#finally it's on ao3 AAAA

[bluelolblue]

Healing grace

Summary: Santino was hurt, and it brought him back to his childhood with how his father hurt him in a similar way. John helped Santino heal, of course.

Rating: Mature, hurt/comfort

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: Okay, finally putting this on ao3! This was a prompt from @starkiller-queen , and it's also posted on tumblr right here. You can also read it there if you want to. Thank you so much <3

☆ SPECIAL THANKS TO @mrssimply ☆ for beta reading and helping!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Snippet

“Let me see,” John insisted.

“Fuck… no! It'll pass,” Santino gritted through his teeth.

Broken ribs with potentially broken few fingers would not in fact just pass.

“Santino, don't be stubborn. I saw what they did to you, I killed them, you're really badly injured. Let me help you.”

John could be a pain in the ass sometimes, literally. They were both stubborn, just in their own way. He refused to show John his injuries in the car and now at home, too.

“I… listen, it used to pass on its own, so just leave me alone!” Santino wanted to storm off but John already caught him by his arm, which made Santino yelp in pain.

“That hurts!” Santino snapped.

“I’m sorry, but please let me see. I just want to help you. You know you're safe with me, right?”

Santino sighed in slight annoyance. He knew John wanted only the best for him, he was just really frustrated from the pain.

“I know,” Santino murmured, “It just hurts.”

John nodded, taking a hold of Santino's other hand, “I'll help you. You don't have to be in pain.”

Read the rest on ao3

[marichild]

what should we become, in what form? chapter 1/?

10.8k, rated M, ongoing, worldbuilding, fluff & angst, character study, relationship study

“The child,” his grandfather says slowly, “may possess the Ten Shadows technique.”

“And if he does, then I’ll train him. Fushiguro Megumi will not go to the Zen’in to become their pawn. He will become a sorcerer under the protection of Gojo Satoru and Jujutsu Technical High School. Anyone who tries to get in the way will quickly regret it. That, I can promise you.”

or, this is how Satoru finds peace, or at least something resembling it.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Morning News with Asmi 14 Oct '24

OOPS I FORGOT TO MAKE A POST YESTERDAY AND SO I GUESS 13TH OCTOBER WILL REMAIN A MYSTERY FOREVER. AAAAAA. ANYWAY HI IT'S TECHNICALLY MORNING OF 15TH TODAY BUT IT'S TOO EARLY TO CARE IT'S 14TH IN TEXAS MMKAY.

1. HURRICANE UPDATE: PEOPLE ARE NOW SHIPPING THE TWO HURRICANES. THERE'S FANART BASED ON THE VAGUE FACE SHAPES THEY MADE?? EVERYTHING IS FINE.

2. I MANAGED TO SURVIVE A VERY SMALL BIT OF THE SPICIEST CHIP IN THE WORLD EVEN THOUGH MY FRIEND WHO LIKES SPICY FOOD ATE THE SAME SIZE TEENY BIT.

3. THE BIRD, REDDIT, FLEW BACK HOME TO ITS HUMANS ON SUNDAY?? ITS HUMANS WERE THE CONSTRUCTION WORKERS FOR THE PLOT NEXT DOOR? SO... THE BIRD JUST WANTED A GODDAMN NIGHT AWAY AS A HOLIDAY WHILE ITS HUMANS WERE SEARCHING FRANTICALLY FOR IT?? IM

4. MY FRIEND INTRODUCED ALIEN STAGE TO ME LAST NIGHT (YEAH THREE OF US JUST RANDOMLY HAD A SLEEPOVER ON A MONDAY EVENING ART SCHOOL IS FINE WE'RE FINE) AND AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH IVAN MY BELOVED AAAAAH SUA AAAAA MIZI (FOR OUR PRINTMAKING CLASS, THE FRIEND--THE SAME ONE WHO THOUGHT TUMBLR WAS DEAD--MADE FANART OF THEM) OH NAAAAAAY CLEMATISSS AAAA

5. NORTH KOREA IS ABOUT TO ATTACK SOUTH KOREA APPARENTLY?

6. SOMEONE NAMED DAVID ALABA HAD AN INJURY WHICH MIGHT AFFECT HIS CHANCES AS REAL MADRID. WHAT THE FUCK IS REAL MADRID? FOOTBALL? CAR RACING? BASKETBALL? YAHTZEE?

7. I FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO PLAY UNO AND I WON THE FIRST PROPER GAME I PLAYED AND IT WAS OF UNO FLIP IM A GENIUS

AND NOW FOR THE WEATHER AND I SWEAR I WILL NOT FORGET ANY CONTINENTS THIS TIME

1. Australia: Hot and stinky. Just like me. I didn't shower yesterday.

2. Asia: Wet. Water. Wet wet sploosh. But not the ao3 way.

3. North America: Hurricane gay porn season I guess.

4. South America: Cloudy with a chance of moqueca.

5. Antarctica: ...still green. I wonder why my brain said piss-coloured. Green isn't piss. I mean. Piss isn't green. It's too early for this.

6. Europe: COZ IT'S TOO COLD FOR YOU HERE AND NOW SO LET ME HOLD BOTH YOUR HANDS IN THE HOLES OF MY SWEATER

7. Africa: The sun peeks out uwu from clouds

AND THE ANSWERS TO SATURDAYS CROSSWORD:

1. Baby food that adults can be allergic to: Milk. Well. It's not an allergy, it's an intolerance. Which involves different biological processes and not being able to digest it rather than the body reacting to an allergen. Shhhh. I never claimed to be smart.

2. Makes shitty copper: El-Nair (thanks @arkytiorlecter for that wild ride)

3. A condition that causes strong reactions to panic and pain at certain sounds: Misophonia (ily mad thanks for educating me @falling-raine)

4. A decaying virtual room of insanity orgies from the 10's: Tumblr

5. With ____, anything is possible: BARBIE!

IM TOO LAZY TO MAKE A CROSSWORD SO INSTEAD HAVE THE LESBIANS I PAINTED FOR MY PRINT-MAKING (MY OC'S)

AND BANGALORE PALACE WHICH I VISITED ON SUNDAY:

I LOVE YOU FORGIVE ME FOR MY NEGLIGENCE HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT MAGGOTS OF MINE

[magistralucis]

The chef has entered the kitchen [Drabble]

(For @eleooooooo. AU of an AU (😂) inspired by the Unravel!Imotekh cameo in From Darkness Unto Thy Light, which somehow pretzeled back into this scene. Imotekh makes Orikan a mushroom risotto/porridge/succulent vegetarian meal. Since AO3 is down the brainworm has been entertained, I hope it turned out cute aaaa)

----------

The tent flap rustled open. Imotekh looked up, the spoon scarce halfway to his mouth. At the entrance of the tent stood a veiled figure, his dark hair loose and mussed from a recent sleep.

Orikan stared at him. "What are you eating?"

"Orikan." Imotekh put down the spoon, and was just about to rise in greeting when the chronomancer took the liberty to plonk down right next to him, peering into the bowl. Through the cloth the tips of his ears were twitching in a way Imotekh had not seen before. "I didn't mean to wake you."

The cryptek contemplated this for a moment. Disregarded it, to return to the more pressing question. "What are you eating?"

Imotekh laughed. "Tried something different today. You can only have so many nights of gruel in a row, no matter how low down on the food chain you are." He stirred the grains for a moment, then glanced back up. "Would you like to try?"

Orikan nodded. Imotekh offered him a spoonful. There was a pause, then the cryptek hesitantly pushed his veil to the side, revealing just enough of his mouth that he could eat.

He didn't take the spoon from Imotekh, just leaned down towards it. Licked the broth off the tip, warily. The soldier watched, somewhat taken aback, as Orikan lapped slowly around the edge of the spoon - before finally closing his lips around it. After a few seconds he was up again, savouring the taste. Nothing about his demeanour suggested an opinion either way.

"... Well?"

Orikan remained silent. Imotekh worried that he'd blown it somehow, though he noted this was unlike any other reaction he'd seen from Orikan before. If he disliked it he'd probably have walked away without a word, like he'd done for so many meals of dry rusks or ration-cake stews. There was never any joy in it when he was obligated to finish something, either, he seemed to find the very concept of consumption mortifying. Still, he thought, this thing - it's no apple, certainly nothing you'd find at a banquet - but if he'll actually eat it...

"Orikan?"

And then he saw it. The tiniest of fidgets, accompanied by the brief clutch of the other's slender hand upon Imotekh's lap. He had no idea how he'd done it, but the cryptek was flustered - and pleasantly so, judging from the increasingly insistent stare Imotekh could feel a veil and an eternity away.

The soldier's face brightened. "Would you like more?" He exclaimed.

Orikan nodded. Hurriedly Imotekh scooped up another spoonful. And this time the chronomancer actually took matters into his own hands, accepting the spoon with one hand and pushing back the cloth with the other. There was none of the wariness from before: just the mouthful followed by another, the third faster than the second, until he abruptly dropped the spoon into the bowl.

"Let me-"

He then took hold of the veil's edge, and flipped it right back from his face, so that he might be wholly engrossed in the business of eating.

Strange, how Orikan made such a fundamental activity the subject of pure awe. Imotekh felt almost out of himself as he watched the cryptek eat, his every move laced with an enthusiasm he'd not thought him capable of before. Orikan did not even stop to let the porridge cool, even though every bite was piping hot; where the spoon came away with more grains he chewed them thoroughly, delighting in the slight firmness to his teeth, and when there was more broth he sipped and savoured the rich creamy thickness upon his tongue. There was not a single complaint of too hard, too soft, too flavourless. Anything but.

The usual soldiers' fare: dry the hell out of it, bake it into bread, or throw everything into a stew. Flavourings were negotiable, foraging inconsistent, and sometimes even the fundamentals of nutrition were up for debate. Imotekh inwardly praised himself for saving up his salt-rations - food at the cryptek temple was bland, or so Orikan had told him, the boy might've hankered his whole life for some seasoning - as well as taking the time to collect mushrooms during the long forest marches, staying up late all those nights to dry them carefully over the brazier. He could do little about the quality of their grains and pulses, but where others might've tossed them into a pot straight away he'd taken the time to process them even further. The barley-grains he toasted prior to boiling, the legumes he soaked overnight then ground to a fine paste. Orikan was not partial to meat, so mushroom broth it was, simmered so slowly that it took almost an hour to extract their savoury depths; then came the grains, then the vegetables and a splash of seed-oil, the legume paste stirred into the mixture in between stages for thickening. Who could resist the mix of those flavours, the tender way the mushrooms fell apart between the teeth, the tiny drops of oil melting upon the tongue?

