#Quad Speakers

[dailydoseoffunblogs]

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[luvxiem]

someones serenading u... ??????

recently no, however the dude i was talking to would constantly be humming and singing the anime openings when we would watch together and ngl it annoyed me but i kept my mouth shut bc i didn't wanna be mean and i liked other aspects abt him. he's gone now tho 🤣🤣 i'm sorry for betraying u luca 🙏

[canisonicscrewyou]

In T-Minus 11 hours we will have the truck to Begin Moving. Excited and nervous. Might take a 20 minute nap before I get to it or else just rot here till my timer goes off

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Hanssen: disasters all around

Word count: 5.4k Contents: cursing, violence, alcohol use, general dumbassery at parties, references to sexual assault/harassment, bts of Gojo's '4Justice' party, misuse of ChoCHo

“Why am I here?”

Sukuna inhales deeply, leaning against the dirty brick wall, one foot propped behind him, scuffing his trainers. Between his fingers, he holds a lit cigarette, dangling precariously as he bore a half-smirk, barely there, eyes smouldering when he meets the confused gaze of his cousin. 

He scoffs. “Because you owe me a favour.”

The younger man grumbles a complaint but remains squatting on the floor, legs tired from standing for so long. Having been creeping around the side of some frat house for half an hour now, he’s grown restless. Refusing to explain further, Sukuna huffs silently at the pout his accomplice is sporting. 

Suddenly, a click jolts the artist awake, eyes darting to the mastermind, who’s tense and jerking his head to signal it’s time to go. Unfolding himself, Choso mimics Sukuna’s position, directly behind a huge hedge, away from street view.

A silhouette steps out from a widening door, yawning loudly as it stretched. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” it yelped, burping loudly before walking away to get into its shitty car. 

Sukuna watches the car splutter away, disappearing beyond the curve of the road, and makes his move. He rounds the hedge and climbs up the stairs to feel for the door handle. 

Unlocked.

“Dumbass Theta Chis,” he mutters. They never lock their damn doors. 

The night is still and both cousins’ shallow but even breaths are the only things that can be heard as they slink inside the house.

Aware that he could have simply paid off one of his family’s goons, Sukuna feels absolutely no regret when, as he switches the light on, he bumps into a vase. It shatters on the ground. Choso winces, feeling bad for said vase, but nonetheless walks in, hiking a duffel bag up; who is he to feel guilty about the destruction of property?

Empty as expected, they eye the place. Sukuna scowls in disgust over the pigsty they’ve walked into; empty beer bottles lay scattered all over the floor, chairs and tables askew, streamers limp over almost every surface, and yeah, in the corner that’s undeniably used condom. The soles of their shoes stick to the floor and neither of them want to make guesses on why that’s so. 

Still, they look over at the one unsoiled spot in, likely, the entire house, standing side by side. Sukuna has a smirk, eyes glinting. His cousin on the other hand is wincing again, catching a glimpse of that deranged expression on the ringleader. 

How did he let himself get caught up in his theatrics, again?

There, above the grand staircase —not quite as grand Alpha Phi Delta’s, well, most certainly not as grand — hangs an obnoxiously large portrait of the founding fathers of the fraternity. 

It’s Theta Chi’s Holy Grail. 

But tonight, it’s the cousins’ personal playground.

With a heavy sigh, the sleepy sidekick drops the duffel bag on the floor, the rattling of metal all too familiar to him, and he gets to work. As much as he loves art and creating art, being used by his stupid cousin who sports seniority by less than a year never feels great. 

“Don’t rush, Choso,” an excited snarl pierces him, and he dares not look back, already exhausted of his antics, “I want this to be just perfect.”

………………………

At the centre of campus, the night is not so quiet. 

Lights are beaming and flashing, blinding the moon itself. There’s a deep thumping rocking the ground and it vibrates through every pole, every cup and every person. The Quad is packed full of people from all years and all practices, with a solid chunk consisting of students from other universities, friends of friends. Anyone who is anyone is here tonight, but who they are doesn’t matter. Everyone moulds into heap of gyrating bodies, swaying and jumping to the beat. 

Huge speakers line the perimeter, and drink stations have been practically robbed. Everyone has one thing on their minds tonight and that’s to get totally wasted. 

Just a hair’s breadth away from the first blade of glass, there you stand. You’re breathing out, itching at a spot on your wrist subconsciously and it’s turning the skin there red. 

Your thoughts are racing. You shouldn’t be here; you’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and it’s against the rules and the police could come and so many things could go wrong., 

But when was the last time you went to a party? 

Not a charity event or an end of the academic year staff party, but a real party, drank cheap but strong alcohol, and danced to music with no lyrics. 

When was the last you had even danced?

You scratch harder. 

Most people are passing by you like you’re invisible, but one or two people would smile or wave, in a rush to get into the throngs of thoughtless pleasure. Maybe this was a bad idea — it’s unlikely you’d even enjoy this. You’ve always been a homebody, after all. 

A flash of black catches your eye. A figure blanketed in woven darkness is standing around, clearly anxious about the noise, the mess, the consequences. She picks up a random red cup lying on the floor and throws it into a bin. 

Is that the Treasurer?

Just as you’re about to take a step towards the girl, a voice reaches you, somehow clear despite the deafening noise of inscrutable music. You whip around and almost stumble at the sight of a person you’ve been trying not to think about the entire night. 

He’s in a plain white shirt, jeans hanging low on his hips, flashing a Calvin Klein band, and hooked over his fingers is his varsity jacket strung over his shoulder. Head cocked to the side as he gives you a once over, whistling at the sight of your bare legs. 

You suddenly feel cold in your skirt. 

“Hey, prez,” he drawls, “been waiting for me?”

Your eye twitches. Then you turn away, facing the writhing mass of bodies surging with energy, fuelled by mixed concoctions and techno beats. You feel even more afraid. 

This is definitely not your crowd.

“How was the press conference and everything else?” You don’t even know what you’re saying, just feeling a need to distract yourself with conversation. It’s easy to talk to Sukuna when you’re not looking at him. It hurts to look at him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a desire to wear that jacket he’s carrying. But you don’t want to ask. 

He steps beside you, eyeing the crowd just as you are. 

“Nothing special.”

You nod. 

Sukuna throws you a side-glance, sensing your nerves, and he thinks it’s hilarious. There’s a chuckle rising from his chest, but he has enough tact to smother it. So, he settles for giving you an elbow nudge, rolling his eyes when you glares at him. 

“You gonna stand there all night or you gonna do what you came here for?”

“I’m going home.”

He laughs. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

The sight of you stomping away is too damn comical to resist the urge to wrap his arm around your waist. Pulling you close, he presses you tight against his chest, and whispers right in your ear, “Don’t leave before I get to see this other side of you, prez.”

You try to wriggle yourself out of it, but he only tightens his hold. Too anxious to fight, shaking like a leaf, you accept it. That’s the reason you feel most satisfied with to justify clutching his forearm, unable to wrap around the thickness of it, and remaining in that position. Sukuna’s so warm, it’s as if winter’s never going to come.

“I’m pretty sure all the alcohol’s gone by now,” you mumble.

There are a few people staring and whispering at the both of you, but he pays no attention to the gossipers. Blinking, you realise you’re swaying. Or rather, he’s swaying you to an imperceptible music, a song only he hears. It’s slow, not at all like the rapid fire of beats that everyone else is feeling running through their bloodstream. 

“I’ve got a hidden stash,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry, prez. You’re gonna have fun tonight, one way or another.”

The way he says that sounds like a threat, like he knows something you don’t, and that clears your head. You push off him and snatch his jacket in one go, like it’s yours and he had stolen it from you. 

Sukuna doesn’t flinch, simply pockets one hand into his jean pocket, and runs the other through his hair. It looks slightly damp, and you have to gulp to push away the thoughts of him in the shower. His bicep flexes at the movement, shirt rising to reveal a flash of skin, and a trail of hair disappearing into his boxers. 

That shouldn’t make your mouth water. 

With a slight shake of your head, you adorn the jacket, feeling the material slide against your skin, still warm, absolutely burying you in the fabric. Why is it so big?

“Alright, follow me.” 

He’s sauntering off, long legs taking him so far in a blink of an eye. You stumble after him, meandering along the other people jumping and hooting like they have no worries whatsoever. 

Sukuna’s taken you to the Life Sciences building, a little further away from the heart of the party, but still feeling the weaker waves with the random people making out against walls, or girls crying into each other’s arm. In a lab room, he opens a locked cabinet with a key hidden under a textbook. Stocked are two bottles of vodka.

You don’t ask why it’s there or how many other stashes he has, though you know you really ought to so you can confiscate them. He places the bottles on the work bench devoid of beakers or test tubes, and without warning, grabs you, the unsuspecting victim, by the waist and lifts you up onto the surface. 

Yelping, you smack his shoulder. He ignores that and just lifts himself up to sit beside you. So then, there you sit, legs pressed against each other, sharing a bottle of vodka. The liquid burns your throat, and you hate the smell of nail varnish. It’s like an estranged lover, familiar but it doesn’t know your name. The instant warmth it courses through your body is very much welcomed, however. 

Minutes pass in relative silence, you both check your phones here and there and pass the bottle to each other. You try not to think about the fact that you're technically sharing an indirect kiss. That's childish.

“You know,” you begin, “I’m surprised you’re a party person.”

He lifts a brow at that.

It’s quiet here. Sure, you can still hear the distant rumbling of disco and craziness, but where you are, the loudest noise is the dull thrum of the radiators. And your heartbeat, but you hope he can’t hear that. You need him not to hear it.

You continue, “It’s just, I’m pretty sure you don’t like people.”

“Oh, yeah?” He fires back immediately. “You know me so well, prez?”

Shrugging, you take the bottle from him and gulp, “I know you better than you think.”

You’re aware of how vague and ominous that sounds but the alcohol’s making it really easy to not care. If karmic law exists, then you’d be allowed this —these little jabs at his true form whenever you can. You’ve earned it. You know that, so then why does every word leave a bitter taste in your mouth?

Sukuna rubs a hand across his jaw, tasting your words and mulling it over. The lab room is lit up only by one light, just hanging a couple metres away from you. It’s enough to see the flush climbing up your neck.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

You laugh at his petulant tone. It reminds you of the frustration babies face when a square brick doesn’t fit through the triangle hole, try as they may to force it through. Opening your mouth, you’re about to make a retort, but then suddenly, shouting breaks out in the hallway, and you flinch, hand flying to grab his bicep. 

Bare skin touching bare skin, it’s a feeling of utter scandal, and like you’ve been burned, you let go just as soon as you grabbed on. 

“Relax,” he stares at his phone screen, “just some frat guys fighting.”

Frowning, you ask, “What about?”

The smirk Sukuna has makes your heart clench. 

Rolling his piercing between his teeth, he considers his words carefully before deciding on, “Someone’s defaced the portrait in Theta Chi.”

You gasp. “No way. One of the alums on the board went to Theta Chi. They’ll be so upset.” The paperwork will be crazy, is the only thought passing through your mind. There’s a sudden lightness to your head and it pushes a giggle out. 

“Weren’t the people who egged my window from Theta Chi?”

