#and id be more firm on not being such a mirror if i even had a single clue of who i actually am

[radiotorn]

ignore this post for me iim having a moment

[imagine--if]

I have been wondering who Riddler’s girl partner was, being who told the police that she had seen them go into the café. His plan necessitated his capture at that point, and I highly doubt he would have left things up to chance — no, she will be important.

A/N: That's such a relevant point and I can totally work with it 💚This was so fun to write haha it's getting me back into doing stuff for The Batman againnnn 😁 enjoy reading!! And let me know if you like the new imagine blog post layout thingy (I do 😏)

Wordcount: 716

"Lieutenant, we got a witness here, says she saw someone coming down the fire escape right after the shot. She said he went into the corner diner. The guy's sitting by himself at the counter, right now."

You blink up in faux worry at the policeman, who nods at you with a stern but thankful look.

"Thank you, miss. You should go home, where it's safe."

You nod, backing away from him, as he rushes off to get the rest of his team. Police cars start pulling up outside the diner you've come to time and time again, never a hotspot for trouble and the flashes of angry red and blue reflecting in its long windows now. GCPD stream out of their cars, guns held firm in their hands, as they shuffle around the building and hesitate at the entrance. In the midst of the chaos, a shadowed, jet-black dramatic figure appears, cold eyes boring through the glass of the diner and to the quiet man in the warm navy coat, sitting peacefully indoors.

The peace is sliced through as Martinez kicks open the door, his gun entering the place before he steps in, voice loud and demanding.

"Police! Hands up!"

But the man takes his time, his gentle grip flicking and working expertly on a symbol in his drink, calmly, patiently. You smile softly in the darkness of the opposite street, looking past the heads of police and cars to watch the familiar figure work his magic so naturally. It could only ever be natural to Edward Nashton, and it was something you were so used to, but still so amazed to seeing every day, for a time that seemed like so long, but must only be a few months. You could make out his face even though you couldn't see it properly; a small, nervous smile quirking up his lips ever so slightly, his round face boyish and youthful as it turned to take in the sight of uniformed apprehenders, glaring at him as if he was the pig, an unfeeling psychopath with no story good enough to make up for what he did.

But you knew.

He blinked up at them in a mirror-like way to how you stared up at that policeman, curious and innocent, with that glimmer of something more, darker and dangerous and oh-so-clever, in those murky green hues.

And though you couldn't hear what they were saying, you whispered it anyway, gazing at the sight with a shiver of adrenaline and love and nerves and a barrel of other emotions you couldn't stop to identify.

"He just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie."

Martinez lunges forward in the diner, slamming down The Riddler with a hateful force, two other men rushing to help, rifling through his pockets, yanking out the IDs and demanding an explanation that was left unanswered. And as they worked, guns raised and eyes glaring daggers, Edward's own stare flicked suddenly from the scene to you, barely visible in the drowsy streetlight at the end of the road you lingered at.

Even from there, you could read those eyes, soft and sweet and obsessively adoring, no matter the situation, And he smiled, smiled wide and prettily, ogling for your admiration, your approval. For you to tell him that you're proud of him, that you're in this together, that you can still see him because he's not invisible now, and he never will be. That he matters, and he matters to you.

All this is said unspoken, in one loving, long glance, and then he's ripped off the counter, shoved to the cars, the crowd of police following suit, along with the infamous Batman, who catches his gaze and returns it with one of coolness and intense indifference.

You let out a breath you don't realise you've been holding as he's driven away, leaning back against e concrete wall behind you, and roll your eyes to yourself with a knowing smirk. Now would come the stream all set up and ready for them to find, and then to rake their brains over when The Riddler's 'pretty little mystery' was mentioned near the end, in the midst of the retribution, and his followers would flood the chat with crazed hearts and impatient comments, ready for the real change.

⭒❃.✮:▹𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[krejong]

Since I love your writing style and your ideas (and because I have way too much time right now to think about Karin&Leo) I would love to hear more about your WIPs. Maybe about "So sorry if I say some things I mean"?

If you just didn't get around to answering more asks yet, please ignore this :D

Hi, thanks for your ask! Sorry it took me so long to get around it, but my trip ended up being quite a bit more chaotic than originally intended 😅

Anyway, please ask me about my WIPs, I looove talking about them!

So in "So sorry if I say some things I mean", Karin and Leo have to pretend to be married (I couldn't resist writing a fake!married AU, whoops) for a case. For hand-wavy plot reasons, they have to do this while live together in a very expensive apartment and wearing very expensive clothes that the police department definitely has no issue funding with tax-payer money. It's all a bit silly, honestly, but this story hold a special place in my heart anyway.

Please have two excerpts, as an apology for my belated answer :)

"For a second, Leo swore she could see a flash of binoculars coming from a dim window in one of the nearby buildings. When she blinked, the binoculars and the person behind them had disappeared from sight.

“Peter. The tall building our bedroom window gives onto, what is it?”

“They’re offices from W.M. Keller, a law firm. They should be empty right now, though. Today was a bank holiday."

“How can you gain access to the building?”

“We can look into it, but I bet they either have personnel ID or a changing access code.”

“I think our suspect &lt;;i>is</i> spying on us. And that they have been doing it by trespassing into those offices.”

Peter mm-hmm-ed, then obviously moved the phone so he could write something down. The tearing of the paper and the scritch-scratching of a pencil could be heard in the background as he continued: “If he is indeed our guy, then breaking and entering will be the least of his worries once we have him collared.”"

"“They even got us lingerie. Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“Well,” Karin said, “I guess that if the goal is for us to get the murderer into bed, they might become suspicious if underneath our several-thousand-euro dresses there’s four-year-old underwear we got on sale from some mid range brand.”

From the way she looked down her own front, it was clear she was mostly referring to herself. Leo’s bras could probably also do with an upgrade, if she was being honest.

Leo guessed she had a point. Picking up the bags, she went into the bathroom with her clothes.

Out of the bag came a box, and out the box, wrapped in black tissue paper, came a lingerie set unlike any Leo had ever seen: every baby blue piece had entirely too many ribbons, and all of them were&lt;;i>aggressively</i> transparent. Leo was suddenly very glad for the waxing appointment she’d had yesterday. Besides a tiny thong, there was a bra, a suspender belt, and a pair of chestnut stockings with lacey welts. Leo was almost afraid to touch everything, it looked like it had been spun out of spider silk.

Then, without letting herself think about it too much she put the set on, struggling with the suspenders and finding out which bit was supposed to clip onto where, but then she stood before the mirror, examining herself critically. She looked—she didn’t know. The lingerie fit her like a glove, that wasn’t it, but she didn’t look like herself anymore. Arguably, she had never looked less like herself. The woman who wore this was daring and expected the best; this was lingerie for Eleonore Bergmann, not for Leo Winkler. A disquieting feeling rolled around in her stomach. She resolutely pushed it aside."

[badassxbirdy]

demcnsinmymind​:

Lance ended up laughing a bit at the stray comment, because even though he hadn’t met her sister yet, he could tell by the sound of it all that this could be a fitting description.

“Guess I better watch out and stay away from her then. Otherwise she’d probably feel the need to take me in, too. And let me tell you, I’m not an easy stray to take care of. Think a wet alley cat. Or, hell, I don’t know. A trashy racoon or possum or something.”

Ah. Here it was again. That fucking self esteem. Or lack thereof. Which was oh so funny and ironic. The last time they met, before Collingwood and everything else, he’d been bursting with a high self esteem and an ego that matched Mount Everest in size. Now? All of that was gone. He couldn’t even look at himself in a mirror most of the time. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her about that, or drag any of it out. Instead, he focused his attention on the name issue, nodding along as she gave a few tips regarding IDs and what to use or what not to use.

“Depends on the area the cops are from, I suppose. Probably weren’t British for starters” he joked, only to give it a good thought. He supposed that most cops weren’t familiar with guys like Tre*nt Reznor or Rob*ert Smith either, but then again. He didn’t look like a Trent or Robert. He didn’t feel like a Trent or a Robert. And no matter how much he adored these guys for their music, he thought Trent and Robert were pretty shitty names. His face fell a little and got more stern when she mentioned keeping his name in there somewhere.

“No” was all he said initially, and wasn’t that funny and ironic, too. Months, maybe even years spent inside Collingwood. Clinging to his name. Writing it all over walls and sheets of paper, trying to convince every patient, every orderly, every nurse, even Friedkin and his cult that this was his name and identity, not the one they were trying to force him into. Being ever so proud of it. The name, the legacy, the identity attached to it. His name, his personality, he himself was everything he had left after his ordeal. And he fought hard for it. But even though he’d always keep it to himself, see himself as this person from the past, call himself Lance forever, he couldn’t allow others to keep seeing it, using it, hearing it. It was paradoxical, but at the same time it was also true in a way. No matter how much he hated to admit it.

“Lance Preston died a long time ago” he stated, and the sentence hung heavily in the air for a while, as he needed a little pause. He looked down at his food and tried eating some more, just because he couldn’t keep looking at her.

“It’s better if people believe that. Especially the police. Needless to say, this thing made me do some while things. Not to mention the fact that I got my entire crew killed. Pretty sure their families’d want me in jail if they found out I’m still alive while all the others…” his breath hitched a little and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying his best to keep it together. He swallowed hard, shook his head and kept eating.

“I’m not letting anyone else imprison me anywhere. Getting myself an entirely new name and identity is the only way.”

“Oh yeah, you’d be totally doomed. No escape. She wouldn’t be able to resist.” She laughed, shaking her head. Tyler could already picture it, Lance wrapped in a blanket with mugs of tea being forced into his hands by the aggressively caring medic. Doomed indeed.

“You say racoon like it’s a bad thing. They’re cute as fuck! You ever see them eat things with their little hands?” She held her own hands under her chin to imitate a raccoons paws. “There’s all these videos online of them eatin’ like, grapes and stuff. Freakin’ adorable. I could watch that shit all day.”

Her next words were far more serious. Quiet but firm, spoken as though they were a statement of fact as far as Ty was concerned. “You didn’t get them killed. You don’t get a say in what happens in a situation like that. Not really. Anythin’ it made you do was not your fault.” She wasn’t sure what it might have made him do exactly, but the cambion had far too much experience to think that Lance made it this far without the demon causing some sort of harm.

She thought back to what he’d said earlier, about something else hurting him, about the demon saving him from it, and her eyes flicked to his scar for the briefest moment. What the hell (no pun intended) had happened to him in there?

Not able to withstand the silence being filled only with the worried thoughts bouncing around her head, Tyler cleared her throat and launched into yet another ramble in an attempt drown them out. “I don’t think I could go back to usin’ my old name after all this time. Is that weird? Like, if I say it out loud it just doesn’t feel like me anymore. Sauveterre.” She pulled a face, her nose wrinkling at how weird it sounded and how wrong it felt in her mouth after being Tyler Walker for so long. Her natural accent always came out when she used French words and terms, her name included. It was something kids at the various schools she’d attended had poked a little fun at, a habit she’d never quite managed to shake, no matter how convincing her imitation of an American accent was the rest of the time.

“Cops are mostly dumbasses though, so yeah, probably best you don’t go around introducin’ yourself to strangers as Lance Preston. You don’t gotta settle on a new one right away. You can pick a few and see what sticks? I can get as many ID’s as ya want. It’s always better to have backups handy anyway… Hell, I don’t even remember which one I was usin’ back when we met.”

Though Tyler was technically still a missing persons case, nobody from law enforcement was actively looking for her after all these years as far as she was aware. It wasn’t like she’d had much in the way of roots anywhere, and with no family to worry about where she’d gone her case had gone cold long ago. There was something darkly funny to Ty about her having technically gone missing twice now. Once to the normal world, once to her world. Who knows? Maybe one day she’d make it a hat trick.

[lunaticus-platina]

Werewolf Travis is such a treat to imagine because, well. You know why. Best Boy Travis- coughcoughcough.

Uh, what I mean is, tall + well built + determined is not what you want in your rage-fueled pursuer. I like to think that he's pretty cunning too, like that scene from Jurassic Park where Muldoon tries to shoot Deinonychus then another one pops out of the bush right next to him and he says 'clever girl'. Travis uses his environment well. Blends into surroundings, climb up the trees for better view, when one entrance is blocked look for another etc.

Despite being bigger and more vicious than other werewolves, he's an ambush hunter. Think about his Ninja-level stealth. When he's human it's already impressive, but you won't even see the beast before you feel its maws ripping open your neck. There's also his reflex. He's more of a fucking cat than a pupper if you see how fast he snatches away Laura's wrist from the gun. You fail QTE, Laura attempts to sedate him, Travis blocks her wrist with his forearm. One firm tap! Syringe gone. Fking precise. Always careful, careful, careful. He exerts bare minimum of strength and effort, only the right amount that's needed for the job. His movements are methodical, you see that right? Even the steps look careful. Now imagine how meticulous he could be when hunting his prey.

Another thing, chasing people is his job. Police right? That and 6 years of hunting Silas. You cannot outrun him, especially in the forest. His feet are light as feather, no protruding roots or overhanging branches can deter him. He'll rather toy with you. Why end the fun short? He's been holding back for so long! The curse enables a person's primary side to literally tear out of their civil mask and show itself as a physical manifestation. His Id has been denied for, how long?

We know Travis is hella disciplined, and I love that about him, how hard he works for anything. Family and his job, both he takes so seriously, always putting them before his own needs. Now flip the coin. Werewolf Travis cares about one thing and one thing only: What he wants. Anger him, he kills you. Hungry? Snack time. Hmm bored. He got you in his sight. The hunt is on. Imagine all that dedication poured into his own selfish desire. That is the monster from the old stories right there. Wimpy counselors don't stand a goddamn chance, we need an actual hunter, soldier, any character that knows how to fight and survive.

Also he's a lone wolf. His human side already had enough of his family. You can't tell me he doesn't enjoy the peace and quiet, the freedom and solitude the transformation brings. Near dawn he'll run away, finds a shallow burrow under a tree stump or something, swipe some comfy leaves in there and sleep in his den. Later he finds a dead tree nearby with a small gap in it, hides some spare clothes there so he doesn't have to wake up, wait until night and wander through the forest back home in his birthday suit ever again.

Final boss Travis. God if he were a playable character.....no, no. He's too powerful, best he could be was a support character. At least until dawn characters level badassery is needed to deal with werewolf him. Him being bit at the very end of the game was a small mercy for all of them.

In the route where he got shot in the cell, he was bleeding quite a lot, and yet later he's at family home. Isn't he supposed to like...be resting. Jesus. Carries on like there isn't a bullet hole in him. Got punched the fuck outta his mind by werewolf Laura, hard enough his head got whipped to the side, crashes into a mirror, recovers quickly, grabs a shard, notices it's silver backed, the guy's level-headed alright damn. Arm got munched on, it's shredded, he doesn't scream. He uses that arm like his muscle isn't all torn up and skin chewed open. His pain tolerance is gooood.

I bet if werewolf Travis is charging at you, and you fire a few normal bullets at him, he'll just shrug them off and pounce. If he's close enough he'll just, fucking, dash through the raining bullets, endure a few hits on the way, and kill, unlike other werewolves that are scared away by gunshots. He doesn't whimper, he doesn't whine, or howl. He growls. Snarls. Roars into the night. He's so fucking angry. He'll rip you apart.

