#or that i might have sorta wrong on this list

[erigold13261]

Strongest to weakest based on physical powers alone (with some exceptions) out of known strong characters in their media that are in the Eriverse (well, Mash might not be Eriverse, but I wanted to put him here because he just solos this whole list):

Miwa >>/j Mash >> Equius >> Troll Ilia >> Awakened Maki >> Toji >> Stark >> Yuji >> Macaron >> Tatiana >> Pre-awakened Maki >> Miguel >> Applejack >> Lug >> Queepie.

(And this is like, Eriverse versions of characters. If we went off of like full canon Miguel and Stark would be a lot higher, and Tatiana and Applejack would be lower.

Some are interchangeable like Stark and Yuji, and possibly awakened Maki and Toji if you are looking at Maki right as she awakens instead of after a while).

[always-a-joyful-note]

I just read the translations for the !! SS Arc's secret orders/orders/penalties and...(cw for violence and death, as well as slightly spoilers)

Isn't this taking "the horrors of the entertainment industry" just a tad too far????? Seriously, what actually -

[parfaitblogs]

ive got quite a few... but we will start off simple and with something ive been DAYDREAMING about for a while

so reader is a new forensic scientist that started a lab in office for easier analysis of evidence (garcia reasonablism and best friendedness obviously) and earlier seasons reid likes to go in and hang out with her often and just be with her and they are both idiots in love and the first kiss is super rushed and akward; TEETH ROTTING FLUFF

i am too cryptic i fear but i will sell my left kidney for this fic PLEASE

spencer reid x forensic scientist!reader. fluff. 1.4k words. s1 spence!! descriptions of a case (typical cm stuff). std discussion? sorta? it's about a victim. reader doesn't have one don't worry. they're nerds your honour. 

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long?? writing fluff is not my strong suit (clearly). i researched bacteria for this fic. and std's. if penelope garcia looked up my search history she would ask why i'm asking about how to treat chlamydia. if the science talk is wrong, no it's not this is MY alternate reality. also i am but a wee acting major i know nothing about science? ANYWAYS thank u for the request angel it was so fun to write i hope i did it justice ♡ 

"Hey... I brought coffee."

Your head lifted from the computer screen you had been staring at for the past hour and a half, blinking your eyes to readjust to a light that wasn't blue — you were a big believer in warm toned overhead lights or nothing, and it was your first order of business upon getting a lab in the Quantico building. 

Your eyes softened upon recognising the man in your doorway, and your hands outstretched towards him to take the paper cup from him. 

It was a particularly gruelling case — a man putting victims through a meat grinder (charmingly so) meant your ability to positively ID victims based on... well, anything you'd usually ID them on, was out of the question. You were down to tampered with blood samples, and you were getting nothing. 

"Angel. Sent from heaven, I swear," you said, taking a sip of the warm, sweet (because anybody who drinks coffee black should be locked up) beverage that would help you in the long run. Spencer Reid's lips twitched into a smile — anxious, like the rest of him usually is whenever he's in your lab — and he dropped his gaze to the floor with a small shrug. 

"I thought you might need it. I know it's hard. This case," he said, and you nodded your head with an affirming nod.

"Tell me about it," you mumbled, spinning around in your chair, back to your computer, waving him over. "See this?" you pointed to the list of findings in one of the samples.

Your breathing hitched when you felt him behind you, not expecting him to be so close, his own breath audible by your ear. 

He hummed quietly as he read through the list, and you turned your head to the side to look at him. His lips were pulled into a frown as you watched him register everything — and God, was he pretty. "Yeah... Salmonella, Enteritidis, Listeria... they're all bacteria you can find in chicken. Raw chicken, to be precise. Did they send you chicken blood by mistake?" 

"That's what I thought," you said, snapping out of your Reid-induced-haze, and clicked at your computer until you pulled up another list. "But then I found these as well; Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Fusobacterium and Lactobacillus. From the same sample. And I cross-checked it with all of them, and they're all like that. So I sent that to Garcia and asked if she could do some looking into butcher shops in the area, and she came up empty. So now I'm at a loss."

"Weird," he murmured, leaning further forward over your shoulder to stare at the screen a little more intently, and you found your breath hitching at it. Again.

"What do you see?"

"Chlamydia trachomatis."

"Oh. Yeah, all of the samples have it," you explained, and he nodded his head, before turning it to look at you. 

"Well, what do you do when you have a sexually transmitted disease?" he asked.

"Me? I don't—I don't know. I've never had a—" you cut yourself off when you saw his lips twitch into a smile, and your brain caught up with what he had just said, and your lips parted in an 'o' shape in realisation. "You'd go to your doctor."

"And if they all have it, then that means that—"

"—it's the UnSub whose got it," you cut him off, eyes lighting up as you sat up straighter. "Oh my God, I don't know how I didn't make that connection. Spencer Reid I need to reiterate that you are an angel sent from the heaven above, I could kiss you."

His eyes went wide, and his entire being froze, followed swiftly by you yourself freezing too, words you let spill past your lips registering a second too late. 

He stared at you. You stared at him. It was an awkward game of who would look away first, and it went on for hour long minutes. You needed to clear your throat but refused to, your lips opening and closing as you searched your brain for something — anything — to say to break up this tension.

"Are you serious?"

It was a meek whisper, and had you not been so hyper focussed on his lips, you probably would've missed it. You forced your gaze up to his eyes, catching the red tinge on his cheeks, mirroring your own. You decided if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you wouldn't complain.

"I mean, no," you force past your lips. A sentence you soon sorely regret when you watch a flicker of what you recognise to be hurt flash across his face. Maybe your brain made that expression up. Maybe it didn't. If it did, it was too late to consider that option, because you were already rambling again. "Unless you want me to be serious. In which case yes, I am totally serious. If not, then I'm not."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and an embarrassingly nervous laugh left your lips. 

"Yes. I'm serious," you finalised. Because at least if he found that embarrassing and didn't feel the same back, you could kick him out of your lab and avoid him until you manage to swap units. Or move halfway across the world. Whichever came first.

Neither needed to come first, it seemed. Because his tense body shifted, turning to face you, his own eyes seemingly locked on your lips, the same way yours were only minutes prior. 

"Is it okay if I..." he trailed off, a hesitant hand reaching up to your face, waiting for your confirming nod before his fingertips relaxed on your cheek. You weren't even kissing him yet, and you already felt that nervous-excited mix pooling in your stomach.

He was in the same boat as you, his own breathing hitching when you didn't pull away instantly from his touch. But then he simply stared at you, for maybe a minute too long, because an exasperated sigh left your lips before you could stop it.

"You know, you actually have to put your lips on mine to kiss, Spencer," you say, and though your intent wasn't to fluster him, you did. 

"Yes, I—um, I know. I've just never... what if I screw this up?" he stammered, and your lips pulled into a smile. 

"Worst thing you can do is be a bad kisser."

"That's embarrassing."

"Just a little," you agreed with a nod, watching his face fall, and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. It's not that hard, and you're good at everything."

"Not this."

"You don't know that."

He fell silent, and you knew you had won the verbal argument — he was certainly still disagreeing in his mind, but he was always good at picking his battles. 

But you knew he was never going to kiss you first. Not when one hand was flexing weirdly by his waist, unsure of what to do with it, and he was so awkwardly holding one cheek with the other. 

It was the only reason why you placed two palms on his own cheeks and pulled his face towards you. He let out a shocked yelp that had you laughing for only a second, cutting the sound off short with your lips on his. 

Spencer Reid was in fact good at everything. 

He was hesitant at first, and you wondered if he was ever going to kiss you back. But he did, and then you wondered if he was lying about never kissing anybody before.

Because he was insanely good, and the way he kissed you was maddening and addictive and it seemed you were (addictive) as well, for he was chasing your lips even when you tried to pull away. So you didn't, and instead allowed him to keep kissing you with so much pace and force you thought you'd break. 

"Spence... can't... breathe," you gasped out, and he pulled back in an instant, his eyes going wide. 

He was stammering out apologies that fell on deaf ears, because you were staring at him and he was gorgeous. In every sense of the word. With hair that had fallen into his glassy eyes, cheeks as pink as his lips that were screaming to be kissed again, need for oxygen be damned. 

And actually, if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you would complain. Very loudly.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

[teecupangel]

Hi teecup! I hope you're doing well! :3

I am sick and that means I have an idea.

A/b/o RobDes (Robert x Desmond) (yes the Robert that you're thinking about kknpkjknnknl)

And as usual Desmond is the omega BECAUSE-

I have a weird fascination with Robert.. and his.. bald dented head (I know it's a scar but it looks like a dent to me)

You know what would make this even more interesting? If Desmond was the baby brother of Altaïr. (yeah Altaïr is an alpha :3) And Desmond's existence is kept a secret because he's an omega. And Altaïr can get very overprotective too so that doesn't help.

Robert kidnaps Desmond not knowing that it wasn't Altaïr. And shinanigins happen in the Templar base

And uhh yeah that's all I got. OH AND Maria is an alpha and she and Desmond are besties.

That's all!

Desmond may be an omega but he was (secretly) trained by his brother to be able to kick ass and run away quickly.

Honestly, it wasn’t even Robert’s plan to kidnap ‘Altaïr’. The Templars learn of the traitor’s favorite attack dog and the remnants of Basilisk’s faction (which Robert had taken care of after the man’s death to stabilize his rule) figured that presenting said attack dog to Robert would be their ticket to safety.

Then Robert realized that they gave him some random omega (they don’t know what Altaïr looks like) from Masyaf, they get killed.

Robert tries to be a gentleman since this is all a misunderstanding and he has no qualm with omegas in general but the omega tries to kill him so he had to lock up the omega.

That’s where Maria comes in.

Maria becomes Desmond’s guard because she has the self-control of a monk that had let go of all connection to the physical world.

Or, as Desmond calls it, the self-control of someone who actually cares about other people’s consent and boundaries.

Really, revolutionary stuff in this time.

Yes.

Because Desmond remembers dying in Dec 21, 2012.

Not only that…

Desmond was an alpha back then.

He has made peace with being an omega this time around. In all honesty, he preferred being an omega because (1) no one looks at him like he was a failure because no one expects anything of him from the start and (2) it was easy to keep an eye on Altaïr and help him have a better life this time around as his omega twin.

Sure, Altaïr was overprotective and keeps saying that all alphas are scum (“you’re an alpha too” “yes and I’m also a scum, never trust any alpha”)

And he had been planning to kill Robert but he’d take corrupting Maria to become a turncoat as a consolation prize instead.

Honestly, he has fucked up this timeline so badly that he doesn’t even know if Maria and Altaïr would end up together because Desmond accidentally matched Altaïr and Kadar (who was an omega).

Who knows? Maybe they can make it a threesome, Desmond is honestly just hoping Altaïr doesn’t get the wrong idea and assume Maria is a scum alpha going after his younger brother like every other alpha out there in his eyes.

Anyway…

His corruption was going well, he thinks, until Robert starts visiting.

And just… talking to him.

It’s even weirder when his visits turned into daily afternoon tea and Desmond is full on suspicious of what Robert is trying to pull.

Robert, on the other hand, honestly just wants to get to know Desmond because…

He believes they’re fated mates.

Desmond seemed to have no idea that they are though so he’s trying to woo him.

Desmond, on the other hand, mistakes it (sorta?) to mean that Robert fell in love with him and…

Well…

The power an omega wielded over an alpha was dependent on the alpha’s personality.

And Robert…

… was a pushover.

(He’s not. He’s absolutely not. Maria knows he’s not. Maria also believes Desmond is a sweet innocent omega who might faint if she tells him that the alpha courting him was only a kind gentleman to people he likes and the only person in that list is Desmond)

So… to test Robert, Desmond requested that he be returned home and for Robert to court him and do the whole ‘shebang’ in the presence of all of Masyaf.

Al Mualim can’t do shit because Robert comes in peace and everyone agrees that the sanctity of courting should be upheld.

Altaïr is totally against it and Al Mualim has to play more or less as referee between the two while trying to sabotage this so he would have an excuse to attack the Templars.

“What do you see in him?”

