ruthless and greedy as their husbands, all while putting up a cotton candy sweet mask and using it to disguise their conniving ways. 

But in truth, that’s what it took to live this kind of life, isn’t it?

It was clear you knew that, while still managing to feel genuine in everything you did, even with an action as simple as sipping champagne. At the same time he can’t deny you are quite beautiful, soft lips and softer eyes, fingers gently grasping your glass with unmatched elegance and an unwavering strength in your posture. You’d bowed before many this evening, and yet you stood taller than even the highest ranking clan heads without challenging a single one of them. Bamboo in this forest of tall, unyielding trees. Capable of wielding so much power.

For a split second his mind wandered to other things, filthy moments shared in the privacy of his chambers, shared breaths and shimmering sweaty skin. He wondered what you would be like underneath him, if you would be a brat or willingly submit yourself to him. He hopes it to be the latter, but wouldn’t completely deny the chance to tame someone difficult. How would you look pinned under his weight, completely helpless to his hands that have killed and tortured? Would you claw at his shoulders or grip the sheets instead? What would you sound like? Your image plagued his mind even if only for a moment.

He’d studied many women over the few hours since the event started, none of them giving him a good enough first impression for him to continue watching further than a minute. There was no question in his mind now. You’d be returning home with him tonight.

____

You had just finished your drink and set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray when suddenly the ballroom fell extremely silent. All heads turned, eyes focused on the man that began his descent from the balcony overlooking the floor. He’s gorgeous, long black hair pulled into a low bun and exposing the light scruff on his chin and impossibly sharp jaw, a deep scar curved under his right eye. The full black satin suit is fitted to his form, strong shoulders and rolling muscle evident even under the thick materials. Ink peeked over the collar, a hint at what was definitely intricate sleeves and detailed artwork. His steps were measured, calculated and purposeful as he made his way down and across the floor, the entire room bowing down at his presence. 

You know who he is, as does every person here. Top rung of the ladder, Oyabun of the most powerful clan in Japan, his name widely known through the entire organization and yet almost never spoken. Shouta Aizawa, a name both respected and feared, holding unknown power and strength. His reputation is enough to make anyone feel small in his presence, known for his cold demeanor and the violence he’d committed, many losing their fingers, loved ones, and their own lives for misdeeds against him. He’d done most of that himself, marking him as a very dangerous man to be involved with, and an ally everyone wanted backing them.

You bowed down respectfully just as everyone else did, waiting patiently for a release, whether it was from the man himself or a collective understanding that it was alright to rise once again. The former was the first to come to fruition, though you didn’t expect him to be so close to you as he said it. Your eyes met with sharp onyx as you fixed yourself upright. It made you freeze in place, not quite tense, not quite relaxed, your expression hopefully not showing the utter shock you were feeling.

“What is your name?” You blinked only once before your mind caught up, and you willed your voice steady as you responded. What had you done to piss him off? What punishment awaited you for what you didn’t know you’d done? Despite fearing what may come, you don’t dare speak out of turn, even to beg for your life. His next words were addressed to the entire ballroom, you included, his smooth, deep voice booming out and yet somehow not loud at all.

“Any transgression against this woman is a transgression against me. As my future wife she is untouchable, and will remain that way until I explicitly state otherwise.” A collective hushed gasp sounded through the massive hall, your own eyes growing wide and your heart damn near stopping as your brain dissected the information. He just made you his fiance, with no warning, no hesitation, and full confidence. You are now engaged to the most powerful man in Japan, and you have exactly zero say in the matter. Really though, you never expected to be able to voice any opinions considering the patriarchy of the organization, so that bit of shock was quickly overlooked.

“It’s time to retire, little one.” His hand was held out to you, waiting for your own. You blinked, deciding it was best that you saved your shock for later you focused on the here and now and what to do in this moment. Taking a breath, you schooled your face into a pleasant smile and placed your hand in his waiting palm, allowing him to tuck you into his side as you both walked out the front doors and climbed into a black limouzine.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, sitting silently next to the man as trees and telephone poles whizzed by the vehicle. It was tense, to say the least, his hand possessively sat on your knee as his eyes remained fixed in front of him and yours did the same. Neither of you talked, you slightly out of fear, of respect, and slightly out of sheer shock, your mind just barely able to keep itself together. He remained silent for a purpose. He would talk when you were alone, or when he felt like talking. Which isn’t right now.