[every-dayiwakeup]

ok u know i had to send an ask after u replied to my post !! id love to hear some headcanons for chubby steve and chubby eddie? (you can always add some chubby billy ones too, i know you love him 😉)

Oooh I've been waiting for this one 😜 @jaethecreator

Unlike Steve and Billy, Eddie doesn't get much physical activity. He spends most of his time in his trailer, eating junk food and jamming to Metallica (mood honestly). So he lacks the firmness of the other two. He's not particularly large in stature, and he has a thinner face. He's actually pretty happy being chubby, and he's not particularly shy. Compared to his boyfriends, he's "tiny". He may not wear revealing outfits (aside from in the bedroom- he's a sucker for leather is all I'm gonna say 😏) but he embraces any qualities that "set himself apart from people". Anything to annoy the conformists (which is his core belief and drive as a character). And if showing skin offends them, he'll do it out of spite. He knows he looks good, and that's enough for him (goals 😌🤌). He's delightfully doughy all over. His boyfriends are fucking tree trunks who have no problem picking him up, and the pounds he's packed on are simply a reminder of the numerous times the three Fuckateers gather on Steve's couch (Billy isn't convinced the stains on Eddie's mattress aren't piss) and munch on snacks. Happy memories are connected to his squishy stomach, and thighs. What's to be upset about?

Adding onto that, I think Eddie finds comfort in having some extra chub on him, because it's a state of contentment. For Billy, too.

Ever since Steve started working at Scoops Ahoy, he put on a few pounds. Since he's pretty tall, and has always been slim, the weight gain is a little more obvious. It usually goes to his ass, sides, and his stomach. It's heaven for Billy and Eddie, because with this new addition comes with a hairy belly. And as yall know I am an advocate for buff! Steve, so fuck, he's both. He's got this whole lumberjack look going on, and even his chest is wider. The bigger Steve gets, the more hair seems to grow. Steve doesn't necessarily notice getting chubby (because he's not someone who spends forever in front of a mirror when it's not hair related- I mean some of his outfits are ... questionable 😭). Plus theres no doubt its a combination of fat and muscle. He's definitely stronger now, and Billy likes to call him Hopper's long lost son... Whopper.

Billy has never been stick thin. As a child, he was pretty big, and he got bullied a lot- especially by Neil. When his mother was still present, she would reassure him that it was normal for kids to have baby fat. It never really went away. He works out religiously (look I know yall saw this dude drinking beer and smoking while lifting weights 😭) but fat still clings to his thighs, abdomen, face, legs, and ass- and he hates it. Unlike Steve and Eddie, his build is wide and broad. Billy boy is thick all over. Being around Eddie helps with his confidence a little, but he's a little shy. Plus his chipmunk cheeks make him look even younger (and he's the youngest of the three). Billy definitely has some internalized fatphobia due to bullies at school AND at home, so sometimes he lashes out at people who remind him of himself/how he sees himself. He's very hard on himself regardless of what it is anyway.

Eddie asks him point blank if he actually thinks fat is bad. Billy breaks down into tears, saying "On me it is!". Steve jumps in and asks Billy if he thinks Steve and Eddie look good. Billy nods fervently, and his boyfriends hug him, saying "If we look pretty, you look pretty, too. It's a three way street."

Also: Eddie and Steve have no problem with nicknames related to their builds in anyway, but their blonde bombshell isn't there yet, and that's okay. He'll get there. Until then, the brunettes will continue to love him enough when he isn't able to love himself.

Tagslist: (I figured yall would be interested + I wasn't sure if yall were tired of my chubby billy 🥺) (🎪🚶‍♂️)

@suspiciouslackofclowns

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

@wixterirox

@whoringrove

@harringroveho

@polaris-ursae

@geormenia

@emeraldwitches

@spaceboxkitty

@shipworm

@namorian

@steveharringronsupport

@youre-my-boshaw-baby

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ 

[tj-wrote-things]

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

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If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him��� more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars. 

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.” 

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow. 

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?” you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed. 

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated. 

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks. 

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—” 

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—” 

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?” 

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.” 

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else. 

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!” 

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, “is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would  regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully. 

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most. 

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.” 

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon. 

“I promise,” you whispered.

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[tofumedic]

hihi!! this prompt just came to mind, but could i please request headcanons for the brothers with a mc who gets visibly angry and tells them off every time mammon is insulted? mammon deserves so much more than what he gets and i wish there were more in-game options to tell the others off when they're belittling him :(

Brother's Getting Told off by MC for Their Bullying

(i did keep these rather short but if you want a full in depth one let me know id love to!!!)

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You were at your wit's end, it was as if Mammon wasn't allowed a sentence with more than six words before one comment was passed around the brothers in the optimum rotation of the conch. It was never just the first one, in that case maybe maybe it could slide with nothing more than a firm look but it was always at least four after that initial one.

Lucifer

He gets slightly guilty, you calling him out on saying that Mammon was his favorite yet to belittle his need to express his sin, give into temptation?

Who was he to talk when he went to make an argument about getting in the way of commonplace of his brothers, to give him punishment that hit him in his pride? Your anger, heat to your cheeks at your intensity, tears even pricking at your eyes with such heavy emotion.

You didn't back up but held your ground, venomous as the other but your venom held virtues not to be stopped until he succumbed, until you couldn't bring your voice to that volume anymore, or until Mammon came to calm you down. Tears in his eyes too at how you went to protect him.

Mammon

He thought he'd be safe from your wrath, not imagining even he would get the glare and harsher tone when he had made an off handed comment about himself.

He doesn't do it often but he tries to be more aware of what he says, but not in the guarded way of expressing his greatness.

Though he is the only one to get punishment in having his face cradled with aggressive compliments being directed at him with such a passion.

Leviathan

His phrases were usually loud yet short, just as natural as swimming to him yet it made you mad. Like when the Shadow-Lord-betrayed-Henry-in-the-side-series-short mad.

He can't help himself sometimes, saying that Mammon made it so easy, and it also being another way he hid affection for others, but he would immediately flinch already knowing how you would react.

Nothing makes him feel worse than when your eyebrows changed from how they rested on your face, the way you would turn towards him with the disappointed look, he couldn't take it.

Your rage may be lighter as you get closer, helping the brothers bond and realizing some are said in falseness, soft in a unique way but it is still present, correcting his words to say what he really means no matter the muttered denial.

Satan

It made him think of Lucifer, it made him think of that time you denied to make a pact with him for his petty squabble. Despite him getting better at holding in his anger, there was something that just bubbled when you were experiencing his sin directed at him. Tempting humans should feel good, right?

It will always create this internal battle of wanting to be angry back versus feeling guilty, the way you phrase your anger and spit something vile back like a rally makes him quieter, contemplative.

He may even leave the situation, removing himself before it gets any worse, he's learned well from handling other anger related issues of his own.

Asmodeus

He gets petty about it, even with you explaining that Mammon is actually doing his best that doesn't really process to him. Because you're choosing the side of Mammon over his.

He will however stop, scoffing with a "whatever. I have stuff to do" or something along the lines before excusing himself, his walk fast and stiff like he was going to tear up before he reached his room or the door to leave the house entirely.

Asmo is more likely to apologize to you, instead of Mammon. He made you stress and possibly gain a wrinkle, less caring to apologizing to Mammon about his back handed comment. Though he will give a brief apology when you ask him to ("unfk u or whatever" kinda energy).

Beelzebub

Beel would probably feel the most genuinely guilty, you raising your voice and visibly mad really put into the concept of "oh so this is actually a really bad thing to do"

He had probably just picked it up, mirroring it from his brothers so it was something natural, if he says something after the first time you call him out for it he will probably recognize it immediately offering a sorry behind it.

His apologies are to Mammon, even if that means letting him order from the expensive restaurants vintage wine. Maybe even bringing Mammon extra snacks to make him "feel better"

Belphegor

He would sneer, openly. Grinding his teeth as he gets up to leave, when he wanted something exciting to happen he didn't mean you being mad at him for something like berating Mammon's expensive tastes.

As he gets closer with his brothers though he would be more likely to apologize, there's something genuine in it even if it is only half full but you can tell there's still some there despite the cloud of anger on your judgement.

He learns how to defuse the situation, smart. Not being cheeky and poking more at the bear that was you, caring enough to memorize your reaction but instead of playing that fiddle, he would let you and Mammon know. His speech loud enough that it wasn't a muffled mutter, but instead using the energy to raise his voice to a good volume to give his sorries.

[haileygarciasunshine]

Staycation

Pairing: Loki x Single!Mom

Written: June 14th, 2021

Posted: June 14th, 2021

Warning: Some Swearing.

Word Count: 1,272

Author's Note: I feel like as a whole there should be a lot more single-parent Au's. Just my opinion, momma's need love too🤷‍♀️ Also this has quotes from Loki in it. Possible mini-series???

Summary: The reader is burdened with the glorious purpose of watching over Loki.

TV Show and Movie Masterlist

"What are we supposed to do with reindeer games, over there?" Tony questioned as he vaguely nodded in the direction Loki was standing.

"I can hear you." Loki hissed crossing his arms along his chest. Rolling his eyes he was unimpressed with Tony's snarky comments.

Sighing to yourself, you rolled your eyes. "Why can't he stay here in the tower?" You quipped while raising an eyebrow. "You know, where it's secure.."

"She's got a point, Tony." Bruce chimed in glancing at Tony expectantly.

"Nonsense." Thor's voice boomed. "He shall stay here with us." He clapped Loki on the shoulder.

"See!" You exclaimed pointing in their direction. "My point exactly!"

"I don't even know why we're talking about this." Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a loud huff.

"Because he can't be trusted." Tony shrugged.

Scoffing you shook your head. Glancing at your watch, you had to leave.

"As much as I'd hate to leave this..." Your voice trailed off as you gathered your belongings before standing up. "Heated conversation, I have to go."

"Saved by the bell," Bruce spoke only loud enough for you to hear. Sharing a quiet laugh, you began leaving the room.

"I got it!" Tony exclaimed as he slapped his hands on the table.

The loud sound causing you to jump slightly. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms along your chest.

"Got what exactly?"

"Why doesn't reindeer games stay with you?"

Your jaw fell slack as soon as the words left his lips. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water, you felt yourself at a loss for words. The room fell silent as soon as the words had been spoken. While you felt as if all eyes were on you. Quickly glancing at Loki, he held an expression that you couldn't quite recognize. Softness? Want?

"Tony, can I speak to you for a moment?" You hissed, crossing your arms along your chest.

"Why don't-"

"Now!" You shrieked, making your way into the hallway.

Once you were both in the semi-private area of the hall, you glared at him.

"Why would you even let that thought cross your mind?"

"Well... Uh.." Tony shifted from foot to foot, as he fidgeted with his wedding band.

"You know that can't happen." You snarled nodding in the direction of the room.

"But-"

Your phone began ringing.

Sighing, you glanced at the caller ID before answering, and letting the sitter know you would be running late.

"Seems like you don't have much of a choice," Tony smirked, crossing his arms along his chest.

"If you think even for a minute, that I'm going to let-"

"We don't have any other options, Y/N," Tony spoke, using his stern voice.

Glaring up at him, you turned to glance through the glass. Crossing your arms along your chest, you let out a huff.

"Fine. But if he even has a toe out of line-"

"I know, I know, you'll gut him like a fish."

----

The sky was illuminated with an orange and pink tint, as the sun began to set. Driving back to your house was filled with silence as neither one of you wanted to break the silence. Your mind going a hundred miles a minute as you attempted to mentally prepare yourself for what you were about to do. Pulling into your garage, you turned the car off as you let out a huff.

"Let's get one thing straight." You spoke quietly, not breaking your gaze from in front of you.

The feeling of Loki staring at you overtook your senses.

"My kid is off-limits." Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki's expression contort into a confused one. "I don't care what you do, what you've done."

You both shared a sigh.

"But if you harm my kid-"

"You'll gut me like a fish." He finished for you.

Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Stark told me." He shrugged offering you a soft smile.

Smiling you nodded your head. "Good."

Exiting the car, you lead the way into your house.

The sound of a Disney movie playing filled your ears. Placing your keys on their hook, you toed off your shoes. Glancing at Loki, you gave him an expectant look. Rolling his eyes, he mirrored your previous actions before waiting for your approval.

Walking to the living room, you re-leaved the babysitter allowing you to plop down on the couch beside your daughter.

"Mommy!" She squealed throwing her small arms around your neck. Giggling, you felt your lips slide into a toothy grin as you did your best to reciprocate the hug.

Pulling away, you placed soft kisses along he cheeks causing fits of giggles to erupt from her. Glancing in the direction of Loki, her gentle grasp turned into a firm one.

Following her gaze, you giggled. "That's mommy's friend."

"Oh." She muttered quietly, as she nodded her head.

Gesturing for Loki to have a seat, he found home in one of the farthest seats from you.

"Stella, this is Loki." You spoke, motioning towards the man.

Nodding her head, she moved into your lap nuzzling her face into your neck. Giggles fell past your lips, as you glanced at Loki. "Sorry, she's shy."

Once everyone had eaten, you brought mountains of blankets to the couch. Cuddling up in yours, you glanced at Stella watching her hand Loki a few of her favorite ones. Loki gazed at her in confusion.

Stella's giggles filled the room. "Those are a few of my favorite ones." She explained. "Mom and I wrap ourselves in blankets and watch movies."

Nodding his head, he did the best that he could to wrap himself in the child-size blankets.

As the movie played, the room was filled with silence. Glancing towards Stella, you scrunched your eyebrows to see she wasn't beside you. Panic began bubbling up inside you before you heard a soft call for your name. Turning toward the voice, your jaw fell slack.

Stella had burrowed herself into Loki's side while being fast asleep.

"I...I'm sorry." You whispered, the scrunched-up expression still upon your features. "She doesn't usually do that to people she doesn't know." You couldn't help the frown that made its way upon your lips.

"It's quite alright," Loki whispered back, maneuvering his hand to allow him to scratch her head. A content sigh slipped past her slumbering lips.

Nodding your head, you turned back to the movie. Your mind kept wandering to Loki and your daughter. It wasn't long before sleep overwhelmed you.

A gentle nudge, startled you awake. Your heart beating rapidly. "It's alright." Loki's voice echoed through your ears, carrying a gentle and caring tone.

Glancing toward the area Stella had previously occupied, you were greeted with an empty space with lumps of blankets. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you felt your hands begin to sweat.

"She's in her room. She's okay." Loki cooed.

Snapping your head in his direction, you felt a slight relief wash over you. Before you could question Loki already was answering.

"I put her in her bed." He spoke cautiously. "I woke you up because I didn't want you to be sore in the morning." He was scratching his neck as a pink tint danced along his cheeks.

"Oh." You murmured. Confusion overwhelmed you. "Uh, T-Thank you."

Nodding his head, he shifted from foot to foot. Mirroring his previous action, you made your way towards the stairs, as you felt your stomach doing somersaults. The thought of Loki caring plagued your mind.

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[mizunetzu]

Can you do Daichi x male reader where Daichi asks his boyfriend to come over to meet his team and he forgets and goes home so Daichi give him a call and is like "where you at?" "I cant come I look like a clown." "I bet you dont look that bad." "No you dont get it im in full drag." So his boyfriend comes to the gym in full drag, booby and butt pads, and monster heels, and when he walked in it's like Kags that recognizes him as his drag name.

LMAOOJSKE DRAG QUEEN READEKRNRNF

——————

Daichi x reader - DRAG QUEEN?!

⚠️warnings - drag queen, college first year reader x high school 3rd year (if that’s even a warning skdjd)

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

Daichi said it on impulse, really.

“Do you guys...wanna meet my boyfriend?”

Everyone in the gym stopped. They were in middle of a practice match between themselves, and just when Yamaguchi was about to serve, he choked on air and missed the ball completely. The ball flew in the air, before landing somewhere near his feet.