It was a good question. The kind of question Desmond expected from his twin brother.

He knew Al Mualim would start scheming and shit if he was to reply that Robert was a pushover for omegas.

So he just says…

“I like his bald head.”

Smashcut to Altaïr trying to shave off Malik’s hair because Malik is a much better choice than some Templar scum.

Malik does not want to have to do anything about this entire thing. He also considers Desmond as an omega brother like Kadar and does not want to mate with him so, really, the two of them are wrestling at this point.

[kaitsawamura]

-> somebody come get her (she's dancing like a stripper)

-> SUMMARY

You have bills to pay. That's the only thing on your mind when you go in for your shift at the strip club. The only thing on your mind until you see Daichi.

Daichi doesn't expect to find you, the girl of his dreams, at the strip club. In fact, he's 99% certain he shouldn't be here. But now he can't stop thinking of all the things he'd let you do to him.

Will your mutual attraction pay off for the both of you?

-> STATS

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Stripper!Reader (get that bread!)

Rating: M for Mature, MDNI

Warnings: My take on a corruption kink except Daichi's the one getting corrupted

Tags: Corruption, strangers to lovers, smut I tell you, filthy filthy smut with my husband, strip club au, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, a bit of choking (like a tiny bit), hair pulling, nasty nasty f*cking with my husband, sex in public (sorta, it's in a public restroom), a little dominant confident Reader (if I missed anything y'all can let me know in the DM's)

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: I knew the moment I saw Mint's post . : HERE : . that I had to write something about it. They obligingly gave me the go ahead to be inspired so off I went a-writing. Obviously, this might be considered mild corruption by some but to me? This was like I went into a blackout and woke up not knowing what year it was. So, here you go, enjoy some nasty filthy smut with my love!

-> LINKS

Main Masterlist

HQ Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

“Rent’s due on Monday,” your roommate reminds you, concern masked with sympathy clear on her face. She’s not trying to be mean or overbearing but damn it, the stress of the situation makes you want to snark back. But you don’t.

“Do you have your half?” She nods. You nod back decisively. “I’m working tonight. Fridays are good days to work. It’s my first one without shadowing anyone. I’ll have the rest of my half in tips, don’t worry.” Her face brightens as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, sunlight streaming in the kitchen window of the tiny two-bedroom apartment you share with her.

“Thank god. The landlord’s being an ass again. We’ve been late one time. I have half a mind to give him a list of all the things wrong in this shithole instead of the check.” You roll your eyes conspiratorially but in reality, you don’t know if you’ll make your half in tips or not. Maybe your boss will give you an advance. You’ll talk to him tonight. He was surprisingly reasonable so the odds were at least in your favor.

Either way, you’ll get the money. You just hope you’ll be able to put the nervous energy thrumming through your veins to good use.

Daichi Sawamura should not have come here tonight. The guys in the office had convinced him, said there was a new pretty girl who was exactly his type. But this place was not the sort he was used to coming to. It wasn’t that this establishment was a bad one or that he had any problem with it; people had to make money how they could. Empowerment and autonomy and all that. It was more that he felt a little inadequate if he was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone from here. He was used to good girls, the ones who had a routine and didn’t like anything too kinky. Which was also fine. But there were things he wanted to try, had a suspicion he would like that he just couldn’t ask of anyone he’d been with. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realizing the conversation he was having completely in his head was stressing him out.

“Dai, bro, just relax. She’s pretty. You better tip her good but you don’t have to talk to anyone but me and the bartender if you don’t want to. Just enjoy the show.” Kuroo smirks at his friend; it has been a long week. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to wind down. Part of him just wishes he was doing it in the comfort of his home, with his favorite ramen from around the corner and a good movie. But who knows, maybe he’s getting complacent.

So he sits in the seat Kuroo has pulled out for him, a front-row spot directly in the middle of the runway. Right in front of the center pole. The seats are comfortable and he’s got a whiskey neat in his hands. He can feel a little of the stress release from the muscles in his traps, can feel his jaw unclench just in the slightest as the first warm sip of whiskey flows down his throat.

This is fine, he reassures himself, pushing work from his brain. Kuroo takes a sip from his own drink, a fruity one that he insists is the most delicious ever but is just a little too sweet for Daichi. The place is in a lull right now, preparing for the next act. But soon there’s a growing murmur from the back. Someone whistles, and a few others catcall. Daichi bristles just a bit, but he can’t even see anything until you hit the steps and it’s then that Kuroo elbows him.

“That’s her,” he says, raising his voice so Daichi can hear over the now thrumming bass. He feels it in his toes, in his chest, in his head. But your steps, the bounce of your tits in a skimpy bright blue bikini top, he feels in his dick. It barely covers anything, just like the matching bottoms. Cute little bows keep them on your hips and your heels are a deep black. As you get closer, your walk slow and sensuous, he can see the peep toe and your fresh French manicure poking through. He tries to adjust his navy suit pants with little success. He’s in so much fucking trouble.

You strut up the steps, the blinking LED strips embedded into the floor blinking in rhythm with the bass and the rhythm of your hips. You put a little bit of extra attitude into the sway tonight, praying to any higher power that will listen that tonight will be a good one for tips, even though it’s your first show without any supporting performers. Part of you gets it; you’re new. The owner has to make sure you know how to use those doe eyes and amazing tits properly. The other part of you, the one that knows you’re hot and knows exactly what you’re doing, wanted to smirk a little when your boss had said you wouldn’t get a Friday on your own until you’d completed two weeks of bartending and shadowing.

Your hard work has paid off though, and when you take your place at the center of the runway, you know you have your audience hooked even before dancing. There’s one guy in particular, right below you. He got arguably the best seat in the house along with his friend. You’ve seen the friend before, all confidence, slicked-back black hair, and a steamy attractive smile. Your coworkers say he’s pretty regular and always tips well. Thank god. The one next to him though, you don’t know anything about him except for the fact that the five stages of something flow across his face as you make eye contact with him. The low lighting does nothing to hide the blush flushing from the open neck of his crisp white button up to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He’s got a wad of cash already set casually on the bar top in front of him.

You smile, bright and unguarded, knowing. You’ll have the rest of Monday’s rent if he’s an indication of the rest of the customers that will be coming in tonight. He turns away, uncomfortable. Aw, how sweet. So unlike some of the slimy patrons you’re used to. Something you don’t like trips low in your belly. The biggest rule was no sex with any of the customers. It was in place for a reason and a majority of the time was a good one. You remind yourself of it as the song for your first dance starts playing over the speakers.

Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it

Is you fuckin’? Two shots, fuck it

You take a deep breath, hands on the shiny silver pole, and wrap one leg around it. The metal is cold to the touch but something else has goosebumps crawling up your bare skin. When you spin, turning in the new guy’s direction, your suspicions are confirmed that the feeling is not the rest of the eyes on you but his. And his are suddenly, somehow, the only eyes you want to perform for. So you do.

Daichi can feel Kuroo snap to attention next to him; he can’t blame him. You’re stunning and you know it. You look like maybe you shouldn’t know how to do this so well, but none of that matters as all coherent thoughts leave Daichi’s head when you spin and drop, rolling your hips so your ass faces him. You turn and look at him as you rise slowly, a deliciously naughty smile still all over that pretty little mouth. He rushes to take a sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the bartop, runs them through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. Because he knows the only place they really should be is all over you. Oh, the things he would let you do to him. He’d do anything for you. He takes another gulp of whiskey, disappointed when he drains the heavy glass.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He knew you were making eye contact with him but when you get on all fours and crawl to him like some lethal jungle cat, the end of the song nearing, he knows he’s in for it. And he’s okay with that. Any doubts he had, about being here at least, have vanished completely. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans forward to meet you where you are at the edge of the stage. The crowd is roaring around him, the cheers only growing louder at the chemistry shooting like electricity through the air between the two of you. They’re jealous cheers he thinks, although he’s sure as hell not looking away long enough to check anyone’s expressions to confirm.

“Got anything good for me, pretty boy?” Your voice is pitched low as you blink big eyes at him, a smirk playing on your lips. Because, goddammit, he is pretty. Prettier than any other patrons you’d ever catered to. You would not mind if he came to be one of your regulars, regardless of any funds that might be exchanged. You would not mind if he came regularly—in your cunt, on your ass, on your tongue… A girl could take her pick with a man like him. Thick dark hair, glittering brown eyes, full lips. A barrel chest and wide shoulders to boot. No sex with the customers, no sex with the customers, no sex with the customers…

You watch, heat pooling low in your belly, as he unbinds the cash you had noticed earlier. You can’t quite figure him out. Because he’s making eye contact with you as he spreads the folded bills, licks his thumb, and pulls out two crisp Benjamins but there is a nervous tremor in his large hands as he passes the bills to you. Your eyes widen, the act dropping momentarily before you catch yourself and push out your bottom lip in a pout.

“Hm, a girl should get a little more than that for such a good performance, don’t you think?” You are completely used to this, the schpeel. You’ve done it thousands of times at the last place you worked and hundreds more at this club. It’s part of the persona within these walls. Mystery man is apparently not used to acting this way. You can see the war within him as you take the bills and he leans back, trying to be casual but every line of him is taught like a rubber band about to break.

“You here all night?” Don’t give anyone your schedule. If they like you enough, they’ll figure it out on their own by being a regular paying customer. You nod, liking this new game. Toeing around something you would normally consider dangerous, if only for all the variables far out of your control. But that makes it all the more fun, especially when he clicks his tongue behind his teeth and replies “Good, then so am I. I have more where that came from. Do you?”

Kuroo is watching the interaction with a gaping mouth. Daichi doesn’t have a clue where this new side of him is coming from. Except. Except he does. And it feels damn good. Despite being sure it is glaringly obvious that he is leaping so far out of his comfort zone, you seem to be very receptive. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of staying all night. He could use some sleep. But he could also use that mouth around his cock. You probably have rules, rules that should be followed, for your safety. Daichi knows he’s safe, but you don’t. He most definitely should not ask for your number or give you his or ask what time you’re off. You shouldn’t answer him.

But you do, nodding earnestly when he asks if you’ll be here all night. He has no choice. There’s something about you that he can’t shake off. The extra cash is of no consequence to him, and maybe, just maybe… No, he won’t let that thought go further. He won’t imagine how you’d look on your knees, or bouncing on his cock. He won’t imagine you writhing beneath him or securing him to his headboard with those cuffs he’d bought but never gotten to use. He won’t imagine you breathily calling him pretty boy again even though, fuck, he wishes you would so, so bad.

“What’s your name,” you ask before you can stop yourself, before you rise to your feet. The rules here are good ones, meant to keep both the patrons and performers safe.  You’d worked at other establishments before that didn’t care so much about safety so much as they cared about money.  Your radar has never been off in the past and maybe that shouldn’t be enough for you but everything about Mystery Man makes you want to break every rule ever set before you.  There’s something about him that makes you want to risk it all.  You want to hear him whimper and you’d place bets that you could get him to do it in record time.  Even now, his breathing is shallow and he seems unable to answer you.  His friend leans over, elbowing him into action.

“His name’s Daichi.  And mine’s Kuroo.  Ya know, in case you wanted to know.”  His smile is genuine, not creepy at all.  You return the grin as you stand before turning back to Daichi.  He straightens a little, snapped back to reality by his friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to Kuroo.  He is attractive, just not who you have your eyes set on.  But it’s good information to pass along to your coworkers.  Judging by his tailored suit that fits just as good as Daichi’s, you’d wager his job pays like his friend’s.  The music swells again, the DJ cueing to your next song.  “Kuroo, make sure your friend doesn’t go anywhere.  Tonight’s for him.”  Kuroo scoffs in friendly disbelief at Daichi’s luck.

“I’m hauling you to the club more often,” he says to Daichi, who flashes a quick small smile.  Oh god, that smile could bring anyone you know to their knees.  It could certainly do it to you.  That smile alone could get you to do anything Daichi would ask.  You point at Kuroo as you take your place at the center pole again.

“I’m holding you to that, Kuroo.”  You brace your hands one over the other on the pole, and shake your ass for all it’s worth.

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big titties, little waist.

