#the lights and stage graphics were so pretty

[guiltyasdave]

a long time coming

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You were supposed to go to a concert with your best friend. You end up going with her dad instead.

word count: ~1.1k

tags/warnings: best friend's dad!Dave, fluff, allusions to smut, huge age gap, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, please be warned: Dave has inappropriate (though reciprocated) thoughts about his daughter's best friend - if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read

a/n: daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality and i were freaking out about those new photos of pedro, and because daphne apparently wants me dead, she said that it's giving bfd!dave who's at a concert with you and also provided me with a snippet that still has me in a chokehold and that's part of this story now. i am already experiencing heavy brainrot because i'm going to the eras tour in three (3) days and this was the final nail in my coffin tbh. i should be working on my dress, but instead i did this. the most self indulgent shit i've ever written lmao, please enjoy <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

“Please, daddy? Please?” 

Dave sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Molly’s hoarse voice keeps pleading with him before it dissolves into a fit of coughs. 

With a groan, she lets her head fall against the pillows, wide eyes still trained on him. 

“No one else wants to go, and I can’t let her go alone, I’d feel terrible. Please?” 

She pouts at him, knowing fully well that her father doesn’t deny her anything when she looks at him like this. 

“Fine. If you’re sure that she’s okay with it?” 

“She is! I already asked her.”

Dave cocks a brow at his daughter, earning himself an exhausted but triumphant grin. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It will be fun!”

Admittedly, Dave really has much more fun than he expected when his daughter all but begged him to accompany her best friend to the concert that she wanted to go to herself before she got sick. 

He knows most of the songs, has been witness to you and Molly singing along to the music while dancing through his kitchen often enough. It’s not bad music by any means, and the show is nothing short of spectacular. 

It’s not the reason he’s enjoying himself so much though. He’s barely watching the show, eyes only occasionally flicking towards the stage. 

His gaze is fixed on you, has been since before the show even started. Watching you interact with other fans, beaming smiles and giggles, eagerly exchanging bracelets, excitedly cooing at the especially pretty ones. 

Meeting your eyes when you turned to him, not able to suppress his own smile at the sparkle in them. Suppressing the flicker of something in his chest when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging it closer to put a few bracelets on him as well. You don’t seem to notice the faint blush that’s rising up in his cheeks at the unexpected touch. 

He’s watching you bouncing on your feet seconds before the show starts, snaps a few photos of the pure joy on your face without you noticing. Just to send them to you later, having enough experience from being the father of two daughters to know how much you’ll love them. After that, he’ll delete them from his own phone. Of course he will. 

He’s watching you dance, your body moving to the beat of the music, your lips forming every word. Your silhouette shimmering with the lights reflecting off your dress. It’s mesmerizing. You dance with the girls beside you sometimes, shouting lyrics at each other. Other times, you turn to him. He doesn’t protest when you take his hands, starts moving with you without a second thought, starts singing the words that he knows along with you. You’re laughing, your eyes shining with pure happiness. It’s intoxicating, and he wants more, wants all of it, wants to be part of that happiness. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide, the last time his body felt this light. 

It takes a long time, longer than it should, until he remembers why this is bad. Until the weight comes crashing back into him. Until he remembers that he shouldn’t feel like this with you. 

You’re so much younger than him. His daughter’s friend. His daughter who asked him to come here with you, because she trusted that you’d be safe with him. 

Your brow furrows when you catch his eye and notice the change in his expression. No. He wants you to enjoy yourself, doesn’t want to be the reason for any kind of worry for you right now. He allows himself to drink in your energy right now, to let a smile grow on his face again. 

There’s no harm in indulging just for one night. Just a little bit. No one has to know. Least of all you. 

So he keeps singing with you, keeps letting you move with him. Keeps watching. 

It’s easy, being with you, talking to you. Effortless in a way that he’s not used to. 

It’s just because you’re at his house more often than not, going wherever Molly goes. It has to be. 

But it’s different, your giggles ringing out in the confines of his car, not mixed with his daughter’s, the sound that he knows. And he’s the one who’s elicited those laughs from you. 

"Explain it again, please. You’ve glued every single of these stones onto your dress?" He laughs and gives you another once over, glad he can disguise his inappropriate ogling with an appreciating glance. Act like he’s studying the intricate, shimmering patterns on the fabric. Not the way your tits are straining against the low cut over your chest. Not the way the skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing a new inch of bare skin. "Great job, sweetheart. You look good. The dress looks good, too." 

He wonders how the dress would look bunched up around your waist. Or on the floor of your apartment. If your skin is as soft as it looks in the dim shine of the red light he’s stopped at. How it would taste under his tongue. The sweet sounds you would make when his teeth dig into you. 

You breathe a thank you and bite your lip at the compliment, and his cock twitches with interest. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

He has to be imagining the way that you keep glancing his way, stealing looks when you think that he doesn’t notice. Wishful thinking on his part. 

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, killing the engine and turning towards you. You’re already facing him, more shy than you’ve looked all evening. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say softly, lips pulling up into another smile. “I’ve had a great time. I— I hope you did too.” 

His hand lands on your thigh before he can actively think about it. A soft gasp escapes you, but you make no move to back away from his touch. 

“Trust me, I did.” 

He doesn’t intend for it to come out as low and breathy as it does. Teeth dig into your lips once more. Your contemplative gaze burns into him. 

You inch closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his face. 

Wrong. He swallows thickly, forces his grip off of you. You blink, eyes growing wider, the growing tension’s fog lifting from you. Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” 

He needs you to leave this car. Right now. 

You nod, shakily bidding him a good night as well. 

He watches your retreating silhouette, finally able to exhale deeply when you enter your building. 

He’s fucked.

comments and reblogs are love and make my day every single time <3

[suempu]

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ trois ] | sylus

summary: he still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. she’s not you. the body type and stature don’t match. still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate in his journey to find you.

warnings: human trafficking, graphic depictions of violence, minor character deaths, reader has hair, reader implied to be femme, mild language, allusions to reader’s past as a kidnappee, sylus is still murderous

tagging: @world-of-hearts @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva @libriomancer, @queenofstresss, @aeanya @socutesotall @babyx91 @syyyy4ever @karolamurdock

notes: limerence | part 1 | part 2

now playing: o fortuna - carl orff

He recalls it like it was yesterday.

You, clad in black, bearing enough skin to tease. Your back was to him as you fiddled with something, none the wiser to his molten stare. 

He’d watched you from the rail of his club’s second-floor balcony. Thoughts consuming him as guests trickled out, drunk, merry, and sure to return. He waited until the last of them left—until his staff scuttled about, clearing off tables and reorganizing expensive bottles at the bar—to make his move.

You were a guest headliner—someone he occasionally invited to perform on stage. Lux was known for more than just its atmosphere. 

The entertainment was unmatched, and the women were attractive. Sylus couldn’t deny how the scene became more…interesting with you around. You even managed to draw out a few of his enemies for him to snuff out, the bastards greedy and wanton in the face of fresh meat.

With a smirk, Sylus descended the stairs. Stopped behind you, watching you struggle to unlatch your heels from your ankles. 

You glanced up when he poured himself onto the red leather ottoman across. So close, his knees bracketed either side of yours, and he’d caught a whiff of that warm scent you carried. 

Wordlessly, he drew your foot into his lap. Your expression warped into one of brief astonishment before it was replaced by something sultry. A mask you often donned when putting on a show, though he was curious to see what truly lay beneath it. 

You leaned back on your palms whilst he undid the buckle. He glanced up, a chuckle dredged from his chest as you dragged your toes down his quad in thanks. It was flattering. Felt nice, little tingles ricocheting up his spine. 

He hadn’t pursued the touch of a woman for some time, too busy solidifying his position in the underworld to entertain temptations of the flesh. 

He was here on business. His personal reservations could wait. 

Sylus patted his thigh, signaling you to give him your other foot. You had been dancing all night. Smiled pretty, made him money. The least he could do was reward you for your generous contributions. Show a little empathy. 

You obliged, an appreciative hum in your throat when he freed you of your shackle. Reluctantly, gently, he let your feet slide to the floor. Contemplated massaging them–they were soft and agitated. But he was here to preposition you, not seduce you. 

Not yet.

Sylus leaned forward in an easy slouch with his elbows resting on his quads. Tapped his fingers together, studying you. 

You were quite a sight beneath the red throb of the lights overhead. The imperfections lining your features made you all the more appealing, hiding beneath the glamor you posted up with your Evol. He could easily see through it, thanks to his Aether Core.

He knew about that, too. The power you housed. Part of why you were such a showstopper, your Evol allowing you to make these elaborate costume changes and transitions in the midst of performing. 

He didn’t know the full extent of your abilities just yet. Figured they were more than cheap parlor tricks. But having the power of illusion on his side was something he couldn’t get on without. 

Clearing his throat, Sylus spoke low and even, voice slightly above the dull pulse of the music turned down in the background. 

“How would you like to be a permanent employee here?” 

You quirked a brow. Pitched forward with a hand propped under your chin, your eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“What? You thought I just came here out of the goodness of my heart?” Your eyes flickered downward, and you leaned in, toying with the first button of his shirt.

He was surprised by how simple you’d made this for him. No coercion, no ultimatums. It’s as if you were waiting for him to preposition you, coiled like a spring itching to be released. He couldn’t help wondering if you knew the full extent of what he’d ask of you. The people he’d employed were more than just pretty faces. But that conversation would come later once he’d earned your trust, your loyalty. 

Nonetheless, he put back up the businessman front as he stood. Twirled the strap of your heel on a slender finger, and he peered down at you with a lazy smirk, offering you his hand to help you up and to seal the deal. 

“Then it’s settled. You work for me now,” he replied coolly. Matter of factly, no room for you to back out.

You stood with his help, your hand in his electrifying. You bore a look of amusement as you shook it, sensing there was more to this ‘job’ than what was shown at the surface. You were signing a contract with the Devil and didn’t even know it. 

“Cool. Do I get a welcome basket or something?”

Sylus snorted. Beautiful and cheeky. He could tell this would be the beginning of an interesting partnership. “I could arrange that.”

The mirth around you dwindled, and you studied him for a beat before you grew antsy. Held out your hand as the moment subsided, tapping your foot expectantly.

“Can I have my shoe back now? I should probably get goin’ before you try to coerce me into being your secretary, too.”

He canted his head, feigning ignorance. Woundedness. “I thought I’d hold onto it as a memento.”

You huffed out a laugh. “A memento for what?”

“For our new friendship.”

You snorted. “That’s real creepy, Mister.” Made a grab for your heel, yet Sylus held it just out of reach. You tried for the shoe again, your fragrance overhauling his senses as your warm chest brushed against him. 

He suddenly found himself wanting to smell you all the time, wanting to feel the heat wafting off your skin more often. And that pretty smile you wore—he had to have it for himself. 