Everyone stared at Daichi with a variety of expressions. Some shocked, some looking at him like he ‘said I’m gonna chop my dick off,’ and some who didn’t even care. (Tsukishima, obviously.) Ukai had to call timeout, since no one could focus after what Daichi blurted out.

Suga chuckled awkwardly, slinging a towel over his shoulders. “So uh, ahaha, your um...gay...?” His voice progressively died down into a whisper.

“Yeah. Is...that’s a problem?”

“No! No! I fully support y-“

“AND YOU CHOSE NOW TO TELL US? DUDE, WE COULD’VE LIKE, THROWN YOU A COMING-OUT PARTY!” Tanaka shook his captaincy the shoulders, while Noya squirted water into his mouth with his squeeze bottle.

“Well I don’t really mind, I’m already out, I was just asking if you wanted to meet him.”

“DO WE?! OF COURSE WE DO! DOES HE PLAY VOLLEYBALL?! DO YOU THINK HE COULD JOIN THE TEAM?!” Hinata jumped up and down, slowly inching is way towards Daichi with an awestruck look on his face. He’s rather surprised Hinata isn’t more shocked.

“Yeah. Uh-no, sorry. He doesn’t play.” Daichi chuckled, patting an excited looking hinata on the head. “I don’t think he has work tomorrow, so tomorrow’s really the only time he can come to practice.”

“Work?” Asahi looked up from the towel he was using to wipe off his sweat. “How old is he? Is he a third year?”

“He’s a first year in college. Actually-I think he goes to the college in Sendai.”

Asahi exhaled. It would’ve been weird if someone as young as a highschooler were to already be working, when the could be enjoying their time in classes or clubs. “Where does he work?”

Flashbacks of all the drag shows and money being thrown around a stage whipped across Daichis mind like a slap to the face. He’s sure the team wouldn’t mind, especially because they already don’t mind him having a boyfriend, but he isn’t sure if (Y/n) was ok with him telling his team he was a...y’know.

“...I’m not sure?”

————

“Oh-hello Daikkun! How was practice today?” (Y/n) opened the passenger seat to his door, waiting for him to step inside. Sometimes he liked to pick him up from school before he had to get in makeup for a night show. That didn’t stop him from doing a little bit of eyeliner, though.

“It was nice. I told them they could meet you soon. The team.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you don’t have any shows tomorrow, right? I kind of told them tomorrow.” Daichi scrubbed at the back of his neck, while (y/n) started up his car. “I know you’ve wanted to meet them.”

“You bet your ass! Well-I mean I have a show at like 2 am but that doesn’t matter. What time can I come? Are they nice? Didn’t you say there was one who was really short but could jump as high as me in stilettos?”

“Oi-! Focus on the road!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just excited. Anyways! Can you come to my show tonight? I’ll sneak you in.”

“Every time I go to one of your drag shows I get scared someone will kick me out since I’m 17.”

“Dude, have you seen yourself?!” (Y/n) gestures over to Daichi, putting emphasis on his thigh-region. “You’re big and muscly enough to at least pass as 18. It’s just a one year difference, when’s your birthday again?”

“I can’t believe you forgot, I’m hurt.” Daichi chuckled, fiddling with his backpack straps on his lap. “Besides, doesn’t your show run kind of late today? I don’t get to choose when to take my classes like you, (L/n). And I have morning practice, so I need to sleep.”

“You’re no fun, Daikkun.”

“Yeah, yeah, My house is over there.”

————

(Y/n) scrolled through his phone for the nth time that day. Fanning himself dramatically, he huffed and buried his face into his pillow. There was nothing to do today, and since he took morning classes, that left him with the rest of the afternoon to ponder, before working at night.

Was there something to do today? Was he forgetting something? He felt like he was, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

He glanced guilty at a tube of light pink lip gloss tossed haphazardly on his desk. A light bulb went off in his head.

Hastily throwing his covers off his body, (y/n) dragged himself over to his closet, grabbing the lip gloss in the process. He shuffled through hangers of clothes, finally pulling out a girls uniform he bought from when he was in high school. He never wore it to school, choosing to wear the boys uniform, but he thought it’d be nice to have when he was feeling fruity.

Slipping on the skirt and cardigan, he walked over to his desk mirror. He unscrewed the wand from the tube of lip gloss, tentatively applying it generously to his lips. He shrugged. He figured he could do some more makeup. It’s not like he’s busy today, right?

Carefully winging the tip of his eyeliner, he took a step back and admired himself in the mirror. He looked cute, yeah, but cute wasn’t really his style. It screamed ‘cute femboy’ rather than his usual ‘sexy ass drag queen dominatrix who could step on you with their sharp ass knife heels’

Damn. He was really about to go all out, huh? Time to bring out the butt pads and fake boobs.

————

Sighing contently in front of the mirror, (y/n) did a little spin, puffing out the length of his dress. Damn, he was hot. And with his impossibly high monster heels? Take me now.

(Y/n) was in the midst of taking a couple cute selfies in front of his full length mirror, when his screen went grey and a caller ID appeared.

‘Incoming call - Daikkun!! <3’

(Y/n) smiled unconsciously and clicked the bright green button with his thumb. He brought his phone to his ear and twirled a piece of his faux wig with his finger.

“Hi Daikkun! Did you need something, cutie?”

“Are you still coming over?” Daichis voice was hushed, and the slam of volleyballs rang though his speaker.

“Uh-what for?”

“To meet my team? Where are you?”

Fuck.

(Y/n) paled as he eyed himself in the mirror. He couldn’t show up looking like that. And it was too much to take off before Daichis practice ended. This was the only time he had to meet this team Daichi had always been talking about, and he’d completely forgot.

“...I can’t, I look like a clown.” (Y/n’s) voice came out a hoarse, nervous-chuckly whisper. He could taste the expensive red lipstick sitting on his lips.

“I’m sure you don’t look that bad.”

“Dude no, you don’t understand.” (Y/n) picked at the hem of his dress, the silicone boobs suddenly squeezing his chest a bit too tightly. “I’m in full drag.”

A silence rang out from both sides of the line. Daichi awkwardly chuckled.

“Ahaha uh-didn’t you say you didn’t have work today?”

“No! No I-I don’t have work til like-later later but like-I got bored and I forgot I was gonna meet your team today...sorry-“

“Well I’m sure they won’t mind if you show up in drag. I mean-they seemed pretty ok with knowing we’re a thing so...?”

(Y/n) gulped.

“...I guess I’ll see you in ten minutes then.”

—————

“Good work everyone!”

Ukai dismissed the players, leaving them to start rolling up the net and cleaning up the gym. Sugawara jogged up to the captain, dragging his mop lazily behind him.

“You said your boyfriend was gonna come today, right? Where is he?”

“Uh,” Daichi checked his wrist, before realizing he didn’t have a watch and fished out his phone. “He should be here any minute now-“

Just in time, the doors to the gym creaked open. Daichi smiled, leaving Suga to trail behind him curiously. He reached for the door handle, giving it a firm pull.

In stepped a boy with a long synthetic wig on, and heels that made him tower over Daichi easily. The sharp platforms of his heels clicked with each step he took, jewelry and accessories also bobbing up and down. And not to mention the ‘bobbling’ the silicone boobs made. Jeez, even if they were fake, they did still jiggle a hell of a lot.

(Y/n) bent down daintily, pressing a kiss onto Daichi’s cheek. Lipstick smeared on his sweaty cheek, leaving a dark imprint on the side of his face. (Y/n) seemed to finally take notice of all the astonished stares directed at him.

Should he A, stand beside his boyfriend awkwardly and pick at the loose thread of his dress or B, put on his confident drag persona and play it off?

He chose B.

(Y/n) smirked and leaned on on of his feet, placing a hand on his hip. “What? Like what you see, boys? I’m afraid I’m already taken, though.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Fuck. Even with the confident display, (y/n) couldn’t help but stay somewhat behind Daichi, trying to shrink behind his 10 inch heels.

Immediately, a bald guy and a kid with a bleached strip on the front of his head erupted into excitement.

“Yo! Sick dress, dude!”

The atmosphere lightened up tremendously. (Y/n) let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Well thank you, Mr. Bleach strip.”

The bald one, who introduced himself as ‘Tanaka’, slapped Daichi on the back. “Dude! What’s with all the surprises?! You tell us you have a boyfriend but you didn’t tell us he was a drag queen?!”

“I-to be honest I didn’t know he was in drag today-I didn’t know he had work.”

The closet door opened, with Hinata and Kageyama walking out from placing the net inside. Hinata gasped excitedly, while Kageyama froze. Hinata practically bolted towards the unknown person wearing heels and jumped up to his height. (Y/n) choked on air. This kid practically flew at him.

“Wow! Are you one of those ‘drag queens’ I see on tv sometimes?! Cool! That’s so cool! I-“

“ARE YOU QUIMCHI?!”

Hinatas throat closed up, along with (y/n) after hearing his stage name being called out so...dramatically. The boy continued.

“...F-FROM THAT ONE INTERVIEW THEY DID ON THAT ONE CLUB ON THE LATE NIGHT SHOW WITH SHIN’ICHI HATORI?!”

Kageyamas booming voice rang through the gym as he pointed at (y/n) with wide eyes. Everyone’s gaze went from (y/n) to Kageyama, who was frozen in place. Even (y/n) was a tad bit confused.

The club he worked at recently had a special done on TV, and (y/n) was only in the background. He didn’t know how this...boy recognized him from that, or why he was even watching the drag special on that show in the first place.

“...yeah...yeah I am,” (y/n) smiled awkwardly and a boy with blond hair and glasses chuckled from somewhere in the gym.

The boy, with another guy with dark-green hair, walked out from the storage closet aswell. “Who knew the king was into that kind of stuff? Drag queens? No disrespect, ma’am-sir.”

Kageyama seemed to unfreeze just to glare at Tsukishima with a flushed face. “I-IM NOT! MY STUPID SISTERS JUST A BIG FAN, IS ALL!“

Kageyama turned to (y/n), and marched scarily fast towards him. He stopped abruptly and bowed his head so far it made (y/n) take a step back.

“M-MAY I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH FOR MY SISTER?! AN-AND MAYBE A PHOTO TOO?!” Kageyama stiffly held his arms to his sides as he kept his head down. Small chuckles and snorts sounded from all around the gym, (y/n) even joining in and patting the black haired boys head.

“Sure thing, doll.”

————

“Your team was nicer than I thought.”

Daichi looked up questionably, fastening his seatbelt. (Y/n) started up his car. “What do you mean, nicer?”

“Well-I thought they were gonna be a bunch of meatheads banging their heads together. They’re actually more interesting than I thought they were going to be. Especially that Kageyama guy.”

Daichi smiled contently. “I’m glad you like them, then.”

A comfortable silence breezed by them, the only sounds audible being the hum of the car engine and the soft tapping of Daichis nails against the armrest. Daichi stole a glance at (y/n). His wig was discarded, placed neatly on the backseat with the wig cap and hairpins resting underneath it, and his hair was slightly damp and messy due to being constricted. His lipstick was a bit smeared from when he kissed him on the cheek, and droplets of sweat gathered near his hairline.

Daichi set his fingers lightly on the spot where the lipstick mark sat, caressing it softly so the lipstick wouldn’t smear more that it already has. He exhaled softly and shifted his gaze back down. He wouldn’t mind if he came to his practice again.

“...so wanna come to my show tonight, Daikkun?”

“It’s at 2am, no.”

—————

Extra:

Kageyama: miwa.

Kageyama: MIWA.

Miwa sighed and checked her phone, sliently scolding her brother for bothering her. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She swore, if Tobio wanted a ride home from practice...

Miwa: mm

Kageyama: -photo sent-

Miwa: DUDE

Miwa: AJDJSKDKF

Miwa: HOW THE FUCK

Miwa: TELL ME YOU GOT QUIMCHIS AUTOGRAPH DJFJDJE

Kageyama: -photo sent-

Kageyama: I DID. I GOT ONE FOR U AND ONE FOR ME

Kageyama: HE WAS SO TALL TOO

Kageyama: LIKE HE WAS A HALF FOOT TALLER THAN ME EVEN WITHOUT THE HEELS

Miwa: WHY WAS HE AT UR PRACTICE WHSHD

Kageyama: apparently he’s dating my captain

Miwa: WHAT RHE FUCKCIDNEBRJ

——————

[widowsofchaos]

Poor Little Rich Boy

summary: you find out your boyfriend isn’t all that innocent as he seems.

warnings: yandere behavior, violence, and gore. dub-non con. Ya know the filthy vibes.

Pairing: dark college!Tony Stark x black!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing Tony so be gentle with me <3

do not respost my works!

“I, Howard Anthony Walter Stark, being of sound, mind, and body do hereby declare that this document is my last will and testament. I bestow my legacy in the hands of my only heir, my son, Anthony Edward Stark. All my assets, finances, and chair as CEO of Stark Industries are now in his hands.”

Buzz.

A dull silent vibration shook in the confinement of Tony’s jean pocket, pulling him out of his sullen trance. Instinctively ignoring the notification, as he listened onto the blurred words of the lawyer reading his late father’s will.

Biting his lip to contain his swirling emotions -- aggravation to just collect his inherited earnings, and head home to you.

Buzz.

With a hazy eye-roll, Tony casually sneaked his palm into his pocket, retrieving the phone. As the family lawyer droned on reading, aged eyes glued onto the paper; Tony peaked at the screen, with the quick analysis of face ID -- his pupils dilated like saucers.

His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, his chest heaving -- he gotta get home immediately. An iron grip onto the phone, he roughly dug it back into his pocket, his foot tapping against the carpeted flooring. Antsy.

God, please make time go faster.

Buzz.

His fingers itched to snatch the cellular device, internally screaming for another peak at the salacious cheeky messages.

Messages from you -- photos of yourself seated on his bedroom floor, in only a high-waisted thong, and his custom tailored blazer.

The creamy beige against your buttery smooth bronze skin was divine, Tony swears anything you wear is pulled off with elegance. Your brown areolas are slipping out just a tad bit from the flaps, a hint of what’s awaiting for him.

His cock hardened against the denim fabric, Tony salivates whenever you wear his clothing, his scent imprinting onto your flesh - of you in compromising positions, your neatly manicured fingers inside your panties, rubbing your swollen nub. Biting your plump bottom lip.

Buzz.

Another picture with a text, you were sipping from a glass, his best Scotch, with the typed words, “I miss you. I know my favorite boy is blue, come back home so I can take care of you.” Signed with a kissy face emoji, and a red heart.

You were leaning on your elbows, your bouncy ass in the air, legs bent upward with your ankles playfully interlocked in the air.

The glass of ale leaning downward against your teasing lips, and sultry eyes through the reflective mirror -- Tony’s cock twitched, oh he’s gonna eat you up when he gets home.

- It was midnight, the full moon shining bright in the inky indigo sky -- beaming upon the Stark manor. The white fluorescent solar satellite glistening upon the grand bedroom where two lovers lay satiated in bed.

Rubbing random circles by the pads of your fingertips on Tony’s sweaty broad chest, taming the beast into a purring feline.

“I love you.” Tony’s mild slurred speech infiltrated the serene silence, your nose scrunched up in glee. “I love you too.” you murmured in his neck, a lazy grin stretched on your face.

For hours, Tony, and yourself haven’t left the bedroom, stringing release after release -- letting Tony pinch, pull your hair, bruise, slap, and choke your soft flesh-- that’s what he loves about you, trusting him wholeheartedly with your body, and soul.

A lot of tears of euphoria, and fear of abandonment. Reassuring Tony that you would never leave him, breathy hymns of I love yous in his ear.