Not bad, Imotekh thought. Orikan's praise was yet higher. Before they both knew it the porridge was all gone, and the soldier found himself eye to eye with the chronomancer, who was slowly licking the spoon clean and dealing with the realization that he'd eaten the whole contents of Imotekh's bowl.

He hadn't asked, or anything. It never even crossed their minds that he should.

A deep embarrassed blush bloomed across Orikan's cheeks.

"Why, Master Orikan!" Not that Imotekh minded. He could hardly keep the grin off his face, so relieved he was to see Orikan finish a meal for once. The fact was even sweeter because the Diviner had favoured him - because no one else, Imotekh thought, had yet come up with an experience Orikan had thrown himself into so eagerly. "There's more where that came from, you'll be glad to know. You enjoyed it, then?"

Chronomancers were meant to be indifferent. Certainly a stranger would've said that of Orikan, with his blank expression and empty eyes. Imotekh, however, had learned him during their past months together: he read sentiment in the microscopic flickers of the veil of Orikan's lashes, how from first taste his ears had perked up and hadn't stopped perking, the slightest drag of his tongue along the lower lip where the residual flavours dwelt. Notably, Orikan did not retreat behind the cloth. Presumably he thought he could've been more graceful, but he did not look away - and, eventually, gave Imotekh a shy little nod.

The soldier laughed. "I thank you for your high praise, sweet Master." He stood and beckoned Orikan up, and the Diviner followed him right away, one slender palm folding like a lotus upon Imotekh's own. "Come on. I think that calls for seconds."

[sommerflue-22]

Hii! I really love your work there 💓 Tokito Childhood Crush was def a good idea and a sweet treat. I was wondering if you could write a sequel of what happened to them after meeting up in the library and then hanging out and starting going out on dates here and there? I also wanted Reader to catch up with Yuichiro cause it's been so long and after clearing what's up and all, they kinda hang out and stuff! I did not know I needed this until I read it it was honestly just so cute! 💗💗

A/n: aaaa thank you sm >.< honestly, i was thinking like 'ah i shouldn't leave it hanging like this' when i wrote the ending. i even contemplated whether i should make this a longer story and cross post it on ao3. but i'm glad you left a request so here we go!

──────────────────────────────────────────

Starting Over | Muichiro Tokito

Sequel to Childhood Crush

Featuring: Aged up!Muichiro, aged up!Yuichiro

Content Warning: gn!reader, modern setting, fluff, profanities, not beta read

Word Count: 1.6k

──────────────────────────────────────────

Meeting your childhood crush after years of not talking to each other was something you didn't expect to happen.

Meeting your childhood crush after years of not talking to each other, then went out on countless of dates with him? Never in a million years would you expect that.

Muichiro took you out for a coffee and you both got busy catching up with each other. Muichiro did go to the same university as you, majoring in Music. That's why you've never seen him around before. He was cooped up inside the art department building, practicing until late at night.

You also found out that Yuichiro was supposed to go there as well, but changed his mind last minute and moved to another city. He was studying to become a PE teacher. As expected from Yuichiro. You remembered him running around the school during recess and PE.

You thought your interest in Muichiro was long gone. You always thought that you only remembered him as a childhood crush, someone you couldn't possibly fall for the second time. But boy, were you wrong.

Muichiro was as calm as you remembered, but he had grown so much. You couldn't help but admire his pretty face every time you went out with him. You liked to watch as his slender fingers wrapped around his cup of coffee. You adored the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder when you both crossed the street, or when he was holding the umbrella as the two of you pushed through the rain to get to a bar.

"I... would like to start over with you, if you don't mind." Muichiro said one night, when the two of you were having dinner in an Italian restaurant. (Again, Muichiro paid for your meal.) It was your nth date, nearly six months after you met him in the library. Yet, you still wondered when did Muichiro start speaking so straightforwardly.

"Ah..." You put your fork down and folded your hands on the table. "...and what will your objective be?"

"Pursuing a romantic relationship with you, of course." Muichiro mimicked your gesture and leaned forward. "If it works then I'll be your bo—no, I'll be your partner. And, if things really, really, work out... then..."

You raised an eyebrow, definitely interested.

"I see." You smiled. "Damn, you really are a man now, aren't you, Mui?"

Muichiro laughed. "I learned a thing or two from Yui. He was a real casanova back in high school. But I'm serious about what I said. If you're down, then we can try it out and date each other. If you're not, then we can be just friends."

You tilted your head from one side to another. Sure, at that point, you've already went out on countless of dates with Muichiro. You were sure he didn't change much, except for the cursing, the smooth talking he adopted from Yuichiro, and of course his appearance. He was still the soft and kind Muichiro you knew, but older and more mature.

"Alright." You finally spoke up. "Yeah, let's do this."

Muichiro let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, covering his face with his hands. "Oh my God, I really thought you were going to reject me."

"I thought you're fine with being friends?"

"Well, yeah, but I prefer to be your partner."

There were no butterflies in your stomach, but you felt your chest grew warm. That's when you kind of figured out, it wasn't just some silly crush. You actually felt safe and content with this new relationship.

Having Muichiro as your partner felt like a fresh air in your hectic uni life. Yes, you two were busy bees, always had something in your schedule. However, you were glad that you could still hang out with Muichiro pretty often. Sometimes, he stopped by your dorm with some take out food, reminding you to eat even when you're drowning in assignments and lab reports.

You used to spend your time doing assignments in the library or in your dorm room. Once you knew Muichiro practiced violin in a small, individual practice room, you preferred going there. You mostly listen to classical pieces as you work, anyway.

You both still went out on dates, going to a restaurant or watch a movie if there was something worth to watch. Your favorite activity to do was hanging out in Muichiro's apartment, talking about anything and everything while you eat dinner. Especially on Saturdays, because it became a routine for you to stay the night.

You loved sleeping with Muichiro because even though you were so close to each other, you still had space to move around. Muichiro only cuddled with you until he fell asleep, humming a random melody from the piece he was working on as he pressed his lips on your forehead. After he drifted off, he would usually scoot away.

One day you woke up in the morning and found that Muichiro was already up. He wasn't next to you, but you could hear him out in the living room. You decided to go to him and ask for your morning kiss.

Muichiro smiled when he saw you walked out of the bedroom. He was on the sofa, talking with someone through his phone. Muichiro stretched out his one arm, motioning you to come closer. You groggily straddled his laps and snuggled up on the crook of his neck, sighing in delight. You always loved how warm Mui was.

"Yeah, just let me know when you're almost here. (Y/N) is here. They just woke up." Muichiro planted a soft kiss on top of your head. "Ah, too bad. Could've been an interesting double date."

You raised your head and frowned. What double date?

"Alright, see you." Muichiro hung up the call and shifted his focus entirely to you. "Good morning."

"Who was it?" You croaked out.

"Ah, that was... Yui. Apparently he's back in town for the weekend. So, he's coming over." Muichiro said.

"Dang..." You huffed, hiding your face back in Mui's neck. "We should get ready. He's coming over soon?"

"Yup. Go freshen up. I'll make the breakfast."

You entrusted Muichiro with breakfast as you showered. Muichiro couldn't cook, so you were quite sure that he was reheating the bagels you bought last night and brew some coffee. You were right.

Yuichiro arrived not long after you finished your breakfast. Muichiro opened the door for him and you watched as the twins interacted with each other. Muichiro was fit, but Yuichiro was ripped. Muichiro told you he was in the kendo club and worked out every day.

"Hi, (Y/N)!"

To your surprise, Yuichiro offered you a fist bump—which you returned.

"Hello!" You sheepishly greeted him. Muichiro stood next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissed your cheek.

"It's been such a long time since I saw you!" Yuichiro said. "Glad to finally find out who you actually like, though."

Your face grew red and Muichiro clicked his tongue. "Stop teasing them. I'll kick your shin, you dick."

"I'll break your violin, you ass." Yuichiro retorted.

You were taken aback by the way the two bantered, but laughed anyway. The image of the past, Tokito twins being innocent kids was completely erased from your mind.

Yuichiro ended up hanging out with the two of you the whole day. You three went out to grab lunch, then randomly decided to play bowling. After dinner, Yuichiro excused himself as he had to go to their parents' house.

"It's really nice meeting you again, (Y/N)." Yuichiro said. "Next time I'll bring my partner over so we can go play bowling, the four of us."

"Sure! Take care, Yui!" You waved as he walked away. Yeah, he finally let you call him Yui.

"Wanna go back to my place?" Mui offered, holding your hand.

"Alright, I don't wanna climb up three flights of stairs to reach my dorm room."

You let Muichiro held your hand, dragging you towards his car. He opened the door for you and put a hand above your head as you slid in, not wanting you to hit your head. After you were seated comfortably, he leaned forward to help you with your seatbelt.

"I got it, Mui." You giggled.

He didn't listen. He clicked the seatbelt into its place before turning his head to you. You smiled at him, having no clue why he looked at you a little bit different.

"What's wrong, Mui—"

The next thing you knew, he closed the gap between the two of you as he crashed his lips against yours. You were taken aback, but you kissed him back. He cupped your face with one hand, the other roamed down to your shoulder and arm before taking your hand in his. He pulled away, kissing along your jaw and ended up sucking on a spot behind your ear. You gripped his hand tightly, which made him chuckled.

Mui pecked your lips once again and kissed the back of your hand that he's holding. His mint green eyes were staring straight into your soul.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Mui."

He smiled widely and closed the door. You watched as he quickly circled the car and got behind the steering wheel.

"What was that for?" You asked him.

"Hmm? Oh," Mui shrugged, "I just love you so much."

"Hmm..."

"...and I'm glad to know that you chose me over Yui, back then."

You rolled your eyes and snorted. "Yeah, no shit. I barely spoke with him."

Mui just shook his head and hit the gas slowly, driving the car away from the bowling alley's parking lot.

