#so focus on his cuteness and not on the quality or the shakiness of these gifs

[epiaphany]

(; ꒪ö꒪)

[melkintoyou]

weekly food shopping

pairing: mark x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, mentions stoner mark x reader, established relationship, kitchen sex not suitable for minors

word count: 1,555

Summary: Friday evening spent grocery shopping and then cooking that leads to... other things as your boyfriend comes to spend the weekend.

"Yooooo let's get some ice cream!" your boyfriend exclaimed, walking through the grocery store like an excited puppy.

"Oh my god! Do you see these frozen waffles?! Let's get these too babe."

"Mark. Focus." You tried to hold back a smile at his cuteness, trying to stick to the list of what you actually need. "They say you should never go shopping on your period or high" you shake your head.

"Dude do we look high?" he stopped suddenly and turned to you, examining your eyes and you examined his.

"Nah, nah we good.. we good" You sniffed him, clearing your throat, as tried to look normal and serious. You both burst into a laughing fit at the situation. "Yo we're lowkey a meme right now." You said in between your chuckles, struggling to get the words out. "You know.. the Scooby and Shaggy one."

"ARF?!" Mark did his best Scooby expression, causing you to fall to the floor laughing and him following right after. Laughing with him was your favourite way to spend time on this planet. Every time you both joked around, the whole world disappeared and it was just you and him in the entire existence. In your own little world, created by you both.

"Ok.. ok.. babe, be serious. We're here for groceries." You said, as you both got up off the floor and tried to blend in with everyone else.

It was the beginning of the weekend and Mark had come to stay over like he did most weekends. It had been a long week between classes and working part time. Some quality time with your boyfriend is just what you needed to unwind.

As you scanned your items at the til, Mark ran to get a box of cereal and added it to the shopping. "This too, thanks" he placed a kiss on your cheek. Busy, putting stuff in the bags. You didn't notice Mark pull out his card and pay for everything.

"Hey! Wha-" He took your hand and squeezed it before you could finish your sentence. "It's okay, baby. I got it."

Between classes, work and studio time. Mark has been working extra hard to create the life that he wants. That included, being able to take care of you and he voiced this at every chance he got. "If I can't cook then at least I can contribute this way, right?" He plays it off as a joke and you don't protest any further.

________________________________________

Back in your kitchen, you put on some rice and a veggie curry to cook. Mark played a song he had been working on through the speakers. The acoustics of your kitchen gave it a reverb sound. You sat on the kitchen counter and focused on the song as Mark came to stand between your legs. "So... whatchu think?" He rested his head into your chest and caressed the sides of your thighs.

"So good babe. I'm super proud of you for always working so hard." You kissed the top of his head. He glanced up at you with doe eyes, completely melted into your frame. "I mean it. All this hard work won't ever go in vain, I promise." You gave him a warm smile.

"You promise?" he held out his pinky.

"I promise." you intertwined your pinky into his, leading into your secret handshake that's followed by a kiss. And of course. You both couldn't go an hour without kissing. You ran your nails across his neck, sending goosebumps down his body as you deepened the kiss. His body reacted by pulling you closer with a tightened grip on your thighs. Mark was obsessed with your thighs. He always had to be touching them, caressing them, kissing them at all times.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him poke into your thigh. "Mmm, don't make me fuck you on this kitchen top right now." His breath, now shaky. You ignored his comment, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away. Making him move in towards you in a trance.

"No can do sir! I've gotta finish cooking." You slid across the counter to go to the stove to check on the food. Mark followed.

Standing behind you, he kissed your neck. His hands rubbed your tummy under your t-shirt to slowly finding their way to your nipples. "Mark.." You let out a heavy sigh, and leaned some weight into his frame, grappling to hold yourself up.

"Continue. I'll just be here." He whispered into your neck and then sucked on it, leaving a mark. His hands, moved painfully slow pinching your nipples before moving into your sweats. He lightly stroked your clit through the fabric of your underwear. Making you press your ass into his crotch. His hands traveled further down as he felt you soak through your underwear. "i'Ve goTtA fInIsH cOoKing" he laughed softly, mocking you.

"Stooooop man" Your face now hot and cheeks flushed from embarrassment, before you gather yourself swiftly.

"Shhh" you slowly snaked your free hand behind your back, to feel him hard. His cockiness melted away, soon as your hand came in contact with his dick. You palmed him over the fabric and he did the same for you. You turned the stove off, knowing there is not turning back now.

"Ugh!" he groaned into your ear, desperate to be inside you now. "Man fuck this food!" he spun you around by your waist and carried you to the kitchen island. He ripped your sweats and underwear off you in anguish. Diving right between your legs, he slipped his fingers inside you, eagerly wanting you stretch you out ready for him. Your fingers ran through his hair as you tried to catch your breath. Desperate to feel him too.

"Mark"

"Yeah?"

"Just fuck me."

And you didn't have to tell him twice. Mark threw his sweats off and your eyes met his hard dick. Tip, glistening with pre cum. He stroked himself against your slit until he was covered in your wet. Teasing you painfully slow. Your body jolting, every time his head met with your swollen clit. You felt yourself tearing up. "Please." You begged.

His eyes moved up to meet yours as he aligned himself with your entrance. "So... pretty... when.. you.. beg.." Burying himself deeper inside you with each word. He let out a groan as he bottomed out and leaned down to kiss you again. His movements painfully slow and his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands cup the top of your head as you moved into his hands with each thrust. Your arms around his shoulders, holding him in an embrace.

"You feel so good" You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost into him. He perfectly fit inside you and found his rhythm. You both drifted off into ecstasy, moaning into each other's mouth. You grabbed at the bottom of his t-shirt. "Take this off" You commanded and he pulled back to do as he was asked. He pulled you onto your feet, taking off your t-shirt in exchange for his, before turning you around. He bent you over the island.

"Good girl, baby bend for me.." he smacked your ass as he entered you from behind. Unable to wait for you to adjust to the new position. He grabbed your waist and rammed into you with a grunt. You gasped, trying to find the air in your lungs. "Love when you gasp baby" he grabbed your jaw and pulled you to him to kiss you again. Your mascara now ran down your cheeks and he kissed your tears. "You feel so good baby, so wet for me.. so tight." He let go of your jaw and gave you another smack. His words made you clench around him, making him whimper in return. As you found your balance, you started to meet his rhythm and throw it back at him. It was now his turn to have his head empty, as curse words and loud moans roll off his tongue. "wa.. wait, wait wa-" "you're gonna make cum like this" he whimpered, a mess. Taking this as encouragement, you carried on as you felt him throb inside you. His movements now getting messy and his legs weak.

"Baby.. i'm gonna cum" you felt the heat build up in your core as he twitched and released inside you. You both moaned loudly, incoherently, reaching climax together.

You kept going though. Mark now a moaning, drooling mess, fell onto your back. His nails digging into your waist as he holds himself up with your support.

"Baby.. i-" his eyes scrunched shut and mouth pouted, trying to hold his moans in. "Sto... I can't.. I can-" the air leaving his lungs, he released once more as his entire body twitched.

Finally, taking himself out of you. You turned around to pull him into another kiss as you felt him trickle down your thighs. Ah! You loved this feeling. The mixture of both of your fluids, oozing out of you, comforting the soreness slightly on it's way out. Shocks still flying through your mind but you giggle at his fucked out state.

"So.. dinner?" You asked, as you start to dress yourself.

"I love you" all he could muster out with no thoughts remaining in his mind.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Omggg Douma & Dokusha my beloved! Tysm for all the adorable hcs. They’re both so so precious 🥲

How would Douma react when Dokusha starts taking after him? As her BDA develops, it’s clear her powers are much like his. And then one day, when she learns to shapeshift, she surprises Douma by changing her eyes to look like his.

“Look! Now my eyes are just like yours, Chichiue!”

Oh my actual lord! Yes! I definitely wanna write more for caregiver/father Douma since I had so much fun with the idea! So, I will happily do this! Thank you for giving me another break!

Short Story: The Ice Queen

“Chichioya! Chichioya!” You chirp excited, bundling your fists on the beautiful, silky kimono you wore and lifting the fabric above your feet enough so you can run more efficiently. Where to? To the front door as the Upper Moon 2 slowly opened it and shut it as quiet as possible to avoid attracting any of his followers’ attention. He just wanted some time alone with the cute demon he loves dearly before dealing with them

Douma has been gone for quite a while. Two whole days and you hated when your beloved father was gone for so long. He usually took a few hours in his “important business meetings” but you knew whatever he was doing was necessary. You cry out joyfully and hold your arms up wide to help Douma lift you up easier

His gorgeous rainbow eyes brightened at the sight of you and his lips curl into a instinctive smile. He can’t help himself but feel intense joy in your presence as he scoops you up when he drops down and cuddles you to his chest firmly, rubbing his nuzzle in your hair affectionatley.

“Chichioya! Watch me! I have something to show you!” You chirp out again equally joyous, lifting your head off his shoulder as you two silently hugged for a few seconds. You loved his warmth and he loved yours as well

“What is it, Doki?” Douma asked in response, completely interested as he replaces you on his hip so he could let you get more comfortable before he makes another choice. He didn’t know what was in your mind but now his attention was peaked and focused on you

Douma’s head tilted like a curious little kitten, he decided to bring you over to his throne in a mere blink as he watched you hold out your hands, palm flat and concentrate intently on the snowy-white skin. After a few seconds, a white bunny dropping snowflakes materialised and hopped away, circling you two before disappearing into a thin rain of snowflakes

Douma almost exploded in cheers and would have awoken his followers if he didn’t bite down on his lip. He always made jokes about you being his daughter, but he never thought you’d actually have so many similarities to him. His dead heart was being brought back to life in the very moment as he pumped his free fist up in celebration whilst you turned to face him, waiting for his response

“That’s simply wonderful, Doki! You’re like a little ice queen!” The older demon happily proclaimed, holding his own hands out and producing a palm-sized ice statue of a Buddhist woman in perhaps milliseconds, something he was capable of doing so fluently, he didn’t even need to focus on it.

You always liked his Demon Blood Art, you find his ice so pretty and now that you can produce sentient snowflake beings, you and your adoptive father are gaining all the more matching qualities

One good thing happened after another. Day by day went past after the cute little incident with the snowflake bunny presentation, and something different happened when Douma brought you over to the main dining hall for another dinner with his followers. As you watched the followers eat their not-so-appealing looking human food and talk to a few of them on occasion atop the more quiet Douma’s lap.

One of the ladies, all of the sudden, yelped out in surprise, attracting attention of the many people onto her as she cleared her throat audibly to compose herself as spoke on a shaky voice.

“L-lady Dokusha… your eyes just changed” She remarks gently and nervously. You titled your head in confusion, mirroring Douma well as you answer her with a sweet, usual smile. “Human eyes can’t change, silly! Maybe, it’s just the lighting?” You answer with that unbreaking positivity you’re known in the temple for, though, you knew exactly what she was talking about

It felt only like hours after you showed Douma your self-developed snowflake technique but it had been weeks. You realised you had another ability, alongside the snowflake bunny.