It’s been a couple of difficult few weeks, Howard Stark has passed at the age of 74. A fatal car crash taking his life, leaving behind his only son. It was only freshly five months ago that Tony lost his mother, Maria. Uterine cancer - multiple tumors.

Maria Stark, the matriarch of the family, was the light of Tony’s life. Maria was a saint, even at death’s door, she had a positive perspective. You can still recall her calling her tumors fruit bowls of pain - her tumors were the size of miniature melons; grew from the size of strawberries.

And when she died -- the already fractured relationship of father and son deteriorated to ash. Howard started becoming colder, more stricter on his son -- his disappointment fueling by the second.

Clayed into a modernized Narcissus -- guising his trauma with bloviating chatter to impress the little people. Boasting his youthful genius with no shame.

Tony may have been born from the finest cloth, a silver-spoon wedged in his mouth -- but he oozes the work ethic of a blue-collar joe.

Under the molden gait of a promising demigod is a fragile boy -- yearning for affection. A neglected child desperate for attention.

Sending nudes to your boyfriend while he’s attending his dead father’s will hearing -- many would deem that as distasteful -- tacky, even. But, you knew Tony’s coping mechanisms.

Frat parties, drinking excessively to the brink of oblivion, and copious amounts of sex.

Tony was raised in a household, where any emotional turmoil expressed to his father was shot down, except with his mother -- he needs a womanly touch.

He never saw his conquests as ladies, only whores to get his rocks off, but once he laid eyes on you -- sweet, and bubbly -- that little rich boy was a goner.

Succumbing to a dazed half-slumber, Tony’s cell phone rings at the bedside table -- you groaned at the intrusion. Flashing on the screen was Happy’s goofy grin, one of Tony’s closest friends. You mumbled a ‘of fucking course’, Tony cheekily chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. This won’t take long.” With the wisp of a lingering kiss on your hairline, Tony begrudgingly detached himself from you--proudly strutting his naked bare firm ass, picking up his boxers from the floor shamelessly displaying his hung cock, and balls.

“Nice ass.” you teased. Tony snorted, “Nice? Toots, it’s the finest ass. And you love it.” He winked at you over his shoulder, you giggled. Tony’s footfalls faded down the hall, his conversation blurring into the distance. You laid back down, sighing as you stared up at the ceiling, quickly getting bored.

Without Tony to entertain you, you had nothing to do. Maybe I could get a head start on my thesis? Your eyes languidly rolled to the corner of your lids, staring at your opened crumbled book-bag mocking you at the corner of the room, Fuck that. You grumbled.

Mindlessly deciding to get dressed, and search for substance. Hours of unadulterated love-making can take out a lot of energy.

Nimble quiet feet tip-toe down the stairs, covered in only Tony’s wrinkled white button-down, brown statuesque legs gracefully head to the kitchen -- but you halt in your tracks. A dim light seeps from the crack out of an office -- Howard’s former office.

Curiosity overwhelms you, biting down your tongue, you check your surroundings, making sure Tony is nowhere in sight. Earlier in the day, the office was locked -- why is it now open?

Open-palm press against the door, a tiny creak of the mahogany makes you cringe internally. Stealthy you walk into the office, nothing seems to be out of place. Maybe Tony was in here? Fidgety fingers skim against the polished wooden desk, at the corner of your eye, a mess of papers sit idly by.

You pick the papers up, fastly flicking through it. Statements declaring Tony as the new CEO of Stark Industries, royalties, and -- mechanic blueprints?

Your chest began heaving, breaths still choppy fuming out of your nose, your left eye twitched from the stressing bile rising. Here in your hands are the blueprints of a familiar vehicle -- Howard Stark’s car. Descriptive details on the full functionality of the car, why are these here?

Warm palms clutch your shoulders, soothingly rubbing, you flinch by the surprise, “You weren’t meant to see those.” A hot breath fan against your ear, you whimper, his voice sounded husky, menacingly.

Not daring to look him in the eye, frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots in the flooring, Tony’s grasp on your arms tighten. “The old man was going to take me off the will. I know he was.”

A chaste kiss on your temple, “As if I didn’t take his shit over the years just for nothing. Blaming me for my mother’s death.” He grumbled against your skin, your blood running cold. There was no remorse in his voice, a hint of satisfaction.

This isn’t the Tony you knew.

A beast of his father’s making.

“Tony - I - I won’t tell anyone, I promise--” Tony shushed your stuttering, his rough hands snaking its travel to your waist, slithering his forearms around your torso, ensnaring you.

“I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t. You’re my good girl.” He spoke in your hair, small lingering kisses on your scalp. Tony was rocking your body back and forth, cradling you -- he can sense your fear.

With trepidation, you held his arms, a little shaky. “Tony, let’s just go back to bed.” Your voice was cracking, this isn’t the man you fell in love with, and you wanted to just run away as far as you can.

“You’re scared of me?” Although it was an intended question, its tone came off as a fact. Indeed you were terrified of him.

“No.” You spat too quickly for your liking. Tony gripped your chin, and twisted your head to face him, “I would never hurt you. I love you. Everything I do is for you.” Your breath hitched, his face was morphed into a sad feral puppy.

“I know. I know you do.” You feigned a weak smile, “I just didn’t think --” you stopped yourself before you vomited any other words. “Do what? Kill?” Tony cocked a brow, with a shit-eating grin. “I did it before. For you.” Tears were forming at the brim of his eyes, your doe-eyes widened, you began squirming in his arms. “Tony, what did you do?!” you shrieked, limbs failing.

Tony’s iron-grip didn’t let up, refusing to let you go, “He wasn’t right for you!” Tony bellowed on the top of his lungs, impulsive rage seeping through, fumbling feet colliding.

Both of your bodies falling to the carpeted floor as Tony tried to restrain your wrists, fumbling feet slipping. A miscalculated misstep sent you, and Tony colliding downward.

Tony’s weight pinning you down. Confusion making your head go dizzy, “What do you mean?” You whispered. Tony smashed his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks, “You know what I mean.” His brows furrowed, gently his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into your soul.

Realization hits you like a freight train, flashes of your ex, the cops alerting you of his disappearance, Tony’s lingering shadow always appearing to provide comfort -- “Brock?” a lone tear trickle down your eye, down your temple, and hitting the carpet below. Tony nodded frantically.

Tony’s lips peppered against your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your eye-lids, your nose, your chin; mumbling affection against your tear-stained face.

It’s been three years since Brock vanished, rumors flew around campus from students believing he killed himself in some remote location, you lost him in the first years of university.

You were grief-stricken, but Tony, being the ever-present close friend lend a shoulder -- then soon, it blossomed into much more.

“Now, it's just us. We can start a new dollface.” Tony sniffled, hot tears drip upon your flesh, “We can start our own family” he rasps, “I can be a dad. A better father.” Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

A family? You both were just shy of twenty-one, and already Tony is mapping out your entire futures. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was futile.

Tony murmured nonono to your bodily request of escape, chasing clumsy blubbering kisses against your chavile. Your body began to be wrecked with sobs, your chest heaving.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s better this way.” Tony’s brows were furrowed sorrowfully, his tremor low with ache. “You killed Brock, how could you?! I loved him!” Tony gripped your jaw, painfully his fingers kneading,

“Loved him?! He wasn’t right for you! You need me! I need you! No one is going to love you like I do. I loved you the first day I met you.” Harsh fingers rip off the fabric, exposing your breasts to the elements.

“You’re mine! No one can have you! I will kill anyone who tries to take you away!” Tony’s mouth plunged, fangs nibbling on your nipples, his entire mouth suckling your left breasts.

Tony’s left hand pinching your right nipple, twisting and slapping it roughly. You yelped, shutting your eyes closed. Your skin crawled, Tony’s brown eyes peered at you, dissatisfied that you refuse to look at him.

A sloppy pop echoed, “Look at me!” he slapped you, the crack of it pounding in your ears, the heat of the sting scorched throughout your cheek. Your eyes popped open, watery from the hit, Tony has never once laid a hand on you -- until now.

Nose to nose, “We’re gonna be a family--” one of his hands traveled down to tug down his boxers, his hard swollen cock is man-handled in his palm, you struggled to get away, but Tony clutched your wrists in one hand, and pinned it on the carpet.

Tony spit on your cunt, rubbing it within your velvety folds by the base of his veiny cock, earning a hiss out of you. “You’re going to look so hot swollen with our baby.” Your thighs twitched, Tony roughly forced your thigh to wrap around his torso, positioning himself.

“Please - Tony, please don’t”, you cried, Tony shushed you. Lining himself to your hole, with no hesitation, plunged his cock inside your pussy. You screamed, your back arching, “Feels lovely, right? Feels so fucking delicious - you were made for me.” Tony snarled, biting your chin, his tongue trailing your jawline, pistoning his cock inside you.

Dripping slick smears against your thighs, clenching onto his cock, a broken groan slips from Tony’s lips, “Fuck - yes, do that again.” You were blubbering tears down your cheeks, the inevitable pleasure Tony strings out of you is undeniable.

“You’re so tight, and warm.” He growled in your ear, “I can’t wait to have a baby with you. You all swollen, waddling around with bare-feet. You’ll be a great mother - just like mine.” He whispered, biting on your lobe.

You murmured muffled whines in the crock of his neck, bruising is slowly forming on your hips, fucking you like it’s the last time. Shivers run down Tony’s spine, time slows down.

Sweaty skin slapping against skin spurred him on, taking all of you. Your nails scratch at his palm, still bounding you down.

“I love you.” He whimpered, you bite your lip, refusing to sink into the instinct of saying it back. Tony perked his head up from your neck, growling, “Say it back!” he thrusted his pelvis against you, a cattle wail hit you, “Say -” thrust “it-” another thrust “-back!” his smile falters slow, a bruising touch.

He can see you slowly yielding, small pants of electric euphoria, “No!” you bite back.

Wet lips slant against yours. Your entire body jolting from his unforgiving pace, your back burning slightly from the rug beneath you.

Releasing your wrists, his rough hand find it’s way to your back, hiking you up, squeezing your ass in his fingers, bucking your hips; fucking you onto him, your nails dig into his sculpted back -- scratching for him to stop, but it felt too good.

You’ve become dizzy. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, hoping the pain makes him halt his actions, but it makes him harden inside of you.

There’s no space between you, melting into one, the friction, the heat; the tethers of reality blur into nothing.

“Please - say you love me.” Tony pleaded, his weary eyes sinking into yours. A robbery -- a heart-wrenching robbery of your soul, in an instant, you didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, but the mire of a lost boy.

He slowed down his thrusts, leisure movements, his brown orbs are glossy, “Say it, please.” Tony gently kisses you, not feverish, but you can taste the sweet commitment. Like he doesn’t own you, but he worships you.

“I love you.” you mumbled against his swollen lips, his eyes dilated, rubbing his nose against yours, “I love you” maneuvering your hips, squelching can be heard - sticky as honey, as the pace picked up.

Your fingers grip his soft fluffy hair, his balls slapping against your ass, “I love you, Tony.” You sucked on his bottom lip. He whimpered. His cock was coated in your juices, you can feel the swelling of his balls, and his uneven jerking movements -- he was close.

“Cum for me, baby.” Tony’s eyes were shut, he mewled, “Cum inside me, give me a baby, Tony.” The dam breaks. The window bursts open from a gust of wind, the full moon gleamed upon your sweaty sheen bodies, a howl erupts from Tony -- as the wolf within has been unhinged -- primal, feral fueled lust.

Toothy grin, all fangs lunged for your pulse point, devouring you. Squirted juices spray from you, splashing against his toned stomach, not once stopping, riding through the orgasm. Tony’s tongue peaked out, droplets of your cum sprinkling his mouth.

Your vision turns white, an inhuman scream leaves you, Tony collapses onto you.

He’s trembling, frightened, you massage his dome, “My sweet boy.” Tony sobs into your chest, ensnaring himself around your torso. You hugged him, cradling like a baby, as he cried water-falls.

“It’s okay.” You kiss his head, a lingering one, “It’s going to be alright.”

You’re all he has.

[duskholland]

As You Are | Mob!Tom Holland

summary ↠ who could’ve known showing up to work late one night would put you in touch with a mysterious stranger, capable of turning your life upside down? 

word count ↠ 6.8k

warnings ↠ mature themes, drinking, cursing, gambling + mentions of violence 

a/n ↠ I don’t know how this ended up being so long honestly. I had a blast writing it and I really hope that people read it lol. anyway! this is part of my mob!Tom series -- a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense. 

mob!Tom masterlist | general masterlist

You’re late. Fuck, you’re running so late.

Your tight, shiny stilettos rub the corners of your toes uncomfortably as you hurry off the bus, ignoring the stares of the passengers. You push your handbag further up your arm and start to run precariously down the cobbled London streets, your heart pounding harshly in your chest. As you pass the entrances to some of the most exclusive clubs in Soho, you find yourself blending into the crowd. All around you are London’s elite, dressed in expensive coats, rich cologne, and enough glinting diamonds to burn your eyes, and they don’t spare you a second look as you reach the end of the street, taking your tall heels and short skirt as standard.

Relief replaces your anxiety as you pull off at the corner and slip around the back of the largest club of them all: The Lotus Club. You whip out your ID and flash it at the looming security guard on the door, and a moment later you’re in.

Immediately you’re met with backstage: an eclectic mix of cheap hairspray, curling irons, and half-naked girls. You move past a group of feathered dancers and find your locker quickly, ditching your bag and clocking in as you curse yourself for falling asleep earlier in the night. You’ve been working here for three years and you never used to be late, but these days, it’s as if you’ve been pushing it closer and closer to the wire each time you stumble in for your shift.

“You’re late,” comes a loud, stern voice. You freeze, your fingers half-way through pulling off the lid of a deep velvety red lipstick, and you glance at the mirror on your locker door to see your boss standing behind you, arms crossed. Loretta’s a ripped, forty-year-old woman with so many tattoos you think she must be immune to pain. Her eyes are stormy and grey as you hesitantly turn to face her, wincing a smile. “I’ve checked the data for the last month. You’ve been late 12 times, Y/N.” Her face pulls into a disappointed frown. “I’ve always liked you and you’ve never let me down before, but I need staff that I can rely on.”

Instantly you feel cold dread pool in your stomach. “Loretta, look, I’m really sorry, but it’s been a hectic month. I- I’ll try harder, okay? I’m sorry.” And you don’t want to grovel, but this job is all you have. Waiting the tables in this exclusive Soho Club is the only way you can afford to keep your flat, and without that, you have nothing. “Please don’t fire me.”

She holds your gaze for a long, hard minute. Your body feels tight with angst, your fingers shaking around the lipstick. “I’ll give you one more chance,” she says finally. “You’ll need to wait the private booths tonight, though.” When you open your mouth to complain, she laughs lowly. “Oi, none of that. I know you hate it, but if you’re late in, you don’t get a say in where I assign you. Got it?”

With a bite of your lower lip, you nod your head dejectedly. “Alright. Thanks Loretta. I won’t let you down.”

“You better not.” And then she turns and walks away, no doubt on her way to harass some of the other workers, and you turn around to finish your makeup.

The Lotus Club is a boujee blend of bar, nightclub and casino, equipped with a whole secluded wing through the back for private dances. Like the rest of the street, it attracts the highest of the high - rich, snobby businesspeople and socialites who enjoy getting off by flaunting their power and riches. You’re yet to meet anyone who isn’t a complete and utter snob.