──────────────────────────────────────────

A/n: idk should i make this into an entire new story in ao3? idk idk idk it's kinda tempting but idk

[just-a-floofy-catt]

Finally sharing these little doodles i did a few weeks ago when i read Love, Death and Rollerskates! :)

I FINALLY caught up with the fic and i am so in love and invested

Im not sure if anyone will be able to recognise what scenes my scribbles are supposed to recreate, because i dont remember which chapter each scene is from so they are undescribed, since i dont want to get them wrong TwT

When i was reading the fic i was just in pure brainrot mode all day over it, hence the doodles XD

I was so desperate to read the most recent chapter (chapter 15 i think? WHICH OMG REMINDS ME THAT I HAVE A NEW CHAPTER TO GO READ AAAA :D ) all day that, when my phone refused to open ao3 while i was out of the house, i literally got my friend to copy and paste the whole chapter and message it to me XD

Honestly, looking at these doodles again, its making me itch to reread the whole fic, even though i only read it a few weeks ago ><

You can read the fic HERE and its written by @spadillelicious :D

[lunarleonardo]

Hey! I saw you turned off comments on your most recent AO3 work, so I figured I'd come here to sing your praises instead!

I absolutely LOVE your works!! All of them!! Every single one is a banger.

I came back to the DR fandom after 3(ish) years, and while I was a bit disappointed that so many old saiouma authors/works I remembered had been deleted, I was absolutely over-the-moon ecstatic to find your fanfics instead!

The first one I read was death puzzles, and Ive been hooked on your writing ever since! Your Shuichi and Kokichi feel very in character to me (for better or worse, sometimes it makes me wish Shuichi would get his head out of his ass already, but again, VERY in character for him), and I am obsessed with the way you traumatize my favs, and let them cope afterwards. There is a surprising lack of whump in this fandom for a source material about death and despair tbh, and I am so so happy someone so talented is filling the whump-shaped hole in my heart!!

Especially cause the way that you write Whump is so so creative??? Like, I dabble in writing occasionally and I could NEVER come up with the stuff you do if I was given 1,000 years. I've never read anything else quite like your works and it makes me so happy to have found them. You can do whump AND plot so so well, I wish there was a medal I could give you for it.

Sorry for gushing for so long, I just wanted to let you know that whatever you're going through, there is always people around that love and support your art, wherever you take it. Thank you and have a nice day/night, favorite DR author of mine <3

゜゜(´O｀)°゜ AAAWUH !! AAAA <3 Thank uuu so so So much!!! (*＞∇＜)ﾉ

I hear you on the Shuichi thing. It is a PAIN to write sometimes Q_Q He has ME getting impatient and im the one writing him XD

The Whump thing is VERY true,, I really would've thought there'd be more of it in a fandom like this qwq I went through my entire filtered search of the Shuichi Saihara tag before finally deciding to start posting what I write . I had already done so w one of my TMNT fics so i figured Hey. Why Not :p

I'm just,, I tend to be a creative person I guess (((・・;) I think and think and think 24/7 so I've always got some sort of idea rattling around in my skull. There's a very specific,, flavor . of stories I like. So not being able to find any of those was very. sad. Especially after coming from the MHA side of ao3 where there are plenty of good whump fics :'3

You have a nice day too and thank u for your kind words!! ^^ 💕💕 I really appreciate it !!

[alstroemeriadissonance]

Compartmentalize (NSFW)

A/N: Aaaa I've been gone for some time (was busy with doing my urban fantasy AU found here), and I haven't been active in my socials including Twitter...I hope I can muster the will to do housekeeping and updating links. RL stuff is just getting a bit too much these days...

NSFW. Dr. Vyn Richter navigates his emotions with the help of his trusty dictaphone. Or, Vyn gets his own bad end. Crossposted from AO3 here

[0:00 - 0:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Patient is neatly groomed. Mood and affect is moderately dysthymic. Speech is normal in rate, rhythm, and volume as sampled in this recording. He is moderately distracted, with thoughts that are slightly tangential. Insight and judgment is impaired, with a tendency for emotionally-driven decisions. He has persistent, intrusive thoughts of his limerent object for the past fourteen hours and twenty five minutes since waking up at nine this morning.

[0:37 - 0:50]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Thoughts of jealousy, stemming from mild obsessive behavior towards limerent object have been observed, leading to difficulty with focus and concentration causing two instances of critical lapse in decision making.

“You’re doing it again.” Marius snapped his fingers in front of Vyn’s face, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Stop that,” Vyn muttered, reaching for his cup of tea. “What was I doing again, pray tell?” He took a sip, then made a face once he found out it had long gone cold. Irritated, he slammed the cup back into its saucer, spilling amber liquid all over his documents piled on the glass conference table. “Fuck.”

“Zoning out. Focus, will you?” Marius groused as he closed the document folder in his hands. It was obvious to him that Vyn couldn’t crunch data off the top of his head in his current state of mind. “I don’t like staying here past seven either, but we’ve got a job to do.” He tossed the folder onto the table and reached out for his tablet. “How about you take a quick look at this instead—”

The door to the files room opened, but Marius did not take notice; he was busy flipping through the documents on his tablet to look for the one he needed feedback on. “Vyn—ah, damnit.” 

Vyn wasn’t zoning out yet again, but Marius thought what he did was way worse: the doctor’s hawkish gaze was trained at the recently opened door, or more specifically, the couple who had emerged from the files room: Luke and Rosa. 

Marius, with his gift for observation that was mostly used in his art endeavors, easily picked out how the doctor’s fingernails dug into his thighs. He was sure that Vyn would bleed it if it weren’t for the sturdy fabric of his khakis. “Vyn?” No response; the doctor was already burning holes onto the backs of his colleagues, both too preoccupied with their light-hearted bantering over their smartphones to notice Vyn’s all-too bitter glaring.

[0:50 - 0:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I am looking in the mirror, my rose. Beholding the just deserts of our stubbornness. It is a tragedy that we have to hide the truth about ourselves, what we feel for each other, this beautiful thing that we have nurtured together.

Oh boy. Marius gave up and grabbed his bag to stuff his things, resigned that he would have to wait till their next meeting to get something pertinent out of his usually fastidious tutor. Whatever.

Luke was mumbling something as he hunched over Rosa’s shoulder, pointing at whatever was displayed on her screen. They seemed a little too intimate for work colleagues; Luke pulled Rosa closer to him, his arm wrapped around her as he fiddled with her phone’s display. 

[1:05 - 1:13]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Try as we might to separate our personal lives from the professional, the world is trying to take advantage of the consideration that we allow them at the expense of our own needs and desires, Rosa, do you not see it? 

Marius wasn’t surprised to see Vyn finally flipping his lid when Luke whispered something to her ear, his lips dangerously close to her face as if he was kissing her cheek.

“Luke, Rosa,” the doctor began, his voice controlled yet loud enough to easily fill the entirety of the sizable conference room. “If you could please keep your voices down. Marius and I are trying to do work here.” 

No we aren’t, because someone here is stewing in his jelly juices, Marius thought to himself. He would have said it out loud, but he did not feel like getting in the crosshairs of his tutor’s ire at the moment. 

“I have no qualms about any of us pursuing personal relationships, but if you could please exercise enough restraint to keep your flirting outside of working hours?” Vyn, despite his flat, emotionless tone, wasn’t giving any quarter. “I did not sign up for this circus.”

Marius threw the doctor a look that said Are you fucking serious? and nervously shifted his sights towards Luke and Rosa. As he expected, Luke was positively incensed, and Rosa was nothing but downright mortified.

“If you’ve got more to say about me and her catching up, why don’t we take this outside?” Luke nudged Rosa to stand behind him, but she didn’t budge; she remained rooted on the spot, her face red with embarrassment. 

“That is not necessary,” Vyn said, his voice clipped. “I am done here. You two can carry on with your business. I care not.”

Marius merely watched as Vyn stiffly gathered his things to leave the conference room; held his breath in anticipation when the doctor had to pass Luke to get to the door—only to be grossly disappointed when they merely stared each other down.

“I bid you a good evening, Rosa,” Vyn said quietly, his eyes never leaving Luke as he addressed her. “Enjoy your time together.”

[1:14 - 1:21]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Do you not see how much it tears me apart?

Later that night.

He drove his head deeper into his pillows, relishing the warmth and wetness of her mouth wrapped around his cock. He let out a moan as she did her best to deepthroat him; he had told her that she didn’t need to, yet Rosa was adamant to try pleasuring him. 

Perhaps as a way to make up for what happened back in the headquarters.

The earnestness of her efforts alone was enough to send him almost weeping in his own bed, a mere few minutes until midnight, way past his routine bedtime. But he did not care; sticking to a healthy routine was important if he were to maintain his mental acuity, yet at that moment nothing mattered to the doctor than feeling his lover’s hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and how her small lips were stretched to accommodate his girth as much as she could. His head spun in pleasure; the thick thread of precum leaking into her sucking mouth betrayed just how much he had waited for relief.

The muscles of his inner thighs tightened; he was getting near. His fingers twitched and sought her auburn tresses, unsure where they needed to be in his sudden bout of kindness, only for his care and restraint to be undone as she started sucking in earnest; her hand wrapped around the rest of his shaft and jerking off what her mouth couldn’t fit. Shuddering breaths quickly turned to needy gasps as he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, and begged for her to let him come—

But she only stopped and drew back, his still rock-hard cock slipping out of her lips.

Vyn almost wept in abject frustration. “Rosa, I—” His strangled voice told a little too much of just how much of his control was lost, only for him to be thwarted at the last minute. “...Why?”

“You didn’t have to antagonize him,” Rosa muttered, wiping the mixture of spit and precum off her lips with the back of her hand. “He was just showing me the videos he took from his last assignment.” Her olive eyes were clouded with such a mixture of emotions that Vyn couldn’t discern, not when he was too vexed after being deprived of release all too suddenly. 

Was it anger? Resentment? Regret? 

In the end he decided that none of those mattered, and he roughly pulled Rosa closer to him for a lingering kiss that told of his simmering desire for her, long ignored and neglected during the daytime. “I do not like how he holds you as if you were his possession,” he murmured against her lips, his arms snaking possessively around her sweat-slickened body. “Only I have the right to do so, Rosa. My love.” 

[1:25 - 1:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Only I should see your smile. Only I should hear you speak, in that sweet voice only your lover should hear. Only I should feel you. Around me. In me. Your intoxicating scent as we make love, only I should know of it. 