Sukuna takes a swig of the vodka, regretting, for a moment, his failure to stash something stronger. Ignoring your question, he jumps down suddenly. You don’t want to wait for him extend a hand out, or worse, grab you anyways. So, you jump as well. With much less grace.

Stumbling, you fall into him, right in his chest, buried between hard muscles. He smells nice. Clean. He really did just take a shower before coming. And once again, you’re picturing him soaked and naked and steaming and —

That’s enough. 

You aren’t drunk enough to indulge in thoughts like that. 

“Trying to cop a feel, prez?” His voice is gruff despite the amusement lacing his words. “You should know I charge extra for that, although I’m willing to give you a discount.”

Pulling away, you flash him a finger, and he only smirks. 

“Seriously, what happened to Theta Chi?” You frowned. “I need to know how pissed the alums will be.”

He glances down at you, a dry expression on his face. “Someone painted some shit about their hazing process. That’s what Gojo’s saying in the group chat, anyways.”

Humming, you wracked your brain for every detail you can recall about the fraternity.

“The previous president mentioned that in passing to me last year, when I was shadowing him. Something about this long tradition of stripping the freshers naked and making them run into the woods? But I thought that was just a rumour.”

The man shrugged, already bored of the conversation.

You glare at him.

“This doesn’t have something to do with our conversation, does it?” It can’t be. “When you said you’d send a message.”

Surely, your vice president would have enough sense to know that a ‘message’ is just a stern talking to, and definitely not whatever the hell is going on. It would be catastrophic if this is linked back to him, and you.

Sukuna’s already walking towards the door, more interested in the commotion than the way your brain is firing at a thousand miles per second, even whilst the vodka begins to fuzz up your clarity. 

“Dunno why your first thought is me and not the extremely outspoken vandal we’ve got in our midst, prez.”

That makes sense, and it calms you a little, even if it’ll still be a headache to deal with. But you can’t shake off the feeling that, somehow, he knows more than he’s letting on. 

Following Sukuna, you both peek at the hallway where a crowd is forming. There are a bunch of guys wrestling each other onto the ground with uncoordinated swings and kicks. People are egging them on and recording, dodging the violence when it gets too close. 

And yeah, you’re so very sure the paperwork’s going to be insane. Especially as two members of the student council will be seen in the background of the dozens of videos being taken. The headache is already developing. 

“You fucking dick! Admit you broke in and destroyed our fucking picture!” A guy in a tank top despite the chilly weather yells and you recognise him as a fellow law student. Travis or something. He’s always been nice, quiet, but seeing him now as he trips over his own feet, backwards hat flying off, you realise, maybe he was just too hungover to participate in class. 

“I didn’t do shit!”

Another guy throws a punch, missing its target but succeeding in pushing his victim over, but the act also drags him down. Both fall together. 

“You’re a fucking liar! You drew over my great-great grandfather’s face with Pac-man!”

Someone from the crowd hollers, “Who the fuck doesn’t love Pac-man?”

“You fucking strip the freshies, you freak, a Pac-man on your ugly grandad is the least you deserve, asshole!” Someone else from the crowd screams. 

And they’re collapsing back down, people try to pull them off each other but only end up getting dragged in. It’s one huge uncoordinated Jenga tower crashing down. Sukuna tilts his head, mildly interested. They’re all too drunk to throw a proper swing, one that could do real damage, but if even just one person could slip and crack their head on the floor, that would be enough. 

A member of the crowd gets knocked over in the kerfuffle, distracted by something on their phone and skids along the floor with a pig-like squeal. Acting on reflex, you jolt towards the stranger, arms reaching out to pick them back up, but Sukuna grabs the back collar of his varsity jacket, the way one holds a puppy by its scruff. 

You’re dragged away, to the other direction, away from the mess of drunkards, too consumed by the alcohol to realise that this is going to hurt in the morning. 

“You’re just any other college student,” he scolds once you’re in the clear, “you’re not the president of the student council tonight.”

A pout drags your bottom lip down and you clutch his arm to your chest, it takes Sukuna by surprise, suspicion painted all over his face like you’re strapping a bomb around him. 

“But Sukuna,” you peer up at him, “you call me prez.”

He scoffs, a disbelieving amusement wracking his body. You’re trying to kill him. That must be it. There’s no way you’re this much of a lightweight, so much so that you’d quickly abandon your integrity, and go as far as to say his name like ’S’kuna’.

Your eyes have glazed over and there’s an inelegance to your movements, little clumsy jerks and goddamn it if it doesn’t make Sukuna’s chest do that weird thing it always did when he looks at you. 

How repulsive. 

There’s a part of him that hopes you’ll remember the utterly embarrassing position you’ve placed yourself in, but he also doesn’t want to deal with the avoiding eye-contact and ignoring him thing you do. It’s irritating as hell.

“You’re fucking dangerous when you’re drunk, Jesus,” he snorted. 

That makes you giggle. You’ve still got his arm trapped, blanketing it with his own jacket, and it’s warm, warmer than the alcohol your body’s desperately trying to digest, the foreign liquid an enemy.

“Fucking finally!” Someone yells. 

It’s Gojo. 

He’s marching towards the both of you, hands flailing in anger. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes before he pushes you slightly behind him. “What climbed up your ass?”

“Your Treasurer, that’s who!”

And with theatrical movements he reenacts the complaints he’s been hearing, about how she’s preaching safe sex to couples making out in the hallway, shouting at people to pick up their litter, and sending him a finger from down at the Quad to where he stood on a balcony. 

The last part seems to upset him more than anything else.

“Why did you bring the freaking fun police?” He directs the question at you. He always assumes you’re the root of all his problems, and well, you won’t deny that. “She’s gonna ruin my rep as the best party-thrower!”

Gojo’s a huge pain in the ass and to see him so frazzled over a different member of the council makes you pleased. You jab a finger at his chest, giggling as you mocked, “Someone needs to arrest you for being so stupid.”

When you hiccup, Gojo looks at you, horrified. His eyes dart comically between you and Sukuna like you’re pranking him, like he’s missing a big joke, instead of making it, for once. Seeing Sukuna only raise a brow in challenge, he groans, rubbing a palm down his face. 

“You guys are killing me, I swear!”

And then he stomps away. 

You giggle again, his lanky body looks so funny speed walking. You take the bottle from Sukuna and gulp clumsily. Some of the liquid dribbles down your chin, and you don’t care. This is the freest you’ve felt in months, hell, maybe even years. It’s as if chains have been loosened and you can stretch your limbs. 

Taking the bottle away from you, he tilts his head back slightly to take a gulp too, except he doesn’t look away whilst he does it. Not a single drop goes to waste, not even as he brushes a thumb over your chin and swipes it over his own lips. 

The skin where he touched sizzle. 

You clear your throat, “Should we tell her it’s okay?” 

Sukuna shakes his head with a devilish smirk and retorts, “You’re not the prez tonight, remember? Let the idiots fix themselves up.”

Slapping his chest and then settling on groping his pec, you slur out, “I’m never not the ‘prez’, idiot.”

“You’re just y/n, tonight,” he insists, encasing your wrist with one large hand, and stilling your movement so you can’t squeeze like a creepy uncle. “Be selfish for once, yeah?”

“Like you?”

Your head is tilted in curiosity, lashes fluttering and he doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about. He won’t deny his habit of putting himself first, and he certainly won’t apologise for it, but the way you put the question to him brings a flash to his head. 

Strobe lights, warm bodies and lies.

Sukuna reels back like he’s been slapped. 

He gets not a single second to process anything before there’s whooping. People grin at you two, punching the air in an expression of solidarity, chanting ‘fuck Mahito!’ at the top of their lungs. It’s fun to see everyone so friendly when most days people stroll by without so much as even a glance your way. 

A guy comes up to you both, in a blue sweater and cargo shorts, doing that weird handshake men do with Sukuna and you sort of want to join. He greets you with one of those half-nods and takes a sweep of your body, a grin on his face. 

“Want something?” Sukuna pushes out through gritted teeth. 

The guy shakes his head as if to clear his mind before he’s smiling like a little boy again. “Just wanted to talk about our next game. Heard the team’s good but I think their defence is a little weak.”

Hearing the basketball talk, you grow disinterested. 

Which Sukuna doesn’t sense until it’s too late. Because your question threw him off and he’s slacked. For perhaps the first time in his life.

So, when he glances down beside him and finds you gone, he’s cursing the heavens and leaving his teammate mid-conversation. He searches for you everywhere, trying to find an oversized purple jacket hanging off your frame, even popping into the girls’ bathrooms, ignoring the crying girls there.

“Flighty fucking woman,” he growled. 

There’re still too many things he had planned for your one-night truce, too many things he wants to pull out of you whilst you’re honest. And with you, the surprising lightweight that you are, being drunk off your head, alone, the thought of all the ways things could go wrong is making a muscle tick in his jaw.

He sees Choso, leaning against a bike shed, looking up at a mural with a cigarette between two fingers. It’s half washed off; the scaffolding abandoned for the night. Sukuna couldn’t care less for the sentimental mood his cousin’s in. 

“Why do you look mad again?”

Sukuna ignores that, “Seen the prez?”

The younger man tastes the word in his mouth. “The prez? The president of the council?”

Okay, apparently all the usefulness he’s capable of has been maxed out this evening. Without a parting word, Sukuna continues his search. He’s practically running. People are trying to catch his attention. Guys who’ve fallen under the delusion that they’re friends for reasons that elude the pink haired man, and girls who mostly likely wanted to put the rumours of his skills in bed to the test. 

He ignores all of them, popping his head into every classroom, growing more and more agitated, and he swears, once he finds you, he’ll tie you up and lock you in a closet so you can’t run off, can’t make his heart clench and his palms sweat. 

Eventually, he ends up back at the Quad, there’s too many idiots crowded in one place to see, and he’s certainly not going to attempt to sift through them all. He sees Gojo on a balcony, standing beside two figures, sunglasses pushed up over his head, grinning so brightly, even from where Sukuna’s standing, he can see all his teeth. He’s leaning over the railings, eyes fixed on something at the side. Just as Sukuna makes a step towards his direction, deciding that getting a higher vantage point would be the best strategy, a flash of purple catches his attention.

He found you.

But it’s too late. 

You’ve already climbed a table, shoes next to some red solo cups, drawing many people’s attention. No one expected to see the president here, and certainly not with a varsity jacket on. Perhaps, people are worried you’re about to lecture them, to warn them about the rules and trespassing and whatever else. 

Resting against a pillar, he sighs and rubs his jaw. 

Apparently, drunk you loves attention. Well, he shouldn’t be surprised; you’re a great orator and it just comes naturally to you, even if you are a bundle of nerves sometimes. He decides to stay there, watching your passionate speech, arms raised like you feel the zeal course through you. The music has quietened, the, no doubt ridiculously expensive, DJ a certain frat president hired lowering the volume. 

Everyone’s watching you, halting their grinding and jumping to hear you out. You introduce yourself -not that you needed one to begin - and talk about the challenging couple months, the way students turned on each other and staff showed their bias. You saw the girls, other victims, forced to cower, forced to feel dirty, and doubt themselves. 

But you also witnessed the love, the support, the community. The sisterhood that carried you all to this point where the truth has made itself clear, justice prevailing because they cannot deny the bravery you’ve all showed. 