The private booths perfectly encapsulate the worst parts of the club: they’re secluded and shady, which means they’re a hub for illegal and underhand exchanges, and they cost a leg and a half to rent out. If you think the customers you’d find in the main foyer of the club were spoilt, the inhabitants in the booths can only be described as the richest assholes London can muster. 

You stare at yourself in your locker’s mirror, red lips sagging into an irritated pout. Your frown remains as you fluff up your hair for a final time and shut your locker abruptly. Your black skirt clings to your legs as you walk out into the front of house, the air clearing the moment you’re in the public sphere of the club.

It’s a very exclusive and elitist place, and the decor of the club indicates that exactly: large, glistening chandeliers dangle in every room, a rich red carpet curves across the halls, and there’s the controlled sound of restrained music drifting through large speakers. Each section of the club has a different vibe to it, and as you walk through the casino and into the section with the private booths, the tone shifts. The booths themselves are tucked behind a large curtain, and as you walk through, the lights grow dimmer and the sweet, husky scent of marijuana fills the air.

You find the supervising manager first - a small, unassuming man called Rob. He discreetly points at a circular table in the corner of the section. “That table over there,” he says. You squint your eyes and stare, making out the outline of a few young men. Curiosity replaces your irritation as you realise they look about as old as you. “You take them, yeah?”

You give him a nod. “Who are they?”

Rob shrugs. “No idea. Think it’s their first time.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Make a good impression.”

You roll your eyes as you move away from him, flexing out your fingers as you walk towards the table. This is the VIP section, which means each booth gets a dedicated waitress - aka, you. You just hope the guys you’ll be serving are decent, because if they aren’t, it’ll be a long, long night.

You draw their attention easily, one of the side effects of being one of the few women in the room. Their gazes fall on you before you’re even at the table, and you suck in a quick, steadying breath as you manage a smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Y/N and I’ll be your server tonight. You ever been here before?”

Your eyes drift around the circular table as you wait on a response, taking in the men now you’re near enough to make them out. There are four of them: all looking young, but the number of tailored suits and watches attached to them screams wealth in a way you can’t ignore. To the left, two guys, both brunette and very similar - twins? To the right, a blond with dizzying blue eyes. And in the centre, a man, clearly the leader, with his arms thrown over the back of the booth. He’s in a crisp white shirt, a suit jacket lying crumpled on the seat beside him, and his golden brown eyes seem to linger on you for a moment too long as you wait on a response. The way he looks at you brings a warmth to your cheeks, the smile fixed on your face threatening to falter as you decide that he’s utterly delicious.

“Never been before, love.” Finally someone speaks, and it’s the blond. His lips twist into a slow smile. “Nice place you’ve got.”

You hum, returning his stare confidently. “It’s nice back here,” you agree. Then you reach down and pull a small, flat device from your pocket. You lean down and slide it into the centre of the table, making brief eye contact with the man in the centre as you pull yourself back up, a thrill of excitement cracking down your spine as you catch him staring at you. “That’s my pager. If you need me, just press the button and I’ll be here. Can I get you any drinks?”

They rattle off a list of drinks and you nod along, quickly memorising the drinks and faces, matching them with personalities. The guy in the centre goes for a Corona, speaking in a voice that’s just a little too perfect, and as you walk away towards the bar, you find yourself wondering why they’re all here. The private booths are the ideal location for illegal activities to occur, yet you couldn’t see any drugs on them, and none of them seem to have turned up with any documents or briefcases. They aren’t the usual age, either, and they all seem far too friendly to fit the normal typecast of the customers you’d find in the club. They’d smiled at you as you’d taken their orders, none of them looking at you through heady, lusting eyes - not even the man in the centre with the firm, brown gaze had let his stare slip away from your face. They feel like a breath of fresh air hidden away in an extremely stuffy room, and you can’t help but regard them fondly.

When you return to the table with a tray laden with drinks, you’re quick to distribute the bottles and glasses. The men are having a very loud and animated conversation, apparently at the expense of one of the twins, whose freckly face is burning a deep, embarrassed red. You’re in and out in a second, but in the moment you’re leaning across the table to put down a glass, the brunette in the centre meets your gaze again, his thin lips pulling up into a semblance of a smirk. “Thanks, love,” he whispers, tilting the glass towards you as you tuck the tray beneath your arm and step back.

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” you say, nodding at the pager on the table. He glances to the device quickly, before looking back at you, eyes lingering on the curve of your painted lower lip.

“Will do.”

You breeze away from them, your heart rattling against your ribcage as you walk to the back corner and slip into easy conversation with some of the other girls.

Your table get a few more rounds of drinks over the course of the night. Each time you’re there within seconds of the buzzer going off, always with an eager smile on your face. One bonus to the private booths is that the people who rent them out tend to have such a surplus of wealth that the tips are huge, and you’d really like to have the extra cash. So maybe you smile a little wider than usual, and do your best to crack jokes and play along as you talk with the group, but it’s all part of the job, and all part of what’s expected from you. You’re sure the fact that the man in the centre gets your heart racing a little faster than normal has nothing to do with it.

It’s a little after 1am when you’re paged back to the circular table in the corner, the buzzing in your pocket causing you to stifle a yawn. With a start, you walk back to them, your tired feet clacking across the smooth marbled floor. As you draw closer, you realise that there’s only one man there, and with a start, you realise it’s the leader.

“Hi,” you say, smiling nervously. “Friends abandoned you?”

The man shakes his head, the tips of his wavy brown hair shifting delicately. “Gone to the casino,” he explains. He pats the open booth beside him questioningly. “Do you want to sit?” You ponder it for half a second. His voice is open and warm, and it lacks the air of expectation that you’d usually find when patrons ask you a similar question. With a small smile on your face, you sit down beside him. “It’s Y/N, yeah?”

You nod slowly, your bare legs feeling warm against the leather booth. The man is still settled in the centre of the semi-circle, but he slides a little closer to you as you begin to talk, one of his arms hanging over the side of the booth, inviting you closer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply softly. “Are you going to tell me your name, or is that a mystery too?”

The man quirks an eyebrow, and for the first time you notice how endearing his face is. It’s hard, with deep lines crossing his forehead and his cheeks, but when he smiles, the angst fades away, leaving him with a gentle softness about him. His nose is slightly crooked and his lips are thin and lopsided, but he’s undeniably handsome.

“I’m a mystery?” He asks, amused.

“No one’s seen any of you around before,” you say, picking your words carefully. “Normally we get regulars in the VIP section.” You shrug lightly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s our first time coming here,” he tells you. Then he picks up his hand and offers it to you. “I’m Tom, darling.”

You take his outstretched hand and your smile widens as he takes your fingers into a strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

[-----]

You talk with Tom easily, gradually unearthing a few details about the man. He doesn’t give much away, but you gather that he and his brothers own a few businesses around London and they’d come to your club tonight to scout out the competition. 

“Can I get you a drink, love?” He asks, about ten minutes into conversation. 

You’ve got a relaxed smile on your face as you nod in agreement.  “That would be nice,” you tell him. “I can go and get it, though.” You begin to stand, only to feel him reach out and take your hand, his digits loosely brushing up against yours as you meet his sparkly golden eyes.

“No, stay here,” he says, his voice soft. His eyes shift towards the bar and you watch as he catches the gaze of one of the other servers. She walks over to you and takes your order with a jealous grimace on her face, and you find yourself shifting a little closer to Tom as you sit back down.

“So...” You let your lips quirk into a coy smile. “What kinds of things does a man like you enjoy doing?”

Tom hums softly, his hand going to rest on your knee. The tips of his calloused fingertips draw small shapes and circles over your skin, his touch setting off warm fireworks. ��I like golf,” he says, laughing quietly as you grimace. “It’s more interesting to play than it is to watch.”

“I’d sure hope so,” you joke. “I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Well, what is your thing?” You watch intently as Tom flicks his pink tongue out across his lower lip. Your breath hitches as you realise he’s flirting with you, and you’ve overcome with a strong urge to reciprocate.

“I like painting,” you admit. “Someday I’m going to quit my job here and open up an art gallery.” You reach up slowly, resting the flat hand on his shoulder as the tips of your fingers play around with his soft hair. “Would you be my model, one day?”

Tom brings his other hand to your waist, testing the waters. When you only drift closer to him, he holds your side more firmly, his long, nimble fingers slowly wrapping around you. His touch is intoxicating. 

“I’d be flattered to be your model, darling,” he tells you, eyes sparkling with something between lust and admiration.

As the night draws on, you find yourself inching closer and closer to him, his body heat attracting you like a moth to a flame. His eyes sparkle brightly, shades of golden browns appealing to you easily, and you can’t stop yourself from shamelessly flirting with him, your heart pounding each time he returns it just as thickly.

But you’re not completely blinded by lust. Over the course of your conversation, you pick up on a few unsaid details. First and foremost: Tom has a holster strapped to his belt, and whilst it’s empty, its presence is enough to have your guard up. You know there’s probably a hundred armed men out in the casino, but the sight of it makes you uneasy. Tom’s nice, and maybe a part of you had considered clocking out and leaving with him, but that - and the fact that you can see a pair of brass knuckledusters hanging out of his suit pocket - is enough to sour that idea.

It really is a shame. He’s nothing but charming, in a very sweet, romantic way, and if the circumstances were different, you’d want him in a heartbeat.

By the time Tom’s friends return from the Casino, stacks of cash in hand, you’re practically on top of him. Somewhere between the second and the third beer, he’d pulled you nearer, and now you have your head pressed against his outstretched arm as you sit lazily in his lap, your voice dying halfway through your anecdote as the presence of Tom’s associates disturb your conversation.

“How much?” Tom calls out, his eyes moving away from your face for the first time in an hour. You watch as his pupils dilate, swallowing the golden flecks of his irises as he stares at the rolls of cash greedily.

“50k.” The blond...Harrison, you think, says. “We should come back more often.” His blue eyes twinkle knowingly as he takes in the way you’re spread over Tom. “You ready to go, mate?”

You feel Tom shift beneath you, a hand going to sit on your waist as he hums. “Go settle the tab, yeah? I’ll be over in a minute.”

Harrison nods, and you watch as the group approach the bar and begin to sift through the rolls of cash. Clearing your throat, you stretch out your arm and move out of Tom’s lap, distancing yourself from him as you give him a coy smile.

“Well… I guess it’s goodnight, Tom,” you say, watching him carefully. His eyebrows furrow together slightly as an expression of intrigue passes over his face.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to come home with me, love?” He asks, voice honest and open. He reaches down and takes one of your hands in his, his calloused thumb passing over the back of your knuckles. The touch makes you bite your lower lip, and for a brief moment, you find yourself wishing you could.

“Sorry,” you say instead, ignoring the way a part of you wants to explore the man further. You’ve seen the holster and the knuckledusters. “I don’t know you.”

Surprise replaces his intrigue, but Tom remains looking at you fondly. He nods his head, holding your gaze as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his intoxicating lips to the back of your hand and kissing your skin softly. “I’ll see you around then, darling,” he mumbles, finally releasing your hand as he presses it back to your lap. He stands up and shimmies out of the booth, tossing his suit jacket over his shoulder as he goes. “It was lovely spending the evening with you, Y/N.”

Your smile is soft, genuine. “You too, Tom. Have a nice night.”

He raises his hand in a brief wave, and then turns, meeting with his friends by the door. They leave together, and you take a moment to sit against the back of the booth, breathing heavily through your mouth as your thoughts run rampant through your mind.

Everything about Tom feels to be a juxtaposition. His suit was expensive and he left the casino £50,000 richer, yet his shoes were scruffy and his watch looked old and worn. He’s clearly used to control, but he was perfectly content with you setting the lines and the limits. He has an obvious affinity for the darker arts, but his touch was always kind and gentle. Tom is a perfect paradox, and you can’t help but keep him in your thoughts as you begin to clear away the dirty glasses, your smile remaining on your lips for the rest of the night.

[-----]

When you come in for your shift a few days later, you’re called into Loretta’s office immediately. Dread and anticipation hang heavy in your stomach as you nervously push open her door, hoping with every part of you that she hasn’t called you in to fire you. You’re left utterly perplexed as the tall woman greets you with a long, tight hug.

“Y/N, my darling!” She exclaims, releasing you and gesturing down at a chair. You slip into it apprehensively as she walks around to sit behind her desk, her eyes bright and excited. “You’ve got a tip.”

Your eyes widen. “A tip?” You echo, voice uncertain. Normally the tips would be added to your pay-check at the end of the month, no further comment needed. The way she’s staring at you like you’re a celebrity makes you nervous.

“Someone left an anonymous tip for you,” she says, voice high. “I’ve already deducted the club’s percentage.” Loretta passes you a bulging envelope. “It leaves you with just under £5,000.”

Your jaw drops.

“What… The fuck,” you manage, eyes bulging as you tear open the envelope and run your thumb through the thick stack of cash. “Who?”

Your boss shrugs. “Anonymous,” she repeats. “Just thought you’d appreciate the heads up. I’ll keep it out of the books, as long as you don’t mention this to anyone.” Her voice is low, and you nod quickly, knowing that she’s doing you both a favour: the club takes a cut of all tips received, and you know that you’ll both come out better if the tax office doesn’t learn of your bonus.

“Thank you,” you say, flabbergasted. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” she advises. “Just take it.” As you rise to your feet and slip the envelope into your bag, she adds, “You can go back to serving the bar, as usual. I’ll get Monica to cover the private booths.”

“Thanks,” you say again, your voice soft and shaken. She bids you goodbye as you walk back to the lockers, your eyes wide and your mind scrambled.

You want to assume it’s Tom who’s left the tip. You don’t think you’ve made a big enough impression on anyone else recently to be rewarded this generously. It baffles you, because you hadn’t ever expected this, but then you find yourself warming to the idea. You’d gotten on well with Tom, and maybe a small part of you has been regretting denying him, and this… Well, this act of generosity would suggest that he’s still thinking about you, and that’s a very nice thought.

You begin your shift with a wide smile on your face, knowing your rent is taken care of for the next few months. It puts a lightness in your step, and you find yourself winning over all the patrons you come into contact with, your wallet growing heavier and heavier as the night draws by. A few times, you find yourself gazing around the bar, looking for Tom, expecting to see him, but not feeling surprised when you don’t. He’d told you himself that he was only in the club to scout out a rival business - why would he return after gathering his reconnaissance?

He doesn’t turn up that night. Or the next. Or even the next. You have to wait another week before you see another sign of him, and even then, it’s not actually him.

You’re clearing away a table when you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Harrison standing there, a black suit pulled around him so perfectly that he looks like a model and it takes your breath away for a second.

“Y/N?” He asks, voice clear and bright. You give him a nod, your eyebrows pulling up into confusion as he procures a red rose and passes it to you. “I’m Harrison, Tom’s mate. We met the other night.”

You twirl the stem between your fingers, glancing between the delicate petals and Harrison’s watchful face. “Yeah, I remember.”

He nods his head at the rose. “Tom wanted you to have that. He also wanted to know if you’d gotten his gift?”

The thorns on the rose nick your finger and you curse softly, bringing your thumb to your mouth and sucking away the small drop of blood. Harrison watches you intently, his eyes twinkling as he holds back a laugh.

“You mean the tip?” You ask after a moment, pulling your hand away from your face. You cross your arms over your chest as you stare the man down. “You do know that was an obscene amount of money, right?”

Harrison chuckles, running a hand through his blond curls. “I know,” he agrees. “Tom wouldn’t hear anything else. Apparently you made quite the impression.” His eyes sweep across you briefly. “He wanted to know if you’d join him for a date tomorrow night.”

You hum, your eyebrow raising slightly. “And why are you here asking me out, instead of him?” 