“I keep on telling you, we were only—ah—” Her protests died in her throat as Vyn pushed her down onto the mattress. “This wouldn't even be a problem if we'd only admit to our rela—” 

“Sssh.” Once again Vyn interrupted her from voicing out her grievance, this time with his slender finger across her grumbling lips. “We have already talked about this, pet.” He spared her from his usual vague platitudes about keeping things professional. Now wasn’t the time. The indignation he had to go through a few moments ago was still swimming in his bloodstream, but the need to sate his hunger was paramount. 

He spread her thighs open, and a dark chuckle rose from his throat. Despite her misgivings aimed at him the lurid sight of her wet and swollen flesh between her thighs betrayed just how much she was indeed his. 

She throbbed for him, and not for whoever she was with during the daytime, certainly not her childhood friend, try as hard as Luke might to worm his way into her heart by taking advantage of their shared memories. 

Memories that will be easily edged out by the lifetime of midnights shared only between the doctor and his precious rose. 

He could feel his dick harden even more at the thought.

His blood sang in triumph. 

“I will now take what is rightfully mine,” he whispered, licking his lips as he pushed her thighs further apart.

[1:40 - 1:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I knew my obsession with you was far too dangerous to allow unimpeded, but still I happily indulged in it, devoting my time and energy to your altar. You made me realize how much of a hypocrite I am, that I am no better than any man, just another someone who would squander everything in pursuit of that one woman. 

His bedroom was filled with nothing but shared sighs and ragged moans as he sank deep into her, inch by delicious inch, into her hole. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as he relished the heat inside her cunt grasp his cock perfectly as if it was made for him. Yes. For him only, she was his alone, of that there was never any doubt. They fit perfectly, both of them pieces of a puzzle they did not know they needed to solve until their first touch. Vyn knew there was no one else made for him. He was going to make her his, in every sense of the word, but that was for later.

“Sing for me, Rosa,” he murmured, hands sliding down to her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want to hear your voice. Tell me you are mine,” he demanded, his voice a touch too needy for his liking. It was difficult to grasp what little composure he had left with how good her hot cunt felt around him. 

With a snap of his hips he bottomed out inside her; her moans of pleasure music to his ears as he started moving. 

“Vyn, Vyn, I—nngh—” There was no hope for Rosa to come up with coherent words, not with how she helplessly clung to his shoulders, her legs greedily pulling his hips back to hers in time with his hard, deep thrusts. “Yours, I’m…ahh—” Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, to his utter, unhinged delight; a sinister laugh rose from his lips the moment he felt her fingernails drag across the skin of his back, no doubt drawing blood. That is fine, he thought as he hissed in the pain and licked his lips, his darkened gaze locking onto her unfocused olive stare that told of just how far gone she was in her head, focusing on the climax steadily building as he pounded into her, over and over. 

“I need to…come. Please,” she managed to whisper, her weakened voice almost inaudible as he kept on rutting into her mercilessly. “Please, Vyn,” she whimpered, one of her hands letting go of his shoulder to reach down between her bodies. 

He was going to let herself reach her precipice first, but the feel of her hand desperately rubbing her clit—her knuckle grazing his cock as he kept on fucking her the way God intended him to do her—pushed him past the point of no return. With a loud, guttural moan he burst his hot seed inside her. 

She is like a drug, he decided as he slumped over her body, fully spent; and as she came, her cunt milking him for all he was worth with each orgasmic spasm, he knew that his spiraling obsession for her would lead him to nowhere but the abyss, and there was no hope for him to turn back and save himself. 

[2:05 - 2:12]

Dr. Vyn Richter

It is unfortunate that you know this side of me, my love. And I cannot afford to let others know of how much of my control I lose over you.

At exactly one in the morning she was already fully dressed, her smartphone in her hand as she booked for a taxi to come pick her up from Vyn’s place.

“Rosa, being out alone at this hour is unwise,” Vyn said, still naked on his bed. “At the very least please give me a few minutes to dress myself and I will drive you home.” 

He wanted to tell her that he’d rather she stay the night, for her to sleep beside him, but many things have already been said between them; it was much too late for him to renege on what they have already agreed upon, in the interests of compartmentalizing their romantic entanglement away from their professional lives and, in Vyn’s case, duty of his birthright.

And so all he could do was slip on his robe and see her out his door.

[2:23 - 2:52]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I will now come out and say it: You own me, my beloved. Me, and everything it entails. You own my thoughts, and my feelings. I cannot help it, your ownership of me is etched into my very being. You must bear responsibility for this, my rose. I place my fate into your hands.

“I will miss you, Rosa of my heart,” Vyn solemnly said, reaching out to her with the intent of holding her hand. 

His fingers could only brush the back of her hand as she drew back and away from his grasp. 

“I know,” was all she said before she stepped out through the door.

[2:52 - 3:01]

Dr. Vyn Richter

But the world is not yet ready to know this. Not yet.

They passed by each other the following morning, when he took it upon himself to personally deliver subpoenaed documents for a high profile case Themis Law was currently working on. 

Vyn, on his way to Artem’s office, went past the pantry where he saw Rosa poring over documents spread out over the table with a mug of coffee in her hand.

He was about to approach her and say hello but Artem beat him to it, pulling a chair beside her. Vyn could only look on as the senior attorney huddled closer to his junior, going over the specifics of whatever the documents contained, sharing a laughter or two during their impromptu meeting in the pantry.

He could only watch as Celestine approached the two, loudly calling Rosa ‘Ms. Wing’ in jest, and tasked both attorneys to attend a business function together in her stead. An out of town business trip. Easily two or three days, out in the country together. 

I have intruded on her business enough. The doctor pivoted on his heel and strode over to Kiki’s cubicle instead. “Hello, Miss Kiki,” he said in his bright voice usually reserved for the most reticent of patients. “Wing seems to be preoccupied at the moment.” He handed her the folder, along with his favorite green striped pen for her to sign the receipt slip with. “Would you be a dear and receive these documents for me?” 

The bespectacled intern was quite surprised to see him, and her cheeks bloomed easily in his presence, ducking her head as she clumsily signed her name at the bottom of the receipt. It did not take her a minute before she handed him back his pen and the signed receipt. 

Vyn let their fingers brush against each other as he accepted the items. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Dr. Richter,” Kiki chirped, then surreptitiously hid her furious blush behind the documents folder. 

He briefly wondered how easily it would be to bed the pretty, yet painfully shy intern, to fill the gaps of his immensely lonely nights, but shoved it out of his mind just as quickly. 

Nobody deserves to be hurt by petty jealousies, and people who manipulate others with the promise of love are nothing but despicable. He knew this very well.

His heart hurt.

Left with no reason for him to linger, his business finally done, Vyn decided to retreat into the comfort and semblance of control that his research center afforded him.

Yet before he could step into the elevator to leave the premises, Rosa emerged from the pantry and brushed past him, Artem in tow. 

Their eyes briefly met, only for her to look away and place her hand on her boss’s arm, to Artem’s obvious surprise.

Vyn merely pursed his lips.

“Wing, I left the documents with Kiki,” was all the doctor said, after giving them a curt nod. “Have a good day. I shall take my leave now.”

[0:00 - 2:19]

Dr. Vyn Richter

The patient is appropriately dressed but disheveled. He would describe his mood as ‘within limits’. His thought process lacks flow. It has been sixteen hours and seventeen minutes since waking up at nine this morning, and thoughts of jealousy have consumed his sensorium. I am nothing without you, my rose, and I…

[The recording is cut off here. Faint sound of glass shattering could be heard in the background]

[maenecoon]

inspired by @/bluestjayy !!

i've only been writing for 1.5 years on ao3 and i've been blessed to have met so many supportive readers and friends along the way ^^ this year has been pretty special bc i finally started writing multi-chaptered fics (that somewhat have plot lines, lol). i used to shy away from doing those but gathered the courage to do so just a few months ago, and i'm very grateful for all the support i've gotten <33 thank you guys from the bottom of my heart!

mmyoao has a special place bc i really really enjoy bdsm aus/dynamics in general, and i have so much i want to explore in that fic. especially the side couples that don't have the main spotlight (kinnporsche, chanbig, khunpolarm). i just wish someone could pick apart my brain and translate all those ideas for me LOL. and puppy boy has so much more to give but aaaa college is busy as fuck and it really never stops, am hoping i'll be able to get a better control of work life balance and not succumb to the weight of academic pressure 😭😂

also i know i say this a lot but i'd really love to chat with y'all ^^ lmk what you think about my fics, writing, kimchay, what you like or dislike, what i could improve on, etc! i know i'm not a perfect writer and i'm bound to have preferences/fallacies, but i hope my writing has been enjoyable nonetheless! have a good year ahead everyone~

[st0rmyskies]

i got out of the loz fandom for a while until recently when my hyperfixation sprung up on me out of nowhere and i finally decided to catch up on the loz fics i was following, which obv includes your entire ao3 account, and i finally got around to reading The Lesson and AKSGDKBFK OMFG????

STORMY. STROMY HOLY SHIT

how bad is it that when it ended i didn't want it to end?!?!?!? just- the fuckin- the tabboo of it all!!!! and how its handled!!!!! AND BOTH OF THEM LOSING IT. FUCK

im not even into incest of any kind usually but YOU. YOU-- YOU'RE TOO GOOD. YOUR WRITING IS TOO GOOD. FUCK YOU /positive

its so!!!! ITS JUST SOOOO!!!!!!! AAAA

THE LITTLE OBSERVATIONS TIME MAKES THROUGHOUT?! JUST SPRINKLED THROUGH THE PARAGRAPHS LIKE INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS TIME CANT HELP BUT HAVE. THE WAY IT STARTS W TIME'S DESCRIPTION OF TWILIGHT'S BODY BEING VAGUE AND NON-SEXUAL AND THEN BY THE END HE'S JUST OPENLY OGLING. THE FUCKING BARELY USAGE OF THE WORD "NEPHEW" SO WHEN ITS ACTUALLY BROUGHT UP IT FEELS LIKE A SLAP TO THE FACE- STORMY!!!!

idk why but i feel way more comfortable freaking out on anon on ur tumblr than on ao3 comments i hope u dont mind having this on ur inbox, i love your work hope you're having a good day <3

I never mind kind words, anon, no matter how they come. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!! I'm not 'into' incest, per se, but I'm also not allergic to it. The nature of a forbidden taboo of any sort does add some spice to the sex. Plus I like the challenge of taking something like that and making it something that I can personally find palatable. I'm rather finicky when it comes to my naughty reading, as you'd imagine.