You looked at him with a devastating curl to your lips, hands on hips. “Do you tease all your new recruits like this, or am I a special case?”

He chuckled, something tugging in his chest. “Consider it a part of the onboarding process.”

As you stood there, silently scrutinizing each other beneath the strobing lights, he found his interest in you sinking deeper than surface level. And he suddenly wanted to know about everything that made you tick. 

He felt a magnetic pull towards you, like the moon drawn to Earth. Something he couldn’t quite place. He’d be remiss to say he wasn’t curious to see where this partnership could lead. 

The deal was sealed that fateful night, even if it hadn’t been in black and white. He owned you. 

And over time, you would learn that you owned him, too.

—

The present comes sliding back in, banishing his memories to the furthest reaches of his mind. He’s caught reminiscing like you’re already dead. Catastrophizing, assuming the worst. 

He knows better. You’re tough. Stubborn. Still, he doesn’t err in his steps to find you. There’s always that just in case. Just in case your Evol failed you. Just in case they incapacitated you long enough to sell you off.

He’s panting. 

Not from the exertion of fighting and killing. Rending flesh from bone, turning men to ash as he saps their energy to use as his own. Not from painting the ship’s walls with the soot of burned bodies, leaving a statement for anyone who dares to steal from him again.

No.

He pants with an effort to restrain himself. 

He could sink this ship if he so chooses. But there are still innocents onboard, trickling out in onesies and twosies. Still goons charging at him from the exits with weapons poised at his chest as if they know who he is and what he’s after—laid out the red carpet, pulling out all the stops.

And he still has yet to locate your whereabouts. 

He ducked in and out of vacant rooms after reaching the cruise ship's lowest cabins. He funneled henchmen into the hallways one by one, snuffing them out like coals. Followed their source, gritting his teeth as the trail came up cold.

He eases into another area once the fray dies down. An inky darkness greets him. He crouches when he hears a lifeless, robotic voice speaking. Rattling off descriptions like it’s reading a menu. 

Sylus’ blood turns to icicles in his veins. Could this be the auction he’s been seeking all this time?

He peers over the partition, blocking him from sight. Spots a gentleman clad in a suit, his back facing Sylus as he sits in a leather armchair.

Two more men similarly sit on opposite sides of the room, forming a triangle. Various animal masks conceal their faces. 

Fixed in the center is a ceiling-high, glass display case with three figures clad in black standing in its center.

Two bodyguards flank the smaller being shrouded in an onyx cloak. One guard reaches up to peel back the robe’s hood, and Sylus’ breath catches. 

The figure is inherently feminine, clad in a lingerie set. Gaunt, like she’s been deprived of a proper meal for days. If not for the henchman with their hands manacling her forearms, Sylus is sure she would collapse. 

They’d dressed her up all pretty like a doll. Tried to make her look more appealing, though Sylus was sure these men would buy her regardless of how emaciated she looked. 

He still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. She’s not you. The body type and stature don’t match. But still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate.

The metallic voice chimes in overhead again. The bidding starts at one million. The gentleman before Sylus raises a white paddle, soundlessly placing his bid. Sylus’ stomach churns. He’ll kill everyone here, he swears it.

He observes passively for another moment. Bristles when the girl in the case weakly attempts to free herself from her captors. They shake her in warning, and the veil slips off.

Sylus swallows thickly, his power prickling on his fingertips. He waits until the bid reaches five million before he makes his move. Soundless as the tendrils of his Evol snake around five necks. Before they know what’s amiss, five sources of life are siphoned, sinking into Sylus’ body. 

The woman gasps. Throws herself against the glass, pounding on it with weakened fists. Begs Sylus with quivering, blood-crusted lips to save her. 

He’s detached as he snaps his wrist, the entry of the display case easing open. She studies him a moment longer in her quiet panic. Looks between him and the open door, unsure of what to do. 

Sure, he’s disappointed that she isn’t the woman he seeks. She isn’t you. But he wouldn’t hurt her. That would go against all the effort he put forth tonight to bring this human trafficking ring to its knees. 

He signals for the girl to leave with a cant of his head. She snatches up the cloak, hurriedly draping it about her shoulders before skittering out of sight.

Sylus’ mouth pulls into a rigid line. Nostrils flare. He burns with malice, breathing deep to quell the urge to burn this ship to the bowels of the ocean. Still, he has faith that you’re still on board somewhere. He just has to look harder.

Dipping out of the room, he enters another. Goons no longer pursue him, either thoroughly snuffed out or they fled in the wake of Sylus’ ire. 

He’s startled when he hears an enmeshment of grunts. One high and light, and the other gurgled and strained as if being choked. He darts from behind the partition in this new room, and the sight that welcomes him makes his body flood with something glacial.

He pants again, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

A wave of relief crashes into him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

In the center of a case similar to the one he’d seen just moments before is you. And you’re in the midst of choking out a guard with the links of your cuffs. He’s red-faced and fighting for his life, clawing at the links until bloody, jagged lines marr his neck. It’s to no avail.

With one final jerk, bone snaps, and the sigh of a life fleeting signals his demise. Your breaths are labored as you sit amid your carnage—four guards taken out similarly, haloing you—fixing Sylus’ with a reposed look.

“Took you long enough,” you puff with an inkling of a smile. And he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful, even beneath the sweat and grime and blood—thankfully not yours—that you’d accumulated throughout your capture.

Sylus moves on autopilot when his wits return. With a waggle of his fingers, your cuffs fall free from your wrists, accompanied by the shackles around your ankles. You must’ve put up quite the fight. He swells with pride despite the moment, and if you knew the doubts he housed about your safety, you would surely fight him.

He pries the display’s door open with his Evol and conquers the space between you in three long strides. Kneeling on the floor beside you, Sylus ingests your features. Smooths your sweat-slicked hair away from your face. Turns your head this way and that, scrutinizing you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assure on an exhale. Wrap your lithe fingers around his wrist as if to soothe, and it’s like he’s been shocked by static. He studies you a moment longer, painting a frantic triangle between your eyes and mouth before taking your hand in his, trying to haul you up.

“Let’s get you out—”

“Ow!” you hiss, flinching back. Sylus’ eyes glaze over you before taking in your ankle's swollen, purpling state. His eyes narrow, and he resists an urge to growl. 

If he hadn’t already killed all of them, he’d make them pay for hurting you.

“Might’ve sprained it,” you laugh, wincing at the stickiness of your voice. 

He peers at you fondly before scooping you into his arms, mindful of your injury. You instinctively curl into him, your arms loosely winding about his neck, and you nuzzle into the hollow of his shoulder. 

With his adrenaline slowly draining, Sylus cautiously moves you back into the hallway. Steps over the viscera and carnage he had caused, severed hands and errant teeth littering the once clean, blue, carpeted floors.

He has you back. You’re safe. A little bruised, but you’re safe. And he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so grateful. 

Slowly, the pair of you are consumed by the shadows of his Evol before morphing out of existence.

—

“Where will they go?” you ask with a wistful, faraway look in your eyes as Sylus’ coat blankets you, flapping in the breeze.

Luke and Kieran were herding the girls from the semi from the docks into awaiting vehicles, accompanied by a slew of Sylus’ staff members from Lux. They were patient and understanding as they gave the girls blankets and water, ushering them into Jeeps and SUVs to be transported to safety.

You watch them from Sylus’ arms, and he catches a glimpse of the girl you were all those years back. Hopeful and optimistic despite being in captivity yourself, knowing that no one would come for you. 

With his eyes transfixed on you, he speaks low and even. “Back to their families.”

You gaze at him, your eyes glazing over with a swell of tears. A moment of rarity between you, where you drop your defenses and grace him with a peak of the woman that resides beneath that callused exterior you outwardly project to the world—a means of protecting yourself. 

“What if they don’t have families?”

He shifts you in his arms, a smirk touching his lips. “Then we’ll do everything we can to help them find their place in this world again.”

You look at him with a reverent gleam to your irises. Shyly nuzzle into his chest, your voice so small, he has to strain to hear it.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Seriously.”

Something tugs at his heartstrings. He merely nods, walking you through the line of vehicles. The click of his loafers on the pavement echoes whilst he takes you towards the moonlight, nestled against the horizon. 

—

“You’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion, sweetie,” Sylus husks, and it surprises even him how soft he sounds. 

You must feel so smug, having the big, bad Boogeyman fretting over your well-being like this. He could crush you with his bare hands, yet he’s cautious as he strokes some of your baby hairs away from your forehead, your temple cool to the touch.

“Not sleeping,” you rasp, your lips pulling into a disarming smile. You don’t sound convincing, your voice heavy with sleep. But could he argue with you? “Just resting my eyes a bit.”

He snorts, your smile infectious. He lapses into silence when your smile fades and your breaths even out. Reluctantly withdraws his hand, watching you slumber atop his bed, and you just look so natural between silken, red sheets with the firelight waltzing over your visage. 

It’s been an eventful night. You deserve some rest. He feels better, having you safely tucked away in the penthouse, far from the arms of men with impure intentions, far from your memories. Should anything else come up, he knows you’ll be alright with the twins and his employees downstairs keeping tabs on you.

Regardless, his brows furrow with worry. Unlike him, you haven’t this miraculous ability to heal as quickly as he does. 

As if summoned from his thoughts, Mephisto appears through a flurry of inky smoke on his wrist. Sylus scratches the crow’s chin affectionately before fixing him with a serious, crimson stare. “Keep an eye on her,” he implores. 

Said crow hops from his wrist onto the side of the bed near your face, and in his way, he signals to Sylus that you’ll be left in good hands. Or wings.

With a final sigh, Sylus peels himself from the bedside chair. Stuffs his hands in his pockets, sparing one final look at your snoozing figure from over his shoulder. He can’t help how his lips twitch, something like affection warming his veins as he stands in the doorframe.

He exits the penthouse, down the elevator shaft, and through the stilled halls of Lux. Dumps himself into the balmy arms of the summery night. 

There’s still unfinished business to attend to, and now that he knows where Fate’s stronghold is, he figures he’ll pay an old friend a much-needed visit.

And maybe teach him a thing or two about stealing from The Devil.

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together. 

Today is one of those days. 

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly. 

All too familiar eyes meet yours. 

Same hair, same nose, same mouth. 

It’s you. 

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo. 

Missing Person. 

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way. 

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline. 

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.” 

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you. 

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device. 

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls. 

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission. 

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.) 

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him. 

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it. 

If it weren't complete bullshit. 

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. 

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well. 

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams. 

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating. 

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further. 

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room. 

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door. 

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room. 

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you. 

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety. 

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality. 

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths. 

It was all bullshit. 

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd. 

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you. 

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event. 

Bullshit. 

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain. 

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room. 

It's just not fair.  

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom? 

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises. 

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl. 

