#then if there are a lot of names but you can't put faces on it you can read the manga

[myth1cs]

That one back Tattoo (Son Chaeyoung x M!Reader)

I swear I'm working on that F!Reader fic. This is smut ... Sorry? (Should I still bother apologizing or...) Word Count: 2,088

Sitting at the bar with my girlfriend Dahyun was something that always made me happy.

"Y/N you're so silly sometimes!"

Dahyun was drunk enough to the point that anything was funny to her. I should have cut her off sooner but seeing her like this was just so cute. "Come on Dahyun lets go home."

"I don't want to go yet Y/N-yah! Can I get another shot?" I giggled at her question. "Come on Dahyun I think you've had a bit too much to drink." I had to pick up Dahyun and carry her back to our apartment. She showed little protest by lightly hitting me on my chest.

"I don't want to leave yet Y/N!"

Having to put up with a drunk Dahyun's protest was something I got used to after a few nights out. Luckily her sleepiness eventually got the best of her and she was sleeping in my arms.

Arriving back at the hotel I went in the elevator to get to our apartment on the third floor. But before the door closed another woman entered the elevator with us.

She was a rather short woman. Her clothes didn't leave much to the imagination. She was showing a lot of ski-

"Are you going to press the button or should I?"

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts. Must've been staring for too long. "O-oh r-right you can press it first." She nodded at me and clicked on the button for the third floor. "What a coincidence we're on the same floor."

"Really? Well what are the chances of that? You know some people don't think things happen by "coincidence" do you?"

A rather odd question to ask but I guess I'll entertain her thought process. "Well I think some things are meant to happen but I don't think that everything that happens in our life is set by the universe or whatever."

"By the way who's that girl you're carrying."

"She's my girlfriend."

She hummed at my response and the elevator door opened. "Well if you'd like to discuss further you can come to my room at 308."

"Room 308? That's right next to my room 307!" Seriously? What are the chances my and this girl I just met are neighbors?

"Well who knows maybe it's a sign from the universe. By the way I never got your name."

"It's Y/N, and yours?"

"You can call me Chaeyoung. Anyways you better get going carrying your girlfriend must be tiring."

Once she said that she left for her room and I went into my apartment. When I got in I placed Dahyun on the couch and covered her up with a blanket.

I wasn't able to get Chaeyoung out of my mind. She was so attractive her tattoos, small figure, and those lips of hers were such a turn on. No wait what am I thinking?! Dahyun is my girlfriend I shouldn't be thinking of other women like this.

Feeling my cock get hard I went to the bathroom in order to relieve myself. Pulling down my pants and grabbing a hold of my cock I started to work on relieving myself. "Ugh ~ ah ~ Chaeyoung you're such a damn bad influence. You're making me have thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend because of you!"

Eventually I was able to cum and quickly started to work on cleaning up the mess I had just made.

-

I've been avoiding Chaeyoung for the past few days. Seeing her makes me think of inappropriate thoughts. I can't help but think how warm her pussy must feel. I bet she could suck my dick so well. Agh! Damn it why am I thinking of it again.

I suddenly bumped into someone.

"Shit sorry my bad I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Y/N is that you?"

Looking at the person I bumped into I realized it was Chaeyoung. Shit

"Oh sorry Chaeyoung I have to go-"

Suddenly she grabbed my arm and turned me around so I was facing her. My face was getting warmer and I can only hope she didn't notice.

"Hold on Y/N what's the rush? And why have you been ignoring me for the past few days?"

"Chaeyoung it's complicated."

"Want to talk about it?"

I shouldn't do it. Everything points to me not agreeing with her. I have a loving girlfriend already. No I can't say yes I can't!

But before I could even answer Chaeyoung started to drag me along with her. I wasn't able to get any words out so I just went along with her for the time.

Eventually we arrived at the front of her apartment. She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. Her room was mostly similar to the one me and Dahyun had except her room was a bit more bare than ours.

She dragged me to her couch and sat me down. Chaeyoung sat next to me and crossed her arms.

"Y/N I don't understand why you've been ignoring me. If you didn't like our first interaction and didn't want to talk to me that's one thing but I feel as if you're purposely going out of your way to ignore me!"

I looked at Chaeyoung in the eyes. Should I tell her? No that's stupid and would be pretty awkward. What would I even say "Yeah the reason I've been ignoring you is because I just get thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend with you."

"I just thought you were a little weird. I didn't want to associate myself with you." A bit rude but I needed Chaeyoung to also get away from me. If she also starts to distance herself from me it would make my life way easier.

"That's a bit rude Y/N. But thank you for telling me even if it does hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, sorry Chaeyoung."

I got up to leave her apartment as silence fell between us. But before I could go she suddenly spoke up.

"Wait before you leave do you at least want to have lunch with me?"

I guess I owe her one. I mean I did say something quite rude to her just now I could at least make up for it by staying over for lunch.

"Sure"

Chaeyoung nodded and got up to go to the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at her butt as she walked there.

"Do you have any preferences or allergies you want me to be aware of Y/N?"

"No, anything's fine."

She started to cook up something. I sat in silence as I watched her cook. While Chaeyoung was cooking she bent over making her shirt slide up.

I saw her exposed back which had a tattoo. Something about it was interesting to me.

"Why did you get that back tattoo Chaeyoung?"

"Found it interesting. Why, you want to get a closer look Y/N?" She gave me a certain look. If I didn't know any better I would say she's trying to tease me.

My face started to warm up. "Uhm ... kinda."

Chaeyoung started to walk up to me. Her hips swayed in a rhythm that kept me hooked.

She sat down on the couch with her back facing me. She took off her shirt exposing her bra. "Go on Y/N inspect the tattoo to your hearts content."

I felt my whole body get warm.

I put my finger on her back tattoo,I traced the outline. It was quite an interesting design. "What's it called?"

"The birth of evil. You know Y/N I have more tattoos but I'd have to strip for you to see them."

"Well what's stopping you?" I asked more as a joke.

"Absolutely nothing." Chaeyoung turned around facing me before she started stripping off her remaining pieces of clothing. Her body was more attractive than I originally thought. I couldn't focus on her tattoos and was only able to focus on her body.

"Y/N my tattoos aren't on my chest."

"I - uhm - agh." I tried coming up with an excuse but I wasn't able to think of one. My cock was starting to get hard and I tried to quickly hide it before Chaeyoung noticed.

Suddenly she put her hands over mine. "Mmm Y/N I heard you moaning my name the night we met. I'm telling you our meeting was fate."

Chaeyoung grabbed my hand covering my extremely hard cock and removed ir. She let out a coo "It's so big. I wonder how it'll look when it's free."

I started to panic as she started to pull my pants down. I shouldn't even be here when I have Dahyun. But a part of me wants this moment to never end.

My cock sprung out of its constraints and Chaeyoung licked her lips. "My my Y/N a bit eager to cheat on your girlfriend aren't you?" I wasn't able to form words because I knew she was right. I really wanted her.

"Go ahead and kiss me you little play boy."

I latched my lips onto Chaeyoung's perfect lips. They were so soft and perfect for me. Chaeyoung took my shirt off and moved her hands to my chest and pinched my nipples.

"Ouch Chaeng that hurt." I muffled into her lips. Though she didn't listen and only pinched harder.

She started to rub her hands all over my body. "Ah! Ah! Your hands are so perfect!"

I took my lips off of hers and started to move them down to her small breasts. They were a little bit bigger than Dahyun's but not by much. I put my tongue on her nipple and swirled it around and used my other hand to squeeze her other tit.

Chaeyoung moved her hands down to my cock and swirled her thumb on the tip. Some cum started to leak out and it helped her pick up the pace.

"Oh Chaeng your so damn good at this."

"Am I better than your girlfriend?"

Me and Dahyun have never had sex before and I didn't want to admit that I was still a virgin to her.

"Uhm - you're getting there."

Chaeyoung smiled at me "Judging by your long pause I'm guessing you're a virgin. Don't worry I'll be gentle."

She pushed me onto my back and put her mouth around my cock. "Mhm it tastes good. Virgins cocks always taste the best." I felt myself losing control over her words. She was slowly swirling her tongue on my tip and sucked really gently.

I used my hands to push her head down and Chaeyoung took my full length. "Yes just like that Chaeyoung." My cock hit the back of her throat and her muscles tightened around it.

Her saliva coated my whole cock. I started to push her head up and down on my cock roughly. Tears fell down Chaeyoung's eyes as she face fucked me.

Pulling her off my cock she started gasping for air. "Chaeyoung I want to feel your tight pussy on my cock."

"Y/N ... you're so horney! Is your girlfriend that pathetic?"

"Dahyun has never wanted to have sex with me."

"Poor baby Y/N. You deserve to release all of your cum." Chaeyoung got up and aligned her pussy to my cock. She lowered herself engulfing it all in her small tight pussy.

"You're so damn tight Chaeyoung!"

"Now Y/N let me show you what your girlfriend has been depriving you of." Chaeyoung started moving up and down. Her fluids were now all over my cock. I reached for her small and soft butt and started to give them a light squeeze.

Chaeyoung yelped at my sudden movement but went along with it. I started to squeeze harder leaving red marks on her butt. "I'm going to cum inside of you!"

"Yes Y/N fill me up with your thick semen!"

I spanked her ass hard and unloaded a long thick stream of cum inside of her. Chaeyoung's eyes started rolling back. "It's so warm Y/N!"

After 10 seconds the stream stopped and Chaeyoung collapsed on the couch. "Y/N do you believe me now? Our meeting was fate."

"I believe you Chaeng. But we have to keep this under wraps I don't want Dahyun to find out about us."

"Fine by me Y/N my lips are sealed. Just make sure to come visit me every now and then."

I collapsed on her and hugged her naked body and we both fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know if people prefer 1st or 3rd person writing so I'll just alternate between the both of them.

Anyways enjoy Chaeyoung, I'm facing delays so I don't think I'll have something up anytime soon but I'll try to finish the Thanksgiving smut on time.

[sir3n-s]

Since Eddie came to live with him, Wayne has seen him bring home many things.

Mainly bugs or hurt animals.

One time he brought home a skunk. Sometimes Wayne thinks he can still smell it.

But this? This is something else.

"Wayne I can explain" he says standing in the doorway with a jar.

A jar that has a pixie in it.

"That jar better have holes in it, Edward.'" He's praying that his nephew didn't hurt the pixie.

Pixies have been around for centuries and helping them will bring good luck. As in the pixie will most likely bring you gifts.

Hurting a pixie though?

He has heard some stories that would be labeled as horror if they were movies.

"Of course, it has holes in it!" Eddie says like it was ridiculous of him to ask, "I'm not stupid" Wayne thinks that is debatable but now is not the time for that.

"Yet you have a pixie in a jar" he sighs, wondering why this kid can't give him a break, "knowing what they are capable of."

"I know, I know!" Eddie says, looking down at the jar. "I just wanted to say hi, and then he attacked me! I didn't want to hurt him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"So you thought putting it in a jar would make it like you," he says while getting up.

"Well no but I tried runng but he followed me"

He's going to need a beer after this. 

"Give me the jar," he says standing in front of his nephew. 

Eddie doesn't hesitate to hand it over. 

Wayne walks out the door of the trailer and starts opening the jar, "I apologize for my nephew, he doesn't think before he acts. He's a good kid, please don't hurt him" he takes the top off and lets the pixie fly out.

It flies in front of Wayne’s face for a moment before smiling and nodding at him, then zooms off.

Wayne walks back into the trailer to grab a beer and start lecturing his nephew.

-

Over the next few weeks, Eddie sees the pixie, who he learns name is Steve, come by the trailer to give gifts to Wayne.  

Eddie has tried to get close enough to apologize but Steve always files away the moment he sees Eddie. 

But he also doesn't do anything to Eddie so he guesses that Steve likes Wayne enough to leave his nephew alone. 

Which is good because pixies can be terrifying. 

"Give him some fruit," Wayne suggests after hearing Eddie complain about Steve leaving once he saw Eddie pull up to the trailer. "He really likes peaches." 

So Eddie cuts up a peach and puts it on a plate. He takes it outside to the bench close by and waits. 

Steve does eventually show up but Eddie can tell he's still cautious of him because he doesn't immediately go for the peach like he would if Wayne was the one offering it.

Eddie smiles at him and pushes the plate towards him hoping to encourage him to eat it.

Steve must have decided to trust Eddie because he dives for the peach slices.

He watches Steve eat a really small amount of the the peach, but pixies are so small it was probably a lot to him.

Once it seems like Steve had his fill of the fruit Eddie sets a napkin down next to the plate.

Steve wipes his hands and face with it. Then he just sits there and stares at Eddie for a moment.

"Thank you" the pixie says. And honestly Eddie is surprised, he didn't know they could communicate with humans.

"You're welcome" he responds, tapping his finger on the table, "I am sorry about the jar thing, I really didn't mean to hurt you"

Steve reached for Eddie's hand and placed his tiny hand on top of his finger, stopping its movement.

"Its okay" Steve smiles at him.

[delopsia]

honey | bob floyd x reader

Word Count: 13,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Succubus!Reader, Virgin!Bob. Shapeshifting, elements of magic, blood, parties, first-time blow jobs, cunnilingus, first-time sex, virginity loss, vague plot twists despite the severe lack of an actual plot. This was a crack warmup that just became...this Brief Summary: "Rich, hot, and a virgin. What's wrong with you?" Or, Bob's coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included.

Well...

This is new.

"It wasn't me! I promise!" 

"Well, someone drew my symbol on the floor." Folding your arms in front of your chest, huffing. All that for this?

"It wasn't—" He freezes, teeth flashing through an awkwardly stretched smile. "I...my coworkers were playing a prank on me."

Lovely that you learn that after you've planted your ass in his lap. "So you don't want me here, pretty boy?"

Because he is cute. Floppy brown hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen, hidden behind a pair of wireframes that perch on his freckled nose. His partner must be an incredibly happy person, having someone like this walking around their house. 

"N-no!" He blurts. His face falls. "—wait! Well-well, I...uh, I...I don't wanna be rude, but I mean I-I..." Your index finger presses against his thin lips, silencing whatever he had left to say. If history is anything to go off of, you wouldn't have been able to understand what he's trying to tell you anyway.

But...well, you are stuck here, so you'd might as well ask. "What's your name?" 

"Ro-Ro..." A short pink tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Robert." 

"Well, Bobby," you can't help but say it, a little too eager to watch the blush in his cheeks deepen. "It's a shame that you didn't. You're pretty cute."

Even in the dark, you can see how his face reddens, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his words. 

"But! I'll be on my way," lifting yourself from his lap before you can become too comfortable there. Something bumps into your ass; you think that may have been his cheek. "Do me a favor and tell your partner that they're a very lucky person, would ya?"

"Partner?" Squeaking.

Your feet freeze. There's no way he's... "Don't tell me you're single."

But Bob nods his head like it's the simplest confession he's ever made. "That's half of the reason why they went through the trouble of making you come here." He pauses, his left eye twitching as a thought visibly crosses his mind. Whatever it is, it's got him looking away from you entirely. "Said I'm...said I'm too old to be a—" 

"Wait, wait, wait." Holding your hands up. Need a moment of silence to understand what the hell you're hearing. "Your coworkers summoned a succubus to take your virginity?"

His lips flatten into a line. "...yeah."

"Well, that's shitty!" That's a new one. Finally, something to top the time a sorority summoned you to party with them for...some reason. Bragging rights, you think. "Do they pay you enough to put up with those assholes?"

It's been a minute since you've run into someone so nonchalant about a demonic creature standing in the room with them, never mind hold a casual conversation with you. 

But here Bob is, shrugging his shoulders like this happens to him every Tuesday. "You learn to deal with it when you're paid a hundred sixty-thousand a year."

"So you're a rich virgin." It shoots out of your mouth before you realize the thought crossed your mind.

Again, Bob is too calm about this. "I...guess?"

"Rich, hot, and a virgin." Modifying your statement. "What's wrong with you?"

Those blue eyes widen. Blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

"Well, there's gotta be a reason why you don't have a line of people out the door." You say, crouching back down in front of him. Sure wish he'd let you do something about that tent in his pajama pants. "If it's not the looks that reel the ladies in, it's the charm, and if it's not the charm, it's the money. And you've got all three, pretty boy."

It's not supposed to be a serious topic, not as if you're about to go and write an article about his non-existent sex life to publish in the weekly paper. But this guy is actually thinking about it. His brows furrowing as he mulls over his thoughts, mouth parting, only to fall closed once more. 

"I think it has something to do with the nature of my job and my severe inability to start a conversation," he concludes, with a little nod of his head. 

You wonder if you could put him in your pocket and take him home.

Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you're standing on some a ship right now. Is he some kind of cruise captain? "That'll do it." 

Bob doesn't have anything else to say about that, awkwardly closing his legs before you can get another look at what he might be packing under there. Whether or not he caught you staring or he's just become aware of his current state, you're not sure. It's such a shame that someone else summoned you on his behalf; he would have been a fun one to toy with.

Hm.

"Do you wanna fuck with your coworkers before I leave?"

He blinks at you. Not a thought behind those eyes. "Huh?"

"Well, you've already got me here," an excited lilt in your voice, maybe a bit too eager to present your totally thought-out idea. "Believe it or not, I double as a poltergeist on Tuesdays and Thursdays." 

Or whenever you feel like, really. 

"That would be mean," shaking his head. What is he, some kind of saint? 

"They just summoned a demon to fuck you in a locked room," deadpan. 

For a moment, it's quiet, and then.

"...that's a fair point."

As it turns out, Bob lives on the world's shittiest cruise ship. A ship without a pool, a dimly lit cafeteria without a single Michelin-trained chef in sight. Long, narrow, colorless hallways. There aren't even individual rooms, just even smaller hallways stacked high with bunk beds. On the thinnest mattress you've ever seen, might you add. 

Worst of all, rather than allowing personal clothes, everyone is dressed in clothing provided by the ship. Whoever picked the color schemes needs to be introduced to a fucking color wheel. 

How do you trick the head of the United States Navy into summoning you? You have a few choice words about this place. 

You appear in the mirror first. A little flash of your face, and then you're gone, nothing but a figment of the imagination. Again, later in the night, those two coworkers of Bobs have convinced themselves that they had made it up. 

The plan was to end it there and to come back in the morning to turn it up a notch, but there's a chair sitting in the bunk room that's just so comfortable. So what if you lounge there all night, poking through a book Bob had on the foot of his bed? The room just dark enough to allow them to see your vague silhouette, air so quiet that every turn of the page seems to echo.

Not one of them sleeps, but Bob does, snoring away in his bottom bunk. He sounds like a little cat, tiny little noises that sound closer to grumbles than snores.

When morning comes, you show up in their showers right as they turn around. You appear on opposite ends of crowded rooms and in high-stakes meetings with fancy-dressed higher-ups just to get a reaction. Tapping on their shoulders when they think they're alone. Somehow, you managed to get away with swapping the labels on the mustard and hot mustard. Effectively ruined several breakfasts in one fell swoop.