There are a few people wiping tears from their eyes, guys occasionally shouting in agreement. Despite most people coming just for a good time, it seems like there really was a need for catharsis. Recent events haven’t just taken a toll on you and the girls and the lawyers, but also on the other women on campus. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

Drunk you is the female reincarnate of Mark Antony, go figure.

Half obscured by shadows and half lit by flashing lights, he stands there, eyes never leaving your figure, jolting every time you stumble on the table, but as infuriating as it is, you’re surrounded by a bunch of guys, ready to catch you.

He’s developed a disliking of parties over the years, hating the bumbling ineptitude of drunk people, and all the drama that comes bursting from the seams of repressed idiots. Still, he attends most of them, never taking part in the chaos but often just watching. 

Sukuna hates parties but this one isn’t too bad, he decides.

A notification goes off on his phone and he sees his roommate’s message — a video and a text following it. 

the girl of your wet dreams is really getting the waterworks going huh?

Once again, Sukuna rolls his eyes, saving the video and ignoring Toji. 

God, he hopes when he brings you back to your dorm room that you won’t throw up all over him. He can deal with carrying your dead weight back to the Northside Halls, and the no-doubt moody and grumpy you that’ll show up the next morning, dragged down by a killer hangover, and even the insults you’ll no doubt hurl his way when you accuse him of enabling you for his own entertainment. 

But if you throw up on him, he’ll lose his mind.

You reach a dramatic end, thrusting your fist into the air and people follow suit, just as drunk, if not more so, and easily influenced. They clap, roaring and whooping. The music comes back on and the dancing returns, invigorated by the shift in energy. 

Clambering down, feeling satisfied, you’re being shaken by the overly supportive drunk friends you’ve made within the span of the five minutes until Sukuna found you. They slap you on the back, congratulating you and saying other things that aren’t really registering in your mind. 

Escaping to a quieter part of the Quad, you skip along, to nowhere in particular, and fall face first into a hard wall. It hurts and you clutch your forehead, cheeks puffed out as you furrow your brows.

Glancing up, you’re met with a stormy gaze, it’s smouldering something unyielding and threatening. But, as you squint through the haze of insobriety, you see the gentle tracing of his eyes over your frame, and then as if he saw what he wanted to see, it hardened to something much more akin to a feasting.

You’re drunker than you feel. 

“You left,” his tone is calm but there’s an undercurrent of heat there. It’s accusing and scathing, and it teases at your spine. 

With a shrug, you reply, “You were boring me.”

You’re a little sweaty, the running away and the standing beneath so many lights had you feeling like you’ve just done a triathlon. And when he swipes a hair off your forehead, you can only splutter in complaint when he smears your own sweat onto your cheek.

“It’s bedtime, prezzy, come on.”

His voice is uncharacteristically soft, a quiet whisper against your head as he clutches you to his chest just as your knees cave in. Your vision is spotty, and your lips are dry. 

In a blur, you find yourself in your bed. 

When did you get here?

How did you get here?

You’re too tired to tell, eyes drifting close. 

Your desk lamp is on, lighting your room enough for you to see the silhouette of a man running his hand along your table, eyeing the piles of papers scattered there. He flips a page over, studying your handwriting and the sticky notes with random faces, some frowning and some with Xs for eyes. 

“S’kuna?” 

His stare snaps towards yours and it steals your breath away.  

“Go back to sleep,” his voice is soft. And even whilst weighed down by the alcohol, you’re aware of how tiny your room is with him in here. It feels wrong to have Sukuna pacing the length, studying the pictures on the wall and the neatly piled laundry waiting to be put away. 

You have no idea what he’s thinking, and it scares you. Groggy and still not fully conscious, you croak, “Did you bring me back?”

“No, we teleported,” he fires back, without missing a beat. “Yeah, I brought you back. I didn’t touch you or anything, so just relax.”

“I didn’t think you did,” you admit, the sentence muffled by your comforter. 

Sukuna leans against a wall by your door, calculating if everything’s as it should be, and you finally notice he’s just in his white shirt, no jacket in sight. 

“Wait,” he cocks his head in question, “it’s cold out. Wear your jacket.”

He laughs, it’s low, just a couple huffs really, but it’s a laugh, nonetheless. It feels like one of those rare victories. “Nah, keep the jacket. You like damn thing more than I do.”

“No. Wear the jacket,” you point to the chair it’s draped over; your arm is heavy and you’re drifting off again. 

He narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t see that, breath evening out. “Always so stubborn,” he says this more to himself, walking over to your chair and snatching it with more force than necessary. “I’ll take it, on loan.”

You don’t reply.

But when he stands over you, knuckles brushing a stray hair off your cheek again, you hear him from behind the haze of sleep and exhaustion say, “You always get what you want, don’t you, prez?”

And then he’s leaving, shutting the door much quieter than you ever have. You swear as you take one last inhale, you can still smell his fresh soap and feel the scalding burn of his touch. 

Both of you know you’ll barely remember any of this, if anything at all. Despite that, you find yourself hoping that you, at least, remember the feeling of being free and unburdened, even just for one night. You also hope he’ll remember what life could be like if you two got along, so perhaps he’ll ease off a little.

Just as you enter a dream state, you sluggishly respond to something that seems so far away now, the words escaping you like one last exhale before you’re dead to the world.

“I never do.”

[animamii]

highschoolsweetheart!Eren always asking you out to school dances by performing a Justin Bieber song for you.

It all started in Freshman year biology, the two of you sharing earbuds plugged into your phone. You have your liked songs on shuffle. All basic stuff, some Kanye, My Chemical Romance, The Weeknd. Just things you knew anyone, including Eren, would enjoy. Nothing you'd be embarrassed to play, none of your guilty pleasures. That is until One Time by Justin Bieber starts to blast through the headphones.

Me plus you...

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening as you look straightforward. Refusing to turn to look at Eren, who you can see out of your peripheral vision already looking at you with a smug smirk on his face. A soft snort leaves his nose, and you can feel your face getting hotter and hotter.

"Didn't know you were a Belieber, y/n," he teases, eyes still locked onto the side of your face. You take a deep sigh, your eyes shut as you slowly turn to look at your best friend.

"I grew up listening to him, Eren. Like every other little girl. I'm not a damn Belieber," you muster out, chest still tight from the embarrassment. You knew the situation wasn't that serious, but you and Eren had this will they, won't they situation that you didn't want compromised by your preteen music taste.

"Sure, you aren't," is all Eren says with a snicker and playful shake of his head as he continues to do the classwork. In all honesty you thought he would egg it on even more, continuing to tease and pester you over having 2000's teen pop sensation Justin Drew Bieber in your playlist. But no, the green-eyed boy drops the subject and forgets about it altogether.... right?

A couple months later you sit with your friends at lunch. Sasha downing her burger and school milk as Historia fills you in on some gossip, Ymir chiming in with her pessimistic opinion every so often. All you do is nod and listen, laughing at every snarky remark Ymir adds. The quad is littered with students, at lunch tables, walking around and talking with friends.

"Heyyy y/n please don't hate me for this, but I have to do this or else I'm getting my ass beaten or eaten," Connie shuffles to your lunch table, a good-sized speaker in his hands as he sits in on the table, turning it on.

"Do what??" You ask cluelessly, brows furrowed as you watch Connie plug in his phone and throw a thumbs up at someone. Your eyes follow his gaze, to Jean, who is standing like a damn weirdo next to something hidden out of your sight. Jean nods at Connie and gives a thumbs up back, to which Connie nods back as he presses play on his phone.

"What the hell are these boys doing?" You mumble to yourself until you hear it. That dun, dundun followed by adolescent vocals. Your face turns white, all color drained as you hear young Justin Bieber singing. Turning to Connie, you look at him with that 'What the fuck is going on?!' look he was so used to. All Connie does is nod his head to where Jean stands, with Jean giving you a shit eating grin and a wave. He turns to say something to someone next to him, some kind of signal. And there he is.

Eren freaking Yeager, dressed in a damn gray button up, opened with a black shirt underneath. And somehow some damn purple shoes, just like Justin in the Baby music video. With so much energy he jogs out into the middle of the quad, arm out to you as he lip syncs the opening verse. just shout whenever, and I'll be there. With every word he does the accompanying choreography, which has you wondering just how much effort this boy put into his little stunt. Shuffling his way over to you, his smirk grows as he sees your pink blushed cheeks that you try to hide as you cover the smile that starts to form.

"We're just friends. What are you sayin'?" He places his hands on your shoulders as he sings to you, people in the quad starting to stop and stare as he does those flashy music video jumps and hops Justin does. Ymir points to you two, her laughter drowning under the loud music from the speaker, Connie next to it as he nods his head to the beat and hypes up Eren. Soon Ludacris's part comes on, Eren turning around for a split seconds before spinning to face you once more, sunglasses now on his face as he raps along.

By the time Eren launches into Ludacris's verse, the entire quad has erupted into cheers, laughter, and even a few people pulling out their phones to record. His enthusiasm is nothing short of infectious. He’s moving with the confidence of a boy who knows exactly how ridiculous he looks—and doesn’t care one bit. Anything for you, right?

“Eren, stop!” you shout, though your voice is laced with laughter, and your hands are desperately trying to cover your face. But it’s no use; everyone is staring, and Eren is unstoppable. He drops to his knees dramatically, sunglasses barely clinging to his nose, and grabs your hand like he’s in a cheesy rom-com.

“When I was 13, I had my first love!” he belts, holding your hand up like he’s about to propose. The crowd goes wild. For a glimpse of a second he smirks, a devilish idea popping into his adolescent mind. He starts peppering kisses from your hand and up your arm, causing the girls watching to squeal a bit.

Your friends are no help. Sasha is choking on her burger from laughing too hard, Historia is clutching her sides, and Ymir has fallen over onto the bench, howling like this is the best thing she’s seen all year. Connie is doing some kind of two-step next to the speaker, hyping Eren up like a DJ at a concert. And Jean is just proud that all the practice had paid off, he would have been livid if Eren didn't do what he had taught him.

By the time the song wraps up, Eren’s out of breath but still grinning ear to ear. He tosses his sunglasses aside with a flourish and takes a low, exaggerated bow in front of you. “y/n,” he says loudly enough for the whole quad to hear, “will you do me the honor of being my date to the dance?”

Your face is burning hotter than the sun, but you can’t help but smile. The entire school seems to be waiting for your answer, the chants of “Say yes! Say yes!” growing louder by the second.

“Fine,” you say, trying to sound exasperated, but the grin on your face betrays you. “But you’re lucky I don’t die of secondhand embarrassment before then.”

The quad erupts into applause and cheers as Eren pumps his fist in the air like he just won the lottery. “Let’s gooo!” he shouts, and Connie cranks the volume up for the final chorus of the song, with Eren dramatically singing along one last time. He keeps his arms around you as he sways the both of you back and forth, the biggest grin forming on his face as you start to voluntarily move along with him. As the song ends, he places a sloppy kiss to your cheek. You groan, burying your face in your hands, but deep down, you know you’ll never forget this moment—or Eren’s goofy, fearless way of making you feel like the center of the universe.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿

Def gonna make another part to it, didn't know if it was too long or nott. Thought just popped up into my head and I was craving some Eren fluff.