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse. 

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point. 

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you. 

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her. 

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care. 

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree. 

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri. 

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through. 

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open. 

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go. 

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her. 

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere. 

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.” 

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place. 

It’s all unusual. 

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat. 

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation. 

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you. 

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness. 

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head. 

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate. 

You are weak. 

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick. 

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it. 

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm. 

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements. 

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on. 

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around. 

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.” 

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be. 

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates. 

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game. 

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them. 

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face. 

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case. 

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed. 

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!” 

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!” 

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.” 

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up. 

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing. 

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain. 

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life. 

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you. 

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them. 

You were just like a caged bird. 

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance. 

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. 

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him. 

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick. 

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night. 

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one. 

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained. 

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid. 

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light. 

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki. 

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy. 

Never anything you had at home. 

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours. 

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away. 

“She seemed like a good fit.” 

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence. 

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed. 

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face. 

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms. 

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

 “That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.” 

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.” 

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.” 

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance. 

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even. 

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society. 

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm. 

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.” 

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.” 

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake. 

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it.  “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.” 

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books. 

Something about silver spoons and knives. 

But still, you want to indulge the feeling. 

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now. 

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.” 

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone. 

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand. 

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times. 

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league. 

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp. 

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could. 

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind. 

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers. 

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is. 

[devil-in-hiding]

Pull Me Closer Tiny Dancer (peek)

future tw: stalking, dark johnny is a warning in himself, violent thoughts, graphic violence, noncon/dubcon

The bar was dark and musty, small enough to fit a crowd of fifty, and that crowd mostly contained drunken old perverts who were desperately trying to paw the dancers on the minuscule stage, and married men stuffing their rings in their pockets and slipping out the back door with a pretty little bird.

Johnny usually never gives these places the time of day, stale smoke hanging in the air and the girls missing a few teeth, pupils blown and white powder clinging to their nostrils, sweat glistening off their skin. Below him, really.

That is until he saw you walking down the sidewalk, faux minx coat wrapped around you tight, fighting off the bite of the frosty air. Your eyes are tired, but your steps are confident in those towering heels, the clack clack clack echoing in Johnny’s ears, his heart beating to match the sound before you disappear in the bar, and the door barely closes before he’s slipped in.

Now he sits and waits, eyes darting to the small door to the left of the stage each time it swings open. Each girl is another jab of disappointment, and he crinkles his nose at the sound of their pterodactyl-like laughter as they get hauled into laps, batting their lashes and he’s about ready to give up when the music changes. It’s something darker, low tempo as the lights manage to get even dimmer.

And there you are, glitter glinting under the stage lights as you lift your gaze, and Johnny’s entranced. He can’t look away from the way you wrap around the pole so effortlessly, clothes falling away you dip and twirl, winking over your shoulder before spinning around, dropping to your knees and Johnny’s breath stops as your eyes meet his for the slightest of seconds, and he’s stumbling to pull out his wallet, scooting forward in his seat as he waits for you to crawl by.

[siblingshuffle]

Rockrtober Day 3: Virus

TW: graphic imagery (kinda…? Like allegorical blood.)

I would’ve kept this one’s scene as a script but I feel like it loses its impact without anything to make it into a story.

“Yeah!!” Bass cheered, spinning in his chair as Piano cleared the final obstacles in the stage. Refocusing, he kicked up his feet on the desk and announced, “You’re in the clear! Now, your next opponent is right up ahea—"

Bass’s ventilation backfired directly into the mic, which he quickly muted. When he finally managed to stop, he groaned, optics unfocused as he deactivated Screen Share.

-…Bass?- Piano’s monotonous voice almost sounded concerned over the comms. -Are you operational?-

But Bass didn’t answer. If he were human, he undoubtably would’ve gone pale at the sight of his hand. How had his ventilation backfired with enough force to rupture a fuel line?

-…I am returning to Light Labs if I do not receive an answer within seven seconds.-

That snapped Bass out of it. Immediately, he scrambled to unmute himself. “Uh, nothing to worry about, Pi! Just… that Proto-Dweeb wandered over to the computer. Don’t worry about it!”

The Wily twins didn’t have the Light twins’ ability to sense one another’s emotions, but Bass could’ve sworn he felt Piano’s doubt. He held his breath, waiting for her to say something.

-…You are…certain that you are unharmed?-

Bass released the breath he’d been holding. “I’m fine, idiot. Go kick ***! I’ll keep the First Draft away from the computer.”

-Understood.-

—————

LORE: Ive had a cold since Oct 1 so this is fitting lol. Anyway, during the Roboenza outbreak, the main cast of robotic protagonists ends up dropping like flies. You know, for dramatic tension and stuff. So, here’s the order in which characters fall ill.

Tempo. She got the virus first out of everyone in the main cast. Blues stopped by to see if she could hang out, only for Dr. LaLinde to reveal that she had a virus. Despite this, Blues still wanted to hang out (they both thought it was more like a computer virus than an illness, and joked about how she would make sure not to send him any downloadable content). Her symptoms worsened throughout the visit and into the next few days.

Blues. At first, he mistook his Roboenza symptoms for core-problems symptoms. He woke up feeling more tired than usual, but he doesn’t get a consistent flow of energy usually. He probably just didn’t charge well… Then, he starts feeling all warm. Oh well, maybe he’s doing a little too much & that’s why he’s overheating. But then his vision gets all grainy, and his sunglasses won’t help. Maybe he’s just malfunctioning…? Finally he ended up telling Dr. Light that he wasn’t feeling too good, at which point he collapsed and kicked off the start of the game.

Bass. This one takes place in the early-to-mid-game time period. After Wily ran off to Light Labs, Bass took over Mission Control there and Piano joined Roll and Rock in their objective. When Bass started showing symptoms, he insisted on just handling them himself… That is, until he overheated and was pulled away from the console.

Roll. This follows the same general structure as her sacrifice in the original. She gets sick while at Light Labs, and Blues (a little less lucid) gives the prototype medicine to her. (Bonus: I’m thinking he says a line about it being “his turn to make a sacrifice for her”).

Rock. While he and Roll infiltrate Wily’s castle, he collapses. Roll ends up half-carrying her twin until she can find a good spot to set him down. There’s no more medicine, so Rock is sent to Light Labs to rest. He shows up at the final battle anyway to block Wily’s escape route

Piano. Piano gets sick while infiltrating the castle from the other side. However, she’s built pretty sturdy and it feeds her ego a bit when she ends up fighting pretty well even with her symptoms.

And Rhythm might not even get sick lol

I kinda imagine Dr. LaLinde hearing about Blues getting sick after hanging out with Tempo all day & being like “Rhythm, I’m sorry, I need to keep you out of proximity with your sister”

[gretavanlace]

Blurred Lines

Jake kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, very light impact play, explicit language, overstimulation, etc.

Just a little something quick I whipped up because my life is now an absolute dumpster fire thanks to Jake and his eyeliner. Fairly lazy editing, my apologies in advance ❤️

Sexy? Yes, you had expected that. A feral crowd calling forth that smirk of his that proves he knows exactly what he’s doing. The wicked gleam in his eye that says ‘they want me and I love it’, you had expected that too.

What you didn’t expect, was the wild, white-hot flame that would be stoked way down deep inside you. The moment he appeared, a rock and roll angel…wings hidden beneath his jacket, you wanted to fall to your knees with a warm, wet, open mouth offering a home for his cock.

Eye liner. A sweep of charcoal along his lash line, expertly applied, rendering his gaze even more beautiful than usual. No man has any business being that pretty. Gorgeous, really. Feminine in the most delicious way. In the way that serves as a testament to the unwavering confidence and security in his own skin he possesses.

You had wanted him then, badly. Wanted to climb into his lap and kiss his lovely face, to suck on his bubble gum pink tongue, to rock your hips against him until he was so hard neither of you could bear it any longer.

Yes, you’d been down astronomically bad then, but now? Watching him destroy his guitar, fingers flying along the frets so rapidly they’re no more than a blur. Sweat glistening and rolling down his chest like diamonds as he flirts with the audience, stealing heart after heart, liner now smudged and messy from exertion…now your need is nearly painful.

If he were to curl a finger at you, you’d make your way over from side-stage and bow to his every whim…audience be damned.

You have to have him, and you don’t want him on the bus where you’re both forced to be gentle and quiet lest the others hear (although you’re fairly certain they still do from time to time). No, you want to fuck, with him behind you, looking like a whore of a pirate who stepped foot on dry land and somehow ended up here.

Never before have you ducked out before the end of their set, but there’s a first time for everything. If he swaggers off stage like usual - an arm will be wrapped around your waist in greeting as he bullshits with his brothers about the show…what went wrong, what went right, what might go wrong and right next time, it will carry on and on.

Normally you don’t mind. In fact, you enjoy it. But if you’re forced to stand around aching and fiending for the fix only he can bestow, you very well might begin tearing into him right in front of the others.

If he leaves the stage and his gaze doesn’t land on you immediately, he’ll forgo the post show back and forth in favor of hunting you down.

And it is to that end, that you find yourself waiting, not so patiently, in his dressing room.

It feels like an eternity, and exasperation is beginning to creep in when the door swings open.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He smiles through heavy pants of breath. “Were we that awful tonight?”

“Lock the door.”

“Why?” He looks confused.

Your patience is wearing incredibly thin. You want him just like this - covered in sweat, post show adrenaline coursing through his veins like the sweetest drug, screams of adoration still rattling about in his head “Just lock the fucking door, Jake.”

He reaches back and pushes the tiny button on the handle, eyes on you all the while, a quiet groan of lust escaping him when you lean over the vanity and hike your dress up over your hips. Panties are next to go, shoved down mid-thigh, blush pink lace as soaked and warm as your cunt.

“Look at you, my poor, pretty little thing. Does baby need some attention?” His voice is slightly hoarse. Always a tell as to how turned on he is. The man has no poker face when it comes to being buried inside you.

His reflection grows nearer in the mirror and your desire kicks into overdrive, shaking through your system until you’re practically vibrating with it.

“Fuck me.” It ribbons off your tongue with a tremble clutching at your throat. Twisting and squeezing in perfect time with the thunderous pounding of your heart.

His hands wrap around the curve of your waist, Chelsea boot kicking your legs further apart.

Your eyes burn into one another’s for a moment, the air in the room so thick with sexual tension that if you closed your eyes you might believe you were wandering through early morning fog.

He jerks your hips back against him, just to torture you with the heat of his hard cock, and that sets in motion what seems like a thousand movements.

Leaning forward, he sinks his teeth into your bare shoulder until you whine out in blissful pain, and then there is his finger, sneaking under the strap of your bra resting beside the mark of his teeth.

“Let me see them.” He snaps the elastic and then slides his hand between your thighs, growling low in his chest when he finds you dripping and clenching around nothing.