Shapeshifting! You wanted more than anything to take after your beloved father, you want to be exactly like him so you tried your best to mimic him. Though, acting wasn’t enough for you, you wish you shared his blood

Though, your bland purple eyes didn’t match his and his jokes about how close you are to rainbow radiated in your mind as you stared at the tall window in the throne room, sitting in front of it. Your wishes came to true, like a wishing star granting when the purple begin mixing with fluid colours of red, orange, yellow, green and blue. In no time, your eyes had the same colour mix and pattern as Douma. Though, you couldn’t recreate the Kanji for some odd reason

However, it didn’t bother you much. You squealed in excitement, so loud that a follower came into the room to check up on you as she was worried you were hurt. No, you were beyond from hurt. Learning about your shapeshifting ability was one of the best days of your demonic life as you knew exactly what you should do

Surprise Douma with it so you begun practicing whenever he was away. Sure, you could practice with him but he is ten times faster than you, he’d spot the switch instantly so your plan set into motion and this single night was putting all the jigsaw pieces together smoothly

Douma frowned confused with a cute undertone as he begun speaking, his followers instantly bowed at the sound of his deep, powerful voice. “Please do eat, I wouldn’t want any of you be famished. I’m certain it was a lighting trick, my dear” The mentioned young lady bowed a lot lower then the others and nodded frantically, thankful for her leader acknowledging her needs

“Thank you, sir. May the gods bless you for your kindness, sir” She sung out praises like she breathed, quickly returning to her meal as you laughed lightly. You found the followers so interesting as Douma found the followers irritating but, he tried to keep all of them alive for your sake. Though, he must provide you two with recent dinner at some point

Douma instinctively faked a smile, from what you saw as you quickly tapped on his hand, after shuffling back a little to get more comfortable. You wanted his full attention but you needed to get out of the human followers’ sight as to not reveal your demon nature

“Yes, my dear?” Douma asked as he responded to you in no time, you pointed to the throne room and he knew exactly what you supposedly wanting. One of the many plushies he had his followers make for you. Douma picked you up in his mighty arms and bowed lightly at his followers as he rose, reassuring them he will return after picking something up for you.

It felt pathetic slowing down his pace enough to look like a human walking away but he did it, just to further fool his moronic followers. Though, he simply hated it

Entering the throne room and shutting the door, you swung your hands up and slapped his cheeks together with your smaller palms. Douma stopped moving altogether, hand still on the wooden door frame as he looked down at you, locking eyes silently.

His whole world shifted when the missing colours of the rainbow begun mixing with your signature purple, and in seconds, your eyes matched his perfectly. As if he had given you his irises

Douma basically imploded on the spot, much like he did before with your brand new BDA demonstration. His pride was endless, his love was overflowing.

He never thought he’d see the day where his beloved daughter become so much like him. He practically threw you above his head with a genuine smile tearing up his face, he loved everything about you and he loved all these surprises you were spoiling him with

“You can— Wow! Doki, I can’t do that! You can change your eyes?!” Douma cries out surprised and excited all at once, such emotion coming out of the Upper Moon 2 was originally thought to be nonexistent at first as he had no emotion prior to meeting you. You’ve brought him more than a another good reason to live, but a good reason to feel something

“See! Now my eyes are just like yours, Chichioya!”

(Btw. According to Google Translate, Chichioya means “Father”)

[sourgrenadine]

Can you write a scenario where Ed gets a crush on a new coworker who’s kinda like Spencer from Criminal Minds? They’re well-meaning and have a lot of encyclopedic intelligence, but they’re always the most socially awkward person in the room.

a/n: i decided to make this into a fuller fic instead of bullet points, but its still a little disjointed

The firm that Edward works at is small. No one really wants to work at a forensic accounting firm, not in Gotham at least. While in places like Metropolis the only turn off for the job is the admittedly mundane cubicle, in Gotham working for places like this can be a death wish.

So that's why he's so surprised to cee a new face in the office.

The few coworkers he has flit around you, holding out a hand and attempting small talk. To their credit, the people he works with aren't the worst companions in Gotham. At least they're working for a bureau less corrupt than others, but he still has to look on in pity as you shift on your feet, trying to swerve towards your desk.

You don't wave them away, nor do you voice any discomfort, but you fiddle with your hands and keep nodding your head without actually engaging. It's clear that you'd rather just start working and not have to deal with the office pleasantries.

Edward doesn't think much of you at first, you keep your head down and never go out of your way to interact with anyone. and that's fine by him. The two of you go about your routines without bumping into each other, both content to never speak.

He doesn't realize the full extent of your social skills, or lack thereof, until you're both in the break room (really, just a counter) and he murmurs a riddle to himself. He says it so softly, just a silly one about coffee, really not meant for anyone else to hear.

But you do and you say the answer to him, louder than you'd intended.

He stares at you, because it's the first time you ever spoke to him, and the first time he'd experienced you starting a conversation without really being provoked. You meet his eye for a second, spout out a trivia fact about some obscure deep-sea fish, and teeter out of the break area with your head down.

From there, he's hooked. Despite the shaky social aspect, the way you answered him instantly made him know he likes you. Sure, the riddle wasn't particularly difficult, but for most it would still take a few seconds to process the wordplay. He starts to leave little sticky notes, scrawled riddles for you to solve, notes passed in the margins of ledger paper.

He adores your work ethic, and is a little nervous to break your focus with his puzzles. The pros outweigh the cons though because the way that you quickly scrawl the answer down and pass the paper to him like you're passing a note in school is just too cute to him.

He begins to pay more attention to you too, taking note of the little things. Frankly, he thinks you're overqualified for this job. You fix his coworker's mistakes with a single scan of the ledgers, easily counting up the numbers that would've taken anyone else a calculator.

He notices when his coworkers fumble with a name of a client, you quickly pipe up to fix their bumble. Actually, you speak up a lot, if it's to correct someone else. Even when it doesn't seem entirely wanted, you still do it and Ed actually really appreciates that about you because it makes everything more efficient.

Ed puffs out his chest that you haven't corrected him too.

He starts to write harder and harder puzzles and riddles in an attempt to stump you, but you seem to pass them flawlessly and he falls so in love then.

He starts to bring you coffee if he notices your cup is empty. The breakroom coffee quality is less than favorable, so once a week Ed takes a coffee shop detour in the morning to buy something that doesn't taste like dirt. He quickly memorizes your order too.

He never outright says that he likes you, but he does write more romantic riddles.

No one else in the office humors him as much as you do, and even if you don't like him the way he likes you, he knows that he has a companion.

[awkwardtortilla]

Nightmares

Currently running on anime and spite so I apologize for any poor quality content. This was requested by @bluepladin I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Dylan x Ryan

warnings: nightmares; Abi died in this one; trauma; post-game; panic attack; but then fluffy and sweet

Teeth.

Gnashing teeth.

A long tongue writhing between glinting canines. Wild, dilated eyes flashing yellow in the moonlight. Vicious snarls tearing through the cabin.

Flesh ripped from bone. Head pried off shoulders. The screams and pleas of friends.

But they would be okay — the rest would be okay. This had happened before… hadn’t it? Yes, Dylan had seen it. The monster would leave, breaking through the window.

But where was the shattering glass? Why hadn’t the growling faded yet?

Claws scraped against wooden floors. Thuds of galloping paws grew rapidly closer. Someone —Ryan — cried out in pain as he was attacked but the creature kept running. Running directly at Dylan.

His mind screamed at him to move. His heart tugged at the loss of a friend and with worry for someone he wished was more. But he was frozen.

“Dylan!” Ryan shouted. Of course, it was too late. He couldn’t do anything and neither could Dylan.

Bright yellow irises mere inches from Dylan’s deep brown ones. A loud snarl and engulfing darkness pulled a scream from his throat.

Dylan shot up in bed, gasping, sweating, throat sore from… yelling, maybe? Or snoring. Ryan always complained that he snored.

“Dyl…?” Ryan’s sleepy voice croaked. Dylan loved Ryan’s sleepy voice. It was cute, and soothing right now.

Ryan rolled over and patted the spot where his boyfriend always slept. His hand met fluffy pillow, empty mattress, then Dylan’s back. Ryan’s eyes cracked open, and immediately widened. He sat up, “Dylan? Babe, what’s wrong?”

Dylan was trembling all over. His breathing was irregular and shaky. His hand was buried in his hair, gripping a handful. The nub that was left of the other was pressed against his sweaty forehead.

“P-Panic att-ack,” he managed. His voice wobbled, like he was choking on something. Tears?

“Shit,” Ryan whispered. He scooted closer to his lover, gingerly put a hand on his back. “I-I’m here. Shh, breathe, focus on my voice. On my hand.”

Ryan started rubbing circles on Dylan’s back.

“I’m right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Hey, look at me.”

Slowly but surely Dylan lowered his hands and met his boyfriend’s eye.

“Deep breaths, Dyl, c’mon. You can do it. Wanna do it with me?”

“Yeah— mhm,” Dylan gave a little nod. Ryan kept encouraging him, “Okay. With me then. In… out. In… out.”

They did that a few times, until Dylan’s breathing was mostly normal. Ryan gave him a while, held his hand. Finally Ryan asked, “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

“There’s not much to talk about,” Dylan sighed. “It was another nightmare about, uh, about that night.”

“At camp?”

“Yeah. The one about Nick… er, about Abi, when she…”

Even years later Dylan couldn’t get his friend’s death out of his head. Granted, she had been decapitated by the boy she liked after he turned into a werewolf so it was bound to stick. But the fact that Dylan was still having nightmares about it was just pathetic.

“God, I’m sorry babe,” Ryan said. “That night was hell, but that moment was… that had to’ve been one of the worst. I feel like I can still hear it.”

“Me too.” Dylan shifted closer to Ryan. “But this nightmare was different from what happened. Nick — killed — Abi, but didn’t run off. He hurt you and came for me.”

Ryan stayed quiet for a moment, considering responses, “Well, Abi may be gone, but so is Silas. Nick’s better. He didn’t attack me or you. We’re here and we’re okay. I’m okay.”

Dylan flashed a flirty smile, “Can I get some confirmation on that?”

Ryan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too, “C’mere.”

They tugged each other closer, laid back on the pillows, and pulled the covers up. They settled with Ryan’s arms wrapped around Dylan’s neck, his chin resting on his head. Dylan’s held Ryan’s middle, his face buried in Ryan’s chest.

Dylan filled his lungs with his boyfriend’s soothing scent, “Thanks, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,” Ryan pressed a kiss to the top of Dylan’s head, nuzzled into his soft hair.

[call-me-the-cassie]

Between the Lines

Written for @liiilyevans for the Potterverse Gift exchange. This got out of hand and developed into a multichapter fic, but I'll try to post a part every day. Happy holidays!

No one could reasonably expect to meet their soulmate in Introductory Mechanics, mused Lily halfway into her first class of the semester, but the boy with messy hair sitting two rows ahead of her would do quite well as the star of her daydreams for a while.

If she were the sort to lie to herself, Lily would have pretended that he hadn’t caught her attention the moment she walked into the lecture room and saw him already there, looking unduly excited about what was supposed to be the toughest class that year. As someone who considered such deception beneath her, however, Lily freely admitted that she was instantly attracted to the bloke, his enthusiasm for lectures scheduled at 8:00 AM notwithstanding.

Dear bloke in grey hoodie, she started writing absentmindedly as Professor Flitwick went on about the quality of work he expected from his students,

You must really love Mechanics, to be so awake. You’re hanging on to Flitwick’s every word, it’s almost sickening. I would not have thought you’d be a teacher’s pet. Can you not feel the boredom in the air? Does it not lull you to sleep? I’m no mechanics hater myself, but it’s simply too early for this. You’re not an early morning person, are you? I thought you were cute, but this might be a deal breaker. I can’t daydream about a guy who likes doing things at 8:00 AM, it would never work.

I’ll wait till the next lecture to judge you harshly, but you’re on shaky ground. You’re lucky I like your hair.

Later, Lily.

As far as letters went, that was probably not her best effort, but Lily had no intentions of sending the grey-hoodie-messy-hair dude her silly little note. No, she’d just been trying to stay awake while Flitwick went on an unrelated tangent, that was all.