Harrison’s eyes widen at your controlled tone, his cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. “He’s busy.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Well, you can tell Tom that I appreciate the gesture, but if he wants to take me on a date, he needs to come down here and ask me himself.” Acting on impulse, you pass Harrison back the rose, your eyes dancing mischievously. 

Harrison looks a little taken aback, but he nods slowly and looks at you with a shade of respect in his gaze. “I will pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Harrison.” You turn back to the table you’re clearing and you watch from the corner of your eye as he turns and walks away, leaving the club with the rose in his hands.

Your heart hammers in your chest, as part of you can’t believe you’ve just turned him down so boldly. But you know it’s for the best, because men like Tom can be dangerous, and if he thinks he can get away with anything, then that’s not the kind of person you want to see. You decide that if he can swallow his pride and show up to see you himself, then you’ll be happy to lean into him, but you won’t fall at his feet just because he’s flashed some cash. If he doesn’t respond to your demands, at least you’ll come out richer for it. But a part of you thinks you’ve got him nailed down, and you have the feeling he thrives on games like these, and so you return to the club the next night expecting to see him, and you’re not surprised when you do.

Tom’s leaning up against the bar, talking with one of the strippers amicably. The feathers coming out of her plumed headband fall onto his forehead as they laugh closely together, and an irrational stab of jealousy twists up through your insides as you watch them. It’s ridiculous, and you quickly swallow it back, but as Tom meets your eyes from across the room, you know he’s seen the envy in your eyes. His thin lips pull into a smirk and he beckons you over, your legs moving of their own accord.

As you get to Tom, he leans down and whispers something in the woman’s ear. You watch as her expression falls, and then she pulls away from Tom to circle the room in search of another visitor. He greets you by opening his arms, and you pause for a moment before sinking into them, his fingers finding your waist as your head goes to the crook of his neck, finding home briefly in his warmth and the rich scent of his powerful cologne. As you pull back, one of his hands goes back to his side, but the other finds your face for a moment, holding you softly as his lips brush over your cheek. You have to bite back a smile as he mumbles a quiet, “Evening, love,” not wanting him to see how utterly giddy it makes you feel to have him so close again.

“Hi, Tom,” you reply, your head clearing up as he finally drops contact with your skin. Your eyes drift over his familiar face, taking in the details of his handsome features. “Looking for a stripper, eh?”

“Not unless she’s called Y/N,” he replies, voice controlled but suggestive. You chuckle quietly, your face heating a little as you grow slightly bashful.

“Smooth,” you comment. “You gonna buy me a drink?”

“Whatever you want,” he promises. His eyes sweep over the room. “You’re not working?”

You shrug as you slip up at the bar, Tom settling on the stool beside you. One of his hands goes to rest on your knee, the contact firm and grounding, and it makes your body fill with a subtle, thrumming heat. “I am, technically,” you say. “But it’s my job to entertain the guests,” you shift your gaze to his suggestively, “and I’d say you’re in need of a little fun.”

“You’re definitely right there, darling.”

You drink a few rounds with Tom, treating yourself to some of the bar’s most expensive wine because he’s already given them his card and you free rein over the drinks menu. Any reluctance you feel to exploit his kindness disappears as you remember how easily he’d left the casino up £50k the other night, and as you slowly grow lighter and your bloodstream more diluted, you find yourself loosening up. Tom does too, and as you talk about any and everything, his hair becomes messier as his cheeks flush. Your knees touch and sometimes your shoulders brush, and it’s like the rest of the world burns away until it’s just you, and him, laughing, talking, feeling, and it’s so natural that you almost forget that you come from two different worlds.

But then Tom shifts on the stool, and your eyes catch his empty holster, and you’re slammed back to earth, your mood shifting. He picks up on it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing as he reaches out and picks up your hand, playing with your fingers softly. “You alright there, love?”

You hum. “What do you want from me, Tom?” You ask after a moment, voice unassuming.

“What do you mean?”

You give him a coy smile. “You know what I mean,” you tease. “Chatting with me, leaving me thousands of pounds, getting your friend to ask me out… Even being here tonight. What do you want?” And your voice is open and honest, and Tom ponders it for a few moments before squeezing your hand.

“You intrigue me, Y/N,” he admits. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night we met… I don’t know why, or what I want from you, but I guess, I’d quite like to know, what do you want from me?”

“Oh, no, you don’t get to turn this on me.”

“Why not? I’m definitely allowed to do that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sneaky, Tom,” you mumble. “If I’m being honest, part of me thought you’d show up tonight and expect me to leave with you. Because, y’know, the money.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. “I don’t think you’re that kind of guy, though. Are you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not a dick.”

“Arrogant, sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“A bit egotistical?”

“Well, uh, I guess you could say that.”

“Dominating?”

Tom’s eyes shift a shade darker as he nods. “You like to talk,” he comments, bringing a smile to your face.

“I can leave you to your thoughts, if you’d prefer that,” you tease. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for the first time you look down at his fingers and notice that his knuckles are bruised and bloodied. “Shit, what happened here?” You bring his hands nearer your face, gently grazing your touch over the curves of his cut knuckles. He winces but he lets you inspect the injuries.

“Nothing,” he mutters. When you tighten your gaze, he shrugs haplessly. “Got in a fight. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” You rise from the stool, dragging him with you. You’re about to turn and pull him across the room when you hesitate. “Are you packing?” He looks surprised by the question, so you add, “I won’t take you backstage if you’re dangerous.”

“I’ve not got a gun on me,” he says, dodging half the question but it’s good enough for you. You lead him out, through the bar, past the casino, and you pull him through a large door that says Staff Only and take him back to one of the locker rooms. It’s peak time so the room is quiet, and you sit him down on a bench as you grab a clean cloth from beside the sink and run it under some warm water.

“If you don’t take care of your injuries, they’ll scar,” you tell him as you dab at his knuckles. Tom’s gaze burns into your cheek as you wash away the dried blood, exposing the deep colours of fresh bruises just below. You glance up at him, your breath hitching in your throat as you meet his stare, his eyes dancing with a thousand different words. “Who’d look after you if I wasn’t here, huh?” You walk across the room before returning with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant. “This might hurt,” you warn, but Tom doesn’t even flinch as you drag the pad over his cracked skin. You throw the pad into the bin and then settle in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at him questioningly.

“Come sit,” he says finally, his voice more laboured than before. He spreads his legs a little and pats at his lap, and without hesitation you step forward and straddle him. You have to shift around until you’re comfortable, but you manage to stretch your legs out behind him on the bench and his hands go to anchor your hips in place. Your faces are really close now, and he easily brings a hand up to settle on your cheek, the tips of his fingers resting on your cheekbones. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, love?”

You smile slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He breaks off, sighing comically. “So fucking perfect.” The compliment draws your smile into a large grin as you chuckle softly.

“Perfect, eh?” You tease, running a hand over his shoulder. You rest it at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair. “I don’t think perfect exists.”

“It does,” he says immediately.

“Maybe.” Acting boldly, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw, admiring the sharp line with your mouth as he sighs beneath you. “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” You say, finishing your trail of kisses at his ear. You let your breath fan out across his skin for a moment before pressing a final kiss to his earlobe, feeling his body tense beneath you.

“Yeah,” he admits.

You pull yourself back to face him, your eyebrow arched. “Will you keep me safe?” You ask. It hangs heavy in the air, a multitude of layers hidden away behind the few words.

Tom nods, a hand drawing up to find home in your hair. His fingers bury in the strands and he uses his leverage to draw you nearer until your noses are touching, his cold skin pressing to yours in the most delicate way.

“I will always protect you,” he promises, voice serious.

Your lips quirk into a slight smile. “Kiss me,” you ask.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, lips chapped but warm as they slide over yours. It’s soft, for a moment, but then you grip his hair and pull him nearer and it grows stronger. Passion flows between you as you cling to him, his mouth hot and luxurious and it draws a heat between your legs as you feel his teeth catch at your lower lip. When you part your lips and grant him access, his tongue dances with yours and you moan into his mouth, every inch of you aching for him, burning with desire to keep him here. His hand in your hair holds you close as the other wanders over your side, caressing your figure softly but warmly, and you turn to butter in his hold, kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until your lips are numb and your lungs burn. When you pull away, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes pulling open just enough to make brief contact with yours. He looks softer now, less anxious, more in control.

“I wish I could do that forever,” he admits. Both hands find your waist, holding you comfortably as he smirks at you. “You’re something else.”

You shrug slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you, Tom,” you tease, eyeing him carefully. “You gonna come back again tomorrow?”

He raises a scruffy eyebrow. “You want me to come back tomorrow?”

Your lips split into a wide smile. “Yeah,” you admit. “Maybe the day after that, too. If you want.”

“I’ll be here,” he promises. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.”

You kiss him again, softer. His lips are warm and they already feel a little bit like home. You realise that he’s got you, both physically, because his fingers grip your waist so strongly, but also emotionally, because you look into the depths of his warm, mysterious eyes, and you realise you don’t want to forget what they look like.

“I might want you around for a long time. Is that a problem?”

Tom shakes his head, body relaxing. He kisses you. “Not a problem at all,” he confirms. “I feel like… I feel like you might change my life, love.”

You laugh quietly, rolling your eyes. “Who knew you’d be such a sap,” you tease. Tom frowns, his grip on your waist tightening, and you swallow deeply as he steadies you. “I’m kidding. Relax.” You kiss him again, quickly.

“You think you can just distract me with kisses?” He says, voice confident. You nod your head arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm. “I think you’re the kind of person who will be very easy to distract.” To prove your point, you take a long moment to grind your hips down, feeling the hard presence of his erection pressing up against your covered core. You giggle and your head falls to the crook of his neck, and Tom’s hands rub over your back as he holds you close.

“You’re a minx,” he says. “Such a tease.”

“I’m a lot of things,” you whisper against his neck. You feel his lips brush over the top of your head and let him hold you, close, gripping you tightly, and it feels like you’ve known him for infinity already.

“I’m excited to figure you out, Y/N.”

You tilt your head and run a line of brief kisses up his neck until eventually finding his lips, seizing them in a short peck. “Me too, Tom,” you admit. “I feel like you’re gonna be really special to me,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so who’s the sap now, huh?” He teases, drawing your smile wider.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.”

And then, quite simply, you’re back to kissing, and you know he’s dangerous, and you know he’s powerful, but his touch on your waist is gentle and he’s kissing you so slowly and softly that none of that really matters. It doesn’t matter that you don’t entirely know who he is, because there’s a connection tethering your soul to his, and you can feel it - even if it’s only been a few days. It’s a type of connection that you’ve never felt before, and it thrills you, but it also terrifies you. Because you know that the man beneath you holds the keys to the world, but it comes at a cost, and you’re not sure you can afford the price if it all falls apart.

But fuck it. He’s kissing you, and it’s perfect, and you crave to stay like this forever, curled up in his lap like this. So what if the world burns? You’re perfectly happy exactly where you are, Tom’s hands on your hips, your mouths moving in sync. And as he holds you close, you know there’s nowhere else your heart would be safer than tucked up here with him.

[mickylikesstuff]

Status Online: Chapter 4: Blood Sky

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Masterlist

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FLOOR1

AINCRAD

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The Last bell rang throughout the floor and clouds are pushed by the strong wind at dusk.

Gamers in Sword Art Online are all gathered in the plaza in the <<Town of Beginnings>>. Confusion and panic fill the hearts of the gamers within the area as they cannot exit the Plaza. Akuma no Midori just finished taking down a hidden starter’s quest that was the << Herald of the Wolves>>, much of his surprise he was unexpectedly teleported to the <<Town Plaza>>. At first, He was expecting an intervention for taking down a hidden quest early, but why is the whole gaming population of SAO here? Akuma Damian somehow unconsciously holds his weapon under the black cloak he acquired

Red Valkyrie on the other hand has a sense of uncomfortable nostalgia. Max’s Akuma was like this. Yet she did not sense magic or a strong malice intent, Hawkmoth received his punishment that ended the terror of Paris 3 years ago. Valkyrie snaps out of her thoughts and begins to look for Pico and Lavender. Her head clear and breathe steadied, Ladybug Valkyrie begins to look for the siblings among the thick crowd, clutching the sword at hand.

Suddenly their world turns blood red. The once orange sky filled with red hexagons that have the stamped {WARNING} sigils in them. These shapes surrounded the plaza like a dome and then merge into a singularity, but what terrifies the gamers most is the gigantic looming thing that is above all of them. From the Red sigils came a red creature that somehow got into the dome and transformed into a singularity. From the blood slimy creature turned into a grim reaper. The titanic humanoid figure that is robed in red, and face unseen hovered the thousands of people

A booming deep voice sounded the place.

< Attention, Players. Welcome to my world. >

Red Valkyrie turned pale as she had an idea of what is happening. She can’t move in fear and shock, she can only be frozen stiff of what the looming figure says next.

< My name is Kayaba Akihiko. >

< As this moment, I am the only person who can control this world. >

Akuma gazes up to the creator of this world, Damian did not meet Kayaba Akihiko before. Yet his greeting seems something off…

Gamers are whispering to each other as the man Kayaba sends his greetings.

< I’m sure you’ve already noticed that the log out button is missing from your main menu screen >

< I assure you, It is not a defect >

“~We’re trapped here, no it can’t be…~” Akuma quickly turned to the woman who spoke French. That voice… she … wait her words hit him as he remembered Dick’s warning earlier. He watches the tears fell from the other gamer beside him as her face froze in fear. But if what she concludes is true then… This is bad.

Anxiety attack, she is having an attack. What kind of trauma can this event trigger her? ‘I have to calm her down before she does something stupid’

< I repeat. There is no bug >

< This is the feature of Sword Art Online >

“~Please no. Not again~” Akuma can’t stop himself from holding the weaponed arm of the gamer beside him in a steady firm grip. “Miss, you need to calm down and wake up. Please”. He goes to block her sight of Kayaba and starts rubbing her arms, hoping that will snap her out of it.

< You cannot log out of SAO yourselves >

“Miss… Red Valkyrie Wake up!”

Marinette untangled herself from her headspace and looked at the man in front of her. It is his green cool eyes that made her realize a hooded man is holding her steady. Mar Red Valkyrie lets go of the sword she is holding and collapses to the man. Her legs bucked down like they lost their strength and she tried to calm down by taking steady breaths.

< And no one on the outside can shut down your nerve gear >

< Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the nerve gear will act as a powerful microwave, >

< Destroying the brain, ending your life >

.

“HAHA, dude you know April fools is over right”

“What a terrible prank”

“Fix the bug already!”

.

The people are in denial trying to counter that that is a prank and waving off Kayaba’s words. Some try to leave the plaza, but its exits are blocked. Klein tried to deny such a claim, but Kirito only confirmed that the existence of the Internal Battery of the Nerve gear can fry them to their death.

< Unfortunately, several players’ friends and families have already ignored this warning  >

< And attempted to remove the Nerve Gear. >

< As a result, a whole 213 players are forever gone >

< From Aincrad and the Real World >

.

News reports floated around the plaza for everyone to see:

.

<[Beaking News: Killer game]>

<[Where is Kayaba Akihiko]>

<[Game to Death Battles!]>

<[2 Players killed by Death game]>

<[200/10,000 Death and Rising from Sword art Online]>

.

“Tch. Bastard!” The Green-eyed man holding Red Valkyrie exclaimed as he seems to sink in into the situation. Eyes filled with condemnation and his body is shaking in rage, He holds Valkyrie tight. When she looked at Kayaba, news reports that are published about the deaths because of the nerve gear. 'Father, please be safe...'