Daichi’s going to have a stroke, he just knows it.  He can feel the veins in his forehead and neck bulging.  The blood has flowed elsewhere too.  His cock is so hard it feels painful.  There are several different ways he could get relief, most of which he should not be considering seeking in a public area.  But it’s unbearable and there’s no way he’s going to let himself come in front of all these other people.  He waits for the end of your current number and then he’s standing so fast his chair screeches out behind him; a couple of people look his way but for the most part, you’ve got everyone’s attention.  Kuroo glances sideways at his friend; he doesn’t say anything, just smirks as Daichi tosses another hundred on the bar top, telling Kuroo to give it to you before rushing to the bathroom.

He makes his way down the hall and notices there are several doors marked RESTROOM in bold capital letters.  Thank god there are single-person stalls.  He stumbles into one, shutting the door and locking it with shaking hands.  The music is still audible, even here; it seems to have dropped to a low steady hum.  Intermission.  Perfect.  Daichi turns to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, one last attempt to snap himself out of this fucking trance.  Because that’s what this has to be.  He’s getting all hot and bothered over someone who he doesn’t even know.  And god, he wants to think that you like him but he knows he’s tipping good and he’s not one of those creeps that can’t recognize it’s your fucking job.

The image in the mirror is one that almost shocks him; his eyes are glazed, and his hair’s a mess.  Just once, he just needs to come once and then he can stay here until the end of the night like he said he would.  He’ll tip you like a good customer would.  Then he’ll leave and he’ll never come back.  Because this?  This is Daichi out of control and he’s not sure that’s a good thing.  Maybe he should go back to making love to nice girls in his king-sized bed.  Yes, that’s what he’ll do.  He’ll leave here and he won’t come back and he’ll never think of you again.

Daichi unbuckles his belt, the metal of the buckle clanking as he yanks his zipper down.  He lets out a pained breath, his cock straining against his underwear.  He slips his hand into the elastic band, taking it into his hand and bringing it out into the air.  He backs up to the wall, the cool air offering little comfort for the engorged head, and closes his fist around himself.  A breath comes fast and heavy out of his mouth as he starts jacking himself off slowly, trying to make the moment last.

You watch as Daichi stands abruptly, so quickly and sharply that he almost topples his chair over.  You watch as he tosses another bill on the bar top, leaning in to say something to Kuroo.  You watch as he throws one last glance your way before beelining to the bathrooms.  Idiot.  Absolute idiot is what you are because you’re making your way off the runway, ignoring the audience as a low boo goes through the crowd.  Your boss catches your eye from the end of the bar and waves you over.

“What the hell is going on?”  It’s not said unkindly but more with an air of annoyance.  This is your first Friday night on your own and you might be blowing it.  But you don’t care.  You put on a fake wince and point at your head, trying to look as contrite and imploring as possible.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s my first Friday and I’m so grateful.  But I’ve really gotta pee and I’ve got this horrible headache starting.  Can I take ten?  Just ten minutes, enough time for an ibuprofen to set in while I go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be back out.  Please.”  You put those big eyes back to use, blinking slow and tilting your head slightly like you’re trying to relieve the pain of your fake headache.  Your boss squints his eyes but doesn’t protest as he pulls a bottle of Advil from behind the bar.  He hands you a couple with a glass of water.

“Ten minutes.  Go to the bathroom.  Take a breather.  Then get your ass back out there.  I’ve seen the business you’re encouraging after two sets.  You’ll be back up there as one of my main performers if you keep up the good work.”  You smile as you throw the pills back with the water and hurry in the direction of the restroom, pulling on one of the extra robes from the bar.  Now to find Daichi.

A couple is making out in the hallway; you brush past them and knock quietly on the first door.  A voice answers quickly that the stall is occupied but it’s not Daichi’s voice.  You knock on two more doors before getting to the last one.  You suppose he could have gone into the multi-stall restroom but you’d seen the look on his face when he’d stood and you’d bet all the cash he’d given you so far that he wasn’t coming back here to take a piss.  You rap your knuckles on the last single-person stall.  You’re rewarded with his voice coming from the other side.

“There’s someone-ha-there’s someone in here!”  He can barely get the words out; you know what’s going on in that stall and you want to help.  You rub your thighs together, realizing you’re already getting wet.

“Daichi, it’s me.”  This is stupid.  Maybe he doesn’t even like you that much.  Maybe you’re just some stripper at a strip club.  There’s a heavy silence now, almost solid enough that you could cut it with a knife.  Another pause and you’re getting ready to leave, cursing your confidence for all that it’s getting you, but then you hear the click of the door unlocking.  He opens it but only just so.  Still, it’s an invitation and one you are eager to accept.  You open the door just wide enough to slip through to shield yourself from any potential wandering eyes in the hall.  The scene inside the stall nearly wrecks you.

Daichi has backed up against the wall, as far away from you as humanly possible.  It’s so obvious that he’s been jacking himself off. His hair is messy, his eyes wild like he was already on the brink. He’s desperately trying to cover his cock with his hands and even though they’re large, they can’t cover it completely. You meet his gaze, which he tries to avoid, his eyes fluttering left then right with shame, before finally settling on you. Something trips across your skin.

“Babe, let me help you with that,” you whisper as you direct your line of sight to his cock. It twitches as you move closer, slowly, as if you’re approaching a cornered animal. Daichi groans a little when you reach him, one hand steadying on his shoulder and the other reaching up to touch his face.

“This is—this is not what it looks like, I swear. I promise I’m not some creep, I just—” You put a single finger softly to his lips, making sure he’s got his eyes on you. They widen just a bit. In the brighter light of the bathroom, you can see how rich the color of his irises are, golden brown like sunlight streaming through an autumn wood, or espresso, or something corny like that. Fuck the rules.

“Daichi, can I kiss you?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. His mouth drops open but his eyes rove from yours down to your lips, then your covered chest, and back up. Finally, he nods so you guide his face down to yours and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and pliable. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, so unlike the image he’d put out walking in this place with his fine, tailored suit and stack of cash. Your hand slips from his shoulder and moves down the ridge of his pectoral, then lower still to the hard planes of his stomach. You trail your fingers over the now wrinkled fabric, close to his undone belt and open pants. His cock jumps against your abdomen past his hands and he gasps. “Is this okay?” You ask the question, certain that Daichi just needs the chance to give in. He nods again so you smooth your hand lower until it wraps around his cock.

Daichi’s head thunks against the wall of the bathroom as another sharp breath explodes from his open mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he growls quietly. You move your hand experimentally, softly, swiping your thumb across the head, gathering the bit of precome at the tip and smearing it about. You can’t decide what you want to look at more: the red bleeding over Daichi’s skin from the neck up, his heaving chest, or how his cock looks in your hands. He’s so… responsive. Each turn of your wrist has him shuddering beneath you. More. You need more. You want to see him beg. And part of you also realizes that he needs this too. You drop to your knees and his eyes snap back open as he watches you. “What’re you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do, Daichi. Unless you don’t want me to?” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s shaking his head. He wraps his hand around yours, enveloping it, and moves it once, twice, over himself. A thought occurs to you, one you’re denying even as you ask him “Daichi, have you ever come down anyone’s throat?” The answer is obvious but you still feel incredulous as he tells you no. The veins in his hands are bulging and he’s still, like the calm before the storm. You lean in, maintaining eye contact, as you blow a breath over his cock. “Do you want to?”

It’s like you flipped a switch. Daichi, slowly now so you have time to pull away if you want to, curls his fingers in your hair, stroking them along your scalp. “Yes, please.” He whispers it, certain this is a dream. This has to be a fucking dream. He’s had a blow job before but never has he ever asked to come in someone’s mouth. He’s a clean guy but he’s not clueless; he just assumed most people thought it was gross and never had a problem with the fact that no one wanted to do that. At least not anyone he had been with. But, oh, he’d thought about it, lots of times. Most of those times in one night.

His pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips and take just the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. His skin is smooth, molten hot. The way your eyes never leave his is something else entirely and when you hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat to take all of him, he thinks he might die. He’s trying to maintain some semblance of control but it is already dwindling to nothing. There’s a coil building in his abdomen. Not yet he thinks viciously. Not yet. You take a few more pulls before releasing him with a pop. Frantic, he feels frantic. Maybe you decided you didn’t want to do this and he’d have to be okay with that, he couldn’t blame you but god damn—

“Daichi, eyes on me.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he locks in on you again. “Let go, babe. Show me how you want it. Pull my hair. Set the pace. And when you’re gonna come, you come down my throat. Nowhere else, you got it? I’ve got five more minutes. Think we can get you there, pretty boy?” He nearly blacks out when you say those words he needed to hear again. Oh, yes, yes he’s sure you can. His eyes search yours once more before fisting his hand in your hair, tightening experimentally. You smile around his cock, deep-throating him once more, but waiting expectantly. He’s not going to come back from this. You’ve ruined anyone else for him. And he’s accepted his fate.

The moment he lets go, the moment he breaks down whatever wall is holding him in place, you can sense it. You place your hands on his thighs as he pulls you nearly all the way off before shoving you back down. Your eyes water just a bit but you feel the slick gather between your thighs. Yes, the girl inside of you that wants to see him to the end hisses. He sets the pace, a strong and quick one, but somehow still gentle. If you said you needed to stop now, you somehow know he’d do so immediately. He twists a little more, angling your head just how he wants it. You set your teeth down ever so lightly just to see….

Daichi whimpers and gasps, the sound nearly a sob on his lips. You swirl your tongue again and suck. “Ha—shit. Just. Just like that,” he grits out as he grips tighter. It hurts a little, your hair and your knees, but the pain swirls with the pleasure in a delicious slide of skin against skin. Your nails dig into his thighs again before he takes one of your hands and closes it around the base of his cock. You grip, working your wrist along with your mouth. He bucks against you, a jerky movement. “I’m close, fuckfuckfuck I’m close. I’m gonna come.” His voice lies somewhere between a bark and a whine. He can’t decide if he wants you closer, or farther, to stop or keep going. His brain is short-circuiting. He tries to pull back just a little bit, but you won’t let him in the best way possible.

You quirk your wrist and tilt your head in just a certain way… Daichi cries out, long and broken, as he curls in over you, his orgasm washing over him in waves so intense his vision goes black. His entire body shudders with his release, his form towering over you as he spurts ropes of come all the way down your throat. You milk him for all he’s worth. Not a single drop is getting away from you, no way in hell. Next time, you want him to come in your pussy. Next time? God, you want there to be a next time. He’s still leaning over you when his breathing slows and steadies; his hands are bracing themselves on your back rubbing soothing circles there with his thumbs. He helps you to your legs and steadies you for a moment.

The silence stretches on as you look at each other, both a little shocked at what just conspired. Daichi slowly puts himself back into his pants and you help him buckle his belt. You’re both on the verge of saying something either extremely brave or extremely stupid with each moment that passes. You’re about to make the first move again when he reaches up and takes your jaw in his hand, running a thumb along the corner of your mouth to gently push the last of his spend into your mouth. You lean into the touch and welcome his finger, sucking it clean just like his dick. He thinks he might be in love with you.

A breathless giggle comes out of you as you back away just a fraction, trying to give yourself space from the startling sensation fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. Your boss is gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back out on the floor. “I would invite you to my place to continue this after I’m off but it’s a little crowded and the walls are thin,” you say, hoping against hope that he wants more just as much as you do. There’s no room for doubt when he leans in and kisses you, deep and slow, tasting himself in your mouth.

“That’s no problem, princess. If you’re still feeling this when you’re off, I’ve got a penthouse all to myself.” Oh, there it is—the swagger you expected him to have. Your eyes glitter as you smooth out your hair, knowing it still looks good enough to perform. If anything, the smell of sex and the appearance of your swollen lips will get you better money, as long as your boss doesn’t catch on. You don’t think he will. “I’ll find you at the end of the night.” You nod, suddenly the bashful one.

Somehow, everything that just transpired did so all in your ten-minute break. In fact, you have one minute to spare as you strut back to the runway, giving your boss a wink and blowing a kiss to the stupefied audience.