I’m already tired of this class, she texted her roommate after the hour was finally over and she left the depressingly dull room.

That’s why I’m not there:), Mary texted back, and how Lily envied her new friend’s ability to skip classes without the slightest bit of guilt. She, however, didn’t work that way, so she resigned herself to the long, exhausting semester looming ahead.

Two days later, Lily had almost forgotten about the messy haired boy when she walked into her second mechanics lecture, determined to not let her mind drift away from the topic at hand, no matter how sweet sleep may seem.

Her good intentions lasted all of twenty minutes, before Flitwick started a brief recap and her attention wandered away.

She glanced lazily around the room, her eyes brightening a little when she saw the boy who had caught her attention a couple of days ago.

Dear grey hoodie bloke, she wrote again,

I can’t tell if you’re still listening to Flitwick, but you seem suspiciously awake to me. What’s your secret, grey hoodie bloke? Is it those doodles you’re doodling right now? At least, I assume you’re doodling, because there’s nothing to write here. Unless you’re so much of a swot that you’re taking notes of a RECAP. You’re not, are you? I mean, I admire due diligence towards work, but this is just pointless. It’s okay to zone out a bit, really.

Oh crap, he’s moved on to the next topic. Later, grey hoodie bloke.

Lily had to admit that Flitwick was a good teacher, but it was pointless trying to deny that no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t maintain her focus through his slow paced teaching, not so early in the day.

She also had to admit that her missives to the boy she had christened grey hoodie bloke certainly made things more interesting. Her notes were interspersed with random observations written to him, and it kept her attention centred in the lecture room.

His name was James Potter, she found out a week later when they both hung back after class to ask Flitwick a few questions about an assignment. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow, she decided, despite the fact that he was almost annoyingly perky in the early morning classes.

I’ll look past your morning chirpiness, she wrote another day,

But only because I’m planning on asking to borrow your notes later, so your state of alertness works to my advantage, really. You’re an unwitting minion in my diabolic plots, Potter.

She caught him before leaving, and he relinquished his notes with a smile that made Lily’s heart beat a little faster, but he seemed to be in too much of a hurry to stay and chat.

“You can return them tomorrow, yeah?”, he asked, and when Lily nodded in reply, he rushed out the door with a friendly wave in her direction.

If Lily was disappointed with the length of the conversation, she at least had no reason to complain when she found that his notes were thorough enough to suit her purposes.

[quirklessthot]

kinktober: day 3 | nudes [dabi]

warnings: 18+

word count: 1.1k

a/n still going strong with day three! (p.s. you canNOT tell me dabi wouldn't pull this shit)

⤿ kinktober masterlist

You’re sleeping peacefully in your bed, dead to the world, until the loud ping of your phone receiving a message wakes you. Groggily, you crack open your eyes and feel around blindly for your phone. You bring it to your face and turn on the display, instantly regretting having the backlight on so high. After nearly getting blinded, you can make out the words on the screen.

[unknown]: u up?

The contact might be listed as ‘unknown’, but you know exactly who would wake you up with a text like this at 2 am. Your phone pings again.

[unknown]: its dabi

You know.

Heaving a tired sigh, you roll your eyes but answer anyway, thumb lazily tapping on your onscreen keyboard as you yawn and hug your pillow.

[You]: I am now. What do you want?

His reply is almost immediate.

[unknown]: my dick is so hard right now

Seriously? Could he be more of a fuckboy right now?

Apparently, he could, because his next message is a shaky picture of his hand wrapped around his hard dick. It’s a terrible quality photo if you’re being honest: the lightning is bad, there’s no finesse and most importantly, you didn’t ask for it. A 3/10, overall.

[You]: That’s rough, buddy. Goodnight.

The next few pings come in quick succession. Great, he’s double-texting.

[unknown]: babe

[unknown]: c’mon

[unknown]: dont b like that…

[unknown]: pls?

Your eyebrows raise almost to your hairline. You didn’t Dabi even knew the word ‘please’ existed. He must be really desperate.

[You]: Well I’m not sure what you want me to do about it? I don’t even know where you are…

The next message almost has you throwing your phone.

[unknown]: send me a pic of ur tits

“You’ve got to be shitting me…” you mumble into the quiet darkness of your room.

[You]: I’m not giving you nudes Dabi.

[unknown]: i gave u sum!

[You]: I didn’t ask for a picture of your dick!!

[unknown]: :(

Such a simple emoji shouldn’t fill you with so much remorse but a part of you knows how hard you find it telling Dabi ‘no’.

One picture and that’s all he’s getting.

You hike your shirt up to tuck it under your chin, nipples instantly pebbling under the cool night air. You angle your phone and snap a picture, making sure to keep your face firmly out of the frame. It’s a little dark – you’re too tired to get up and turn any lights on – and it’s not exactly the sexiest pic you’ve ever taken but he’ll have to make do.

Your thumb hovers over the send button before you take the leap and press it, wondering in the back of your mind just how much you’re going to regret this.

It takes a while for him to respond and you hate how antsy it’s making you. You’re on the metaphorical edge of your metaphorical seat as you wait. Does he like it? He’s the one begging for nudes at two in the morning, he’d better like it!

[unknown]: fuuuuuk babe

[unknown]: wish i was thr

[unknown]: hav u suck m e off

[unknown]: cover thse perfct fukin tits in my c um

That’s more typos than usual, and it’s probably not because of his usual laziness. You greatly suspect he’s multitasking.

The thought of Dabi pleasuring himself to a picture of you has warmth spreading through your body. You squeeze your thighs together as you type.

[You]: Yeah? What makes you think I’ll let you

[unknown]: u’ll let me

[unknown]: cuz ur my prefect lil cumslut

[unknown]: isnt that right ?

You mutter a curse under your breath as your hand finds its way between your thighs. Images of you gagging on Dabi’s cock flash in your mind, the most recent rendezvous – from about a week ago. You can almost feel the heavy weight of his girthy cock on your tongue. You subconsciously lick your lips as your hand speeds up.

Another message.

[unknown]: busy?

You can almost feel the smugness radiating from that single word. Groaning, you ignore his taunt and put your phone down to continue rubbing yourself over your underwear, making sure to put most of your focus on your little clit.

Your phone pings again.

[unknown]: i kno ur touchin urself

[unknown]: u wet for me baby?

You whine and nod your head before remembering that he can’t actually see you.

[You]: Yeah, I think I soaked through my panties

[unknown]: hm not sure i believe u

The horny haze you’ve unexpectedly found yourself in has you thinking you need to send him proof and you reach over to flick on your bedside lamp, bathing the dark room in warm, artificial yellow light. Settling back down, you quickly snap another photo and send it to Dabi.

This one is focused between your spread thighs, underwear pulled taught over your mound and leaving little to the imagination. The sizeable dark patch is hard to miss.

[unknown]: fuck i wish i could call u right now so i can hear those cute little noises you make when u play with urself

[unknown]: guess I’ll have to make do with pics huh?

Taking the hint, you quickly roll down your underwear, discarding it somewhere onto the floor, and take a picture of your cunt, lips slick and shiny with your arousal.

As you wait for Dabi’s reply, your hand slowly slides between your thighs. A shiver runs through your body at the feeling of your slippery, heated skin under your fingertips. Focusing tight, slow circles over your clit, you begin rocking your hips, already lost in pleasure. Too impatient for anymore teasing, you slip two fingers inside, arching your back and gasping at the delicious stretch.

You alternate between fucking yourself on your fingers hard and fast and feverishly rubbing your clit, sometimes giving your pussy a firm, teasing spank – just the way Dabi likes to do when he’s knuckles deep in you. You’re so wet you’re beginning to make a mess but at this moment – right on the precipice of pure bliss, you don’t care.

It only takes a few strokes and you’re falling over the edge, entire body spasming as you cry out. When you fall back onto your pillow, you let out a deep, pleasured exhale, fully satiated.

The last photo you send is of two of your fingers inches away from your bare cunt, glossy with your slick - a few strands are connected from your soaked digits to your puffy, swollen lips. Seconds later you get one of Dabi, shirt pulled up and spent cock lying on his stomach, white traces of his cum all over his stomach and chest.

Still on cloud nine from your orgasm, you get up to clean yourself up. When you lie back down in your bed, you pick up your phone to shoot Dabi a quick text.

[You]: Ok, I have to admit that was fun but you’re going to delete those, right?

Read 2:27 am

[You]: Dabi?

Read 2:28 am

[You]: Dabi. That’s not funny…

Read 2:28 am

[You]: DABI!

[tofumedic]

hewo! for the affections number.. 16 is so cute.. would u be able to do headcanons of all the demon bros with it? if not, can u pls do levi then !

The Brothers + Simeon with #16!

16. taking a photo of them smiling or in their element

(lucifer's is here from a previous ask! and bc of that i added simeon only for having some lil funnies i hope you dont mind <3!!!)

Mammon

His collection is the largest, he flaunts it like collectables like cars or like Levi's figures. It is literally one of his biggest flexes and will use them like trading cards never wanting to send them in group chats or privately bc he took those ones get your own human >:(!

He will however hold his phone directly in one of their faces, waving the screen around to show how he has so many good ones.

He uses them for call screens, his lock screen, his home screen, any widget he can other than the Goldie one. He's a menace about it but do not call him out on it he will buy a second phone to use in the public.

Anyways, anyways for actually taking photos..

Mammon always takes too many, as in he will take a bunch within the same timespan because he doesn't trust his hands not to shake, so if he just takes a lot at one time so he can delete the others and save the best ones

But he just ends up keeping all of them, just favoriting the best or separating them into two albums of "valuables" and "treasures" depending on the quality.

Usually they will all have a small blur, him too excited at seeing whatever expression you wear, whether its a smile at seeing him purposely acting dumb or you enjoying a hobby.

He feeds a lot of unfiltered second hand serotonin off of you! Please do not disturb his "I have just had a very bad brotherly bonding experience, I must cope by looking at my photos of my human- No I'm not smiling already shut up"

Leviathan

Levi will use photos of you like wholesome memes so they carry the same energy as the hang in there cat poster, using different heart overlays and nice quotes

His are also a mixture of blurry but also high quality photos, for ones he takes.

This is because seeing you so dedicated or when you smile in his direction, his heart does this weird jumpstart the palpitations making him feel heavy yet light at the same time almost like a peach and its pit.

But he has a preference to use either this small tripod(he has it as a preparation for going to live shows) or a timer so its set away from him as he calls you over, its his own little trap.

His favorite, the majority of his collection, are those! It's photos of you being in frame with him in it as well because there's just something about how all that happiness of yours is completely focused on him, your smile as you walk over towards him sometimes blurry and mistimed so its only you entering the corner of the screen but you can tell how he takes your attention.

When getting in fights about who has the best photos, he will drop ones that are different hugs of him in your arms like he was a newly one plush. Mammon especially gets pissy about these as well as Belphie and Asmo.

If you can't turn your camera on when he calls or if he is locked in a raid that they're losing he would ask you for a selfie also, never requesting anything special other than just yourself but his favorite is when you send just smiles or videos of the which character are you filter :]!

Satan

Satan often tries to hide it, saying he's taking a photo of himself or checking his hair, maybe even going as far as saying the text on his study notes are too small so he has to hold it in front of his face so close.

Think about cowboys, shooting from the waist. That's him when you're too far away, maybe with a brother or during class or eating. He will scribble out his brother or purposely have the other cropped out of the shot.

He does have a lot of you when you're just turning around to face him and then your reaction, he can't resist the temptation of taking your attention when he's bored or waiting for his next book order to come in before he goes back to the cat behavior of only seeking out attention when he deems it necessary and otherwise pleased for a period of time.