One, this loud-mouthed blonde you forgot the name of, wakes up to you sitting on his chest. Who would have thought that he had such a shrill scream?

But you might take it too far when you chase them down the narrow hallway—five grown adults shrieking like they're in a haunted scream park and not a Navy ship. 

Or at least, you thought you did. 

"I can't-I can't believe you just—!" Bob's laughing into his palms, keeling over with it. His mouth is moving, but he can't get anything out. Bubbly, loud giggles that travel around the tiny little fan room, bouncing off every corner. 

"And here you said it would be too mean," gently mocking, unable to fight off the smile that works its way across your face. So big you can hardly speak through it. 

That should technically be the last of your encounters. 

You should be heading back through your portal and off on another job, but Bob doesn't utter the proper incantations to make that happen. He starts to, but then you ask about his book, and he squeaks at you for spoiling the ending, and then you begin to second guess if you're recalling it correctly.

Then the conversation starts, and suddenly, you've been bound to him for three weeks. 

If it were anyone else, you'd complain and force the portal to open by yourself. There's more than one way to break the spell and go back to where you came from, but there's something about Bob Floyd that keeps you lingering. Maybe it's the way he blushes when you get too close. Maybe it's because you can't remember a time when someone kept you around solely because they liked talking to you.

Maybe it's because he has a fantastic taste in literature. Anything he's reading somehow becomes glued to your hands, unable to be put down until you've reached the final page.

"I can't believe nobody has gotten bold enough to comment on the strange figure reading a book in the corner every night," you giggle, nothing but a misty haze hovering over his head. 

His lips curl into a smile, toothpaste spilling over as he fights not to bite his toothbrush. "I think they're afraid of another hallway incident."

"Are you afraid of another hallway incident?" Appearing in the mirror, if only to get your message across.

"Nah." 

If you had known that the Admiral would be the final person you would get to scare before Bob left the ship, then you probably would have gone all out on it. But at the moment, all you're thinking about is how unfair and rude it was to pin Bob for the mistakes that his pilot made up in the air. The guy can't even fly a jet. How is it his fault that the pilot confused their lefts and rights?

So you show up in the mirror, jump on him, and spiral about the room in a foggy haze before rustling down the hallway in such a storm that it creates a draft. There seems to be a growing trend with men having high-pitched screams on this boat.

If Bob ever catches wind of the incident, he never brings it up.

Hell, maybe he thinks he's left you behind because he sure is surprised to turn around and find you sitting on his kitchen counter one morning.

"Did ya forget about me?"

"Please." Clenching at his heart. "Knock first."

Wordless, you tap your knuckles against the cool marble. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

Those pretty blue eyes roll, their color a little more vivid now that he's wearing that deep blue button-down, the sleeves pulled back just enough to reveal the thick muscle of his forearms. They're still swollen from his workout; you wonder if he knows you were watching.

"Got a hot date tonight?" Kicking your foot at him, brushing against his slacks. The last thing you're expecting is for his hand to wrap around your ankle, lightly squeezing, as if to test out the feeling. 

"I got invited to a party and can't get out of it," he hums, letting your leg slip free of his grasp. Then, after a moment. "Wanna come?"

"You're inviting a demon to a party?" Slipping off the counter, batting your eyes at him. 

All it takes is one step forward for him to stumble back, wide-eyed and stuttering. "Is that... am I not supposed to do that? I'm sorry." 

"Hey, I never said no," your hands find their way to his chest, gently pushing—his back thumps against the fridge. "What color do you like?" 

"R-red?" That cute mouth of his wobbles, the slightest hint of facial hair coloring his upper lip. It'll be gone by five, but it's nice to see it for once. 

Red it is.

You think this party was thrown by the same sorority who invited you up to party with them because this is...not what you were anticipating. Shot glasses, shitty beer, and flashing lights, the thump of the music so heavy that your bones really with it. You don't even know where the speakers are, lost to the swarm of people crammed into this tiny bar.

All of a sudden, your long, sultry dress has shed into a short little number that blends in with the rest of the crowd. You can't see him, but you can feel Bob's eyes jump onto your frame. 

"How did you do that?" Tilting his head to the side like that will somehow help him find an answer to his question. 

"Magic, I suppose," there's an actual explanation for it, but you've long since forgotten it. Something about manifestation and energy and a word too big for your tongue to pronounce. "I actually have zero idea how it works."

There's so much going on that you find yourself vanishing for a few minutes. Nothing but a misty haze lingering over Bob's head as one of his buddies shoves a drink into his hand and pushes him down into a cushioned chair. You haven't the slightest clue what kind of golden liquid is swishing around in that cup, but it's got a flavor that has Bob's nose wrinkling.

"Someone's not a drinker," observing aloud, a sudden presence in his lap, your knees caging his hips.  

"Was it that obvious?" Sheepish, with that little sideways smile of his. Whether that's from admitting to his inability to drink alcohol or from where you've chosen to sit, you're not sure. 

"Your little nose wrinkle gives you away," your little tap on his nose makes him blink. "You're almost a little too clean-cut for this place." 

There's nothing special or different that he's done about his appearance, but the aesthetics of the crowd make it look like he's walked into the wrong party. A little bit too put together when you compare his ironed button-down and perfectly gelled hair to the half-drunk faces, trendy, cheap outfits, and that group of shirtless men over in the corner.

At least you have the luxury of changing clothing at the drop of a hat. Otherwise, you would be in the same boat.

"He said it was only gonna be a dozen of us," Bob lifts the glass to his lips once more, his nose twitching at the bitter flavor that greets his tongue. He's trying to hide his reaction, but you can still see the disgust in his eye.

"More like twelve dozen," plucking the glass from his hand, setting it on the little table next to the chair. "You could've convinced me this was a high-end frat party."

Looking around is enough to make you question if 'high-end' was just you being generous because this is looking more like an average party by the second. A myriad of nameless faces lost to the flash of the lights: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, a cycle that never loses its pattern. But even the strain it puts on your eyes isn't enough to distract from the sloppy grinding of bodies against each other, hands in the air, writhing to a beat that definitely does not match the music. 

Something is starting to press against your inner thigh. An insistent pressure that almost feels—

Damn, how long have Bob's cheeks been bright red like that?

"Are you good?" Pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, clammy to the touch. "You're red as a balloon."

"Yep," his voice strained, so tight it may snap at the slightest hint of pressure. And he's looking over at the painting on the wall, one of those uninteresting things with only a few paint splatters to stain the pure white canvas. Not the kind of thing worth staring at so intently.

You shift forward, thumb swiping at the sweat beading at his temple—

"You sure get hard easily." Teasing. You hadn't even been trying, but that's definitely a heavy bulge pressing into you, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks. 

A muscle in his jaw flexes, swallowing hard. "Please don't say it out loud."

"I can fix that, you know." Perhaps curling your hand around his jaw is a little bit too bold, but he isn't making any moves to push you away or tell you to stop. "Some say I'm pretty good at that."

"No, no, that's okay," Bob shakes his head, gently dislodging your hand from his face. "I don't wanna make you do that."

"You're not making me do anything," leaning the slightest bit closer, tapping him on the chest with an index finger. "I'm volunteering. There's a difference."

He swallows again.

Someone calls out his name, waving a hand in the air as if to guide attention to himself as he emerges from the crowd, drink in hand, smile so big that it ought to blind someone. You vaguely recall seeing him back on the ship; name starts with an 'f'.

...shame that you don't remember anything more than that.

But Bob is uttering some Navy jargon that you don't have the capacity to keep up with, and your knees are starting to hurt, skin stuck to the cheap leather cushion. It's much easier to turn yourself around, back leaning against his chest, now free to scan over and watch the part of the room you couldn't see before. 

It's not that you don't feel him pressing into the curve of your ass; you just...well, you kind of forget about it. The moment you lay eyes on the game of beer pong happening behind the pool table, you're invested. Straining your neck to try and get a better look at who is winning, crossing two fingers as a lady in a little white skirt goes up against a guy who looks two beers away from a total blackout. 

Neither of them are good at it. Far from it, actually, but the girl's friends are cheering her on, and the man has missed the cup thrice now, stumbling over his own two feet. He misses. She scores two. He gets another point while she's trying to catch a ball that has rolled off into her crowd of friends.

You don't realize you've been squirming until Bob's forehead thunks against your back, shoulders rising with his inhale. 

"Where did your buddy go?" Chirping in the lightest tone you can muster. As if you're blissfully unaware of what's going on.

"Maybe we should get up," entirely evading your question.

It's a worthy idea that goes down the drain within the same minute it's suggested. What you couldn't see from the couch was how big the crowd actually is. It's a swarm that swallows you whole, someone's shoving into your back, and Bob's stumbling into you, and it's all you can do not to explode into a plume of mist. 

You're only distantly aware of his arm curling around you, cinching you to him as if to anchor you in before the storm can wash you away. Your leg slotting between his is far from intentional. But it happens, and you're nose to nose with him, and the corner of his eye is twitching, and you swear you can hear a dam breaking.

You don't entirely know how you wind up here. Squeezing into this sorry excuse of a bathroom stall, your hands greedily dipping beneath his shirt, chest to chest. Every little meet of your lips has him gasping against you. His tongue tastes like the honey biscuit he was nibbling on earlier, the one that dripped on his shirt and left little white crumbs all over his lap.

You could eat him.

"We shouldn't..." He's whispering. A secret meant for your ears only.

Everything screeches to a halt. "Do you wanna stop?"

Shaking his head. "No." 

He makes it so damn easy. Legs parted just enough to allow your thigh to slot between them, immediately squeezes down around it the moment he recognizes it's there, drawing you right up into—

A shiver wracks through him. So intense that you can feel it.

You don't need to worry about taunting him. He's reacting as if you've already made a remark. Nose scrunching as he tries to steel his face, warding off the softness that once lingered there, taken aback by the sudden pressure between his legs. Such a strong front. Shame that it folds the moment your hand curls against the bulge in his slacks.

"You're bad at this," a teasing lilt in your tone, lazily working your hand against him. No real rhythm or method to it, simply a shifting pressure that you can already feel his hips beginning to follow. 

"It's been a while," muttered like a confession—a sin of the past.

Now that has your attention. "You've done this before?" 

The bathroom door squeals open, the handle cracking against the tile so hard that some of it tears off the wall entirely, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. A chunk of it rolls under the stall on a one-way track to strike the side of your shoe. You don't recognize the too-loud voices that enter the room, but Bob seems to, eyes rolling for a fraction of a moment. 

"Something similar...once," hardly audible over whatever the hell is being discussed by the sinks. 

You'll have to get the full story out of him when there aren't extra ears lurking mere feet away. Right now, though, you're tugging at his zipper, yanking it down as far as it will go, your hand darting through the gap. 

Good lord.

It's always the quiet ones.

"I'm surprised you can get through security with this thing," there's so much of him that you've got to use your other hand, fumbling to pop open his button. 

"With what?" Bob's brow furrows. You lightly squeeze the base of him. "...oh." 

One of the men shouts. Two laughs chime after it in hot pursuit.

There's a considerable weight to him that you hadn't anticipated until just now, his pretty, flushed cock throbbing in your hand. Muscle memory kicks into gear without much thought, gradually gliding up from his base to his tip—ruby red, almost angry in appearance, such a sharp contrast to your fingers.

His hips follow your motions, subtle little backs and forths that you nearly miss at first, keen on chasing your touch but too shy to allow himself to do it. Teeth sink into his bottom lip, pressing so hard that they leave an indent behind. Breathing hard through his nose, eyes screwing shut like he's fighting something back. 

You know what he's doing. Can't let a single noise escape for fear of it reaching the other ears in the room, but there's no way they can. Not with all that racket they're making. 

It's fifty-fifty if you still remember how to interrupt electricity, your one sure-fire method of making sure nobody can see what you're doing, but there's only one way to find out. 

Getting on your knees in a bathroom stall might be a new one for you, but here you are, blindly sinking lower and lower. Can't quite see what you're doing, your eyes hopelessly locked on Bob Floyd and his pink cheeks. Hasn't even realized what you're doing yet.

There's probably a good minute or two where you just hover there, waiting for the moment he realizes that you've moved. Eye-level with his cock, lazily thumbing each and every bead of precum across his plush head, a little routine to decorate the loose up-and-down of your hand. But his eyelids remain closed, and you're just so damn impatient.

The greet of your tongue has him jumping up onto his tiptoes. His head smacking into the flimsy stall wall. 

"What was that?" 

It's as if the room has morphed into a library. Complete, utter silence. Nothing but the faint breaths of the men gathered outside of the stall, Bob's, and your own. From the gap, you can see a black and yellow shoe taking a step forward. Silently inching closer.

The whites of Bob's eyes are so big that you can hardly see the color that decorates them. Drowned out and lost to a wave of fear that you can feel prickling through his body. If only those stupid yellow shoes would turn around and walk away; you wanted to play this card a little bit longer. 

The bathroom plunges into darkness. 

So you do still remember how to do that.

Someone screams. You're not sure who, but it was far too high-pitched to be the man right in front of you. Maybe it was the loser with the yellow shoes. Audibly stomping across the tile floor, shouting at each other as they fight for the door. The hinge squeals. Someone accidentally kicks the corner of it on their way out. 

And then it swings closed. The room falling quiet as the sliver of light peeking through the gap disappears entirely. 

Your mouth opens, gently drawing Bob into your mouth. Thicker than what you anticipated, uncomfortably stretching your lips around his head, but it's only a slight inconvenience. You can hardly think about it. Especially not when flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit elicits that sort of noise. Pitchy and drawn out, slipping out of him before he can stop it.

"That's—" his palm finds its way to your forehead. Pushes lightly. Jerks away. Lands on the side of your cheek instead. "A lot." 

You have very different definitions of 'a lot'.

You're actually moving rather slowly, gradually working your way down his length. He's only just beginning to touch the back of your throat, but Bob sucks in a sharp gasp of air as if you've just sprung this on him. You'd complain if he didn't taste so sweet. Just can't help but take him as far as he'll go, the tip of your nose kissing the cold metal of his zipper, throat so full of him that your head spins. 

He's trying to say something. Little fragments of words that might or might not be your name. Breaking apart the moment they fall into his mouth, shattered pieces raining down upon you and your eager ears. 

Maybe you're too quick about this. A fraction too eager to draw all the way back, only to fall upon him once more, lazily letting yourself gag around him if only to hear him groan low in his throat and to feel his thighs shudder beneath your palms. 

"I'm—I'm already, I..." Bobby's panting. Pawing at the side of your face. Doesn't know if he wants to pry you off or push your head back down. 

You expected this. You knew he would be a little bit quick, but all of a sudden, he's twitching in your mouth, a rope of cum decorating your tongue and...

Honey.

Why does he taste like honey? 

It feels like a fluke at first. Has you drawing all the way back, sucking gently on his spasming tip, but it doesn't change. Overwhelmingly sweet and thick on your tongue. It doesn't...since when did human men taste like this? Good lord, what took you so long to find one like this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bob's abruptly pulling out of your mouth with a sharp 'pop,' the toilet paper roll audibly spinning as he grabs at it. 

The overhead light flickers back on. Damn near blinding. You nearly miss the shade of cherry decorating his cheeks. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?" 

"You can't be serious."

"No, something's gotta be wrong. I've picked something up somewhere," Bob doesn't seem to realize that he's started pacing again, striding back and forth across the room. "That doesn't...it shouldn't taste like honey!"

Your leg kicks off the edge of the exam table, taping him on the hip as he drifts past. "And what? You think a mystery STD will?"

"Maybe there's one I'm not considering," he stops dead in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye. "You should get tested too."

"Hard to catch a human virus if you aren't human," dragging your foot up the side of his thigh, "maybe it's just a succubus thing."

Bob's hand curls around your ankle, bringing it to rest comfortably against the side of his hip. "Huh?"

"I mean, like...maybe I taste it differently based on how much I like the person?" You're already grasping at straws as it is, but it's so hard to think when Bob is rubbing the back of your ankle like that. Diligent fingers pressing into strained muscle, drawing the tension away with every loose spiral.

"No," shaking his head as if to add emphasis to an already firm word. "I don't...no, that wouldn't make sense." 

That was your one and only theory, but, well, if he insists. "Alright, honey cum."

"Please, don't."

You're gone by the time the doctor decides to come back. Doesn't have a whole lot to say, but a few weeks later, there's a neatly folded paper on the counter with a whole bunch of negatives on it. 

Bob catches you looking at them, but he doesn't have anything to say about it. He's more intrigued by your appearance than anything else, brushing the pads of his fingers against one of your horns as he drifts past.

"Have you always had these?" He chirps, on a one-way track back to his coffee maker. His poor heart might stop if he pours himself anymore, but that doesn't seem to be stopping him.

"Technically, yes," it's a lazy reply, but you're not sure what else to say. "I didn't think to hide them today. What is that, your third cup of coffee today?" 

"Fifth," he corrects, unashamed about finishing off the pot. There's just enough left to fill his mug to the rim and then some. How he doesn't spill it, you'll never know. "Do all demons have horns?"

"Depends on the race, really," shrugging. "Succubi have short, narrow horns with vibrant colors, crossroad demons have horns similar to a Texas Longhorn, fallen angels don't have any at all..." You could keep going, but you would be talking for a long, long time.

You probably shouldn't be lingering around Bob's apartment, invisible to the naked eye as you lounge in the soft red couch and gaze out the window at every rise and fall of the sun. He seems to know that you're still here; hums something that sounds like your name when the cushion sinks beneath your weight. 

It's a cute apartment, really. A thrifted coffee table and an oversized bookcase that has already run out of room, excess books spilling over onto the shelves that were once reserved for figurines, and clever callbacks to movies. 

There's a stash of DVDs lurking inside of the TV stand, and in the ottoman, a pair of signed and framed Star Wars posters decorating the hallway. He thinks that he's spread out the anime enough to pass undetected, but you can clearly see the manga lurking in the smaller bookcase in his bedroom. There's a Naruto sticker hiding on the side of the fridge, a Pokemon in the bathroom cabinet, and so far, you have counted four Trigun figurines. 

Five, if you include the one you just watched him unwrap and place next to his model jet. This one kind of looks like him...

"Are you still in here?" Bob calls out from somewhere on the other side of the apartment. It might be the first time you've heard his voice rise above a mutter since he left the doctor's office. 

You're not entirely sure where he is. Haven't exactly moved from the couch now that the sun has fallen again, blankly gazing at the distant ocean as if it's a home you once knew like the back of your hand. 

He appears in the hallway. Fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, his eyes squinting as he tries to scan the room without his glasses. You're still waiting for him to realize that he left them next to the stove again.

"Come out?" He tries again, ambling forward. "Please?" 

"Looking to terrorize your boss again?" Dissolving into solidity, the chilly air nipping unpleasantly at your skin. Invisible was better. You couldn't feel the temperature when you didn't have a body. 

Or...maybe you're feeling the temperature incorrectly because Bob looks like a shrimp mid-boil. Red in the cheeks, so flushed that it crawls down into his neck, and the sliver of chest showing through the collar of his shirt. 

"Bob?" Tilting your head to the side. 

