#re: how long they'd been trying

[doom-dreaming]

am i the weird one for not wanting to hear about how long people have been "trying for a baby" ? like does that make me weird? or is everyone else weird for being so fixated on it

[tovaicas]

now that I've finished: I enjoyed shb. not as much as I did hw, but I quite liked the msq (with the couple of quibbles that I've mentioned). post-patches I felt suffered from similar problems as hw's did, as in they wrapped up everything and then very quickly and suddenly pivoted to new expac content in a way that didn't feel suuuper natural, but I also think to an extent that's also an MMO curse. with a larger available scope I would've preferred a more natural lead-in, but what can you do.

I'm not sure how I feel abt the heavy focus on zenos and fandaniel, zenos has never been that much of an interesting character to me (stb didn't handle him and what he represents well, and imo he doesn't get more interesting as he keeps appearing) and characters who are written as 'well he's cRaZy so we don't have to explain his motives or erratic behaviour' like fandaniel I find inherently uninteresting. plus I just hate it every second he's on screen HBFSBJ

I wish the grand company of eorzea stuff was the conclusion to a long, real attempt at making amends rather than smth wrapped up as a loose end in two or three patches; feels disingenuous, in a way. I also wish they'd actually leaned with the theming of 'the wol has friends who genuinely care for them and feel genuine remorse for the things they put them through for the sake of others', shb msq's back-half was all about how everyone gambles with your life and how the wol is a tool and how shitty this is (to an extent, at least; one of my bigger quibbles with g'raha is how he's consistently framed as justified for manipulating you and directly playing with your life), but as it stands as soon as you're cured of the lightwarden stuff everything goes back to you feeling like a secondary background player with no outstanding trauma in the post-patches, being told where to go and what to do.

on that similar note, I have strong feelings on g'raha and most of them lean negative. I'm not going to clutter this post with unnecessary character hate that's biased by my own wol's writing (unless like. you want me to), but a lot of my feelings abt him from shb msq haven't really changed.

otherwise I quite liked a lot of the worldbuilding and historical sections, I do think those were well done. the norvrandt goodbye genuinely got me, and I actually really liked elidibus' sections. I miss ryne already

[blanc-ci]

I KNOW his ass is hitting the

“ is it hot in here or is that just you? “

Where are his two beautiful boys to help make sure he gets home safe?

I wrote a silly drabble for this and your warnings are: not explicit, McCoy is drunk and horny, and this is pre-established mcspirk so there’s quite a bit of un-spoken understanding about the consent around that.

—

In the after-party of a frankly excessive diplomatic wedding, Jim had one of McCoy’s arms slung over his shoulder and was attempting to drag him out of the reception hall. With Spock two steps ahead, leading the way. Bones was humming drunkenly, or mumbling something, it was kind of hard to tell over all the noise, but the vibrations against his side were distinct and endearing.

"I think we should let him drink champagne more often, never seen him cut so loose,” he half-shouted at Spock’s back and, as if to prove his point, Bones started giggling from his spot pressed into Jim’s side.

"Would cut loose be referring to when he began stripping or when he nearly climbed on stage to join the dancers?” Spock called back over his shoulder, not looking for an answer and not slowing his pace as he neatly parted the sea of bodies.

Jim pursed his lips, honestly considering it, in the right context he doesn't really think he'd mind either of those things. Though stripping is a little exaggerated, it was just the outer layers really. But, fine, he’ll concede, to the cultured eye McCoy’s rolled sleeves were not unlike lingerie. He’d rag on Spock for that if he wasn’t already having trouble keeping pace with him.

Thankfully, the air was getting cooler, and the crowd thinner. Soon Spock was ushering them out of the venue and into the brisk other-worldly night. Jim glanced around. Definitely not the main entrance, i.e. they'd have to walk the perimeter for Spock-knows how long to get back to the hovercar- but he did appreciate the lack of people.

He took the chance to readjust McCoy’s body against his and, equally, their good doctor took the chance to lean into the crook of his neck. Mumbling something giddily against Jim’s collar. He shivered and gave a sidelong smirk down at the man,

“Hm? What was that?”

“Should’ve let me dance,” Bones lolled his head up to look at him, and then across towards Spock, sloppy grin and dropped lashes making him look particularly debauched,

“I could’ve given you one helluva show~”

Spock turned and stepped in close, tidying the disarrayed mess of hair clinging to McCoy’s forehead,

“if you wish to dance for us, you can do it someplace with much less of an audience.”

McCoy gasped, glittering,

“a private show? Spock, you sly dog.”

“That is not-“

“Oh it definitely was, let’s get to the car, then I can-“

They bickered in flirtatious circles, though Jim could see McCoy was definitely more checked into his own fantasy than their actual conversation. He feels warm and pleasantly exasperated,

“Bones, you had like four glasses, I’m a bit more worried about that impending hangover you have to look forward to.”

Than any other impending issues.

“Hmm- It might’ve been more,” McCoy tilted his head back looking up at the night, after a distracted pause he turned back to them, scowling- more like pouting,

“Can’t I take advantage of our time before the massive impending hangover?”

Before he could even reply, Jim watched the man consider his own words, and start giggling all over again,

“Or.. can’t you take advantage of my time?”

McCoy’s fingers moved to try and re-start their much earlier work of undoing his top buttons. Pretty unsuccessfully. Jim continued to watch, entertained, as Spock huffed and lightly smacked Bones’ hand aside, fastening the buttons all the way back up. More chaste than ever but still undeterred, McCoy leaned in suddenly, jostling Jim out of his adoring, doe-y eyed revelry.

Bones began whispering heatedly into Spock’s ear, and though Jim couldn't hear every detail, the not-really minute reactions Spock gave were enough of a clue. He cleared his throat,

“Back to the hotel then?”

When they parted Spock raised a brow and said nothing, turning to walk- presumably- in the direction of the car park. Jim followed, making interested half-noises to Bones’ continued horny rambling.

It was dark, but if he squinted could just make out the lovely deep green flush gracing their vulcan’s ears.

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ you needy? ~ s. gojo

sum: being the wife of the world's strongest sorcerer meant being away from him for days or weeks at a time - of course, he came back as needy as ever.

pairing: satoru gojo x wife! reader

content: 18+ - mdni. established relationship (marriage), pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc), wall fucking, cock warming, needy gojo, suggested multiple rounds, fingering, oral (f! receiving), suggested cum stuffing, unprotected fun

a/n: based on this post. lowercase intended. ik this sucks but posting anyways. cross-posted on ao3. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 3,725

links; jjk masterlist | masterlist

all was calm and somewhat quiet in the dimly lit household until the sound of the front door being slammed shut shattered every piece of that quietness. a small thud sounded a second after the person responsible for the initial noise let their head fall back against the wood, hand coming up to rub their tense temple as an exasperated sigh passed their lips.

all they needed was a moment, a moment to finally breathe after what felt like the longest mission of their life to date. not only had the main curse been a pain in the literal ass, but the smaller curses that were around made it a little more difficult to exorcise it in good time, which even they had to admit made the situation more frustrating.

dropping their hand, they let their head return back to normal as they remained on the door, taking a moment to try and figure out what day it was, let alone what time. of course, they knew it was nighttime at least, given how dark it was before they stepped through the door.

everything seemed to have blended into one long day, mind-numbing as they let out a frustrated growl before taking their time to indulge in the now quietness that enveloped them. a welcome relief from the noise they'd had to endure while away.

despite the material covering their eyes, they took a moment to scan the hallway settling on the area the light flickering from the front room came from, signalling the other person inside was awake, so it wasn't too late much to their relief. that's when they saw the head of said person sticking their head out of the door, a warm and welcoming smile tugging at their lips. "satoru, you're home!".

at the sound of the name reaching their ears, the figure pushed off the door and rushed forward, wrapping their arms around the smaller figure as they giggled.

satoru gojo was the strongest sorcerer in the world, the only surviving member of the gojo clan and a literal force to be reckoned with. yet here he was after an exhausting few weeks with his arms wrapped tightly around his wife.

you'd been an anchor to him many times before, keeping him grounded after long days of either teaching or exorcising. how he'd missed this, the feeling of you in his arms, your frame fitting perfectly against his as you welcomed him home.

after a few seconds, he pulled back to look down at you, your head tilting before you let out a playful squeal at your body being easily picked up, back pressed against the wall at your side as large hands rested on either side of your head.

you knew exactly where this was going and you couldn't deny a part of you loved it. even though you hated him being away on missions, the desire you both felt after he returned made you shiver each time.

everything that happened in the minutes after that passed in a blur of emotions - desire and need being the main ones driving the actions of your now needy husband. plump lips pressed against you before you felt sharp teeth dig into the sensitive flesh, tugging your lower lip into the hungry mouth of the man now responsible for the fire in both your gut and between your legs.

letting out a whine you raised your hands and gripped onto broad shoulders, pulling him closer. god know you missed him so much these past few weeks, especially when your fingers couldn't hit the places his longer ones could, drawing out those sweet highs from deep within.

managing to tug your lip free, you looked up at him and sucked in a quick breath at the bites now being placed directly below your jaw. this man would be the death of you and he hadn't even gotten to the part you both enjoyed yet. "toru, p-please". the pressure on your neck disappeared after a second, lips returning to yours as kisses grew sloppier and needier.

the small grunts sounded before silence greeted you once more and the cool air lapped at your once heated lips. furrowing your brows in confusion, you watched as satoru dropped to his knees, lips now decorating your thigh with the same warm, sloppy kisses that you felt only a few moments beforehand.

letting your head fall back slightly, you blinked mindlessly into the darkness above you as you felt those kisses trail up higher, closer to the one place you needed him the most right now.

those same kisses halted once again as you felt the waistband of your shorts and underwear being tugged, ripped away in tatters before you had time to look down. letting out a whine, you pressed a hand to your head and gnawed on your bottom lip before speaking, making sure he heard how annoyed you were. "for fucks sake, i've only just bought those toru, i swear if i didn't love you, i'd have booted you by now".

that was when the sound of his deep chuckle reached your ears, making you weak in the knees as his kisses resumed on your inner thigh, hand supporting the back of your flesh in his grip, words escaping between each creeping peck. "i know you~" kiss "would but~" kiss "let's face it~" kiss "i'll just buy you new ones".

with the last of his words out, satoru brought his other hand and using little to no force, pushed your supple thighs apart taking a moment to admire the way your already wet pussy looked in the soft glow of the light.

letting his tongue glide across his lips, he tilted his head up to you before smirking hands reaching up to pull your hips forward as he began to devour you like you were the essence of his very existence. skilled tongue lapped at your clit while his slender fingers easily slipped into your eager pussy, your warm gummy walls welcoming after being starved for so long.

all it took was one movement, one simple stretch of his fingers to have your head falling back, moans and whimpers escaping as you let your hands drop onto his head. the pads of your fingers rubbed small circles on his scalp before you gripped onto the snow-white strands of his hair, back pushing off the wall in an arch as you blinked back the tears pricking at your eyes, hips starting to move as you helped rub yourself against him.

you didn't realise how long it had been since you felt his tongue, but you were sure you weren't going to last that long the more his long fingers stretched you out, another being added to the two already buried knuckle deep, making you feel full yet not full enough at the same time.

although satoru enjoyed the sounds falling from your lips he couldn't wait any longer, growing bored of his face being buried between your legs. with almost no warning, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy as his tongue detached from your clit, a whine passed your lips in both shock and desperation, you were building to your climax so beautifully but he had to rip that away from you.

blinking your eyes to regain your composure, you dropped your head back down just in time to see him rising to his feet, reminding you of how much taller than you he was. "toru~".

the breathy pass of his name made satoru hum before he ripped off his uniform with little to no effort, tossing the now remnants somewhere to the side as he pressed a hand to your thigh again, gripping the flesh under his fingertips, savouring the feel before guiding your leg to wrap around his waist.

with a quick nod of your head knowing what he wanted, you let your hands travel up his torso savouring the flex of his muscles before they drape over his shoulders, fingers locked together as you felt your body being hoisted until you were at eye level with his parted lip, the tip of his cock now rubbing between your puffy pussy lips. "i can't wait any longer, sweet stuff, f-fuck, i need to feel you around me".

blinking at his words, you gave a quick smile before leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, slowly dragging your kisses up his cheek until you stopped at his ear, hot breath causing him to shiver slightly. you let the echo of a moan slip from your throat before smirking, pressing a small peck to the shell of his ear, not before you whispered words he'd been dying to hear for what felt like a lifetime. "well, what are you waiting for honey, use me, fuck me".

it was like a switch had been flipped, the rubbing you had felt stopped suddenly, soon replaced with the obvious sensation of your ring of resistance being pushed past. sucking in a breath between your teeth, you squeezed your eyes closed before letting soft pants fall from your mouth as you felt your husband bottom out into you, walls stretched to what felt like their limits and more as it took you a moment to remember just how big he was, his thickness being the best part of his cock aside from the tufts of white hair settle at his base. it felt like it had been years since you were as close as this, yet it had only been a week or two at max.

after a few more slow seconds, you felt satoru's hips pull back as the fullness disappeared for a second before returning forcefully, knocking the air from your lungs with a harsh jolt. eyes screwed shut as you let your head fall, lips parted as whines and moans of pleasure began to fall from your mouth, hands gripping onto his shoulders and you tried your best to keep that last of your sanity in check but you were fighting a losing battle.

between the pressure building up in your gut and the cock inside you splitting you open with each hard snap of his hips, you knew it wouldn't be long before you were completely lost in the throes of pleasure. "fuck, that's it, baby girl, you take all of me so good".

oh, how his words had you clenching your walls around him, sucking him into the deepest part of your very being as you dug your nails into his shoulders before dragging them down his milky back. you knew those pretty crescent moons and red marks would be there for a few days at least, and they looked so pretty on satoru's skin. while yours left marks on his back, his fingers gripped onto your hips as he held you closer to his body, a grip that would no doubt leave small bruises, not that you would complain.

him marking your body in different ways was par for the course on most days.

to say you were pinned between a rock and a hard place was an understatement but right now, you couldn't have cared less. not when your legs are wrapped around hips that gave relentless thrusts into your pussy, dragging the most sinful noises from deep within. not when your arms were dragging pretty marks down his back for the world to potentially see, a reminder that the strongest in the world belonged to someone and that someone was you.