He loves the ones where you look at him before he's ready, these are just slightly shaky from him jumping or pressing the button in an embarrassed panic at your smug yet happy expression.

Has definitely done the cut a hole in a newspaper and put his camera to it to look out like it was some camouflage but he's first, smiling much too hard and trying not to laugh at it, and second had seen it in multiple old movies and shows you had watched together.

Satan, speaking of movies, quite enjoys you in low light. On movie nights where your face is only illuminated by the projector screen and the photos turn out a bit grainy, there's something so romantic about you just existing in such an atmosphere. These ones he does like more when you're focused, looking far off with a small pleasant smile on your face at the soft plot of tonight's pick.

Asmodeus

Asmo will send you them all the time, he's like your own personal Devilgram manager he will even edit them for you and send the before and after of those photos too (MC: when did u take these??? Asmo: ,';p)

He will always have such good angles of you, from your side, from above or below, a 3/4, or full portrait, your silhouette. He may have one for each basic one at least though his favorites are above and below, these are the most personal feeling to him.

Usually these come as him trying to get your attention, bothering you with his phone and purposely leaving the little shutter noise on so you hear every single one while you're just trying to watch a DevilTube video or do something else.

Him snuggled into your side post cuddle just to lean up, phone in his hand and a menacing giggle, it's the first thing you see waking from your drowsy state is him on top of you trying to get cute pictures that he can use as teases as if something else was in progress.

Or ones where you roll on top of him, just trying to get up to see the dumb little flash as an alarm instead of his cute good morning kisses to your face(those are actually used to buy more time with you because he is allowed to be a little selfish as a treat)

He also has them set as his lockscreen and homescreen, these being photos of you together so he can have the best of both worlds, himself and your happy smiling face. He just finds it so cute, whenever you want an audience to see it he's in the first row.

Sends them to the group chat with his brothers to start some chaos

"My~ Isn't my dearest MC just the cutest?" Asmo has sent 28 attachments.

Beelzebub

His collection isn't one of the best out there but it is unique and keeps him content and happy, pleased.

He likes having photos of you for when you two are separated, it makes you feel closer to him and him to you

His may have some of the least blur, hands steady you work on something separately yet aware of the soft stare that was bearing into the side of your head.

He may forget sometimes about the sound so when you get the rare notification from his electronic betrayer it is free power to tease him, asking him if he wanted your attention or if he just took a photo of you and to be honest, then his photos if you let him continue for that setting are a little blurrier on your fine details. He's embarrassed.

He likes these more than ones with just your smile because then he isn't as satisficed because then he's thinking about how nice it looks in person and your laugh and when you let out a sigh being tired from your work, it'll be a cycle until he gives up and goes to see you in person.

But he likes the ones of you in your element very much and photos of you in general, saying that looking at them makes him feel "full"

He means to say complete, he's content and pleased and delighted and he has a reminder of you existing, that you're real and not a midnight sleep walk hallucination.

Belphegor

He has the smallest collection but next to rest, Beel, and his appearance he is mostly focused on capturing photos of you when he can.

He didn't get to really know you as long as his brothers have so its only fair he gets to spend more time with you than them until he's equal, and then some because you're really comfy and you make his twin happy? and then on top of that you make this face when you are concentrated and you smile different depending on if you're gonna laugh or if you're confident.

There's so much he has to memorize, he's rather demanding with having the attention so he may continue this personal agenda of his.

A lot of them are from similar angles, from laying with him in different positions but everything feeling relatively the same, normal. These are usually after he has woken up, not before he goes to bed so either it's your soft good morning smile, or your surprised "how long have you been awake" face, or you still asleep on your own.

Many of them often have his bed head just barely visible at the bottom, usually having laid on top of you and just using his selfie camera and angling it up to see you take up more of the screen.

For just being a pillow that moves a lot you definitely are photogenic.

He doesn't send his photos of you to chats but will save photos sent of you from everyone except Lucifer.

Simeon

PLEASE applaud.

It takes him such a long time, but Solomon gave him the idea saying it was something sweet you would also enjoy the concept of. So he is doing his best.

He will see you, just existing and his heart will swell, needing to pause a moment before kindly asking you to hold that thought and pose as he turns on his phone, maneuvering to the camera and trying to get it to focus on you perfectly.

It takes him a few minutes every time but he is getting better at it but his reaction is always the same, smiling at you showing up on his phone screen waiting for the picture to be taken.

He never can be sneaky about it unless he asks for help to get your photo, sending Luke on his biggest mission yet, a photo after he asks you what you thought of Simeon's cooking knowing you'll have that sweet face of genuine thought looking back on it.

But he has yet figured out how to turn the sound off and almost always accidentality flashes you up close, it's so bright.

He has the most blurry photos, and that's not on purpose but when he asks you to look at them with him so he can coo about how happy you look or how serious, its endearing with the blur especially as they clear up a bit continuing the timeline of photos.

He really does his best to have these mementos of you.

Is delighted when you surprise him by putting his favorite one of you as his home screen, he's so grateful let him match with you he wants to be yours too!

from this prompt list!

[alovesongshewrote]

If you’re taking requests, maybe something about Doux finding the reader absolutely delirious from lack of sleep? I may or may not have gotten literally any sleep last night and although I managed to get through my morning routine pretty efficiently I FEEL my body just wiping out. I will be comatose within the hour.

Sleep, Darling | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  you’ve been awake for too long and it is not doing you any favours.  Thank god for punk wizards who care about your wellbeing, amirite lads?  (Also, the pure Irony that this is getting posted at like, 2:40 am where i am, rip me i guess)

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings:  A bit of blood is mentioned in passing, the reader isn’t human and probably has adhd or smthn.  Also, Friends is mentioned, like, the tv show, so that’s a thing!

A/N:   if you look closely, you can actually see me projecting onto this one.  I hope you got some sleep anon.

Tags:   @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Time isn’t real.  It’s a social construct made to bring order to the general chaos that is human existence.  That was why you were up at 5 a.m for the second, maybe third, night in a row.  Was it healthy?  Probably not, but you didn’t need sleep, you needed answers.  Answers to what?  Who knows at this point, honestly.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when you finally noticed the late, or early hour.  You just shrugged it off and went “fuck it, all-nighter,” which was fine for the moment.  But time’s a bitch, and that moment was over pretty fast.  By noon, you were ready to collapse.  The three cups of coffee did not help.  Instead, they made you vibrate at a frequency that could quite possibly break glass.  As much as this sucked for you, it was worse for your lovely friend and co-worker, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Now, our boi Douxie was and is madly in love with you, but shhh, it’s a secret.  You also love him, and that’s a secret too.  Neither of these secrets are well kept, and the only reason you aren’t together is general stupidity.  Literally, anyone else who watches the two of you interacting can tell that you're in love.  Hell, half the town assumes you’re together already.  The other half keeps trying to get you together.  It is not working very well.  But that’s all a digression.  What you really need to know is that Douxie loves you and watching you suffer from a lack of sleep was Not A Pleasant Experience.  You were delirious, shaky, and constantly off-balance.  You could work well enough, but it was clear that your health was not in the same zone.

The final straw came when you cut your hand on broken glass.  You’d dropped a cup, and instead of using magic, you’d tried to fix the mess by hand.  That plan did not work, and you received a bloody slash across your palm for your troubles.

“Ah.  Fuck,” you said, thinking you were whispering but instead speaking at a normal volume.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘S nothing, I’ve got it,” you did not got it, especially not in this state, and Douxie had the good sense to figure that out.  The blood was a pretty good hint though.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“I told you, I’m toooootally fine, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Here, (Y/N), let me help you-”

“No, no, this is, this is-” it was then that your sleep-deprived brain decided to cut off your train of thought and replace it with another, more chaotic train.  You stopped talking and just stared at Douxie for a solid minute.  Or at least it felt like a solid minute.  Time isn’t real, remember that.

“(Y-Y/N)?  You alright there, darling?”

“You’re really cute, did you know that?  Like… really cute.  Steve was right, you could be a model.”

“I-”

“Also, just gonna put it out there, I freakin’ love it when you call me darling.  Like, I know you call most people darling, but it makes me feel special.  Don’t ask why, it just does.”

Douxie wasn’t planning on asking why.  He wasn’t really planning on anything.  Your sleep-deprived half-confession had turned him from a capable individual into a blushing mess in less than a second.  You always had that effect on him, but it looked like your exhausted state was giving you a bit of an edge.

“Oh, sorry, I made it weird.  Anyway, do you think if I brewed my next coffee with Monster instead of water it would wake me up?   Because I’m still tired, and it isn’t fun.”

“I- you- I’m-”

“I think I might try it, honestly.”

“Ok, how about you don’t do that,”  Archie said, swooping in, literally and figuratively, to save the day, “Douxie, can you please get (Y/N)’s hand patched up?  It looks quite painful and they’re dripping blood onto the carpet.”

You were, in fact, dripping blood onto the carpet.  That wasn’t good, “Oh, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, just go do something about that hand,” with that, Archie smacked Douxie upside the head in an attempt to snap him out of his flustered state.  It was super effective!

“Ahh, yeah.   C’mon, (Y/N), let’s,,, go,,, fix,,, that.”

“Ok,”  you stood, too tired to protest, and followed Douxie into the back of the bookstore, which was literally just his apartment.  

It was a nice place.  Very cozy, very him.  It made you want to curl up and take a nap, but to be fair, literally everything made you want to curl up and take a nap at the moment.  Regardless, his home made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and you never wanted to leave it.  Maybe it was the interior decorating, but you knew it was because your favourite person lived there.  What you didn’t know, or didn’t realize, was that you’d just spoken your entire thought process out loud and Douxie heard every word of it.  Once again, the boy was a blushing mess.  If you were awake enough to process things, you would have found it cute.  Or you’d be dead from embarrassment, that one is a bit of a toss-up.

Fighting through his flustered state, Douxie pulled you into the bathroom and collected a first aid kit from under the counter.  While he focused on getting things done, you curled into a ball in his bathtub.  For some reason, your exhausted brain decided that sitting on the edge of the bathtub simply did not Vibe™ but sitting inside the tub was better than nothing, and so you just,,, curled up there.  Douxie was only a little surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)?”

“D’you remember that time on Friends when Winona Ryder played a closeted lesbian?  That was a fuckin’ trip, man.”

“(Y/N), darling-”

“That whole episode is just- it’s just strange.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, Stranger Things.”

“(Y/N), love, I need to see your hand.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot.  Here,” you sat up, extending your hand out to the wizard.  He took it, sitting on the edge of the bathtub which was fine for him to do, I guess.  Not you though, you were stuck in bathtub jail for sleep deprivation crimes.

You squinted up at his face as he tended to the nasty scratch you’d given yourself.  You didn’t have the capacity to focus on what he was doing, so instead you focused on him.  He was pretty, as you’d said before, but that was always true.  At that exact moment, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes concerned and his jaw set.  His hands were steadier than yours could ever hope to be, especially since you hadn’t been sleeping.  Overall, he looked kind of mad, so you sunk down into your bath-prison, silent and waiting for him to finish so you could get back to work.

Douxie was not mad at you.  He was upset that you hadn’t been sleeping, but he wasn’t mad.  He was just worried for your health.  Your wizard did not appreciate seeing you shaking and sleep-deprived.  He didn’t appreciate it when your current state led you to injure yourself, either.

He wrapped up your hand and gave it a small pat, “Done.  Now, come on, you’re taking a nap.”

His voice surprised you.  It was gentle, calm, not at all angry like you’d suspected.  You found yourself so lost in it that you didn’t realize what he’d said until he said your name, trying to snap you out of whatever haze you were in.