And I definitely avoided dropping the words 'uncle/nephew' except for the exact moment when it would hit like a reminder at the worst possible time. A playful little "I see you" from me.

Also, I have good news: another friendly anon author did in fact continue along the same vein as The Lesson and added Malon to the mix. If that sounds like a flavor you'd like to try, consider giving this story a go.

[static-martini]

finally a proper Ao3 account!! Remember that post where @brainrotgoverner and I were so normal about Jason Blood and Klarion? I'm happy to say I wrote something about it!!

it's a little messy because I wrote it entirely in English but the brain worms can't take me alive >:D

I love this AU and aaaa I need other people to see it so I can shake their shoulders hehe

[cerezzzita]

Hey there, kween. Rainbow dragon here with some valentine themed asks. Giving Dante a bouquet of his favorite flowers (red roses?) with “how much did all of this cost you…” “does that really matter?”. Or forcing McCree to watch a soppy movie + "That's really all I need. Some time with just you." Here's some valentines chocolates a s payment 🍫🍫🍫

🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ kiss from a rose ✦ dante x fem!reader

⌕ synopsis: It's Valentine's Day and your loving devil have a thing for everything red, especially roses.

notes: oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god- FINALLY MADE SOMETHING WITH >HIM< AAAA he's my boo, Dante's just the love of my life, I can't put in words how much I love this man! he's so sjsksananwwh UGHHH I LOVE HIM SO FREAKING MUCH! MAN I LOVE YOUUU <dante3

okay okay, now i can breath. oof! firstly, happy Valentine's Day y'all! if you have a Valentine to spend the day with, hope everything's nice and smooth with you, sending you friendly but sweet kisses, and if you're like me, without a Valentine (not that that's sad okay it can be pretty good and all), come here, Dante will make your day brighter and especial as he's making with me hehehehehe.

so! hope you all enjoy the reading! AND BY THE WAYYY GO FOLLOW @aldryrththerainbowheart, yup, the sweetheart that requested this! they (sorry, I don't know your pronouns, hope I don't offend you) have an DMC Arcana Series that's mwah, over the top! thank you for requesting, though <3333 and here some sugar for ya too 🍫🍫🍫

♡ word count: 455

♡ tags: fluffy, 2nd pov (you/yours), Dante being an sugarcube, use of petnames (because it's not Dante if he's not using petnames), female reader, he's shirtless btw, Dante being the ultimate red lover that he is <3

✦ read on ao3

Stealthily, you entered the doors of the Devil May Cry shop, the tails of your eyes inspecting every possible corner. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet for a venue that had daily hustles among its members. Perhaps it was due to the fact that that day was no other than Valentine's Day. And you were looking for your valentine, one with silver hair, crystal eyes and a smoldering mischievous smile.

Speaking of mischief, the tips of your lips twitched in a similarly conceited smile. Your hands behind your back guarded a preciousness that yes, could have taken a good amount of your salary as a Devil Hunter, but it would be worth it.

Returning to the present scenario, by instinct your eyebrows shaped curious curves by the unusual silence, which was occasionally interrupted by the low — almost inaudible — music coming from the old jukebox. Your mouth opened to vocalize:

“Yoo-hoo, Dante! Where are you?”

“Miss me, sugarcube?” From the top of the stairs emerged the slender half-demon, looking fresh and shirtless. Oh yeah. A freshly showered Dante could never be too much candy for the eye.

Your teeth subtly bit into the soft flesh of your lower lip, but not to give reasons to further inflate the Devil Hunter's ego, you shook your head and took a step or two towards him.

“There you are,” you purred, capturing the smoothness of Dante's lips on yours that resulted in a brief seal. “Did you really think I would let such a special date go unnoticed?”

It was Dante's turn to let his brow rise in question, the look of his features compounded by his caricature lightness and wit. Though he couldn't be astute enough to predict the movement of your hands as you filled the fields of his eyes with a neat, fragrant bouquet of red roses. His clear, icy eyes widened in surprise.

“Babe…”

“Since you have a thing for everything that's red, I thought they were your favourites!” You justified, the soft feeling of the fervency of love and embarrassment united in a single averted gaze. Your irises returned to Dante's still dazed face.

“How much did all of this cost you…?”

“Does that really matter?” You replied.

Dante finally gave you one of those rousing, contagious smiles of his, catching the crimson flowers in one hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, lifting you off your feet in an impromptu hug. The palm of your hand, by impulse, found the warmth of the firm and naked chest of the half-demon.

“Aw, babe, you're the best girlfriend ever!" With that said, your entire face was soon taken over by lots and lots of splattered kisses. “Thank you so much, angelcake!”

“Tee-hee, happy Valentine's Day, daredevil…”

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours

[do-not-lick-the-walls]

a devil put aside | chapter four - mirror's image

masterlist | read on ao3

(gif via @goodsirs)

beelzebub x fallen angel!reader

summary: you change.

(she/her pronouns are used for reader, reader wears a dress & makeup, no use of y/n)

warnings: religious themes & trauma, strong language, light body horror, sexual undertones

ineffable taglist: @sarcastic-sourwolf , @angelofthenight <3

author's note: yall i know i promised an extra long chapter to make up for last week and i feel so bad about this being shorter than normal (i had to like cut this in half to finish it on time ahhhh) but im in the thick of college auditions rn so ive been scrambling all over!! I hope you guys still like this aaaa

-----

Red as communion and dark as soot, the demon stares back at you like she still has twelve eyes, like she can see every vice painted across your face. She's beginning to take root in the empty socket where your grace used to live. Every time you look at her, she becomes a little more familiar. A little more real. A little more you. Or maybe you become a little more her.

"Not sure."

Frowning thoughtfully, Beelzebub squints at you from their spot on the couch. They've said that about everything so far. They want you looking "like a real demon" before you meet the rest of the Dark Council, and they seem determined to see that through to the fullest. You haven't really been paying attention, too focused on winning your staring contest with the mirror to care about the actual clothes. It all looks disconcerting, anyway. Red, black, red, black, red. No lighter accent colors in sight for you, which is almost certainly on purpose, so you don't bother asking.

(You've hidden your stockings under a chair behind the changing curtain for now. In the case that anyone manages to find them before you can figure something out, hopefully they'll look like just another pair of discarded socks. There's plenty of clothes strewn over the floor back there.)

"Try this one." Beelzebub tosses you another jumble of red, and you retreat behind the curtain yet again.

You tug off your current outfit, make a decent attempt at figuring out how you're supposed to put the new one on, then a less decent attempt at getting it on yourself without stumbling around like an idiot. But you're not about to ask for help. You have literally been through hell, you are not letting a dress win.

Thirty seconds of spinning like a dog while you try to get a handle on the back zipper later, the dress wins. You surrender and reemerge defeated.

"Help."

Beelzebub laughs. You flinch, then calm. They're laughing at you, but not at you. There's no mockery in it, just amusement. Hinging on delight, even, the way someone would laugh at a friend doing something silly, or at a pet tangled up in their leash. Your face grows a little warm.

"'Course, love." They get up, motioning for you to turn around. You obey.

The heat of their aura fades in behind you, warming the strip of skin left exposed by the undone zipper. They're moving in that slow way of theirs again, prolonging something that should take only a second or two. Your heart starts to tap on your breastbone. Their fingertip trails up your bare spine, coaxing a tremble from your body, breath fluttering hot and sweet against the back of your neck. And for a moment, you're afraid they'll press their lips there and kill you on the spot.

Instead, they finally drag the zipper up, trapping you fully within the mausoleum of hell's image.

When you look this time, there are two demons in the mirror. One stands over the other's shoulder, mouth crooked in the hint of a smile, watching you with their dark, intent gaze. The demon in front, the one growing inside you, is flush-faced and looking slightly dazed.

"I like you in red," murmurs Beelzebub, reaching around to adjust your collar. "This is the one."

They pull you away from the mirror, and you leave the reflections behind.

You sit, while they go rummage around in different boxes, pulling out colored pots and brushes and pallettes, unscrewing caps and shaking little bottles. Something well past it's expiration date gets pulled out, then promptly chucked across the room as soon as they read the label. Eventually, when they're satisfied with their collection, they gather it all up and dump it on the table beside you.

"Right. Which ones?"

They pull up a chair facing you. You shrug. You're not very well aquainted with makeup, and especially not with these kinds of colors. Heaven's not big on anything darker than medium browns. Or anything more saturated than medium browns.

There's something a little bit sad about the smile they give you. "Sweet, there's no wrong answer to this," they say, "I'm asking what you like. You don't need a reason. I helped with the clothes, now you pick something."

What do I even like? You're not sure. Angels aren't really supposed to like things. Somebody gives you a job and you do it, that's the whole point. Keeps the system efficient. Likes and wants just confuse and distract. But your discipline for shooing off wants died sometime last night, and likes don't seem all that far off.

So, you eye the cosmetics with suspicion. The cosmetics eye you back with suspicion. After a brief standoff, you tentatively pluck a few things from the pile.

"Good choices." Beelzebub says, and your shoulders drop without you having realized they tensed up in the first place. They pull their chair closer, taking up one of your selections, a pan of shimmery, reddish powder. "Close your eyes for me."

Shutting your corporal eyes now brings with it total darkness, leaving you blind in their hands and engulfed in your other senses. Their presence before you is tangible, heavy, warm. Felt without being touched. The brush dusts over your eyelids. Your breath begins to shallow and your heartbeat falls out of line as they lean closer, knee resting against the outside of your thigh. Gentle pressure on your eyes, cheeks, lips while they work; interrupted every so often by the clacking of things being picked up and put down. You're struck still by their closeness, pinned down by the unknown gap between you. And when they pull away, you're left with the distinct breeze of having lost something.

"Go ahead and open."

A very pleased-looking Beelzebub appears. They wave you back towards the mirror with an encouraging nod.

You find the reflection with her lips tinted scarlet and her eyes lined in wisps of smoke. She looks good, very good indeed, the equal and the inverse of an angel. Her gaze knows something you don't. And, sure enough, she's looking more like you than she did last time.