not when the rest of your body bounced painfully against the wall as thrusts continued to get rougher making you want that release to hold off so you could continue to enjoy this moment for a little longer. "toru, h-ah, feel so, fuck, full". letting your head roll back, you opened your mouth to let chants of satoru's name fall from your lips as you moved a hand, cupping his face to help keep yourself grounded.

you were close to your climax and you knew he could feel it as well, the way your gummy walls began to pulsate a little faster, gripping his cock a little too tightly.

moving one hand from your hip, satoru brought it up to his face and tugged down his blindfold effectively trapping your hand in its place as his eyes now looked you over. the way you let your head fall back to now look at him, the reddening of your cheeks and droll slipping from the corner of your mouth had him smirking.

despite being able to see and perceive everything around him thanks to his eyes, he never felt more powerful than right now. he was the only one who got to see you like this, bare in front of him making the most sinful noises for only him to hear.

his blue eyes always drove you crazy, they were the first thing you remember seeing when you first met him all those years back and they were the only eyes that would ever get to see you in such a state. "t-toru, p-please, i'm gonna~".

squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a shaky moan and you felt the pressure in your gut build, walls pulsating signalling you were close to your climax.

without any further words, satoru placed his hands on the wall behind you, steadying himself as he began to position his hips into you, the mushroom tip of his cock slamming against that spongy spot deep inside. the new sensation caused your gummy walls to pulsate faster around him, helping to milk him closer to his end, daring him to fill you with his seed.

and that is exactly what he did after a few more frantic thrusts into your pussy, of course, he wouldn't have been a gentleman if he didn't let your climax wash over you first. your vision flashed white as you gripped his cheek, nails pressing in slightly as a loud cry of his name slipped from your lips, your walls pulsating harshly, sucking his cock into you deeper than you both thought was possible right now.

with a few more harsh thrusts, satoru's hips stuttered to a stop as he shot thick ropes of white into your now eagerly awaiting pussy, no doubt taking up a new home deep inside your womb. the deep rumble in his chest of the moans you drew from him made you shiver more as heated lips caught yours once again.

after a few minutes of finally regaining yourself thanks to the kisses you were getting, you found yourself lying on cool silk sheets as you blinked in confusion, your gaze falling on your husband who only smiled brightly at your confusion.

tilting your head, you looked around the room before smiling softly, turning your attention back to satoru, mouthing a quick thank you as you felt the material of his blindfold being removed from your hand, being placed on the table at the side. "toru, you didn't have to do this you know".

shaking his head, satoru looked at you and hummed a little. he knew better than anyone this was where you were most comfortable when you were both intimate, he just couldn't help himself after the mission he'd just had. he missed you and your touch for so long that he just had to have you right there and then even if it was again at the wall that wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places.

"it's the least i could do, i should have waited a few more minutes to make sure you were comfortable".

you shook your head and looked him over, taking in every single piece of him you could as he smiled wider at you, hand cupping your cheek as he peppered kisses all over your face, whispering how much he's missed you and that's not leaving you for more than a second next time.

you both knew the missions he undertook were dangerous and potentially fatal, one mistake and he might not come back to you. and that scared the life out of you. the both of you.

he had two choices every time a mission was presented to him - one, the most obvious one was to undertake the mission, exorcise the curse or curses and let everything return to as normal as it could be before the next mission that he was needed for, or two, decline and spend his time locked away from the world, being only in your arms as he tried to make every second count. he was no stranger to losing someone he loved,

he'd been through what felt like hell and back before he met you at such a young age. you were the one to help him battle his inner demons, the one who made him feel better after all the long days and nights he spent away, but most of all, you were the one who loved him with everything you had to offer, helping to heal his soul one day at a time and he'd be damned if he would ever give you up.

it still didn't feel real that this was your life, that the strongest sorcerer in the world was now your husband, if someone had told you this when you were younger, you would have laughed in their faces and told them to get a life, someone like him would never end up with the likes of you.

yet here you were, still connected in the most intimate way you could be, taking on the world together. lifting your other hand you cupped his face and brought your lips to the tip of his nose, giving it a quick kiss before moving down to his lips, placing a sweet yet hungry kiss against them before pulling away, scanning your eyes over his face once more as you smirked.

quickly moving your leg, you draped it over his hip, hand resting on his shoulder before you rolled him onto his back, placing your legs on either side of his as you straddled his waist, keeping his cock snuggly inside your cunt.

letting your hands fall onto his chest, you placed them crossed over where his heart was, feeling the thumping quickening the more he looked over you, anticipating what your next move was. the smirk on your lips widened as you uncrossed them, letting your body fall forward slightly cupping his cheek again, hot breath fanning over his ear as you let a small giggle sound. "satoru, you know since we're somewhere more comfortable, i was thinking you should fill me up~".

straightening your back, you let your head fall back as you rolled your hips, making the mushroom tip of his cock rub against that spongy spot again, another sinful moan dragging from your throat. "~stuff me so full of your come that it ends up slipping out my puffy pussy~".

letting your head return to normal, you bit your lip and grabbed ahold of his hand, fingers lacing together as you pulled his torso off the sheets into a sitting position, shifting yourself so you were pressed firmly in his lap, hips moving with every other word. "~so you have to fuck it back into me until i can't take any more. until it runs messily down my thighs and legs like the tears from my eyes at the pleasure".

satoru swore he forgot how to breathe when he looked up at you, eyes lidded slightly as you continued to roll your hips into his, his cock beginning to harden once again, begging him to move his hips in tandem with yours. "well, if that's what my sweetheart wants~".

it all happened within seconds as your back hit the sheets, a gasp sounding out as your husband began to roll his hips into yours rougher than you were a few moments ago, eyes fluttering shut. moving one of his large hands, he placed it just below your navel, pushing down as he continued to roll into you, loving the feeling of your body squirming below him trying to get off on the friction against your clit alone.

after a moment, that same hand moved to grip ahold of your tit, beginning to knead the flesh, nipple hardening underneath his grasp. "~that's what my sweetheart gets, to be stuffed full of my come until she can’t take any more".

letting go of your chest, satoru placed his hand beside your head, while his other hand ran down your side, grabbing ahold of your thigh he moved it up and pressed further into you.

his body pinned you in place as you felt yourself shift slightly until you could feel the burn of your thigh muscle, your gummy walls contouring to the shape of his cock again as he snapped his hips forward once more, dragging more of the sounds he loved from your throat.

being sure to fulfil the desire to be filled full of his come, in one way or another.

when it all came down to it, satoru gojo was hopelessly in love with you. you’d come along when he needed someone the most, at a dark time in not only his life but his story as the strongest. due to that, he just wanted to spend as much time as possible with you, however, that might be because he knew one day he'd leave you behind in this cruel world, with nothing but the memories he'd made with you.

be that spending time with you, showering you with endless gifts which you were adamant you didn't need, but secretly loved regardless, fucking you for hours on end, loving the feel of the way you writhe for him as you would show him you wanted it as much as him. watching you lose yourself in the pleasure that only he could provide to you.

at the end of the day, all satoru gojo was to you was your husband, the man who you loved more than anything in the world. not a weapon to be used. not the strongest sorcerer with the weight of the world on his shoulders. no, he was just the man who you loved more than life itself, and you were forever grateful he chose to spend the rest of his with you.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[swiftdove]

collateral damage

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: after being stranded by your ex-lovers, you've found a new life, hoping to finally move on. unfortunately, fate just doesn't seem to be on your side.

content: angst, allusions to smut, sapphic yearning

a/n: i'm obsessed to say the least

You should've known.

From the moment Agatha stepped foot into your pitiful excuse of a store, you should've slammed the door shut. For years, you'd been reeling from the wounds inflicted by your so-called lover. If you could even call her that. Never, did she once, refer to you as anything other than her 'pet'.

You supposed the name was fitting. You were practically a dog, groveling at the ground she walked on. Hoping, begging, praying, dying that she wouldn't leave. 

Then, without a trace, she vanished from your life, set on her next twisted mission. You had simply been a means to an end, a brief footnote in her life. 

It didn't help that the only other person you cared about, Rio, had followed in Agatha's absence. They'd left you alone, desperately trying to piece together the shattered remains of what you once had. 

Sometimes, you wondered. You wondered if they ever felt guilty about what they did, and if they ever thought of you from time to time. Then, you scolded yourself for even daring to believe that the Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal would have the time of day to care about you. You had drowned in that pit of self-deprecation for years, slowly re-learning how to live without them. 

And just as you thought you were finally free, the wretched witch came back, pulling you back under her spell. If it were anyone else, you would have said 'no'. But it wasn't just 'anyone else'. It was Agatha. You weren't sure where this sick, borderline-obsessive love for her came from. You had left it to depreciate in the back of your mind, where you would have preferred for it to have stayed.

Unfortunately, Agatha had had other plans.

It was stupid. You hated yourself for it.  You hated that tiny spark that you felt when she said your name, that familiar warmth in your chest when she came close. You would've given anything to stop the feeling.

If only Agatha knew. Throughout her long, melodramatic speech about the rewards of The Road, all you could do was stare at her in disbelief. The promise of being with her, even if it were for a short while, was enough to have convinced you. If you had known, back then, that Rio would have been joining you, you would have eagerly accepted the offer without hesitating.

But then again, time had cast a golden glow over your past relationships. You hadn't remembered how unwanted you had felt in their presence, how much they hadn't cared about you.

Sat around the warmth heat of the fireplace, your gaze lay wistfully on the two women. Situated across from them, you felt more distant to them than you had when you were alone.

"I have a scar," Rio suddenly spoke, glancing over at the coven.

"No, you don't," Agatha shot back, almost instantly. 

Your ears perked, waiting for Rio's next words.

"Yes, I do," Rio replied, glancing over at Agatha, her solemn gaze worth a thousand unspoken words. It was their dynamic, their silent conversations, that left you feeling like a second-choice. The feeling settled into the pit of your stomach, which you desperately tried to keep from coming back up.

"A long time ago, I loved someone." Rio shot another pointed look at Agatha. "And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job. And it hurt them. She is my scar."

If you had the choice to go deaf right there and then, you would have chosen it immediately. Although, you knew it wouldn't stop the sharp pain you felt in your heart. Seeing them together was enough. 

"I have to go stretch my legs," Agatha said, walking away.

Just like she used to walk away from every problem in her life. Like she did with you.

You couldn't bear it. One more second in their presence, and you were sure you would have thrown up.

"Same," you replied quietly, walking in the opposition direction to your past lover. 

It was only until the warmth of the fire was long gone, that you felt the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

Breaking down into sobs, you brought your knees to your chest, burying your head inside. You shouldn't have come. You should have said no. 

It seemed as though fate was constantly punishing you, tugging at your heartstrings until they threatened to break. You hated that a part of you wanted to hurt them. Just enough, so that you too would have left a scar. But you knew you couldn't do it. You wouldn't. Not after they shared, so intimately, their past with you, letting you devour every fiber of their being.

You knew why they were the way that they were. That's why it hurt so much to watch them, again and again, fall victim to their pasts. That's why you could never leave, knowing how much pain they had endured, knowing that their wounds ran too deep to ever heal.

Sympathy was a knife, stabbed straight into your back when they left you to dry.

"You good?"

You'd been so deep in your emotions, you hadn't noticed the dark shadow looming over you. Swiveling around, you were met with a pair of manic brown eyes.

"Rio," you exhaled, quickly wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rio shook her head softly, pushing her tongue against her right cheek. Her fingers trailed up your leg, sending shivers down your spine. 

"Come on, now," she lulled. "You never were much of a good liar."

"Maybe I've changed," you replied sharply, pulling away from her touch.

Rio's grip tightened, her fingernails digging into your thigh. "Maybe you have," she replied dismissively. "Is that why you never called?"

You scoffed, turning away from her piercing stare. "No. We're not doing this - this wasn't my fault. You and Agatha left without saying a word to me. Call me crazy for assuming you were done with me."

"Now there's the Y/N I know," Rio bit back. "Always jumping to conclusions."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What does it matter anyways? You seem perfectly fine without me. I didn't seem to have left a scar."

"Is that what this is about?" Rio questioned, a taunting grin tugging at her lips.

You refused to dignify her question with an answer.

"Aww, was our little baby feeling left out?"

A mocking, cruel voice rang out in the air, one that you knew all too well.

"Fuck off, Agatha," you snapped. You were hardly in the mood to deal with her heartless jests tonight.

"Someone's forgotten their manners," Agatha remarked, her voice laced with venom. 

Rio chuckled, her grip still deathly tight on your thighs. You could feel the blood seeping out of your skin, onto her fingers.

"I wish I could have forgotten you instead," you retorted, unsure where this newfound attitude was coming from. 

"Now, now. Don't get too cocky," Rio warned, although the grin on her face said something entirely different.

You bit back a scoff. "What's this, anyways? Last time I checked, you both hated each other."

The Green Witch shrugged. "We both share a common interest."

Refusing to take anymore of this, you made a move away from them, eager to escape Rio's death grip. Unfortunately, the two witches were unwilling to let you get away so easily.

"Don't," Agatha cautioned, her voice alone enough to stop you in your tracks.

"What do you want?" you snapped, finally turning towards her.

Your eyes narrowed as Agatha's smile turned into something sinister.

"You," she replied definitively. 

You laughed sarcastically, barely believing what was happening right now. "Are you fucking kidding me? You left me. You can't - I - don't you think we're too far gone now? I mean, you left me wondering where the hell you -"

"We didn't want to leave," Rio interjected.

"Then why did you?" 

"We cared too much about you to stay," Rio explained, gently interlocking your fingers with hers. "It would've only have hurt you."

"Well, you hurt me either way," you replied bitterly, flinching at the coldness of the witch's fingers.

Rio sighed. "I know. I know we did."

Exasperated, Agatha tilted your head up with her fingers, forcing you to look her in the eyes. "Pet, we're sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it anymore. Not in my books," you snapped, wrenching yourself out of their grasps. "And don't call me that. I'm not your pet."

Without looking back, you walked back towards the fireplace. Unbeknownst to you, the two witches you left behind were hardly satisfied with your answer.

"She's forgotten who she belongs to," Rio murmured, staring into the back of your head.