“Oh, wait, what?  No, shit, I have to get back to work-”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak, I need to go-” you stood and almost fell over.  You probably would have broken something if Douxie didn’t catch you.  You hadn’t exactly expected to end up in his arms today, and despite the heat rising in your face and neck, you were not complaining.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Douxie, I-”

“You need to sleep.  Please, (Y/N), don’t make me use a spell on you.”

You froze for a second before a smirk crept onto your face, “You wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“You wouldn’t use a spell on meeeeee-” the smirk grew into a full smile as you let yourself go limp, forcing him to move his hands to support you better and pull you closer to him.  Was that your plan?  Maybe.  Was it part of a second, bigger plan?  Also yes.

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“I-” and then he went silent.  There was a moment of tension where you just stared into each other’s eyes, holding your breath to see what the other person would do.  Your gaze fell to his lips as his fell to yours.  For that moment, your thoughts began to wander far out of your control.  Douxie’s mind was also running rampant but in a different direction.  You were right, he thought.  He couldn't use magic on you.  As far as he knew, you were a human.  Just a mortal being who crawled their way into his life and stayed there, improving the quality of it greatly.  If there was even the slightest chance that a spell may have negative side effects, which most sleep spells did, he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially not on you.  He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist, “You’re right.”

“What?”  Oop, plan going sideways, PLAN GOING SIDEWAYS!

“I’m- not going to use magic on you,” he helped you to stand, and moved to take a step back before you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back to you, ignoring the sharp sting in your hand.

“Ok, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hang on there wizard boy-” you took a moment to pull yourself out of the bathtub entirely, “You can’t give up that easily.”

“Wha-”

“Come onnnnnn, make it fun, make it exciting.  Put a spell on me or whatever, just-” you went quiet for a second, but for once you weren’t distracted.  Just quiet.  You had to face facts.  Your plan had failed, and now you had nothing but the truth.

“(Y/N)?”

“Just make my brain stop.  For just two seconds.”

“What?”

“Please.  I’m running on a motor and I can’t stop myself.  I haven’t slept and I have no choice in the matter.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, just, take away my free-will if you have to.  Knock me out, magic or otherwise, I just want five seconds where I’m not on hyperdrive,” you were standing on your own now, though Douxie’s arms were still wrapped around you and you hadn’t let go of his hoodie, “Please.”

The bathroom was silent for a minute.  It took that long for Douxie to process what you’d just said.  You feared, for that moment, that you’d said too much.  You hadn't.  Not to him, anyway.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, picking you up, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“Wait, what!?” your voice was slightly more frantic, surprise lacing through your words.

“There’s more than one way to get a person to sleep.”

“Oh-?”

He didn’t respond to your question, instead, he carried you out the door and into what you could only assume was his room.  You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life until he set you down on the bed.

“Stay here, okay?  I’m going to make you some tea-”

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my darling,” he sat in front of you on the bed, “You just need to get some sleep, okay?”

“But what about-”

“I’ll cover your shift, you don’t need to worry.”

“I-”

“Just rest, for now, love.  Please.”

“Ok,” your words were a whisper, something that Douxie could only just hear.  The next thing though, he didn’t have to strain to hear at all, “Yeah.  I meant what I said earlier, by the way.  You’re so pretty, it isn’t fair.”

He laughed at this, at you, finally seeing some humour in your shenanigans.  He relaxed now knowing that you may actually get some much-needed rest.  He stood, kissing your forehead and tracing the side of your face with a hand, rough from guitar strings and 900 years of sweeping.

“Worry not, love, you’re pretty too.”

“Hey, wait-”

“Don’t ‘hey, wait,’ me.  You are.  Now lie down, I’ll be back in a second.”

A smile crept onto your face as you followed orders.  Your emo wizard man thought you were pretty.  And he cared enough about you to let you sleep during work hours, in his home, no less.  You let yourself relax into the bed, grinning once again.  It smelled like him, like thyme and peppermint, lemongrass and sleep.  It was nice, comforting.  You could only vaguely think of Douxie as your brain finally took a fuckin breather.  It was everything you needed, honestly.

By the time Douxie came back, you were long gone, lost to your dreams and finally asleep.  He sighed a smile that matched yours on his face.  He placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before grabbing a blanket out of his closet and draping it over you.  You looked so peaceful.  Good.  You deserved some peace every now and then.

He took the cup and left you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes as he did.  After making his exit, he placed the still-hot tea on the counter, disregarding it for now before returning to the bookshop.

“How are they?”  his familiar asked, tail twisting in concern.

He gave a final fond look at the door before returning to business, “They’re just resting.”  And for once, you were.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 6   ||  chapter 7  ||  chapter 9  ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh. 

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks 

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next. 

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this  :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^) 

|||||||||||||||

Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

 ‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering. 

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches. 

 His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks. 

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl. 

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy. 

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

 Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive. 

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms. 

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

 The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies. 

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved. 

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much. 

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours. 

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

 It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all— 

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first. 

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven. 

 ...

 But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

 Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached. 

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

 [you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

 Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

 You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder. 

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of. 

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide. 

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks. 

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all. 

You didn’t even cross his mind. 

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful. 

All the same, the absence would burn later. 

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair. 

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic. 

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign. 

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized. 

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams. 

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment. 

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing. 

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well. 

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.  

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind. 

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior. 

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment. 

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull. 

 You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together. 

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay. 

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko. 

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse. 

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar. 

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled. 

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire. 

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine . 

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

 The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot. 

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out— 

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former. 

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior. 

The absences burned. 

 Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant. 

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority— 

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still. 

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state. 

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit. 

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye. 

 ...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized. 

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often. 

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late) 

More on his mind meant more to forget. 

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone. 

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized. 

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken— 

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day. 

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing. 

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring. 

 You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation. 

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

 [birdboy <3] calling...

 You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. 

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered. 

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off— 

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job. 

Why does this all feel so bad?

 “Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support— 

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

 ...

 Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right. 

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

 ...

 You hardly slept. 

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all. 

You ‘rationalized’. 

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize. 

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase. 

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering. 

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

 Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety. 

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still. 

He gave you a call.

 You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky. 

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality. 

 “Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

 “It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt. 

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive. 

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise. 

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it. 

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

 You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver. 

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||

 ko-fi

||||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess  @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @msgrungie @mia--merc @a-monsters-love @peach-buns-unicorns@amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidelsewhere

(send me an ask if you would like to be added!)

[kaalamarii]

Kinktober Day 1

707/femMC

Obviously NSFW!!! 18+ only

Voyeurism && Phone Sex 🖤

My Masterlist

Bored out of her mind, MC wandered around the apartment, and out in the hallways as well. She knew that there were cameras around the place that Seven had access to. At first she wasn’t sure how often he’d look at it, knowing how busy he usually was, she figured he didn’t pay much attention.

MC decided to test it, waving at or making faces to the cameras she walked past them, occasionally getting emojis sent to her phone through the messenger from Seven. Sometimes he’d call her after noticing she was watching something on tv and they’d have conversations about the characters and make fun of the cheesy storylines.

They had even started playing games together. MC found a couple of board games Rika had had and she’d lay them out where the camera could see. Seven would call and tell her where to move his piece. “Don’t cheat,” he’d tease, “I can see everything, you know.”

And that gave her an idea.

Seven’s eyes flicked over to the monitor that was connected to Rika’s apartment once he saw movement. MC came out in an oversized sweater, knee high socks, and short shorts, her hair beautifully messy tied up in a bun. Seven smiled, thinking of how cute and cozy she looked. Also it was funny to him that it looked like she wasn’t wearing pants. He watched her for a moment as she headed to the kitchen to make coffee. While waiting, MC leaned against the counter to play around on her phone.

Seven choked a bit on his PhD Pepper as she bent over the counter, noticing that she actually wasn’t wearing shorts at all, but was just in her underwear. Her ass cheeks poked out from the bottom of her sweater, the view of her round ass perfectly in view of the camera.

Seven scolded himself for not only looking, but imagining himself behind her, hands gripping her hips, thrusting…

NO, he quickly shut himself down. You’re supposed to be protecting her and figuring out what brought her to the messenger, not daydreaming about fucking her.

He turned to one of his other many monitors, trying to focus on his job instead, but it proved to be impossible as all he could think about was MC. Even as she got her coffee and went to sit on the couch, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She turned on the tv, and laid back on the couch, legs spreading slightly as she lounged. Seven looked at her legs, gaze traveling up to her thighs and to the small bit of fabric he could see between them.

Seven licked his lips as she yawned and stretched, bringing the sweater up more and allowing him a better view of her panties. His jeans tightened and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own, traveling down to palm himself.

She put one of her legs up on the couch as she scrolled through her phone and sipped her coffee. Some spilled on her sweater and she rolled her eyes. “I’m such a klutz,” she mumbled to herself before pulling the sweater off, revealing the spaghetti strapped, low cut tank top underneath.

Seven’s already hardening cock jumped to full mast as he ogled the woman’s body, beautiful and curvy, hard nipples poking through the shirt. Ugh, you are disgusting, he scolded himself some more, but still didn’t stop himself as he undid his pants and shoved his hand down into them.

He stroked himself slowly as he pictured being there with her, sliding those cute panties down her legs and pushing his cock into her. At the thought of her writhing underneath him, crying out his name, he wiggled out of his pants, pushing them down to his ankles and leaning back into his chair to give himself a better grip. He continued where he left off, eyes glued to the monitor, hand around his dick, pumping steadily.

Seven watched as MC dialed a number on her phone and put it to her ear, and as his phone rang, he jumped. Immediately he was back in reality, ashamed for what he had been doing.

“Hey, MC,” he stuttered a bit as he answered.

She grinned. “You okay, Seven?”

“Of course I am! I’m god 707, what could possibly be wrong right now?”

He put on his silly persona but from the look she gave the camera, he knew that she saw through it.

“Well, what are you up to?” she asked.

Seven looked down at his hard dick in his hand. Shit. “Um...nothing. Just working.”

“Hmm, just working? You sound like you’re breathing heavily.”

“Oh. Uh...haha, yeah, I just came back from a jog.”

Seven slapped his hand against his forehead, cursing himself. Stupid! You are stupid!

“Sure,” MC replied. “Wanna know what I’m doing?”

“I can see what you’re doing, remember? Right now you’re watching tv and drinking coffee.”

“So you are watching me right now.”

“Yeah...I mean, no! I mean...I just looked at the monitor now…”

Her grin let him know she wasn’t falling for it, but she didn’t press it. “It’s okay, I don’t mind if you watch me…”

MC’s spread her legs a bit more and her hand rested on her stomach. “In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d like to put on a little show for you. I mean, more than I already have today.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

He watched as MC pulled her tank top down to let her breasts free. She ran a hand over one of them, rolling her nipple between her fingers and pinching and pulling before doing the same to the other one.

Seven’s jaw dropped. “MC…?”

“I gotta admit,” she started, her voice low and breathless as she continued to play with her breasts, “I love the thought of you watching me.”

Seven didn’t know what to say, but he started stroking his cock again.

“I know it’s dirty, but knowing that you can see me gets me...excited. It gets me so wet.” She reached down between her legs and brushed her fingers against the cotton of her panties. “Do you like watching me, Luciel?”

“Yes,” Seven whispered, voice shaky as he continued jerking himself off. “You look so good, MC.”

MC smiled. “Does it get your cock hard?”