You chase his fingers as he teases them around, giving you just enough to pull whimper after needy whimper out of you.

“I said let me see them.” He sounds harsh and demanding, but you can see love behind the darkness in his eyes.

Yanking down on the neck of your dress, you take the cups of your bra along for the ride, leaving you nothing more than a half-dressed disheveled whore for him.

And that’s fine by you. You’d rather be a whore for him than a lady for someone else.

His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip as, at last, he finally slips two fingers inside you. “Look how fucking beautiful you are, baby. Play with them for me, and make it hurt. I know you like it.”

He feels you clench viciously around his touch the moment you take hold of your taught nipples, wrenching and tugging at them.

“You’re sucking me right in,” his breath is catching and hitching in his lungs. “I fucking love your cunt. So tight and hot. Velvet soft. Pink and greedy. What’s got her so worked up? Tell me.”

You try your hardest to collect your thoughts, but with his fingers circling into the spot only he has ever found, it’s nearly impossible.

In the end, it doesn’t matter, he figures it out for himself when you glance up and catch sight of the smoky eye his ruined liner has created…your eyes roll back in your head and he knows.

“There it is.” He sounds like sex drenched detective who has just cracked a case. “You like that? You like it when I look pretty for my sweet little whore of a fuck toy?”

“Yes…” the word drags out of you as you push back to meet his hand frantically. “Fuck me, Jake. Please, I need it. I need it so fucking bad.”

The teeth of his zipper hum open and suddenly you’re stuffed full in one smooth roll of his hips.

“Yeah,” a cocky smirk ghosts over his lips. “You’re soaked, baby. You love it, don’t you? You wanna paint my lips cherry red so I can kiss it all over this gorgeous pussy?”

You smack your palm harshly against the polished wood you’re bent over, biting down on your lip feverishly in an effort to keep quiet.

He reaches around and tugs it free…he wants every sound. Every moan and sigh, every call of his name. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

A flash of heat explodes in your chest, spider cracking all the way down to your toes.

Hand slipping downward, he wraps his grip around your neck, squeezing as if he’s trying to coax praise off your tongue with his touch. “Say it.”

“You’re so pretty, Jake…” each word is followed by a tiny gasp for air as he fucks into you harder and faster “A fucking princess with a cock. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

He groans out an animalistic noise that springs goosebumps to life on your skin. His head falls back and you’re reminded of stage Jake, practically fucking his guitar, losing himself in the haunting notes his talented fingers call forth.

Once again, he finds your eyes in the mirror. “Come on, baby, cum for me. I’m so fucking close.” A shiver ripples through him as his cock jerks wildly deep inside you.

“Go ahead, Jakey…” you can’t tear your eyes away from him. “Give it to me.”

He shakes his head, sending his layers whipping around. “You first. I need to feel it. Fuck…be a good girl and do as you’re told…cum on my cock.”

A wail of a whine tumbles out of you, as you tighten around him like a silken fist.

“It's pretty, too.”

You’ve hardly made a sound, but he catches it.

“Is it?” The question drifts out with a hint of a slur - he’s completely drunk on you. “A pretty cock for a beautiful cunt.” He cracks a sharp smack against the outside of your thigh. “Now give it the fuck up, baby girl. I want it.”

Your muscles jerk and tense up tight as a drum listening to his teeth click together with a clenched jaw as he fights his own need. “C’mon sweetheart, please…”

The effort was valiant, but he loses the battle, and with a hushed call of your name, the sinful heat of his release warms you from the inside out and you wish you could keep it there forever. A bit of him secreted away safe and sound within you.

“Don’t stop..” you beg as his cursing cries morph into tiny whines of overstimulation. “Don’t fucking stop.”

He can’t deny you anything, so he carries on, fighting through it in order to get you there while you babble and moan incoherently, words peppered through. Harder. Right there. Keep going. Obscenities you’d be ashamed for anyone else to hear.

With the most endearing fucked out noise you’ve ever heard him utter, he sends you sailing over the edge, nails raking into the vanity, body shaking and squirming so intensely he is forced to wrap an arm around your waist to hold you somewhat still around his cock as it throbs and aches for mercy.

His forehead falls against your shoulder, tired, spent, satiated in the way he’s only ever felt with you.

Right here, you have all you’ll ever need…but soon, the spell is broken when you register the lowered hum of noise on the other side of the door. The place is slowly clearing out, the others are likely already on the bus wondering what the hell has become of you two.

There’s no time to shower, but you do your best at looking at least halfway presentable, futile as it is. They’ll see through you both right away, but it isn’t the first time your indiscretions have provided them with valuable material for their entertainment, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @paleshadow-ofadragon @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[belowheavenrpg]

September Update

(This is reposted from my Patreon)

I have spent the last month putting together a bunch of scenes from the game's prologue. My intent is to release said prologue as a free demo once it is complete.

The majority of the graphics and sound effects in the present build are placeholders, so there's not a lot that I can reasonably show. Above is the only scene in the game whose assets are final.

One thing I can show, however, is the new and improved Caroline walk cycle. I've finally reached a point where I'm pretty happy with the direction to take sprites in (which means I won't be tweaking them anymore), and we have since implemented a system that greatly expands what RPG Maker can do with character sprites, which is exciting.

I will not be answering questions about these other costumes. You'll have to see for yourself in what context they appear in.

The battle system is still a bit of a ways away, so I doubt there'll be a playable build of the game this year, but I hope to be able to show off other parts of the prologue in the meantime.

---

In other, more concrete game dev news from me, Prototype N will receive a new demo version at SAGExpo 2024 this Friday. There are reworked stages and graphics, new music, and more importantly, cutscenes that finally shed light on some of the game's plot. Those were written and boarded by yours truly. The new character who shows up in one of them was also designed by me.

In addition, the game will now feature Brazilian Portuguese and Latinamerican Spanish language options. If you'd like to help translate Prototype N to your native tongue, feel free to shoot us a message.

I have other things in the works that I'd like to talk about, but alas, I must remain tight lipped until they're ready. But I assure you - exciting things are coming!

[stellasvault]

If you don't mind, could I request Hobie with a musician s/o who is super sweet any time they're NOT on stage or performing, but then they get on stage and just fit so well into their stage personality of being absolutely borderline clinically insane? So much so that you can't really even call it a character they're putting on, it's just second nature to them.

[https://youtu.be/NauWxATQisQ?si=k5rGhK-RZ3BwkT9c // adding this to maybe give a more in depth idea of the unhinged act that I can't really put into words right- like the kind of personality of someone you'd want to put under a microscope and inspect, for lack of better wording]

ok so i gotta admit i had a little trouble with this one since the only musical background i have is being a violinist 😭, but i watched the video and i (think) have finally got it LMAO

“light switch”

pairings: hobie brown x gn!musician!reader

warnings: sfw, cursing, nothing else i think..

—————————————————————————

“can’t you wait a while longer?” hobie asked, being his usual stubborn self.

you huffed. you were currently supposed to already be on stage, as there was a hopeful audience waiting for you behind the other side of the curtain.

hobies hands were on your hips, eager to have some more time with you. you loved your boyfriend, but your musical career was more important than a make-out session.

you motioned toward the curtain. “hobie, there’s people who paid good money to come, i’ll see you later, right?” you smiled up at him with a tinge of annoyance in your eyes, trying to warn him this was his last chance.

he put his hands up in surrender. “alrigh’, but i know you’re gonna start cursin’ out that audience, eh?” he chuckled before punching your shoulder softly.

you pursed your lips in disbelief before hobie walked away to get seated in the front of the crowd, his usual spot. he needed to see his favorite person up close, after all.

you patted down your outfit to make sure you looked at the very least presentable. not like it was a formal outfit, anyway. you were wearing a simple graphic tee with cargo pants, you weren’t the type to go all out.

you were pretty casual. very casual. so casual in fact, that there was no need for a grand entrance. you simply flapped the curtain open just enough so that you could face the stage and sit behind your crowd.

it’s not like you were a pop star, but you definitely had some big fans. so it was no surprise that when you appeared, the audience almost fainted. your ears were flooded with claps from dozens of hands and cheers from excited fans.

“alright, alright shut up..” you mumbled, not even bothering to look up at the anxious-for-action audience members. you noticed that what looked like some new people were shocked at your obvious annoyance.

you sighed before looking back up at the people covered in bright concert lights. “shit, let’s do this..” you sighed, “this beginning song is about how fucking mad i am at the people who work at the store and keep asking me if i need help.” you explained with almost no flavor in your voice.

you took in a deep breath, about to begin playing your piano and sing, but there was an interruption.

you didn’t take those very well.

“hey!! i work at the store! ever been to the 24/7 drug store ‘round here? makes more than you, i bet.” a man’s voice lifted from the crowd obnoxiously. the rest of the crowd ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at his heckle, knowing what happened to the previous ones.

“why don’t you take all that money and shove it up your ass?”

—————————————————————————

you could still hear the echos of the howls of laughter after you had made a comeback from the few hours before. you were now protected with hobie’s loving arms as they wrapped around you, your head on his slowly rising-and-falling chest. you were both sprawled on the bed, exhausted from the loud and bright night you had.

you remembered the look on hobie’s face when he saw you after the show ended.

“bloody hell, didn’t know my darling could be like that..” he said sarcastically, knowing he had seen you like this countless of times. his reaction to your jokes and comments were always priceless.

what made it better was that you were just the sweetest thing off stage. your friends all knew you as the kind one who never held grudges, never judged anyone, or treated everyone like your best friend. on stage, well.. you were just a bit different.

but, you did love your fans. especially your boyfriend.

—————————————————————————

haha this one was definitely shorter than expected 😭

anon, if you want this to be rewritten PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

reblogs, likes, & follows are appreciated so much!

thanks for reading!!

•🎧🎧🎧

[pascalcampion]

L’Autoroute du Soleil, by Baru.

This graphic novel was published in 1995.

At the time, I hadn’t yet read a graphic novel like this.

Black and white, it was long too. Over 400 pages. It felt real.

I had known of Baru’s work for a while by then. He had done a book or a series, I can’t remember called “Quequette Blues” I think it was published in a magazine like A suivre or Pilote. I wasn’t interested in it. I was probably too young then to connect to stories that felt SO MUCH like real life.

But when L’Autoroute du Soleil came out, it felt like I knew the characters in the book.

Not only that, but it felt like this was a story that could’ve really happened.

Put back in the context of the time, most of the stories in graphic novel form I was exposed to were either super hero comics or stuff like Tintin and Asterix( I mean, not JUST that but mostly that). The OTHER type of comic form I would see in stores was adult only stuff.

So when I found L’autoroute du Soleil, it was a shock. It felt like a movie on paper.

Everything about it worked. The graphic nature of the characters, They were not pretty. Not all of them. Some were down right ugly, just like in real life.