“Harder, Daichi, harder.” You can barely get the words out as he thrusts inside of your aching cunt. Your face is pushed into the pillows on Daichi’s king-sized bed, your ass in the air. The sound of skin slapping on skin in the quiet of his room is pornographic but you can’t waste any thoughts on being even remotely embarrassed. Tears stream down your face as he continually hits that spot inside of you that you’ve only been able to hit with a dildo and even then it never came close to this. Daichi’s a machine, the way he keeps going. After you sucked him off and he came so quickly earlier in the night, he was determined to make this one last longer. One of his hands is gripping tightly into the plush of where your hip meets your ass cheek, the other is splayed over your back, even now caressing the skin, alighting it with goosebumps. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” you whine as that same hand snakes around to your neck to pull you up.

His fingers and palm ghost over the skin as he thrusts up into you and it’s all you can do to hold to his thighs for dear life, your nails digging in so hard you’ll know they’ll leave a mark. “Are you close, princess?” He whispers it labored into your ear, his breath hot, his mouth even hotter as he leans in to nip at your pulse point from behind. You nod frantically, almost unable to answer. “Can I come inside, baby? Will you let me? Will you let me be a good boy for you?” His hand moves from your throat to your clit, stroking one slow circle over the oversensitive nub. Thank god for birth control.

“Yes, Daichi, yes, come in my pussy. Oh, god, yes be a good boy for me.” You squeal as he thrusts hard, once, twice, swiping his fingers over your clit again in a more concentrated pattern and you feel your first orgasm of the night sweep over you as Daichi finds his own release with a mangled, animalistic groan.  You think he’s done, especially when he pulls out leaving you feeling way too empty.  But you’re wrong, so, so wrong.  He proceeds to flip you over and push back in, a ring of white forming around where he’s begun thrusting inside of you again.  

“I thought about this all fucking night.”  He surges up over you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them above you.  “I thought about that pretty little cunt around my cock.  I thought about how pretty you’d look laying in my bed.”  One thrust, slow and teasing.  You roll your hips up to meet him, even though your thighs are weak and shaking.  “I’ve never–I’ve never fucked anyone like this before, it’s,” he leans in to suck on your pulse again, runs his tongue over the salty skin there, “magical.”  You whimper beneath him when you feel the familiar coil tightening once more in your belly.  

“Do you think I can make you come again, Daichi?  Can you come for me one more time?”  He groans, sealing his lips over yours as he releases your hands so that can pull him closer into you.  You scrape your nails from the nape of his neck into his hair, and grip, breathless, as his rhythm becomes choppy again.  God, you don’t know how he’s still going.  The two of you are so frenzied, the blood in your veins hotter than a blue flame.  “Look at me when you come, baby, look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hands to his cheeks.  His eyes are glazed, his face strained but still beautiful.  “I’m going to touch myself now, okay?”  His mouth pops open again as he nods, before watching as you wrap one arm around his shoulder and bring your other hand to your clit.  You swipe around his cock, collecting some of the mess you’ve both made there.  You know how to pleasure yourself and with Daichi’s expert stroke, it doesn’t take long before it snaps over you, the walls of your pussy squeezing around him forcing spend from him one more time.  It’s not as explosive as the first time but still enough that you can feel the wet leaking out onto his sheets.  “So good for me, Daichi, look how good you are for me,” you chant as you wring the last of the pleasure from each other.

When it’s over, he stills, pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed beside you.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering you both.  The cool early morning air coming in Daichi’s open window creates the perfect juxtaposition of sensations.  He reaches over to trace patterns into your palm.  “Can I hold you?”  The question is so sweet, it makes you huff out a laugh.  The man just blew your back out and he asks if he can hold you.  But you are more than willing to oblige him so you roll into his open arm and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.  You wait a moment before looking up at him, relishing the feeling of his fingers now tracing patterns into your arm and shoulder.

“Didn’t you mention something about handcuffs earlier?”  He looks down at you jerkily, a sheepish grin on his face.  You smile mischievously.  You’re going to ruin him.  He’s going to let you.  And he’s going to love it.

“Let me make you breakfast first, yeah?”  You nod and breathe in the smell of him, all sex and musk and expensive cologne.  Neither one of you knows where this is going to go but right now, it doesn’t matter.  You yawn and snuggle closer.

“Just so you know,” you intone sleepily, “I like French toast.”  He laughs softly, his own body relaxing into a lazy slumber.

“Hm, French toast?  I pinned you as a pancake kinda girl.  Good thing I also like French toast and always keep the supplies in to make it.”  His breathing is slow and shallow, matching the rhythm of yours.  The sun peeks over the cityscape around you as the two of you go under, cradled in each other’s arms.

This work and its digital elements (photo credit to photographer) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2024. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[unfriedough]

Hi super sorry if your request aren’t open.

I had this thought about Zuko x waterbending reader and maybe they could be related to Hama (like a grandma or something) and r basically it’s difficult to explain but Zuko and reader started dating after the war and he tries really hard to get Hamas approval because he’s from the fire nation and Hama ends up sorta accepting him but is still hella weary about him

‘Dinner’- Zuko x female!reader

An: HIYA! So as to not be annoying I’m leaving my lil disappearance explanation at the bottom, enjoy 🫶

(As usual, thank you for your request and patience it means a lot 💕)

Warnings: fighting/agression but it’s brief dw (this is also a very short piece)

You smiled as a candle flickered in your room, kicking your feet as you read a letter your boyfriend, Zuko, wrote to you. He detailed in it his most recent endeavours as a fire lord, as well as affirmed that he could in fact come for a visit. You had been planning to move to his palace soon, as per his request, but he was afraid your grandmother, Hama, a ruthless fire nation hating blood bender who might just hate Zuko, would not be on board. You decided the easiest way was to have them both over for food, and you’d prepared a huge feast of different delicacies of both nations. Zuko was meant to arrive in about an hour, and Hama was already down stairs washing up. She vaguely knew you were going to introduce her to someone, just not entirely aware of who. You shoved the scroll into another backpack you packed for your move, which was supposed to take place a week from now if all goes well.

You walked over to the window sill and sat on a cushion you placed on the protruding wooden part, sighing. You wandered in an endless maze of thoughts, until a face appeared in front of you. You squeaked, almost falling backwards but you caught yourself. Shaking your head, you unlocked the window and pulled zuko in.

“Dude?” You questioned, pulling him in for a hug.

He smelled like the sea, you noted, originally expecting the smell of a certain beast on him.

“Sorry- I got nervous,” you giggled, pinching his pouty cheeks.

He grinned, dipping you into a passionate kiss that screamed ‘I miss you’ in every language. His hand trailed to your back, and yours his hair. Just as things began to escalate, the door swung open.

“YN!”

Immediately, you pushed him away, and he stumbled backwards. Both your eyes landed on your grandma, who was as pale as a ghost.

“I can explain!”

“What kind of nonsense is this?”

Zuko was frozen, from the long list of things that could've gone wrong, this did not even make the top one hundred list.

“Grandma, this is Zuko,” you calmed down, “My boyfriend,”

He snapped out of his trance and extended an arm to shake with her. She walked out, leaving a small stone to prevent the door from closing again.

“Sorry about her,” you groaned, embarrassed that she left him hanging.

He retreated his arm, shoving it into his pocket, “She already thinks I suck. It’s over.”

“It’s okay she’s easy to win over,” you smiled sweetly, contrasting the lies that currently fled your lips.

Stiff, awkward, weird… all of the above.

You couldn’t relax for this dinner, things were so tense after what just happened. He didn’t even get to say hello before she saw his tongue down your throat and now she probably is a hair away from blood bending him into a ball. And he could tell she hated him- when he asked you to pass him a spoon she threw it at him. She missed…

“So, why don’t you tell her about yourself Zuko,” you broke the silence.

His eyes widened, suddenly being put on the spot, “Well I-uh-um-“ he coughed.

“He helped the avatar end a hundred year war,” you chimed in.

“Yeah so he can start a 200 year war all on his own,” she remarked, glaring at him. “All fire folks are the same,”

“Gram, give him a chance, he’s trying his best,” you held his hand over the table, rubbing your thumb in comforting circles.

Suddenly, a fork came hurling at you, and when you both dodged your hands away, you found it embedded in the table.

“Right…” you breathed out.

She stood up abruptly, folding her arms, “Yn, come outside, now,”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, looking back at Zuko with a worried expression.

You shut the creaky wooden door behind you and adjusted your garments as you stood by here on the patio.

“A fire nation boy?”

“He’s different… he’s not what you think he is,”

“That’s what they all say Yn, he’s bad news.”

“What about him is bad news?”

“Everything. Especially the fact that he’s a ticking time bomb.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Are you forgetting his past? He attacked the avatar!” Your eyes widened, “That’s right, I did my research… I know every little thing he did and so help me if you dare leave this house with him I will make sure that’s the last time either of you see each other.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Who’s gonna stop me?”

Your eyes brimmed with tears- it was one thing to ban you from seeing him, but a completely other thing to treat you like a child. You were old enough to make these decisions on your own. You huffed, storming back inside and waltzing into your bedroom, slamming the door with a lot of force.

Hama sat back down at the table, smiling before she flipped it onto Zuko. He gasped, standing up quickly to avoid being crushed. She stomped around the table and got up in his face, grabbing the collar of his shirt. She was surprisingly strong for her ancient age.

“What do you want from her?”

“To be with her,”

“Why?”

“Because I love her,”

“WHY?”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?”

She pushed him onto the ground, lifting her arm as if about to bloodbend him. He’d heard the tales of what she was capable of from his friends, and he felt his heart drop.

Zuko froze, waiting, shielding himself and closing his eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna firebend?” She asked, a bitter sounding tone.

“No.”

Just then, you exited your room, finally having collected your bearings. There, you found Zuko almost curled up on himself, and Hama glaring at him. He breathed heavily, and she looked as if a blood vessel was about to pop. You immediately rushed to his side, helping him up to his feet and checking him for wounds. He was fine of course.

Your hand brushed against his cheek and he closed his eyes, humming, “I’m fine,”

“What did you do?” You yelled, looking at the old lady.

“I tested him.”

You laughed sarcastically, “And did he pass,”

“With flying colours,” 2 out of 3 pairs of eyebrows flew upwards, you and Zuko exchanged glances. “For now,”

After a bit of cleaning up, you finished the night with Zuko in your bedroom, sitting at your desk.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, leaning against the table.

“If she doesn’t even want me near you, how on Earth are you going to move in with me?”

“That’s… that’s a great question.”

An: OKAY SO idek where to start I basically obv got back to school and I had exams and then even MORE EXAMS coming up (send help) BUUUT I mainly just lost my spark and interest in writing but it feels wrong to continue to ignore my inbox so I’m gonna try my best to clear it soon. If you have requested I’m genuinely so so sorry it’s taken this long I’m sure you’re mad at me but hopefully not too mad don’t hate me okay bye love you 🩷

[lara4eclipze]

“Better than me?”

sypnosis; "she was cute you know?" Megan chimes , "oh so she's better than me?" the older replied snarkly

cw; smut , mean Dom Sophia, sub Megan , fuckbuddies , sorta toxic , recent fics flopping 😔... , might be my last smut for this month cuz I'm planning out a smau....(still not sure tho) , short maybe less than 1k words!

being in a girl group was fun and enjoyable I mean you get to meet thousands of people who love and support you , the downside was freedom

ever since becoming a part of katseye every single member had been personally talked to about the rules and what the contract inscript

no dating , no posts on social media without managers looking thru them , no wearing clothes that were not yet approved by management and the list goes on

it was hard — they were teenagers and obviously they also had feelings , yet to protect their image they had to not date publicly..