“Fuuuck, yes.” Seven moaned. She had never heard him say such words, and it was a beautiful sound to MC. She felt herself throbbing between her legs, arousal pooling in her underwear and soaking through. Seven felt thankful that V and Rika had invested in high quality cameras as he noticed the wet spot on her panties growing.

“Tell me what you want to see, Luciel.”

“Take off your panties.” He spoke breathlessly, quickly. “I want to see all of you.”

MC laced her thumbs into the straps of her thong and pulled it down, stepping out of them. She spread her legs again to let Seven see. She was so wet that she glistened, and Seven wished more than anything that he could feel her.

“Are you touching yourself?” MC asked.

For a brief moment, Seven felt ashamed again.. He had a high enough sex drive but was usually too busy to be horny, and he had definitely never done anything like this before. Though she was obviously into what they were doing, he felt a bit nervous to tell her the truth.

“Seven?” she interrupted his thoughts. “It’s okay if you are.”

“I am…” He watched her face to see her reaction and was happy and relieved when she grinned and pressed her middle and pointer fingers to her clit and rubbed circles.

His breath hitched, and he squeezed his dick harder.

“That’s so sexy, Luciel.” MC said as she rubbed herself, fingers stroking the inner lips of her cunt.

“Mmmph,” Seven moaned as he watched her. “MC?”

“Yes?”

“I wish I could taste you.”

“Me too.”

“Will you...taste yourself for me?”

MC nodded. She pushed her two fingers inside herself, pumping in and out a few times before taking them out and bringing them to her mouth. She moaned as she sucked on her pussy soaked fingers and her mouth made a popping sound as she pulled them out. She reached down and inserted herself again.

Luciel moaned. “You’re so naughty, MC.”

“Mmhmm,” MC said, hand coming up to stroke her tits and play with her nipples again before going back to rubbing herself. “I do this every night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think about when you fuck yourself?”

“I think of you, Seven.”

Seven was grateful she couldn’t see him blush at her words. He let out another moan, pumping himself at top speed now. “That’s so fucking hot.”

“I think of you on top of me, fucking me. I think of your cock in my mouth.”

Seven moaned again. “Add another finger?”

“Yes, Luciel,” she obeyed, pumping her fingers in and out again before adding a third.

“I’m getting close…”

“I want to make you cum, Luciel. Tell me what to do.”

“Turn over,” he commanded, “Bend over so I can see your ass again.”

MC giggled. “I take it you liked my little sneak peek this morning.”

“Yes, hell yes. You looked so sexy, MC.”

MC turned, sticking her ass up in the air toward the camera. She reached behind, pushing her fingers into her cunt again. Seven didn’t dare look away.

“I’m close too,” MC admitted. “Cum with me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, MC, cum for me, please.”

MC continued pumping her fingers in and out, feeling the familiar warmth in her stomach as she prepared to climax. Seven enjoyed the way her legs shook, vibrating the rest of her body, and how her pussy contracted as she pulled her fingers out to rub her clit, as if it was desperate to have a cock inside it. Her moans were loud and messy, screaming his name out over and over.

The sight of her coming undone brought his own orgasm out, spilling out onto his hand and onto his jeans.

As he cleaned up, the realization of what they had just done hit him. He turned as red as hair, and looked up at the monitor to make sure MC seemed okay. She was cleaning herself up as well and got back into her clothes.

“Um, Seven? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here...MC, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

He watched as she laid back, a satisfied smile on herself. “Don’t be sorry, that was amazing. Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes. Oh my God, yes.”

“We should do it again some time.”

Seven grinned. “I’ll probably have some free time tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.”

[duskholland]

Do I want a tfg blurb of Tom and y/n meeting at the BAFTAS?!?!?!???!!???!?!! YESSSSSS I DO!!!! AGJFFSDFGHGSSF VEERRRYYY MUUUCCCHHHH!!! PLSSS n if u think that no many will send tfg blurbs then combine that with another like hold a mob!Tom n tfg blurb night!!! Cuz some of us really wants tfg blurbs!!! N we have some ideas too!!

the baftas! the big night! I tried so hard to fit this into the main story but I just couldn’t, so I had a lot of fun finally writing this scene lmao. the start of it all...ahhhh. oh tom...oh...tom. thank you for requesting :)

status: pre-story; your pov // read the fame game!

— tfg blurb night! —

You know it’s a bad quality, but as you kick around the after-party of the BAFTAs, you’re seething with jealousy. It sticks to you, festers deep inside the pit of your stomach, and you can feel the perpetual frown on your face as you try to keep your mouth shut, lulling your tongue to rest with drink after drink.

You didn’t win the BAFTA. 

And fine- fine, maybe you didn’t deserve it. Maybe your performance wasn’t of a standard that the Academy deemed high enough to reward. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting - didn’t sting as you’d crossed your fingers, held your breath, hoped with every single fibre of your being that they’d call your name. When you’d heard his name instead, you’d kept your composure - slapped on a bright, forced smile for the cameras, and applauded, but you’re seething.

Maybe it’d be easier if you knew Tom Holland - maybe then you’d be able to feel happy for him, proud of a friend, even. Instead, you know nothing, beyond the fact that he’s probably a grade-a twat.

All you know of him is that he’d bad-mouthed you to your mutual friend Harrison, who’d let his scathing words slip when he’d taken you to a bar. Apparently, something about your demeanour irritates Tom - how he’d be able to pass judgement on you so quickly and effortlessly is beyond you. A few weeks after that, you’d felt no qualms voicing your thoughts on the third adaptation of Spider-Man, sharing an unpopular opinion that’d led to a chain of shady tweets from Tom’s account.

You’ve never met him, and you don’t need to in order to know that you won’t get along. This BAFTA snub is simply the last straw. 

With a sigh, you throw back the final dredges of champagne and smack your lips together, humming as you look around the room in search of another glass. A sea of sequins and crisp suits meets your eyes, and you start walking over in the general direction of the bar, only to hear someone call after you.

“Oi, Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N!”

You startle, eyebrows shooting up your forehead as your lips curl into a disdainful frown.

“Oi?” You mutter, turning around to look at whoever has hollered your name so ungracefully. You can feel other people looking at you, and shamefully try to curl a little smaller. The embarrassment of being perceived by a crowd of such industry elites makes you bristle.

“Sorry.”

You see him, finally. Tom Holland, clutching that fucking BAFTA in his hand. He’s got his long brown hair slicked back, and he nervously stretches out his palm towards you.

You look at his hand, and then, feeling the weight of several inquisitive glances around you, you reluctantly shake it. Your hand is limp in his, and Tom squeezes your fingers firmly.

“Ow,” you mutter, pulling back your hand and shaking out your fingers. You look up at him, the frown on your face deepening. He’s quite cute, but you try not to focus on that. “You’ve got one hell of a handshake there, Tom.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m… Sort of all over the place tonight.” And he looks it, too. There’s a bright, wild energy burning in Tom’s eyes, and his gaze shifts all over you as he smiles awkwardly. “Just thought I should come and introduce myself,” he adds. His gaze pulls a little tighter, and he stands straighter, lengthening his back. “I don’t really want us to get off on the wrong foot. I saw some of the things you said about me, on, uh, Ellen, and... Yeah, I just wanted to clear the air. We’re both friends with Haz, so...”

You bite your tongue, pushing back the urge to snap at Tom. You’ve already starting off on the wrong foot, thanks to him, but you don’t want to be petty. Not on a night like this, with so many people watching.

“Okay,” you reply, voice a little shaky. You swallow dryly, your head feeling woozy from all the champagne. “I appreciate that, Tom. Thanks.”

“No worries.” Tom’s throwing his BAFTA between his hands, and when he catches you looking at it, he holds it out towards you. “You wanna touch it?” He offers, voice light. “It’s so cool, Y/N. I can’t believe it’s mine.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he thrusts the glass trophy into your hands. It’s warm to touch - you think Tom must’ve been gripping it ever since he was awarded it on stage. As you turn it over in your hands, your eyes prickle with irritated tears.

“It’s… very nice,” you manage, voice thick. Jealousy twists along with your dislike of the man. “Very… Nice.”

Tom just hums, seeming unaffected.

“I know,” Tom almost moans, eyes sparkling. He’s clearly bouncing on cloud nine. “It’s my big break,” he says, wistfully, “I can feel it. Did you know,” he drops his voice, leaning nearer, and the scent of his cologne makes you wince, “Emma Stone said she wants to work with me. All because of this.” He sighs, an unruly grin unfurling over his face as he stretches his arms above his head. “I can’t believe it.”

Your eye twitches, and the second Tom’s arms are back by his sides, you thrust the BAFTA back at him. You can’t bear holding it any longer, hating the weight of failure in your hands.

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly. You take a few steps back, looking around in search of a way out of this conversation. You can feel an immature remark building on the tip of your tongue, and you know you need to get away from Tom before you say something irreversible.

“Thanks.” Tom reaches out, his hands briefly making contact with your bare upper arm. His warm tickles your skin. “Sorry if I’m a bit crazy tonight, I’m running on so much adrenaline right now, I just can’t believe that I won-”

You see red.

“Really keeping it humble, aren’t you?” You snap.

Tom’s demeanour shifts and his eyebrows arch as he stands a little straighter. His lips curl into a frown, but then when he meets your eyes, his expression softens.

“Oh, oh,” he murmurs, watching as you cross your arms over your chest and blink back angry tears. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

“Yeah, you don’t seem to do a lot of thinking, do you, Tom?”

He pulls a face. “Wow, okay.” Tom laughs awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Whatever.” You bite your lip, shaking your head. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t like me, Tom. You can keep the pleasantries to yourself.”

He blinks a few times, clearly taken aback by the malice in your tone, but then his eyes cloud over. “I was just trying to be nice,” he quips, voice darker. “I don’t understand why you’re being so hostile towards me.” Tom’s eyes flicker across your face. “I don’t want us to be enemies, Y/N.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Whatever,” you murmur. You can feel the champagne twisting you, exacerbating your anger and your irritation, but as you stare at Tom, and his fucking BAFTA, all you feel is heated, rolling hatred. “Goodnight, Tom.”

He sets his lips into a hard line and doesn’t bother to respond before he turns and stalks away, pushing through the crowd. You frown as he walks away, your eyes narrowed into slits.

You were right: Tom Holland is a twat.

[fonulyn]

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay. 

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

[milk-carton-whump]

I started writing this during my time in the void (aka when my blog went poof) and finally decided to finish it this morning.

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @sideblogformindtrash @tears-and-lilies @unicornscotty @abitefullofeverything @getyourwhumphere @whumpasaurus101 @twistedcaretaker @skunkandgrenade @heathenville @freefallingup13 @sunnysunfire @alliecat5594 @whatwasmyprevioususername @redstainedsocks @justabitofwhump

CW: fluff, awkward first meeting, nervous character, first date, Ritz is not cool under romantic pressure, flirting, modern au

The Waiter

Ritz was exhausted, he had Witt planning some stupid photoshoot later in the week and he was sure that his body would ache for a week. He had just left work and had provided Alex with their bi-weekly supplies of food and necessities. Now he was just aching for a good meal and didn't want to have to cook. 

Luckily a new restaurant had just opened down the road, it had opened sometime last week and Ritz had heard great reviews from his teammates. It was a nice enough day that he could walk there, and by nice, it was pouring rain. He finally got there and shook his raincoat and body off before he entered. 

He was seated in a small booth and looked over the menu lazily, he loved the food that the UK offered but sometimes he felt homesick when he thought about the meals back in the states. The waiter came up to take his drink order, by the sound of it he was an American as well so Ritz looked up fully to order his drink. 

The boy in front of him was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, his whole body radiated kindness and warmth that Ritz could only compare to the sun. He had the warmest brown eyes that reminded the cowboy of a summer campfire. Ritz could only manage a stutter he attempted to order lemonade from the young man. 