"Still missing something," Beelzebub muses, scanning you up and down, as if they were an artist and you the painting. They shift their weight back and forth, arms crossed, biting their lip. Then, they stride over and take a pin from their lapel. "Here."

Well-made finery always has a weight to it, not enough to drag down any fabric, but enough to make its expense clear. Beelzebub's pin is no different. They fasten it to your neckline, a tiny red-and-gold crown, and the equally tiny shift in balance tells you that it's probably the nicest thing you've ever worn. You're not sure what to say. Nobody's ever given you something before, let alone something so pretty, or a half of their own set. Before you can figure it out, they spin you back around.

And it's you in the mirror. It's you, with the scarlet lips and the smokey eyes, and the red-gold pin. The stranger with your face is gone, the mirror's not another world. It's just you. You, and the demon over your shoulder, smiling in the reflection.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous." they murmur, soft like a distant storm.

An excited blush creeps onto your face. They're right, though. You are gorgeous. Red suits you like a kingdom suits a king, like a temple suits a saint. Features you didn't know you had are emphasized in subtle, dangerous ways, thorns revealed beneath the rose of innocence you've carried for so long.

The pin on your collar is a mark. A claim to you. It's a warning label with the Prince's name on it, a sign around your neck saying 'I Am Important. Do Not Fuck With Me.' It's a shield, a badge of status, a promise.

And most of all, it looks damn good on you.

Just as you're about to thank them, you double over, gasping and clutching your head. Lightning nails from your skull. Vanity. God is punishing you for your vanity. It's your fault. Mirrors corrupt. The devil's in your soul. God sees all. Nobody's fault but your own.

What did you think was going to happen? Looking so long into the object of pride, you're bound to break. Another failure. Penance. She's carving out your inner eyes entirely, washing away any hope that they could open again. You've been playing Narcissus, and it's come time to drown.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" The gentle urgency of Beelzebub's voice pulls you back to the present. They guide you to the couch and sit you down, holding your forearms to keep you stable. "C'mon, dove, talk to me."

"Ah, my..." you rub your temples, wincing as your liquified brain sloshes around up there.

You hide in your palms, trying to make the room stop spinning, and the splitting pain gives way into a dull headache. It's as if something's pressing on the inside of your head. "My head..."

"Let me see you." They replace your hands with theirs, hold your still-heated face in their blessed touch. "Where does it hurt?"

"On top, then a little down the sides."

"Nothing in the back?"

"No."

Beelzebub slides their fingers into your hair to feel for injuries, and the pain fades into the background.

They called you gorgeous, but it's them who's truly beautiful. There's an angel in this Prince of Hell. There's an angel, in a dingy halo from the burning-out lightbulb and the flickering old neon signs hung on the wall. They're a kind of holy you've never found in churches, you can't find in God, just in graffiti on subway tunnels and whatever the fuck this is right here. Their beautiful lips have parted in their concentration, re-stirring the idea of their mouth on your nec---

"You've got horns."

.

.

.

What?

"What?"

"Horns," they repeat, taking their hands back, "That's what hurts, love. Growing pains."

You blink.

They're not lying. Two---no, four---little bumps have sprouted from your head. Bony, immovable when pushed, and oh, God, you can feel them. You can fucking feel them. You can feel your fingers against them. They're sewn into you, like the guts and the heart and the lungs. Your divinity is fading with every change to your body; you're becoming something animal, something visceral. Something that feels more than it thinks. Something that lives in the now rather than the past or the future.

You just sit there for a moment, hands pressed to your budding horns, entirely lost.

You're all cried out. You can't do any more of that. So crying's off the table. You're not really angry either, so that's out too. What else do you have? There's denial, but that's running pretty thin by now, and it's kind of hard to deny something growing out of your head. Fear? No, you're out of that too. Confusion? Confusion. Confusion? You settle for confusion.

"...What?"

Beelzebub smiles, and the sun comes out. "Don't be scared, love. it's good. You've been here less than a day and you're changing already. I told you, you've still got all that power in you. It's starting to come back."

Later, that'll probably kick you down a spiral, but for now, you let their sweethoney voice wrap you up in its praise. Everything will be okay.

"Okay."

"Good. Now let's go, sweet. We've got an appointment."

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 8 (Peek)

Terraqua Week 2024 Spice Weekend, Day 8

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) Word Count: 2,565 @terraquadreams

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhhh I can't believe the main event is over. Throughout writing this entire fic, I needed them to bang and we're finally here. AAAA

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There is no cure for crying out here, but Aqua finds she isn’t crying. A little bit numb, still, but that’s melting away in the Realm of Light, and the onslaught of feeling triggers her to want to retreat, to bare her teeth and attack back. 

She sits at the edge of her bed, watching Terra sleep. Rain trickles down the windows in a steady fall, the sun gray. 

Second, with her arms crossed: This was your choice. 

Third is on the floor by the dresser, shivering. She’s in too much pain from exposure to Light to say anything. Aqua understands. Looking at Terra’s serene face, breathing evenly and calmly, is a threat on its own. 

First, standing by one of the end, by Terra’s feet: It murders in so many ways.

Second: He practically forced you out here. You’re going to have to face the consequences.

Fourth, standing by the bed, by Terra’s head: Why do there need to be consequences?

Aqua places her hand on Terra’s chest. She bends over to listen to his heartbeat. The muscle underneath his shirt is well built even when relaxed, and she’s wondered so often what it would be like to sleep on him. He’s okay. His Light is vibrant and alive. This is the very heart Aqua saved with Rainfell, protecting him until Xehanort loosened his grip. 

She brushes his thick hair off his face, careful not to disturb his lashes and jerk him awake. He’s so beautiful, to the point that Aqua used to convince herself as a teenager that he’d never look at her the way she wanted him to. Especially once he grew so tall, and so broad. They would become Masters, and he would mingle with other people, and catch all their attention. 

But he’s hers, somehow. It’s a wonder he admires the way she is now. 

First: My dear, of course he’d look at you that way. You’ve always been beautiful. 

Aqua pulls on her tattered sleeves to cover her scales.

First: It takes strength to walk away. If you want to.

Fourth: It takes strength to stay.

Third, lifting her head out of her knees: You’re both wrong. 

First: Hmph. Yes. Something has changed. 

Fourth, wrapping her hands around her waist: It’s not strength, but a leap of faith to go after what you want.

Aqua picks up Terra’s hand and intertwines her claws with his fingers. He’s warm, as if her claws have been enveloped in a pocket of his hearth. “But what about everything else? What I’ve been through? Who answers for that?”

First: No one. What you want is to stop hurting. 

Second: Him. Why would you want to forgive him? You need someone to pay.

Third: Yourself. We should run back.

Fourth: No one. It’s time for you to stop hurting.

First: Isn’t it enough?

Fourth: Don’t you deserve better?

Aqua is about to respond when Fourth leans over and smooths out some of Terra's frizz. Aqua rests his hand on his own chest. 

Aqua has done it all for the right reasons. Falling into Darkness in Terra’s stead, and surviving. Coming back here to save him. Was the suffering worth it? Is that even the right question to ask right now? Having spent so many years lost, Aqua now sees the other side of a straight road. Loneliness on her own. Or is it lonely with him?

First: You know how a heart kills itself? With regret.

To not try.

She’ll stay. For now, at least. She’s survived the uncertainty of Darkness. She’s strong enough to survive Light’s blaring judgment.

Fourth: Look! The rain is stopping.

Drizzle, a random tap here and there of water against the glass.

Fourth: That would be pleasant, yes? To spend some time outside?

Aqua doesn’t want to leave Terra.

Fourth: My love, you need to get used to feeling. Let’s touch some flowers. Let’s breathe in humidity. Let’s bathe. Something nice you used to miss.

First: Whatever your decision is, my dear, I will follow. No more harm will come to you. 

Aqua still doesn’t want to leave Terra.

Second, groaning: He’s not going anywhere. Either you enjoy yourself or not. I can’t tolerate the indecision anymore. 

First: That’s enough. You’re punishing yourself no longer.

Aqua still doesn’t.

Fourth: Ven would want you to. So would Terra. They want to be relieved for your sake, but you owe yourself the same. 

Grumpy that they pull her weakest card, Aqua says, “Alright.” She stands, stopping short at her door. With one more glance back at Terra sleeping on her bed, she turns the knob and heads out. 

~*~

When Terra comes to, his vision is blurry. It adjusts to the ceiling fan above him, which is off, but there’s a draft that cools his skin. Terra sits up. Where is he?

Aqua’s bedroom, her preferred books on a single shelf above her vanity, her dresser neatly arranged, her window cracked open for a bit of fresh, damp air from the drizzle outside. 

He can feel everything: the swell of his breath in his lungs, the panic of his heart beating, the callouses on his fingers. He’s back in the Realm of Light. She brought him home safe. So he hasn’t lost Aqua completely after all.

Footsteps approach from outside the door. Ven lets himself in, carrying a half-empty basket of apples. 

“You’re awake!” 

Terra swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Where’s Aqua?”

“She’s out frolicking.”

Terra blinks. That’s a strange image. “What?”

“She’s outside,” Ven says slowly, propping the basket on her vanity. “Did you leave your sense of humor in the Realm of Darkness?”

“Does that mean—?”

“No,” Ven says solemnly, picking a green apple. “She’s still the same.”

Terra sighs. At least she’s staying in the Realm of Light. “I hope she’s enjoying herself.”

Ven shrugs. “When I asked her where she was going, she first stared at me. Then she said to someone who wasn’t there to mind their own business. I think she’s enjoying herself just fine with her imaginary friends.”

Terra rubs his face. His stomach rumbles loud enough for both of them to hear.

“I knew you were going to be hungry. Want one?” Ven tosses the apple at Terra, who catches it in one hand. 

“Where did you get the apples?”

“Where they grow on trees.”

In the forest, where Heartless roam. “Ven.” 

“I have a Keyblade, Terra. I can take care of myself.” 

A Keyblade. Terra smiles with relief. Excitement for the first time in so long. That was real. All of it.

Stretching his arm out, he calls for his Keyblade. Everything is back in its place, Ends of the Earth landing in his fist. It’s heavier and requires more wrist strength to keep it in place, but that’s easily built. Terra rests the tip of the blade on the carpet.