—★

resulting in members being in relationships with each other it started with lara and manon — at first it was them being close to each other , suggestive jokes until they got caught kissing each other whilst in manon's room

but megan didn't want a relationship, it was exhausting , combat that with training and constant changes of schedule it wasn't gonna work

but when times like this was happening she couldn't help it , imagine seeing your members be touchy and feeling up to each other— especially sophia god damn that woman

she always held megan close the way her hands wrapped around the younger's waist has her subconsciously pressing her thighs together — the way her fingers trace Megan's tummy and her plump lips that was like a forbidden fruit

—★

"I dunno maybe you should ask her" dani responds to the ginger

"but I don't think she'll approve of that!—i mean how am I gonna ask that?" megan says her voice was like a scream

"you never know.." dani says standing up form the beanbag on the floor to walk out the room

now left with her thoughts and prayers megan decided it's now or never

—★

knocking on the leaders door megan enters greeted by sophia organizing her stickers

"hey" she softly greeted

"hi baby what do you need?" the older replied

fuck,her hands got sweaty , her heartbeat going so fast it probably will explode — calm down you want her to know this right?

"so you know uh- lara and uhm manon right?" Megan stammered

"what about them?" sophia replied her eyebrows raising out of pure concern

"and you know they kinda started as fuck... buddies?— well I was wondering if we can uhm"

"oh you want that with me?"

"yes..?" megan closes her eyes only to feel Sophias hands on her jaw

"okay—if that's what you really want" sophia nods at her kissing her cheeks

—★

and thats how it started — as ashamed megan felt for even asking that or thinking about it she's happy that she tried

yet something will always go wrong , sophia was very possessive over megan , ever since the agreement, she would practically pry off Megan off any other member when they were being clingy or even just talking

—★

NYC was a big city , with loads of interesting places to go to , so the girls decided to go out and have fun

I mean they did have a comeback soon so they atleast had to rest and have fun before that

spotting an ice cream shop yoonchae excitedly told the rest of the girls whom all agreed on having ice cream

"I want choco chip!" yoonchae exclaims

"we'll have a rocky road" manon says signaling to her and lara

"I would like strawberry please" dani grins

"and you megan?" sophia asks as she listed down all the orders in her notes app

"do they have caramel?" megan asks , as she looks at the leader

"yeah , okay sit down I'll order" sophia says to which the girls follow sitting down on the corner booth if the store

"would that be all?" the cashier asks

"yes! and maybe extra tissues aswell" the leader nods and smiles

—★

as their order number got called megan volunteered to get the ice cream, she earned nods from the members

"thank you so much" megan smiles her dimples showing

the cashier was smooth with it she didn't even know how it happened but now she was giving her number to her

"you're really pretty!—maybe we can talk more I guess you have to go right?" the cashier says

"oh definitely!—heres my number" megan says blushing, she shows her phone

as she walk back to the table she couldn't even pretend not to notice sophia staring at her , her brows furrowed

"ooh what was that Megan" daniela teases

"I dunno — she just asked for my number" megan shrugs , as the other members continue teasing her

"and you gave your number to her?" the leader cuts

"yeah?—i mean she's cute" megan says , skeptical about the leaders reaction

—★

as the girls wind down in the dorms megan had this nagging feeling of something will go wrong—sophia has been off ever since the ice cream shop

was it because of the cashier?—or maybe she's too naive how deep sophia's possessiveness goes for her

deciding to know megan knocks on the leaders door , only for the door to open right away with sophia pulling her in

—★

"what was that about" sophia starts her voice was authoritative , stern and not anything like normal

"what was what?" megan replies confused

"oh you know damn well—why would you give your number to her?" sophia snaps

"shes cute you know?" megan replies, she wanted a reaction out of the older — and she was gonna get it

"oh so she's better than me?" the older replied snarkly

the olders eyes blazed , megan gulps — barely processing it sophia already had her pinned against the wall roughly making out with her

the older bit megan's lips for access, which she granted after whimpering

"you're mine fuckin remember that" she spits out as her hands tighten around megan's neck causing the younger to see stars

she continues her rough handling and removes megan's clothes pinching the younger breasts , she does the same to herself shedding off her clothing and leading them to bed

sophia grabs a scarf and ties it around megan's hands keeping her immobile

"so pretty for me" sophia says her long nails trailing around the youngers stomach down to her thighs

she stands up and walks to her closet pulling out her strap

oh fuck

sophia straps it in , seeing how megan dripped onto the bed, clenching on air as she waits for what's next

sophia walks back kissing down the youngers face , her fingers on megan's clit stimulating her before pushing in the whole length of the strap in megan

"fuck!" megan whines her legs wrapping around sophia urging the older to go faster and she did pounding into Megan like her life depended on it

"you like that whore?" sophia says in between her gasps and groans

"mhm-ye-yes!" megan replies as tears fell onto her cheeks due to pleasure

"your cunt so fucking desperate huh?" sophia says , as she felt megan tighten around her

megan didn't know and didn't care either way she felt so good

"close!" megan screams , as her orgasm crashes on her , her legs getting weak and her heartbeat going slower

afterwards sophia pulls out with a wet sound , her hands untying megan's

"I love you" sophia whispers as megan's eyes fluttered close

"I love you too" megan mumurs

[miasudare]

Trailer break-down + Tiny Theories?

So, yes another trailer/teaser has been dropped -> This

So let's go over the check list first (I'm sorry if it's messy, it's really late at night for me)

These are the 5 follower forms: Check!

Meerkat, Skunk, Panda, Echidna and Camel(?)

2 outfits for BOTH the lamb and the followers: Check!

Lamb's being the cowboy clothes and this wheat one

Said outfits on followers + from comics with the backside

5 New decors: Check!

Bamboo walls, Chinese lights, Trees, Pagodas and Flower pots

2 unique quests being ''Jalala's Followers'' and something that isn't mentioned yet (or I've missed). But I think it might be about one of the npcs. Check?

Now, about pilgrim story:

This is what our Meerkat friend sees during their flasback moment, which is also the same things our Lamb sees when Clauneck shows them Narinder's card (you can even see both). Somehow, they get to see what Lamb saw. Maybe it's some sort of an astral thing. There's not much I can add, both because we have limited information and my main theories are based around the game itself.

Chemach

For a moment if you pay attention, you can see little Chemach, clearly way younger and without her crown/s. We probably will learn what caused her madness and her state of mind, how did she got a crown, how she killed other bearers and basically all about the feather family. From what I could read, it says ''WHY NOT CHEMACH!'' in the dialogue bubble. And she has legs.

The fucking adition

We have never seen this monster before. It does remind of the massive monster, it's clear that this creature is a spawn from the deepest rings of hell. Or maybe it's a new species of divines being added considering that one has fur and the game doesn't have demons but has angels (???'s babies and the enemy)

This new addition might gave us a new adventure route in the new update, other than purgatory and realms of the bishops. Maybe a realm for sins completely?

Not that divine

Let's play spot the difference! similarities!

Notice how the white part we thought of their face is just a mask? And the similarity between the 1st and 2nd skull?

Edit: So, the skull does has the name "god_skull" in the files. But I still like to think that guardians are related to the skull.

In my Story theory, which I find absolutely canon, I talked about Aym and Baal being demi-gods. Their fighting is literally same with ''Guardian'' (Baal's three hit melee combo and Aym's fireballs) Which technically means that Guardians ARE part of demi-gods. Sorta?

Even their idles are same!

And just like I said before, Aym and Baal ARE guardians.

Aym: Guardian/Protector of hell

Baal: Guardian/Protector of heaven

But there is something that takes my attention. Look at guardian's and Baal's weapons. Both are Sun. And, Baal's HP is higher than Aym's. So, does that mean that Aym hasn't fully reached godhood? His scar does match with the Guard's but I doubt it means anything.

Back to the subject, that the theory for Spore Grotto's skull being a God's might be wrong. It may be demi-god's too.

Check my other theories here!

Theory Master post

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Echoes of Sorrow

(part 1)

an: this is sorta loosely based on a song from 2006 that i used to listen to all the time. considering it's not an english song, i'm not going too much after it, just kinda the "plot" of the song. it's danish by the duo nik & jay and its called 'når et lys slukkes' so if you're up for it you can take a listen. pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader warning: kidnapping, swearing, death, drunk driving, murder, car crash, google translated french word count: 2.8k

Max knew bringing you into his life was dangerous, but it wasn't until he got the call that he realized just how dangerous it had been. You hadn’t been in danger in the four years you’d been dating. But then again, Max didn’t quite know the dangers of what he had gotten himself into in the beginning. He thought it was just an innocent way to get a ton of money. Boy, was he wrong. Now he was sitting in a bar at 12 PM because he didn’t know what to do. It had been raining all week, and right now, it certainly wasn't helping his mood.

“Can I have a refill?” Max mumbled to the bartender, pushing his glass forward. He hadn't been here for that long, but he had definitely had more than he should have. But he needed to clear his head a little, and he couldn’t do that sober. At least, that was his excuse for ending up at the bar.

“I think you’ve had enough,” the bartender walked over to him, putting a hand in front of Max. “Can I have your keys? You’re not driving anywhere like this.”

“I didn’t bring my keys,” Max lied effortlessly. “Someone drove me here. I’ll just call a cab.” He got up and walked towards the door. He could feel the tears stinging in his eyes, but he wasn’t interested in crying in front of anyone. Not right now. He just needed a bit more liquor, and he’d be set. He could find you. You were counting on him.

In fact, you knew Max was coming. He had been telling you ever since you started dating that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to start looking for you. And right now, that hope was all you needed. You needed the knowledge that someone was coming, someone was looking for you. You didn’t exactly know how you ended up tied together in the trunk of a car, but you knew this was not on your to-do list for today. You weren’t even sure who was driving the car you were in, and you couldn’t feel your phone in your pocket, so you had no way to call Max.

Max stumbled into the small convenience store and picked up a bottle of vodka. ��This will probably do,” he mumbled and walked to the cash register to pay.

“Mr. Verstappen! What are you doing here so early? I didn't think you’d be back today. I don't have it here,” the owner of the store looked almost terrified to see him back. Well, to be fair, he was here collecting a big sum of money just a few days ago, and let’s just say, it didn’t quite go as everyone had wanted. They still had some cleaning up to do.

“I’m not here for business today,” Max said as he placed the bottle on the counter. “Just had to pick up this.” He looked up at the man across from him, eyes blank, on the brink of tears. He wouldn't do it yet, though. Not around people. He might be liked and respected as of right now, but all that could change oh so quickly, especially if he broke down over this. So many people in this business had suffered worse, and he was on the brink of crying because his girlfriend had been kidnapped? And he didn’t even fully know if it was true yet.

“Oh, well, that will be 20 dollars,” the store owner barely finished before the money was on the counter, bottle in Max’s hand, and he was walking towards the door. He needed time alone. Now. He needed to process.

As the car came to a stop, you couldn’t do anything but hold your breath. Would you know the person who had taken you, or would he be a total stranger? The trunk opened, and the rain disappointed you. Was it really on a rainy day you got kidnapped? A man’s face appeared, and you couldn’t help the fear creeping in.

“So, you are Max’s girl now?” he spoke with a French accent. If he wasn’t a kidnapper, you would have found it kinda hot. But under the circumstances, it was anything BUT hot.

“What do you want us to do with her?” a different voice asked. You sort of recognized it, but only faintly. Was he the one who had technically kidnapped you? Most likely.

“Get her inside. I have to call Max. He needs to know for sure that we have her. I want him in the most panicked state possible before I send the body to him.” The body? Was he talking about yours? God, you were going to die on a rainy day. How awesome. The Frenchman walked away, and his friend came into view, picking you up as easily as if you were a bag of flour. You tried everything to get out, not really interested in this new fate of yours.

Max barely made it to the car before his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number. He hesitated for a second, then realized it could be someone with news about you, so he quickly accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of vodka and took a quick sip as he waited for a reply from the unknown caller.

“Is this Max Verstappen?” he sighed, doubting it was about you if they had to ask if it was him.

“Yes, this is Max,” he replied while screwing the cap back on the bottle. “Who am I speaking with?”

“You should come see for yourself, if you want to see your girlfriend again,” the voice stated and gave an address. Max wasted no time getting there, tears running down his cheeks. He was silent, though; he just had to get to you, had to get you back. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He couldn’t lose you.