You let your mind whirl a bit, worrying about what this meant for you. Worrying about how this powerful man would treat you, how he acted behind closed doors and if he even cared about you or what you might have to say. It’s nerve-wracking, suddenly bound to a power such as him, not knowing what could happen next, not knowing what to do next. There was nothing that could have prepared you for this.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate of the enormous estate, shaking you out of your thoughts, and once it opened the drive to the main house took nearly five minutes on its own. It’s a modern home, several stories tall with the top clearly penthouse-style with a full glass wall that overlooks the landscape, the rest of the huge inner home hidden behind crisp walls.

At a full stop, a man opens the door for you, the Oyabun having already exited and held a hand out for you to grab once again, strong muscles pulling you up with ease and leading you through the building and into an elevator. The silence is stifling as you wait for the machine to come to a stop, the soft chime indicating you’ve landed. 

Now you’re completely alone with him.

He leads you in and stops in the center of the large main room, stepping away and turning his scrutinizing gaze onto you. You do your best not to tense in front of him, not to show fear, partially for his comfort though you’re sure he’s used to it. His shoes clack softly, rhythmically on the polished wood floor as he begins to circle you, like a predator eyeing its prey, eyes burning paths up and down your form. You barely keep from squirming under his intense gaze, managing to keep still from sheer willpower. He stops suddenly behind you and you feel his warmth as he leans in close before a hand presses into your mid back and another gently grasps your shoulder, gently making you straighten even more, stand even taller.

Once he’s satisfied with your posture he rounds you and tilts your chin just a tad higher with a hooked finger. He’s silent as he shapes you, adjusting your body to his liking. You let him tenderly push and tug, grab and knead and trail those deadly fingers over you until he stops before you, studying you once again. 

“You’re my fiance now. You will hold yourself as such, radiate power as I do and command the attention of a room with only a glance.” The reminder of just what was happening made your breath stutter a little, and his hand came up to grasp your chin, making you look up into his dark eyes.

“You will learn, little one, to be the powerful woman I see.” He was so close, the heat from his body rolling over your skin and his breaths fanning over your face. Then he was walking away, motioning for you to follow as he led you to his chambers and bathroom to get cleaned up. You’d be sleeping with him from now on, he said, handing you a robe to change into after you’ve bathed and guiding you into the bathroom before closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts as you set to cleaning yourself.

Given you don’t screw things up, you are going to be the most powerful woman in Japan, solely because of a sudden arranged marriage dropped seemingly from out of nowhere. But the longer you think about it, it isn’t really out of nowhere is it? The Oyabun is 30 now, and until tonight hadn’t named a wife, nor any love interests, and therefore no possible heirs. If the man were to die for any reason, those chances only increasing the older he gets, the power vacuum his absence would create would be absolute madness. You’re part of a strategy, just as before. Just as always.

Yet there was no denying he’d struck something inside you. Of all the women in that hall he approached you, a woman he didn’t know from a low ranked clan, for reasons you could only barely begin to guess. He’d called you powerful earlier, the sincerity in his voice making your mind spin. Did he really see you as powerful? And the name he’d used for you felt far too tender on the tongue of such a dangerous man, though you understood the nod toward your previous rank. 

Father and Mother must be either confused, shocked, or overflowing with joy right about now. Confused as to why you haven’t returned, shocked, happy, or both at the news had they learned it. With your mind processing everything, your body finally begins to feel fatigued. 

You shut off the water before drying yourself, patting your hair in the towel before pulling on the fluffy robe. It was clearly meant for him, the fuzzy black garment large around the shoulders and sleeves engulfing your hands, the garment nearly touching the floor where it’s meant to hang several inches from it on his frame. Despite swimming in the robe, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. You’re bare beneath it, not having planned to not return home. Still, it’s late, and the Oyabun needs to shower as well. With a steadying breath, you step out into the room.