Ven blinks. “What the fuck is that?”

Terra snorts. “Ven, your language.”

Ven steps forward to get a better look. “Why is Earthshaker taller than me?”

“It’s Ends of the Earth now.”

Ven rolls his eyes so far back, they drag his head. “Only you would name your Keyblade that.”

“I like it.”

“Of course you do.” Ven reaches for the hilt, and Terra allows. Ven can’t pick up Ends of the Earth at all, dragging it on the carpet with every ounce of strength he has. But it won’t budge. “Who needs a Keyblade this big, Terra? Are you compensating for something?”

Ven may show it off like he’s unimpressed, but Terra knows better. There is a timid jealousy that yearns to grow up faster, mixed with a sense of awe and a wish that one of these days, Ven will be just as strong. Wow, Ends of the Earth is translating. Terra is so cool. 

And with Terra nearby to help Ven train, he’ll try his best to set Ven up to be who he wants to be. To think Wayward Wind will one day change as Ven matures. It’s going to be interesting to see what kind of person he becomes.

“Seriously, Terra, you’re telling everyone you have a small dick.”

“On the contrary—”

“No. Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Your loss.”

“You’re nuts.”

Terra points to himself. “My nuts? I didn’t know they were part of the conversation.”

“No.” Ven tsks and drops Ends of the Earth. He picks two more apples and throws them at Terra’s head. “Eat your apples or I’m telling Aqua you’re harassing me.”

Terra laughs, shielding his body with his arms. He has his Keyblade back. Aqua is home. His heart soars. It feels great to be this worry-free. 

“Don’t test me,” Ven continues, threatening him with the last apple in the basket. “She’s terrifying now, and she likes me better than you.”

~*~

The grass is damp, and a distant thunder mutter-roars miles away. Where the clouds break open only show a grayer sky. 

The castle is still worse for wear, and Terra needs to do something. But what? 

The best ways to clear his mind are form and posture exercises. He takes himself to the creek at the rear of the castle, at the opening of a thicket. If there are Heartless here, Terra can at least make the most of a target practice. 

Ends of the Earth is a heavier, more brutal swing, so it needs more control than Earthshaker, but being heavyset is where the similarities end. Ends of the Earth is less tense and more assured. It’s just as demanding as Earthshaker, but it carries the confidence of knowing Terra is capable of accomplishing all its expectations of him, whereas Earthshaker never felt like anything was enough.

Maybe Ends of the Earth is the answer for the castle. Terra doesn’t know what entails the secret of transforming the castle back—Xehanort has explored in his journals the concept of each world having its own heart that can be unlocked. That is normally taboo, but maybe that’s exactly what the Land of Departure needs. Stormfall rests within Terra’s heart, so Aqua can’t use that. Defender won’t respond to her, and if Aqua can’t use that strange Keyblade from the Realm of Darkness to unlock Departure’s heart, maybe Terra can try with Ends of the Earth. All he needs is to learn where to find it. 

Aqua would know. He can ask, then pull the burden off of her. 

Terra stops his rehearsal and catches his breath, slowing it down and meditating. He’s going to have to train harder to manage his new Keyblade. 

There’s a lot that needs to be done. And sweat rains down his back. 

At the creek, Terra removes his armor, pulls over his suspenders and flips his shirt off. Bundling it into a ball, he dunks the shirt into the creek. Cold and fresh. He wipes the shirt around his neck, and squeezes the excess to bathe his body. 

He sighs with relief, wiping his face and dabbing it again on his neck. He begins to cup his hand into the water for a drink when he realizes there is snow caught in the water.

Not snow, but Aqua’s hair swaying in the current. Her entire body is submerged except for her golden eyes, and she watches him like a cat watching prey. 

Terra strangles a nervous laugh but some it peeps out anyway. What is he supposed to do? Put his soaking, sticky shirt back on? Tell her he’s sorry for intruding?

“I hope it feels good,” Terra says, and clears his throat. “The water, I mean. Does it feel good? It’s a little cold.” He sounds stupid. 

Aqua doesn’t answer, her arms wading underwater. 

Terra doesn’t know if he should stay crouched or if he should stand up, so he’s somewhere in between. Remember the Keyblade. He picks Ends of the Earth off the ground. What is he forgetting? Oh yeah, his shirt, which is still drenched, so he guesses he’ll go back to the castle half-naked.

As he rises, so does Aqua, floating out of the water and hovering above the surface.

She stabs one claw at the base of her neck, and slices it down, cutting apart her smoke for clothes. Terra sees the fair-skinned expanse between her breasts before she grabs her smoke and drapes it off, exposing her entire body.

Terra freezes, drinking in the sight of her as his heart pounds a hammer in his chest. Her nipples are purple like her Darkness, and taut from the cold. Her ab-work is firm and powerful all the way down to her navel. The muscles on her thighs slender and strong. Her hips muscular and wide. Stars, he’s in love, bringing his gaze to the supple skin between her legs, and everywhere in his body throbs at the need to taste it.

Her beautiful face. The same lips and cheekbones he admired once he realized how much Aqua’s body was changing when he was a teenager, and he asked the stars if she’s always been that pretty. 

Once Terra notices how much he’s staring, he snaps his mouth shut. Tightness spreads between his legs and Terra stifles a groan. Aqua floats her way to him, and her tongue tastes his lips before she kisses him. 

Before Terra can invite her tongue in, before he can caress the side of her breast, before he can pull her onto him and lay her on the ground, Aqua grabs Ends of the Earth, sending a jolt over his torso. She floats away out of his touch, dragging Ends of the Earth with her, until she disappears in a puff of smoke. 

“Wait.” Terra runs, but he tumbles to his knees when the throbbing becomes too much. She’s stroking Ends of the Earth somewhere, feeding into his arousal. 

Terra laughs into his hand. “Wow.” He wobbles. Somewhere, Aqua kisses Ends of the Earth, and he feels her kiss on his erection. “Wait for me. Just—” Laughs. “Wait. I’ll be there.”

Terra dashes up the back terrace, and checks over open doors and around corners to make sure Ven doesn’t see anything. He’s not around. Good. Aqua is impatient though, and every once in a while, she squeezes. Terra’s knees cave in, and he suppresses his mouth to stifle a moan.

“I’m almost there,” he whispers.

Ends of the Earth says she’s waiting in her bedroom. 

At the resident wing, Terra passes by the mirror left behind in the hall. Its reflection beams as if a passing light has bounced off its surface, and when it clears, Terra sees not one naked Aqua but two on the bed. When the one on the right notices he’s watching, she wraps her arms around the one on the left, using her claws to cover the other’s breasts. Heat spreading over his cheeks, Terra looks away, smiling to himself. He doesn’t mind shadow tricks, but he doesn’t need clones. All he wants is Aqua. 

At her bedroom door, Terra leans the crown of his head against the wood, inhales, and turns the knob.

[rip-quizilla]

Your Leather, My Lace ~ Part 1: One Look Could Kill

*This fic was co-written by curlyfry23, whom you can find on AO3 here

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!Reader

Summary: It's your band's third time competing in Indianapolis' Battle of the Bands, and you're dead set on making 1991 the year you finally win. Of course, the moment you swear you won't fall prey to any "distractions", a guy named Eddie with big brown eyes shows up to distract you.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags for Entire Fic (from AO3): Enemies to Lovers, Rival Bands, Tension While Singing, Leather, 80's Rock References, Song Lyrics, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Thinly Veiled Hex Girls Inspiration, Eddie Munson Lives, 1991, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Hate to Love, Oral Sex, Consensual Sex, Smut, Eddie Munson Has No Sense of Personal Space, Cunnilingus, Nipple Licking, Catholic Guilt, brat!reader, Dom/sub Undertones, light degradation, Car Sex, The Lord of the Rings References

~Indianapolis, 1991~

“It’s our year, ladies.” 

You couldn’t wipe the grin off your face; this was it. You could feel it in your bones, this was your fucking year. 

Denise snorted, “Sure.” Green lips curling into a rueful smirk, she struggled with her bags and band equipment while reaching up to tighten her platinum pigtails. “Not like you say that every time we drag our asses out to this thing.” 

You paid her negativity no mind. She wasn’t wrong necessarily, but you refused to ignore the surge of adrenaline that was pulsing through your veins right now. “It’s different this year, don’t tell me you guys don’t feel it too.” You confidently strutted through the revolving door of the high-class hotel where Lana’s dad had made reservations for your band for the duration of the competition, and you mentally sent out a heartfelt thank you to him as you looked around, awestruck at the grandeur of the hotel. You would have been fine with putting yourselves up at a Best Western or something; having a band member who came from money really had its perks.

“I certainly feel something.” Lana drawled, eyes following a particularly attractive bellboy who threw her a wink as she sent a grin in his direction. Expression growing sour, you snapped in her face, wincing when you almost dropped your guitar case. “Hey! No! Nonono, none of that, not this year.” You ignored Lana’s pout and resumed your trek toward the front desk. 

It would be your year to win… IF- and only if- you all committed to keeping your eyes on the prize. This was your third year competing for the title, and you were pretty sure that if you lost Battle of the Bands one more time, you wouldn’t be able to convince Lana and Denise to compete again. It was a big commitment; foregoing jobs, family, friends- well, you only had two of those, and they were here with you- for up to a month, depending on how far you stayed in the game. After getting cut before you even made top ten the first year, it was hard enough to persuade your bandmates to try again. Last year had been closer (you attributed that to the hours you all had dedicated to practicing day in and day out to prepare) and thought you’d had it in the bag until you were cut before making it to top five. 

“No distractions this time. I’m making it a rule.” you said over your shoulder, getting in line to check in. “If we want to win this year, we need to focus.” Luna plopped her bags on the floor as she lined up behind you. “Making rules now, huh? Who put you in charge?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face her. “Calm down, obviously I’m not telling you what to do, okay? You’re an adult, you can do what you want. However-” you raised your eyebrows, leaning towards her to ensure she got your point. “I am proposing that we all make a pact to give this competition the place on our list of priorities that it deserves.” 

Denise raised an eyebrow. “And that place would be…?”