"I wanna return the favor." Deadpan.

Blink.

Blink again.

Blink one more time.

You don't follow. "Pardon?"

"I mean, I..." his eyes skip around the room. Bouncing off of the coffee table to the poster behind your head, the miscellaneous figurine shelf, and the refrigerator. "You did something for me, and I...don't...like the idea of it being so one-sided?"

"Bob, I'm a succubus," there's supposed to be an underlying hint there because this is kind of the very reason for your existence, but Bob doesn't seem to pick up on that. Or maybe he does and just doesn't react. "Do you even know how?"

A beat passes. 

His head shakes. No.

"I'm a quick learner?" Offering it up like he's bartering. You wonder if you can get him to start offering crops and livestock. "Is that...okay?" 

You're not sure if it's the novelty of the idea or if it's because of that soft, doe-eyed expression he nails you with, but something has you agreeing to it. But just because you're on the same page together doesn't mean you'll be the very next sentence that he reads. 

You're gone the moment he's in front of you. 

"Where did you—"

"But you'll have to catch me first." Reappearing behind him. Walking your fingers up his spine. 

He turns. 

You're gone. Drifting behind his back again. Blowing at his nape. 

"Hey!" He squeals. So shrill and pitchy that it nearly throws you off. Only manage to dissolve into a plume of mist when he reaches for you. 

Bob is already spinning around. Blocks you from getting to his back again. And there must be some kind of 'tell' of where you are because his eyes follow you every which way. You'd might as well be fully human because this isn't working. 

You don't know how you get into the kitchen. But you're on one side, and Bob is on the other before you've even become solid. You stumble three steps to the right; he's already there. You go left. But then he goes left. You dart right—corner to corner to corner. Shit, you've put yourself in a corner. Either way you have to get past him. 

"Why are you so damn quick?" Giggling. Your feet slide against the hardwood. Not as fast as him. This will only last so long.

"Did you forget." He jumps left. "I'm in." Right. "The Navy?" Left again.

"I thought that meant you would be good at swimming!" You're slipping. Grabbing at the countertop before you can hit the floor. "Not—this!"

He breaks the pattern first. Shoots around the corner so quickly that you nearly don't have time to spin back around. His fingertips graze your back as you turn. You're tearing off around the corner. Dissolving bit-by-bit and—

There's a pressure around your waist, and the room is spinning, and you don't remember when or how your feet left the ground. 

"Bobby!" You're squealing, throwing your arms around his shoulders before you can slip. 

It's hard telling when or how things escalate the way that they do. All you remember is the coldness of the floor as he sets you back down, the heat of his arms around you, and the bump of his nose against your cheek. And melting. Fuck, you remember melting into him like snowflakes in July, meeting him halfway, his soft lips melding with yours so easily. 

You do remember when you fall against the couch. Nothing but ruby red cushions and the lingering pink in Bobby's cheeks, settling between your legs with such ease that you almost wonder if you've done this with him before. 

Christ, he could probably convince you that you've already had a few nights together. 

There's no reason why or how he should know that you're sensitive beneath your ear, mouthing at the skin there but never making a move to mottle it with bruises. Respectful. Irritatingly so. Never leaving behind a mark, not even when he bites at the collar of your shirt and grazes the skin that lurks beneath.

He wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. Is he sure that he's never done this before? Because he gets your lounge shorts off surprisingly easily. His waist dipping between your thighs, swollen lips finding your lower belly once more, working down, down, down...

"Shit," his tongue has you jolting, entirely caught off guard. "A little sudden there."

It's hard to feel any sort of annoyance when he peeks up at you from beneath his lashes, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "'m sorry."

Your hand curls into the back of his hair, a fraction longer than it was when his so-called friends summoned you right into his lap. Only takes the slightest pressure for him to dip his head back down, licking a slow stripe against you. He misses your clit on the first try, pulls away a little too soon. But he finds it on the second, visibly perks at your sharp inhale, and retraces his steps until you do it again.

Learning should imply that he doesn't know what he's doing beforehand. You're gonna need to steal his dictionary off the shelf and look up the proper definition because you're pretty sure he was lying. 

There's no damn reason why he should know how to point his tongue and trace it around your clit, teasing until your hips lift off the mattress. Temporary relief comes in the form of the hum that rumbles out of him, vibrating through your nerves like electricity. He's settling into it now, laying flat on his belly, arms curled around your thighs as ifhe belongs there.

Fuck, and he's working his way down. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses into your dripping pussy, stopping to lap at your entrance before pressing inside. His tongue isn't even all that long, but the wet heat and the tip of his nose pressing against your clit yanks a gasp out of your throat, eyes snapping shut. 

Your thigh squishes against his cheek, leg looping lazily over his shoulder as if that could somehow possibly bring him closer. Fingers twist in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp—

"What the hell?" Your own voice sounds foreign. Detached from your body.

Bob lifts his head, and good lord, his lips are glistening. "Hm?"

"What is this little bump on your head?" Tapping your nail against it, uniquely bony compared to the rest of his scalp. Feels like a perfect circle.

"I don't know what they are," nonchalant, already dipping back between your legs, "'ve had 'em since I was born."

You can see them when you push his hair out of the way, little indentations beneath the skin, solid as can be. One on each side, a few inches above his ears. These kind of look like...

No, that's not right. 

That sweet tongue of his finds you again. Drawing lazy shapes that transform into shock waves on impact, rumbling up your spine and down into your fluttering thighs. Letters. He's drawing letters, and you can hardly decipher what they are, but the voice in the back of your head whispers that he's writing is name into your cunt. Over and over until he's certain that you'll never find pleasure in a name that isn't his. 

"Bobby, I..."

He hums, hands curling around your hips, pulling you in. Doesn't let go of that same lazy pace that he just set for himself, curling through an 'R' and into an 'O' so intoxicating that you find your own mouth mimicking it, too. You don't mean to cum so soon. You really don't, but your eyes unintentionally lock with his, that tiny smile curling the corners of them, and shit—

Your back twitches up off the bed. Crying out so sharply that it rips right out of your throat. Your head might just tumble off your shoulders. Floating up into the clouds, heaven-bound. Weightless. 

The hands on your hips tighten. Anchoring you back down. Bob's burning tongue working you through it like he's done it a hundred times until your body is tensing and jerking away from every little lick.

"Jesus," sucking in a breath, "Christ." 

Bob lifts his head, swollen lips twisting into a cheesy grin. "Wrong name." 

"Nerd," tapping him on the nose.

"Demon," biting the inside of your thigh. 

It's hard telling who sputters into a laugh first. Giggling like school kids as he climbs up the bed, his mouth clumsily finding its way to yours. It's so much easier to hold his face when his glasses aren't in the way; don't have to worry about smudging a lense or accidentally knocking them off his face entirely. 

If you thought that you were bad, then Bob Floyd is another monster entirely because once he's gotten a taste of you, he can't get enough. 

Because he's on you again in the morning, kissing at your shoulder and working his way down your naked belly before his final alarm goes off and forces him to start getting ready for work. His sweet tongue working over your clit, chasing down a vastly different zig-zag pattern as he eases a thick, curious finger into you. Lazily searches for a little spot that steals your breath away and has you babbling for another.

In the evening, he's nibbling and kissing at your thighs while you wait for the pizza delivery guy is on his way. Leaves behind sporadic little marks that gradually acquire a delicious tenderness that makes you gasp when you try to cross your legs later. 

You answer to the sound of your name on an average Tuesday afternoon. An unapproved presence in a top-security Naval building, perched up on the edge of a locker room bench like you belong there. Like you, too, are a pilot with a willingness to perform and just the right amount of crazy flowing through your veins. 

Bob doesn't utter a word about it, but you know that one of his superiors has chewed him out again because his cheeks are pale as can be, eyes only softening at the sight of you appearing before him. And maybe he's a little bit too eager to fall to his knees, peppering your skin with kisses that make their way to where you crave them the most. 

Again and again. An addict who seems to need his fix every time he's overwhelmed. It's your purpose, the very thing you were built for, but the invisible string that draws you into him is unlike any other you've been wrapped up in before. An undescribable something-else lurking behind the charm of those wireframes and his warm, dizzying voice. Never asks for anything in return, all too content with eating you alive.

Your favorite might be the night that he pulls a muscle in his shoulder blade. One little misstep in the gym is all it takes for a night and a half of overwhelming soreness, binding him flat on his back, minding his left side. But even the mix of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a dash of pain isn't enough to keep him grounded.

"I have an idea." It's been forever since you last heard him speak. The last time you recall hearing his voice was last night when he asked you to pass him his toothbrush.

"Uh oh," not in any particular hurry to lift your head from his chest, naked and oh so warm to the touch. 

"What?" He's trying to act offended, but the attempt dies mid-air. Won't be making a living in acting any time soon, that's for sure. 

Tapping your finger on his collarbone, overtop a thin white scar you've yet to learn the story of. "Don't 'what' me." 

His laugh sounds like thunder. Deep and rumbling into your ears, a tune you didn't know you craved until just now. 

A familiar warmth settles against your cheek, diligent fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. "What if I told you I had another idea?"

One of these days, you'll learn to quit being surprised. 

Today, you're shocked that he asked you to ride his face. 

Shit, but here you are. Knees precariously resting above his head. Trying your best not to let your thighs clamp down around his face as he dips his tongue between your folds, half-lidded gaze fixated on your expression. You've long since lost count of how many times you've felt this. The soft whisps of his short hair tickling your skin, the way he hums when he hears you gasp.

"You've got," raking your fingers against his scalp, anything to distract from the calculated zig-zag across your clit, "a problem." 

"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," muffled. His every word rumbling through your core and reaching up into your chest. 

"Yeah, well..." drinking in a shuddered breath, "you being addicted to eating me out was not on that list."

It's his fault for laughing again. Should have known that the vibration would have twisted into your nerves and sent them firing, thighs impulsively clamping down around his head with no regard for him or breathing. 

Fuck, it takes a moment to remember how to move them again. 

"I'm sorry," and you're about to lift yourself up, let him get a full breath of air, but his hands find your hips, anchoring you into place. 

"'s okay," pausing to lap at your clit, wet and messy, and god, the sound. "I don't mind."

He'd say that if you accidentally suffocated him to death, too.

Your nails drift across his scalp. Dragging just enough to feel the shift of hair beneath your fingertips, disturbing the hardened bump lurking just a few inches above his ear. You know that it's probably because of the swelling, but you swear it feels bigger than it did a few days ago. And maybe it's sensitive too because, for the briefest moment, you catch the whisp of a gasp. A sharp little intake of air punctuating the way he drifts down to toy with your entrance. 

They're worse the following morning.

He's only just beginning to settle between your legs, diligently kissing down the inside of your thigh, when the brush of your knee sends him reeling. Pawing at the sides of his head. Wincing. Yelping at his own touch.

"Did I—"

"No!" He blurts. Pitchy. "I'm sorry, it's, I—it hurts."

Even the delicate pressure of an ice pack is too much for him to tolerate, hissing like a cat the moment the material touches his skin. You're not entirely sure what to make of them. Dissolving into the air around him for a better view, drifting around his head, twisting every which way as if discovering the perfect angle will reveal the secret.

It doesn't...look infected. Strained is the best descriptor you can come up with. As if something is trying to claw its way out from beneath the skin. 

"And you said you've had these since you were born?" Musing aloud, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

Hands find your waist as you settle into your human shape once more. "That's what I'm told." Then, tilting his head to look up at you, not making any move to get out of his chair. "Why, what did you see?"

"The same thing you're seeing," you can't help but push his hair back, watching the short strands gradually slip free from your fingers. "Must be a really odd birth defect."

He hums, blinking up at you without a word, perhaps not as concerned about his situation as he should be. Not a trace of worry clouding his features, though the corner of his eye twitches when you unintentionally drift over one of the bumps. 

It's the same kind of gaze that gets you into trouble three nights later. 

He doesn't seem to realize that he's doing it, drowning you in pools of ocean blue every time he looks your way. You don't understand how you make it through the night. He's just so damn distracting. Tapping his foot against yours beneath the table, legs tangling as a nameless mid-forties man in a fancy suit rambles on about the honor of working in the Navy and things you don't care to follow. 

You don't know how you get to the hotel bed. Only vaguely aware of the sensation of your feet leaving the ground, thighs clinging to the sharp bone of his hips. One of his hands is on your ass, and the other is smoothing up your back. Presses just hard enough to have you arching, chests bumping together hard enough to break your kiss.

"Bobby—"

"I know."

The room collapses into a world of pristine white clouds—or maybe you've just fallen onto the bed. You can't tell for sure. Can't be bothered to. Not when a familiar pressure appears against your lips, his firm body settling between your legs with a weight you can't possibly ignore. 

He tastes like the hot chocolate they poured into his cup when he turned down the champagne. Sweet and so warm that you can feel yourself melting, and you must be made of chocolate, too, because he moves as if he's going to eat you alive. Hands rising to cradle your face, settling into a lingering liplock that has you gasping for air.

Your head is spinning. One hand curling around his bicep. The other smoothing up the side of his burning neck. Hardly aware of how your hips lift up from the mattress, but all too aware of him meeting you in the middle. A new pressure forms between your legs. The not-so-subtle bump of a growing bulge against your cunt. 

Curse the layers of fabric separating you from each other. Can't do anything but meet him halfway. Mewling into his mouth like a cat in heat. Legs curling around his hips. The heels of your ankles digging into his ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

Something trickles across your fingers. Smearing across his neck. 

"What is that?" It's sliding down your palm, scurrying past your wrist and beyond. Water? No, where would it have come from...

Bob draws away, an unusual chill filling the space he once occupied. "What is what?" 

Your hand is crimson. 

Why is your hand...?

"Oh my god." Reeling back. Hands held high as if that can possibly stop the blood that drips from your fingertips, so fresh that you can still feel the warmth of it. 

It's everywhere. Staining the fresh sheets, smeared across the back of Bob's neck, pooling at the shoulders of a brand new uniform that will never be the same again. It's on the shell of his ear and in his hair and—

"Oh my god," you sound like a broken record, but it's all you can say. "Bobby, your head."

Looking back on it, you're thankful Bob booked a room with two beds instead of one. 

There's no salvaging or rectifying the utter disaster going on in the bed that he claimed as his when you first got here. The sheets and comforter torn clean off, lying in a messy pile, waiting for the front desk to call back and tell you what to do with them. From here, they look perfectly fine, still the same shade of pure white, as if nothing has ever happened. 

Your attention meanders across the floor, tracing the lines of geometric shapes, following them on their journey between the beds until they disappear beneath the mattress. Bob's foot still hangs off the edge, a smidge too lazy to try and readjust himself now that he's found home here on your chest.

It's almost strange being here. Snuggling on a hotel bed with a man who didn't even summon you wasn't on the job description. Hell, the last time you even set foot in a place like this was probably years before you realized what you were and fully committed to the whole demonic entity thing. 

"Why don't you ever leave?" Bob's voice rumbles into your collar, a smidge deeper than it was the last time you heard it. 

"You never said you were satisfied with me," darting from your mouth before you can realize what you're about to say. A script so rehearsed that your tongue needs no instruction to utter it.

The room is quieter than it was before.

Which...is odd because nothing about it has changed. The cheap air conditioner still rattles to its own mechanic tune. You can still hear the girl talking on the phone in the hallway. Through the wall behind your head, the neighbor's television still plays the rerun of what sounds like a football game. 

Bob's eyes are open. Can feel the flutter of his lashes against the side of your neck. If you didn't know any better, you would mistake it for the dustings of tiny butterfly wings.

But he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry, I...that may have come out the wrong way."

"'s okay." Says it so quickly that you wonder if he's listened to your apology at all. 

Antsy, you reach for his hair, fingers coming through the still-damp locks. A little bit fried after two full washes, but it was the necessary sacrifice to get all of that blood out. 

You've got to crane your neck to see the culprit, but it's still there, in the same state it was the last time you laid eyes on it. Scabbed over. No longer as swollen as it once was, but there's still something solid lurking beneath the surface. You could have sworn you saw a flash of white in there before it had closed up again, but looking at it now, there's nothing. 

"I think I just like being around you," concluding, after a long moment. 

'Like' may be an understatement, but...

The corner of his mouth is turning upward. You know it is because you can feel it against your chest. "I like being around you, too."

And here you thought you'd figured out what Robert Floyd defines as a party. 

Bubbling glasses of golden champagne, the same shade of the delicate chandelier sparkling overhead, crystals cascading down like a spiral staircase. Enchanting. Beginning three stories up and only ending mere feet away from where you stand, you could probably touch it if you tried. 

Such a stark contrast to the midnight peeking through the windows, twinkling city lights of every color in the rainbow drowned out by the blinding white and gold palette you've found yourself in. Unfamiliar faces and dresses worth more than a car fresh off the lot, wrapped up in the whimsical tune of a live orchestra off to your left.

So many things to look at. Luxury desserts and vivid red couches cozied up beside the fire. There's more to be discovered, entire rooms you have yet to venture into, a custom theater, a cocktail bar...yet, your eyes continue to drift to the only familiar thing here.

And his appear to do the same.

Locking from opposite sides of the room, the buzz of the crowd melting into a distant hum, as if you've just plunged into the very crystal oceans that color his irises. The heat of his gaze is the only thing keeping your head above water, burning across every inch of your skin. It's a wonder you don't go up in flames right here and now.

Glass shatters somewhere to your left. A lady yelps. Someone swears. But you can't bring yourself to look to see what just happened. Captured in a never-ending trance as you move about the room, only able to look away for milliseconds at a time. 

One of Bob's friends are talking to him, mouth moving a mile a minute, but Bob doesn't seem to be listening—Fireball or...something. The name should come to you easier than it does. Bob's told you so many stories of them together, but you fear you've spent too much time lingering on the sound of his voice to actually store and remember the fine details. 

The music swells. 

Heads turn toward the melody, and with it, feet begin to move. It's as if one-half of the party has vanished, opening up the floor enough for you to walk without worry of bumping into anyone. You wouldn't even be in this position if filtering through different forms was socially acceptable and not the quickest way to give someone a heart attack. 

It's like drawing too close to a fire, the flames so bright that you can hardly look at them without being blinded. Except the flames are the open buttons at the very top of his long sleeve, milky white skin peeking through the gap. He's grown a bit since this was fitted, the fabric hugging a little too tightly around his chest, straining already weakened seams. Two of the buttons have already snapped off, unveiling more than he would ever willingly show off. 

He would catch your staring if he weren't already doing the same damn thing. Knows he's been caught, too, cheeks dusting a cherry red the moment he tears his attention away from the slit in your dress, showing off your upper thigh. 

But Fanbase is still talking, rambling on about the subplot of a movie that you've yet to see, and you're simply not interested enough to linger any longer than you have to. Gliding past Bobby as if you hadn't just made eye contact with him, your hand trailing up the side of his arm on your way past. 

The door couldn't come quickly enough, and you disappear through it with nothing more than a wayward glance over your shoulder.

He's still looking at you. 