People coming in and out of the story. Having an impact then disappearing, like a person you meet on the train and is gone at the next stop. I grew up in the south of France and when the main characters stop for a while in the South, I thought I could hear the cicadas and feel the heat of long summer days

The staging, editing, the rhythm of the story felt like it was shot with a camera. The story itself was a very urbane, believable story with (almost) believable human reactions. There was just enough “extra” to make you want to read more. The night shots felt moody and real and the sequences where the characters relax on the beach feel breezy, sunny and fun. I wasn’t used to author who were so comfortable in light sequences as well as moody, tense moments. 

It was the beginning of an era where I could see graphic novels as a full art. Not for kids, not for bizarre stories that no one would read or care for, but for very mature, skillfully crafted movies on paper. This book didn’t have color and I didn’t even notice. It was that engrossing.

I re read the book a few weeks ago and I am STILL completely involved in the story.

I feel these stories are more common today.

I find similar real life feelings in some mangas. There are some American Graphic Novel artist that have been going down that road as well and I love it.

Baru has done other amazing books since then.

He did one about a boxer a little later that I find absolutely amazing as well.

I believe he is still active and whenever I get a chance to find some of his work, I’ll read it.

#Baru #L’autoroute du Soleil

[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on the Finneon line, including the beta Lumineon design vs. the one we got?

Finneon is kind of a butterflyfish, in the sense that its fins are literally shaped like butterfly wings, but it's also kind of a tetra and kind of a betta fish all at the same time. I do like it from a graphic design standpoint—there's something pleasing about the solid black top with a pink stripe that runs down the length of the torso, complimented by spots on its tail fin, and then blue underneath.

However, it's not really much to look at from a conceptual standpoint. It's a pretty fish, but there's nothing really going on with it beyond that. This wouldn't be inherently a problem if it worked really well as a stepping stone for the evo to flesh out a theme from, but as we'll see in a moment there's not a ton going on there either.

Lumineon takes the small wing-like fins on Finneon's tail and fleshes them out so they're much bigger and more complex, which I like. Honestly, if more emphasis were placed on the wings, they could've been the theme in and of themselves—imagine it being water/bug, water/flying, or water/fairy.

Instead, Lumineon goes in a different direction by being a bioluminescent deep-sea fish that walks on the bottom of the ocean. That's a great premise, and I think it really could've worked well as a theme.

However, the issue is that nothing in the design conveys luminescence at all. It retains the blues and pinks from Finneon, which are still nice, but not nearly bright enough to get across a glowing effect. You do see this effect on occasion, like on its SV 'dex plate, but it really needed to be a permanent effect to get the point across.

Also, when I think bioluminescent fish with a strong emphasis on color and light, I'm thinking like, mostly black body with just a few select highlights of a very bright, almost neon color, to really make everything pop. Lumineon has a bit too much blue on it, with the proportions of the two colors being almost an even 50/50 split. Maybe if the body was black and there was a singular blue band going where the eye is or something. Like, there's nothing all that wrong with the design we got—it's just not terribly memorable in the long run.

We can see from the beta design that Lumineon was originally closer to what I suggested, mostly dark with a few pops of color. I do like the effect this has, especially with the nice scalloped shape to the wings that I think gets a bit lost with Lumineon's rough edges. The extra bit of pink in there are also a nice touch. And while I'm not big on the red, it is nice that the markings around the eye play off of Finneon's.

However, this design has an incredibly awkward body shape, with small wings and a shapeless tail. Plus it still feels like something is missing color-wise, like it needed a ring on its tail or something for one final pop of color. I feel like if we could get the final Lumineon's design but with the beta's colors, we'd have the ideal Pokemon.

Also, as a side note, this line could be a good pick for an evolution or mega form in the future. It's only two stages, and it definitely feels like there's room for expansion still.

Anyway, overall, these guys are decent but they don't manage to deliver on their themes as well as they could have, resulting in a couple of pretty but fairly underwhelming fish.

[gingerjolover]

prompt: any of the boys take care of reader after noticing she has disordered eating habits

Trigger warning: disordered eating habits and eating disorder talk, nothing too graphic (your girl is emetophobic lol)

As someone who has had and recovered from an ED, if you need any support or resources please feel free to reach out and if this will trigger you, please skip!!

since I have a lack of Phoebe content I will be writing her first, BUT i do plan to do this prompt with all the boys.

Phoebe:

I'm imagining a scenario where Phoebe keeps pretty good tabs on you, like always checking in and making sure you're okay and taking care of yourself, especially when she's touring and just not around as much. And this isn't because she thinks you're incapable, but she strikes me as the type of partner/lover who wants to be very involved, especially when she's not physically around.

The why isn't so much important as the what. Because she's not around and the boy's busy touring schedule, you've been able to dodge situations where she might've picked up on the fact that you were skipping meals and meticulously tracking what goes into your body, if anything substantial at all. It isn't until she comes home, and she doesn't really notice the first day because you spend most of the day in bed and you narrowly avoid your first mealtime together by blaming eating a big lunch before you picked her up from the airport.

But she knows something is up the next morning when she wakes up early (on purpose) to surprise you with your favorite baked good and presents it to you in bed. You offer to walk Maxine first, saying you missed the pup and walking with your girlfriend, which Phoebe believes, but there's something gnawing at her gut because you left the pastry on your nightstand, not even sparing it a second glance.

You'd both be walking Maxine, hand in hand, when Phoebe tells you one of the few times Julien fell hard on stage, and you laugh a little too hard that you get lightheaded. Phoebe is immediately on high alert and may be coming off a little aggressive in her questioning, "No seriously babe, don't say you're fine, you chuckled and almost fucking passed out," and you immediately close in on yourself, wanting to hide but she keeps pushing and pushing until the dam bursts. You're literally in the front yard when you just spill how you haven't been eating, and she's instantly riddled with guilt, scooping you up and rubbing your back. "Baby, hey... I need you to talk to me... you know I love you, I want the best for you, what's going on?" just so supportive and soft and sweet with you, the side of her you don't see super often since she's so nonchalant and chill normally. She doesn't immediately force you into a program or into a big meal; she does convince you to get checked out at urgent care, where they give you resources and fluids before she finds a safe snack for you to slowly reintroduce.

When you get home she lets you talk it out, letting you rest your head on her chest, her fingers massaging your scalp and back. She feels guilty for being so aggressive, knowing you're a bit ashamed of your recent habits. She does her best to console you without reinforcing any of your behavior, "I know you're struggling baby, I do. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you, but I'm here now, and I'll always be here, even when I'm not physically home," and "You're stuck with me forever, I need you healthy babe," trying to make light of the situation. She's googling the best way to support you when you eventually fall asleep on her chest; Maxine snuggled with the two of you on the couch.

She tries not to be overbearing as you slowly work out of your habits. she'll be on the road again, you'll be at work getting a random series of texts along the lines of "good morning my dude," "make sure you eat today," "love you so much," and then when you don't answer her texts she'll call, sheepishly asking you what you had for breakfast.

She tries not to watch you like a hawk, but there's always a part of her that's a bit overprotective, especially when you start eating intuitively and listening to your hunger cues; she gets a little flighty when you tell her you're not hungry, but she knows to trust you, and if you needed help, you would ask. At the end of the day, she just loves you so much, and even if she is chill about it, she's obsessed with you and only wants the best for you.

[legendary-pink-dot]

Stages of Growth

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x reader (no gender specified, but female in my mind)

Rating: Mature (is that still a common rating today? I'm an Old)

Warnings: A couple references to sexual activity, but nothing too graphic.

Word Count: 1,000 on the nose

Summary: A chronicle of your relationship, and Frankie's hair.

Notes: Fuck you, Pedro, for having such pretty hair. I spend way too much time thinking about it. And about Frankie generally. ❤️

---

When you first met Frankie, his hair was medium brown and short. A close-cropped buzz cut, mandatory for basic training, given to him without choice. It suited him, but also didn’t – a perfect match for his ambivalence about joining the military and what the service meant for him. You wondered what personality his hair would have once it had a chance to grow in. What kind of man Frankie would become, the promise his future held, what kinds of things he could and would learn to do.

When you finally had your first night together, he had just arrived home, on leave from a long deployment, your letters having kept him company and chronicled your growing connection. His military haircut had been allowed a reprieve as well, one of the perks and markers of being chosen for Special Forces training, needing to blend in with the locals of the various foreign countries he was sent to. That length of hair reflected well on him and the way he carried himself with new confidence, though there was still a tendril of ambivalence left, along with one wayward tress on his nape that insisted on rebelling, growing literally sideways with no sign of ever giving in.

On that first night Frankie had let you excitedly fist your hands into his longer locks as you kissed, quietly observing how it added fuel to your fire. Later that night, he let you guide his mouth to wherever you wanted it on your body, your hands in his hair acting as reins or restraints when needed and as silent praise when not. When you came, you had pulled his hair so hard that he saw stars and it spurred his own high, barreling him uncontrollably into it seconds later.

By the time he quit the military after many years of dedicated service, his locks had matured into a deeper brown – “English Walnut 7533” according to the Pantone color chart you had pilfered from your interior design firm – and had changed shape and texture, expressing itself in mostly neat, evenly shaped waves and curls, especially in humid weather or the rare time he let you style it for him with your carefully chosen products.

One of your best memories from that time was a hazy, lazy day in the tropics when you were both too overcome with the heat to do much else but lie in shaded loungers on your balcony. Frankie was suffering from the temperature, and the light strokes of your fingers across his brow hadn’t been enough to soothe him, or to satisfy you.

Coconut was the hotel room’s free shampoo offering, and soon the scent of sweet suds had wafted between you. You felt tiny soap bubbles pop, carbonation as you slid your fingers through his locks; you saw the frown lines on his forehead gradually smooth out as his eyes drifted shut and he sighed in delight; you felt the air around him drop several degrees purely from relaxation. You relished his moans when the cool rinse water sluiced down his scalp and into the repurposed ice bucket from the previous night’s champagne. Despite the humidity, his curls had dried by the time night fell, only to turn into sweaty waves again once you tumbled into bed with newfound energy to explore each other’s bodies.

On his first day at work as an aviation mechanic, his pilot’s license having been suspended over some cargo he shouldn’t have flown, he smushed his hair into an old baseball cap that read “Standard Heating Oil”, borrowed from a close friend and military comrade, and took to wearing it almost constantly. He said it was for practical reasons and that he was just too lazy to fuss over his hair, but you knew better. That hat was the first thing he took off when he got home, and the last thing he put on when he left, like he was some method actor with dual personalities.

When he came home a week late from a private group mission gone disastrously wrong, dropping his bags in the doorway and enveloping you in a crushing hug, one of your hands had automatically threaded into the curls on the back of his head, longer and strongly defined now, more for you to hold and more for him to be anchored by.