[aisiedaisie]

I’m kinda living for the whole college Sirius you’ve got going. Never would’ve imagined him as a TA but Astronomy fits soooo well. (Very much looking forward to more of that) But just imagine… Tutor reader and one of the other boys is a barista on campus and they just know the readers order as soon as they walk in because it seems like they always stop by before or after work. I think that would be soooo cute!

Also saw you have designated anons can I be your ⏳ anon if that’s not taken already?

Hello hello~!!! I’m so happy you’re enjoying the college AU! I’m really loving TA!Sirius too, so that storyline will definitely continue. Now, as for your ask—when I saw ‘barista,’ my first thought was to make it a Remus-centered fic. But…I raise you social butterfly barista James Potter. With that said, I hope you enjoy my take on your idea!

Also of course you can be my ⏳anon!!!

Barista!James Potter x Fem!Reader WC: 1.1k

It's early afternoon, and the coffee shop tucked in the far corner of the quad is practically deserted. Only a few frazzled students tap furiously at their keyboards, their brows knitted in concentration, while the occasional professor unwinds after a long string of lectures. Behind the counter, two baristas are stationed, chatting as they clean and restock in leisurely rhythm, bracing for the next rush that’s sure to sweep through those double glass doors in a few hours.

When you step into the shop, just as you do nearly every day around this time, you’re greeted by the soft hum of music filtering through the speakers, barely louder than the clatter of laptop keys and the muffled murmur of conversation. Yet, the sound is familiar and comforting, blending seamlessly with the warmth of the space.

You glance toward the bar, and there he is—James, a familiar face, mid-motion as he turns from cleaning the espresso grinder. His brown eyes light up with recognition, crinkling with a smile that’s warm and easy.

"Hey, love," he greets, pushing his round glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Your usual?"

You can’t help but mirror his smile as you nod, digging into your bag to pull out your wallet. “Yeah, thank you, James.”

At the register, the other barista, a girl with dark red hair pulled into a loose bun, rings up your order. You notice, though, that she pauses as James adds an extra drink to your total. She raises an eyebrow, casting him a questioning look. “She’s only getting one, though?” she asks, her brows furrowing.

“Just trust me, Lils,” James replies, his smile as certain as it is mysterious. With a small sigh, she relents, and you barely notice the extra charge, simply thanking her with a quiet smile before finding an empty table.

You settle in, pulling out your journal and glancing at your phone, gauging how many hours you’ll be spending in the library tonight.

As you begin jotting down notes, your mind drifts to a few concerns your students shared during the last session, the things they struggle with that you’re determined to help them understand. The scratch of your pen on the paper becomes a soothing rhythm until—

A steaming mug lands on a coaster beside your phone, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, startled, an apology already on your lips. “Sorry,” you murmur, realizing you must’ve missed him calling your name.

James only chuckles, his smile soft yet playful. “Sorry for what, love?”

“Not coming to get my order?”

He laughs, the sound warm and familiar, filling the quiet space between you. “I didn’t even call for you.” He shakes his head, clearly amused. “When I finished with your tea, you were already writing, so I figured I’d just bring it over.”

You thank James with a grateful smile, but he just waves it off, already turning back to the espresso grinder. Lily, meanwhile, busies herself at the small refrigerator, restocking whipped cream canisters with the kind of efficiency that only comes from experience.

You open your journal once more and start drafting a few more notes, tailoring each to help your students in their upcoming sessions. First on today’s list is Evan—a top business student, though lately, he’s hit a wall with Economic History. You’re not entirely sure why. Though the subject is notoriously dry, Evan is bright and usually navigates complex material with ease.

Then again, you’ve noticed a pattern. Every time a certain psychology major sits just outside your study room door, Evan’s focus starts to drift. You’ve seen the stolen glances, the way his attention wavers whenever that familiar face appears in his line of sight.

But you don’t really mind. Evan’s a fast learner, and once he sets his mind to it, he absorbs concepts quickly. With a small smile, you jot down a few more examples, hoping to make the material click despite his latest...distractions.

After some time, you shift in your seat, feeling the strain of being hunched over for so long. You roll your shoulders, feeling a satisfying pop and release of tension. Glancing at your mug, you realize it’s now almost empty; the last bit of lemon mint tea has gone cold, a quiet signal that it’s time to pack up and move on.

You slip your book and journal back into your tote bag and stand, carrying your mug over to the return station, placing it gently in its designated spot. A quick glance at the counter shows James mid-motion, focused on another drink. You approach Lily instead, thanking her for helping out and asking if you could order a tea to-go. Lily just shakes her head, waving you off with a small smile.

“Oh?” you ask, brows furrowing in mild confusion.

Before you can answer, James turns, holding a drink carrier with two steaming cups, his expression radiating a proud, quiet satisfaction. “Figured you’d be heading to the library after this,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “So I added a second tea to your order.”

You let out a soft sigh, almost a laugh, and despite yourself, a fond smile tugs at your own lips. “James…”

But he’s already pressing the drinks into your hands, that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes steady and warm.

“You got the coffee too. Honestly, you’re too good at this job,” you tease, glancing down at the carrier— your usual tea to go and an Americano for Remus at the library desk.

James’ grin widens, his gaze bright with playful pride. “Well, we have to keep our loyal customers around somehow,” he jokes. “Can’t risk you being lured away by another coffee shop on campus.”

You laugh, a soft and genuine sound, as you take the drinks from him. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. This is my favorite spot, after all.” You give him a small, lasting smile, the comfort of this place—and maybe of him—settling around you.

“Good luck with work,” he says warmly, his voice carrying a note of encouragement.

As you make your way to the door, you catch yourself glancing back, a gentle wave accompanying the smile that lingers, soft and warm, just a little longer than you’d planned.

As soon as she steps out the door, Lily glances over at James, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think she noticed you put your number on the cup?”

James shrugs, a bit sheepish but still with a hint of a grin. “Probably. I mean, I hope so.” He leans back against the counter, his expression a mix of casual hope and quiet anticipation.

“I guess we’ll see.”

[jangofettjamz]

Turn It Off!

Gentle!Wednesday x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: Wednesday comforts you after Enid almost sends you into sensory overload.

Words: 1076

Wednesday POV

Normally I would resent anyone who would even dare to think of asking me out, but that all changed when a particular psychic boy asked me to be his friend, and soon to be boyfriend.

Y/N L/N, a real gem among idiots.

I instantly took a liking to him, he's different from everything else and I soon came to find out why.

Y/N has autism spectrum disorder, which would be a valid explanation for some of his behaviour since coming to nevermore.

He's extremely shy, when he asked me to be his friend he almost broke at the seams. He's really nervous during any kind of social interaction with those he doesn't know.

Loud noises are especially irritable for him. Wolves howling in the quad would be torture for him, making him put his headphones on the second he sees them about to howl.

Meltdowns. Some imbecile thought it was funny to blast an air horn into his ears during lunch break, the result was Y/N having a meltdown with no one able to help him.

When we started talking I knew he felt a connection to me, he was a bit scared of me but also intrigued.

He's vastly intelligent, easily an IQ of 160. He's truly gifted with intelligence and that's coming from me. I'm not one to be humble.

When we started dating I took him to the weathervane, I didn't want to scare him like I did with everyone else. He's a fragile boy and didn't deserve that.

I wanted to protect him, to care for him and help where everyone elsen had failed him.

I love everything about him. I love the he'd hide his hands in his sleeves when he's shy. I love the way he talks about his favourite things in great detail. I love the way he could come to me when he's upset.

I love him, so very very much.

-

Me, Enid and Y/N are currently studying for our botany test next week. Enid, as usual, is procrastinating while me and Y/N have been studying since the test was announced.

We both go to reach for the eraser on the desk next to us, only for our hands to touch. I kissed the top of his hand making him blush madly, he really is cute; I hate myself for using that word.

Enid is dancing around her room being the foolish lycan that she is, she never ceases to amaze me how foolish she can be, its actually quite remarkable.

Suddenly, she decided it was a good idea to start blasting her incessant music out of her speakers, causing Y/N to cover his ears and whimper out of discomfort.

"Enid, turn it off" I said with a warning tone, though she only chose to ignore me and do her embarrassing dance moves in front of my face. Y/N began to whimper louder, making my anger with Enid rise to new heights.

"Enid turn it off!" I said louder; no effect was made.

"Why? It's getting boring in here, let's have some fun!" She said loudly, only adding to Y/N's discomfort. I was furious.

"ENID!" I shout, startling the both of them. "Can't you see that Y/N is getting upset because of your music blasting his ear drums apart, he's sensitive to noise you imbecile!" She looked over to Y/N to see him curled up in a ball with his hands over his ears, a guilty expression painting her face.

I point my finger to the door. "Get out" is all I say. She obeys and walks out with her head hung low. She knows about his noise sensitivity and yet she still does this, the audacity of some people.

Though my anger was strong and prevalent, I still heard faint whimpers from my side of the room. Y/N was still feeling uncomfortable after all that noise and was curled up in a ball on the floor by my desk. Thing was trying his best to comfort him, but nothing seemed to work.

I walk over to him and sit down opposite him with a gentle smile on my face. I patted my knees indicating for him to sit in my lap, he nodded and crawled into my lap and I hugged him tight, he preferred pressure over feather light touches.

He sniffled quietly, hoping I wouldn't notice. He looked away from so that I wouldn't see the tears streaming down his face like a river, as if I'd resent him for it. I pulled his face by his chin to look at me and offered a reassuring smile. I only ever smile for him.

"It's okay to cry in front of me, I won't be mad. Please don't be afraid to cry in front of me, I don't want you to be scared of me, darling." And with that he broke, he hid his face in my shoulder as I stroked his back, my blazer becoming wet with tears but I didn't care.

"I'm sorry Wednesday, I know you hate emotions." He said through his sobs. I felt my heart break a little, he thought I'd hate him for it.

"No it's okay, sweetheart, it's you so I don't mind at all. I would never be disappointed in you for being upset. Enid is the one I'm disappointed in, she should've been more mindful of your needs."

I pulled back from him. "Can I kiss you?" He nodded and I planted a gentle kiss to his lips. "Wanna cuddle for a bit?" He nodded again and I guided him to my bed.

We sat on the bed and I held him with a vice grip from behind. I wanted to reassure him that he's okay to be emotional around me. I had not realised he feared me so much.

"I won't leave you for being emotional Y/N, you know that right?" I whispered behind him. "I'm always here to listen you, I know it can be hard to operate somedays and it can be overwhelming for you, I'm hoping you'll let me in and help you and comfort you in any way I can." He turned around, he looked taken aback by what I said, I meant everything.

"You would do that? For me?" I smiled and nodded

"I'd do anything for you, mi amor." He leaned forward and kissed me gently, smiling against my lips which I happily returned.

Maybe I'm not unlike my mother and father after all...