It's so much quieter in the hallway, all that noise and music vanishing the moment the door swings shut behind you. You're not sure where you're going; didn't plan this far ahead, but you can already see a floor-to-ceiling window that looks interesting enough. A decorative fountain rests in front of it, the water sparkling with the city lights.

The view is better at night. Still breathtaking during the day, but...god, something about the velvet black and twinkling shades of neon really bring out the charm of a city like this. Though you've still yet to figure out why a Navy event is all the way up here, in the tallest building they could find. One of their own venues would have sufficed; then they wouldn't have had to rent all these hotel rooms. 

"Your dress looks awful familiar." Maybe Bob is hiding magic powers of his own because there's no way he could have snuck up on you without floating here.

But there he is. Shoulder resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The rolled sleeves are struggling with his forearms, fabric so tight that the threads silently scream. 

"Does it?" Coy. You entirely stole this idea from the front cover of the magazine he had sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You don't mean to step forward at the same time he does, but you do. Nose to nose in the blink of an eye, so close that your vision goes a little blurry and out of focus. 

A door slams down the hall.

The invisible string snaps.

Your hands are in his hair, and his are on your waist, and mouths are clattering with all the grace and elegance of a car crash. The back of your leg hits the fountain. Sends the thing jumping as you all but slam into the window. It's a wonder you don't go crashing through it, plummeting through miles upon miles of midnight neons. 

Because it certainly feels like you did. 

Head spinning as if you're in a free fall. Fingers twisting in his hair before unspoken forces can peel you away, sloppily falling into tune with the bold dance of his lips. Fuck, it's so much more than what you've spent the past fifteen minutes picturing in your head. He tastes like cola and honey, so dizzyingly sweet that a sugar rush buzzes through your veins.

What is it with you and this human? 

It's as if you're one half of a magnet, hopelessly bound to him by forces that you can't quite identify. Yielding to the subtle pressure of his hands, allowing him to gather you into his chest as if you aren't close enough as it is. Heaven, Hell, and Earth could collapse right here and now, and it still wouldn't be enough to drive a wedge between you. 

"And here I thought you weren't the PDA type," that thought was supposed to stay in your head, but it's far too late to do anything about it.

"I think this is a little beyond PDA," Bob's mouth twists into a smile too soon. Teeth smash together with a sound that makes you wince. 

There are voices down the hallway, familiar, but you don't care to try and identify them. Whoever they are, they don't get a chance to see you here because Bob's taking hold of your wrist, and you're falling into the clumsiest run imaginable. Arms awkwardly tangling together. His boots too new to grip the floor. Giggling to yourselves as you slide to the right, fighting to get around the corner before he can be recognized. 

You're already crashing into each other again. And again. And again. Stealing kisses as if you need one for every few steps taken. Can't function otherwise. Winding through the hall, no regard for where you're going or if it's even the right direction, barging through a door and racing up the stairs. You trip on one. Bob falls on his ass on another.

It's a damn wonder how you find the correct door. 

At least, you assume it's the right one because your back all but slams into it; don't even hear the noise that rattles down the empty hall. How are you meant to pay attention to such meaningless things, when a soft pressure appears at your lips? Greedily leaning into it as you all but melt into one another, his breath running ragged.

The key. You need the key. 

It's somewhere on him, your hands blindly smoothing over his chest, searching for the outline of that thin plastic key card. And so what if you momentarily hook your fingers into the top of his shirt? It could have been hiding there, for all you know.

Bob finds it just before you do. Plucking the hunk of plastic from his front pocket, and you can feel the heat of his arm as he reaches past.

Beep.

Gravity tilts on its head. Falling backward. 

Toned arms loop around your waist. Force you to remain upright. Pulling you close like there's a risk of you blowing away. Stumbling backward. Through the door. You don't know how your arms got around his neck, but you're not making any move to let go. Clinging to him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Nose bumping into his cheek as you find your way to his mouth once more. 

One fleeting, accidental brush of his teeth against your lip has electricity bolting up your spine. Shades of gold explode in the depths of your frenzied mind. Fireworks. Tongues tangle for the briefest of seconds. But then he's licking at your bottom lip, and it's parting with a gasp, a little too eager to let him in. Twisting together in a fashion entirely unfamiliar to you, an exquisite dance that has you melting like snow on a summer day.

The mattress greets the backs of your knees, a gentle nudge that has you falling backward without ceremony. He's on top of you within a second, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, chests pressing together, and—

"Mmh."  His legs spasm around your thigh, only to push it up into him again, pressing against the growing tent in his slacks. Heavy. 

"What was that?" In the lightest tone you can conjure up, rubbing your thigh against him once more. 

His face flushes red. Eyes darting away like he'll catch on fire if he keeps looking at you, but there's no hiding the way he twitches at your touch. And he knows you've felt it because, somehow, his cheeks get even redder. 

"What, don't like being teased?"  

"I might die if you keep talking." 

You'd like to see how true that statement can be. But that's an experiment for another night; you can only take your mind off of the throbbing heat resting against your thigh for so long. 

Fuck, and it seems he's on the same page. Spit-slicked lips find the corner of your jaw, one of his hands smoothing down your side as he works his way beneath your ear. One kiss after the other, only lingering long enough to lightly suck on the skin there. Teeth scrape against you, and you absolutely shouldn't shudder at such a simple feeling, but it happens anyway.

Just like how you wander to his shirt, perhaps a bit too eager to start fumbling with the buttons. They're just as stubborn as you thought they would be, angrily wedging themselves in the gaps designed for them to fit through. Stupid things. Who ever thought these were a good idea?

Bob reaches past you, his wrist bumping your hand away—

Buttons scatter. Rolling across the floor. Bouncing across the bed. One strikes your chin. Another thunks against the headboard.

"I didn't know you had it in you," giggling. Only have a handful of seconds to admire the broad expanse of his pale chest before he's on you again. Picking up right where he left off, somewhere beneath your ear, where you're most sensitive. 

His hum sounds like it's wrapped around the shape of your name, vibrating up your neck, rattling around in your skull like an earthquake. It's a wonder you don't fall apart. Fingertips biting into his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as you can. And he just keeps kissing on you. Working down, down, down to your collar, only stopped by the fabric of your dress.

You can make it disappear.

He knows you can make it disappear.

And yet his hands slip behind your back, tugging down the tiny zipper that runs parallel to your spine. 

Takes the time to ease the soft material off your body, impossibly slow, as if he's afraid of ripping it. Past your hips and over your knees. Folds it in half and sets it off to the side. And for a moment, he pauses. Lips shining with the same light that reflects off his glasses, hardly distracting from the sparkle of his eye. 

Kisses find the inside of your knee. Working across the joint and delving into the delicate territory of your thigh. It's a tune he's played so many times that you already know where he's going and what thoughts are lurking in the back of his quiet mind. Tempting, but...

The dog tags hanging from his neck are too perfect not to grab. Why he's wearing them, you're not sure, but they reel him back in so damn easily. 

But Bob freezes the moment you're eye to eye with him, not entirely sure how to tread this newfangled path he's found himself on. And that must be what makes it so easy to push him around. Flipping your positions with a skill you forgot you had, your ass snug in his lap, knees straddling his hips.

The back of his head thunks against the headboard, unnamed shades of red rising to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"You're sure?" He croaks; for a split second, you're on the ship again, meeting for the very first time. 

"Are you sure?" Countering. The bridge of your nose bumps into his. 

You don't necessarily remember what happens after that. 

It all melts into a blur. Starts with you bouncing a button off his bare chest and ends with the sound of his pants hitting the floor next to you. You don't know who got the lube out. It must have been him because you still don't know where it even came from, but it's the sensation of his slick fingers pressing into you that catapults you back into reality. 

"You remember that I'm a succubus, right?" The intended sarcasm doesn't so much as reach your vocal chords, nothing but a breathy whisper of the obvious. 

A smile is all that he gives in return. "I know."

It's been too long since the last time you felt this. The pressure of thick fingers slipping into your already drooling cunt, knuckles catching on your entrance as they drag past. Coarse fingertips drag against your walls, crooked, running across a bundle of nerves that he has no business knowing about. Knows he's found it too, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your whine. 

Yeah. 

It's been too long. 

That's why you're so sensitive all of a sudden.

It's certainly not because of the heavy cock resting against the swell of your ass. Has nothing to do with the pools of blue that lurk in his eye; you reckon you'd drown in them if you were to fall forward. No, you only feel like that because of the never-ending city view that sits just past his head. Broad and expansive, just like...just like his shoulders...

You don't realize what your hand is doing until you overhear his sharp inhale. His body jerks, shocked by the sudden trace of your fingers running up the underside of his cock. 

Impatience will be the undoing of both of you. In such a sudden hurry that lube spills onto the bed in your rush to slick him up, and it's only after that he realizes he's forgotten about the condom. Doesn't matter. The damn thing flies out of his hand when he tries ripping it open with his teeth, landing somewhere on the floor.

"Again," lifting your hips, lazily smacking his blunt tip against your cunt, "succubus."

"I'm sorry," he's yet to realize you're merely messing with him. Condom, no condom, you don't care either way. "I don't wanna make a mess of you."

"Maybe I want you to make a mess of me," countering. And it's the last thing you can say before the pressure of his cock shuts you up. 

If you asked, you're certain he would humbly refer to himself as average, but this is...this is so much better than average. Thicker than usual and wonderfully curved, fitting that a man so intent on pleasing you would also have the perfect cock, too. Stretches you just enough to make your jaw go slack, his fat tip dragging against every little nerve it can find. 

Bob tilts his head back, his chest rising with a heavy inhale, and that may be a whine that you hear. His lashes flutter, visibly fighting to keep them open as you sink down on him. Inch after inch, and it's been so long since you last felt this full. 

And maybe they've sucked all of the oxygen from the room because neither of you can seem to catch your breath. 

"That's..." his eyes drop down, fixating on the sight of him disappearing into you, "shit, that's..."

He doesn't get to finish that thought, and you don't get the chance to bother him about it, entirely distracted by the overwhelming sensation of him bottoming out. Your ass flush with his thighs, so damn full of him that your heart has risen into your throat. 

You've already found the strength to lift your body again. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage as your hips lift, the city lights seeming to twinkle when he rubs into those soft nerves. Can only manage to raise yourself by an inch or two before collapsing down into him once more. 

The warmth of Bobby's gaze crawls up your naked body, slow, like he's trying to take his time before he meets your eye. And when he does...

"You still in there?" Winding your arms around his neck. Can't seem to get him close enough.

His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, dry from panting, "uhuh." 

You suppose he's telling the truth because he's present enough to remember how to tilt his head up and catch you with a kiss—breathing hard through your noses. His hands squeezing your hips. Holding them through every rise and fall. 

Lube squelches between your legs. His cock head driving directly into that bundle of nerves again, your pussy helplessly spasming around him. You fear you're going to shatter into a million pieces if he does that again, but there's no attempt to shift your angle. Chasing that sensation again, crying out as a shock bolts up your spine. 

"Bobby," it slips out so easily. Riding on the coattails of a gasp. 

Foreheads knock together. So close that the sight of him goes a little bit fuzzy. Noses bumping when his hips twitch up, snapping into yours so swiftly that it knocks a whimper out of you. Just makes him do it again, and you are not living up to the whole succubus thing by collapsing into his shoulder. 

"Fuck, I can—" he grunts, punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, "can feel you clenchin' around me." 

And you can feel him twitch inside of you. Such a simple feeling that has you getting wetter around him, can only imagine what kind of mess is forming between your bodies right now. You'd look, but it's hard enough pulling yourself back, thighs burning, desperate to work back into the rhythm you just...built up...

Is...that...?

"What's wrong?" Bob has stopped moving at...some point. You don't know when that was. The concept of time passing is a little bit irrelevant right now.

Words don't necessarily come to you. Fleeting chunks of vaguely related sentences that you can't quite stitch together. You don't...that's not...when did...?

The only thing you can think of is to touch one of them. 

His back jerks off the headboard. Sucking in a gasp. Eyes going wide. But then, twitching at the corners, pretty blue irises rolling back, his cock spasming despite your lack of movement. For a moment, not a sound seems to escape him, but then it's all shattered by a barely muffled whimper. 

"So that's what's wrong with you." Deadpan. 

Touching them made him cum. That's... somewhat familiar, actually. 

Bobby's eyes can barely tear themselves open, fighting against them as he blinks up at you. "What?" 

You're almost hesitant to touch them again. Two tiny horns, no more than an inch tall, poking out from where those pesky bumps once resided. 

Horns. Of course. Why did you think you were wrong when you considered that earlier? They're identical to yours! A few inches above the ear, wide at the base and growing narrow as it nears the tip. Jet black for the time being, but they'll develop their color with time. 

The one upside to being a succubus. Uniquely colored horns. 

"Not to bring up family while all seven and a half inches of you are inside of me," because you're not sure about how to start this conversation, jumping on the first half-baked plan that comes to mind. "But are you entirely sure your folks are human?"

His head tilts. "Why?" 

The only thing you can think of is to take a picture. Those two tiny horns poking out like they're part of a cute headband, so ridiculously small in person and even smaller on his phone. As you pass it off to him, you catch yourself wondering if he'll see them at all. 

"...huh." Is all that he can say. 

They're far too sensitive for him to touch, not after what mess you just caused, but he tries. Winces the moment his fingertips make contact with the fresh new bone; you can only imagine this is how you reacted the first time your horns made their appearance, too. 

You wonder if there's anything behind them. You've seen a few variations where a second pair sprouted behind the first, but you can't see anything from this angle. If you just lean a little further to the right—

A whimper twists through the air. Pretty blue eyes squeeze shut.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no, no, don't," his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back down into his lap before you've even moved an inch, and oh, you can feel his cum beginning to spill out of you. Fuck, there's so...there's so much of it. It'll make a mess of the bed if you're not careful, but you can't move. Not with those big hands anchoring you down. 

But he's not done talking. 

"Keep going," he blurts, his chest shuddering with a breath. Horns be damned, those aren't on his mind right now. "Please, I just, I want, I want you to—" 

A swivel of your hips shuts him up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already too late to stifle the pitchy little noise that sails out of his throat. God, that's a hell of a sound. Combined with the way his half-hard cock twitches in you, it's almost too much to bear. He can hardly handle it himself, squirming, not sure if he wants to push into you or away from you. 

"There!" Stardust twinkles behind your eyes. "Right there. Don't move."

It's as if the room has exploded into a galaxy. Midnight black and the deepest shades of navy, decorated in a rainbow of distant, twinkling stars. You and him and this big, oversized hotel bed. Weightless. Floating round and round, further and further away, until you're lost to the Milky Way itself. 

The fat tip of his cock drives up into those nerves again. Space nearly swallows you up once more. "Bobby..."

Your eyes must have been closed because you don't remember his head tipping back. Dazed, flushed cheeks, so entirely focused on you that the rest of the world ceases to exist at all. Pitchy whimpers, stumbling off his drooling tongue, overstimulated but making no move to push you off of him.

His lips seal. Hardly manages to muffle his noises, but it's already too quiet for your liking.

One of your hands curls around his cheek. Thumb pressing against his bottom lip, hardly takes any pressure for him to give way, allowing you in. And his poor tongue is right there, practically begging you to pin it down, and who are you to deny such a request?

Heat twists in your belly. Pussy clenching tighter around him. Your motions growing jerky. Sporadic. Sparks of color flash behind your eyelids, growing heavier by the second. And it's so fucking loud in this room. Whimpers. Cries. Blending together so seamlessly that you can't tell who makes what noise. Every motion punctuated by an all-too-loud squelch of cum and lube, fuck, this bed is going to be ruined after this.

"I-I'm—" Bob whines, tongue flexing beneath your thumb. Eyes glassy, one blink away from tears spilling over the brim. 

"Close." Don't know if you're finishing his sentence or speaking for yourself. 

It washes over you with all the strength and violence of a tidal wave. Hips stalling. Head falling back. Cumming on his cock with an unexpected cry, heat racing through your veins, skin prickling, breath hung up in your throat. You think your eyes cross. Can't really figure out how true that is, too busy floating through the cracks in the universe to think about anything but the spasm of his length inside of you. 

And you're vaguely aware that he's cumming, too, his cries vibrating through your thumb and deep into your bones. 

"Still in there?" You find yourself asking after a moment. 

Bob hums and you're only now realizing that his glasses are gone, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. Where they've gone, you don't know; don't think you could get up and look for them if you tried. 

All of the strength has left your legs. Thighs trembling as you lift yourself from his lap. And they can only hold you up for so long before you find yourself collapsing next to him, greeted by the significantly cooler sheets. 

Those horns are still there. All too present as he tries to snuggle down onto a pillow, inconveniently brushing against the fabric. You're both a damn mess. His lower belly glistens in the light, and you can already feel his cum beginning to spill out of you onto the sheets. 

Sheets that you don't want to change for a cleaner set. 

But the shower is so far away...and Bob is curling his arm around you. Pulling you closer to him as if the six inches of space between your bodies is too much for him to handle. Your nose bumps into his chin, the slightest hint of stubble growing there.

You should hide his razor and see what happens.

"How do I make them disappear?" Bob's voice cracks in the middle, sporadically skyrocketing in pitch. Water might do him good, but...damn, the fridge is by the bathroom. 

"I'll teach you, eventually," your voice isn't doing much better; you can hardly get it above a whisper. "I wanna see them on you for a little longer first."

His eyes roll, shaking his head all the while. Almost like he expected you to say that. But he doesn't call you out on it, content to tilt his head down and shut you up instead. Swollen lips crashing together, lazily tangling. A small explosion would be less messy, tongues licking into each other's mouths and teeth clacking so hard that your even bones recoil at the sensation. 

...but there's pressure on your shoulder, and you're rolling onto your back, his comfortable weight settling on top of you. Half hard against your thigh. 

"Satisfied?" You murmur, though you suppose you already know the answer to that.

His lips curl into a smile. Devilish, even. "No."

You're beginning to think you've swapped roles in this relationship.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 6

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

(I can't believe I squeezed six entries out of this dang episode!!!)

agatha sees billy waking up and takes her usual moment to wipe all genuine emotion from her face and put on her mask. it's getting increasingly clear that this wretch of a woman is always wearing a mask and playing the larger-than-life uncaring witch she wishes she could be

not that she cares about you or anything.

billy does that thing children do. he doesn't say thank you or ask why she's crying, he asks about himself, his current troubles and fears, looking for guidance. that's the wonderful thing about a parent, they give a child a safe environment to grow and make mistakes and explore. A parent is, or should be, selfless. That billy feels safe doing this with agatha tells you he instinctively trusts her much more than he realizes.

agatha never lies to billy

and the way she's always drawn to teaching and explaining and guiding despite herself. deep, deep down agatha is a nurturing person who only ever got to nurture for a short time

I just realize agatha cannot actually say the name billy, can she? because of the sigil. so this is her going, I know it's still you kiddo, behind all that. I see some people arguing that agatha might actually think he's Nicky at first and personally I don't believe that's the case, the dialogue is muddy only to mislead the viewers before the big Wiccan reveal.