When he finally shared what went wrong on the mission and how they had lost their leader and friend, he buried his face into your neck, your tears trickling down your cheek to be absorbed by his scalp. One glance downward and all you could see was his locks shot through with silver and grey – much more of it than he had left with. Whatever he went through in South America had quickly accrued compound interest.

He had also lost his hat somewhere during the mission, and from then on never wore one again unless required to at work.

When he had nightmares or panic attacks from that mission, the touch of your hand gently weaving through his hair was his lifeline, something to focus on as he fought his way back to reality and to you.

Now solidly in middle age, Frankie has fewer nightmares, the dreams having receded both in frequency and intensity, and the silvery grey evolution of his hair color seems to have abated too, a rare pause in time.

He keeps his hair at the length you like: long enough for the curls to fully develop and be free, but short enough that he doesn’t have to fuss over it too much. He lets you style it, even lets you wash it for him as your new Sunday evening relaxation ritual. He lets you do whatever you want; you’ve earned it after everything he’s put you through as part of his messy, fractured life.

Tomorrow, Frankie’s pilot license is finally set to be reinstated. Maybe you’ll suggest he get a haircut to celebrate this next stage of his life. Or maybe not.

[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 27: Matches, Scars

AO3 link. I'm still working my way through whumptober :D.

AND!!!! THIS IS MY 50TH WORK POSTED ON AO3!!!!!! :DDDDD

Summary: The chain relaxes in a hot spring, and Wild notices Sky has a scar that matches one of his. 1052 words. Sky & Wild.

Warnings: scars, discussion of scars, lightning scars, Sky starts to feel very uncomfortable because of discussion of scars (not graphic, doesn't reach panic attack stage)

Whump rating: 1/5. Very light-hearted vibes

Sky lowered himself into the hot spring with a long, content sigh. The heat immediately soothed his aching muscles, and the pressure of the water felt incredible. Sky sighed happily again, letting his eyes slide shut and his head fall back to rest on the rocks. The angle made the pain in his neck more pronounced, Sky realized with a wince, but he didn’t have the energy to hold his head up. 

“Sky, here,” Wild said. 

“Hm?” 

“Lift your head for me?” Wild asked. 

Sky lifted his head without opening his eyes. He heard Wild shuffling behind him. 

“Okay, good,” Wild said.

Sky dropped his head again and made a surprised noise when it landed on something soft. It kept his head raised enough that the angle didn’t put pressure on his neck. Sky smiled widely as he reached up to adjust the fabric into the perfect position. He opened his eyes to meet Wild’s above him.

“Thanks, champion,” Sky said. Wild beamed. 

Sky finished adjusting the fabric then let his arms splash back into the water. He let them float on top, making small waves with careful motions. 

On the other side of the spring, Wind and Hyrule were taking turns being thrown into the spring by Twilight. Their laughter was like music to Sky, and he relished in the sound. Sky could see Four watching closely, and Sky hoped he would set aside his maturity for long enough to play, too. 

A comfortable distance away from the splashing, Time, Warriors, and Legend were reclined comfortably in the water. Warriors and Legend were playfully arguing about something. Although Sky couldn’t hear, he suspected Time was antagonizing them on purpose, based on the man’s mischievous smirk. 

Sky chuckled softly to himself. It was a perfect day.

There was a small splash as Wild flopped into the spring. The water lapped up against Sky’s chest. The heat stung comfortably. 

“This was a great idea,” Sky said. “The heat feels so nice.”

“It has healing properties, too,” Wild said. 

“Oh, really?” Sky asked. 

Wild nodded as he pulled his hair tie out and began combing his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. The science is pretty cool, actually. Yunobo explained it to me once. The water here is connected to the great fairies springs, but there’s also a reaction that happens with some chemical I don’t remember the name of because of the heat.”

“Cool,” Sky said. They fell into comfortable silence as Wild worked on his hair and Sky worked on relaxing.  

“Hey, Sky?” Wild asked. His voice was soft and hesitant. Sky looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah?” Sky asked.

“Those lines,” Wild said. 

Sky followed his gaze. The bright lightning scars started on his hand and branched up his arm, then down the right side of his torso and all the way down his right leg. 

“They’re from lightning, right?” Wild asked. 

“They are,” Sky pushed the words out through tight throat. The nerves in his hand tingled. He kept his gaze on the water. 

“Look, I have some too! We’re matching!” Wild said. Sky blinked in surprise at the change in his tone. 

Wild jumped up in the water and pointed to his hip. The same marks arched across Wild’s hip and down his leg. Sky had never noticed them before. Wild’s body was a mosaic of scar tissue more so than the rest of them. It all blended in Sky’s mind. That was what Wild looked like, and he had never paid any more attention to it than that.

“It’s from Thunderblight,” Wild said. “Made it through rubber armor and a shock resistant elixir.”

Sky didn’t know what rubber was. He decided to focus on that, rather than the shock of the lightning coursing through his body, and the blood-boiling anxiety of I have to get this shot right- have I held onto this one for too long- is this going to fry my heart- am I going to win.

“What’s rubber?” Sky asked. He thought his voice sounded remarkably steady, considering. 

Wild paused, blinking blankly at him. “I… don’t actually know.”

And just like that, Sky felt the tension in him break. He huffed a laugh and tried to force his muscles to relax, his heartbeat to slow. 

“You used it even though you don’t know what it is?” Sky asked. 

“Course I did. I didn’t know what anything was, at first,” Wild said with a grin. Sky nodded in acquiescence. He supposed that was true. 

Wild looked at Sky’s scars again, and his expression made Sky think he was going to ask another question. 

“Can, um,” Sky asked, swallowing thickly. “Can we change the subject?”

Wild’s eyes went wide. “Of course! I’m sorry, Sky, yeah. Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I was just- we matched, and-”

“Hey,” Sky said. He put his hands over Wild’s to still their rapid movements.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know,” Sky said. “But we’re here to relax, and I’d like to do that.”

“Yeah, totally. Sorry. We’ll do that,” Wild said. Sky smiled again, and leaned back on the fabric below his head. 

“Sky!” 

Legend’s yell came from across the spring. Sky groaned light-heartedly and reluctantly raised his head. Legend and Warriors were both rushing towards him in the water. They looked ridiculous, Sky thought, trying to move quickly through the spring. He stifled a laugh.

“You need to settle this for us. The old man can’t have a serious discussion for more than two seconds at a time,” Legend said, shooting a glare in Time’s direction. “You’ll be impartial.”

“There’s no way you’re winning this one,” Warriors said. 

“Shut it, pretty boy. Here’s the thing. I’m obviously the most fashionable hero, here-”

“Bullshit.”

“I said shut it! And since I’m obviously the most fashionable, I-”

“How are we deciding that? I think I should be in the running,” Wild said. 

“What? There’s no running, I’m just trying to make a point-”

“I dunno, I think I could give you a run for your rupees,” Wild said, complete with a shrug and a shit-eating grin to match Time’s. 

Sky stroked his chin in an imitation of deep thought. “Wild makes a good point, Vet. What’s the criteria here?”

Legend let out a strangled, frustrated noise and splashed backwards into the water.

[janzoo]

OC Smash or Pass: Drakyr Saovine

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

Tagged here by @thevikingwoman thank you! This has turned out to be the best character info/lore page I've put together for Drakyr so far so I'm glad for the tag. 💙

Tagging - oh man who hasn't been tagged in this by now lol uhh @rabid-catboy @paintedscales @hopes-legacy @sebille @raynshyu

@ishgard @dytabytes @hydaelyns-bitch @forishgard @morgan-aleghieri and whoever else wants to do this, it's fun!

(7.0 graphics w/photoshopped black sclera. The beach pic is a remake of an old fave.)

(Pre-7.0 graphics)

(The last pic is from here, with some lore and the original (real person!) pose.)

Quick Facts

Height: 5'2"/159cm

Age: I'm still working out her timeline, but she's in her early 30s by the end of Dawntrail.

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pros

An excellent cook/baker! She is a level 100 Culinarian and absolutely shows it. She also loves tea and is adept at crafting blends.

A foodie in general - come enjoy lots of good/new food with her!

Generally very handy and an excellent craftswoman

Confident

Loyal and dependable

Very passionate and compassionate - she's gotta lotta heart 💙

Not afraid to do dirty work (as long as she can have a good bath afterwards)

An amazing musician, vocalist, and instrumental composer.

Drakyr is in excellent physical condition. She was an athlete and hunter before becoming a warrior proper.

Good sense of sportsmanship. (She does preen over her victories, but has enough class to save it until she's among the right crowd. She also does appreciates the competition and doesn't think less of them for losing to her.)

She's generally good at turning negative experiences into lessons as opposed to being dragged down by them. (She's not immune to grief and the like; this is after the initial shock has passed, so to speak.)

Body- and sex-positive.

Cons

Vain - not in that she flaunts her looks over others, but she spends a lot of time and effort on her appearance. What other people do or don't do with their appearance is on them, but she has to look her best.

Claustrophobic

Ruthless in that once she gets started on something, it's difficult to slow, stop, or redirect her.

Will try to fix everyone's problems.

Is prone to heading into danger/potential traps because she figures that, as the Warrior of Freakin' Light/Darkness, she can handle whatever gets thrown at her.

She is stage-shy about singing in particular, and doesn't do it often unless enough of the audience consists of people she trusts. Struggles to come up with lyrics for her compositions.

Her loyalty can blind her to the wrongdoings of those she's loyal to.

Details

Primarily a Bard, and was raised in a travelling show/competition - she can entertain and handle being the centre of attention.

She's competitive (put here because that can be both a pro and con lol)

Her family/tribe was killed in the Calamity, save for her younger sister, Lakelta. (I do have something in the works of her finding some surviving tribe members that were abducted/conscripted by the Garlean Empire, but the idea is still very tentative/WIP.)

A night-person

Drakyr prefers to carry both titles of Warror of Light and Darkness, in acknowledgement of everything that happened in Shadowbringers, and of the fact that there is no one "evil element". (I'd love to make some kind of combined title for her, like "Warrior of Twilight". But I'm wary of getting Twilight series remarks in turn. 😬)

Drakyr is spiritual, and does revere Nhaama and Oschon as her personal deities. (Less so the latter after Myths of the Realm, though she does occasionally send a prayer/well-wishes his way anyway.) She spends enough time in Ishgard to pay respects to Halone too.

A "work hard, play hard" type who enjoys relaxing/decompressing with a good meal, a soak in a hot tub, and some chill sightseeing/stargazing/lazing around - parallel play is a bonus for any of these. ("Play hard" in that she completely shuts out "work" and any thoughts of it unless an absolute emergency comes up.)

Loves water and swimming, though prefers freshwater over saltwater.

Drakyr believes that destruction is easy, but that ease is a sort of cheat that makes it seem more intimidating and powerful. True power lies in the ability to create and construct.