[cheriden]

「 across the room 」 。。。

"He thinks you look stupid. Stupid is too harsh of a word—stupid in a sense that it’s endearing. His feet are planted in its place as you grow dizzy, seeking balance in the person beside you. Watching you stumble into the kitchen and laughing at nothing; he follows suit."

pairing 。choi yeonjun x gn! reader

☆ genre & tags 。college!au, party animal!reader, party animal!yeonjun

☆ status & word count 。oneshot | 0.761k

☆ warnings/notes 。not proofread, irresponsible drinking, reader is gender neutral but wears makeup

Yeonjun watches you in amusement as you spin around with an arm in the air, jumping in a pace that certainly does not match the loud house music over the speakers. He was supposed to leave a few minutes ago, but he finds himself against one of the walls, red solo cup in hand, as his gaze is fixated on whatever new dance move you have conducted. 

You’re a vision. Sparkly eyeshadow and sequined get-up reflecting the mirrorball, weakly hung by thin rope. It shines onto everything, the walls, the floor, the random bodies around you. Yeonjun’s head is spinning as he continues to look at you and whatever you think you’re doing properly, as you proceed to jump and punch into the air. 

Now you’re raising your quads in the air and waving your arms like you’re a jellyfish. He thinks you look stupid. Stupid is too harsh of a word—stupid in a sense that it’s endearing. His feet are planted in its place as you grow dizzy, seeking balance in the person beside you. Watching you stumble into the kitchen and laughing at nothing; he follows suit. 

He thinks it might be creepy, following you out of his own curiosity. He thinks he might be your guardian angel, watching over you to avoid stupid accidents—but he isn’t your savior, he isn't your stalker. He’s just some guy who thinks you dance funny; funny not in an “I’m making fun of you way”, but funny as in he smiles at the thought of you dancing as it replays in his mind. You shout at nobody, telling the sea of preoccupied bodies that you need another drink. Yeonjun eyes the shot glass and whatever liquor bottle is in your other hand, rushing to your side to confiscate both.

You whine at the loss of it. He grins as you pout and mumble under your breath. He asks: “What’s your name?” You refuse at first, but then he hands you a glass. Thinking it was more alcohol, you chug it down, only to find it’s nothing but water. He warns you not to take drinks from random strangers. With snark, you refute, “It’s fine if it’s you then?” But he’s ever so patient, a soft smile forming when he replies, “It’s fine if it’s me.”

You tell him your name. He asks you to repeat it. You tell him again, and again despite the booming sound system. He thinks you’ve told him at least a dozen times, though he fails to catch it every time. He sees how impatient you’re getting, and settles for pretending to understand it. 

You smile. Yeonjun thinks he can burn the image of your high in his mind, along with the scenes of you dancing earlier. 

You’re still drunk and nodding your head to whatever early 2000s song is playing, singing as you look around the room and wait for him to pour you more water. He notes how much of the lyrics you get wrong, how many times you grow silent when you’re not sure what verse is on, how you laugh and say sorry when you confuse the hook parts. He tells you it’s fine. You tell him you want to dance with him. He says you shouldn’t be dancing anymore. The two of you argue for a bit, and it ends with you telling him to go get you more water. As he rounds the corner with the empty pitcher, he realizes he had forgotten to tell you his own name. He swears at himself internally, pitcher overflowing below the dispenser as he wipes the lukewarm drink on the sides of his pants. He wonders who invited you; what you study, what you like, your favorite color. He mentally compiles a list of questions for you, arranged by how important it is to him without him sounding too needy.

A tipsy Yeonjun walks into the kitchen in search of you, but to no avail. He walks the route you had taken to the living room-turned-dance floor, though it’s missing your signature sparkle and… Unique dancing. He nearly flips the house over in search of you, and when he describes you to the host, she tells him she didn’t know you personally, but were seen leaving with the rest of your friends. 

He sits on the edge of his car’s hood, staring into the sky in an attempt to sober up. With a sigh and a clear mind, he gets into the driver seat and puts the vehicle in reverse. 

He’ll just have to find you at the next party.

ahm. cheesed 2 meet you !!!

[anonymousewrites]

A Good Day for Death Pride Special 2024

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Pride Special 2024

            “Yet another day full of too-much cheeriness and color,” said Wednesday, crossing her arms.

            “Oh, come on, Wednesday, you had fun last time!” said Enid, rolling her eyes.

            “Nonsense. I said it wasn’t as terrible as it could be. It is still horrible, and not in a good way,” said Wednesday.

            “Will you at least help us set up?” said (Y/N). “It isn’t crowded right now, and we’re playing some music for fun!”

            They beamed widely at Wednesday, and she noticed they already had black sweater with nonbinary-colored stitching across the bottom on. Additionally, (Y/N) had pansexual-themed earrings on.

            “It seems you’ve already started the Pride celebration,” said Wednesday.

            “I’m proud all year round,” said (Y/N) teasingly.

            “Please stay, Wednesday. You can put on the pin that (Y/N) got you last year, and it’ll be fun,” said Enid.

            “I don’t need your ‘fun,’ ” said Wednesday.

            “You don’t need our fun, but you can still have it,” said (Y/N). “We’re giving it for free.”

            “And we’re your friends. Do it for us,” said Enid.

            “I don’t have friends,” said Wednesday firmly.

            “You’re really good at lying,” laughed (Y/N), completely undeterred.

            “We’re your friends, and you know it,” said Enid.

            Wednesday crossed her arms. “If I help you put up these…colorful decorations, will you lave me be to write tonight?”

            “Yes,” said (Y/N), smiling. “We’ll get our dose of Wednesday and be content.”

            “I am not a medicine,” said Wednesday, raising a brow.

            “I was thinking more about poison,” chirped (Y/N).

            Wednesday glanced at them and cursed the poison that (Y/N)’s happiness was for her. Them seeming so excited to have her around and always comparing her to the dark subjects she preferred made her heart feel sickeningly light.

            Unfortunately, she had a permanent infection on (Y/N)—a crush. So she couldn’t not give in.

            “Very well. I’ll assist,” said Wednesday. “But do not expect more.”

            “Cross my heart and hope to die, I promise,” said (Y/N).

            Enid just pouted but nodded.

l

            “Red Wine Supernova” by Chappell Roan blasted over the speakers as people danced in the Quad. Enid danced with her boyfriend, and more couples and groups jumped up and down while screaming lyrics.

            (Y/N) laughed as they watched. They hadn’t joined yet since they didn’t really have a group and Enid was with Ajax. Plus, (Y/N) was worried they’d get too excited and steal energy from others. Still, they didn’t mind too much. It was a nice night, and Pride was fun to just witness, too. Getting to be proud of who they were—for being an outcast or for other reasons—was very important.

            “I’m surprised you’re not dancing.”

            (Y/N) jumped before turning to face Wednesday, who had popped up out of nowhere (lurking in the shadows as usual). They smiled. “Hey, Wednesday. I didn’t expect you.”

            “These people are too boisterous. I cannot focus,” said Wednesday, crossing her arms.

            (Y/N) smiled to themself. They could see Wednesday wearing the pin they had bought her for the last Pride event, so they knew that, despite Wednesday’s proclamations that being there was a mishap, she had put a miniscule amount of effort into coming.

            “Right. Well, you’re welcome to hang out with me until the party dies down enough for you to write,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Wednesday nodded. The pair stood in silence as the dance continued, but Wednesday turned to face (Y/N). “I have this.” She held out her hand.

            (Y/N) glanced down to find a pair of earrings that were shaped like scythes. Instead of a silver or black metal, though, they shone iridescently—rainbow.

            “They’re very nice,” said (Y/N) appreciatively.

            “Take them,” said Wednesday. “I ordered them in black, and these came by mistake.”

            She was lying through her teeth, but what was she supposed to say, that she intentionally came with a gift to (Y/N) to repay them for the pin? Nonsense, that would be admitting that she thought about them more than she did anybody else.

            (Y/N) smiled, and Wednesday had a suspicion they saw through her but were kind enough to not say anything.

            “Thank you, Wednesday,” said (Y/N). They took off their current earrings, pocketed them, and put on Wednesday’s gifts. “How do I look?”

            “Very reaper-like,” said Wednesday.

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Seeing them in her gift with that smile, Wednesday’s heart pounded. She was suddenly very pleased with herself. Turning away from them, she cleared her throat.

            “You should dance,” said Wednesday. Anything to get (Y/N) away from her before she acted any more vulnerable around them.

            “I’m worried I might drain someone out of excitement,” said (Y/N) sheepishly.

            Wednesday raised a brow. “Nonsense. You have improved your control.”

            “Have I really though?” said (Y/N).

            “I have to do everything around here,” grumbled Wednesday, deciding she refused to let (Y/N) talk like that about themself. “We’re dancing.” She grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and pulled them towards the dance floor.

            (Y/N) smiled as they looked at Wednesday’s hand and gripped it properly. “Okay!”

            We’re dancing.

            (Y/N)’s grin widened.

            We.

            What a nice word.

Taglist:

@strawberriesareprettycool

@im-making-an-effort

@champagnewitnocham

@simpcreator

@ksunoosworld

@dot-and-co

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@itsyapeepkiri

@daza1s-w1fe

@tired-writing-reader

@mary-jinx

@ognenniyvolk

@under-kitty

@colezb

@simp4natasha

@emily-roberts

@left-and-right-up-and-down

@star583

@rainbow-love4ever

@nemtodd-barnes1923

@likefirenrain

@ziro-the-null-god

@youralphawolf72

@mjoiner1136

@alexkolax

[vhyunjinverse]

One of your Girls

f!reader x toji fushiguro (18+)

summary: There’s nothing like an old fashioned birthday celebration amongst friends going to the strip club, but it’s something when the Diamond herself is Toji’s treat for the night.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23 toji is 27), minor smoking, oral (m receiving), porn with plot, choking, creampie, squirting, spit kink, fingering, throat fucking, nipple piercing reader, tongue piercing toji

“Never been here before.” Toji grumbles, looking around the club. The music was loud, people going in and out of two separate doors. There was tight security and the area was clean, not your average strip club. Along with Gojo, Getou and Sukuna, the strip club was an ideal destination for celebrating Toji’s birthday. “It’s a cleaner spot, more expensive too. Might start comin here instead of the one we usually go to.” Sukuna pulls out a cigarette, quickly lighting it and giving it a puff. The quad shared a quick smoke session as they neared the door. Gojo taking the lead to the security guard that multitasked in reservations, “Fushiguro.” The white haired male leaning over the list to be nosey.

Toji scoffed while they took care of the business. He wasn’t one to really celebrate his birthday. To him it was another regular day of the year. However, his associates (his best friends he’s known for over ten years) always find some way to celebrate it (even without him). He took another look around the fancy place before chuckling. It reminded him of his college days, how wild he was before his family stepped in and sent him overseas. He stayed, and his friends came along. He caught his success here.

The inside of the club was even better. The floors a velvet red, private rooms lined the halls. Different stages each with a different group of girls dancing on poles. Men, hungry men, gawking at them with money ready to throw if it hasn’t been thrown yet.

“Shit….how much was this?” He laughs ex excitedly. Sukuna had already wondered off to a section the moment they stepped in. “Happy birthday.” Getou nodded with a wink afterwards. The trio kept walking down the hall until another door opened, and there was another stage ahead. Only one pole. The room was crowded but Toji found a seat close the front. Neither of the tables and chairs were placed too close to the stage. The men whistled. Gojo ended up separating from them once he sat eyes on the bar, his long haired friend right behind him.