Two reasons agatha knew this was billy all along: she's had three centuries to sit with nicky's loss now. nicky is gone for good, no matter all her tricks and her pleading and her endless pit of sorrow, that is the one irrevocable fact that she will never be able to change. that is the cornerstone, the whole core of who agatha is today. she has lost nicky, she has committed unspeakable horrors to cope with that loss. she is afraid to die because nicky is on the other side and she cannot face him.

The second reason is that agatha loves billy for being billy, not just as a nicky stand-in. she was uniquely equipped to understand and empathize with wanda, and that's even more true for billy because he's a little boy and agatha's whole heart is wired and predisposed to reach out to him. she saw the miracle that was his birth, she saw first hand what chaos magic can do. this is a child flung out in the world carrying an immense power and no instructions on how to use it. he's capable of terrible things that could easily turn him into a monster and a pariah, and agatha is, besides wanda, the only person in the world who truly understands what that means. do you remember what happened to agatha at around the age billy is now? everything in her is demanding to guide and help. selfishly, because all that power would be hers to control. selfishly because he reminds her of herself and she wants to undo what her mother did to her. and selfishly because helping billy would in a way redeem what she did to nicky.

and also, selflessly. because she wants to help him grow and be successful and be happy.

billy created the Road to find tommy, sure. but what he's been doing on the Road is finding community. or rather, getting close to witchfolk to find out who he is in relationship to them, exploring the identity he was born with that he cannot express with his adoptive parents. he started with a lot of silly ideas on what witches should and shouldn't be and created trials that are, let's face it, rather stereotyped and demeaning. next trial is agatha and he is puzzling her out now, willing her to become the ideal witch and mentor he's looking for. he's doing it with the grace of an elephant in a china store, but that's just what being a kid is.

aaand the wall is all the way up and she runs away. but we made some progress there, didn't we?

oh to be a vampire and getting to bite patti lupone's neck

rio looks so engrossed and fascinated listening to lilia! rio just loves people, you know? she loves life in all its multifaceted forms, and that's not at odds with her job description at all. she is The Green Witch, she has embraced nature, which is to say life, so completely that all of it is important and precious to her. my headcanon is that as the original green witch she started ferrying souls because she deeply understood and accepted death as natural and organic and sought to help it along. it's funny, lilia is terrified of her but if asked, rio would have such a long list of things that make lilia special.

and that such a being would fell in love with agatha of all people?? god that is amazing. that is how you write a beautifully doomed epic love story. billions and billions of humans throughout history, and agatha is who caught her eye. and not because agatha is a serial killer mind you, that's just foreplay. it's because she is the most intense, the most interesting human Death ever came across. while others saw a damaged girl, rio saw poetry in her extraordinary complexity

and then, through agatha and nicky, rio experienced grief from a new point of view. Death, no longer impartial.

a wiser future Lilia pays another brief visit

and she's gone. her puzzled little face!

from being awkward and fearing her oddities to laughing with her about it. another step toward a deeper understanding, and acceptance, and love.

look at agatha's body language when she approaches. uncertain, arms crossed. these people have seen her without her mask now, openly weeping about billy

and then she puts her hands in her pockets and postures, ready to underplay things. pppft, crying? moi? you guys must have dreamed it.

alice with her big compassionate heart will never be able to think of agatha as cruel and distant again

agatha picks up rio's flower

rio looks at her

pretends she wasn't looking when agatha looks back

you could cut the damn tension with a knife

jen trying to include agatha??? man they did really see her cying fr

look how interested lilia is! I wish shows could just be 15 hours of women hanging out and chatting, no plot, just vibes

agatha glances at rio as if saying, you know exactly which scar this is. and rio chuckles because she remembers the story. THE INTIMACY BETWEEN THESE TWO. I'm going feral again.

what is this, camaraderie? community? perhaps even, dare I say it, friendship???

agatha doesn't know what to do with herself!

behold the textbook definition of 'awkward turtle'

oh rio's DETERMINED

'no you don't' 'yes I do' STOP IT YOU STUPID GAYS

agatha all casual like honey I've seen every inch of that body

just... the way they fell into a rhythm. the doMESTICITY.

lol jen's and alice's gaydars pinging at the same time. like somETHING FRUITY IS AFOOT. AND WE WOULD KNOW.

and fuck fuck fuck fuck I cannot believe I've run out of space again and I need to do a part 7

LOOK WHAT THESE LESBIANS ARE DOING TO ME (it'll be up in like an hour guys don't worry)

go to episode 4 part 7

[writingredrose]

for a good cause | Rollo x reader

summary : While having fun at the festival with your friends, you're oblivious to your own guilt and grudge. Luckily, he's here to show you the truth.

warnings : reader is Yuu and she's implied to be a girl ; swearing

a / n : HAD LOTS OF FUN WITH THIS ONE Y'ALL WO!!! Yuu betraying the NRC my beloved. Also I was definitely NOT writing this AND watching the event at the same time and that's definitely NOT why is it so short haha...

A TOAST TO @pomefioredove FOR INSPIRING ME!! Hope you like it <3 🫶🏻🩷

P.S : maybe some grammatical mistakes or weird wording, sorry, English ain't my first language :')

The horrors, the stress, the neglect about every single thing involving your mentality and your body... all of these curses that came upon you when you first set foot in the halls of Night Raven Collage could never be cured, could they? That's what you thought before you met him. He said he can save you...

Can he? Please, you have to let him save you...

The beautiful scenery in the main hall of Nobel Bell Collage never failed to catch your eye. The way the light of the sun illuminated the beautiful stained windows could never not be pretty. Compared to the dark halls of NRC, this school was twice as pretty, that's what you thought since coming here, but you'd never dare tell anyone, you didn't need another reason for people to look down on you as they always do.

“Something must've caught your eye for you to stop in your tracks like that, no?” The voice coming from behind you was as calm and neutral as ever. You caught with the corner of your eye the figure stopping right next to you, looking where your eyes did just a moment ago. “Well, you're never wrong are you?” You let out a silent laugh, at which the figure moved his eyes in you. “The glass...is beautiful. It never fails to amaze me. You don't see this at Night Raven” Your eyes went up to look at the glass again, the one next to you looking in the same place you were. “Hm, your comments make me think that Night Raven Collage isn't that amazing of a school that everyone would die to go in” You snorted at his snarky remark right before covering your mouth. You'd think he hates everyone from that school, but again, maybe he is, at how is looking at them, who can say he doesn't? “Didn't take you for the humorous type, Rollo„

Ah there it is again. Ever since you came here, Rollo can't seem to get tired of the way his name rolls off your tongue. He's heard about you, the magicless prefect who's came from another world. And goodness, you're... perfect. Everything about you, is absolutely perfect. Your face, your voice, your silhouette, everything about you... and on top of all you're so... pure. So pure, he can sense it, the essence of it right in your soul, he wishes to keep it to himself forever, he'd never let anyone touch something so pure and beautiful. Stain it with their dirty magic.

He looked at you again, your form snickering oh so close to his body. “Was it really that funny? I was simply saying what is on my mind...” Your laughing came to a stop, now having your attention fully on him. “I know, it's just the way you said it is all. It was funny. And I mean, you are kind of right. Sure Night Raven is a big school, no denying that. But! I guess you could say the inside is a bit... boring” At your words Rollo let out a laugh himself. “Hmph! Boring? I've known you for a day and I'm sure you can find a better word than boring„ “Meh, I don't wanna be mean is all” Your kindness was also something Rollo adored about you. He can see who you are under all that fake kindness you put on for your little friends at NRC. Right under all of that, the essence of your soul is naked under his praying eyes. He knows you're tired, tired of that school. Maybe he can use that for himself.

The songs and happy voices of the many people surrounding you were loud but not entirely unwelcome. After each group that was made earlier today finished their stroll through the busy streets, it was now time for everyone to gather in one place for the big show. You were currently sitting next to Rollo, watching from far away the boys who were having fun creating fireworks for the townfolk.

You couldn't help but scowl at the sight. It was so irritating, but why exactly...? “Are you alright?” Rollo's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Judging by that scowl on your face, I'd say you're ready to rip everyone's heads off” You looked at him, he was looking at you from the corner of his eye, and just for a second, you caught a glint of amusement in them. He was joking. How is it that he only does it when he's with you? You've been observing his actions ever since you came here and he seems to be a totally different person when he's with you. The handkerchief that always seems to be present when he speaks with other people, he never has it when he's with you.

Isn't it weird?

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I'm ok. I just...well...” The silver haired boy turns his head to fully look at you, waiting for an answer “I just... don't like the loud music, at all. It always gives me the biggest headache” Rollo let out an almost silent hm, and looked in front of him again. A minute passed before he spoke again.

“Who are you trying to lie to? Me or yourself?”

...what?

The weight of his glace almost crushes you. You could feel his sharp emerald eyes looking at you, no... looking through you, you knew damn well that right now the one called Rollo Flamme was looking straight into your soul, ready to burn it to ashes at any moment.

You turned your head away from him, unable to return the gaze. “I... don't know what you're talking about, Rollo. I'm not lying to myself at all. I told you the truth” He didn't stop looking through you. “Is that so? Because when your eyes are directed exactly to your little friends over there, it's hard to think that it's just the music that's bothering you” You were at a loss of words.

He was right wasn't he?

He knew

Of course he did

After all why bother hide it anymore?

You hated their guts...

You HATED that school

You hate THEM

YOU HATE IT

YOU HATE THIS DAMNED WORLD.

This time, you looked him straight in the eyes. And he knew, Rollo finally realized he got it. He was almost shocked at how easy it was to crack your fake facade. You were like him weren't you? You hated magic just like he hated it. You loathed the evil-doers of this world, the magic users. He knew he was right, he knew he was right to fall in love with you.

He couldn't help but smirk when he saw your eyes. So much hatred. My, how he loved that look of yours. “And what do you plan on doing now?” Your voice took a much more serious tone than earlier. He simply let out a laugh. “Me? Why nothing at all. All I need you to do — Rollo fully turned his body to you, slowly leaning to look into your eyes — is to listen to what I have to say”

The music of the festival could be heard even from the depths of the wall of the waterway tunnels. Rollo was guiding you, with a lantern in his hand, through what seemed like an endless darkness. And after what seemed like an eternity, you were the first one who spoke. “So what exactly do you plan on doing? You haven't explained anything to me at all Rollo” He kept walking, not saying a word. More minutes passed and you were getting more and more annoyed, when was he going to- “Why is it that you hate your friends so much? When I first saw you I could hardly tell you hated their guts” You fell silent at his question, why is it that you hate them? After all ever since you came here- ...oh, that's right. You know don't you? ���You want the truth? I'll tell you. I simply hate their guts. Ever since I came here I have been nothing but an obedient little dog to them. Cleaning all the mess they did after every overblot I was the one to clean the mess. Trouble? That idiot Crowley has me going to solve it. Students fighting? Of course, I'm the one to blame. I'm fucking tired, I'm so damn tired of all of them. No one, not a single one at that school has ever cared to check on me, because who cares?!? I'm a magicless student aren't I? I don't have feelings or anything right? I'm just a damn MAGICLESS HUMAN WHO LISTEN LIKE A FUCKING DOG!”

Rollo didn't flinch at the sudden punch you landed on the wall next to you. You stopped walking a while ago, fully turned to you, Rollo watched your actions carefully, seeming to enjoy how you slowly became a victim to your own hatred, sinking deeper and deeper into the dark hole you made for yourself ever since stepping into this world. Stepping closer to you, Rollo raised your chin to look him in the eyes, the light of the lamp allowing you to see his beautiful yet empty emerald eyes. “See now? That's exactly why I guided you here. Your hatred for them is exactly what I need. So beautiful and so dangerous it is” Moving closer, he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair. “What are you?-„ “So pure and so beautiful you are” You widened your eyes, your face growing warmer at his somewhat bold statement. He let go of you, grabbing your face once again, this time his being closer than it was before, the lamp illuminating half of his face as you saw the look in his eyes.

Predatory admiration. You could see it in the way he looked at you. Eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Raw hunger that felt almost otherworldly.

“Tell me now, Y/N. I can save you, get rid of all those dark thoughts from your head, give you a better life. I can protect you. All you need to do, is give me your word. Let me be your sanctuary” Your breathing became heavy...can he? Can he truly save you? You'd wished to escape this for so long, you're so tired. You'd let him-

“Please, Rollo... — you grabbed onto his clothes, afraid that if you'd let go he'd abandon you just like the others — I'll- I'll let you. Please, be my sanctuary” Rollo's eyes flickered with raw desire. “Very well then”

The lamp in Rollo's hands dropped on the floor as his hand held your chin so you could look in his eyes. His other hand entangled into your hair, finally pulling you for a long awaited kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, every ounce of self control disappeared. He'd been waiting for this longer than he dared to admit. If only you knew what you were doing to him. You eagerly returned the kiss, your hands diving into his hair, careful to not let his hat slip off his head, lips moving in perfect harmony as you've done this hundreds of times before. And when you parted for the first time, your panting echoed through the dark halls.

You looked at him with red cheeks, and before you could stop it you let the words “I love you„ spill from your mouth. You knew your confession came out in a trembling voice, even if you didn't know why. Rollo looked at you and once again he kissed you, this time harder and urgent. He knew you knew he was telling you the same, that what he can't put into words he'll put into this kiss.

A long while passed until you two parted. Damned oxigen, you thought. The silver haired in front of you brought you closer to his face so that your foreheads touched. “How can you be magicless when I can swear that you bewitched me somehow. I'm not myself when I'm with you, did you know that? The things you do to me...” You giggled at his remark, kissing him once more which he happily returned. “Yeah? Well, I'm glad it's me. I'm glad you chose me Rollo” He smiled softly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Picking up the lamp from the floor, he took your hand and guided you now towards the light that shot up at the end of the tunnel. “Come now my dear, I'm sure you'll like what you're going to see”

The many candles in the Nobel Bell Collage hall illuminated brightly. The students who came for the symposium were all gathered in the hall, waiting for whatever was to come. Suddenly, the loud sound of the bell echoed through the whole school. “The Bell of Salvation? At this time of the night?” Silver looked around him surprised by the tolls of the bell. “If I recall, we were told that the bell tolled there times a day no? Once in the morning, then evening and night. And I'm pretty sure we heard the toll for the night some hours ago. So what could the reason for this one be? Riddle's face twisted in confusion, his brows furrowing trying to figure out what's going on. “U-uhm, am I the only one who's seeing t-that?” Upon hearing Idia's voice, everyone looked in his direction.“What's that? A flower??” In front of them, growing from the ground, there was a beautiful crimson flower, one that had its petals beautifully colored just like wild flames. “What's a flower doing in the middle of the-” *crack* Another one made its way through the floor, cracking the tiles in the process. And then another, followed by thousands slowly covering the whole hall. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” Sebek's voice echoed through the hall now full of crimson flowers. “Evreyone! They-they passed out!” In the blink of an eye, every single student who got close to the flowers had passed out cold and they couldn't be woken up.

Fire Lotuses. Dangerous yet beautiful flowers that supposedly went extinct centuries ago. These flowers grew by feeding themselves with magic, sucking it out of people leaving them with no ounce of magic to live with. The methods of extinction were not revealed, therefore there was no way to stop them.

“Standing in this hall while everyone else is passed at your feet is quite pitiful. Don't you think?”

Fighting and fighting, the students tried but there was no end to those flowers, if they can't use magic then they can't do anything. “Y/N! Make sure you stay beh-...what?” Deuce had called for you, but he now realized...you were nowhere to be found. “Y/N?!? NO! SHIT! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Hearing his calls, the others looked around them, you were nowhere in sight. “GRIM! Did you not see where she went?!?” Sebek picked up the panicked cat, who had thought you came back with him, your quietness being a normal thing at school so he didn't bother checking if you were truly there, blaming himself for your disappearance. “I-I don't know! I thought she was behind me I swear!” On the verge of crying he started shaking in Sebek's arms, the boy putting him down taking pity on him. “WE NEED TO FIND THE PREFECT NOW! AND SEE TO WHAT CAUSED THESE FLOWERS TO APPEAR!” Next to the loud green haired boy, Malleus was looking up the stairs in the hall. “Hm, perhaps, we should ask him” Sniffling, Grim looked in the direction of Malleus' eyes. “Him? Him who?” And just after, steps could be heard on top of the stairs, indicating who was watching from afar.

And there he was. The students looked at the stop for the stairs that now revealed Rollo's steady figure stepping out of the shadows. “YOU HUMAN! DID YOU DO THIS?” Sebek's voice boomed once again in the halls, at which Rollo merely laughed. “Why? Well it's quite simple. I did so I can rid this world from this magic of course” “Riding the world of magic? THAT'S ABSURD!! You damn wicked villain!” “SHUT IT! — the first time Rollo's voice was raised, the halls trembled at the sound — ME?! I'M THE WICKED VILLAIN?? What about you? You mages tricking the world with your stupid little magic tricks?! You mean nothing but trouble! But I!- I will rid this world of your kind, making it a better place!” He laughed as he talked, the looks of the ones amongst the flowers now flaming with anger. “You're a coward! Come the fuck down and face us if you're so determined of getting rid of us!” “No time for that Deuce! — Riddle grabbed the first year's shoulder — we need to find a way to get rid of these flowers before their thorns find a way into the soil” Another laugh from Rollo could be heard. “Too late for that! Just as we're speaking, the whole city is getting covered in flowers, and soon enough the whole island! You've got nothing left to do!” The flowers slowly started getting closer to them, leaving them helpless, just then, Deuce had realized what was missing from Rollo's speech. “You- WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO Y/N?!” Rollo's calm and collected eyes met Deuce's angry ones, smiling at his expression he let out a silent laugh. “Hah! Ask her that yourself won't you?”

Step step step

One by one, the expression of the students went from anger to shock. You. It was you who was now next to Rollo standing straight and looking down on them from the stairs, the same flowers that were now surrounding them, was present in your hair. “Y-... Prefect...?” Deuce couldn't believe it, what were you doing, what-what are you doing with him? “Prefect?! What do you think you're doing?!” Sebek's voice boomed once again. “You're with the enemy you filthy traitor?!” Looking right back into Deuce's eyes seeing his despair, that didn't sit right with you, Deuce has never done anything wrong, but again, did he really care...?

“I truly am so sorry Deuce. You did nothing wrong, really. But I'm so tired you know?” “W-what is that even supposed to mean Y/N? Is it me? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if I did I'm sorry! But why would you do such a thing?” “Because I can't take it anymore. I'm done, Deuce. I've been treated like a damn dog every second I stayed at that school. No one, not a single person has ever thought of checking up on me, seeing if I'm ok, not even you did. I needed to be saved, Deuce, and Rollo, Rollo told me he'd save me. And he did! I feel so much better now that he did” Empty eyes were staring into scared blue ones. Deuce understood, in a way. And the fact that he hadn't even thought about checking on you earlier... maybe if he did none of this would've happened. “Grim. I really am sorry. This time I can't accompany you anymore. Seems like you'll have to become a great mage without me” Shaking next to Deuce's legs, was a crying Grim. “Hench-human...”