He’s standing near the bed, the top half of his clothing discarded and bare skin exposed, along with the heavy tattooing and scars along his body. Dragon scales decorated his skin, along with delicate swirls heavily resembling smoke and clouds that followed the curves of his corded muscles. He is undoubtedly a beautiful man. You don’t realize you’re staring until a miniscule smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, little one?” You blink away your daze and shift your eyes to the side, feeling the slight burn in your face at being caught. Instead of answering the cheeky question you choose to change the subject.

“I’m finished with my shower, Oyabun.” He hums, a low sound you can feel in your chest.

“I can see that, little one. And you call me Shouta.” You take a quiet, sharp inhale and nod.

“Yes, of course...Shouta.” His name feels heavy on your tongue, a name that people didn’t normally dare speak. He’s silent as he gathers his things and moves toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily by your side. You’re confused a moment before his calloused fingers gently grip your jaw and turn your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple for a split second before he’s disappearing into the bathroom. 

You stand in shock, the tender touch unexpected. Shaking your head, you decide it’s best to lay down. Hopefully you’d fall asleep by the time he finishes bathing, but you doubted it. You’re proven right when, in the midst of mulling over your own thoughts, he emerges in nothing but sweatpants, dark hair still damp as it fell around his shoulders. You managed to avert your eyes before he could catch you staring for a second time tonight, and it wasn’t long before he slipped under the blankets next to you.

There wasn’t a single word shared between you as he flicked off the lights with a remote and settled into the plush mattress. There was no movement from the man as you lay with your back to him. You aren’t entirely sure if the lack of movement unsettles you more than if he were to be shuffling around. It felt like hours had passed in the darkness, your eyes had adjusted and you couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted you felt. 

Your mind raced with questions. What happens now? What happens with your clan and parents? Would you have clothes soon? How would he treat you? How were you supposed to act around him? When is the wedding? Is the engagement already official? What if you disappoint him and fuck everything over? The entire situation makes you anxious, for more than something as trivial as your own safety. You shift onto your back and listen to Shouta’s soft snores, signaling his sleep. As silently and gently as you can, you slip out of bed.

You have no clue what you were going to do or where you were going to do it, but you had to get away from him if only for a moment, to let yourself breathe and think. Almost mindlessly, you find yourself staring out of the glass wall and out into the night. This far out, you can see the stars in the night sky clear and bright, and it was a sight you missed having lived in the city most of your life. Right here you have room to think, space to spread your thoughts and calm your mind to keep from jumbling everything in your brain and stressing over it more. 

From what you can tell there is a very small chance Shouta would treat you maliciously, so for now you don’t have to worry about that. Considering his power and status, you won’t be without clothing for long. The thought was silly in the first place, but stress tended to make you question even the most ridiculous. As for how you’re meant to act, well that would have to be tested. He’d already told you how to appear to the public, so that shouldn’t be too hard, but being alone with the man was driving you insane.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You spin around, suddenly very much on guard, before Shouta’s voice broke through the darkness, his figure slowly approaching. 

“What are you doing up, little one?” You bite your lip and turn to gaze outside again, hugging your arms tight.

“Just thinking. I apologize for waking you, Oya-… Shouta.” His warmth hit you before his skin did, chest pressed into your back and large rough hands gripping your shoulders firm but gentle. His breath is hot on your ear and neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Such an intimate action from him only hours after he’d made you his fiance was quite the shock in and of itself, only enhanced by the fact that this man is known for his cold nature.

“Thinking about what?” His hands smoothed down your arms, following them around your waist and encompassing your hands in his, tugging you into him further. Unnatural as it may seem, it feels good, his warmth. In the arms of such a dangerous and powerful man you should feel small and scared, but you don’t. You aren’t entirely sure what it is you feel. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to answer his question properly.