There left the green eyed male, staring at the pole as the lights dimmed a seductive red. Music played from the speakers, good quality as well,

But that was when it happened. You- the diamond. The way your leg peeked from behind the velvet curtain, the way your body slowly made its way to the pole…how your hands wrapped around the cool metal. Your curls falling around your face, trailing behind your every move. Your curves emphasized by the black thong-like panties hugging your waist. Toji’s eyes rested on just how juicy your cunt looked hiding behind the material. His breath hitched. catching your brown eyes. Your hands snake around your neck, moaning softly while you rocked around the pole. Your eyes rolled, squeezing.

It felt like the whole world had stopped. Toji had seen many strippers, many..many strippers but you..you pulled him in. The room was quiet part from the music. No man spoke, no man made even a peep, other than the money being thrown at your body that moved like silk. You throw your head back, hands reaching for your bra. Toji scanned your face, your plump lips- the dimple he could see, all down to the beautifully detailed artwork on your face. If he knew you personally he wouldn’t even know.

The material slipped off your shoulders, you wrapping the straps around your fingers, holding the bra. Toji licked his lips, his tongue pausing on the scar for a second. His eyes trailing your pierced nipples, both hard.

“I heard..someone’s birthday is today.” Your voice sent shivers down his spine, straight to his cock that already shown its excitement. You glanced around the room until your eyes landed on his. You hum softly, heels clicking against the stage to the soft floor. On your knees, you crawled to him, back arching. Toji watched your every move, a smirk slowly rising to his lips. He heard Gojo’s snicker somewhere in the background, sneaky bastard. He’d have to thank him later.

You were between his thighs, hands on either side of his legs. Toji reached over to touch you- anything to be in control, but you shook your head. “Happy birthday..Toji.” You stood, your leg resting on the arm of his chair. So close…his heart was racing. It was only you in the room it seemed to Toji. He didn’t care for the men that whistled and still threw money. He didn’t acknowledge how rowdy they were when you sat on his lap and grinded over his hard cock. He sure as hell didn’t hear a damn thing when you leaned back, head on his shoulder, whispering softly into his ear: follow me.

“Happy fuckin birthday to me.” Toji looked over your body. The private room private to only you two. No one else. There was a small stage and pole but you didn’t use that, no, you didn’t have to. You leaned up, wrapping your bra around Toji’s broad frame and pulling him down. His lips crashed with yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands going down to grip your ass. You didn’t miss the cool material of his tongue piercing either. It made you moan. A good looking man at your job…perfect for you. “Been wanting this. Thought i was gonna have to wait.” He picked you up, causing you to squeal. “Toji-“

“You had yer turn princess. It’s my turn now.” He pushes you up against the wall, hand around your throat. You wrap your legs around his torso, his lips going to flick your pierced buds. “Mm..” you breathe. He sucked them. It almost seemed like he waited for your milk. The way he hungrily nawed at your breast..the grip on your neck. He squeezed and squeezed. “Want you on this dick.” He grumbles, other hand coming to squeeze the tit in his mouth. “So fuckin badly.”

Toji pulls back, mouth wet with his own saliva. He licked his lips as he pulled you from the wall. He carried you to the love seat. “You want that princess?” He asks, slapping your thigh to spread them. You whimper, opening your legs. He’s tugging at his belt to the button that couldn’t unbutton fast enough. You were so wet, nodding at his words… “Want you to fill me.” You lay back.

Toji’s fingers trail your inner thigh. He stops at your panties, the thing material being no help to how wet you were. “Look at that..” He groans, finger brushing over your clit through your panties. He licks his lips as he rubs it a bit faster. You kept your legs open wide as they twitched at the feeling. “all this for me. who else you spreadin your legs for huh?” He wasted no time smacking the soaked surface. You clench at the feeling.“hm?” Toji asks as he pulls your panties to the side. His fingers wet with your slick. You leaned right there for him. Your clit exposed, yearning for his touch. The tip of Toji’s fingers brush over the exposed skin, his eyes flicking up to your flushed face. How you stared at him while he teased your poor little pussy..the face you made while he made those slight brushes up against your sensitive clit. Your brows furrow when his finger slip inside of you with ease. Your lips forming a small ‘o’ at how his long fingers curled inside of you. “yes..yes-fuck.” your hips rock against the fingers that pressed and pressed inside of you.

“feels s’good toji..ah-“ you bite your lip,biting back the moans you wanted to scream out. Leaning forward, you run a hand over Toji’s clothes cock. The way you could see the veins pressed against the cotton material from how hard he was. “Need it..fuck i need it.” you whimper. “I know baby, I know.” Toji drunk on how wet you were for him. You pull at the band of his underwear until his cock springs free. You pull your hand back, licking a long, wet stripe on it. His tip was red and leaking. You wasted no time licking your land again, earning another finger from Toji. You take his cock in your hands, pumping him slow down base to tip.

Toji’s thumb presses against your clit, his fingers playing inside of you. “I could do this all day..yer warm princess.” He mumbled, his hips rocking forward. He fucked himself into your hand faster. “Right there..right there wait-“ you gasp, hips jerking. You squeezed around his fingers, that thumb still pressed against your clit. You whine feeling yourself gush over the fingers, his thumb circling your clit while you coated them. You lips fell agape while you stared up at him. Toji’s smirk only grew wider at that look in your eyes. His cock slipped right between your plump lips.

Legs shaking while Toji pumped your pussy full of his fingers, his thick cock touching the back of your throat. You stared up at him through teary eyes, smirk on his face while looking down at you. “Fuck baby- m’gonna cum soon if yer keep lookin at me like that.” He groans, other hand reaching down to tangle in your curls. He tugs softly, burring your face against the happy trail. His cock slipping all the way in your mouth. “I’ll give it to ya good if you don’t choke.” He laughs afterwards, throwing his head back at the warmth of your throat. You try your best, knowing just how needy you were in this moment.

“That’s it princess..fuck-“ Toji’s hips jerked. You choke slightly, the warm seed spilling down your throat. You gag just a bit, but still swallowing around his thick head. “fuck fuck fuck..” He groans, looking down at you through half lid eyes. “good fucking girl taking my cock.” He slips out, holding his cock against your mouth, slapping it against your lips. You lick every bit, Toji’s wet fingers slipping through his lips. “Taste good.”

You shudder and take a deep breath. Getting up you hold onto Toji’s arm. He takes your lips into his immediately. You taste yourself on his lips, and vise versa for him who only deepened the kiss. His spit trailed down your chin. His hand coming back to hold your neck. You pull back, “Shit-“ Out of breath. It only makes him laugh.

“This the part where I pay for yer college or somethin?” He takes a seat where you once were. You hum and straddle his lap. “Not yet.” You wink, “I said i wanted you in me, i meant that.”

He hums and rubs his hands over your hips, guiding you slowly on his cock. You hiss at the feeling, but the tip went in with ease thanks to Ojis fingers. You whimper, looking up at his slightly red face. Toji’s biting his lip, bottoming out once your heat surrounded him. “Perfect pussy for me hm?” He leans his head back on the soft cushion. You take his cock best you can. He lets you take all the time you need, which was nice. He worked you in perfectly. Once you settled down to base your body instinctively leaned into him. He was warm, his bare chest pulling your body into him. Toji bottoms out inside of you, shuddering.

He fucks into you nice and slow, every inch slipping into you perfectly. Toji filled every part of your hole. He moans into your ear, tongue lapping at your lobe. “M’gonna fill you up princess.” He groans. “Gonna give you all of this dick.”

“M..Myeah.” You groan into his chest. “cumming-“ you felt him hit your sweet spot. Your cunt tightening around him. “Shit..” He filled you with his seed. His grip on your hips tightened, the way he pushed you down further to make sure you took all of it..

“Happy birthday..” you slur, your eyes fluttering shut. He kisses your forehead chuckling softly.

[hyesunnyshine]

The Sun Rises, A New Dawn is Here

Pairing: Adaine Abernant & Oisin Hakinvar, Adaine Abernant/Oisin Hakinvar

Word Count: 719 words

Summary: After resurrecting Ankarna and restoring Cassandra, Adaine returns to Elmville with a newfound purpose.

(can be read as unresolved romantic and sexual tension)

Content Warning: vulgar language, descriptions of violence

A burning desire fills Adaine when Ankarna brings her back to the gym.

Her cheeks feel hotter, burning red with urgency and desperation for something. No, more accurately, someone . Her vision tunnels in as her eyes dart from left to right, eventually landing on an orange bottle attached to Gorgug’s hip. She snatches the Potion of Fire Giant’s Strength from him.

“Adaine! What are you doing? There’s nothing in there.”

“I’ll get you a Basrar’s sundae to make up for it!” She yells at the half-orc, not bothering to look back at him and hear his comment. She opens the bottle and shakes what remaining liquid there is, and throws it into a trashcan on the way out of the gymnasium. The shouts of confusion from her adventuring party are drowned out with the slam of the gym’s door behind her.

Early morning sunlight washes over the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. Where there would normally be bustling conversations, cantrips and activity in the quad is now filled with nothing more than silence and mist. Yesterday, she had hoped that the morning after election night and Fabian’s birthday would be this serene, but now there is only a drive and an ache. Like a heartbeat, a name repeats steadily in her mind.

Oisin. Oisin. Oisin. Oisin. Oisin. Oisin. 

The voice doesn’t stop when she spots the Rat Grinders, opening their eyes and collecting their thoughts after being revived for the second time in the last year, nor when her gaze finally stops at the blue-scaled student, scratching the back of his neck. He faces away from Adaine and she can’t catch his expression until a tanned Elven girl speaks up.

“Oisin, turn around you idiot.”

Ivy nudges him with her elbow, and the dragonborn finally turns, eyes cast down, brows furrowed, and demeanor so hunched into himself that makes it hard for anyone to believe him to be 6 feet tall. The cheeks on his reptilian face are blushed to a color Adaine didn’t believe was possible to achieve for someone of his skin tone.

For a few moments, the wizards stare at each other, the tension so thick that a Time Stop would look indifferent with their stillness. Ivy and Lucy are observing their friend with a quizzical brow, while Reuben looks to Oisin with intrigue and Mary Anne taps on her crystal uninterested in the current atmosphere.

It takes what feels like hours for Oisin to accept that Adaine is going to continue to stare at her until he breaks the silence.

“I'm sorry for the ping-pong balls. Must have been a pain to clean.”

And then something snaps in Adaine. The hesitation washes away and a new, stronger wave of something else, something hungry, takes over her frame.

Adaine takes a small step closer. Then another. Soon, she’s closing the several feet of distance between them in a light jog. Her left arm stretches out in front of her toward Oisin, and from the closing distance she can see he is visibly flustered, and perhaps something a bit more. A few feet turn into a few inches, and for a moment it seems like the two might collide.

Then Adaine turns on her heels, the rubber soles of her sneakers making a skitting sound on the asphalt. The hand that was out in front of her races forward, momentum making it hurl through the air, straight at Oisin’s snout.

A sickening crack of bone reverberates through the empty school campus echoing like the expensive speakers in Fig’s recording studio. Oisin recoils, clutching his nose when Adaine pivots sharply on one of her feet, and swings the other straight into his groin. Just as he begins to retract into his torso does Adain take her arms around his neck, the two facing each other with just a parting breath between them, and uses all the strength she borrowed from Gorgug’s potion to heave him over her shoulder and flip him onto the ground.