Agatha tightened her jaw, shaking her head. Her eyes met Rio's, a knowing smirk playing on their lips. 

"It looks like we'll have to teach her a lesson then, hm?"

[ochacoca]

구원

word count: 2,297

ft. kageyama, tsukishima, akaashi, suna, kuroo, & iwaizumi

IN WHICH you experience your first kiss w/ haikyuu boys

small a/n: this is pretty old i posted this on my old account (that's now deleted) so i might re-upload some of my fics <3

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

▪︎ kageyama would be so awkward.

▪︎ i feel like he'd be the type of person to put so much thought into it to make sure it's absolutely perfect and make it somewhat unforgettable. he's a very determined person, on and off court, so i think he'd approach the first kiss in the same manner.

▪︎ but then again, he's awkward. the days he spent planning to get it right going to complete waste due to his nerves, and he's barely able to mutter out a complete sentence.

the sun set long ago, and the sound of cicadas and screeching of sneakers from inside the gym were the noises y/n heard. it was almost a daily routine for the freshly new couple to walk home together. y/n would wait outside with a couple of snacks for the both of them, he'd take his share and walk them home while occasionally rubbing his hand against their own, then they'd go their separate ways for the night.

usually they'd engage in a casual conversation discussing their day, but kageyama had been oddly silent throughout most of the walk. “are you okay?” they questioned after a long time of awkward silence. kageyama simply nodded while continuing to look at his feet as they walked. y/n thought maybe he was stressed about practice or an upcoming tournament, his face looked like he was going to hurl.

they finally arrived at y/n's residence and turned to face each other to say their final goodbyes for the night, but kageyama still couldn't keep eye contact. he fiddled with his hands as his eyes darted everywhere but them. “are you sure you're okay?” they questioned again, a look of pure concern now stitched onto their face. kageyama had spent days planning this, weeks even, but now that the moment has come every detail of his well-prepared plan slipped his mind.

all he could think of was just how beautiful y/n looked with the shine of the moonlight slightly glistening on them.

“i- uh..” he started, but anything he wanted to say couldn't leave his mouth. deciding not to waste anymore time, kageyama grabs onto their shoulders and pulls them in, pressing his lips on the soft plush of theirs. he didn't even give them a second to respond before pulling away and running his way back home, leaving y/n in a utter state of shock.

“.. i'll see you tomorrow?!” she yelled. but it didn't seem to reach the ears of the raven-haired boy who'd already turned the corner.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

▪︎ tsukishima would attempt, keyword: attempt, to be nonchalant about it… but the blush on his face says otherwise!

▪︎ tsukki is known for being relatively emotionally distant and tends to use sarcastic humor as a way to hide it. (?)

▪︎ i think that'd he would use this humor during the kiss to deter away from the fact that he's showing his more soft/vulnerable side.

“oi, pay attention,” tsukishima teased as he lightly tapped y/n's head with the pen he held in his hand. “the answer is practically right in front of you.” the two sat on the floor of tsukishima's bedroom, studying for an upcoming exam in the subject y/n struggled in the most: math.

y/n groaned and leaned all the way back until their back hit the floor, running their hands all over their face is agony. “i hate this! i don't wanna do it anymore!” they complained once more for what tsukishima felt was the hundredth time. he rolled his eyes at his partner's behavior, grabbing their hand and lifting them to make them sit back up.

“it's not that bad, you're just not trying.” he retorted. y/n pouted at their boyfriend's words and slouched as he continued to go on and on about the lesson in front of them. but as he kept talking, the sound of his words were completely drowned out and all they could think about was how pretty he looked right now.

he was wearing a hoodie (that y/n finally returned to him), sweatpants, and talking about whatever blah blah blah nonsense he was saying. they always did find intelligent men attractive. the thought was sudden, but now that they thought about kissing him, it wouldn't leave their mind.

tsukishima was still distracted from explaining the lesson to them to notice that they were crawling towards him until he felt a hand touch his cheek. he looked up with a raised brow, and before he could even react y/n was pressing their lips against his.

tsukishima stared at them almost wide-eyed after they pulled away. “tuh, what was that?” he muttered before looking down at the papers sprawled on the ground. it may have sounded like he didn't care, but the redness on his face and the tips of his ears gave it away.

AKAASHI KEIJI

▪︎ the calmest of them all honestly. (internally freaking out though)

▪︎ i don't think he'd pre-plan like kageyama, but he would choose the perfect setting and it'd turn out amazingly. i think he'd be the type of partner to read his s/o's body language perfectly.

▪︎ akaashi would make it a comfortable situation for both him and his partner while never being too brash nor too nervous.

the serene, dimly lit surrounding followed by the soft blue hue of the water provided for an instant relaxation upon y/n and akaashi. the two walked hand in hand as they explored the aquarium, looking at all the cute fishies and rest of the sea animals. y/n always had a keen interest in these type of exhibits. the ocean was always intriguing to them and they made this well known.

akaashi took this opportunity to bring them to a nice aquarium in tokyo. it was small, but that didn't matter. akaashi was okay with anything as long as they were there too. “are you having fun?” he asked them softly. their eyes were practically stars as they continued to observe every corner of the aquarium, and he couldn't fight the small smile that stretched onto his face.

his question goes unheard as y/n takes in the view of everything, running to the fish eye tank she spotted feets away. akaashi chuckled slightly as he followed closely behind them and eventually taking a seat beside them. “it's pretty, isn't it?” they murmured as they stared off into the tank, but akaashi's eyes never left their figure. “it's gorgeous.”

y/n turned to face him, and his cerulean eyes bore into theirs as he gazed at them lovingly. “what?” they asked. but akaashi said nothing and shook his head. he softly cupped their face and pulled them in as he leaned in to meet in a kiss. it was tender and slow but it was enough to show how much akaashi truly cared for them.

SUNA RINTARŌ

▪︎ another one that is extremely calm.

▪︎ similar to akaashi, i don't think he'd pre-plan. however, he'd do it more spontaneously. maybe his body reacts before his mind does while he presses his lips against yours.

▪︎ i think he'd also tease similarly to tsukishima, but a bit more dialed down.

suna crashed onto his bed as he kicked his shoes off and rested his forearm on his forehead, y/n also kicking off their shoes and crashing next to him. the pair had an extremely long and tiring day at school, and a nap was very much needed. they both turned on their sides to face each other, their eyes threatening to close.

“i'm so tired..” y/n mumbled. suna couldn't even utter a sentence, he simply nodded while his blinks slowly got longer and longer. he grabbed y/n by the waist and pulled them into his chest, tucking his face away in the crook of their neck. his hold on them tightens as he feels their small exhales on his neck. “so am i.” he finally spoke.

suna and y/n would always take naps together. but today was different. the stress suna had from volleyball practice and the one y/n had from studies, the two could go into hibernation right now and not wake up for months if they could. but it was impossible, so for now they just enjoyed the warm embrace of one another.

they both stretched and entangled their limbs together as they got ready to take a nap. y/n closed their eyes and was on the verge of slipping into slumber before they felt a small press against their lips. opening their eyes abruptly, they see suna staring back at them with a sly smirk on his face. “.. what was that?” they uttered with their eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“a kiss silly,” suna teased. “you looked so cute i couldn't help myself.” the two just stared at each other, blinking slowly waiting for the other to say something. “why?” they asked confused. it was such a random place to have their first kiss. but suna simply shrugged. “i don't know.” he answered.

“..wanna do it again?”

“sure.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

▪︎ this man will be straight up and not hesitate.

▪︎ i think iwa would be more abrupt. like you guys would just be talking and all of a sudden he's smashing his lips onto yours. he wouldn't doing it harshly though. in a very firm but gentle way.

▪︎ he'd do it based on his gus instinct. if he felt that it was the right place and time to have your guys’ first kiss, then it's right.

(pretend they won to go to nationals lol)

the gymnasium boomed with thunderous cheers and claps as the final blow of the whistle sounded. aoba johsai had made it to nationals. as the team came to embrace each other on the court, iwaizumi scanned the crowd, looking for that one familiar face. as they made eye contact, he could see y/n standing there looking down at him with a bright smile on their face as they screamed joyously.

5 minutes later, the team exits through the doors of the gym to the hallway, and iwazumi is met with the sight of his partner standing right in front of him with open arms. he rushed over to them, grabbing them by their thighs and lifting them in the air as y/n squealed in surprise. “i'm so proud of you!” they praised.

iwaizumi put them down and hugged them tightly while breathing heavily, still out of breath from the intense match not long ago. his face was tucked securely into the crook of their neck as he swayed them both side to side. “thank you.” he murmured into the skin. y/n couldn't fight the tears welling up in their eyes as the amount of pride they held in their boyfriend was too much.

but before they could react, iwaizumi was pulling away and smashing his lips into theirs, y/n letting out a surprised squeal before melting away in the kiss. his calloused hands caressed their face as he poured all of his passion into it.

KUROO TETSURŌ

▪︎ he would be extremely confident during the first kiss.

▪︎ kuroo is calculated. this helps with his self-assurance and the way he initiates/reacts during the kiss. he would start off by lightly teasing his partner before initiating the kiss.

▪︎ he is also highly observant, and is able to read his s/o's body language in the same way akaashi does.

a first date at the science museum seemed like an odd pick. but for kuroo and y/n there couldn't be anything more perfect. as the two walk hand in hand, they both drag each other to different parts of the exhibit and list off random facts that weren't listed on the descriptions.

“it's fascinating, isn't it?” kuroo said. he was intrigued with the 3D model of kinetic energy that was presented in front of him. y/n couldn't help but admire how eager their boyfriend was. both of them had an interest in science, but kuroo's beat hers by a long shot.

they couldn't help but trail their eyes over his face, taking in the smaller details. like the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, the way his eyes sparkled when he was doing something he liked, everything was admirable. and his lips slightly glistened and they couldn't help but wonder what his lips would feel like on theirs.

kuroo noticed this, of course. how could he not? he couldn't ignore the feeling of their eyes on the side of his face and the way they'd fiddle with their fingers as they continued to observe every inch of his face except for the views in front of them. if it was anyone else, he would've been annoyed. but y/n? he found it endearing. kuroo turned to her and chuckled as they tensed when he caught them staring. “do you want to kiss me?” he asked abruptly, teasing them softly.

their eyes widen as their muscles tense up, stuttering out mutters explaining how they weren't staring but kuroo didn't buy it. he continued to tease them as he stepped closer, grabbing the back of their softly without them even noticing. kuroo connected their lips, blurring out their surroundings. in his mind, it was just him and his lover sharing their first of many more.

©lookingforuravity 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. He likes the way you try to blow his brains out. The head of the GDA sees an opportunity.  [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one] [2] [Ao3] [4]

3 * Narcan Blues [6.4k]

"I'm tired of walking away to lose you,

I take my Adderall with milk and sugar,

I'm gonna be okay,

get the fuck out of my way."

 Alcohol - FIDLAR

  The defense wing was gone. All the engineers were sliced through. Only a handful of staff left compared to the hundreds stuffed into the Pentagon. So much blood he could taste the metal. So much death and destruction and all from one person. Now smashed into his floor. Re-animen called off. Donald hovered behind him, mechanical body exposed. 

        If one Invincible could do that and there were how many of these little bastards? The world was bent over, spanked, and properly fucked. 

        Communications with most world leaders had been cut due to death or satellites being smashed. Plan B through Z had been used and flicked aside like flies. But then, there was this very unexpected and hopefully fortunate turn of events. 

        Cecil Stedman leaned over the desk. Dozens of screens showing him the few remaining CCTV feeds of the area in question. The few living staff busted their asses, tracking the variants. Six of them converged on one singular location. They hadn't been together since they'd first zapped into reality. No portals opened and it didn't seem like one would anytime soon.

        He watched, listening to the crackling feed from the cheapest cameras business owners could afford. At first, he thought the prison-smashing, New York flattening freak was going to kill you on his lonesome. Then the rest came, one after another. Couldn't forget the one watching in the sky. 

        They didn't converge on you like hungry wolves. They spoke and then the strangest, best thing happened. One of them dropped dead. Killed himself on a whim, at your say so. 

        "I need everything we've got on her, now." He said to no one in particular, but heard the remaining staff scramble behind him.

        "You should sit down Sir," Donald said. "You're running on fumes." He held out an alcohol soaked rag.

        Cecil took it, pressing it hard to the bleeding slit in his head. A sliver of his skull was exposed to the air, blood gushing and rolling into one of his eyes. Not that he could see out of it, his vision was spotty and limited to begin with, his orbital had to be fractured. Flaxan bastard.

        "Can't, so you better get to teaching me on how to run on fumes."

        Donald didn't smile. Cecil hated himself for the jab but apologies were for later, way, way later. 

        He watched the newcomers rush in. Dog Girl, Psychopomp, Mercy, Running Man, and The Amazing Kidult. A handful of nobody scraps that surrounded his one and only hope for the planet. They were going to be torn to shreds. 

        Cecil was counting on that. 

        "How's the teleporter?" He asked.

        "Almost online, sir!" Someone shouted across the room. "I dunno if it'll be stable-"

        "Define almost." He didn't care about stable. 

        "Three minutes!"

        "God damn it." These nobodies weren't going to distract them that long. But his staff was doing all they could, fast as possible. He had to move onto the next step in the hasty plan he was gluing together with popsicle sticks.

               ***

       They waited, though the action had already started. When one is a Viltumite- so fast, so powerful- watching lesser beings run at them felt like slow motion. Not from fear, but from the monotony of it all. Waiting for something interesting or challenging, but the best they get is a punch that doesn't even tickle.

        The Amazing Kidult was a stretch of a contingency plan. He was more useful if you had to pretend to be somebody's mom, trust, the situation had arisen before. If you have to get into a preschool to kill one of the teachers, who was actually a drug runner who didn't deliver on the goods, he was useful. Nobody would let some random adult in, so Kidult would shift from his thirty-year-old self to whatever age you needed.

        Freaky, sure, but he could've done a lot worse with his powers. 

        You hadn't wanted him to answer the phone, but here he was. Throwing himself first into the fray. Thirty going on five to duck under an unenthusiastic punch thrown by Mohawk. Soon as he was in the clear, under the guy's legs, he was five going on thirty. Growing with a fist aimed straight for Mohawk's balls. 