“Calm Down” She tried to help him. She looked at his ID. ‘Ironic, an Akuma is trying to help me this time’ “Midori no Akuma-san, CALM DOWN.” She commanded him. That in turn made Dami Akuma looked at her, and closed his eyes to compose himself.

.

< As you can see, News organizations from across the world are picking up on this, and are reporting the death totals >

< Thus, It’s safe to assume that the danger of your nerve gear being removed is quite small >

< I do hope you’ll relax and attempt to finish the game. >

.

When Akuma calmed down, He let go of Valkyrie. Steps away from her a little once he is sure that she is all right. He was ashamed that in turn, he needed her back then. The woman then slowly grabs his hand and interwinds their fingers. She looks at him straight in the eye, no longer held with fear but a gaze of a warrior replaced with experience as she analyzes the reports floating around the plaza. He wishes that he was surprised at her actions but he must have been tired to take his hand back. All he can do is to follow her gaze.

.

< Its important that you remember this clearly >

< There is no longer a method to revive someone within the game. >

< If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be lost forever. And spontaneously, >

< The Nerve Gear will destroy your brain. >

.

“It’s a Death game now” “A bastardized survival of the fittest” Akuma and Valkyrie spoke together. They knew as hero/vigilante that their line of work is by far a death sentence, but in these elements, they cannot control anything. Damian has no contact with his family and team. Marinette took off her miraculous. With their chances that Cass and Kagami can call their families and friend to help them out.

“Even pro gamers die in the games. The chances of everyone’s survival are slim to none” Valkyrie said the situation is now heavier. “This is our life now? Are we just dolls for this monster!?” Akuma now wants this man to suffer after what he pulled.

.

< There is only one means of escape. >

< COMPLETE THE GAME >

.

The whole plaza fell silent and listens to Kayaba’s words. ‘Complete what now?!’

.

< You are now presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor 1 >

< If you make your way through each dungeon and defeat its floor boss, you can advance to the next level. >

< Beat the final Boss on the 100th floor, and you will have cleared the last hurdle. >

.

“Clear a hundred Floors? That’s impossible. The Beta-testers never made it anywhere close to that!” a Red head man spoke among the crowd. Akuma now notices Kirito behind them. He pushes to the crowd, approaching the other Beta-tester. When He reaches to his student, “Kirirto!” Akuma called. Kirito in turn in relief to hear her mentor’s voice.

“Sen- eh…Akuma-san” Kirito and the Red-head now see two gamers approaching them. Did Akuma-san bring a friend? The woman seems to be confused. “Are you alright?” Kirito asked.

“No” Akuma answers. Yup this is sensei.

Red Valkyrie is drag by the man among the crowd to what it seems like his friends. “Will you please, Let my arm go” She spoke up. Akuma blinked at the woman then he noticed his hand holding hers and deliberately lets her go. “Where are the others?” Akuma questioned Kirito. “I haven’t seen them from the start” Kirito answered is in a grim expression.

.

< Finally, I’ve added a present to your item storage, from me. Please see for yourselves. >

.

All the Gamers are now opening their [Inbox storage] and what they saw is a... "A mirror?” Kirito questioned. Voicing the thoughts of all the players. Akuma is skeptical, he handles the mirror and looks that the woman. She is just as curious as he is.

Then suddenly the redhead glowed blue and shines in a blinding light.

“KLEIN!”

“GET BACK! KIRITO!”

Akuma instinctively grabs Valkyrie and Kirito and uses his cloak to protect the three of them, despite their protest. But it turns out that all of them are glowing and somehow changing? All of them closed their eyes until the light is gone.

“What’s happening!”

“Your Glowing, I’m GLOWING!”

“WAAAHHHH!!!”

All the gamers glowed until the light died out. Revealing people in different avatars or more likely their real appearances.

“Are you alright, Kirito?” Klien approached the Big man that took Kirito and that lovely lady. Under the man-Midori no Akuma’s cloak is Kirito and Red Valkyrie well… based on their IDs who are both adjusting their eyes. They looked at Klein but is not really Klein. His previously long red hair is now short and he has a goatee.

“Y-Yeah…Who are you?” Kirito is sure that he heard Klein’s voice but who is this? And why is his voice turned higher? Didn’t he change the settings?

“And who are you?” the not Klein asked too. Kirito then looks at the Mirror. His face… His IRL Face, not the custom avatar is showing. He became smaller and lanky, his hair is shorter and his eyes are wider than the olive-shaped eyes he had.

“And you guys are?” Kirito looked where Klein is looking at. “That’s Akuma’s ID…” Kirito now sees the changes. Well, subtle changes. Akuma-san is exotic, to say the least… Now lean muscled, and big about 6ft. His green eyes became more vibrant, is it even possible to have sharper eyes? His skin is dark and his hair chopped short. He does not have his scar on his face anymore.

His Friend, on the other hand, has changed a lot, Klein has to gaze at her ID twice “Red Valkyrie-san?” as he checked on her. She lost her pink hair and now she has long black hair that flows to her back. She looks Eurasian, Big blue eyes, slender yet muscled too, she lost a couple of inches.

The two adults looked at their mirrors, they are now at their changed avatars. The gamers are now scared and confused about what happened. Surprise and resignation wash her as Valkyrie takes a deep breath. Akuma doesn’t really care about his appearance. But under his clothes, he is worried about another thing. ‘Can they scan my scar?’

“Which means…”

“You’re Kirito?”  "You’re Klein?”

Both the boys now realize what happened. “But, How?” Yet Klein is now really confused.

“That scan… The NerveGear covers your entire head with a high-density signal device, So it can see what you look like.” Kirito started to explain. “But our body shape…”

Klein continues “When we first used the NerveGear, we have to calibrate it, right? You have to touch your whole body all over."

“O-oh right, that must be where it got the data.”

“But... But… Why? What the hell’s the point of all this?” Klein tries to concentrate and come up with an answer but with all the changes and revelations, he wants to keep up.

“I’m sure he’ll tell us.” Kirito points the grim

Akuma and Valkyrie gaze at Kayaba in such hatred. ‘I won’t back down to a Hawkmoth wanna be!’ ‘I’ll get you for this!’

.

< Right now, you’re probably wondering why I’ve done this. >

< “Why would Kayaba Akihiko, developer of Sword Art Online go such lengths?” >

< My goal has already been achieved.>

< I created Sword Art Online for one reason...To create a world and play with it.>

.

“Kayaba” Kirito grounded himself. In his anger, he gripped his fist tight.

.

< And Now, it is complete. >

< This is ends the tutorial for the official Sword Art Online launch >

< I wish you all the best of luck. >

.

And at the end of the message, Kayaba disappeared in red smoke through the gaps of the sigils above. After that, the sigils disappeared. The dusk shines on the plaza once more.

Time stands still to the frozen crowd. Their mind is racing in thoughts of their family, friends, love-ones, their priorities, and their jobs. All players are equal on this floor that starts at 250HP, If they have carelessly done stupid and make the wrong decisions they will… DIE!

.

.

.

This isn’t a game anymore...

This is real, this is reality…

A simple strike will kill me.

A poison will end me.

When I Die Here, I Die for real!

.

.

.

After they realize what they have done... Panic and chaos ensued

They started wailing, cursing, begging they have done it all.

And nothing changes.

.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

“LET ME OUT!!”

“I HAVE A FAMILY! Let me go!”

“I have a meeting after this!’

“NO NO NO NO NO !!!!”

.

In the crowd, Akuma, Valkyrie, Klein, and Kirito acted fast. When the barrier is broken down, The beta-testers took their partners and ran towards the exit. Away from the mob and panicking people.

“Come with us, Now!” Akuma places his hand on Valkyrie’s shoulder and gestures to follow him. There is something about the Red Valkyrie that made him pay attention to her. At least let him try little to guide her.

“Alright.” Valkyrie follows him as the four of them sprinted out the Plaza. She might be in trouble taking a stranger’s hand. Yet it felt right and somehow made her safe and sweeps her off beyond the disorder.

-------------------------------

Running out of the marketplace and she cannot help herself to leap from stall to stall, use railings and streetlights to launch herself, and uses the roofs to gain more ground. Jumping, rolling, sliding, grappling and other actions help her think. When she concentrates on her actions her thoughts follow that makes no room to be distracted by fear and distress. Parkour, is somehow an effective therapy that made Marinette Dupain-Cheng less a target from Hawkmoth’s influence.

‘That was interesting. So, Kayaba did successfully make a VR world into reality. After he created the Cardinal System, he used the beta-testers to report for configurations, glitches, and repairs in the system. Does the if the system…’ She thought as leaped to another roof. ‘The system must also be self-updating, thus the progress of each gamers’ account is not easily erased’. ‘If survival is what we need then we have to be stronger, Wait ... we?’. Red Valkyrie pauses on a street where the man- Akuma also stopped in front of her.

In this quiet intersection, she is alone with a man, ' a handsome man... Bad Marinette! SNAP OUT OF IT '  She's not sure if she can blush in the game but she would be completely flustered at the closeness of this giant that is looking down on her.

Akuma is looking at her with indifferent eyes, yet his voice dripped in curiosity. “That was an interesting run. ~ Mademoiselle  ~” The man said. His brow was raised as he fully looked at her once again.

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[seraphanangelica]

Can I please have scenarios or headcanons on how bnha characters (any that you like) would handle dealing with a ghost with their s/o who totally believes in the supernatural? Thank you in advance

I absolutely love this idea! As a firm believer of the supernatural myself, there was absolutely no way I could delay this response. So here you go!

How They And Their S/O Would Deal With Ghosts

💥This guy has only seen or heard about ghosts and spirits from horror movies. That’s all he cares about them. If they’re not in a movie, they have no existence. Of course, every time he says something along those lines, you roll your eyes and laugh to yourself at his blatant lack of attention to the supernatural.

💥You’ve tried, many times to prove just how real they were. And every single time it would go like this:

💥”I’m telling you, Katsuki, I’ve had experiences with them. You just don’t think they’re real becuase you haven’t.”

💥”Your experiences are just things you don’t want to give logical explanations to, dumbass.”

💥His point is proved further when nothing happens. And nothing happened for days after the last time you two had the repetitive conversation.

💥One day, as Katsuki woke up before you, he got out of bed and proceeded to go about his completely non-paranormal life. After giving you a light kiss on your forehead, he went downstairs to start preparing breakfast.

💥He stopped mid-stair though, as he heard another pair of feet pattering down the stairs behind him at a much quicker and softer pace. At first he thought it was you that had gotten up earlier than usual to spend more time with him in the mornings. He turned around to greet you with a smirk, his face falling slightly when he saw no one around.

💥Paying it no mind, he finished descending the stairs, and continued into the kitchen.

💥In the middle of sautéing vegetables, Katsuki reached out to grab the bottle of olive oil that sat on the counter to his left. He froze mid reach as he saw the barstool behind him rotate as if someone were sitting there out of the corner of his eye.

💥”Oh hell, no.” He still refused to take into account anything you’ve said about the matter.

💥Twenty minutes later, you were downstairs and eating breakfast, in the barstool next to the one that moved. You watched in curiosity as Katsuki leaned against the counter in front of you, crimson eyes darting from the empty seat then to you, then back again.

💥You were concerned, to say the least. “Katsuki, are you alright? You’re acting weird. Come sit down.”

💥He only shook his head and took a deep breath, looking you in the eyes. “Tell me about everything you know about ghosts. Now.”

💥And so you did. You told him everything you’ve been trying to tell him since you’ve known each other. The only difference was that this time, he was actually listening as if it were real and not a story.

💥When you finished he shook his head. “Look, I still don’t believe in this ‘ghost’ stuff, but-“ crash!

💥You’re heads snapped over to the source of the sound, your eyes settling on the plate that used to be next to Katsuki. It was now shattered on the floor, the pieces spreading out farther than the counter span. You knew Katsuki was freaking out but concealing it on the outside.

💥You couldn’t help but smile at your husband as his eyes still focused on the broken dish. “Don’t belive me now? We both know that dish was no where near the edge.”

💀Dabi would be disbelieving, but open to conversation. People talk about anime, right? It’s not real but makes for great small talk. He’d also be stupid. Very, very stupid.

💀The day he walked into the League of Villain’s hideout with an Ouija board under his arm, you thought he’d finally lost his mind.

💀”Are you crazy? Do you know the kind of stuff that happens when you use one of those things? You don’t know what you’re letting in!” You tried to reason with him, even coming up with ways to dispose of it without his knowledge. Unfortunately for you, he knew what you were up to and hid it.

💀”Oh come on. It’s just a little fun,” he teased you one night when he bagan setting it up in the center of your shared room. “What’s the worst that happen?”

💀”Asking ‘is anybody there’ is the stupidest thing you can do becuase thats inviting anything to come into the space. Secondly, you don’t know how to protect yourself against that kind of thing. The worst that can happen is possession, Dabi.” You scolded, leaning against the wall farthest from the board.

💀”Relax, Doll. I have someone in mind, actually. He didn’t really matter much, but I picked this from his wallet,” he reached into his pocket and tossed an ID card in your general direction. “See? Perfectly fine.”

💀It was not perfectly fine. You reluctantly joined him in the game, placing your fingers on the planchette, cringing with every subtle movement the burnt boy made. Because you didn’t want to do this in the first place, you let Dabi carry out the ‘ritual’.

💀As you would’ve guessed, the moment Dabi’s target was acquired, the planchette began moving, much to your dismay. Slowly, the letters formed a sentence. ‘You killed me.’

💀You shot a glare at your boyfriend. “What the hell did you do? Did you seriously just kill a man to contact him?”

💀He shrugged. “I caught the guy stealing from the convenience store, he had to go.”

💀”YOU STEAL FROM CONVENIENCE STORES!”

💀After you both said ‘goodbye’, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. It practically consumed you as the next hours passed, your eyes always finding themselves back to the abandoned board that still laid on the floor.

💀”WHAT THE FUCK!?” Dabi shouted from the bathroom, his voice one of surprise and confusion. You darted into the small room, expecting a prank left by Twice or blood left by Toga (it happens), and to be pretty honest, you were expecting this too. From the mirror, you could see eight distinct and parallel scratches on his back, too fresh and too deep not to be ignored.

💀Without a word, you bounded over to the closet and wrenched the doors apart with a set purpose. Pushing clothes out of the way, you pulled out an old chest you stored wherever you stayed. Opening the wooden box, you pulled out a match and a bundle of juniper and sage. Lighting the end of the dried herbs, and opening the nearest window, you let the smoke drift to all corners of the room.

💀Dabi watched in confusion and amusement as you walked towards him and started waving the herbs around him, cleansing him as well as the room.

💀”Y/N.”

💀“What, Dabi?”

💀”We should do it in a graveyard next time. This Halloween.”

💀”Fucking Samhain? Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

💀He believes in ghosts now, so you had that going for ya.

🥦Midoriya would be skeptical about it. As someone who never rules out any possibilities, he has a wide range of knowledge towards that kind of thing. You never knew if someone had a quirk that could control the spirits of the dead.

🥦When you told Izuku that you see dead people, he honestly thought you were quoting The Sixth Sense. You were, in a way. In the same way you were being serious.

🥦You sat on the couch in the living room, remote in hand as you got ready to start a Marvel movie marathon when your fiancé got back from the store downtown. He got called in when someone was murdered just outside, appearing to have been trying to steal some food and magnets. Why someone would try to steal magnets from the convenience store was beyond you.

🥦Sighing, you settled into the cushions, and turned on the TV. Soon you began playing Netflix as you waited. You felt the couch dip next to you. No one was home but you, and you hadn’t heard Izuku get back yet. This was the time she came out.