This time, the looks you gave to the ones left was boiling through them. “You all deserve this. You all are some egoistic monsters you know that?” Malleus' steeped forward trying to reason. “Child of man this is not the-” “QUIET! You don't get to talk Malleus. You're just like them after all, you've always been haven't you?” Rollo was enjoying this too much. The expressions those idiots Night Raven Collage students had on their faces was priceless. But as much as he'd love to stay more, you both had work to do. “Now now Y/N. I'm afraid we have to go. We have work to do, remember” He put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which you responded by putting one of yours in his. “Enjoy your last moments”

And with that, the floor around them was gone, leaving them to fall in complete darkness.

[midnight-mourning]

Better Strangers. (Unless?)

Well it took a bit more time than I expected, wonder why THAT is (side eyes the wizard that put a curse on me, currently tied up in the corner) but it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! She's long, and I had to cut some stuff because it wasn't working, but such is life

If you've never read Confused Spirit, this will make a lot less since to you lol, so I recommend reading it first (though it's not a requirement). Again, this bad boy is canon to the story, but will never be directly mentioned in it

Word count: 7500

Song rec: Tommy's Party - Peach Pit (ignore the lyrics, it's the vibes that matter here)

Also posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading that way.

Content warning: Mentions of self-depreciation, self-gaslighting, depression, bits of yelling, etc. Small bits of using alcohol as a coping mechanism. Additionally, if you've never experienced what it's like to be anxious-drunk, you're in for it. Reader discretion is advised

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

"Okay, money's on the counter, Lisa needs to do her math homework before cartoons, and if you could do some flashcard practice with Gabe that would be super great but no worries if not, okay bye!" You say in a rush before opening and closing the front door. 

You lean back against it briefly, take a deep breath, and force yourself to march over to your car. 

It's your least favorite day of the quarter, second only to your least favorite day of the semester.

Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Comparable to Report-Review day at work, or tax season. The reason it was your second least favorite was because the other Parent-Teacher Conference day usually landed on a Friday, meaning you had one more night of the week you had to go out. 

This one was just a bit more bearable in that yeah, you had work afterward, but at least you could use all of tomorrow evening to recharge. And you certainly intended to. 

The school parking lot is filled with parents coming and going, chatting with those they know. You briefly greet anyone who says hello, but keep on your way, you want this to be quick, you've only got an hour or so before your late shift.

The meeting goes about how you'd expect, Lisa's the perfect little angel at school, it's just with you that she's a complete and utter menace. You'd considered the evening to likely being end on a high note based on this, but you'd be wrong. 

Very wrong. 

It's as you're walking out that you run into what would be your catalyst. 

"Oh, funny seeing you here, dear!" Helen says as she approaches. 

Inside you're saying every swear you can think of, outwardly you smile, "Hi Helen. It's parent-teacher night, of course I'd be here."

"I know, I know, merely joking." 

You stand there, awkward, head nodding once, "Well if that's all then I'll be on my way then-"

"Well it's just, how do I put this," She tutters, shaking her head, "I can't imagine what your meeting must've been like. And I won't speculate of course, I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you, is all."

Your brows furrow briefly, but you try to remain neutral. Chill, you're chill. You can kick Helen's ass in a fight if you wanted, it's fine. 

"The meeting went well, actually. Lisa's a good kid, I only stopped by because Mrs. Isley's been wanting brag on her in person."

This doesn't deter Helen, which you'd been, actually you can never tell what to expect with her. Doesn't matter, she keeps that sad look on her face, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "Well, I wasn't sure if she was aware of the tumultuous situation with your family is all. It sounds like something that would greatly be affecting Lisa's performance. But I'm so glad to hear that's not the case."

"What, what do you mean?"

"Well, I ran into your aunt, Hannah's her name, right?" Helen tsks, "She told me all about your situation. Just awful to listen to, you know."

It occurs to you to glance over to where Helen came from, her typical group of parents she gossiped with. They're looking at you now, that same, bullshit look on their face. And you can just catch some of the things they say. 

"To think someone like that's taking care of Lisa."

"I know, could you imagine, being so cruel to your family?"

"Typical twenty something, has no regard for anyone but themself."

"It is selfish, isn't it? Their parents would be ashamed."

You freeze then, something in you shutting down. You don't know what to say, how to react, how to even, think, for a moment. 

This is possibly one of the worst case scenarios you could ever imagine. Helen knows an exceeding amount of information about you that you've done your best to hide for the sake of your siblings. Stuff that would otherwise be harmless, where you work, where Lisa goes to school, what daycare you use, etc. But could be incredibly dangerous when the wrong person find out about it. And at this point, you have no idea one way or the other if they have. 

Has Rick's family tried shit in the past? Of course. Have they ever taken it that far? Debatable. You'd done your best to keep your personal life unknown to them for a reason however. But did you really know what their limits were? You had absolutely no clue.

And that terrifies you.

And it's your fault in the first place.

"Are you alright?" Helen asks, in a tone that is so fake you swear you can taste plastic. 

You snap out of it. Not here, not now. Instead, you beam, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

This throws her for a loop finally, "I, well I-"

"I appreciate all the concern, Helen, really, I do. But we're doing just fine," Your hand pats the one of your shoulder and she flinches back. Ironic, you know. 

You laugh, it's loud and fake as hell but it does what you need it to, "I don't know what you've been told, but let me assure you, there's a reason we're not on great terms. Didn't file that police report for nothing!"

At this, people start to turn towards you both, muttering quietly. Usually, such a thing would embarrass you. But you're channeling your rage to smother your panic. Your shame.

Hannah and the rest of Rick's family lives on the complete other side of the city. Helen would have had to go out of her way to manage to run into any one of them. And it sounds like she had. 

If you had to guess, it was probably incidental, you have no social media, they all do. All it would take is a bit of profile browsing to find the connection and if she ever came across any of them, could easily strike up a conversation. Still crazy, but slightly less crazy than other options.

"Is everything okay over here?" Looking to your side you see Mrs. Isley, glare on her face, pointed toward Helen, before sharing a concerned look briefly with you. 

You nod, "We're just fine, but I do have to get going now. Thanks for the, words of encouragement, Helen."

Her face has grown red, and can't even muster a response. Satisfied, you lean in as you pass her by, voice low, but still loud enough for the teacher behind you to overhear, "Hope you got what you wanted from that. Because next time, I won't be so nice and just say outright how the PTA president goes out of her way to find someone's toxic family members and delve into their personal life for no damn good reason."

You give her a rough pat on the back, and march out of there. Behind you, you can hear Mrs. Isley start to lay into the soccer mom who had so much free time on her hands to try and upset the 23 year old who, apparently, must be doing a better job at parenting than she was, as that what the only explanation you could come up with for her vendetta against you.

Once you make it out of the building is when you allow the facade to start to break down. You're panicked, you're freaking out. You're trying to determine if you're going to have to switch school districts now or what. You really don't want to uproot Lisa because of a mistake you made, which was believing that Helen Chase would mind her own damn business and-

Someone is calling after you. You look up from unlocking your car to see it's Mrs. Isley. 

You raise a hand as she makes it over to you, out of breath, "It's fine, Aubrey. Just the typical bs. I'm okay."

"I'm sure you are," She says, pointing back to the school and shaking her head, "But that, was unacceptable behavior on her part and I am not going to let it fly by, rest assured. She's the head of the PTA, she's well aware of the school's 'no-contact list'."

"I-"

She raises her hand now, "No. Not this time. I get it, you don't want to make waves. But this was too far, and it's not fair to you in any which way to just leave it lie. She will be reprimanded, and if anything happens because of it," She shakes her head, "Well, I'm not going to let it."

"Thanks," You manage to choke out. The stress and relief both getting to you in that moment, due in large part to her firmness on the matter. 

The teacher hugs you then, squeezing tight, "We have rules in place for this kind of stuff. And I'm sure once her husband hears wind of this he'll do his best to make sure nothing comes of it," She pulls back, hands on your cheeks, "Okay?"

You nod, hoping she can't see the tears pricking your eyes, "Okay."

Aubrey lets you go, "You're sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," You shake your head, "Just the words of someone who doesn't know how to mind their own business. I've had worse."

She nods, "Alright. Have a good night, and be safe."

You say goodbye and she walks off. You have to grip your wrist with your free hand to keep the one that's shaking steady enough to grab the door handle. 

You drive in silence to the Plex, both hands tight on the wheel. 

You're not going to let it get to you, you're not going to let it get to you, you know she's wrong, she's always wrong, she's just an asshole and you know that you're doing your best, you're doing great! Lisa's proof of that, Gabe's proof of that. You're fighting and you're trying, you're trying, you're trying-

The doors to the Daycare shut behind you, interrupting your thoughts. 

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you look around for your beanbag, finding it absent. 

"What are you doing here?"

You turn, finding Sun cleaning up art supplies across the room. 

You shake your head, "Not in the mood for this tonight, Sun. If you didn't want me around you could've just said so."

His rays flick back and forth, "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, my beanbag?" You nod to the empty spot, not ignoring the confusion he also displays, "Not the end of the world, really, but still."

He just stares over at you. 

Then, "Bright Eyes, it's Friday."

Shit. It is Friday. You'd lost two days. Too caught up in work and stress and so on, to the point you'd hired Clara for the night and hadn't even realized. Not that it was her fault, she had no reason to question your foolishness. Your fault. Your mistake. Your fuck up. 

Like always.

"I, right, yeah."

"Now, as much as I'd be thrilled to continue to entertain you, I have a preparations to be making," He walks over and starts to guide you, not gently, towards the door, "You understand I'm sure."

You shrug him off, embarrassed, not helping your already growing negative feelings and thoughts, "Yeah, I got it. Night."

You walk out, a bit aimless now. You're frustrated, you're upset, and you really, really, are feeling a bit shitty. There's tears pricking your eyes again, and honestly, you don't know what you need right now to fix it.

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

You turn, "Pete? It's eight o' clock on a Friday, why aren't you home?"

He puts both hands on his chest, "I'm here for my best buddy Jacob's birthday. See the hat," He points to his head, where indeed, he's wearing a party hat, "Did you want to join?"

"I, you know what? Yeah. I would."

"Great! Come on," He slings an arm around your shoulder, changing your direction to the West Arcade, "Some of the gang's upstairs. Savannah was busy, and Jesse's out of town, like a loser, but you'll know most everyone I think."

"You're not going to question me anymore?" You ask. 

He shrugs, "Well no, not my business what you get up to. Unless you want it to be?"

You shake your head instantly, you didn't need to embarrass yourself by telling your coworker you let a middle-aged woman's words make you cry.

He nods, looking forward again, "Besides, you looked like you needed a distraction. For a bit anyway."

"Thanks, Petey," You sigh, "I do."

The atmosphere inside the West Arcade hits you instantly as you walk inside. 

People are chatting, dancing, drinking and making fools of themselves, what you'd typically expect from a Plex party. Or really, any party with a bunch of burnt out twenty-somethings. 

You meet up with Liv and Tyler, and are given a party hat and a drink shortly thereafter. 

You stare down at it for a moment, briefly, and check the time, you have Clara until 11:30, you can have one and sober up in time. 

You say the same thing after the second, and after the third argue that you can just, pick up your car tomorrow, grab an Uber. 

After, drink four, you take the time to sober up for just a moment, which ends up being a mistake. Because now you're alone with your thoughts, and after the night you've had, that's the worst place for you to be. 

The words said to you by a bunch of women in their 40s should not upset you like this, they're the ones choosing to pick on someone half their age. Sure, maybe they weren't wrong but that didn't, that didn't give them the right to talk like that, right? 

You weren't just thinking about yourself, right?

They wouldn't be disappointed in you for not trying to make ammends.

Right?

Fuck, you really should sober up, sober up and go home. 

"Hey, you alright?"

Liv's sitting next to you now. You give a practiced smile, "Just need a little more water. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" She waves over the bartender to get you another water and order another drink for herself.

You nod, "Positive. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here."

Lying through your teeth is somehow so much easier when you're drunk. 

You drink another water, and don't feel any better. You just feel more, aware. Aware of how you don't fit in, how you're here because Pete took pity on you, how awful of a friend, a sibling, a daughter, a partner- No, not that last one, we're not getting into that mess tonight. 

Has it really been that long since the last time you drank this much? You check the time, it's been an hour or two. You still had time. Fuck it, have another drink and try to have some fun. Something's gotta distract you from this feeling eventually, right? 

When you check the clock again and realize it's 10:40, and it'll take at least twenty for an Uber to get here, you fumble for your phone and call Clara.

"Hey, I'm uh, gonna be home a bit later, is that okay?" You ask against the loudness of the room. You should have went outside instead of going to the quietest corner you could find, but you're kind of losing your logic. 

You have to strain to hear her response, "Yeah, not an issue, I'm mid breath of the wild playthrough so time has no meaning to me."

"You've got breath of the wild? Jealous," Focus, you need to focus so you don't sound stupid, "Anyway, I'm guessing another hour or so, and if it gets too late you can stay over so you're not driving home so late."

"As long as you don't mind me gaming in the living room into the late hours of the night that's cool with me. What are you up to out of curiosity?"

You swallow, "Birthday party."

"Oh, Jacob's yeah? Savannah told me about it but since I was busy I couldn't swing by."

"Oh?" Why does that make you feel bad? Why do you feel so excluded now? That your coworker's sister got an invite and you didn't? Or did you get an invite and you forgot? Why do you care? You're not friends with Jacob. You’re not friends with these people out of work, really. Right?

"-speaking class."

You don't know what she just said, "Gotcha, gotcha. Well, I'll see you later tonight then."

"You got a ride?" You can just make out her button-mashing, followed by a sigh, "Sorry, if you've been drinking I mean."

"Yeah, I'll be good. Thanks."

After hanging up, you just stare down at your drink, then out to the dancefloor. You see everyone having such a great time, so why can't you? Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just let yourself be happy? What does it take to make you relax and just, chill the hell out? 

You haven't relaxed in months you realize. Not after what happened that night. Ironically, at the last Plex party you attended. If anything, you think being here, doing this, has just made everything that much worse. 

You need to get out of here. You need to go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. 

Too bad you can't make that last one happen.

You finish your drink, and after a small head rush, walk over to where your friends? coworkers? are and say your goodbyes over the music. 

"Hey, it was really good seeing you tonight!" Pete says, then nods to where Jacob's at on the dancefloor, "Jacob appreciated it for sure."

He's lying. He's just being nice because you're his boss. 

Liv gives you a quick hug, "We should hang out outside of work more often. Maybe somewhere a bit more quiet."

She doesn't mean that. She's pitying you. 

"Yeah, that'd be great!" You smile. 

Tyler raises his fist and you bump it, "See you Monday, broski. Stay safe out there."

"Can do, have a good night guys."

"See you!" And "Be safe!" are shouted out behind you.

You believe the genuity of that. You may know that they hate you, but they're nice people. 

Your feet walk you in the direction you don't want to be heading. Split between this impulse decision and just going home. But you can't make yourself go home, you can't go home, home just remind you of everything, and everything you're not-

The Daycare doors feel heavier than usual, which makes sense considering how much you've had tonight. Inside, you find it's, pretty much the same as usual, you don't know what all the fuss was over on Sun's part. 

Speaking of, where is he? 

You shuffle in, taking note of the small plastic tea cups and saucers sitting on a table that's been moved to the center of the space. Along with... snacks? Right, Chica's supposed to be here. Seems she hasn't shown up just yet.

You're trying to remind yourself why you came here as opposed to calling for a ride, when you hear the doors open again. 

"Oh. You're back."

You turn, Sun is holding a tray with a teapot, and there is indeed, steam coming out of it. Now you know. 

"Did you want something or are you just here to bother me?" He swiftly walks past you, setting the pot and tray down with pointed showmanship.

Something about his tone sets you off. Not unusual. But because you're not sober, you speak your mind in a way you otherwise wouldn’t. Unfortunately unusual. 

"You know, starting to wonder that myself."

"Really now?" He speaks with a bored enthusiasm that grates on you.

"Yeah, really. You know, I don't sleep at night because of you," You shake your head, "My dreams are just, filled, with nothing but that night. Over and over again, it plays in my head. And you see, the worst part is that it's not even the idea of seeing him in that stupid machine. You know what keeps me up? You. And what you did to me," You take a deep breath, looking back to him, "And what I did to you." 

Sun's rays tick a few times. 

Then, "You're intoxicated."

"Yeah, no shit, glad you finally got up to speed."

"I'm just rather surprised you'd be interested in taking such risks again considering what happened to you last time."

You scoff, "Don't even try to pull that, I wasn't wasted, I had a concussion."

"I was referring to being at the Plex so late alone, Starshine," His gaze narrows, "But rest assured, you're increasing my concern the more you speak."

"Concern for what? Because we both know it isn't for me. And that's fine, shouldn't expect, don't deserve it. Even if I-" You stop yourself, you're not out of it enough for that, "I'll just give it to you straight; you have no reason to be concerned. For my siblings? They don't need me, Clara sees more of them than I do and she does a hell of a lot better job. My work? Someone else would fill the gap when I'm gone, my team's more than competent without me. My friends? They've got each other, or, or partners. And our little investigation? You," You slow down for a moment, "Well, I'm sure with that charming personality of yours you could trick another sorry sucker into helping you with ease."

You throw up your hands, laughing, "So, no need for concern here, Sunny. If something happens to me no one will notice!" Your face feels wet, "No one's going to fucking care. So, you can take your concern and shove it."

You bring a hand up to your face, confirming that you are crying, "Fuck, exactly what I needed to top off the night."

You sniff once, and then turn around, you seemed to get everything you'd wanted to say out of your system, maybe you can go home and be happy now. Or something. 

"Why did you come here tonight?"

You pause, then laugh quietly, hand coming up to run through your hair, "Hell if I know."

A hand is set on your shoulder, one that makes you spin around. The motion slightly jogs you.

Sun's gaze is down at you, rays spinning once or twice but otherwise motionless. 

"Stop that. I don't like being analyzed," You mutter, averting your eyes. 

His other hand comes up to guide your focus back to him, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Not right now."

You manage a half-hearted chuckle, "Give me some credit, Sun. I'm calling an uber as soon as I'm out of here."

You think if he could frown he would, instead, his eyes narrow and grip tightens just a tad, "Not wise. Not if you're alone. I suppose there's other options. Hold still. And don't look down."

"What are you-hey hey hey, what are you doing?" You argue, anger flaring momentarily as he takes hold of you, your feet coming out from under you as he lifts you into his arms. 

Before you know it, you're up in the air, having to squeeze your eyes shut so you don't get dizzy from the change. You feel Sun land on solid ground again several seconds later.

"You say a word about anything and I'm putting you in the theater instead," A brief pause, "Or on a naptime mat down below."

You open your eye, "Wha-Oh."

"I mean it. Not. A. Word."

You put your hands up, "Okay, okay."

He didn't say anything about making private observations to yourself. 

The Attendant's room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all. Your first thought is organized. Your second thought is empty. 