        He was freshly twenty when Mohawk grabbed him by the throat, snapped his neck with a twitch of the hand. He dropped Kidult, cringing, "Weirdest dude I've killed in awhile." He kicked Kidult away, sending his corpse into the smoke of New York.

        Dog Girl lunged for Shoulder Pads. Going from your everyday Twitter-scrolling, Contrapoints watching, EDM mixing t-girl, to ginormous fucking werewolf. Maw open wide enough to bite him in half. Shoulder Pads isn't even a blur, one second, he's about to die, the next he's behind her.

        When shot, a dog does one of two things. Die quietly or let out such a pathetic sound it makes you want to kill. But when a Dog Girl's head is separated from a Dog Girl's body? That sound made you want to throw up.

        "Pathetic." He says, "But I'm not surprised (Y/n) enlisted the likes of you."        

        You didn't have time to unpack what that meant. Your finger shoots towards Lensless-or as you now thought of him, Boner Boy- too busy holding his suit out above his dick so no one could see the outline of his arousal.

        "Kill him!" You say, eyes locked onto Running Man's goggles. 

        Instead of looking horrified at the idea of fighting with a hard-on, Lensless grins. Running Man, a C-tier hero at best, zipped forward. Nowhere near quick or strong as the late Red Rush, but that didn't matter. He had what Red Rush didn't. An energy shotgun, so powerful he blasted straight through a kaiju last fall. Honestly, the only reason he was so high in your book was because of that gun but you couldn't tell him that- he's got a temper. 

        Round and Round Lensless he ran, a gray blur. Shotgun powering up and up and up. 

        Mohawk made his way toward you. "Look, babe, you know I appreciate a good ass-kicking, but this is just so lame; it's unnecessary! You know you can't fight me."

        "Cover me!" You tell Mercy. She's in front of you, solar-powered caduceus staff spinning in hand. 

        Round and round and round. Lensless head spun following his to-be attacker, laughing, "So are you gonna hit me or what?" 

        You blinked. Just blinked, but when you opened your eyes, Mercy's blood was shooting out of her esophagus like a fountain. Top half of her head splattered God knows where. Tongue twitching, bottom jaw pooling with blood as she fell to her knees then to the ground. 

        Mohawk stepped over her into your personal space. You stagger back, head reeling, stomach churning. You should've done this earlier, but got too preoccupied with the contingencies. With the backup plan that was blowing up spectacularly in your face. "Kill Yo-"

        You feel it coming. Your head whips to the side as vomit forces it's way out of your throat. Bitter as it was going down. You sway, head pulsing. 

        "Does being near me make you that sick?" Mohawk laughs but there's little humor in it.

        "Yes." You gaggle out, spitting out the last of the bile. Hand in pocket, cracking the top off another bottle of codeine. It was a bad idea shotgunning one, puking it out, and shotgunning another. Some of the first had been absorbed into your system. Adding onto that absorption was prime real estate for death by overdose. You had no other options. Overdose or be tortured to death by a guy with your ex's face. 

        Ker-ack!

        The top of Running Man's body sails over head. Going splat on a building behind you. His legs are still moving around Lensless, who just held out his arm and cut the guy in half.

        "Why do they never think that I can just do that and it's over?" He scoffed, running the hand that had just killed Running Man through his hair. Blood clinging to the locks like gel. "So boring."

      You see the mass coming in hot. Running Man's gun barreling toward your head. You drop the bottle, half drunk, and hold your hands out to catch it. Mohawk is too busy trying to get his fingers under your chin to notice. The Phantom was busy liberating Psychopomp's arms from her body. Others noticed, Lensless raced, followed by Shoulder Pads. In the sky, the Viltrumite watches. Interested in you and your well-being, of course, but if you couldn't handle a gun flying toward your head- you couldn't handle him.

        To his pleasure, you catch the thing. Fumbling before twisting the gun into the right position, ready to fire at will. The thing pulses with purple energy, humming.

        Lensless stops, chest centimeters from the shotgun barrel. "Whew, thought I'd be picking your teeth up off the ground!"

        Mohawk is shoved out of the way as Lensless came in way too hot, spitting a, "Watch it, dipshit."

        Shoulder Pads stops behind him. Aware of the gun buzzing, vibrating in your hands. He wasn't afraid, more so curious. Watching you tilt the barrel up, aimed straight for Lensless's head. You really were different. Daring enough to point a gun a version of him (again), any version of him, despite his royal linage, despite his power. The sight was like a slap across the face, but he did nothing to stop what was coming. If Lensless died to you and his own foolishness- he deserved death. 

        In another universe, one with a Mark Angstrom hadn't taken- the same energy crystal slapped into the gun was fired straight at Omni-man. Sending him crashing through concrete. Hurting him, even just a little, was no small feat. Something that could hurt him? Imagine would it could do to his son, not yet fully grown into his powers. But you didn't know that, none of them did. If Lensless knew, he wouldn't have moved anyway.

         "Reminds me of old times." As the gun's power apexed, Lensless smiled and leaned down. Putting his left eye into the barrel hole, his hips undulating. "I've got an itch actually, mind pulling the trigger for me real quick?"

        Blammo. 

        You fall back, hands burning, shoulders aching, gun launching itself out of your hands, clattering thirty feet back and breaking useless against the concrete. Lensless shoots back as well, five, six, feet- holding a hand to his left eye, blood seeping between his fingerless gloves.

        "Man-" His laughs are breathy, wanton, "Oh man, I think you really got me there." His hand falls away, "Is it bad?"

        The light brown of his eye had split in two. Oozing vitreous tissue down and around the exposed bone of his cheek and lower eye socket. All the flesh and fabric around his eye had singed away. Leaving a pulsing, angry chasm. Blast so hot it'd cauterized most of his blood vessels. The few that remained open bled like rivers into the sea. 

      He pokes at one half of his eye, "I can still kinda see." He hums. 

        "You asked for that one dude," Mohawk said.

        "Don't call me, dude, dude." Lensless says, though he's smiling. Shreds of eyelids twitching, trying to close around the mess.

        "See, this is why you should be wearing goggles." Shoulder Pads commented. "Look at you. What use are you to my empire half blind?"

        Phantom let Psychopomp drop, still screaming, rolling on the ground, legs kicking like a de-winged butterfly. He stepped closer but not too close. He felt hot, too hot, just being on the same planet as you. Too close and he'd burn to a crisp. Too far again and his heart would ice over. 

        He knew you weren't the same person. You just looked like it, moved like it, sounded like it. He didn't believe in second chances either but still, if there was a second chance for you and him- how could he pass it up? Angstrom had made a good argument. "You miss her, I can see the loss has hit you hard." He'd thrown a punch, though Angstrom was already gone. Behind him. "Do you even remember what it was like to hold her?" Another punch. "Do you want to remember?"

        He did. So very badly. 

        Because he didn't recall the taste of your lips. It'd been so long. Five years, two months, three days without you felt like the thousands of years his father said he'd live. Being near you now, reversed time. The reveal of you, this you and your truth, was violently fast, too quick to process. It felt like a joke, like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. But he could fix it. Could make you whole again the same way you'd do for him once he got you alone.

        "You know you're not the only emperor of Viltrum here, right?" Mohawk said. 

        Shoulder Pads stiffened, pouting slightly, "I assumed we all were. I wasn't aware so many of us were weak enough not to take the throne." He shot a disgusted glance toward Lensless, who was still poking at the remnants of his eye.

        Talking like you weren't here, like they hadn't just shredded through your contingencies like cheese to grater. Your mouth screws into a sneer. Fingers digging into rubble so small it felt like sand. You rose, albeit wobbly. "Hey, pirate, come'ere."

        They stared in confusion a moment. "Oh! Are you talking to me?" Lensless pointed at himself. "Are you giving me a nickname already?" He was in front of you but you hadn't seen him move. The damage was worse up close. You could smell the burnt flesh. He leaned in for a kiss or just to violate your personal space. "Would should I call you? Sweetums? Hot lips? Babygi-"

        You shoved gravel into his eye socket. Pressing, twisting, scissoring your fingers to get the dirt in all the cracks and open veins.

        "You like that?" You snarled, though it sounded slurred. Stomach churning with sick. Head throbbing from the drugs. 

        "Fuuuck!" Lensless stumbled back a pace. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckkk." He's moaning, groaning, in pain. Good. Satisfaction rises in your chest. "I think I just came." 

        ***

        Cecil's lips pushed in. Ninety seconds was all the distraction they got. All he could hope for was the degenerate version of the planet's strongest hero didn't snap her neck for that. He'd call on Mark for help if he could, but Mark was busy fighting off two versions of himself in downtown Tokyo. One in red and white, the other in the classic yellow and blue. He watched on split screens as the other Marks surrounded you. As their Mark fought for his, Eve's, and the people of the city's lives.

        Tokyo was the first city hit. They came out of green portals above Japan and got right to work. Mark and Eve were on a date in Osaka when this whole mess started. Just flown in after a job well done in New York. Tired from super speed, ready to get down to relaxing.

        It had been a good thing in Cecil's eyes, the kid was a loose canon these days, but he still saved hundreds at the time. All those people he saved were definitely dead now, based on how things went. The destruction was too catastrophic to contain. The other versions of him were too quick, too bloodthirsty. New York was practically defenseless with the people currently on his payroll.

        Cecil couldn't help either of them like this. Even when he could, he'd have to choose who to go to first. (Y/n) seemed like decent shot. Still, Mark was Mark, he was practically Invincible. Not going for him first would be one hell of a gamble he'd have to be absolutely sure about. "How much longer?" 

        "Ninety seconds!" A tech called. 

        A minute and a half to make a decision that could make or break the planet. Just another Tuesday. 

         "Sir," Donald shifted behind him, fingers fast on a keyboard as he pulled up the file, "That's (Y/n) (L/n). File says her and Mark used to date, sir." He swallowed. As the GDA it was their job to know everything about everyone important. Superheroes and villains top of the list, terrorists, politicians, and importantly, their connections. Dangling a husband or child in front of any one of those people could get them to do damn near anything. So the database was kept, a background thing, a backup.

        Though everyone who worked in that department thought it was useless and hated working on it- today they'd earn that paycheck. 

        "Tell me more," Cecil said, because to be honest, he had no idea who this girl was. 

        "They were together before Mark developed his powers. Very briefly after. It's likely they split after she started working for Machine Head." Donald said.

        Everyone thought the government couldn't possibly know and see everything. They could. Machine Head was a thorn in Cecil's side, but so small and insignificant when it came to the matter of the entire planet, he'd done nothing about it. Local criminal empires were for local heroes to deal with, not Cecil Stedman. 

        Cecil's finger tapped his bicep, arms crossed over his chest. He watched the battle between Mark, Mark, and Mark shift. Eve's leg was snapped like a twig, she went down hard and useless. Their Mark was on her, trying to carry her away while local heroes stepped into the fray. He broke through the atmosphere, screaming for help. Leaving just in time to see the local talent get shredded right through. 

        He hadn't killed a single one of them, whereas the city gutter rat had. Cecil swallowed, eyes switching back and forth, "Great. I'm sure his ex'll wanna work with us."

        "Probably not, but Sir, what those versions of Mark are saying implies they're not exes in their universe." Donald nodded to the screen. The Mark's surrounding her in a semicircle. Bloodied. One screaming about cum. 

        The decision was made. The bait was too good to pass up. Eve would live without immedatate medical attention.

        His fingers curled into his sleeves. "Someone not working on the teleporter- get me powercuffs, Narcan, the most noise proof headphones we can find, and a muzzle, preferably the same we used on the first re-animen, I like not killing myself."

        ***

        "Get away from me."

        He does, you wish he hadn't. Up close you couldn't see his bottom half so well. But as soon as he stepped back, you can see the imprint of his dick softening. See the wet stain on his lower abdomen. 

        The sight is... you don't know. You felt sick in a way that couldn't be from the codeine overdose or the life or death situation in front of you. Guts twisting in disgust, a disgust you had seen in others. You were unsavory to people around you, but interesting, like a pet they could discipline. Something they desired against their best interests. But the way he was looking at you with his one good eye, was beyond desire. He looked like he wanted to crawl into your chest and rut on your ribs. 

        You didn't know how to feel, but his companions not being cool with it certainly helped. 

        "Dude, what the fuck?" Mohawk said. "That is- wow, dude. Do you have brain damage?"

        "A little." Lensless eyes unfogged from your control, but not from lust. 

        "A little?" Shoulder Pads questioned. "You've just been disrespected and you've come in your pants- what do you mean a little?"

        Lensless shrugs. "Means what it means, dude."

        The Phantom edged closer. Fingers twitching. Tempted, very, very tempted to rid Lensless of his other eye. 

        You hear a meow, he comes out at the worse time. Caligula bounding from the rubble, meowing and curling himself around your ankles. You bend to grab him. A rush of wind and Lensless is in front of you, holding your cat. Stupid thing is purring with a hand ready to snap his tiny neck.

        "Will you use your powers on me if I kill 'im?" He gasps, realizing something with a grin, "Would you cry too?"

        He'd gone from lustful to violent in a millisecond. Actually, scratch that- he was both at once. He just saw another way to get his rocks off. 

        To answer he question, yes and yes. He can see it in your eyes. He's going to do it.

        Until a fist cracks his jaw, loosening his hold enough for Mohawk to take the cat.

        "Jesus, dude! Relax."

        Lensless laughs, rubbing his jaw, the punch barely fazing him. "Don't act like you care about that thing." 

        "I don't," Mohawk says, Caligula rubbing on his arms. "Killing something this weak is below us."

        "Maybe below you but not me." Lensless reaches for the cat. Mohawk jerks back. You can only watch. Scared if you say something he'll kill your sweet, idiot baby. "Aww come on, you're no fun. Don't you wanna see her cry?"

        Mohawk's gaze slides over you. Considering. Then he's gone in a crack. Returning just as fast, but without Caligula. He opens his mouth just before you start to scream, "Your ugly pet is fine. We'll get it back before we leave, okay babe?"

        You don't know if you believe him. You want to but you're stuck on the promise of 'when we leave'.