🥦You faced the girl that sat next to you with a smile. “Looking for Izuku?” She nodded. “He’s not home right now, but you’re welcome to stay with me until he gets back if you like.” She thought for a minute, running a hand through her long hair, then nodded again.

🥦You scrolled through various shows until she pointed at one that sparked her interest. You began playing ‘Supernatural’, watching her reaction to each of the Winchester Brother’s ghostly adventures. “What, it’s not accurate? There’s got to be something that’s right.” You teased.

🥦The girl laughed, the sound never reaching your ears, and shook her head, continuing the show anyway.

🥦A couple episodes later, you heard the sound of keys turning in the lock, signaling your fiancé’s return. You turned to warn the girl, but she was already gone. She liked Izuku, but she was shy; something you learned upon meeting her. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know.” You told her in a low voice as Izuku stepped into the house.

🥦He gave you a smile. “Hey, sorry for being gone so long,” he held up a plastic bag full of sweets. “They gave this to me as a thank you for helping them, so now we have even more marathon snacks.” Setting the bag on the counter, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a firm, loving kiss to your forehead.

🥦”It’s fine, Izu. You weren’t gone that long. I had plenty of company.” You returned the hug, your last statement directed to the girl who was now peeking in from the doorway.

🥦The movie marathon was a blast. You nerded out, quoting almost every line from every movie you watched that night. The girl warmed up to Izuku, you noticed, as she sat on the floor in front of him almost as if she were nervous to sit next to him.

🥦”You can sit next to him, kid. He won’t mind.” You told her. Both pairs of eyes snapped up at your speech.

🥦Izuku looked around to see if there were any unknown guests, turning back to you when he saw none. “Uh, Y/N?”

🥦You ignored him and continued. “He’ll be nervous at first, but he’ll warm up to you. Go ahead. You were in this house long before we came here.”

🥦Izuku screeched like a banshee when he felt the couch sink next to him. Like he was a cartoon, he jumped into your arms, clutching you like he was afraid to lose you. The poor panicked boy didn’t know what to do.

🥦So, you began explaining all that you knew about your abilities, or extra quirk as he said. The girl never left, quite amused by the interaction. Izuku never really calmed down. Sure he’s prepared for it in his journals, but he never thought there would be a day.

🥦”I told you ‘I see dead people’.”

🥦”Y-yeah, I guess you did."

[insomnihan]

han’s Entire Thoughts & Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “BEcause”

WE ARE F UCKING UNDER ATTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

THE SONG WHERE DO I START WELL- I SAW A COMMENT SOMEWHERE THAT WAS LIKE ‘THIS HAS GOODNIGHT CREEPINESS WITH RED SUN ESSENCE’ WHOEVER THAT WAS YOUR BRAIN IS GINORMOUS™ AND WRINKLY- IF YOU LISTEN TO IT THE SLIGHT SUMMER VIBE IS TOTALLY THERE YET THE PIANO AND THE HARP (MAYBE I DUNNO BUT WHAT I DOONO IS THAT IT SLAPS) THE PRE CHORUS BUILD UP FAST AS HELL THE DRUMS ARE FAST AS S HIT THE CLOCK IS SO CREEPY THE GUITAR IS JUST ASDFFJGHLHKL;;’ THE DOUBLE TIME DURING DAMIS RAP THAT WAS LITERALLY™ AN ATTEMPT TO TAKE MY LIFE (they were this 👌 close istg) AND THEN THE BRDIGE…………………… SOMEONE TAKE THE WHEEL-

AND THEN THEIR VOICES POWERFUL AS ALWAYS AND THAT F UCKING DISTORTION S HIT DURING ‘FOREVER LOVE AND FOREVER MINE’ IS ACTUAL DR*GS- i dunno what it is but the instrumental being like that and then (to me anyway) theres such a sweet undertone (???) in how they sing and then knowing the lyrics likE I KNOW THEYRE OBSESSED- B O I DO I MISS A FAST DAMI RAP P L E A S E I FEEL LIKE SHES THREATENING ME I LOVE THAT PSYCHO NOISE B ICYJ- THAT BRIDGE IS F UCKING CRAZY SIYEONS AND HANDONGS AND YOOHYEONS GENTLE VOICES AND THEN S U A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUREALLYGOTTACOMEOUTOFTHELEFTGODDAMNFIELDWITHTHATICANTSTANDYOUHOWDAREYOUJUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hello hello for the dance section i will be using THE mcountdown performance yEAH THE ONE POSTED BEFORE THE ACTUAL MV/ALBUM DROP- FIRST OF ALL THE INTRO sorry i have to talk about this theyre so creepy and doll like and jiu is so menacing lIKE WHAT THE F UCK IS THAT (someone answer me what iN THE F CUK did she feed yoohyeon)- NOW ANYWAY I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THE ACTUAL DANCE-

OFF THE BAT THE MIRROR INTRODUCTION IS *CHEFS KISS* and then gahyeon choking jiu?????????? LORE????????? IN CHOREOGRAPHY?????????

LISTEN. L I S T E N. ALL OF THEM LIFTING YOOHYEON AT 1:29 LIKE THATS INSANE AND SO FITTING FOR THIS SONG AND VIBE plus yknow………………… handong doing a lot of the lifting………… 👉👈

this specific video doesnt show it during suas verse (which is like Rude™ but fine they show it elsewhere obv) but when shes singing and the rest of them are dropping down slowly………………… yeah-

THE CHORUS EVERY👏SINGLE👏F UCKING👏TIME👏 LIKE THE POSE THEY DO FOR ‘BE’?????????????? THE POWER AND THE GENIUS™ OF IT??????????????????????

DAMI UNHAND ME UNHOLY DEMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the bridge…………… the rocking from side to side…………… whatever the f uck handong and yoohyeon are doing…………… it was almost like sua was controlling everyone right like deadass im scared-

THE DANCE BREAK PLS LET ME BREATHE

the ending with everyone bowing but gahyeon…………

BICTH……………… BICHY- THE VISUALS JUST KEEP LEVELING THE F UCK UP THATS LIT RALLY INSANE I LOVE THAT FOR THEM- the moment that mystery code was revealed and we were getting demented creepy carnival i waS V I B R A T I N G™ WITH EXCITEMENT the creepy scenery of the  dark hotel lobby and the rundown carnival with the merry go round and teacups AND WITH A CULT and the hallway with the mirrors and the lights (like the use of SO much red and green……… the symbolism………) JUST EVERYTHING IS SO F UCKING ABANDONED AND S HIT- THE LITERAL MIRRORING AND DIMENSION S HIT WHAT THE F UCK!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT CREEPY ASS ROOM WHERE THEY KIDNAPPED GAHYEON IN AND SIYEON WAS ACTING ALL TWITCHY OR WHATEVER WHAT WAS THAT-

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

THE WHOLE GODDAMN THI-

(jk ☺️)

OFF THE BAT GAHYEON MAIN CHARACTER I KNOW THATS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

…………………… i just wanted to put this here-

i just wanted to put this here too-

HOW DID YOU EVEN GET HERE

id like to think that the real handong is one getting dragged away and the one standing is the doppelganger (for Plot™ purposes)

W H A T T H E F U C K

I DUNNO WHAT TO SAY OTHER THAN IM SCARED-

G OD WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE THIS PART WAS SO WEIRD WHAT DOES THIS MEAN WHAT DOES IT MEAN

HELLO??????????????????

yeah sure let me take this apple from this broken mirror where another me lies within the walls of this creepy hotel anD EAT IT

W E L P-

………………………………… F-

T H E M

I DUNNO HOW IM BREATHING RN-

JIU

whaT IN THE F UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS SCENE IN THIS SCREENSHOT IS ALREADY A LOT the way she looks seemingly unassuming and harmless in that reception desk that brown and white outfit (is her hair in like………… pigtails???) and then the smile to the instant glare you jusT KNOW youre gonna d*e in that place- MAAAAN BANGS OR NO BANGS SHES STUNNING EITHER WAY AND THATS SO RUDE………… the white dress and those red ACTUAL TALONS will be the d*ath of me

SUA

if i counted correctly she had three (3) different outfits??? outside of the dance ones??? white and red then black and purple then that green and black one??? i think of all of those i really like the red and the green one theres SOMETHING ABOUT THEM i think the green one with the big puffy sleeves more NOT BC ITS MY FAVORITE COLOR I SWEAR the green looks silky and then she also has the thing on the side of her face the pearls in her hair- AND THEN THAT RED ONE with the white sleeves and the frilly collar dude whAT THE F UCK LIKE I KNOW WE SAW IT A LOT BUT I WANNA SEE MORE THO……………

SIYEON

OKAYOKAYOKAY LOOK- THIS OUTFIT IN THIS SCREENSHOT I FEEL LIKE I SHOULDNT LIKE IT YET I DO????????????? two completely different looking patterns that animal print and the strips and then that big ass belt (???) around her waist like this shouldnt be like a GOOD look i dont think……… truly only She™ could make this look work 😔😔😔 i got A LOT A LOT to say about the red and orange plaid crop top and skirt with the different colored clips in her head but the only thought going through my Dumb of Ass Stupid Brain™ iS HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

HANDONG

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY NATURAL BLONDE BELOVED this white dress and the BLACK BOOTS AND THE CHOKER SHE BETTER S TOP- AND DO NOT I REPEAT D O N O T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPEAK TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON THAT SHORT WHITE DRESS WITH THE WHITE BOOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOEVER STYLED HER YOU DONT CARE ABOUT ME AND THE OTHER HANDONGISTS YET I ALSO LOVE YOU SO MUCH the one with the pink dress dont talk to me dont approach me donT EVEN F UCKING LOOK AT ME IM GOING THROUGH A LOT RN

YOOHYEON

im really Dumb of Ass™ i thought that one pink and (maybe???) super light blue dress had a clock on it- BUT MOVING ON FROM THAT the space buns and whatever those accessories those are and the pink makeup this is sO- then the white dance outfit with those (mesh??? lace??? i just know that its see through-) sleeves and those big ass earrings THAT LOOK AT 2:24 the boots (yeah i gotta mention that first since i just ALWAYS have to mention them) the white blazer all those pearl long ass necklaces and whatever that is on the side of her face why do her visuals HURT SO BAD-

DAMI

bicth…………………………………… B I C T H- WHAT HAS THIS WOMAN BEEN DOING??????!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!??!??!?!?! THIS OUTFIT IS SUCH AN ATTACK I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS ON HER FACE THIS WHOLE LOOK IS SOMETHING ELSE™ her tattoo 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 that bottom part of her hair is kinda clapped tho honestly- the pig tails?????? braids?????? in the dancing part on the black and white tiles IM DOWN YALL IM DOWN SO BAD AND ITS F UCKING RUDE™ THAT WE DONT SEE S HIT OF THAT DRESS AT THE END-

GAHYEON

IM GONNA SAY IT AGAIN LEE👏GAHYEON👏MAIN👏CHARACTER👏I👏KNOW👏THATS👏RIGHT👏👏👏👏👏👏👏!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS RED HAIR IS A BLESSING (especially in that high ponytail i-) SHE IS ATTACKING ME BUT YKNOW WHAT THATS OKAY- im SURE theres a plot significance to her two different dresses the mostly black and the mostly white but my brain can only register WOMAN PRETTY that white one in particular…………… the choker with her hair up and those boots…………… i saw it clear as day and im d wording over it-

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

i usually expect the intro to be like SUPER HYPE AND INTENSE yknow which it kinda is! however it is consistent that it fits very well and captures the overall vibe of the entire album the calm beginning with the bell like were walking into an establishment and at the halfway point it picks up its intriguing and the ‘i like you’ adds a subtle eeriness that adds just enough to make one wanna continue listening its v good 👌

Airplane

LISTEN……………… LISTEN- this is the VERY LAST genre i expected out of this group YET im not even a little bit shocked that they did this like this cutesy izone-esque summer bop of a song is a DREAMCATCHER™ song……………… YALL- THE AMOUNT OF SEROTONIN THAT ‘AIRPLANE LALALALALALA~~~~~~~’ BRINGS IS SOMETHING SO PERSONAL THIS SECOND GENERATION SUMMERY ASS INSTRUMENTAL WHAT IN THE F UCK- I FEEL LIKE IM RUNNING ON THE BEACH I FEEL THE COLD WIND OF THE WATER BUT THE HEAT OF THE SUN AGAINST MY SKIN AND IM PLAYING WITH A DAMN BEACH BALL WITH A COCONUT DRINK (I F UCKING H*TE LEAVING MY HOUSE) JIU AND DAMI SOUND SO F UCKING PHENOMENAL

Whistle

im pretty firm on believing these b sides represent different times of a summer day and this is the late evening or twilight like not nighttime but CLOSE- i thought i wasnt gonna like the whistling part but that only makes it catchieR THIS SONG IS MAKING ME YEARN AND TRYING TO RECALL LOVELY MEMORIES I DONT EVEN HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! then again……………… theres always usually a song on their albums that make me unlock and feel hidden emotions………… THIS SONG GOT ME MISSING A PERSON THAT ISNT REAL this is such a mellow yet so powerful in the way they sing and express each syllable- they all did so good on this song but i gotta mention dami again for her part like oH mY gOoOoOooOoOOOooOD

Alldaylong

JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the way this song was inspired by a hug jiu got from yoohyeon…………… THIS IS NOT A JOKE she said ‘i wanna try city pop’ anD SHE DONE DID IT- i have NO IDEA how this song managed to hold so much joy and light happiness in every word and instrument used in this but im :ccccccc i literally wanna hug someone after listening to this 😔😔😔 this also makes me yearn for something but at least this one isnt unrealistic or unobtainable i dont think! there are some songs out there that make me cry from its lyrics and its sound but THIS ONE the lyrics and just how happy this song is bro reading the lyrics im about to cry for like the fifth time- they who im love so much… :ccccccc doesnt it make you just wanna hug someone and tell them you love them????????? that you appreciate them??????????

해바라기의 마음 (A Heart of Sunflower)

i knew FOR A FACT FOR👏A👏FACT👏 that they were gonna have a ballad for this album bc road to utopia didnt have one i will admit i was one of the 🤡 that thought jiu would be credited on this song 😬😬😬 ANYWAY- AGAIN WITH THE DAMN YEARNING FOR SOMETHING BUT THIS TIME IM F UCKING SAD AS S HIT why must this song be so powerful to make me emotional before i even got to read the lyrics to fully grasp it……………………… now im truly yearning in the Sad™ way and waiting for some imaginary person who i dont even know will even come back…………………… those damn adlibs are pretty as hell it was sua (and i have to mention dami again okay shes really killing it on this she woNT LET ME LIVE-) who got me feeling this the most like yeah…………………… i am a fool…………… im a fool for loving and missing someone who just disappeared from my lifE G O D D A M N IT-

LIKE this is COMPLETELY surprising album BUT IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE as its described it really is a ‘special’ album as while the title track still has their music style and sound theres still an element of summer (a very Terrifying™ summer BUT a ✨Summer✨ album nonetheless) like the b sides are SO different and COMPLETELY caught me off guard when i listened to the highlight medley YET this group of seven amazing and talented women pulled it off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its extremely obvious at this point that their steady and organic growth has grown VERY HIGH this time and (although im still very confused by how everything was released and announced BUT i digress) this different kind of method in performing the song the day before seemed to work?????????? I DUNNO WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE this section could literally be summed to just I LOVE DREAMCATCHER SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

IN CONCLUSION: LISTEN TO THIS ALBUM BECAUSE ITS BOMB AS F UCK

AND AS ALWAYS