"I'll get that lemonade for ya, and my names Percy if ya need anything else, darling."

Percy laughed softly at the stammering blonde, it was cute how flustered he got over ordering a drink. There was something else about him though that he found charming. Maybe it was the thick cowboy accent he had, or maybe is was like the young man had stepped right out of an old western and into the modern day. 

Meanwhile, Ritz was mentally kicking himself to shut up and just stop making it awkward, with his luck the waiter wouldn't swing that way and he would've gotten flustered for nothing. He was prone to that kind of bad luck, developing silly crushes on boys who would never be able to return the gesture. 

He couldn't help but watch as the waiter walked away, he was absolutely stunning in every way. From his warm toothy smile that had a small gap between the two front teeth, to the plethora of freckles that covered his cheeks and reminded Ritz of the sandy prairies back home. He knew his heart was already in love. 

The waiter came back, a genuine smile on his face and a lemonade in his hand. 

"So, what can I get started for ya, buttercup?" The waiter asked sweetly. 

"Wh-what uh… what do you like…?" Ritz could stop the blush that had crept onto his cheeks when the waiter called him buttercup.

Percy thought of his answer, a small laugh like a church bell at noon, coming from his throat as he spoke. 

"Well, I don't think you're on the menu so I'd have to say anything with chicken oooor I like the fish and chips, a traditional kinda classic choice." He said and dropped down into a squat, folding his arms on the table and resting his head in them. 

The blonde could barely keep his composure as he looked into the waiter's big brown doe eyes. Ritz buried his face in his hands to cover how deep red his face had become from blushing. He was glad he was sitting otherwise his legs would've given out judging by how weak they felt right now. 

"Ah hope y'know yer flatterin' is awful sweet…. An' Ah dunno how ta even talk ta ya." Ritz managed to mumble. 

"Well how bout I get ya some fish and chips and we call it a date?" Percy said as he turned his head, resting it on his elbow and smiling. 

Ritz managed to regain some form of composure and nodded, honestly anything the waiter suggested sounded good. As Percy got up and left it finally hit the other boy, had he said date? 

After finally regaining some kind of focus back, Ritz started to think through what had just happened along with his next plans. Firstly, the waiter was flirting with him, he knew that. Second, he was also the most beautiful person he had ever seen, the sky at sunset personified. Essentially, Percy was miles out of his league and he was surprised he might even get a chance to spend quality time with him. 

Percy came back with a plate of food and an apple, he set the plate down and was happy it was such a slow day in terms of work. He sat down in the seat across from Ritz with a grin. He took a bite of his apple and smiled. 

"Perc-Percy…. Ah… mm, ah dunno how ta tell ya this…." Ritz started off shakily.

"Shoot, cowboy." Percy said with a grin, though he was a bit worried that Ritz would reject his flirting. 

"Mm, ok. Ah can't even begin ta describe how ah think you manage to embody all good things in the world. You're polite, an' sweet an' ah dunno how ya tell ya that ah don't think ah've ever seen a prettier person…" Ritz began to ramble, oh this was bad and embarrassing yet Percy seemed to smile more at it. 

"I'm gonna stop ya right there buttercup. Maybe you can tell me all those kind things and I'll return the favor at our next date, hmm?" Percy said as he scribbled out his number and name onto a napkin. 

Ritz hesitated, next date, he not only had a chance of a lifetime but he also had the waiter's phone number. He hesitated a moment and reached into his pocket for an old fuel receipt that someone had left, he took his own pen and wrote out his name and number before handing it to Percy.

"Uh, sorry it's on a fuel receipt, ah work at the gas station up the road. But uh, ah'm Ritz by the way, it's uh…. A nickname for Rich." Ritz said with a shaky smile. 

"Well I look forward to our date, Ritz. But, I must get back to work now. I hope to see you again soon, cowboy?" Percy asked hopefully.

"Yeah, absolutely. Ah'll see ya again." The blonde said with a smile. 

Ritz had just met the boy of his dreams, warn like a summer night and sweet as rock candy, he didn't want to admit to himself that he was in love. But his heart knew, if soul mates or that silly red string did exist then Ritz felt sure he had just found his other half. 

[yamalegacy]

OVERLOAD & BUNNY GIRL

[ prologue ]

SUMMARY: A new small group of villains is spreading chaos all over Japan and no hero agency seem to know what to do about them — they are perfectly organized, always manage to escape arrest, never cause any casualties and its members remain impossible to identify. All heroes can do is wait for them to strike again and hope that they will be able to capture them.

mirko x villain!female!oc

Any place that made it impossible to avoid large crowds made it on her list of things that she found too obnoxious to deal with, though they often could be found of her ‘Places that cannot be avoided to lead a life worthy of a decently responsible adult’ list. Either way, she hated every entry on both those lists, as they brought nothing but misery to her antisocial existence.

Subway trains were among the worst of the worst. The overwhelming stench of sweat emanating from the man behind her and his bag digging into her ribs were not helping her enjoy the experience right now. At least that one was not one of the touchy kind who thought he could allow himself to feel her up and throw a shitty excuse along the lines of “Sorry, train’s packed”, which was no excuse at all, really.

Things only got worse at the next stop. Distracting herself by unlocking her phone and scrolling through social medias, she had not paid any attention to the new passengers who had stepped inside the train. When she felt something oddly warm and soft tickling her nose, it was too late.

Fluffy bunny ears. There was a pair of fluffy white bunny ears tickling her nose. Fucking obnoxious.

"Hey, bunny girl," she called, and the ears twitched at the sound, "could you keep your ears out of my face?"

"Fuck, sorry," the bunny girl said as she glanced above her shoulder. Sharp red eyes struggled to meet soft green ones — much higher than the little bunny seemed to have expected.

The taller woman blinked. Those red eyes and long lashes, those sharp features and that beautiful, seemingly flawless tan skin. She knew them. She had stared at the little Pro Hero figure discarded on her desk at home just before leaving for work that morning, and even if it had been hours, she hadn't forgotten. That Mirko was a lot prettier than a low quality figure had given her expectations for.

"I don't sign autographs when I'm not in costume," the bunny said after an uncomfortable moment of mutual silent staring.

"I don't want one."

The bunny turned her back to her again, a fluffy ear hitting her smack in the face, and she was certain that she had noticed a flustered blush on the pint-sized Pro Hero's cheeks. How cute. Heroes really were something else, with their out of proportions egos and inability to handle rejection. One more reason to her to loathe their very existence.

But well, that Mirko woman was cute when blushing. (At least it was a discreet blushing, not like her own overwhelming red flush that reached all the way to the tip of her ears whenever she got embarrassed, which thankfully only happened on rare occasions). Poor little bunny.

There was only a handful of stops left before she could step out of the train to walk the rest of the way home, get away from those fluffy ears still too close to her face, from all those people standing too close to one another. Too close to her. And she could not have been more grateful.

As the doors opened yet again, a crowd pushed inside the already packed train. Too much. She could feel too many people pressing against her body, an elbow jabbing her in the ribs as someone struggled to stay upright, a knee harshly bumping into her own. Her left hand cramped up immediately, pain spreading up her entire arm at the tension building inside her body, ready to boil over and explode at any moment.

Bad. It was bad. Real fucking bad.

She gritted her teeth, breath coming out in heavy, shallow puffs, and shut her eyes tightly to focus on keeping it together. Too much noise. It felt like her head was about to implode, threatened the pressure growing inside her skull. She needed to step out, to breathe—

Just before the doors could close again and seal her disastrous fate, strong, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist and dragged her out, pushing through the crowd for her.

She heard the train leave the station, and before she could process anything else, she was sat on a small, uncomfortable bench. The first thing she saw was a pair of red eyes staring right back at her, as if to try and see through her, to read her thoughts.

Mirko, the Rabbit Hero (Was she really Mirko the Hero when she wasn't wearing her ridiculously revealing bodysuit?), was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with a slight frown, wrist still held tightly in her firm grip.

"You okay there? You look like you're gonna explode, or something."

There was a hint of teasing in the bunny girl's voice, and the woman found herself scoffing at the tone, at the words. She wasn't about to explode, but close enough, considering how messy things could get when her Quirk got overloaded. That bunny had definitely saved many lives without even realizing what she had done.

"I'm okay. Don't worry your pretty Pro Hero head over me."

Through shaky breathes and the pain invading her body, blood pumping against her eardrums, she almost couldn't recognize her own voice. Had she always sounded so pathetically weak? There was no way in hell her voice had always been so croaky... right?

"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" the bunny cooed. That teasing tone again. Though it was much more obvious this time.

But bunny girl wasn't looking at her face anymore, her gaze instead focused on her left arm — she stared for several seconds that seemed to drag on forever, before she started to press the pads of her thumbs roughly over the tensed muscles, massaging the pain away. Her fingers were calloused, but there was a level of knowledge in the way her thumbs moved up and down; it was genuinely helpful.

"You got some water in that bag of yours?" the bunny asked, throwing a quick glance at the messenger bag that had been discarded on the floor. When she nodded in response, Mirko reached for it with one hand, the other one still rubbing at her fingers, and easily took out the bottle, and held it between her thighs so that she could unscrew it open with only one hand. "Drink up. You need to stay hydrated. Cramping like that isn't normal, ya know."

Was that stupid Pro Hero genuinely worried about her health? She wanted to roll her eyes, to laugh, but she found herself unable to. So she grabbed her bottle and drank.

"It's just my Quirk acting up," she explained, unwilling to give the fluffy little Pro Hero more details. "It's not usually that bad, is all."

The bunny girl's hands moved up from her fingers, to her wrist, to her forearm, applying pressure with her thumbs. A shiver ran up the woman's arm as a finger found its way just under the material of her rolled up sleeve. She should have put an end to it, moved her arm away from that hero's grip — but it actually helped, eased the pain of the cramps, made the dangerous tension recede and quiet down to a whisper.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Uh?"

Mirko frowned.

"You could have just ignored me. Everyone else on that train ignored me."

The bunny girl shook her head.

"There should always be someone willing to help. And just ‘cause I'm not wearing my costume, it doesn't mean I don't wanna help others, right?" Mirko smirked. "And my face was right into that dude's smelly armpit. Good excuse to get outta there, ya know."

The woman wanted to laugh, but, still struggling to catch her breath, she just coughed instead. She noticed then that Mirko had retrieved her hands now, that the massaging had stopped. She almost missed the warm contact, the way it so effortlessly eased the pain that had been building up for months now.

"What are you? Eighty and retired?"

"Do all heroes insult the citizens they are supposed to serve and protect?"

"I sure as hell do!"

The Pro Hero was grinning, her teeth pearly white — a pretty smile, no matter if it was overflowing with too much confidence and cockiness.

"Think you can get up?"

At the bunny girl's question, she merely nodded, still unsure. The pain had eased, but it had not left. It coursed through her veins, ever present. She knew that she needed to do something about her Quirk soon, or things would not go as smoothly next time she would feel that pressure inside her body again. There wouldn't always be a stranger in a train willing to help her. Bossman really needed to hurry the hell up.

She watched as the bunny got back up from her kneeling position and extended a hand towards her. She took it and allowed herself to be hoisted up from the bench. And, before she could try to reach down for her bag, the bunny had already grabbed it for her, going as far as hanging it over her shoulder.

“Be good and take better care of yourself, doll face, ‘kay?”

She scoffed at the comment and shook her head. Being lectured by a Pro Hero known to be reckless — she only knew that Mirko was reckless because she had done some research after (accidentally) acquiring the stupid little figure — was a new low in her life.