        Blood was rushing in your ears, you could barely hear yourself say, "Psychopomp, get up." She did. Balance wavering, blood spurting out where her arms should be connected to her body, pulsing to the beat of her heart. "Revive the others."

        "Hell no." She said. You'd forgotten. 

        A note about mind powers. Generally, they don't work well on other people with mind powers. Even if it's mind powers to raise the dead. And another thing that was working against you- you'd dated, very briefly, four years ago. Two months of sex and coping with your new life. Not finishing high school because of your jail sentence and your new role as Machine Head's grunt. Not going to college, not being with Mark. 

        She wanted to go the distance. Go clean, build a life together. Lesbians are fast with those sorts of decisions. You couldn't, wouldn't. You tried to force her to forget you on your two-month anniversary. Just to find out, psychics have a hard time controlling other psychics. The breakup was a huge blowout. Her calling you every name in the book. Unbelieving that she wanted to move in with you. Demanding you give her Caligula because she was the who wanted him in the first place.

        You kept the cat. Cleansed your phone of her number. Didn't cry over the loss in your life because she wasn't shit. She was a nobody grunt The Order sometimes called on. It made missions with her tense, but you dealt with it. 

        Until. 

        You'd almost died too many times to count. One of which was a deal gone wrong where your bodyguard wound up dead. Your head was next on the concrete chopping block, still dripping with the blood from his neck. You escaped with quick wit, but it scared the shit out of you so bad you redialed her number as a contact. Saved it as contingency twenty-seven. Assumed if you'd call she'd come. Another thing about lesbians, they have a horrible time getting over an ex. Then you never called or texted, forgot about her and who contingency twenty-seven was besides a panic alarm.

        She hadn't said anything today when you called, just came to where you said. Everything had gone so quick you hadn't had time to process that she hadn't been controlled. That she was who she was and somehow, even though years had separated your relationship like the grand canon, she came for you.

        "You're letting yourself die because I didn't take you back?" Usually, you kept relationships, even one night stands, under wraps. You didn't kiss and tell. Except, being ridiculously high was not your usual.

        That gave the bickering between the Mark's pause. 

        Her lip twitched. "You killed my brother, asshole." Oh. She didn't come for you in a romantic sense. She came for revenge, first for the city, then for you. 

        The dark cracks in Phantom's heart deepen. Mohawk smirked, still getting used to the idea that Dregs was not a cute hero name. Shoulder Pad's legs flexed, ready to move, to slice off Psychopomp's head for how she spoke to his pet. The Viltrumite in the sky lowered a degree to hear the drama that much better.

        Guilty as charged. "No, I didn't." You lie, because her little junkie brother didn't pay what he owed so yeah, Machine Head had you kill him. "Multi-Paul did."

        "Multi-Paul was in prison when he went missing." She was swaying. Soon to die if she didn't do something.

        "Not every Multi-Paul." You counter, absolutely full of shit. "Are you really going to let yourself die over an assumption?"

        Her knees looked ready to give when she said, "Up n'attem." 

        Light blinded you. Made Lensless groan and fall on his ass. The light was gone soon as it'd come. 

        The dead rose. Bodies not healed, still dripping and oozing, but crackling with the anger of the recently deceased. "Mercy, fix me."

        The headless body rose her caduceus staff high before slamming its end to the ground. More light. Your headache worsened despite the codeine supposed to be suppressing it. 

        When the light faded, Psychopomp had arms again. She'd gone pale from blood loss, still staggering. She held out her arms, sleeveless and baby-skin smooth, hands glowing as brought back more of the dead. 

           Dog Girl was first to rise, blood still spilling out of her neck. Kidult stood, body facing forward, head facing back. Running Man hobbled forward using arms as legs, guts trailing behind him like streamers. Then there were the civilians. Wes and his coworkers, innocent streetwalkers, alley lurkers, anyone and everyone within a hundred food radius.

        The pièce de résistance? Seventeen, shambling to his feet, fists twitching shut.

        "You're kidding me." Emperor Shoulder Pads sneered, launching forward to put a hole through Psychopomp. "You're seriously making us kill you again?"

        But you'd though ahead, you started speaking the second Psychopomp stared necromancing. The word, "Stop," out of your lips before he could move more than two inches.

        He stills. Hovering an inch off the ground. Body shaking with effort to throw off your control. Eyes wild on you, animal angry.

        Lensless let out a whooping cackle. "Oh thank God! I thought we were already done! This is gonna be awesome, I've never killed a zombie before!" His muscles tense under his suit, weight shifting as he decides who to pounce on first.

        His yelling makes your ears twitch.

        "Be still." You tell him and he is. You turn to the next, "Stay," and the next, "Don't move." You leave out the one in the sky. He hadn't posed a threat yet. 

        You flex your fingers, telling Psychopomp to bring the troops in. Let the zombies get in their first hits before your hold weakens. Which it already was. Nose bleeding, balance wavering, you were so sleepy and heavy-limbed despite the situation. Your heart slowing and vision blurring at the very edges. You knew what it meant. 

        The dead move like a wave. Slipping past you, leaving brushes of blood where they made contact. Fists and feet and bloody stumps came down on the versions of your ex. You refreshed your hold with the same turns of phrase. Bending down to grab the half-drunk bottle and finishing it to hopefully help.

        Throat roadkill raw. Ready to puke again, but you force your stomach to steel. You could puke when they were dead. 

        Except, the zombies, superpowered or not, leave no marks on the Mark's. Save for Seventeen, currently walloping the everloving shit out of Lensless. Socking him again and again, twisting his head side to side with every punch. Jiggling bits of his remaining eyeball falling to the ground.

        You'd have to step in more. Despite the sleepiness washing over you. The blur worsening. Your lips feel slow, tongue heavy, "Hey you," You say to none of them in particular, "Kill eachother."

        The first command you'd set snaps. Lensless is first to move, lunging to Phantom with a cat's yowl. Leaving Mohawk and Emperor Whatever to duke it out. They shear through bodies of the dead. Leaving them deader than before as they move. Throwing punches, kicks and tossing each other into buildings. 

        It lasts about nine seconds before your hold is gone. The command too taxing, too much, too many people at once. 

        They stop all at once. Expressions varying from pissed to entertained. 

        He's on you in an instant. Hand on your throat, holding you feet above the ground. "You-" Shoulder Pads snarls. You kick at the air. Choking around his hand. "Fucking-" Vision goes from blurry to blackening. You hold onto his wrist for support. "Dare?" 

        You try to command him, but you can't. Voice box pressed firm to your larynx. His grip is bruisingly hard, but you know it's absolutely nothing for the likes of him. "I should kill you for that."

        The others were coming. Fists raised. Snarls tight. Even the holier-than-thou angel in the sky was going to touch down. All of them, ready to punch the shit out of him. Not thinking it'd kill their precious in the process.

        Zombies clawed at your feet. Psychopomp reached out, grabbing your ankle, trying to pull you down but only making you feel like a rubber band. Death came from all sides, it'd be quick, but man it'd hurt.

        ***

        His people met up with Mark. He and Eve were en route. One problem solved.

        "How much longer?" He shouted, standing over the teleporter. Techie's arms like blurs.

        Donald returned, holding only souped-up headphones. "The light room is ready with everything, sir."

        "Forty-five seconds!" 

        Cecil threw the headphones on. Speaking loud because he couldn't even hear himself, "We don't have that much time, send me now!" He stepped onto the teleporter platform, hitting the big red button on its side before the techies could protest.

        ***

        Everything happened so fast you couldn't register it. One second four guys were about to hit the guy choking you out so hard it'd shatter your body- the next- you were in a while room falling on your ass. Psyhopomp still holding to your ankle, both of you breathing heavy. The zombies that were touching either of you dropped instantly dead- again. Parts of them that were there seconds ago melted to the floor.

        "Good." A cool voice said, "I was worried it'd do that to you guys instead."

        A hand you hadn't noticed falls from your shoulder. Wrinkled and pale. He steps away, giving you much needed personal space. "Cecil Stedman, head of the GDA." He's tall, frail, and wearing the chunkiest headphones you'd ever seen. "We need your help."

        You move slowly, like you were moving through the same syrup you'd just drank. "Fuck you." You don't know who he is, what's going on, but you didn't want to hear it. You wanted to kill. You wanted to see the fucker who threatened your life die. You didn't want to be here. "Send me back."

        Your threat is a lot less impactful as Psychopomp almost vomits on your shoes. You scoot back with a snarl, though Cecil doesn't seem to mind. 

        "I can see your lips moving kid, but I can't hear you." He taps the headphones. "Got a look at what you can do and I don't want that pointed at me any day."

        Psychopomp scrambled to her knees then to her feet. "You-!"

        Cecil held up a hand, "There's no one to raise from the dead here, save it. I'm not your enemy."

        She swayed, foot to foot, still reeling from blood loss. "You better not be lying."

        "Still can't hear you. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you're angry. You can be, at them, not me. We need your help, the both of you, to take these Invincible's down. Can't say we'll let you go after that, but you'll have jobs working for us." His gaze slides meaningfully over you, "And not on the streets."

        In your increasing stupor, you slur, "No, send me back. I've got- I've got to kill 'em all."

        He watches your lips move but does nothing to act on your behalf. "Look kid, we're really low on options here, so do me a favor and stop scowling. This'll go a lot easier for you if you cooperate." 

        Your vision goes blacker and blacker. "Send me back." You can't even put power behind your words anymore. Arms going limp by your side. You lay back, heaving, feeling yourself trying to duck and bob the effects of the overdose, "Send... send me..." You pull a bottle from your pocket, fingers too weak to uncap it.

        "Jesus." Cecil says, "You're going blue. Narcan her, now."

        There are hands on you, though you can't see them. All you see is white, Cecil, and Psychopomp. 

        Your head is tilted back, neck supported in a gloved palm. Something plastic is shoved into your nose. The spray shoots down your nasal passage, burning all the way. A scream ripping through your throat before the plunger is all the way down.

        Bone deep. The ache is in everything. Behind your eyes, inside your marrow. You're lying on your side, vomit spewed out on the floor in front of you. Esophagus on fire. The world comes back into focus with your heart beating erratically. 

        Cecil is crouched in front of you. "I know now's not the best time," he says, voice gentle but face hard set, "but I'm really gonna need you to work with me."

        You feel Psychopomp behind you, holding you steady on your side in case you seize. The hands on you are gone. 

        You peel your face off the floor, lucky it wasn't sticky with puke. Cecil holds out a hand to help you up. "Kill him." You say.

        Psychopomp lunges over your body. Hands posed to wring Cecil's neck. "I was hoping you wouldn't do this." A gun flies out of a hidden torso holster and connects with Psychopomp's temple. You don't hear the crack, but she crumples. "Get the muzzle."

        There's an order on the tip of your tongue, before you can look to find out who you're ordering, before the words can come out, a monstrosity of a muzzle is thrown over your jaw. A rubber stopper shoved between your teeth. Leather straps pulled tight as the muzzle is locked tight around your head. You claw, trash, kick but the invisible hands hold you down.

        "I'm sorry we have to do this," he says, not looking sorry at all.

        He touches your shoulder. "Take us there." He says to the emptiness.

        You are gone.

        Then back, in a different place. Green everywhere. Clear blue sky ahead. A quaint town all around you. Abandoned.

        You're on the ground. Grass soft under your bloodstained sweats. Cecil stands over you, his invisible men holding your hands behind your back. 

         Cecil looked down at you, "Tristan De Cunha." He says, "Most remote island on the planet. Used to be a town before the US Government bought it back in twenty-twelve. The safest place on the planet to be- for now."

        You writhe, uncaring about geography. 

        Cecil lets the headphones slide down to his neck. He presses a finger to his ear, "Muscle and bone density?" He asks.

        "That of an average human," comes a flat reply. Nothing special about you. 

        Cecil nods to himself, suspicion confirmed. "Good." He nodded his chin toward something behind you. "Don't let her hands free while you lock 'er up." 

        You're pulled ass backwards. Heels dragging, the only part of you touching the ground. It's no use. They're strong, and though you can't see them, they outnumber you three to one. Cecil follows, frowning. 

        You're pressed to a cold pole, moss crawling up the sides. At night its bulb used to come alive after sunset but now, on this southern island God knows where, it does not. Your arms are thrown behind your back. Something heavy is locked around one wrist. Secured so tough it nearly cuts off the circulation. You try to free your other arm, but just like the other, it is locked into the device. The pieces are sealed together in a massive metal cuff made for a berserker- not you. 

        The invisible soldiers step back. Their boots pressing imprints to the grass. "Thanks, boys." Cecil nods as they zap away. "Teleporter's fully online now." He says to himself more than you. "Look kid, I'm gonna do something you're not gonna like." If you could talk you'd ask 'more than you already have?' Reading your eyes, he says, "Things'll get worse before they get better. Just remember, after this you'll have a job with us."

        From his pocket comes a phone. He taps to the camera app and starts recording, only his face in frame.

        "Invincible, the people of Earth surrender." It's a lie, through and through, "No more military might will be sent your way. All governments are to stand down effective immediately. The planet is yours." The message could've ended there but instead he pans he camera down. To you muzzled, cuffed to a pole, uselessly fighting against metal and concrete. "As a show of good faith, we have (Y/n) (L/n) waiting for you on  Tristan De Cunha island. Two thousand five hundred miles east of Buenos Aires, one thousand five hundred miles west of Cape Town. We will make contact within the hour after she's been collected for negotiations." He ended the recording, pulled his hand through his remaining hair and sighed. "It's about the most obvious trap I've ever set but it just might work." 

        He sent the recording off. "That'll be playing on loop on every speaker and screen round the whole world in two minutes." His smile is wry, tired, uneven with scar tissue. "Don't let the fame get to your head." The smile drops as soon as appeared, "If they unmask you, don't do anything stupid. I'm sure I don't have to tell you twice, but these people are dangerous." You glare up at him, willing his head to explode. It doesn't. Your breathing is heavy. Saliva pooling around the muzzle bit. "You've got about ten minutes before they're all here so uh, brace yourself. We'll be watching."