Against your will, you were placed on a chair in the middle of a nicely decorated room on the second floor of a huge house. You started losing hope. They weren't going to wait long, not if their plan to send your body to Max was going to be successful. Panic and fear started to mix as you were left alone in the room with your thoughts, thoughts about how this stranger was going to murder you and then send your body to Max. You couldn’t stop imagining his face. If he knew about you by now, he would be looking for you. You knew it. It had to be like that, right? He had told you so many times. He would get to you. You needed him. Your only hope was him.

Max walked up to the front door, feeling 100% sober; however, the bottle was still in his hand. Could it be useful? Maybe if it was empty. He had to get you out alive and safe, though, so anything was helpful. The front door was slightly open, so he pushed it further open, hoping no one was there. He would like for this to be a bit of a surprise. He left his phone in the car, so it wouldn’t suddenly ring or vibrate and expose him.

The first room he stepped into was a living room, nicely decorated with a lot of expensive furniture. “This asshole sure loves spending money,” Max muttered to himself as he moved further into the house, looking behind every door he passed.

He made it into the kitchen. He hadn't run into anyone yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long, and he didn't have any way to defend himself except for the bottle. But how useful was that really? He looked around the room, and his gaze landed on a set of kitchen knives, almost glinting on the table, asking him to take one with him. So he did and moved further until he got to a staircase. He could hear faint voices coming from upstairs, but he couldn't hear who they belonged to or what the topic was. He quietly made his way up the stairs, knife ready in his right hand, bottle in his left hand. He was prepared for any surprise this might throw at him.

Before reaching the very top, he stopped and wiped his eyes before taking the last step up. He looked around, making sure they weren't right there waiting for him. He moved towards the voices, and his entire body stiffened as he heard your voice. “Don't hurt him! Please! I’ll do anything to keep him safe.” Max took a couple more steps and stopped. The voices were much louder now.

“Everything, huh?” Max heard the French accent and immediately knew who it was. Pierre. Pierre fucking Gasly. Max was seething with rage. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. “How about…” The voice trailed off, and Max heard you let out a whimper. His mind was suddenly full of all the things Pierre could be doing to you. When Max heard the second whimper, it was clear Pierre was doing something to inflict pain on you, and it was almost as if something changed inside Max. He barely had enough self-control to stay put and put together a plan, but any plan he made wouldn’t be good enough if he didn't do something now.

Just as he was about to jump in and do god knows what, he heard your voice. “Va te faire foutre,” (fuck you - google translate please lmk if it's wrong <3) you spat out, and Max couldn’t help but feel proud, even if he had no clue what you said. He stood like that for a few seconds until he heard your muffled cry, and he sprung into action, not even thinking about what he was about to do, right in front of you.

Both you and Pierre, who didn’t hear Max arrive, were startled, and rightfully so. Who wouldn't be startled if a man came at you with a knife, rage in his eyes? Max wouldn’t let anything happen, even if that meant he had to kill. He tackled Pierre in less than 2 seconds simply because Pierre wasn’t prepared. Max quickly positioned himself so Pierre had no way of moving and then brought out the knife, taunting Pierre a bit before he made his first cut. No one would be able to identify Pierre when Max was done with him. However, he hadn't noticed that you were tied to the chair, forced to watch as Max dug the knife into Pierre's skin, slowly dragging out the pain. As Pierre thought the first part was over, Max quickly placed the knife in his abdomen, making Pierre cough up a bit of blood and just look at the knife with pure shock and horror in his eyes. Max locked their eyes and kept eye contact as he twisted the knife, making Pierre groan in pain. Funnily enough, Max quite enjoyed this. He slowly pulled out the knife, but not for long; he had a lot of work ahead of him. He didn’t plan to let Pierre off the hook easily.

The red blood seemed to never stop seeping out of the many wounds inflicted by Max. It felt like it was everywhere: the carpet, the walls, Max’s hands, Pierre — a mess, not recognizable at all. Max got up and looked around to see where you might have gone, only to see you strapped to the chair, tears never stopping from falling down your cheeks as you just stared at the mess in front of you. “What did you do? What the hell did you do?!” you almost screamed, pain radiating from your voice, not only from what you had just witnessed, but also from the wound above your knee, blood trickling down your leg. He should have noticed, he should have known. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! How could he have missed this?

He rushed to your side, putting pressure on your wound, looking around for something he could use instead of his hands, but he couldn’t see anything useful. “Please tell me you’re going to be okay,” Max said, looking at your leg; the blood didn’t stop, his hands weren’t enough.

Your face was still full of tears, your skin looking a little pale. Sweat started to cover your skin. It almost looked like you had just taken a shower in your clothes. “OMG Max,” you mumbled, barely able to get the sentence out, “did you just kill him?” You looked at him with wide eyes as a sudden headache hit you, your vision became blurry. “What’s that ringing sound?” you asked, confused, barely able to focus, anxiety creeping into your brain, consuming all your thoughts.

Max was just confused. There was no ringing. It was completely quiet, except for Pierre’s ragged breaths. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Schat. There is no ringing.”

“The pain stopped,” Max looked up at you, horrified at what you had just said. You couldn’t not be in pain. He couldn’t leave the scene like this, though, so he unscrewed the cap on the bottle he brought with him and poured it around Pierre. He wasn’t sure this was going to look like an accidental fire, but did he really care about that right now? No. He only cared about you, and he needed to get you to a hospital now. He quickly got you free from the chair, took a lighter out of his pocket, ripped off a small piece of fabric from his shirt, and lit it on fire. He let go of it and let it drop to the floor, where a ring of fire quickly spread around Pierre.

He had to move quickly now. He picked you up; your body already felt lifeless. He got you to the car, luckily without running into any of Pierre’s men. It was only a matter of time before they noticed the fire.

He had to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. He floored the accelerator. Getting you to the hospital was the only thing on his mind this second, and he did make it. However, your body was limp, lifeless, and he was afraid it was too late. But he still had to try; he didn't have time to feel for a pulse, just had to get you in quickly.

“Help! Please!” he walked through the doors with you in his arms, multiple doctors running towards him.

“What happened?” a nurse asked while someone else asked for a gurney.

“I’m not sure. I was told to go to a location, and I found her inside, strapped to a chair with a wound above her knee,” Max basically told the truth, except for the part about Pierre. No one had to know about that. No one would know about that.

“Put her here, and we'll do our best to save her,” the nurse gestured to the gurney being pushed towards them in a hurry. They all disappeared in a hurry, doing everything they could. Max didn’t see much, but he did see that no one gave you CPR, which must mean you had a pulse. He looked down and noticed his hands, covered in blood, which must mean his car was covered in blood too, which meant he needed to clean it.

He rushed out, rushing to his car. He had to get home, get it cleaned up. He couldn't seem to stop crying, and the fact it was raining didn’t help his vision at all. He pushed on the accelerator a bit more, his head full of thoughts: thoughts of you dying, it being his fault. He never had to get into this business. He decided to put on some music, and the song currently being played was one of the new ones from Taylor Swift. Max didn’t mind it. He actually related a little to the song. He turned up the volume and listened to the chorus of “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”

A tear fell down his left cheek as the roads got a bit narrower. This didn't make him slow down; quite the opposite, actually. He sped up more. He liked the thrill of it. His alcohol level was way too high for him to be driving this quickly, in a part of town with a lot of traffic lights and pedestrians.

He didn't see the red light until it was too late. The woman crossing the road to reach her friend didn't notice either. Her boyfriend did, though, and he leaped out in front to try and push her out of the way. However, he didn't manage to do it in time. Max’s foot slammed down on the brake, but it was too late. Max closed his eyes; he knew how this would end. He heard a bang, and all light disappeared.

~

i haven't made a written fic since my wattpad days back in 2020 so i'm not sure how good this is. sorry about the cliffhanger hehe also very sorry i haven't posted in many days, i lowkey forgot about all of these, and then i got a tiny bit busy so when i did remember i didn't have time to write. anyway enjoy this while i work on something more

[romanoffsbish]

A Twisted Web of Lies

Natasha Romanoff x R

Warnings: Cheating(Kinda Sorta), Violence, Injured R, No Happy Ending

Request | Prompts

“This was never real, was it?” / “I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights…”

“Please, don’t leave me, we can fix this.” /“You left me first, I’m just finishing the job.”

Natasha pulled away from Wanda's lips with a start as the door hit the wall. You looked amiss. Her heart beat in worried stutters. Something went wrong, and she's only making it worse.

The sting on her cheek was instant, feeling like pins and needles. Her face became neutral. A heart wrenching sob at the back of her throat being restricted with precision. It'll be okay Natalia, she'll understand one day, the mantra echoing in her mind as she keeps it together.

——

Wanda sobs loudly on the bed, this was never something she had a good feeling about. Nat was just too damn convincing that there was no other way to do this. You had to hate her for this to work, for her enemies to believe you useless. Wanda loved you enough to break you.

It's twisted, but in some part of you that's not hurting, you might even agree with the plan.

For a matter of minutes the room stood still, soft sniffles reverberated off the wall as the ones who betrayed you stayed still on the bed. Then you finally turned to face the woman you entrusted with your heart, you kept a stoic expression, but she saw the pain in your eyes.

"This was never real, was it?" Natasha flinched at your unusually cold tone. Her composure immediately faltering. You sighed defeatedly, "I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights..." Your head shook in disgust. "I hope it was all worth it."

Your stoney glare as you left the room made the redhead gulp, the fear still remaining in her throat, and for the first time she thinks this might've been a bad idea. But it was too late.

Her plan was for nothing. Something she found out while en route to the last person on the list.

The list of enemies that resurfaced out of nowhere, who threatened to ruin her in a way that would bring irreversible damage. Which is why she untethered herself from you, but someone was too smart and called her bluff.

Antonia Dreykov. The woman who chose revenge in the name of freedom. It was gifted back to her by Natasha, but her repentance didn't soothe the maimed woman at all. It was a grudge too thick to wade through, the two bonded, tortured souls were now unraveling.

Natasha took her childhood. A chance at joy. The same way her wretched father took hers, and countless others. Natasha imprisoned Antonia as she broke free from her chains.

So, the Taskmaster herself collected you to even the playing field. An eye for an eye.

Just as Natasha made it to the spot she'd tracked the woman to she heard a scream that made her blood run cold. Her heart having sank into the abyss of her very own personal hell. It couldn't be you, even if she knew in her heart that it was. Every sound you've ever made is embedded in the grooves of her soul.

You were supposed to be on a "mission" with Bucky in Canada. Not in Budapest, the ending point that brings it all back to the beginning.

You had to be over four thousand miles away for her to agree to this. Because whenever she doesn't have you under the eye of a super soldier, or metallic man she has you under hers. Distance never a thing as she ensured a way onto your missions every time, her rank allowing her to torture you with her proximity.

Fury knew what was going on. So he allowed it even when his gut told him it's wrong. It was.

Fury had told you living on your own wasn't an option due to an enemy from your past still being on the loose. Another lie told, the woman was detained, and locked up tight on the raft.

There was no fight left in you, plus, you didn't want the backstabbing whores thinking they had enough power over you to make you leave. No way were you going to help them have more leeway to continue their torrid love affair.

Natasha's feet had never moved so fast, she entered the humid, abandoned warehouse. It didn't take her long to find you, tied to a chair with your body in rough shape, your head lulled

"Not again," you whined before you looked up and saw a blur of familiar features. The red hair stood out to like a sore thumb, and you grimaced as the realization washed over you. "Why are you here?" You were clearly delirious.

"Me?" She scoffed, "What are you doing here?"

"An enemy of my enemy caught me while I was getting a dirty dog!" Natasha could see tears in your eyes, and if the moment wasn't so tense she would make fun of you for your emotional distress over a subpar New York hot dog. But she hadn't the time as she was working hastily to remove your arms intricate restraints.

"You're supposed to be safe with Bucky!"

"Bucky got called away on a real mission," you spat. "He let it slip that the other was bogus."

Natasha felt her blood boiling, an entire six months operation meant to keep you safe was down the drain because of Barnes loose lips.

"I appreciated the honesty," you admitted.

"Y/N," Natasha shakily whispered your name, but before she could go on a shield whooshed between your faces, nearly knocking you out.

"Perfect fucking timing," Natasha huffs, hands dropping the ropes around your legs so she could stand to greet a smug looking Antonia.