“About a lot of things. Too many things.” Right now, the only thing you want to do is melt into the man’s arms. His presence is suddenly comforting, instead of worrying, and you feel safe in his embrace. You sigh and lean into him, fatigue finally beginning to tug at your body and mind. Strong arms scoop you up like nothing, and suddenly you’re being placed down on the bed before he climbs in and pulls you onto him. An arm circles your waist while the other cradles your head, a tender kiss placed at your hairline.

“Sleep, little one.” His fingers thread through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly. It’s a soothing action, especially after nearly giving yourself a headache from stress. It isn’t long before you’re nodding off, relaxing into his body and letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

[detectivenyx]

anyone telling you not to make fun of tiktok because you can ‘curate your experience to be how you like!’ is a fucking liar and has been completely suckered in by that godforsaken app.

a. even when my feed was ““perfectly tailored”“ to my interests (danganronpa, queer content, australian content, lolita fashion), it was just throwing whatever was in those tags at my face. a lot of this content was completely irrelevant to me - overdone danganronpa jokes that i heard told better on other websites, queer experiences of young kids i couldn’t relate to and felt creepy watching, stuff about australia that i was already observing for myself because i fucking live here, and largely the same 3 topics with lolita videos; ‘stop shopping on amazon for lolita’, ‘you can wear whatever you need to accomodate your disabilities with lolita’, ‘im tired of people assuming im a pedo for liking lolita’. these are all fucking things i agree with, but being repeatedly bombarded with just those and nothing else made it exhausting. this feed is supposedly perfectly tailored to everything i love, and yet even the addictive nature of tiktok wasn’t enough to keep me interested.

b. tiktok is deliberately designed to be as addictive as possible. similar to how the video game Civilization has that mentality of ‘just one more turn’ and suddenly it’s gone from 10am to 9pm, tiktok’s short video and scrolling design are created to ensure you keep going through videos for as long as possible - ‘just one more video’. when i had the app, i was aware of this, and yet would still lose 2-4 hours scrolling through the app regularly. the absolute cavalcade of shit, that would be largely ignored on other platforms, is part of the design of tiktok. you go ‘just one more video’, but the next video is total shit. you scroll to the next video, and it’s also fluff. you keep scrolling until you get to that one ‘good’ video - and you forget you were going to close the app in the first place. it’s the exact same design as games like candy crush, which a youtube friend of mine showed this video that goes into detail about how it creates an addictive environment - and even after he realised candy crush was insanely addictive by its design, he was completely aware of it, he was still suckered in and kept playing. tiktok is the exact fucking same. you can curate the experience however you like! so long as how you want to curate your experience is ‘lose 4 hours of your life scrolling through absolute bullshit vaguely related to your interests’.

c. why would i want a robot to curate my experience completely?! youtube, for all of its fucking garbage, at least lets me pick what i want to watch from its suggestions, and its suggestions are usually not total garbage. by now even my youtube feed is curated to my interests and it’s way better than tiktok ever was because i have more influence over my experience than just giving a robot a few topics and letting it choose videos to force me to watch. at least i can take a look at the title and see if it might be something interesting.

d. misinformation is really fucking easy to absorb on tiktok - there’s a reason it has its reputation for ruining things for the LGBTQ+ community, for the autistic community, for people with DID and OSDD, and many other communities. the fact that anybody can post any video, can post videos that seem legit on the surface, and are using the app’s design to their advantage, means it’s extremely fucking easy to spread and absorb misinformation - that can be fucking dangerous. unlike on a youtube video where i can just click a new firefox tab and look up whether what’s being presented to me as fake, tiktok makes you close its phone app and open up a new app to google it. then if you need to reference a certain point in the tiktok, it doesn’t have timestamps like youtube, and often resets if you minimise the app, so you have to watch the video again, and repetition bias sets in - stuff that’s all annoying to deal with, so your brain just decides it must all be true because it’s easier. and after tiktok is done ruining the reputation of these communities, it makes it even fucking harder than it already is for us to be taken seriously - and for once it’s not entirely the fault of the people who refuse to respect us, but it’s also the fault of people using this shit app to spread misinformation about us.

so yeah fuck tiktok, make fun of it all you want, i want this app fucking obliterated