        He disappears in a bolt of white-blue. You are alone, but not for long.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you'd known that Simon wasn't okay since it had been announced that they'd found blood in the boiler room. his pain, his hurt, his loss had spilled out from him and into you and you'd had no clue how to handle it. and then suddenly, you'd been soothed, and all you'd been able to think of had been getting to the source of that comfort and giving thanks.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.8

Wally couldn't stop thinking about earlier. How the slopes and arches of your body fit against him like a puzzle piece. How malleable you'd been under his touch. The intense liquid heat that had thrummed between you both as he'd leaned in to kiss you; heartbeats synchronized, eyes fluttering closed, utterly surrendered to the sensation.

He'd kissed a few girls when he'd been alive. Hell, he'd made out with Dawn a handful of times when adrenaline and hormones had needed an outlet. None of those experiences held a candle to what he'd felt when he'd just barely brushed his lips to yours.

There was something underneath it all. Not just his attraction to you, which he'd harbored for going on two years now. Something else. Something mystical and big and unleashed. Maybe you already knew what it was. After all, you could reach through the veil, hear and see and feel Wally...maybe you had an explanation.

If only the connection between you and Wally hadn't made it practically impossible to finish a conversation.

"Where'd you go, Moose?"

Wally nearly jumped in surprise, having forgotten he wasn't alone. He glanced around, saw Katelynn—the computer lab fatality—and Ajay studying him as intently as Rhonda. They were in the kitchen piling a late lunch of leftovers onto their plates while, around them, the staff muddled through their end-of-day breakdown.

"Uh," Wally supplied, intelligently. He was a miserable liar, something Rhonda had teased him for mirthlessly in the past. Told him he was as easy to read as 3rd grade English (ouch). But he didn't take his promises lightly and knew he had to come up with something or Rhonda would grill him until he broke. Deflection it was, "Do you think Maddie had a good time?"

Rhonda, perched primly on a counter, rolled her eyes and plucked a bread roll from the bin one of the staff was about to seal. "Jesus, you really are ditzy for her, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that," Wally said. He really wouldn't, "I just want her to—"

"Confess her undying love? Make you the center of her universe and forget all about her dreamy, badboy ex?" Rhonda scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, hot stuff, but you'd just be a rebound and we all know how those end."

"Badly?" Katelynn guessed. Having been fifteen when she'd kicked the bucket, she'd likely never had the chance to explore the intricacies of romance. Or of all its thorns.

Rhonda's hands clamped and then bloomed in front of her as she vocalized a bomb exploding.

"No, Rhonda, that's not it," Wally spoke in long strokes, as if to a child, willing away a flash of irritation. "What I was gonna say was that I want her to know there's more to being dead than trying to solve your own murder." Since, after all was said and done, there'd be nothing left to do besides passively haunt Split River High.

And that shit got dull after a semester or two.

Unexpectedly, "I spoke to her today." Rhonda admitted, somewhat reluctant, as the group paraded from the kitchen into the cafeteria. Wally encouraged her to continue with a smile, "About how I died. She thought it could help, so..." She slid into her regular seat next to Wally, eyes fixed on her plate, "I guess it did because she took off after."

It was obvious that relinquishing even that morsel of information made her uncomfortable, shoulders curled to her ears and lips pursed, those metaphorical walls re-erecting.

Wally clapped her on the back, "You did good, Deadly." A fond nickname he used sparingly as it often earned him an elbow to the ribs.

This time, Rhonda simply glared a warning at him before tearing a piece off her bread roll and smearing it through the gravy on Wally's plate. Progress, he supposed.

To move the conversation away from Rhonda, Wally engaged Katelynn, "I saw you with the extinguisher today."

Katelynn grinned through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"You know what we should do next time? We get those chairs with the wheels, a couple of fire extinguishers..." He mimed the scene with fervor, grinning conspiratorially between the others, "We could do it in the gym. Take bets. See who goes farthest. It would be awesome!"

Rhonda patted his knee twice—thank you—under the table. How she displayed gratitude without being obvious. As discreetly as possible, Wally returned the gesture, tapping three times to indicate I've got you.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Somehow, you'd done it: graduated to the end of the school day without incident. Sure, Mathilda had given you a funny look when you'd made your excuses to stay behind, but she'd been too distracted by what pieces to include in her portfolio to cross-examine you about it.

"Text me later, sillybean!" She called over her shoulder as she, Hana, and Lucas exited the school.

The siblings waved in unison, Hana pirouetting and blowing you a kaleidoscope of exaggerated kisses before falling back into step with her brother.

You turned back to your locker, shoving in your backpack and your uncle's hoodie. You'd accepted that the connection between you and Wally quashed any attempt you made to hide from him; berated yourself for not realizing it sooner.

After you'd closed the door and slipped the lock back into place, you mustered your courage and turned toward the direction of the theater. You could do this. Without getting sidetracked.

Yeah, you believed that about as much as you believed the lunchroom bread rolls were 'made fresh' everyday.

A metallic clamor caught your attention before you'd even stepped a foot forward, causing you to hesitate. Down several lockers along the row, Simon shook his lock against the hasp furiously. He was unmistakably upset, jaw tight, vibrating with unfettered anger.

You approached him just as he kicked the locker below his.

"Here," You said, inserting yourself between Simon and his locker, "What's the combo?"

Without pause, "8-37-15," he recited through gritted teeth.

You dialed the combination, unhooked the lock and held it out for Simon to take.

"You okay?" You asked, already aware of the answer.

"Yes." Simon lied then abruptly changed his mind, "No. I don't know." He dumped his bag at his feet and rummaged through the contents of his locker only to give up and spin around. Propped against the closed bottom level, Simon ran his hands through his hair roughly, reminding you of someone with responsibility that outweighed their experience.

"What's going on, Si?"

He lifted his head, brow creased with despair, "Aren't friends supposed to trust each other?"

The question knocked you for six. Unsure if it was rhetorical, you chose to stay quiet and, sure enough, Simon expounded. "Aren't friends supposed to tell each other things, even if it's hard? Even if they think it might hurt? Because, at the end of the day, you chose that person to be there for you no matter what. And that person chose you right back."

No questions asked. Your voice overlapped with Xavier's, years worth of emotional petitions for comfort and unbiased support echoing in your head.

Thinking of your friend, you wondered, "Is this about Nicole leaving with Xavier after lunch?"

Simon seemed surprised by the news, yet, after a second, confirmed, "Yeah. Uh, yeah, it's about that."

He stared at his feet, arms folded tightly across his middle, chewed his lip as he pondered what he wanted to disclose. Finally, "I just want to be there for her, but it's like she won't let me. And it sucks." His voice was damp with pain. "And now she's pissed and she's shut me out and...I don't know what to do."

When he raised his head again, you almost choked on the sorrow in his eyes. You wanted to hug him, hold him, cry. Here was a boy whose best friend had, for all intents and purposes, left him behind, and now he was scared he'd lost someone else.

The mounting sadness radiating from Simon made your eyes sting. You had no clue how to comfort him, not like you did Xavier or Mathilda, the two people you'd chosen and who'd chosen you back.

The strength of secondhand emotion chipped away at you, threatened to shatter you into a thousand anguished pieces, but just as you thought you would break, a familiar warmth sunk into the cracks. The sensation blossomed upward and concentrated behind your ribs, loosening a deep breath of relief.

Absently, you shifted your hand the slightest bit away from where it rested against your thigh, the movement undetectable unless one was looking for it. The warmth grew, contented and safe, and then—a whisper of fingertips across the back of your hand, there and gone.

You didn't move, kept your gaze on Simon; simply waited for Wally to enter your periphery. His back was to you, his hand returning to his jacket pocket as he, Rhonda, and a couple of others walked toward the end of the hall. You vaguely saw him split from the rest of the group, Wally going left while the other three went right.

Simon swallowed, mournful, and he rasped, "What do I do?"

Invigorated by Wally's touch, you planted yourself in front of Simon, placed your hands on his shoulders, and urged him to, "Talk to her. People knock communication like it's some cringe cliché, but it's the best way to resolve things." He nodded, weak but resolute, and you dragged him into a hug. "Trust me," You said, "Just be honest and listen. You don't have to understand everything, you just have to accept it."

Simon chuckled wetly, squeezed you tighter for an instant before releasing you.

"Thanks."

"Any time." You meant it. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Simon said, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, "I'll be fine." He cleared his throat, "Listen, um, I forgot something in the cafeteria, but if you want to wait I could give you a ride home."

Something in his tone suggested the offer was halfhearted, though you appreciated it all the same.

"Nah, it's cool. I have to study." You replied, already positioning yourself to leave. Simon didn't mention that the library was in the other direction, merely flashed you a small, grateful smile.

"See you tomorrow." He saluted.

Free to excuse yourself, you found you had to fight the desire to go go go, hurry, go, that warm sensation purring louder the closer you got to the theater. Fuck making sure the coast was clear, you were supposed to be in there right now; swung the door open with probably a lot more force than necessary.

Wally, who had been sitting on the edge of the stage awaiting your arrival, hopped down as soon as you entered the darkened space, his gaze instantly locking with yours.

One dubious step, two, three, and the warmth fizzled and licked inside you, encouraging your pace to quicken, faster, nearer. You broke into a run, closing the distance, Wally's stare never wavering. With less than a foot remaining, you sprung up, body colliding into his. He caught you easily, held you in his arms with one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist.

No thoughts, no words, no inhibitions; fever-hot and eager; Wally's jaw in your palms, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[jelloapocalypse]

I admittedly haven't watched your stream playthrough of TGAA games, mostly because I was playing through them with my fiancé very slowly, but we just finished them and I was curious what your opinion on them was? My fiancé and I enjoyed them but we both felt like they were pretty... Tame, compared to mainline AA. Like, there wasn't really any insane twists that shook the characters to their cores, everything wrapped up so neatly for everyone, it felt too easy, in a way? Also the big bad was wayyyyy too predictable.

I'd recommend checking out these amazing animatics that Infamouslydorky did of our playthrough!

My feelings re: The Great Ace Attorney games are sort of complicated, so this answer's going to be kind of long. I'll keep it spoiler-free, though.

I think they have the best main cast of any AA game. The music, character designs, and quality of life are basically the best they've ever been. That's really cool. I really love a lot of the one-off characters too. Enoch Drebber, Pat and Rollie, and the little plague mask coroner girl are huge stand-outs for me.

However, I think Shu Takumi has a lot of... foibles as a writer, and the way they manifest in these games is more evident and more obnoxious than basically anything else he's ever made.

I've played every game he's ever made and I can tell you that Shu Takumi writes the mysteries and twists in his stories first before anything else. I think he has a great sense of when he wants the twists to hit for the audience and he's great at figuring out where a twist will hit in a case... but he's remarkably bad at making character motivations match up to the story he's trying to tell.

In particular, he's awful at giving characters reasons not to tell each other things. 90% of a time your protagonist in a Shu Takumi game will ask a completely reasonable question to an ally, and the ally will avoid answering simply because it's not time for the player to know the answer yet. This is an issue in every game he's ever made. Even his best game Ghost Tric, is plagued by this. i.e. The way Lynne refuses to tell you her goals even though you're a literal ghost who's saved her life 3+ times in the same evening. Like, what do you have to lose, Lynne? Do you think this ghost is going to leak your goals to the police? No, it's just in service of delaying information so the player gets that information when it really hits. My friend circle has some to refer to characters in video games not telling you information for no reason as "Shu Takumi-ing".

Because most AA games are really silly, this isn't usually a gamebreaking issue. Why isn't your ally telling you information that would allow you to help them? Well, they're stupid, that's why. This is a game where you get possessed by dead people to get evidence and cross-examine a parrot. It's not serious. Everyone's a little bit on the stupid spectrum.

That's not really the case with TGAA. The games still have silly moments, but the characters are very explicitly smart. Kazuma is meant to be a legal prodigy on an exchange program. Susato is incredibly well-read and her father is a well-traveled and well-respected man of the law himself. Iris is a genius. Sholmes is whacky, but he's supposed to be cannier than he lets on.

Because of that, it's really noticeable when Shu Takumi doesn't know how to delay information or elegantly set up an interpersonal conflict. His fallback is always to have a character drink The Stupid Juice. For Case X, this character is suddenly stupid and does stuff they'd never do. For Case Y, it's someone else.

When you're dealing with Larry Butz and Lotta Hart, you come to expect that sort of thing. The inconsistency is part of their character. But when Susato can't identify her own father sleeping on the couch because... I dunno, I guess she landed on her head when she fell out of bed this morning, what the hell are we doing here, gang? Why are we doing this? Some people in our chat were like "This is a joke". I don't know. Is it? it really a joke if it takes 20 minutes of real gameplay to SOLVE THE MYSTERY instead of walking over and look at him, like any rational person would do?

I also can't go into too many details about this without spoiling things, but I really really hate the core overarching plot of this duology. I would bet almost all the money in my bank account that Shu Takumi didn't have the details of the second game 100% ironed out by the time he wrote the first. They don't lead into each other at all and so many characters' actions need to be unfathomably stupid for everything to work out the way it does. It kind of makes me retroactively dislike a lot of the cast. Especially Sholmes.

Also the assistant Van Zieks gets in the 2nd game is unfathomably bad. Everything about that setup and how that character acts is my least favorite thing about the game and maybe my least favorite thing that ever happens in the entire franchise. It makes me SO angry.

The games are still pretty good though.

[confused-reading-ink-rat]

Wicked AU where there is a mark of your soulmate on your skin, and it becomes an outline when they die. 

Chapter 1; Poppies With Heart-Shaped Petals

It was one of the most exciting days in Shiz University. It was the day that marks would appear on your skin, and you'd finally meet your soulmate. 

______________________________________________________

The air was charged with tension, people dolling themselves for the possibility of meeting their soulmates, couples breaking up left and right, or exchanging vows, sometimes even simultaneously. It was complete social chaos. Some opportunist students were even selling snake oil cures to make the marks appear faster. Shiz really does make the dull think sharp, even if it’s for quick coin.

Galinda heard that a select few somewhat worked. But she didn't trust the rumors, especially on a day like this? She had to admit she was tempted, but her reputation had to be preserved.

Ah, Galinda Upland. She tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear and smiled at her audience, giving them their favourite show, her. 

She strode through the halls with exercised confidence radiating off her effortlessly, with Pfanne and ShenShen flanking her from behind. In truth, she was a nervous wreck inside. Her bones rattled uncontrollably inside her body, as if they'd rather crawl out from beyond the flesh and form a xylophone than deal with every what-if her half-functioning brain was churning out in her head. 