Clean also comes to mind, there's not a speck of dust in sight. You take note of the different standout features. An old, Hollywood style dresser with matching mirror and lights, string lights hang from the ceiling among the rafters. There's a set of cubbies containing spare toys, and some seemingly ongoing craft projects. 

You spy your bean bag in a corner with a few others. There's also a large pile of blankets and stuffed animals, almost like a bed. Lying nearby you see a charging port. 

The most interesting thing to you, however, is the green tube in the left wall, leading obviously to somewhere, you just don't know where exactly. 

You don't get to find out, Sun sets you down on the blanket pile, and if you weren't so hypervigilant you'd sink right in, exhaustion is starting to hit you after the combination of drinking, yelling, and crying. 

You hear a click and realize he's left the room. It's the perfect opportunity to snoop, but the desire for rest outweighs this urge. Besides, it's rude. And you're not that rude.

You feel like all you did was blink and he's back again. You rub your face and pat it a few times to try and wake up, glancing over to the bot.

"I've already taken the liberties of informing your babysitter that you will be home after several hours of sleep. And agreed upon compensation." Sun answers your look of concerned confusion by raising his hand with your phone, "You dropped it when I picked you up, she had asked about your well-being. You can check to confirm I did nothing else if that eases you."

The fact you can't recall that happening proves it's probably for the best he did that.

"God she's going to hate me," You groan, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Sun sets your phone down beside you, and sits down in front of you, glass of water in one hand, "She does not. Drink."

You eye the glass with suspicion.

"Are you seriously debating whether I've tampered with it?"

"Should I not?"

A scoff, "It's a glass of water, I've done nothing to it."

"Sound like something someone who did something to it would say," You muse.

Another scoff, and he leans down, rays clicking, "If I was going to do something, Bright Eyes, it would have already been done. And need I remind you, I can't cause harm even if I wanted to."

"Fine," You huff, taking the cup and muttering as you sip, "I'm surprised they let you have glass."

No answer. You look over, eyebrows raised. 

Then it clicks, "Ah. Contraband. Noted," You finish the glass and wipe your mouth, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

No words for a bit, your head hurts, but this helps. That might be a good thing to bring up, you're not a fan of this kind of silence.

"Why did you help me? Or I guess, why are you actively, helping me?"

Sun shrugs, hands clasped in his lap. You expected a snarked out comment that you're strangely not receiving.

Then, "I'll get you another glass. You should rest in the meantime." He stands up, and in your current state the action panics you. 

"Wait," You reach out, grabbing his arm, "Don't go. I'm, I don't want to be alone. Please." God, you sound pathetic.

You also realize what it is you're doing, and to whom, and you let go, "I, shit, sorry. Just, yeah just go get the water. I'll be fine."

You pull your knees up to your chest, controlling your breathing. You didn't need to start crying again. You're fine, you know you'll be fine.

A soft jingling sound interrupts your thoughts, and looking up you see Sun unwrapping one of the ribbons from his forearm, then his wrist. Once he's finished, the ribbon and bells piled in one hand, he holds it out to you. 

You furrow your brow, but take the offering. 

"It's the best way I can think of to assure you I'll be back. I'd look rather silly if I went around like this, right?" He waves both hands up by his face. 

You sniff, "Yeah."

"And if you're truly, concerned, just ring, and I'll be here," He stands straight again, taking the glass, "I'll just be a moment."

"Ok."

He leaves the room, and you're alone.

Having nothing better to do, you lean back against the numerous pillows and stuffed animals behind you, hands clasping and resting on your chest. 

You take note that the ceiling has a few glow in the dark stickers you recognize from the Daycare proper. Someone must've snatched the extras when they had the chance. The thought makes you laugh softly. 

It also occurs to you then that Moon is additionally assisting in this, mess, you've created, given that the theater is probably dark, and you don't believe that door leads anywhere else. 

You close your eyes, shame welling up in you. This is pathetic on your part. Truly and utterly. You're an adult, and you can't take care of yourself after a night of drinking? You can't manage to drink responsibly, avoid the typical stereotype and make a fool out of yourself saying shit you shouldn't? God, you're so-

You're being gently jostled awake, "You can't sleep like that, friend. You'll regret it." More quietly, "And he won't shut up about it, for that matter."

You open your eyes, they feel a tad heavy from the short nap you got. Your senses perk up however, when you smell something greasy yet heavenly. Pizza, currently in Sun's hand, soon to be in your stomach if you have anything to do with it.

"Thought you were just getting water," You say, as if you're not two seconds away from devouring that pizza whole. 

He scoffs lightly, setting the pizza in front of you and handing you the water, "I had a feeling if I told you what I was doing it would only make things worse."

"You'd be right," You take a brief drink of water, then open the pizza box and grab a slice. It's divine. And you don't say that lightly when it came to Fazbear pizza. 

You groan mid-bite, leaning back against the plushes behind you, "God, I wish you could taste how good this is right now. Like," You take another bite, "So frickin' good."

You're too focused on eating to overhear Sun laughing quietly at your antics. You managed to scoff down three slices before he takes it away from you. 

He places it over on the dresser, "You'll get sick. And preferably, I'd rather not be cleaning up vomit at 1 am, if it's all the same to you."

"Just one more! Come on," You whine, then pause, eyebrows shooting up, "Oh I am not sober, that's for sure."

You realize Sun's staring at you, and your face heats up.

"Don't look at me like that, it just makes it worse," Your hands come up and cover your face.

At that Sun laughs. And maybe you're a bit out of it, but it doesn't sound mocking, or pretentious. It's genuine. 

You feel a compulsion to right your wrongs from earlier, or at the very least, try to.

"I'm, I'm sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't accept." Sun states. 

You cringe, and nod, "Fair."

He chuckles, "I don't accept, because it wasn't directed at me. You may have said those words at me, but I think we both know their true target."

You think for a moment, nodding solemnly, "Helen."

"Who? I-" He shakes his head, "Starlight, I meant yourself."

"Oh. That makes a bit more sense." You decide to give him a bit more context to save some trouble, "She runs the PTA. My third worst enemy, behind you, and Grab Ass. You got a Katie Chase in that little directory of yours?"

"Yes? But-oh. That one." 

Your brows raise for a moment, "Wow, I've never heard you speak with that much disdain before."

"We all have limits, friend," His tone shifts, like he's about to boil over with rage, "We all have limits..."

You yawn, and his attention shifts. He motions for you to take off your shoes and the likes, and you get the hint. You lay back into the bed-you're pretty sure there's a mattress buried under here somewhere, feels like it-letting loose another yawn.

Sun takes one of the blankets and tosses out over you, it falls slowly down on top of you. Then, he bends down and presses his smile to your forehead, pulling back after a moment and patting your head.

"What was that for?"

His rays spin, eyes widening a fraction. Seems he's just now realizing what he did, "An unfortunate matter of programming. One I'm hoping you'll forget by morning."

You scoff, smile on your lips, "That's not how being drunk works, you know. Only if you've drank a lot."

That seems to relax him.

"So explain it to me then," He sits at the end of the blanket pile, "I'm curious."

You sit up slightly to make eye contact with him, "Really? All the stuff you could learn about and that's what piques your interest?"

He nods.

You stare at him a moment, then lay back down, "I mean, alright. Do my best here."

You explain. Sun asks you a question every now and then. You just, talk. You talk to each other for, awhile it feels like. You talk until your throat starts to get sore. You, you haven't spoken with someone like this in a long time. Long enough you can't remember when the last time you did was. 

You start to get tired and Sun notices immediately. He mutters a brief goodnight to you, and the lights are shut off soon thereafter.

You roll over to your side to watch Moon appear. 

"Thank you. Both of you," You say, as he walks back over to you, "You didn't have to do all this, it's, appreciated."

He nods, "You are welcome."

A sudden realization hits you as sleep begins to take over. 

"My stuff..." You mutter, "I, left my stuff back in the West Arcade, if it's not stolen already."

Moon stands, "I'll retrieve it for you. Will you be alright?"

You sleepily raise your hand, bells jingling in your grasp, "Got these. And I'm a bit more sober now. I'll be okay."

Moon nods, "Then I'll return shortly."

"I might be asleep by then," You yawn, "So I'll preemptively say thank you, and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diana. Sweet Dreams."

You huff lightly, "What, no goodnight kiss?"

It takes you all of 0.5 seconds to realize what you just said.

"Oh goddammit-"

Moon leans down, and presses a kiss to your forehead, his tone cheeky as he pulls away again, "Is that satisfactory, your highness?"

Your face is hot with embarrassment but you refuse to lose. 

"'Twas," You turn over and away so he can't see your wide-eyed 'holy shit' stare, "But I'll have you know that I'm not that demanding when I drink. This was a one-time thing. Won't happen again."

"Of course not."

You snuggle further under the blanket, mumbling, "It won't. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake. One that's going to haunt me for a while."

Quiet. You feel him sit down beside you, "Everyone makes mistakes, Icarus. It's how we learn from them that matters."

"Trust me, I know."

A hand on your shoulder presses down and makes you lay back on your back. You stare up into red eyes, narrowed with concern down at you. The gaze makes you uncomfortable. You try to brush it off.

"I don't need a pity party, Moon. I gave myself enough of one earlier."

He tilts his head, "It's funny how you always assume care to be pity. I wonder why that is?"

You're about to say it, and play it off as a joke, but he beats you to the punch. 

"Well, it's not fair to speculate. So I'll just tell you, you don't have to suspicious of such with me. Or either of us for that matter," His focus goes back on you, "We mean what we say."

You raise a brow questioningly.

"For the most part, I should say."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

"Your friends mean what they say too, you know. They care about you. As does your family. It's obvious to anyone that sees it. You just simply need to allow yourself to." He pokes your forehead. 

You sigh, looking up to the ceiling briefly, "Oh, that's a lot harder than it sounds, Moon-man."

"I never suggested otherwise. I merely intended to remind you."

"I've been reminded," You smile slightly, "And I'll do my best to continue to do so."

"You'll have assistance." You can't tell if that's a tease, a threat, or a promise. You'll just be on the safe side and assume all three. 

You smirk, "Goodnight, Moon. For real this time."

"Goodnight, Andromeda. For real." He rises from the bed, giving a quick two-finger salute.

You snicker, shake your head, and close your eyes. 

A few moments later you hear the jingle of bells fade out into the Daycare itself.

Your hand clutches the bells and ribbon in your hand a tad tighter, and you feel yourself start to drift off into sleep.

You find yourself awake some time, you're guessing, much later. Your head isn't nearly as heavy, and you feel as if you slept for at least a decent amount of time. 

Groggily, you fumble for your phone, finding that it's been about three hours since you fell asleep. 

You become keenly aware of someone staring at you, and scanning the room find Moon staring down at you from the rafters. 

Normally, this would be an alarming sight at 4 in the morning, for you and your half-asleep mind, it arouses mild surprise. 

"Why are you awake?" He asks. 

You sit up, fumbling for the glass beside you, "I become very awake in the hours after drinking," You gulp down the glass, "For a very short period of time. I'll probably start feeling tired again in a few minutes."

You wipe your mouth and look up to the Attendant, "Why were you watching me?"

Moon shrugs, "Bored."

"Yeah right," You scoff, "Not with the amount of shit you get into on the regular. What's your real reason, sport?"

"Sport?" He asks.

You wave your hand, "It's a combination of sleepiness and leftover drunkenness, just ignore it and save me some embarrassment."

"Noted."

"You didn't answer the question. Don't think I didn't notice," Your arm moves jankily as you point your finger at him. 

His faceplate spins, "We simply wanted to ensure you were alright."

"We? That's a shocker. I'm surprised he isn't having a hissy fit about you making such an implication."

There's a bout of binary before Moon answers with a sigh, "He is now."

You giggle, "Sorry."

Quiet for a few moments.

"Your belongings are located beside you," Moon points to where your bag sits on the floor not too far from the bed, "They appeared to be in order, though I can't say for certain."

Your eyes widen for a moment before you nod your head slowly, "Oh yeah, forgot about that. Thanks."

Moon nods.

"Sorry if I um, ruined your evening plans."

The Naptime Attendant chuckles, "Plans? What is it that you think we get up to, Pandora?"

"You know what I mean, I know you don't just sit and stare at the wall for hours until open," You shrug, "You explore, fuck around with your mechanics, which I don't approve of still," You send him a scolding glare, then continue, "Sun has gossip night with Chica, seems to be a bit crafty as well."

Moon whistles, or plays the sound, at least, "Impressive."

"Yeah, yeah," You wave him off, yawning.

"Seems you've expended your remaining energy."

You settle back into bed, "Getting there."

"Anything I can do to help?" He asks, shifting position to hang upside down from the beam, feet hooked over the other side. 

You scoff lightly, "You, aiding those in desperate need of rest? I don't buy it."

"It's my specialty." He insists, and you both quietly laugh.

"Want me back to bed that bad, huh?" You ask, hands clasping on your chest while you stare up at him, thinking.

"Have any good bedtime stories?"

His faceplate spins, "More than you'd imagine."

"Pick one for me then, and I think that'll do the trick," You nod once, affirmingly.

"Very well."

He starts, voice smooth, soft. Really, perfect for storytelling if you're being honest. It helps your mind to settle again, and well before the end, you're asleep again.

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself face to, back? with a yellow animatronic. 

Sitting up, you see Sun is slouched beside the bed, facing away from you. Examining him more closely you see there's a charging cord plug into the back of his head. 

Curiously, you reach out to poke him. 

"I'd appreciate the ability to recharge in peace, friend."

You jump back, cursing under your breath. 

Then, you huff, "There's no way you could tell what I was going to do."

"No, but a bot can have his suspicions," He turns to look back at you, "And plenty of mine have been right about you."

"'Plenty of mine have been right about you.'" You mock quietly. 

"How are you feeling?"

You sigh, shrugging, "Fine. Maybe a little hungover. I'll live, if you were worried."

"I wasn't," He retorts as you snicker, "But good to know."

You nod to the charging cable, "Thought the two of you switching kept you from using that too often."

At this, Sun flusters. Taking a moment to articulate himself.

"Typically. However, Moon felt-" A bit of binary, before doubling down, "Moon felt it would be unfair to have the lights on in any manner of speaking while you slept. So they remained off throughout the night."

You muse on the words for a minute, nodding thoughtfully. Inside, part of you is overjoyed, and the other is a mixture of shocked and maybe touched? You're not going to think on it further. Point is, Sun gave up his hours-willingly or unwillingly-to give you the chance to sleep. 

"Well, it's appreciated," You reach up and flick his forehead, narrowly dodging around him to grab your phone as he shoos you away. 

He grumbles a response you don't catch. 

Checking the time, it's around 8 am. Looking at your messages, Sun told Clara you'd be home by 10. Yikes. Good to know how little faith he had in you. Well, best not waste it. 

You stretch, giving a final yawn, "This place have a breakfast special? Feel like I swear I've heard about it at least once."

"It does, but I'll inform you it's not one that's served in bed."

"Relax. I can take care of myself just fine now," You throw off the blanket and stand up, "I'll be back. Hold down the fort in the meantime, yeah?"

Sun sputters, a "What?" As you pat him briefly on the back and march out of the room, on the prowl for food to satisfy your hunger. 

Once you find it, you sneak your way back into the Daycare. The Plex is still pretty much abandoned at this point in the morning, but you don't want to have to explain yourself if you don't have to. 

Walking in, you plop down on the bed beside Sun and dig into your breakfast sandwich. Either you're much more hungover than you thought, or this is delicious. Potentially, both. 

"Sorry you missed out on your shit talking session," You say between bites, "As a fellow disgruntled employee I know how important those can be."

Sun scoffs.

You turn to look at him, "And thanks for taking care of me. It's appreciated."

This appears to surprise him, rays ticking to one side, "You're welcome."

"You're not the worst person I've ever met, you know," You take another bite, "Up there, but you have your good qualities."

"That means the world coming from you," He says, hand on his chest and voice syrupy sweet.

You nod, "I know."

He huffs, it turns into a laugh after a moment.

"You're not the worst person I've met, either," His gaze meets yours, "Not as much as you believe yourself to be."

You pause, surprised. Then, you swallow, coughing, "T-thanks."

He turns away again. You continue to eat. 

A thought crosses your mind. 

"You know, if you were really worried about the light, you could've just closed the curtains."

Sun freezes. Then, he sighs, heavily. Hand coming up to run down his face before falling into his lap. 

"Yes. I suppose that would have, been an option."

You burst out laughing, which only grows as the two attendants seem to argue back and forth with each other. 

As you bask in the moment, you find yourself thinking back. 

Yeah, you weren't perfect, but you cared. A lot. And you think that says a lot. Means a lot.

To someone, at least.

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

Well, you can probably see now why this bad boy was scrapped as a chapter. Believe me I had the full intentions of saving it, but I'll admit once I saw an out by using it as a one-shot I jumped on it lol 

I don't know if it's everything that I wanted, but I think I hit the main points I'd originally set out to. 

To those who wanted affection with the CS boys, you got it! Just maybe not how you were expecting :) Ah, who am I kidding, you knew it was going to come at the price of angst

Sorry that I went awol for a bit, the antibiotics DID knock me on my ass and it was, rough, to put it plainly and I'm still going to have to get a scan lmao

idk man, I just want to be better already, I gotta propose (MY THESIS, I MEAN MY THESIS, I AM SINGLE) in a few weeks I don't have time for this >_< (she says, as if this hasn't been a 3 month saga)

Gahhh, anyway, hope you enjoyed! Have no idea how I'll feel from one day so you may or may not see me but know I'll be writing in the meantime (and enjoying it i promise, it's my hobby afterall) thanks for reading!

Tag list (hope I did this right, if you did not want tagged simply let me know and I'll remove you!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @eternal-soup (IT WON'T LET ME @ YOU I'M SORRY)

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse

If you want to be added to the tag list, or check out my other stuff, see this post here for more information, bye!

[cowboy-kidd]

cg!viktor headcannons ᯓᡣ𐭩

x - x - x

—DNI NSFW—

· likes keeping you close to him. driving you into his side when he wants to feel your warmth against his harsh purpled skin. He'll take your hand in his own or brush your hair behind your ear while you're sleeping. He mostly feels alone so having a little one beside him that relies on him in ways opposite of the public he’s saved- that is like him in ways he can’t describe, similarly to Sky but untethered.

· whispers about what it’s like being shrouded in universal colors. the comforting things he’s seen told to you like fairytales before you go to bed.

· goes stargazing every so often with you. points to the thousands of constellations up in the sky and identifies them all for you.

· let’s you sit in his lap while you mess with his fingers. comparing them to your own. your natural curiosity is something he always indulges in.

· when it rains he likes to sit outside with you and just enjoy the sound- you bounce around in the wet grass before coming to sit in his lap and lean against his chest while he cards a hand through your wet hair

· when he’s meditating (and thus floating) he leaves you on the ground- you jump to get to him but fail. when he finally comes back down you run into his legs and try to get him to pick you up—to which he complies—a fond, loving expression on his face. you just pout.

· whenever you get up to something and he can’t parse out what you’re doing before you do it, he gives you this look of confused adoration that turns joyous when you produce the outcome. sometimes it’s a silly face or you dancing to imaginary music.