Not afraid to throw around her weight as Warrior of Light/Darkness (again, can be both a pro and con).

Her intelligence is much more applied as opposed to booksmarts. She's had to stop Alphinaud or other scholars/Scions from what feels like talking at her and have them show her what they need/mean. What books she has are field guides and story books. She does some light journaling.

She loves holidays! Her birthday is on All Saints' Wake/Halloween.

Pierced nipples (link contains non-sexual nudity). She has several different kinds and can change what colour they glow as. Wears simple rings by default.

You can find more info in Drakyr's lore tag.

Sexuality: First and foremost, it doesn't matter to her if it's vanilla or kinky, slow or fast, as long as there is passion. Otherwise she's an open-minded switch, though she does have a bit of a preference for topping-from-the-bottom. Haurchefant introduced her to some kinks that she enjoys still, namely shibari, light dom/sub, and using/wearing leather. (She is not a lacy gal.) Drakyr also enjoys intimacy for more than just insert-dick-into-hole; it's still sex to her whether there was penetration or not. She especially loves oral (both ways). When in a top/dom position, she is patient and gives lots of praise.

Emotionally: Again, she is passionate - she puts her whole heart into whatever she does. By that I don't mean high-energy - passionate as in her partners will never feel the need to question her conviction. She is unwavering in her love. She is a wellspring of adoration and affection. She's in it for keeps. Drakyr also tends to make herself a sanctuary for her loved ones. They can find solace in her presence, and safety at her back. She expects the same in return from her partners. Drakyr loves to love and be loved.

Cast your vote!

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Grand Theft Autumn

Ex! Ransom Drysdale x POC!Reader 

College!Eddie x POC!Reader

Word Count: 4492

Summary:

The annual Halloween party that your boyfriend's frat throws takes a turn that has you rethinking everything. Including the crush you had on your best friend that you thought you were over.

Warning:

18+ MDNI Light Angst, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Halloween, Friends to Lovers, Cheating, Crying

Notes:

Blame Fall Out Boy and the song used for this title for this story. It just made sense to me. Happy Reading Heathens! (lyrics used will be in bold and link given to the song)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Banner by @cafekitsune

Beneath a kaleidoscope of swirling lights and the pulsing rhythm of a hauntingly upbeat melody, Sigma’s Annual Halloween party comes alive on the dance floor. The air is thick with the scent of autumn and the excitement of college students, in various stages of intoxication, adorned in a myriad of creative costumes that fit this year's theme. 

A vast array of ghosts, witches, and whimsical creatures twirl and gyrate under the shimmering glow of neon and fairy lights that decorate the rafters and chandelier. 

In the midst of it all our trio of misfits can be found, dressed for the occasion. Steve is clad in a devilish red ensemble, complete with playful horns. Robin is a fierce warrior princess, her cape billowing like a flag of camaraderie. While I resembled a dark fae. My black dress tattered and torn, as blood stains my mouth and fingers from my last meal.

Together, we dance with abandon, lost in laughter and the thrill of the night. Steve with his signature mischievous grin, encouraging us to let go of our worries and immerse ourselves in the magic of the moment. I move my body with sinful grace, as Robin's laughter rings out, having playfully challenged Steve to keep up with her ‘spirited’ moves.

I wonder if Eddie is going to dress up tonight? 

Normally I would catch a ride with Eddie for a party like this, but seeing as he is performing here later and my boyfriend Ransom lives here already; I decided it’d be best to steal shotgun from Robin and catch a ride in Steve’s beemer.

Speaking of Ransom, other than a quick kiss when I arrived I have barely seen him so far tonight. His frat is hosting this party so it's sort of par for the course at this point, but he did promise me a dance. 

He has to be around here somewhere.

“Hey, I’m gonna go and try to find Ransom. Cash in on that dance he owes me before Eddie and the band get here.”

“Okay. We’ll be here. Watching Steve fail miserably to try and land a sorority girl for the night.”

“At least I can speak when a pretty girl approaches. What’s your excuse Robin?”

“Okay. Okay. Tone it down. I’ll be back in a moment to play wing woman. Goddess knows you both need it.”

“HEY!” They yell in unison as I saunter away. Off to find my man through all this chaos. 

I figure the best place to start would be to ask the boys. Luckily, I come across Mikey relatively quickly and he tells me that he last saw Ransom with some of the frat brothers in the rec room. So naturally I headed up there. 

I open the door to a cloud of smoke. Once the haze has lifted, my eyes land on a red head down on her knees with my boyfriend's dick in her mouth while his frat brothers watch and cheer him on.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.” I speak into the room. Startling everyone. “Please don’t let me interrupt.”

“Babe-”

“Nope. You no longer get to call me that. We’re done Ransom. If I never have to see your face again, it will be a blessing. I hope what looks to be a mediocre blowjob was worth it.”

I turn on my heel and head straight down the stairs., back into the safety of the party with my head held high. I could leave, run out with tears streaming down my eyes. But then I’d miss Corroded Coffin performing and I never miss a performance if I can help it. Plus I look hot as fuck in my costume.

I find Steve and Robin in the exact place I left them.

“Did you find him?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, with his dick down some chick's throat. We’re done. I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t even want to get shit faced about it. I just want to watch Eddie perform and dance my ass off. That good with you guys?”

“Whatever you need hun.” Robin assures me.

“I’ll make sure the guys run interference so you don't have to run into fuck face the rest of the night.”

“How sweet of you Steve” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Oh look, the bands all set up. Lets go grab a good spot up front.” Robin grabs my hand and pulls me to the makeshift stage.

Before you know it Eddie and his wild mane of hair is standing before me on stage. His voice, a powerful mix of grit and charm, commands the audience with a magnetic presence as he grabs the mic.

“We are Corroded Coffin and this song is for all the ones sitting patiently on the sidelines. If you know you know.”

With a wink to me he begins to sing.

Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman And maybe he won't find out what I know You were the last good thing about this part of town

He starts strumming his guitar quickly followed with the rest of the band joining in. 

When I wake up I'm willing to take my chances on The hope I forget that you hate him more than you notice I wrote this for you, for you, so You need him, I could be him I could be an accident but I'm still tryin' And that's more than I can say for him Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman And maybe he won't find out what I know You were the last good thing about this part of town

He is basically singing straight to me. Not knowing how truly the words are hitting me after the way my night has gone.

Someday I'll appreciate in value Get off my ass and call you The mean time, I'll sport my brand new fashion Of waking up with pants on at four in the afternoon You need him, I could be him I could be an accident but I'm still tryin' And that's more than I can say for him One, two, three, four

As the song hits its instrumental section, our eyes connect. I am reminded of the sweet brown eyed boy I had a crush on in the beginning of our friendship. A crush I thought I had gotten over ages ago. Could now be the time to explore that what if?

“Hey Robin?”

“Yeah”

“Has Eddie always looked at me like that?”

“What? Like a lovesick puppy?”

I nod my head in response. 

“Yeah actually.”

“Perfect.”

As the final chorus rings out, I resolve to get Eddie alone and turn my night around.

Unbeknownst to me, after Ransom finished the act he was receiving, he set out to look for me. Corroded Coffin was in the middle of their set and it wasn't hard to spot me, up front and center. He chose to keep an eye on me from the stairs as the band played on. 

Once Eddie told the crowd goodnight, he knew now was the time to get my attention and rushed down the stairs to do just that. 

Unfortunately for him, Steve is the best protective friend a girl could have and he finds himself derailed in his pursuit. Caught up in the hijinks of an “intoxicated” Steve while I link my arm with Eddie’s as he heads out to the patio for a post show smoke.

As he reaches for his pack in his back pocket, I beat him to it. With a devilish smile befitting a creature of the night, I tap the well worn packaging, producing the nicotine fix he’s sought after. Taking the cigarette, I place it between his plush lips as I sneak his lighter from his front pocket.

With a flick of my thumb, the flame ignites. I step forward, lighting the tobacco and watching the cherry burn bright as he takes in the first inhale.

That’s all I allow him before I steal it for myself. Wrapping my lips around the slightly damp filter and inhaling.

“You know that's like kissing me right?”

I exhale a plume of smoke with a grin. “That's the point.”

“Not that I am not loving this little private moment we’re having, but this is your boyfriend's party. Why doesn’t he have you draped over him as he holds court over the other himbos?”

I offer him back his beloved nicotine as I ponder how much I should disclose about what happened earlier.

With a sigh I decide to just let it all out.

“It’s simple really. I found him being serviced by some redhead on her knees in front of all his Frat Bros. He didn’t even bat an eye or look guilty when I found him either. Before he could make excuses and try to manipulate me I told him I was done and headed back to the party. I thought about leaving but I didn't want to miss you guys performing. So I stayed.” 

He begins to cough. Choking on the inhale he took as I spilled my guts. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah. Brutal, I know. It could have been worse though. They could have been fucking while his boys filmed it. Doesn’t really matter though as the end result would have been the same. I’m more upset with myself for being blinded by the faux sweetness he showed me all this time. I only need to be shown otherwise once to know it’s time for me to leave. I feel like I was always one foot out the door the entire time anyway.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Why? Because, perhaps deep down, hidden from myself, I was holding out for someone better. Maybe that someone has been here the whole time and I was just too blind to see it. Ya know.”

He takes a drag and just nods his head in agreement. A look of contemplation crosses his face.

“Hey Eds? Can I try something?”

He blows a line of smoke out the side of his mouth. “Course.” 

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. Placing my hands on his denim vest, I lean on up on my toes and place my lips on his.

It’s a tentative and sweet kiss at first. Clearly catching the metal head off guard. Once the surprise wears off it quickly turns heated. 

With his fingers tangled in my hair, Eddie pulls me back, breaking our embrace.

“Are you sure? I don't want to take advantage of you in this state.” He queries between pants for air.

“I’m sober” I pant out in return. “And very, very sure.”

“Thank God”

His lips return to mine for another taste before we break apart once more. He links his fingers with mine and begins to guide us off the porch toward his van. Pinning me against the passenger door and devastating me with another kiss.

“As much as I really want to, I’m not fucking you for the first time in my van. Wayne is at work so if you're cool with it my trailer is free. Unless you want to go to your place.”

I tuck a piece of his unruly curls behind his ear. “Your trailer is perfect Eddie. Just hurry up and get us there.”

We fall through the trailer door with a crash. Limbs tangled together as we laugh at the mess our eagerness created.

“Who knew our front door was so flimsy.” Eddie chuckles below me. “Not hating the view from down here though.” He runs his fingers along my blood spattered clavicle.

“You close and lock the door and I can promise you an even better view when you reach your room.”

“Deal.” He deposits me beside him and rushes to slam the door closed as I scramble to my feet and hightail it to his room. I navigate a path through the clothes strewn across the floor. Adding my dress and bra to the chaos. I decide to keep my wings, thong and fishnets on as I climb onto the unmade bed.