You shot a hand as high as you could, even going so far as to stand on your tiptoes. “Here! Aaaaaall the way up here! Tippy top!” You sounded as exasperated as you felt; getting these girls to care as much as you did felt like pulling teeth sometimes. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want us to have fun while we’re here, but I also know that if we stay zeroed in on our goal, all it can do is help us. Right?”

Your friends nodded and smiled, used to your intensity when it came to Battle of the Bands. “You’re right, sorry for getting bitchy.” Lana slung an arm around your shoulders, and her orange-dyed twists tickled your cheeks. “Thanks for keeping us in line, cap.” She gave you a mock salute before planting an obnoxiously loud kiss to your cheek. 

You laughed, groaning dramatically as you wiped her black lipstick from your face. “You know how long it takes to do my makeup!” you giggled, swatting her away as you stepped up to the front of the line to check into your room.

***

That night would be the first round of performances for Battle of the Bands, and you had already persuaded your bandmates to come out with you to a local venue to scope out the other bands competing for the title. From the moment you walked through the doors of the grungy basement bar, you felt like a dormant part of you came alive. You loved this- genuinely loved it; the smoke flinging neon lights in every which way, the dull roar of people talking, yelling, drinking… the energy was infectious, and it made you itch to get on that stage. 

Not tonight, though- tonight was not about you, it was about reconnaissance. Tonight’s bands were all new to the Battle, and while you weren’t ruling them out as potential threats, you weren’t necessarily scared of them either. After grabbing a drink from the bar with Denise and Lana, you scoped out a small table in a corner from which to watch tonight’s performances. Unfortunately, it only took a few songs from the earsore of a goth rock group to make your friends duck out in search of a more interesting bar to spend the evening. They tried to convince you to go with them, but you stood your ground, eager for any leg-up on the competition. 

“Go on and have fun, really! I’m all good here.” You smiled reassuringly. They seemed skeptical and a bit disappointed, but still left you alone at your corner booth that now felt far too large for one person. Sighing, you stood and walked over to the bar, ordering yourself another drink and leaning against the slightly sticky counter. 

As you took in the sight of the dumpster fire on the stage, you shook your head, disappointed. You didn’t want the rival bands to be too good, obviously, but you had been hoping they would at least be competitors. The thrill of the chase was something you felt in your bones here, and it helped you want to be better; to make yourself be better. These guys… they just made you feel sorry for them. You reached into your purse and withdrew your small moleskine notebook and began jotting down a few notes on the band’s performance. Weaknesses: lead singer is tone deaf. Lead guitarist thinks the guitar is a percussion instrument. Strengths: members all have nice hair. 

You were so focused on trying to find more strengths to write down that you barely noticed the stranger looking over your shoulder at the paper you were jotting on. “Jeez,” a voice said, inches from your ear,  “and I thought I was a harsh critic.” Your head whipped around, narrowly avoiding the stranger sitting directly behind you. Frowning, you replied, “Did you just read my notebook?”

The stranger, a whole head taller than you with a lean frame and a dark mane of long, frizzy hair, smiled broadly back at you. “Will you keep talking to me if I say yes?” 

Oh. He was flirting with you. 

You turned away, a silent answer to his question. No distractions. You had made the rule, and you intended to follow it. Bringing your attention back to the stage, you struggled to place the song the band was playing -the melody sounded familiar, but the lead singer’s tiny, screeching vocalizations were making it difficult to recognize. Finally, you realized that they were playing a very grungy rendition of “I Will Survive”; surprised, you added Impressive range of genre knowledge to the “strengths” column. 

You heard a throat clear behind you, to which you rolled your eyes and looked sideways over your shoulder. He was still there, smiling somewhat less confidently now but still smiling nonetheless. “So, uh…” the stranger slid into the barstool beside yours. “What are you writing?” 

You gave him a thin smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “A manual for creeps who don’t know how to take a hint.” 

Glancing down at his beer, his ringed fingers tapping the bottleneck methodically, the stranger sighed, “That sounds interesting, I should give it a read.” 

A corner of your mouth crept up before you could stop it. “Yeah, you probably should, might learn something.” 

The barest hint of a smile from you was all he needed to bring his toothy grin back in full force. “Gotta be honest, learning was never my strong suit.” 

Against your better judgment, you turned the rest of your body to face the bar, giving him your full eye contact- And damn, if those weren’t the biggest eyes you had ever seen. 

You indulged him with a wry smile. “Not the schooling type?” you asked. Big Eyes placed a leather-clad elbow on the bartop, resting his head in hand and smiling lazily. “Oh no, I loved school. Loved it so much I had three senior years, actually.” 

You snorted out a laugh, eyebrows raising involuntarily. “Three?” you repeated. “Damn, even I didn’t like it that much.” 

He closed his eyes and nodded vigorously, “Oh yeah, loved it.” he reiterated, his expression so mockingly serious that you couldn’t help but laugh softly. Upon hearing your laugh, his smile crept up to match yours. “Biiiiig, big fan of a good ‘ole public school education,” he said. 

You tapped the bar to signal to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “You would just love Catholic school, then,” you replied. “Real fun, learning about Jesus instead of evolution.” 

Those wide eyes got wider somehow at the mention of Catholic school. “Are we talking about plaid skirts, nuns that slap your hand with a ruler- that kind of Catholic school?” 

You nodded grimly. “The very same.” The bartender handed you another drink, and you nodded your thanks to her as you continued, “And it was an all-girls school, too.” looking at Big Eyes, “your creep ass would’ve loved it.” 

Undeterred by your jab, he inclined his head and raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me if I went to school and saw you in a school uniform, I’d be blind to any other woman that crossed my path.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your uniforms weren’t the least bit sexy, and had included knee-length skirts and starchy oxford shirts… but the compliment heated your cheeks anyway. 

Trying not to smile (and failing) you bit your lips and shut your notebook with a sharp thup. “Is this what you do for fun?” you asked him, “You go out to bars and hit on strangers?”

Big Eyes laughed softly, teeth still shining in the red and blue light reflecting off of him from the stage. “Maybe. It’s been pretty fun, so far.” 

You reached back, rubbing the back of your neck while you glanced back to the stage. The band was packing up and heading off stage. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed while you were chatting it up with this stranger. Shaking your head ruefully, you looked back at him with an apologetic expression. 

“Look,” you sighed, “you actually seem really nice, and you’re funny and easy to talk to…” His face lit up like a Christmas tree, and his eagerness at hearing your praise reminded you of a puppy. It felt as if someone were squeezing your heart in your chest. “...but I really can’t be flirting with guys at bars right now, okay? I’m sorry but now just isn’t the best time for distractions.” 

“Distractions?” Big Eyes laughed, unphased. “What am I distracting you from?” 

You gestured toward the stage. “My band is competing in Battle of the Bands. I came out here to see what we’re up against this year.” Holding up your notebook, you stuck your pen behind your ear with a free hand. “That’s what I was taking notes for. It’s our third year competing, so-” you grimaced, apologizing with your eyes once again. “-I don’t want to leave anything to chance. So no distractions this year. I’m sorry, under any other circumstances…” Your sentence trailed off, and Big Eyes raised his eyes as he waited for you to finish. 

You glanced away, fumbling around your words “...under other circumstances, I might keep this very entertaining conversion going and maybe have another drink with you… but I need to focus. So that will not be happening tonight.” You looked back at him, heart racing as his gaze snagged yours. His expression betrayed nothing, but those eyes were so wide and intense that you didn’t want to look away. You took a deep breath. Control yourself. “I’m sorry.” you added. 

He gave you a small smile and shrugged. “It is what it is. Can’t knock you for being dedicated to something.” He threw a nod to the bartender before asking, “What’s your band called?” 

“Next Hex.” you replied, downing the last sip of your drink. Big Eyes handed a few bills to the bartender and nodded, eyes distant as if he were documenting the name of your band in his memory. Eyes flicking back up to you (your heart felt like it did a backflip- they’re just eyes, why was he having this effect on you?) he raised his eyebrows, sobering his expression. “Noted.” he said, “Hopefully I’ll get to see you guys play.” 

You smiled, the gesture more genuine this time than the first few smiles you gave him. “Hopefully.” you repeated. “It was nice to meet you-”

Hopping off his chair and straightening his leather jacket sleeves, he held his hand out to you. “Eddie.” he filled in the blank.

You took his hand, ignoring the way your heart rate quickened when your skin touched his. “Eddie,” You mimicked before giving him your name in return. “Sorry about the circumstances.” You winced inwardly at how awkward it felt to turn a guy down mid-handshake. 

Big Eyes- Eddie- smiled ruefully and shook his head as he withdrew from your handshake and placed both hands in his pockets. “Don’t apologize yet,” he said, “I might end up being your favorite groupie.” 

A laugh bubbled up from your lips. “You’re not gonna go crazy stalker on me, are you? If you do, you can expect your restraining order in the mail.”

That mischievous grin plastered itself back across his face, and you were starting to wonder if this facial expression was simply his default face. “If your signature is on it, I might just get it framed, rockstar.” Satisfied with having the last word, Eddie gave you one last blinding smile before backing away from the bar and disappearing into the crowd. 

You continued looking in his direction until he vanished from your line of sight, and a part of you wished he hadn’t been scared off so easily… but you immediately chided yourself for wishing a man hadn’t taken no for an answer. How often were men who flirted with strangers at bars respectful? This guy was one in a million. Mentally, you cursed your luck for having such horrible timing.

You waved down the bartender and asked how much your tab was, but to your surprise she shook her head. “Your friend paid for you, don’t worry about it!” 

“Oh.” you said, surprised. You had already pulled out a couple one dollar bills, so you handed them to her anyway. “Well here, these are for you then.” Smiling, she took the bills from you and pocketed them in her acid wash jeans. “Aw, thanks hun! Have a great night!” With that, she turned to help the next patron a few seats away.

So, you thought, I just turned down a guy who was funny, respectful, AND paid for my drink even when he knew he wasn’t getting anything out of it. You shook your head, slowly making your way to the exit. 

This had better be our fucking year. 

Part 2

[blindmagdalena]

I’m finally doing it and making my brainstorming doc >:3

Who knows I might even do some writing and make a side blog to post it on alongside ao3.

Fair warning most will likely be dead doves ( for violence mixed with erotica and cnc probably ), but I’m excited!

AAAA i feel like a dog in one of those videos where their owner says all their favorite words. yes yes yes i can't wait!! 🖤🖤🖤