“There won’t always be a hot stranger in the train to help you.”

The sentence was punctuated with a wink. The only reaction that she could give the hero was a mere roll of her eyes. Who knew a bunny girl could be so obnoxious without even having to try?

“Is flirting part of your Quirk?” she inquired, eyes fixed on the shorter woman.

“Nah, that’s just my natural charms! C’m’on, let’s get out of the station before a crowd comes in, don’t want you to explode, right? Wait— you wouldn’t actually explode?”

“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t,” she answered, shrugging. It earned her a bark of laughter from Mirko.

They walked side by side for a handful of minutes, not exchanging a word. It was weird. She didn’t know how she had gotten herself in such a situation, playing nice with a Pro Hero.

“Alright, doll face—”

“Stop calling me doll face.”

“Then tell me your name.”

The hero was smirking, proud and cocky.

“You could call me Yumeko, but we’re not going to see each other again, bunny girl.”

The hero extended a hand towards her.

“Usagiyama Rumi.”

“Thank you for helping me. Goodbye, bunny girl.”

“Bye, doll face! Try not to explode all over the pavement!”

AOYAMA YUMEKO ( 青山 優芽子 )

QUIRK:: lock & load. allows yumeko to absorb shocks and store them in her body to weaponize them by concentrating the energy of the shocks in certain parts of her body.

[silver-wield]

body language analysis: tifa and cloud train scene!! go!

Oh, Nonny, you made my morning with this!! I mean, it's not like I haven't touched on Cloud and Tifa's body language in gif reblogs, but an actual post dedicated to one of the best moments of the game? YAY!!

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven't played (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it's gonna be a long one so prepare to scroll.

Also, this is one person's interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that's cool and we'll agree to disagree.

You're also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I'm grabbing them from Youtube and it's frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Other analyses if anyone's interested.

Shinra HQ vision scene (Cloti/plot analysis) 

Chapter 3 (Cloti reblog) 

Tifa character analysis 

Aerith Resolution (plot analysis) 

Train graveyard (not really an analysis, but I got some sweet screenshots of Cloti) 

Now, strap in and enjoy the ride.

So, the corkscrew tunnel scene – or clotiscrew tunnel as I've seen it called – begins with Avalanche caught by the sensors on the train. After a timed fight – which, yes, it's possible to lose, but it's also clear this is a “bad ending” where you've made Cloud look like an incompetent dick who can't even handle a few drones – we see Barret mustering his courage and leaping from the train (he's so damn cute sometimes, I'm gonna have to do a post about his development with Cloud at some point).

The action then cuts to Tifa, frozen in front of the door, too afraid to jump (you can hear her whimpering). Cloud calls her name, deals with the last drone and comes over. Now, in the OG, obviously they all jump one after the other because polygons and popeye arms would've just looked like a total mess and Square admitted they neglected Cloti to highlight all the relationship development between Clerith since she dies later.

Cut to 2020 and we get this. Damn, Square, if I didn't already love you for pretty much my entire life already I'd have fallen for you all over again. In fact, I think I probably did.

Ok, I'm done gushing. Kinda.

I think the first thing I have to point out is that Cloud, at no point, needed to do this. He could have verbally encouraged Tifa to jump without the need for physical support at all. After all, the train's slowing down and she was fine in the OG, so who's to say she wouldn't be fine now, too? By calling her name and fixing her attention on him he's actually stalling her jump.

You'll notice that Tifa doesn't take her eyes off the tracks (before this screen obvs since I can see that’s her feet, work with me here), which is fitting since she's zeroed in on that fearful moment and actually can't move without help. Cloud's face in this is displaying typical tension you'd expect in a high energy scene. He's concerned for Tifa, but he's also focused on dealing with the mechs, which he does very quickly. Now, you could argue he did that to get on with the mission, or you could argue he did that because he saw Tifa needed him and his focus shifted to her. And watching the seconds following him turning to look at her, I'd say there's evidence towards the latter because he's actually lost focus on the last mech and it attacks him first causing him to block and parry.

This is the first instance of touching in this scene, and until this point, Tifa hadn't moved or acknowledged Cloud. He needed to physically draw her from her thoughts and you'll hear a surprised exhale from her as she turns to look at him, showing she was lost within herself until he drew her out. Cloud is obviously looking at the tracks, judging his next move. He's already planning what he has to do to keep both of them safe, which is clear from his decisive nod, along with a reassuring, but grim, smile, before pulling Tifa out the door. Remember, I said he could’ve verbally got her attention. He didn’t. He chose touch.

See what I mean about janky quality? Anyway, this is clear concern about Tifa's safety, but also, remember, Cloud is on the mission because Tifa said she felt trapped and he's related that back to their promise that she needs a hero. He's being her hero.

Okay, we're getting to the meat of things now.

First, fucking ouch, he definitely looks pained, meaning that whole manoeuvre wasn't as smooth as he pretended. As they slow down, he puts a bracing hand against the ground to prevent him rolling onto Tifa (because he's a gent and also toting a sword that weighs more than Barret lol).

What's interesting is where his left hand is in this. Make a note: middle of her back. Tifa's head is tucked into Cloud's neck – safety move, so nothing big there. I've seen some people note Tifa's leg is between Cloud's, but I'm gonna discount that as the way they've locked together during the roll. It's unintentional.

Oh, but this isn't! Cloud has absolutely no reason to put his hand back on Tifa. He could leave it lying flat on the ground. You could argue he needs both to help her get off him, but she's on top. She can do that herself. He has no further need past the initial save to have his hands on her, unless that's what he wants. Obviously we can't see his face in this because of Tifa's hair, but this, combined with the next screen tell a very definite story.

He moved his hand! That left hand, he didn't need to move it up in such a caressing gesture. Coupled with the very intense gaze he gives her, I was swooning like a maiden wearing a too tight corset lol

Now, you could argue he's just concerned, it's a high tension situation. Well, I argue that every single trope using this kind of scene results in sexual tension/flustered characters and/or a kiss. Remember, right at this second, he has no reason to still be lying with her like this. In fact, him moving his hand further up her back is a bracing gesture that would keep her close, not release her. Tifa's fists are balled against his chest, which signifies she's protecting her hands – she's a hand-to-hand fighter remember -- but her face is relaxed. She's not feeling awkward or eager to escape.

Eye contact!! Can I just leave it at that? No? Cloud isn't actually the type to keep prolonged eye contact. Oh, did you think I was about to say something else? Well, for literally anyone who hasn't paid attention to him, Cloud often looks away when he feels awkward, flustered, unsure, basically any negative emotion. The only time he looks anyone in the eye is when he's confronting them or at ease. Remember, even when Jessie teased him about smiling during chapter 4 he looked away, embarrassed. Cloud doesn't handle eye contact well. Which is why this is such a huge deal. He's keeping prolonged eye contact with Tifa. He doesn't look away from her eyes when he asks if she's ok. And that question – ah my heart! So soft and tender. You can hear the care and concern in his tone. It anchors the entire scene from start to finish. Everything he just did was because he cares about Tifa and wants to look after her. He wants to make sure she's ok, even if it means he suffers for it. Pretty sure some people will disagree with this, but the damn man wore a dress and went through a humiliating dance routine – humiliating for him, I fucking loved it – just to save her. His first words in Wall Market are he wants to save Tifa, but Aerith cuts him off before he can finish the sentence.

These are the moments that I have to go back over a million times to catch. Check the tiny eye narrowing and uplift at the corner of his mouth. She said she's ok and he's happy about it. He's her hero – in not so many words. Tifa's shaky reply and pale face confirm her shock and fear, but also you can see an easing of the tension in her. There's a subtle softening of her muscle definition and facial expression that displays the trust and belief she has in Cloud that he'd look after her. This is a very mutually appreciative moment between them. Definitely not one sided.

And then the moment is over, without any flustered blushing or stammering, and thank God there wasn't because that would be so ooc I just can't with it. Cloud, despite being an awkward af dork who doesn't know how to deal with women hitting on him, doesn't turn into a flustered 14 year old trying to tell his crush he's leaving Nibelheim whenever they have contact. We've already seen smooth!Cloud giving Tifa a flower and complimenting her like a cheeky bastard. He can handle being around her because he feels comfortable. He can compliment her because of that, too. He might be slightly separated from those childhood feelings, but they're in there and they're motivating him to be outgoing towards her. To show her the cool SOLDIER he became that's worthy of being beside her.

But, yeah, back to the point. The moment is over. Or is it? Because that is some very further prolonged eye contact between them when there doesn't have to be. Tifa moves back, Cloud moves forward, they're both getting up and yet, they're both looking at each other. I don't know about you, but I find it easier to look where I'm going when I've fallen on my ass and need to get up. I sure af don't stare longingly into someone's eyes like I can't bear not to.

And now it really is over because right after this the mechs arrive. But before that, some more prolonged eye contact. There literally is no need for them to do this at this point. Tifa looks pensive, but I think that's her default tbf. Yet, at the same time, there's an intensity in her gaze like she wants to say something – maybe it's just a thank you, that would turn into a flirty conversation of some sort “you didn't need to do that,” “I wanted to” kind of deal – so it makes sense they're interrupted because Square said they didn’t want to overdo the amount of Cloti content they added and this is already a very charged scene.

Meanwhile, Cloud is looking at her like she's his entire world and he's just waiting for her to realise it. There's an aura of expectation in his pose and face. They're both crouching in mirrored poses, which as some of you may know is what you do when you're trying to build rapport with someone. It's basic body language building blocks. Toddlers do this. They're both on one knee, slightly leaning forward. Now, if there was no rapport between them, if they wanted to end the moment, one of them would stand up, breaking the mirrored pose and cutting off eye contact. This would put one above the other and show an imbalance in their relationship. This doesn't happen. They both turn at the same time, rise at the same time and fight pose at the same time.

Conclusion:

Seriously? After all that you can't draw your own?

Ok, I'll be fair to the other side. Let's take away Cloud's history with Tifa – since that's the biggest argument for them: the childhood crush trope.

If Cloud and Tifa weren't friends, just colleagues on a mission, this scene would still be hella charged with sexual tension and implication that Cloud has a thing for her. Even if it's just basic sexual attraction, that's still attraction and a marker on the pathway to a relationship.

But, they are friends, so moving on.

Tifa is the more reserved one in this dynamic. She's naturally shy – it's canon – but even with that, she's affected by Cloud. She holds that eye contact. Her voice is equally soft as his. She mirrors his pose. She doesn't try to get away the second they stop moving. Cloud is the one to move things along, without awkwardness because he's comfortable with Tifa. He's not out of sorts having her lying on top of him – which you can argue means he's not interested, but I literally just pointed out all the ways in which he is into her. Being comfortable in someone's company doesn't mean a person isn't attracted to them. If I had to stick a pin in Cloud's sexuality I'd say he's on the demi scale, meaning he needs to have a deep emotional connection to whoever he's with before he falls in love with them. He's not a love at first sight kind of guy.

This fits with the childhood crush trope. Cloud's known Tifa for years and developed an attraction to her that still lingers, making a reconnection between them easier. He's not slobbering over her because he's Cloud and very stoic – I know people say his true self isn't like this, but it is only with more insecurity and desire to prove himself. He's still a very reserved guy with a dry sense of humour. He's prone to melancholy and self doubt, which is why his friends bolster his confidence so much.

Point is, everything in this scene showcases a deep and meaningful relationship between the two of them at its best, while at its most shallow it shows Cloud is sexually attracted to Tifa, which is something that could develop into a more meaningful relationship later. Either way, it's a marked moment in their interactions that Cloud's non-optional choices led to it. There's no either/or within this. It happened.