Oh, but she was perfectly fine. 

Perfectly, absolutely fine. 

(Meanwhile...)

Elphaba Thropp was tired, was soulmates the only thing on everyone's mind today? Well, the professors also extended the deadline for most of their assignments, so she couldn't really blame them when even the school encouraged them. It was the day, after all, it appeared she was the only one who didn't care for it. She avoided the crowds of students with ease, as they already gave her a wide berth. It wasn't difficult to get away from everyone when they were also trying to get away from you. 

She wasn't sharing the tense and hopeful feelings the rest of the student body was drowning in. No, she had long given up on a soulmate, believing herself to be part of the small percentage of Oz that didn't have one. It was much easier that way. Much better than holding out hope that maybe, someone out there would see beyond the green. 

She shook her head, freeing herself from the thought. She just needed to get away today, right now everyone's too busy fussing over themselves to taunt her, Oz knows how long that would last. She rounds a corner, and of course, the Universe decides that then. She just had to see Galinda Upland today. Had to see her skipping along the halls without a care in the world, bragging about how she's so confident that she'd meet her soulmate today and they'd accept her immediately, rambling on about how happy she'd be when they meet. Elphaba can't help but roll her eyes at the delusions, no one fell for someone that fast, but this was Galinda Upland. She did her best to ignore the blonde, moving on. She had better things to worry about anyways. 

She didn't, but she wasn't about to admit that to herself. 

She strolled past her as well and straight ahead, hoping to hide herself and get lost in the nooks and crannies of Shiz University before everyone realizes she's gone. They won't. No one ever comes looking for her anyways. 

Maybe to hide from herself too, and the ache of possibly having no one in her life that would want her.

Galinda paced in her shared dorm room, as she had been for the past hour already. She had assured Pfanne, ShenShen and the whole student body that her soulmate mark was just taking its sweet time to get to her, time makes the heart grow fonder after all. She wasn't sure if that was meant to ease everyone's concern or her own. It should be here by now. 

She stared at her reflection in her vanity, daring it to change something, anything. But still, nothing. No mark on her skin, no colorful reminder, none. She jumped out of her seat in frustration, muttering curses as she threw herself onto bed. 

Maybe she was a late bloomer, she had to be. Oh, yes that'd be horrendible but there was no way she had no soulmate! What would everyone think?! Oh how miserable she would be! Well not really, there were plenty of eligible soulmate-less bachelors all over Oz vying for her hand. Maybe she could form an artificial bond, oh Oz, that was desperate, but everyone needs a back-up plan— 

Galinda froze, feeling the skin just below her ear start to tingle. She hurriedly sat herself in front of her mirror, eagerly staring at her reflection, waiting for the colors to mark her body. 

As the door opened and her roommate invited herself inside, Galinda stared in disbelief. 

A simple green poppy with heart-shaped petals. 

Then, Galinda spoke in a soft tone she didn't know she could say with the name she had laced with malice so many times slipped out of her lips. 

"Elphaba.”

As usual, mentioning people;

@nether2010

@kekescalope

@spinelesscacti

@filofandomfrenzy

@thestorytellingfool

@mulder-its-me-223

@soundofcomets

@rainbow-tomato-draws @moonpheus

ALL PARTS: 

Part 1 : Here

Part 2 : Here

Part 3 : Here

Part 4 : Here

Part 5 : Here

Masterlist for all parts ; Here

If you want to keep following the story, just follow the tag "poppies with heart shaped petals" and "poppies with heart-shaped petals"

[carolmunson]

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

[billspaid]

By the fire

“I know you’re flirting with me Frank.” Mel says, looking out at the small fire in front of them.

A few of them were gathered at Samira’s for a small July 4th Party, which also marked a year since Langdon returned to work.

She inadvertently kne that she'd been a small helping hand in his recovery and during those first few rocky months, she was a shoulder to lean on. Since then though, they'd become friends, best friends even. The kind of relationship that Mel never saw coming but loves just the same. He was probably the most important person in her life aside from Becca, but admitting that to herself felt terrifying in a monumental way.

Anyway, they had become each other's anchors over the past year, sharing every victory and every sorrow, every parenting

highlight and every breakdown. It's why when Mel realised he was flirting with her, *really* realised, she didn't have it in her heart to call him out on it, or stop him.

She's not really sure how long it had been going on, probably a lot longer than she realised, but over the last few months, it was becoming more and more clear that he was trying to get under her skin. And he was succeeding.

It started like it so often did, with small gestures, little quips about her attempts at cooking or leaning over her shoulder to take a look at a chart, especially when he really could just stand next to her. Getting on Becca's good side and teasing Mel with a smirk that would make her pulse race.

But then it got more intense and Mel would find herself giving in, actively engaging in it despite knowing that it probably isn't for the best. She would innocuously run her hand through his hair whilst they'd sit on his couch, watching lilo and stitch reruns with his kids - Mel's idea - and she would revel in it when he'd eventually reduce down to putty in her hands. He'd goad her into telling him about her old boyfriends, until she'd say something particularly racy leaving them both flustered. She'd ask him if he'd been with anyone since Abby, despite them both knowing the answer is no. She just wanted to hear him say it .

But as much as their flirting became more of a regular thing, the shared domesticity of their lives grew too. It helped that Becca loved spending time with his kids, helped that Tanner was completely enamoured with Mel, that Frank had become an emergency contact for Becca after Mel got stuck at a particularly bad shift.

What sealed it for Mel, what really got her to step back and re-evaluate it their relationship was what happened a week ago, when they had fallen asleep on his couch. They were on night shift, still adjusting to the time difference when a daycare reported a gas leak. They stayed 3 extra hours and collapsed on the couch before they could get another word in.

She's not sure when they woke up, but she could feel Frank's hand gently rubbing up and down her arm, coaxing her. "Mel. Mel Honey, come on, let's get to bed." And she did. She walked into his room, not bothering to peel her scrubs off as she climbed into his bed, dropping her head against the pillow. She distantly heard him do the same and felt a warm, comforting weight ground her as his arm slipped around her waist. He was snoring within the minute.

Mel would've been too, if the realisation that she's in Frank's bed for the first time didn't hit her like a train. They hadn't done anything like this before - never had any excuse to. And the actual sleeping together part aside, she was more shocked at how willingly she just followed him. Like the bed was theirs to share.

She eventually fell asleep, too tired to think about what it meant and since then, she has been avoiding him slightly. Until tonight.

When she insisted he come to the party. A little celebration for him too. So the 10, 11 of them squeezed into Samira's tiny square shaped backyard, if it could even legally constitute at such and watched the fireworks go off. Whitiker, always a man of surprise, lit a small fire whilst Donnie and Mateo tried their hand at a disposable bbq.

It was later in the evening, half had filtered out and Mel had stayed, well, because Langdon had. The fire was dwindling slightly and the few that were left were trying to figure out how to light the few stick of dynamites, courtesy of Santos.

They were on the other side of the garden, and Mel had spoken so quietly, so casually, it's no surprise Frank looks up, frowning in confusion as he mumbles, "What?"

"I know you're flirting with me" She repeats, shifting her eyes to get a quick glance at him.

He makes an odd face, like he's just been caught doing something that he himself isn't sure is right or wrong. Mel smiles gently, curling her arms around her knees as she looks out onto the fire.

"And I know you know I do it back. Have been, probably longer than I've realised."

Frank doesn't reply to her but she understands that. So much of his recovery has been laced with self-doubt, the fear of saying or doing the wrong thing . It makes her uneasy sometimes but in this case she expects it.

"I just," she pauses, pushing her glasses up on her face. "I'm not sure it's a great idea exploring that, right now.” As many times as she's practised this in the mirror, saying it in real time makes her feel queasy.

Makes her feel even worse when Frank replies hoarsely, "Okay." He sounds so unsure when he says it, like he strictly disagrees with his reply.

Mel turns to look at him. "I didn't say ever, Frank, I just said right now." She adds with a smile in her voice. He looks up at her, brows furrowed gently like he's trying to gauge her.

She angles her body towards him before looking over her shoulder, making sure the others aren't listening in.

Mel takes a deep breath. "I think I'm quite selfish because you're always going to be someone that I want. Need, more like."

Frank stares at Mel, frozen completely as if the slightest movement might scare her off. She's not so sure it won't.

"And I know we're going to fall into each other. I know that, I believe that." She continues, swallowing hard. "But I don't want to rush into this. You've only been divorced 6 months, You've barely moved into your new place."

Frank purses his lips in a way that makes Mel believe he understands her.

"And I think we've got some growing to do. I want your sobriety to depend on you, not me, not your kids, not your job. And I need to figure out how to have the things I want in a way that doesn't entirely overwhelm me."

Frank lets out a shaky breath.

"So I think we should give it some time." Mel says, biting the inside of her lips. "Cause I want this, Frank. I want you. But it's gotta last. It's gotta be it. I-I can't imagine doing *this* with anyone else." She shudders, chest heaving slightly.

Frank nods carefully.

Mel finally catches his gaze, flashing him a weak smile that he mirrors gently. A sudden bang pulls them away from their moment and Mel looks over her shoulder at the others. When she turns back, Frank is looking at her incredulously.

"Mel?" He says, quietly. So quietly.

"Hm?"

"When will we know it's the right time?"

Mel's face splits into a soft smile. "I'm not sure. I think we'll just know. It'll feel right, like we're just falling into it." She glances at him. "Against my better judgement, it will probably be sooner than later."

[petersasteria]

the boy is mine - Daesung/D-Lite

Pairing: athlete!daesung x head cheerleader!reader (college au) Summary: everyone's jealous of you because they want to be you

☆*: .｡. eternal sunshine masterlist .｡.:*☆

"How can it be? You and me. Might be meant to be, can't unsee it, but I don't wanna cause no scene. I'm usually so unproblematic; so independent, tell me why: 'cause the boy is mine."

Daesung was the kind of student who minded his own business. He didn't try to be the class clown, he didn't try to run for student body president, he didn't join a fraternity, he rarely went out for drinks, and he just stayed quiet. Though, he was a very active student. Active enough for his name to go around university.

He joined any kind of athletic activity out there because his priority is to get fit, and with the taxing university course works, he wanted to remain in shape aligned with his studies... and he also didn't want to spend so much on a gym membership. So, sports activities at school were his best option.

You met him in one of your shared classes and he absolutely took your breath away. He sat in the middle row and smiled at a few people he knew from other subjects. He neatly took out his notebook, two pencils (because he preferred writing with pencils first before re-organizing his notes and rewriting it in ink), the expensive kind of eraser, and his Elizabeth Arden lip balm (his favorite). You sat a row behind him and he looked... scrumptious.

His shirt was tight in the right places, his joggers hung low enough to see the Calvin Klein waistband, and his hair was curled and perfectly tousled. Since then, you wanted to be wherever he was.

It didn't take long for Daesung to notice you because you made your presence known all the time. He'd get a whiff of your expensive perfume when you'd pass by, you were there every time he was on the football field, you'd suddenly befriend his friends, and you changed your lifestyle to match with his. There was nothing wrong with that, though. In fact, your grades and performance at university improved.

When finals were over, you were shocked that Daesung asked you out. He did it on a whim and he was kinda nervous you'd say no. You obviously said yes and you've been dating since then.

The following year, he suddenly gained popularity for his athleticism and you noticed that all the girls who liked him suddenly started... being like you. You were like their Regina George. Whatever you wore, whatever product you'd use for your face, whatever perfume you'd buy, how you layout your Instagram stories, and among many other things you'd do, they'd always copy it in hopes that Daesung would leave you for one of them.

Alas, they were wrong. You see, when Daesung is in a relationship, he's very committed. If other guys ignore flower shops and pay attention to other girls, Daesung would do the opposite. He's the kind of boyfriend to pay attention and he's always saying out loud whatever you're thinking. He knew you like the back of his hand and that was more than enough for you. He did his best everyday and he kept you happy while acing everything at university.

When it was time for the big collegiate football game, you made sure you looked perfect. You were head cheerleader, after all. Before the game, Daesung gave you a tight hug and a deep kiss causing everyone around you to seethe in jealousy.

"Ugh, she's so lucky!"

"I don't know if I want to be with her or be her"

"They're couple goals, I swear!"

"I just need one chance, Daesung! One chance!"

You knew everything they said and you don't start fights, but when the situation permits it, you make sure to remind people that he's your man and that he won't ever leave you for copycats.

-

a/n: a cute but short one!

permanent taglist: @redhoodedtoad @billiesiousji @hayd3n8 @sherrayyyyy @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @emmiesoverthemoon @breakmeoff @sayugarper @gdinthehouseee

daesung taglist: @tabibabib

eternal sunshine taglist: @sevendaysummer @sherxoo @whotfiscamellia @multifanxtvshows @patheticgirl127 @amyyforshort @sylviavf @steponupbabe @galgal-egg

[melverie]

Last post on the entire date ticket thing and then I will forever shut up about it, but I feel like most people arguing in favor of the price tag are just….missing the point on why people are so angry about the date ticket being $30

I think the one thing we can all agree on right from the get go is that everyone in the staff deserve to and should be compensated fairly for their work. And that obviously includes certain features and items having to cost actual money considering the game itself is free

But the thing is, that $30 price tag doesn't just exist in a vacuum

First off, we can all agree that charging something like $3 would have made the ticket sell far better, right? Several people have already pointed out that they can buy a week's worth of groceries with $30 and depending on how much you earn, the date ticket isn't exactly something anyone can just buy on a whim. Again, $3 would have been far more affordable for most people, and I'm sure many more people (myself included) would have been far more willing to spend $3 just to see what the date ticket is like, and maybe also buy the tickets of multiple other characters. But $30 for a single date ticket is a luxury a lot of people just cannot afford, or would rather put into something else. Even if they lowered the price, they'd surely break even and make profit with how many players there are

And judging by its contents, I think it's fair to say that the date itself is not worth $30. And I feel like Solmare themselves know this because why else would they have bundled it with 300 DP? The only reason is to justify this price tag because "look at how much DP we're getting with it tho!!" when that's not the point. It doesn't matter whether the DP are included, because there is a lack of choice here. We have other options to earn and buy DP, but we don't have a choice when it comes to the date ticket itself. Either you pay $30, or you miss out on a feature that many of us have wanted for a while now. And since it's the DP raising the price tag,what you are essentially paying for is 300 DP with a date ticket as your purchase bonus, even though it should be the other way round

And honestly? Considering the price, the only two times it would make sense to buy this bundle is if you were already considering buying DP anyway, or if you are financially well enough off that the current price doesn't matter to you. You won't convince most casual spenders, and you most definitely will not convince a f2p player to pay for this feature

The other thing is that we had no idea what the date ticket actually entailed because we weren't given any information on it. Thanks to people in the community buying and reviewing this feature for others we now know that the date consists of one phone call, a ~10 minute long, partially voiced date story-line and a Majolish background. Except, those are things that Solmare themselves should have told us right as they announced this feature, ESPECIALLY considering the price point. If you don't, you can't complain if people are accusing your company of trying to rip its player base off and of being greedier than the Avatar of Greed himself. But also, that's the thing!