"Natalia, so nice of you to join your lover for a proper beat down." Natasha glared at her, a smart quip fresh on her tongue but you spoke first, and left her speechless and heartbroken.

"I'm not her lover," you spat with so much venom Natasha felt all the hope she had die.

"Oh yeah," Antonia gasped in feigned shock. "Natalia here cheated on you in the name of protection and left you even more vulnerable.

Natasha frowned. "Tracking an Avenger should be impossible, but with her reckless new lease on life it was as if she didn't even care to hide."

The redhead looked to you for an answer, you rolled your eyes and tilted your throbbing head to avoid the light shining down. "I wanted Dory to catch me, so I could put her behind bars and be able to leave the compound for good."

Natasha's eyes flashed with something you saw clearly, another layer of secrets kept to protect you, but all it did was leave you more exposed.

Before you could start a fight over the obvious detainment of your own enemy, Natasha was blindsided by a barbaric assault that took her across the room in a matter of seconds. While the destined enemies fought you worked as best you could to untie your legs with your good arm as the other dangled awkwardly.

The fight was anticlimactic, and quick. Without her deceased fathers mind control mod, she was virtually useless against the trained widow.

Natasha slammed her to the ground after the initial shock of being catapulted, then she took a knife from her thigh holster and drove it into the woman's chest. Nicking vital organs, and leaving her for dead. "You're a pathetic excuse for an enemy. I've fought actual children, as a child myself with more stamina than you."

"It doesn't matter," Antonia cackled, blood splattered from her mouth onto Natasha's face. "Can't you see? I won. You've lost your joy."

Natasha looked up to see you upright, you'd removed the rest of your restraints, and were now taking a slow stroll towards the exit. Using the wall to hold up the body you couldn't.

"She'll never forgive you," she weakly spoke while grinning devilishly. Natasha twisted the knife, and the woman beneath her choked out a final breath. The redhead glared down at her for a final time before sprinting to cut you off.

"Y/N please," she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around your legs in desperation. "Wanda and I only kissed, I swear she was fully dressed under that blanket. I-I just had to make you believe it, I needed to keep you safe."

"I don't give a fuck about your intentions." You tried, but were too weak to shrug her off. "They might've been good natured in your very own twisted way, but they led to my heartbreak."

"How do I fix this, please detka. There has to be a way," she pleaded brokenly. A part of you wanted to hold her, to let it all go, but you can't forget all the nights you spent crying over the betrayal that had only ever been a facade.

It caused irreparable devastation, leaving your relationship in ruins. "There's nothing to do Nat. You've had six months to come clean."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears soaking through the tattered fabric of your sweats, you weren't sure if she was talking to you, or herself. "I should've been upfront with you, I know that now, but I needed the enemy to believe it."

"Yeah, how'd that work out for you, huh?"

Natasha's lip trembled as she looked up to see just how badly you'd been beaten. "If I'd have known, then this never would've happened. I would've been prepared for an attack, I'm a fucking Avenger for Christ's sakes Nat, not a defenseless civilian. I would've fought by your side, but you treated me like a fragile child."

"It was a mistake, I'm sorry..." Natasha pressed her forehead to your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your exposed skin for what she believed to be the final time. The look in your eyes enough to nix her hope. "I love you Y/N."

"Let go Nat," you demanded, voice now gruff from the building frustration coupled along with lack of water you'd had being held captive.

"No! Please..." This couldn't be the end.

"Now!" You growled, something you'd never done to her before, but it's proving to be a year of firsts for you two. Just all the wrong ones.

"Please, don't leave me, we can fix this." Natasha pleads over a sob, the desperation innate, her lungs feeling as if they'd collapse any second now as her heart breaks in two.

"There's nothing to fix. I can't forgive this."

Never in her days did she expect you to ignore her truths, and walk away from her. It was to protect you, your future together, but you said you can't forgive her. Maybe Wanda, but her?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. She made a choice that left you permanently scarred. She could've dumped you in a way that wasn't so brutal, and didn't make you lose your sense of self worth.

"I trusted you Natalia," you grimaced, shaking your head side to side just to clarify to her how disgusted you were with your decisions. You chuckled darkly before pulling her up into an intense kiss as a distraction from your hands.

Natasha grunts as she hears the click of metal, feeling as your teeth drew blood from her lips while also feeling a coolness around her wrists.

"After all," you taunted, looking at her with a frown and faux sympathy in your eyes as you prepared yourself to hobble away. "You left me first, I'm just finishing the job."

——

1,899 Words

🥹 Kaitlyn 😔

[cripplecharacters]

I would like to know what you think of magical aids for disablilities in a fantasy setting! Things like: A prosthetic that is enchanted to be capable of fine movements. A wheelchair that can levitate. Hearing aids that are powered by a user's innate magic. Blind people with animal familiars that have a magical connection that allows the person to see through the animals eyes. Thank you!

Hey,

I think that magical aids, in general, can be interesting. But the few options you listed point to some issues.

First of all, the blind person 'magically seeing' - don't do this. There's no point in having a disabled character just to make them abled. Consider this post by blindbeta instead, where they go over fantasy/fictional guide animals. Your blind character shouldn't be able to see, that's just disability erasure.

The same point applies to the prosthetic - is magic just the in-universe excuse to give someone a Cool Robot Arm/Leg that is technically a prosthetic but has little in common with the real world equivalent? I recommend going through our #prosthetics tag, but the two important posts you might want to consider: this on upper limb prosthetics, and this on lower limb ones for what people with amputations actually want - and yes, there are major differences between those two kinds of prostheses outside of being different limbs.

As a cane user, I would enjoy a magical cane that can fit into my pocket when I need it to, or one that I could summon out of thin air when my leg or back decide to make me barely able to walk when I'm out. But to be honest, I'm rather boring and to me, it's important that these fantasy/sci-fi equivalents don't turn a cane unusable in other ways. Prime example, canes with those "doorknob" handles, that takes me out of the story more than a teleporting cane. Or those canes with swords hidden in them (opinions heavily differ here, personally I'm not a fan), structural stability of the thing aside, if I'm using the cane then I'm definitely not in a condition where I could swing a sword.

A cane that doesn't need changing the damn tip so often, or self-cleans every time I step into something gross would be great too. Or maybe one that is harmless to the user but bites people who touch it without asking.

mod Sasza

I don’t love the idea of a wheelchair that can levitate. Why should disabled people have to change our aids rather than the world becoming more accessible. Don’t get me wrong! There are still fun things you can do with wheelchairs in fantasy. For example a wheelchair with a spell that makes terrain (grass rocks etc.) a typical wheelchair would have trouble navigating flat. A power-chair that doesn’t use a battery but some other form of magic etc. I would challenge you to get creative and think outside of just levitation!

Mod Patch

I love the thought of magic aids. I agree with Sasza of the aspect of aids automatically cleaning themselves or having parts that you don't have to replace constantly. I know for me wiping down my wheelchair was always a hassle and the rubber handles on my breaks wore down constantly (my dog ate them one time) and were very hard to use with wrist that easily subluxed.

Aids that are battery powered running on magic or some other fantasy power source as a sorta battery would be so cool. A Port that magically accesses/de-accesses itself at the person's will? Oxygen Cannulas that never need changing/change themselves? A VP Shunt automatically adjusting its pressures to what the person needs? So many endless things you can do with them!

Mod Virus

I’m not entirely sure what is meant by hearing aids powered by innate magic. If that means never having to deal with replacing the batteries, sign me up! If it means anything other than that, I want more information on what exactly it entails.

Magic aids that function the same as not having a disability at all are erasure, plain and simple.

Mod Rock

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Hello! This might be a silly question, but I was curious if you have any future Hazbin/Helluva fics or ideas planned once transmissions is completed? Whether it be Drift or Vox & Al centric or otherwise? Absolutely no pressure of course, you do whatever makes you happy at your own time, I know you’ve sorta elaborated a little on it in other asks before but I wasn’t completely sure lol (everyone btw please go read these fics and give them traction! They are so so good!)

Awww, Anon <3 You got me all blushy now! Really though, glad you like my fics! Was actually in the middle of writing up the next Transmission chapter too, coincidentally <33

But yeah, actually I have a list of different ideas for more helluva/hazbin shenanigans, mostly taking place in the same verse! Haven't decided which to actually start penning yet, and maybe you guys could let me know what interests you the most! Here's a short synopsizes of the ones I had sorta outlined:

For those of you that have read Statistical Outliers, you might remember Vox mentioning an event called the Grand Exhibition, an annual ball that's thrown by overlords for overlords. You might also recall that there's a party that originally inspired that one, a goetia party which even Vox described as 'beyond exclusive'. Well, our media man himself warrants an invitation to this exclusive event, the first overlord personally invited since the one that started the overlord ball! But there's both pluses and minuses to be one of the only Sinners among an echelon of demons who, um, have their own agendas. I say one of because now that's Lucifer is back and trying to spread his wings more, his daughter convinces him to take some of the guests from the hotel as a plus one, or two, or six. Which may include, the the ire of the devil himself, our favorite radio host. Sad as it is to say, Vox might just be safer dancing with Alastor than rubbing elbows with this crowd.

That's the short synopsis but it's kinda a celebration of the hellverse as a whole. You might see some appearances from characters you might not suspect, like Drift, the Sins, famous goetia, and potentially a dysfunctional work family of imps ;)

Another idea actually branches off an initiative that Charlie comes up with, with the assistance of Emily, hoping to help bridge the gap between sinners and winners. And what better way to do that than a friendly interview where Sinners can apologize to the Winners that they may have been sent upstairs before their time. That's the pitch, anyways. In reality? Vox, master of television, is brought on board to help make this whole thing run smooth. And of course he plans on bending it all to his own benefit. Everything kinda gets derailed when the first interview ends up being Drift, meeting the man he hit on accident. And you know? The victim here might not act the way you'd think for an angel.

Aside from some more Drift and Vox interactions, this one was going to go into the kid's backstory in more detail, and kinda comment on the disbalance between judgement of Winners and Sinners. What separates one from the other? Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day. Or being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And Vox is over here looking to make this whole thing turn to his advantage.

On the more Helluva boss centered side of things, I do have a fic regarding Striker and his backstory. Written from the perspective of Striker's childhood best friend, its a story about the wilds of Wrath, where rugged childhood adventures turn to gritty adult drama. Its a rollercoaster, meant to show off how exactly Striker got to be who he was and introducing another character who is going to feature here and there throughout the intertwined webs of stories, my helluva oc, Wyld. This one is already written out quite a bit, nearly 200,000 words at this point, just never published. Wasn't sure there'd be much interest in it. Fair warning, this one gets dark in places because it's very much inspired by gritty realistic westerns, like Eastwood's Unforgiven.

Those are the ones on the docket right now, mostly because those are the ones I've outlined so far, but I'm always adding to it. For anyone interested in my fics, the first one is Statistical Outliers, which is where the main man of television meets a scrawny hairball by the name of Drift and takes it upon himself to, uh, rehome him. And why does it seem like Alastor's sticky fingers are involved in this somehow? The sequel, currently ongoing, is called Transmission Not Received , which is a mystery that forces a reluctant Alastor and Vox to work together to figure out who's running across Pentagram City and nabbing kids from right under their parents' noses in the dead of night.

Hoping to get the next chapter of Transmission up soonish and, boy, is it a doozey!

Either way, let me know what you guys think, maybe check out the fics if ya see something that interests you, and a special shout out back to Anon for making my day! <3

Thanks for the ask! <33

[fantasy-things-and-such]

Intro Post/Masterpost

These amazing dividers were made by @cafekitsune. go check them out! My banner was made by an IRL friend of mine. if you see this(which i doubt you will but maybe), thank you!

Hello! The name's Enju. This is my introductory post. Welcome!

I'm a aspiring author and poet living in the US. I mainly write Fantasy and am dipping my toes into dystopia.

i have three projects, listed later.

Asks and tags are always welcome, but please please please don't be mad if i dont answer right away. I'm alittle slow on the upkeep + life outside of writing is pain. Ill get to asks eventually, I promise!