· calls you Nabi and vice versa- a meaningless little term of endearment from nowhere.

· sometimes accidentally cryptic. he goes about the space talking to what seems to be air and then he lays his eyes on you and realizes he’s frightened you. he cuddles you up to him and whispers into your ear how’s he’s sorry- that he had no intention of frightening you and that whatever he said wasn’t important. still, you ask questions- and he’s always amazed at your bluntness. he tries to articulate the answer the best he can but its difficult without his own extensive knowledge

· calls you little one all the time. If he wants to be extra sweet he’ll place a gentle finger on the soft of your jaw and trace it to your chin or tack on a “my” in front of it. You hate it sometimes because it feels like he’s making you smaller than you actually are with his all knowing, omnipotent shtick but once he starts teaching you things it’s much more than that.

· teaches you many things. the art of watching and waiting- patience, and finally, the arcane. shows it to you and allows for you to touch it- pulls you out before it can truly do any damage and holds you during your recovery. He wants to turn you- it’s the next step in evolution. but he can't, longing for a human connection that isn’t devouring one another for the purpose of a greater life understanding. He wants to know you through you- and finds your tantrums less tedious than before.

· won’t see you get hurt- is almost too gentle, too protective of you when it comes to playing with other kids and other people taking care of you- even if he is just another extension of him. he likes seeing you through his own eyes- not theirs.

· tells you about jayce- just not by name. this amazing man who wanted to help the world, just like he’s doing, who wanted to give people opportunities which would otherwise not be afforded to them because of their social standing. he describes him all the time with a fond look on his face.

· doesn’t play with you a lot, but likes putting stuff together with you. little prototypes of boats or trains that you cart around- distracted while he does the real work.

· likes reading while you do your own thing- maybe taking a nap, sitting together in silence with the steady sound of arcane power reverberating inside of him and through the space, or maybe with the steady rhythmic flip of book paper. maybe he hums.

· you try to get him to take naps with you. your constant pulling on his robe and never wavering stubbornness convinces him to lay down with you. he ends up dropping off before you do- in a space similar to where he is when he’s meditating. You touch his face while he’s sleeping, exploring his smile lines and deep purple bags underneath his eyes before kissing him on his cheek and falling asleep yourself.

· he’s very patient with you, even when you’re not so patient with yourself. he’ll gently take you by the wrists and hold them close to his heart so you won’t beat on yourself anymore. his eyes always hold so much emotion- as do yours (he comments on them regularly.) “how am i supposed to protect you from yourself?” he asks you one night, you’re head on his legs and the rest curled up underneath the blankets. you just shrug and bury your head into his calf, a show of kiddy frustration that just makes him sigh and run his hands through your hair.

· you’re always eager to help with his experiments. you don't have the most steady hand but you’re good when it comes down to it. he can ask you to crush up some herbs or pour a a pre measured ingredient into what he’s making. he always helps and he mostly does it so you feel included in whatever he’s doing.

· never any big lights in your spaces. always candles or glowing orbs in your space- maybe the whiteness of the arcane that engulfs the place in light, but it’s never so bright as to where you can’t sleep- Viktor makes sure of that

· likes hearing you laugh- he doesn’t ever do any strenuous activities but he can make finger puppets and tell you stories like never before

· very good with routines and such. likes making sure he’s putting you down for a nap at the right time and generally doing good at parenting you.

[authorsofghosts]

He's real! | Horseman!Gambit x Reader | Pt. 3

Author's Notes: i am so sorry this one is short i just couldn't think of how to continue it without another big plot device that i wanted to save for the next chapter. @genderqueerbarbie777 beta read again :3

Summery: The X-Men come to save you and meet an unfamiliar familiar face.

Themes: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death, Previous Relationship, Betrayal, Cameos, Crying, Cursing, Death, Kidnapping, Panic Attacks (R's), R's a mutant/x-man (no powers described), Violence.

Word Count: 1.2k

first pt , prev pt

You cough as you feel Gambit quickly undo your bindings, letting you move freely as rumble and dust fills the room. You hear voices, besides his, calling out your name. You look at the man with his arms around you, eyes wide with fear, not knowing what's happening.

"Let 'em go, bub." You hear suddenly, looking to see Wolverine come from the smoke. He pauses as he looks at Remy, tilting his head. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Back off, Logan." Remy hisses, making the other man unsheathe his claws.

"What the- Yer not da Cajun. Ya can steal his looks an' voice, but you can't-" Wolverine is cut off as he smells the air, taking a step back.

"Wolverine!" A voice from the smoke, one you recognize as Scott's. "Who are you talking to-" He looks at Remy, hand rising to his visor. "Gambit?"

Your eyes widen as you see the two X-Men in front of you, looking at Gambit as you realize what's going to happen. Gambit grabs his baton with a smirk, "Don't worry, cher, I can handle myself." He extends and spins the rod before holding it at his side.

"Gambit, no!" You yell out, grabbing his by the sleeve of his coat, "P-please, you don't have to fight with Apocalypse!"

Remy looks back at you, his smirk fading as his brow furrows. He doesn't respond as he looks at Scott and Logan, who slowly approach. Gambit backs up, shielding you with his arm as he feels you press against his back. He narrows his eyes at his ex-teammates.

"Remy, you're alive?" Scott asks, his voice breaking slightly as he looks between the two of you. "That's... impossible!" The shaky air of the situation, glancing between all of the people in front of you, you can't help my shiver.

"Gambit!" You and Scott yell out in unison, Remy being sent back with a yellow blast that came from the palm of Mister Sinister. You run over to him and cradle his face in your hands before searching for his pulse point. "Please, please, God, fuck!"

"Don't worry, cher. Gonna take a lot mo' 'an that to knock ol' Gambit down." he says weakly, using his baton to sit up, You press your hand against his chest, holding him down as you continue to make sure he's okay.

"Come on, no, you're not going anywhere." You murmur, eyes looking over him as you spot something a little too late. A terrible, stupid mistake. Gambit cries out in pain as a green, sharp plantlike object goes straight through his chest, your eyes widening as you gasp. "Remy!" You cry, tears streaming down your face.

He grabs your face, barely able to move as he sinks down to the ground, sliding deeper on the hardened, mossy wood. He laughs softly as he looks up at you, eyes wide. "Mon amour, don't cry.... Gambit's bounced b-back from... worse" He talks, blood dripping from his lips and into your palm as you cup his cheek.

You press your forehead against his, shushing him softly as your tears fall down onto his face, "No, no you're not making it out of this.... please, please.... I love you." Your voice shakes as you weep, "Please, don't go, Remy, please..."

"Like you said, petit, I ain't goin' n'where." He laughs, clearly hurting himself as he does. He looks past you as Scott stands above the two of you. "Hey, Scotty boy..."

"Gambit, I-" Cyclops starts, putting his hand over his mouth as he truly takes in the sight. "I'm so sorry-"

"Naw, it's ain't nobody's... fault." Gambit groans, clearly trying to make his last moments slightly more comfortable. His eyes gaze back into yours, his pupils dilating and the red of his irises disappearing. "Don't beat chaself up. It was bound t' happen. This Cajun been kickin' a little too easy lately."

"Don't say that, no, Remy, please." You sob, pulling back and looking at the green, harden wood spear through his chest, trying to figure out what to do. You look up at Scott, eyes bloodshot and vision blurred by the constant flow of tears. "Please, we have to do something, Cyclops! Please-" you grab Scott's legs, "-we gotta keep him alive, please..."

"Remy, please..." You put your arms around him, holding him back, "Come back with us." You whisper softly, your nose planted into his shoulder blade.

"Listen to 'em, ya don't wanna make 'em start crying like last time, Cajun." Logan said, pulling off his mask as he looked at the two of you, taking another step forward.

Gambit's eyes flicked between the two in front of him and then you behind him. He sighed slightly before crackling a smirk. "I mean, you said it yourself, cher. You don't love me." He pushes you, throwing you into Wolverine's arms as he growled slightly. "You loved da old me, and I 'ain't him' huh?"

Cyclops put his fingers back up to his visor as he looked back at Gambit, "Remy-" He starts, quickly being cut off.

"Nope. Wrong number, mon ami." Gambit laughed darkly, "Name's Death." He smirked, running a hand through his silver locks before grabbing a card, lighting it with kinetic energy before throwing towards the feet of you and Wolverine.

"God damn it, not an'ther brainwashed idiot." Logan growls, pulling you away, "Come on, you ain't in no shape t' fight." He picks you up in his arms and slowly start walking backwards, looking between Scoot and gambit. "You got this, Cyke?"

"Yeah, I can handle him. Bring them to safety and head back A.S.A.P."

"Don't gotta tell me twice." He chuckles, slipping into the still dust cloud behind you both, "Jean! Storm!" He yells out, walking towards the hole in the wall where a door used to me. You tense as you realize more of the team are here, whether it be to save you or defeat Apocalypse, you can't believe that they found you so quickly.

Even if it was true you didn't know just how long you were down there, but by the look on everyone's faces when Logan brought you to them told you anything, it was quite a while. Wolverine sets you down next to Jean, who quickly holds you upright, "You alright?"

You nod, watching Wolverine turn back towards the room. "Storm, with me. Jean, take 'em outta hear. It might get ugly."

"No, please!" You call out, reaching for Logan's shoulder, "Don't hurt him! H-he's still in there, I'm just... stupid. I upset him."

Logan's eyes narrow at you before he rolls them, putting his mask back on. "Doesn't matter. That's not Remy, not the 'ne we knew."

"But he is! He remembers everything, he remembers us. All of us, I'm sure. He remembers me, specifically. And, I'm sure he... he cares deep down." You look at Jean, your face filled with as much worry as your voice. You sniffle slightly, "Please... don't kill him."

There was a silence between the X-Men for a few seconds before one sighed. "They're right. Gambit's still, well... himself." Jean said, walking in front of Wolverine. "If anyone can convince him to come back, it's them." She nodded towards you, a soft smile on her lips.

You didn't even have to ask what she meant, and she didn't tell you. You collected yourself before standing between Jean and Logan, looking towards the room where Scott was fighting Gambit, the sounds of cards exploding and lasers hitting walls echoing through the hall. "Let's go before one of them kills the other."

"My bet's on the Cajun"

"Shut the fuck up, Logan."

[rekino2114]

[Me checking tumblr this morning]

Oh hey neat I have 500 followers now

WAIT I HAVE 500 FOLLOWERS NOW?

Genuinely, I never thought this would happen, and to think I started this blog just because I was sick and bored one day.

I cannot express my gratitude for all the support you've shown me. It means so much that you like my stuff and every like,reblog request and follow is very much appreciated and means a lot. Thank you so much. I'll definitely continue writing stuff for you.

And here's to another 500

So I have an announcement now. To celebrate this milestone I'll add two fandoms to the masterlist, one of which I'll let you guys choose(because as a yttd fan there's few things I like more than a good old fashioned majority vote)

The first fandom is gonna be from one of my favorite things to write for:fanganronpas. I've narrowed the choices down to three of them and I wanted to let you choose which one you'd like to see me write for the most

Don't worry I will still add the fangans that don't win the vote later, probably when we get more chapters or I reach more milestones

I'll leave you with some small drabbles/incorrect quotes with the main girls from the fangans you can choose from for today's post.

Thank you so much again for the milestone and hope you have a great day

Cancel(drf:sh)

[You and cancel are making out on the couch in your dorm]

Y/n:usually you're never this affectionate, what's up?

Cancel:What? Can't I show you my love once in a while?

Y/n:awww, you love me?

Cancel:yes, don't I say it enough?

Y/n:definitely not

Cancel:uh, just shut up and kiss me

[You continue making out until enigma walk in the room]

Enigma:Hey cancel have you see-

[She immediately pulls out while blushing intensely]

Cancel:Why are you here? Do you not know how to knock?

Enigma:geez sorry I didn't mean to-

Cancel:you still did, so go away

[He walks out as cancel looks away, still embarrassed]

Y/n:......guess you couldn't predict that

Cancel:[blushing] s-shut up

Akira hayasaka(dr:hd)

R/g/n:Call me, cutie~

[She says while handing you a piece of paper with her number]

Y/n:.....I actually-

[She walks away before you can even finish]

Y/n:[sigh]

[You throw the paper away and approach akira, who's still glaring at the girl]

Akira:what a bitch, she didn't let you finish half your sentences

Y/n:Yeah,you're way better

Akira:Did you really have any doubts~?

Y/n:[giggle] no

Akira:Good.......by the way, do you know what her name is?

Y/n:No, she didn't even tell me that can you believe that? Why do you wanna know anyway?

Akira:..........no reason

Y/n:.....Kira, you're not thinking about killing her....right?

Akira:No,I'm a hitman, not a murderer

Y/n:Oh good

Akira:.....that being said, I wouldn't mind someone putting a hit on her

Y/n:.......

Anko hibana(bdr:cp)

Anko:[gasp] How can you tell such things about me, hiro!? and I thought we were friends, I am not clingy with y/n!

Hiroto:.......

[You suddenly walk into the room]

Y/n:Hey babe do you wanna-

Anko:[gasp]

[She immediately runs to hug you tightly

Anko:Oh,how are you, my sweet and cute pookie

Y/n:....g-good thanks

Anko:I bet it's better now that I'm here riiiiiight~?

Y/n:y-yeah

Anko:[giggle] good answer

[She starts peppering your face in kisses]

Hiroto:You seriously don't see what I mean?

Anko:hm? What were we talking about again?

Hiroto:........

Anko:sorry it's just that y/n takes up all the space in my mind when I see them, in fact, we're going out now

Y/n:w-wait we are?

Anko:so call me if you need me ok hiro?

Hiroto:.......

Anko:I'll take that as a yes

[She grabs your hand and drags you outside]

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[skylarbee]

you can poke your head behind the mountain peak, don't have to mean that you've gone into hiding

[pgranateseeds]

I know a lot of people want it, but I don't think we'll ever get a conversation between Sandra Lynn and any of the bad kids about what Bobby Dawn did to her.

A. It's just unnecessary. We already know the gist, we can already see the ramifications of that action, and a conversation would just be retreading already discovered ground

B. Sandra's relationship with Fig is nearly always in turmoil. Ever since seeing her offer a shoulder to Adaine when she drank heavily when it was her, Fig has been avoiding Sandra when she could. She said in the fight when Baxter arrived, "I'm not trying to see my mom right now," and they didn't talk At All when she took them to the temple ruins. If Sandra Lynn was going to talk to anyone about Bobby, it would be to Fig just bc of closeness, and that's just not happening, at least not for a while. Also i see people define Bobby's short and disastrous relationship with Sandra as sexual grooming, and i find it hard to believe that if she was groomed, she'd tell her daughter, especially not to then say "Fig You Were Groomed Too" or "Fig, Don't Trust Random Men." I think people put way too much emphasis on Fig's bits where she kissed adults in earlier seasons and said "would i know if i had sex? What if I've accidentally had sex?", like those were just jokes, the latter being a joke abt how Fig didnt understand what sex was as a 14 year old, and i don't believe it would be fun for the table if those jokes were treated with the solumn seriousness of fig then being a grooming victim. Also Fig already distrusts men, she was right about Porter and she was stalking Ruben and literally every man outside of her family that she's come in contact with, she's either bullied or investigated, she doesn't need to be told a tale about how men ain't shit

C. Bobby is just much less of an antagonistic player in this conflict than previously expected. Yeah he was involved with The Big Bad, but after the reveal, a majority of the focus shifted onto Porter, Jace, and the Rat Grinders. I don't see the next two episodes having a moment where they sit down and talk about Bobby in depth, beyond "he was/is an asshole"

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

[randomnameless]

I'm curious about jugdral's story but really don't want to play those games. Is watching a playthrough worth it?

Mmh...

FE4's PT are long as fuck, because FE4 is a very long game with long long long chapters!

Back in my days, people wrote playthroughs instead of doing videos about them, and reading is always way less time consuming than watching a video - but the video has the OST which is really good, and you can get more attached to the characters than with a screenshot PT!

(if you're interested, I sort of posted my own FE4 PT under the tag FE4 run! I think I tried to screencap all the plot moments !)

You have scripts available on Serenes Forest, and you have the FE4 Oosawa manga, that takes, uh, some liberties with the canon, but if you want to get a feeling of the characters, it's here (with pretty 90s art!)

And once the FE4 run is over, you must absolutely watch/read a FE5 run because FE5 is imo the best part of the duology and then SF has some supplementary materials like Kaga's notes or notes that can be found in artbooks (FE Treasure!).

But if you're a bit overwhelmed, I'll happily answer to your asks about some plot points, if you want!

[luna-loveboop]

*gasp* oh they're so cute! Eifjdidjwoskcpofg yayyyyy :D

Waking up to this this morning was great, I got a lil smile on my face, and still do when I look at it. I love Four so much fofnkskfkdktkg Blue's my favourite. He's so angryyyy

I love the details- it's very creative how you framed it as an awkward family photo. I swear that blue background is the same as my family used at some point adickdmfifkfkgh. The background and flooring is so well done?? Also the hands. Hands are hard. I was instantly very impressed with how you did his hands for some reason XD All of this is impressive- and I love the little emotion thingys you put- the heart for red and excited yellow thingy for green and the angry red symbol thingy for blue. Vio's just vibing.

Also I love blue's face diendjdkdkfkg the rest have blue eyes but he's too mad to have normal eyeballs rn. Glad he doesn't have his sword TT his face is so red ridndkdkkfkgn

And you gave him ears!!! Jojo never gives him ears she has his hair cover them so much. So I'm glad to see Four with ears lol.

Also I love the detail with the emboidery and even the kinstones not forgotten on green and the way their hoods lay and- everything in this is amazing ok?

Thank you, Oma :))

Is it still awkward family photos if it's technically only Four??

Yes😉

A gift for dear sweet @luna-loveboop so she can get better! I'm sorry you've been so sick for so long, love🥺❤️

[drmohammedibrahim]

Do you know my dear who's reading this post now there's no foods, vegetables, flour, fruits or any type of it in whole Gaza strip, seriously now people are suffering from famine, really people hungry. For me and my family it's ok we can eat anything even trees leafs 🍃 but how about my child 9 months what I should feed him no milk no eggs no chicken no meat no anythings contain Phosphorus, protein, calcium and vitamins، and if you rarely found anything from these things the price came from moon. The prices are unbelievable, even USA,  Canada, Europe, Australia don't have this prices 😑.Imagen this your situation this your life this your child for the God any one tell me what I should to do. Sometimes I wish I could die and get rid of this thinking, why us? If anyone know the answer tell me what to do?

In the end I hope you can by anyway help me and my family, my baby 👶 reblog my post or donate if your situation allows. May God bless all of you and protect your family. I will put my donation link here also donation link and WhatsApp link at my tumbler description also.

NOTE : there's a lot of documentation like pictures ,videos and daily routine what we are facing here to fight famine, if someone want to take a look he can what's up me because the Internet connection is so bad , I can't upload it .

Vetted by :

@90-ghost here

@gazavetters here

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