Oisin’s eyes are barely open in a daze of confusion and pain, the warm, orange sunrise washing over his blue scales. Adaine leans her head over him, her frame casting a shadow on him.

“That. Was for ruining Fabian’s birthday, you fucking cunt.”

Then without another word, the Elven Oracle walks back towards the school gym.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Music

'When all you wanted was to be wanted, wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now'

-

Kara arrives fifteen minutes early. 

She gets dropped off in front of the school by Eliza, and promises her she’ll be okay on her own. Once she’s alone, she crosses the quad by herself.

Earbud strings dangle across Kara’s body as she walks, head down, focused on the leaves and how they crunch beneath her boots. Taylor Swift’s Fearless echos through the tiny speakers and Kara can’t help but drum her fingers against her thigh to the beat.

The air is salty and damp with the smell of fallen leaves. It feels almost like she’s stepped into a painting, with the castle-like brick building in the foreground. It’s surrounded by trimmed hedges and trees with orange branches. Alex has always said private school kids are a different breed. But god, is their world fascinating. 

She finds the meeting spot with relative ease. It’s a round concrete picnic table just off the main path, near the massive lion statue Lena described in her email. Kara sits and plops her backpack beside her, quieting the music on her iPod so she can focus as she takes out her pens and spiral notebook. 

It’s supposed to be a simple project.

Sophomores from Metropolis Tech work with sophomores from the all-girls private school, Spence to clean up parks in the city. The whole thing is worth five extra credit points on her Earth Science final. Five extra credit points Kara desperately needs- because what kind of cruel joke is it to put an alien in Earth Science when they’ve only been on the planet for a year? 

She gets her stuff organized and looks up, freezing when she sees the girl she’s been paired up with standing across the table. For someone with super hearing– spatial awareness does not seem to be a skill Kara possesses. 

“You’re– are you Lena?” She stammers. 

The girl nods. She has raven hair and pale skin like the vampires in the movies Alex forces her to watch. For a second, Kara selfishly wonders if she might be an alien too. She just looks so unlike the other people Kara knows. But Eliza says it’s rude to make assumptions, so Kara quickly tries to suppress those thoughts. Lena would likely perceive being asked about her home planet as a targeted insult. 

“I’m Kara, it’s nice to meet you,” Kara says after a moment. “I like your outfit– you look so professional!”

Lenas brow furrows as she looks down at herself. She’s wearing a grey sweater vest with a blue crest over a white button-down and blue plaid skirt. 

“It’s a uniform,” she says. “We all wear this.” 

“Oh.” 

Kara scans the campus- for the first time noticing all the girls in identical get-ups, all paired with knee-socks and Mary Jane shoes. A few of them wear dresses instead of skirts, one or two with school-branded sweatpants beneath them. Where had they all been five minutes ago, before she’d made a complete fool of herself? 

“So… I was thinking we could go to Glacier Park,” Lena says, breaking the silence. “Most girls go to Central because it’s bigger. But Central is a tourist trap– Glacier Park hardly gets the same environmental attention.” 

She’s quiet, keeping her eyes fixated on her hands as she speaks. But even so, she seems so sure of herself. 

Maybe it’s a private school thing, Kara thinks. The students here are so smart, they don’t need to follow the social rules everyone else seems to abide by. 

“Unless you were thinking something different?” 

“Uh… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Kara admits with a nervous laugh. “My classes and everything have been kinda crazy.” 

Lena nods but doesn’t respond. Kara can’t tell if she’s judging her or if she just doesn’t have anything to say. 

“You know… midterms week. Can you believe they do this every year?” 

She isn’t sure why she keeps talking. In the emails they’ve sent, Lena only ever mentions the project. She doesn’t seem to be the chatty type– the type to care that Kara’s had four exams this week alone and that that’s why she can’t bring herself to be as invested in this whole thing as she should be.

It’s just that Lena is right there and maybe the reason she reminds Kara of aliens is that she may just be the prettiest girl she’s ever met– on Krypton or on Earth. And sure she isn’t talkative but that doesn’t mean Kara can help it either. 

“Yeah,” Lena says, expression blank. 

For a second, Kara freezes. She isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do with that. 

“We um, we should start on the report too,” Lena restarts, as if nothing happened at all. “I brought some articles on pollution levels in the city. I thought it might be easier to get the reading portion out of the way today, so we can focus on the actual cleanup later.”  

“Oh… okay, yeah, that sounds good.” 

\\\\\

They go with Lena’s suggestion and meet at the entrance of Glacier Park.  

Kara gives it her best attempt to look nice for her. Alex says it’s silly– they’re going to be cleaning up garbage all day, so why does she need to look good? But Kara can’t help it.

Lena is clean and elegant and weirdly perfect. And for whatever reason, she seems to know so much more than Kara does. There’s a gap between them and even though they’re strangers, even though they don’t have to be friends (Kara isn’t even sure if she wants to be friends) Kara hates it. She hates how isolating it feels. 

So she does her hair in two braids, and puts on her favorite jeans with the black long-sleeved v-neck that reminds her of Rory Gilmore. It isn’t much but it feels good– feels like she’ll surpass whatever expectation Lena has of her. 

When Kara finds the entrance, Lena is already there waiting for her. She’s standing under the big iron archway, carrying her backpack and the trash grabbers she’s borrowed from the school. 

Kara smiles and waves over at her. 

“Hey!” 

Lena gives a slight smile in return and nods in acknowledgment. 

“You look nice,” she says. She hands a trash pick to Kara who mentally pumps her fist and kicks a leg with excitement. 

“Thank you.” Kara smiles. “So do you.” 

Everything after that feels easy.

They pick up trash in relative silence. Lena stays in the grassy section while Kara cleans the pathway. It’s quiet and simple until it isn’t. 

“Lena Luthor?”

Lena lifts her head and Kara drops the trash bag she’s been holding. Standing a few feet away are two girls around their age. One wears a Spence School Phys ED t-shirt. Lena must know them, Kara figures. 

“How nice of you to help your brother with his community service,” says the one not wearing the Spence shirt. She has a high ponytail and blue Converse sneakers. She reminds Kara of the girls in Bring it On.

“But I don’t think it’s gonna make a real difference, didn’t he get like… what, twenty-five years?” she adds. Her friend– Spence shirt, laughs. 

A crinkle forms between Kara’s eyes and she waits for Lena to react. She’s seen fights like this go down at her own school– groups of bullies ganging up on lower-classmen in the girl’s bathroom or staircase. They always seem to have the upper hand until they push too far. 

But Lena doesn’t do anything. Her face doesn’t change. She just looks straight past them, the same way she does when she speaks to Kara, and says nothing. 

“Hey, be careful with her,” Spence shirt jokes. “She might snap like he did.”

Lena looks down. Her face is red. She grips her trash pick so tight her palms grow sweaty and knuckles turn white, but still, she’s silent. 

So Kara says something. 

She can’t help it– she knows she shouldn’t. But the words slip out, and before she knows it, she’s asking-

“What are you talking about?”

Converse sneakers looks at her like she’s crazy. 

“Lex Luthor,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Ya know– that psycho who’s obsessed with Superman and killed all those people?” 

Kara nods.

“That’s her brother.” 

Kara swallows. 

It feels like being punched in the gut– knocks the wind right out of her. 

And suddenly, she’s back in the living room, watching the TV with the volume off at three in the morning because she couldn’t miss the live reports on her cousin’s condition. Because she needed to know if he was dead or alive. Because she couldn’t cope with losing one more person, and if he died, that meant she had to go to. 

She’s in her closet the night after the attack after hearing a crash in the backyard. It’s raining out. Pouring, thunderous flurries. Eliza said the noise was just branches hitting the window in the storm. But Kara couldn’t believe her. She couldn’t get his face out of her head, trailing the worry that now, he was after her too. 

By the time she finds herself back in reality, the girls are gone and Lena is still looking at her shoes. 

“You can go home,” she says through a forced, wavering smile. “I’ll finish cleaning and write the report. You’ll still get the extra credit.”

This time, it’s Kara’s turn to go quiet. 

This stranger, this girl who she found so pretty and alluring, who she dressed up for, who she emailed with for weeks, is the sister of the very person who wants all of her kind dead. Maybe they don’t have a friendship, but to be acquaintances is still too much. To know her at all is to feel every ounce of hurt and damage her family has inflicted. 

Kara isn’t aware of how tight her jaw has been clenched until she starts to taste blood spouting from the sides of her cheeks. 

She isn't going to put up with this. She isn't going to be around her.

So she does as Lena says-- drops her trash bag, and walks away.

[kurtvrich]

Tumblr Super Hunk…

Handsome and personable, congenital Brasilian quad TL impresses everyone as a motivational speaker. Part III

[melodiousmonsters]

heyhey !! love your stuff !! i was just wondering if you have any info on the non-fire natural quads ?! (like entbrat, deedge, riff, shellbeat and quarrister) i'd really like to hear what they are like in your au............

Yeah uh sorry about kinda lying about answering my asks um I got bit by the programing bug but for games this time, but yeah. I only have drawings of some of them because lazy.

I'll be talking about all of them though, and a bit about monster maturing. The natural quads are only found in their elemental lands/islands as the elemental energies in those areas allow for eggs of their species to be formed in the first place. They can only have an elemental dominance of their respective element due to their connection with it.

Entbrats like woods, which plant island has an abundance of, and the woods they grow up in is the one they stay in whenever they have the choice of where to go, making it so the castle of plant island doesn't actually have a room for a boss monster due to how unlikely it is for the current boss entbrat to live in the woods near the castle. The castle of course was originally built to have a room for the quad, but it's been converted into another storage room. Castles serve mainly as storehouses in this universe.

Deedges are very strong and protective monsters. Their semi-serrated tusks and extra wide-opening jaws are perfect for defensive offense against the predatory critters of the cold lands/cold island. They are surprisingly mobile for not having any legs, their strong arms allow them to move, often they will fully support their body with them being the only things touching the ground allowing them to run as fast as most other monsters and also fling themselves to jump. They can get around well.

You may notice the extra speaker on the deedge skull in the drawing I made. Older monsters commonly develop enhanced versions of their younger form's body parts, making it so unlike humans, monsters actually get better at surviving the older they get. To a point of course, about a month before they die they start physically degrading similar to earthly creatures as they age.

Riffs like most air land dwelling flighted monsters are scavengers that soar the lands looking for anything edible. They are just a bit more so scavengers than most, they can eat anything primarily organic, like dead wood, limestone, etc. It's weird. Of course they prefer the more palatable normal food stuff, but if they needed to they could eat most of a house. As for ockulo trees, the small short lived ones grow from large piles of riff feathers left around during molting season. The larger longer lived ones come from dead riffs. When a riff is about to die it has a natural instinct to fly over to this one location in the air lands and bury themselves, the extra nutrients form the body allow for the tree to grow stronger. The place is simply called The Ockulo Grove and it's usually avoided due to how morbid it is.