Although i treat this like my Main blog, my dumbass made them in the wrong order when I first got here. @i-hate-happy-endings is my main, and its quite empty lmao.

#Sunset things: Related to my WIP, Sunset #Ailan's Legacy: Related to my WIP, White Candy #Frontline: Related to my WIP, Frontline #meet my OCs: A little series where i go into depth about my OCs #Enju's Worldbuilding: Stuff pertaining to worldbuilding(usually tagged with #Sunset things or #Ailans Legacy) #Greeted the Messenger: Replying to Asks

Master list for my WIP posts + taglist

Whenever i make a WIP post I'll make it pretty clear what kind of stuff is in it. CW mentions will always be at the top for mature themes and I'll try to put tone tags as well if i think there's any sorta stuff that might disturb people in there. And Lastly, Here be Dragons. I wont always remember or know what judgement to make, so Here be Dragons is my go-to warning label.

My WIPS:

Sunset: Sunset is a high-fantasy medieval romance series and the main topic of this blog.

White Candy(Ailan's Legacy): White Candy is a mystery novel with solar/steampunk elements.

Frontline(Placeholder name): Frontline is a dark fantasy dystopia with mature elements. Interact at your own risk.

this'll get updated as I do short stories.

An Eternity With you: A short story on a immortal guy and his journey of love

I'm afraid to tag my moots bc i interact with like two of them regularly. but they're all amazing people so here goes: @theliteraryarchitect @garden-of-runar @the-ellia-west @saturnsconstellation @wyked-ao3

@dandelionflowery @mae-occasionally-reads

@themortalityofundyingstars @thisisntrocket

@bookish-karina @elizaellwrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @a-pretty-damn-good-narrator

@leave-a-message19 @aesthetic-writer18 @rivenantiqnerd @humongouskittentraveler @emilynotfound

@the-alywickd @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @melo-writes @agirlandherquill @heymacareyna

@poethill @angst-is-love-angst-is-life These are all amazing people and you should go follow them.

Emotional support post

[ponett]

I really hope it's alright to ask, but do you support aspec people and the SAM? Most posts of yours that mention anything ace related are like 10-7 years old and sorta discoursey, so I just want to ask for my own comfort

i support ace people. my opinion on the split attraction model seems kind of pointless. it exists. people either use it to describe themselves or they don't

believe me when i say that this is with the utmost sincerity and not as a jab, but i think for your own good you should probably learn not to term search on strangers' accounts and look through decade-old posts to try and find their opinions on intracommunity discourse. for one thing, while it's understandable to some extent (we've all had people we were following turn out to be bigots at some point or another), being overly concerned with what the people you follow were saying or doing in the past or outside of your view can develop into a very real form of hypervigilance. i've been there, trust me. it's absolutely miserable. the constant paranoia that you have to check everyone's archives or their likes or their following lists or whatever to make sure they aren't secret creeps or bigots. this did nothing but make me feel even more depressed, anxious, and alienated during one of the most depressed periods of my life.

beyond that, though, people change, and people also don't necessarily post every single thing they personally believe in online. from like age 18-22 i had just come out as bi and was coming to terms with the fact that i was trans, and i was very much going through my "zeal of the convert" phase. i felt the need to display how "right" i was about queer issues online, how i knew all the "right" language, and got into a lot of pointless fights with other queer people about it because i felt like that was a valuable use of my time and energy. i bought into a lot of stupid shit back then. for example, i was briefly the type to believe that there was such a thing as "monosexual privilege" just because biphobia exists. but just because that belief might be present in a post somewhere deep in my archive, it doesn't mean i also made a later post correcting myself when i realized it was actually stupid and wrong. instead i got older and learned to shut the fuck up about pointless infighting, particularly things that are none of my business

[xbomboi]

misc. bribelle thoughts

prefacing this by saying bribelle is my favorite ship. actually might be one of my favorite all time ships considering whenever i catch 11:11 i make a tweet on my priv twitter saying “11:11 bribelle and rarijack” because i’m insane.

anywho…

i think it’s a lot easier to justify saying faybelle potentially has feelings for briar in a canon context because even aside from her diary, her behavior in epic winter can most definitely be read with flirtatious undertones, especially after witnessing the dream sequence

but i’m always trying to justify things to myself in accordance to canon without feeling ooc, because i’m the type of creative who would rather write my own original thing than make alterations to a pre-existing work. that’s just me.

and briar is trickier to do so with. in the show alone, she only actually verbally responds to faybelle once and it’s a line that also adds exposition. “but it’s forbidden!” girl come on throw faybelle a bone at least…

by epic winter, i’d say briar could potentially have had surface level attraction to faybelle, but it isn’t until having that dream and probably especially post-epic winter when she’d get time to actually reflect on it that she’d start to develop palpable feelings for her.

i’ve kinda noticed something about briar: she likes attention. i guess she’s kinda like faybelle in that respect.

briar grew up with neglectful parents. fill in the blanks. why wouldn’t she want attention when she lacks it properly from the two most important people in her life?

along this line of thinking, briar especially values explicit displays of affection, particularly from a potential romantic partner.

so, regrettably, let’s look at her relationship with hopper.

i.e. briar’s behavior in the webisode “Here Comes Cupid.”

when she first confronts hopper about his unconventional advances, she’s disinterested and borderline repulsed.

but after hearing him profess his love via the recording, she’s taken aback and actually grows endeared.

until this BAFOON fumbles the bag and does some really creepy shit by leaning into her personal space and calling her hot. understandably, this miffs briar and she once again loses interest.

(side note, too many people ignore how blatantly creepy hopper is to women, ESPECIALLY briar. he needs to be held accountable, not rewarded by getting the girl.)

even then, despite not necessarily returning his affections, she’s somewhat comfortable in the status quo that he devotes his attention to her. which is exactly why i think in bunny’s diary (bunny is wrong btw she doesn’t know a damn thing so idk why the one wiki that’s not the official wiki list hopper as briars crush when the source is bunny’s word like fuck all) bunny mentions observing briar appearing disappointed when ginger asks hopper to the dance and he accepts.

to briar, it’s like she’s losing one of the few things she’s familiar with, the few constants in her life. in this case, her only plausible option who she’d have reason to believe would accept. and we all know how briar is about losing things.

briar sorta settles into this state of fondness towards hopper’s affections, despite them being unrequited. because at least he gives a damn about her.

faybelle—at least, outside of her diary and up until epic winter—might as well be any villain; faybelle just wants to cause chaos for the sake of ruining somebody’s day. and i don’t think briar likes it that way.

i’d assume around the time of faybelle’s introduction to the series, briar’s stance would be one of upset towards faybelle, believing she doesn’t take their story as seriously as she(briar) does. that her role in sleeping beauty isn’t as important to her as being evil in general.

i have half the mind to say that this could potentially be read from briar’s behavior in faybelle’s diary.

first off, that underlining wasn’t added; the underlines are in the official print. meaning briar is putting emphasis on those words specifically. sure it’s a lesson to faybelle about not being an asshole, but also it reflects on briar in a way. like it could be her saying, “you’re supposed to be my villain, but you act like i’m no different to you than anyone else.”

now, this next part is obviously a surface-level gag about faybelle making a malicious act seem so thrilling, but if we close our eyes and pretend that we’re in a different world called I.D.G.A.F. dimension, we can now analyze this in a different light.

briar’s confused by faybelle’s verbal expression of almost-affection. it doesn’t help that she’s most definitely barely awake. but i’m willing to say her confusion is partially born out of actually having heard faybelle say such a thing. it’s gotta be surprising and hard to believe in that moment, because briar has every reason to think otherwise.

in the show, like i said, faybelle just does whatever the fuck. open a sweat shop? sure why not. assist her peer’s mom in attempting to turn the entire world into her own dictatorship? count her in. make a deal with the mafia? just a regular tuesday. but god forbid she focus on being the one to make the sleeping happen in sleeping beauty.

i think that irks briar. or at least make her generally act indifferent when faybelle comes waltzing around to do god knows what; if she won’t care, why should briar, right?

then there’s epic winter. or, as i like to call it in bribelle terms, “they finally fucking interacted”

when briar explains faybelle’s inclusion of herself to crystal, she simply says it’s her thing and cites the sleeping beauty story. like “hey crystal this is my villain btw, trust.”

later when briar’s yapping about the story, some may say it’s counterproductive in relation to briar’s arc that ashlynn brings up the miserable part of it only for briar to talk fondly of it, but i know briar personally, and have been filled in as to what the truth is.

briar dropped that attitude because faybelle was there. she started talking up the story, almost as a cue to faybelle, like “hey remember how you’re like a big part of my life’s purpose???”

faybelle butts in about it. and briar doesn’t get the chance to respond, but i think she was almost expecting faybelle NOT to gaf, so her doing so threw her off just a little. maybe she expected to hear something like “who cares?” instead.

then of course when they get to the castle briar’s little act is dropped and her deep fear of the sleeping beauty destiny is once again present. and of fucking COURSE that’s when faybelle decides to CARE ABOUT THEIR STORY.

listen to me, LISTEN. briar looks at faybelle BEFORE faybelle actually says “no, there’s another room far more important to our story. isn’t there, briar?” she looks at her BEFORE she actually talks. she was looking to see if she’d react, then when faybelle does speak she looks away, then she bumps her to get her attention so briar has to fight the adhd and lock in.

and faybelle just keeps instigating which honestly kinda takes briar out of her typical sulking over her destiny mood and more of like ‘what is your game here exactly’ mindset.

there’s so much to that look briar gives her. so many emotions in there.

after this they go up and faybelle taunts some more only for briar to almost actually prick her finger yada yada. and like i said, it’s a lot easier to understand faybelle’s pov. it’s very clear she doesn’t actually wanna go through with cursing briar, teasing and all. she makes as much obvious by her reaction alone when briar gets too close.

but once briar’s fine she’s like ‘yeah, okay, back to normal,’ meanwhile briar is kinda just done because faybelle is acting a fool. but she never shoves faybelle off of her unlike she did when hopper intruded on her boundaries huh briar why is that what’s that about briar still, briar has yet to have any indication from faybelle about how she actually feels in regards to their story and her role in it. or how it pertains to their relationship with each other. rather, faybelle doesn’t take it seriously much to briar’s chagrin.

then the dream sequence happens.

to me, this is the turning point.

it’s a stupid music video for an insert song, but goddamnit it confirmed darabella and even hunter got to be there with ashlynn so i’ll die standing on business.

this is what briar’s been waiting for from faybelle. that frenemy status is something i think briar wants to figure out which one to see faybelle as, depending on how she really wants to proceed with the story. and i’d say faybelle surprises her; hell, she even shows her a side of her rarely seen.

like with hopper, an outward display of affection such as this is something briar is drawn to. faybelle’s display towards briar in the dream sequence is something briar would be endeared by, as she goes out of her way to prevent her from experiencing the very thing she’s been dreading for so long. that’s gotta fit briar’s love language.

side note, i think it’s very very interesting to note that faybelle is the one to swoop in and save briar in this case, without any other characters present to show a significance in the ending of the story. i say this because hunter gets to be in ashlynn’s sequence and the bears are in blondie’s, despite none of them being in the tower asleep. all this is to say, if briar really did have feelings for hopper or really was gonna end up with him or some guy, they’d be there, right? but nope, just faybelle. I Understand.

after that we don’t really see them interact at all again, but there’s the general disdain for faybelle’s actions as a shared sentiment amongst the others. either way, by the end she shows remorse and seemingly ends on good terms with everyone, meaning i don’t see why briar wouldn’t be left thinking about the dream, seeing her in a whole new light. honestly briar would probably be kinda intrigued by the idea of the bad girl having a soft side for her. briar and i actually spoke about this the other day.

either way, this is briar learning that despite the general ignorance faybelle portrayed, she actually does care about her.

faybelle demonstrating, proving to briar that she is capable of showing affection and actually does care for her is what i think is enough for briar to begin to start falling. (which is kinda reflected in how i approached their relationship in fable fest.)

because briar knows there might actually be something there.

or maybe it’s a kid’s cartoon and one girl mean other one nice, idk.