Based on the dilated pupils on Eddie when he stumbles into the room I made the right choice.

“ Fuuuuck . You’re killing me dollface.” He adjusts himself in his tight jeans. “You look like you walked right out of a wet dream.”

“Why don’t you pinch me just to be sure.” I turn over on all fours, lowering my chest to the mattress while I make my ass jiggle beneath my fishnets.

I hear a low growl and the next I know I feel soft lips and the scratch of fangs as Eddie takes a nibble on my right cheek.

“Very real. And you smell so damn good.” He runs his hands up and down my thighs. “Let’s see if you taste like a wet dream too.”

He rips a hole in the crotch of my fishnets, pulls my thong to the side and teases his tongue along my folds. Collecting my essence with his well used muscle. Making little circles around my clit and then sucking my sensitive little button into his mouth with a pleased moan.

He gorges upon my flesh as if he was worshiping at the altar of the Gods. Creating melodies with the sounds he wrought from my body with the aid of his talented fingers.

As luxurious as this is, I needed more. I needed to know just what tricks those magical hips of his could provide.

“Please.” I begged in a whisper.

He removes his face from between my thighs. Leaving kisses along my quivering thighs. “What do you need, baby? Tell me what you desire and I will do my best to fulfill it.”

“You.”

“Me?” He pulls his face back to look into my lust blown eyes. “What do you need from me?”

“Inside.” I squeeze my thighs together, imagining what that first stretch is going to feel like. “I’m so empty. I need to feel your cock inside of me. Want you to fill me up. Need to feel you dripping down my thighs.”

“Fucking hell you really are a wet dream come true. Don’t worry baby. I’ve got you. Gonna give you everything you need and more.”

I let out a whine as he steps away from the bed. Unhappy with the new distance between us.

“Shh shh shh.” He coos at me. “I can’t exactly dick ya down if I’m fully clothed now can I sweetcheeks. So just enjoy the view. Promise I’ll be deep inside you momentarily.”

I watch as he unbuckles his belt. Letting it hang loose as he slowly unzips his jeans. With a hook of his thumbs he pulls his boxers and the denim encasing them down. Kicking them to the side as he lifts his shirt off and over his head. Discarding it somewhere among the other items scattered about.

With a smug smile he wraps his ring clad fingers around his surprisingly thick girth. His length might be just above average but that thickness is definitely going to leave a lasting impression.

He gives himself a few slow pumps as he walks back to the bed. A pearl of precum has gathered at his tip making my mouth water just as he stops in front of my face.

“Be a good girl and open up that pretty mouth and stick out your tongue for me.”

I open my mouth as wide as I can, sticking out and flattening my tongue in the process.

With a wicked grin he trails tip along my tongue. The taste of him dances across my taste buds and I can’t help but moan. 

“You make the prettiest sounds.” He caresses my cheek as he pulls away from me. I whine once more, earning me a smack on the ass. “No need for that. I’m only giving you what you want.”

The taunt I had prepared, dies in my throat as I feel Eddie notch himself at my entrance. With a glide of his hips he enters me. Slowly stretching me out, inch by agonizing inch. Allowing my plush walls to accommodate the thickness that is Eddie.

When our thighs finally touch, I’m practically gasping for breath. I have never felt this full before and he hasn't even done more than just slide in. I pray I don’t black out for I know this is a night I won't ever want to forget.

“I need you to breathe for me, pretty baby.” He runs a hand down my spine. “That’s it. Follow me. In and out. In and out. Good girl.”

Once my breathing is under control, Eddie finally begins to move. Slowly pulling out and thrusting back in nice and deep strokes. Gradually increasing the pace the more my walls relax. Holding on to my hips, guiding me back into him so that he could press that sweet spot that had me singing like a siren.

Leaning forward he gathered my hair between his fingers and gave it a little tug as he slammed his hips against me. The pain quickly registered as pleasure as my cunt squeezed around his girth.

“Mmm. Someone likes a little pain. Sweet little pussy gave you up right away.”

With a chuckle he picks up the pace. Fist still buried in my hair as he rearranges my guts. It’s all too much and not enough and the next thing I know I’m falling apart with a scream. Thanking him over and over as I ride the tidal waves of endorphins flooding my veins.

He pulls me up against his chest. Turning my head and capturing my mouth in a kiss that speaks volumes. He releases my hair and grabs my waist. Pulling out of me with much objection from my silkened walls.

He flips me around and pushes me back down onto the mattress. Grabbing my thighs, he spreads them wide and pulls me closer to his kneeled frame. Trailing his right hand up my torso he stops at the base of my throat. With his left he guides himself to my entrance. Giving me only the tip. With a wicked grin and a squeeze to the throat he enters me in one smooth stroke.

“Lock your ankles around my waist.” He pants.

I quickly follow his command and it’s like a switch flips inside of him. Soft, sweet, tender, Eddie has left the building and an incubus has taken his place, as he pounds into me hard and deep. 

His hand moves from my throat and his fingers are tangled in my hair. Face buried in my neck. Decorating my skin in love bites in between kisses and dirty words of praise being whispered in my ear.

I can only imagine what his back must look like as my nails have carved paths across his alabaster skin with each moan he’s wrung out of me. It’s intense and overwhelming. The best sex I have ever had in my life. I’m fearful that this may be the only time I get to indulge in this kind of pleasure, so I am holding onto every moment that it lasts.

I’m practically in tears, because I can feel just how close I am to coming undone. And this one will not be little. I know once I fall apart I’m done for the night. The intensity is going to render me useless.

With a kiss to my lips, Eddie presses his forehead against mine.

“I can feel how close you are, baby. Pussy is practically strangling me. I’m on edge here. I want to fill you up so badly but I need you to come for me first.”

Call it hormones or just the night catching up with me but tears start leaking from my eyes.

“Shh. It’s ok baby.” He kisses my tears, slowing his pace but still keeping us connected. “What’s going on?”

I sniff. “I’m afraid of what happens after we're finished. This just feels so right that I don’t want it to end.”

“Aw, dollface. I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses my nose. “Right now I just want you to focus on the pleasure. Can you do that for me? I promise we’ll work through all that other stuff after.”

I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and trust looking back at me in his sweet brown eyes. “Okay.”

“Good. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to last. Your pussy is perfection.”

I pull him down to me for a kiss and undulate my hips against his pelvis. Seeking friction for my pulsing clit and signaling to him that he can resume his previous pace.

That was the only clue he needed to get right back to business. It wasn't long before I was teetering on the edge of climax once more. Only this time I was fully ready to dive headfirst into its soothing depths.

“D-don’t. Fuck. Don't stop. Please don't stop. I’m right there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of stopping. That’s it. Come for me. Come. Right. Fucking. Now.”

The growly tone of his words trigger something inside of me and my body gives in to his command. My pussy tightening around his fullness as stars dance behind my closed eyes and I cry out in pleasure.

As my walls convulse around him, Eddie buries his face back into my neck with a groan. Hips stuttering before he pushes in as deep as he can go and bites my shoulder as he unloads inside me. I feel every twitch and warm splash as he decorates my walls white with his seed.

With his weight resting atop of me , we both came down from our highs. Our breaths syncing up as our heart rates slow down. Exchanging sweet kisses and gentle strokes of fingers as we allow ourselves the time to bask in the glow of our escapade.

With a kiss to my sternum, Eddie finally removes himself from my body. Getting out of the bed and quickly heading for the bathroom down the hall. Returning with a warm washcloth and a sweet smile.

“I’m going to get you cleaned up. Bring you some water and a snack and then we can have that ‘what does this mean’ conversation you’re so worried about.”

“Okay.” I mumble.

“Don’t look so scared. I think you’re going to be pretty happy with the results of our little talk.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. Now open those pretty thighs back up for me.”

2 weeks later on Campus…

"Come on, baby. Hear me out. It's been 2 weeks already. You know she meant nothing to me. It was a stupid bet. I couldn't let him try and punk me in front of my Frat bros like that by refusing."

Ransom somehow has stopped me in my walk to the parking lot by placing his ridiculous frame in my path. Forcing me to confront him after I made my declaration of the end of our relationship and my intentions known of never wanting to grace him with my presence again.

As much as I don’t want to. No matter how much I want to turn and just run away from the pain, seeing his stupidly handsome face will give me. I need him to get the message that we are well and truly over. Which is going to require some bravery on my part as I look him in the eye.

"You know what hurts the most? That you weren't even the one to realize how good you had it once I left you. No, your little jesters had to point it out for you before it even registered in that thick skull of yours. God, I'm so pathetic to have given myself to such an asshole. Wait, no that gives assholes a bad name and some of my favorite people are assholes. You're just a vapid narcissistic fool who can't see past his own ego to save himself. I am so thankful your carelessness and lack of self restraint pulled the e brake on your twisted carnival ride. Allowing me to walk away with my self esteem still intact. So please just go away. I meant what I said when I told you I never wanted to willingly lay eyes on you again. The sugar sweet apologies still perched in the back of your throat. I hope they turn to ash and poison. Slowly suffocating you in your delusions until self preservation takes over and you finally. Leave. Me. Alone."

I give myself a moment to catch my breath as my words sink in. I can already tell they are barely penetrating his thick skin. Movement to my left catches my eye. A body frame and gait I know all too well walking my way. With one quick look in their eyes I know my escape is not only imminent but will leave a devastating blow.

"There's my favorite human."

My shaking hand is quickly engulfed in warmth. Easing the tremors and replacing them with a sense of safety and ease as I am pulled away from my waste of space ex, into the embrace of my best friend turned boyfriend Eddie.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, dollface. You know how chatty my professor can be."

A kiss is placed upon my forehead. Extinguishing any remaining anxiety like a Xanax to the bloodstream.

"Not at all. As always your timing is impeccable."

A throat is cleared beside us.

"Can I help you, Ran? Me and the lady were just on our way home. Cozy date night ya know."

Ocean blue eyes filled with barely restrained rage and hurt stare daggers into me.

"Him. That's whose bed you're warming now. Should have figured he was more than a friend this whole time. You know what, fuck you. You'll never have all of this again."

"So you can listen." I snark.

He steps forward. "You fucking little bitch."

I am smoothly pulled behind my black knight as he steps up to the posturing bull before us.

"I know that most of your brain cells are located in your biceps but I'm gonna need you to take a step back from my girl before I have to do something rather ungentlemanly."

"You against me? I don't care how bad you think you are you couldn't land a punch on me if I gave you a free-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the sense, as well as his consciousness, is knocked out of him by a firm fist to the jaw. As soon as he hits the cold ground I am scooped up and carried valiantly over the limp body of my ex.

"Now what did you have in mind for dinner? I'm suddenly feeling rather ravenous and I'm not quite sure if food will be sufficient enough."