We shouldn't have people in the fandom be the ones to go out of their way to give us basic info on new features, or to even explain certain business decisions in the first place. That's the company's job. Yes, certain explanations should be a given (such as microtransactions existing so that the staff can be paid the money they obviously deserve), but there are other things that should have been explained by Solmare themselves

Open communication with the player base is the key phrase here, and imo Solmare has been doing worse and worse on that front as of late, resulting in several unexplained choices that just seem questionable at best and scummy at worst, as well as a player base that grows more and more disgruntled by the day. And that frustration within the player base shows in the amount of people dropping the game, as well as in the amount of money it's making

People are willing to put their time and money into something they deem a good, quality product with a justified price considering the content. If your player base isn't putting in the money you are expecting, then maybe you should listen to their feedback and re-examine your product instead of overcharging a feature because "look at this thing you're getting extra that no one asked to be included in the bundle in the first place"

Literally part of the reason LaDS has grown to be so successful in such a short amount of time is because they keep making adjustments based on player feedback, even on some minor things. I mean they literally pushed out an update to correct the color of one of the character's tongue in the newest card because people were complaining, like hello!! Imagine Solmare listening to complains as minor as this

Anyway, whether intentional or not, this entire thing just feels scummy, and that's the problem. The choice we have is either "pay 30 bucks per character or miss out on this feature entirely", the price is artificially inflated with the inclusion of DP that we have other ways of getting, romance is slowly fazed out of the story only to now be put behind a heft paywall, we weren't told what we are even paying for exactly in the first place, and there has been a severe lack of proper communication from Solmare that have soured the relationship to the game's fanbase and, most importantly in this context, their customers

No, companies aren't our friends. Yes, they need to make money. Yes, they should pay their employees fairly. And no, we as consumers shouldn't expect nor are we entitled to everything about the game being free because again, the people working on this game deserve to get paid fairly for all the work they put into it

However, people are still allowed to be critical of a company and its decisions, especially when they feel like they are getting ripped off. The 300 DP might soften the blow, but that doesn't stop everything that has happened before from being a slap in the face. That's why people are pissed right now, and honestly it's been a long time coming

[phyrestartr]

Those Ghosts We Cannot Burn | Dabi x M!Reader

w/c: 1k cw: past trauma, canon-typical Todoroki family, mentions of child abuse, canon-typical violence, graphic language, difficult relationships #Eventual NSFW, bl, dunno who is top/bottom yet lol, hurt/comfort, angst, drama, reader is yakuza, reader and dabi have history, sorta enemies to lovers?? Notes: AAAAH short little snippet but I wanted to post anyway!! I need to get drafts out of my system or I'll go mad lmao...they're all just clogging up my google docs...it's so bad dude OTL so many WIPs

(ALL tags): @kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

1. Hello, My Past

The bodies of his victims hissed and burned with a life only fire could leave in the path of destruction. Dabi knew it well–he was made the same way, after all. But they'd go on to simply disappear, their ashes fluttering away with the Autumn breeze while he continued to conquer his fate. 

“Hey, you're the one they call ‘Dabi,’ right?” 

The man in question paused, ears perking at that shitty, monotonous tone. Hah. It pissed him off. It made his heart hum, too. Weird.

“Who's askin'?” He drawled, tucking his hands in his pockets as he turned to face you with languid steps. When he caught sight of you in that alleyway, he almost remembered something, but couldn’t find the will to dwell on it.

“I am, on behalf of Shie Hassaikai,” you said, adjusting the cuffs of your jacket. “You've been torching our men, y’know?”

Dabi smiled. “And? You want an autograph or somethin’?” 

You quirked a brow, looked him up and down, and scoffed. “You got a pen? Or, even know how to write in the first place? Don’t look the type.” 

“Oi–”

“Anyway,” you continued, “You wouldn’t be willing to stop murdering ours while our respective leaders discuss their deal, hey?” 

Dabi clicked his tongue. Annoying. “Their deal's got nothing to do with me.” 

“Guess you're not as high up as they said, then.”

“You're a real pain in the ass, y'know?” 

“It's kinda my job.”

“Maybe someone should relieve you from duty.”

A torrent of blue bloomed and crashed through the alley with the vicious hunger of a tsunami. Sparks exploded and flames lashed against stone and concrete, engulfing sky, earth, and all in-between with his show of firepower–a show he never grew tired of, one that never failed to remind him just what he lived for, what he–wait.

He squinted. What the hell?

A bright silhouette stood in the centre of the violent cleansing, wholly unmoved by the villain's flame. It wavered like a candle tousled by the night breeze, but it did not fade away with the light, nor with the wane of fire. And in the aftermath, once the alley fell quiet and dim once again, there it still stood, staring his way with a light that might rival a god's true form.

“You done?” You asked, voice crackling through a veil of blue. 

Thousands of questions and thoughts rushed through his mind–what the hell was that? Who were you? What was your quirk? Why was your fire blue, too?--but he couldn't settle on one, not long enough to spit it out, anyway. 

“I'll consider that a yes,” you decided. Your form re-materialized with a small flourish embers, and you breathed in deep. 

Dabi tried not to let on how bothered he felt. “What the hell was that quirk?” 

“Does it really matter?” You hummed, smiling. “The only thing you need to know is what you just saw–you can't get rid of me. Not with those flames of yours.”

“Hah. You sure about that, pretty boy?” His fingers twitched, eager to try his hand again. “I could crank the heat up for ya, see just how much you can handle.”

“Maybe another time,” you said, half-distracted as you checked your phone. “For now, remember what I said. Our bosses are trying to work together. Don't make this difficult.”

You turned halfway through your thought, showing Dabi your back without a care in the world. You must've really thought you couldn't be hurt by him. You must have really thought you were better than him. You must have. 

But the sirens roaring toward the alley ruined his chance at demolishing you. He could take them on, but he'd rather not deal with the headache that'd follow–heaven knows he'd get reemed by some of the other villains for taking the PR crap too far. 

Fucking prick, Dabi seethed silently. He'd have to kill you some other day. 

–

“Touya,” you called, voice quiet.

The boy next to you, the one you squished into that single bed with whenever nightmares found him, stirred. Only your voice seemed to pull him free from the lull of dreams and nightmares, oddly. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, clearing his throat, grimacing again at the scratchy stiffness to it. 

“Once the doc helps you,” you started, sounding too serious for your age, “I think we should leave.” 

“What?” Touya rubbed sleep from his eyes the best he could without tearing stitches and skin grafts apart. “What the hell is–”

Whatever else he had to say died in his throat when he caught a glimpse of you in the filtered moonlight; your calm, passive look of day had shifted come the night. Your face was kinder, exposing flickers of forbidden thoughts for none but one to see and soon forget, come the beckon of sleep. 

“What the hell's your problem?” Touya breathed. 

Your brows furrowed. “I don't want to be here,” you answered. “Have you even considered trying to go to your family? We could–” 

“I did go back. Nothing's changed.” He smiled, bitter. “Those fucking sheep abandoned me already.”

“I won't abandon you,” you promised suddenly. “We can talk to them. Together. Come on, Touya–” 

Touya laughed a pathetic, little sound. “Are you serious? They don't give a shit about me, they're not gonna give a shit about–do you think you're better than me? More special?” 

Your eyes grew round. “Wh–I never said that.” 

“But you think they'd listen to you, and not me,” he hissed, something igniting the hollow paths of his nerves and revving him back to life. “You think I'm not–”

You covered his mouth with a quick hand, and he held your wrist with a weak grip. “Shut up. You don't know what I think, so–so just shut up.”

I know what you think. And he was determined to prove you wrong, one way or another, even if he had to rip himself apart to do it--but you saw through him so easily. You always did; you always knew how to push his buttons then reset the system before he blew up.

And when you leaned in and kissed the back of your hand, the one still clasped over his mouth, he did indeed reset. Completely braindead once again, he was.

“Forget I said anything,” you huffed, turning your back to him and settling back in. 

And Touya tried to forget, even though his mind buzzed and his heart thudded against his ribs. He tried, and he tried, and he tried.

[omagpies]

hey have you considered a potential curlayna child wanting to be an astronaut and the both of them nearly have a heart attack... kthxbai

okay your ask sparked a conversation between me and @cyanidecrystal so here goes:

(slightly recolored james mcavoy faceclaim lmaooo) this is Yuri, they/them;

(sidenote: this drawing is retroactively about baby yuri now)

they grow up only knowing a very, very sanitized version of what happened on the tulpar; while PE had no finances to cover up the story, the company producing the ships did, so even the initial splash of news was quickly suppressed and only remains as sporadic bits free floating in the infosphere. curlanya only tell them the bare bones of it, but since their family relationships are solid, yuri sees no reason not to take their word for it.

what does win is curiosity, and yuri does end up trying to dig things up just to know more about their family. the blurry, low res picture of post-crash curly they manage to find is written off as either one of the dead crew members, or perhaps even something generated by AI.

as a child, yuri already proudly declares that they are going to become an astronaut; curly and anya by then still haven't set foot in a spaceship or even a plane, so they sweat nervously but ascribe it more to a childhood whim (i'm going to be an astronaut AND a president AND a garbage truck driver)

it is not, in fact, a childhood whim

as yuri is growing up, their interest becomes more prominent. curlanya, excellent parents overall, make their first serious blunder and try their best to discourage them from pursuing a career in space

of course, it means that yuri ends up going behind their backs and sneaking off on a short-ish trip (think a jupiter moon, not even leaving the system) as an intern. they text them right before they lose signal, something like 'hey, remember you said you'll make it up for me for not letting me go on that school trip? (it involved a transcontinental flight) i've got it covered now so no worries, see you in a week!'

someone on the trip recognizes yuri's last name, asks if they are related to curly. yuri is surprised by this, deeply unaware that curly had a solid reputation as a captain and a pilot back in the day.

the trip ends up taking a little longer. during it, yuri sustains a minor injury for reasons of being a goober. something benign like a mild burn or a blackeye, so they come back wearing a temporary eye patch and supremely chuffed about finally looking at least a little like dad

curlanya do not react well. they don't yell or anything, but they are Weird, and it's not the reaction yuri was expecting. they don't know how on earth this is such a big deal to them.

(meanwhile, curlanya are severely triggered by literally everything about this and are in the process of discovering that all the trauma they thought to have processed has not, in fact, been fully processed, and their kid is now making them face it on hard mode)

they do end up having an argument about it. yuri is upset and offended and says some things they probably shouldn't, like 'just because you had an accident doesn't mean i will, and you're fine anyway!' (in their defence, everything happened so long ago, and curly's had years to recover by now)

perhaps they even say something like 'i'd rather get into a crash than stay at home doing nothing like you'

yuri is forbidden from sneaking away again, so of course that's what they do.

this time, however, when someone asks them if they know curly, the person ends up telling them a fuller story of what happened. with a fresh and exciting degree of understanding of why their parents are Like That, yuri is forced to sit with their feelings until the trip is over. forced to think over all the jabs they'd thrown their parents' way because they didn't understand.

after that second trip, the three of them finally sit down to have an honest conversation. curlanya still omit some details (like anya's assault), but since yuri really does want to work in space, it's time for them to reckon with their paranoia. their trauma must not define the life of their child.

yuri asks curly how he'd lived. curly smiles and says that he doesn't know either, yuri would have to ask their mother about that.

from then on, they learn to support yuri. whatever breakdowns they have, happen when it's just the two of them.

curlanya are both emotionally involved parents, but this is where curly becomes a little more closed off and lets anya take the reins. he doesn't want to bombard their kid with his problems, so he sticks more to logistics.

(for example, obsessively looking up every crew member of every trip yuri goes on. no background goes unchecked)

eventually, yuri invites them to come on board the ship they're now working on. after much hesitation, curlanya agree. curly is allowed into the cockpit (recognized by name if not by face) and reckons with the strange mix of nostalgia and despair. the equipment is just different enough to not send him into a fully blown flashback, but he does have to make his excuses and go hyperventilate in the bathroom.

it's a real moment of growing up for yuri, when they goes to find their father and see him so helpless. it's a gradual process, a series of 'god, i never knew it was this hard for you guys to accept this'

the more they understand that, the more they, too, understand how much their parents love them and how much their support costs them

still, learning more about the accident doesn't pass without a trace for yuri. for a while, they are uncertain if this is what they really want to do. ('i think i saw a picture of you after the crash. tell me it was a fake')

anya wins that day. her trauma wasn't as obvious to strangers, wasn't gawked at or paraded like curly's. it's easier for her to think rationally about this. and after all of it, she wants yuri to chase their dream

(maybe yuri even writes a resignation letter for their company and tells anya about it. after their heart to heart, anya tells curly, and he calls the company and tells them not to process it just yet. yuri stays on the roster.)

eventually, of course, the cat is out of the bag, and someone callous enough to bring it up asks yuri about the assault and if they are a result of it.

deeply distraught, yuri doesn't immediately clock that the math doesn't math. all they can think of is that they might be the child of their mother's assailant. that curly might not be their father.

they come with it to curlanya, and that's when they finally show yuri a picture of curly from before the crash.

yuri has always thought they took after their mother in pretty much everything except eye color. now, they find a blond version of themself looking back at them, and it feels like coming home.