Shellbeats are the most elementally in-tune of the quads and have very small amounts of control over their element. They can shift water around to move things, usually their drum sets. Speaking of their drum sets, they are primarily made of the shells of shellfish they eat. Water monsters love their shellfish, standard fish are for the cold monsters. Also they have the ability to spit "ink". People like to say it's just ink, but similarly to a lama's or alpaca's spit, it's much worse than it sounds. As babies they need the defense, so to make the ink as repulsive as possible it's mixed with half digested food from their second stomach and then spit out at a very high velocity at whatever is offending them. they can also just spit the ink by itself, shellbeat ink is commonly used for writing.

Quarristers hatch with all those heads, I know it ruins the unity concept the monster has but the quads are very rare monsters in this universe so like eight of them existing at once in the modern era is impossible. Each head has it's own consciousness and identity, but it's common for at least adult quarristers to all go by the same name. The heads can pop off and become their own organism whenever they please, and occasionally they do. But most often they realize that they need the other heads and come back after a bit.

Nowadays the previous quad trains up a younger one to fill their role after they retire, but in the early days of the modern monster world the natural island's societies were a mess with very little order. Monsters that aren't like three feet tall have a natural instinct to listen to anyone taller then them. This makes it so larger monsters often get unintentionally pushed up the social ladder as the one guy everyone goes to for advice. These so called boss monsters are often the quads as they are some of the largest standard monsters. After a while they generally learn to fill their roll, monsters naturally never have the urge, let alone the skills to lead.

[iam93percentstardust]

Stevetony kissing for a dare!!! Hehe :3

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!

This is the second part to the fic from yesterday (I’m doing all this on unfamiliar technology so I’m a little afraid to exit out of this screen to find the link)

~

Little Mix is playing through the speakers in Natasha’s dorm room. Steve wouldn’t have pinned Natasha, who normally likes big band jazz and old spy movies, to like that kind of pop music, but she seems to delight in surprising people, so who knows? Certainly not Steve. Bucky would be the person to ask, but he delights in his girlfriend surprising people just as much as she does, so that conversation is a nonstarter.

There’s a knock on the door, and Natasha darts over to get it. Tony slips inside, followed by his best friend, Rhodey, both of them sliding rainslick hoods off their heads.

”Sorry we’re late,” Tony pants, sounding like he just ran all the way across the city. “Warden was making extra rounds earlier.”

”You know, one day Mrs. Hill is gonna hear you calling her the warden and have you taken out back and shot,” Rhodey comments, passing his hoodie to Sam with a grateful nod.

Tony, on the other hand, seems too distracted by insulting the middle-aged chaperone of their dorm to notice that he’s still wearing his coat, so Steve gets up to help him take it off. And, no, Bucky, it isn’t just an excuse to get to touch the pretty omega. He’s being helpful. Bucky should try it some time. Tony smiles at him, sweet and lovely, as Steve slides his jacket off his shoulders, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat. After hearing Tony’s four hour rant on the inherent unfairness in how omegas are treated in this town, he no longer has any concern about associating with Tony—after all, nothing will change if they all just keep going along with the status quo—but he still hasn’t made a move to act on what he’s pretty sure is a mutual attraction. It just hasn’t felt like the right moment.

”My knight in shining armor,” Tony teases while Steve takes the jacket into the attached bathroom where Natasha has a space heater going. Rhodey clears his throat loudly, and Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine. I mean, thank you.”

No idea what that’s about.

“What are we playing tonight, boss lady?” Rhodey asks, dropping onto the floor next to Sam. Tony takes the empty seat on the free bed—left unclaimed when Natasha’s roommate decided college wasn’t for her after all—next to Steve. He curls up as close to Steve as he can get, feeling like a wall of fire against his side. Steve shifts, lifting his arm up for Tony to get even closer if he wants—which he does since he takes the invitation—and puts his arm back around his shoulders.

”Truth or dare,” Natasha declares.

Sam groans. “We’re not in middle school, Tasha.”

She scoffs, “We go home for the summer in the morning. This is my last opportunity to get blackmail material on you so I can make you come visit me. If I have to be left alone with Yelena all summer, I’m going to kill someone. Possibly Yelena.”

Considering how much Natasha talks about missing her sister, Steve doubts that that’s a real threat, but in the interest of peacekeeping, he says, “I like truth or dare.”

”That’s because you have bad taste,” Bucky says. Natasha glares at him, and he hastily revises his answer. “I mean—uh—you have great taste! Obviously.”

”Nice save,” Natasha says dryly.

Tony leans over and murmurs, “Someone’s sleeping in the spare bed tonight,” into Steve’s ear. Steve snickers, drawing Natasha’s glare on both of them. Tony holds up his hands in conciliation. “I would just like to point out that I like truth or dare.”

”Yeah, that’s because you have no shame,” Rhodey points out.

Tony shrugs. “Guilty.”

“You’re going to pick dare every time.”

“Still guilty.”

“And if you don’t get one that lets you run naked through the quad, you’re going to light something on fire. Don’t think I don’t remember that game last year.”

Tony considers it and then shrugs again. “Guilty of that too.”

“You lit something on fire?” Steve asks incredulously.

”I light lots of things on fire. I’m an engineer. Keep up, Steven.”

“Ooh first named,” Bucky taunts. Steve takes one of the pillows from the bed and throws it at him.

Somehow, in all of the hullabaloo, they forget to set down rules for the game, which is good because just like Tony enjoys doing all dares, Steve only wants to answer truth. And for reasons that he’s never figured out, it’s acceptable to pick dare every time but not truth. For the most part, no one really notices—except for Natasha, but she doesn’t miss a trick. Ever. And when Tony and Rhodey start commenting about heading home so they don’t get locked out of their dorm, she talks them into one more round and then turns to Steve with an evil look in her eyes.

”Truth or dare, Steve?” she asks.

“Truth,” he says, certain she’s going to call him out on it. But betrayal comes from somewhere else entirely.

“Hey, you can’t keep picking truth!” Bucky protests. “You’ve done that all night!”

”That wasn’t in the rules,” Steve argues.

”You have to do it at least once,” Natasha wheedles. “You’re the most boring person alive—”

”Hey!”

”I don’t have any blackmail material at all.”

”Okay, let’s not insult Steve’s character,” Tony cuts in, and Steve is about to thank him but then Tony turns to him with that sparkle in his eyes that spells trouble for everyone around. “Just one dare? Please? To tide us over until we get back from summer?”

He sighs. He can’t say no to those big eyes. “Alright. One dare.”

Natasha pumps her fist triumphantly and then, so quickly that she had to have been planning this one for a while, she says, “I dare you to kiss Tony.”

“What?” he squawks.

”You heard me,” she repeats. Definitely evil. “I dare you to kiss Tony.”

Tony chuckles nervously. “Alright, we don’t need to make Steve do something he doesn’t want to do.”

And that’s just—no. Something he doesn’t want to do? Where would Tony even get that idea from? Kissing him is pretty much the only thing he ever wants to do.

Without thinking about it, without letting himself worry about ruining their friendship or if Tony’s protest was really him saying he doesn’t want to kiss Steve or the consequences if they get caught, Steve kisses him. Hand cupping Tony’s cheek, beard soft against his palm, swallowing the soft gasp Tony makes. It’s a good kiss. Fuck, it’s a great kiss. Easily the best one Steve has ever had (not that he’s had that many).

He pulls back only because he has to breathe, not out of any real desire to stop. He’s dimly aware that their friends are applauding them in the background, but he’s too busy drowning in Tony’s dark eyes to care what they’re doing.

”Oh,” Tony breathes, and Steve feels the exact same way.

[winterbuckwild]

For @babyboymunson inspired by their adorable angry farmer Steve prompt.

Today everything was pissing him off. His coffee machine pissed him off when it conked out in the middle of the drip leaving him caffeineless and adrift at 5am. The horses had pissed him off: one not wanting to go out to the paddock and the other wanting to go out a bit too enthusiastically on his two hind legs. 

The sheep had pissed him off by escaping their lambing pens running amok over the cabins front lawn and one adventurous cow had decided to investigate the commotion and took an entire fence line with it. 

Which is why at 8am Steve was loading up fence posts onto the quad trailer and cursing the fact that they ever thought farming was a good idea in the first place. 

He had just thrown the last roll of electric fence tape violently into the trailer bed when a dust trail could be seen kicking up across his unfinished driveway. 

Dust. Fuck. Now Steve was pissed off with the lack of rain and the sheer blinding effort it was going to take to drive the god damned fence posts into the hard ground. 

A familiar truck rounded the corner and he felt his bad mood lifting as a dark head came into view, curls bopping with the metal drum beat blaring out of the speakers. 

A couple of sheep startled and took off towards the cabin, most of them used to the cacophony by now and not letting it interrupt their destruction of the rampant front garden. He glared after them and studiously didn't think about where else the little fuckers could end up and what they would destroy when they got there.

"Well, that is a face." The big truck cut off as Eddie stepped out, his long, lean body loose and relaxed and a lopsided grin on his handsome, scarred face. He'd gone out early - right before the coffee incident - to pick up the feed order and there was a large hump under a tarp in the truck bed that was distinctly non-feed shaped. "Who pissed in your cheerios, princess?" 

He took a look around at the fence, the sheep and the damned cow, noticing the chaos and winced. "Nevermind. Need a hand?"

His husband skipped over, kissing him lightly on the mouth just because he could. It still made Steve go a little goofy on this inside, enough to make the whole thing worth it. Even the damned sheep. Eddie was worth everything. 

"Give me a hand with the fence?" He gestured to the quad behind him. "We can round up the assholes when we have something to put them behind."

What he actually wanted to do was drag Eddie up to their shared bedroom and give him the morning wake up that he deserved. He contemplated just ditching the madness for a full three seconds before guilt over shirking responsibilities raised it's ugly head and he sighed. Eddie must have seen the hot look in his eyes, because his smile widened and he winked. 

"Only if you give me something pretty to look at, big boy." He walked back to the truck to grab his thick work gloves and turned around to find Steve's shirt stripped off, skin golden and glowing in the morning sun. "Perfect." 

They worked slower than they could have, the flex of Steve's biceps as he rammed the posts into the solid ground distracting Eddie while the latter tried his best to tease through the whole process, brushing against his other half, pressing kisses into sweating skin as he tried to resist climbing the ex jock like a tree.

When the last post was hammered in and the stock fence attached Eddie slipped his arms around Steve slim waist and pressed a soft kiss on the side of his neck. 

"I love you." He whispered, just holding on. "I love this." 

"I love you too" Steve answered, taking a long, deep breath and melting into his husbands embrace. "I love all this." He looked over the rolling land, fields of green and swaying hay in the summer breeze. He filled his lungs with sweet air and closed his eyes, the stress of the morning almost forgotten. 

Almost. 

A loud clang sounded behind then, the loud noise jolting through them like a live wire. Steve didn't open his eyes. 

"I'm not looking." He murmered darkly. "I refuse to look. I'm comfy. You look." 

He felt Eddie shift and swear, arms dropping from around him as he darted off, cursing a blue streak. Steve turned around as his beloved chased a sheep out of the bed of his truck, the feed and mystery covered item in danger and shook his head in despair. 

"I fucking hate sheep." He sighed, "cock blocking bastards." 

***

May do a little part 2 if people like it and I can gather the brain cells....

Sorry guys should have added that I'm not able to do tag lists right now :(

Also on Ao3..